elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2009-12-21 06:09 pm
elderberrywine) wrote2009-12-21 06:09 pm
Happy holidays, all!
Enjoying my first day off here - three weeks tra la!
And as a gift for all, my penultimate chapter of the latest Baggins/Gamgee. It will be finished this year, I am determined! Stay safe and warm, all. (And of course, for you all in the So Hemi, safe and cool would probably work better!:D)
Title: News From Bree, Chapter Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5113
Summary: Baggins and Gamgee have an eventful afternoon, with both subterfuge and bloodshed required, and a darker morrow looms. Part of the 221B Bag End AU.
I never have been able to recall Radagast’s exact words, as we sat close to the fire in Ned’s humble smial and let our mugs of tea cool forgotten in our hands, but I’ll never forget the sound of his voice. It was deep and slightly raspy, as if it had gone unused for quite awhile, and even though he was using common speech, it seemed to me to be the sound of the winds of the north sighing through tall pine, the sound of lonely and desolate lands and places I’d never, or least so I hoped, see. In speaking later to Baggins of it, I found that he had had the impression of legends and old nearly forgotten tales unexpectedly brought to life. But no matter what fanciful notions either of us had, there was no mistaking the import of what he had to tell us.
The Necromancer had apparently been let loose, and although I would not have dreamed of stopping Radagast to ask for details, I had no doubts but this was a matter for great concern. Indeed, Strider’s face unmistakably blanched at the news, and even Baggins gave a start. But it all seemed rather far away, and I couldn’t quite connect this fact with the events with which we were involved. It wasn’t until the old wizard muttered, slightly under his breath, the phrase “black riders”, that my blood inexplicably ran suddenly cold.
Strider dropped his pipe unheeded into his lap at these words, and immediately questioned the wizard, the dismay on his face obvious. “The black riders, Radagast? When and where, old friend?”
“This past autumn was when I heard the forests first tell of it,” he replied somberly. “Word from the south. And where? The western lands, anywhere west of the Misty Mountains. ‘Tis said the Dark Lord seeks something of value, but what is not known. But the black riders go in the direction in which his attention is turned.”
Strider stared, sightless and silent, into the fire for what seemed like a very long while to me, but then turned back to Radagast as if there were only the two of them in the room. “Kingsfoil. Tell me, Radagast, are the old legends true?”
The weathered wizard slowly nodded his head. “Altheas,” he rumbled the elven word out. “Protection against the black breath, and especially in the hands of the king. They are seeking you out, my friend.”
I must admit that none of this was making any sense to me, and I could tell that even Baggins, at my side, was baffled as well, but the man’s face suddenly grew very still. “Then I bring danger with me,” he replied firmly. “I must not stay.”
“I would venture to say,” came Baggins’ quiet voice, as I turned to him in surprise, “that the danger is already come. There is much here I do not understand, but I do know that whatever evil that has come to Bree will soon make its way to the Shire. I stand ready, as well as does my companion,” and here his eyes quickly met mine, and I saw by the warm pride in his expression that he knew he need not ask me, “to extend whatever assistance which is ours to give. How may we help, sire?”
With a start, I realized that in some improbable way, Baggins had grasped that the man before us was indeed the king to whom Radagast had referred. A thousand questions swirled through my head, but now was not the time to ask. Rather, I drew close to Baggins and tried to stifle my growing sense of fear, and appear as stalwart as did he.
The man bent his head and appeared to consider the matter for a moment. Then he looked up, directly at Baggins and myself, his grey eyes seeming to pierce right through to our hearts. “Your assistance is most gratefully accepted, good hobbits,” he said slowly, as Bobbin and Ned immediately added their pledges as well. “But it will not come without cost. The time may have come in truth for men, hobbits, and indeed all free folk, to band against this dark threat. Very well. There is a commodity here which apparently they fear. Let us begin with that.” Then, with a wry smile, he added, “And I prefer Strider, my friends.”
The morning wore on, and the flames had nearly died out, forgotten, as we sat in that humble smial, and began to draw up our plans.
&&&&&
Baggins and myself had been assigned a return visit to the herbalist, while Bobbin, clearly beginning to feel anxious regarding Reedborn’s absence, had returned to the Prancing Pony in Ned’s company, to see what he could find out in that regard. Strider, and king though he might be, I still knew of no other name for him, and the wizard had vanished on their own unspecified errands. It had been agreed, however, that the company should meet this evening, before dinner, in Baggins’ and my room. I was ready to embark on any task that might be required of me, but held firm to my own private resolve that I should not be separated from Baggins again, no matter what the circumstances. I had had quite enough of apprehension and fear the night before, on that account, and had no appetite to repeat those bleak hours. But somehow I sensed that Baggins understood, for as we left the smial and found our way back into Bree proper once again, he remained close at my side, and found reason to brush against me frequently, an unexpected attention for which I was more than appreciative.
The snow had continued without abatement, during the morning we had spent in Ned’s cozy smial, and the fresh drifts were becoming quite difficult to stamp our way through. Noon had somehow passed, and the grey skies were beginning to lose what little light they had held by the time we found the small shop tucked away on one of the less-traveled side streets of Bree. I might have thought the establishment was not open for business except for a dim light shining from the interior. The few passers-by made their way down the lane, strewn with dirty and trampled snow, without a second look at us and the horse-drawn carts, generally driven by men bundled in heavy coats and woolen caps, rumbled by us with complete indifference as well.
I indicated the shop to Baggins, but instead of entering immediately, he paused, and scrutinized it from the street. “Obviously a very old establishment,” he murmured, scanning the grimy sign swinging above the street with the traditional depiction of a mortar and pestle. “Business was once rather brisk – note how worn the steps of the entrance are, Gamgee – but not nearly as much as of late. Notice the undisturbed snow on the door handle. No doubt we are the first to enter today. Very well, then, Gamgee, remember our roles. He may not remember you from the previous visit, but we cannot take that chance.”
A feeble bell tinkled somewhere in the distance as we entered, and it seemed like a very long while before the shuffling footsteps of the proprietor were heard to approach us. However, Baggins had not merely waited his arrival, but rather had gone to inspect the drawer which I indicated.
“Ah. It is you,” the wizened hobbit announced with distaste as he saw me. Clearly, I had been memorable.
But Baggins was prepared. “This must be the very illustrious hobbit of which you told me, Gamgee,” he announced with a deep bow to the proprietor, surreptitiously stuffing the handkerchief, with which he had secreted some of the residue still remaining in the drawer, into his pocket.
“And what was it that he told you?” the shop owner responded with a sniff, not appearing to be prepared to be mollified in the least.
“Only that he had never seen such an extensive and comprehensive selection of the finest herbs and potions in all his experience,” Baggins replied smoothly, with ingratiating charm. “We are but humble healers and travelers from afar, and it seems as if rumours of your extensive stock were not exaggerated in the least.”
“In these sorry days, ‘tis not what it was, but I daresay there are still few inventories in Bree to match.” I discreetly watched, with more than a little amazement, not to mention amusement, as the shopkeeper took immediately to Baggins and might even have been said to preen slightly.
“I certainly could not possibly imagine any more extensive,” Baggins murmured, with transparent honesty. “But if I might just ask you on a point regarding which my friend mentioned the other day, I see no kingsfoil in your stock. I must admit, we have been searching for it for the last few months in vain, for isn’t it the recommended herb of choice for, what was that type of fever again, Gamgee?”
“Stoor fever,” I added promptly, making up the ailment out of whole cloth. “And a treacherous one it is, too.”
“Stoor fever?” queried the elderly hobbit, caught at the point of denial and giving both of us a puzzled look. “Can’t say as I’ve heard. . .”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” Baggins smoothly interposed, with a soothing smile. “West Farthing, you know. No reason you should have heard of it. But it is a rather nasty customer, is it not, Gamgee?”
“Deep wracking coughs and painful boils,” I chimed in immediately, as Baggins solemnly nodded in agreement. “Uncontrollable violent retching. Loss of toe hair,” I added, with relish.
“Dear me,” the proprietor appeared taken aback. “I don’t believe I’ve ever. . .”
“Of course, I am a mere novice in this field,” Baggins hastily interposed. “Gamgee here, he’s the expert on this matter, and I am but a humble acolyte. But I put it to you. . .” and here he paused with an expectant look.
“Greyleaf,” the hobbit helplessly offered.
“Master Greyleaf, of course, of course, I am positive I have heard your name before. As I was saying, would you not be searching to the ends of Middle Earth for the cure for such a dire disease? We had heard there was kingsfoil to be found in Bree, but now that we are here, it is not to be found, for surely if you do not have it, no one will.”
“Well now, that ain’t to say as I’ve never had it,” Greyleaf muttered, and then gave a quick look about. “Won’t you be having some tea, gentlehobbits? I believe it is just about that time,” he gave a slight nod of his head to the door at the back of the shop from which he had originally entered.
“You are much too kind,” Baggins murmured with a warm smile. “A hot pot of tea sounds like just the thing on a frosty day such as this one has turned out to be. Would you not agree, Gamgee?”
“Hot tea would be heaven itself,” I agreed, with the utmost sincerity.
&&&&&
We followed Greyleaf back into a perfect warren of dim halls and tiny rooms that lay at the back of the shop. “Not a proper smial,” he muttered, as he led us on, “but I suppose I’ve gotten used to it over the years. Here you are, my dear sirs, just find yourselves a seat in here - ah, let me rouse up the fire a bit, there we are – and I’ll be back in no time.” With a last poke at the feeble fire in the small sitting room, he vanished and Baggins and I exchanged glances of bemusement.
“Boils, retching, and loss of foot hair, Gamgee?” he murmured as we looked about to find a likely perch. “I was afraid you were laying it on fairly thick there, but apparently it was believable enough.”
“It’s all in the delivery, my dear Baggins,” I couldn’t help but grin. “No one ever doubts a self-confident healer. A trick of the trade, I should say.” But there was no time to say more as our host bustled down the hallway, steaming pot in one hand and a small tray loaded with cups and an obviously sticky honey pot in the other, just as I managed to perch myself on a rather rickety chair propped up by a dusty stack of books.
“Dear me, dear me, I’m afraid I have so few visitors,” he muttered, placing the pot down on a tiny end table, and sweeping off a stack of begrimed crates to allow Baggins a seat on the modest bench across from what clearly was his own chair.
“Kingsfoil, ah, that’s the nub of it all, isn’t it, gentlehobbits?” he queried us as he poured out the tea. “Oh, that cup might be a mite dusty,” he added, as I gave mine a dubious glance. “Just swipe it out with your sleeve, there you go. Right as rain. Well, I used to have plenty of it, up to about a year ago. Then I started having visitors, and an odd lot they were, too.”
“Odd, you say?” Baggins prompted, nonchalantly sipping his tea from a noticeable grimy cup. “In what way?”
“Well, first of all, they weren’t hobbits,” Greyleaf leaned forward, warming to his narrative. “Not to say as I didn’t have an occasional man popping in from time to time for the odd herb or two, but these were all men, you see, and all asking for the same thing. Kingsfoil. Never said why, neither. Most customers, they want to chat me up a bit,” and here he nodded with obvious pride. “I’ve been dealing in herbs quite awhile, you know, and there isn’t much I’ve forgotten, if I do say so. But no, this lot wanted all the kingsfoil I had, and not a word about what they wanted to do with it.”
“And another thing,” he added, lowering his voice and gazing about surreptitiously, as if anyone might be lurking behind the door. “If these ruffians were healers, well then, I’ll call myself an elf and go live in a tree. One of them I recognized, though he don’t know me. Ferny, his name is, and he lives on a mean farm near the edge of Bree, out in the woods. Now after awhile, they stopped coming, but I couldn’t get kingsfoil no more, neither. Heard tell of a couple of shipments from the Shire, but that was a grim business, and I don’t wish to know no more about that. Seemingly, I’m out of the kingsfoil business, and I suppose it’s just as well. I hate to disappoint you two fine gentlehobbits, but it’s just as well you know which way the wind blows hereabouts. I’d suggest that the Shire’d be a better place to be finding such a thing.”
With a barely disguised gleam in his eye, Baggins nodded, and turned the conversation to commonplaces. We were back out on the street again no more than fifteen minutes later, with a standing invitation to visit Greyleaf again, whether on matters of business or not.
“Ferny. Not entirely surprising, wouldn’t you agree, Gamgee?” Baggins glanced up at the darkening sky with speculation. “Do you suppose your pony would care for a bit of exercise?”
&&&&&
Bill raised up his head and nickered at us as we approached his stall a short while later. His anticipation was not in vain, as I offered up a fragrant apple, a gift that was happily accepted. It was truly amazing the change only a day had made in the animal. He was already perceptibly less thin, his eyes were bright, and he stamped his feet as though impatient for some fresh air.
“Very well, Bill, my boy,” I murmured, stroking his neck with affection. “Let us take a short trip before night falls. But you’ll be back here by tonight, I promise you.”
I glanced around to find Baggins watching us silently, and I sensed that it was more me than the pony he saw. Slightly embarrassed, I tied up the lead rope to Bill’s bridle, for I had no other gear for him as of yet, and led him from the barn.
We walked quickly, trying to find our way back in the ever-increasing snow to that lane of ill-kept farms on the outskirts of Bree. Bill walked beside us with no hesitation, and I wondered briefly how much of his recent past that he remembered. A good deal, I soon found out.
Ferny was leaning against his fence post very nearly in the same attitude in which we had originally found him. “Looking for more sorry nags, are ye?” he jeered as he recognized us. Then, catching sight of Bill behind us, he stood up a little straighter. “Looks as though I need to be charging you full price next time. Seemingly I let that one go for cheap. Mayhap you owe me.” He straightened up menacingly, his tall form silhouetted darkly against the last ruddy rays of the setting sun that pierced the cold grey sky.
“We have not come to rescue any more of your poor beasts, although there are worst ways for us to spend our coin,” Baggins stood resolutely before him. “Instead we have come to ask you where we might obtain some kingsfoil. I rather think you might know.”
Ferny stood silent for a moment, and even in the growing dark, I could see the expression on his face change. “You have suddenly become, little man,” he bit out the words with icy precision, “something more than merely an annoyance. Fortunately, you are both strangers in our fair town, and will not be missed for long.” And with lightning speed, he seized up his ax, which I had not noticed stuck in a nearby stump, and ran at us with it in his raised hand.
I bolted in terror, Baggins close at my heels, but the man’s strides were far longer than ours, and it was just a matter of time. I was desperately peering in the gloom about me for something to climb, or hide behind, when one of my feet skidded on an icy patch and I found myself tumbling to the ground. I looked up to see Baggins staring at me in horror, too far away to reach me before Ferny did, when a sudden howling shriek pierced the air and a great body rushed past me.
It was Bill, whom I had entirely forgotten in the last few minutes, and he charged towards the man like a creature possessed. Ferny, clearly astonished, still had the presence of mind to lift up his ax with every intention of doing the animal harm. Bill never gave him that chance. Rearing up on his hind legs with another unearthly cry, he hit Ferny square on the forehead with his front hoof, and the man dropped to the ground, face forward, and the ax dropped forgotten at his side.
Baggins had by now, obviously shaken, reached my side and helped me to my feet. “Ferny?” I whispered, staring at the still body with fear still coursing through my veins.
But Baggins just shook his head, and pointed to the dark stain spreading through the snow under his form. “We’d best get back to the inn with all haste, Sam,” he muttered, clutching my arm tightly.
Bill, who had been pawing the ground nearby and still huffing heavily, turned to me as I softly called his name, and came up to me with a gentle push of his nose. I gave him a fierce hug, and knew my impulsive decision of the day before had already been repaid a hundredfold. He was still trembling, either with excitement or cold, I could not tell, but I threw my cloak over his back and Baggins did likewise. We returned in the dark snowy night to the warm barn and the comparative safety of the Prancing Pony.
&&&&&
We were both silent as we reached our room, after seeing to Bill, and there was no question but that a fire was necessary, as both of us had been soaked clear through to our skin on our trip back to the inn without our cloaks, but as soon as that chore was seen to, we hastily stripped, and found ourselves in bed in a tight embrace.
“Sam, my dearest Sam, I don’t mind admitting that I was terrified for a moment,” Frodo murmured as soon as our hungry mouths parted for a breath. His hand reached up and caressed the side of my face. “If it hadn’t had been for Bill. . . It doesn’t bear thinking, my love. But it could have been. I have no business bringing you into such danger.”
“Enough of that nonsense, Frodo,” I interrupted him roughly, rolling him under me, and raising myself up on my elbows, I stared down at his face, gleaming in the flicking light of the fire. “It is not your choice, as I have told you before. It is mine, it has ever been mine, and it will always be so. I am at your side until my dying breath, and there is nothing in all this world that could ever make me happier than that. If you are in danger, why, then I am too, and that’s all there is to it. If you ever take up bee-keeping, then I suppose we’ll both be safe as smials, but I hope that is a good many years off.”
He gave me a crooked smile then, but his hand still was gentle on my face and his eyes were very dark in the uncertain light. “I love you so, Samwise. You don’t know how much you’ve changed me.”
“As much as you’ve changed me, I suppose,” I replied, and then found his mouth again. I felt his other hand run up my side as we twined our legs together and knew that the time we had was far too short to give each other all we meant to give.
The fire had nearly died out, though, and we were both drowsing off when there was a firm knock on the door. With a muttered curse, I wrapped a blanket about myself and made my way to the door, jerking it ungraciously open.
But instead of the serving hobbit I was expecting, it was Strider who stood in the doorway. “The others will be making their way to your room shortly, as was our agreement. I suspected that you’d both like a bit of warning first. Bobbin isn’t prone to knocking first, I’m afraid.” He gave an amused chuckle at my expression, and quietly closed the door in my face.
“How does he know these things?” I muttered, as I searched for my rumpled clothing on the floor.
Frodo’s laugh made me look up with a smile. “He’s a king, you know, Sam, or so I hear. I would imagine that being fairly perceptive comes with that. Not to worry, my dear. As long as it doesn’t bother you what he guesses, it certainly doesn’t me. And I haven’t forgotten your threat, my dear.”
“Neither have I.” I gave him a hearty kiss as he got up from bed. “And I mean to make good on it, you’ll see.”
&&&&&
It was well we had warning, for it was no less than ten minutes later that, true to Strider’s prediction, Bobbin burst through our door with no further preamble. He was excited and with cause, for at his heels was the missing Reedborn. “Well, we are all back together again,” he chirped happily, as Baggins quickly tossed our drying cloaks over the still somewhat untidy bed. Strider followed behind the pair of them, noticeably more sedately, and Ned was with him.
“The common room is not safe for you, I’m afraid,” Ned gave us an apologetic shrug. “I will have some of my most trusted hobbits bring us dinner here, if you gentlehobbits, and of course, you as well, sire,” and he gave Strider a little bow, “wouldn’t mind.”
Of course, we all immediately assented, and he quickly made his way back down the hallway.
“What news, Reedborn?” asked Baggins eagerly, as I pulled up what chairs there were before the fire for us. Bobbin had made himself comfortable on the hearth rug, as was his habit, and Strider stretched out at one side of the room, as the chairs were a bit tight for his liking, so there were enough to go around, and one more for Ned when he returned.
“News enough,” the river hobbit responded with a grim expression, as he stretched his legs wearily out before him to the fire. “The drovers were a chatty lot, as I had suspected they would be, to one of their own. Not that much difference between hauling freight on a river and on a road. They didn’t have much to say about any shipments this past year between Bree and the Shire other than it was a bad business, a very bad business indeed. But there was a good deal of muttering about what was to come.”
“Seemingly, there are a group of men in this town, unsavory sorts to say the least, and not a few hobbits as well, that have been mixed up in all of this,” he leaned forward, his eyes on the fire. “I caught the name of their leader, a certain Ferny, but I suspect he is just the local chief. There seems to be a power that directs them from afar, and that leader is the one for whom they are now waiting. They seem to be right nervous about him, too. The drovers have a feeling that all has not gone according to this leader’s wishes, and they are holding themselves well away from the pack of men. Business has been quite scarce, this past year, and they are heartily sick of the interference Ferny’s lot has over Bree and its doings.”
“Do you suppose we could get anything out of Ferny?” Bobbin, who had been following Reedborn’s narrative intently, queried, giving Strider an expectant look.
“That might be a bit difficult,” Baggins interposed dryly. And briefly he told the others of our encounter just a few hours ago.
“Well, that’s bound to stir the hornets’ nest for sure,” Reedborn responded with a low whistle. “Whoever’s on their way ain’t going to be happy with that news, and no mistake.”
“And who that someone might be is the question then, is it not, my friends?” came the quiet voice from the side of the room where Strider was sitting slowly up. “That is a matter regarding which I hope to have an answer by morning, not to mention reinforcements. If those who ride to us are who, or should I say, what I think they are, we will certainly need them.”
But there was no time to ask him more, for Ned suddenly burst into the room, fear obvious on his face. “The men, they’ve come for you, Mr. Baggins and Mr. Gamgee! The word is out on what happened to Ferny, although good riddance to rubbish is what I say. Barleycorn is trying to stall them, but he won’t be able to manage that for very long. You must be off, but where I cannot say. They will surely look to my smial as well.”
“I can rejoin my drover comrades, and take Bobbin as well,” Reedborn declared, springing to his feet. “Will both of you join us?”
“No, that would bring danger to them,” Baggins responded tightly, snatching up our cloaks and tossing mine to me. “There is somewhere else, however, where we may possibly find refuge that they would never suspect.”
“Very well, then. Strider nodded as he quickly doused the flames. “We shall all meet at the barn tomorrow morning, an hour past dawn. I shall have news by then for us all. Stay safe this night, and get as much rest as possible. You will all need your strength on the morrow.”
But I had no time to consider the implication behind his words, as Ned quickly led us down a back passageway into the cold night.
&&&&&
It was much later that night, when we at last tucked ourselves under numerous well-patched coverlets and slightly moth-eaten blankets on the floor of one of Greyleaf’s mustier storerooms. Baggins had insisted on revealing our true identities and purpose in coming to Bree, as well as the more current events, after Greyleaf had given us shelter that frosty night. It was not right, he was adamant when I murmured my misgivings as we huddled in the snowdrift on the doorstep, awaiting the proprietor’s response to our discreet but prolonged knocking, that a hobbit should place his life in peril under false circumstances, and of course, he was entirely right. Not only that, I saw immediately that he had judged our host properly, for his initial bewilderment at our tale quickly vanished, and it was soon apparent that he was made of sterner stuff than I had initially supposed. There was no question but that he would provide us shelter for the night, and he insisted that we consider him entirely at our disposal on the next day as well, for whatever engagement that might occur. “Good to know at least one of you is a proper healer after all,” he gave a gruff bark of a laugh, “and will at least be able to put my wares to good use.”
But there was enough said for the night, and he led us back to the room with apologies for its chill and untidy state, neither of which bothered us in the least, as we emphatically informed him. Its chief attraction, it might be mentioned, was a small, thoroughly begrimed window from which we could make a hasty exit, should that be necessary.
So it was by the light of an icy moon, uncovered by clouds for the moment, that I lay in Baggins’ warm embrace, and counted myself privileged indeed. We were, needless to mention, fully clothed, but my position was sweetly familiar and comforting. I felt his drowsy nuzzle against the back of my neck, and snuggled my own back against his chest a bit closer. The morning would come soon enough, but for this night, at least, I knew myself to be loved and secure and fortunate above all other hobbits, no matter their feather beds and snug smials.
Earlier chapters may be found here:
Chapter One may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50407.html#cutid1
Chapter Two here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50555.html#cutid1
Chapter Three here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50753.html#cutid1
Chapter Four here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50985.html#cutid1
And as a gift for all, my penultimate chapter of the latest Baggins/Gamgee. It will be finished this year, I am determined! Stay safe and warm, all. (And of course, for you all in the So Hemi, safe and cool would probably work better!:D)
Title: News From Bree, Chapter Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5113
Summary: Baggins and Gamgee have an eventful afternoon, with both subterfuge and bloodshed required, and a darker morrow looms. Part of the 221B Bag End AU.
I never have been able to recall Radagast’s exact words, as we sat close to the fire in Ned’s humble smial and let our mugs of tea cool forgotten in our hands, but I’ll never forget the sound of his voice. It was deep and slightly raspy, as if it had gone unused for quite awhile, and even though he was using common speech, it seemed to me to be the sound of the winds of the north sighing through tall pine, the sound of lonely and desolate lands and places I’d never, or least so I hoped, see. In speaking later to Baggins of it, I found that he had had the impression of legends and old nearly forgotten tales unexpectedly brought to life. But no matter what fanciful notions either of us had, there was no mistaking the import of what he had to tell us.
The Necromancer had apparently been let loose, and although I would not have dreamed of stopping Radagast to ask for details, I had no doubts but this was a matter for great concern. Indeed, Strider’s face unmistakably blanched at the news, and even Baggins gave a start. But it all seemed rather far away, and I couldn’t quite connect this fact with the events with which we were involved. It wasn’t until the old wizard muttered, slightly under his breath, the phrase “black riders”, that my blood inexplicably ran suddenly cold.
Strider dropped his pipe unheeded into his lap at these words, and immediately questioned the wizard, the dismay on his face obvious. “The black riders, Radagast? When and where, old friend?”
“This past autumn was when I heard the forests first tell of it,” he replied somberly. “Word from the south. And where? The western lands, anywhere west of the Misty Mountains. ‘Tis said the Dark Lord seeks something of value, but what is not known. But the black riders go in the direction in which his attention is turned.”
Strider stared, sightless and silent, into the fire for what seemed like a very long while to me, but then turned back to Radagast as if there were only the two of them in the room. “Kingsfoil. Tell me, Radagast, are the old legends true?”
The weathered wizard slowly nodded his head. “Altheas,” he rumbled the elven word out. “Protection against the black breath, and especially in the hands of the king. They are seeking you out, my friend.”
I must admit that none of this was making any sense to me, and I could tell that even Baggins, at my side, was baffled as well, but the man’s face suddenly grew very still. “Then I bring danger with me,” he replied firmly. “I must not stay.”
“I would venture to say,” came Baggins’ quiet voice, as I turned to him in surprise, “that the danger is already come. There is much here I do not understand, but I do know that whatever evil that has come to Bree will soon make its way to the Shire. I stand ready, as well as does my companion,” and here his eyes quickly met mine, and I saw by the warm pride in his expression that he knew he need not ask me, “to extend whatever assistance which is ours to give. How may we help, sire?”
With a start, I realized that in some improbable way, Baggins had grasped that the man before us was indeed the king to whom Radagast had referred. A thousand questions swirled through my head, but now was not the time to ask. Rather, I drew close to Baggins and tried to stifle my growing sense of fear, and appear as stalwart as did he.
The man bent his head and appeared to consider the matter for a moment. Then he looked up, directly at Baggins and myself, his grey eyes seeming to pierce right through to our hearts. “Your assistance is most gratefully accepted, good hobbits,” he said slowly, as Bobbin and Ned immediately added their pledges as well. “But it will not come without cost. The time may have come in truth for men, hobbits, and indeed all free folk, to band against this dark threat. Very well. There is a commodity here which apparently they fear. Let us begin with that.” Then, with a wry smile, he added, “And I prefer Strider, my friends.”
The morning wore on, and the flames had nearly died out, forgotten, as we sat in that humble smial, and began to draw up our plans.
&&&&&
Baggins and myself had been assigned a return visit to the herbalist, while Bobbin, clearly beginning to feel anxious regarding Reedborn’s absence, had returned to the Prancing Pony in Ned’s company, to see what he could find out in that regard. Strider, and king though he might be, I still knew of no other name for him, and the wizard had vanished on their own unspecified errands. It had been agreed, however, that the company should meet this evening, before dinner, in Baggins’ and my room. I was ready to embark on any task that might be required of me, but held firm to my own private resolve that I should not be separated from Baggins again, no matter what the circumstances. I had had quite enough of apprehension and fear the night before, on that account, and had no appetite to repeat those bleak hours. But somehow I sensed that Baggins understood, for as we left the smial and found our way back into Bree proper once again, he remained close at my side, and found reason to brush against me frequently, an unexpected attention for which I was more than appreciative.
The snow had continued without abatement, during the morning we had spent in Ned’s cozy smial, and the fresh drifts were becoming quite difficult to stamp our way through. Noon had somehow passed, and the grey skies were beginning to lose what little light they had held by the time we found the small shop tucked away on one of the less-traveled side streets of Bree. I might have thought the establishment was not open for business except for a dim light shining from the interior. The few passers-by made their way down the lane, strewn with dirty and trampled snow, without a second look at us and the horse-drawn carts, generally driven by men bundled in heavy coats and woolen caps, rumbled by us with complete indifference as well.
I indicated the shop to Baggins, but instead of entering immediately, he paused, and scrutinized it from the street. “Obviously a very old establishment,” he murmured, scanning the grimy sign swinging above the street with the traditional depiction of a mortar and pestle. “Business was once rather brisk – note how worn the steps of the entrance are, Gamgee – but not nearly as much as of late. Notice the undisturbed snow on the door handle. No doubt we are the first to enter today. Very well, then, Gamgee, remember our roles. He may not remember you from the previous visit, but we cannot take that chance.”
A feeble bell tinkled somewhere in the distance as we entered, and it seemed like a very long while before the shuffling footsteps of the proprietor were heard to approach us. However, Baggins had not merely waited his arrival, but rather had gone to inspect the drawer which I indicated.
“Ah. It is you,” the wizened hobbit announced with distaste as he saw me. Clearly, I had been memorable.
But Baggins was prepared. “This must be the very illustrious hobbit of which you told me, Gamgee,” he announced with a deep bow to the proprietor, surreptitiously stuffing the handkerchief, with which he had secreted some of the residue still remaining in the drawer, into his pocket.
“And what was it that he told you?” the shop owner responded with a sniff, not appearing to be prepared to be mollified in the least.
“Only that he had never seen such an extensive and comprehensive selection of the finest herbs and potions in all his experience,” Baggins replied smoothly, with ingratiating charm. “We are but humble healers and travelers from afar, and it seems as if rumours of your extensive stock were not exaggerated in the least.”
“In these sorry days, ‘tis not what it was, but I daresay there are still few inventories in Bree to match.” I discreetly watched, with more than a little amazement, not to mention amusement, as the shopkeeper took immediately to Baggins and might even have been said to preen slightly.
“I certainly could not possibly imagine any more extensive,” Baggins murmured, with transparent honesty. “But if I might just ask you on a point regarding which my friend mentioned the other day, I see no kingsfoil in your stock. I must admit, we have been searching for it for the last few months in vain, for isn’t it the recommended herb of choice for, what was that type of fever again, Gamgee?”
“Stoor fever,” I added promptly, making up the ailment out of whole cloth. “And a treacherous one it is, too.”
“Stoor fever?” queried the elderly hobbit, caught at the point of denial and giving both of us a puzzled look. “Can’t say as I’ve heard. . .”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” Baggins smoothly interposed, with a soothing smile. “West Farthing, you know. No reason you should have heard of it. But it is a rather nasty customer, is it not, Gamgee?”
“Deep wracking coughs and painful boils,” I chimed in immediately, as Baggins solemnly nodded in agreement. “Uncontrollable violent retching. Loss of toe hair,” I added, with relish.
“Dear me,” the proprietor appeared taken aback. “I don’t believe I’ve ever. . .”
“Of course, I am a mere novice in this field,” Baggins hastily interposed. “Gamgee here, he’s the expert on this matter, and I am but a humble acolyte. But I put it to you. . .” and here he paused with an expectant look.
“Greyleaf,” the hobbit helplessly offered.
“Master Greyleaf, of course, of course, I am positive I have heard your name before. As I was saying, would you not be searching to the ends of Middle Earth for the cure for such a dire disease? We had heard there was kingsfoil to be found in Bree, but now that we are here, it is not to be found, for surely if you do not have it, no one will.”
“Well now, that ain’t to say as I’ve never had it,” Greyleaf muttered, and then gave a quick look about. “Won’t you be having some tea, gentlehobbits? I believe it is just about that time,” he gave a slight nod of his head to the door at the back of the shop from which he had originally entered.
“You are much too kind,” Baggins murmured with a warm smile. “A hot pot of tea sounds like just the thing on a frosty day such as this one has turned out to be. Would you not agree, Gamgee?”
“Hot tea would be heaven itself,” I agreed, with the utmost sincerity.
&&&&&
We followed Greyleaf back into a perfect warren of dim halls and tiny rooms that lay at the back of the shop. “Not a proper smial,” he muttered, as he led us on, “but I suppose I’ve gotten used to it over the years. Here you are, my dear sirs, just find yourselves a seat in here - ah, let me rouse up the fire a bit, there we are – and I’ll be back in no time.” With a last poke at the feeble fire in the small sitting room, he vanished and Baggins and I exchanged glances of bemusement.
“Boils, retching, and loss of foot hair, Gamgee?” he murmured as we looked about to find a likely perch. “I was afraid you were laying it on fairly thick there, but apparently it was believable enough.”
“It’s all in the delivery, my dear Baggins,” I couldn’t help but grin. “No one ever doubts a self-confident healer. A trick of the trade, I should say.” But there was no time to say more as our host bustled down the hallway, steaming pot in one hand and a small tray loaded with cups and an obviously sticky honey pot in the other, just as I managed to perch myself on a rather rickety chair propped up by a dusty stack of books.
“Dear me, dear me, I’m afraid I have so few visitors,” he muttered, placing the pot down on a tiny end table, and sweeping off a stack of begrimed crates to allow Baggins a seat on the modest bench across from what clearly was his own chair.
“Kingsfoil, ah, that’s the nub of it all, isn’t it, gentlehobbits?” he queried us as he poured out the tea. “Oh, that cup might be a mite dusty,” he added, as I gave mine a dubious glance. “Just swipe it out with your sleeve, there you go. Right as rain. Well, I used to have plenty of it, up to about a year ago. Then I started having visitors, and an odd lot they were, too.”
“Odd, you say?” Baggins prompted, nonchalantly sipping his tea from a noticeable grimy cup. “In what way?”
“Well, first of all, they weren’t hobbits,” Greyleaf leaned forward, warming to his narrative. “Not to say as I didn’t have an occasional man popping in from time to time for the odd herb or two, but these were all men, you see, and all asking for the same thing. Kingsfoil. Never said why, neither. Most customers, they want to chat me up a bit,” and here he nodded with obvious pride. “I’ve been dealing in herbs quite awhile, you know, and there isn’t much I’ve forgotten, if I do say so. But no, this lot wanted all the kingsfoil I had, and not a word about what they wanted to do with it.”
“And another thing,” he added, lowering his voice and gazing about surreptitiously, as if anyone might be lurking behind the door. “If these ruffians were healers, well then, I’ll call myself an elf and go live in a tree. One of them I recognized, though he don’t know me. Ferny, his name is, and he lives on a mean farm near the edge of Bree, out in the woods. Now after awhile, they stopped coming, but I couldn’t get kingsfoil no more, neither. Heard tell of a couple of shipments from the Shire, but that was a grim business, and I don’t wish to know no more about that. Seemingly, I’m out of the kingsfoil business, and I suppose it’s just as well. I hate to disappoint you two fine gentlehobbits, but it’s just as well you know which way the wind blows hereabouts. I’d suggest that the Shire’d be a better place to be finding such a thing.”
With a barely disguised gleam in his eye, Baggins nodded, and turned the conversation to commonplaces. We were back out on the street again no more than fifteen minutes later, with a standing invitation to visit Greyleaf again, whether on matters of business or not.
“Ferny. Not entirely surprising, wouldn’t you agree, Gamgee?” Baggins glanced up at the darkening sky with speculation. “Do you suppose your pony would care for a bit of exercise?”
&&&&&
Bill raised up his head and nickered at us as we approached his stall a short while later. His anticipation was not in vain, as I offered up a fragrant apple, a gift that was happily accepted. It was truly amazing the change only a day had made in the animal. He was already perceptibly less thin, his eyes were bright, and he stamped his feet as though impatient for some fresh air.
“Very well, Bill, my boy,” I murmured, stroking his neck with affection. “Let us take a short trip before night falls. But you’ll be back here by tonight, I promise you.”
I glanced around to find Baggins watching us silently, and I sensed that it was more me than the pony he saw. Slightly embarrassed, I tied up the lead rope to Bill’s bridle, for I had no other gear for him as of yet, and led him from the barn.
We walked quickly, trying to find our way back in the ever-increasing snow to that lane of ill-kept farms on the outskirts of Bree. Bill walked beside us with no hesitation, and I wondered briefly how much of his recent past that he remembered. A good deal, I soon found out.
Ferny was leaning against his fence post very nearly in the same attitude in which we had originally found him. “Looking for more sorry nags, are ye?” he jeered as he recognized us. Then, catching sight of Bill behind us, he stood up a little straighter. “Looks as though I need to be charging you full price next time. Seemingly I let that one go for cheap. Mayhap you owe me.” He straightened up menacingly, his tall form silhouetted darkly against the last ruddy rays of the setting sun that pierced the cold grey sky.
“We have not come to rescue any more of your poor beasts, although there are worst ways for us to spend our coin,” Baggins stood resolutely before him. “Instead we have come to ask you where we might obtain some kingsfoil. I rather think you might know.”
Ferny stood silent for a moment, and even in the growing dark, I could see the expression on his face change. “You have suddenly become, little man,” he bit out the words with icy precision, “something more than merely an annoyance. Fortunately, you are both strangers in our fair town, and will not be missed for long.” And with lightning speed, he seized up his ax, which I had not noticed stuck in a nearby stump, and ran at us with it in his raised hand.
I bolted in terror, Baggins close at my heels, but the man’s strides were far longer than ours, and it was just a matter of time. I was desperately peering in the gloom about me for something to climb, or hide behind, when one of my feet skidded on an icy patch and I found myself tumbling to the ground. I looked up to see Baggins staring at me in horror, too far away to reach me before Ferny did, when a sudden howling shriek pierced the air and a great body rushed past me.
It was Bill, whom I had entirely forgotten in the last few minutes, and he charged towards the man like a creature possessed. Ferny, clearly astonished, still had the presence of mind to lift up his ax with every intention of doing the animal harm. Bill never gave him that chance. Rearing up on his hind legs with another unearthly cry, he hit Ferny square on the forehead with his front hoof, and the man dropped to the ground, face forward, and the ax dropped forgotten at his side.
Baggins had by now, obviously shaken, reached my side and helped me to my feet. “Ferny?” I whispered, staring at the still body with fear still coursing through my veins.
But Baggins just shook his head, and pointed to the dark stain spreading through the snow under his form. “We’d best get back to the inn with all haste, Sam,” he muttered, clutching my arm tightly.
Bill, who had been pawing the ground nearby and still huffing heavily, turned to me as I softly called his name, and came up to me with a gentle push of his nose. I gave him a fierce hug, and knew my impulsive decision of the day before had already been repaid a hundredfold. He was still trembling, either with excitement or cold, I could not tell, but I threw my cloak over his back and Baggins did likewise. We returned in the dark snowy night to the warm barn and the comparative safety of the Prancing Pony.
&&&&&
We were both silent as we reached our room, after seeing to Bill, and there was no question but that a fire was necessary, as both of us had been soaked clear through to our skin on our trip back to the inn without our cloaks, but as soon as that chore was seen to, we hastily stripped, and found ourselves in bed in a tight embrace.
“Sam, my dearest Sam, I don’t mind admitting that I was terrified for a moment,” Frodo murmured as soon as our hungry mouths parted for a breath. His hand reached up and caressed the side of my face. “If it hadn’t had been for Bill. . . It doesn’t bear thinking, my love. But it could have been. I have no business bringing you into such danger.”
“Enough of that nonsense, Frodo,” I interrupted him roughly, rolling him under me, and raising myself up on my elbows, I stared down at his face, gleaming in the flicking light of the fire. “It is not your choice, as I have told you before. It is mine, it has ever been mine, and it will always be so. I am at your side until my dying breath, and there is nothing in all this world that could ever make me happier than that. If you are in danger, why, then I am too, and that’s all there is to it. If you ever take up bee-keeping, then I suppose we’ll both be safe as smials, but I hope that is a good many years off.”
He gave me a crooked smile then, but his hand still was gentle on my face and his eyes were very dark in the uncertain light. “I love you so, Samwise. You don’t know how much you’ve changed me.”
“As much as you’ve changed me, I suppose,” I replied, and then found his mouth again. I felt his other hand run up my side as we twined our legs together and knew that the time we had was far too short to give each other all we meant to give.
The fire had nearly died out, though, and we were both drowsing off when there was a firm knock on the door. With a muttered curse, I wrapped a blanket about myself and made my way to the door, jerking it ungraciously open.
But instead of the serving hobbit I was expecting, it was Strider who stood in the doorway. “The others will be making their way to your room shortly, as was our agreement. I suspected that you’d both like a bit of warning first. Bobbin isn’t prone to knocking first, I’m afraid.” He gave an amused chuckle at my expression, and quietly closed the door in my face.
“How does he know these things?” I muttered, as I searched for my rumpled clothing on the floor.
Frodo’s laugh made me look up with a smile. “He’s a king, you know, Sam, or so I hear. I would imagine that being fairly perceptive comes with that. Not to worry, my dear. As long as it doesn’t bother you what he guesses, it certainly doesn’t me. And I haven’t forgotten your threat, my dear.”
“Neither have I.” I gave him a hearty kiss as he got up from bed. “And I mean to make good on it, you’ll see.”
&&&&&
It was well we had warning, for it was no less than ten minutes later that, true to Strider’s prediction, Bobbin burst through our door with no further preamble. He was excited and with cause, for at his heels was the missing Reedborn. “Well, we are all back together again,” he chirped happily, as Baggins quickly tossed our drying cloaks over the still somewhat untidy bed. Strider followed behind the pair of them, noticeably more sedately, and Ned was with him.
“The common room is not safe for you, I’m afraid,” Ned gave us an apologetic shrug. “I will have some of my most trusted hobbits bring us dinner here, if you gentlehobbits, and of course, you as well, sire,” and he gave Strider a little bow, “wouldn’t mind.”
Of course, we all immediately assented, and he quickly made his way back down the hallway.
“What news, Reedborn?” asked Baggins eagerly, as I pulled up what chairs there were before the fire for us. Bobbin had made himself comfortable on the hearth rug, as was his habit, and Strider stretched out at one side of the room, as the chairs were a bit tight for his liking, so there were enough to go around, and one more for Ned when he returned.
“News enough,” the river hobbit responded with a grim expression, as he stretched his legs wearily out before him to the fire. “The drovers were a chatty lot, as I had suspected they would be, to one of their own. Not that much difference between hauling freight on a river and on a road. They didn’t have much to say about any shipments this past year between Bree and the Shire other than it was a bad business, a very bad business indeed. But there was a good deal of muttering about what was to come.”
“Seemingly, there are a group of men in this town, unsavory sorts to say the least, and not a few hobbits as well, that have been mixed up in all of this,” he leaned forward, his eyes on the fire. “I caught the name of their leader, a certain Ferny, but I suspect he is just the local chief. There seems to be a power that directs them from afar, and that leader is the one for whom they are now waiting. They seem to be right nervous about him, too. The drovers have a feeling that all has not gone according to this leader’s wishes, and they are holding themselves well away from the pack of men. Business has been quite scarce, this past year, and they are heartily sick of the interference Ferny’s lot has over Bree and its doings.”
“Do you suppose we could get anything out of Ferny?” Bobbin, who had been following Reedborn’s narrative intently, queried, giving Strider an expectant look.
“That might be a bit difficult,” Baggins interposed dryly. And briefly he told the others of our encounter just a few hours ago.
“Well, that’s bound to stir the hornets’ nest for sure,” Reedborn responded with a low whistle. “Whoever’s on their way ain’t going to be happy with that news, and no mistake.”
“And who that someone might be is the question then, is it not, my friends?” came the quiet voice from the side of the room where Strider was sitting slowly up. “That is a matter regarding which I hope to have an answer by morning, not to mention reinforcements. If those who ride to us are who, or should I say, what I think they are, we will certainly need them.”
But there was no time to ask him more, for Ned suddenly burst into the room, fear obvious on his face. “The men, they’ve come for you, Mr. Baggins and Mr. Gamgee! The word is out on what happened to Ferny, although good riddance to rubbish is what I say. Barleycorn is trying to stall them, but he won’t be able to manage that for very long. You must be off, but where I cannot say. They will surely look to my smial as well.”
“I can rejoin my drover comrades, and take Bobbin as well,” Reedborn declared, springing to his feet. “Will both of you join us?”
“No, that would bring danger to them,” Baggins responded tightly, snatching up our cloaks and tossing mine to me. “There is somewhere else, however, where we may possibly find refuge that they would never suspect.”
“Very well, then. Strider nodded as he quickly doused the flames. “We shall all meet at the barn tomorrow morning, an hour past dawn. I shall have news by then for us all. Stay safe this night, and get as much rest as possible. You will all need your strength on the morrow.”
But I had no time to consider the implication behind his words, as Ned quickly led us down a back passageway into the cold night.
&&&&&
It was much later that night, when we at last tucked ourselves under numerous well-patched coverlets and slightly moth-eaten blankets on the floor of one of Greyleaf’s mustier storerooms. Baggins had insisted on revealing our true identities and purpose in coming to Bree, as well as the more current events, after Greyleaf had given us shelter that frosty night. It was not right, he was adamant when I murmured my misgivings as we huddled in the snowdrift on the doorstep, awaiting the proprietor’s response to our discreet but prolonged knocking, that a hobbit should place his life in peril under false circumstances, and of course, he was entirely right. Not only that, I saw immediately that he had judged our host properly, for his initial bewilderment at our tale quickly vanished, and it was soon apparent that he was made of sterner stuff than I had initially supposed. There was no question but that he would provide us shelter for the night, and he insisted that we consider him entirely at our disposal on the next day as well, for whatever engagement that might occur. “Good to know at least one of you is a proper healer after all,” he gave a gruff bark of a laugh, “and will at least be able to put my wares to good use.”
But there was enough said for the night, and he led us back to the room with apologies for its chill and untidy state, neither of which bothered us in the least, as we emphatically informed him. Its chief attraction, it might be mentioned, was a small, thoroughly begrimed window from which we could make a hasty exit, should that be necessary.
So it was by the light of an icy moon, uncovered by clouds for the moment, that I lay in Baggins’ warm embrace, and counted myself privileged indeed. We were, needless to mention, fully clothed, but my position was sweetly familiar and comforting. I felt his drowsy nuzzle against the back of my neck, and snuggled my own back against his chest a bit closer. The morning would come soon enough, but for this night, at least, I knew myself to be loved and secure and fortunate above all other hobbits, no matter their feather beds and snug smials.
Earlier chapters may be found here:
Chapter One may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50407.html#cutid1
Chapter Two here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50555.html#cutid1
Chapter Three here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50753.html#cutid1
Chapter Four here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50985.html#cutid1
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Thank you so much for this!! It's always such a great pleasure to read your stories and this one is no exception!! :DDDD *hugs*
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haahahahahahah for Strider warning them - Yep, Strider's pretty cool about these things. I guess that comes with being nearly eighty years old and still not looking like much past the down side of thirty.
Thank you so much, me dear! *Gives you big Christmassy hug*
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Oh yes, I know that but I'm still worried inbetween. :D
LOL! I want to see more of Strider talking about Baggins and Gamgee's relationship. :DDDDD
*huggles and snuggles* I hope you had wonderful holidays, luv!!!
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The love and tenderness between Frodo and Sam after the incident is so heartwarming and sweet. I love how Strider knew that they would need a head's up before Bobbin descended on them, and Sam's reaction to it.
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that the Necromancer had been let loose and black riders were out searching for Strider, but I was; it really added to the intensity of the story. I'm looking forward to the next part.
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Thank you very much - I glad you're enjoying this tale! I hope to be wrapping it up quite soon.
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This is quite suspenseful with Baggins and Gamgee having to flee into the night. What the heck is going on with this Kingsfoil. Someone must think it's mighty powerful. Sigh. I enjoyed this and will eagerly await the next chapter.
*Have a good holiday hon*
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Alas, I believe poor Ferny bought the farm, which is a shame, because I love writing a good villain. But Bill apparently doesn't believe in doing things half-ways.
Have a great holiday yourself, my dear! *hugs*
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It was lovely the way Baggins was able to win over Greyleaf. I am so glad that he is willing to help them now.
Hooray for Bill! It was fitting that he was the one who saves Sam.
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Baggins is always the charmer when he wishes to be - just ask Sam! ;D
And Bill has just always been such a favorite of mine - it's great to give him something heroic to do. I think that Bag End would be able to manage a pony, don't you? :)
Thank you very much for reading - and the best of holidays to you, m'dear!
Happy Yule!
And well done Bill! Well done indeed old boy.
Re: Happy Yule!
*sneaks Bills some extra carrots* And he's not through yet. . . .
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Lovely, lovely! Radagast the Brown came as a huge surprise - I'm glad you gave him good work to do. Frodo's powers of deduction are as sharp as ever, and the implication that the enemy is already searching for the Ring chills me. Very suspenseful and intriguing - I'm all agog to see what happens next!
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