After breakfast, when Sam went out to tend the garden, Frodo got dressed and went with him. Frodo offered to help pull up the weeds, but Sam wouldn't hear of it; Frodo might be well enough to be up and about, but he was still going to rest. Once he had made Frodo comfortable on the bench by the front door with a shawl around his shoulders and a pipe at hand if he wanted to smoke, Sam turned his attention to the flower beds beneath the sitting-room windows. Frodo settled down to look over the notes about their adventures that he had compiled all week.
"When're you going to start writing?" Sam asked him without looking up from his own work. "It seems to me you've got enough there to begin putting it all down proper."
"I expect I will one day soon," Frodo replied, "but I don't dare to write in Uncle Bilbo's book yet, not 'til I'm sure of how I'm going to tell our tale." Bilbo had given him the Red Book when they'd stopped at Rivendell on their way home; Frodo had studied it, especially the chapter about how Bilbo had first encountered Gollum, played riddles with him, and won the Ring--which was significantly different from the version of the story Frodo had heard from Gandalf--and he had read passages of it out to Sam. There were plenty of blank pages after the end of Bilbo's tale, but Frodo had so far left these untouched. "I want to get Merry's and Pippin's stories written down while they're here," he went on. "I want to include those too. After all, their adventures were as much a part of the quest as ours were."
He had only read a few pages from his notebook, when he heard the creak of the garden gate below swinging open, and he looked down the hillside to see his cousin Lotho Sackville-Baggins--of all people!--coming up the steps toward the house. "We've got company," he murmured, more to himself than to Sam, but Sam looked up as he spoke.
Lotho was not much older than Frodo, but he was a hunched-up hobbit with a gnomish face and perpetually scowling expression that made him appear older than he was. His usual scowl deepened when he saw Frodo seated near the top of the hill.
"So you're out of hiding, I see," he said as he approached. "Your servant's been going around telling everyone that you're too ill to have visitors."
"He is ill," Sam said, rising from the flower bed and wiping the dirt from his hands on his trousers as he came forward in Frodo's defense. "He oughtn't be disturbed."
"This is the first day I've been out of bed in a week," Frodo confirmed, but he could see that Lotho didn't believe it. "What brings you here, Lotho? I thought that that unpleasant business between us was over and done with. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I am still alive and hope to remain so for awhile yet."
Frodo had first returned home last autumn while the Sackville-Bagginses were in the process of declaring him dead so that they could claim Bag End as their own property. Lotho and his mother Lobelia had just been preparing to move into the house against the protests of other members of the Baggins family, as well as the Gaffer, who was looking after the place in Frodo's absence and had not given up hope of his and Sam's return; when Frodo had turned up, adequately proving himself not dead and reclaiming his home, it had infuriated Lotho and Lobelia no end. They suspected him of playing some sort of trick to make fools of them, and even threatened him with a lawsuit, although nothing had come of it.
"That's just what I'm here to talk about," said Lotho. "I've come on Mother's behalf. Since she has always desired to live at Bag End, and it's unlikely that she'll outlive a young hobbit like you--even if you aren't well--I thought I'd make you a fair offer for the house."
"Thank you, but I'm not interested," Frodo answered pleasantly. "I like Bag End, and I intend to stay."
"You're just being stubborn and contrary," Lotho persisted. "You don't need a house this size all to yourself. You aren't going to marry, are you? Or bring up a family here. Why don't you go to live with your Brandybuck relations--I'm sure they'll welcome you back, and look after you just as well as your... devoted body-servant." He said this last with a glance at Sam and a sneering note that made the words sound like something else entirely; neither Frodo nor Sam could misunderstand what he was implying.
"Here, you-" Sam came around the bench toward him, scowling dangerously, but stopped when Frodo put a hand on his arm. Frodo's cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned red, but he was determined not to lose his temper. That was what Lotho wanted him to do.
"I don't wish to sell," he repeated. "You've made your offer, Lotho, and it has been refused. You can be on your way."
But Lotho had not finished yet. "This house should have gone to my father by rights," he huffed. "He was Bilbo's nearest kin. It ought to belong to my mother and to me now, not to any Brandybuck interloper."
"If Uncle Bilbo had meant you to have it, he'd have left it to you," Frodo retorted. "But he left it to me."
"And you got rid of him quick enough once he did!"
Frodo ignored this. "It's my property, to do with as I please. Understand this, Lotho: Even if I should die tomorrow, Bag End will not be yours. I've chosen my own heir." His hand was still on Sam's arm, and he gave it a light squeeze as he said, "Everything I own will go to Sam."
Lotho gaped at him. So did Sam, for he hadn't known that Frodo had made any such plans.
"The gardener!" Lotho cried. "You'd put your garden-boy before your own family?"
"Before you, yes," Frodo said. "You have no rights here, Lotho, and you've been as rude to me as you possibly can. Now will you please leave before I have Sam throw you out?"
Sam stepped forward, eager to do it; Lotho danced safely back out of his reach.
"You think you're so important, Frodo Baggins, since you went off on your adventures in the Big Folk's world with your high-and-mighty Took and Brandybuck cousins," he spat. "But we'll see who's the important one around here, and it won't be you. You aren't the only one with powerful friends. You'll be sorry you ever crossed me." And, having had the last word, Lotho turned and left Bag End, slamming the gate behind him.
"Let's hope that's the end of Lotho!" said Frodo. "I would be thoroughly delighted if I never have to deal with the Sackville-Bagginses again." Then he grew more solemn. "Sam," he asked after a moment, "do you think Lotho really knows- ah- anything, or was that remark of his meant as a blind insult?"
"I think he was just saying it to make you angry," Sam answered. "He's heard the gossip, and he's stabbing out to hurt you however he can."
Frodo looked up at him, eyes wide. "Gossip?"
"Well... you know how folk'll talk."
"Yes, but I didn't know that they were talking about us."
Frodo didn't go out to the Green Dragon or the Bywater market often these days, so he didn't hear it, but Sam knew what sort of stories were being whispered since he and Frodo had set up house together. He didn't mind so much for himself--it was only the truth, after all--but he didn't want Frodo upset by any hint of a scandal. "I wouldn't let it trouble you," he tried to put Frodo's worries to rest. "But you shouldn't ought to've told Mr. Lotho what you did about leaving me everything you own. You don't really mean to do it, do you?"
"Yes, of course! I've been thinking about it for awhile now. Ever since-" Frodo paused. "After I had my last bad turn, I thought I should settle matters properly in case anything happened to me."
"Nothing'll happen to you," Sam protested, disturbed that Frodo was thinking about such things. He hated when Frodo talked like this, as if he didn't expect to live long. "You'll be well again soon, and live years and years."
"Just in case," Frodo repeated. He took Sam's hand in his, and squeezed the fingers. "I want to be sure that you're taken care of. What's mine is yours. Haven't I said so?"
"You've said so, and you've done so." It was one of things Sam had not gotten used to: right after he'd moved in, Frodo had told him to take whatever money he needed for household expenses or personal use, but Sam couldn't help feeling that he was taking an enormous liberty every time he opened the strongbox. He was always careful to keep account of whatever he spent, and used considerably less for personal matters than he would have if he'd been paid his old gardener's wages. "But it's nonsense to talk about giving me Bag End. Begging your pardon, but Mr. Lotho's right about that. It ought to be kept in your family. Not left to him and Mrs. Lobelia, of course, but one of the other Bagginses you like better. That's what's fitting."
"Don't be silly, Sam. You are closer to me than anyone, even the Bagginses I like," Frodo insisted. He brought Sam's hand to his lips, kissed the back, and rested his cheek on it. "That's fitting, and never mind what Lotho or anyone else says about it."
They could still see Lotho retreating swiftly up the lane in the direction of Hobbiton; together, they watched until he went around the green curve of the hill and was out of sight. That was the last they saw of him.
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