Chapter 13 - An Unexpected Return

Astron 3

“Halt!” the bounder called. “Who are you and what’s your business?” He uncovered his lantern and held it up to illuminate the cloaked figure.

Rowan pulled the horse to a stop and lowered her cloak hood. She peered past the light at the shadowed figure of the hobbit and said, “I am Rowan of Bree, and I have with me Frodo Baggins of Hobbiton.”

The bounder could hardly believe his eyes, and he believed his ears even less. He had always known the Big Folk were strange and backward, but to send their women folk out alone in the middle of the night was unfathomable. Even more unfathomable was who she claimed to have with her. Last he heard, Frodo Baggins had been drowned in the Brandywine near the southern border of the Shire. Now this woman was not only claiming to know him but to have him with her. Unless he had heard her incorrectly.

“You have a delivery for Mr. Baggins?” he asked, for this would not be the first time the Bagginses would have someone bring a delivery into the Shire under the cover of night.

Rowan shook her head. “No, I have Frodo with me. He’s resting in the carriage.”

“Is that a fact?” the bounder asked skeptically. He motioned for two other bounders to approach the carriage. “Open up the door and let’s see for ourselves who’s in there,” he ordered.

They hurried to comply, but found the carriage door quite out of their reach. They were negotiating who would climb up the steep steps when the door swung open on its own. The bounders jumped back in surprise, stumbling into each other when none other than Frodo Baggins appeared and gingerly climbed down the steps. None of them had ever met Frodo before, but there was no doubt who this dark-haired, fair-skinned, pale-eyed hobbit could be. They stepped back instinctively as he reached the ground and focused those dazzling blue eyes upon them.

Frodo allowed the bounders a few moments to get over their shock, but when they continued to gape unblinkingly at him, he cleared his throat and politely addressed the leader. “Master Bounder, if you please, Miss Rowan and I require lodgings for the night. I also request on being awakened before dawn and to be loaned a pony to get me to Brandy Hall if that is at all possible, otherwise I will have to walk.”

The master bounder blinked a few times, then forcibly shook himself out of his stupor. “Yes, yes of course, Mr. Baggins,” he stuttered. “Miss Rowan can take a room in the guardhouse, though it’ll be a mite cramped I’m afraid. If you don’t mind, you can take my bunk for yourself. You may borrow one of the ponies, of course, but one of us will have to accompany you to bring it back.”

“Of course,” Frodo agreed, but Rowan objected.

“You should not be riding Frodo,” she said. “If you grow weary, you must be able to lie down and rest.”

“We have a pony trap,” the leader offered.

Rowan accepted this and climbed down from the carriage as the bounders hurried off to prepare her a room. Frodo and Rowan followed the leader inside. He noticed that the heads of the other bounders came together as soon as they were out of earshot, and he knew they were already discussing who would spread the news. He wondered bemusedly how elaborate the story of his return would become by tomorrow.

He turned his back to the bounders and said good-night to Rowan while they waited for their lodgings to be prepared. Rowan gave him some last-minute instructions. “Don’t forget to take your medicine, twice a day for another eight days. Drink plenty of water and tea, and take it easy for the next couple of weeks. No strenuous activity for a month at least.”

Frodo laughed. “I shall do as you order,” he promised then stepped out of the way so Rowan could return to her beast and remove its harness. Rowan was tying the horse to a tree and securing the carriage when the bounders stepped outside to say all was ready. Frodo stayed with her until she was safe in her room, then followed the bounders to the master’s room. He didn’t bother undressing but fell on the bed in exhaustion. He was asleep within moments.

He was awakened the following morning by the master. After a light meal, he found his guide outside, the pony and trap ready to go. The fog from the River was heavy in the still-dark air, and he was obliged to pull a blanket, provided by the bounder, tight around him. He was disconcerted to see that the bounders were still regarding him with a mixture of disbelieving fascination and trepidation. Frodo guessed what they were thinking and so did not ask any questions. Instead, he turned to face the road.

The bounder next to him took up the reins. He clicked the pony into motion and set a quick pace, eager to get to Brandy Hall where he might be able to eavesdrop on any explanation Mr. Baggins would give for his unexpected return after being pronounced dead just a few days before. Clearly, he could not ask Mr. Baggins directly.

For his part, Frodo was glad they were going quickly. He was not sure what time it was, but he hoped to make it to Brandy Hall before too many of its occupants woke up. The fewer questions he had to deal with the better, and he really wanted to speak with Merry and Pippin first. 

He lay down flat in the cart. There was no fear of being spied now, not while night and fog lasted, but he wanted to try to get a few hours sleep if he could. He covered himself with the blanket the bounder had provided and closed his eyes.

Merry slipped quietly into the stable, clutching a bag of food he had raided from the kitchen. He placed the bag near the other provisions he had already managed to smuggle out of the Hall and retrieved his pony from its stall. He expertly saddled the pony and packed the saddlebags swiftly, distributing the weight evenly. When he was finished, he picked up the reins to lead the pony out of the barn.

“You’re only taking one? You’ll need a second if you should find Frodo.”

Merry’s head jerked up, his heart pounding at being caught unawares. His mother stepped through the door and stopped just before him and the pony. Merry’s shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply. “Father knows too?”

“He knows.”

“Pippin told you.”

“No, Merimac did,” Esmeralda answered. She took Merry’s hand and gently led her son to sit on a nearby bale of hay. “I passed him in the tunnels yesterday afternoon. He seemed put out and I when I questioned him on it, he told me about the most curious conversation he had with Melilot. I would have let it go at that, if your father hadn’t already mentioned that Melie had visited you last morning. Wouldn’t you know, that was just after she finished talking to Mac. It didn’t take much after that to figure out you were up to something, and I’m assuming this is it. Is this what you and Pippin were arguing about?”

“Yes,” Merry admitted. “I think there’s a chance Frodo may have survived.”

“We figured as much.”

“I’m going to look for him. Are you going to stop me?”

“You do know that a group of hobbits was already sent by boat down the River to look for Frodo, don’t you?” Esmeralda said. “They are traders from Haysend and were planning a trip to the Sea to trade for some salt and large fish. They were going to postpone their trip because of the flood, but your father convinced them not to. They left the night you camped there.”

“I didn’t know,” Merry mumbled, feeling like a fool. Of course, his father would think to send someone long before now. “Have any of them returned yet?”

“I don’t know. They went in two groups, so that in case they did find something, one could come back and the other continue to the river’s end. We haven’t heard anything yet, but I suppose if you want to go to Haysend to get word, that will be fine. I’m not here to stop you leaving,” Esmeralda assured, “but you’ll go faster yourself by boat, don’t you think? Mac agreed to take you.”

“He would do that?”

“Of course he would. Now come back inside, dear, it’s chill out here and you’ll catch cold.”

Merry shook his head. “I’ll stay out here.”

“You can’t leave until you’ve apologized to Pippin,” Esmeralda said, guessing the source of her son’s reluctance. The two had been avoiding each other since Paladin’s arrival. 

“I know, but that isn’t it,” Merry said and hesitated. He looked away from his mother before continuing. “It’s just, if I go inside and sleep in my bed, I might change my mind, find excuses to stay. I don’t really want to go. I’m afraid to actually. I’m not ready to face the River, but I have to. If there’s a chance, even the slightest, I have to try.”

“My Merry,” Esmeralda said fondly. She cupped his face with her hand and turned him to look at her. “You have such dedication and determination for those you love. I’m so proud of you. I love you more than anyone, you know that don’t you?”

Merry nodded, his eyes sparkling with unspent tears. “I know.” He was silent for several moments, then asked the question that had been plaguing him since their return from the search. “Do you think he knew?”

Esmeralda considered the question carefully and nodded slowly. “I think he did.”

Merry lowered his eyes and played with some loose hay. He picked up a single stalk and started splitting it, strand by strand. “Then why did he do it?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know, dear. That’s a question that can never be answered.”

“Do you think he could have survived?”

Esmeralda shook her head. “The practical side of me doesn’t see how, but I think, deep down, I will always hope that he did. I almost hope the traders don’t find him, that they come back empty-handed. I’d rather think of him wandering through the Blue with Elves and Dwarves and whatever else is out there, than to bury him next to his parents.”

Merry smiled fondly at this and added, “Maybe he’ll even find Bilbo. It’s what he’s always wanted. Then they could go to Rivendell and the Lonely Mountain together. They could visit all those dwarves from Bilbo’s tales. I saw some dwarves once, during Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday. Pippin, Ilby and I snuck up to Bag End to spy on them.”

Esmeralda chuckled. “So that’s where you three disappeared to. Who let the tadpoles loose in Lobelia’s skirts?”

Merry laughed. “That would be Ilby. His first real prank. We were so proud of him.”

“Ah, a mystery is solved. You know, Frodo rather enjoyed that little prank.”

“I’d hoped he would. He was taking the party far too seriously,” Merry said and yawned widely. “You know, I got the idea from him. He said he did that once to his Aunt Dora during a visit to Bag End. I think that’s when Bilbo decided to adopt him.”

They both laughed now. “I wouldn’t put it past him… either of them. If ever there was a pair of hobbits more suited for each other, I’d be sorely pressed to find one,” Esmeralda said as Merry yawned again. “Go to sleep, lad. You should start your journey well rested. I’ll send Mac out first thing in the morning to fetch you, and I’ll see that Pippin comes with him so you can make amends. Don’t be too hard on Pippin, dear. He’s young yet, and he doesn’t have your courage.”

Merry nodded and lay down. Esmeralda pulled a blanket from the saddlebag and draped it over her son. Then she relieved the pony of its burdens and took it back to its stall. Merry listened as she closed the barn door quietly behind her and then settled in to try to get some sleep with the rest of the night.

He was dreaming he was at Bag End and Frodo was attempting to teach him some Elvish. Merry, however, was restless and not paying attention. Frodo finally gave up and suggested they go for a ride instead. They went to the stable and… no, that was wrong. Bag End didn’t have a stable. That made no sense, but he could hear Frodo clearly.

“You can stable your pony in here. There are plenty of stalls to choose from,” he was saying.

“I thank you kindly, Mr. Baggins,” a vaguely familiar voice responded.

Merry frowned. Were they going riding, or getting back from riding? And who was there with them? He looked around but couldn’t see anyone, not even Frodo anymore.

“You’re more than welcome. It’s the least I could do after you drove all morning to bring me here,” his cousin responded. “Now, just go through the first main door, the north one, and that will lead you to the front parlor. The first tunnel on the left will take you to the dining hall. It will be another hour at least before they’re ready to serve first breakfast, but you may wait there until then. Ask to speak with the Master if anyone has any concerns.”

Merry’s frown deepened. Now this really didn’t make any sense. They weren’t even at Bag End anymore. They were in Buckland and there was a strand of hay poking him in the back. He shifted his position irritably and settled back down to dream some more.

“Merry?” Frodo finally remembered that Merry was present also. Maybe now they would go riding. “Merry? What are you doing sleeping out here?”

Frodo shook Merry gently, baffled by his friend’s presence in the stables. He noticed the stuffed saddlebags lying on the ground and his confusion deepened. What was going on here? Where was Pippin? He shook Merry again, harder this time. “Merry, wake up you lazy dolt.”

Two grey eyes blinked open and focused on him. “Frodo?” Merry said dazedly, still half in the midst of sleep. Then his eyes widened in surprise and Merry bolted upright, fixing Frodo with the same disbelieving expression the bounders had used. “Frodo?” he said again, this time with amazement and fear. He inched away quickly from the vision before him.

Merry wasn’t sure whether he was still dreaming or not. Everything around him told him he was awake, the stable, the saddlebags, the blanket and the bale of hay he was sitting on. Mist was pouring in through the open door and there was a pony trap in the middle of the stables that didn’t belong there, and it was branded with the mark of the Bounders. The other voice he had heard must be a bounder then, yet that person was no longer here.

Then there was Frodo. Merry realized he had to be dreaming still, for how else could Frodo be standing before him, looking so beautifully baffled. With a scar. A dark, red line crossed Frodo’s forehead where there had not been one before. Why would he dream of Frodo with a scar? He reached out without thinking and lightly traced the mark, then quickly pulled his hand away. He stared down at his fingertips, warm from the brief touch, then looked back up at Frodo, a wild hope in his eyes.

“Frodo? Is it you? Is it really?” he asked timidly.

“Of course it is,” Frodo answered, a sinking cold feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Something was seriously wrong here. He had expected to be greeted by contemptuous stares or curious puzzlement, depending of course on whom he was encountering. He had not expected to be greeted with the same disbelieving amazement by everyone. “Are you all right, Merry? Why are you sleeping in the stables?”

“Mac’s coming, we’re taking the boat to go look for you,” Merry said.

“You are?” Frodo asked, his turn to be surprised. It had not occurred to him that anyone would still be attempting to look for him. After all, the Bagginses of Bag End were always disappearing, him especially.

“We looked before but we couldn’t find you,” Merry explained further. He was still backed into the stall behind him, tense and frightened, tears standing in his eyes. “Then the miller, he said, he said he saw you. He said you, he saw you, you went into the River and there was a flood and everyone said, they said you were dead. But you’re not dead. Are you? I’m not dreaming? Are you real?”

Now it was Frodo’s turn to look disbelieving, and the coldness in his stomach slowly spread throughout the rest of his body. They thought he was dead? All this time, they had thought he’d perished in the flood? So this was why he had to come back. It was this, Merry, sitting before him, trying so hard to keep from crying, not believing yet but wanting to so desperately. 

“Oh Merry,” Frodo said and reached out to pull Merry into a tight embrace.

Merry stiffened at the first contact, but then Frodo’s arms were around him and his face was pressed to Frodo’s shoulder. He could smell the scent that belonged to Frodo alone: pipeweed, ink, old dusty books, sandalwood soap. He sank into the embrace and clung to Frodo tightly, tears streaming down his face, his chest racked with sobs. His Frodo was here, alive, beyond all hope.

Frodo rocked Merry gently back and forth, humming softly, his mind whirling even as he tried to comfort his friend. If Berwin had waited, if he had not changed his mind and had gone to Rivendell, even with a letter sent home, would that have been enough? How had all this happened? He knew how – the ring. This had all started with him losing the ring. No, that wasn’t it either. He had not misplaced the ring, it had slipped from his traveling cloak without him noticing. Why?

Someone was knocking persistently upon the door. Paladin answered the call just as Esmeralda emerged from the bedroom and Saradoc from the study.

“Milo?” Paladin said and let Milo Burrows into the room. He had another hobbit with him, who looked to be a bounder by his dress. “What is the matter?” Saradoc asked.

“Sorry for the interruption so early in the morning,” Milo said and looked around. “Where are Merry and Pippin?”

“Merry’s in the stable, or at least he should be. Mac just took Pippin out to see him before they leave,” Saradoc answered. “Now what is the matter?”

Milo indicated the bounder, who stepped forward with a formal bow. “You’re going to want to hear this,” Milo said.

“Hear what?” Paladin asked, annoyed with the pretense and wanting to get to the point already.

The bounder cleared his throat and addressed Saradoc. “Well, sir, I don’t know rightly how to say this, but Frodo Baggins came through Buckland Gate last night, or early this morning I should say. I brought him here in a pony trap. He stayed behind in the stable with your son.”

Saradoc blinked and everyone paused to look at the bounder blankly. “What?”

“You go in first, lad,” Merimac said to Pippin. “Once you and Merry clear everything up, send him on out.”

Pippin nodded and walked the last several yards to the stable by himself. The mist was clearing and he could make out the outline of the building from where he left Merimac standing. By the time he was close enough to see the stable clearly, he spotted the door standing wide open. His heart sank, fearing Merry had already slipped off and that his cousin had not wanted to speak with him after all. He was about to turn back when he heard Merry’s voice from inside the barn. It sounded as though he were speaking to someone. Curious, Pippin entered the stable and saw… “Frodo?”

Frodo and Merry looked up and grinned. Merry’s eyes were red and puffy, and Frodo looked close to tears himself. Merry bounced with excitement and said, “Look Pippin. It’s Frodo! He’s not dead.”

“Frodo?”

“I suppose I should get used to this reaction,” Frodo said. “Yes, Pippin, it’s me, in the flesh and all that.”

Pippin looked back and forth between his two cousins. Merry was elated and Frodo looked, well, he looked different somehow, but happy and very much alive. That was all Pippin needed to know. “Frodo!” He ran at his cousin at full speed and hugged him fiercely, immensely relieved to find a solid form to enclose his arms around.

Frodo grunted in pain at the contact and Pippin bounced back immediately, not certain what to make of anything really, but smiling all the same. Merry looked at Frodo curiously. Frodo shrugged sheepishly and explained, “I cracked some ribs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pippin said, a look of utter guilt falling onto his face.

“Not just now, you silly goose,” Frodo said. “When I fell into the River. They’re healing quite nicely actually, and they don’t hurt anywhere as much as they did before.”

“Oh, right.” Pippin noticed the scar then and reached out to touch it as Merry had, amazed again at the contact. Frodo was here. His grin widened and he was oblivious to the tears streaming down his own face. “Is that when this happened also?”

Frodo nodded. “Yes it was. I suppose now is as good a time for an explanation as any,” he said but was interrupted by a sudden clamoring at the door. He looked up and found Esmeralda, Saradoc, Paladin, Merimac and Milo staring at him with confusion and glee. “Hullo,” he said, for lack of a better greeting.

Many tearful hugs later, everyone left the stable and went inside to the Master’s quarters, walking in one big clump so they could smuggle Frodo in unseen between them. Once they were safely inside, Saradoc sent Milo to fetch Frodo’s things from the mathom room and allowed him to clean up and change into fresh clothes while first breakfast was brought in and served. Finally, they settled down to eat and hear Frodo’s story. 

Frodo decided, after hearing Merry confess that they thought him dead, that the truth was the best way to go. He told them nearly everything, but left out any mention of the ring. He said only that he had panicked when he realized he had lost something and had gone out to look for it. Once the storm started, he had gotten lost. He told them about that whole day out in the storm, about falling into the river (and noticed many furtive and relieved looks among everyone as he explained how the riverbank gave way beneath him and he lost his balance), about waking a day later to find himself in the company of Berwin, and all his time spent in Bree. He left out his nightmares and any mention of Bilbo and Rivendell.

When he was finished, everyone had questions and he spent the time between first and second breakfasts answering them all. Then second breakfast was brought in, and Saradoc filled Frodo in on everything that had happened in Buckland during his absence. He explained how Merry and Pippin had found the guest room in shambles and about the search to look for him. He recounted the miller’s story nearly word for word, changing only the part of how the miller reported Frodo going into the River. He next explained that the formal announcement had been made and that nearly everyone near and around Brandy Hall had heard it by now.

“Would they have heard the news in Hobbiton yet?” Frodo asked.

Saradoc nodded. “Porto was visiting here also, as you know. He took the word back with him.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Five days,” Saradoc answered. “Three since it would have reached Hobbiton.”

After second breakfast, Frodo, Merry and Pippin retreated to Merry’s room. Merry and Pippin still had much to tell and ask of Frodo. They wanted to know more about the abandoned smial and why Frodo had never told them what it really was. They wanted to know about Berwin and Bree and the healers. Frodo answered them as best he could, then coaxed out of them everything they had been up to since the announcement of his ‘death.’ They were reluctant to answer, but he eventually got it out of them.

“It was so horrible without you here, thinking you were gone for good,” Merry said. “I felt as if I was walking around in a fog and I would never find my way out.”

“But you didn’t think he was gone,” Pippin pointed out. “You thought there was a chance he might survive, and I didn’t believe you. I don’t have your faith. You were right, I did give up on Frodo.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry,” he said to them both.

“You had every reason to despair,” Frodo said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I don’t have any more faith than you do, Pip,” Merry admitted. “You were right. I was in denial, and it wasn’t really that I believed there was a chance. I just didn’t want to believe that there wasn’t one, if that makes any sense.”

“It doesn’t really,” Pippin said.

“I think what Merry’s saying is that not having hope at all is worse than to have it and lose it,” Frodo explained and Merry nodded.

“Why do that to yourself?” Pippin asked, not convinced. “I would think it would be worse to lose it. You can’t miss what you never had.”

Frodo shook his head, considering. “No, you have to have hope; it’s like air and water. You can’t live without it, not as you were meant to live. For a long time, I had no hope. I had what I thought was hope, but was really desperation. That was no way to live. Bilbo taught me what true hope is: it’s the sun hidden behind a cloudy day that shines all the brighter when the clouds go away. Clouds come and go, but the sun, She will always be there, even if we can’t feel Her warmth. You can never really lose hope as long as you are strong enough to hold onto it.”

“But we weren’t strong enough and we very nearly did lose you,” Merry said. “If that Man hadn’t found you… the hobbits sent out from Haysend would have come along a few days later, but by then, you really would have been gone. We’ll have to find a way to send him a thank you letter, though I don’t think mail gets out of the Shire very often anymore.”

“The letter!” Pippin exclaimed. “We sent one to Sam.”

“You sent a letter to Sam?” Frodo said.

Merry nodded. “We did. Porto took it with him. I thought it would be best if he heard the news directly. I didn’t want him hearing it somewhere and thinking it a nasty rumor. That would have been even harder on him, not knowing for certain what to believe. We didn’t know what else to do; it would have been a while yet before we had opportunity to get out there.”

“Thank you for looking out for him Merry,” Frodo said. “It’s kind of you to care. You did the best you knew to do, both of you, and I am amazed at how well the two of you handled this.”

“It doesn’t feel like we handled it all that well. We were a wreck, Frodo,” Merry said. “We don’t say it much, maybe we think it’s understood and that we don’t need to, but all this time, I was ripped apart by the thought that you might not really have understood how truly we need you here. You’re the brother I never had and I love you dearly.”

Pippin nodded in agreement. “Plus, you need to stick around to keep this one in check. He was going off the deep end, in more ways than one.”

Merry reached over and cuffed Pippin lightly on the shoulder and they both grinned up at Frodo. Frodo didn’t know what to say. If he had any doubts before about his place in his friends’ lives, those doubts were now gone. How could he have so grossly underestimated what he meant to his friends? “I do know,” he said, “and thank you so much for telling me. I love you both dearly as well, and I would give up the world to be with you.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Merry’s room or in the parlor. Everyone was still in awe of his return, but they were quickly becoming used to seeing him about again. Saradoc went out at luncheon and announced Frodo’s return to a skeptical audience. He grinned as he left the dining hall and heard the room burst into excited chatter as the door swung closed behind him. It wouldn’t take long for this rumor to spread, and he knew that many hobbits would be debating the truth of all these rumors for many weeks to come. He was eager to see what kinds of stories they would come up with.

A healer came to see Frodo shortly after luncheon. She was impressed by the job the healers in Bree had done and nodded in approval at the medicine that Frodo showed her. She insisted then that, though everyone was undoubtedly excited about his return, he was to be in bed for the rest of the day and not do anything more strenuous than lift a bell when he needed something. Esmeralda quickly saw him to Merry’s bed and the rooms grew quiet so Frodo could rest. He did not realize until his head hit the pillow how truly exhausted he still was. He was asleep within moments.

He awoke with a start to find Merry and Pippin still with him in the room, playing a game of chess while they waited. Pippin was the first to notice him awake, and he informed Frodo that Saradoc had gone with Paladin, who was curious to see the abandoned smial for himself. “You don’t mind that we told everyone about it do you?”

Frodo shook his head. “It never should have been hidden in the first place,” he answered. “It really was beautiful at one time. It’s a shame no one ever lived there.”

“Will you be going back to Hobbiton soon? The sixth is coming up,” Merry said.

“I know, but that’s not why I need to be going,” Frodo said, almost to himself. “I cannot explain it, but I must get back before anything bad can happen.”

“Anything bad?” Pippin said. “Like what?”

“I do not know, and that is what has me worried.” Frodo noticed his friends looking at him strangely, but he did not care. It was clear to him now, far too clear, how incredibly delicate the situation was. He had thought his things, and most importantly the ring, would be safe as long as he returned before anyone could legally declare him dead. Now he returned to find that the declaration had already been made, and quite legitimately as far as everyone was concerned. “I may already be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Merry asked, bewildered. “Frodo, you’re back. You’re home. What could possibly go wrong now?”

Sam trudged over the fields of the Hill as night settled over Hobbiton. 

He had snuck out of his home early in the morning to avoid another confrontation with his father. Hamfast had not been pleased when Sam came home the night before. His father had attempted to talk to him, but Sam had not been in the mood. Instead of fighting yet again, he had ignored his father and locked himself in his room without a word or upward glance. The move had done the trick and Hamfast had stopped his rant, only to slam his own bedroom door shut a few seconds later.

To give himself an excuse for leaving so early this morning, he went up to Overhill with every intention of speaking with Mr. Boffin about a job. Instead, he had wound up speaking with Halfast out in the work shed for the majority of the day. He was not as close to Halfast as he was to his sisters or friends, but he somehow found talking to him to be easier. Halfast had twined some rope while he listened sympathetically, until Sam finally tired of talking. Then Sam had joined him in his work and the rest of the day had passed in silence. 

Now Sam was coming home, another day gone without any work of any worth done. He admitted grudgingly that his father was right; he needed to take some time just to grieve. 

He reached the top of the road and walked slowly down the Hill to Bagshot Row. When he passed by Bag End, he looked up mournfully at the grand smial, and stopped dead in his tracks. What he saw there took his breath away: lights in Bag End. Someone had opened the curtains and lit the fires, and the round, green door was standing wide open. 

Daring to hope, he ran through the gate and up the garden path. His heart pounded in his chest as he ran into Bag End without a knock or call to announce his presence. He came to a stop in the entryway, where he could see down the long tunnel that snaked its way to the back of the smial. A dark-haired figure stood nearby, in the doorway to the study, transfixed by something within.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam exclaimed. The figure turned around abruptly and faced Sam, and hope shattered at last as Sam realized his grim mistake. “What are you doing here?”

Lotho Sackville-Baggins smiled coldly. “Claiming what’s mine.”

To be continued…