Part II

10:00 AM

Frodo and Pippin cleared the second breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen while Merry returned to the sitting room and collected the things he had hidden there. He put everything back in its proper place, looking at Frodo meekly every time they passed in the tunnel. Frodo only chuckled and shook his head. Merry almost thought of putting the wine back also, but knowing Frodo would have found some way to mark the bottle just in case, Merry dutifully went outside to pour its contents onto the lane.

Merry then went to the library and began to work on his report. He knew better than to attempt any further pranks at the moment. With luck, Frodo will incorrectly assume that Merry had been cowed into good behavior. Merry was grateful that Frodo wasn’t there to see the smirk on his face. He glanced at the clock and wondered when they would be going into town.

Frodo followed Pippin outside to the back gardens, where Sam was just finishing the deadheading. Sam looked up at the sound of their approach and ducked his head at them by way of greeting. “Morning, sirs,” he said. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, wondering what could have brought his master out to see him so early in the morning and figuring it must have something to do with Master Merry.

“Hullo, Sam,” Frodo greeted pleasantly. “I hear you’ve had a helper this morning.”

“Aye sir,” Sam replied. “A right good one.”

Pippin beamed up at the gardener and looked for the clippers, which Sam quickly and discreetly hid in his breeches pocket. “What are we doing next?” Pippin asked.

Frodo laughed. “You are going inside and getting ready to go into town. Have Merry put aside his sorry excuse of an essay and get ready also. I’m going to speak with Sam for a moment. I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“But we were going to trim back the berry bushes,” Pippin said.

“Sam has trimmed those bushes many times without your help, Pip. I’m sure he’ll be able to manage doing so again. Don’t you want to get some elevenses at Mable’s?” That did the trick. Pippin was off at a run and Frodo waited until Pippin was inside before turning to his gardener. He was putting together how to brook the conversation, but before he could say anything, Sam was fumbling for an apology.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo,” he said nervously. “I oughtn’t have said such things to Master Merry, sir. It was out of my place.”

“What exactly did you say?” Frodo asked. “I’d ask Merry for specifics, but I don’t trust his point of view in this. What happened?”

“I’m not rightly sure, sir,” Sam started. “I was just showing Master Pippin how to be deadheading the roses, and up comes Master Merry telling us both to get inside. I told him as I couldn’t, being as I was behind and all and needed to be about my work. Then Master Merry said to let Master Pippin be on his own, and I guess that’s when it happened. I said as I would look after Master Pippin my own way. Master Merry didn’t like that for some reason. I guess maybe I just said it wrong. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, sir.”

“I know you didn’t, but Merry has a way of bringing that out in people at times,” Frodo said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam. Merry’s just a bit frustrated. He’s trying to prank me back for that frock.” Frodo looked over his shoulder at the deceitfully quiet, peaceful smial. “He’s in there right now, plotting something else, I can feel it. I caught him with all sorts of contraband, but that won’t stop him for too long. What should I do?”

Sam shuffled his feet again. He hated to see his master so on edge, but if he wanted advice, Sam would do his best. “Well, sir, there is one thing as you might try.”

Inside, Pippin found Merry in the library and came to stand next to his chair and watch him as he scribbled away. “You’re actually writing it?” he asked.

Merry nodded. “Where’s Frodo?”

“Outside talking to Sam,” Pippin said. “He said it would take a while and he didn’t want to be interrupted. He also said we were to get ready to go into town.”

“Really?” Merry said, his mind racing. He grinned up at Pippin and stuck his quill into its inkwell. “I think we’ll go to plan B then. You remember your part?”

Pippin nodded. “He’s going to be angry though,” he said uncertainly. “Frodo didn’t do anything to me. I don’t want to prank him.”

“No, Pip, he hasn’t done anything to you yet. You too will be twenty-five one day and he’ll get you then, rest assured,” Merry warned. “This is a preemptive strike, a very important maneuver in wars such as this.” He stood up and left the library, Pippin in tow.

“But I already know about the frock trick,” Pippin said. “He won’t be able to get me.”

“He’ll think of something else,” Merry said. They entered Merry’s room and Merry closed the door. He regarded Pippin closely. “Don’t be conned by that innocent face of his, Pip. Frodo was known to be quite a rascal while he was living in Buckland and that wild streak still lives in him somewhere. You can take the lad out of the Blue but you can’t take the Blue out of the lad.”

“What does that mean?” Pippin asked, confused.

“That means that you are what you are, no matter how much you appear to have changed, and Frodo is a rascal. For all his gentlehobbit ways, he’s still a devious one and he always will be,” Merry said knowingly. He slipped on his waistcoat and buttoned it up. “I had forgotten that, but I won’t make the same mistake twice. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Are you with me or not?”

Pippin nodded. “I am,” he said, a feeling of dread deep in his stomach. He would live to regret this, he just knew it.

A half-hour later, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were heading down the Hill to town. They reached the market and went into a small diner just off the road, tucked behind The Ivy Bush. While elder hobbits and gaffers congregated at the Bush for gossiping and complaining, junior hobbits and mistresses with children in tow went to Mable’s Teahouse. The diner was quieter to start, with no mead to be served to rile up the patrons, and the cozier atmosphere allowed for a more relaxed meal when the sun became too hot, the wind too cold or the shopping too tiresome.

Frodo took a table near the middle of the diner, and Merry and Pippin looked about them at everyone’s plates to see what they wanted. Everything looked wonderful of course and it was hard picking which dish they would rather have. In the end, they ordered milk and mint tea with buttered scones and fruit with cream.

While they waited for their food to be prepared, Frodo looked Merry in the eye. “I talked to Sam. You took an innocent comment rather too far, Merry. Whatever it is you have against Sam, you are not to verbally attack him like that again.”

“Of course you would take his side,” Merry said.

“But you were rude to him,” Pippin jumped in, “and he was nice to me. He showed me all sorts of things.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Merry,” Frodo warned. “You are not to be rude to Sam anymore, nor to Pippin.”

“He’s not rude to me,” Pippin said.

“Yes he is, even if you don’t see it,” Frodo said. He turned back to Merry. “You had an awful lot to say about Sam behaving a certain way due to his position. Well you have a position as well, Meriadoc, one that can do a great deal of harm if used unwisely. You mustn’t be so quick to assume you know what everyone else is thinking.”

Merry mumbled a reply. The last thing he wanted to do was endure a lecture, especially here, where he couldn’t even get rightfully outraged, not without drawing a large audience at any rate. Oh, Frodo had planned it this way, the rascal.

“I mean it, Merry,” Frodo said. “You are the heir to Buckland and one day, you will be making decisions that effect not only the family but anyone who works for them as well. You must take everyone’s positions into consideration.”

“I know,” Merry said to his napkin.

“Then why did you get so angry with Sam?” Frodo asked.

Merry shrugged.

“Sam is my gardener, not my slave,” Frodo said. “You are not treat him like that again.”

“I didn’t treat him like that!” Merry exclaimed, remembering only in time to keep his voice low. “You said not to take no for an answer.”

“So you decide that ordering him around was the way to go about it?” Frodo asked.

“He has a point, Merry,” Pippin jumped in, not wanting to be left out. “You could have said something like, ‘Won’t you come join us, Sam? Frodo will be very disappointed if you don’t.’ That would have worked.”

“No it wouldn’t have. Sam hates me.”

“It’s no wonder,” Frodo said coldly, and that ended the conversation.
 

11:00 AM

The food arrived exactly at eleven, and the young hobbits munched on their food with zest while Frodo drank his tea. Frodo wouldn’t eat again until luncheon, which he was planning on enjoying at The Green Dragon. He had business that would take him to Bywater and it had been some time since he enjoyed a mug of ale at the Dragon. He figured by the time luncheon arrived, he would need a tankard.

Elevenses was eaten without further comments. Merry was still stewing over Frodo’s lecture and Pippin seemed preoccupied as well. When Frodo asked him what was on his mind, Pippin only shook his head. “Nothing,” he said though clearly it was something, but Frodo could get nothing further out of him.

They finished eating and Frodo tipped the serving lass. Then he led his cousins out to the marketplace.

“What are we getting?” Merry asked, looking around with interest.

There were the usual farmers’ stalls, selling grain, corn, tomatoes, apples and other various goods. There were the weavers’ stands, with displays of colorful blankets, scarves, tea cozies and anything else that could be made with yarn or thread. The woodworkers and carpenters were there also, as were the healer, glass blowers, pottery throwers, smiths, cartwrights and ropers. Around the post master’s office were messengers waiting for jobs or reading letters for those who could not do so themselves.

“Post messengers must know all sorts of secrets,” Merry said suddenly.

Frodo nodded. “It’s an honorable job. Master Sarco only hires those as can keep their mouths shut. If they do talk, they are not only fired but they’re banished from ever working as messengers again. They also must go to an inquisition before the Mayor and have to pay a fine.”

“How much?” Pippin asked, intrigued by this bit of information.

“I’m not sure,” Frodo answered. “It varies, depending on the severity of the transgression, but even the lowest fine could take years to pay off, especially if they can’t find work.”

Merry nodded. “We have a similar policy in Buckland. So far as I know, it’s only been implemented once and that was a hundred years or so ago. There’s no information on what the transgression was, only that he was fined eighteen pennies.”

Pippin’s eyes widened. “That’s three ducats! Did he ever pay it off?” he asked.

Merry shrugged. “The account I read didn’t say, but I imagine he could have had it paid off in a couple of years. All he’d have to do is put aside a farthing a day.”

“Oh. … So what are we doing?” Pippin asked, bringing them back to the original topic.

Frodo looked down at his list. He hoped they would be able to get to all of it, but it would be a lot to carry back up the Hill when all was said and done. Still, with the three of them, it should be manageable enough, and he could always hire a carter if the burden became too much. “I need candles and bathing oil, more parchment, some stock for the larders and I need to pick up my formal dining shirt from the tailor’s, as well as something from Master Hornbeam.”

“What’s that?” Merry asked.

“A tinder box,” Frodo answered. “Had I known that Tom and Jolly would be coming to help Sam, I would have had them pick it up for me. I plan to give it to Saradoc for Yule. ”

“Yule is six months away,” Merry stated.

“It’s never too early to start shopping,” Frodo replied.

Merry couldn’t argue with that. “We’ll get that first then I take it?” Merry asked next.

Frodo nodded. “That would be best. We can get the parchment from the novelty shop while we’re there.”

Merry and Pippin shared knowing looks behind Frodo’s back. Frodo in a novelty shop was a thing to be dreaded. He could spend hours comparing the different types of parchment and often wandered over to fiddle with the quill-and-ink sets also. Then he had to browse through the stationery for any new designs he might like. If the shop owner happened to have acquired some rare books since Frodo’s last visit, then Merry and Pippin might as well pitch some tents and prepare to stay the night.

With great reluctance, they followed Frodo down Bywater Road and out of Hobbiton. Merry hoped they wouldn’t be too long in Bywater; he wanted to return to the market before any of the vendors could leave for the day.

At Bag End, Sam was having a much better time. With no one about and no interruptions to be seen, he was quickly catching up on his morning’s work. He had finished the deadheading before his master left for market and he now continued on to the berry bushes, whistling as he went.

He quickly filled two large baskets with raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, one basket with ripe fruit ready to eat and another with overripe fruit good for preserves and pies. This was one job he was glad Master Pippin wasn’t around to help with. The berries would have ended up all mixed up and in the wrong baskets. Sam could just see Mr. Frodo sitting down to berry-covered hotcakes and spitting them out again for the sourness of the fruit.

Once the baskets were full and the bushes plucked of the mature berries, Sam went around each bush with his clippers, cutting off errant branches and twigs until they were all evenly shaped again. He added the trimmings to yet another basket, this one containing all the day’s trimmings and weeds. This one would go into the compost.

By the time his stomach started asking for food, he had trimmed nearly all the bushes. He glanced up at the sun and guessed it to be about half past eleven. He had missed second breakfast and elevenses to go back and finish the weeding and deadheading and put things back into the shed that he was no longer using. He decided to finish his last two jobs, the bushes and the compost heaps, then wash up and sit down to eat. By the time he finished that and brought out the things he would need to lay the stone pathway, Tom and Jolly should have arrived.

Sam finished the last bush and gathered his clippers and the baskets of berries. He took the berries inside, the good ones to the larder and the sour ones he left in the entryway near the backdoor, where he could retrieve them before going home for the day. Then he went to the tool shed and returned his clippers and took out the pitchfork. He strolled back to the bushes, collected the basket of trimmings and made his way to the compost heaps. He tossed the trimmings on the first heap and swiftly and easily began turning them over, seven in all.

He was sweating by the time he was finished with the fourth heap. He removed his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt, rolled up his sleeves and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He would need to dunk a whole bucket of water over himself to remove all the sweat and grime before he could eat. Not daunted by the heat or the hard work, Sam continued with his job, whistling all the while.

Merry and Pippin, whose only job at the moment was to follow Frodo about, were not so eager or happy. The walk to Bywater had been pleasant enough and they had arrived at Hornbeam’s without any further confrontations or irritations. Only, once they were are Hornbeam’s, they were made to stand around outside the carpenter’s shop while Frodo went in and talked business. When Frodo emerged with his Yule gift, he refused to let Merry and Pippin take a peek at it. Now, they were sitting in the middle of the novelty shop while Frodo strolled about casually as the stationer, a squat older hobbit with wiry curls by the name of Thistle, trailed him eagerly.

“This is a fine leaf-press,” Master Thistle said of some patterned parchment. “My daughter made it herself. She’s just come of age six months ago, you know.”

“Mm-hm,” Frodo hummed distractedly.

“She’s a fine lass,” Master Thistle continued. “She’s a good eye and hand for detail. See how the leaf just leaps right off the page. And the coloring, very realistic if I do say so myself. I swear every time I see that, I think it’s the real thing.”

“I bet he does,” Merry muttered under his breath and sighed heavily. This was taking forever, yet the timepiece on the wall told him they had only been in here for ten minutes. Merry figured the timepiece must be broken. Beside him, Pippin was desperately trying not to fall asleep, the result being that his head continuously jerked up and down in a manner that reminded Merry of a chicken.

“My daughter can make quite a lot of handy things,” the stationer continued. “She’d make a lad a fine wife. You’d have no want for anything with her about the smial.”

“Mm-hm,” Frodo hummed again, then shook his head. He turned to Master Thistle, a confused expression on his face. “What?”

“What?” Master Thistle asked, equally confused. Merry was impressed with how quickly the old hobbit was able feign innocence.

Frodo blinked at the stationer a few times, then nodded. “I’ll take a ream of this.”

“Excellent choice, Mr. Baggins. A fine choice,” Master Thistle said and then waved his hand to the far end of the shop. “My daughter also made some new stationery you might be interested in. Blue is your favorite color, I’ve heard told, and you have a fancy for primrose from what your Sam says. Come, I think you’ll find these designs quite to your liking.”

Frodo followed Master Thistle to the stationery and began browsing through the various designs. Pippin’s head drooped onto Merry’s arm and Merry somehow managed not to die of boredom. He did rather feel like doing something drastic though, anything to get him out of this shop. But if he did anything now, it would ruin any chance of getting Frodo later.

After the stationery, Frodo was next directed to the quill-and-ink sets, which Frodo thankfully refrained from looking at. He reminded the stationer that he was in a hurry and the stationer bashfully bowed. “Of course you are, Mr. Baggins. Let me just call my daughter and have her total your purchases.” The little hobbit scurried away to the back room and Frodo waited at the counter with his ream of parchment and two sets of stationery.

When Master Thistle returned, he was followed by a homely lass, equally as short as her father and not much nicer to look upon. Merry would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so sorry for her. No wonder she didn’t have a suitor already.

Frodo greeted the lass kindly. “Good day, Lila,” he said. He clearly knew the lass already, as he would since he came here so often. He waited for Lila to total his purchases and only haggled with her moderately over the price. He waved good day to the stationer and bowed politely to the lass, then collected his cousins. Pippin only awakened when the support of Merry’s shoulder was suddenly jerked out from under him. Merry reached down to keep Pippin from falling onto the floor, then they followed Frodo out of the shop and back onto the road.

Once they were a safe distance from the shop, Merry said, “That old hobbit wants you to marry his daughter.”

“I know,” Frodo said. He handed the parcel with the stationery to Pippin and the parcel with the parchment to Merry. The Yule gift he kept for himself. “Now, who wants luncheon?”
 

12:00 PM

The Green Dragon was quiet when they entered. Only a few old gaffers were there, sitting in the far corner where they could look out the window and watch the bustle of the marketplace.

The barkeep, a young hobbit known only by his nickname Twig, came around the bar to greet them then. “Hullo young masters, Mr. Baggins,” he said. “How wonderful of ‘ee to be joinin’ us on such a fine day.”

“Hullo Twig,” Frodo greeted with a return smile. “Are the fires lit, because these two are hungry.”

Twig chuckled and nodded eagerly. “That they are, Mr. Baggins, no fear o’ that. We’ll get them fed and full enough.” He followed Frodo to a table off to the side and waited on their orders.

“Fed perhaps, but full is another matter,” Frodo said, grinning at his cousins’ bemusement. “I’ll have my usual. My cousins will make their own orders.”

Merry and Pippin each ordered a bread loaf, a bowl of soup, sliced apples with caramel and a cup of cinnamon tea. Twig shouted their orders to the cook as he made his way back to the bar and commenced cleaning the countertop and mugs. As they waited for their food, Merry and Pippin once again attempted to badger Frodo into letting them see the tinder box.

“Why can’t I see it?” Merry asked. “It’s for my father, not me.”

“Exactly, which means you’ll see it when he opens it at Yule,” Frodo said, for easily the fourth time in less than an hour.

“Why should we have to wait though?” Pippin chimed in. “It’s not for us, so there’s no surprise and you already told us what it is.”

“You’re not going to see it, and that’s that,” Frodo said. “Have you started thinking about your Yule gifts yet?”

“It’s six months away,” Merry reminded. “I’ll start buying in Blotmath.”

“That’s when my mum is going to take me shopping too,” Pippin stated as Twig came back with the sliced apples and caramel, a kettle of cinnamon tea and glasses. Twig had everything on the table and was gone again within seconds.

“Last year, I waited until Foreyule and it was a bit too hectic for Mum’s taste,” Pippin continued as he dipped an apple slice in the caramel and watched as the golden syrup dripped off the slice and back into the bowl. He dipped it again and this time bit into it. He licked the caramel off his lips and fingers, as Merry dipped his own apple slice, being much less playful about the process. Merry twisted his hand so he would lose none of the caramel and quickly popped the whole slice into his mouth, getting none of it on his fingers.

“As I was saying,” Pippin went on, picking out his next slice with care, “all the stores and shops were crowded and cramped and you couldn’t hear for everyone haggling over prices. Mum said she’d sooner kiss a toad than do that again. … Is kissing toads supposed to be a gross thing?”

Merry and Frodo looked at the teen sideways. “Yes,” they said.

“Oh.” Pippin popped the next slice in his mouth, his face blushing slightly.

Merry’s mouth quirked at this. “Pippin,” he started in teasing tones, “you haven’t kissed-”

“No,” Pippin said quickly before Merry could finish. “Not if it’s gross, I haven’t.”

There was an awkward pause, during which Pippin fiddled with his napkin and wouldn’t look at anyone. Merry managed to suppress his laughter and noticing that Frodo was attempting to do the same, he turned to his older cousin and said, “So, if we guess what it looks like, will you tell us?”

Frodo sighed, wishing the day were over.

At Bag End, Sam was just sitting down to his own luncheon when he heard a rattling at the gate. Tom and Jolly had come early to surprise him, and they had brought a guest.

“Hullo Sam,” they chimed as Sam opened the gate for them. “We brought luncheon,” Tom continued and Jolly and Rosie held up their baskets.

“Hullo all,” Sam greeted his cousins warmly. He took the basket from Rosie and nodded to her. “Good day, Rosie.”

“Good day, Sam,” she returned the greeting with a cheerful smile. She looked around at the garden in appreciation. “You’ve done a fine good job here, Sam. It looks lovely.”

“Thank ‘ee, Rosie,” Sam replied, blushing slightly with the praise. He led his cousins to the back of the gardens where Sam usually ate his luncheon under the elm tree. He pointed out various things that had changed since Tom and Jolly’s last visit up. “That there hydrangea’s really taken root this year, bloomed for near two months it did. Shame you had to miss it. This honeysuckle’s near taken over the back porch. It’s going to be trimmed down a good bit, shameful as that is. I added these begonias from the lower garden here under the bath window. Makes for a lovely scent floating through the window come nighttime, which is when the Master likes to take his leisure.”

His cousins nodded along and looked where he pointed, simply enjoying being in such a bountiful garden. Everyone loved the Bag End garden and it was a matter of prideful gloating to tell everyone you had business there. Well, except for Sam of course. He’d never dare to gloat over having such a comfortable position as he did here with Mr. Baggins.

When they reached the elm tree, Tom laid down his blanket and the twins set out the food. They all sat together and Rosie served the drinks as the lads loaded up their plates. She handed the drinks out and asked, “Where’s Goldie at? We stopped by your smial hoping to invite her up but she weren’t there.”

“Missus Brown took sick and May and Goldie’re helping out with the little ‘uns,” Sam answered.

Rosie’s cheerfulness deflated a little bit to hear this. She had been counting on an hour or two with her best friends and brothers, but that wouldn’t be possible now. “I suppose I ought to go and see what they’d be needing help with,” she said. “Those children can get a mite unruly.”

“May can deal with them just fine,” Sam said. “They’ve taken care of the lot many a time afore now. No need for you to dash off and miss your own luncheon,” he pointed out.

So Rosie stayed through luncheon, though there wasn’t much conversation going around. Everyone was too busy eating to speak around their food and the silence was comfortable and pleasant, filled only with murmured exclamations over the food. Once the meal was eaten, she helped clean up and then stood, a twinge of regret in her eyes.

“I’d best be off,” she said. “May might be able to handle those rug rats, but they’ll walk all over Marigold. May can’t be around all the time. I’ll let meself out,” she finished when she saw Sam about to stand to join her. “Good day to you, Sam.”

Sam said, “Fare you well, Rosie,” at the same time Jolly teased, “What about us?”

Rosie trotted back through the garden, waving as she rounded the corner out of sight.

“It’s a shame about Goldie,” Tom said. “Rosie’d have stayed longer had Goldie been able to come up.”

“Don’t you mean, it’s a shame about Cousin Laurel?” Jolly asked with a wide grin, for Missus Brown was indeed their second cousin once removed on their mother’s side. “She’s the one as took sick after all.”

Sam said nothing through the exchange and soon the lads were digging back into the last of the food, filling up the corners with cupcakes and biscuits. When they had their fill and washed it down with glasses of warm water, Tom thumbed toward the well, though it was out of sight around the bend of the smial, and asked, “Have you figured out how to be laying this stone path your master’s wanting?”

Sam licked the last of the frosting from his fingers and nodded. “Mr. Frodo said I’m free to go about it however I figure it’s best and I finally noodled it out this morning.”

“I say it’s best left as it is,” Jolly put in. “Never heard of no stone path to a well afore. Did he get this notion from his Brandybuck connections, or the Tooks?”

Sam shrugged. “Can’t say. All’s I know is he wants it done. He’s got his reasoning for it and I’m sure they’re practical enough,” he said. ‘To Mr. Frodo anyway,’ he finished to himself.

“That may be, but stone’s a mite more slippery and dangerous than dirt when it’s wet,” Tom pointed out. “It makes for tricky footin’, especially when you’re weighed down with buckets on a yoke.”

“It’s harder for shoveling snow too,” Jolly added.

“Aye, but mud’s still slippery enough in its own right, and messy besides,” Sam said a bit defensively. “I figured we could dig up the path about an inch or two deep and lay down them flat stones as I ordered. They’ll run from the back porch, through the kitchen garden and up to about a foot or two from the well. We’ll keep the dirt where it is right around the well, and keep some in between the stones to work as caulking should the stones move.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tom supplied. “Where’re the stones?”

“They’re just inside the backdoor in the mud room, so’s we won’t have to haul them too far,” Sam said. He stood up and stretched, readying himself for more work. “Best get started then.”

“I’ll get the spades,” Jolly offered and trotted off to the shed as Tom and Sam went around the bend to inspect first hand what they would be working on.

By this time, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were still eating at The Green Dragon. They hadn’t ordered that much food, but between Merry and Pippin badgering Frodo about the tinder box, they hadn’t been eating very quickly. Frodo was starting to get annoyed and so used the excuse of needing to visit the privy to step outside and have a few moments of peace, being sure to take the present with him of course.

When he was gone, Merry leaned over to Pippin and whispered, “Did you see her in the marketplace?”

Pippin nodded. “She’ll be there a while yet,” he stated. “How do we go about it?”

“Simple: you distract him with some sort of foolishness and I’ll sneak off to talk to her. Oh, and you might want to drop something on his foot if you can manage it. Nothing too heavy or damaging, just enough to make him limp a little,” Merry said.

“How do I do that?” Pippin asked.

“I have complete faith in you, Pippin. You’ll find a way,” Merry smirked and slurped up the last of his soup. “Frodo will think twice the next time he plans to embarrass this Brandybuck.”

“I still don’t see why I have to be involved,” Pippin said again. “Are you sure this a good idea?”

“It’s brilliant! It’s fool proof!” Merry exclaimed. “He’ll never see it coming. And so long as you play your part correctly, he won’t even know that you’re involved at all.”

Pippin wasn’t so sure about this last part, but he couldn’t argue further as Frodo chose this precise moment to return. He frowned down at his cousins. “Aren’t you finished yet?” he asked. “I do have more errands to run.”

“Sorry, Frodo, we’ll finish up,” Merry said, and he and Pippin proceeded to do just that.

A few minutes later, the bill was settled and the three cousins were walking out of Bywater and back toward Hobbiton. Merry and Pippin swung their parcels as they trotted up the road with Frodo between them. Then Merry winked behind Frodo’s back at Pippin, who smiled in return.

“So, is it made out of oak or birch?” Pippin asked.

“It’s lined with clothe, I assume,” Merry said. “Is it chiffon?”

Frodo sighed and wished he’d had the foresight to wait until his cousins had left to pick up the tinder box. “No, no and no,” he answered. “No matter what you guess, the answer will be no, so there’s no point in asking.”

Merry and Pippin accepted this for the next mile or so, but when the Hobbiton marketplace came into view on the horizon, they started up again. “Is it ash?” “What about silk?” “Cherry oak?” “Does it have a hidden top compartment for his pipe to be stored?” “Is it engraved? It should be engraved. What does it say?”

“Enough!” Frodo finally snapped. “You’re not seeing it, so just stop!”

Another half mile passed, then, “Is it fig?”

Frodo made as though to whack Merry over the head with the present. Merry and Pippin took that as their cue to bolt and run up the road to the marketplace, now well within view. Frodo did not follow after.
 

1:00 PM

Merry and Pippin slowed to a casual stroll once they were in the marketplace. Merry spied from the corner of his eye the booth he had noticed earlier and grinned. “She’s still here,” he whispered to Pippin. “Now, we just need to find something that you can use to occupy Frodo’s attention for about five minutes or so.”

“Found it,” Pippin said, pointing to the weaver’s booth. They made their way toward the booth, which was loaded with various piles of quilts, throws, blankets, shawls and even pillow cases and tea cozies.

“Are you sure?” Merry asked uncertainly. He couldn’t imagine Frodo spending much time here, especially if he had other things to do.

Pippin looked up at the neatly stacked piles and nodded. “This’ll work,” he said just as Frodo caught up with them.

“No lingering, lads,” Frodo ordered, still scowling slightly at them both. “We’ll browse when I’ve got everything I need.”

“What do you need again?” Merry asked as he and Pippin fell into step beside their older cousin.

Frodo quickly recounted the purchases he needed to make and soon they were weaving in and out of the stalls. Merry and Pippin were now too busy eyeing the various booths to be very bored and Merry was always on the lookout for the perfect time to set his plan into motion.

They bought the candles first, thin ones and fat ones, small and tall, so that Frodo would have candles for whatever purpose he may wish, whether it was to light the tunnels or burn through the whole night, if need be. He also bought a couple of wall sconces for the wardrobe room, for the far rear corners where it was darkest, a purchase he had been planning to make for months but somehow never seemed to get around to.

The bathing oils were purchased next and in quick time. Then came the stock for the larders and pantries. Grain, milk, cream, cider, a bottle of wine to replace the one Merry had ruined that morning, and various other foodstuffs were purchased from many different stalls. Frodo hired a delivery lad to follow them about with a push cart and load the purchases as they were made. The lad would deliver everything to Bag End, including everything else they had purchased so far, while Frodo went to the tailor’s. Sam would take care of putting everything away and tipping the delivery lad.

On the way to the tailor’s shop, Merry paused in front of the healer’s booth. Once a week, the healer or her apprentice would come to market for easy access for less pressing questions the townshobbits might have. Today, the healer’s apprentice, Willow, was on duty.

“Yes, lad?” Willow asked, though she was only four years Merry’s senior. “What will you be needing, dear?”

“Dear?” Merry asked, temporarily forgetting his intent as he stared into the apprentice’s pretty face. He quickly shook himself out of his dithering and stuttered, “Well, um, there is one thing I’m hoping you’ll be able to-”

“Merry! Hurry along,” Frodo called, having noticed that Merry was no longer with him and Pippin.

Merry gave the apprentice what he hoped was a regretful and worried look, then ran to catch up with his cousins. Frodo gave him a sharp look and Merry shrugged. “She was pretty,” he said, honestly enough.

Frodo shook his head and rolled his eyes, then stepped into the stuffy and cramped tailor’s shop.

Sam, Tom and Jolly were having a much more companionable time, if not as carefree. They had their backs bent to their work, digging spades into the ground and scooping out the dirt path to make room for the stone slabs.

Though the wind was still cold and swift, the warm sun and hard work found the lads sweating in no time. They removed their shirts to keep them from getting any more soiled and progressed with their work, joking and laughing or singing the whole while. To make it go faster, they made a competition to see who could shovel the most dirt. That is to say, who would have the largest pile of dirt once they were done. They didn’t take it very seriously though and the job continued amiably until the path was dug.

They rested on their spades and looked back at what they had completed so far.

“‘Tis deep enough?” Tom asked.

Sam squinted at the path and nodded. “It is,” he said. “We need to level it now. I’ve a beam I cut last week as we could use for it.”

Jolly tossed down his spade, out of the way, and headed for the tool shed. “I saw it as I was getting the spades,” he said. “I’ll be the one squatting and leveling, I wager, seeing as my pile’s the smallest.”

Sam and Tom agreed to this easily enough. They would follow behind Jolly and level out the path, adding dirt where needed, digging more out where there was too much. This part would take a bit of time, for they’d have to go slowly to ensure the path was smooth and flat. Once that was done, it would be simple enough to haul out the stones and lay them down where they would fit, even if it would be equally slow.

“It’s a fine day,” Tom commented while they were waiting for Jolly. “Mayhap, if we finish soon enough, we can go down and get the lasses and paddle along the Pool to cool off.”

Sam considered this for a moment before nodding. He didn’t mind getting his feet wet, so long as the rest of him remained dry, and there were plenty of places along the Pool’s shore that were good for paddling. “We could do that, so long as Mr. Frodo don’t mind me leaving early,” he said. “It’s been a fair while since the five of us spent much time together. Seems every Highday of late, we’re always busy with somewhat different.”

“Aye, if we can’t get to it today, Highday after next will do, I suppose,” Tom said. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and asked would-be casually, “How has Goldie been anyway?”

“She’s fair enough,” answered Sam. “She’s getting much better with her needlework and she’s starting to learn crochet. She’s making Gaffer a new sweater for autumn. How’s Rosie?”

“She’s fine as you could wish for,” Tom said. “Pa’s getting on her though to be less wild and more respectable, now as she’s nearly halfway through her tweens. Pa says no lad’ll want her if she’s got too much sauce, but I’m reckoning he thinks too many lads’ll want her.”

Sam wrinkled his brow and hummed at this, though he wisely held his tongue. Jolly returned at that moment, the leveling beam in hand. He grinned at them both, as though he had guessed the topic of their conversation. He nodded toward the backdoor. “If you two are done floating about in the clouds, we’ll get started now, shall we?” he said and the older lads followed him up the freshly dug path.

“Looks to be fairly smooth as is,” observed Jolly, squatting down to nearly ground level and squinting down the path toward the well. “We may be able to get this in one go.”

“We’ll see about that when we’re at the well,” Tom said.

Jolly turned around to face the porch and set the leveling beam on the ground. Without pushing down, he dragged the beam toward him until it was nearly to his knees, then backed up another foot and repeated the process. Tom and Sam followed behind, smoothing out the dips and bumps with the flat end of their spades, being sure to keep their feet off the path.

“Mr. Frodo’s kin visiting for long?” Tom asked after a time.

Sam nodded. “Couple of weeks,” he said. “Should be interesting.”

Tom and Jolly nodded knowingly at this. “Will Master Merry be joining us at the Dragon again?” Jolly asked with a chuckle.

Sam laughed in return but shook his head. “No, leastways, not as he did last time.”

“‘Tis a shame,” Tom said. “I wager we could find a wig this time around. He’d look quite the pretty lass then.”

“Now, Tom, ‘tis not proper to speak so about your betters,” Sam lectured as best he could around suppressed giggles and his wide grin.

“That’s only when they’re hereabouts to hear it,” Tom informed, when they were able to speak again. “But you’re right I suppose. That Brandybuck’s a sharp one, and he’ll not get caught in the same trap twice.”

“Look to your spades,” Jolly reminded them as they nearly missed a particularly deep hole.

Tom quickly filled it with soil, packed it down and tossed another layer of dirt over it before smoothing it all out. Sam took this opportunity to change the topic.

“When will you and Rosie be having your birthday party?” he asked Jolly. The twins usually combined their birthdays with their Uncle Will’s, seeing as they were so close together. This year, however, word had it that Wilcome the Elder would be visiting with his wife’s relatives in Michel Delving for his birthday, as his father-in-law was ill and couldn’t make the journey out.

“On the Day itself,” Jolly said. “That way, Uncle Will can still have his here, and again when he reaches Michel Delving.”

“You’ll have it at South Farm, I take it?” Sam asked.

Jolly nodded again, but it was Tom who answered. “Ma’s got it all planned already, right down to desserts. There’ll be a band, of course, and Pa’s going to be organizing games for the little ones. Aunt Rose is baking her famous five-layer wild berry cake, and Uncle Jasper’s gonna bring his trained pigeons for a show.”

“I’ve got all my presents done,” Jolly announced proudly, “and Rosie’s nearly done but for a few. That’s part of the reason she wanted to come today, to ask Goldie what you all be wanting or needing.”

“At least we’ll be able to spend some time together then, if not sooner,” Sam stated. He dug in his spade a bit to flatten out a bump and looked to see how much further they had to go, nearly thirty feet. He started humming and was soon singing, a favorite song that could repeat on a loop as long as one was able to stand it.

There was a merry passenger,
A messenger, a mariner:
He built a gilded gondola
To wander in, and had in her
A load of yellow oranges
And porridge for his provender;
He perfumed her with marjoram
And cardamom and lavender…*

Soon Jolly and Tom had joined in and the contest this time would be to see who could continue to sing it the longest.
 
 
 

To be continued…
 

* - From The Adventures of Tom Bombadil