Frodo held a long strip of bright blue cloth over his eyes. "Will you tie this for me, please, Sam?"

Sam stopped in the midst of putting on his own costume to come to Frodo's aid. Frodo put his fingers through two holes cut out of the cloth, pressing lightly over his closed eyelids to keep the holes in place while Sam knotted the ends of the strip at the back of his head. "There," said Sam once he'd finished. "Can you see through that properly?"

Frodo lowered his hands and blinked. "Yes, very well." He turned around to face his friend. "How do I look?"

"That blue suits you," Sam told him. "Brings out your eyes."

The rest of Frodo's costume was made to match: an old blue velvet jacket with long streamers cut from an old cloak sewn onto the sleeves and down the front and back and a pair of blue breeches. Sam's outfit was a similar collection of old clothes decorated with colorful strips of rag, but in mossy green and mustard yellow.

It was the first night of Yule, and a traditional "Tatters" party was being held that evening on the Bywater Market Green: at the close of the old year, hobbits customarily wore worn-out clothes decorated with shreds of rags as ribbons; a ceremonial casting-off of the old followed, when the tattered garments were tossed into a bonfire by anyone so inclined. The poorer and more frugal hobbits preferred to keep their tattered costumes to wear again at the next Yuletide. On the second day of Yule, hobbits celebrated the coming year by wearing their newest and best finery.

In return for Sam's assistance, Frodo helped his friend with his own mask, which was more than a thin strip of cloth, but a broad green-and-gold paisley headscarf, formerly part of a cloak-lining, that tied around the top of his head as well as covered his eyes.

"I've kept an eye on the weather all day," Sam said once they had put on their costumes and were headed out. "There's not a flake of new snow to be seen! The Yule festival won't be snowed out like last year. Remember?"

"I remember," Frodo answered. "But we had a nice time anyway, didn't we? Here, by ourselves?" In the front hall, he turned to Sam with a smile, and bestowed a quick kiss. "It wasn't so awful missing the festival."

"No," Sam agreed, and put his arms around Frodo's waist, "but we missed it the year before too, being away from the Shire as we were. And we won't be alone this year in any case, not if Misters Merry and Pippin are coming tonight. You said they'd be here."

"That's what I understood from Merry's last letter," answered Frodo as he extricated himself from Sam's embrace. "He wrote that he and Pip would be leaving Tuckborough today, and they'd stop here for the Yuletide festivals before they went on to Buckland to see his family. I hope they'll be along before dark." He went to the door and opened it; a clear, still twilight was settling over the hills of Hobbiton, and he could see the bright lights of lanterns flickering in the lanes, as other party-goers headed for Bywater. "If they don't come soon, we'll have to go on without them."

"We could leave a note at the door, and they'll catch up when they come," Sam suggested.

"Yes, I suppose that's best. We don't want to sit here waiting all evening." Frodo paused to write out a brief note and fix it to the door. Then he took up his broad-brimmed hat trimmed with long, blue-black rooster tail-feathers and put it on. "Very well then. Let's go." He and Sam went out to join the festival.

It was fully dark by the time they reached the Bywater Market Green. The air had grown chilly with nightfall, but the sky was full of brilliant stars and only a crusting of old snow lay on the rooftops and the edges of the Green, which had otherwise been swept clear. A bonfire already blazed high at the center of the marketplace. The shop stalls had been removed to provide space for dancing; only a few remained to sell toasted currant-buns, roast chestnuts, hot cider, mince pies, and other light refreshments. The Ivy Bush Inn, which sat on the opposite side of the Green from the mill, was open to offer the usual ale and hearty dinners for those who wanted a more substantial meal. A band of musicians played on the Inn's stone-paved courtyard, and a few couples had assembled for the first dance.

It seemed that everyone within ten miles of Bywater had come out for the festivities tonight. All the local shopkeepers and farm-families were in attendance and, although most were masked, Frodo recognized many of his own relatives and acquaintances: Milo and Peony Burrows with their four children, Peony's brothers Ponto and Porto Baggins with their respective wives, Ruby and Wilgo Chubb with their little daughters, Odo and Prunella Proudfoot (their grandson Sancho and the Chubbs' son Wilcome were also presumably about and up to some mischief), Poppy and Filibert Bolger, and Florabel and Jaro Fairbairns with a girl whom Frodo thought was Medora Taggart.

"There's Rosie," said Sam, and nodded his head to indicate his betrothed, standing with his youngest sister Marigold and some of their girlfriends in an eagerly whispering little group at the edge of the dance. All the girls wore ragged old cloaks and brightly colored strips of cloth tied over their skirts, and had more colorful rag-ribbons in their hair.

When she saw Sam, Rosie waved and gave him an inviting smile. The other girls burst into giggles.

Sam waved to her, and glanced shyly at Frodo. Even though the upper half of his face was concealed, Frodo could see the yearning look in Sam's eyes and understood: Sam wanted to dance with Rose, but didn't want to go off and leave him alone.

"Why don't you ask her, Sam?" Frodo suggested. "I'm sure she'd love to join the dance." He remembered another party--was it only three years past?--when he'd literally shoved Sam into Rosie's arms. Surely Sam wouldn't be as reluctant tonight?

"You wouldn't mind?" Sam asked.

"No, of course not," Frodo assured him. "Go and have fun. It's a party! You're meant to enjoy yourself. Don't worry--I'll find my own entertainment." He put one hand on Sam's back to give him a push if necessary, but Sam needed no more encouragement. A moment later, he had crossed the Green to take Rosie's hand, and the two leapt in to join the growing circle of dancers around the bonfire.

The other girls regarded Frodo hopefully, but Frodo always felt rather shy with girls he didn't know well. He was most comfortable dancing with cousins, and although there were one or two of his young female relatives in the crowd, he wasn't inclined to seek them out.

The only one of this little group he was certain he knew was Sam's sister Marigold, who was quickly claimed by a lad whom Frodo guessed to be Tom Cotton. The rest did not wait long for partners, but were also taken up by country lads. Only one remained, a masked girl in a red cloak; after the last of her friends had gone, she sought out and spoke to a boy, but he refused her with a gesture and went to ask some other girl to dance, leaving the girl in red staring furiously after them.

Frodo began to circle the Green, stopping to chat with friends as he met them, but always keeping an eye on Sam. As he passed by the mill, he noticed Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, standing and watching the dancers with a sullen scowl. Did Ted disapprove of dancing and merry-making? Or perhaps the girl he wanted to dance with had already chosen another partner?

If it was the latter, then Frodo felt some sympathy. Even though he had sent Sam to dance with Rose, the truth was that he would have liked to dance with Sam himself... if only he dared. He was almost ready to risk a public indiscretion tonight--these costumes gave even the most staid and respectable hobbits freedom to play, for they might not be recognized under their rags and masks--but Frodo was aware that he was a well-known figure around Hobbiton these days, since he'd gained a measure of fame as a private investigator. He might be recognized. There had been some gossip about him and Sam this past summer, which had only died down once Sam was seen to be keeping company with Rosie. Why tempt fate and encourage more talk?

He had circled the Green and was approaching the front of the Inn, when he was grabbed from behind. He turned--and found himself in the arms of a hobbit-lad in shredded green rags who kissed him on the mouth. He was at first astonished at being kissed in public, and for a confused moment wondered why Sam was being so bold--and when had he left the dance?--then Frodo realized that this wasn't Sam. This boy was wearing a similar costume and his hair was bound up in a scrap of green print cloth, as Sam's was, with only a few fair curls showing around his ears and at the nape of his neck, but Frodo was familiar with the feel of Sam's arms and body, the taste of his mouth. But who-? And then he knew.

"Merry!" he cried as he shoved himself free. "When did you get here?"

Merry grinned. "Pip and I just arrived half an hour ago. I'm sorry we're late--We had to stop to visit those circus people."

"So they did stay on at the Ferndingle Farm?" The last Frodo had heard of this curious case he'd investigated a month ago, Noddy Ferndingle had welcomed his brother home and agreed to let Nobold's friends spend the winter at the farm as long as they earned their keep by giving a hand to the chores. He'd wondered how things had turned out.

"Nob's stayed, and so have Dorryk and the other hobbits," Merry answered. "Mr. Grimmold's still there too--he says he feels comfortable in hobbit-sized rooms--but the Big Folk found the farmhouse rather cramped, so they left to spend the winter in Bree. Noddy wasn't very pleased at first at having so many odd people about, but Mr. Grimmold's talked him 'round. Pippin's made friends with them, and he's been spending a lot of time there lately. So have Ferdi, and Pim and Peri. I expect at least one Took will run off with the circus when they leave this spring, and it might very well be Pip. He'll no doubt show you some of the conjuring tricks they've taught him when he gets a chance."

"I'll look forward to seeing them, and finding out how they work. Did you stop by Bag End? We left you a note."

"No, we didn't bother, since we knew you'd be here. We took a room at the Ivy Bush to dress up."

"And where's Pippin?" Frodo asked.

"I left him in the common room. He never likes to get very far from his next half-pint if he can help it. But I thought I'd come out and look for you. It wasn't very difficult. I knew you the instant I saw you--I'd know you anywhere."

"I didn't know you," Frodo admitted, "not at first."

Merry laughed. "I would never have guessed you were in the habit of kissing strangers at parties, Frodo!"

"I'm not- I don't-" He faltered, blushing. "I thought you were Sam. You're lucky Sam didn't see that, by the way."

"Never fear--Sam didn't notice. He's got other things on his mind tonight." Merry cast a glance at the whirling dancers. Sam was still among them with Rosie and didn't look as if he had eyes for anyone but his partner. Frodo felt a pang of jealousy; he didn't mind Sam dancing with Rose, but he would have liked Sam to take some notice if he was kissing someone else.

The music changed. A fiddle took up a sprightly tune, and the circle of dancers broke apart. Couples paired off to engage in a spirited, bouncing jig.

"Why don't we join them?" Merry offered. "Will you dance with me, Frodo? It won't matter--our reputations are in tatters anyway."

Frodo laughed at the bad pun. "All right. Why shouldn't we?" While it might be odd for two grown boys to dance together, it wouldn't be as scandalous for him to dance with Merry as it would be for him to dance with Sam. No one would take it anything but a joke. Besides, Merry was his closest cousin, and the one he felt most comfortable with. As a matter of fact, they had first practiced their dancing together as small children in the nursery with Melilot and Mentha.

When Merry held out his hand, Frodo took it, and they joined the dance.

The jig was an informal piece, with paired dancers making bounding leaps forward and back again in time to the rhythm of the music. They frequently bumped into other couples, who were jumping just as vigorously, but that was half the fun. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, until Merry bumped against Sam's back.

Sam turned. Like Frodo, he didn't recognize Merry at first, but he knew Frodo immediately and his hazel eyes, made more green by the mask, widened in surprise. He couldn't do anything at the moment except mutter "Beg y'r pardon," and head off with Rosie in the opposite direction, but Frodo could tell by the constant glances thrown at him and Merry that Sam was not pleased.

When the music stopped, most of the dancers were panting and breathless. Some left the Green, but new pairs stepped out to take their place. The fiddler put down his bow and went into the Inn for a drop of ale, while a drummer, piper, and bellpoler started a fresh melody.

Merry and Frodo sought out the hot-cider booth. They were warm after dancing, but the night had grown crisply cold and their breath steamed before their faces; a hot drink seemed just the thing. They found Pippin, in vividly red-and-gold-colored rags and a belled joungler's cap borrowed from one of his circus friends, at another booth nearby, munching on roasted chestnuts. Sam headed toward them a few minutes later.

"Frodo, you oughtn't go jumping about like that. You'll tire yourself out first thing-"

"Sam, I'm fine, only a little short of breath."

"And who was that lad- Oh, it's you, Mr. Merry. I should've guessed." Sam scowled. "What d'you mean by making a spectacle of Frodo that way? Think of what people'll say!"

"Oh, I've learned not to mind what people say," Merry replied.

"I don't think anybody really noticed, or cared," added Frodo. "There's never been any talk about me and Merry, nor any reason why there should be. We're practically brothers." It was just as well that Sam had not observed that non-brotherly kiss.

"You have to be more broad-minded about this, Sam," Pippin said. "It's no good fussing about whatever Merry gets up to. After all the boys he's played around with, I'm surprised he never got his hands on Frodo before." He was smiling and spoke as if he were joking, but there was something more solemn in his eyes as they flickered from Merry to Frodo; Sam might not have seen that kiss, but Frodo was suddenly quite sure that Pippin had.

"There's nothing to be upset about," Frodo said, speaking to Sam, but trying to reassure Pippin as well. "It was all perfectly harmless."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Merry. "So much fuss over a bit of fun! I only wanted to dance. I don't have any designs on your precious Frodo, Sam. I've no plan to change partners."

Sam's mouth popped open, but he wasn't sure what to make of this pointed remark. Before he could find a suitable retort, they all heard a loud splash, and somebody screamed.

The music and dancing stopped abruptly, and there was suddenly a great deal of commotion as everyone on the Green and around it rushed toward the far side of the mill, where the Rushock stream fed into the Bywater Pool, and the great millwheel turned. Beyond lay a path that ran along the edge of the Pool.

It was too dark and the crowd was too great to see much, but Frodo could hear someone splashing in the water, and over the multitude of excited voices, a girl was yelping, "Oh, help him! Help him afore he drowns!"

He pressed on through the crowd and reached the millwheel in time to see a trio of hobbits half-carrying a soaking wet and bedraggled figure swiftly away toward the Inn with shouts for blankets and hot brandy.

"What's happened? Who was that?" A dozen other people were also asking these same questions but, to his surprise, Frodo received an answer.

"It's Hastred Sandyman, Mr. Baggins, the miller's cousin. Someone pushed him into the Pool."

He turned to find a large and heavy-set hobbit standing behind him. The top half of the hobbit's head was covered by a pointed knit cap pulled down to his nose, but Frodo recognized the voice as that of Robin Smallburrows, the local sherriff and a friend of Sam's.

"Is he all right, Sherriff?" Frodo asked.

"Looked like a drowned rat when they pulled 'm out of the water, but I expect he'll be fine once he's dried off and warmed up a bit," Robin said with complacent good humor as he pulled the cap off his head. "That water's awful cold this time of year."

"Do you know how it happened?"

"All I got out of Miss Laurel Deeproot, who was with him, is that somebody was hiding in the bushes along the path and pushed him in. She didn't see who." Robin lowered his voice, for there were a number of people around them, eager for news. "But I'm wondering if she mightn't've done it herself. It's my idea Hasty took a liberty with the girl, more'n she wanted, and she gave him a shove--not meaning to send him into the Pool, I'd say, seeing the state she's in. If that's so, a dunking's just what he deserved..." Which explained to Frodo why Robin did not seem alarmed by the incident, "but as she says there was somebody else, I'll have to look into it."

"May I speak to her?" Frodo requested.

Robin shook his head apologetically. "Not just now. Her brother's seeing her home."

"Could he-?"

"Oh, he might've done it if he'd known what Hasty was about with his sister, but I think he'd say so right out if that was so. Nobody'd blame him. I was just going after Hasty to hear his side of it. As I see you've taken an interest, whyn't come with me, Mr. Baggins--and you too, Sam?" Frodo had lost sight of his friends in the crowd, but Sam came up to join them at this moment. Robin frowned, somewhat puzzled as he looked over his friend's costume.

Frodo looked around quickly, but saw no sign of Merry and Pippin. He accepted the sherriff's offer, and he and Sam accompanied Robin across the Green to the Ivy Bush Inn.

---

Hastred Sandyman sat shivering under blankets before the roaring fire in the Inn's common-room. A puddle of muddy water had formed on the floor beneath his chair. His cousin Ted sat beside him, pouring mugs of hot brandy down Hastred's throat, while the trio of rescuers were at the bar, being treated to ales by the innkeeper.

Frodo stopped in the entry-hall to remove his broad-brimmed hat and hang it on a hook. Sam and Robin went on ahead. As Sam went into the room with Robin, Ted looked up and grinned unpleasantly. "Come to play at being shirriffs, have you, Sam Gamgee? You and your Mr. Baggins, the famous hobbit detective?" But he looked abashed when Frodo came in after them.

"Yes, we have, with Shirriff Smallburrows' kind permission," Frodo answered, pointedly ignoring the sneer in Ted's question. "You seem to have gotten here very quickly, Ted. You weren't there to help your cousin out of the Pool, were you?" Hasty's rescuers, he observed, had left muddy tracks on the floor when they'd brought him in. There was still mud on their feet, the cuffs of their trousers were wet, and they had more splashes of mud and water on their clothes. Ted's clothes, on the other hand, were clean and quite dry.

"I was at the mill when I heard the splashing and shouting, and I came as soon as I heard it was Hasty," Ted replied. "Now you've come nosing in, are you going to get the one who pushed 'm?"

"We mean to, Ted, so stop your fretting. Did you see who pushed you, Hasty?" Robin asked.

"Not 'xactly," Hasty said through chattering teeth, "but-"

"It was Nelda!" cried Ted. "There's your answer, and you needn't go detecting further."

"Nelda Milkwort?" said Sam, and turned to Hasty. "But why should Nelda want to push you? I thought you was keeping company with her?"

"I was, but we broke it off last week. I was dancing with Laurel Deeproot tonight, you saw, and Nelda wouldn't stand for it. After we left the dance, Laurel and I was heading off on the path by the water, for a walk by ourselves. And all of a sudden, there comes somebody in a red cloak out o' the bushes, and gives me a shove--and into the Pool I go!"

"How d'you know it was her, Hasty?" Robin persisted. "Did you see her face?"

"No," Hasty admitted. "It was too dark, and her hood was pulled up over her face. But I got hold of this-!" One hand shot out from beneath the blankets to hold up a long, soggy strip of red flannel. "I grabbed at this scrap of her cloak when she pushed me, and it came off in my hand. I han't let go of it since."

"There, you see! Nelda's in her red cloak tonight!" Ted yelped triumphantly. "It's her, all right, and make no mistake! Now, what're you going to do about it, Sherriff?"

"I'd like to say Ted's put'm up to it," Sam said as they left the Inn. "That's how Hasty is--If Ted says it's Nelda, Hasty'll take his word for it."

"That's so," Robin agreed. "Only there's that bit of red cloth Hasty says he tore from Nelda's cloak. If it's not from her, where'd he get it?"

"Could it have come from another person?" wondered Frodo. "You saw the other girl, Laurel, and her brother, Sherriff--What were they wearing?"

"Not red. Miss Laurel was in yellow 'n' blue. I didn't notice her brother so much, but whatever he was wearing, it was dark-colored. It wasn't from either o' them. It looks like Ted's right," Robin concluded glumly. He didn't like Ted any better than Sam did, and didn't want him to be right.

"Nevertheless, I think we ought to speak to Nelda before we make any assumptions," Frodo said. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"So do I, Mr. Baggins," said Robin. "I'll let you know when I find her." He gave Sam, and then Frodo, another curious look, then went off, leaving them standing by the Inn's front door. A few other people also glanced their way.

The commotion around the Green had died down once the principal parties had been taken away, and the festival was slowly being resumed. The musicians had started playing again, but no one was dancing yet. People stood in groups, talking excitedly about the incident. From what Frodo could hear, opinion seemed to be divided three ways: some agreed with Robin's first assessment and said it must have been Laurel; others, who had heard reports of Ted's and Hasty's accusations, agreed that it must be Nelda; the third group believed that some wandering ruffian was going around pushing people into ponds and such things oughtn't be allowed.

As if she'd been waiting for the sherriff to depart, a girl peeked out from around the curving wall of the Inn, then emerged from the shadows and raised a hand to draw Sam's attention. It was not Nelda, but Sam's sister, Marigold.

"Is it true what they're saying?" she hissed at her brother once he and Frodo had come closer. "Hasty's said it was Nelda who pushed him in?"

"Yes, that's right," Sam answered.

"But it isn't!" the girl protested. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo-" she bobbed a quick and apologetic curtsey, "but if you 'n' Sam're meaning to help Robin Smallburrows catch her, then you're doing wrong. Nelda didn't do it."

"I only want to learn the truth of the matter," Frodo assured her. "Where is Nelda? Have you seen her?"

Marigold cast an anxious glance back in the direction she had come. "You promise you won't give her away... on your honor as a gentleman?"

"On my honor," Frodo promised.

"Me 'n' Rosie have her." Marigold told him. "When we heard that Hasty was saying she did it, we thought it best to take her someplace safe and out of sight."

"Will you take us to her?" Frodo requested.

Marigold nodded, and led them around the long, low wing of the Inn, past the stableyard at the back, to a darkened grove of trees where a girl in a red cloak sat sobbing on a bench. The only light came from the rising moon and a few lit candles and fires that cast a soft reddish glow through the windows at the back of the Inn, but it was enough for Frodo to recognize her as the one he'd seen scorned by a boy--Hastred?--for another girl earlier this evening. He would have paid more attention had he known how important that little incident would become!

Rosie was keeping watch over Nelda; at the sound of people approaching, she leapt to her feet, then relaxed as Marigold brought Sam and Frodo into the grove.

"I'm glad you've come. It's all right, Nelda," she reassured her friend. "Mr. Frodo'll help--you'll see." She gave Frodo a curtsey. "You will help, won't you, Mr. Frodo? Marigold and me thought it best to send for you when we heard Nelda was in trouble. We're always a-hearing how you look into people's troubles. Sam says you're the cleverest hobbit in the Shire, and you've got plenty of folk out of worse fixes'n this." She didn't sneer about his investigations as Ted Sandyman had, but Frodo thought he heard something of a challenge in her request for his help. She was probably sick of hearing Sam praise him, and now that her friend was in trouble, wanted to see what he could really do.

"I will do my best," he told her, and fished a match out of his coat pocket to make a torch from a loose stick of wood and provide a little more light. He stepped closer to Nelda, who blotted her eyes with a streamer from her shredded cloak and regarded him hopefully. "Will you answer a few questions, Miss Milkwort? Where were you when Hastred was pushed?"

"I was heading for home," answered the girl. "I didn't want to be at the festival anymore, not after Hasty put me off to dance with that awful Laurel Deeproot! If I pushed anybody into the Pool, it would've been her--but I didn't, Mr. Baggins! I wasn't anywhere near! I was halfway to home when I heard the shouting and came back to the Green to see what'd happened."

"That's when we found her, Mr. Frodo," Marigold supported this statement. "And then we heard what people was saying. Ted Sandyman was saying it the minute he heard it was Hasty who'd been dunked. I saw him crossing the Green to the Inn, shouting it must be Nelda."

"He's lying!" Nelda cried.

"Ted would lie," Rosie agreed, "'specially if he could get back at Nelda."

"Why?" asked Sam. "What's he got against her?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" his sister said. "Ted Sandyman's been chasing after Nelda since before she kept company with Hasty, but she wouldn't have a thing to do with him."

"I wouldn't," Nelda insisted, "not if he was the last hobbit-lad in the Shire. And you see how he serves me out!"

"Did Ted put Hasty up to saying it was Nelda, Sam?" Rosie asked.

Sam was about to tell her about the strip of cloth Hasty had seized from the person who'd pushed him in, when Frodo caught his eye and shook his head quickly; he didn't want the girls to know about that yet. Sam shut his mouth.

"Will you stand up, please?" Frodo asked Nelda. "I'd like to have a look at your costume." He made a little give-us-a-turn gesture.

"As you like, Mr. Baggins." Nelda looked puzzled by this request, but rose and turned slowly to show Frodo her costume. Her hooded red cloak had been slashed to ribbons from the shoulders, but each strip was long and even, with no sign of tearing. None of the strips were missing. The red flannel belt with more long streamers that Nelda wore tied about her waist to cover her skirt was likewise whole.

"Thank you," said Frodo. "One last question, Miss Milkwort..." But how to ask it tactfully? He knew that the poorer hobbits of Bywater, as Nelda's family was, wouldn't dream of burning a good piece of cloth while it was still serviceable, and would certainly never create and destroy a new Tatters costume each year. "Do you keep your same costume and wear it from year to year?"

Nelda nodded. "I've worn this one three years now, since my best red cloak wasn't best anymore."

"Would your friends know that you'd be wearing it tonight?"

"We knew she would," said Marigold, and Rosie agreed.

"What about Hastred and Ted?"

"Hasty might," Nelda answered after thinking about it. "When I wore it at last year's Tatters, he danced with me then."

"You believe her, don't you, Mr. Frodo?" asked Rosie anxiously.

"Yes, I do," he answered, then turned to Sam. "Will you find Sherriff Smallburrows-" There was an alarmed outcry from all three girls, and Frodo waved for them to calm down. "Tell him I've a good idea what happened here tonight, and he needn't trouble Miss Milkwort. I'm certain she wasn't involved. Don't be afraid," he told Nelda. "It's going to be all right." And, still bearing his impromptu torch, he headed out of the grove.

"And where're you going?" asked Sam.

"To see if my idea is correct!"

Frodo first went to have a look at the mill-path, where the incident had occured. Other people had been there since Hastred had gone into the water, but he hoped he might be able to find some clue to confirm his suspicions.

A bridge crossed the stream a few feet before it was diverted into the stone-walled channel that brought it to the huge millwheel, and led to the footpath that ran along the Bywater Pool. It wasn't unusual for courting couples to come here, especially after dark. A few couples lingered on the path now, although they seemed for the moment to be more interested in sight-seeing than cuddling. Nevertheless, Frodo lowered his torch discreetly as he passed them.

He went down the path as it ran alongside the outer side of the channel, which rose higher as the ground sloped down toward the water's edge, until the millwheel turned above him. There, a clump of yew trees grew against the stone wall, and stood black in the darkness; the muddy and churned ground, and the jagged hole broken in the thin layer of ice on the water below indicated that this was where Hastred had been pushed in. There were too many footprints on the path itself to make anything of, but when Frodo crouched down to examine the ground beneath the yews--carefully holding the torch to keep from setting the trees afire--he found a single pair of prints pressed into the mulch of soft earth and fallen needles. Someone had stood here, unseen in the darkness.

Frodo then rose, took a few steps back, and stood up on tip-toe to look at the wall of the mill above him. As he recalled, there was a half-circle side-door into the mill, opening just over the great wheel. One might easily enter or exit the building by crossing the platform over the millwheel...

"Most people don't come here by themselves and bringing lights, Frodo," an amused voice spoke nearby. "That's the last thing they want!"

He turned to find that Merry and Pippin had come up on the path behind him. They each had an arm around the other's waists.

"Where did you two go to?"

"Once the excitement was over, I thought I'd better have a quiet word with Pip--to make it up to him," Merry explained. "We wanted to find someplace private."

"Which isn't very easy tonight!" Pippin added. "Every place we go to already has somebody cuddled up in it. If we'd known you were going to be investigating, Frodo, we would've stayed around a little longer. Have we missed all the fun?"

"No," said Frodo, "there may be still be some excitement yet tonight."

His cousins looked very eager and interested. "Anything we can do to help?" Merry offered.

"I've got an idea about who pushed Hastred into the Pool, but I need some proof. You may help with that. Can you slip into the mill--through that little door there, if it's not been barred or locked--and have a look around? I want to see if you can find something in particular..." He told them what he was hoping to find.

Following Frodo's instructions, Merry and Pippin went up to the mill-wheel, stepped over the channel and tried the door; it wasn't locked, and they went into the mill.

Frodo returned to the Green. Except for a few whispering groups, the festivities had returned to normal. Ted left the Inn and crossed the Green, heading for the mill. To Frodo's alarm, he went inside. What if Ted were to catch Merry and Pippin in there? Could they explain what they were doing? Would any explanation satisfy Ted's suspicious mind?

But his fears were soon allayed, for his cousins came out around the side of the mill a moment later. Spotting Frodo, they shook their heads ruefully and raised empty hands to show that their search had not been successful.

Sam and Robin appeared on the far side of the Green, near the Inn. Nelda was with them, and Rosie and Marigold kept a wary watch over their friend to be certain that an injustice was not done. Frodo knew that the girls were relying on his assurances that everything would be all right... but would it? He still had no proof.

People were beginning to gather around the bonfire. Masks and ragged cloaks came off. It was time for the burning of castoffs. As each piece of old clothing went into the fire, a cheerful shout went up, and more hobbits came forward to strip away their own rags and toss them in.

It was then that Frodo saw Ted leave the mill; he held something in his arms, concealed beneath his cloak. As Ted made his way toward the bonfire through the laughing and shouting crowd, Frodo tried to follow, but there were too many people between them. Ted, close to the fire now, brought out the object he was carrying--a wadded bundle of red cloth.

"Sam," Frodo cried, "it's Ted! Stop him!"

Sam acted immediately, ploughing through the crowd. Robin was right behind him, shouldering people aside with a strength Frodo didn't possess.

Ted, hearing this shout, paused as he was about to throw the bundle into the fire and looked about. This gave Sam enough time to grab it from him. Ignoring Ted's cry of protest, Sam held the cloth up and shook it out for everyone to see: it was a red flannel cloak like Nelda's, but with one strip torn off.

"So it was Ted all along!" said Robin, and seized Ted by the arm to keep him from running off. Frodo made his way at last to the fire, and the three girls followed after Sam and Robin from the other side. "I never've guessed! But however did you know, Mr. Baggins?"

Frodo, finding everyone's eyes on him and feeling rather timid at speaking before so large an audience, explained, "I suspected Ted Sandyman when I heard that he was making accusations against Nelda even before he'd seen his cousin and learned that Hastred had torn a piece of red cloth from his attacker's costume. Why was Ted so insistent she was the one? When I saw that Miss Milkwort's costume wasn't torn, I was quite sure that she couldn't have done it. You and Sam said that Ted might have suggested the idea of Nelda to Hastred, Sherriff. I wondered if that wasn't so, and if he had somehow given that scrap of cloth to Hastred himself. If Hastred was telling the truth about how he'd come by it--and I had no reason to believe he was lying--then there was only one way Ted could have given it to him: he was the one wearing the red cloak Hastred saw, and grabbed hold of as he fell into the Pool."

"But why did he do such a thing?" asked Robin.

"Jealousy, Shirriff," Frodo replied. "Once I learned that Ted had been pursuing Nelda, without success, it seemed obvious what had happened. You see, she was the one he meant to have revenge upon all along, not his cousin--although I suspect he found some satisfaction in pushing in Hastred, who'd rejected the girl he couldn't get. Isn't that so, Ted?" He turned to Ted, who was being held fast by Robin and Sam at each elbow. "You must have planned this at least a week ago, when Hastred broke with Nelda, and she still would have nothing to do with you. You knew that she'd be in her usual red Tatters costume tonight, and you made one like it, and then waited for your chance. Hastred gave it to you when he went walking by the Pool with another girl, and Nelda was nowhere in sight. You put on your red cloak in the mill, and went out by the side door over the wheel. Hastred wouldn't see your face in the darkness, nor anything but the cloak. That's all he would remember."

Ted did not deny these accusations, but glared at Frodo furiously. He spat, "If I done it, at least I'm natural enough to be after a girl... not like you! Who d'ye think you're fooling--you and Sam Gamgee? D'ye think everybody don't know what you're about?"

An awkward silence descended on the crowd. There had been gossip around Hobbiton about Frodo and Sam, but no one had dared to say anything openly before. "Here, you-!" Sam raised a clenched fist as if he wanted nothing more than to punch the sneering hobbit, but Robin quickly reached out to take his wrist and stop him.

Hastred, still wet but recovered from his plunge, had come out of the Inn during Frodo's explanation and stood listening. Now, he lunged forward at his cousin, knocking Ted free of Sam's and Robin's relaxed grip. "It was you!" The two rolled on the ground by the bonfire, Hastred thumping his cousin with his fists, until Ted managed to escape him long enough to fly in the direction of the mill. Hastred flew after him, presumably to pay him back in kind.

"I don't say he isn't asking for it," Robin said as Ted raced off, his cousin at his heels, "but in the name 'o the peace, I'd best put a stop to it before Hasty tosses Ted into the Pool. We can't have that--not twice in the same night! Besides, somebody'll have to fish 'm out." But he didn't appear to be in any hurry to go after the pair. Robin also kept a grip on Sam's wrist, even though Ted had gone. "And, in the name 'o the peace, Sam Gamgee, I can't let you go punching Ted, no matter how he's begging for it." He appeared to have something more on his mind. At last, he came out with it: "And if you don't want there to be talk about you and Mr. Baggins, you oughtn't go and dance with him, nor kiss him smack in the middle of the Market Green during a festival, where everyone can see."

Sam gaped at his friend, utterly flabbergasted. "What d'you mean? I didn't- I wasn't-"

Rosie gave Sam a sharp look and, seeing his bewilderment, came forward to take his arm. "You've made a mistake, Robin. Sam wasn't dancing with anybody but me."

They both turned to Frodo. So did Robin. In fact, it seemed to Frodo that everyone who had been eagerly listening a minute ago to his clever explanation of how and why Ted had pushed Hastred into the Pool was now regarding him in an entirely different light. The blood rushed his face and, in the wake of his investigative triumph, he suddenly felt like a fool. It had simply not occurred to him that if he could confuse Merry for Sam, so might others who didn't know either lad as well. How many people like Robin and Ted had seen that kiss tonight, and made the same mistaken assumption?

He had no choice but to explain. "That wasn't Sam, Sherriff. It was my cousin, Merry Brandybuck. He's also wearing green tonight." As evidence, Frodo pointed out Merry, who stood with Pippin at the edge of the crowd and did not look in the least embarrassed.

Robin's expression brightened. "Mr. Merry? Well, no wonder! He's just the sort to go about kissing boys, isn't he?"

"Yes, I'm afraid he is," Frodo agreed.

The rest of the party murmured and nodded knowingly. Everybody had heard about Merry Brandybuck. That was just the sort of thing he'd do. Frodo's moment of celebrity had not been damaged after all, but he could see that Sam did not look any happier. Quite the contrary.

Robin went off to find the Sandymans before Hasty threw Ted into the Pool. Nelda came forward to thank Frodo for helping her, and Marigold and Rosie followed suit; in rapid succession, Frodo received three pecks on the cheek from girls he was not related to--the first time that had ever happened! The casting-off continued and, after the last rag had gone into the fire, the band began to play again. Rosie reclaimed Sam for one last dance, and Merry had a dance with Pippin. Frodo sat this one out.

At the evening's end, the four hobbits walked back to Bag End. In the Bywater Market, the fiddler was playing a final, slow and sad parting tune. Frodo's cousins had gathered their belongings from the Inn and followed a little behind; Merry had his arm around Pippin and was evidently still making up to him by whispering in his ear, nuzzling his neck, and making him laugh.

Frodo knew he had some making up of his own to do.

"Are you angry, Sam?" he ventured as he put his arm through Sam's. "You mustn't mind Merry. He was only playing when he kissed me. You know how he is."

"It isn't Mr. Merry I mind," Sam answered. "I know how he plays about, just as you say. But I mind about you."

"I'm sorry," Frodo murmured. "I never meant to hurt your feelings."

"Never mind me. Think of your reputation! You know how people'll talk."

"I only danced with Merry because I wanted to dance so badly... with you. There'd be much worse talk if I did that! I'm such a coward. I don't have the kind of courage they do." He inclined his head slightly backwards to indicate his cousins, who walked about ten yards behind them in the dark lanes between Hobbiton and Bywater. No one else was around, and Frodo didn't care what Merry and Pippin saw. They wouldn't care, even if they noticed.

Frodo stopped walking and turned to Sam. Winding an arm around Sam's neck, he leaned close to whisper, "Will you dance with me, Sam?"

In the midst of a frosty midwinter night, under the light of the stars, they had their dance.