Mayor Will Whitfoot liked to claim that he had "set Mr. Frodo Baggins on the first steps, you might say, toward being the great professional investigator he is today." Most people smiled when they heard this, but it was actually true, for Mayor Whitfoot had been the first person to consult Frodo on a private and confidential case that didn't involve murder.
"Only think where you'd be, Frodo, if you hadn't taken my advice when I called upon you about my Lad," the Mayor said cheerfully to his guest that summer afternoon. Frodo had accompanied Sam to Michel Delving for the Lithetide pony races, but while his friend had joined the Mayor's son Lad and Frodo's cousin Milo Burrows at the races, Frodo had come to the Mayor's Hall at the Mayor's invitation. The two sat now in the Mayor's study. "You recall what I said?" Mayor Whitfoot repeated his advice to Frodo, even though Frodo remembered it well: "I said that investigating was as good a profession as any for a young hobbit, and a clever lad like you was the just the sort to do it properly."
"I've never regretted following your advice, sir," Frodo said politely.
"No, I daresay not! If it hadn't been for that, you might never have been called to more important tasks than tended to my Lad's difficulties, which you managed to sort out very well indeed."
"Angelica managed that as much as I did, if not more."
"To be sure she did." Mayor Whitfoot nodded his head. "She knew what she was after, and got it. I can't say it was the best way for a respectable girl to go about catching a husband, but it worked out right for everybody in the end. Lad's got a good wife to look after him, and we've got as pretty a daughter-in-law as anybody could ask for, and a granddaughter as pretty as her mother, so I have no reason to complain. And you've gone on to serve the Thain himself, and the young Master of Buckland, though he's a friend and close cousin of yours. We've even heard tell how you were called to aid this great King that lives so far away, and solved a murder or two for him. You've done well for yourself by these investigations."
"Indeed, sir," Frodo agreed. "This line of work has made all the difference in my life these past few years."
His life had been changed in so many ways that he could never make clear to Mayor Whitfoot. For the most part, the Shire remained ignorant of the role he had played in the Great War of the Ring--was barely aware of the war at all--and Frodo was content that it should be so. But he was famous as a detective throughout the Shire, and beyond. Frodo had never sought this fame, but he was glad of the chance to put his intellectual abilities to good use and to aid people in need. Now that the Red Book was nearly finished, he was planning to write down accounts of some of his more interesting cases. Most important of all, he had been summoned back to Gondor at Aragorn's request to solve a series of murders last spring, and in the midst of his investigations had been given a new chance at life. His health, which had been fading rapidly since the quest, was beginning to recover. Although he would have to leave his home forever to be healed completely, he now had years in the Shire to look forward to and he meant to make the most of them.
He asked the Mayor, "Is it something of the same sort you wish to discuss now, sir? Something about Lad?"
Mayor Whitfoot smiled. "Ah, you are clever to guess that! You're quite right, Frodo. Then as now, I'm worried about my Lad."
"It's not the same- ah- problem?"
"I should hope not! He adores Angelica and dotes on little Willa. I'm certain he hasn't a thought of straying, and I'd hate to see any son of mine disgrace his family in such a way." The Mayor considered the question for a moment, then explained, "Lad's got some secret he's keeping from Angelica as well as his mother and me. I've asked him for myself what's wrong and he insists it's nothing, but he's troubled--I can see it. There's something preying on his mind. Have you seen himself since you came to town?"
"Only for a minute or two, when Milo, Sam, and I met him at the fairfields." Frodo hadn't noticed anything in particular at the time, but now that he thought about it, he recalled that Lad had been glancing about the crowd while he'd greeted them, as if he were keeping an eye out for someone else.
"You were so good to help us before, and I hoped you might agree to do so again," said Mayor Whitfoot. "We are, after all, kinsmen by marriage now."
"I would agree to help even if that weren't so," said Frodo. "I'll see if I can find out what's troubling Lad, and if there's anything I can do about it."
The Mayor allowed that this was all he could expect. "I've invited Lad and Angelica to join us for dinner, as you and Mr. Gamgee will be here. You can have a word with Lad then."
As they left the Mayor's study, Mrs. Whitfoot and Frodo's cousin Angelica were coming down the hallway toward the best sitting room. Angelica was leading her little daughter Willa by the hand, and her second pregnancy was beginning to show beneath her loosely-laced bodice. When she saw Frodo, Angelica smiled.
"Frodo, hello!" She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and lifted up the little girl so that Willa could give Uncle Frodo a peck as well. "I heard that you were coming to Michel Delving with Sam and Uncle Milo for Lithetide, but I didn't expect to see you 'til dinner-time."
"You must be the only young gentleman in all of Michel Delving who isn't out on the fairfields today," said Mrs. Whitfoot. "I'm certain Will would rather be out there now himself, if he didn't have business to keep him shut up in his study."
"In my position, my dear, business must sometimes take precedence," Mayor Whitfoot said importantly, although the business of a mayor primarily consisted of attending banquets, opening festivals, and occasionally appointing postmasters and high shirriffs. "There is my re-election this autumn to plan for, and this year the competition will be fierce. I can always go out tomorrow. That's the big day, after all. I won't keep you from enjoying the sport yourself, Frodo."
Angelica looked curious at the suggestion that Frodo had 'business' with the Mayor. "Oh, Frodo doesn't care much for racing," she told her in-laws.
"I've never been much of a gamer," Frodo explained, with a note of apology. He knew his was a very unhobbity attitude to take; Mayor and Mrs. Whitfoot both looked mildly shocked at Angelica's announcement. "I've seen Milo's and Lad's pony win a half-dozen times before. No doubt it will win again tomorrow."
"We certainly hope it will!" said the Mayor. "But Fleetfoot hasn't done so well this spring."
"I can't get excited over watching races either," said Angelica, "but that black-and-white pony of Lad's and Uncle Milo's has made their fortunes for them, so I can't complain of all the time it takes them away. Mother Whitfoot and I have been arranging an alternate entertainment for us 'racing-widows' tomorrow, while the pony-fanciers are out on the fairfields."
"We'll be holding a crafts fair in the market-place. There'll be contests for baking and picklings and preserves, the best flowers, weaving and quilting," added Mrs. Whitfoot. "Quite a number of ladies are keen to compete."
"You'll likely be the only young gentleman there as well, Frodo, and just as bored, but you're welcome to join us," Angelica invited him.
Frodo said he would be delighted. He might be called to follow Lad down to the fairfields tomorrow to keep an eye on him and find out what was wrong, but perhaps Sam could take that duty and look less suspicious doing so. Sam and Lad had become good friends since the Mayor had appointed Sam as Chief Shirriff for Bywater and their mutual family interests as young husbands and doting fathers had brought them together.
Other ladies of the town were expected to join Angelica and Mrs. Whitfoot to discuss arrangements for the crafts fair, and they duly arrived in time for tea. The presence of the famous detective roused their curiosity; the ladies were all certain that Frodo must be here to conduct an investigation, but since he said nothing of it, they soon stopped casting hints about how fascinating his work must be and settled down to their business. Only Angelica continued to glance at him speculatively.
After the ladies had gone home and the last race of that afternoon had been run, Lad came to the Mayor's Hall, bringing Sam with him.
"Where's Uncle Milo?" asked Angelica. "You might've brought him along, dear. Your parents wouldn't mind another guest at the table tonight."
The Mayor and Mrs. Whitfoot agreed that this was so, but Lad explained, "I left him at the Fairview. He's got young Mosco with him, you know, and Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took are there too. We met them on the fields. I didn't like to bring so many unexpected guests, seeing as we weren't dining at home tonight. They'll be just as happy having their dinner at the inn."
Sam scowled at the mention of Merry Brandybuck. The Mayor and his family didn't notice it, and wouldn't have understood it if they had, but Frodo knew very well what it meant.
Over dinner, after Angelica had asked Sam about Rosie and Elanor and heard that they were well, the subject inevitably turned to the races. "How did your pony do today, Lad?" asked the Mayor.
Lad shook his head. "Fleet ran three races, but he only won the first."
He appeared deeply worried by this, and even his father's consoling, "Well, it's a disappointment, to be sure, but he'll pick up his hooves and show his old form tomorrow," didn't lift his spirits. Lad remained brooding and preoccupied throughout the meal, and Frodo had no opportunity to have a private word with him until after the table had been cleared. As the group left the dining room, Lad announced he was stepping outdoors for a quick pipe.
"A good idea," said Mayor Whitfoot. "I daresay all you lads could do with a pipeful after such a fine meal." He nodded and lifted his eyebrows encouragingly at Frodo. Frodo took the hint, and followed Lad out into the garden.
Lad sat on a bench on the slope above the front door of the Mayor's Hall, staring out through the cool, still twilight over the rolling chalk downs of Michel Delving and the lights in the doorways and windows of the neighboring smials. Frodo went up to join him. When he took his own pipe from his jacket pocket, Lad struck a match for him and, as he held it out, asked, "You've been here all afternoon, haven't you, Frodo? Father asked you to come?"
"That's right," Frodo answered after taking in a few deep draws, and letting out a puff of smoke.
"To talk about me?"
"He can see you've been troubled lately, and he's worried for you, Lad."
"Yes, I know." Lad sat back with a loud sigh. "I'm a grown and married hobbit, and I can handle my own affairs, thank you. But Father can't help his prying, as if I were still a silly child who was always getting into mischief and couldn't manage to get himself out. And now he's sent you to pry as well."
"He means well. Since I have been set this task, it will save me a lot of effort in sneaking and prying if I ask you what's wrong directly, and you're good enough to answer me honestly," Frodo responded. "Is it so awful, Lad? Can't you go to your father? He'd be happy to help."
"I couldn't tell Father. Here, you won't tell him or Mother... or Angelica?" Lad sounded particularly apprehensive about this last prospect.
"I can be very discreet, when required. Sam and I, both, have kept people's secrets before," Frodo added as his friend came out to join them. "If you don't wish your father to hear the details of what's troubling you, I needn't repeat them. I can simply say that the matter has been settled satisfactorily. There's no reason to bring Angelica into it at all. Is it a problem of money?" He knew that Angelica kept her husband on a strict allowance for his gambling and racing interests.
"Well, I've lost money, of course," Lad answered. "You've heard how our pony Fleetfoot hasn't been running as well as he used to--not only today, but all this season. He's been a great disappointment, just as Father says, not only to me and Milo, but to other people who've put wagers on him and thought they'd get an easy win. And they didn't." He was quiet for a few minutes while he smoked his pipe. "Most of 'em take it well enough, but there's these lads, brothers. I couldn't call 'em friends of mine, but I've known 'em since we were little lads. They're as keen on the ponies as I am."
"And they've taken their losses badly?" Frodo prompted.
"After the last races, three weeks' past, when Fleetfoot did as bad as he ever had, they came to me and said I must be holding him back--deliberately nobbling my own pony!"
"Now why'd they say such a thing?" asked Sam. "You're not betting against him."
"No, of course not!" Lad huffed. "They say it's a trick, to raise the stakes. You see, if Fleet loses often enough, people will stop putting money on him to win, and that will bring up higher odds. Those that do wager on him when he isn't a good choice will get more if he does win after all. Something of the sort happened this morning, only Fleet's still among the favorites." He could see that Frodo looked confused by this explanation. "You don't know much about how wagers are made, do you?"
Frodo admitted that he didn't.
"Well, there's simple wagers between friends. Let's say, as an example, you think Godolpho Brownlock's pony Windchaser is going to win the next race, and I say my Fleet's going to and we lay a bet with each other on it. We'd both put down a gold piece, or what you will, so long as it matches one for one, and the winner takes all. That's the usual thing, but there's also brokers on the field during the races that take wagers from all who have the money, and they play a more complicated game. Now, a favorite pony like our Fleetfoot, who wins often, might get you one gold coin for each one you put down, but a slower pony that isn't as sure to win so often will bring in more when it does beat out the favorites. You might win three gold pieces for every one wagered, or five, or even ten. It's a risk, but it can bring you a lot of money once in awhile if you have your luck with you. There's a fine art of calculation that the brokers make to decide how likely it is for each pony in a race to win. They know all the ins and outs as well as us riders and pony-owners and base their odds accordingly."
Frodo was impressed. Most hobbits were barely capable of working out more than the simplest sums without counting up on their fingers, but it seemed that when it was a matter of games, even the least mathematical hobbits could perform amazing feats. "So these- ah-acquaintances of yours accuse you of holding Fleetfoot back in order to make more money off him in the end?"
"Yes, that's it exactly." Lad nodded. "They say Fleet had better begin winning before the brokers' odds against him start to rise. More than that, they want the money they've lost, plus what they say they should've won. I'm to pay it up, or else they'll make an official charge. Any hint of trickery or dishonesty on the race course could ruin us. We'd never be allowed to run a pony again--not me alone, but Milo too. But how can I pay them? If I do, it looks like I'm admitting to being guilty. Besides, I don't have the kind of money they're asking for. I've lost on Fleet too, and Angelica knows how much I have to spend on ponies to the penny. You know how she feels since Milo got himself into such terrible trouble over his gaming debts. Now how, Frodo, can you help me with that?"
"Can I meet with them?" asked Frodo. "They'll be at the races all day tomorrow, as will you, but perhaps you can find a time to bring them to me at some place where we can speak confidentially."
Lad nodded. "What do you mean to do?"
"Give them a talking-to. If they intend to make accusations and defame your good name, they ought to provide proof. I shall demand it. If they can't--and I assume they haven't got any--then we've got them. I will promise as much trouble for them as they mean to make for you. It may frighten them off simply to see that you've brought in professional help. When you see these persons tomorrow, tell them I wish to see them, and we'll make whatever arrangements are necessary to see that they won't make spurious charges against you."
Lad didn't look entirely convinced, but he agreed to do as Frodo asked.
Site Info
We are the home of 1292 authors from among our 2552 members. There have been 2904 reviews written about our 3820 stories consisting of 10734 chapters and 29400445 words. A special welcome to our newest member, Rosamundeb.Categories
Skin Change
Donate
Help us keep one of the oldest running LotR archives available to all. Even the smallest donation helps!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
The Library, elsewhere
Other projects
Frodo's Miss Adventure by Kathryn Ramage
Story notes: April 2007
This story takes place at midsummer 1423 (S.R.).
The Frodo Investigates! series
