This chapter makes reference to an incident that happened in “Under the Harvest Moon”.
 
 
 

Chapter 4

Frodo insisted that Sam sit down and rest while he prepared a quick snack for everyone. He had brought travel food naturally, nuts and berries and other such things that can be easily carried in one’s pocket and eaten single-handed without slowing the traveler down. These snacks would come in handy over the next two days, but while they were seated and a fire was burning, Frodo preferred to prepare food. Of course, it being so late in the night, or early in the morning as the case may be, he also preferred something simple and easy.

Frodo rummaged through his pack and found some of the bread and cheese he had packed. He took out his small jackknife and sliced the food into four equal shares. He grabbed a water skin for them all to share as they ate, and returned to the campfire, where he found Merry and Pippin trying to badger stories out of Sam about the forest.

“Come now, Sam,” Merry goaded. “You must have some stories, growing up so close to here.”

Sam blushed under their eager stares and shuffled his feet uncomfortably in the dirt. “Well, they ain’t stories so much as just common talk,” Sam started. “Just things as folk’ll say. But there is one story, about old Nodi Hatcher, who come to these woods and was never seen again.”

“What happened to him?” Pippin asked.

Sam shrugged. “Can’t say, as he was never seen again. But I know some Hatchers up in Overhill and they say as sometimes they can still hear him whistling about the place, just like he did the day he left and that being a hundred years ago or more now. Tale is, he was taking the forest as a shortcut to somewheres, only he never got to where he was going. They reckon he wandered off the paths.”

Merry frowned as he absorbed this information, and Pippin stared down the dark winding path with uncertain eyes. “What other rumors are there?” Merry asked.

“Well, apparently there are hobbit-devouring bogs that will drown you in a heartbeat if you should wander into them,” Frodo said lightly as he sat down and handed everyone their plate. He gave Pippin the water skin first and by turn, they each satisfied their thirst.

“Hobbit-devouring bogs?” Merry asked skeptically and bit into his wedge of cheese.

“So Sam maintains,” Frodo said. “Perhaps that’s what happened to poor unfortunate Nodi.”

“The story’s true, sir,” Sam said in a somewhat wounded voice. “There’s a Nodinas on the Hatcher tree and there’s a notation under his name that he went into Bindbole and was heard of no more. That’s when folk stopped wandering in these woods.”

“Well, the path is safe enough,” Frodo said unconcerned. “And you’ll see flowers in here that you won’t find anywhere else in the Shire.”

“Truly?” Sam asked, perking up.

Frodo nodded and would say no more on the subject. Talk ebbed down as they concentrated on their food and passed the water skin between them.

Another complication of his friends’ coming, though he had not yet mentioned it, was the water supply. Merry and Pippin had brought a skin each for themselves, and Frodo had six of his own which would have been more than enough had no one accompanied him. He knew the water would not hold out and they would have to go in search of some before too long. He also knew there were no direct paths to any water source. He would wait to mention this though, as now was not the time to bring it up, not when his cousins were spooking themselves on nonsense stories.

They finished their meal and Pippin began to yawn, so they retired to their bedrolls. Frodo had arranged them in a line about a yard away from the fire pit, between the fire and the tent. Pippin took the roll between Frodo and Merry and snuggled into the soft folds. He was asleep an instant later. Merry took slightly longer to drift off and Sam was snoring softly soon after.

Frodo watched his three friends sleep and pulled out his pipe. He sat on his sleeping roll and looked up at the stars glowing radiantly overhead. So far, the trip had been pleasantly enjoyable and he sent a silent wish up to the stars that it would remain that way.  

The midmorning sun woke Merry first, and he found his arms full of slumbering Took. At some point during the night, Pippin had awoken and moved himself to his cousin’s bedroll. Merry carefully untangled himself now, and stood up, stretching and yawning. His left arm, which had been trapped beneath Pippin’s rather hard head, was completely numb and Merry shook it out as he stumbled his way to the edge of the glade in search of a place to relieve himself.

When he returned to camp, his arm still tingling sharply, he realized they needed more wood for the breakfast fire. He went back to the edge of the glade and gathered an armload of branches and twigs. After a couple of such trips, he arranged the wood on the fire pit and got the tinder ready, but he would not light the fire until everyone was awake and ready to eat.

Wondering how long he had slept, he pulled out his pocket watch. It was now nearing ten o’clock, and they couldn’t have gone to bed until a couple of hours after midnight at least. However long he had slept, he did not feel adequately rested, and he had acquired a crick in his back from sleeping on the ground. Whatever seduction the road held for Frodo, Merry rationalized this could not be part of it.

Sam was the next to awaken, and after answering nature’s call, he wasted no time in starting the fire and heating up a bit of water to wash up with. He went into the tent and brought out some sausages and onions for frying, as well as more cheese and bread and another water skin to complete the morning meal.

“Let me help you with that, Sam,” Merry offered.

“No need to, Mr. Merry. I’ve got it under control,” Sam said.

“I don’t doubt that, but let me help you anyway. I’d feel foolish sitting here and doing nothing,” Merry insisted and took over chopping the onions before Sam could say another word about it. Sam had brought a small flask of cooking oil and Merry poured some of this on the onions to sauté them. He was just wishing for some pepper to season them with when Sam produced this as well.

“Did I say you were a wonder before?” Merry said. “I think I understated the fact.” He took the pepper from Sam and sprinkled this over the onions.

Sam seemed to accept Merry’s help after that, or at least realized there was no point in trying to stave him off. They prepared the meal together, keeping the conversation on the task at hand. Merry attempted a few times to bring up other, more casual topics, but Sam would only nod politely and return the subject to the cooking.

It was a sad fact for Merry that he and Sam long ago stopped being friends, back when Sam was preparing to take over the gardens from his father. It had suddenly become improper for them to be friends, especially following The Incident, and over the years they had become little more than acquaintances. But now that the gardener was of age, and Merry very nearly so, it was Merry’s intention to remedy that distance between them. He just wasn’t quite sure how to go about it yet, as every attempt he made, Sam would side step around it, keeping to propriety out of habit. Even Frodo complained about this at times, so Merry knew this would be no easy task.

“So how are May and Marigold?” Merry asked now, making yet another attempt.

“They’re fine, sir,” Sam answered. “May’s settled into her home and Marigold’s doing well also.”

“I forgot May got married. She and her husband live nearby?”

“In Needlehole. Here, sir, let me stir that up a bit. A shame I didn’t think to bring any mushrooms. That would go good in here.”

“Maybe I could find some,” Merry offered. “There’s no one in the Shire better at scavenging mushrooms than me. Except maybe Frodo.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, sir. This will do just fine. But if you really want some, I could go look,” Sam said.

“No, that’s all right,” Merry said with a sigh, then grinned. “Frodo would likely eat the whole bunch and then we’d have nothing but water to get us by.”

Sam smirked but said nothing at this. He easily took the pan from Merry and stirred the contents. He checked the bread, which he had sliced for making breakfast sandwiches with the sausage, onions and some melted cheese, and had laid on some rocks near the fire for toasting. Merry sat back and watched, carefully considering his next step.

Pippin woke then, the smell of the food far too enticing for his stomach to allow him to keep sleeping any longer. He stared cautiously into the woods and squirmed. He bit his lip and glanced quickly at Merry, who hardly noticed he was even awake. Pippin took a deep breath, jumped out of the sleeping roll and dashed off to the edge of the glade, his bladder nearly bursting. When he came back – rather quickly had anyone taken notice – he washed up and grabbed his plate, ready to eat. He sat by the fire and waited impatiently as Sam lingered over the final preparations.

Sam finally declared the meal ready and Pippin eagerly held out his plate. Sam served him, and then Merry and himself, leaving a generous portion for his master whenever he eventually awakened.

After eating, Merry and Pippin went to explore around the edges of the glade. In the light of day and in each other’s company, the forest did not seem nearly so perilous as it had last night. There were large patches of sunlight filtering through the trees all about them, and yet there was still plenty of shade to hide from the climbing summer heat.

At first, they stayed within sight of camp, but they gradually forgot precaution and wandered farther into the woods, their walking sticks ever before them. Merry was careful not to lose themselves and they quite enjoyed their stroll. They discovered other, smaller paths, long ago grown over with vegetation but still present all the same. There had at one time been many routes through the forest but over the years, as the rumors grew, only the more traveled paths continued to be trod and the rest were forgotten or avoided.

They noticed also many patches of thick brush that could not be passed through, a veritable wall of foliage, and there were many shrubs and plants with long, thick needles protruding out dangerously and groups of thistles in unexpected places. Pippin wandered too close to one such bush and smarted his hand upon a needle. His hand instantly began to itch and turned red, and Merry was luckily able to find an aloe plant to soothe the sting. After that, they called it a day and turned back the way they had come.

By the time they returned to camp, Frodo was awake and he and Sam had moved the fire to the shaded path. They were fixing a late lunch of chopped vegetables, and some various berries and a couple of eggs they had found on their own explorations. They took their time eating, and then Pippin and Merry cleaned the dishes as Frodo and Sam took down the tent and packed up their gear. The sun was sinking below the treetops by the time they shouldered their packs and set off on the next leg of their hike.

Even waiting until so late in the day to begin, they were soon sweating from the heat and the burden of their packs. They wisely did not attempt to wear any jackets or vests, and after a time, they undid the first few buttons of their shirts to let in some air. Sam fared better than them all, being used to laboring in the heat, and Frodo fared well also, being accustomed to hiking with a heavy load on his back. Merry and Pippin however soon lagged behind, and they took sips from their water skins to stave off thirst. Merry didn’t worry about falling behind though. If anything, he saw this as the perfect opportunity to question Pippin about his confounding subjugation to Sam when it came to food.

“So Pip,” Merry began casually, “I noticed yesterday at tea that you didn’t sneak any food, just as Sam asked.”

Pippin only nodded. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled absently, too absorbed in looking for more bird nests in the trees to really pay attention.

“When Aunt Tina tells you not to eat, you sneak food anyway,” Merry continued.

“Of course I do,” Pippin said, now confused about where this conversation was going. “That’s part of the game. We all do it. Well, Pimmie doesn’t anymore, and Pearl is a mum now herself, so I don’t imagine she still does either. But Vinca does, and she always trying to sneak more food than I do.”

“But you listen to Sam, even though you don’t have to,” Merry stressed.

Pippin shrugged. “It’s not much of a game with him. Besides, you listen to him too.”

“I do, but I listen to my own mother as well,” Merry pointed out. “You however seem only to listen to Sam.”

Pippin paused for the briefest of moments and shot a quick, perplexed glance at his cousin. “What’s this about, Merry?” Pippin asked at last.

“I just want to know why is all,” Merry said.

“Know why about what?”

“Why you listen to Sam when he tells you not to eat.”

Pippin shrugged again. “It’s the polite thing to do,” he said, trying to sound dignified.

Merry snorted, not buying the act for a second. “No, I think not. There’s a story behind it and I want to know what it is.”

“There’s no story,” Pippin said, keeping his eyes on the path before them. He snuck a quick glance at Sam walking up ahead, and Merry took note of this.

“There is too,” Merry countered. Not the most intelligent argument, granted, but when arguing with Pippin, one had to make adjustments.

“There is not.”

“Is too.”

“No.”

“Pippin.”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Tell me what happened.”

“I would, but there’s nothing to tell.”

Merry stewed for a couple of minutes. He couldn’t believe Pippin was actually refusing to tell him anything. Pippin always told him everything he ever asked to know. Merry was even more intrigued and determined now to know the story behind this little mystery. “Very well, I’ll just ask Sam. He’ll have to tell me,” Merry said smugly.

Pippin sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes. “Why would he tell you anything?”

“Because, I’m one of his ‘betters’ remember? If I ask him something, he’ll have to answer.”

“Nonsense, he would not. Besides, I thought you wanted to try to be his friend again. How do you hope to do that if you’re going to pull rank over him?” Pippin pointed out and smiled coyly. He had scored a point and he knew it.

Merry fumed some more. Now he was positive there was a story behind all of this, and he was frustrated with trying to find a way to discover what it was. At last, he smiled and said, “Then I’ll ask Frodo.”

“Ask him then,” Pippin said unconcerned, knowing Frodo would be just as clueless as Merry. Whether Merry believed it or not, Frodo didn’t know everything his gardener did.

Merry frowned now, knowing too well what that tone in Pippin’s voice meant. What if he never found out the story?

Up ahead, Frodo was reminiscing with Sam about his first trip through Bindbole with Bilbo.

“We followed this very path. It snakes all the way up and around in a winding ‘U’ before being crossed by another path that cuts diagonally through the forest and lets out a mile from where we entered,” Frodo explained, using his hands to draw the paths in the air.

Sam didn’t have much of a mind for maps, but he was heartened to learn that his master knew so much about the forest. Perhaps he had been worrying for nothing after all.

“Did you and Mr. Bilbo camp in that wee glade also?” Sam asked.

“We did,” Frodo confirmed. “We sat around the fire that night and he told me some of his adventure with the dwarves, about the trolls appropriately enough. I had heard the story numerous times before that of course, but it was the first time I had heard it while actually camping out in the woods. It rather spooked me to be honest,” he said and then added, “but of course nothing ever happened.”

“Of course not, sir,” Sam replied, taking the hint.

Then Frodo laughed, suddenly remembering something else from that trip. “Did you know, I wasn’t supposed to be there either?” he said. “That was the first spring I spent with Bilbo after my parents’ death and it had been rather short notice for him. He even considered canceling the hike, until he realized how miserable it made me that he was having to alter all his plans for me.”

“Was that your first spring?” Sam asked, thinking back. He had been quite young when Frodo first started visiting Bag End and he didn’t remember much of those first few springs.

“It was indeed,” Frodo said, a hint of nostalgia – and bitterness – in his voice. “I’ll never forget that first spring. In many ways, it was both the worst and the best time of my life.”

“How’s that? If you don’t mind my asking,” Sam said and looked over at his master. He could usually guess what his master was thinking or feeling simply by looking at him, but on this occasion, the mixture of emotions was hard to decipher.

“I was fifteen at the time,” Frodo started, remembering more and more of that year. It had been a long time since he had thought of it at all. “I was misbehaving quite a lot, disappearing, running off, raiding farms and whatnot, and lying about it all of course. Esmeralda and I were constantly at heads, which naturally upset Merry. He was just a bairn still and didn’t understand what was going on whenever we would start yelling. Saradoc could hardly get a handle on me either and Uncle Rory was constantly sending me to Uncle Dodi and Aunt Del for punishments. They were forever giving me the most horrible chores to complete, and I was forever shirking them and sneaking off whenever they took their eyes off me for even a second. Finally, Uncle Rory had enough and sent me packing to Bilbo with a note to keep me there until I learned some manners.”

“I never knew any of that,” Sam said, shocked to hear such things about his master. He wasn’t sure what to make of it really, but he was more than a bit upset at Mr. Frodo’s relatives for being so rough on him. As far as Sam was concerned, Mr. Frodo had never been anything but the perfect gentlehobbit, despite what his master had just told him.

“Not even Merry knows any of that,” Frodo admitted. “It’s water under the bridge now as they say, and it was for the best in the long run. Not that I was entirely kind to Bilbo that first month, but he got me straightened out in the end, didn’t he?”

“You’ve always been more than kind, sir,” Sam said.

Frodo only shook his head. “Trust me, I wasn’t. I was a scoundrel to be honest, one of the worst.”

They fell into silence then, each lost in his own thoughts, until Merry and Pippin caught up with them. “So, how far are we walking tonight?” Pippin asked. “And isn’t it time for tea and dinner yet?”

“I suppose that’s our cue to take a rest,” Frodo said with a relieved smile at his cousin. He was glad to have more practical matters to think about rather than brooding unnecessarily over events long past. “Let’s go a little bit farther. If memory serves correct, there should be a place up ahead we can sit comfortably and have a bite to eat.”

They continued forward in the slowly gathering dusk and reached the resting spot quicker than Frodo expected. They took their time eating, and Merry and Pippin had a fine time running in and around the many vines that hung down from the trees here. Try as they might, they couldn’t convince Sam to join them, and Frodo took advantage of their distraction to make a quick and discrete survey of their water supply. He estimated they had enough to last them the night, but they would have to look for some more come morning.

For the time being, they rested peacefully and sang many songs, and did not continue their march again until after dinner, when the sun was dipping under the distant hills and the heat was not so great. Pippin’s hand was itching again by then and he was hard pressed to keep from scratching it. Sam finally produced a bit of honey and used that to soothe the sting of the itch and keep off infection, then wrapped a handkerchief tightly around Pippin’s hand. Merry just shook his head in silent wonder. Cooking oil, pepper, honey: no one other than Sam would think to bring such things on a hiking trip.
 
 
 

To be continued…