Chapter 3

The next few days were much the same. Gilda kept someone posted in the kitchen at all times, continuing to ensure that the night staff was well rested, and no more reserved food went missing. Esme continued her questioning, but by this point the word of her investigation was getting around and she could hardly get a word out edgewise before the children denied any involvement. At the same time, Frodo and Merry began to spend less time on their own, Merry opting to play with Berilac and some of the other lads his age so that Frodo could spend time alone with Bilbo.

The two Bagginses spent a long day hiking across Crickhollow to Newbury, and further north to the Bridge before returning to the Hall. The next day, they walked again down Crickhollow Lane, but continued past the township and followed the lane almost to its very end. They stopped at the boulder that sat upon the northern edge of Hedge Field, watching the Old Forest over the hedge and enjoying the cool afternoon sun, before heading back. They spent the rest of the day in Bucklebury, going from one shop to the next, Frodo being unusually late on his birthday shopping.

The next day, they went fishing, Bilbo staying true to his earlier promise. They spent the morning in contented silence drifting upon the River, and Frodo at one point even lay down to take a doze while Bilbo watched over both their lines.

Bilbo watched the young tween, amazed that Frodo could find such peace on the water, on this river. It didn’t always used to be that way. There had been a time when Frodo avoided all forms of water and only bathed when he had to. Now, Frodo had to be nearly dragged from the bathtub and he had taught Merry to swim in the River so they could enjoy it together. Bilbo wasn’t sure when the change happened, when Frodo first returned to this place. All he knew was he had come to visit one summer and Frodo had met him on the lane as he always did, though this time he was soaking wet and smiling.

Not that his loss was forgotten. Not that his wounds were healed.

Frodo had told him just the day before, when they had been at Hedge Field, that he still dreamt about the Sea. Before, the dreams had always been the same, always of his parents being pulled under the river’s surface and carried out to Sea, where they called to him endlessly. Those dreams had stopped after a time, but lately he had been dreaming again, and the dreams were changed. The voices he heard now were that of the Sea itself, of water lapping against a boat he could not see, and of waves crashing upon a distant shore he did not know. They were at once soothing and frightening. Frodo wasn’t sure what to make of these dreams and while he spent many nights awake trying to determine what they might mean, they did not keep him away from the River.

Still, there were parts of the River that Frodo did avoid. This information came from Saradoc, who noted that while Frodo went to the River and of course everyone knew of his many exploits to Maggot’s fields, the lad never wandered south of the Ferry on the Eastmarch side. Bilbo understood why without asking: that’s where his parents had been brought ashore.

Bilbo kept this in mind and gently rowed the boat north whenever they drifted too far from the Ferry landing. He was grieved to know that Frodo was still so sorely wounded by his loss and wished there was more he could do for the lad. All he could offer Frodo was a respite, and his young cousin’s visits to Bag End were always looked forward to by them both. They had gradually grown longer with the passing years, so that now Frodo spent nearly the whole of spring in Hobbiton.

Giving what Frodo told him about his dreams and sleepless nights, Bilbo would almost suspect that Frodo only came to Bag End to sleep, for the first week of his visits always found the lad sleeping until nearly noon. Bilbo chuckled to himself as he remembered walking down the tunnel one morning during Frodo’s first visit to find little Sammy perched in front of Frodo’s room, his ear pressed to the closed door.

“And just what might you be doing, my lad?” Bilbo had asked.  

Sam had looked up at him, worry etched into his usually cheerful face. “Gaffy said to make sure he’s breathing, but I ain’t heard naught, Mr. Bilbo,” he had said.  

Bilbo had laughed and opened the door. “You check on him whenever you like, Sam-lad. Goodness knows that lad needs looking after.” And Sam had gone in and satisfied himself that Frodo was indeed still breathing.

Poor Sam had never before known anyone who didn’t wake before the sun, but he was used enough to Frodo’s sleeping patterns now not to blink an eye about it, though he undoubtedly still found it odd that someone would sleep through half their meals.

Bilbo felt just the opposite. He had accepted Frodo’s sleeping late well enough those first few years, but now it concerned him that Frodo was getting so little sleep while he was home. Esme confirmed for him that Frodo didn’t sleep nearly as much as he should and that he woke often in the night, but other than a few stifled yawns at the breakfast table Frodo never seemed to be bothered by the lack of a good night’s rest. Still, no one could deny the fact that Frodo returned from Bag End much more energetic than he had been when he left.

Frodo stirred then and woke up, blinking into the pale morning sun. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand and smiled at Bilbo lazily. “Did I catch anything?” he asked.

“Why, yes, my lad. Four large flies with your wide open mouth,” Bilbo answered.

“Is that all? I didn’t sleep nearly long enough then,” Frodo replied and sat up to take his fishing line back. “The fish aren’t biting.”

“They’re being a bit shy today it seems,” Bilbo confirmed. “Why don’t we go back to the Hall? It’s only another day to our birthday and you haven’t even begun to poke around for your present yet.”

“Or so I would have you think,” Frodo said with a wicked smirk.

“Is that where you and Merry have been sneaking off to then?” Bilbo asked with a laugh.

“No. That’s a surprise,” Frodo answered.

“Is that so? Sounds like I should be the one poking about,” Bilbo said and was answered with a snicker.

They pulled their lines from the water and picked up the oars to row themselves back to the Ferry landing.  

Esme patrolled the tunnels, her options nearly spent. Still, there were a few lads and lasses who seemed to be avoiding her and she was most keen on finding them. First and foremost on her list was Posy Goold, a lively young lass who was perhaps a little too clever for her own good. Esme finally cornered the lass by chance coming around a bend and, to her relief, the lass was alone.

“Hallo, Posy,” Esme said kindly.

The young tween slowed down and smiled. “Esmeralda, how lovely to see you,” she said with a perfectly quaint and polite voice. Too quaint.

“Don’t play games with me, Posy. I’ve a question to ask you,” Esme stated.

“Oh? What might that be?” Posy asked. She looked up at Esme curiously, not seeming a bit put off by the rebuke.

“Have Morti and Fendi ever put earthworms in your hair?” Esme asked, cutting straight to the point and being deliberately deceitful, hoping to catch the lass in a lie. She watched Posy closely.

Posy tilted her head, a look of vague confusion on her lovely face. “Earthworms? No, I don’t believe they were earthworms. They felt fatter and not nearly so slimy. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“But they did put something in your hair?”

Posy’s face immediately crinkled with disgust. “Oh, yes,” she said, her fingers flying to her hair. “I had to wash it nearly a hundred times before I was satisfied all the filth was gone.”

“You’re not just saying that because they told you to?”

“Like I would ever listen to either of them,” Posy pointed out. “Are we done now?”

“No,” Esme said. She highly suspected that Posy was lying, but she had no proof. Still, she needed to ask. “You haven’t been taking food from the kitchens without leave, have you?”

Now Posy did look insulted and she placed her hands on her hips in a put-off manner. “Now, really Esme, if I wanted food from the kitchens, I would hardly go in there and get it myself. I would just have a servant go in and get it for me.”

With that, Posy flounced away, leaving Esmeralda gaping after her. Still, Esme figured that last part at least was true enough. Posy wasn’t the thief, and if she knew who was, there was no way she would tell.

Esme continued on her way. She would have to get someone else to keep track of Morti and Fendi, someone the children wouldn’t suspect. She discovered her solution when she returned to her apartment. Frodo and Bilbo had just returned from their fishing trip and were preparing to go to the dining hall for luncheon. Esmeralda wasted no time in approaching Frodo.

“Frodo, I hate to ask this of you,” she began and Frodo paused. Bilbo stood back and watched them with a sharp eye.

“Yes, Aunt Esme?” Frodo asked.

“You know about all this food that’s gone missing from the kitchens?” Esme asked. Frodo nodded, his features blank and frozen. “I think Fendi and Morti might be the ones behind it, but they’ve rather outmaneuvered me. I’ll never get a confession out of them. Do you think you could find out if they have anything to do with it?”

Frodo gave a small laugh of relief and nodded. “Of course. I’ll figure something out.”

“Excellent. Now, let’s eat shall we?” Esme said and the three of them left for luncheon.  

After luncheon, Esme continued with her investigation. She had been watching the last few suspects while trying to enjoy her meal and she followed a few of the teens out of the hall. When one lass separated from the group, Esme stepped up her pace and caught up with her before she could enter her apartment.

“Good day, Felicity,” she greeted warmly.

“Oh, hullo Esme,” Felicity greeted back, surprised to see her great-aunt standing behind her in the tunnel.

Felicity Burrows was a sweet lass, who never did anything she wasn’t supposed to do. The same could not be said of her sister, Fiona, another one of the tweens who seemed to be steering clear of Esme. She reasoned that Felicity might know something and it was worth Esme’s while to speak with her.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Esme stated.

Felicity nodded. “The kitchen problem. I don’t know anything.”

“Are you certain?” Esme asked. “You don’t even suspect anyone? I assure you, no one will know that you’ve spoken to me. I’ll keep all my sources dead secret.”

Felicity shook her head. “I really don’t know anything,” she repeated. “Except…”

“Yes?”

Felicity bit her bottom lip and looked up and down the tunnel to ensure they were alone. “Well,” she said, her voice soft, almost inaudible. “I did hear my sister speaking with her lad, Tobias, yesterday about going out to the bell tower with the other tweens.”

“Mm-hmm,” Esme hummed. That was nothing new as tweens often went to the bell tower for any variety of reasons.

“Well, they were going to sneak some liquor from the cellars first,” Felicity said. “And they were going to play a game, something about kissing the bottle. Why would they want to do that?”

“Was that all they were going to play?” Esme asked, her mind racing. “And when exactly were they planning to do this?”

“I’m not sure, but sometime soon. And she also said something about going to the pond and dipping skinny things in it. I didn’t understand that either but Tobias seemed very excited about it.”

Esme’s eyes widened at this but she quickly hid her shock when Felicity began to fidget. “Thank you for telling me this, lass. I’ll not tell anyone I spoke with you, have no fear.”

Felicity nodded and went into her apartment. Esme stood in the tunnel, taking several deep breaths, wondering when exactly tweens started behaving so rashly. She had never done such things when she was a tween. Her brother, on the other hand, now she could tell stories about him. But she hadn’t time to think fondly on her younger days; she had to alert her father-in-law of the cellar raid before she did anything else. She set off through the tunnels to Rory’s study.  

Frodo waited until after Esme left the dining hall and Bilbo and Sara were speaking with Seredic about his upcoming wedding anniversary before he caught Merry’s eye and nodded toward the back door. Merry nodded also and with a discreet look around, they were out of their seats and through the door before anyone could notice. Once they were a safe distance from the hall, Frodo told Merry what Esmeralda had requested of him.

“So, Mum thinks it’s them?” Merry asked as he peered up at Frodo. “What does that mean for us?”

“Nothing much really,” Frodo replied, “except that we may be able to finally finish our project if they’re not watching us as closely as I thought they were.”

Merry grinned. “Good, because I’ve thought of more things we could –”

“Shh,” Frodo cut him off, for coming up behind them were none other than the main suspects. Frodo and Merry slowed down to allow the cousins to catch up with them.

“Hullo Fendi, Morton,” Frodo greeted, pasting a bemused expression on his face.

“Hallo Frodo,” they replied warmly, for they were old acquaintances. They’d had many adventures with Frodo before he denounced mischief, and they rather missed having the Baggins amongst their circle of rascals.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve just eaten a sour grape,” Morti observed.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Frodo said. “What have you two been doing of late? It’s been so long since I’ve had a word with either of you.”

Fendi grinned. “Oh, just the usual – innocent, harmless fun; you know us.”

Frodo stepped closer then and pushed Merry away. Merry took the hint and walked farther down the tunnel, out of earshot, and leaned against the wall, watching them from afar. He wondered what kind of information Frodo would get from them and what Frodo would say to get it. See, this is what he had to be learning, but Frodo refused to let him in on such things, claiming he was still too young. He sighed and waited.

When Frodo was certain Merry couldn’t hear them, he looked between the cousins. “Quite honestly, all this good behavior is rather getting to me,” Frodo confided. “I itch for a bit of mischief.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Morti said. “What kind of mischief are you looking for?”

“A kitchen raid.”

“A kitchen raid? I’d expect something more creative coming from you,” Fendi said. “You’ve been out of the game for a while now, my friend, and we should break you in slowly, but not that slowly.”

“Besides, the kitchens are impossible to get into anymore,” Morti said. “I’m surprised they haven’t put bounders around all the doors yet.”

“Exactly,” Frodo said. “It’s the perfect time to attempt a raid.”

“What is all this noise about the kitchens anyway?” Morti asked now, genuinely confused. “It’s nothing new, people taking food from there as they wish.”

“You don’t know?” Frodo asked, surprised. “I thought for certain it would have been you?”

“Raiding kitchens? That’s rather below our skills,” Fendi stated.

“No, not just from the kitchens,” Frodo said, then emphasized his next words for extra weight. “From the reserve shelves.”

Morti and Fendi gawked at him, disbelieving what they had heard. “From the reserves?” Morti asked. “Why would anyone do that when they could just raid the rest of the food and not cause a big stir in the process? It’s not you, is it?”

“Maybe it’s a guest,” Fendi suggested before Frodo could answer. “They wouldn’t necessarily know the rules, now would they? And since they’re not ‘children’ they wouldn’t be watched nearly as closely.”

“That’s an excellent point, my friend,” Morti said.

“Thank you, love.”

“You’re quite welcome. I bet no one’s bothered to ask any of the guests anything, have they?” Morti asked.

Frodo shrugged. “Look, I have to get Merry back to the apartment. I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Certainly,” Morti said. “We do have something planned for tonight that you might enjoy. You might even find it, dare I say, educational. You love learning new things.”

“On second thought, you’d better not, Frodo,” Fendi said, serious now. He shook his head at Morton then turned back to Frodo. “You could get into trouble if we’re caught and after that last time, the Master will put you out, nephew or no. If you want, you can come with us tomorrow to the wine-tasting at Mauville. You’re still too young to drink, but we could slip you a sip or two. There’s no harm in that.”

“That’s all right,” Frodo said with another shrug. “You’re right. I should keep my nose clean, for all that it’s a terrible bore.”

“I’m sorry to say you brought that on yourself, lad,” Morti said. “You shouldn’t have gone back to Maggot’s fields. You should have never gone to Maggot’s fields. Anyone with sense knows that.”

“I know.”

“Hang in there, Frodo. You’re doing good,” Fendi said supportively. “Besides, you’ve always got that one to corrupt.”

They looked over at Merry, who stood up off the wall and waited impatiently. Frodo smiled at him fondly. “Yes, I do, and I really should be getting him back now. Good day.”

Frodo left them and rejoined Merry. They waited until they were around the corner and the cousins were long on their way before stopping.

“Well?” asked Merry.

“It’s not them,” Frodo answered. “Let’s not tell your mother right away though. We should get what we need first and then tell her.”

Merry nodded. That was only the sensible thing to do. “We’ll have to wait,” he pointed out. There were far too many relations coming and going in the middle of the day for them to go about unnoticed now.

“I know. I’ll get what we need tonight, and I’ll tell her come morning.”

“Tonight? You said that was too risky anymore.”

“True, I did say that, but Fendi and Morti are planning something tonight, and they aren’t exactly the quiet types. I have a feeling that prying eyes will be elsewhere,” Frodo explained. “You see, Merry, the key to any successful ploy is to know when to take action, and if someone does the favor of creating a diversion for you, well, that’s all the better.”

Merry nodded, though he didn’t quite understand what a ploy or diversion was. Still, Frodo was never wrong about such things, and he stored the knowledge away for later use. Then, grinning conspiratorially at each other, they continued on their way.  

Some hours later, Esme plopped backward onto her bed and for many moments lay staring blankly at the canopy.

“Is something the matter, dearest?” Saradoc asked at length. He turned from the wardrobe, where he was slipping out of his overcoat and waistcoat, to look at his frazzled wife. He hung his garments while she continued to lay there, still and motionless. “Dearest?” he asked again.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. She sat up with a disgruntled huff and all but pouted at her husband. “I try and I try and still I get nowhere! I try to be their friend, and I get butterscotch pasted under seat cushions. I try being sly, and I get fed malarkey about salamanders. I try being direct and get lip from that hussy–”

“Hussy?” Sara interjected, only to be ignored.

Esme stood up and started pacing the room, getting more worked up with each turn. “I try to be comforting, and I get tweens planning on liquor raids and bawdy games. I get stories about goats eating cheese and lasses wearing breeches and kites stuck in trees. Or worse! I get blank stares or retreating backs or clueless shrugs. Why Sara?! Why won’t they just tell me who’s stealing the food!”

She collapsed into her husband’s open arms, her next words partially smothered by the fabric of his shirt.

“How does your mother do it? And make it look so simple? Without being driven mad? They wouldn’t do this to her. … They know, don’t they? They know I don’t know what I’m doing and they’re using it to their advantage and playing games. I’ll never be as good a Mistress as your mum and she’ll never respect me.”

“She respects you,” Sara soothed his wife. He patiently brushed his fingers through her hair and rocked her slightly. “She knows you’re doing your best, and you’re forgetting: she had to raise Merimac and me. She had to learn how to deal with errant children.”

Esme stepped back and glared at Sara. “Yes, I know. I heard all about the goose. This is different!”

Sara blushed. “The goose wasn’t my idea.”

“She’s just feeding me to the wolves is what she’s doing. She probably even already knows who it is and she’s not telling me. It’s a test and I’m failing utterly.”

“It was Mac’s idea. And Marmadas. I really had nothing to do with it.”

“Are you listening to me? Shut up about the blasted goose!”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

They glared at each other for a space of a moment, then broke into laughter. Esme fell back into Sara’s embrace, this time giving comfort as much as receiving it. “We’re both a bit weary,” she said.

“Yes we are. Let’s not be so hard on ourselves, hm?”

Esme nodded. “Agreed.”

At that moment, they heard the front door open and close, and shortly after, Frodo’s door did the same. “The lads are back,” Sara stated, and glanced at the wall clock. It was quite late for them to be getting in. “Where have they been I wonder?”

Esme shrugged. “I don’t know. Hopefully, finding out what Fendi and Morti are up to.” She stepped back then and pecked her husband on the cheek. “I’ll go tuck them in.”

She kissed Saradoc again then went to check on both of her young charges.  

That night, a group of eight tweens, headed by Fendi and Morti, raided the wine cellar only to come face to face with the Master of the Hall. They were marched to the Master’s study and Merimac and Saradoc went out to fetch their parents.

That night, Frodo slipped out of his room and through the parlor, tiptoeing soundlessly. He slipped into the tunnel and snuck off into the dimly-lit passageways. He did not come across any of his cousins and was able to slip through the tunnels undetected.

That night, the kitchen attendant was distracted from her watch by a noise in the pantries. When she returned from her search, which brought up nothing unusual, she found the top shelf of the reserves bare. She sighed and got to work on another funnel cake.
 
 
 

To be continued…