"Morning, Sam." Frodo stood in the kitchen doorway of Bag End, cup of tea in hand.

Sam planted his spade, deep in the dark, soft earth he had been turning. "Mornin' Mister Frodo. I was hopin' to get the last of this patch turned before I fetched your hot water. I'm sorry sir."

Frodo waved away his apology. "It's alright. You made up the fire so I just helped myself from the boiler." He held up a hand when Sam made to come in. "And I refilled the boiler, so you can carry on with that. Is that where you're going to plant the peas?"

Same pointed to a pile of long sticks. "Yes, sir. I'll be growin' them in cones, up those. They'll look pretty when they're flowerin' and it'll make the pods easier to pick. When I'm done here I thought I'd go check for weeds in the front garden."

Frodo drew his thick cardigan closer against the early March chill. "Weeds? I don't expect there's much coming up at this time of year."

Sam snorted. "You'd be surprised what will take a chance. There's a stubborn patch of nettles in the corner of the front border that I need to get on top of. I noticed a few hangin' on from last year and I've been meanin' to pull them for a while."

"Why don't you just dig them up?"

Sam shook his head at his master's ignorance of such things. Unlike Mister Bilbo, Frodo paid scant attention to the day-to-day running of a garden. "You can't go diggin' them up when their roots is all tangled up around your rose bushes. Tis safer to just keep pullin' them, until they give in and go somewhere else to grow."

"I bow to your knowledge of such things." Frodo cocked his head suddenly. "I'll be back in a minute. Someone's at the front door." He disappeared back into the depths of Bag End, returning a little while later with two thick cream envelopes in his hand. Picking his way through the somnolent vegetable rows, he held one out to Sam. "I told the postman you were here, so he left this with me. It's addressed to Samwise Gamgee, Esquire. I have one too."

Sam looked at the proffered envelope as though he expected it to bite him. "What do you think it is? Tis too grand to have come from our May."

Frodo grinned and continued to hold it out, patiently. "I suspect I know, but you never will, unless you open it."

Dragging a tattered hanky from his pocket, Sam wiped his hands thoroughly before accepting the large envelope. As soon as he had his hand free, Frodo broke the seal on his and withdrew a large piece of finely decorated card, with an embossed crest. "I thought so," was all he said as he watched Sam do the same.

Squinting a little at the florid writing style, Sam read out, "Mr and Mrs Saradoc Brandybuck request the presence of Master Samwise Gamgee, for the Coming of Age celebration of their son, Merriadoc Brandybuck. The party to be held at Brandy Hall, at three o'clock in the afternoon, on the twenty-seventh of March." In a less formal script someone had added, "Accommodation will be provided for those requiring it. Come as you are. RIYP"

Sam frowned. "What does, 'RIYP'?"

"Reply If You Please."

"Oh. And what's this, 'Come as you are'."

Frodo chuckled. "It means we don't have to put on our best suits."

Sam's face cleared. "That's just as well, 'cause I don't think I've got one."

"What happened to the grey one your mother made for my coming of age party?"

"Mister Frodo, that was nigh on fifteen year ago. Even if it still fit me, it would have fallen apart by now."

"Has it been that long? Oh, my." He studied his friend, noting for the first time that Sam had expanded both outward and upward in recent years. Admittedly, his present outfit was one reserved for working, but it was looking decidedly worn at hem and knee. "When did you last have a new suit, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "A couple of years, maybe."

"A couple? Now that I consider it, I haven't seen you in anything new for much longer than that. The green suit you wore to my party last September looked to be in imminent danger of losing its buttons."

Sam coloured brightly and Frodo felt immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sure that with running around after me, you haven't had time to get anything made."

"Our Daisy made the last suit. But with her havin' two little ones to look after, I didn't like to bother her. I'm sure I can fit into that green one again, if I move careful."

"Oh, Sam. I think anything more strenuous than breathing will be more than it's buttons can stand. It would not do for yet another Gamgee to burst out of his breeches."

Sam grinned broadly. "Aye. It was years before my gaffer lived that down. But if I don't do any dancin'..."

Frodo's face brightened. "I know what we'll do. It will be your birthday in April. Let me gift you with a new suit now."

Sam grew rather alarmed, considering the annual trip his master made to Michel Delving, to get his fancy clothes made. "Mister Frodo, that would be too much. I couldn't take such a gift from you."

Suspecting the direction of his friend's thoughts, Frodo smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not going to drag you off to my tailor. I suspect that if I did, you would probably never dare to wear the suit anyway. I was thinking more of asking Mistress Cornberry to make you one. I can send to Michel Delving for a length of nice, serviceable grey wool."

Panic melted from Sam's features. "Mistress Cornberry makes for a lot of folk. Will she have time to get it finished before Mr Merry's party, though?"

Frodo smiled. "I think she will, for you. I shall speak with her this afternoon. I was going to market anyway, and if I write to Master Bentwhistle I can drop it in the post on my way past the Ivy Bush."

"Thank you, sir. I don't think I've ever had clothes made by someone outside family. That would be a grand birthday present, and no mistake."

"That's settled, then. If you want to join me indoors, you can pen a reply to that invitation and I'll post it with mine." When Sam looked a little conflicted, Frodo chuckled. "Don't worry, Sam. The peas will still be here this afternoon. You can finish up after luncheon. We can share that nice pork pie I bought yesterday and I have a jar of Mistress Bolger's chutney to go with it."

It was mention of the chutney that obviously swayed Sam. Mistress Bolger's chutney won prizes every year at the Thrimidge fair so, grabbing his battered coat, Sam followed Frodo into the welcoming warmth of Bag End.

-0-

Eglantine Took worried at her bottom lip as she watched her youngest wad up a fine, embroidered shirt and stuff it into his pack. "You will look after him, Frodo? Pippin has a knack for finding trouble."

At her side, Frodo smiled. "I did last time, didn't I? Anyway, we shall be travelling on main roads for most of the journey. There's not much trouble for him to find."

Eglantine looked unconvinced. "As Pippin tells it, you had to be rescued by a wizard the last time you took him walking. Are you sure you wouldn't rather travel with Tom Carter? He is due the day after tomorrow."

"We were way up in Bindbole Wood when that happened. And I don't think anyone could have forseen the movement of half a hillside." Frodo took his Aunt's hand. "Pip will be perfectly safe with us. Anyway, it's only one day's journey to Hobbiton from here." He watched Pippin slip a couple of apples into his pack. "If we don't stop to eat every ten minutes."

Eglantine chuckled. "He's a tween. You're not so old that you don't remember being a tween, Frodo Baggins. As Bilbo used to tell it, your stomach was a bottomless pit."

That comment drew a bright laugh from Frodo. "You are quite right, Aunt. Don't worry. We'll stop regularly enough for food. Sam has brought enough to feed half the Shire."

With one final tug on the drawstring of his pack, Peregrin Took grinned as he came to stand before his mother. "I'm ready."

Eglantine bent to hug him tight and Pippin wrapped his arms about her. "I'll be alright, Mama. Cousin Frodo knows everything about travelling. We're going to have a grand adventure."

"Adventuring is just what I'm worried about. And your cousin does not know enough to instruct you in the folding of clothes at least! By the time you arrive in Buckland you shall look like some disreputable wondering wizard. I don't know what your Aunt Esmeralda will think."

Sam trotted up at that moment, carrying Frodo's pack as well as his own. "Don't worry, Mistress. I'll make sure everythin' is pressed when we get to Hobbiton and I'll help him pack proper before we set out again."

Frodo shrugged into the straps of his pack, tugging his jacket straight. "You can rely on Sam, Aunt. He manages to keep me tidy."

Eglantine smiled at Sam. "Then I thank you, Mister Gamgee."

Sam blushed. He had never been addressed as Mister by a lady of such high standing. "I'll look after Master Pippin. Don't you worry none."

To his surprise, the lady bent to kiss each of them on the brow. "Then away you go. Enjoy the party and give Merriadoc a birthday hug from me."

"I will Mama." Pippin drew on his pack and Sam helped him settle it correctly. "I hear coming of age parties at Brandy Hall are quite something, although they'll struggle to beat Frodo's."

Frodo turned him about to leave the courtyard. "Well, mine was a double birthday, so it doesn't really count."

-0-

The trio arrived at Bag End just after sunset, thanks to Pippin insisting on three stops to eat along the way. There would have been four, but Frodo managed to persuade his younger cousin that they would soon be arriving in Hobbiton, where they could eat a proper meal.

Pippin wiped his feet and dropped his pack in the very centre of the hall, where Sam collected it and his master's and spirited them away. Pippin headed straight for the kitchen. "What are we going to eat? Ooooh!"

Frodo trotted after him with an exasperated sigh. He really would have prefered a good wash before even considering food. The reason for Pippin's exclamation became clear as soon as he entered the room.

Someone had lit the range, and a large pot sat to one side, it's lid rattling gently. Elbowing Pippin aside, before the lad could touch it with bare fingers, Frodo collected a pan holder from it's hook and lifted the lid. A cloud of fragrant steam escaped and both hobbits leaned closer to examine the fine vegetable stew revealed. Frodo's mouth watered. "I wonder who did this?"

"That'll be our Daisy." Sam arrived, pausing at the kitchen sink to wash his hands. "She said she'd pop in to leave some food, thinkin' we'd be hungry and too tired to cook somethin'." Frodo threw him a towel, which Sam snatched easily from the air. "I've put your packs in your rooms, and I'll press your things tomorrow, Master Pippin."

Frodo drew a reluctand Pippin to the sink and handed over the soap. "That was very good of Daisy. I shall pop into the village tomorrow to thank her. Will you eat with us Sam, or do you want to check up on your father? There's more than enough stew here for all of us."

"I'll not say no to a bite of supper, and Daisy has been keepin' an eye on the Gaffer too. I'll see him when I go home later." As he spoke, Sam collected a fresh loaf from the pantry. A quick glance from Frodo revealed that Daisy had also brought fresh bread, milk and even a few jam tarts.

Frodo took his turn at washing his hands as Pippin set the table and Sam cut several thick slices of crusty bread. "You sister is a wonder, Sam; to do all that, and also look after her own family. I shall repay her tomorrow and perhaps cut her some daffodils from the garden."

"You don't have to give her no daffy's, Sir. She got the vegetables from your garden, but I don't think she'd say no to a couple of coppers for the bread and such."

Frodo set down the pot and filled Pippin's dish first, for the youngster's tongue was almost hanging upon the table. "Be careful, Pip. It's hot. Nevertheless, Daisy shall have both coin and flowers."

-0-

The next morning Frodo left Sam pressing Pippin's clothes and showing the lad how to roll them properly for travelling. If he garnered a few second glances when he walked up the path to the Brockbank residence, he cared not. He had selected a large bunch of the very best daffodils from his garden, even going so far as to tie them with a blue ribbon.

The brown door swung open before he could knock and Frodo was almost bowled off his feet by a whirlwind with copper curls, that wrapped little arms tightly about his waist. "Uncle Frodo!"

Frodo grinned at her mother, who stood with the two year old Ashlee on her hip. "Hello Frodo." Her eyes widened as she beheld the bouquet Frodo proffered. "Thank you." She held them to her nose and inhaled, before holding them quickly away as Ashlee made a grab. "Oh no you don't, Trouble. These aren't for eating."

Frodo dropped down to give Bell a tight squeeze. "My goodness, Pumpkin, but you've grown so much since I saw you last."

Bell giggled. "Silly Uncle. You only saw me last week."

Frodo made a big production of staring her up and down. "And yet I would swear that you have grown a whole inch."

Her mother rolled her eyes at the antics of honorary uncles. "Will you come in for a cup of tea? I've some jam tarts."

"I would love to. And jam tarts are the reason I'm here." He glanced down at little Bell before adding hastily, "At least one of them."

"Typical lad. Alway followin' your stomachs." Nonetheless, Daisy grinned as she removed the bow, set the daffodils in a bowl and added cold water.

"Well, after last night's supper I don't think I have room for more than one jam tart, so your pantry is safe. The main reason I came was to thank you for the provisions and to make restitution."

Daisy rolled her eyes as she set a cup before him and filled it with the usual thick brew. "There you go with those big words. I'm guessin' you want to pay me for the food?"

Frodo chuckled as he added milk and honey to his cup. "I do. It must have been a very busy day for you and the stew was very much appreciated."

"The stew weren't nothin'. It was all vegetables from your own plot. As for the tarts, it didn't cost a farthin' to make half a dozen extra."

"A farthing is a farthing, and there was the bread and milk too." He set a small paper package upon the table. Knowing that Daisy would not open it until after he left, he had added a couple of extra pennies. "If you don't use this to refil your larder, perhaps you can buy something for the faunts."

"I can do that, and thank you." Daisy set her son on the floor, where he tottered off to play with a scatter of wooden bricks on the rug. "How is Master Peregrin settlin' in?"

"He's made himself at home. His bedroom already looks as though someone has held a rather rowdy party in it, but at least he'll only be there for another two days, before we set out for Buckland."

"Do you still want me to go in and do that cleanin' while you're away?"

"Oh, yes please. Sam didn't have time to do a spring clean this year and Bag End would definitely benefit from someone chasing the spiders from the corners." Frodo took a sip of tea. "It's good of you to do this. I know it's not easy to be from home when you have two youngsters."

Bell was sitting with her little brother, building brick towers that Ashlee took great delight in knocking down. Daisy looked on fondly. "They'll do well enough. There's always someone in the village will look after them. Honeysuckle will be doin' it this time. They love her because she lets them get up to all kinds of mischief."

"Oh dear."

Daisy waved away his concern. "Tis nothin' dangerous. She just lets them play a little too hard and feeds them too many cakes." She lowered her voice. "Tis good for them in a way."

Frodo watched Bell lean in to wipe her little brother's nose, despite his protests. "They are lovely children, Daisy."

"Of course they are...when they behave." Despite her rider, Daisy's eyes glowed with pride at his comment. "Will you be leavin' the key to Bag End with my Da?"

"Yes. He said he'd keep an eye on the garden too. I've given him instructions to harvest any root vegetables he needs. There's more than enough." Frodo set down his empty cup. "I'd best get moving or I'll miss the best of the market. Pippin has declared a fancy for buttercream cake and I don't have enough butter." He bent to give both youngsters a kiss on the head.

Daisy accompanied him to the door. "You spoil that lad."

Frodo leaned in to wink as he whispered, "Tis good for him."

Daisy punched him on the arm. "Get away with you, Frodo!"

The next morning Frodo glanced over in alarm, at the loud thud of Sam's travelling pack landing upon Bag End's kitchen table. Wincing, Sam grabbed the pack, depositing it upon the floor instead and bending to check the table top. "Sorry, sir. I hope I didn't leave a dent."

Frodo's brows drew together, although his blue eyes sparkled. "Dent it? I'm surprised you didn't flatten it. Whatever have you got in that pack, Sam Gamgee? "

Satisfied that he had not, in fact, damaged the table, Sam straightened with a shrug. "Just a few things I thought we might need."

"A few! You do know that we shall be travelling through several villages, and by at least half a dozen farms on our way, don't you? We won't starve between here and Buckland, if we carry not one scrap of food between us." He took inventory of the various pans and utensils hanging from Sam's pack. "We could cook a three course dinner with all the pans you have there. Have you learned nothing from our previous walking trips?"

Sam grinned. "Yes. I've learned that you forget to bring lots of things that you need." Then he frowned. "Anyway, we don't know what food we'll be findin' in all these villages and farms and the like, so I thought I'd best be ready." He paused, "Bother! I meant to bring a little box of salt and seasonin'." He would have scampered off back home had Frodo not stayed him.

"Sam! I have a packet of salt in my pack. We'll manage and I hope you have a strong back. I certainly wouldn't like to have to carry that lot all the way to Brandy Hall." Frodo lifted his own, much smaller pack, and slipped the straps over his shoulders, just as Pippin scampered into the room.

"Morning Sam. Isn't it a lovely day for walking?"

Sam frowned. "Mayhap if there were a nice warm kitchen at the end of it. It's goin' to rain later. The Gaffer's joints are achin'."

Pippin shrugged as he fastened his cloak atop his own pack. "We've got cloaks."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, just in case, I've an extra blanket, spare towel and a few odds and ends of food. There's a nice bit of roast chicken in my pack will make us a lunch, with a couple of beetroots and chunk of Brownlock cheese."

Pippin licked his lips. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me have a taste of that cheese now?"

Both older hobbits replied, "No!"

A couple of hours later they were well on the way to Bywater. Frodo was keeping an eye on his companion but Sam didn't seem too bothered by the weight of his pack after all. The younger hobbit looked soft, but beneath that layer of comfortable fat was a body of work-hardened muscle.

The road was particularly busy today, although everyone was heading in the opposite direction. It was market day in Hobbiton, and folk from Bywater and all the surrounding countryside were off to do their shopping. Frodo chuckled as the trio stepped aside to allow passage for Mrs Bracegirdle and her large brood of youngsters. "I feel like a salmon, trying to swim upstream," he quipped.

Sam stepped back into the road, shrugging his pack higher. "Bother it! I was goin' to bring a small fishin' rod, in case you was fancyin' fish. I've gone and forgot it, so if we want fish I'll have to tickle it."

Pippin piped up with, "I can do that."

"Dear Sam! We shall not starve, for want of a piece of grilled fish, between here and the next village." Sam looked unconvinced, frowning as he no doubt continued to consider the where and the how of obtaining fish, if Mr Frodo fancied it. He had picked up a little twist of dill as they passed through the market, after all.

Their first night was spent in a comfortable bedroom at the Pig and Whistle, where the evening meal met up to even Sam Gamgee's high standards. The following day they set out early and Frodo kept them walking until noon. The trio sat down to lunch and Sam began to set out some food. Frodo and Pippin went to relieve themselves, then to wash hands in a nearby stream. As they perched upon the bank Pippin turned to his cousin. "I think I would have prefered a pint of beer with my lunch."

Frodo grinned. "And how would you know? Your Papa only lets you drink cider."

Pippin grimaced, accepting the cup Sam handed him. "I don't think I like being the youngest of we three cousins. I never get to do the really fun things. Frodo, have you ever seen a lass?"

"We're generally surrounded by lasses, Pip. I would need to be blind not to."

The tween rolled his eyes. "I don't mean like that. I mean, you know...have you actually SEEN a lass?"

"Can I assume that Merry's imminent coming of age has prompted this question?"

"Well, some of my friends have."

"Have come of age, or have seen a lass?" Frodo asked, tongue-in-cheek.

That earned him an eyeroll from Pippin. "Come on, Frodo."

Frodo stood, to lean against a nearby tree. "My response to your comment regarding your friends, is that some tweens like to pretend that they are more adult than they are. Don't believe everything they tell you."

Pippin mulled that over as they walked back to their little camp. "I suppose you may be right. I certainly don't believe Sandon. He said lasses have hair down here." He waved in the general direction of his breeches.

Frodo grinned. "Actually, some do."

Pippin's mouth dropped open. "Then you have seen a lass! Did you actually... you know?"

He was stopped by Frodo's raised hand. "That is nobody's business buy mine and the lass. And I would caution you against doing any more than looking. There's more to tupping than scratching an itch. Surely your Papa has told you that." He smiled. "Uncle Saradoc certainly drummed it into me. Some good marriages have come out of the getting of a bairn, but I've seen other folk trapped in a loveless union, and it's miserable."

Frodo was aware of Sam, suddenly taking a deep interest in the correct laying out of their luncheon. Pippin did not appear to notice. "I saw Sandon go into the barn with one of the milkmaids the other week. When they came out again she was tying her laces. Should I tell Papa?"

Frodo winked at Sam. "Did they both look happy when they came out?"

"Oh yes."

"Then it's not anyone's business but theirs. Let it be."

There was a long silence. Frodo handed over a chunk of bread and some cheese. "Look Pip, you have time before you come of age. The lessons on love and lust will come soon enough, and not all of them should be put into practice. Some actions have long term costs that you may not wish to pay." He threw up his hands. "Listen to me! Now I sound like Uncle Bilbo."

Pippin giggled. "No you don't. He would have turned pink, stammered a bit and sent me to speak with Papa."

Frodo cuffed him lightly on the arm. "You're probably right. Now let's eat this food, so that poor Sam doesn't have to carry it any further.

The rest of their journey to Brandy Hall was uneventful, and both older hobbits were kept entertained by Pippin's incessant chatter. Once the first day had, as the Gaffer often put it, cleared its throat of that rain, it turned clear and sunny and they even spent their second night out-of-doors. Frodo found it hard to keep a straight face when Sam produced the waterproof groundsheet, however.

Frodo had to hold his friend's hand tightly as they crossed the wide Brandywine on the Bucklebury ferry. The Brandywine was well-behaved but rather broad at this point, and by the time they were midstream Sam was looking a little green. Pippin, of course, thought it all very exciting and at one point leaned so far over to watch a fish that the ferry-hobbit had to snatch him back, for fear he would fall in. Sam and Pippin leapt off as soon as the ferry touched the far shore, leaving a grinning Frodo to pay. By the time they reached Brandy Hall, a couple of hours later, Sam's complexion had regained its usual ruddy glow, although sight of the Hall's huge front doors seemed to tie his tongue.

No sooner had they stepped into the fine paved yard, than a lad ran out from the stables. "Is it just you, sirs? Only we've room in the stables for ponies."

Frodo grinned. "It's just us. We decided to walk. I hope you also have beds for a couple of weary travellers, all the way from Hobbiton."

The lad's sandy brows rose. "Hobbiton? Why, that's all the way over West Farthing." Frodo watched light dawn in the young face. "Are you Mister Baggins and party?"

"I am. I take it you've been expecting us."

"Oh, yes sir. The young Master's run into the yard to look for you more times than I can count. We was expectin' you yesterday, but we didn't know you was walkin'." As he spoke the lad led them toward the stout double doors and reached up to turn the large brass handle. At his firm push, one side swung open on well oiled hinges and a waft of warm air drew Frodo back to his youth. Brandy Hall smelled of earth and fresh bread, of people and polish. Pippin shrugged narrow shoulders and stepped straight in. When Sam hung back, Frodo took his arm to draw him gently inside.

It was late in the afternoon but the doors faced West and sunbeams lit the fine wainscoting and polished tile of the broad and well appointed hallway. A door opened to their left and two well dressed hobbits appeared.

"Frodo!"

Frodo's only response was, "Oof!" as all the air was squeezed from his lungs by Merry's enthusiastic embrace.

As always, Esmeralda Brandybuck was as neat as a pin in both speech and deportment. "We were beginning to wonder if you would arrive in time for the party, tomorrow. You're looking well, Frodo."

Frodo disentangled himself from his cousin, who immediately rushed aside to hug Pippin. Frodo drew Sam forward. "Sam, Merry you already know, and, as my cousin appears to have completely forgotten his manners, let me introduce his lady mother, Mistress Esmeralda Brandybuck." He gave a short bow to the lady, who raised a finely winged brow at her son's failings before offering a twinkling smile to Sam. Still unused to being in the high-born company of Frodo's relations, Sam took a moment to realise that a response was expected, then offered as deep a bow as the weight of his pack permitted.

At his side, Pippin also bowed, before offering his aunt a winning grin.

"Good day to you Master Gamgee, Peregrin. I hope my nephew has not had the two of you tramping all the way here on foot? We assumed Frodo would hire ponies or at least ride with Tom Carter."

Sam was apparantly a little unsure how to respond and decided to defend his master. "I don't mind, lady. I'm used to walkin'. In truth, I don't know as I would know how to ride a pony."

Pippin waved a hand, dismissively. "There's nothing to it, Sam. Although it makes your bottom and legs hurt at first."

Esmeralda laughed and Merry hid a smile. "Merry, you'd best show your guests to their room. I've no doubt they would welcome a bath. I shall make arrangements." The lady turned to depart, only pausing to add, "Frodo, your uncle and Rorymac are in a meeting at present, so you probably won't see them until tomorrow."

Merry shrugged. "There have been meetings all day. Something about the Bounders. Come on. You're all sharing a room down the hall from mine." He slipped between Sam and Frodo, taking the arm of each, much to Sam's apparent surprise. "We can sneak out to the kitchens together for a midnight feast later, and nobody will know."

Pippin's eyes lit up. "That sounds like fun."

Frodo laughed. "Merry, your mother and father always know. But what's this about the Bounders?"

Sam clearly only half listened to the conversation as he took in the fine furnishings and many hallways that seemed to open out in every direction. "Beggin' your pardon Mr Merriadoc, but I think I've seen less complicated coney warrens. I'm thinkin' it would be very easy to get lost in here."

"It's Merry, and don't worry. You'll soon get the lay of it," his host assured him. He turned back to Frodo. "There's been a few big folk trying to cross the bridge of late. Some have even tried swimming the Brandywine. Imagine that! Papa has had trouble getting the Bounders to stay at their posts, and gave instructions to lock all the doors at sunset." Merry imparted the information as blithely as he would a dinner menu, but Frodo's eyes narrowed and he noticed that Sam glanced back at those stout doors more favourably. Behind them, Pippin had stopped to admire a painting.

That evening they shared a family dinner with Saradoc, Esmeralda and Merry. At first Sam appeared ill at ease, but the Brandybuck's were quite welcoming, serving simple food and offering mundane conversation. Sam was soon more than happy to concentrate upon his plate, as most of the conversation revolved around the doings of Frodo's distant relations. Remaining silent no doubt gave him more time to eat. Pippin managed perform both functions in tandem, with very little effort.

On the way back to their shared room they could hear a low murmur of sound, like some distant gaggle of geese. When Sam enquired about it Frodo chuckled. "Count yourself lucky to be spared that on your first night here. It's coming from the Great Hall, two floors below us. They hold meetings and entertainments there on high days but mostly it's used as a dining hall. Imagine Bilbo's leaving party, only twice the size."

"Two floors below? Beggin' your pardon, Master Merry, but the Brandybucks must all have powerful lungs."

Merry laughed brightly. "You can find out for yourself tomorrow, Sam. My birthday party will be in there." When Sam looked a little concerned Merry tugged him along the hallway. "Come on. We can sit and chat in my room before it's time for bed." He giggled. "Maybe I can dig out a pair of earmuffs for you to wear tomorrow."

The next day dawned grey and rainy, but that could not dampen spirits, for today young Master Merriadoc came of age. In the afternoon there would be a huge party, to which absolutely everybody in Brandy Hall was invited, along with many from the surrounding Buckland, and even a few from across the river.

As was tradition, the barding remained in his room all morning, to make himself available to all those wishing to present gifts. It being such an important birthday and Merry being in line for the position of Master of Buckland one day, there were many presents to be given, resulting in Merry having to rise very early.

By the time Frodo knocked on the door, many had come and gone and, upon entering, he found Merry replacing the lid on Sam's gift of a jar of wild honeycomb. Merry grinned apologetically and ran to wash his hands. "I couldn't resist. Wild honey always seems sweeter than the stuff harvested from our hives."

Frodo chuckled. "Sam always finds the best and he never seems to get stung. The only time I tried collecting honeycomb I ended up being chased by an angry swarm of bees, and came back to the Hall dripping wet. I had to jump in the river to get rid of them and had not a drop of honey to show for my adventure. Your mother was quite peeved at the mud on my best shirt."

Merry jumped up to sit on the edge of his bed and invited Frodo to join him. "Did she make you launder it yourself? She always does that with me."

"She did, and your father said that, as the shirt was already dirty, I may as well clean out the pigsty before laundering it. It took me a good hour of scrubbing to get that shirt clean."

"People tell some interesting tales about you, cousin. I was too young to get caught up in your mischief but some here still remember you as 'The Terror Of Brandy Hall'."

"I was a bit of a tear-away. I'm amazed my aunt and uncle put up with me for so long. But enough of me. This is your day, cousin. Happy birthday." Frodo held out a small, gaily wrapped parcel.

Merry accepted it solemnly. "Thank you." With a restraint Frodo would never have expected from him, his younger cousin tugged the bow free and set the bright ribbon aside. Within a fine wooden box Merry discovered a parchment scroll. Frodo waited for his reaction in eager anticipation and helped him to unfurl it. It was a list of his direct forefathers, right back to the days of the Oldbuck clan. "Did you make this? It is beautiful."

Frodo grinned. "Surely you recognise my hand? Yes, and it took me a lot of research through some very mouldy records for the early names." He winced. "In truth, I was not sure of some of the early Oldbuck names, that's why I had to put question marks at the side of them."

Merry grimaced. "Grandpa Rory has been drilling them into me regularly, but even he has not been able to go back so far as this."

Frodo nodded remembering, all too clearly, some very dry genealogy lessons with Rorymac Brandybuck. "I found some rather dusty and battered scrolls about the founding of Buckland in the Mathom House a few years ago, and that inspired me."

Merry beamed, leaning in to gift his cousin with a tight hug. "I'll treasure it and add it to our library."

Frodo hugged back. "Happy Coming of Age, Merry."

Merry released him with a snort. "I should feel grown up, but I don't feel any different to how I felt yesterday." He jumped up to begin rummaging in a large pile of carefully wrapped parcels, returning to hold one out to his cousin. "And here is my gift to you."

"Thank you." Frod untied the large ribbon bow that he suspected was the work of Merry's mother, recognising the sigil of Dale on the lid. "I know what you mean. I thought that reaching thirty-three would bring all kinds of freedom and wisdom. Instead, I discovered that it brought a great deal of responsibility and precious little of that wisdom."

He lifted the lid. Within was a bundle of green cloth, which he parted to reveal a fine brass bell, with a hanging bracket in the shape of a snarling dragon. "Merry, this is beautiful!" He hugged his cousin enthusiastically.

Once released, Merry beamed proudly. "I wanted to give you something special and I hope you don't mind that I did not make it myself." He traced a finger along the dragon's scales. "I fancy it may be frightening enough to put off even the Sackville-Baggins."

Frodo laughed. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. If ever Lotho Sackville-Baggins and Orton Sandyman come together it will take more than a brass dragon to protect me."

Merry frowned. "The SB's are easy enough to deal with. They're all bluster. But from what I've heard, that whole Sandyman family is mean, through and through. Did you ever get to the bottom of that incident with the retchleaf?"

Growing pensive, Frodo studied the dragon's finely cast face. "No. Somebody once told me that their hatred was a generations old feud regarding letter writing. Orton never actually confessed to the deed with the retchleaf, but he told me some cock-and-bull story about an imagined slight over an apprenticeship here. I honestly think their hatred has gone on for so long that even they have forgotten the root of it. I do not wish to think ill of anyone but I sometimes wonder if they just go out of their way to find reasons to be angry."

"I can believe that. Papa told me what Orton's sister, Fern, accused you of. I think he intended it as a lesson to me on how the possible future Master of Buckland should not only behave well around lasses, but be seen to do so."

Frodo winced, remembering all to clearly his panic at the thought of being forced into marriage to Fern Sandyman, when he knew for certain that the child she carried was not his. It was only a discretely placed birthmark that had saved Frodo from what would have been an ill-fated marriage. "I forgave Fern long ago. She was desperate."

Merry wrinkled his nose. "You are far too forgiving, cousin. If she'd done that to me I think Papa would have run the entire family from the Shire."

"Maybe." Frodo drew a deep breath and put on a smile. "Enough of this. Today you come of age and it's a day to celebrate." He replaced the lid on his gift. "Thank you for my lovely gift. I shall ask Sam to fix it outside the front door as soon as we get home. Perhaps it will be enough to scare away Lobelia at least."

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