Noddy Ferndingle knocked on the door of Bag End. "Is Mr. Baggins in, Sam?" he inquired. "I hear tell he looks into peculiar things--and I got a most peculiar thing that needs looking into!"

This was getting to be commonplace. The finding of the late Mrs. Taggart's missing jewels had made Frodo famous around the Shire as a detective. He'd been involved in other cases before, even solving several murders, but those had been mostly private affairs, taken up for the sake of his family; after he'd recovered Mrs. Taggart's jewelry, however, her children had been so grateful for his help that they'd praised him to everyone they knew. News of the incident spread quickly, for there are few stories hobbits enjoy more than those concerning the finding of lost treasures. It wasn't long before anybody with a missing kitten or stray lamb was coming to ask for Frodo's help.

Whenever he could, Frodo did help. For cases of lost objects or animals, he usually sent Sam--and Merry as well, once he'd returned from Budgeford--to search: they asked questions around the neighborhood, put up notices, and looked around for themselves, and were successful often enough to maintain a reputation. In the case of a pie stolen from Mrs. Muscote's kitchen, Frodo went to visit the Proudfoots and have a word with his young cousin Sancho. The pie could not be restored to its owner, since it had already been eaten by Sancho and his best friend, Wilcome Chubb, but an abashed apology was forthcoming from both boys; Prunella Proudfoot, Sancho's grandmother, offered Mrs. Muscote a pie of her own as a replacement.

Sometimes, all that was needed was personal advice. Frodo would take the prospective client into the parlor for a confidential chat, and have the visitor leave in a more composed frame of mind. "He only wanted someone to talk to," was Frodo's standard explanation for these cases.

Merry had once joked that they ought to put up a sign at the front door: 'Mr. Frodo Baggins and associates, private investigators.' Sam was beginning to think this would be a good idea. If they made a regular business of it, they could keep to 'shop' hours, or he could make appointments for people to see Frodo when it was convenient. As it was, people dropped by unexpectedly at all hours, interrupting Frodo at his writing, and all this investigating gave him little time to rest as much as Sam thought he ought to.

Sam tried to screen clients as they showed up, but Frodo never turned anyone away without at least hearing them out. He knew that Frodo would want to see Noddy.

After he had shown Noddy into the sitting room, Sam went to the study to find Frodo seated at his desk. Since he was chewing distractedly on the feather of his quill pen, and not actually writing, Sam ventured, "Hope it's no interruption, but we've got another one. Noddy Ferndingle's asking to see you."

Frodo laid down the quill and turned to Sam. "'Noddy' Ferndingle?"

"Nador, it is properly, but he's been 'Noddy' to them as knows him since he was a little lad." Sam lowered his voice, lest their visitor should overhear. "He's a bit dim-witted, you see."

"You sound as if you know him. Is he a friend of yours, Sam?"

"His father was a friend of the Gaffer's, so I've seen 'm now and again since we was boys," Sam explained, and since he knew that Frodo would want to hear more about this potential client, he went on: "The Ferndingles' farm is about ten miles south of here. It's a little place, near the Green Hill Wood. Noddy runs it by himself now his father's passed on and his brother's run off." He shook his head. "I wouldn't've said he could manage on his own, but he looks to be doing well enough for himself, as long as naught goes wrong."

"And has something gone wrong?" Frodo wondered. "What does he want to see me about?"

"He didn't say, 'cept that it was peculiar."

"I daresay one of his cows has wandered off into the wood and he wants us to find it. Oh, very well..." Frodo left his desk and went out to greet his guest.

Noddy was seated by the window, but he rose when Frodo entered the sitting room. "Thank'ee for seeing me, Mr. Baggins," he said timidly. "I'm much obliged. I'll tell you right off I can't pay you for looking into this problem of mine, but the harvest has been good this year. I could send up some bushels of corn or apples, if that'll do."

"That's very kind, but you needn't mind about that now," Frodo assured him. For the most part, he did not accept fees for his work. He sat down in his usual chair by the fire; Sam took an inconspicuous seat in the settle behind Noddy. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"It's like this, Mr. Baggins. There's some awful peculiar goings-on at my farm of late, and I'd be ever-so grateful if you'd tell me how to put a stop to it. I hear tell you're an educated gent, Mr. Baggins, like old Mr. Bilbo who was here afore. You read Elvish books and traveled to all sorts of odd places. I reckon you know about magic and such-like."

"I know a bit," Frodo admitted, bemused by Noddy's introduction of the subject. "Does this problem of yours have something to do with magic?"

"It does indeed," Noddy confirmed. "You see, there's a curse on my farm, and I need it taken off."

Frodo and Sam exchanged surprised glances. This was not going to be one of their usual cases!

"What makes you think it's under a curse?" Frodo asked. "Please, tell me more about these goings-on. When did they start?"

"It was two weeks ago Trewsday," Noddy replied. "Nothing's gone right since. First off, the pigs got into the kitchen--and they know they oughtn't be in there 'til they come cut and cured for breakfast! Then my best cow got up on the roof o' the barn, and was so 'frighted she hasn't given a drop of good milk since. Things started disappearing about the place, and coming back where I never put them. I found a white pony wandering in the yard one day. It was quite tame when I caught it, and I tied it to the gate with a good, tight knot. I thought as I'd find how who it belonged to, but when I come back from my chores, it was gone like it'd never been there! Even the rope was gone! And then the little fellow showed up."

"Little fellow?" said Frodo. "You mean, a small hobbit?"

"No, one o' the Big Folk... but little. He had boots and a beard, and he wasn't more'n this high." Noddy demonstrated by tapping his hand to his chest, then extending it out at the same level to show how tall the little fellow had stood before him. "He was standing by the barn early one morning when I was going to milk the cows. Never saw the like o' him before! He told me there was a curse on my place, as it was in the hands of somebody it didn't rightfully belong to. The woods was old, he told me. Older'n the Shire and belonging to forces that ruled here before hobbits ever came and settled the land. I was trespassing, and if I didn't wish to clear off--which I certainly did not!--then there was only one way to protect myself from harm. Magic beans."

"Magic beans?" Sam echoed incredulously.

Noddy twisted around to face him. "That's what he said. I was to take 'em to the old city of Fornost and plant 'em in the sacred stone circle atop the hill."

"He wanted you to go all the way to Fornost?" Sam sputtered, his incredulity growing by the minute. "But that's beyond the Shire, far to the north of Bree! It'd take you days to get there."

"But that's what he told me," Noddy repeated. "I was to head off to Fornost as soon as ever I could and plant these beans on the next night o' the full moon. I was to say these special words over 'em." Standing a little straighter, clasping his hands behind him and shutting his eyes as if he were reciting a piece of poetry, Noddy declaimed:

"'Begone O Spirits of the Wood! Fly from my home and begone for good!'

"I was to stay at Fornost and do that at the stone circle every month at the first full moon, and when the bean sprouts grew up, that'd be a sign that the curse had passed. Come spring, I could return to a peaceful farm."

"Did you see these beans?" Frodo asked, and bit down on his lip. He didn't dare to meet Sam's eyes; he would burst into laughter if he did. Sam too was trying very hard not to laugh at Noddy's ridiculous tale. It sounded like a joke, except that the young farmer was so obviously in earnest and distressed by these events.

"The little fellow gave me a bagfull to take with me," answered Noddy. "They looked like ordinary kidney beans to me, but bigger and yellow-colored."

"But you didn't go to Fornost with them."

"No." Noddy shook his head scornfully. "I mayn't be the cleverest hobbit hereabouts, Mr. Baggins, but I an't so slow-witted as that. It sounded like rubbish to me, and I'd travel far from home for no reason. I told 'm No and sent him off, and I planted the beans in my kitchen garden. If they did any good, they'd just as well do it here! But afterwards, I began to wondering if he wasn't right about the curse. There's been one odd doing after another, and it grows odder every day. There was a light like a fire in the orchard one night, but no flames to be seen when I went to put it out. I hear music and laughter from the woods at nights, and great booming voices like thunder! I've seen ghostly figures in among the trees too, but they vanish like mist if I go out after 'em. 'Tis magic, and more'n a hobbit can stand.

"And yesterday," Noddy finished, "he was back again--the little Man. He said he'd tried to warn me, but it was too late now, as the full moon was upon us. Things'd only get worse from here on out. So I came here to you, Mr. Baggins. I don't want to leave my farm. I'd rather be rid of the curse, if you please. Can you tell me how to do that?"

"It certainly sounds very strange!" said Frodo, trying to keep his composure and address this bizarre request seriously. "Have you considered that your little Man might be doing this himself?"

"I thought as maybe he was the one who put a curse on the place," Noddy replied thoughtfully, "but he couldn't be doing it without magic, Mr. Baggins! You tell me how a little bit of a Big Folk like that could lift a cow onto the roof, or make a pony disappear, or all else that I've seen."

Frodo had one or two theories, but he offered no explanations for the moment. "Are there other farms near you?" he asked.

Noddy shook his head. "My nearest neighbor's about three miles off, and the Green Hill Inn is as far in the other direction."

"Does anybody else live with you?"

"Not at the farm. There's Mrs. Biddle, who used to look after my dad, and still comes to look after me. I have some hands in to help with the spring planting and the harvest, and pay 'em out in part of the crops, but the harvest is in now and the last of 'em's gone."

"Has anyone else witnessed these peculiar events? Mrs. Biddle?"

"No, Mr. Baggins. She's only in for days, and most of what goes on, goes on after nightfall." His brow furrowed as an idea began to form. "You don't mean to say I'm imagining it? It's true, I tell you. Every word!"

"I didn't mean that at all," Frodo hastened to reassure him. "I believe you've had a very odd experience, and one that I admit I'm quite curious to learn more about. I will look into this problem of yours, Farmer Ferndingle, and I will do my best to solve it."

They refrained from laughter until after Sam had shown Noddy out the door and he was safely away from the house. Then all their suppressed amusement burst forth at once.

Sam was still chuckling as he repeated the story to Merry at dinner-time.

"If it wasn't Noddy, I'd've said he was making it all up to have a game with us," Sam finished as he set the kitchen table. "But Noddy's too simple to think up such a fanciful tale on his own."

"Don't you believe in magic, Sam?" Merry asked him, smiling.

"'Course I do! I've seen enough of it, for good and bad. But this is just foolishness. Magic beans!" he snorted derisively. "Whoever heard of such nonsense? It's like some old fairy-story you'd tell little children."

"Then how do you account for the odd things your friend Noddy described?"

"I can't," Sam admitted, "but it doesn't sound like any magic I've heard tell of. It's too silly for Elves and such-like, if you see what I mean. And if it's something- well- worse, then it's not bad enough. If there was some evil at work on that farm, wouldn't it blight the crops, or have Noddy's cows and pigs turn up dead rather than where they shouldn't be? Wouldn't it kill poor Noddy instead of trying to scare him?" He turned in appeal to Frodo, who sat smoking before the sitting-room fire; having spent his amusement at Noddy's predicament, Frodo had settled down to think.

"I agree with Sam about that," Frodo said to Merry. "The whole business sounds like some elaborate prank that's being pulled on Noddy. I'm sure that the little Man is behind it all somehow. There's one point in particular that interests me: according to Noddy, his little visitor said that the farm was cursed because it was not in the hands of its rightful owner."

"These old spirits of the wood," Merry said with a note of sarcasm. "I find it hard to believe in them myself. And if these spirits are in the woods at Green Hill, why on earth should this poor dim-witted farmer go all the way to Fornost--of all places!--to get rid of them?"

"It gets him away from his farm for a good, long while," Frodo answered. "If Noddy had followed the instructions he'd been given, he'd be gone until next spring."

"And you think that's the point of this 'curse'?" Merry asked. "To remove Noddy Ferndingle from his farm, one way or another?"

Frodo nodded. "Somebody else wants it."

"The little Man?" said Sam. "But why? There's no reason why it should belong to him."

"No..." Frodo agreed, then brightened suddenly. "Sam, didn't you say that Noddy had a brother who ran off?"

"That's right. Nobold, his name was."

"Any idea what happened to him? Did he leave the Shire?"

Sam shook his head; he didn't know.

"It might be worthwhile for us to find out. And I think," said Frodo decisively, "that we'll go down to Green Hill tomorrow and visit the Ferndingle farm to see what's going on there for ourselves."

In the morning, the trio rode down to Green Hill village, which consisted of an inn and a small number of cottages at the junction where the road from Bywater met the road from Tuckborough to Stock. Since they arrived a little before noon, they had their lunch at the inn. After lunch, while Frodo engaged rooms and asked a few questions of the innkeeper, Merry left to ride over to Tuckborough to invite Pippin to join them.

That afternoon, Frodo and Sam went to visit Noddy. The Ferndingle farm was three miles from the Inn and a little over a mile from the Stock road. The low, round-roofed farm-cottage and barn lay at the bottom of a dell amid a fenced-in series of yards and pens, some grassy, some muddy, containing the livestock: three cows, a sturdy draft-pony, a family of pigs, and a dozen or so chickens. The apple orchard was on the hill to the east, and below it lay a pasture and recently mown hay- and cornfields. The vast wood of dark pines and bare, silver-branched beech trees bounded the farm to the south, and an arm of the woods wrapped around it on the west, boxing it in neatly. In other circumstances, Frodo would have said that looked quite sheltered and cozy. Now, he thought of how isolated it was. Anything might happen here.

Noddy greeted them enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you came, Mr. Baggins!" he said, seizing Frodo by the hand. "You'll see what this curse is like--though most likely, naught'll happen afore nightfall. Come inside."

He invited them into the tiny four-room cottage, and into the kitchen, where Mrs. Biddle was washing up after lunch. She was an elderly, gray-curled widow, a friend of the late Mrs. Ferndingle from one of the nearest farms, where she lived with her grown sons and their families. Noddy, she said, needed looking after more than they did.

When Frodo asked her if she'd witnessed any of the strange goings-on, she shook her head. "Never seen any of it for myself, save the morning the pigs got out. Young Nador's told me the rest of it."

"Do you believe there's a curse on the farm?"

"I don't know what to think of it," she admitted, "but there's something peculiar's afoot here. If you can put things right for the lad, Mr. Baggins, I'd be glad of it. Curse or no, it's been a trouble to him."

"You'll put it right, won't you, Mr. Baggins?" Noddy added hopefully. "You'll see how to get this curse off."

"I shall certainly try my best," Frodo promised. "You won't mind if I look about the place, or ask you a few questions? Sam tells me you have an elder brother."

"Aye," Noddy replied warily. "Nob. The farm should've gone to him when Father died, only he didn't want it. He went off five years ago now, and he an't been seen in these parts since."

"Do you know where he's gone?" Frodo asked. "Have you heard from him at all since he left?"

"Not a word," said Noddy. "He might've fallen off the edge of the earth for all I know... or care." The instant these last words were spoken, the young farmer looked abashed. He mumbled an excuse about seeing to the pigs.

"You mustn't mind young Nador," Mrs. Biddle said once Noddy had gone out the back door. "He's always that way about his brother. 'Tis a sore spot for him."

"I didn't mean to distress him," said Frodo, "but I would like to know. Will you tell me about Noddy's brother, please?"

Mrs. Biddle had no objection to talking about Nobold. "He was a clever one, not like poor Nador, but he was restless with it, you might say. Always dreaming and aching for adventure, and there's precious little of that on a farm. He ran off as soon as he was old enough. Broke his poor father's heart, it did, but old Naboth never gave up hope Nobold would return 'til the day he died, and left the younger lad to tend this farm by himself."

After this, the old lady settled down to have a chat with Sam, whom she remembered from his childhood visits. She wanted to hear how the Gaffer was, and to hear all about Sam's upcoming wedding and the girl he intended to marry. Frodo took the opportunity to have a look around the farm by daylight.

He first examined the kitchen door. There was a bolt on the inside, but it could be easily reached through the window if open or, more likely, the door had been left unbolted in those days before the 'curse'. He then went out into the kitchen garden and out the gate at the side, pausing to inspect that too. Between the garden fence and the fence that bounded the barn-yard was a wide lane, leading at one end to the shed where the plough and carts and other farm equipment were kept, and across the farm to the fields on the other. A second lane crossed it at the front of the cottage and barn; Frodo had to walk up this lane and around to the other side of the barn to find Noddy at the pig-pen.

The young farmer was still a little shy after Frodo apologized for upsetting him. "I don't see why you need to go asking after my brother Nob," he said, directing his comments to one of the pigs as he scratched its back, and not looking up at Frodo. "What's he got to do with it? He's gone, and won't never come back." He sounded rather glum, and Frodo thought that, in spite of what Noddy had said earlier, he missed his brother after all.

"I realize that my questions sometimes seem odd," Frodo answered, "but you must believe that I only ask them because I want to be of help."

"Just as you say, Mr. Baggins."

While he was at the pig-pen, Frodo also had a look at the latch on that gate and considered how the pigs might have escaped. It was conceivable that, once they'd gotten out of their pen, the pigs could have found their own way around three sides of the barn, in through the garden gate and into the kitchen... but he suspected that they'd had some assistance.

He left Noddy to have a look around the barn. The eaves were high at the front, but low on the sides and almost touching the ground at the back. Using ropes or a plank, one person, even a very small one, might be able to drive a cow up onto the roof.

Now, how to explain the more incredible sights Noddy had witnessed?

Frodo went up to have a look at the orchard next, then ventured into the woods. Under the tall pines and beeches lay a soft covering of fallen needles and withered leaves, but the ground was clear of underbrush. The heavy pine branches hung so low in some places that even a hobbit had to duck under--and that was when a small, fluttering movement caught his eye.

When Sam came out in search of him, Frodo was crouched to extricate a scrap of white fabric that had caught on a branch.

"What's that?" To Sam, it looked like a torn handkerchief.

"I don't know," Frodo answered as he tucked the scrap into his trouser pocket. "But it might be important."

They stayed for dinner, and after they had seen Mrs. Biddle off at dusk, joined Noddy in the little patch of green dooryard in front of the cottage. There, they sat on wooden benches to smoke in the deepening twilight. Except for the snorts and contented grunts from the animals in the barn as they settled down to sleep, all was still and quiet.

"But just you wait," said Noddy. "If something happens, it'll be soon. You'll see some sights then!"

It had been a warm day for November, but with the sunset, the air grew chilly. The wind rose, rustling the dry cornstalks in the field and dead leaves on the forest floor. Sam shivered, and began to worry that Frodo might catch cold sitting out in the cool night air. He would have put his arms around Frodo to keep him warm, if not for Noddy's presence. Since they were not alone, all he could do was make sure that Frodo had his cloak pulled close about him.

"There'll be a frost come morning," said Noddy, never taking his eyes from the forbidding black wall of the wood.

"I hope we won't be out as late as that!" Sam replied.

As the two began to talk about their mutual interest in growing things, Frodo stood up to pace. Sam and Noddy discussed the abundant harvests the Shire had seen that year, the size of the apples and the sweetness of the corn. With the prospect of a mild winter, Noddy was thinking of planting winter-wheat in the bottom field if it wasn't hopelessly accursed.

Sam was asking if the magic beans Noddy had planted were sprouting yet, when Frodo spied a white object moving in the fading light atop the orchard hill.

"What's that?" he hissed to his companions, and pointed.

A low, sharp whistle carried over the breeze, and the object lifted its head in response; it was clear to see now that it was a pony.

"It's back again!" Noddy whispered excitedly as the white pony began to trot swiftly along the ridge of the hill toward the wood.

Sam scrambled to his feet. "Do we go after it?" he wondered.

Frodo nodded, and was about to go out into the lane when Noddy gasped. "Look there! D'you see?"

Something else, also white, was moving through the trees. A light? No, it appeared to be solid. A figure, tall and slender; as it came closer to the forest's edge, they saw that it was a woman with long, ashen hair beneath a gauzy veil and flowing white robes that seemed to glow as if they were lit from within.

She stood for a moment near the edge of the wood, gazing directly at the three hobbits, then stepped backwards into the deep shadows beneath the pines.

"Stay here," Frodo told Noddy. "Come along, Sam!" He ran toward the wood, and went in.

It was difficult to see anything once he was beneath the trees; any remaining light from the evening sky was blocked by the thick pine branches. Sam, behind him, shouted his name. He had already lost sight of the lady... no, there was a glimmer of light deeper within the forest, on the rise of a hill before him.

Frodo headed toward it and, as he drew closer, saw that it was indeed the lady. She was just ahead of him, heading for an outcropping of rock at the crest of the hill. She turned to look over her shoulder, as if to see if she were being followed. Frodo thought she saw him, but she only smiled and turned her back to him.

As he clambered up the hill after her, she paced slowly to the edge of the rock and spread the folds of her white cloak with both arms wide; a breeze caught it and it billowed out around her, for a moment completely concealing the lady. Then the cloak seemed to drop suddenly, as if there was nothing beneath it. As it fell, the glowing light vanished. Frodo cried out, and stumbled to the spot to find the lady gone.

From his place on the hill, he could see other glimmers of light below. By their bobbing and swift movements, Frodo thought they were winged creatures like small owls, or enormous moths. They appeared in different directions, but all flittered away farther into the woods. He went down the far slope of the hill to have a better look, chased after them, but never seemed to get any nearer, until one by one they faded; at last, he stopped, panting and lost in utter darkness.

That whistle sounded again--not a clear, single note, but a tune played on a pipe.

As he tried to determine where the music was coming from, a bright flare of light appeared at some distance; no unearthly glow this time, but the orange and flickering, familiar warm light of a fire. Frodo crept toward it as slowly and cautiously as he could. Hobbits were skilled at moving quietly when they wanted to, and he used that skill now. He drew closer, close enough to hear the murmur of voices, to see the dancing shadow-shapes of persons on the trees, although the light was not bright enough for him to see who or what exactly they were. Some seemed tall as the Big Folk, but others were smaller.

He was not more than a hundred yards from them, when the fire was abruptly dowsed. Someone laughed, and other voices joined in. He heard the sounds of many people around him in the darkness, pushing through the pine branches, rustling the dead leaves, then he yelped out loud in spite of himself when some small, furry animal--dog? cat? fox? rabbit?--brushed the backs of his calves. In a pin-prick flash of light, he caught a second glimpse of figures, and ran after them.

The light went out, and they disappeared again. Frodo stopped, out of breath, and leaned on the sturdy bole of an ancient beech tree. When he heard a rustle of leaves very nearby, he whirled. "Who-?"

"'s me."

"Sam?" Frodo sighed in relief. "How on earth did you find me?"

"I've been following you since you went into these woods. You're awful hard to chase after, almost as hard as them you've been a-running after."

"Did you see them?"

"The people, you mean? Who are they?" Following the sound of Frodo's voice, Sam found him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you getting tired?"

"Yes, a little," Frodo admitted, and left the tree for the more comforting, sturdy support of his friend. "I can see that all this running about is useless."

Another light appeared; Sam made as if to head toward it, and Frodo lay a hand on his arm.

"No, don't," he said. "Something like this happened to Uncle Bilbo on his adventures. Do you remember, Sam, how he used to tell us of how he and the dwarves were lost and starving in Mirkwood?"

"And they chased the elves!" Sam answered, remembering the story well. "Do you think it's elves after all, Frodo? That lady we saw looked like she might be an Elf."

"No, I don't think she is--or any of them are--but I think we'll be led a merry chase through these woods all night, just as Uncle Bilbo was. I suspect we're being deliberately led away from Noddy's farm. If we don't take care, we might easily be lost."

Both of them had traveled in these woods before, farther to the west, near Stock, and knew how vast they were. If they lost their bearings in the dark, they might go thirty miles in one direction, or ten in another before they found their way out again.

The light disappeared, then another reappeared farther away. They stayed where they were.

Some minutes passed in silence, and then a voice boomed, "WHO DARES ENTER THESE WOODS?" so loudly that both hobbits instinctively crouched and covered their ears.

Frodo reached out, seeking Sam's hand; once he found it, he held on tightly. "You're not afraid, are you, Sam?"

"N- no," came the somewhat tremulous reply. "We've been in worse places'n this."

Hand in hand, they stood, wondering what to do. Should they answer that thundering question? Frodo was about to when the voice roared again: "LEAVE THESE WOODS, TRESPASSERS!"

To the hobbits' astonishment, a giant face appeared before them, glowering, red-eyed, bushy-browed and bearded. Frodo heard Sam gasp, and he felt his heart quail, but Sam was right: they'd faced worse together. He squeezed Sam's hand once more for luck, then let go and stepped forward to confront this terrifying apparition.

The face disappeared in a blink.

The woods around them were quiet except for the wind in the trees and a faint patter on the dry leaves underfoot told them that it was beginning to rain even before they felt the first drops. The moon had risen and, even though rain-clouds were moving in, there was now enough grayish light to see to the edge of the forest.

"I've seen enough for tonight," said Frodo. "Let's make our farewells to Noddy, and return to the Inn. I wonder whatever happened to Merry?"

Earlier that afternoon, when Merry arrived at the Thain's Hall in Tuckborough and asked to see Pippin, he was directed next door, to the home of their uncle, Adelard Took.

Merry went through the Hall and around to the back slope of the smials to find Pippin on the terrace above the garden; he was sitting on the grass and playing with his eldest sister's baby, Peveril. Pippin dangled a jointed wooden doll on a string before his delighted nephew and was cooing like an idiot, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as the baby. When they'd visited Tuckborough in September for the wedding of their cousins Melilot and Everard, Pippin had became entranced by his little nephew, and Merry wasn't sure he liked it. What if Pippin decided he wanted a baby of his own?

When Pippin became aware that someone was approaching, he looked up from the fascinating infant and beamed. "Merry, hello! When did you get here?"

"Just now. Frodo's got a mystery to be solved over near Green Hill, and I thought you'd want to join us, if you can tear yourself away from the joys of babysitting." Merry knelt on the grass, and made Pippin laugh out loud as he described Noddy's bizarre predicament. "It could be fun, running about the wood chasing after ghosts and little Big Folk. Even if you don't fancy that, we've taken rooms at the Inn. Wouldn't you like to get away from your family for a night?" He lowered his voice to add, "I've missed you terribly, Pip."

They had been apart for several weeks. After the wedding, Pippin had decided to stay on at his family home to work things out with his parents; Merry had kept away at his request. They'd exchanged a few letters, but except for when Pippin had come up to Bag End for Frodo's birthday, they had not seen each other since.

Pippin's broad grin softened into something more tender. "I've missed you too, Merry."

"So, will you come?"

"Yes, all right. It sounds like an adventure." The grin returned.

"Have you settled matters with your parents?"

"No, but it's not so bad here now I've stood up for myself. Mother hasn't given up hope of getting me married, but Father's on my side. After this trouble with Ev and Toby Clover, and what happened with Uncle Addy and Mr. Clover when they were boys, he says he won't make me do anything I don't wish to. And now that that's all come out and everyone knows about it, it makes everything we've done not look so bad."

"Did they ever find that boy?" asked Merry.

Pippin shook his head. "Maybe Frodo should investigate that. We've heard some stories of the investigations you've done lately. I wished I could be with you."

"You can, whenever you like," Merry answered. "Why don't you?"

"I will. Soon," Pippin promised.

"What's keeping you here?"

"Well..." Pippin looked away, "it is my family."

"That baby, you mean," said Merry.

"Sort of." Pippin gathered little Peveril closer and gave him the wooden toy to chew on. "I never had a nephew before. I always thought babies were awful, howling messes. I didn't know they could be such fun to play with! But it's not just Pevvy. It's everyone. I was away from them for so long--nearly two years!--and I forgot what was it was like to really be home again. Not just the Shire. Home. You were in Buckland for months before we left it, but I never had the chance to be here before now. I'd- well, I'd like to stay on for awhile. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," said Merry, even though he did; he wasn't going to drag Pippin away from his family if he wanted to be near them. "As long as you don't end up agreeing to marry anyone. Do you want me to go on staying away?"

"Of course not!" said Pippin. "I said I missed you, didn't I? Come and visit. Nobody will mind- well, Mother might, but she won't say anything against it." He gave Merry an impish smile. "Don't worry, Merry. I've agreed to meet this niece of Aunt Di's next summer--but that's all I've agreed to! Nothing will come of it. I can promise I won't like her as much as you, and maybe she won't like me at all!"

Merry laughed. "A girl might be willing to put up with a lot if she wants to marry the next Thain."

"If she's that sort, then I don't have to trouble about being nice to her," Pippin responded gleefully. "I'll tell her the whole truth about you and me right away."

"I think you ought to do that anyway-"

He stopped as one of the doors to Adelard's house opened. To Merry's surprise, his cousin, Doderic Brandybuck, emerged.

"Pearl wants you to bring the baby in, Pip," Dodi announced. "It's time for his nap. Oh, hello, Merry. I didn't know you were here."

"I didn't know you were, Dodi!" Merry returned. "What are you doing in Tuckborough?"

"I've been... ah- visiting," the younger Brandybuck answered shyly. "I took Ferdi's advice, and started talking to the girls when we were here for Melly and Ev's wedding. I got on very well with one of 'em, so I came back to see her again."

"Which one?" asked Merry. There were five unmarried Took girls.

"It's Isalda," Pippin said teasingly, and picked up the baby to take him indoors.

Dodi blushed and nodded.

"Good for you, lad!" Merry said encouragingly, and carried on the conversation with Dodi after Pippin had gone. "How are things at home? You must've come down just after I left Fatty's."

"Not long after," said Dodi. "I left Buckland last week. You should have stayed on a little longer yourself, Merry, and come with Fatty to the Hall. Your mother and- well- everyone would've been so happy to see you."

"Even my father?"

"Well, yes. It troubles Uncle Saradoc that you won't come home. I think he knows he was wrong to treat you so badly before, although of course he won't admit it. I'm sure you'd find it much nicer than it was last spring." Dodi smiled. "And besides, if you'd come, you could've been at the Newbury harvest festival. You missed all the excitement"

It was Merry's experience that the harvest festival was never very exciting--a dance, a bonfire, some carved pumpkin-lanterns--but Dodi sounded as if something remarkable had happened this year. "Why?" he asked. "What did I miss?"

"A circus!"

Merry spent some time talking with Doderic and, out of politeness, couldn't leave Tuckborough without paying his respects to the Tooks. There were quite a lot of Tooks, all of them with news to tell, and everyone wanted to know what he'd been up to lately; like Pippin, they had heard about Frodo's recent investigations and were eager for more information from someone who had been working with him. They were fascinated to hear that Merry was in the midst of helping Frodo with an investigation now. Pippin explained to his parents that he would be away with Merry for a day or two, and then went pack a few things. By then, it was tea-time and of course they had to have a cup and a bite of cake before they could be on their way.

It was nearly dark by the time they arrived at the Inn. Since it was unlikely that they would catch up with Frodo and Sam before nightfall, and since the common room was open for business, the two decided that it would be more sensible to stay in and wait for their friends to come back instead of going out after them. It also seemed like a good idea to have dinner while they waited. The idea seemed even better when it began to rain.

In spite of the rain, the room was soon crowded with local farmers who'd come for their customary half-pints of ale. As Merry and Pippin were finishing their dinner, a young hobbit came in at the door from the stableyard, shaking droplets of water from his cloak; once he took it off, it was obvious that he was not a farmer. His clothes were not the usual homespun and tweeds, but a colorful paisley waistcoat and slightly worn velvet jacket not cut in the usual Shire-fashion. His trousers too were longer than Shire-hobbits wore theirs, and fitted closer around the calves. When he went to the bar to order an ale for himself, his accent sounded odd, but Merry thought he recognized it.

The young hobbit took his ale and turned to look around the room, eyes flickering from face to face as if he were searching for someone in particular. When his gaze fell upon Merry's and Pippin's table, he found that Merry was watching him; their eyes met.

"I was just noticing your clothes. You're not from these parts, are you?" Merry asked in friendly tones. "Are you from Bree?"

The other hobbit shook his head. "From Archet, actually." He came over to their table. "Dorryk Thistlecombe's my name. How d'you do."

"Are you staying at the Inn?" Merry asked after he and Pippin had introduced themselves and invited the newcomer to have a seat.

"No, I'm just passing through," Dorryk answered as he joined them. "You're not regular customers yourselves. I've been by this Inn once or twice before, and never saw you here."

"We're waiting for our friends," said Pippin.

"What a curious coincidence! I'm looking for someone myself, but they don't seem to be in tonight." Dorryk glanced around the room again. "I don't suppose we could be waiting for the same people."

"I'd be surprised," Merry replied. "Our friends have gone to visit one of the local farmers. I hope they haven't been lost in the woods in this rain."

"Maybe we ought to go out to find them?" Pippin cast a dubious look at the water pouring down the common-room windows.

"I wouldn't go into the woods if I were you," Dorryk advised. "They're haunted."

"Haunted?" Pippin squeaked in amazement; Dorryk nodded solemnly.

"What makes you say that?" asked Merry.

"Oh, I haven't seen much myself, but I've heard some frightful tales told in this very room." Their new acquaintance leaned on the table and lowered his voice confidentially. "I don't want to be alarming, but if you'd ask 'em, any farmer here tonight could tell you stories about the goings-on in that wood that'd uncurl the hair on your toes! I certainly wouldn't like to find myself in there after dark."

"But what about Frodo and Sam?" Pippin turned to Merry.

"Your friends? You mustn't worry," Dorryk assured them. "They'll be fine as long as they don't go into the woods at night. I hope the people I'm waiting for have been as wise." He finished his ale, and returned to the bar for another.

"Do you think they're all right?" Pippin asked Merry once they were alone.

"Quite sure," Merry answered; he was watching Dorryk at the bar. "He's trying to frighten us--why, I can't say. Frodo can look after himself. And if he can't, Sam will. They'll be along soon. There's no reason for us to go out."

Pippin accepted this. "So, what do we do 'til they come in? Fancy another half-pint, Merry?"

"No, that's not what I fancy just now." Merry reached across the table and put his hand over Pippin's; his eyes were twinkling. Pippin grinned back. With one thought in both their minds, they rose and went to their room.

Dorryk returned to an empty table.

Sam and Frodo returned to the Inn not long afterwards, weary and cold, their faces scratched and their hands and arms prickled with a red rash from shoving aside branches full of pine needles. They were also soaked from the rain. Sam ordered two mugs of hot cider at the bar in the common room, while Frodo spoke briefly with the innkeeper before going to his room.

In the room, Frodo shed his wet cloak and coat, then flopped down on the bed. "I wonder what happened to Merry?" he said again when Sam came in with the cider. "I thought he would follow us on to the farm once he'd got Pippin, or at least they'd be sitting here in the common room when we came in."

"The two of 'em must be mucking about someplace. There's other places to get a drop of ale 'tween here and Tuckborough, aren't there?" Sam set one of the mugs down on the nightstand where Frodo could reach it. "Here, drink that. It'll take the chill off your bones."

Frodo beamed at him. "Why don't you come and cuddle up?" he invited in return. "I'm sure it will have a similar effect, but much more pleasant."

"I mean to do that too, but drink your cider first." When Frodo sat up to take the mug, Sam nodded approvingly. "That's right," he said. "You took a bad chill tonight--and, what's worse, had a bad fright." Logs had been laid out for a fire on the grate before they'd come in, and after he had lit the fire, Sam sat down in a large basket-chair at the foot of the bed to finish his own drink. "How d'you explain this curse of Noddy's, now you've seen it for yourself?" he asked.

"I can't explain it all," Frodo admitted between sips of cider, "but I doubt more than ever that there's true magic involved. I was quite frightened while it was happening, but now that we're safely away and I've had time to think over what we've seen, I can't help feeling that it was too ridiculous to be real. And there are one or two other things..."

"Is that what you were asking the innkeeper about?" Sam asked.

"In part, yes. I thought he might have some local news of use to us. His common room is the meeting place not only for these cottagers, but for farmers for miles around. If anybody besides Noddy has witnessed these odd goings-on, you can be sure they've talked about it here."

"And did they?"

Frodo nodded. "There are stories that the wood is haunted. Of course, Noddy's told anyone who would listen about the curse on his farm, but he's not the only one who's seen things. Other farmers whose land borders the wood, travelers on the road at night--they've seen ghostly lights too, or heard that booming voice if they venture in too far. Our innkeeper says he's never heard anything like it before this autumn."

"That white pony's no ghost," Sam told him. "Noddy said he caught it, tied it up. It's real enough."

"I suspect its masters are too." Frodo pulled a dirty scrap of fabric from his trouser pocket and held it up for Sam to see.

"Is that the handkerchief you found in the woods?"

"It's not a handkerchief, Sam. It's a piece of cheesecloth torn from some larger garment, perhaps a lady's gauzy white robe. I would've liked to see if our 'ghosts' left any footprints tonight, if the rain hasn't washed them all away. When we came in this afternoon, I asked the innkeeper if any strangers had been seen in the neighborhood lately--hobbits or Big Folk, or anyone more... unusual."

"Not the glowing lady!" exclaimed Sam. "If she was seen about, we'd've heard talk of it without having to ask!" He finished his cider and thought for a moment. "What about Noddy's little Man? Has anybody seen him?"

"Only Noddy," Frodo answered. "Our innkeeper told me that some strange, foreign hobbits have been in here recently. Travelers often stop at the inn for an ale and to hear the news, so that's not unusual, but this group of travelers has been seen several times, and he thinks they're staying in the neighborhood. One of them was in tonight, as a matter of fact, but seems to have left just before we came in. At least, the innkeeper couldn't point him out to me. I also asked this afternoon if he'd heard of the theft of crops or livestock, or if anyone had purchased large quantities of food. He said he'd ask some of his regular customers about it when they came in this evening. Unless those people we saw tonight are ghosts, they must eat, and must be getting their meals somewhere."

Frodo set his empty mug on the nightstand and went to join Sam in the chair; he had to wriggle to fit in, wrapping one arm around Sam's shoulders and tucking his legs up over Sam's lap. As they nestled comfortably close by the warm fire and listened to the rain pattering on the window, both were very glad not to be out in the cold and wet. For a minute or two, they forgot the most peculiar case of Noddy Ferndingle, and thought only of each other. Kissing followed very naturally.

"Don't you want to know what he said?" asked Frodo.

"Who?" said Sam, confused when Frodo's kisses abruptly stopped.

"Our good innkeeper, in answer to my question about food," Frodo replied.

"Oh." Sam would much rather go on kissing awhile longer, but it seemed they were back to discussing the case. "Well, what'd he say?"

"He's heard that traveling hobbits have called at the nearby farms and purchased quite a lot of bushels of corn and apples, dressed chickens and geese for roasting, and whole loaves of fresh bread."

"Is it those same hobbits who was here at the inn?"

"Perhaps, although he couldn't say for certain without seeing them." Frodo was not entirely done with kissing either, for he reached up to draw Sam's head down for one more before he went on, "I asked if any of these strange hobbits might be Nobold Ferndingle, but our innkeeper says No. It's been years, but he's sure that anyone who knew Nobold would recognize him if they saw him again."

"You've been asking a lot of questions about Noddy's brother," Sam observed. "You think he's got something to do with this?"

"I can't think of anyone else who could be called the rightful owner of that farm if Noddy isn't--even if the brother never took an interest in it when he was living there, and gave it up to Noddy when he left."

"But if Nob's changed his mind and wants the farm after all, he doesn't have to go through this rigmarole with a curse and ghosts and such to scare Noddy off," Sam countered. "He's the older son. He's only got to come home and make his claim. Besides, Nob couldn't do any of the tricks we saw tonight. He was cleverer'n Noddy, but he wasn't a wizard!"

"Maybe he's taken up with one."

There was a knock on the door and Merry and Pippin came in. Their shirts were rumpled and untucked, as if they had dressed hastily.

"Where have you been?" Frodo asked them. "Did you get caught out in the rain too?"

"No, we've been here for hours," answered Pippin, and sat down on the bed. "Our room's just across the hall. We heard you talking, and knew you'd come in."

"Why didn't you come out to the farm after us?" Sam demanded.

"We intended to," Merry explained, "but we didn't leave Tuckborough 'til late, and it didn't seem worthwhile to follow you once it was dark and raining."

"Sorry," Pippin added.

"That's all right," Frodo forgave them. He knew that his cousins hadn't been together in weeks, and that four hobbits wouldn't have been of more use than two wandering around the woods chasing after lights.

"Did you go into the wood?" Pippin asked eagerly. "Did you see any ghosts?"

"We certainly saw something." And Frodo, still curled up in Sam's lap, described what they had witnessed, with Sam adding details whenever he thought they were necessary. The other two listened, Pippin with wide-eyed fascination and Merry with a growing smile.

"But you'd don't think it's really haunted," Pippin said when Sam and Frodo had finished their story. "We met the oddest lad in the common room at dinner, and he told us it was."

"Never mind him." Merry sat forward urgently. "Frodo, listen: I've heard something you ought to know. Dodi's in Tuckborough. He'd just come from Buckland, and he told me that a troupe of circus performers came in through the Hay Gate about a month ago. They'd come from Bree. Musicians, jounglers, rope-walkers, performing animals, that sort of thing. They were at the harvest festival. Dodi said they were Big Folk, mostly, but there were also some hobbits, a dwarf or two, and the oddest little person. Not a hobbit nor a dwarf."

"Like the Big Folk," said Frodo, "but little. I wondered if it might be something of the sort." He laughed and turned to look at Sam. "It wasn't real magic, just as we suspected. Conjuring tricks, Sam!" Then he turned back to Merry. "Where did they go? Did Dodi say?"

"I asked him," Merry answered. "He told me that they went west from Buckland after the festival. They took the Bucklebury Ferry. The caravan went past the Hall, and the ferryman was still talking about it days later, when Dodi crossed the river."

"And they haven't been seen anywhere in the Shire since?" Frodo smiled. "That's very odd, isn't it? Such a remarkable group of people must surely draw attention... unless they've deliberately hidden themselves away. They could hide very nicely in Green Hill Wood."

"But what do they mean by frightening poor Noddy with their tricks?" asked Sam.

"We'll go and ask them tomorrow," Frodo announced. "But we'll pay our call in daylight this time, so they can't play their tricks on us, as they have in the dark."

The next morning, the four hobbits left the Inn after breakfast and rode eastward along the main road. The rain had stopped during the night, but the day was more chilly than the one before, and traces of frost remained on the grass where the sun had not yet touched. They went past the lane to Noddy's farm without stopping; a few miles beyond, the road turned toward the southeast and cut through the woods on its way to Stock and Woodhall. It would eventually take them to Bucklebury Ferry if they remained on it long enough, but soon after the foursome had entered the wood, Frodo slowed his pony to a walk and began to look for cart-tracks.

"You said that this circus had a caravan," he explained to Merry and the others as he peered at the ground under the trees on either side of the road. "Waggons, carts, horses and at least one pony. If they mean to hide--as I believe they do--they wouldn't settle where anyone might stumble upon them by accident. They've gone deep into the wood. Those heavy wheels must have left some trace."

"But they passed this way at least two weeks ago," said Merry.

"Yes, I know, but I hope something remains to show which way they went," Frodo replied. "It will save us searching through acres of trees if they have."

His companions agreed that they could think of better ways to spend the day than wandering the woods, and joined in the search. It was Pippin who spotted the wheel ruts in the mud of a creek bed, and cried out, "Could that be it, Frodo?"

Frodo thought it was. They left the road to follow the tracks. The recent rain had washed them away in some places, but enough traces of the wheels and horses' hooves remained to guide the hobbits in the right direction. The creek ran westward away from the road, down into a gulley that soon widened into a dell, leading them back in a roundabout way toward the woods behind the Ferndingle Farm. A light mist lay on the lowest ground, and the underbrush grew more thickly here. Broken branches and crushed dead ferns showed where the waggon had left the creek bed and cut its own path through the trees.

The four hobbits were following this path, when a voice very like the one Frodo and Sam had heard the night before suddenly boomed: "WHO DARES ENTER THESE WOODS?"

The ponies danced and reared, startled by the noise, and would have fled if their riders had not kept a firm hand on the reins.

A bright orange light appeared before them, catching the low-lying mists and shimmering like a wall of flame, but it gave off no heat and did not scorch the trees even as it flickered between them. Frodo thought that the sight would look quite impressive at night, but it appeared rather pale in the mid-morning.

His pony was still dancing skittishly; he dismounted and handed the reins to Sam, who had also climbed down. Merry and Pippin likewise left their ponies and tied them to nearby bushes.

As Frodo walked toward the orange wall of light, the voice boomed again: "TURN BACK, TRESPASSERS, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"

He kept on walking, until he had passed through the light. Then he shouted, "I'm weary of these games. Enough is enough! Come out and talk!"

The woods were silent.

Sam remained behind him, trying to quiet the nervous ponies, but his cousins had disappeared. Frodo waited. After a few minutes had passed, there was a shout, a crash, and some furious rustling in the underbrush, and then Merry and Pippin emerged, dragging another hobbit between them. The strange hobbit struggled as the two brought him forward, and fell to the ground on his hands and knees before Frodo when they let him go.

"Are you Nobold Ferndingle?" Frodo asked him.

"He isn't," said Sam as he joined them; he remembered Noddy's brother quite well.

"No, I'm not Nob," the hobbit answered.

"He's Dorryk Thistlecombe," said Merry.

"From Archet," Pippin added. "We met him last night at the Inn."

"But you know Nobold," Frodo pursued the question. "Is he with you? I'd like to speak with him."

"He's here," Dorryk admitted as he climbed to his feet.

"And what're you doing here, making this mischief in our Shire woods?" Sam demanded.

"I was just keeping watch, if not very well," Dorryk grinned ruefully, but he did not seem at all abashed at having been caught. "We thought you might be coming into the wood again today." He turned to Merry. "You see, we were waiting for the same people after all--Only you knew who they were, and I didn't! We wondered who your friends might be when we led 'em a chase last night. Mr. Grimmold sent me to the Inn to try and find out."

"Mr. Grimmold?" Merry repeated the name.

"He's our manager. Now, tell me who you are. You aren't friends of Noddy's, not so many gents."

Frodo told him.

"Of course!" Noddy exclaimed. "The investigator! I've heard the story of the missing jewels. Very well, I'll take you to Nob, if you insist, but I expect Mr. Grimmold'll want to meet you too. Do you mind if I get my things first?"

Frodo had no objection, and they accompanied Dorryk to a large, mossy rock that overlooked the part of the dell they had just passed through. The crushed grass below indicated that this was the point where Merry and Pippin had found and tackled him. On a flat ledge some ten feet above the forest floor sat a large brass sounding horn, and an odd-looking iron-work lantern of obvious dwarf-make with a number of irregularly shaped shuttered apertures on all sides. One of these was open to emit a long, thin horizontal bar of light through orange-tinted glass; when Dorryk climbed up to shut this, the wall of 'fire' vanished.

"We're about half a mile from the camp," he said as he picked up the lantern and horn and handed one, then the other, down to the hobbits waiting below. "You'll want your ponies."

As they went back to the place where the ponies had been tied, Dorryk produced a tin whistle from his coat pocket and, lifting it to his lips, gave a sharp whistle. In answer, the white pony, wearing no saddle or bridle, came trotting up, expressed an eager interest in the other ponies and tugged at their knotted reins to try to free them.

"It's no use in tying our Moondancer up," Dorryk explained as he put a hand on the pony's mane; the animal bent one foreleg and knelt gracefully in a gesture like a bow to allow the hobbit to climb up onto its bare back. "He goes wherever he wants, opens gate-latches and unties knots quick as a wink. Come on." With a nudge of his heels in the pony's ribs, he was off at a trot; the others climbed onto their own ponies and followed.

They rode to the far end of the dell, until they came to the caravan--a huge waggon with a sort of wooden house on top, surrounded by covered carts, tents, and other makeshift shelters in a clearing. There were a number of people about, Big Folk, dwarves, and a few other hobbits, all dressed in odd and colorful clothing. One was practicing his juggling with brightly painted hoops. Another was working with some small dogs that were remarkably able to stand up on their hind legs. The lady whom Frodo and Sam had seen the night before was sitting and talking with some of the others, but in a short skirt and tunic, with her long ashen hair braided back, she looked more like an ordinary Big woman than a glowing ghost or Elf. They all turned at the sound of the ponies approaching.

Seated on the steps leading up into the caravan-house, smoking a pipe, sat Noddy's little Man. At the sight of Dorryk bringing strangers into their company, he leapt down from his perch and stomped forward.

"Have you brought us guests, Dory?" he asked in a sarcastic tone. "You know that's not allowed. You were meant to be keeping people out, lad, not bringing them in."

"I couldn't help it, Mr. Grimmold," Dorryk answered, and sounded more sheepish now that he was faced with his employer. "They snuck up and pounced right on me... and, besides, they know about Nob. This gent here has asked to see him." He nodded to indicate Frodo.

"Have you now?" Mr. Grimmold studied his unwanted visitors from under bushy, lowered brows with a fierce and suspicious glare. He might be smaller than a hobbit, but he was a far more imposing person than most Men two or three times his size. "Who are you young fellows? What is it you think you know?"

"My name is Frodo Baggins," Frodo introduced himself, "and these are my friends. We've been engaged by Noddy Ferndingle. I've come to have the curse taken off his farm. Noddy is determined not to leave, so you might as well be reasonable and stop this nonsense."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Baggins," Mr. Grimmold replied. "We are simply humble travelers in your land, stopping in our journey for a few days' rest in privacy- Here, my lad. I'll take that."

Pippin had been carrying the iron lantern since Dorryk had handed it to him at the rock and, overcome by curiosity, had begun to examine it by opening the other apertures. The one he had open at that moment revealed another piece of oddly shaped and colored glass; Frodo only saw it for an instant--it looked as if a fierce face with red eyes had been painted on the glass--before Mr. Grimmold snatched the lantern away.

"Never you mind that!" he scolded. "We can't have you prying into all our tricks. That'd spoil the mystery, and our Dorryk's probably given away more than enough to you already."

"He hasn't," said Frodo, "but I've seen enough to know that you're more than simple travelers. I know what you're doing here. Now, where is Noddy's brother? Surely, he's behind all this." He looked at the other hobbits around the clearing, and noted that Sam apparently did not recognize any of them.

"Here," said a voice, and another hobbit popped his head out from between the leathery flaps of one of the tents. He wore a blanket around his shoulders. When he saw who the visitors were, he said, "If it isn't Sam Gamgee! I might've guessed. It's all right, Mr. Grimmold. Sam here is an old friend. I'll explain things to him."

"You know your own mind, Nob," Mr. Grimmold relented grudgingly. "It was your idea in the first place. Go on about your business, the rest of you."

The troupe dispersed as Nob emerged from the tent; out in the cool air, he began to cough and wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself. Dorryk took his arm and helped him over to sit on a log by the nearest campfire. As Dorryk went to fetch a mug of hot soup for his friend, Sam introduced his own companions.

"You've come up in the world, Sam," said Nob, "with such fine friends." The long-missing Ferndingle son invited his visitors to have a seat and make themselves comfortable, as if their meeting in the woods was nothing unusual. Frodo sat down, with Sam beside him, on the opposite side of the fire. Merry remained standing. Pippin wandered off to meet some of the circus people; he was more interested in their tricks than Nobold's explanation.

Once they had settled, Sam got straight to the point. "What're you doing out here, Nob? What happened to you since you ran off, to come back with this lot?"

"It was all those tales of yours, Sam," Nobold began between sips of the soup Dorryk had brought him. "When you used to come with your Dad to visit the farm--remember?--you'd tell me and Noddy about old Mr. Bilbo Baggins the Gaffer worked for, and how he had wondrous adventures far away over the mountains, visiting elves and stealing gold from dragons. I used to dream of having an adventure of my own, and when I couldn't bear another day of tending cows and pigs, I went off in search of it. You can understand that, can't you? I've heard what you've been up to. On our travels, we had news of the great war in the south and the evil that was overthrown, and the four 'halflings,' as they call us, who had a part in it." He looked from Sam to Frodo to Merry. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"It was," Frodo acknowledged modestly.

"I must say," exclaimed Dorryk with keen interest, "I'd love to hear your tales! If half the stories are to be believed, it must be incredible."

"And did you have adventures, Nob?" Sam asked.

"Nothing so grand as yours, Sam, but we've had some good fun--haven't we, Dory?" said Nobold. "When I left the Shire, I got as far as Bree on my own and took a job there at the Prancing Pony. I met up with the troupe when they came through, and I've been traveling with them since. I've learned how to juggle and tumble and do conjuring tricks. I've performed for audiences as far away as Dale. That's where most of our Bigs are from. I've seen the bones of the dragon in the bottom of the lake! I met Mr. Bilbo himself when we passed through the Elf city at Rivendell this summer, and told him about it. It's been marvelous, and I don't regret a minute of it."

The hobbits were sympathetic with Nobold's desire to see the world, for they'd all felt that same desire before they'd gone on their own adventures. They were even a little envious: in spite of all the wonderful and terrible things they'd seen on the quest, none of them had seen Bilbo's dragon.

"Then why do you want the farm now?" asked Frodo.

"I don't, exactly," said Nob, "but I wanted to come home. You've been away from the Shire yourselves--you must know how you miss it when you're away. It's a sweet, green little land, and there's nothing like it between here and Dale. When I took ill, I started to think fondly of the old farm. I wanted to see it again. The troupe said they'd see me home, and I said I'd find a place for them to settle this winter. It's rather expensive, lodging at an inn for weeks.

"When we got to the Green Hill country, I remembered this deep dell, where Noddy and I used to play as boys, and brought the troupe to camp here. It seemed best to keep out of the way--I didn't want to show up at the farm without giving my family proper warning. Dory and some of our other hobbits went to the Inn to ask for the news hereabouts for me. They found out that my dad had died and left the farm to Noddy. That's only right--I'd've been an awful farmer if I'd stayed. Noddy's none too bright, but he's sturdy and stubborn as they come. Once he sets himself to a task, he sees it through. But it was then I had the idea that the farm would make a good resting place. It's miles from anywhere and tucked between the wood and hills. We wouldn't be bothered by prying neighbors. I didn't want to make my claim and keep the farm for good, only have it for the winter. It was Mr. Grimmold who thought of haunting the woods and saying the farm was under a curse."

"He planned it all out," Dorryk agreed. "He's quite the conjurer, taught us everything we had to do. Some of it was from our regular show--like Griselma's vanishing lady--but other tricks Mr. Grimmold made up 'specially for the occasion."

"I didn't feeling up to going out on most haunting nights," said Nobold, "but the others told me about it when they came back. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it! The magic-lantern shows must be splendid in the dark of the wood at night. But Noddy's even more stubborn than I thought, and won't be budged. I never expected he'd be bringing in other people to look into it!"

Neither of them sounded at all contrite; rather, they were pleased with the whole scheme and dismayed by Noddy's refusal to leave.

"It's a good thing for him he did. Twas a shabby trick to play on your poor brother, Nob," Sam said disapprovingly.

"I wouldn't harm him!" Nobold protested. "We only wanted him out of the way for a few weeks. The roads are safe these days, and Noddy could ride to Fornost and back with no trouble."

"Why send him to Fornost?" wondered Merry.

"Well, it's far enough from the Shire that he'd be away 'til the spring," said Nobold.

"Noddy'd like Fornost," added Dorryk. "It's an old city of Men, but plenty of hobbits have farms around it. Some of us have relatives up that way, and they'd see he got lodging and looking after while he waited for the beans to grow up."

"What about these beans?" Sam asked.

"They call them 'butter-beans' around Dale. Farmers don't grow them in the Shire, so they're nothing Noddy ever saw before. We kept a couple of sacks in our stores, and when Mr. Grimmold first went to speak to Noddy, he took a handful with him. Mr. Grimmold's got a persuasive way--he'd make you believe anything. I thought that once he'd told Noddy about the curse and gave him the beans, Noddy'd be off. We'd look after the farm 'til the spring," concluded Nobold, "and be gone by the time Noddy came home."

"But why go to so much effort to send him away?" asked Frodo. "Why try to frighten the wits out of poor Noddy with these pranks? You might have asked him nicely."

"Noddy would never agree to it," Nobold replied. "He's like Father--thought farming ought to be enough for any respectable hobbit. If I came home sickly and asking for shelter, and with a lot of odd people as friends, he'd be glad to see us sitting out in the cold rather than let us stay. He'd say it served me right for running off."

"I think you judge Noddy too harshly," said Frodo. "He does miss you, and he wouldn't be sorry to see you again. He might be more forgiving than you expect." Nobold looked doubtful, and Frodo suggested, "As a matter of fact, I believe that if you go to your brother even now, tell him the truth and apologize to him for these pranks-"

"And no more mischief!" Sam interjected.

"And promise there'll be no more mischief," said Frodo, "I think you might be able to come to an agreeable arrangement with him. You do have a claim, whether you want to pursue it or not, and he can't turn you away. Your friends could offer to pay Noddy for their lodging--in proper gold, mind you. No magic beans."

"We couldn't do that, not after this!"

"What other choice do you have? Noddy won't leave his farm. You can only move on, or stay here in the woods for the rest of the winter. You must have spent a miserable night last night, with the rain and the cold."

Nobold nodded, and coughed again. "It's done me no good."

"There'll be worse nights in the weeks to come. We'll visit Noddy this afternoon and tell him who's behind all these odd goings-on," Frodo said, "but I'll give you the chance to tell him the truth yourself first. Will you?"

Nobold looked to Dorryk for his opinion. "You can go to your brother and go home to rest," said Dorryk. "It's what you wanted, Nob. Let's see what the others think of the rest of it. We'll do as the troupe agrees."

"Yes, all right."

Frodo, Sam, and Merry went to find Pippin, who had already made some new friends, and left the two hobbits to discuss the matter with Mr. Grimmold. "They seem like jolly people," Pippin said as he joined them at their ponies. "They must have lots of fun."

"Are you planning to run off and join them?" Merry teased.

"No... but if they're going to be staying near Tuckburough this winter, I'll have to visit. You'll come with me, won't you, Merry? Maybe, once Mr. Grimmold knows us better, he'll show me how that lantern of his works." Pippin smiled, already dreaming of the amazing pranks he could play with a few conjuring tricks at his command.

"They're rascals, every one of 'em," said Sam, "and Nob's no better'n the rest. You were much too easy on the lot of 'em, Frodo, after the trouble they caused poor Noddy."

"It's not my business to punish them," Frodo answered as they rode away from the camp. "If they remain on honest terms, that seems better to me than sending them off to cause more mischief elsewhere."

"D'you really think Noddy'll agree to have 'em?"

"I think he will, if it's put to him in the right way. You'll have to help me to do that, Sam."

"He'll be right angry when he hears the truth," Sam predicted.

"Yes, but I think he'll come around when he realizes that his brother wants to return. And if Nobold is really ill, it's right that he be allowed to come home."

"You're too soft-hearted, Frodo," Merry said with affection.

"I know what it's like to be ill... and to be thinking of home."

"He'll only go off again with his friends once he's well again," said Sam.

"I expect he will, but if he makes it up with Noddy, then perhaps he'll leave in a better light than he did the last time, and he'll know he can come back again whenever he likes and be welcome without resorting to trickery. Brothers ought to be on good terms. If I've done nothing else, I can do that for both Ferndingles."

"Well, you did remove the curse from the farm too," Merry reminded him.

"Yes, that's true. Noddy will be delighted to hear that."