Chapter One

Lobelia tiptoed around Bag End; she bypassed old Gamgee as he cut back the roses, and young Gamgee as he mowed the grass, and the young Took and young Brandybuck as they wrestled and tussled on the walkway.

She peered in a window at the side and saw her target: Frodo. The lad was a Brandybuck, no matter his born name. Baggins had never fit him, and never would. He and Bilbo had brought shame and unpredictability upon a most respected family, and for that she would never forgive them (for that, and depriving her of Bag End). But at the moment she was concerned with a further besmirching of the family honor, which she suspected was soon to occur.

She gave a furtive glance 'round and resumed spying. Lotho should be at the front door by now; how long did it take? At that moment she heard her son pounding on the door.

Frodo looked up, startled, and reached into his pocket. In less time than it took to say Bob's your uncle's second cousin's grandfather, there was an empty space where Frodo had sat. There was no flash of light, no loud bang, but there it was: he was as vanished as old Bilbo at the birthday party. The papers on his desk remained undisturbed, but Lobelia did not. She clapped her hand over her mouth before a shriek should give her away.

Lotho banged on the door once more as she had instructed him, and then, silence. Lobelia remained with her eyes glued to the spot where Frodo had been and sure enough, after several seconds, he reappeared exactly as he had been. He reached across the desk, dipped his pen in ink, and continued as if nothing had happened at all.

*1*1*1*

"I tell you he disappeared, Lotho!" Lobelia snapped her whip at the pony, as if in warning to her son. "Or vanished, more like. He didn't go anywhere, he was right there when he came back."

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't," Lotho drawled. "I can't see as how it makes much difference. I don't want to see him anymore than he wants to see me. Besides, I'm hungry."

"You'll be hungry before I'm through with you," Lobelia growled, glaring at her son. "You eat entirely too much, even for a hobbit. It makes you slow-witted."

The trap clattered on as Lobelia seethed in silence. Her eyes had not deceived her: just as Sandyman had said, Frodo could vanish. Apparently it was some magical device he and Bilbo had. It was not fair; more than that, it was not right. Not right at all that they should have Bag End, and perpetual youth (Frodo already showed signs of that), and more money than they knew what to do with, and be capable of disappearing at will. Added to all that, her own son was a fool who couldn't see opportunity, no, not if it jumped up and hit him over the head.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as the idea struck her.

"What is it?" asked Lotho.

"Nothing; mind your own business," she said.

She'd talk to Sandyman the next chance she got. In the meantime, she would not breathe a word to anyone else about it. Lotho would forget the whole thing after a large meal, and Otho, bless his soul, was doing too poorly to be troubled with such things even if she had the inclination, which she hadn't.

Of course, Lobelia was not one to miss a chance when it presented itself, Sandyman or no Sandyman. The next day, walking down the lane, she rounded a bend and saw that Frodo was ahead of her. He seemed lost in thought: hands jammed deep into pockets, head down, whistling in starts and stops.

It took Lobelia only a moment to decide on her course.

No one could say the old hobbitess was not spry, nor that she had lost the ability to approach her prey silently (she had been an excellent rabbit hunter in her day). Frodo remained oblivious as Lobelia caught up to him. He heard nothing as she walked along a step behind. And so it was only natural that he should have no warning when, as he paused in his walk, the polished bone handle of Lobelia's umbrella struck him in the temple and dropped him in his tracks.

*1*1*1*

Lobelia almost crowed with triumph as she knelt beside Frodo's prone body. It only stood to reason that, seeing as Bilbo had become peculiar only after his travels, he must have brought back more than gold and strange guests with him. If she could find it, then perhaps things would turn in her favor for once. It must be in Frodo's pocket, for that was where he had reached when he vanished, and where Bilbo had had his hand that night of the party; and to do it so naturally, without a second thought, meant that Frodo must keep it in his pocket all the time, ready for use.

Lobelia emptied his right hand weskit pocket and drew out a long silver chain, attached to which was a plain gold ring.