Frodo's Miss Adventure by Kathryn Ramage

Sam went out for a quick wash up at the stream, still dazed by what had happened. Frodo had taken him by surprise before, but he'd never taken Sam in such an astonishing way. Frodo had ridden him joyously, fully clothed without a ribbon unlaced, burying him beneath billows of blue and white. Sam almost felt as if he were drowning and could only hang on for dear love and life. Like most of Frodo's recent flights of wildness, it had been wonderfully thrilling and somewhat frightening.

When Sam returned to the grove, Frodo was reclining on his coat on the grass, gazing up through the circle of trees at the sky and smiling softly, contentedly. With his tousled ringlets flung out around his head, face flushed and eyes dreamy, he looked even more beautiful; and Sam forgot his misgivings and said the first thing that came to his mind:

"I wish I could marry you."

Frodo laughed and sat up. Sam offered him a handkerchief, dampened in the water, so he could wash up too. "I've wished so myself, many times," Frodo said. "Imagine how lovely it would be not to worry about hiding and keeping what we feel for each other always secret. We could do this sort of thing all the time."

"Married folk don't do such things!" Sam replied, scandalized. "Not out-of-doors where anybody might come along. They get into bed every night, proper and decent-like."

"Pity," said Frodo as he began to put himself back into order. "Not that I've any objection to a bed, but this was rather more exciting." He glanced up into Sam's shocked face. "Didn't you think so too?"

"It was," Sam admitted, "and 'm not sorry we did it, only- well- you never used to behave like this afore you went away. Afore-" He hesitated, but Frodo understood.

"Not before I took up with Merry?" he finished the sentence for Sam as he stepped back into his pantalets and smoothed down his skirts, completely unperturbed. When he glanced up at Sam, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I assure you, dear Sam, Merry and I never did anything like this. He tied my wrists to the bedpost once or twice, but that was as much to prevent me from sleep-walking as to have a bit of fun."

Sam couldn't imagine how Frodo could call being tied up 'fun'--he'd felt far too helpless with his hands bound in lace--but something else that Frodo said made him forget his jealousy. "When did you sleep-walk, Frodo? Was it when you was in Minas Tirith?"

"Yes, that's right. I kept waking in the middle of night to find myself wandering the street in front of Gandalf's house in my shift. Once, I even woke in the tunnels under the citadel, and had no idea how I came to be there. There was the ghost of an Elf... I've told you something of that tale, Sam. I'll have to go through my notes and make a proper story of it, once I finish writing the tale of our quest." He picked up the straw hat from the bench and put it back on, tying the wide blue ribbons under his chin. "We ought to go now. You don't want to be late for Fleetfoot's race."

He took Sam by the hand and they walked back into town. On the edge of the market square, Frodo turned and said, "If we were married, I could do this all time too, but this may be my only chance." He threw his arms around Sam's neck and kissed him boldly, there in broad daylight with people all around. No one gave them a second glance. "Best of luck, darling," he said after he let Sam go. "I'll be at the White Chestnut, and myself again, when you come back."

After he saw Sam off on the eastward road toward the fairfields, Frodo turned to go into the inn. As he made his way across the crowded square, a voice called out, "Cousin!"

Frodo didn't look up until the cry was repeated. A chubby, fair-haired hobbit was headed purposefully toward him, grinning. She was wearing a pair of Sam's trousers and a loose-fitted jacket and waistcoat so that she looked pudgy rather than pregnant and her bright curls had been tucked up beneath under a purloined hat, but he would recognize Angelica anywhere.

"My dear Miss Baggins!" Angelica said once they were close enough for conversation and looked him up and down, appreciating her own work. "How sweet you look, but you've rumpled my dress. You haven't been sitting on grass in it, have you?"

"No, I've been very careful."

"I've been looking all over for you. I even went down to the fairfields. I got tired of sitting in your dressing-gown, waiting for you to come back. I was going to put on the clothes you left off, but they were too tight. I hope Sam doesn't mind I've borrowed some of his things. It was an interesting experience, being a boy among the boys. I've never worn trousers before--I'm thinking of having a pair made for riding when I get my figure back."

"It's been an interesting experience for me as well," Frodo confessed. "And I owe it entirely to you. Thank you."

"Did it work? Did you find Sam?"

In spite of his boldness a few minutes earlier, Frodo was relieved that Angelica hadn't seen him kiss Sam. She was the one person in Michel Delving who would know the truth if she saw it. "Yes, I spoken to him, and everything's been arranged.

"Then we've done all we can for Lad? Shall we go back and change?"

Arm in arm, they went into the inn, past the watchful gaze of Ulfodo Longchalk. A short while later, Frodo emerged from his room in his usual clothes and returned to the common room; most of the ladies had finished their lunches and returned to their business in the square, but Lad was still sitting at the same table with his third ale and the remains of a hearty meal. Ravenous after his adventures, Frodo ordered a bite of late lunch for himself as he joined his friend.

"You've been gone a good, long while," said Lad. "Did you get a message out?"

Frodo nodded. "Sam knows just what to do." He told Lad all he had asked Sam to do on their behalf.

"Mosco's to ride?" Lad repeated. "D'you think he's up to it?"

"It was your friend, young Myrtle Broombindle, who made me think of it," answered Frodo. "I remember seeing her ride in the jumps, and if a girl of seventeen can do it, why not a boy of fifteen? Milo himself said at that time that he'd put Mosco in the races if he could ride half as well as she did, but Mosco needn't jump over logs and streams and things. He only needs to hold on and keep his seat, and he can manage that quite well. Milo's had him on ponies since he was of an age to sit upright in the saddle."

"Myrtle's still running the jumps. She near one-and-twenty now and the best lady-rider I've even seen, barring my 'Gelica. As a matter of fact, Myrtle's riding the jump-course later this afternoon. I'd hoped to be there..." Lad looked wistful. "I suppose we can now only wait for Sam to show up, and hope he's been successful."

"Oh, I think the matter will turn out quite successfully, one way or another," Frodo assured him with renewed confidence. Since he'd left Sam, some interesting ideas had begun to turn in his head.
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