45. The Free Fair

The first day of the Fair was a rousing success for Frodo, if one measured success in terms of new shirts and trousers. Frodo, unfortunately, did not subscribe to that particular school of thought, and by the second day he was desperate for some amusement. Folco, ever the thoughtful friend, tore himself away from his new sweetheart long enough to cover half the Fairgrounds with Frodo in a mere six hours. When Frodo finally returned to the Warbling Turtle that night, he was so full from all the delicious things he and Folco had sampled, and so exhausted from all the walking and the summer heat, that he fell asleep in his clothes.

The next few days, Frodo could be found either with Bilbo, Folco and his friends, Halfred and Samwise, or sometimes just wandering about by himself. The Tooks and Brandybucks began to arrive, and with them Merry and Pippin, Frodo’s favourite younger cousins. Many of the older hobbits soon became occupied with the myriad speeches, talks, and of course dinners held by the candidates for mayor and their supporters, leaving the tweens mostly to their own devices. There was a party almost every night, but the party that began the week of the mayoral election was an especially big one. Everyone was in a celebratory mood, there was plenty of food and wine and ale to be had, and the young hobbits danced joyously.

Even Frodo. He had been too shy to ask anyone to dance at first, and even Folco could not persuade him to try his luck. But when he saw a blushing Halfred Gamgee approach a pretty lass with raven-black hair, his courage mounted a little. He saw the girl nod agreeably, and the two whirled off into the throng of dancing tweens.

“Come on now, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said. The youngest Gamgee lad was sitting on the bench beside Frodo. “Just ask someone already! If ol’ Halfred can manage the thing, there can’t be much trick to it, if you follow me. You’ll be grand!”

Frodo glanced at the gardener’s son. Sam was grinning at him. “I’d like to see you try it, Samwise,” Frodo muttered.

Sam’s smile widened. “I’m only seventeen, sir. No one’ll be wanting to dance with me for years yet!”

“Well, when that day comes, you can be sure I’ll be right there to watch you make a fool of yourself,” Frodo grumbled.

Sam only laughed, unconcerned. Frodo looked around for Folco. He was sure no lass would want to dance with him, shy and awkward as he was, but if he was going to have a go, he at least wanted Folco to witness his effort.

He finally spotted his friend on the other side of the field, dancing energetically with that brown-haired girl, Willow, he’d met the first day of the Fair. Frodo smiled to see the pair; he had only met Willow once, but she had seemed a very sweet lass, both intelligent and witty.

Frodo sighed and got to his feet reluctantly. He supposed Sam could be his witness. “Here I go, Sam,” he muttered, and strode purposefully onto the dancing field.

A lass walked briskly past him with no partner, and Frodo hurried to speak to her before he lost his nerve. “Ah—would you dance with me?” he said quickly.

The girl stopped and smiled when she saw Frodo. “Thankee kindly, but I’ve got to serve the drinks, haven’t I?”

“Er—right.” Frodo attempted to return her smile. He had failed to notice the enormous tray full of mugs she carried; clearly she was a barmaid employed by the inn. He knew he was blushing now, and he carefully avoided looking back in Sam’s direction. Instead he forged boldly ahead to try again. At that point, the music stopped, and Frodo’s heart sank.

But the fiddlers quickly struck up a new tune, and the tween suddenly spotted another potential partner. This one held no tray of ales, and she had just finished the last dance and was looking around. Frodo pasted a smile on his face and walked over to her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked hopefully.

The girl turned to him, smiling politely. She looked him over quickly, and her smile broadened. “Yes, please!” she exclaimed, and seized Frodo by the hand.

He followed her, bewildered by his success, and they danced. And Frodo, to his own amazement, began to enjoy himself. He was not a bad dancer; Folco, and later Heather Proudfoot, had taught him everything he needed to know.

His partner was lively and friendly, and he danced another two dances with her. Just after Jasmine, as he learned her name to be, walked off for some refreshment, Frodo saw Emerald Bracegirdle grinning at him. Frodo grinned merrily back, and danced with her for awhile. Then he went back to his old seat by Sam, to quench his thirst with a few gulps of ale.

Sam was engaged in an intense game of Blueberries and Straw with some of the other teenagers, but he stopped long enough to smirk at Frodo and whisper “I told ye!”

Frodo rolled his eyes and went back to the dancing field. He saw another girl he didn’t know looking for a partner, and asked her to dance. She accepted eagerly, as did all the lasses he asked that night. Frodo couldn’t believe it was so easy, and he enjoyed the merriment and newfound confidence with great satisfaction. He saw Bilbo once, and the old hobbit had looked comically surprised to see Frodo dancing. Frodo laughed out loud as his uncle smiled and toasted him with a tankard of ale.

Bilbo chuckled to himself, delighted to see his heir beginning to come out of his shell at last. He noticed the group of mothers who had been gossiping at the next table fall silent and look at him.

“That’s a rare boy you’ve got there, Bilbo,” one of them said. “He’ll be a fine catch when he’s a mite older!”

“I daresay,” Bilbo agreed with a smile as he watched his nephew laughing at something his partner said, sapphire eyes sparkling merrily. The lad had a certain gracefulness about him, awkward though he felt about dancing. With his slight but well-nourished figure, smooth skin and dark russet hair, Frodo was certainly fair to look upon. Even an old hobbit like Bilbo could see that. And the boy’s good manners and consideration for others allowed him to make friends with relative ease.

But Bilbo sometimes worried. Frodo’s childhood had been by turns heartbreaking, traumatic, and merely difficult, resulting in a young hobbit who was a late bloomer in some ways, and yet far more mature than his friends in other ways. Frodo was twenty-nine, which meant he would come of age in just a few years.

“Oh, he’ll be all right,” the old hobbit muttered to himself. “He’s turned out far better than I could have hoped, with me the one raising him!” Bilbo shook his head, smiling faintly at the memory of the child he had taken in eight years ago, who had filled his heart.

The mayoral election began the next day, and all the talk centred on whether Mayor Whitfoot would win another term. That, and the weather, for it was growing unusually hot for late summer. By the end of the week, Whitfoot had been re-elected, and some Fair attendees were already packing and leaving for home. The rest wore their lightest summer clothes, and gave the inns a brisk business in the sale of cool drinks.

Frodo was walking along beside Bilbo, with Merry and little Pippin in tow, all four in their shirtsleeves.

“Are you sure you can handle these two, my lad?” Bilbo asked his ward, ruffling Merry’s golden curls affectionately.

“As if we would ever misbehave for Cousin Frodo!” Merry said sweetly. “Right, Pippin?”

“Rggh!” Pippin chimed in, not bothering to swallow the bite of candied apple he was chewing.

“Frodo, are you sure you’re all right?” Bilbo asked, peering at him in concern. “I still say you look a little pink. Perhaps you ought to stay out of the sun today.” Frodo did not have the ruddy complexion of most hobbits, and his fair skin burned easily.

“I’m fine, Bilbo,” Frodo protested. “You worry too much!”

The two smaller heads beside him bobbed vigorously in agreement, and Bilbo had to laugh at the trio. “Well, all right. Just see that you get some shade today. Have fun, lads!”

And so they set off, Merry tugging Frodo by one hand, Pippin tugging on the other. The latter, at eight years old, wasn’t much more than a toddler, but he could generate surprising force when motivated.

“Where are we going?” Frodo asked, laughing and trying to dislodge Pippin’s sticky little hand from his sleeve.

“I want to see the ponies!” Pippin announced, pointing with his candied apple.

“The ponies,” Merry nodded. “And then snacks.”

“All right,” Frodo said agreeably, dragging a sleeve across his brow. He did have a bit of a sunburn from the day before, and he wasn’t feeling all that well. It was abominably hot again today, but at least the ponies would be in shaded stalls.

“Look!” said Merry as they made their way across the marketplace. “It’s Lotho and Fatty. And what’s-his-name.”

“Ted,” Frodo supplied absently. “Merry, don’t point.”

Lotho and his cronies passed by without noticing Frodo, and Pippin stuck out his tongue at their retreating backs.

“Pippin,” Frodo sighed.

“Look!” Now Pippin was pointing. “It’s Sam and Halfred! Oh, let’s find out what they’re doing, please Cousin Frodo?”

“All right,” Frodo smiled into Pippin’s round green eyes. They would never get to the pony barn at this rate, but as long as his cousins were happy and occupied, it mattered not.

They altered course to intercept the two Gamgees standing off to the side, in the meagre shade of a few scraggly trees.

Samwise heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Here? Come on, Hal!” he protested. “We don’t need any more herbs, an’ that’s a fact!”

“Just a little willow bark, I think,” Halfred said absently, still gazing at the herbalist’s shop. More specifically, at the lass tending the counter. She was the raven-haired beauty he had danced with at the election party, and he had been trying to meet her again all week. She was being maddeningly coy about it, though. She hadn’t even told him her name yet. All he had been able to discover was that she worked as an assistant for Dr. Hornblower, the Hobbiton doctor, and his wife the herbalist.

“Hullo, Sam and Halfred!” Frodo called, and they both turned to see the blue-eyed tween approaching, cousins on either side. “What are you two doing this fine morning?”

“Ah—nothing,” Halfred said quickly.

“Hal’s trying to meet a lass,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“Oh?” Frodo smiled quizzically while Merry and Pippin giggled.

“Sam, hush,” Hal muttered.

“That lass, right over there,” Sam went on helpfully, pointing toward the herbalist’s shop. “Right in there, the one with dark hair, like.”

“Sam!” Halfred moaned, putting a hand to his face.

“Oh, what!” Sam exclaimed. “I’ve waited for ye all morning. And yesterday, and the day afore that. Quit buyin’ herbs! She’s bound to get suspicious, if she ain’t already.”

“I’ll come with you, Halfred!” Merry piped up, bouncing on his toes. “I could tell her all sorts of things about you.”

“Take me, too!” added Pippin, clinging eagerly to Merry’s hand.

Halfred looked down at the two pleading faces and moaned again.

“I’ll tell you what, Hal,” Frodo said. “I could use a salve for my sunburn. I’ll come with you, if you like, and then you won’t have to buy anything more.”

“Oh, thankee, Mr. Frodo,” Hal said in relief. “That’ll do nicely.”

Frodo turned to the three smirking younger lads. “You three stay here!” he commanded sternly.

“Yes, Cousin Frodo,” Pippin singsonged sweetly, and promptly sat down in a shady spot on the grass.

Merry grabbed Sam’s sleeve and pulled the gardener’s son down as well. “Yes, Cousin Frodo!” Merry mimicked, poking at Pippin.

“You get along now,” Sam added. “Don’t want to keep your lass waiting!” He fluttered his handkerchief daintily, sending the other two into peals of laughter.

“That boy gets more outlandish with every passin’ day,” Halfred muttered as he walked beside Frodo.

Frodo didn’t reply, for he was thinking only of the coolness of the shop. He had a pounding headache now, his stomach was queasy, and his mouth painfully dry. The heat seemed to rise off the ground in great waves, threatening to wash him under.

“—all right?”

Frodo blinked and realized Halfred had been speaking. “I beg your pardon, what did you say?” Frodo asked, making himself focus on Hal’s worried face.

“I asked if you were all right, Mr. Frodo,” Halfred said. “You looked a mite peaked for a minute there. Do ye want to go back to your inn?”

“No, I’m fine, Hal,” Frodo hastened to assure the other tween, for he did feel better now that they were in the shade cast by the row of shops. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

They went into the herbalist’s shop and Frodo breathed in the cooler air gratefully.

“Somethin’ I can get for ye?” the girl behind the counter asked politely, smiling frostily at Halfred.

Halfred cleared his throat. “Yes—my... Fro—uh, Mr. Frodo needs something for his sunburn, if you have it.”

“Well, Mr. Frodo is in luck,” the girl said airily. “Doc Hornblower’s had a new batch of salve made up every day, what with the weather and all. I’ll fix up a jar for ye.”

“Thank you,” Frodo called as the girl went into the back of the shop.

Halfred was looking at him in exasperation. “You see how it is?” he mouthed.

Frodo grinned and took another deep breath. He really did feel much better out of the sun, although he was still frightfully thirsty. His busy mind set to work on what he might do to aid Halfred.

“May I ask your name, Miss?” Frodo said casually when the girl came back and set a small jar before him.

“Jessimine Goodbody, sir,” she replied, her hazel eyes watching him guardedly.

“Ah, thank you,” Frodo said, and dug into his trouser pocket to pay her. “My friend here is called Halfred Gamgee. He thinks quite a lot of you, and would welcome the chance to know you better.”

“Would he indeed?” Jessimine said archly. She didn’t turn to look at the furiously blushing Halfred, but her lips quirked slightly in amusement.

“Yes, he would,” Frodo continued. “I’ve known him many years, and he is quite an excellent fellow. Perhaps you would consider continuing this conversation with him instead of me?”

“Perhaps I would,” Jessimine said, “if ye would be so kind as to tell your silly friend to come on back at four, or thereabouts, when I would be glad to share a cup o’ tea.”

Frodo bowed gravely. “I will be sure to let him know.”

Jessimine bowed even lower. “Thankee most kindly, Mr. Frodo.”

“No trouble at all.” Frodo ushered Halfred out the door.

“And if he finds himself needin’ any more herbs, you just tell him it might be cheaper ta grow his own!” Jessimine called after them cheerfully.

Halfred smiled sheepishly as they stepped outside. “She has a sense o’ humour,” he said.

“Yes,” Frodo agreed. “You two should get along splendidly. I wonder if she likes to play pranks on her neighbours, too?” he wondered blandly.

“Aye—no! Now, Mr. Frodo, you know it were only that one time...” Halfred trailed off as he followed Frodo’s suddenly horrified gaze across the nearly empty market.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam were all standing where they had last seen them, and they were facing a most unwelcome trio: Lotho, Ted, and Fatty. Sam’s fists were clenched in anger and Pippin was looking on in alarm, but it was Merry who held Lotho’s full attention.

“How dare you!” the seventeen-year-old shouted furiously. “I’ll teach you to say that about—”

He was cut off as Lotho slapped him sharply across the face.