Sam and Frodo returned to the Inn not long afterwards, weary and cold, their faces scratched and their hands and arms prickled with a red rash from shoving aside branches full of pine needles. They were also soaked from the rain. Sam ordered two mugs of hot cider at the bar in the common room, while Frodo spoke briefly with the innkeeper before going to his room.
In the room, Frodo shed his wet cloak and coat, then flopped down on the bed. "I wonder what happened to Merry?" he said again when Sam came in with the cider. "I thought he would follow us on to the farm once he'd got Pippin, or at least they'd be sitting here in the common room when we came in."
"The two of 'em must be mucking about someplace. There's other places to get a drop of ale 'tween here and Tuckborough, aren't there?" Sam set one of the mugs down on the nightstand where Frodo could reach it. "Here, drink that. It'll take the chill off your bones."
Frodo beamed at him. "Why don't you come and cuddle up?" he invited in return. "I'm sure it will have a similar effect, but much more pleasant."
"I mean to do that too, but drink your cider first." When Frodo sat up to take the mug, Sam nodded approvingly. "That's right," he said. "You took a bad chill tonight--and, what's worse, had a bad fright." Logs had been laid out for a fire on the grate before they'd come in, and after he had lit the fire, Sam sat down in a large basket-chair at the foot of the bed to finish his own drink. "How d'you explain this curse of Noddy's, now you've seen it for yourself?" he asked.
"I can't explain it all," Frodo admitted between sips of cider, "but I doubt more than ever that there's true magic involved. I was quite frightened while it was happening, but now that we're safely away and I've had time to think over what we've seen, I can't help feeling that it was too ridiculous to be real. And there are one or two other things..."
"Is that what you were asking the innkeeper about?" Sam asked.
"In part, yes. I thought he might have some local news of use to us. His common room is the meeting place not only for these cottagers, but for farmers for miles around. If anybody besides Noddy has witnessed these odd goings-on, you can be sure they've talked about it here."
"And did they?"
Frodo nodded. "There are stories that the wood is haunted. Of course, Noddy's told anyone who would listen about the curse on his farm, but he's not the only one who's seen things. Other farmers whose land borders the wood, travelers on the road at night--they've seen ghostly lights too, or heard that booming voice if they venture in too far. Our innkeeper says he's never heard anything like it before this autumn."
"That white pony's no ghost," Sam told him. "Noddy said he caught it, tied it up. It's real enough."
"I suspect its masters are too." Frodo pulled a dirty scrap of fabric from his trouser pocket and held it up for Sam to see.
"Is that the handkerchief you found in the woods?"
"It's not a handkerchief, Sam. It's a piece of cheesecloth torn from some larger garment, perhaps a lady's gauzy white robe. I would've liked to see if our 'ghosts' left any footprints tonight, if the rain hasn't washed them all away. When we came in this afternoon, I asked the innkeeper if any strangers had been seen in the neighborhood lately--hobbits or Big Folk, or anyone more... unusual."
"Not the glowing lady!" exclaimed Sam. "If she was seen about, we'd've heard talk of it without having to ask!" He finished his cider and thought for a moment. "What about Noddy's little Man? Has anybody seen him?"
"Only Noddy," Frodo answered. "Our innkeeper told me that some strange, foreign hobbits have been in here recently. Travelers often stop at the inn for an ale and to hear the news, so that's not unusual, but this group of travelers has been seen several times, and he thinks they're staying in the neighborhood. One of them was in tonight, as a matter of fact, but seems to have left just before we came in. At least, the innkeeper couldn't point him out to me. I also asked this afternoon if he'd heard of the theft of crops or livestock, or if anyone had purchased large quantities of food. He said he'd ask some of his regular customers about it when they came in this evening. Unless those people we saw tonight are ghosts, they must eat, and must be getting their meals somewhere."
Frodo set his empty mug on the nightstand and went to join Sam in the chair; he had to wriggle to fit in, wrapping one arm around Sam's shoulders and tucking his legs up over Sam's lap. As they nestled comfortably close by the warm fire and listened to the rain pattering on the window, both were very glad not to be out in the cold and wet. For a minute or two, they forgot the most peculiar case of Noddy Ferndingle, and thought only of each other. Kissing followed very naturally.
"Don't you want to know what he said?" asked Frodo.
"Who?" said Sam, confused when Frodo's kisses abruptly stopped.
"Our good innkeeper, in answer to my question about food," Frodo replied.
"Oh." Sam would much rather go on kissing awhile longer, but it seemed they were back to discussing the case. "Well, what'd he say?"
"He's heard that traveling hobbits have called at the nearby farms and purchased quite a lot of bushels of corn and apples, dressed chickens and geese for roasting, and whole loaves of fresh bread."
"Is it those same hobbits who was here at the inn?"
"Perhaps, although he couldn't say for certain without seeing them." Frodo was not entirely done with kissing either, for he reached up to draw Sam's head down for one more before he went on, "I asked if any of these strange hobbits might be Nobold Ferndingle, but our innkeeper says No. It's been years, but he's sure that anyone who knew Nobold would recognize him if they saw him again."
"You've been asking a lot of questions about Noddy's brother," Sam observed. "You think he's got something to do with this?"
"I can't think of anyone else who could be called the rightful owner of that farm if Noddy isn't--even if the brother never took an interest in it when he was living there, and gave it up to Noddy when he left."
"But if Nob's changed his mind and wants the farm after all, he doesn't have to go through this rigmarole with a curse and ghosts and such to scare Noddy off," Sam countered. "He's the older son. He's only got to come home and make his claim. Besides, Nob couldn't do any of the tricks we saw tonight. He was cleverer'n Noddy, but he wasn't a wizard!"
"Maybe he's taken up with one."
There was a knock on the door and Merry and Pippin came in. Their shirts were rumpled and untucked, as if they had dressed hastily.
"Where have you been?" Frodo asked them. "Did you get caught out in the rain too?"
"No, we've been here for hours," answered Pippin, and sat down on the bed. "Our room's just across the hall. We heard you talking, and knew you'd come in."
"Why didn't you come out to the farm after us?" Sam demanded.
"We intended to," Merry explained, "but we didn't leave Tuckborough 'til late, and it didn't seem worthwhile to follow you once it was dark and raining."
"Sorry," Pippin added.
"That's all right," Frodo forgave them. He knew that his cousins hadn't been together in weeks, and that four hobbits wouldn't have been of more use than two wandering around the woods chasing after lights.
"Did you go into the wood?" Pippin asked eagerly. "Did you see any ghosts?"
"We certainly saw something." And Frodo, still curled up in Sam's lap, described what they had witnessed, with Sam adding details whenever he thought they were necessary. The other two listened, Pippin with wide-eyed fascination and Merry with a growing smile.
"But you'd don't think it's really haunted," Pippin said when Sam and Frodo had finished their story. "We met the oddest lad in the common room at dinner, and he told us it was."
"Never mind him." Merry sat forward urgently. "Frodo, listen: I've heard something you ought to know. Dodi's in Tuckborough. He'd just come from Buckland, and he told me that a troupe of circus performers came in through the Hay Gate about a month ago. They'd come from Bree. Musicians, jounglers, rope-walkers, performing animals, that sort of thing. They were at the harvest festival. Dodi said they were Big Folk, mostly, but there were also some hobbits, a dwarf or two, and the oddest little person. Not a hobbit nor a dwarf."
"Like the Big Folk," said Frodo, "but little. I wondered if it might be something of the sort." He laughed and turned to look at Sam. "It wasn't real magic, just as we suspected. Conjuring tricks, Sam!" Then he turned back to Merry. "Where did they go? Did Dodi say?"
"I asked him," Merry answered. "He told me that they went west from Buckland after the festival. They took the Bucklebury Ferry. The caravan went past the Hall, and the ferryman was still talking about it days later, when Dodi crossed the river."
"And they haven't been seen anywhere in the Shire since?" Frodo smiled. "That's very odd, isn't it? Such a remarkable group of people must surely draw attention... unless they've deliberately hidden themselves away. They could hide very nicely in Green Hill Wood."
"But what do they mean by frightening poor Noddy with their tricks?" asked Sam.
"We'll go and ask them tomorrow," Frodo announced. "But we'll pay our call in daylight this time, so they can't play their tricks on us, as they have in the dark."
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