3 ~ Deputy Mayor

Mrs. Whitfoot answers the door when we arrive, and leads us to the parlor, where Mr. Whitfoot is sitting in a comfortable arm chair, his feet propped up. He looks at us and smiles briefly.

“Hello, lads,” he greets us. “Sit down, sit down!”

We take our seats on the remaining chairs in the parlor. Sam and I sit on the couch, and Merry and Pippin on the two chairs by the fireplace.

“How are you feeling, Will?” Merry asks, “You look a lot better than you did yesterday.”

“Thank you, Meriadoc. I am feeling better now that I’m out of that horrid place,” he says, smiling at us lopsided.

He looks less pale, and a little less starved.

Now, on to business,” Will says, clapping his thin hands. “I am afraid that both my healer and my wife have decided that I am not yet healthy enough to go back to work, so I am in need of a Deputy Mayor after all.”

I nod. “Any suggestions as to whom?” I can’t think of any off the top of my head.

“Actually, yes,” he replies. “I was thinking of you, Frodo.”

My eyes widen, and I’m sure I look as shocked as I feel. Merry and Pippin look surprised, Sam looks concerned.

“Me?” I ask, hoping my voice isn’t giving away how scared I am. I don’t know hardly anything about the Mayor’s job, and it never interested me.

“It would only be temporary, Frodo. Just until Mid-years at the most,” Will says.

I look at him carefully. “Mid-years? That’s a rather long time,” I reply. “Is your condition that serious?”

He shrugs. “I suppose you’d say so. Not life threatening. Just uncomfortable, and dreadfully inconvenient,” he says with a slight chuckle. “The healer said that since I was down there so long the lack of fresh air damaged my lungs, and the lack of substantial food damaged my stomach.”

My eyebrows raise, and my thoughts suddenly drift back to Ithilien. I glance at Sam. He meets my eyes and rests a hand on my back. I turn back to Mr. Whitfoot and say, “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I, myself, was afflicted by much the same problem not long ago.”

Will looks at me strangely for a moment. “How did that come about?” he asks.

“The air of Mordor is mostly ash and fumes,” I reply. “My supplies ran out as well.” Nearly everyone I know has heard that I was in Mordor. Very few know, or care to know, why.

“I see,” Will states. “Was it a long recovery for you?”

I shake my head. The recovery wasn’t long, but the after affects are still lingering. Though my case was decidedly worse than Will’s. “No,” I tell him. “My healer was one of the Dunedain, gifted with healing.”

“Then will you be willing to be my Deputy Mayor?” Will asks.

I hesitate, then nod. “If you think I’d do a good job, then I’d be honored to.”

He smiles at me. “There’s no one I’d trust more,” he says.

Trust… Oh, if he only knew how “trustworthy” I’d been on the Quest. An image of my hand holding Sting to Sam’s throat enters my mind, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“There will be papers to sign, as usual, and we must have reliable witnesses chosen,” Will is saying as I force myself back to reality. “We have two here, if Meriadoc and Sam want to sign it. And I’m sure the Thain and the Master will want to sign it as well, so with me that makes five. You can choose the other two Frodo.”

The discussion is ended soon enough, and we go back to the Cotton’s for elevenses. But soon after that Merry and Pippin set off with a group of sturdy hobbits to route out a group of ruffians hanging around the south farthing.

Sam goes out to supervise the clearing of the hill. The houses are to be torn down and holes re-dug along Bagshot Row, which people have talked about re-naming as well. I like the old name.

I remain at the Cotton’s, thinking over the events of the day. Suddenly I feel overwhelmed. How can I possibly be deputy mayor? My brain and my nerves have been tested enough.

When Sam comes to my room first thing to say hello after he returns, I am lying on my bed, trying to read to take my mind off of things.

He takes one look at me and knows something is wrong. He puts a hand under my chin, and lifts it to look into my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned.

I shake my head. “It’s gone Sam,” I say.

“Yes, it is,” he replies, looking at me curiously.

“No, you don’t understand,” I tell him. “It’s gone, so that they can live peacefully. And no one seems to care why or how it happened.”

Sam watches me carefully. “What are you saying, Frodo?”

I look down at my hands, feeling miserable. “I’m not quite recovered yet, Sam. It’s hard. It hurts. And now they want me to be Deputy Mayor. I may not be a physical invalid, but I’m still not as well as everyone wants to think. I’m so afraid I’ll let someone else down.”

Sam pulls me into a hug as he sits on the edge of the bed, and says, “You’ll do your very best, I know you will. I know it’s hard, but you will be healed. I know it.”

Sometimes I wish I had his confidence. But there is a reason he has it, not me.

“I understand, though, Frodo. Don’t think too badly of them for not gettin’ it or appreciating it. They don’t want to know what happened because they don’t want to believe anything so evil would have anything to do with us.” He makes me look at him again. “They want to believe they’re safe. And they are, because of you. They wouldn’t feel half as safe if they knew of all the dangers beyond our borders. I’m afraid the ruffians was as much as they could handle.”

I look at Sam, surprised. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.” I frown. “It makes no sense to me, but I can see why they would think that way.”

Sam looks at me questioningly. I know he sees it as simple hobbit sense. Now I am beginning to wonder if it is really sense at all, or only blind ignorance. Whatever it truly is, I am glad of it now that Sam has explained this to me.

We hear a knock on the door, and Rosie steps in.

“Time for supper, lads,” she says, smiling at Sam.

Sam’s face suddenly brightens as he gazes back at her. “We’ll be there in a moment, Rosie,” he replies.

She nods, her red-brown curls bouncing at the movement, then she leaves.

Sam turns to me, “Do you think you can come eat, dear?” he asks.

I shrug and he looks at me reproachfully. Reluctantly I rise from my bed and follow Sam out.