Five hobbits in colorful clothing were performing tumbling tricks in the market square when Frodo, Merry, and Pippin arrived in Bree. Pippin burst into a smile, the first in many days, when he caught sight of these acrobats.

"It's the Trufoots!" he identified them. "Mr. Grimmold's circus must be in town." He jumped down from his pony and left it in front of the Prancing Pony Inn while he went over to watch the show. Merry and Frodo also dismounted and left their ponies with a stable-lad who had emerged from the inn's courtyard before they joined him.

Frodo wasn't as familiar with Mr. Grimmold's circus troupe as his cousins were. He'd only seen them once, when he'd discovered who was behind the "haunting" in Green Hill Wood and the curse on Noddy Ferndingle's farm, while Pippin had made friends with the troupe during their stay in the Shire and Merry had traveled with them to Minas Tirith.

He didn't recall the Trufoots, but as he watched the show in the square, he observed that the family consisted of a mother and father, two grown lads, a half-grown girl, and a boy barely in his tweens. All performed the most astonishing stunts, and drew gasps of surprise and bursts of enthusiastic applause from their audience. The whole party formed pyramids and towers by standing on each other's backs or shoulders. The older lads walked along a single rope drawn taut overhead between two tall poles--Frodo had seen Elves do this same trick crossing a river in Lothlorien, and these hobbits were as sure-footed if not as graceful--and caught balls tossed up to them by their parents to juggle or balance on their noses or bounce off their heads in an unusual and amusing game of "catch." The youngest boy did somersaults, flips, and cartwheels, and vaulted himself with the aid of his mother onto a chair held aloft by his father. The girl rode standing on the bare-backed pony Moondancer, did handstands, and in an awe-inspiring finale, jumped through a barrel-hoop set on fire. The hat that Mr. Trufoot passed around at the end of the show was quickly filled.

As the crowd dispersed, Frodo found other members of the troupe in the square, people he recognized: Nobold Ferndingle, Dorryk Thistlecombe, the Big joungler whose name he didn't know, and a woman named Griselma. With them was another familiar face Frodo hadn't expected to see, a ginger-haired hobbit-miss with the distinctive fox-like features of a Took.

Pippin saw her too. "Look--there's my sister!" He waved to draw her attention. "Hoy, Pimmy! Pim! Over here!"

Pimpernel Took, hearing her name, looked around until she found her brother, and waved in return. "Pip!" She quickly skirted the edges of the thinning crowd to come over and give him a hug. "I didn't hope to see you along this road--and you've found them! How wonderful!" Frodo and Merry also each received a hug. "I'm so sorry about your father, Merry, but it's good to see you've come back. All the Brandybucks will be terribly happy to have you home."

"But what are you doing so far from home, Pimmy?" Pippin asked her.

"I'm having my own adventure," she answered. "Are you lads stopping at the inn tonight? Come have dinner with me and I'll tell you about it."

They went into the Prancing Pony. The innkeeper, Mr. Butterbur, recognized the new arrivals, although he was hard pressed to recall their names. "Welcome, little masters!" he greeted them. "It's Mr. Underhill- No, it was another name, wasn't it? Yes, Baggins, that's right. And Masters Brandybuck and Took. Oh, I'd remember you, even if I didn't have Miss Took here to remind me. Wasn't there another one with you before?"

"Yes, there was," answered Frodo, "but he didn't come along this time."

"And where've you been off to? Ah, to see the King? Well now, that is fine, and you must tell us all the news while you're here. The lad's taken your ponies in and seen to 'em, has he? You'll be wanting a good dinner right away and a room for night. We're nearly full up with the circus-folk and we're that busy with all sorts of travelers from west, north, east, and south now that that bad lot's been driven off, but I'm sure I can find a nice, hobbit-sized bed or two for you. You'll want the ground floor, I take it?"

"We'll be happy to take whatever's available," said Merry, "We've gotten used to sleeping upstairs, but a hobbit bed would be nice after so many months among the Bigs, if you have any empty."

Mr. Butterbur promised to do what he could. In the meantime, the hobbits were shown into a small, private parlor, where their dinner was served--a very welcome meal after the long journey with its daily way-bread and dried fruit.

"Now tell us what happened," Pippin said to his sister once the platters of food had been set on the table and the servant had left the room. "It has to do with Ferdi, doesn't it? Did he jilt you?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Pim retorted. "If anything, I jilted him, only we weren't betrothed in the first place." She turned to Merry and Frodo to explain. "I don't know how much of it you know about, but you must've seen a bit when you visited Tuckborough. Five unmarried girl-cousins, and Ferdi. One of us had to catch him sooner or later. At least, Father and Mother, Uncle Addy, and Ferdi's parents left us to sort it out for ourselves rather than try to make a match. Well, this summer past, with all Uncle Addy's daughters married off or spoken for, it was left up to Peri and me."

"That's where it was when I left," said Pippin. "Mother was sure you'd be betrothed before the summer was out."

"Mother only thought it ought to be me because I'm older than Peri and should get first dibs," Pim answered. "But when it came to the point, I wasn't so keen on Ferdi after all. Oh, he's a nice lad, handsome, funny, and he liked the things girls do and doesn't like boys the way you lads do, but I didn't feel like I wanted a husband just yet. I wanted to go and see a bit of the world first. I could do the sensible, respectable Bankish thing, marry Ferdi, and never leave Tuckborough for the rest of my life, or I could do the Tookish thing and run off with a traveling circus--and you see which I've chosen! The circus was in Michel Delving for the Lithetide fair. I went up to see them, since we became such friends with them last winter, and when they went off, I asked if I could come along. I'm learning how to juggle! Besides, Peri cares for Ferdi much more than I do, so I thought I'd better leave them to it. If they aren't married by the time I return to the Shire, it won't be my fault. Now, what have you boys been up to?"

Merry was just beginning to answer the question, when there was a knock at the door and Dorryk and Nobold peeked in.

"We saw you arrive," said Nob, "but Miss Pim dragged you off so quickly, we didn't have a chance to say hello before."

"Everyone's in the common room," added Dorryk. "They've all heard you're here, and they're looking forward to seeing you again. Mr. Grimmold'd like it so much if you'd come out to see his magic lantern show when it gets dark."

"I've seen it," said Frodo.

Dorryk laughed. "That was only practice! Mr. Grimmold's improved things since then. You must come!"

When they finished their dinner, the group of cousins went into the common room, where they were greeted by the troupe: Big Folk, hobbits, dwarves, the yapping dogs, and Mr. Grimmold himself, who was smaller than a hobbit even though he was of the race of the Big Folk. He had a pointed beard and wore thick-heeled boots, and had a voice of command that many men twice his size would envy.

There were other people in the common room, Big Folk and hobbits, and a party of dwarves. The Big Folk and hobbits were mostly local folk who had come into the Inn for an ale or two per their usual evening custom. The dwarves, who were only passing through, sat by themselves at a table in the corner, discussing their own business. They seemed surprised to see others of their kind among the troupe. Another couple, a man and woman, sat in the opposite corner; Frodo first assumed they were Bree-folk, for he had seen them in the square, watching the acrobats, but he soon learned they were also travelers staying at the Inn. They observed the odd collection of people around them with fascination.

The acrobats had changed out of their colorful and fanciful clothes after their performance and looked like any ordinary hobbit-family seated together at dinner. The Trufoots were well known to Pippin and Merry; Pim introduced them to Frodo: "This is Mrs. and Mr. Trufoot, their eldest son Fergold, their daughter Miss Larkspur, and the little lad is Linden. And this..." She took the second son by the arm and brought him forward, "is Campion."

Frodo had the distinct impression that Pim was presenting this last hobbit-lad in particular, and he guessed that there was more to her reasons for deciding not to marry Ferdi and leaving with the troupe than she had told them.

Campion was a pleasant-faced young hobbit of about forty, tallish, fair-haired, and on the slender side, as befitted his acrobatic profession. "A pleasure, Mr. Baggins," he bowed to Frodo. "Miss Pim talks a lot about you."

His parents were more outspoken. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Baggins," Mr. Trufoot greeted him with a chuckle. "Though you don't remember us, do you, lad?"

Frodo confessed that he didn't, and made the older hobbit laugh.

"We were in on the pranks that night," his wife explained with the same note of merriment. "You remember--When we sent you and that friend of yours chasing after Mr. G's tricks and fancy lights. Oh, we were all in on that fun, except for Nob, who wasn't well, poor dear, and might've taken a worse chill running about the woods of a winter's night. It was raining too, as I recall."

"You ought've seen your faces!" Fergold added.

The room was soon filled with laughter. Even Merry, Pippin, and Pim joined in, as the Trufoots and other members of the troupe described the elaborate prank the circus had played on Frodo and Sam that November night nearly two years ago. And, although he hadn't found it funny at the time, Frodo had to laugh too.

"But the biggest joke of all was when you came to call upon us the next day," said Dorryk. "Nobody expected that."

"We didn't know who you were then," Mr. Grimmold said. "I think we would've been more careful about who we played tricks on if we did."

"But if you hadn't played tricks on Frodo and Sam, we would never have met you," said Pippin. "I can't be sorry for that."

Frodo had expected to have a restful evening at the Prancing Pony after the ride from Rivendell, and before he and his cousins set out on the last leg of their journey home, not such a boisterous welcome. But it was pleasant to be in the company of friendly and familiar people, and to be among hobbits again. They'd even found family in the form of Pim. Of all the places he had been in the great world, Bree was the most like the Shire. After being away so many months, the sight of the round doors of hobbit-holes dotting the slope of Bree Hill above the buildings of the town had brought tears to his eyes as well as a pang of homesickness.

Although the Shire was one hundred miles away, Frodo could feel how close they were now. Almost home--it was only a matter of days. He would see Sam again. The thought brought another pang of longing, and he wondered: What happens then? He had so much to tell his friend. So much to explain. He still wasn't certain how he would manage it.

Before they went out to see the magic lantern show, the trio were shown up to the only accommodation Mr. Butterbur could find for them, a small gable room on the top floor of the inn over the stables. A single bed was pushed under the little window at the jointure of the slanted walls.

"We don't have call to use it much," said Mr. Butterbur, ducking as he showed the hobbits in. "The Big Folk say it's too cramped and the ceiling's too low, and the Little Folk don't like to be so high up off the solid ground. There's only the one bed, but it's big enough for two or three hobbits to sleep, if you don't mind a bit of crowding."

"It'll be fine," Frodo assured him. "We're only going to be here one night."

After Mr. Butterbur had gone, Pippin picked up his bag. "I won't crowd you," he told Merry and Frodo. "I'll get out and leave you two alone--it's what you've wanted since we left Minas Tirith. I'll find a bed somewhere else. Nob and Dorryk won't mind if I sleep with them."

"Pippin, we don't mind, honestly-" said Frodo, but Pippin was already heading out the door.

Frodo looked desperately at Merry, who shrugged and said, "Can you blame him? It can't be easy for him, being around us now."

"But we aren't doing anything. All I want a bed for tonight is a good night's sleep."

"That doesn't matter."

Except for a few nights in Rivendell, he and Merry hadn't spent any time privately together since the beginning of their journey. Frodo hated to make even the most innocent show of affection in front of Pippin and deliberately hurt his feelings. But he saw that Merry was right. Knowing that they'd become lovers must make Pippin uncomfortable, and unless Merry went back to Pippin--which Merry didn't seem inclined to do--there was no way to make it up to him.

At dusk, they went out to see the show in a field outside of town. It began with a giant head that appeared from a bank of billowing white smoke and emitted flashes of lightning from its eyes as it spoke thunderous words of welcome; the head reappeared at intervals throughout the show to tell jokes and sing popular pub songs, and encouraged the audience to join in. The low-lying mists on the field were set aglow with a bright orange light that made it look as if it were a sea of fire, and the Big joungler spun and tossed dangerous-looking flaming batons up into the night sky, but somehow neither he nor the grass ever caught fire. Griselma did a dance in white robes, accompanied by haunting flute music and similarly white misty figures that floated around her and mimicked her movements. The show concluded with a flock of flittering lights shaped like enormous butterflies in a multitude of colors. Frodo enjoyed these tricks much more while sitting comfortably under the trees at the edge of the field than he had running around a forest on a cold night, lost, bewildered, and frightened.

When they returned to the Inn, he went up to bed after one half-pint in the common room. Merry stayed downstairs awhile longer with Mr. Grimmold, Butterbur, and others who were eager to hear news of the new King and the goings-on in Minas Tirith.

Frodo was nearly asleep when Merry came into the room, undressed, and climbed into bed without bothering to fish a nightshirt out of his pack. He soon woke, however, when Merry lay down behind him. A hand fell on his thigh, then tugged up on his nightshirt to bare his backside, run appreciatively over one firm curve and give it a squeeze.

"What a nice little bottom you have," Merry murmured, and snugged his hips in close.

"I suppose it is, thank you," Frodo answered drowsily, wriggling to press back in a reflexive response to the familiar sensation. "I've never seen it myself." As he rolled over and threw an arm around Merry's neck, Merry gave him a wet kiss that tasted strongly of ale. He'd obviously had at least one more pint since Frodo had left him, and was feeling rather frisky with it.

"I've just been telling everyone about you," Merry said.

"Not about my bottom!"

Merry laughed. "No--about how you found the poisoner, and about the ghost of that Elf buried in the wall. They never heard such a tale before!"

"What about Pippin?" asked Frodo. "Is he still downstairs? Did he find a place to sleep?"

The question had a dampening effect on Merry's ardor. "He's all right," he said, and flopped back onto the mattress with a sigh. "The other hobbits have taken him in. He'll be happier with them."

"I wish you'd make it up with him, Merry. Be friends, at least."

"Do you want me to go back to him?"

"I'll understand if you do," Frodo answered. "I know how you love him."

"And you'd go home to Sam."

"No. Whether or not I am with you, I think it's better I leave Sam and Rose and the baby alone to make their own family without me. Besides, I promised you I'd stay on in Buckland." Frodo had chosen the relative peace and solitude of the cottage at Crickhollow over the crowd at Brandy Hall, but he wanted to be nearby for Merry's sake. He knew that Merry was still grieving over his father's death, and would have a difficult time adjusting to being the new Master of the Hall.

"Then we might as well go on as we are." Merry said, and pulled Frodo close for another kiss, not as heated as before, but with a certain determined urgency. Frodo conceded that he wasn't going to get as much rest tonight as he'd planned.

Later in the night, a loud series of thumps woke them. Merry groaned and Frodo folded a pillow around his head. The neighbors were being awfully noisy at such a late hour!

Frodo woke the next morning to the sound of a commotion in the hallway outside his room. Several people were talking at once, voices rising, then a number of booted feet headed quickly away to the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

"What's going on now?" he wondered aloud.

Merry grumbled incoherently and turned over to go back to sleep.

Frodo got up and dressed to go and find out. He went downstairs and headed toward the public rooms at the front of the Inn, and ran into Mr. Butterbur and Mr. Grimmold standing at the door to the little man's room, in the midst of an argument; Mr. Grimmold was indignant and the innkeeper apologetic, but firm.

"But we were to stay on here until the end of the week!"

"That's as may be. You can find lodgings elsewhere, but you can't stay here another night. Now I'm sorry, Mr. Grimmold, but I've got my other guests to think of and the reputation of my house. I must ask your people to leave and not come back. Not them Trufoots, at any rate. They aren't welcome here anymore."

When they saw Frodo, both stopped. Mr. Butterbur said, "Good morning, Mr. Baggins. You're up early--What can I get for you?"

"You can tell me what's happening," Frodo answered, looking from one man to the other. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, something's wrong, all right!" Mr. Grimmold replied heatedly. "This fool suggests we are thieves!"

"Now I never meant you personally, Mr. Grimmold," Butterbur said. "All the years you've been my guests here at the Pony, I never had complaint of you nor your people before."

"But you've asked the troupe to leave," said Frodo. "Why?"

"I've got to. There's been things taken from three rooms where some of the other guests are staying."

"The people down the hall from us?" Frodo guessed, thinking of the commotion that had awakened him.

"Yes, that's right. All the rooms that've been burgled are up at the top o' the house, over the stables."

"What makes you think the circus folk are responsible?"

"Well, they say their doors were locked when they went to bed, but the windows were open. Nobody could've gotten into those rooms, except by way of a trick," the innkeeper explained.

"We've never been thieves!" Mr. Grimmold protested this accusation. "Of course we play tricks--that's our living--but we never take what isn't freely given."

Frodo could recall one incident that belied that statement, but he also acknowledged that Mr. Grimmold's principles might be flexible enough to make a distinction between stealing the property of other guests at the Inn and borrowing Noddy Ferndingle's farm for the winter without Noddy's knowledge or permission.

"Mr. Baggins!" Mr. Grimmold fixed him with a shrewd and penetrating eye, as if he knew what Frodo was thinking. "I've seen for myself that you're quite the detective. Last night, your cousin Master Merry was telling us all how successful you've been in investigating the death of that lord who was poisoned in Minas Tirith when we were there last winter. The King himself sent for you personally to find the poisoner. I'm no king, even among my own people, but I have to look out for their welfare just the same. If we aren't welcome here any longer, it'll be a great blow to our livelihood. We do our best business in Bree and Dale, and Bree's the only place where the Big and Little Folk can all find a comfortable place to rest. Many of my people have family here. If we get a reputation for disreputable practices, we can't show our faces in this part of the world again. No one will want to see the show. We'll become outcasts. You're interested in seeing things put right, aren't you, Mr. Baggins?" he asked beguilingly. "You wouldn't want to see an injustice done."

"Nobody wants an injustice done," Mr. Butterbur interjected, won over by this persuasive speech.

"Then you won't object if Mr. Baggins looks into this accusation you've falsely laid against us? If anyone can get at the truth of this matter, it is he," Mr. Grimmold said to Butterbur, then turned to Frodo. "You will do it, won't you? I know it's a small problem compared to the great crimes you're used to, but it is extremely important to me and my people that our names are cleared."

Frodo knew what scoundrels and mischief-makers the troupe could be, but he didn't want to see them punished for something they hadn't done. "I'll do this much," he answered. "If Mr. Butterbur has no objection, I'll investigate these thefts and do my best to find the culprits, whether they're your people or someone else."

"Can't say fairer'n that," said Mr. Butterbur. "Give it your best then, Mr. Baggins, and I'll abide by what you find."

The guests who'd been robbed were waiting impatiently in the common room. As the innkeeper returned, bringing Frodo with him, they swiftly gathered around. There were two pairs, a man and woman, and two men. Frodo had seen them in this same room the night before.

"Have you spoken to the circus folk?" one man demanded, and looked down at Frodo. "Is this the one? He was among them last night."

"This is Mr. Baggins, who's kindly agreed to look into this for me," Mr. Butterbur explained. "You've heard tell of how he's worked for kings and elves and such among the great."

The guests continued to regard Frodo dubiously; Frodo guessed that hobbits were an unfamiliar sight to them.

"Now, I've had a word with Mr. Grimmold, who runs the circus," Mr. Butterbur continued. "He says none of his people had anything to do with these burglaries, even those acrobats."

"Fiddlesticks!" one of the other guests snorted. "We saw those little people jumping around like fleas on a griddle and walking on ropes same as they would on a broad street! Getting into a top-floor room'd be nothing to the likes o' them."

"Only last night in this very room, they were bragging about the tricks they've pulled," his companion added. "Everybody heard them! What do you intend to do about this, Innkeeper? Aren't you going to have them arrested?"

"Aren't you at least going to see if they have our property?" the woman asked.

"I mean to do just that," Mr. Butterbur assured them hastily, and Frodo was certain that the idea had not occurred to him.

"May I ask," the hobbit ventured, "what was taken from each of your rooms?"

The foursome stared at him, since he hadn't spoken before, but they answered his question. Frodo made a list: two purses containing money, a garnet ring, cloak pins, a knife with a jeweled hilt, and a few other easily pocketed trinkets. He also obtained the names of both couples; the man and woman were a husband and wife named Tillerman, and the other two were brothers named Nikal and Torven Sarty. They had all come up from Cardolan in search of work.

"What about the other people?" Frodo asked. "You said three rooms were burgled, Mr. Butterbur. Who was in the third?"

"To be sure, there was another couple," said Mr. Butterbur, looking around the room in wonderment. "I left them here, not a minute ago."

"They went out," said Mrs. Tillerman.

"Are they friends of yours?" asked Frodo.

"No, but we came up the Greenway together. We weren't acquainted before, but when you find yourself going along the same road with other people, it's only civil to strike up conversation." The group had begun to be more helpful once they realized that Frodo was more likely to recover their property for them than the well-meaning but befuddled innkeeper.

Mr. Butterbur, to placate everyone, offered to give them their breakfasts free of charge. While the other guests were taken to the innkeeper's own private room above the kitchens, Frodo's breakfast was set in the same little parlor where he'd had his dinner the night before. As he ate his bacon and eggs, Frodo could hear the voices of Mr. Grimmold and others through the closed door, and guessed that the circus manager was telling his people what had happened.

Pim came in. "I've just heard the awful news. Mr. Grimmold says you're going to prove that Campion and his family had nothing to do with this."

"I've agreed to investigate," Frodo confirmed circumspectly. He knew little about the Trufoots except that they were talented acrobats and friends of his cousins. He had also seen enough to believe that Pim was indeed sweet on Campion. As much as he hated to disappoint her, he had his doubts about their innocence.

Pim sensed his reluctance. "Oh, Frodo, you don't think they did it?"

"I can't say Yes or No yet. I'm going to have a look around and talk to a few people this morning and I'll find... whatever I find. You have to remember, Pimmy, what sort of tricks the circus was up to when I met them--trying to frighten a dim-witted farmer off his land so they could have the use of it. They may have nothing to do with these thefts, but I know what they're capable of."

"You're not being fair, Frodo! Oh, I knew the tale of how they haunted the Green Hill Wood even before I heard it last night, but whatever mischief they were up to when you first saw them, they're good people at heart. They meant no harm to Noddy, and they certainly wouldn't steal from a place like this, where it would do them more harm than good. They're leaving, you know."

Pippin had come in while his sister was speaking. "The troupe isn't going away already, Pimmy?" he asked as he helped himself to tea.

"They'll be in the neighborhood for awhile, until this matter is cleared up," she answered, "but Mr. Grimmold says it's better if they aren't here at the Inn in case something else happens. That way, they can't be blamed. But I'm not under suspicion. I'm staying to see that our friends are vindicated. It wasn't them, Frodo. Larkspur certainly had no part in it," Pim resumed her defense of the Trufoots. "I've been sharing a room with her, and I can swear that she never stirred from her bed last night."

"And Campion and Fergold were in with us," Pippin volunteered.

"They didn't get up in the night?" Frodo asked him.

"Never once as far as I know."

"And how did you sleep, Pippin? I know you were upset when you left us. You didn't have too many ales?"

Pippin's face turned red as he remembered why he'd been upset. "Only one or two pints," he answered defensively, "no more than Merry had. I slept in the bed closest to the door, and it creaks. I would've heard if anybody went in or out past me."

Mr. Butterbur, accustomed to supplying for the ravenous appetites of hobbits, sent in another large platter of bacon and eggs and racks of fresh, hot toast for his guests. Merry had come downstairs to join them by then and, while they ate, Frodo explained to his cousin what had happened and why he was going to remain in Bree to investigate this theft.

"It may take a few days. You and Pippin don't have to stop with me, Merry," he told them. "We're quite close to the Shire now: If you leave after breakfast, as we originally planned, you can reach the Hay Gate by tomorrow night and be at Brandy Hall in another day."

"I'm in no hurry to go home that quickly," Merry answered. "They know I'm on my way, and another day or two won't matter. I'll stay here with you, Frodo, until this is done."

"I'll stay too," said Pippin.

"Thank you." Frodo smiled at them both, then asked, "You all know the troupe better than I do. Will you tell me--and please answer honestly and don't try to protect anyone. I must know: besides the Trufoots, who else could have climbed up into a top-story window by use of poles or ropes or some other trick?"

All three of his cousins were silent as they considered the unpleasant question. Pippin spoke first. "Mr. Joffey, the joungler, might do it. He's as good a tumbler as any of the Trufoots, and twice as tall. And Dorryk knows some tumbling tricks. Nob might too. Griselma's no tumbler, but she works with Mr. Grimmold on his conjuring tricks, and she can run and jump and climb like a cat."

"What about Fordis and Garfi, the two dwarves?" suggested Merry. "They couldn't climb a wall, but they're both great tinkerers and tinsmiths, and could pick the lock on any door."

"But all this is nonsense," Pim said. "Of course, none of our people did it, Frodo."

"Who then?" asked Merry. "Someone else outside the troupe?"

Frodo shook his head. He didn't know yet, but he thought he would begin by having a look around.

While his cousins were finishing their breakfasts, Frodo went out to explore the Prancing Pony. How would any member of the troupe reach the rooms that had been burgled? Could anyone else have come in from outside the inn during the night?

The inn was built as a square around a cobbled courtyard, entered via an archway that opened onto the high street before the town square. A double wooden door could be closed and barred over this entrance; Frodo made note to ask Mr. Butterbur if it had been shut last night. The front door was within the arched passage, to the left as one entered, and the offices and public rooms were on the ground floor in the front and the forward part of the west wing. The rooms for hobbits were behind, separated from the public rooms by a door. The back of the inn was dug into the side of Bree Hill; the hobbit rooms overlooked the courtyard and the windowless rooms on the other side of the corridor were used for storage and wine cellars. Rooms for the Big Folk were on the floor above. Only one other door besides the front door led out of the inn, a side door on the western side that opened into an alley.

Frodo looked at the rooms the other hobbits were staying in first. Mr. Grimmold was also lodged in this part of the inn, in a snug little room to himself, the only room on the outer side of the building. Frodo peeked in, but the circus manager had already gone and taken his belongings out.

The room where Pippin and the circus lads had spent the night was next. This was the same room that Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam had been given on their first visit to Bree, but hadn't slept in. When Frodo had last seen it, the beds had been turned up on their sides and all the bedding shredded by the sharp swords of the Black Riders, intent on killing them all. Today, the room was only as messy as the occupation of five careless young hobbits could make it. The beds were unmade, and clothes lay scattered. The Trufoot brothers had gone, but Dorryk and Nob were still gathering up their things to pack as quickly as possible.

"Well, you've heard all about it, Mr. Baggins. We've got to be off right away," Nob lamented. "Mr. Grimmold says we can't even stop for a proper breakfast!"

"Where are you going to go now?" Frodo asked them.

"Some cousins of mine let us have the use of a field," said Dorryk. "It's the same one as we had the magic-lantern show in last night, and they won't mind if we camp there for a day or two--as long as they don't hear about the lies told against us and believe them! If you want us, Mr. Baggins, and can't find the place by daylight, ask for Kitswillows."

After they had gone, Frodo examined the room. Although these rooms were meant for hobbits, they did not mimic the curved, tunnel-like walls and round doors and windows that were key features of Shire architecture; the walls went straight up, the corners were squared, and the windows tall, mullioned rectangles with rounded tops, but the furniture was of a comfortable size. After being so long among the much taller Men and Elves, Frodo found it pleasant to be in a room where everything did not tower over him.

As Pippin had said, the door creaked. There were four narrow wooden beds, two near the door and two others near the windows. Pippin's bed was obviously the one with his pack and yesterday's clothes lying on it.

The windows were in a bay with a wooden seat below; by climbing onto the seat, Frodo found that the latches on the windows were within easy reach. He swung open one casement to look out into the courtyard. Even a hobbit who wasn't a professional tumbler could easily jump down a few feet onto the cobblestones below.

In the courtyard, the circus waggon sat by the stable doors; the horses had been brought out to be hitched to it, along with the circus's other horses, ponies, and carts, and the pack of trained dogs. Although the troupe was assembled to depart, Mr. Butterbur apologetically insisted that they turn out their belongings before they left. Some protested, but Mr. Grimmold, determined to prove that his people were carrying nothing that wasn't theirs, agreed with him and had all their baggage brought out for inspection. He also invited the stable-lads to have a look in and under the waggon to be sure no stolen property was concealed there.

The stable made up the entire eastern wing of the inn on the ground floor, and there were more rooms on the two floors above it; the room Frodo and Merry were staying in was at the top and front of this section. There was no direct access to the stables from the guest rooms, and visitors to the inn must go out the front door or one of the doors that opened onto the courtyard and walk across to the stable entrance. Two stairways led from t one in the common room and the other at the end of the back corridor.

Frodo shut the window and left the room to look at the other rooms on the ground floor. All had the same windows, and would be just as easy to get in or out of. If the Trufoots or other members of the troupe were the burglars, he could understand why they would not touch these rooms, since their friends and fellow-travelers were lodged within. What reason would another thief have to pass them by? And what about the other guests at the inn? Had they been burgled too?

Next, Frodo went up the back stair to the rooms immediately above the stable. The party of dwarves were staying there, and were just getting up, hearing the commotion in the courtyard below. They were alarmed when Frodo told them about the thefts upstairs, and hastened to check their packs to assure themselves that none of their own property had been stolen in the night. But they were remarkably close-mouthed, even for dwarves, when he asked if they had anything valuable with them.

Last, he went up to see the rooms where the thieves had struck. On the top floor, there were three doors along the hallway on the side of the building overlooking the courtyard; the door to his own room was at the very end, up three steps and around a corner. The only door on the other side of the hall bore a heavy padlock, locked, and Frodo concluded that it must be used for storage.

"What are you doing there?" a sharp-toned voice asked behind him.

Startled, Frodo turned to find the woman from the missing couple standing in the doorway of the middle room. The man, presumably her husband, was in the room. Both regarded him with suspicion.

"I'm just having a look around," Frodo explained. "Mr. Butterbur has asked me to investigate these thefts."

"Did he?" the woman said doubtfully. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Frodo Baggins is my name, of Hobbiton in the Shire. I'm a professional investigator."

The man's expression brightened. "Of course--you're the one the other little fellow, the blonde one, was telling everyone about last night." He lay a hand on the woman's arm. "You didn't stay up to hear the stories, dear. He's solved murders for the King. I suppose we ought to consider ourselves lucky you happened to be here, Mr. Baggins, but there doesn't seem any doubt about who's broken into our rooms."

"Although why the innkeeper is letting them go off without calling for the local constable to arrest them, I can't imagine," added the woman.

"There really isn't any proof," Frodo explained. "They don't have the stolen items with them, Missus-?"

"Wetleaf," said the man. "I'm Elvar and this is Irida. We've come up from Tharbad."

"And you and the people in these other two rooms all came to Bree yesterday?"

"Yes, that's right," Mr. Wetleaf answered. "Everybody told us this was the place to stay 'til we settled ourselves in."

"Would you mind if I had a look at your room?" Frodo requested. He wanted to see all three, but thought it better to wait for Mr. Butterbur before he went into the other two.

The couple exchanged glances. "No, not at all," said Mrs. Wetleaf. "Look about all you like." She and her husband stepped out of the way to let Frodo enter.

The ceiling in here slanted downward on the western side beneath the roof, though not as sharply as in the gable room where he and Merry were sleeping. Instead of the small diamond-shaped window of the gable room, the rectangular windows here were the same as the ones downstairs, and set in a sort of box with a seat at the end of room; the roof was raised slightly over them to accommodate their height. There was one large bed, made up, two wooden chairs and a table; the couple's traveling bags sat on top of this.

"You locked your door last night?" Frodo asked, "but left the window open?"

"Yes, that's right," replied Mr. Wetleaf. "'Twas so warm last night, and we never thought anybody could come in that way, not so high up!"

"What was taken?"

"A little purse with some gold and silver, the money we meant to pay our way with, and more besides. Some trinkets that belonged my wife. An old cloak of mine."

This last item sounded the most unusual to Frodo. The other stolen property had some value, but what would a thief want with an old cloak on a warm summer night?

Mr. Butterbur came upstairs. "I see as you've got started in your investigating," he said when he found Frodo with the guests he'd been searching for.

"Yes, I thought it best to begin right away. Has the troupe gone?" Frodo asked.

"No, not yet. It seemed to me it'd be best if they stay on awhile longer. Mr. Grimmold's agreed to stop and let his people have a bite of breakfast. You two ought to go down and have a bite yourselves," the innkeeper offered the Wetleafs. "After such an upset as you've had this morning, it'll do much to settle you." It seemed that Mr. Butterbur considered a good meal the best solution to any problem. "I beg your pardon for the trouble you've suffered in my own house. I promise you, there's never been such thefts here before. I never saw anything like it, not since that bad business when those terrible creatures with their black horses and black robes came in that one night and tore up the room you and your friends was meant to be sleeping in, Mr. Baggins. You remember."

Frodo remembered it well, though he couldn't help noticing with amusement that the Wetleafs were much more alarmed by this tale than they were by the theft.

"That was when you took up with that Ranger-fellow, Strider," Mr. Butterbur also recalled. "A bad lot himself, I would've said, but it turns out he was somebody important."

"Yes, he was the last heir to the old northern kingdom. He's the King in Gondor now, you know."

"So you said before, Mr. Baggins, and it seems the oddest thing to me. Think of it!" No matter how often the innkeeper heard this same news, it was difficult for him to connect the disreputable character who used to wander the wilds and occasionally visit his inn with the great King who ruled far away in the south. The fact of it constantly befuddled him.

Frodo went to look out the windows. It was a straight drop of at least thirty feet. There were no ladders or trellises on the wall below the windows to be climbed, and the roofs of the lower wings of the Inn to the north and south weren't within easy reach.

Butterbur came over to join him. "You see how it is, Mr. Baggins. Only a trickster or tumbler could get in and out!"

"Yes, I see..." Frodo had to agree, and leaned farther out the open window to peer at the stones paving the courtyard a dizzying distance below. He wished he'd thought to examine the courtyard earlier, before the caravan had been brought out, for any sign of how someone could have scaled this wall. But he soon consoled himself with the observation that there had been dry weather lately and the cobbles were too hard to take any impression. Even the multitude of boots, bare feet, paws, and hooves that had tramped around the waggon left no marks.

He stood up on tip-toe, then climbed onto the window-seat to see if there was any means of getting in from other directions. The windows of the rooms on either side looked to be the same, with a squared dormer around the windows, and a gap of about three feet between each. If all the windows were open, it would be possible to swing from one to the next. It might even be possible to enter a window from the sloping part of the roof...

He tried to swing the window casement out as far as it could go to see, but the casement stuck and would not be budged. Frodo looked down, and noticed a scrap of brightly colored cloth wound tightly about the iron screw in the hinge. With a struggle, and with Mr. Butterbur holding onto the back of his waistcoat to ensure that he didn't tumble out the window while the Wetleafs watched anxiously, Frodo pulled it free.

He had seen this same polka-dotted pattern of red, yellow, and blue only yesterday, on the clothes the Trufoots had worn during their performance in the square.

Mr. Butterbur recognized it too. "There," he said. "That proves it! It must've been them!"

The innkeeper was all for confronting the troupe and demanding the return of the stolen goods, but Frodo convinced him to do nothing before the investigation had been completed. Anxious as he was to avoid summoning the town constable and have these thefts in his inn made public, Butterbur agreed to let Frodo have his own way. While the innkeeper took the Wetleafs down to have breakfast in his private sitting room with the other guests, away from the troupe, Frodo went to find Mr. Grimmold.

"Well, Mr. Baggins, what have you found?" the little man asked eagerly once Frodo had drawn his attention and called him away from the troupe, who were breakfasting in the common room.

"Only this." Frodo opened his hand to show the scrap of cloth. "It was caught in the frame of one of the windows upstairs. I'd like to find out precisely which costume it came from."

Mr. Grimmold nodded grimly. "All our bags are in the waggon. Let's go look."

They went out into the courtyard together, and Mr. Grimmold took down the baggage that belonged to the Trufoots. Frodo looked through them for the colorful acrobatic costumes and, when he found them, examined each piece for tears. Other members of the troupe had followed them out to see what was going on and watched the proceedings with growing nervousness. Their initial indignation at the accusation was fading and they were beginning to be afraid that one or more among them was actually guilty. As Mr. Grimmold had said, being known as thieves would ruin the reputation of the whole troupe and damage their prospects of being welcome in Bree in the future.

At last, Frodo found a pair of baggy polka-dot pantaloons with a long, narrow strip torn off just above the knee-cuff. Even before he compared the scrap to the ripped place, he could see that they were a match.

He held up the torn pantaloons. "Who do these belong to?"

Campion Trufoot stepped forward. "They're mine," he said. "But honestly, Mr. Baggins, I never did anything dishonest in 'em! D'you think I'd try such a stunt as climbing up to get in at people's windows in my good clothes, and let 'em get torn that way?"

"You changed out of your show-clothes right after last night's performance," said Frodo. "Have you worn them since?"

Campion shook his head.

"We were to have another show at midday, but we won't now, not with this trouble hanging over us," Mr. Trufoot said glumly. "People aren't like to give money to thieves. They're more like to throw rocks at us. But it wasn't my lad, Mr. Baggins, nor any of us!"

Frodo found himself inclined to believe it. While everyone else had taken the scrap of cloth as an obvious clue to the thief's identity, finding it had started a whole new line of thought in his mind. "Could someone else have worn them?" he asked Campion.

"I don't know," the young hobbit answered. "I put my good clothes over the chair by my bed afore dinner. Somebody might've took 'em, only they'd have to've put 'em back before we went in to bed, since they was still there then. I don't know how they got torn."

"I do!," his sister Larkspur cried. "Cam didn't tear his trousers committing any burglaries, Mr. Baggins. No, he tore 'em at the end of yesterday's show. I saw it myself, clear as anything. You did it, Cam, when you climbed down the pole your rope was tied up on."

"You know that's not where I found the piece that was torn away, Miss Trufoot," Frodo told her.

"I know," she answered, "but it's true all the same."

After Frodo, then Merry, had gone, Pim and Pippin remained in the little dining parlor even though they'd finished eating and the table had been cleared.

"Will you tell me one thing, Pip?" Pim asked once she and her brother were alone. "Have you quarreled with Merry? You were so eager to go when you promised Aunt Esme you'd find Merry and bring him home--I saw how badly you wanted to find him yourself. I thought you'd be happy when you were together again, but you aren't. You used to be such friends, always laughing together. You barely spoke a word to him over breakfast. What's happened, Pip? I wondered last night, when you came to sleep downstairs and left Merry upstairs sleeping with Frodo."

"I left them to sleep together because that's what they've been doing," Pippin answered. "They don't want me in their way."

It took Pim a moment to understand what he was saying, then her eyes went wide. "Merry and Frodo? But when? How?"

"While they were away. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"But I thought Merry was in love with you. Isn't that what all that fuss was about?"

"He says he's letting me go for my own good, so I can get married if I want to."

"Doesn't he know that your match with that little Diamond Took didn't come off as planned?"

"Yes, he's heard. Frodo told him all about it, and the other Di too, and how I said I'd wait for him to come back."

"Well then!"

Pippin sighed. "Waiting wasn't what I should've done."

"And so he's taken up with Frodo?" This was the part Pim found most hard to believe. "I had no idea Frodo was like you and Merry--although there was that friend of his who lives at Bag End now. I guess it is something all boys do, isn't it?" She laughed. "What a surprise for the Brandybucks when Merry gets home! They're afraid he'll go back to seeing you again, just as before."

Her brother shook his head miserably. "No chance of that."

Pim reached out to place a sympathetic hand on his arm. Pippin was about to tell her what he'd decided to do, when his sister turned in her chair, and noticed that was going on in the courtyard outside the parlor windows: Frodo was talking with several members of the troupe--holding, of all things, a pair of polka-dot pantaloons--when two Big men came out through one of the side doors of the Inn and pushed in among the group, shouting and shoving the circus folk out of the way as they headed for the waggon.

"Pip, look! Whatever's happening?"

They went out to see.

---

The Sarty brothers had sat upstairs in Butterbur's private parlor above the kitchens, observing the goings-on in the courtyard for as long as they could bear. Now, they'd come down to confront the supposed thieves.

"We know you took our things. We want them back!" the younger brother, Torven, shouted as the pair shoved their way through the gathered members of the circus troupe, which consisted mainly of women and children, many of them hobbits. There were other Big men among the group, the joungler Joffey and the dog-master Willowbright, but the Sarties were both large and broad-shouldered, and spoiling for a fight. When the dog-master tried to intervene, he received an elbow in the chest and was knocked to the ground.

"Give it back!" the elder brother, Nikal, insisted. "We don't care about the rest of it."

As the two headed for the waggon, Mr. Grimmold stepped up boldly to block their way. "We don't have what was stolen from you," he told them. "The thieves you're looking for aren't among us."

"The innkeeper's already searched the circus caravan and baggage," Frodo added. "He found nothing."

"No, nor would he," Torven retorted, glaring down at the small circus manager. "They're conjurers, aren't they? They could hide things in places we'd never find."

This same idea had occurred to Frodo. Pippin had once shown him some very clever tricks Mr. Grimmold had taught him, including how to make coins disappear inside a little wooden box with hidden compartments; larger trick-boxes could be made to conceal other items as effectively. But even when he'd been most suspicious of the troupe, he wasn't going to tear their waggon apart to search it. This was, he feared, just what the Sarty brothers intended.

"I know how we can find the hiding places, Tor. Let's start with this!" Nikal Sarty had reached the waggon and seized Mr. Grimmold's magic lantern, a heavy ironwork object with multiple apertures and frames of painted glass. Mr. Grimmold cried out and rushed forward to rescue his most valued possession. He grabbed the young man by the trouser leg, but Nikal kicked him back, and lifted the lantern above his head to smash it down on the cobbles and see what was inside.

It was Mr. Willowbright's ten-year-old daughter Kestrel who saved the day. While kneeling to help her father, she shouted to the dogs, "Hoy, wee ones, up you go!" just as she did when assisting him during a performance, and set the whole yipping pack upon the pair. At a few terse commands, the dogs quickly circled the Sarty brothers and danced up on their hind legs to paw at their knees and tangle underfoot, fixing them where they stood. The largest hound put its paws on Nikal's chest to pin him to the side of the waggon. Little Linden Trufoot scrambled up onto the steps of the waggon and, when Nikal lowered his upraised arm, snatched the lantern away.

Mr. Grimmold joined the young hobbit to collect his property before it could be damaged. "I'll take that, thank you, my lad," he said, then turned to scold the pinned Nikal. "I know you've had a shock, but that's no excuse for such bad behavior. Bullying people smaller than yourselves--you ought to be ashamed! My lamp had nothing to do with your misfortunes, and I daresay it's worth more than all you have and whatever you've lost."

Frodo realized that this was true. From his list of stolen items, he knew the Sarties had lost a purse containing a few copper and silver coins, and the pins from their cloaks. They weren't wealthy men--rather, they appeared to be farm-lads--but would they make such a scene over so little? Demanding their money returned would be reasonable, but this assault was not. For them to be this upset, Frodo suspected that the two brothers had lost something of greater value that they hadn't told him about.

Hearing the commotion, Mr. Butterbur came out. "There's always one thing and another to drive a man to the edge of his wits in the keeping of an inn, but it's never like this, not in an ordinary day!" he lamented, seeing this latest calamity. "I knew there'd be worse if you lot stayed on," he said to Mr. Grimmold, "but I can't see you off 'til this is settled one way or 'tother. Was there ever such a muddle? Now, let's have no more of this rough-house," he scolded the Sarty brothers next. "I don't want to bring the constable in, for them nor for you, not if it can't be helped. It does an inn no good to be called a place where troubles gather. You lads settle yourselves. Come have a pint, on the house, as it were, and leave Mr. Baggins to do his work. He'll find your things, you may be sure!" He gave the hobbit a meaningful look, silently pleading with Frodo to do so as quickly as possible. And, taking each of the Sarties by an elbow, he escorted them back into the Inn.

After the innkeeper had bustled the Sarties indoors, Frodo went over to Mr. Grimmold, who was sitting on the steps of the waggon, hugging the magic lantern to himself like a rescued child. This incident had shaken him severely. "You see, Mr. Baggins? That's the sort of treatment we can expect, if your investigation turns up that the Trufoots did steal from those clod-thumpers. It may be for the best if we leave Bree and don't return for awhile."

"Where will you go?" Frodo asked.

"Even before this accusation blighted us, I was think of taking my people to Minas Tirith for the winter," Mr. Grimmold replied thoughtfully. "We have a new audience there, a city full of generous people who haven't seen all our tricks yet. It's a long journey, but we could take the Greenway south and stop to have a show or two at the villages along the way. Young Mr. Took was telling me last night about the land of the horse riders," he nodded to indicate Pim and Pippin, who had come out in the midst of the excitement. "He said we might go through that kingdom, and find new friends there."

"Moondancer would be the biggest sensation," Pippin added, overhearing this last part. "They love anything to do with horses, and the king is a friend of ours."

"Then that's what we'll do," the circus manager decided. "If what you've found is any sign, Mr. Baggins, then our good innkeeper was right in his suspicions to begin with."

"Don't give up hope yet," Frodo told him, then turned to his cousins. "Where's Merry?" A small smile flickered on Pim's lips at the innocuous question.

"He's probably gone looking for you," said Pippin.

They stepped a few feet away from the caravan. "What did Mr. Grimmold mean?" Pim asked softly. "What did you find, Frodo?"

Frodo still held the scrap of cloth in his hand, and showed it to her. Both Tooks were distressed when they learned where Frodo had found it, and whose clothes it had been torn from.

"But it can't be Campion!" Pim insisted. "Pippin-" She looked to her brother.

"He didn't leave our room last night, Frodo--I'll swear to it," Pippin agreed.

"He didn't need to go past you and out the door, Pip." Frodo pointed at the low windows of the bedrooms on the ground floor. "Anybody could go in and out that way. If you were asleep, you would never have heard."

"But you told Mr. Grimmold not to give up hope," Pim said, and looked very hopeful herself.

"I have my doubts that Campion, or anybody else, scaled that wall," Frodo admitted. "Miss Trufoot claims that her brother tore his trousers at yesterday's performance. If so, we can find the proof of it. But before we go out to look, there are one or two questions I want answered. First, I want a word with those two-" He turned to glance at the door beside the kitchens, which Mr. Butterbur had taken the Sarties in through. "And I want to know more about the dwarves."

Pim remained in the courtyard to offer sympathy and encouragement to the Trufoots, while Frodo and Pippin went inside. Mr. Butterbur had taken the Sarties into the common room and filled a tankard of beer for each brother to appease their tempers. The two dwarves from the troupe were also there, at a table at the other end of the room, talking over the remnants of their breakfast. The two young men at the bar regarded them with wariness and ill-concealed hostility, but after their tangle with the little girl and her dogs, they weren't so eager to get into a second quarrel with this sturdier and more formidable pair. The elder Sarty scowled at the hobbits when they came in.

After a few questions to Mr. Butterbur, Frodo learned that the other robbery victims had gone out, but hadn't removed their belongings from the inn; they were determined to stay on until their property had been recovered and, in any case, they had nowhere else to go in Bree. The innkeeper had agreed to let them stay on without charge to make up for the crime they'd suffered under his roof.

Frodo also asked after the other dwarves, and learned that they were having their breakfast in the private parlor. Rather than question them, and probably not get the answers he was after, he sent Pippin over to ask Fordis and Garfi about their fellow dwarves instead. Both knew Pippin and were fond of him, and Frodo hoped they would want to help their friends in the troupe.

Nikal Sarty continued to scowl at him. "You're friends with those circus folk, aren't you?" he asked after Mr. Butterbur had gone into the kitchens to find a servant to clear the tables. "You and your kinsmen are always among 'em. You take their part in this, for all you're supposed to be getting our stolen things back for us. Who's side are you on, little lad?"

"I'm after the truth, Mr. Sarty, wherever it falls," Frodo answered. "I believe Mr. Grimmold and his people have been wronged in this as much as you have. I mean to find the thief who took your things, and recover what was taken--every bit of it--if you'll tell me all you lost."

"What more can we tell you?" asked Torven.

"We've said all we mean to," his brother said tersely.

"I think you've already said more than you intended." Frodo turned to Torven, and repeated the words the young man had spoken to the troupe in the yard. "'Give it back', you said. Give what? Something else was taken, wasn't it, something more important than the handful of copper coins in your purse. What was it?"

Nikal refused to answer, but after a moment's hesitation, Torven said, "A box. A little box of carved wood, locked. The key is still in my brother's pocket."

"And what's inside?"

"We don't know," said Nikal grudgingly, "only that it's worth a great deal."

"Our mother gave it to us when we left to seek our fortune," Torven explained. "She said it was a special treasure that belonged to our father. We were to take good care of it, for it might help us if we were inclined to follow him. We'll do anything to get it back."

"Did you tell your fellow travelers or anyone else here at the inn about this treasure you carried?" asked Frodo.

"Of course not!" said Nikal. "We're not such fools as that. We told no one."

"But we talked of it between ourselves," his brother admitted. "Both on the road north and in this very room last night. We discussed when we were to open the box, and agreed to wait 'til we'd come here to Bree and had need of it."

"I see, thank you," said Frodo. It was then that Mr. Butterbur returned, and looked relieved to see there hadn't been another fight in his absence. Pippin left the dwarves and came over to tell Frodo what he'd learned.

---

Merry, meanwhile, had gone out for walk. After so many weeks in close company with Frodo and Pippin, he wanted to be by himself for a little while, to think things through one last time before he finally reached his home. Like Frodo, he felt how near they were to the Shire, but he was in no hurry to cover those last hundred miles.

He was normally a cheerful and sanguine hobbit, not given to gloomy moods, but during this long journey, he'd begun to feel just as he did last summer, when he'd fled to Minas Tirith--restless and short-tempered. He didn't like feeling this way.

These emotions had been blunted at first by grief and a horrible sense of guilt that his behavior had brought about his father's death at so early an age. But as time had passed, he'd come to realize that if he had it all to do over again, he wouldn't have done anything differently: he wouldn't have stopped loving Pippin, wouldn't have married Estella Bolger or any other girl picked out for him, and wouldn't have stayed in the Shire. It wasn't in his nature to do otherwise, no matter what his father had wished. He was only sorry that they hadn't had some sort of reconciliation before Saradoc had died. Now that grief had subsided, these other feelings crowded in on him.

He heartily wished he could have stayed in Minas Tirith. He'd been happy there this past year: he'd become an informal representative of the Shire, an aide to the King, and once Frodo arrived to hunt for the poisoner who'd been terrorizing the city, he'd found some excitement and adventure too... and the two of them had achieved another kind of happiness together.

As much as he would have liked to remain in the city indefinitely, he had little choice but to return home. Frodo had wanted to go and, with his father dead, Merry was needed in Buckland. He'd avoided his duties to his family for long enough. Already, he felt the burden of the responsibilities he would have to assume as Master of the Hall, and how unready he was for them.

And then there was Pippin, who was not the only one miserable about their current situation. Merry was just as miserable. Who would have thought he could be so unhappy in the company of the two people he loved best in all the world?

He and Frodo had been happy in Minas Tirith, but it was much more difficult with Pippin always nearby. All during this journey, he'd been pushing Pippin away as much as he could, when what he really wanted to do was pull him close, hug him hard, and say he was sorry for treating him so badly.

It would be so easy to go back to the way they'd been before if he let himself do it, but he knew that if they did, they'd only be exactly where they'd been last year when he'd gone away--and worse, for he couldn't go running about the Shire with Pippin as he used to when they were carefree boys. He was bound to Brandy Hall now, as Pippin was bound to Tuckborough and his family there. Merry told himself over and over again that it was for the best, for both Pippin and himself, that they part. At the same time, he was afraid he was being an incredible fool.

By this time, Merry had walked along the main road through Bree until he'd reached the southern end of the town. Just before the gate was a cluster of little shops. As he stopped to turn back, he caught a glimpse of a man through the windows of one shop, a locksmith's, speaking to the locksmith; it was a face he thought he recognized, but couldn't place.

As he went to the window to look more closely, the man brought out a little purse that he kept tied at his waist beneath his tunic, and gave the locksmith a couple of coins.

No, Merry decided he didn't know this man, not by name, but he thought it was someone he'd seen in the common room of the Pony last night. The room had been quite crowded with guests and residents of Bree. He turned away and headed back for the Inn, and didn't give the man another thought.

When Merry returned to the Prancing Pony, he was surprised to see his three cousins standing in the square before the inn, gathered around a tall wooden pole and peering up at it as if there were something fascinating on top.

When Frodo noticed him, he smiled. "Ah, Merry--good! I wondered where you'd gone. We may need your help if we're to reach the top of this thing."

"Why do you want to do that?" Merry looked up, but didn't see anything particularly interesting. This pole, and its twin on the opposite side of the square, were normally used to support lanterns when there were events on the square during the night; the rope the Trufoot brothers had strung between them to perform their tight-rope walking tricks had been taken down, but there were two large, up-curving iron hooks like horns jutting from either side, seven feet up.

Pim explained it to him. "So you see, if Larkspur's telling the truth, Campion's trousers must've been torn here and we ought to see some sign of it."

"Only we can't," said Pippin.

"Somebody must have taken it and put it where Frodo found it," said his sister, and looked to Frodo for confirmation.

Frodo, thinking the same thing, was no longer gazing upwards, but studying the soft earth around them. There were plenty of bare hobbit footprints, his own size and smaller, and one or two Big Folk's boot-prints. "Hullo--what's this?" He spotted an odd pair of triangular shapes a few inches from the base of the pole, as if someone had stood on tiptoe...

He turned his gaze to the hooks at the top of the pole again. If Campion had torn his pantaloons here, it must have been on the iron-work; the wood was rough, but Frodo saw no splinters or nails to catch clothing on. The hooks were well out of hobbit-reach, but a Big man of approximately six feet tall shouldn't have to stand on tip-toe to reach them.

"How do Fergold and Cam get all the way up there?" Pippin wondered.

"The rest of the family makes a sort of hobbit-tower, standing on each others' backs and shoulders, and then they toss the lads up," said Pim.

"We'll have to build a hobbit-tower of our own," said Frodo, "but you won't have to toss me. I only want a closer look at those hooks."

"That shouldn't be any trouble," said Pim. "You're so skinny for a hobbit, Frodo, you must be light as a feather."

They tried it: Merry and Pippin crouched side by side, bent down so that Pim could stand on their backs. All three held onto the pole to brace themselves and keep their balance, letting go only briefly to help Frodo climb up to stand on the sturdy girl's shoulders. Once there, he was close enough to the iron hooks to examine them.

There were many wispy, straw-like fragments of hemp from the rope that had been knotted around the pole above and around the hooks. When Frodo put out a hand to grasp one of the hooks to steady himself, he found that it was a little loose and came away from the pole slightly, exposing a half-inch or so of the thick-headed nail that fixed it in place. He pushed it close against the pole, and the head of the nail, which had been flush in its hole in the iron-work, popped out. It was there Frodo found what he was looking for: a few bright and colorful threads had been pinched and caught.

"Found it!" he announced as he extracted the threads with his fingernails, then jumped down.

"That proves Larkspur was telling the truth!" cried Pim as she climbed down off her brother's and cousin's backs and came over to see what Frodo had discovered. "Campion's trousers were torn here, and not on that window."

"It's possible he could have torn them twice," said Frodo. "Here, and later on in the night, but that seems a bit much."

"You don't believe he did?" she asked eagerly. "You said so before, but you really don't now?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't. There's too much that's peculiar about this theft. It doesn't make any sense for it be anyone in the troupe. Pippin, tell Pim and Merry what the dwarves told you."

Pippin was rubbing the place on his back where his sister had been standing and swinging the arm on that side. "What? Oh, Garfi and Fordis. They said that they were talking with those other dwarves staying at the Pony last night. They--the other dwarves, I mean--told them that they'd come from the Blue Mountains and are on their way east. They didn't come right out and say they've got a lot of jewels with them--being dwarves, they wouldn't, you know--but Garfi says they hinted at it and he's sure it's so."

"There!" said Frodo. "Jewels, and they weren't stolen last night."

"How you know that?" asked Merry.

"Because I saw how the dwarves responded this morning when I told them of the thefts on the floor above them: they rushed to check their own baggage and be sure that nothing was taken, and they were assured of it. They were quite relieved. I guessed they must have something of great value with them. Gold, mithril, or precious gems seemed most likely, and I asked Pippin to ask. Now, tell me--" Frodo looked from one cousin to another, "why on earth would any sensible burglar go to the trouble of scaling a thirty-foot wall to steal a few inexpensive trinkets and coins when a treasure perhaps a hundred times greater was just below and in easier reach?"

"Maybe the burglar didn't know about it," said Merry.

"That," Frodo agreed, "or it wasn't possible for them to get at the dwarves' rooms even if they'd guessed what they were carrying."

"But why not?" wondered Pippin. "If they could climb to the top floor, why not to the one below?"

"I don't believe anybody climbed that wall at all."

Merry grinned. "You've got an idea, haven't you, Frodo?"

"I have," Frodo admitted. "I think the thief came in from the roof. Remember the noises we heard last night?"

"That thumping that woke us?" Merry brightened. "Someone was walking on the roof over our bed?"

That little smile flickered over Pim's face again, and Pippin ducked his head at this talk of Frodo and Merry in bed, but neither noticed. They had turned their attention to the facade of the inn behind them, and the gabled roof of the wing above the stables.

"Let's see if we can get up onto the roof ourselves," said Frodo.

The four hobbits found their way easily onto the lower roof by going around to the back of the inn and climbing the slope of Bree hill behind the half-buried ground floor, then jumping onto the eaves. Getting onto the stable roof, however, proved a more difficult task. They walked around three sides of the Inn and found no way, north or south, to scale the wall without the use of ropes or a ladder.

With permission from Mr. Butterbur, Frodo obtained a ladder from the stables. They carried it up onto the roof of the back wing above the hobbit rooms and braced it in the angle of the wall by the stairwell, out of sight of the courtyard, then climbed up.

The Prancing Pony was the tallest building in Bree; from its roof, they could see over all the town, and the fields, farms, and trees of Chetwood beyond the Bree Hill. Pim, feeling a little dizzy, had to sit down on the slope of the main roof until her brother teased her, "You'll never marry an acrobat, Pimmy, if you lose your head over heights."

Lest someone be in the rooms below, Frodo crept with careful, hobbit-footed quietness down to the windows, and reached out to pull it toward him. Once it was fully open, he found to was possible to climb around it to get inside the room. It would be even easier if he were taller, or had a rope to tie--there, to the top of the window-frame--and had no fear of falling.

"We heard thumps overhead," he said to his cousins as he clambered back up, and headed toward the front of the inn and the sharper peak of the gable over the room he and Merry shared.

"Do you think this thief was trying to get at us too?" asked Merry as he followed.

"Perhaps so, but our window is far too small," replied Frodo. "A hobbit-child might get in through it, but no one larger. Anyone who tried would have to climb in over us--and no doubt wake us to the danger. Look!" He pointed into the angle where the slopes of the gable and main roof met to form a sort of hollow; here, the slate shingles had grown mossy with dampness, then dried in the summer sun. Boot-prints had crushed this surface. There was also the imprint of a large hand, and a few more odd shapes, as if the person had fallen against the steep incline. "Someone has been up here!"

The Tooks came to see. "Boots!" cried Pim, with some satisfaction. "No hobbits would they wear anything so huge and clumsy as that. And none of our Bigs have boots with such square toes. They've all got pointy toes."

Frodo had noticed this also. Although these prints didn't match the toes of the boots he had found in the square, which were also pointed and considerably smaller, he had seen at least one pair of boots today that resembled these.

"He wasn't headed toward our window," observed Merry, following the signs of someone scrabbling up the surface. "Rather, he was going over the top of the house."

"What's on the other side?" wondered Frodo.

They went to see, following the traces of the boots up and over the peak of the roof to the opposite slope, over the locked storage room. There were three chimneys on the other side of the roof; here, there was only one with a chubby ceramic pot capping it. If they drew near enough to the edge, they could look down onto the roof of the neighboring building, only two stories tall. A mews perhaps ten feet wide separated them. A brave and energetic person might risk jumping across, even at night, but Frodo couldn't imagine anyone without a very tall ladder coming up this way.

"Maybe they used a rope, tied in a loop and tossed up to catch on the chimney," Pippin suggested. He was standing by the chimney as he spoke and, as he placed one hand on the ceramic chimney-pot, accidentally knocked it over. The others reached out to catch it before it rolled off the roof, but it didn't fall far. There was a length of rope inside, one end tied to the grating within, and the other dangled down inside the chimney.

The hobbits swiftly gathered around the chimney and grabbed the rope to haul it up. There was a bundle tied to the end of it, made up of an old cloak with its ends bound together; they set this down on the roof to untie the knot and open it to examine its contents.

"Well, that's it then," said Merry as Frodo compared the items in the bundle with his list of stolen property. "We've found everything that was taken. Now, you only have to find the thief."

"Oh, I know who it is," said Frodo. "I guessed this morning, but I'm certain of it now. What we have to do is catch them out."

The window to Frodo's and Merry's room was too small for a grown hobbit to get through, so Pippin and Pim carried the bundle down to hide it in one of their rooms. Frodo and Merry sat on top of the gable, looking down into the square far below, and discussed what to do next. While Frodo was sure he knew who the thief was, he had no idea how he could prove it.

When he spotted two people meeting in front of the inn, he quickly lay flat on his stomach against the slate shingles, and tugged his cousin urgently by the arm to pull him down so he also wouldn't be seen.

"Why? Who're we hiding from?" Merry wondered, and lifted his head just enough to peek over the edge of the roof at the pair. "Is he the one? He's staying here at the Pony? I wish I'd known that before--I would've said something!" And he told Frodo what he'd seen earlier that morning at the locksmith's shop.

Frodo laughed. "That settles it! I know what to do. Come along!" They scrambled across the length of the roof to climb down.

---

While Merry returned the ladder, Frodo found Mr. Butterbur and confirmed that the stables were locked at night, so no one else could have taken it out. Then he asked, "Last night, did you see any of the things that were stolen, before they were taken?"

"Some of 'em," the innkeeper answered. "Mrs. Tillerman was wearing her ring, and they all had their purses out. Mr. Wetleaf bought a round of ales for the folk he was with, and then Mr. Tillerman and those Sarty lads followed in kind. They were all very friendly. The cloak pins and such, I didn't take notice of." He looked down at Frodo hopefully. "Did you find anything when you went up to the roof?"

"As a matter of fact, we did. My investigation is nearly done, and I'll have all the answers you like very soon. I'd like everyone, the troupe and the other guests, to be gathered in the common room at midday," Frodo requested. "Can you manage that for me, Mr. Butterbur? Are the Tillermans and Wetleafs here? They've been out all morning."

"Aye, they're here. The last came back just a minute ago and are in the common room this minute," Butterbur replied, heartened by Frodo's news. "Some of our regulars for luncheon are in there too, but I'll shut the doors and see 'em out soon as can be done."

Frodo next went to look for Pippin, and found him in his room, sitting on the bed by the door. "We'll need that bundle in about half an hour," he told his cousin. "Where did you and Pimmy hide it?"

"It's here, in my pack under the bed," Pippin pointed immediately under the spot where he was seated. "I'm keeping guard."

"I'll take your place," Frodo offered, "if you'll do something for me. I'd ask Dorryk or Nob. They might agree to it, but it'd be much worse for them if they were caught--they've already been called thieves once today. Mr. Grimmold's taught you a few sleight-of-hand tricks, hasn't he?"

"Yes, a few." Pippin perked up, curiosity piqued by this odd request. "What do you want me to steal for you, Frodo?"

Frodo told him. "If they're in the common room, there might be enough people about so you mightn't be noticed. But you'll have to be careful."

"I'm always careful," his cousin replied with a grin, and went down the hall to the common room. Frodo sat nervously on the bed, waiting. After awhile, Merry peeked his head in.

"We're nearly done, if Pippin can perform a bit of pick-pocketry and not get caught," Frodo told him.

"You solved it less than three hours," Merry said as he joined Frodo on the bed. "That's very quick, even for you. We won't be two or three days after all." He didn't sound very happy about it, and Frodo put a sympathetic arm around him.

"We couldn't have stayed on the road forever, Merry."

"I wouldn't want that," Merry replied, "but I'm not looking forward to being home either. It won't be easy, taking Father's place."

"I'll be there to help you," Frodo promised him, not for the first time. "I won't leave, not 'til you tell me to go." They leaned their heads again each other, temple to temple.

Pippin returned, grinning even more gleefully than before, but he stopped in the doorway and the smile disappeared when he saw them sitting together.

"Did you get it, Pip?" Frodo asked him, and moved away from Merry.

Pippin nodded, and showed him. "I stood right by his bar-stool, and he didn't even see me."

"Splendid! Then we're ready to begin."

At midday, all parties concerned assembled in the common room. The four men who had been robbed were at the bar, and the two wives were at a table nearby. The troupe had gathered at the other end of the room, in wary opposition to them. Pim was seated beside Campion with his family, holding his hand; if she had not declared her feelings for him before, her protectiveness today had brought them out into the open. Willowbright and his daughter had brought their dogs, in case the Sarties were inclined to make more trouble. The two young man glared, and Mr. Grimmold glared back at them, but no one spoke nor moved from their seats.

Mr. Butterbur, who had placed himself as an uneasy buffer between the two groups, looked extremely relieved when the three hobbits came in. "Well, Mr. Baggins?"

"You'll be happy to know that we've found your things," Frodo announced and gestured to Merry; his cousin stepped forward to put the sooty bundle down on an unoccupied table in the middle of the room, and opened it to reveal the stolen items within: two purses, a knife with a jeweled hilt, a garnet ring, cloak pins and other trinkets, and a small wooden box.

There was an outpouring of surprised cries and expressions of amazement. The group at the bar were on their feet. Mrs. Tillerman came forward to pick up her ring. "I didn't believe you could do it," she told Frodo. "This is wonderful! Where on earth did you find this bag?"

"It was tucked into a chimney atop the inn. Actually, my cousin Pippin discovered it." Frodo smiled at Pippin, who had quietly taken a seat beside Mr. Grimmold. "Finding it confirmed what I already suspected: the thief came into your rooms by way of the roof, and had to leave this bundle there to be called for later."

"But where did he go?" asked Mr. Butterbur. "How did he get down?"

"He didn't, not until the next morning." Frodo looked up at the group of travelers who had drawn closer around the opened bundle. "These are all your things, aren't they? Is anything missing?"

"This is my cloak," Mr. Wetleaf identified the cloth the stolen property had been wrapped in, "but I don't see our purse here."

"Of course not," said Frodo. "You've had it with you all the time."

"Wh- What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Wetleaf. "It was stolen from our room last night. Do you say we still have our money?"

"I don't." Her husband touched his belt, where a purse would normally be tied, then patted his jerkin; a puzzled look came over his face as his hands touched his hips, but he said, "You see, Mr. Baggins, I haven't got a penny."

"Not now, no, but you did have it less than an hour ago, when I asked my cousin to see if he could take it off you. Pippin-?"

Pippin stood up and, with a dramatic gesture--one of the tricks Mr. Grimmold had taught him--a little draw-stringed purse appeared in his hand as if he'd pulled it out of the air.

"Mr. Butterbur, will you confirm that this is the same purse that Mr. Wetleaf had with him when he paid for a round of ales in this room last night?" Frodo asked.

"To be sure, it looks like it," the innkeeper answered, goggling at the purse, "but one purse looks so much like any other."

Frodo could see that Mr. Butterbur wasn't going to be much help as a witness. "It doesn't matter. My cousin Merry and the locksmith you visited this morning will swear that you had it then. Shall we invite the locksmith here to ask him what you were after, or shall I guess? Was it the means to open this box?" He picked it up from the table.

"They were after our box?" demanded Nikal.

"I believe it's what prompted the theft. They must have heard you speak of it--perhaps last night, when you sat here, sharing rounds of ale? At any rate, all that ale made you quite peaceable for a sound night's sleep, and you never stirred when Mr. Wetleaf came in your window to steal the box. The rest of it was only taken to hide that fact, and make it appear as an ordinary burglary."

The Wetleafs, Frodo noted, had not protested any of this. Since Pippin had produced their purse, the couple only stood white-faced and silent, staring at him.

"But however did you know?" asked Mr. Butterbur. "I was sure it was those Trufoots, for certain!"

"What about that scrap of Campion's acrobatic clothes caught in the window?" Mr. Grimmold asked. "I was afraid it was all over when you found that."

"So did I," said Campion, "and I knew I wasn't there!"

"Actually, that little scrap of cloth was just what made me first doubt it was you," Frodo answered. "The cloth wasn't just torn on the window-hinge, but wound about it tightly, to be sure it wouldn't fall off before it was found. It looked as if it were put there deliberately."

"We found the place where you really tore your trousers, Cam, on the rope-walking pole, just as Larkspur said," Pim told him.

"That was also when I began to suspect the Wetleafs," Frodo went on. "Who better to put the scrap there than the people in that room?" He turned to Mrs. Wetleaf, "Did you notice when Campion tore his costume last night, and took it down then? I know it was you who did it, not your husband. The pointed toes of your boots left prints plain to see." Mrs. Wetleaf was also about five feet tall and would have to stretch up to reach the top of a seven-foot pole. "Was it finding that scrap that put the idea to blame the Trufoots into your head, or did you think of it earlier, while you were watching them perform, and finding that scrap was a piece of luck?" He brightened with sudden understanding. "I believe you must've found it this morning while you were out in the square, and were putting it in your window just when I came upstairs. You were nervous when you saw me poking around the storage-room door, but had no objection to me looking about your room. You wanted me to find that scrap and assume the Trufoots were the thieves."

Mrs. Wetleaf's eyes went wide at this accurate guess, but she only asked, "What do you mean to do with us now?" She and her husband were rallying from their shock at being found out and were beginning to be defiant. "No harm's been done-"

"No harm done!" Mr. Grimmold sputtered. "My people have been scurrilously accused of a crime the two of you committed, and the reputation of my circus endangered. Our personal safety was endangered!" He cast a baleful glance at the Sarties, who had the good grace to look ashamed of themselves.

"And the reputation of my house," added Mr. Butterbur.

"Not to mention our things that you stole," said Mrs. Tillerman.

"You've all got your property back," Mrs. Wetleaf answered, unabashed.

"Except for us," her husband added. "May I have my purse returned, please?"

"I don't see why you shouldn't," Mr. Butterbur answered grudgingly, "but I'll have to ask you folks to leave my house right away, once you pay your bill. And I'll be having a word with the constable when he comes 'round this afternoon, to be sure you don't stay in town to cause further mischief."

While the innkeeper escorted the pair firmly out to settle with them before ejecting them from the inn, the Trufoot family crowded around Frodo to give him their thanks, plus gleeful thumps on the back from Mr. Trufoot and hugs and kisses from Mrs. Trufoot and Larkspur. Pim also hugged her cousin, and took the opportunity to hug Campion as well.

"Marvelous work!" Mr. Grimmold came forward to shake Frodo by the hand. "Mr. Baggins, that was very nicely done! How right I was to put my trust in you. Your reputation is well deserved. I also have you to thank, Master Merry, Miss Pim, and you especially, young Peregrin. You've got quite a talent," he told Pippin appreciatively. "With such quick and nimble fingers, you show a real aptitude for prestidigitation. You'd make a first-class conjurer, my lad, with a bit of practice."

Pippin beamed, gratified by the praise. "Do you really think so? You'll teach me, won't you?"

"Yes, if you like."

"As a matter of fact..." Pippin took the circus-master by the arm, and the two went to the bar to discuss it over a couple of celebratory pints.

Torven Sarty came over to Frodo, stepping in among the little people around him with more care than he'd shown the last time. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Baggins, but Nik and I decided to open our box now," he said. "We thought you might like to see what was so valuable that these Wetleafs must steal it and put everyone to so much trouble."

"Yes, I would, thank you!" Frodo was rather curious to see what it could be.

Nikal took the key from his coat pocket and unlocked the box. He and his brother leaned in eagerly as he opened the lid, then both looked confused and disappointed. "What're these?" the older brother asked, and held up a slender bronze instrument with a sharp point at one end. "This was what they went to such lengths to steal from us?"

Frodo stood on tip-toe to have a peek: the box contained a set of similar tools for delicate work. "Your father was a smith?"

"Aye, he did some fine clock-work and key-smithy," said Torven. "Mother must've hoped we'd carry on in his trade once we came to the town."

"You can have 'em, Tor," said Nikal. "I don't have the steady fingers for that kind of work."

"You'll have to tell the Wetleafs what the 'great treasure' was before they're kicked out," Merry said. "They'll be so glad to know."

"It's not the treasure they were after, but I think they'll be dismayed when they find out what they've lost," said Frodo. "All of Bree ought to be grateful they didn't get their hands on what was in that box. Such tools can be used to pick locks too, you know."

The Wetleafs were ejected from the inn, and after Mr. Butterbur had a word with the town constable, the pair were asked to leave Bree. The troupe had left the Prancing Pony. Even though Butterbur had apologized profusely and insisted that the circus people were welcome to stay on as long as they liked, Mr. Grimmold's feelings had been too hurt by what had happened. He felt his reputation had been sullied and, since he'd made other plans for the circus's travels, he decided to follow them right away. The troupe would camp that night in the Kitswillow field before heading south along the Greenway.

Pim went with them. After giving her cousins kisses in farewell, she briefly took her brother's hand and said, "See you soon, Pip?" Frodo wondered if she'd had enough of adventures, and was planning to return home.

Merry, Pippin, and Frodo would stay on at the inn for one more night, and depart in the morning.

When Frodo came down to dinner in the same little private parlor that evening, he found Pippin seated there. Their eyes met, and his cousin gave him a lop-sided, embarrassed little smile, before quickly averting his gaze. In all the excitement of hunting for the thieves, they had worked together easily and had almost been like their old selves again. Now that things had quieted, they were back to where they'd been when they'd arrived yesterday.

As Frodo sat down at the table and helped himself to the bread and butter that had already been set out, he said, "I want to thank you for your help, Pip. Mr. Grimmold was right--your talents as a pick-pocket were invaluable today, and we mightn't have caught the Wetleafs if it weren't for you. I know that I tend to deputize all my friends and relations when I'm investigating. It is presumptuous of me, but I am grateful."

"But I'm glad to do it," Pippin answered sincerely. "It's great fun, and a chance to help our friends."

"All the same, you'd be justified in telling me to find someone else to do my work, especially under the- ah- circumstances. You've no reason to aid me just because I ask." They'd had few chances to speak without Merry during their journey, and had avoided personal conversations even when the opportunity had arisen, but there were certain things that must be said before they were home. "I'm so sorry, Pippin. Merry and I--it was just something that happened while we were alone together so far from home. I never meant to hurt you, but I wouldn't blame you if you hated me for taking him."

Pippin looked astonished that Frodo could even think such a thing. "I don't hate you! How could I, after all we've been through? But I can't fight you, Frodo." His shoulders slumped with glum acknowledgement of an indisputable fact. "You haven't been well for ages, and you got that way saving the whole world--you're a hero to everybody, or should be if you aren't. Why shouldn't Merry love you? You're smarter than I am, and prettier too. You went all the way to Minas Tirith after him, when I didn't." Tears glimmered in his eyes. "I should've gone with him when he asked me to, but I wouldn't do it. If I lost him, it's my own fault. You didn't take him from me. He's been waiting for his chance at you for so long."

"What do you mean--'waiting for his chance at me'?"

"Merry," Pippin explained. "He's been in love with you for years. Didn't you know? I thought everybody knew that. Isn't it so, Merry?" Merry had come in during this last exchange, and Pippin turned to him to confirm this. "Frodo's always been the one you really loved."

Merry only scowled and answered, "Is that what you think, Pip?"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it? If you could've got Frodo before, you wouldn't've gone after every other lad in the Shire, including me. Now you've got him, I'm only in the way." Then Pippin rose quickly and left the room.

Frodo stared at Merry. "What Pippin just said--Is it true?"

"I told you so, didn't I?," Merry answered. "I said I would've gone for you if I ever thought you were interested."

"Yes, but I thought you meant the way you played with everybody else. Just a bit of fun. Not that I was... someone special."

Merry rolled his eyes. "Of course you're special, Frodo! You're not like anybody else in the whole world. Certainly not to me."

"Oh." Frodo hadn't guessed. It seemed odd that he should be finding this out only after they'd been lovers for months, but their love-making had always been fun and light-hearted, without the deep emotional intensity he shared with Sam. He never thought that Merry felt more for him.

"But it isn't what Pippin thinks, not exactly," Merry went on. "He's not second-best. It's true, it broke my heart when you went away to live with Uncle Bilbo. I missed you terribly, and for awhile I made up for it with any boy who was willing to play. But I was over the worst by the time Pippin was old enough for that kind of playing. We've got on well, since we were little lads, and he knows how to have fun like nobody else does. And since we went off on our adventures, it turned out to be more than just fun."

"You mean, he's the one you love, not me."

"I love you both, I suppose, in different ways."

"Hadn't you better tell him that?"

"It's best that I don't," said Merry. But after their dinner had been brought in, and Merry sat sulkily over his plate for awhile and didn't eat a bite, he began to reconsider. "Oh, very well," he said as he left his place at the table, "I'll go talk to him. Pip's never missed a meal in his life, and I'd hate for him to sit this one out because of me. You won't mind if I spend tonight with him, Frodo? With all the circus-lads gone, he might feel lonely sleeping in that big room all by himself."

Frodo smiled. "No, I don't mind."

Merry went to Pippin's room just down the hall, but he returned a minute later, carrying a note that his cousin had left. "Pip's gone," he announced, and handed the note to Frodo, who read it aloud:

"I'm sorry--I won't be going back to the Shire with you. Pim has the right idea about taking herself off so Peri and Ferdi can get on together, and I'm doing the same for you. I won't be in your way anymore.

"I'm leaving with the circus. Mr. Grimmold says he'll be glad to have me, and with some work I might be as good a conjurer as he is. I made up my mind to go with them last night and meant to tell you this morning, only there was all this muddle and I didn't know when the circus was going to leave town.

"Please tell Mother and Father I won't be home for awhile. I hope you'll both be happy. All my love, Pippin."

Frodo recalled Mr. Grimmold's and Pippin's conversation at the bar, and Pim's last words to her brother, "See you soon." He realized that, in the midst of his investigation, he had overlooked important clues to something else that was happening much closer to him.

"He can't have gone yet, Merry," he said as he returned the note. "He's only gone out to the field where the circus is camped. They won't leave Bree 'til the morning. You could go after him, catch up."

Merry shook his head. "No. It's what Pippin wants. He'll be happier traveling with them than he was with us." He sat down and laughed suddenly. "I always said that one of the Tooks would run off to join the circus, didn't I? And now two of them have gone! At least, they'll look out for each other." He reached out to take Frodo's hand. "We'll have to do the same."