Chapter Twenty: The Trial

Merry was being served fresh, warm cinnamon rolls by Mrs. Boffin, who kept up a lively stream of chatter as she bustled about the kitchen. Merry was not paying any attention at all, and he ate in silence. "What are they doing in there?" he asked when there was a pause in Mrs. Boffin’s prattle.

"Why, having a trial, of course," she said as she kneaded some bread dough.

"But don’t you need to be in court to have a trial?"

Mrs. Boffin shook her head. "No," she said. "Mayor Whitfoot says that a real trial in a courtroom would be too much work, and as we have a large study he can use, he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t have the trial right here."

"Oh."

There was another silence, broken only by the various noises of other hobbits moving about in the smial. "Don’t they need witnesses?" Merry asked at last.

Mrs. Boffin was now washing the dishes. "Of course, dear," she said. "They’ll likely call for them later, after they’ve read the claim and all that formality. My husband says that this trial may take days, Master Lotho and Mistress Lobelia the way they are. Where has he got to, anyhow, I wonder? That’s the trouble, you see -- he gets so busy, being the chief postman and all. He’ll go off for days at a time…" She continued on, but Merry’s attention wavered again. He was making a mental list of witnesses: Sam, Milo and Peony of course, and also the Broadbelts, for he’d shown Daisy the bird, and before they’d left for Bywater, he’d told her that Milo had made it for him.

Just then, the sound of someone coming down the hallway jerked him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Shirriff Toly entering the kitchen. "Hullo, dear," said Mrs. Boffin cheerfully, giving him an affectionate hug.

"Morning, Mistress Isannuh," he returned, tipping his cap.

Merry thought it odd that he used such familiarity when speaking with someone so wealthy and important, but Toly did not give him time to dwell on it. "Boy," he said, taking Merry’s arm, "you’re the one who claims to own that wooden bird."

It was not a question. "Yes," said Merry firmly. "But I don’t claim to own the bird – I do own the bird. And my name isn't 'boy'. It's Meriadoc Brandybuck." Perhaps that was a bit impudent, but the infamous Brandybuck temper had been sparked, and had Toly known more about Brandybucks, he might’ve been more careful.

Toly leaned down so that he was eye-level with the younger hobbit. "Listen, Master Meriadoc," he said quietly. "Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is. This Frodo Baggins – he is your cousin, correct?"

"Yes," Merry replied, giving the Shirriff a warning glare.

"Well, if you want anyone to believe his story, you need to round up some witnesses – yourself included."

Merry did not take his eyes from Toly’s. "Of course I can get some witnesses: Sam Gamgee is one, and he lives right down the hill from Bag End..."

Toly would not let him say more. "Fine, fine," he said briskly, grabbing Merry’s hand and pulling him out of the kitchen, pausing to tip his hat again to Mrs. Boffin. "You can list ’em on the way."

Toly took Merry outside and round the back of the smial to the stables. Mr. Boffin owned some of the fastest ponies in the West Farthing, which the Shirriffs often used when they needed to. A stable-hand had just finished tacking up a small, dappled grey horse and led him over to Toly. "’Ere you are, sir," he said, respectfully knuckling his forehead. "You asked for the fastest, and ’ere he be. Name’s Brandywine, sir. He’s a horse, sir, come from Bree, sold to Master Boffin by one o’ the Big People."

Toly grabbed the reins from the stable-hand. "He’ll be fine," he said shortly. He hoisted Merry up into the saddle before mounting behind him. He dug his heels hard into the horse’s sides and with a startled whinny, Brandywine broke into a gallop.

Merry clung tight to the smoky-grey mane that whipped in his face and watched in awe as the land sped past. He had never gone this fast before, especially on such an enormous creature, and it felt like flying. Brandywine’s hooves beat on the dirt road in a steady rhythm, and Merry could feel his sides heave with every breath he took, perfectly synchronized with his galloping legs. ‘A horse is a wondrous creature,’ Merry decided. ‘I wonder why I didn’t notice before?’ His father owned several ponies, some stocky and strong for the plowing, some gentle and quiet for the younger ones to ride, and some more spirited for the adults to ride.

Merry had hardly paid attention to them before. He had simply not given them much thought; to him, they were just there. Sometimes they did prove useful to hide behind when being hunted down by older cousins or other family members after doing something he shouldn’t have – such as raiding the pantry. But he’d never actually thought about them before as living, breathing things. He realized now that he could not even name most of the ponies from his own father’s stable.

Now, as he sat atop what seemed to him the fastest, strongest, most amazing horse in all of Middle-Earth (though in later years he would learn otherwise), he felt as though he were riding on the back of an eagle, soaring through the wide open sky. He could feel the muscles in Brandywine’s powerful neck as he tossed his head proudly, he could see the horse’s ears pricked forward and alert, he could hear the loud whinny sound through the summer air, sounding like a challenge to anyone who would dare try to keep up with them.

Far too soon for him, the ride was over, and they stopped at #3 Bagshot Row. Sam was in the garden of Bag End, and the Gaffer opened the door. Toly gruffly explained his business, and Hamfast called his son over. When Sam caught sight of the Shirriff, his eyes widened, and Merry gave him a quick, reassuring smile.

Toly stooped down so that he was eye-level with Sam, as he had done with Merry. "Samwise Gamgee, correct?" he said, giving the younger hobbit a shrewd stare.

"Y-yes, sir," Sam stammered nervously. The Gaffer discreetly put an arm around his son’s shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze of support.

Toly smiled, which somehow was slightly unnerving to see. "You are Frodo Baggins’ servant, are you not?"

Sam tensed. No one had actually called him that before (save of course Lotho and Ted, but no one truly heeded their opinions), although he had always thought it to be true. "Yes sir," he answered steadily, determined not to give this Shirriff the satisfaction of showing his nervousness.

Toly’s grin faded slightly. "And do you know anything about this wooden bird that was allegedly stolen from Mr. Lotho Sackville-Baggins?"

Sam frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don’t know naught about no bird o’ Mr. Lotho’s, but if you’re meanin’ the bird that Mr. Milo gave to Mr. Merry, then yes sir, I do," he said, meeting Toly’s glare evenly.

Toly’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need none of your lip, boy," he muttered. "Very well, then," he said more loudly, standing up and looking at the Gaffer. "I’ll need your son to come with me to Mr. Dorimbras Boffin’s smial to stand as a witness before Mayor Whitfoot, Mr. Gamgee." He emphasized the ‘Mr.’ with mock-respect.

The Gaffer glared at him, nodding his head slowly. He knew better than to waste time and energy being angry with the likes of Toly. "Go inside an’ wash up, lad," he said without taking his eyes from the Shirrriff’s. "An’ change yer clothes." Sam obediently dashed inside, quickly washed his hands and face, and explained the situation to his mother as he ran into the room he shared with his older brothers to change. Throwing on clean clothes, he raced back down the hall, giving little Marigold a kiss, getting a quick hug and kiss from his mother and older sister, Daisy, and then hurrying outside.

There, he found Toly seated in Brandywine’s saddle, waiting impatiently for him. The Gaffer had gone to fetch the pony, Star, from the back garden of Bag End, and was just returning. As the Gaffer hoisted Sam up into the saddle, he whispered in his son’s ear, "Watch yerself, lad. That Shirriff’s not 'ta be trusted." Sam nodded, and his father gave him a pat on the back. Sam and Merry exchanged small smiles, and Toly dug his heels into Brandywine’s sides, urging the horse into a gallop. Sam did the same more gently to Star, and the faithful bay mare leapt forward to obey him, having only a slight amount of difficulty keeping up with Brandywine’s long strides.

"How’re we going to get to Bywater in time?" Merry asked, almost having to shout over the whistling wind.

"I know a shortcut," Toly yelled back, urging Brandywine even faster. The proud creature, quite small by horse standards, sensed that short Star could not keep up, and slowed his pace to match hers. No amount of kicking, shouting or curses from Toly would convince him to go any faster, and eventually, the Shirriff gave up, and they went towards Bywater at a canter.

For a while, they followed the Road, but then Toly suddenly turned off it into the sparse forest, which soon opened up to open pasture. They raced across the countryside, past the rolling hillsides and into more forests. Then out again, and suddenly before them were Farmer Broadbelt’s fields, nearly ready to be harvested. They brought the horse and pony to a stop beneath the big oak tree, and Toly jumped off, handing the reins to Merry.

Sam glanced at the sun and scratched his head in confusion. "How’d we get here so fast?" he asked Merry. "It’s only been a little more’n an hour, an’ it took us four hours by Road!"

Merry shook his head, watching as Toly explained the situation to Milo, Peony and the Broadbelts. "Well, we stopped several times on the way then, and of course, Frodo was ill," he reminded the gardener. "But I don’t know how we made it so fast this time." He fell silent as he saw Milo and Mr. Broadbelt go around the back of the house to the barn to fetch another pony. Peony and Mrs. Broadbelt, carrying Daisy, came outside and walked down the path towards the boys. Toly was not nearly so gruff with them, but both ignored him completely.

"Hullo, Merry," Peony called cheerfully. "And Sam," she added with a bright smile. "I’ve some news for you!" She picked up her skirts and ran toward them, with Mrs. Broadbelt following more slowly. She patted Brandywine’s neck and produced a sugar cube for Star from her apron pocket. Merry and Sam eagerly awaited her news, but with a mischievous smile, she simply said, "But you shall have to wait until after the trial to hear it. I wouldn’t want Frodo and Bilbo to miss out!" Merry groaned audibly and she laughed.

Lila leaned up and gave both boys a quick kiss on the cheek, and Daisy also gave Merry a tight hug. "We always seem to meet again sooner than we thought, don’t we Daisy?" Merry laughed.

The little girl giggled. "Can Daisy ride with Mer?" she asked hopefully.

No one was given the opportunity to answer, for just then, Ferdirand and Milo came out, driving Pie, hitched up to the small family wagon. "Sorry, Mer," Daisy said as her mother put her in the back of the wagon. "Daisy has to ride in the wagon with papa."

Merry grinned. "I know, Daisy," he said, then turned to Mr. Broadbelt. "Could I ride with her in the wagon, please?"

Ferdirand smiled. "O' course, lad," he said, hopping off the driver's seat of the wagon and helping him slide off Brandywine’s broad back. "I’m sure she’ll be glad of your company." Daisy was indeed overjoyed; riding in the wagon (which was always fun), and with Merry along: a double treat! Peony also climbed into the back with them, and Toly mounted Brandywine. The horse again matched his pace with the two short ponies, and they proceeded down the lane at a slow canter.

Ferdirand Broadbelt also knew another shortcut, through his fields, and again, they made record time: only about an hour and a half had passed when they entered Hobbiton. Merry kept a lively chatter with Daisy, but Sam was troubled. He knew that the S.-B.’s would not give up an argument easily, and he was worried about what might happen to Frodo if they lost the debate. Would he be arrested? He shook his head slightly and sighed. He wouldn’t let that happen. He had failed Frodo once, and he was determined not to do it again.

***

Back at the trial, Lotho was standing up, smugly giving them his story. "I was planning on selling the bird so that I could buy a gift for my dear mother—" He gestured lovingly at Lobelia "—but it was stolen from me only two days after I’d carved it. I did not wish to suspect anyone without convincing evidence, of course, but as I was just about to leave Bywater, I saw Frodo, with Milo Burrows, Meriadoc Brandybuck and his servant, Samwise Gamgee." He paused for a moment, watching in satisfaction as Frodo’s cheeks turned red when Sam was called his 'servant’. "They were heading toward the forests on the outskirts of Bywater.

"Frodo was holding something in his hands, but I could not see clearly what it was," Lotho continued. "I followed them, being naturally curious, and as I neared, I saw that it was a small, wooden robin he held. And none other than my very own bird, which I carved with my own hands!" He glared accusingly at Frodo. "I left Bywater that very evening, with my friend, Ted Sandyman, and notified my mother immediately. She confronted Bilbo the following day, but he denied any knowledge of the bird. Of course, he may very well have been unaware of Frodo’s actions, but my mother pressed him to ask his nephew about it. He sent Frodo a letter, which was never replied to. And then he suddenly vanished without explanation, and his gardener gave us the unlikely story that ‘poor’ Frodo was ill somewhere near Bywater and Bilbo had been forced to leave immediately."

Lotho did not bother to hide his scorn as he glared at Frodo, who did not even look up at him, making him angrier than ever. "He did not return for over a week, and when he did, he still kept up the story that Frodo was too ill to come here. My mother and I (my father, regrettably, has been away in Stock) decided that more forceful measures should be taken to insure that justice would be dealt out, and so we came here yesterday, as you know, sir. But it was not until the Shirriffs showed their good judgement and threatened to use force, that Bilbo and cooperate." He ended, and looked innocently at the Mayor, expecting some sort of praise or sympathy. He found neither.

"Thank you," Mayor Whitfoot said simply. "You may take your seat."

Lotho huffily sat down next to Frodo again, giving the younger lad a sharp elbow in the ribs when he thought no one was looking.

"Right, then," Mayor Whitfoot said, "Frodo, ’tis your turn." Frodo swallowed hard and glanced at Bilbo as he stood up. His uncle smiled reassuringly and nodded his head. Frodo was encouraged somewhat, and he kept his eyes on Bilbo as he gave his testimony, striving to remember every detail possible.

When Frodo at last sat down again, Bilbo squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Frodo smiled weakly at his Uncle, hoping that he had remembered everything important.

Mayor Whitfoot was silent a long while, looking over some of his papers and muttering to himself under his breath. Finally, he looked up. "I will make no decision yet," he said slowly. "We will take a short recess and resume when the witnesses have arrived." He stood up and everyone in the room followed suit. Pim opened the door and they filed out.

Mr. Boffin was coming up the hall to meet them. "You may all go into the dining room," he said as he entered the study. "My wife will be serving some elevenses shortly." He shut the door behind him.

As Bilbo had expected, Frodo did not have much of an appetite. Mrs. Boffin served some delicious pastries, as well as fresh strawberries and blackberries, but Frodo barely touched them. Lotho, on the other hand, eagerly ate everything that was given to him, apparently without any worries whatsoever.

After finishing elevenses, the hobbits sat in silence as Mrs. Boffin bustled about the kitchen. Mr. Boffin emerged from the study, and they saw him briefly as he all but ran down the hallway and out the front door. Frodo stared down at his hands, lying in his lap, and Bilbo put a reassuring arm around his nephew’s slim shoulders. "Don’t worry, my lad," he whispered. "Everything will turn out fine, you’ll see. Once all the witnesses arrive, we’ll sort everything out. I promise."

Frodo smiled. "Thank you, Uncle," he said softly. He opened his mouth to say something more, but Lobelia cut him off.

"Bilbo," she said conversationally. "Your birthday is coming up shortly, is it not?" Bilbo nodded, preparing himself for whatever Lobelia had in store. "Otho and I are quite looking forward to it – I trust it will be as grand as all your others?" She glanced at Frodo as she said this, remembering all too clearly the birthday party, nearly seven years ago, when Frodo had been named Bilbo’s heir and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were crushed. Well, not completely. They still held out the hope that Bilbo might change his mind – there were, after all, a little more than five years before Frodo legally came of age, and into his inheritance, as well. To have his dear little nephew accused of theft was the perfect way to help Bilbo change his mind – if it worked.

"Lotho here especially enjoys your parties – ’tis such fun for him to meet other lads his age and spend time with his relatives as well." She smiled sweetly but her eyes were cold as she looked at Frodo again.

Bilbo tightened his arm around his nephew’s shoulders. "Yes," he said with practiced patience, all the while wondering where this conversation was heading. "I’m sure all the young ones enjoy parties." He did not feel it necessary to give a more lengthy reply.

Lobelia took another sip of her tea. "’Tis so hard for poor Lotho to find friends in Hobbiton" – ‘I wonder why?’ Bilbo thought sardonically – "There’s such a shortage of well-behaved lads, with good…morals. Who know the difference between right and wrong." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and she wrapped an arm around ‘poor Lotho’s’ (rather broad) shoulders.

‘Ah, now I see where you’re headed, Lobelia. Well, two can play at this game.’ Bilbo decided he’d had enough of wasting time trying to be meek and polite, and smiled just as pleasantly as Lobelia. "Ted Sandyman seems to enjoy Lotho’s company," he said lightly.

Lobelia choked slightly on her tea, but composed herself quickly. "Yes, the miller’s son is… quite intelligent, at the very least, but Otho and I feel that he is a bad influence on our darling Lotho, so we’re keeping them apart for a while."

Frodo met Lotho’s moody stare with sweet (and obviously amused) smile.

"But of course young Ted is better than some," Lobelia continued, her smile fading slightly. There was silence for a moment, and then Lobelia broke it, discarding all forms of civility or politeness. "That Brandybuck," she said in a strained voice, "is a liar and a thief! I can’t tell you enough, Bilbo – when will you see that to be true? If you must spend time with a tween, spend time with family. Lotho is an honest, caring boy, unlike that thieving--"

Bilbo and Frodo didn’t even bother getting angry, although the former was sorely tried. They simply stopped listening as Lobelia prattled on. Or at least, Bilbo did. Frodo tried not to be hurt by her cruel comments, reminding himself that her opinions – or those of her equally mean husband and son – did not mean a thing. They shouldn’t bother him.

But they did, all the same.

Frodo leaned closer to Bilbo as Lobelia all but shrieked her thoughts of Frodo and ‘Bucklanders’ in general. Bilbo tightened his arm around Frodo’s shoulders again, pulling him closer. "Don’t let her get to you, my lad," he whispered in Frodo’s ear. His nephew nodded, but Bilbo could still feel him, tense as a bowstring, beginning to involuntarily let Lobelia do just that.

As Lobelia began to head in the direction of her opinions on Brandybucks and water, Bilbo decided she’d gone far enough. He cleared his throat, and in the most polite voice he could manage, said, "Lobelia, I think we all know what your opinion is of our relatives from Buckland, and I don’t see the need of repeating them now."

Lobelia looked shocked. Bilbo went on, cutting off her astonished sputtering. "And besides that, I believe that our witnesses are here." This effectively quieted her, and everyone looked up to see that Bilbo was correct: the witnesses were here.

Ted Sandyman, brought in by Pim, came in and sat next to Lotho, while the Broadbelts, and Peony and Milo went straight toward Bilbo and Frodo. Merry was bouncing along beside them, with Sam following more slowly and shyly. Milo clapped Frodo on the back reassuringly, and Peony hugged him, whispering words of comfort. The Broadbelts, too, were full of encouragement, and Daisy climbed up on Frodo’s lap, seeming to sense that he needed the support.

Mayor Whitfoot entered the room and smiled at the new guests. "Welcome," he said. "Now that our witnesses have arrived, ’tis time to go back into the study and continue the trial."

TBC...