“Mr. Frodo, I’m in a bit of a bind.”  It was the night before Sam’s wedding, and even though he ought to be relaxing—between the ale and the fact that they were out of the Green Dragon, walking back to the Hill—he just looked more nervous than ever.

“I rather thought the point of tomorrow was to get you in such a bind,” Frodo remarked.

“Well, yes, it is.  But I overheard Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin talking about summat, and I’m feeling worse than ever!  Mr. Frodo, they mean to sing me and my Rose off the Party Field!”

Frodo paused.  “Oh.”  Of course they would.

“And I don’t mind terribly for my sake, but for hers?”

“Yes, I admit that reminding her that everyone knows precisely what happens after a married couple retires would be a tad embarrassing.”

“And the worst part is, I don’t see as I can stop it!  I can deal with my cousins, just fine, but yours?  They’re gentry, Mr. Frodo, and it ain’t right!”

“Hmm,” said Frodo.  “Leave it to me.  I’ll take care of them for you.”

“You’ll talk to them for me?”

“Something like that.”

And of course, the wedding went perfectly.  Sam and Rose looked so happy that Frodo wondered if either one of them would mind quite as much if they were sung off.  He did feel a little bad for his cousins, for the scheme he was about to put into place.  But he’d promised Sam, and to be quite honest, Merry and Pippin would probably be delighted to revenge him for this afternoon.

He made sure not to do it when Sam was around—and tried his best not to do it when anyone else who might take concern was looking.  But when he knew Merry or Pippin was there, even if they were just passing him while dancing, he started to gaze off into nothing, worry at his shoulder, or touch the back of his neck.  He couldn’t bring himself to do anything with the finger, but if he timed things right, he shouldn’t need—

“Frodo!”

Frodo blinked a couple of times and looked round wildly.  “Eh?”

“Is there something the matter?”

“What?  Oh, of course not, Merry.  You must keep enjoying yourself.”

Merry gave him a suspicious look.  “You should, too.”

“I’ll be fine, Merry.”

Next, Pippin caught him picking at his third helping of wedding cake (actually Frodo’s fourth, but he had been sure to eat that quickly and discreetly), and informed him that he was Not Allowed to ruin Sam’s wedding by being sad himself, then pressed him into at least three dances.

So far, so good.  The more Merry and Pippin were focused on him, the less they could focus on keeping Sam and Rose from departing for Bag End.

But Frodo still made sure to excuse himself after Pippin stopped paying attention to him.  Truth be told, he was a little tired, but he did tire a little more easily now, and if he could relax now, he could make it up to his cousins later.

Finally, an hour and a half before sundown, Frodo began to stare at the ground and bite his lips together.  This time (as he hoped) both cousins came at him from either side, and took him aside.

“Frodo,” said Pippin, “I thought you were doing better!”

“I am,” said Frodo.

“No, you’re not.  The party’s tiring you out.”

“I’m not going to leave, if that’s what you’re thinking!  It’s Sam’s wedding!”

“Yes, and you fainting in the middle of it will make it such a fine occasion!”

“I’m not fainting!  I—”  Frodo swayed where he stood.

“That’s it.  We’re taking you to the inn early.  You’re not well, and clearly you need someone looking after you.”

And, after a bit of token protestation, Frodo let himself be led off to the room where he and his cousins were staying.  They ordered him some beef tea, and Merry informed him that he was going to sit on Frodo if he tried to get up before he was well.

It was fifteen minutes till sundown, far too late for them to make any difference now, and all the rest and coddling had given Frodo a bit of a second wind.  “Good thing I’ve just been play-acting this whole time, then.”

“You—what?”

“My dear cousins, I hope I never take ill in that way again, but I do think that the sheer joy of this occasion would overwhelm any illness I had.  However, I was not going to have you two use the advantage of your position to humiliate Sam and Rose by singing them off.”

“But—” said Pippin.  “Yes, we wanted to do that, but why would you trick us?”

“All part of the rules of the brydlop.  You have to be as indirect and polite about it as possible, don’t you?  If I’d started making idle conversation to you all the time, you’d have known something was up and avoided me.”

Merry waggled his finger at Frodo.  “You, my dear cousin—are—terrible!”

“And I’m also very hungry, and supper’s on me.”

“We should feed you naught but beef tea tonight!”

“And breakfast tomorrow.”

“Both breakfasts?”

“All breakfasts.”

“For the rest of the honeymoon?”

“If it means you won’t try to get back at me, sure.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged each other a look, and Frodo knew they still would.