"You haven't heard the latest rumor going around, have you?" Merry asked when he returned from the Green Dragon to Bag End that evening.

"No," Frodo replied wearily. "Nor do I care to."

Merry knew that Frodo hadn't gone down to the pub with him for precisely this reason, preferring to sit at home and read by the parlor fire than be subjected to the local gossip. Over a week had passed since Bilbo's mysterious disappearance, but it was still the only topic of conversation for miles around. "But this is important, Frodo. I wouldn't bring it to you otherwise."

Frodo lowered his book and looked up at his cousin. When he saw that Merry wasn't joking, he relented. "Oh, all right. Like it or not, I suppose I ought to know what the neighbors are saying. They'd tell tales in your hearing that they wouldn't dare breathe a word of to me." He gave Merry a smile. "We'll add 'rumor-catching' to your list of invaluable services. Thank goodness you've been here--I don't know how I would've gotten through this awful week without you!"

Merry ducked his head, surprised, but pleased, at the compliment. He had stayed on since the birthday party chiefly to keep Frodo company, but he also answered the front door to screen unwelcome visitors, helped Frodo put Bag End back into order, and gave him someone to cuddle up with at night.

"Out with it, Merry. What are they saying now?"

"They're saying that you're responsible for Bilbo's vanishing the way he did," Merry reported. "You've made off with him somehow."

Frodo started up out of his chair. "I've done what-?"

"As I heard it, there was a plot between you and Gandalf to get hold of his money. In the midst of his speech, Gandalf makes him disappear: Poof!" Merry spread his hands out and upward. "Bilbo's gone without a trace and never seen again, and you get everything--Bag End and all Bilbo's property, including what's left of those heaps of dragon's gold."

"Oh, this is really too much! It's those Sackville-Baggins."

"Pimple wasn't even at the Dragon tonight."

"No, Lotho wouldn't be, nor his mother either, but you can be certain that she's the one who thought up this ugly lie, and he's doing his best to help her spread it around. What abomin-able people!" With a disgusted cry, Frodo flung his book to the floor and began to pace the parlor as if he wanted to escape but had nowhere to go. Merry had never seen him so angry before. "It would almost be worth giving them Bag End just to shut them up and let me live in peace." He flopped back into his chair, shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. After he had calmed himself, he said, "Merry, let's go away someplace until things quiet down."

"You want to?"

"Why can't we? Right now, I'd welcome nothing more than a few days far from Hobbiton." He began to make plans. "Old Gaffer Gamgee can keep an eye on things here while I'm gone. That will be all right--He and Sam look on the garden as more their pro-perty than mine, and they'll chase off any treasure hunters that might still be hanging around. Where shall we go?"

"You could come back with me to Brandy Hall," Merry offered.

"Thank you, no. I want someplace where I can rest and not have people fussing around me."

"What about one of the cottages on the grounds? Crickhollow? It's far enough from the main house, and there'd be no visitors you didn't want to see. I can write to Mother and ask her to have it made ready for us. She'll be delighted to see you. She was so glad to hear that I'd stayed to look after 'poor, dear Frodo' in his time of need."

They grinned at each other.

"We can walk over," Frodo decided. "It's a two or three day hike. I'll spend a week in Buckland, then hike back. Things ought to have calmed down by the end of October. If not... Well, I'll leave a note so the sheriff will know where I am if he wants to arrest me for Bilbo's murder."

Merry wrote his mother that night, and he and Frodo packed a few things to take with them. They left late the next morning, only notifying the Gamgees and the post office to forward Frodo's mail to Brandy Hall.

"The news will get around soon enough," Frodo said as he locked the front door. "But I don't want the Sackville-Bagginses to think I've abandoned Bag End, and find they've taken up residence when I get back."

They went down to Bagshot Row to leave the house keys with a sullen and suspicious Sam, then were off over the hedge and across the fields.

Frodo seemed much more cheerful once they had put Hobbiton behind them. As they passed into the lane that went around Bywater Pool to meet the main road near Threefarthing Stone, he whistled from time to time and kept so brisk a pace that Merry had to hasten to catch up.

"It's good to see you so happy again," said Merry, somewhat out of breath.

"I haven't been the most pleasant company lately, have I?" Frodo turned back to smile at his cousin, and slowed his steps so they could walk side by side. "Can you blame me, after being shut up in the house for so many days? I've been feeling very restless. More than that, I've felt... oppressed by something. I don't know what. It's almost as if a darkness were closing in around me."

"It was those Sackville-Baggins and all their ugly gossip."

"Perhaps. If it weren't for you, Merry, I think I'd've gone mad sitting alone at Bag End."

"What about that letter of Bilbo's you locked up in the strong-box?" Merry probed. "That's not troubling you, is it?" He had kept a close eye on old Bilbo for many years and had a good idea of what, beyond a farewell note, was in that sealed envelope. He'd hoped all week that Frodo would confide in him about it, but Frodo hadn't said a word since he'd put the envelope away.

Frodo threw him a guarded look, and answered, "I don't see how it could be that. It's hardly been on my mind." After a moment's consideration, he shook his head. "No, it couldn't be that. Well, whatever the cause, I'm free of it now. No worries here! There's nothing but miles of green countryside ahead..."

As they went over the rise of a hill, the main road was visible in the valley ahead of them. Frodo broke into a run down the slope and, when he reached the bottom, vaulted over the gate that marked the end of the lane. Merry raced behind.

At this quick pace, they made very good time and were halfway to Frogmorton before they stopped for a rest. Sprawling beneath a cluster of trees beside the road, they shared some apples and sandwiches from their packs. After he'd eaten, Frodo took his pipe out of his coat pocket and lay flat on his back on the grass.

"It will be like this at Crickhollow," he said musingly as he sent smoke-rings up into the changing leaves overhead. "We'll go for walks in the woods, take a boat out on the river and go fishing. We'll have peace and quiet, and time to ourselves..." His eyes flickered to his cousin. "Merry? When we get to the cottage, are we going to sleep together? I mean-" he blushed rather bashfully, "you know."

Merry laughed. "You picked a funny time to bring it up!" Even though he had shared Frodo's bed this past week, they had done nothing more than some kissing and tentative touching. Frodo seemed reluctant to go farther, and Merry had not pushed him. He was there, after all, to comfort his friend. "I thought you didn't want to?"

"I've changed my mind."

"Why not at Bag End? We had our choice of comfy beds, and the whole house to ourselves to do whatever we wanted."

"I couldn't be comfortable there. I wanted more privacy. Neigh-bors were dropping by at all hours. Besides, if we did it there, Sam would know, and- well- I'd rather he didn't just yet."

Merry nodded. He'd suspected that Sam Gamgee had something to do with Frodo's reluctance. Sam was always around--popping in and out of the house a dozen times a day, patrolling the garden for trespassers, eavesdropping and peeking in the windows while trimming the grass. Spying on them too, Merry was certain.

He wondered what had been between Frodo and the gardener's son. While he'd never given the matter much thought before, he'd assumed that it was the ordinary sort of boys' play, those sex games that everyone got up to in their 'tweens. He'd done the same himself with Pippin, and Folco, and Fatty, Everard, Ferdi, Doderic and his brother Ilberic... well, really, all the male cousins near his own age except Frodo. But it would be just like Frodo to take things too seriously and try to turn a bit of fun into something more!

"You told me that Sam was getting married."

"He is," answered Frodo. "At least, he's sweet on Rosie Cotton, and it's just a matter of time before he asks her. I still don't want him to know about us."

"Oh, he knows already. The way he frowns whenever he sees me, I'm sure he thinks we've been at it like bunnies." Merry thought of how Sam had scowled at him that morning when they'd left off the keys. "Your Sam doesn't approve of me, does he?"

"He doesn't think you're a suitable companion for me. You're a bad influence." Frodo leaned up on one elbow and flashed a smile at his cousin. "He's probably right. Even in Hobbiton, we hear all about the young master at Brandy Hall. You're a naughty one, Merry Brandybuck--wild, reckless, irresponsible," he went on, teasing affectionately. "Always in trouble, and getting poor little Pippin in trouble too."

Merry grinned, unabashed. "And you're the nice one! Everyone's favorite-"

"Not the Sackville-Bagginses."

"Except the abominable Sackville-Bagginses," Merry agreed. "All the aunties dote on you, and Mother, and Uncle Bilbo. You've always been Gandalf's special pet. He's never tried to box your ears!"

"If he's boxed yours, I daresay you were begging for it." Then Frodo sat up and asked him frankly, "Do you really care what Sam Gamgee, or anybody, thinks of you?"

"Only because you do, Frodo."

"I don't!" Frodo insisted. "I've made my own judgment. I think I know you better than anyone else does. After all, we've been friends nearly all our lives, since we were children. You're the closest I have to a brother." He darted in to give Merry a quick, but distinctly non-brotherly kiss. "If I cared what other people thought, I wouldn't have had you by me all this week. I wouldn't be off to Buckland with you now."

He gathered up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "Come on, Merry. It's only few more miles to Frogmorton--we'll be there before it gets dark."

They stopped that night at the Polwygle Inn. Famished after the day's long hike, they ate a hearty dinner, then ventured into the common room for a couple of half-pints of ale. A few hobbits they knew were present, and Frodo had to face questions about Bilbo's birthday party and abrupt disappearance, but Frogmorton's curio-sity was not so avid as Hobbiton's; the matter was dropped once young Mr. Baggins made it clear that he was not inclined to talk, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly. After a second round of ales, the two visitors joined in the local merriment, and even sang along to the same old songs that were familiar favorites from one end of the Shire to the other.

It was late when Merry and Frodo went to their room. As they prepared for bed, Frodo paused in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt to consider his cousin. His lips curved into a smile. "Let's not wait `til we get to Crickhollow."

Merry, unwarily working on his own waistcoat buttons, was taken completely by surprise when Frodo pounced, catching him about the waist and sending them both tumbling onto the nearer bed. The next thing he knew, he lay sprawled flat on his back with Frodo perched atop him, but he recovered his senses enough to respond to the kiss that followed--a kiss much more passionate than any-thing Frodo had ever given him before.

"If I'd known a mug or two of ale was all it took to bring you `round," he said with a gasp when they stopped, "I would've taken you with me to the Green Dragon days ago."

Frodo laughed. "I'm not drunk. I've just been thinking things over, and I've decided it's time." He slipped his fingers under one of Merry's braces to snap it, then crouched down for another kiss. "You've done it before, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't. I've been saving myself for marriage."

This made Frodo laugh again. "Honestly?"

"Not exactly," Merry admitted, "but I haven't done more than play around. What about you, you and your Sam?"

Frodo shook his head. "We never even went as far as you and I have." Then the corner of his mouth turned down and his eyes grew solemn. "You're always playing around, Merry. You make jokes in answer to everything. Aren't you ever serious?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Don't you feel anything sincerely in your heart?

"Of course I do! You know how I feel about you, but don't let's get all mushy about it." Merry didn't like the way this conver-sation seemed to be heading. Frodo wasn't going to get serious about him now, was he? He hoped not. What he needed was a distraction.

He bucked suddenly to throw Frodo off, then dove at him, fingers out. They rolled across the mattress, Merry tickling gleefully and Frodo shouting with laughter. Between more kisses, both of them struggled to shrug off their braces and undo the rest of their buttons, until Merry pinned his cousin beneath him, half-dressed and out of breath.

Frodo beamed up at him expectantly. "So, is this how you want to do it, Merry? You'd rather be on top?"

"I'm not particular. Whatever you'd like. We've got all night. We'll take turns." Merry ran one hand down Frodo's bare chest, and Frodo covered it with his own.

"Fair enough," he answered. "You can go first."

His hand remained over Merry's as it moved slowly downward to the waistband of his trousers; they were already unfastened, and Merry had only to tug down, then lowered his head. His mouth sought, found, and closed over its target.

Frodo gasped aloud and arched his back. "Merry!" His fingers gripped Merry's hair, gently at first, then more tightly as he began to writhe in increasing excitement, until Merry was afraid that he would yank out a handful by the roots. Fortunately, he was able to bring Frodo to a climax before he had to stop and say, "Ow!"

Afterwards, as he lay with his head on Frodo's belly, he asked, "How was that for a start?"

"Wonderful," Frodo answered, fingers still toying languidly with Merry's hair. "You've done that before?"

"Plenty of times." By all accounts, he was pretty good at it. "It's your turn next-"

"Merry..?"

Merry lifted his head to meet luminous blue eyes regarding him with that solemn look.

"Why not be mushy?" Frodo resumed their conversation. "I can't think of a better time for it. You do care for me--I know you do. You cared enough to stay with me when I was lonely. It matters to you what I think. Why are you afraid to say so?"

Merry sighed. In spite of his best efforts, Frodo hadn't been distracted. Well, what did he expect? A hobbit who read as much as Frodo did was always going to think too much and want to talk things over!

"Are you like this with all the boys you play with?"

"Every one of `em was a close friend, as dear to me as you are," Merry answered, "but what's the use of falling in love with boys?" He moved off Frodo and lay down so that they were side by side, facing each other. "You said yourself: one of these days, we'll grow up, be respectable, and marry nice, suitable girls. It's no good if I care more for you, or Pip, or somebody else I can't ever marry than I do for my wife, whoever she turns out to be. That's not fair to anyone. It's better not to be silly about it, better than moping the way you do over Sam now he's sweet on Rosie."

He expected Frodo to react indignantly to this little jab, but Frodo only said, "We don't have to marry, not if we don't want to. Uncle Bilbo never did, and I don't believe I will either."

"Then you'll end up alone, just as he did. Besides, it doesn't matter so much if you do or don't. You aren't the only son of the Master of the Hall, and don't have the whole heritage of the Brandybucks depending on you to produce an heir. I haven't even come of age yet, and Father's started in on reminding me of my duty to the family." Then Merry relented; he hadn't meant to be serious at all, and here he had ended up saying far more than he should have. "I'm sorry, Frodo. I don't want to quarrel with you. We were having fun. I thought that's what you wanted. Why can't we just have fun without calling it true love forever or some such rubbish? You're not in love with me, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Frodo answered honestly.

"Then we're even, so let's stop all this nonsense. We're friends, good friends who want to have a good time together. Now, will I have to take you back to the taproom for another mug to get you fired up again, or are we finished for tonight?"

"No..." Frodo's eyes flickered over his face, then he smiled. "We aren't finished yet. You're right, Merry. What's the point of being naughty if we can't have fun?"

It was a night for experiments. Curiosity and a sense of adven-ture drove them on to find new and more inventive ways to give each other pleasure; there were a few mistakes--and more than one startled yelp--but, by trial and error, they learned. When they slept at last, it was in a tangle of fully gratified exhaustion. They woke early the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the window, still wrapped up together, dark curls mingling with fair on the same pillow.

After an enormous breakfast to match their dinner of the previous night, they resumed their hike. Instead of staying on the main road, however, they turned as soon as they left the town onto a southward path that cut many miles off their journey.

The first part of the path led them through woodlands. As they went along, Frodo glanced over his shoulder once, then again. "I thought I heard something in the underbrush," he said after turning the second time.

"Probably a squirrel or rabbit."

"No, it was larger."

"A deer then." Merry peered into the trees that crowded either side of the path, but he saw nothing. He stooped to pick up a rock and flung it with his usual accuracy into a nearby clump of brush, but there was no startled movement in response. Not even a bird took flight. "Whatever it was, it must have gone."

They walked on. By the time their path crossed the broader road to Stock, the land was clear again; the woods had ended and they walked between open fields of oats and corn.

Merry stopped at a gap in a hedgerow. "There's a short-cut here," he announced. "If we cut across this field, we can go around by the Maggot farm."

"Is old Farmer Maggot still there?" Frodo asked nervously.

"Yes, he's there." Merry smiled, guessing the reason for his cousin's apprehension. "You're thinking of the time just before you went off to live with Bilbo, when we stole those mushrooms, aren't you?"

Frodo nodded, a little embarrassed to admit it. "And old Maggot set his dogs on us to chase us off the property. I've never dared to set a foot on his land since."

"I wouldn't worry," Merry assured him. "That was more than ten years ago, and I doubt he'd remember you after all this time. Besides, we don't have to go near the farmhouse. I know a path that goes along the Stockbrook, and comes out at the lane to Bucklebury Ferry. We needn't run into old Maggot at all. It'll be all right, and much quicker if we go this way. We'll be in Buckland in time to join them for dinner at the Hall, and we can settle down at the cottage tonight."

He went through the gap in the hedge and into the half-mowed cornfield beyond. Somewhat reluctantly, Frodo followed. Merry slipped an arm around his cousin's waist as they picked their way through the stubble of cropped stalks. They had just passed by a weather-worn scarecrow when he went on, "Mind you, it's a good walk before we get there. If you feel a bit peckish, we can pick up something to nibble on."

"Merry, no."

"Old Maggot won't grudge us a carrot or two, or some of those mushrooms-"

"Merry, no. No stealing."

"You're no fun, Frodo," Merry teased.

"Aren't I?" Frodo teased back. "You felt differently about that last night! If you behave yourself this once, Merry, I promise I'll make it up to you when we get to Crickhollow."

"You mean, if I'm good now, you'll be naughty later on?" Merry grinned at the prospect of another night--perhaps a half-dozen nights!--like the one they had spent at the inn.

"As naughty as you like," Frodo answered, and gripped Merry's coat-collar to draw him close for a kiss.

As they kissed, there was a sudden, violent rustle of leaves in the hedgerow behind them. With a cry of outrage, Sam burst through and rushed toward them. "You get your filthy hands off him!"

Before Merry knew what was happening, Sam tackled him and knocked him to the ground. They rolled over the cropped corn stalks, Sam shouting incoherently and pummeling him with both fists.

"Sam!" Frodo stood staring, eyes wide with horror, then he plunged in to try and separate them. "Sam, stop it! What do you think you're doing!" Grabbing Sam by the shoulders, he pulled as hard as he could to haul him off of Merry and, once he had gotten Sam down, sat on him. "What's all this about?" he demanded. "Have you been following us from Hobbiton?"

Sam was still huffing angrily, but he would not fight Frodo. "I left right after you did," he said. "I wanted to find out what he was up to with you--no good, I was sure of that. I stood under your window at the inn last night." He glared at Merry, who sat gingerly touching his bloody and rapidly swelling lower lip.

"Spying on us!" Merry shot back. "Just as you were at Bag End!"

"I heard it all!" Sam responded unashamedly to this accusation. "I know what went on, what you did with him!" Then he turned to look up at Frodo, eyes filling with tears, and sobbed, "Why'd you let him touch you?"

"What business is it of yours?" Merry retorted. "You didn't want him anymore. You've got someone else."

Sam bellowed and struggled to get up, but Frodo firmly held him down. "Sam, stop this ridiculous behavior right now! I won't put up with it! Merry, will you please leave us alone? You're only making him angrier. Let me try to calm him down."

Merry retreated to the edge of the field to straighten his rum-pled clothes and nurse his injuries. He watched Frodo lean down over Sam and speak to him softly--too softly for Merry to hear. Whatever he said, it had a soothing effect, for when Frodo let Sam up, Sam no longer seemed eager to fight. Merry kept his distance, just to be safe, while the two sat together beneath the scarecrow, Frodo with one arm around Sam's shoulders, head close to his. They went on talking quietly. Sam began to cry.

After awhile, Frodo placed a gentle kiss on Sam's temple and gave him a handkerchief to blow his nose and dry his eyes, then came over to speak to Merry.

"Sam's very sorry he hit you--aren't you, Sam?" Frodo raised his voice at this last, and looked back toward Sam.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled sullenly, but the glowering look on his red and tear-streaked face made Merry doubt that the apology was sincere.

"He lost his temper when he saw us together," Frodo explained. "He's jealous. We've had a little talk, and said a few things that ought to have been said some time ago. We've come to an agreement." He met his cousin's eyes. "You said one true thing last night, Merry: I'm not in love with you. I know where my heart lies." And he glanced back at Sam again.

Merry had guessed as much already, but he was surprised at the pang of sadness he felt in hearing Frodo say it. It looked like he cared more than he wanted to admit.

"I'm going back to Hobbiton with Sam," Frodo continued. "I don't know how this will end. Maybe Sam will marry his Rosie someday, but he's sees that he can't think of it as long as he feels this strongly about me. We'll enjoy whatever time we have together... just as you and I did. I'm sorry, Merry, that I won't be going to Crickhollow with you."

"Think nothing of it," Merry assured him. "You'd only miss out on a bit of fun. That's all."

Frodo smiled. "At least, I've had one night away from Bag End. Thank you, for that." Under Sam's scowling gaze, he gave Merry a swift peck on the cheek. "Will you make my apologies to your mother? Tell her I'll come for a visit some other time." Then he stepped away slowly and returned to his friend. He took Sam's hand, and they headed for home.

Merry sighed, then went on in the opposite direction, toward his own home. He decided he'd pick up some of Farmer Maggot's mush-rooms after all, and maybe ride down to Tuckborough in a few days to see what Pippin was doing.