It was fully dark by the time they reached the Bywater Market Green. The air had grown chilly with nightfall, but the sky was full of brilliant stars and only a crusting of old snow lay on the rooftops and the edges of the Green, which had otherwise been swept clear. A bonfire already blazed high at the center of the marketplace. The shop stalls had been removed to provide space for dancing; only a few remained to sell toasted currant-buns, roast chestnuts, hot cider, mince pies, and other light refreshments. The Ivy Bush Inn, which sat on the opposite side of the Green from the mill, was open to offer the usual ale and hearty dinners for those who wanted a more substantial meal. A band of musicians played on the Inn's stone-paved courtyard, and a few couples had assembled for the first dance.
It seemed that everyone within ten miles of Bywater had come out for the festivities tonight. All the local shopkeepers and farm-families were in attendance and, although most were masked, Frodo recognized many of his own relatives and acquaintances: Milo and Peony Burrows with their four children, Peony's brothers Ponto and Porto Baggins with their respective wives, Ruby and Wilgo Chubb with their little daughters, Odo and Prunella Proudfoot (their grandson Sancho and the Chubbs' son Wilcome were also presumably about and up to some mischief), Poppy and Filibert Bolger, and Florabel and Jaro Fairbairns with a girl whom Frodo thought was Medora Taggart.
"There's Rosie," said Sam, and nodded his head to indicate his betrothed, standing with his youngest sister Marigold and some of their girlfriends in an eagerly whispering little group at the edge of the dance. All the girls wore ragged old cloaks and brightly colored strips of cloth tied over their skirts, and had more colorful rag-ribbons in their hair.
When she saw Sam, Rosie waved and gave him an inviting smile. The other girls burst into giggles.
Sam waved to her, and glanced shyly at Frodo. Even though the upper half of his face was concealed, Frodo could see the yearning look in Sam's eyes and understood: Sam wanted to dance with Rose, but didn't want to go off and leave him alone.
"Why don't you ask her, Sam?" Frodo suggested. "I'm sure she'd love to join the dance." He remembered another party--was it only three years past?--when he'd literally shoved Sam into Rosie's arms. Surely Sam wouldn't be as reluctant tonight?
"You wouldn't mind?" Sam asked.
"No, of course not," Frodo assured him. "Go and have fun. It's a party! You're meant to enjoy yourself. Don't worry--I'll find my own entertainment." He put one hand on Sam's back to give him a push if necessary, but Sam needed no more encouragement. A moment later, he had crossed the Green to take Rosie's hand, and the two leapt in to join the growing circle of dancers around the bonfire.
The other girls regarded Frodo hopefully, but Frodo always felt rather shy with girls he didn't know well. He was most comfortable dancing with cousins, and although there were one or two of his young female relatives in the crowd, he wasn't inclined to seek them out.
The only one of this little group he was certain he knew was Sam's sister Marigold, who was quickly claimed by a lad whom Frodo guessed to be Tom Cotton. The rest did not wait long for partners, but were also taken up by country lads. Only one remained, a masked girl in a red cloak; after the last of her friends had gone, she sought out and spoke to a boy, but he refused her with a gesture and went to ask some other girl to dance, leaving the girl in red staring furiously after them.
Frodo began to circle the Green, stopping to chat with friends as he met them, but always keeping an eye on Sam. As he passed by the mill, he noticed Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, standing and watching the dancers with a sullen scowl. Did Ted disapprove of dancing and merry-making? Or perhaps the girl he wanted to dance with had already chosen another partner?
If it was the latter, then Frodo felt some sympathy. Even though he had sent Sam to dance with Rose, the truth was that he would have liked to dance with Sam himself... if only he dared. He was almost ready to risk a public indiscretion tonight--these costumes gave even the most staid and respectable hobbits freedom to play, for they might not be recognized under their rags and masks--but Frodo was aware that he was a well-known figure around Hobbiton these days, since he'd gained a measure of fame as a private investigator. He might be recognized. There had been some gossip about him and Sam this past summer, which had only died down once Sam was seen to be keeping company with Rosie. Why tempt fate and encourage more talk?
He had circled the Green and was approaching the front of the Inn, when he was grabbed from behind. He turned--and found himself in the arms of a hobbit-lad in shredded green rags who kissed him on the mouth. He was at first astonished at being kissed in public, and for a confused moment wondered why Sam was being so bold--and when had he left the dance?--then Frodo realized that this wasn't Sam. This boy was wearing a similar costume and his hair was bound up in a scrap of green print cloth, as Sam's was, with only a few fair curls showing around his ears and at the nape of his neck, but Frodo was familiar with the feel of Sam's arms and body, the taste of his mouth. But who-? And then he knew.
"Merry!" he cried as he shoved himself free. "When did you get here?"
Merry grinned. "Pip and I just arrived half an hour ago. I'm sorry we're late--We had to stop to visit those circus people."
"So they did stay on at the Ferndingle Farm?" The last Frodo had heard of this curious case he'd investigated a month ago, Noddy Ferndingle had welcomed his brother home and agreed to let Nobold's friends spend the winter at the farm as long as they earned their keep by giving a hand to the chores. He'd wondered how things had turned out.
"Nob's stayed, and so have Dorryk and the other hobbits," Merry answered. "Mr. Grimmold's still there too--he says he feels comfortable in hobbit-sized rooms--but the Big Folk found the farmhouse rather cramped, so they left to spend the winter in Bree. Noddy wasn't very pleased at first at having so many odd people about, but Mr. Grimmold's talked him 'round. Pippin's made friends with them, and he's been spending a lot of time there lately. So have Ferdi, and Pim and Peri. I expect at least one Took will run off with the circus when they leave this spring, and it might very well be Pip. He'll no doubt show you some of the conjuring tricks they've taught him when he gets a chance."
"I'll look forward to seeing them, and finding out how they work. Did you stop by Bag End? We left you a note."
"No, we didn't bother, since we knew you'd be here. We took a room at the Ivy Bush to dress up."
"And where's Pippin?" Frodo asked.
"I left him in the common room. He never likes to get very far from his next half-pint if he can help it. But I thought I'd come out and look for you. It wasn't very difficult. I knew you the instant I saw you--I'd know you anywhere."
"I didn't know you," Frodo admitted, "not at first."
Merry laughed. "I would never have guessed you were in the habit of kissing strangers at parties, Frodo!"
"I'm not- I don't-" He faltered, blushing. "I thought you were Sam. You're lucky Sam didn't see that, by the way."
"Never fear--Sam didn't notice. He's got other things on his mind tonight." Merry cast a glance at the whirling dancers. Sam was still among them with Rosie and didn't look as if he had eyes for anyone but his partner. Frodo felt a pang of jealousy; he didn't mind Sam dancing with Rose, but he would have liked Sam to take some notice if he was kissing someone else.
The music changed. A fiddle took up a sprightly tune, and the circle of dancers broke apart. Couples paired off to engage in a spirited, bouncing jig.
"Why don't we join them?" Merry offered. "Will you dance with me, Frodo? It won't matter--our reputations are in tatters anyway."
Frodo laughed at the bad pun. "All right. Why shouldn't we?" While it might be odd for two grown boys to dance together, it wouldn't be as scandalous for him to dance with Merry as it would be for him to dance with Sam. No one would take it anything but a joke. Besides, Merry was his closest cousin, and the one he felt most comfortable with. As a matter of fact, they had first practiced their dancing together as small children in the nursery with Melilot and Mentha.
When Merry held out his hand, Frodo took it, and they joined the dance.
The jig was an informal piece, with paired dancers making bounding leaps forward and back again in time to the rhythm of the music. They frequently bumped into other couples, who were jumping just as vigorously, but that was half the fun. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, until Merry bumped against Sam's back.
Sam turned. Like Frodo, he didn't recognize Merry at first, but he knew Frodo immediately and his hazel eyes, made more green by the mask, widened in surprise. He couldn't do anything at the moment except mutter "Beg y'r pardon," and head off with Rosie in the opposite direction, but Frodo could tell by the constant glances thrown at him and Merry that Sam was not pleased.
When the music stopped, most of the dancers were panting and breathless. Some left the Green, but new pairs stepped out to take their place. The fiddler put down his bow and went into the Inn for a drop of ale, while a drummer, piper, and bellpoler started a fresh melody.
Merry and Frodo sought out the hot-cider booth. They were warm after dancing, but the night had grown crisply cold and their breath steamed before their faces; a hot drink seemed just the thing. They found Pippin, in vividly red-and-gold-colored rags and a belled joungler's cap borrowed from one of his circus friends, at another booth nearby, munching on roasted chestnuts. Sam headed toward them a few minutes later.
"Frodo, you oughtn't go jumping about like that. You'll tire yourself out first thing-"
"Sam, I'm fine, only a little short of breath."
"And who was that lad- Oh, it's you, Mr. Merry. I should've guessed." Sam scowled. "What d'you mean by making a spectacle of Frodo that way? Think of what people'll say!"
"Oh, I've learned not to mind what people say," Merry replied.
"I don't think anybody really noticed, or cared," added Frodo. "There's never been any talk about me and Merry, nor any reason why there should be. We're practically brothers." It was just as well that Sam had not observed that non-brotherly kiss.
"You have to be more broad-minded about this, Sam," Pippin said. "It's no good fussing about whatever Merry gets up to. After all the boys he's played around with, I'm surprised he never got his hands on Frodo before." He was smiling and spoke as if he were joking, but there was something more solemn in his eyes as they flickered from Merry to Frodo; Sam might not have seen that kiss, but Frodo was suddenly quite sure that Pippin had.
"There's nothing to be upset about," Frodo said, speaking to Sam, but trying to reassure Pippin as well. "It was all perfectly harmless."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Merry. "So much fuss over a bit of fun! I only wanted to dance. I don't have any designs on your precious Frodo, Sam. I've no plan to change partners."
Sam's mouth popped open, but he wasn't sure what to make of this pointed remark. Before he could find a suitable retort, they all heard a loud splash, and somebody screamed.
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