A Rope to Hang Himself by Kathryn Ramage

When Sam returned from his farm visits, he and Frodo spent a busy hour before dinner in their room with a map of the Westfarthing borrowed from Mr. Bloomer spread out upon on the floor.

"Chalky Top... Old Chalky End... Whitcrest..." Sam knelt over the map and searched until he located these villages, tracing the road that led from one to the next carefully with a forefinger. "That's right near Greenholm. I wonder if my Aunt Lula ever heard tell of this Malbo?"

"I'd be surprised, Sam. Your aunt isn't the sort of lady who'd need the services of a gardener, nor the attentions of a lad half her age," Frodo replied distractedly. He was sitting at the foot of the bed above Sam, compiling a complete list from their respective notes on the places mentioned by Malbo's friends and employers. He wrote down the three names Sam had just spoken, then the slate pencil paused on the notebook page; he leaned over to look at the map where Sam's fingers were still pointing. "I say, that's odd."

Sam looked up at him. "What's odd?"

Frodo dropped lightly off the bed to crouch on opposite side of the map from Sam. "Here, look at this: Malbo's been all over this part of the Shire, but different people have given us the names of some very far-flung places. The villages Mrs. Scuttle and the farm-folk gave us are all around here-" Frodo spread his hand over a northern section of the map. "And this last group is all much farther south. Sam, who gave you the names of those towns?"

"Pandro Applegrove."

"Mr. Woodvine also mentioned Chalky Top and Chalky End, and other towns to the south," Frodo observed.

"Maybe Malbo'd tell his friends about different places than he'd tell the folk he worked for?" Sam offered. "The places where he had a bit of fun, not where he took a job?"

"Yes, that's likely..." But Frodo didn't appear satisfied by this explanation, and continued to look thoughtful as he and Sam finished their list.

At dinnertime, they went into the private dining-room to find Merry and Pippin already there. Frodo hadn't seen his cousins all day; after their long and swift travel across the Shire, followed by a night's carousing and heavy drinking, the two had slept in that morning. Mr. Bloomer had reported at lunchtime that "the two gents" had taken a late breakfast in their room, as if he believed Frodo would take an interest in Misters Greenhill's and Marshbottom's comings-and-goings.

"Well, we didn't spend all day sleeping," Pippin said with a chuckle as he helped himself to the bread Maisie had brought to the table. The maid had given Frodo an anxious glance before she'd gone back out. "I like inns, don't you, Frodo? Nobody knows you and you can do whatever you like without worrying who it'll get back to."

"Yes, I enjoy staying at inns... although this one's been a bit of a disappointment," said Frodo, ignoring Sam's blush and the curious glances his cousins gave him at this last remark. "I'm glad you two have enjoyed your holiday today, but I think it's time for you to continue on your journey to the Westward Bounds."

"But we weren't really going westward," said Pippin. "That was just a story Merry made up."

"I know, but it will look very odd for you as travelers to stay here in Gamwich too long. Mr. Bloomer has begun to wonder, and I'm sure that Silvanus Woodbine has some suspicions of you too. Besides, I have an errand for you. I want you to visit these villages." Frodo gave Merry half the list of village names he'd written out with some general directions. "These villages are all to the north. Sam will visit some other villages to the south. Since we've been seen to make up a list, Sam, we ought to be seen investigating it ourselves. And this will give you a chance to visit your aunt."

"What about you, Frodo?" Sam asked. "Will you come with me?"

"No, I'm going to stay here. I'm feeling rather weary after all the riding and walking about we've done lately--and you wouldn't want me to tire myself out, would you? One of us ought to remain in Gamwich."

"Are we looking for something in particular in these villages?" Merry asked as he read the list.

"Yes," said Frodo. "See if you can find someone who's died recently, in the last five years or so, someone whose death was connected with Malbo Glossum. I expect it will be a girl, but I may be wrong on that point." Maisie returned then with their soup; Merry dropped the list into his lap and began to talk impersonally about how he was looking forward to seeing the White Downs.
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