Frodo Baggins, suspected murderer, didn't exactly fit the bill. He was
small even up to the other hobbits, and what the Sackville-Baggins woman
had said about him having the face of a Maia was no exaggeration. I've
seen elves that weren't as pretty. Female elves. He was all curly brown
hair and big blue eyes, and all I could think about was how many human
women I knew who'd love to cuddle him. Could a kid who looked like him
really kill anyone?
Maybe. Maybe not. Prettiest woman I ever knew poisoned her husband and her neighbor's wife, then ran off with the neighbor.
I sat and listened to the hobbits' conversation while I ate. From time to time, Rosie the pretty little barmaid refilled my ale or brought me something new to eat and got me thinking about the logistics of having a hobbit wife.
Pretty soon, though, Frodo himself got my attention back on track.
"I just got a letter from Bilbo, in fact," he said.
"What'd the old crackpot have to say?" asked one of the grumpy old hobbits.
"Not much. Just that he's fine, and that he found himself a quiet place to stay and work on his book. He also asked after the Shire and Bag End and told me to drown the Sackville-Bagginses in the mill pond if they were still pestering me."
All the hobbits at the table laughed, and the other young one said, "I'd help you hide the bodies if you did, Mr. Frodo."
"Wonderful!" cried Frodo, slapping the table. "Let's do it tonight, Sam!"
They all raised a tankard to the proposition. I was getting the feeling the Sackville-Bagginses weren't the best-loved couple in the Shire. Mordor, I'd barely had them in my office for ten minutes, and I wanted to kill them. Still, knowing what they said about Frodo, I had chills running down my spine.
A little while later, when the barmaids started getting that look that said they'd been propositioned one too many times and needed sleep, I paid my bill, leaving a hearty tip for Rosie, and left.
Any man in my position knows how to stay out of sight, but among the hobbits, it was trickier than usual. Lucky for me, Hobbiton's got plenty of greenery to hide behind. I watched from a distance as Frodo and the one called Sam left the tavern, then carefully trailed them up to Bag End. The fact that they were both on the tipsy side helped me out. Finally, Frodo waved to Sam and opened his gate. I waited until Sam had ambled around the bend and Frodo had disappeared into his cozy little hobbit-hole before I approached.
I'd just been meaning to scout the place out, look for entrances and exits and windows so I could come back and take a better look later, when Frodo wasn't home. That plan bit the dust when I realized Frodo wasn't alone: someone was inside with him.
As quietly as I could, I moved away from the road to a more sheltered side of the hobbit-hole. I found a window there and sat down to listen.
The conversation inside was hushed, but it didn't take long for me to realize something about the whole thing smelled worse than Bree on a hot day. I kept hearing about a ring Bilbo had found, and the name Sauron came up more times than I wanted to hear.
I'm an investigator; I like things that are solid, that you can see with your own eyes and hold with your own hands. All of this religious mumbo- jumbo about Rings of Power and Dark Lords sounded like a pile of horse manure to me, but Frodo sounded scared. I'd already realized who his visitor was: Gandalf, the so-called "wizard". Blows through Bree once in a while, bringing a lot of gossip with him, then blows right back out, having done absolutely nothing to earn it.
Maybe Gandalf's reputation did it, or maybe it was Frodo's Big Blue Eyes, or maybe it was the fact that I liked the stuff that got on my shoes better than the Sackville-Bagginses, but I started to wonder if Frodo might just be a pawn in all this. Things weren't adding up.
A second later, I had to re-figure all my equations. Frodo was running around his house, packing like his life depended on it. "Make for the village of Bree," I heard Gandalf say. I knew I had to beat Frodo there, and I started thinking about the quickest ways to get home. Just as I started to move away from my window, though, I heard Gandalf bark at Frodo to get down.
I froze. Had Gandalf heard me? I was pretty sure I could take the old man, but I didn't want the mess. Turned out, though, I didn't have to worry: Gandalf had caught Sam spying on them. I wondered why the little fellow had come back to Frodo's house, and what Gandalf would do to him now.
Nothing much . . . except send Sam on the same wild goose chase to Bree that Frodo was on. What in Mordor was going on?
I was still asking that question when the three of them left Bag End. When it was safe, I eased away from the house and got out of Hobbiton just as dawn was breaking.
I like my jobs simple and neat. This was turning out to be neither. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.
Next time: Hobbits in Bree and Stranger Things!
Maybe. Maybe not. Prettiest woman I ever knew poisoned her husband and her neighbor's wife, then ran off with the neighbor.
I sat and listened to the hobbits' conversation while I ate. From time to time, Rosie the pretty little barmaid refilled my ale or brought me something new to eat and got me thinking about the logistics of having a hobbit wife.
Pretty soon, though, Frodo himself got my attention back on track.
"I just got a letter from Bilbo, in fact," he said.
"What'd the old crackpot have to say?" asked one of the grumpy old hobbits.
"Not much. Just that he's fine, and that he found himself a quiet place to stay and work on his book. He also asked after the Shire and Bag End and told me to drown the Sackville-Bagginses in the mill pond if they were still pestering me."
All the hobbits at the table laughed, and the other young one said, "I'd help you hide the bodies if you did, Mr. Frodo."
"Wonderful!" cried Frodo, slapping the table. "Let's do it tonight, Sam!"
They all raised a tankard to the proposition. I was getting the feeling the Sackville-Bagginses weren't the best-loved couple in the Shire. Mordor, I'd barely had them in my office for ten minutes, and I wanted to kill them. Still, knowing what they said about Frodo, I had chills running down my spine.
A little while later, when the barmaids started getting that look that said they'd been propositioned one too many times and needed sleep, I paid my bill, leaving a hearty tip for Rosie, and left.
Any man in my position knows how to stay out of sight, but among the hobbits, it was trickier than usual. Lucky for me, Hobbiton's got plenty of greenery to hide behind. I watched from a distance as Frodo and the one called Sam left the tavern, then carefully trailed them up to Bag End. The fact that they were both on the tipsy side helped me out. Finally, Frodo waved to Sam and opened his gate. I waited until Sam had ambled around the bend and Frodo had disappeared into his cozy little hobbit-hole before I approached.
I'd just been meaning to scout the place out, look for entrances and exits and windows so I could come back and take a better look later, when Frodo wasn't home. That plan bit the dust when I realized Frodo wasn't alone: someone was inside with him.
As quietly as I could, I moved away from the road to a more sheltered side of the hobbit-hole. I found a window there and sat down to listen.
The conversation inside was hushed, but it didn't take long for me to realize something about the whole thing smelled worse than Bree on a hot day. I kept hearing about a ring Bilbo had found, and the name Sauron came up more times than I wanted to hear.
I'm an investigator; I like things that are solid, that you can see with your own eyes and hold with your own hands. All of this religious mumbo- jumbo about Rings of Power and Dark Lords sounded like a pile of horse manure to me, but Frodo sounded scared. I'd already realized who his visitor was: Gandalf, the so-called "wizard". Blows through Bree once in a while, bringing a lot of gossip with him, then blows right back out, having done absolutely nothing to earn it.
Maybe Gandalf's reputation did it, or maybe it was Frodo's Big Blue Eyes, or maybe it was the fact that I liked the stuff that got on my shoes better than the Sackville-Bagginses, but I started to wonder if Frodo might just be a pawn in all this. Things weren't adding up.
A second later, I had to re-figure all my equations. Frodo was running around his house, packing like his life depended on it. "Make for the village of Bree," I heard Gandalf say. I knew I had to beat Frodo there, and I started thinking about the quickest ways to get home. Just as I started to move away from my window, though, I heard Gandalf bark at Frodo to get down.
I froze. Had Gandalf heard me? I was pretty sure I could take the old man, but I didn't want the mess. Turned out, though, I didn't have to worry: Gandalf had caught Sam spying on them. I wondered why the little fellow had come back to Frodo's house, and what Gandalf would do to him now.
Nothing much . . . except send Sam on the same wild goose chase to Bree that Frodo was on. What in Mordor was going on?
I was still asking that question when the three of them left Bag End. When it was safe, I eased away from the house and got out of Hobbiton just as dawn was breaking.
I like my jobs simple and neat. This was turning out to be neither. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.
Next time: Hobbits in Bree and Stranger Things!