14. Stories

December 29, 1391

After supper on the fifth day of Yule, Frodo, Merry, and Sam (who had been persuaded by Bilbo to stay to dinner) returned to Frodo’s room to relax and let the food settle before they ventured forth for the dessert Bilbo had promised (applesauce).

The three hobbit lads sprawled on the floor near Frodo’s bed. Frodo leaned against the wall with Peregrin sitting on his lap and playing with the ties on his waistcoat. Sam and Merry sat on the floor near the bed, facing him.

Sam wordlessly handed Frodo a pillow from his bed, and the older lad put it gratefully behind his back. He hadn’t told Merry about his trouble with Lotho, and he wasn’t going to. Frodo was satisfied that Bilbo had taken care of that, which greatly eased Frodo’s worry.  He looked up to meet the eyes of the two lads watching him eagerly. The oldest boy smiled, thinking of a story the others might like.

“Have I ever told either of you the tale of the... Slime Creature of Doom?” Frodo asked, dropping his voice ominously at the end. The story, out of one of the storybooks Bilbo had once read him, did not actually use the ‘of Doom’ part, but Frodo thought it sounded more dramatic.

Merry and Sam shook their heads.

“Tell us, Cousin Frodo!” Merry said, clasping his hands gleefully. Sam sat up straighter, knowing that Mr. Frodo always told good stories.

“The tale is called ‘Meladore and the Slime Creature,’” Frodo began. “‘The Slime Creature of Doom,’ that is. It is about a Man who lived a long time ago-”

“How long ago?” interrupted Merry.

“Hmm... twelve centuries ago,” Frodo replied. He had no idea if he was anywhere close, or if the story was even based on truth, but he knew from his days at Brandy Hall that Merry wouldn’t be satisfied with such a vague answer.

“Twelve centuries!” Sam exclaimed softly, looking awed at the thought of so much time. Merry nodded, impressed.

“At any rate, the Man’s name was Meladore,” Frodo continued. “He was a poor Man of no consequence, but eventually he became renowned all over Middle Earth, and even won a third of a kingdom, all because he was kind to animals.”

Sam looked doubtful at this, but Merry said, “When does the Slime Creature come in, Frodo?”

“Don’t worry, Merry-lad,” said Frodo, trying not to laugh at the beseeching expression on his little cousin’s face. “It’s coming. It’ll come a lot faster if you don’t interrupt anymore, though.”

Merry sat back and pressed his lips together firmly, nodding for Frodo to continue.

“All right,” Frodo said, leaning back against the wall and absently pulling little Peregrin back before the baby could get a good taste of the foot of Frodo’s bureau. Peregrin whimpered in frustration, finally cramming almost an entire tiny fist into his pink mouth, and Merry reached out to hold the baby. Being held and petted by his Buckland cousin seemed to soothe the child, and Peregrin soon relaxed drowsily on Merry’s lap, forgetting for the moment how enjoyable it was to suck on one’s fingers.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yes. You see, Sam, when Meladore was a child, he found a snake on the road, quite dead. Instead of kicking the snake into a field, he picked it up and gave it a respectable funeral. When he’d finished, he discovered that the snake had been a mother snake; there were little motherless snakes waiting nearby.”

“Oh, no!” breathed Samwise.

“Meladore had pity on the babies, so he took them home and reared them himself. When the little snakes grew up, they were very grateful for Meladore’s kindness, and they licked his ears so clean that he could understand all the languages of animals; crawling, flying, and swimming animals, he could understand them all.

“Over the years, Meladore listened to animal speech, and he grew very wise, and used his secret knowledge to accomplish many seemingly impossible feats. Tales of his cleverness spread far and wide, and one day the king of a great city sent for Meladore.

“Meladore went to the king, and the king told him that an evil wizard had put a curse on his daughter, and turned her into a dreadful slimy creature that could live only in a small pond just outside the castle.

“‘If you can save her, Meladore,’ the king said, ‘I will grant you anything you wish.’

“‘I will recover your daughter if you give me one third of your kingdom,’ Meladore replied. The king thought this was far too much, and Meladore went away. Time passed, and tales began to spread of the dreadful slime creature... of doom... that lived in the pond. It was hideous to look upon; it was only the size of a small dog, perhaps, but with slimy, spongy green skin and long, spindly arms.”

Merry and Sam both shuddered. Peregrin, feeling restless, clambered down from Merry’s lap and began crawling around the bed near which Merry and Sam were sprawled, pausing only to examine the fabric of Frodo’s quilt.

“Now, the king kept secret the fact that the slime creature was his daughter, but folks in the kingdom began to say that the creature went round at night wrapping its slimy arms around people’s necks and dragging them into its pond to drown, and many wanted to kill the thing. Of course, the king wouldn’t have it, because he was still hoping someone’d come along and cure his daughter. But the rumours continued, and the king was soon desperate enough to send for Meladore again.

“Meladore came back, and the king reluctantly said to him, ‘I will give you one third of my kingdom if you can cure my daughter.’ Meladore agreed, and that night he went out and sat by the pond. He sat all night, but discovered nothing useful. The second night he sat outside as well, and again heard nothing. By the third day, the king was beginning to doubt Meladore, and told him he had one more chance, and he’d be put to death if he failed.”

Sam and Merry gasped. Frodo couldn’t see Peregrin, but the edge of the quilt on his bed had a patch of fabric that appeared to be wrinkled, as though by very small, grubby hands, as well as a small wet spot, bearing mute testimony to another of the baby’s tasting endeavours. Frodo shook his head. They would have to find that applesauce for Peregrin once the story was over.

“What happened, Mr. Frodo?” Sam whispered.

Frodo smiled. “Well, Meladore sat out by the pond again that night, but this time, he was so tired from staying awake those other nights, that he soon fell asleep in the grass. What saved him was that he heard talking in the middle of the night, and woke up. With all his knowledge, he soon realized that it was two mice whose voices he heard. Meladore lay very still and kept his eyes closed, so that the mice wouldn’t realize he was awake.

“‘It’s such a shame about the princess,’ said one mouse.

“‘Yes,’ said the other. ‘I was there, in the woods, the day the king offended that dreadful wizard. The king was out hunting a stag, and accidentally shot a stray arrow into the wizard’s campsite. The arrow punctured the wizard’s best wineskin, and all the wine ran out, so the wizard cursed the princess.’

“‘Is there no way to restore the lass?’ asked the first mouse.

“‘Well, yes,’ answered the second mouse. ‘All the king has to do is pour a bottle of his best wine over the slime creature, ah, the slime creature of doom, and the princess will be restored. ‘Tis a shame the king doesn’t know that. But of course, no one ever asks me. I’m just a mouse.’

“When he had heard this, Meladore got up and went to wake the king. ‘You must pour a bottle of your best wine over the princess,’ Meladore told him. The king was bewildered, but did as Meladore asked. Just as the mouse had said, a lovely girl appeared in place of the slime creature, and the king was overjoyed. In gratitude, he not only gave one third of his kingdom to Meladore, he also gave Meladore the princess’ hand in marriage. And they lived happily ever after, to the end of their days.”

The lads sat in silence for several long moments. “That was a good story, Frodo,” Merry said meditatively.

“Oh!” exclaimed Sam suddenly, eyes widening in alarm. The gardener’s son sat petrified, as though afraid to move.

“Sam?” Frodo asked. “What’s the matter?”

“M-Mr. Frodo, sir, I think the slime creature’s gnawin’ at my neck!”

Frodo leaned forward to peer over Sam’s shoulder, and was confronted with a pair of sparkling green eyes.

Merry and Sam both looked up in surprise when Frodo burst into laughter. Peregrin had somehow crawled behind Sam and pulled himself upright against the side of Frodo’s bed, for the baby now had his wee hands clutched onto the back of Sam’s collar. Peregrin was peering interestedly up at Sam’s curly golden-brown hair, but the baby also appeared to be drooling freely down the back of Sam’s neck.

“I am dreadfully sorry, Samwise!” Frodo exclaimed, but he could hardly speak for laughing. “I don’t think Uncle Paladin will like it very much if he catches you calling his son a slime creature, though!”

Merry snorted with laughter and reached over to retrieve the wayward Peregrin. “Oh, Sam!” Merry shrieked helplessly. “You oughta see your face right now!”

Sam grinned sheepishly, but the embarrassed hobbit couldn’t help joining in the laughter.

Merry bounced Peregrin on his knee, and the baby shrieked in delight, then began trying to stuff a fistful of Merry’s curls into his tiny mouth. “Now, really, Sam,” Merry admonished, with an impish grin, “if you’re gonna give pet names to the future Thain of Great Smials, you might make it one we can say in front of his parents!”

“I-I’d never presume such, Mr. Merry!” protested Sam, before he realized Merry was only teasing.

“You’re quite right, Merry-lad,” mused Frodo. “We really must think of a more appropriate pet name for little Peregrin here. We’ll have to work on that.” Frodo pulled out his handkerchief and briskly set to wiping Peregrin’s saliva off the back of Sam’s neck.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam gasped in embarrassment. “You—that tickles, sir!—you don’t need to go doin’ that!”

“Stop wiggling,” Frodo commanded, and Sam tried to sit still. “And just think, Sam-” Frodo paused to suppress a chortle “-one day, when little Peregrin is Thain, you’ll be able to tell folks that the Thain once drooled on you!”

Peals of laughter echoed down the hall outside Frodo’s room in response to this pronouncement, followed eventually by a breathless, “Oh, you won’t go tellin’ anyone about this, will you sirs?”

“Will we, Cousin Frodo?” Merry turned an inquiring eye toward the older lad, for in all things mischief-related, Merry deferred to the greater experience of Frodo.

“Hmm...” said Frodo thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, Sam. We shan’t tell anyone at present.”

Sam’s relieved sigh and Merry’s disappointed look were both cut short by Frodo’s next words.

“No, I think we’d much better wait for a more opportune time,” Frodo said, azure eyes sparkling mischievously, “such as Sam’s wedding day. In front of his bride.”

Merry and Sam both burst into giggles at this idea, perhaps because thoughts of embarrassment at one’s marriage were not terribly frightening to a pair of small hobbit lads.

“Or—or on Peregrin’s wedding day?” Merry put in between snickers, and all three lads grinned down at the babe gurgling happily on the floor, clutching Frodo’s big toe.

“Good idea, Merry,” Frodo praised.

Merry beamed, and Sam looked down at his hands to hide the smirk on his round face. Frodo noticed then that Peregrin nearly had Frodo’s toe in his wee pink mouth, so he picked the baby up hastily.

“I think now might be a fine time to fetch that applesauce Uncle Bilbo promised us,” Frodo exclaimed. “What do you say?”

Merry nodded eagerly, Sam smiled bashfully, and Peregrin scrunched up his tiny red face in anger over being denied the chance to get Frodo’s toe in his mouth.

“We can bring it back here,” Frodo said as the children began to walk to the kitchen. “I’m sure Uncle Bilbo won’t mind. And maybe we’ll think of a game on the way!”