Chapter 12: Smeagol of the Shire.
Summary:
Smeagol is challenged. Smeagol answers the Challenge. Lotho PImple's luck takes a turn for the better, at least compared to what was going to happen to him.
Chapter Text
"Well I am staggered!' said Pippin. 'Of all the ends to our journey that is the very last I should have thought of: to have to fight half-orcs and ruffians in the Shire itself – to rescue Lotho Pimple!"
"Fight?' said Frodo. 'Well, I suppose it may come to that. But remember: there is to be no slaying of hobbits, not even if they have gone over to the other side. Really gone over, I mean, not just obeying ruffians' orders because they are frightened. No hobbit has ever killed another on purpose in the Shire, and it is not to begin now. And nobody is to be killed at all, if it can be helped. not even the captor of Lotho."
"Keep your tempers and hold your hands to the last possible moment!"
"But if there are many of these ruffians,' said Merry, 'it will certainly mean fighting. You won't rescue Lotho, or the Shire, just by being shocked and sad, my dear Frodo."
"No,' said Pippin. 'It won't be so easy scaring them a second time. They were taken by surprise. You heard that horn-blowing? Evidently there are other ruffians near at hand. They'll be much bolder when there's more of them together. We ought to think of taking cover somewhere for the night. After all we're only four, even if we are armed."
"I've an idea,' said Sam. 'Let's go to old Tom Cotton's down South Lane! He always was a stout fellow. And he has a lot of lads that were all friends of mine."
"No!' said Merry. 'It's no good "getting under cover". That is just what people have been doing, and just what these ruffians like. They will simply come down on us in force, corner us, and then drive us out, or burn us in. No, we have got to do something at once."
"Do what?" said Pippin.
"Raise the Shire!' said Merry. 'Now! Wake all our people! They hate all this, you can see: all of them except perhaps one or two rascals, and a few fools that want to be important, but don't at all understand what is really going on. But Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don't know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they'll go up in fire. The Chief's Men must know that. They'll try to stamp on us and put us out quick. We've only got a very short time. Sam, you can make a dash for Cotton's farm, if you like. He's the chief person round here, and the sturdiest. Come on! I am going to blow the horn of Rohan, and give them all some music they have never heard before."
They rode back to the middle of the village. There Sam turned aside and galloped off down the lane that led south to Cotton's. He had not gone far when he heard a sudden clear horn-call go up ringing into the sky. Far over hill and field it echoed; and so compelling was that call that Sam himself almost turned and dashed back. His pony reared and neighed. 'On, lad! On!' 'We'll be going back soon.'
Frodo turned to Smeagol. "And now it is time for you to face a few last tests, on your own and of your own free will. You may decline and if you do you may leave and leave out your life, anywhere, even the Shire."
Frodo smiled as he paused, "But I ask you because I believe in you and you are the only one that can reach both Bag End in time."
"Bag End?" Smeagol blinked. Then he chuckled a little. "I've always meant to go to Bag End."
Frodo shared an ironic smile with Smeagol and then said "I believe you know the way?"
"Yes."
Frodo clasped Smeagol by the arm. "Today I name you, Smeagol of the Shire. Now go, and earn it anew."
With Sam hurrying to see his gaffer, Smeagol raced off, disappearing into the shadows. The note of the Horn of Rohan spurred him on to the fastest he had ever run
Sam Gamgee raced to his destination and behind him he heard a hubbub of voices and a great din and slamming of doors. In front of him lights sprang out in the gloaming; dogs barked; feet came running. Before he got to the lane's end there was Farmer Cotton with three of his lads, Young Tom, Jolly, and Nick, hurrying towards him. They had axes in their hands, and barred the way.
"Nay! It's not one of them ruffians,' Sam heard the farmer say. 'It's a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer. Hey!' he cried. 'Who are you, and what's all this to-do?"
"It's Sam, Sam Gamgee. I've come back."
Farmer Cotton came up close and stared at him in the twilight. "Well!' he exclaimed. 'The voice is right, and your face is no worse than it was, Sam. But I should a' passed you in the street in that gear. You've been in foreign parts, seemingly. We feared you were dead."
"That I ain't!' said Sam. 'Nor Mr. Frodo. He's here and his friends. And that's the todo. They're raising the Shire. We're going to clear out these ruffians, and their Chief too. We're starting now.'"
"Good, good!' cried Farmer Cotton. 'So it's begun at last! I've been itching for trouble all this year, but folks wouldn't help. And I've had the wife and Rosie to think of. These ruffians don't stick at nothing. But come on now, lads! Bywater is up! We must be in it!"
"What about Mrs. Cotton and Rosie?' said Sam. 'It isn't safe yet for them to be left all alone."
"My Nibs is with them. But you can go and help him, if you have a mind," said Farmer Cotton with a grin. Then he and his sons ran off towards the village. Sam hurried to the house. By the large round door at the top of the steps from the wide yard stood Mrs. Cotton and Rosie, and Nibs in front of them grasping a hayfork.
"It's me!' shouted Sam as he trotted up. 'Sam Gamgee! So don't try prodding me, Nibs. Anyway, I've a mail-shirt on me."
He jumped down from his pony and went up the steps. They stared at him in silence. "Good evening, Mrs. Cotton!' 'Hullo Rosie!"
"Hullo, Sam!' said Rosie. 'Where've you been? They said you were dead; but I've been expecting you since the Spring. You haven't hurried have you?"
"Perhaps not,' said Sam abashed. 'But I'm hurrying now. We're setting about the ruffians, and I've got to get back to Mr. Frodo. But I thought I'd have a look and see how Mrs. Cotton was keeping, and you, Rosie."
"We're keeping nicely, thank you,' said Mrs. Cotton. 'Or should be, if it weren't for these thieving ruffians."
"Well, be off with you!' said Rosie. 'If you've been looking after Mr. Frodo all this while, what d'you want to leave him for, as soon as things look dangerous?"
This was too much for Sam. It needed a week's answer, or none. He turned away and mounted his pony. But as he started off, Rosie ran down the steps.
'I think you look fine, Sam,' she said. "Go on now! But take care of yourself, and come straight back as soon as you have settled the ruffians!"
Ruffians were thrashing their clumsy long legged way through the Shire towns and Smeagol briefly thought of denting their resolve but each time he reminded himself that that was not his job.
Mister Frodo picked me because I can get to Lotho in time. Gets him out he says I can.
The roads blurred in his mind as he headed by long held instinct toward Bag End and his target.
When Sam got back he found the whole village roused. Already, apart from many younger lads, more than a hundred sturdy hobbits were assembled with axes, and heavy hammers, and long knives, and stout staves: and a few had hunting-bows. More were still coming in from outlying farms. Some of the village-folk had lit a large fire, just to enliven things, and also because it was one of the things forbidden by the Chief. It burned bright as night came on.
That same night was Smeagol's friend as he moved swiftly and unseen through the buildings. As ugly as they were, the new Isengard inspired Houses gave him unexpected aid. Their roofs allowed him to leap over the heads of ruffians that he would otherwise have to have detoured around.
Bag End was not close to where he had started but Smeagol had centuries of built up stamina. and these days, after decent eating and fair treatment he was almost fully back. he would never be as stout as Sam or even as stout a Frodo but he was no longer skeletal.
Back at the barricade, at Merry's orders barriers were being set up across the road at each end of the village. When the Shirriffs came up to the lower one they were dumbfounded; but as soon as they saw how things were, most of them took off their feathers and joined in the revolt. The others slunk away. Sam found Frodo and his friends by the fire talking to old Tom Cotton, while an admiring crowd of Bywater folk stood round and stared.
"Well, what's the next move?" said Farmer Cotton.
"I can't say,' said Frodo, 'until I know more. I have someone whose bests weapon is secrecy and there may yet be prying ears. I don't suppose you know How many of these ruffians there are?"
"That's hard to tell,' said Cotton. 'They moves about and comes and goes. There's sometimes fifty of them in their sheds up Hobbiton way; but they go out from there roving round, thieving or "gathering" as they call it. Still there's seldom less than a score round the Boss, as they names him. He's at Bag End, or was; but he don't go outside the rounds now. No one's seen him at all, in fact, for a week or two; but the Men don't let no one go near."
"Hobbiton's not their only place, is it?" said Pippin.
"'No, more's the pity,' said Cotton. 'There's a good few down south in Longbottom and by Sarn Ford, I hear; and some more lurking in the Woody End; and they've sheds at Waymeet. And then there's the Lockholes as they call 'em, the old storage tunnels at Michel Delving that they've made into prisons for those as stand up to them. Still I reckon there's not above three hundred of them in the Shire all told, and maybe less. We can master them, if we stick together."
"Have they got any weapons?' asked Merry.
"Whips, knives, and clubs, enough for their dirty work: that's all they've showed so far,' said Cotton. 'But I dare say they've got other gear, if it comes to fighting. Some have bows, anyway. They've shot one or two of our folk."
"There you are, Frodo!' said Merry. 'I knew we should have to fight. Well, they started the killing."
"Not exactly,' said Cotton. 'Leastways not the shooting. Tooks started that. You see our dad Mr. Peregrin, he's never had no truck with this Lotho, and it all went up. Tooks shot at some of Sharkey's men and the ruffians shot back. and now it's all locked off."
"Good for the Tooks!' cried Pippin. 'But someone is going to get in again, now. I am off to the Smials and I am not what they would expect. They thrive on fear and bullying and I have seen the worst of that! Anyone coming with me to Tuckborough?' Pippin rode off with half a dozen lads on ponies.
"See you soon!' he cried. 'It's only fourteen miles or so over the fields. I'll bring you back an army of Tooks in the morning."
Merry blew a horn-call after them as they rode off into the gathering night. The people cheered.
"All the same,' said Frodo to all those who stood near, 'I wish for no killing; not even of the ruffians, unless it must be done, to prevent them from hurting hobbits."
"All right!' said Merry. 'But we shall be having a visit from the Hobbiton gang any time now, I think. They won't come just to talk things over. We'll try to deal with them neatly, but we must be prepared for the worst. Now I've got a plan."
"Very good,' said Frodo. 'You make the arrangements.' Just then some hobbits, who had been sent out towards Hobbiton, came running in. 'They're coming!' they said. 'A score or more. But two have gone off west across country."
"To Waymeet, that'll be,' said Cotton, 'to fetch more of the gang. Well, it's fifteen mile each way. We needn't trouble about them just yet."
Merry hurried off to give orders. Farmer Cotton cleared the street, sending everyone indoors, except the older hobbits who had weapons of some sort.
Panting, Smeagol gazed at Bag End. This was where Bilbo Baggins had set out so many years ago and through many strange turns of fate had come to be in a pool in a cave in the Misty Mountains.
"Baggins." He said to himself and it felt right. There was no hatred, no joy, just a sense of it being right that this one place, out of all he had ever been to should be the one heralding the end of his travels.
There was light inside what should be a cosy little Hobbit Hole but Smeagol could hear shouting.
"Imbecile! Louse! wretch!"
Smeagol recognised the accent of Rohan and pondered it. He slipped below the now badly overgrown hedge that had once been tended with much care. Pressing his ear up as close as he dared.
"Grima, you disturb my study with your disciplining of your pet."
"But- but- you ordered me to punish him master!"
"I did not tell you to make a racket whilst doing it. or did I and somehow forget. is that it Grima? i my memory failing me. Perhaps I should remind myself of who is who here!"
There was a crack and the sound of whimpering like a beaten animal might give and Smeagol's blood boiled and then froze. It boiled with rage for he knew the smooth masterly voice within to be Saruman of Isengard. But it froze with fear for this meant that Lotho was in mortal peril even now.
Paralysed with indecision, Smeagol took a very deep breath. He knew that Saruman had his voice and that Grima was vicious and although he had faced the fallen wizard down before, that was in the wilderness when he was at his lowest.
What could he do now that Saruman had had time to restore himself?
"What indeed?" Boomed a rich smooth voice and the door to Bag End opened. Saruman filled the frame and fea assailed Smeagol's heart.
"Even if Mr Frodo hadn't already ordered me to spare lives, I would not end you, not here."
"Now Smeagol, remember who I am and what I can do but here I think you could help Grima be a better henchman. And in time, I can regain enough power to reforge rings of power and you shall have such a precious one!
Preciousss…
Then a horn of Rohan sounded once more.
Even whilst smeagol struggled at Bag End, the others waited. Presently a whole squad of the ruffians came down the road. They saw the barrier and laughed. They did not imagine that there was anything in this little land that would stand up to twenty of their kind together. The hobbits opened the barrier and stood aside.
"Thank you!' the Men jeered. 'Now run home to bed before you're whipped.' Then they marched along the street shouting: 'Put those lights out! Get indoors and stay there! Or we'll take fifty of you to the Lockholes for a year. Get in! The Boss is losing his temper."
No one paid any heed to their orders; but as the ruffians passed, they closed in quietly behind and followed them. When the Men reached the fire there was Farmer Cotton standing all alone warming his hands.
"Who are you, and what d'you think you're doing?" said the ruffian-leader. Farmer Cotton looked at him slowly.
"I was just going to ask you that,' he said. 'This isn't your country, and you're not wanted."
"Well, you're wanted anyhow,' said the leader. 'We want you. Take him lads! Lockholes for him, and give him something to keep him quiet!"
The Men took one step forward and stopped short. There rose a roar of voices all round them, and suddenly they were aware that Farmer Cotton was not all alone. They were surrounded. In the dark on the edge of the firelight stood a ring of hobbits that had crept up out of the shadows. There was nearly two hundred of them, all of them holding some weapon.
Merry stepped forward. "We have met before,' he said to the leader, 'and I warned you not to come back here. I warn you again: you are standing in the light and you are covered by archers. If you lay a finger on this farmer, or on anyone else, you will be shot at once. Lay down any weapons that you have!"
The leader looked round. He was trapped. But he was not scared, not now with a score of his fellows to back him. He knew too little of hobbits to understand his peril. Foolishly he decided to fight. It would be easy to break out.
'At 'em lads!' he cried. 'Let 'em have it!' With a long knife in his left hand and a club in the other he made a rush at the ring, trying to burst out back towards Hobbiton. He aimed a savage blow at Merry who stood in his way. He fell dead with four arrows in him: That was enough for the others. They gave in. Their weapons were taken from them, and they were roped together, and marched off to an empty hut that they had built themselves, and there they were tied hand and foot, and locked up under guard. The dead leader was dragged off and buried.
And with that Merry Blew a triumphant note on the Horn he carried.
At Bag End Smeagol reacted and he leaped at Saruman. "NO! He shouted. "no more Rings!"
Saruman swung his staff and whacked Smeagol into the hedgerow. when Smeagol attacked again, Saruman snarled for his assailant looked like a miniature Ent. In his rage he failed to see the dumbfounded Grima watching on slack jawed and Lotho crawling ever so quietly (for even Lotho had his Hobbit skills), to freedom.
The staff Saruman now used whistled over Smeagol's head and the Former ring bearer felt its narrow passing. he scurried backward, and blew a raspberry at Saruman and goaded him.
Saruman's eyes narrowed and then he started laughing. "As you wish. You've already told me you can't kill me so I really have nothing to gain here. Respect and good manner say I should bid you goodnight, so I shall do neither.
Breathing heavily Smeagol stayed exactly where he was, until at last he could hear shouting and recriminations within Bag End and some renewed whimpering. The he scampered off after Lotho.
Meanwhile Merry was glowering at prisoners who he cowed easily.
"Seems almost too easy after all, don't it?' said Cotton. 'I said we could master them. But we needed a call. You came back in the nick o' time, Mr. Merry."
"There's more to be done still,' said Merry. 'If you're right in your reckoning, we haven't dealt with a tithe of them yet. But it's dark now. I think the next stroke must wait until morning. Then we must call on the Chief."
'Why not now?' said Sam. 'It's not much more than six o'clock. And I want to see my gaffer. D'you know what's come of him, Mr. Cotton?'
"He's not too well, and not too bad, Sam,' said the farmer. 'They dug up Bagshot Row, and that was a sad blow to him. He's in one of them new houses that the Chief's Men used to build while they still did any work other than burning and thieving: not above a mile from the end of Bywater. But he comes around to me, when he gets a chance, and I see he's better fed than some of the poor bodies. All against The Rules, of course. I'd have had him with me, but that wasn't allowed."
"Thank'ee indeed, Mr. Cotton, and I'll never forget it,' said Sam. 'But I want to see him. That Boss and that Sharkey, as they spoke of, they might do a mischief up there before the morning."
"All right, Sam,' said Cotton. 'Choose a lad or two, and go and fetch him to my house. You'll not have need to go near the old Hobbiton village over Water. My Jolly here will show you.'
Sam went off. Merry arranged for look-outs round the village and guards at the barriers during the night. Then he and Frodo went off with Farmer Cotton. And Frodo laid out the best food he could find in their rations.
Lotho PImple was running scared. That vicious little man had beaten him immediately on arrival at the behest of the older man. That was the one that made Lotho fear for his life. He was sure that had the whitebeard said, 'shut him up, slitting his throat will do it' then the one called Wormtongue would have obeyed, even if he hadn't wanted to.
Lotho Pimple, while not evil, was not a very nice man. Once having been a boss in his own right he knew when someone had their hooks in deep in someone else. He made a silent promise that if he lived through the week, then he would generally people a bit better. He headed for the Smials.
Smeagol had other ideas and stepped out a little way ahead. Lotho recoiled terrified, and reminded Smeagol of rabbits he'd eaten.
"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it. And you couldn't have stopped me."
Lotho slunk back. "This is one of his tricks isn't it? I'll feel all nice and safe. we'll find a nice house to lie down in to shelter for the night and when I get up, I'll realised that it's bag End!"
"Okay, fine, I'll leave you alone, In the cold wet night, With an angry Saruman wanting you found. With all his men looking for you. With your mother locked up. Bye." Smeagol set off heading for the lockholes.
Lotho's expression changed though and he strode after Smeagol and grabbed him and spun him round lifting Smeagol full off his feet. "My mother is imprisoned?"
Smeagol leaned in close and with said quietly. "Put me down, Mr Lotho."
Lotho looked at the ground, which were a couple of feet beneath Smeagol's own. His face flushed with embarrassment as he gently lowered his rescuer. He then proceeded to smooth out Smeagol's jacket.
Smeagol batted Lotho's hands away, needing a couple of attempts to do so. he looked at Lotho, standing there, bedraggled, lost and afraid and then as the adrenaline left him from the fight, Smeagol recalled that the rain was spattering him too. It was under consideration for all of a few seconds before twenty men with torches and pitchforks were spotted heading their way.
At the Cottons, everyone had finished eating it was time to talk some more. Merry and Sam sat with the family in the warm kitchen, and the Cottons asked a few polite questions about their travels, but hardly listened to the answers: they were far more concerned with events in the Shire. Frodo was looking out of the window, concerned for the shire.
"It all began with Pimple, as we call him,' said Farmer Cotton, 'and it began as soon as you'd gone off, Mr. Frodo. He'd funny ideas had Pimple. Seems he wanted to own everything himself, and then order other folk about. It soon came out that he already did own a sight more than was good for him; and he was always grabbing more, though where he got the money was a mystery: mills and malt-houses and inns, and farms, and leaf-plantations. He'd already bought Sandyman's mill before he came to Bag End, seemingly.
"Of course he started with a lot of property in the Southfarthing which he had from his dad; and it seems he'd been selling a lot o' the best leaf, and sending it away quietly for a year or two. But at the end o' last year he began sending away loads of stuff, not only leaf. Things began to get short, and winter coming on, too. Folk got angry, but he had his answer. A lot of Men, ruffians mostly, came with great waggons, some to carry off the goods south-away, and others to stay. And more came. And before we knew where we were they were planted here and there all over the Shire, and were felling trees and digging and building themselves sheds and houses just as they liked. At first goods and damage was paid for by Pimple."
"Seems like as annoying and as full of sharp practice as he was, he at least remembered he was Hobbit." said Merry
"Don't you go reminding me that he and us are the same folk Mr Meriadoc Brandybuck." Sam muttered irritably.
Frodo turned slightly as he answered Sam's comment. "But that's just it Sam, he is one of us and he got himself into a lot more trouble than the rest of us. Besides if anyone gets to complain about him being 'one of us' it's me, the one most closely related to him here."
Farmer Cotton nodded at Frodo, "Blood is thicker than water Mr. Baggins. But Tooks and Baggins are cousin and so are Brandybucks and Tooks. And what with your uncle's tales to contend with maybe Lotho wanted to make a big name for 'imself.
Frodo smiled sadly. "Then he never realised something rather important. Neither I nor my uncle sought fame even if Bilbo had an adventurous streak that got the better of him."
Farmer Cotton waited tos ee Frodo would explain further and when he didn't carried on with his own.
"Soon enough though those ruffians began lording it around and taking what they wanted. Then there was a bit of trouble, but not enough. Old Will the Mayor set off for Bag End to protest, but he never got there. Ruffians laid hands on him and took and locked him up in a hole in Michel Delving, and there he is now. And after that, it would be soon after New Year, there wasn't no more Mayor, and Pimple called himself Chief Shirriff, or just Chief, and did as he liked."
"That's the thing with power,' Frodo interjected. ' if you're not careful it can corrupt you and you seek more and more of it and then it all goes around in a foul circle."
"Well,' said Farmer Cotton, 'Seems like he got corrupted alright. So, if anyone got "uppish" as they called it, they followed Will. So things went from bad to worse. There wasn't no smoke left, save for the Men; and the Chief didn't hold with beer, save for his Men, and closed all the inns; and everything except Rules got shorter and shorter, unless one could hide a bit of one's own when the ruffians went round gathering stuff up "for fair distribution": which meant they got it and we didn't, except for the leavings which you could have at the Shirriff-houses, if you could stomach them. All very bad. But since Sharkey came it's been plain ruination."
"Who is this Sharkey?' said Merry. 'I heard one of the ruffians speak of him."
"The biggest ruffian o' the lot, seemingly,' answered Cotton. 'It was about last harvest, end o' September maybe, that we first heard of him. We've never seen him, but he's up at Bag End; and he's the real Chief now, I guess. All the ruffians do what he says; and what he says is mostly hack, burn, and ruin; and now it's come to killing. There's no longer even any bad sense in it. They cut down trees and let 'em lie, they burn houses and build no more. 'Take Sandyman's mill now. Pimple knocked it down almost as soon as he came to Bag End. Then he brought in a lot o' dirty-looking Men to build a bigger one and fill it full o' wheels and outlandish contraptions. Only that fool Ted was pleased by that, and he works there cleaning wheels for the Men, where his dad was the Miller and his own master. Pimple's idea was to grind more and faster, or so he said. He's got other mills like it. But you've got to have grist before you can grind; and there was no more for the new mill to do than for the old.
Farmer Cotton paused, then shrugged. Then he continued. "Since Sharkey came himself near about a month back they don't grind no more corn at all. They're always a-hammering and a-letting out a smoke and a stench, and there isn't no peace even at night in Hobbiton. And they pour out filth a purpose; they've fouled all the lower Water and it's getting down into Brandywine. If they want to make the Shire into a desert, they're going the right way about it. I don't believe that fool of a Pimple's behind all this. It's Sharkey, I say.'
Merry's blood froze. the ruffians and the industry, the squinty eyed ruffians and the selling of the leaf was leading him to a name. He started rapidly calculating the days. when he thought on it, it felt like an iron gate closing on his thoughts and Merry knew it to be true.
"Frodo.' the said, 'It's Saruman."
Frodo shared worried look with his cousin. "I know."
Cotton looked at them. "Well, if this Saruman is one of Sharkey's men then he's no good at all and we want him gone. Frodo put a hand on Merry's hand to stop any explanation and Merry realised they already had what they needed.
"That's right!' put in Young Tom. 'Why, they even took Pimple's old ma, that Lobelia, and he was fond of her, if no one else was. Some of the Hobbiton folk, they saw it. She comes down the lane with her old umbrella. Some of the ruffians were going up with a big cart."
Young Tom paused as everyone looked at him. He swallowed nerves and like a good Hobbit lad carried on telling what he'd started. 'Where be you a-going?' says Lobelia. ' 'To Bag End,' says they. 'What for?' says she. 'To put up some sheds for Sharkey,' says they. 'Who said you could?' says she. 'Sharkey,' says they. 'So get out o' the road, old hagling!' 'I'll give you Sharkey, you dirty thieving ruffians!' says she, and ups with her umbrella and goes for the leader. near twice her size. So they took her. Dragged her off to the Lockholes, at her age too. They've took others we miss more, but there's no denying she showed more spirit than most."
Lotho Pimple was pulled up from the the slick wall by a vise like grip which was lucky for him because he had been about to slip off and fall two stories straight down right into Saruman's cronies.
"Hobbits are supposed to be good climbers!" Smeagol hissed.
"I never liked heights!"
"I thinks you'll like pitchforks in your bum far less!"
A pitchfork rebounded off the wall near as Smeagol hoisted Lotho the rest of the way. A quick look round showed the best way down and away. There were still ginnels between buildings that were Hobbit width. They were being used for refuse and animal waste. Part of Saruman's revenge seemed to be to despoil the Shire and leave it festering rather than outright destruction.
The two Halflings sped away, their smaller more agile forms squeezing through, even though this was accompanied by the sound of Lotho's cursing or standing in the piles of waste that Smeagol avoided.
Smeagol winced every time Lotho made a sound and thought of how he had used to chastise Sam and Frodo on their mission. Frodo back then was still as far ahead of Lotho as Smeagol was ahead of Frodo when it came to stealth.
Smeagol stopped for breath near a somewhat overgrown pond. Meaning both Lohot;s skills and his state Smeagol said simply, "You stink."
Lotho blinked, looked at Smeagol and replied. "You sound like cousin Frodo."
At Farmer Cotton's came Sam, bursting in with his gaffer. Old Gamgee did not look much older, but he was a little deafer.
"Good evening. Mr. Baggins!' he said. 'Glad indeed I am to see you safe back. But I've a bone to pick with you, in a manner o' speaking, if I may make so bold. You didn't never ought to have a' sold Bag End, as I always said. That's what started all the mischief. And while you're been trapessing in foreign parts, chasing Black Men up mountains from what my Sam says, though what for he don't make clear, they've been and dug up Bagshot Row and ruined my taters!"
"I am very sorry, Mr. Gamgee,' said Frodo. 'But now I've come back, I'll do my best to make amends."
"Well, you can't say fairer than that,' said the gaffer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins is a real gentlehobbit, I always have said, whatever you may think of some others of the name, begging your pardon. And I hope my Sam's behaved hisself and given satisfaction?"
"Perfect satisfaction, Mr. Gamgee,' said Frodo. 'Indeed, if you will believe it, he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River."
Sam blushed, but he looked gratefully at Frodo, for Rosie's eyes were shining and she was smiling at him.
"It takes a lot o' believing,' said the gaffer, 'though I can see he's been mixing in strange company. What's come of his weskit? I don't hold with wearing ironmongery, whether it wears well or no."
Frodo smiled. It felt good to have such simple Hobbit thinking back in his life even win the current trouble
