It was a lovely, crisp autumn day, so sunny and full of color that Frodo decided to go for a walk in the countryside after dinner.
After a summer of feeling quite well, he had been stricken down suddenly on October 6--the second anniversary of his injury at Weathertop. His shoulder ached as if the wound were fresh, and a darkness lay over his mind, almost as if he were being drawn back into that twilight world where the Black Riders existed. Sam put him to bed, and he lay there all the next day while the pain and darkness persisted. Frodo was afraid that this bad spell might go on for days but, fortunately, worst of it seemed to pass by the morning of the 8th. Now, a week later, he felt fine.
Sam looked a little worried when Frodo announced he was going out, but only insisted that Frodo take his coat against a chill and not tire himself by staying out too long. Frodo promised the latter and took his tweed coat down from its peg by the front door on his way out.
He spent a delightful hour walking the hedgerowed lanes around Hobbiton, climbing the green hills and shuffling his toes through the deep piles of golden and rust-red fallen leaves under the trees. At dusk, he headed for home by way of Bywater, and stopped at the Green Dragon. Frodo rarely went out drinking any more, but a half-pint of ale seemed like the best thing to finish off his day.
Rosie Cotton, at the bar, smiled at him in welcome and, as she gave him his mug of ale, said, "We've been hearing some talk about you tonight, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo didn't quite understand this remark until a very familiar voice reached him over the chattering of the other hobbits who crowded the taproom:
"Mr. Frodo's awfully clever. Smartest hobbit in all the Shire if you ask me."
Frodo turned to search the crowd, until he found Sam at a table behind him, seated with his friend Robin Smallburrows, the local shirriff. They were deep in conversation; Sam sat with his back to the bar and hadn't noticed when Frodo had come in.
"Do you think he'll see me?" asked Robin.
"Oh, he's always taking up these investigations, mostly for his relations, you understand, but he's done a bit for other folk too. If I ask him to look into this, he will," Sam assured his friend. "And he'll help you, Robin, you'll see. If anybody can figure out this puzzle of yours, Mr. Frodo can."
Frodo glowed warmly at this praise. It was one thing to know how highly Sam thought of him, but quite another to hear Sam saying so in public.
"Whyn't come up to Bag End with me?" Sam offered. "We'll put the matter before Mr. Frodo and see what he thinks." When he turned to rise from his chair, and saw Frodo standing at the bar, Sam's face colored; his mouth opened, then shut, and he ducked his head.
Frodo beamed at him affectionately. "Ask me what, Sam?"
"It's Robin here--he's got puzzle as needs working out." Sam waved across the table to indicate his friend.
"Sam says I ought to come to you, Mr. Baggins, 'bout this matter I was called to look into this afternoon," Robin explained. "There's been no crime as such, but it's an odd thing, and Sam here tells me you have a liking to investigate odd things. I thought as you might want to have a look at it yourself."
"What is it?" Frodo came over to join the pair at their table. Robin made as if to rise--he thought it disrespectful to be seated before a gentlehobbit--but Frodo gestured for him to stay where he was. Robin remained, but sat a little straighter in his chair as he reported:
"There was a house broken into this afternoon at Overhill--not burgled, Mr. Baggins, as I say. Nothing's been taken. But here's the curious thing: the furniture's been all shifted about."
"Shifted about?" asked Frodo. "You mean, someone came in and rearranged their furniture?"
"Not so much 'rearranged,'" said Robin, "more like pulled out of place in the rooms. I've been a sherriff in these parts for six years now, and it's the most peculiar bit of mischief I've ever seen! Can you tell me why anybody'd want to do such a thing?"
After a half-pint with Robin and some discussion on how to proceed with this mysterious incident, Frodo and Sam walked home arm in arm through the chilly autumn twilight.
"I was surprised to see you at the Dragon tonight, Sam," Frodo teased. "When I saw you last, you were in the kitchen, washing up."
"I thought as you wouldn't be needing me, I'd pop out for a minute or two," Sam sounded somewhat embarrassed as he explained. "I wanted to see Rosie. We have one or two things to talk over, as I'm hoping to speak to her Dad about her this Highday when I go to the Cottons for dinner."
"Are you, Sam?" Frodo asked without jealousy. "Good! I've been wondering when you'd come to the point and ask for Rosie's hand. And what did she have to say?"
"Well, I scarcely had a chance to talk to her, with the place being so busy tonight, and then Robin caught hold of me to ask about you. I meant to be home before you got back, but Robin was so long about telling his tale. You don't mind me telling him you'd look into this odd business, do you?"
"No, not at all! And I'm not sorry you were delayed--it's much more pleasant if we walk home together." As the road took a steep turn up the Hill toward Bag End, Frodo leaned on his companion; when Sam's arm went around his back, he snuggled a little closer. Overhead, the sky was clear and the stars were coming out. "Besides, I couldn't have been happier at finding you as I did, and overhearing what I happened to."
Sam started guiltily. "What'd you hear?"
"That the one I love best thinks the world of me."
"Well, you knew that, didn't you?"
Frodo chuckled. "Yes, but it's always nice to hear. Do you really think I'm the cleverest hobbit in the Shire?"
"Who else'd I pick?" Sam responded, beginning to tease in return. "Mr. Bilbo's the only other one I might say so about, and he's gone away and left all his books and such to you."
"I hope I can live up to my reputation."
"You've done all right so far," Sam assured him. "Whatever mystery's been put before you, you've always sorted 'em out."
"With your help, Sam, and Merry's and Pippin's." They were now on the path leading up to Bag End. Ahead of them, the house under the top of the hill lay dark, for both had gone out while it was still daylight. The door had been left on the latch and, once they were inside, Frodo stopped just within the doorway to remove his tweed coat while Sam fumbled to find and light a candle. When the candle was found and the front hall was cast in flickering light, Frodo shut the door and gave Sam a kiss. He'd been waiting to do it since they'd left the Green Dragon, but didn't dare. The gossip about them had died down since Sam had begun to court Rosie, and Frodo didn't want to risk a revival of the whispers if anyone should see him being too openly affectionate with Sam in public. But in private, he could do as he pleased.
They had the house to themselves: Pippin was in Tuckborough with his family, and Merry had gone to stay with Fatty Bolger at Budgeford for a few days while Fatty's sister Estella and Aunt Beryl were away visiting their Brookbank relatives.
The two stood for awhile in the front hall, not overlooked by any windows as they held each other close and kissed by candlelight. Then Frodo broke off. "It's a bit early," he whispered huskily, "but I'd like to go to bed now."
Sam gave him a worried look. "You're not feeling tired after your walk, are you?"
"No," Frodo laughed. "Not in the least!" Sam tended to be overly careful with him, especially after one of his bad turns, and often needed to be shown that it was all right for them to make love again. Frodo intended to show him now. "Come along, love."
And, taking Sam by the hand, he led him down the dark turns of the hallway to their bedroom.
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Story notes: There are no dead hobbits in this story (unless you count the late Mrs. Taggart).
This story takes place in October 1420 (S.R.), about a year after Frodo and Sam have returned from the quest. As in my previous mystery stories, the Shire takes after the movie-verse and is untouched.
The Taggart family are my own creation, but some of the other characters in this story are taken from the Baggins family tree in Appendix C.
Disclaimer: The characters and overall storyline are certainly not mine. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, and I'm just playing with them to entertain myself and anyone else who likes this kind of thing.
July 2005
The Frodo Investigates! series
