The Master Scribe's Mystery by Kathryn Ramage

At that evening hour, the main streets of Michel Delving were lit only by lanterns hanging over the doors of the few shops still open, most of them taverns, but Frodo knew his way to the scrivener's shop even in the dark. Sam had dressed quickly to accompany him.

Mr. Droppot's shop had closed hours ago, but a flickering flame was visible in the darkness beyond. As they went around the shop to the smial on the hillside behind it, this light bobbed and danced and a voice called out, "Jewel! Is that you, lass?"

"No, Mr. Droppot," Frodo called back. "What's happened? Has she gone?"

The master scribe came toward them, brandishing his candle above his head. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Baggins. Yes, my Jewel's gone! I thought she'd gone home, but after I shut up shop, I came in to have my dinner and found nothing on the table but this note." He handed another piece of paper to Frodo over the garden fence, and lowered the candle to provide enough light to read by.

The note was written in a bold hand, the letters flowing easily from one to the next rather than standing separately in blocks. Frodo read aloud:

"Dear Uncle Turlo-

"I'll be miles away before you read this, and Romy too.
We're going to be wed as soon as we can find a magistrate.
I'm sorry I couldn't do as you wanted, but I never cared
a hair for Perico Coney even if he could wrap me in a
dozen fox fur cloaks. Romy is the one I love. We are
going to open our own scrivener's and binder's shop in
another part of the Shire. I'll write once we are settled
in our new home.

"Farewell, Jewel"

"It's just like you said," Sam murmured. Though the garden was dark, he looked around to find the old oak tree.

"She's gone!" Mr. Droppot cried. "Run off with that boy! You knew it was going to happen?"

"I'm sorry. I came back tonight especially to warn you," Frodo told him. "They've been writing those peculiar notes to each other for some time, making arrangements where to meet. That message you found today was the final one between them." He'd brought the note along and held it up for the master scribe to see.

Mr. Droppot peered at the writing. "But it's nonsense, Mr. Baggins!"

"It's a code they used. If you read the first letter of each word, it says, 'My love, fly with me. Marry me.' Romy wrote that. And at the bottom, Miss Jewel replies, 'Yes.' He must have written his part of it earlier in the day and put it in her the delivery basket. She gave him her answer when she went into the binding room, and he must've dropped it behind the door just before you and I went in. That's why he was so flustered and red in the face. The lad was probably frightened nearly out of his wits."

"As well he should be!" said Mr. Droppot. "If I'd had an inkling of what they were up to, I'd've put my foot down hard on this!"

"Are you going to go after them?" Sam asked.

"I would, if I knew where they went. They could be miles from Michel Delving by now in any direction. They could be married, if they found a magistrate." He sat down at the garden gate in despair. "Jewel's five-and-thirty and has a right to wed without my permission. I couldn't stop her if she's made up her mind, though I say that she's made as poor a choice as she could. She knows I only wanted what's best for her, and a lad learning how to cut leather for books isn't best."

Frodo was forming an opinion that there really wasn't anything wrong with Romy except for his lack of money and social position. Mr. Droppot was eager to have his niece marry well among the neighboring shopkeepers, and the girl had other ideas about what made a suitable husband.

Since there was nothing more to be done, he offered some consoling remarks to Mr. Droppot: Jewel would be fine. She would be able to look after herself, wherever she was, and was sure to send word in the near future. If the two were married, then the best thing Mr. Droppot could do was accept the situation and welcome his niece's husband into the family.

"I do feel sorry for Mr. Droppot," Frodo confided once he and Sam had seen the master scribe go into his home and they were walking back along the dark streets. "He does care for his niece and I can see that her running away like this grieves him. But all the same, I'm not disappointed that we were too late to stop her. Miss Jewel is a clever and capable girl. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that she was the one who invented this code. No matter what Droppot thinks of the boy she's chosen to marry, I expect that she'll do well with him. They'll have a great success once they open their own bookmakers' shop."

"You'll give 'em your business?" Sam joked.

"That wouldn't be fair to poor Mr. Droppot." Frodo chuckled. "After losing his niece, it would crush him if I brought my writing to her instead. But I wish them joy." They stopped at the edge of market square, which was crowded with tradeshobbits and their wares during the day, but empty and silent now. The open area seemed as broad as a country meadow. The only light was a lantern burning at the White Chestnut's front door on the far side. Frodo didn't know if there was anyone around to see, but he didn't care. He took Sam by the hand and gave him a kiss. "You know how sympathetic I am to young people in love. I want them to be happy."

With Sam's hand still in his, they crossed the square to return to the inn.
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