Chapter Text
Our arrival back at Bag End, after those fateful events in Frogmorton, has always been rather vague in my memories. I suppose it was the loss of blood, as well as the lengthy walk, that conspired to leave that evening a lost cause as far as my recollections of the matter went. Baggins has told me that I fainted on the doorstep, which I find rather mortifying, but unfortunately undeniably true. He then dragged me, or so I am told, to his bedroom, where he promptly put me to bed. Mrs. Rumble was then informed that I had been grievously, albeit not critically, wounded, and had been placed in his room as the bed there was more comfortable, and he could thus keep a close eye on my tenuous recovery. Baggins must have been his customary persuasive self, for suffice it to say that this was my bed from this point forward, and Mrs. Rumble never, to my knowledge, brought the matter up again.
I do remember awaking briefly that night, in the dark, and feeling disoriented. But upon whispering Frodo's name, I immediately felt strong arms enclose me in a loving embrace, and a tender voice breathe my name in my ear, and I immediately drifted off again into oblivion, feeling secure and protected.
The next morning I awoke to find myself alone in bed. It took several moments to acquaint myself with the fact of exactly whose bedroom I was in. The conclusion to that question was the cause of a sudden overwhelming rush of joy, and I was most grateful for the chance to quietly weep a few private tears of happiness. It still seemed, I could not deny, like some impossible dream come inexplicably true, and there was no hurt that I ever could have regretted, if it led to such an outcome as this.
I was just endeavoring to push myself into a sitting position when, with a courteous rapid knock on the door, Baggins himself entered. There was no hesitation in his manner as he hurried to my side, sitting on the bed beside me with an uncharacteristically radiant smile, and clasping my hand tightly in both of his. My tears were not entirely dried, I must admit, a fact that he kindly overlooked, but his own eyes were, perhaps, a trifle too bright as well. "Are you up for a bit of breakfast, my dear Gamgee? Oh, I suppose perhaps it ought to be my dear Samwise?"
"Call me what you will, Frodo, dear." I had to laugh at his expression. "It is a bit of a muddle, isn't it? But a delicious one."
"Entirely so," he murmured, his eyes shining with a wicked delight, and I suddenly found myself most willingly caught up in a fervent embrace, and his mouth quite emphatically on mine.
But eventually I had to catch my breath and broke reluctantly away, falling back onto the pillow. "You must forgive me, my dear," I smiled an apology, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and marveling once again that I could do so. "I'll be right as rain in a day or two, but I'm afraid I'm just the least bit wobbly still. Probably should have gone with the carriage."
Immediately, he was all solicitude. "Well, that's not to be wondered at, when it's been very nearly a day since you've eaten," he made an attempt to frown at me, but rather spoiling the effect by jumping up to fluff the pillow behind me, and drawing a small table to the side of the bed. "Mrs. Rumble has been working her customary magic, purely on your behalf, and there are far more scones and muffins and buns than I believe I've ever seen gathered in one location before in my life. She will be devastated if you do not apply yourself to them with utmost vigor."
"Oh, now, we certainly can't be having that," I replied with a chuckle, and indeed, the thought of her culinary prowess made my empty stomach give a pronounced growl of anticipation.
Baggins gave his distinctive bark of laughter at the interruption, and gave a wink. "Say no more, old chap, I will be back no time at all," and promptly vanished. But I must admit that it was not the thought of Mrs. Rumble's muffins, be they ever so light, which left me with the most perfectly ridiculous grin on my face.
A brief nap after second breakfast had me feeling very much my old self again so, finding Baggins not about when I awoke, I carefully got up and wrapped a robe about myself. It was his, but it was too chilly to wander down the hall to my old room to search out my own, or so I told myself. The truth of the matter was that it faintly smelled of its owner, a scent of woodsmoke combined with that infernally strong pipeweed that he enjoyed so, and the idea that I could take a liberty such as this was absolutely intoxicating.
I had plans for a warm bath, a spot of luncheon in the study, and a leisurely afternoon for the both of us to be spent in bed, acquainting ourselves with our new situation, but all these plans involved a party who was not currently present. So I decided to initiate them by wobbling my way down the hall and into the study, where Baggins sat at his desk, engrossed in something he was writing. Hearing me at the door, for I suppose I am not particularly stealthy even under the best of circumstances, he glanced up at me with a delighted smile and sprang to his feet, hurrying to my side. But no sooner had he done so when there came the sound of a visitor registering his presence at Bag End with a flurry of blows upon the round front door.
I gave a rueful chuckle at his exasperated sigh even as I felt his arms wrap around me in a warm embrace. "There's no denying that din, I'm afraid, or Mrs. Rumble will be here to unnecessarily announce that someone is at the door," he muttered in my ear. "Don't worry; I'll put them off somehow."
But unluckily enough as it turned out, my plans were destined for immediate alteration by the unexpected and certainly in my case, entirely unwelcome person of the visitor, that young scamp Peregrin Took. He was, in some disconnected sort of way, a cousin of Baggins, not to mention also being the young heir to the fortunes of the great Tooks of Tuckborough. Peregrin, or as he was more commonly named by young and old, gentlehobbit or not, Pippin Took, arrived at Bag End late that frosty morning on a handsome pony full of mettle and vigor. At least the pony was, that is, not young Pip. Pip was instead full, as usual, of higgledy-piggledy notions, and topsy-turvy ideas, and warm affectionate hugs, and the overweening hunger of a young hobbit stripling just entering his tweens. All in all, the type of visitor who tended to arrive unannounced, stay a good while, and involve his host in all sorts of unlikely predicaments. As a general rule, I enjoyed visits from young Pip, for the lad was undeniably entertaining and invigorating. Unfortunately, on this particular occasion, I had invigorating ideas myself, along quite a different vein, and young Pip's presence was going to restrict them, I was afraid, remarkably.
We had made our way somewhat hastily down the hall where Baggins, who appeared to my discerning eye to have the same sort of reservations as I, manfully thrust them aside for the moment in greeting the newcomer, and gave a wry smile to his young cousin as he greeted him in the entryway. "At odds with your sisters again, Pip?" he asked, with a trace of sympathy in his voice. "Looking for sanctuary?"
"Frodo, old chap," Pip responded merrily, giving Baggins another affectionate squeeze. "When am I ever not at odds with them? If that was all it was, I'd make my home permanently with the both of you in no time at all." But just as Baggins' hospitable smile started to freeze in terror, Pip went on.
"No, actually I've been sent by my father. A bit of bother going on back home, and he wants your keen eye and overpowering intellect put to use on it. Oh, and I say, there's old Gamgee," he added, spotting me behind Baggins in the hallway. "Not quite dressed, and after noon? What, are you ill?"
"Something far more enthralling than that," Baggins smoothly regained the young hobbit's attention, giving me a quick meaningful glance. "Weren't you on your way to a bath or something of the sort, Gamgee? I'll fill in Pip here with the particulars, but you really ought to be getting a bit more rest, you know. It wouldn't do at all to overtax your energies right now. Something tells me I might be needing your invaluable assistance all too soon."
Recognizing the opportunity for escape from the rambunctious young hobbit, for truth to tell, the mere thought of the young Took was exhausting in my present state, I quickly nodded, and made my way back down the hall, Pip's excited voice still ringing in my ears as he impetuously questioned his cousin. Let Baggins handle the young scamp, I thought to myself with relief. Unbelievably enough, the only thing more enticing to me at the moment, aside from a lovely warm soak, was the thought of another nap, wrapped in the down coverlets of Bag End's master bedroom. And with any luck at all, its owner would manage to make his way there as well, quite soon.
It seemed to be, by the slant of the light, late afternoon when I next cracked my eyes open. Collecting my thoughts with a bit of difficulty, I determined once again my location as being Bag End's master bedroom, as well as the fact that I was absolutely famished. Getting plenty of rest was all very well and good, I decided groggily, as I attempted to push myself up into a sitting position, but it certainly made a pronounced dent in any sort of normal meal schedule. However, it wasn't until I started to stir about that I realized that I wasn't alone in the bed. Frodo Baggins was stretched out on top of the coverlet next to me, propped up on pillows, book in hand, as if there was no better place to catch up with his reading than next to my slumbering form.
"Well, there you are," he commented good-naturedly, with a warm smile, reaching out to give my clumsy self a helping hand. "Here I manage to get Pip out of the smial for a bit, only to come back to find you having a lie-down once again."
"They do say nothing quite works as well as sleep to heal one, but this is getting rather ridiculous," I grumbled at my weakness, with an apologetic smile. "Feel like quite a fauntling. But did you say that you had managed to get rid of Pip for the moment?" I added, belatedly seizing upon the salient point.
"That I did," he laughed. "Pointed out that we were totally out of ale, not even a mugful to be had. And you know he dislikes wine, so it seems as though a quick trip into Hobbiton was in order. But with that fine pony of his, I don't expect it to be a lengthy one."
"Excellent," I happily responded, catching his hand up with mine. "Although there is another barrel in the far corner, you know."
"I'm quite sure I had forgotten the barrel that stands behind the vegetable bin," he responded blandly, a distinct twinkle in his eye as he returned my clasp. "Surely I can't be expected to remember all the odds and ends in the larder."
"How very devious, Baggins! I never would have suspected that of you," I had to laugh but caught my breath sharply at the painful tug at my healing side.
"I would not be surprised if there are many things we do not know about each other," he smiled briefly, but the smile faded as he gave me a questioning look. "How is it, Gamgee? Let me examine it for you."
"That probably would not be a bad idea," I responded, still a bit self-conscious as I attempted to draw up the nightshirt I was still wearing. "Such an infernally awkward location, I must say."
"Very nearly healed over, no sign of redness," he commented in a professional manner, as he disappeared from my view with his hand on my shoulder, holding the shirt up "However, I must warn you that Pip has been most suitably awed by your injury. I suspect he's most taken with the idea of the impressive scar that will be left."
"Impressive, do you think? Not that I will ever be able to view it myself," I complained lightly.
"It is not you who needs to see it," I heard his voice soften, and the touch of his hand on my shoulder became unmistakably tender. "Indeed, it is I who need to be reminded of how very nearly I allowed that which I treasure most to be taken from me by my carelessness and haste. For I should have told you all that I knew, my dearest Sam, and trusted to your bravery. If you had known everything, you would still not have shrunk from the task, and it was ridiculous of me to have thought otherwise. I hope you forgive me that momentary lack of confidence, my dear."
"Oh, Frodo, I can forgive anything that has given me the courage to do this," I cried out impetuously, seizing the hand on my shoulder and drawing it to my mouth to kiss.
"Ah, my own beloved Sam," I heard him whisper, his voice cracking with emotion. Then his mouth found the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes, sighing blissfully.
But our moment of peace was over, for with a pronounced bang of the front door and a cheery cry of "What ho!" it was obvious that Pip Took had returned to Bag End.
Dinner had been neatly polished off, and for once, Pippin had been outmatched, for I was truly ravenous. But Mrs. Rumble had been forewarned, and there was plenty of dinner to go around. By the time we retired to the study for the customary post-prandial pipe and spot of brandy (or in the young Took's case, mug of ale), every corner had been quite satisfactorily filled, and I was far more disposed to listen benevolently to Pippin's tale. He had already gone through it with Baggins, apparently, but Frodo insisted that I be provided a full accounting for, as he mentioned rather sternly, he would not consider taking the matter under consideration without my involvement and participation. Pippin had no compunction, however, in completely filling me in on the affair, since he now viewed me, to my bemusement and may I confess, my gratification, as quite the hero and valiant companion of his beloved cousin.
"It's the ponies, you see," he began, leaning forward and cradling his mug in both hands. "You know how father is about them, Frodo," he added, with a nod in his direction, and I understood the importance of the matter at once. The Took stable was renown throughout the Shire, and it was an absolutely unquestioned fact that Paladin Took loved his ponies very nearly as well as his own children. "He loves to race them, and it's true he bets on them, but you know it doesn't really matter all that much to him how it turns out in the end. It's a bit of fun for him, and nothing more. But it's what's been happening to them as of late that has him all in a commotion."
"The last three ponies that he was to race," he continued, his young face suddenly quite serious, "have come up lame the day they were to run. Not just pulled up short, mind you, but seriously injured. They have been deliberately hurt, somehow, and yet we cannot think of how it could have happened. There was no sign of a break-in, and the stable manager and the stable lads saw no sign of anything amiss. Yet, come morning, there's another pony limping about, with blood on his fetlock. Dad's furious, and I'm not much less, I don't mind telling you. Whatever the motive is, there's never any call for hurting these beautiful animals. I can't tell you how grateful we would be if you, Frodo, and Gamgee, you as well, could help us capture this villain."
Baggins leaned back in his comfortable chair, taking a deep draught on his pipe. "You say there is no sign of a break-in," he murmured, the glint of his eyes enhanced by the light of the fire. "How long has the stable staff been with you?"
"Well, Toliver, the head groom, has been about since I was a small lad," Pippin frowned. "The two stable lads are somewhat newer to the job, to be sure, but have still been with us a few years. It's hard to imagine that any of them could be involved in something this underhanded."
"Hmm," Baggins nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose there's nothing much that can be determined at this time. Very well, then, Pippin, as soon as Gamgee is able to travel, we shall journey to the Great Smials, and attempted to unravel this matter. You'd best leave tomorrow then and advise your father that we shall be there shortly."
"Very well," Pippin answered with a bit of disappointment, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. "I was rather hoping you could come back with me, but I entirely understand." He turned to me then with an irresistible curiosity. "Frodo says that you will have quite a scar," he blurted out. "Could I see?"
"Pippin!" Baggins exclaimed, very nearly mortified, but I couldn't help laughing.
"Sounds most dramatic, doesn't it?" I gave him a conspiring wink. "As soon as it turns into a scar, I will be most happy to reveal it to you."
Pippin giggled in delight, and was soon after escorted to his room by his still somewhat severe cousin. His room was fortunately on the far side of the hallway from the master bedroom of Bag End.
There was a brisk breeze that night, and the clouds scudded quickly past the nearly full moon, covering the light and then letting it shine silver once again. In that fitful illumination, Baggins' characteristically pale face took on a marble gleam that was totally at odds with the warmth of it under my hesitant hand. It was completely impossible to touch him like this, and not feel the thrill of our new situation, our altered relationship. It had made more sense, somehow, in the cabin by the Water, when I lay at first in a haze of pain, and Baggins took to distracting me with conversation. Under those circumstances, our new-found attachment developed as if in a dream, utterly unrelated to our previous life. And I cannot help admitting that I was just the least bit fearful that when we returned to Bag End and our prior existence, that somehow it would all disappear like a once told and then forgotten story, a faint memory of lost happiness. And yet it did not.
He was in my embrace once again, and I felt his hands stroking me hungrily, his ravenous mouth on mine. It was not just at my initiative, no, not at all. We were, the both of us, entirely equal in our passion and caught up in our desire to touch, taste and ultimately know each other, in the most intimate of details. How many years had we lived side-by-side, and yet there was so much more to discover, such as the way he gasped, head flung back, in moments of ecstasy; the helpless moan I could draw from him with a properly applied lingering kiss; and the words of love that made me cry out in return, and vow eternal devotion as I gave him everything and anything and promised him, from the depths of my heart, to be forever his, in whatever way he wished me to be.
Long into the night we made love, and it was when at last, as the dying flames of the firelight flickered out, and the cool dark blue of dawn had begun to appear, that I caught a glimpse of his tender smile as he gathered me into his arms to sleep at last, and realized that I had seen that very same quick smile so many times before, and suddenly knew, with complete certainty, that he had loved me for a great many years. With a blissful murmur, I caught his hands up to my mouth once more, kissing them gratefully, and fell nearly immediately into deep and peaceful sleep, encircled in a love that I had never realized had always been mine even before.
In a couple of days, we set off under a brilliant blue sky to Tuckborough. I had spent those days in completing my recuperation, and was beginning to get a bit fidgety about being trapped indoors. Not that being indoors did not have its great charms, especially these days I hasten to add, but I have always been the sort of hobbit who likes to spend a good deal of time tramping about. That was one of the allures of the medical life, actually, since going on call normally involved a goodly bit of walking through the countryside. Baggins, on the other hand, could burrow himself away in his hole of a study for days on end, hardly even remembering to take his meals. But that was the Baggins of a month ago.
It seemed to me, in my current blissful state, that there had been something freed in him, as if he had opened up windows within himself somehow, and had let the fresh light of a crisp autumn day in. It wasn't so much as he was a different person, but that he was more of himself, in a way, letting me see facets of his heart and mind that had been there all along, but that he had kept carefully guarded from all others, even me. All I knew, as we shut the door of Bag End behind us that day and took to the road, was that there was no one in all the world I'd rather be with, and whatever roads my life might lead me down, I would never forget how utterly happy I was that day, setting foot on the road with my hand tightly entwined with that of Frodo Baggins.
The cart had been debated, but I felt strongly that the jouncing and bouncing was not worth the saved effort on my part, and far preferred to get about on my own two feet, even if it meant traveling at a slower pace. Baggins had no inclination to disagree with me, adding, with a fond smile, that the matter of the Took ponies was curiously intriguing, but that my preferences were entirely more significant. I felt compelled to remind him that it might be a matter of days before we reached Tuckborough at this leisurely rate, but he insisted that those would be days, in his opinion, very well spent, and succeeded in wordlessly convincing me of his conviction upon the subject. In a word, it is a wonder we finally left Bag End at all, and it was high noon by the time we reached Hobbiton.
Three days later, under a cloudy and windswept sky, we reached the Great Smials where we were eagerly, and somewhat impatiently, greeted by Tooks young and old. Although I had, once or twice, accompanied Baggins to Brandy Hall, in Buckland, where he had lived as a young lad, I had never been to Tuckborough before. Of course, I was familiar with the tales surrounding the place. The Tooks were perhaps the oldest Shire family, and certainly one of the, if not the, most wealthy. I could never quite reconcile the scampish Pippin Took, who came to call at Bag End on occasion, with his illustrious heritage and future position in Shire society, but here was his father, Paladin Took, looking for all the world like an only somewhat aged version of his son, shaking Baggins' hand and then mine with every bit as much enthusiasm as his son would have shown.
" 'Tis good to have you here, at last, Baggins, for I don't mind admitting that this matter has me perplexed and bothered, more so than I've been in many a day. But now that you're here, we shall have things set to right in no time, eh?" And then he turned to me with a shrewd appraising glance underneath the twinkle in his eye. "And this is your friend, Doctor Gamgee, then? My son told me you'd taken a nasty hurt the other day. I do hope the journey here was not too tiresome."
"Not at all," I assured him, continuing to shake his hand just a trifle nervously, I'm afraid. "I apologize for holding Baggins up, however, since I understand the case has a certain urgency to it."
"Gamgee's assistance is, I have found, quite invaluable to me," Baggins smoothly interjected, with a polite smile, "and will help me bring the case to a quick conclusion, I assure you."
Fortunately, Pippin had now appeared, and was bounding about his cousin with the limitless energy and enthusiasm of a tween. "It's been forever since you've been this way, Frodo, and I have so much to show you! Let's stuff those bags in the hole and be off!"
"Son, Baggins and his friend might rather get off their feet for a bit and have some refreshment first," Paladin interrupted with a fond smile. "They have just walked all the way from Hobbiton, you know."
"That sounds like an excellent idea, Uncle Paladin," Baggins replied quickly, with a swift side-glance in my direction. "These autumn winds do nip so, don't you find? And perhaps you can fill me in on the details of the case."
"Always a hobbit of business, aren't you, Baggins?" Paladin laughed, shaking his head. "You don't change much, I must say. Very well, lads, come on in to the hall, and let us put up our feet near the fire."
With an impatient curiosity to see the interior of the fabled smial, as well as being most grateful to accept that hospitable offer, I smiled consolingly at the slightly disappointed Pippin, and followed Baggins and Paladin Took through the ornately carved great door.
It was the spaciousness of the burrow that took my breath away from the moment we entered, those vast halls the like I'd never seen before anywhere else. These great chambers must have been dug into the looming hill that held the Great Smials over the period of hundreds of years. Even the heavy beams that presumably held up the roof (they vanished into the darkness above us, so I'm not entirely sure where they ended nor their task) were elaborately carved but darkened with the years and so old they appeared to have become petrified. The front room, into which Paladin Took had led us, had one long wall that held a series of round windows, facing out over the incline that led down into the fertile Took Valley. It was a lush, verdant sight even at this time of the year, with rows of poplars holding still to their gold leaves, and occasional small forests of dark pine and dusky brown oak and scarlet maple interspersed throughout the dark brown and golden fields. Lovely as this sight was, however, I gave it only a passing glance, for the room itself was indeed remarkable.
Rather than the cozy roundish rooms of most smials, this room was very nearly a vast hall, by size, but had been carefully constructed to have all sorts of inviting corners, and enticing nooks, and homely little alcoves with small fireplaces and hearths at every turn, and comfortable stuffed armchairs and padded settles, gathered companionably here and there, seemingly without number. In addition, there were bookcases everywhere with all sorts of interesting tomes, small tables placed in just the right spot to set down a cup of tea, and colorful warm laprugs and shawls and pillows everywhere, brightening every corner and presenting the most appealing argument possible to have a bit of a sit-down and sink into the welcoming luxury all about one. The room seemed to be designed, in a word, to accommodate the greatest number of hobbits, in which to do what they wished, in the most comfortable way possible.
And it did seem to be being utilized in precisely that way, for there were, as far as I could see at first glance, very nearly a couple score inhabitants of the room, fair lasses and some not quite so young chatting and giggling as they worked on handwork and sipped tea, gentlehobbits laughing and joking in small groups as they stood in front of a crackling fire, their pipes leisurely spiraling up smoke, and even the occasional peacefully reading, or possibly dozing, hobbit by a fire, feet propped up on a fat tussock.
Showing us to a corner that was clearly his own particular realm, and offering us a pair of appealingly over-stuffed chairs, Paladin Took left us for the moment alone with Pippin, who immediately made himself comfortable on a footstool, and grinned with delight at my obviously dazed expression. "Well, what do you think, Gamgee?" he chuckled. "A bit different, isn't it?"
"Truly amazing," I responded honestly, with an incredulous shake of my head. "Are all these other guests here for some particular occasion?"
"Oh, that lot?" Pippin gave an indifferent shrug. "No, they're just Tooks, you know."
"The Took family is rather large," Baggins pointed out, with a sympathetic smile towards me. "And unlike most of the large Shire families, they tend to prefer to live together, rather than in separate smials. Ever since this warren was dug, quite awhile ago, there has always been room here for them all. A rather practical arrangement, in many ways, and one that was more necessary when they were the first hobbit settlement in these parts."
Pippin gave a small sigh as he gazed about. "It's fine enough, I suppose, but I love your smial so much, Frodo. So comfortable and just big enough for one. Oh, and of course, for you, too, Gamgee. But this is more or less going to be mine someday, so I suppose I don't have much to say on the matter."
There was a softening in Baggins' expression as he glanced at his cousin's face, and I suddenly had an inkling as to why he put up with Pippin's occasional unexpected visits and impetuous behavior, but what he was going to say was lost as Paladin returned to us, followed by three beaming housemaids bearing trays laden with tea and all manner of delicacies. Pippin brightened up considerably at this, and I must admit I did as well, since the journey here, although I would never have admitted the fact to Baggins, had been quite wearying.
There was a short interlude of relative silence then, as we applied ourselves to tea, bread-and-butter, fat dark grapes and gold-streaked apples, a fine wheel of sharp cheese, and all manner of cakes and buns. It did not take long for Baggins to satisfy himself, and with a ceremonial clearing of his throat, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands together in his customary pose. "The ponies, then," he nodded to Paladin. "Tell me what you know."
"Oh, aye," Paladin washed down the last corner of a raisin studded bun with a final swallow of tea, and settled back into his armchair. "The ponies. Well, it's been going on for a couple of months now, ever since the races at Summer's Mart, isn't that right, Pip?"
"Yes, that's right," Pippin answered a trifle thickly, behind an especially large apple. Swallowing, and with a quick lick of his fingers, he continued on. "It was Firefly, that time, right, Da? The dark brown smallish one-year old, with the black mane. She was right as rain up until the morning of the meet, and then there was blood on her back hoof, and she came up limping. No one could see where she had been hurt, but she obviously was."
"She came around after a month or two," Paladin nodded, "but she'll never be a racer again. That was it, for awhile, and we just put it down to some sort of unlucky accident. Until the Harvest meet."
"I see," Baggins murmured, his eyes betraying his keen interest in this puzzle. "What happened then?"
"Well, the very same thing, actually," frowned Paladin. "But this time to three of the ponies. Morning before, likewise. As coincidences go, this one was a little hard to stomach."
"Same method?" Baggins queried, leaning forward. "No obvious sign of injury?"
"Only the smallest bit of blood on the hooves, and the limping. But it was certain enough they wouldn't be racing that day, likewise. And now we're only a week off from the last meet this year. I'd not like to see any more animals hurt, but I'd also like to catch out the villain who has been doing this."
"Indeed. Tell me, Uncle Paladin, and I do hate to intrude into your personal affairs here, but it is essential that I have all the facts, do you yourself bet on these races?"
"Certainly. Gives a bit of sport to the whole affair. But the bets aren't the point of it, and are normally for something insignificant, such as a bushel of Old Toby, or a brace of bottles of Old Winyard. And since the ponies end up not racing at all, I neither win nor lose on it."
"You don't have bets committed in advance of the race, then?"
"On occasion, but no hobbit of quality would insist upon it when the pony has met up with a bit of bad luck. Wouldn't be sporting at all."
"And how about others?" Baggins asked thoughtfully, tapping his fingers lightly together as he spoke. "Do you have a notion as to the stakes others may have on these races?"
"Can't say as I've really ever paid it much mind." Paladin glanced thoughtfully at his son. "You've any idea, Pip?"
"I've heard tell there are those who bet heavily on the ponies – Lotho Sackville-Baggins, the Sandyford brothers, you know, that sort," Pippin answered without hesitation and then gave a small start as he remembered the connections of the first-named. "No insult intended, Frodo."
"None taken, trust me," Baggins answered with a wry smile. "I can certainly see a motive, from what you have just mentioned. The means, however, is still not clear. Pip says that the stable staff has been with you quite awhile?" he turned again toward Paladin, questioningly.
"Well, of course, that was the first thing I thought of when it seemed more likely that this was no accident." Paladin's brow knit darkly, and he leaned forward with his chin in his hands. "Stands to reason that one of them is mixed up in this, somehow. Yet the stable manager, Tolliver, has been here since he was a very young lad. And the other two, Nub and Bills, at least a couple of years. Never had a spot of trouble up until now, and it just doesn't seem right to be casting doubt their way. And yet, there it is."
"Very well, then," Baggins stood up abruptly. "I would like to have a word with them, but it would never do to have them guess why I am here. Perhaps Pippin could casually show Gamgee and I about the stable. They might remember me, but we can put it out that Gamgee here is in the market for a fine racing pony."
As I rose to follow, I could not help feeling a bit of apprehension. I hardly knew one end of the creature from the other, but then Frodo gave me a quick private smile over his shoulder as we followed Pippin Took from the hall, and I was suddenly determined to improvise to the very best of my ability.