Early Summer, T.A. 2818 (S.R. 1218)

It had been quite some time since Gandalf had crossed the Shire. Perhaps seventeen years or so-- when young Fortinbras had become Thain. He'd spent a goodly part of the last decade wandering about in the empty lands of Erebor, and poking his nose into the business of the Dúnedain. And then he'd spent some time with Radagast in Rhosgobel. Now he was on his way to the Ered Luin, to see some of the Dwarves displaced by the coming of Smaug. It was as good an excuse as any to pass through the Shire and see how it was faring, and to visit his friends amongst the Took clan.

He was not too far from Tuckborough-- he'd cut cross-country from the Three-Farthing Stone-- when he heard a commotion ahead of him. Looking forward, he saw several figures running full tilt in his direction. It seemed the course of wisdom to step behind a nearby elm. Pretty soon he saw four hobbit youths pelting along, the sounds of barking dogs and angry shouts behind them. As the youngsters neared him, he noticed their arms laden with foodstuffs-- one had a pie, one a string of sausages, another an armload of vegetables, and yet another a loaf of bread. Suddenly, the one with the pie halted. "Scatter!" he called. "They can't follow all of us if we split up!"

The other three nodded and did just as he said-- each taking off in a different direction, while the one with the pie looked about rapidly, and then dove into a nearby tangle of brambles, not far from Gandalf's tree. It was none too soon. The dogs came rushing along, barking madly, and then halting in confusion as the scents of their prey went in different directions. They were quickly followed by three adult hobbits, all of them puffing and blowing as they stopped.

"What's the matter with those dratted dogs?" said the plumpest and reddest of face.

The animals were casting about and would soon have the scents sorted. On impulse, Gandalf decided to intervene. He stepped forth from behind the tree.

"Good day," he said. The dogs took up another racket of barking, at him this time. He raised a hand. "Peace!" he said. The dogs immediately stopped barking, and sat down, gazing up at him as if for further instruction.

The plumpest hobbit stared at him, caution and fear waring with suspicion and anger upon his choleric countenance. The other two hobbits also stared, quite as warily, though not so angrily. Finally, one, who wore a hat with a feather in it, said "I'm Tom Whitfoot, a Shirriff of this Farthing. We were after some young scalawags who decided to snatch some goods from Mr. Bracegirdle's foodstand on the Green in Tuckborough-- today's Market Day!"

Gandalf nodded. "I saw them pass by; they did indeed take off in separate directions." He did not mention the one, who was doubtless cowering in his bush, listening intently, and waiting to be given up by an unexpected witness.

"Those young wretches! They are getting away with this! Such thievery is scandalous!"

"Now, now, Mr. Bracegirdle," said the third hobbit, who spoke now for the first time. "I am sure the tweens were just having a lark!"

"You would take up for them, Sagramor Took! No doubt at all that they were probably young Tooks! Of course you would stick up for your kin!"

Sagramor shook his head. "Lark or no, they should not have stolen valuable merchandise. But there are other ways to get to the bottom of this. I am sure the Thain can soon discover the guilty parties."

The Shirriff looked at the dogs, who were amiably wagging their tails, and showing no interest in any scent there might be, and sighed. "He's right Mr. Bracegirdle. If they've split up, we'll never catch 'em this way." He then looked back up at Gandalf. "And who are you? And what business does one of the Big Folk have in this part of the Shire?"

The Took had been studying him, and exclaimed "I think I know you! Aren't you Uncle Fortinbras' friend? That wizard? Er...Gundolpho or some such?"

"I am Gandalf the Grey, and have the honor to know the Thain! I was passing through the Shire on other business, on my way to the Blue Mountains, and thought to break my journey and call upon him."

"Sagramor Took, at your service," said the hobbit, bowing. He indicated his companions. "This is Briffo Bracegirdle, a merchant, and this is Tomba Whitfoot, the Shirriff here in Tuckborough." He turned back to Gandalf. "We will go and report this incident to the Thain. Will you come with us?"

"You go ahead, and give him tidings of my coming! I believe that I may have a stone in my boot..." he lifted up the hem of his grey robe to indicate his large black boots, well-worn with travel. "I shall deal with it, and be along shortly."

The Took looked at him sharply, the Bracegirdle suspiciously, while the Shirriff attempted to get the attention of the dogs. Gandalf stood for a moment, as they walked away, back in the direction from which they'd come, and then sat down with his back to the elm, and removed his left boot. Sagramor Took turned briefly to look, and Gandalf raised a hand and waved at them as they vanished over the hill. There was indeed a tiny pebble in his boot, and he shook it out. "They are gone, young hobbit!"

There was a rustle in amongst the brambles.

"I know you are in there. Come along, get out if you can."

Another rustle, and then the culprit emerged, scratched and dirty, but still carrying the pie. He stood with his prize in his hands and his gaze firmly fixed upon his curly toes. "Why didn't you give me away?"

"I was curious. Besides, it seemed unfair to me that you should bear the sole burden of your crimes, as you clearly had confederates."

"Oh!" The youngster was startled into looking up. "Well, er, thank you..." He rubbed the back of his left foot behind his right, and blushed.

Gandalf studied him: a mop of chestnut curls, a sharp nose and chin, and intelligent green eyes. If Gandalf was any judge of hobbit ages, this one appeared to be in late adolescence-- perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight. And he was undoubtedly a Took, well-dressed and likely close kin to the Thain. He pursed his lips and allowed his sharp gaze to linger on the lad, who then flushed even redder, as he stared.

"You...you really are that Gandalf! I was only little when you were here!" he blurted.

Gandalf began to put his boot back on. "I am indeed, that Gandalf." He patted the ground next to him. "And who are you, then?"

The lad looked startled at the question, and stared so long that it seemed he might not answer, then, nearly whispering, he said "Gerontius Took, sir, at your service."

Gandalf gazed back at him. "And what is so shameful in that admission?"

This time the hesitation was briefer, though the voice was even lower. "My father is the Thain."

"Ah! I see. Yes indeed, I do see. I am quite sure my old friend Fortinbras would be most displeased to know his son had behaved like a common thief." Gandalf spoke in a mild conversational tone.

"It wasn't supposed to be like that!" the lad burst out angrily, and then instantly looked abashed at his daring.

"Sit." Gandalf patted the ground next to him, and the lad sat down rather warily. "And what was it supposed to be like?"

"Well, it's just that Mr. Bracegirdle is always shouting at the younger fry, and chasing them off. And the other day my little nephew Hildibras had a farthing to spend! But when he reached for one of Mr. Bracegirdle's sausages, the old bully hit him on the back of the hand with a wooden spoon and sent him away crying!"

"So you and your friends decided to take a bit of revenge, then?"

Gerontius nodded miserably. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he muttered.

Gandalf laughed at this, startling his companion. "Oh my! You have no idea, young hobbit, how often disasters have been explained by the words 'It seemed like a good idea at the time'!"

A smile began to twitch about Gerontius' lips, but he was not quite ready to laugh along. "I don't think it turned out the way we thought it would."

"I daresay!" He studied the young hobbit closely. "I believe that it would be best if you accompany me when I present myself to your father. And I am certain that you will make a full confession." It was not a question.

"Do I have to name my friends?"

"You have to do nothing. I've no doubt that even if you name no names, your father will easily guess at your partners in crime. And you will have to face the consequences of your deed."

Gerontius sighed deeply, and looked at the pie. "It smelled delicious," he said sadly, "but now it's gone cold. And I don't know what I'll do with it, for I'm sure Mr. Bracegirdle will not want it back now."

Gandalf arched an eyebrow at Gerontius. "Hand it to me."

Gerontius rather reluctantly placed the pie in Gandalf's hands. Gandalf held it out, and whispered a few words under his breath. Suddenly, steam rose from the vents in the pie's crust, along with the delicious smells of chicken and mushrooms and other good things. "It would be a shame for such good food to be wasted. Do you care to share your spoils with me?"

The lad's eyes were huge, as he nodded. "How did you do that?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled, as he said in a ponderous tone, "I am a wizard!" He took out his belt knife and cut into the pie.

Gerontius did not hesitate, as he took the generous slice proffered to him. "You really are a wizard! That was amazing! How do you do magic? Where do you go when you are not in the Shire? Are there very many wizards about?" His pause to take a bite, chew, and swallow, scarcely slowed the spate of questions. "Why did you go away for so long? What are you going to do in the Blue Mountains?"

Gandalf laughed. He'd missed hobbits! And he thought perhaps he had just made a very good friend in this one.