elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2009-07-14 09:25 pm
elderberrywine) wrote2009-07-14 09:25 pm
And, with no further ado, the grand finale.
So. Here is the third and last chapter of the latest Baggins/Gamgee. Thanks, all, for sticking with me. Alas, it appears to be too large for one entry.
Title: The Case of the Concealed Current, Part Three of Three
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 13,744
Summary: Blood is shed, buckles are swashed, and passionate kisses are exchanged. What more, really, can one ask for on Bastille Day?
I sank down and sat under the marked tree, at the side of the road, with my knees drawn up and my face buried in my arms. It wasn’t as if this turn of events was unexpected, but that still didn’t make it any easier to bear. The lantern, which I had thoughtlessly dropped at my side, lay in the middle of the path, flickering weakly and threatening to go out altogether, but that really didn’t matter that much to me at the moment, for I had no idea of where to go nor what to do next.
Brandybuck was gone, as were his hobbits, his boats, Nethercleft and his crew, and apparently some of the townfolk as well. Not to mention the disappearance that caused me the most concern, that of Frodo. Grief and apprehension threatened to engulf me, but I angrily resisted that option. There was no point at all in remaining in this miserable village and waiting to see if anyone turned up, but the question was, where to go?
As the rain began to come down harder, I rose and grimly decided to return to the smial while I could, since the lantern light was beginning to die out. There, I needed to collect my thoughts and do what Frodo, I know, would have done. In other words, rationally examine the facts at hand, not allowing myself to be swayed by emotion, and reach a logical conclusion. And upon that, I would act. It was entirely possible that it would be completely the wrong conclusion to make, but the fact of the matter was that I had to do something I had been in error once before, and had accidentally assumed the worst, leaving Baggins to slowly make his way back to Bag End with a good deal of suffering in the process, on his part, and misery on mine. I would not be making that error again.
With renewed determination, I strode through the blustering rainy night, and passed, as the path back to the smial happened to take me, the Leaping Trout once again. It suddenly occurred to me that there might have been a clue within that I failed to notice previously, so I cautiously peered inside through the door, which had been left flung open. I could see no one, but there was a sound that caught my attention, a soft, snuffled sort of sound. Without a doubt, someone was crying, and I immediately realized who.
I found him where he had been earlier, hidden in a compartment behind the counter. “Hey, there, now, me lad, ain’t you best be goin’ home?” I asked in my gentlest tones, unconsciously reverting back to the patterns of speech from my youth.
His head cautiously lifted from his arms, where he had hidden it, and he eyed me warily. “Am at home,” he muttered, with a stray sob. “ ‘Tis it.”
“Don’t you have a family, then?” I questioned him gently. “Some one you could stay with? ‘Twon’t do t’be lingerin’ here, noways.”
His eyes grew a little wider as he realized what I was implying, but he shook his head again. “Me master was my mam’s cousin,” he whispered. “Ain’t got no more family. And he had no more, likewise. ‘Twas but the pair o’us.”
“Well, then.” I sat back on my heels and studied him for a moment, but there was clearly only one thing to be done. “Then you must come with me, at least for the moment. Staying here would not be at all safe, not in the least.”
A small smile crept across his tear-stained face. “You ain’t a gentlehobbit, now, are you.” And it wasn’t a question.
I had to smile back in return. “Not a bit of it, my lad, but I am a healer, and some hot food in you and a warm safe smial in which to stay is what I’m recommending.”
The smile broadened, and he withdrew from the compartment and stood up, a bit shakily, before me. “Thankee kindly, sir; that sounds right nice.”
Well, “sir” certainly wouldn’t do, so I gave him a most gentlehobbitly bow and held out my hand. “Samwise Gamgee, at your service,” I declared politely, entirely forgetting my alias.
But he had not. “Willium Briarfoot,” he responded, shaking my hand in return. “But most call me Bobbin. Gamgee ain’t what you called yourself before,” he added, with what was now a most impish grin.
“Indeed it was not,” I replied solemnly. “But then there is much about me you do not yet know, Master Bobbin. However, be that as it may, I would urge us to leave this place promptly, for the night is wet and cold, and that warm smial of which I spoke is still a ways off.”
His grin faded slightly at that warning, but his chin lifted with determination, and he gave me a short nod of agreement.
We left the doors of the inn as open as I had found them.
&&&&&
Bobbin lay deep in exhausted sleep, wrapped in a blanket and nestled in the pillows before a crackling fire, as I sipped my third mug of tea, the remnants of our hasty dinner still on the table about me. As much as I was desperate to be doing something, I had realized that I would find no clues on this stormy night, but rather had to patiently await the dawn. But there was no harm in going over the facts, at least once more.
The possible methods of hiding or making off with such a large number of hobbits was my first question to consider. They could possibly be hidden somewhere in Stock, but it was really quite a small village. The crew from Brandy Hall most have numbered at least two score or so, and counting any townsfolk who had been swept along as well, that totaled at least thirty. This seemed the least likely of possibilities, but I planned to send Bobbin to have a look about the next day, just in case. Looking for his master would give him a good excuse.
The more likely possibility was that they had all been spirited out of the village. If they had left on their legs, daylight should reveal the traces of such a march, and that was one thing I planned on investigating, come daylight. In this case, the boats could have very likely been sunk, once the cargo was offloaded. And as swift as the Brandywine flowed, there might be very little evidence of that come morning.
The more probable route out, however, was by water, which would also explain the disappearance of the boats. The question was then, of course, in which direction had the boats gone? An incorrect answer to that question would take me farther and farther from them, and most especially, I will not be reticent, my beloved Frodo.
Worn and exhausted from the events of the evening, and the depressing circling of thoughts in my mind, I finally made my way to the empty bed in the back room of the smial, and fell into deep sleep.
&&&&&
The morning was clouded, with a damp chill to the air, but at least the rain had stopped for the time being. I had sent Bobbin off to enquire about the village for news of his master, and cautioned him to tell anyone who should ask that he had been out gathering firewood to bring in to dry when the whole affair took place. There was no sense in giving anyone cause to regard him as a witness. If there was no news, however, he was to stop by the inn and collect whatever food that might do to take with us, and whatever warm clothing he might have. I was determined not to sit idly by and await events, and it seemed prudent to have him with me and out of harm’s way, for the time being.
I, myself, inspected the area for clues of any sort. Nethercleft’s boats, which had been hidden from view of the docks were, as I had surmised, gone as well. I carefully examined every path, road, or trail out of the village, hoping for some sign that a number of travelers had gone that way. The muddy roads revealed nothing, but the night’s rain could have taken care of that. I had, eventually, to conclude that they had left by way of the river, which led to the inevitable question of the direction.
Bobbin did, however, have an interesting piece of information to tell when we met up back at the smial a couple of hours later. “ ’Tis empty,” he informed me, as he followed me inside, dropping a sack of supplies on the rough table.
I’m afraid I stared rather blankly at him for a moment. “The inn?” I ventured, frowning. “I would certainly hope no one would be making themselves at home there.”
“Ah, no, not that,” he waived his hand in an impatient gesture. “Locked it up but good, I did. Not a few in town who wouldn’t mind helpin’ themselves to the master’s brew whilst he’s gone. No, that supply shed, as he had me sweep out.”
“Oh, yes,” I suddenly remembered the conversation between the proprietor and Nethercleft. “He was going to have something stored there, wasn’t he? Did your master ever tell you any more on that matter?”
Bobbin shook his head. “Nay, just t’be cleanin’ it out but good,” he replied. “But whatever was a’goin’ in there never did.”
“How very interesting,” I murmured, trying my best to piece it together the way Baggins would have. “So possibly not all went as planned. Now what could have happened differently?”
And then the thought struck me. “Brandybuck!” I exclaimed, as Bobbin watched me shrewdly. “He was in the inn and not on ship as planned.”
“An’ he knew someone,” the lad reminded me quickly. “Called out ‘Tobias’, he did, and that’s when it all blew up.”
Well, that was something, but in any case, it did us no good in figuring out the essential dilemma, which was where had they gone? There was no putting off the decision any longer. “I’m following them to the south,” I took a deep breath and informed my companion. “If they had been heading north, it seems to be that they would have held to the river longer rather than intercepting them here. And the fact that there was some one amongst them who was known by Brandybuck, and the very hobbit, indeed, for whom he had been looking, leads me to think that the answer may lay closer to Brandy Hall than here. In any case, we need to follow them in the same manner, which is to say, by boat. Do you know how I could lay my hands on a sturdy craft?”
“Master had one,” Bobbin responded promptly. “I’ve used it often enough for fishing, or just to lie out in. Nobut to be botherin’ you when you’re in the middle of the river, see.”
That was welcome news, since my skills with any sort of water craft could be considered rudimentary only if I was to be complementary about the matter.
“Then we’d best be off, Captain Bobbin, before others start getting curious as to where we are going and why.” I grabbed up the pack I had made for myself earlier that morning and snuffed out the fire. “Leave the door unlocked, lad, I don’t suppose we’ll be back.”
Bobbin gave a cheerful nod, snatching up his pack as well, and we made our way to the river.
&&&&&
The next couple of days were spent making our way painstakingly down the Brandywine. The river itself flowed southwards to, so I’ve been told, the distant sea, so the center of the river was where one traveled if one wished to make good time. But since I was not in the least sure that we were traveling in the right direction, and additionally wished to pay very close attention to the shore in hopes of finding evidence of any camp of a large group of hobbits, I directed Bobbin to pole us close to the shoreline, and proceed with all due care.
I still found it difficult to forget the fact that we were suspended over several feet of flowing water in a boat which had, even to my neophyte eyes, a considerable amount of usage, and I must confess that I could never get it quite out of my head how Frodo’s parents had died, for indeed they were the only hobbits I had ever heard tell of who had met their fate in this manner, but there were times, when the sun shone weakly through the woolly clouds, and the scent of damp woods was strong and rich from the shores, that I nearly forgot what a perilous mission we were engaged upon, and I lost myself in dreams and memories. It was in one such moment, as Bobbin good-naturedly and tirelessly poled us downstream, that I caught sight of an elderly hobbit briskly making his way along the faint path that ran alongside the shore of the river.
I very nearly upset our small craft as I realized there was something familiar about the gait of the traveler, and the way he held his head, but as I did not wish to alert my companion, in case Baggins had reason to remain unknown, I hastily motioned to the shore and abruptly declared, “I thought I saw something, just now, that looks like an encampment of some sort. To the shore, Bobbin, and quickly!”
Bobbin peered in the direction in which I had pointed, with justifiable bewilderment, as there was indeed no sign of anything of the sort, but dutifully did as I had asked. As he drew near the reedy shore, I leaped out of the boat, as soon as I judged the water no more than waist-high, and with a final curt command to stay in the boat until I returned, I scrambled through the muck and rushes as quickly as I was able, and reached the muddy shore. The hobbit whom I had noticed had seen our approach as well, had drawn back from the path and was standing near a small thicket nearby awaiting my arrival. With a burst of delight I recognized the smile with which he greeted me, and without a word, grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the thicket and out of sight of any passers-by.
At that point, before I had a chance to utter his name, I found myself swept up into a firm embrace, and with my back suddenly against a sturdy pine, his mouth was on mine, demanding and yet so loving. It must have been several minutes before we reluctantly broke apart, but then I could never account for time properly when I was with him. But this was not the time nor the place for anything more, so I found my voice, and with my arms still firmly around him, asked, “What is going on here, Frodo?”
“I assume you have no questions about this particular moment,” he chuckled warmly, with a wry smile, “so you undoubtedly mean the rest of this matter. Nethercleft and the rest of his hobbits are not far ahead, as well as Merry and the other captives, and are hidden in their lair in these hills. But you were not with them as I thought you’d be, and I was afraid. . . “ and here he broke off abruptly and found my mouth once again.
I was nothing loathe to allow him to continue to allay his anxiety in this manner, and joined into the proceedings rather heartily, but eventually he drew back and continued. “It was illogical of me to suppose the worse, Sam, and certainly there was no evidence for that supposition, but I’ve found it very difficult to be at all rational about you, my dearest.”
“Oh, Frodo,” I could but breathe, enchanted once more by the depth of love that was so evident in his admittedly grimy face. “I can’t tell you how very glad I am to hear that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up again, in his characteristic quirk of a smile, but with a hasty but gentle final kiss, he peered past me to where my companion awaited in our boat. “You must have been indeed desperate, Sam-love, to have been following us in that cockleshell. And who is your young companion? I believe that I have seen him before.”
“That would be Willium Briarfoot, best known as Bobbin, and late of the Leaping Trout. His master was taken along with the rest, and I found him hiding in the inn. He’d nowhere else to go, and I didn’t like the thought of leaving him behind, and so brought him along with me. But with great good luck, he knows how to manage the craft, and with greater good luck, I guessed the right direction in which to go, and so here we are.”
“Don’t be so modest, my dear Sam, I expected no less resourcefulness and shrewd thinking on your part,” he chuckled and gave me a last embrace. “Well, it appears as if young Bobbin’s curiosity is getting the best of him, so we should probably join him. But for now, I think I will remain in my role. Name’s Toddy, by the way,” he muttered over his shoulder as he exited the thicket, “and I believe that I shall become somewhat shorter.”
I followed, but with my heart full of joy once again and feeling, I must admit, inordinately chuffed over his unexpected complement.
&&&&&
Bobbin wasted no time in questioning as to what relationship might exist between our two unlikely selves, once he heard that Toddy had come directly from the location we had been seeking. “Had enough o’that villain,” Baggins muttered for the lad’s benefit. “Thought I’d best be lookin’ for some help, and remembered what a fine upstanding sort of gentlehobbit Mr. Underhill here was. Thought he might be the one t’see.”
We had set off on our journey once again, in the flimsy craft that apparently could hold three passengers, to my great surprise and relief, and Bobbin was occupied once again in steering the craft away from the shores, but he gave us a mischievous glance on hearing Baggins’ explanation. “Oh, you’d be meanin’ Mr. Gamgee, I believe,” he said blandly, and turned back to his task.
I turned a trifle rosy, as Baggins shot me an amused look. “Mr. Gamgee, is it? Why, I must have heard wrong. Ah, well, a name is but a name, but look sharp now, Master Bobbin, see that bend up ahead, where the willow bends down? We want to be tucking this boat right in that cove. Anything past that, an’ we’ll be in sight of Nethercleft’s ships.”
“Are they that close then?” I asked, feeling a thrill of excitement. “What of the ships from Buckland? Are they here, too?”
“Sunk,” Baggins gave a succinct answer, his expression suddenly grim. “And a couple of hobbits with them. Aye, Nethercleft’s a villain, no mistake.”
As we approached the shore, though, Bobbin suddenly ceased his navigation of our craft and gave the faint path that ran alongside of the river a closer scrutiny. “Why, I know this village,” he turned to me in some surprise. “Just never came by river afore, that’s all.” Pointing to a stand of birch a mile up the shore, he continued, “Just there, where the trees are all in a clump? Halfthistle lies only a bit beyond.”
“How did you come to know that, Bobbin?” I asked in astonishment, never thinking the lad might have left his native village.
“There’s a farmer on the far side as grows the best hops in the farthing, or so my master alus said,” he replied confidently. “Farmer Browning, and he has a lad my age. My master brought me along most times, when he came to buy, t’give me a bit of a holiday. He was kind like that,’ he added softly, his eyes suddenly filling with tears.
“Then we must fetch him back as soon as ever,” Baggins murmured, with a firm nod. “And you might be the one to do it.”
Bobbin gave him a curious glance, distracted from his somber thoughts for the moment. “You ain’t no dockhobbit, likewise,” he declared finally, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You see, Baggins, what a fine co-conspirator we have acquired. There is positively no putting anything past Master Bobbin.”
“Indeed, that certainly seems to be the case,” Baggins agreed with amusement. “In which case, I shall be more than delighted to stand up properly. Acting the part of an older hobbit can certainly put a strain on the back.”
“Then who are the pair o’you, anyways?” Bobbin gazed steadily at both of us in turn. “Would you be constables, then?”
“Somewhat of that sort,” Baggins answered, his expression turning grave. “We are assisting the Master of Buckland, if you must know.”
“The Master of Buckland?” Bobbin’s eyes grew quite large at the thought of that fabled personage.
“Just so,” Baggins nodded. “And so may we be assured of your assistance?”
“Aye, t’be sure!” Bobbin gave a delighted grin. “Just give me the word.”
“Very well, then, you can be a great help to us.” Baggins grasped the rope at our feet and expertly tossed it out, landing the looped end on a stump that was at the water’s edge, and giving it a sharp tug. “There, that ought to hold us nicely. We may be needing it yet, and I would regret not being able to return it to its rightful owner.”
After we clambered out, some of us less gracefully than the others, we slogged through the mud onto the shore. Baggins tugged the boat up onto the land and quickly flipped it over. Tossing a few branches over the top of it, he gazed at the result with satisfaction. “That will do,” he murmured.
I grinned when I realized what he had done. “Appears to have been abandoned quite awhile ago,” I approved. “No one will suspect anyone having come this way in that,” and Bobbin nodded in agreement.
“Very well, then,” Baggins gave an appraising glance around us. “Here is what we shall do then.” And he explained his plan to us.
&&&&&
I made my way into Halfthistle and found the local inn, a prosperous and well-populated establishment, and quickly made myself known to the local clientele as a itinerant healer. Such were not unknown, in locations where there was not sufficient need for an established healer, and in general, it was quite an easy proposition to thus get on the locals’ good side, at least if one had any skill whatsoever. And, without false modesty, I must admit that I indeed had exactly that.
So as the afternoon progressed, I examined trick knees, mysterious lumps, rashes of every sort and description, infants in the very peak of health, and the most striking of coughs. As there also appeared to be a lack of makers of potions and ointments in the area, I sent the populace off to find various herbs and barks, and indeed ended up with quite a full evening ahead of me. I began to wonder at Baggins’ suggestion in following this course, but then realized that I was gaining good will that I could not have obtained in any other way, and that good will was what we were heavily counting upon, if our plan was to succeed.
The other two were to meet me here at the inn, as the sun began to set, so I was relieved to see Bobbin make his way unobtrusively to the back of the inn, and Baggins, still in guise of a working riverhobbit, not long later. There were no other travelers this evening, fortuitously enough, so I promptly had the guest room to myself, and not long afterwards, both of my co-conspirators found their way in through the window, as we reconnoitered in the dusty room which was obviously more often used as a store room.
“Gamgee, you have done a magnificent job, without any doubt,” Baggins declared upon entering through the glass, which I had propped open. “I noticed, as I passed through the common room, that the clientele appears to regard you as the most gifted luminary to pass this way in a very long time.”
“Well, if they had a proper healer in these parts, I would not have been nearly such a sensation,” I could not help grumbling, thinking of all the potions that I was expected to produce before morning. “Do light that fire, if you don’t mind, Baggins, this tincture must start seeping as soon as possible, if it’s to be in the least effective tomorrow.”
“So, then, Bobbin, what information were you able to gather?” Baggins prompted the lad, as he stretched out on the bed after the fire crackled to life, with a grateful sigh. “And Gamgee, old dear, if you wouldn’t mind throwing on a kettle as well, and I do believe that is exactly what I see on the chair in the corner, I would be most eternally grateful for some tea.”
Bobbin cocked up an eyebrow at his familiarity, still clearly not quite sure of what to make of Baggins, but answered the first question readily enough.
It seemed as if the farmer’s lad recognized Bobbin right off, and received his tale of his master’s disappearance most sympathetically. Indeed, he had insisted on taking Bobbin to his father and having him repeat the tale for his benefit. They did not ask, most fortunately, any questions as to how Bobbin had managed to track him to this vicinity, but there was no doubt in their minds that his master’s fate was connected with the reappearance of the wild hobbits in the hills. A few of the ruffians had, as a matter of fact, come by the farm just a day ago and had made off, leaving only a token gratuity, with a considerable amount of their provisions, not to mention a specked hen of which his good wife had been quite fond.
Baggins nodded with gratification at that news. “Just as I surmised,” he searched in his pocket for his pipe. “The townsfolk have had just about enough of this lot. I found exactly the same sentiment in my investigations. We should be able to put our plan into action tomorrow without any delay.”
Bobbin looked quite hopeful at that news. “It can’t be none too soon,” he agreed heartily. “I don’t like the thought of what might be goin’ on with my poor master, no ways.”
“Most commendable of you,” Baggins agreed, taking the pipeweed pouch I handed to him without comment. His own particular blend was not one to be used in public under any account. “Where did you tell your informant you were going, when you came here?”
“Well, they said as they would be glad to have me stay with them for a bit. Farmer Browning said that it was time someone looked into this mess, and that he would get together with a few others as thought the same tomorrow. I told him that I had been traveling with the healer, but that I would stop by the inn and let you know, and be back directly.”
“Excellent. Then you must make sure that when the farmer and his friends get together tomorrow to discuss this that they do so here at the inn. Most likely they would do so anyway, but you must make sure of it. There will be others of a like mind here as well, I may as well tell you, and we must be certain that we guide them into working together. We will need a certain amount of support if we are to be successful.”
Bobbin nodded solemnly, and was immediately out of the window just as quickly as he had entered it.
&&&&&
The aroma of pungent herbs filled the room as I went on with my business of preparing tinctures and pounding herbs in my small mortar bowl that I always kept in my pack. Baggins, after a brief rest, was soon silently at my side, assisting me as he had so many times before. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I murmured, caught up in my concoctions. “Those leaves need to be washed out thoroughly first. I’m sure I saw another basin over in that jumble in the corner. I need to go fetch some more water anyway.” Baggins nodded, and I left the room, carefully closing the door behind me. Knowledge of Baggins’ presence might cause some questions that we were best off to avoid, for the time being.
The innkeeper quickly obliged me with a couple of buckets of water, and politely enquired if I should like any further dinner sent to my room. I was providing him quite a good deal of unexpected business, and he was delighted to help me in any way, so I took advantage of his offer and asked for a large portion of fried sausages, onions, and tomatoes, as well as a good country loaf and a bottle of decent wine, if he had anything of the kind. Naturally, I was not expecting to consume it all myself, a fact that I prudently withheld from him.
Baggins had been busy, as I found upon my return, and with relief, I realized that there was little now left to do, other than let the various medications steep and simmer. “I ordered a rather substantial dinner,” I announced, stirring the larger kettle, and watching him out of the corner of my eye. “You are looking decidedly ragged, if I might say so.”
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “You and the Widow will take care of that predicament, as soon as we are back at Bag End,” he replied, with a slight shrug. “There are more important matters with which to be concerning myself at the present than regular meals.”
“One must maintain one’s strength,” I blandly mentioned, moving closer. “After all, I’d rather not be gouged by your hipbones, if at all possible.”
I was rewarded by a rich chuckle for that comment. “Well, that certainly is a consideration, my dearest.” He turned to me, his distinctive eyes glinting dark in the firelight. “I would hate to not appear my best for you, Sam-love.”
All sternness in my manner instantly vanished at that sight, and I swept him into my arms, holding him closely and burying my nose in the crook of his neck. “Did you really come back for me, Frodo, my love?” I breathed, feeling joy surge me once again at the feel of that form in my embrace. “Even in the midst of all of this?”
“Nothing at all will ever keep me from you, Sam, my beloved,” I heard his fervent response, as his mouth found my eartip, and I shuddered with deep longing for more. “I was concerned and, as I believe I mentioned before, I am not at all rational in regards to you.”
“Oh, Frodo, oh!” I could not help but moan, and that was precisely the moment there was a sharp rap on the door.
With a low muttered curse on my part, and a low chuckle on his, he vanished behind a stack of boxes on one side of the room, and I opened the door to allow the beaming proprietor and his struggling assistant to enter with quite a feast in their hands. “I took the liberty,” the innkeeper motioned to the additional food with pride. “All on the house, Master Underhill. You are more than welcome in these parts. We’ve no healer since Grammer Gossage took ill of summer fever last winter. Or was it the other way around? No matter, I was always a’tellin’ her that she ought to be training that young helper of hers better, but there was just no telling her nothing at times. He gave it a try, after she was gone, I’ll give him that, but it was all too much for him, and he left for East Nook, where he’d come from, since he had a sister who’d married the sheepherder there, as lived far out in the hills. . .”
“Indeed,” I interrupted him hastily, since he showed no sign of running out of information any time soon. “Quite interesting, without a doubt, but it would be a shame to let this wonderful meal go all cold, and I still have one or two matters left to take care of tonight. I shall bring the plates back in the morning then? It would be rude of me to keep you up, and this one particular potion might take awhile. So kind of you, thank you ever so much!” and under my onslaught of politeness and my herding the two of them towards the door, I was finally able to firmly shut it behind then, and to my relief, lock it as well.
Baggins emerged, slightly dustier, and in the throes of silent laughter. “So the poor lad took off, eh?” he shook his head in amusement. “I can’t possibly imagine why. Well, there’s no doubt but that our good innkeeper is the center of information in these parts, and exactly the person we want to involve tomorrow. And with great good fortune, he seems to hold you in high regard, my dear.”
“Ah, ‘tis always the way before we give the medicine out,” I gave a wry laugh. “Whether or not we keep that regard depends on what happens after that. In any case, I propose that we do not scorn his offering, because this looks to be as tasty a meal as I’ve had in a very long time.”
And indeed it was. We feasted, and sipped the wine, and laughed and spoke of matters both consequential and not, as the pots gradually simmered and eventually cooled. The fire in the neglected hearth slowly went out, the stars all left the sky, and in time we found ourselves in each other’s arms in the dusty bed, and cared not for that dust or the occasional cobweb, or anything else in all the Shire but the touch of a tender hand, the sound of a beloved voice, and the passion we found together. Strange might be the situation in which we had found ourselves, and there was danger to be faced the next day, but none of that could diminish the bliss of the moment, the rapture and deep peace we found together. The moon was nearly gone from the sky when at last we fell asleep.
Part One may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/47624.html#cutid1
Part Two may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/48576.html#cutid1
Title: The Case of the Concealed Current, Part Three of Three
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 13,744
Summary: Blood is shed, buckles are swashed, and passionate kisses are exchanged. What more, really, can one ask for on Bastille Day?
I sank down and sat under the marked tree, at the side of the road, with my knees drawn up and my face buried in my arms. It wasn’t as if this turn of events was unexpected, but that still didn’t make it any easier to bear. The lantern, which I had thoughtlessly dropped at my side, lay in the middle of the path, flickering weakly and threatening to go out altogether, but that really didn’t matter that much to me at the moment, for I had no idea of where to go nor what to do next.
Brandybuck was gone, as were his hobbits, his boats, Nethercleft and his crew, and apparently some of the townfolk as well. Not to mention the disappearance that caused me the most concern, that of Frodo. Grief and apprehension threatened to engulf me, but I angrily resisted that option. There was no point at all in remaining in this miserable village and waiting to see if anyone turned up, but the question was, where to go?
As the rain began to come down harder, I rose and grimly decided to return to the smial while I could, since the lantern light was beginning to die out. There, I needed to collect my thoughts and do what Frodo, I know, would have done. In other words, rationally examine the facts at hand, not allowing myself to be swayed by emotion, and reach a logical conclusion. And upon that, I would act. It was entirely possible that it would be completely the wrong conclusion to make, but the fact of the matter was that I had to do something I had been in error once before, and had accidentally assumed the worst, leaving Baggins to slowly make his way back to Bag End with a good deal of suffering in the process, on his part, and misery on mine. I would not be making that error again.
With renewed determination, I strode through the blustering rainy night, and passed, as the path back to the smial happened to take me, the Leaping Trout once again. It suddenly occurred to me that there might have been a clue within that I failed to notice previously, so I cautiously peered inside through the door, which had been left flung open. I could see no one, but there was a sound that caught my attention, a soft, snuffled sort of sound. Without a doubt, someone was crying, and I immediately realized who.
I found him where he had been earlier, hidden in a compartment behind the counter. “Hey, there, now, me lad, ain’t you best be goin’ home?” I asked in my gentlest tones, unconsciously reverting back to the patterns of speech from my youth.
His head cautiously lifted from his arms, where he had hidden it, and he eyed me warily. “Am at home,” he muttered, with a stray sob. “ ‘Tis it.”
“Don’t you have a family, then?” I questioned him gently. “Some one you could stay with? ‘Twon’t do t’be lingerin’ here, noways.”
His eyes grew a little wider as he realized what I was implying, but he shook his head again. “Me master was my mam’s cousin,” he whispered. “Ain’t got no more family. And he had no more, likewise. ‘Twas but the pair o’us.”
“Well, then.” I sat back on my heels and studied him for a moment, but there was clearly only one thing to be done. “Then you must come with me, at least for the moment. Staying here would not be at all safe, not in the least.”
A small smile crept across his tear-stained face. “You ain’t a gentlehobbit, now, are you.” And it wasn’t a question.
I had to smile back in return. “Not a bit of it, my lad, but I am a healer, and some hot food in you and a warm safe smial in which to stay is what I’m recommending.”
The smile broadened, and he withdrew from the compartment and stood up, a bit shakily, before me. “Thankee kindly, sir; that sounds right nice.”
Well, “sir” certainly wouldn’t do, so I gave him a most gentlehobbitly bow and held out my hand. “Samwise Gamgee, at your service,” I declared politely, entirely forgetting my alias.
But he had not. “Willium Briarfoot,” he responded, shaking my hand in return. “But most call me Bobbin. Gamgee ain’t what you called yourself before,” he added, with what was now a most impish grin.
“Indeed it was not,” I replied solemnly. “But then there is much about me you do not yet know, Master Bobbin. However, be that as it may, I would urge us to leave this place promptly, for the night is wet and cold, and that warm smial of which I spoke is still a ways off.”
His grin faded slightly at that warning, but his chin lifted with determination, and he gave me a short nod of agreement.
We left the doors of the inn as open as I had found them.
&&&&&
Bobbin lay deep in exhausted sleep, wrapped in a blanket and nestled in the pillows before a crackling fire, as I sipped my third mug of tea, the remnants of our hasty dinner still on the table about me. As much as I was desperate to be doing something, I had realized that I would find no clues on this stormy night, but rather had to patiently await the dawn. But there was no harm in going over the facts, at least once more.
The possible methods of hiding or making off with such a large number of hobbits was my first question to consider. They could possibly be hidden somewhere in Stock, but it was really quite a small village. The crew from Brandy Hall most have numbered at least two score or so, and counting any townsfolk who had been swept along as well, that totaled at least thirty. This seemed the least likely of possibilities, but I planned to send Bobbin to have a look about the next day, just in case. Looking for his master would give him a good excuse.
The more likely possibility was that they had all been spirited out of the village. If they had left on their legs, daylight should reveal the traces of such a march, and that was one thing I planned on investigating, come daylight. In this case, the boats could have very likely been sunk, once the cargo was offloaded. And as swift as the Brandywine flowed, there might be very little evidence of that come morning.
The more probable route out, however, was by water, which would also explain the disappearance of the boats. The question was then, of course, in which direction had the boats gone? An incorrect answer to that question would take me farther and farther from them, and most especially, I will not be reticent, my beloved Frodo.
Worn and exhausted from the events of the evening, and the depressing circling of thoughts in my mind, I finally made my way to the empty bed in the back room of the smial, and fell into deep sleep.
&&&&&
The morning was clouded, with a damp chill to the air, but at least the rain had stopped for the time being. I had sent Bobbin off to enquire about the village for news of his master, and cautioned him to tell anyone who should ask that he had been out gathering firewood to bring in to dry when the whole affair took place. There was no sense in giving anyone cause to regard him as a witness. If there was no news, however, he was to stop by the inn and collect whatever food that might do to take with us, and whatever warm clothing he might have. I was determined not to sit idly by and await events, and it seemed prudent to have him with me and out of harm’s way, for the time being.
I, myself, inspected the area for clues of any sort. Nethercleft’s boats, which had been hidden from view of the docks were, as I had surmised, gone as well. I carefully examined every path, road, or trail out of the village, hoping for some sign that a number of travelers had gone that way. The muddy roads revealed nothing, but the night’s rain could have taken care of that. I had, eventually, to conclude that they had left by way of the river, which led to the inevitable question of the direction.
Bobbin did, however, have an interesting piece of information to tell when we met up back at the smial a couple of hours later. “ ’Tis empty,” he informed me, as he followed me inside, dropping a sack of supplies on the rough table.
I’m afraid I stared rather blankly at him for a moment. “The inn?” I ventured, frowning. “I would certainly hope no one would be making themselves at home there.”
“Ah, no, not that,” he waived his hand in an impatient gesture. “Locked it up but good, I did. Not a few in town who wouldn’t mind helpin’ themselves to the master’s brew whilst he’s gone. No, that supply shed, as he had me sweep out.”
“Oh, yes,” I suddenly remembered the conversation between the proprietor and Nethercleft. “He was going to have something stored there, wasn’t he? Did your master ever tell you any more on that matter?”
Bobbin shook his head. “Nay, just t’be cleanin’ it out but good,” he replied. “But whatever was a’goin’ in there never did.”
“How very interesting,” I murmured, trying my best to piece it together the way Baggins would have. “So possibly not all went as planned. Now what could have happened differently?”
And then the thought struck me. “Brandybuck!” I exclaimed, as Bobbin watched me shrewdly. “He was in the inn and not on ship as planned.”
“An’ he knew someone,” the lad reminded me quickly. “Called out ‘Tobias’, he did, and that’s when it all blew up.”
Well, that was something, but in any case, it did us no good in figuring out the essential dilemma, which was where had they gone? There was no putting off the decision any longer. “I’m following them to the south,” I took a deep breath and informed my companion. “If they had been heading north, it seems to be that they would have held to the river longer rather than intercepting them here. And the fact that there was some one amongst them who was known by Brandybuck, and the very hobbit, indeed, for whom he had been looking, leads me to think that the answer may lay closer to Brandy Hall than here. In any case, we need to follow them in the same manner, which is to say, by boat. Do you know how I could lay my hands on a sturdy craft?”
“Master had one,” Bobbin responded promptly. “I’ve used it often enough for fishing, or just to lie out in. Nobut to be botherin’ you when you’re in the middle of the river, see.”
That was welcome news, since my skills with any sort of water craft could be considered rudimentary only if I was to be complementary about the matter.
“Then we’d best be off, Captain Bobbin, before others start getting curious as to where we are going and why.” I grabbed up the pack I had made for myself earlier that morning and snuffed out the fire. “Leave the door unlocked, lad, I don’t suppose we’ll be back.”
Bobbin gave a cheerful nod, snatching up his pack as well, and we made our way to the river.
&&&&&
The next couple of days were spent making our way painstakingly down the Brandywine. The river itself flowed southwards to, so I’ve been told, the distant sea, so the center of the river was where one traveled if one wished to make good time. But since I was not in the least sure that we were traveling in the right direction, and additionally wished to pay very close attention to the shore in hopes of finding evidence of any camp of a large group of hobbits, I directed Bobbin to pole us close to the shoreline, and proceed with all due care.
I still found it difficult to forget the fact that we were suspended over several feet of flowing water in a boat which had, even to my neophyte eyes, a considerable amount of usage, and I must confess that I could never get it quite out of my head how Frodo’s parents had died, for indeed they were the only hobbits I had ever heard tell of who had met their fate in this manner, but there were times, when the sun shone weakly through the woolly clouds, and the scent of damp woods was strong and rich from the shores, that I nearly forgot what a perilous mission we were engaged upon, and I lost myself in dreams and memories. It was in one such moment, as Bobbin good-naturedly and tirelessly poled us downstream, that I caught sight of an elderly hobbit briskly making his way along the faint path that ran alongside the shore of the river.
I very nearly upset our small craft as I realized there was something familiar about the gait of the traveler, and the way he held his head, but as I did not wish to alert my companion, in case Baggins had reason to remain unknown, I hastily motioned to the shore and abruptly declared, “I thought I saw something, just now, that looks like an encampment of some sort. To the shore, Bobbin, and quickly!”
Bobbin peered in the direction in which I had pointed, with justifiable bewilderment, as there was indeed no sign of anything of the sort, but dutifully did as I had asked. As he drew near the reedy shore, I leaped out of the boat, as soon as I judged the water no more than waist-high, and with a final curt command to stay in the boat until I returned, I scrambled through the muck and rushes as quickly as I was able, and reached the muddy shore. The hobbit whom I had noticed had seen our approach as well, had drawn back from the path and was standing near a small thicket nearby awaiting my arrival. With a burst of delight I recognized the smile with which he greeted me, and without a word, grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the thicket and out of sight of any passers-by.
At that point, before I had a chance to utter his name, I found myself swept up into a firm embrace, and with my back suddenly against a sturdy pine, his mouth was on mine, demanding and yet so loving. It must have been several minutes before we reluctantly broke apart, but then I could never account for time properly when I was with him. But this was not the time nor the place for anything more, so I found my voice, and with my arms still firmly around him, asked, “What is going on here, Frodo?”
“I assume you have no questions about this particular moment,” he chuckled warmly, with a wry smile, “so you undoubtedly mean the rest of this matter. Nethercleft and the rest of his hobbits are not far ahead, as well as Merry and the other captives, and are hidden in their lair in these hills. But you were not with them as I thought you’d be, and I was afraid. . . “ and here he broke off abruptly and found my mouth once again.
I was nothing loathe to allow him to continue to allay his anxiety in this manner, and joined into the proceedings rather heartily, but eventually he drew back and continued. “It was illogical of me to suppose the worse, Sam, and certainly there was no evidence for that supposition, but I’ve found it very difficult to be at all rational about you, my dearest.”
“Oh, Frodo,” I could but breathe, enchanted once more by the depth of love that was so evident in his admittedly grimy face. “I can’t tell you how very glad I am to hear that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up again, in his characteristic quirk of a smile, but with a hasty but gentle final kiss, he peered past me to where my companion awaited in our boat. “You must have been indeed desperate, Sam-love, to have been following us in that cockleshell. And who is your young companion? I believe that I have seen him before.”
“That would be Willium Briarfoot, best known as Bobbin, and late of the Leaping Trout. His master was taken along with the rest, and I found him hiding in the inn. He’d nowhere else to go, and I didn’t like the thought of leaving him behind, and so brought him along with me. But with great good luck, he knows how to manage the craft, and with greater good luck, I guessed the right direction in which to go, and so here we are.”
“Don’t be so modest, my dear Sam, I expected no less resourcefulness and shrewd thinking on your part,” he chuckled and gave me a last embrace. “Well, it appears as if young Bobbin’s curiosity is getting the best of him, so we should probably join him. But for now, I think I will remain in my role. Name’s Toddy, by the way,” he muttered over his shoulder as he exited the thicket, “and I believe that I shall become somewhat shorter.”
I followed, but with my heart full of joy once again and feeling, I must admit, inordinately chuffed over his unexpected complement.
&&&&&
Bobbin wasted no time in questioning as to what relationship might exist between our two unlikely selves, once he heard that Toddy had come directly from the location we had been seeking. “Had enough o’that villain,” Baggins muttered for the lad’s benefit. “Thought I’d best be lookin’ for some help, and remembered what a fine upstanding sort of gentlehobbit Mr. Underhill here was. Thought he might be the one t’see.”
We had set off on our journey once again, in the flimsy craft that apparently could hold three passengers, to my great surprise and relief, and Bobbin was occupied once again in steering the craft away from the shores, but he gave us a mischievous glance on hearing Baggins’ explanation. “Oh, you’d be meanin’ Mr. Gamgee, I believe,” he said blandly, and turned back to his task.
I turned a trifle rosy, as Baggins shot me an amused look. “Mr. Gamgee, is it? Why, I must have heard wrong. Ah, well, a name is but a name, but look sharp now, Master Bobbin, see that bend up ahead, where the willow bends down? We want to be tucking this boat right in that cove. Anything past that, an’ we’ll be in sight of Nethercleft’s ships.”
“Are they that close then?” I asked, feeling a thrill of excitement. “What of the ships from Buckland? Are they here, too?”
“Sunk,” Baggins gave a succinct answer, his expression suddenly grim. “And a couple of hobbits with them. Aye, Nethercleft’s a villain, no mistake.”
As we approached the shore, though, Bobbin suddenly ceased his navigation of our craft and gave the faint path that ran alongside of the river a closer scrutiny. “Why, I know this village,” he turned to me in some surprise. “Just never came by river afore, that’s all.” Pointing to a stand of birch a mile up the shore, he continued, “Just there, where the trees are all in a clump? Halfthistle lies only a bit beyond.”
“How did you come to know that, Bobbin?” I asked in astonishment, never thinking the lad might have left his native village.
“There’s a farmer on the far side as grows the best hops in the farthing, or so my master alus said,” he replied confidently. “Farmer Browning, and he has a lad my age. My master brought me along most times, when he came to buy, t’give me a bit of a holiday. He was kind like that,’ he added softly, his eyes suddenly filling with tears.
“Then we must fetch him back as soon as ever,” Baggins murmured, with a firm nod. “And you might be the one to do it.”
Bobbin gave him a curious glance, distracted from his somber thoughts for the moment. “You ain’t no dockhobbit, likewise,” he declared finally, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You see, Baggins, what a fine co-conspirator we have acquired. There is positively no putting anything past Master Bobbin.”
“Indeed, that certainly seems to be the case,” Baggins agreed with amusement. “In which case, I shall be more than delighted to stand up properly. Acting the part of an older hobbit can certainly put a strain on the back.”
“Then who are the pair o’you, anyways?” Bobbin gazed steadily at both of us in turn. “Would you be constables, then?”
“Somewhat of that sort,” Baggins answered, his expression turning grave. “We are assisting the Master of Buckland, if you must know.”
“The Master of Buckland?” Bobbin’s eyes grew quite large at the thought of that fabled personage.
“Just so,” Baggins nodded. “And so may we be assured of your assistance?”
“Aye, t’be sure!” Bobbin gave a delighted grin. “Just give me the word.”
“Very well, then, you can be a great help to us.” Baggins grasped the rope at our feet and expertly tossed it out, landing the looped end on a stump that was at the water’s edge, and giving it a sharp tug. “There, that ought to hold us nicely. We may be needing it yet, and I would regret not being able to return it to its rightful owner.”
After we clambered out, some of us less gracefully than the others, we slogged through the mud onto the shore. Baggins tugged the boat up onto the land and quickly flipped it over. Tossing a few branches over the top of it, he gazed at the result with satisfaction. “That will do,” he murmured.
I grinned when I realized what he had done. “Appears to have been abandoned quite awhile ago,” I approved. “No one will suspect anyone having come this way in that,” and Bobbin nodded in agreement.
“Very well, then,” Baggins gave an appraising glance around us. “Here is what we shall do then.” And he explained his plan to us.
&&&&&
I made my way into Halfthistle and found the local inn, a prosperous and well-populated establishment, and quickly made myself known to the local clientele as a itinerant healer. Such were not unknown, in locations where there was not sufficient need for an established healer, and in general, it was quite an easy proposition to thus get on the locals’ good side, at least if one had any skill whatsoever. And, without false modesty, I must admit that I indeed had exactly that.
So as the afternoon progressed, I examined trick knees, mysterious lumps, rashes of every sort and description, infants in the very peak of health, and the most striking of coughs. As there also appeared to be a lack of makers of potions and ointments in the area, I sent the populace off to find various herbs and barks, and indeed ended up with quite a full evening ahead of me. I began to wonder at Baggins’ suggestion in following this course, but then realized that I was gaining good will that I could not have obtained in any other way, and that good will was what we were heavily counting upon, if our plan was to succeed.
The other two were to meet me here at the inn, as the sun began to set, so I was relieved to see Bobbin make his way unobtrusively to the back of the inn, and Baggins, still in guise of a working riverhobbit, not long later. There were no other travelers this evening, fortuitously enough, so I promptly had the guest room to myself, and not long afterwards, both of my co-conspirators found their way in through the window, as we reconnoitered in the dusty room which was obviously more often used as a store room.
“Gamgee, you have done a magnificent job, without any doubt,” Baggins declared upon entering through the glass, which I had propped open. “I noticed, as I passed through the common room, that the clientele appears to regard you as the most gifted luminary to pass this way in a very long time.”
“Well, if they had a proper healer in these parts, I would not have been nearly such a sensation,” I could not help grumbling, thinking of all the potions that I was expected to produce before morning. “Do light that fire, if you don’t mind, Baggins, this tincture must start seeping as soon as possible, if it’s to be in the least effective tomorrow.”
“So, then, Bobbin, what information were you able to gather?” Baggins prompted the lad, as he stretched out on the bed after the fire crackled to life, with a grateful sigh. “And Gamgee, old dear, if you wouldn’t mind throwing on a kettle as well, and I do believe that is exactly what I see on the chair in the corner, I would be most eternally grateful for some tea.”
Bobbin cocked up an eyebrow at his familiarity, still clearly not quite sure of what to make of Baggins, but answered the first question readily enough.
It seemed as if the farmer’s lad recognized Bobbin right off, and received his tale of his master’s disappearance most sympathetically. Indeed, he had insisted on taking Bobbin to his father and having him repeat the tale for his benefit. They did not ask, most fortunately, any questions as to how Bobbin had managed to track him to this vicinity, but there was no doubt in their minds that his master’s fate was connected with the reappearance of the wild hobbits in the hills. A few of the ruffians had, as a matter of fact, come by the farm just a day ago and had made off, leaving only a token gratuity, with a considerable amount of their provisions, not to mention a specked hen of which his good wife had been quite fond.
Baggins nodded with gratification at that news. “Just as I surmised,” he searched in his pocket for his pipe. “The townsfolk have had just about enough of this lot. I found exactly the same sentiment in my investigations. We should be able to put our plan into action tomorrow without any delay.”
Bobbin looked quite hopeful at that news. “It can’t be none too soon,” he agreed heartily. “I don’t like the thought of what might be goin’ on with my poor master, no ways.”
“Most commendable of you,” Baggins agreed, taking the pipeweed pouch I handed to him without comment. His own particular blend was not one to be used in public under any account. “Where did you tell your informant you were going, when you came here?”
“Well, they said as they would be glad to have me stay with them for a bit. Farmer Browning said that it was time someone looked into this mess, and that he would get together with a few others as thought the same tomorrow. I told him that I had been traveling with the healer, but that I would stop by the inn and let you know, and be back directly.”
“Excellent. Then you must make sure that when the farmer and his friends get together tomorrow to discuss this that they do so here at the inn. Most likely they would do so anyway, but you must make sure of it. There will be others of a like mind here as well, I may as well tell you, and we must be certain that we guide them into working together. We will need a certain amount of support if we are to be successful.”
Bobbin nodded solemnly, and was immediately out of the window just as quickly as he had entered it.
&&&&&
The aroma of pungent herbs filled the room as I went on with my business of preparing tinctures and pounding herbs in my small mortar bowl that I always kept in my pack. Baggins, after a brief rest, was soon silently at my side, assisting me as he had so many times before. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I murmured, caught up in my concoctions. “Those leaves need to be washed out thoroughly first. I’m sure I saw another basin over in that jumble in the corner. I need to go fetch some more water anyway.” Baggins nodded, and I left the room, carefully closing the door behind me. Knowledge of Baggins’ presence might cause some questions that we were best off to avoid, for the time being.
The innkeeper quickly obliged me with a couple of buckets of water, and politely enquired if I should like any further dinner sent to my room. I was providing him quite a good deal of unexpected business, and he was delighted to help me in any way, so I took advantage of his offer and asked for a large portion of fried sausages, onions, and tomatoes, as well as a good country loaf and a bottle of decent wine, if he had anything of the kind. Naturally, I was not expecting to consume it all myself, a fact that I prudently withheld from him.
Baggins had been busy, as I found upon my return, and with relief, I realized that there was little now left to do, other than let the various medications steep and simmer. “I ordered a rather substantial dinner,” I announced, stirring the larger kettle, and watching him out of the corner of my eye. “You are looking decidedly ragged, if I might say so.”
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “You and the Widow will take care of that predicament, as soon as we are back at Bag End,” he replied, with a slight shrug. “There are more important matters with which to be concerning myself at the present than regular meals.”
“One must maintain one’s strength,” I blandly mentioned, moving closer. “After all, I’d rather not be gouged by your hipbones, if at all possible.”
I was rewarded by a rich chuckle for that comment. “Well, that certainly is a consideration, my dearest.” He turned to me, his distinctive eyes glinting dark in the firelight. “I would hate to not appear my best for you, Sam-love.”
All sternness in my manner instantly vanished at that sight, and I swept him into my arms, holding him closely and burying my nose in the crook of his neck. “Did you really come back for me, Frodo, my love?” I breathed, feeling joy surge me once again at the feel of that form in my embrace. “Even in the midst of all of this?”
“Nothing at all will ever keep me from you, Sam, my beloved,” I heard his fervent response, as his mouth found my eartip, and I shuddered with deep longing for more. “I was concerned and, as I believe I mentioned before, I am not at all rational in regards to you.”
“Oh, Frodo, oh!” I could not help but moan, and that was precisely the moment there was a sharp rap on the door.
With a low muttered curse on my part, and a low chuckle on his, he vanished behind a stack of boxes on one side of the room, and I opened the door to allow the beaming proprietor and his struggling assistant to enter with quite a feast in their hands. “I took the liberty,” the innkeeper motioned to the additional food with pride. “All on the house, Master Underhill. You are more than welcome in these parts. We’ve no healer since Grammer Gossage took ill of summer fever last winter. Or was it the other way around? No matter, I was always a’tellin’ her that she ought to be training that young helper of hers better, but there was just no telling her nothing at times. He gave it a try, after she was gone, I’ll give him that, but it was all too much for him, and he left for East Nook, where he’d come from, since he had a sister who’d married the sheepherder there, as lived far out in the hills. . .”
“Indeed,” I interrupted him hastily, since he showed no sign of running out of information any time soon. “Quite interesting, without a doubt, but it would be a shame to let this wonderful meal go all cold, and I still have one or two matters left to take care of tonight. I shall bring the plates back in the morning then? It would be rude of me to keep you up, and this one particular potion might take awhile. So kind of you, thank you ever so much!” and under my onslaught of politeness and my herding the two of them towards the door, I was finally able to firmly shut it behind then, and to my relief, lock it as well.
Baggins emerged, slightly dustier, and in the throes of silent laughter. “So the poor lad took off, eh?” he shook his head in amusement. “I can’t possibly imagine why. Well, there’s no doubt but that our good innkeeper is the center of information in these parts, and exactly the person we want to involve tomorrow. And with great good fortune, he seems to hold you in high regard, my dear.”
“Ah, ‘tis always the way before we give the medicine out,” I gave a wry laugh. “Whether or not we keep that regard depends on what happens after that. In any case, I propose that we do not scorn his offering, because this looks to be as tasty a meal as I’ve had in a very long time.”
And indeed it was. We feasted, and sipped the wine, and laughed and spoke of matters both consequential and not, as the pots gradually simmered and eventually cooled. The fire in the neglected hearth slowly went out, the stars all left the sky, and in time we found ourselves in each other’s arms in the dusty bed, and cared not for that dust or the occasional cobweb, or anything else in all the Shire but the touch of a tender hand, the sound of a beloved voice, and the passion we found together. Strange might be the situation in which we had found ourselves, and there was danger to be faced the next day, but none of that could diminish the bliss of the moment, the rapture and deep peace we found together. The moon was nearly gone from the sky when at last we fell asleep.
Part One may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/47624.html#cutid1
Part Two may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/48576.html#cutid1
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And in-charge Frodo is totally guh! for me, I must admit. (Sam wholeheartedly votes agreement. ;D)
Oh, yes, I love this pair, so there will be more. The Sept.
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Yay! I was wondering when the conclusion would be posted!
*runs to read part 2*
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Rushing off for the finale.
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And I couldn't leave Frodo out of the picture too long - Sam would have been most peeved.
Thank you!