Notes to Readers:

My computer is feeling much better, thank you. Brushed out a few cobwebs and we've had only one crash since I've been back (believe you me, that is a great difference from a week ago!).

Thanks for the reviews! You might not realise how helpful they are, but indeed... they are.

Reader Poll: Are you tired of Ferdi angst? (your answers will be taken into consideration in stories currently under construction)

Dana! I awakened to a raft of reviews this morning, thanks! You must have typed your fingers to the bone... here, have a nice slice of apple tart to restore your strength.

Hai, you are right, fairness is going to be a large concern.

Xena, thanks for answering the poll. Poor Ferdi, if his future were not already mapped out in stories further along on the timeline, I think he would move to Gondor to get away from the angst. You are right about Pippin, he's in a tough spot. No wonder the poor guy doesn't want to be Thain. I certainly wouldn't want the job. It is hard enough mediating disputes amongst the little ones.

Madeleine, it was a good week away. Thanks for the good thoughts.

Bookworm, you know, it is possible that Merry might never remember borrowing the knife, it's just one of those things that happens in passing, so casual and so frequent an occurrence that it makes no impression in the mind. You just never know. Will he or won't he?

Aemilia Rose, don't worry, hobbits don't as a rule deliberately hurt other hobbits. Though there's no such thing as Miranda rights in the Shire, hobbits do have an intrinsic respect for the honour and dignity of others, even when they are thought guilty of crime. The whole focus of their justice is restoration when hobbitly possible.

Miriel, the way the justice system seemed to work itself out in these stories (I think the first hearing I ever wrote was in "Flames"), the accused has the last word, but is not allowed to speak until the witnesses have finished testifying against him. This fits in with the idea of "guilty until proven innocent", which would have been the mindset in the Old Country. Since the testimony of more than one witness is required to convict, and it would be unlikely for hobbits to conspire against another hobbit, false charges would not be common in the Shire. Frodo's case has been carefully crafted by malice and forethought on the part of someone with an axe to grind, even to providing more than one witness to testify against him based upon planted evidence. One exception to this "more than one witness" rule would be if the Thain chose to abuse his power, he could convict someone without due process (see "Flames", and Paladin unjustly placing Ferdi under the Ban without recourse or appeal), though being a hobbit, this is unlikely.

I continue to post new chapters simultaneously to ffnet and www.storiesofarda.com. So if ffnet has a bad day, hopefully you can still get your update of the continuing saga... I'm also told that StoriesofArda has author alerts, though I have not yet discovered how they work. I count myself blessed to have figured out how to post chapters there! One thing at a time.

Comments are always welcome. Have some tea and a ginger biscuit fresh from the oven...

Look for an update in "Runaway" on the morrow, if all goes well, and another chapter of "Truth" the day after.

***

12. A Good Name is Finer than Riches

Hodge sat deep in his own thoughts, watching the chickens pecking in the yard. He jumped at a voice behind him.

'Would you like a cup of tea?' Goldi said. He turned to see her holding a mug out to him.

Taking it with mumbled thanks, he sipped at the tea, raising his eyebrows. 'It's just right,' he said. 'How did you know?'

'I remembered from when Mum and Dad had your family to tea,' she said. Her eyes were red from weeping, and he felt a pang.

'I'm that sorry about your brother,' he said.

'He didn't do it,' Goldi responded stoutly.

'I'm sure he didn't,' Hodge agreed. 'I cannot imagine Frodo, of all the hobbits I know, doing such a thing.' He hesitated, then added, 'Goldi, I owe you an apology. It was very wrong of me, what I did, and I hope you'll forgive me.'

She looked down and coloured prettily, very prettily indeed, he thought. He continued, 'It's just that... when I saw you kissing that Took, and you won't even give the lads around here the time of day...'

'I'm too young to be walking out with anyone,' Goldi said, raising her eyes to meet his. 'My mum and dad want me to wait until I'm thirty.'

'Rosie married when she was only...' he began.

'That was different,' Goldi said. He raised an eyebrow, and she bristled. 'No, it was not like that at all, she didn't marry because she had to, no matter what those idle tongues down at the Dragon might say.'

'I'm sorry,' Hodge said again. 'When I saw you being free with your kisses, I thought...'

'You thought I was following in her footsteps, that I'd get myself into a fix and have to be got out again, is that it?' she said hotly. This was not going at all the way Hodge wished.

'No,' he broke in, trying to redeem the situation. 'It's just that...'

' "Just that" what?' she demanded.

He dropped his eyes and swallowed hard, then bravely met her furious gaze. 'It's just that... I wished it was me rather than the son of the Thain,' he admitted.

This simple statement deflated her, and she sank down onto the bench next to him, staring. 'You...?' she said, and could not continue.

'It made me mad,' he said. 'That's why I did what I did. I'm sorry, Goldi, I never meant you no discourtesy.'

'Goldi!' Merry called sharply from the kitchen doorway.

She popped up from the bench again, started towards the door, turned to say breathlessly, 'I forgive you!' and turned back, hitching her skirts up to run to the door where her brother watched and waited.

Hodge smiled and settled back to sip his tea. Nice girl, that Goldi. Pretty smile she had, indeed. It was a pity about her brother. He would never have thought Frodo capable of stealing; he would have sworn that lad was as honest as the day was long in the summertime.

***

The waggon creaked along New Road from Bywater to Tuckborough, wheels rumbling, pony hoofs clopping briskly for all the world as if they were driving to take tea with the Thain, but for the silence of the waggon's occupants. Frodo felt his hands growing numb, and tried to ease his wrists.

'I'm sorry, lad,' Nod said quietly. 'I must have tied them too tight. Sit still a minute.' He undid the knots and retied the bonds more loosely. Frodo nodded thanks, wriggling his fingers to restore circulation.

The news spread like puffpenny seeds on a windy day; soon everyone in Hobbiton and Bywater knew that the Mayor was driving his son, bound and escorted by Shirriff Nod, towards the Great Smials. Speculation was rife; what could the lad have done?

A wild rumour circulated that he'd gone out hunting with his younger brothers and killed one of them, rather like the shooting accident a fortnight before. Quite a few lasses in the area returned home in tears, mourning either Merry or Pippin, such lively lads as they were, polite and easy on the eyes in the bargain.

It was not long before someone put two and two together, having seen the Sandymans in the waggon, and before the Shirriff and his prisoner were halfway to the Great Smials, the Mayor's eldest son been firmly branded thief, sneak and scoundrel by many of the inhabitants of Bywater and its environs.

'I cannot believe it,' the innkeeper said, polishing glasses as he got ready to serve noontide dinner to all comers.

'Shirriff wouldn't-a bound him iffen he hadn't found him guilty,' the old gaffer said stoutly, tucking a cloth into his collar, preparatory to tucking in to his dinner.

'I still cannot believe it,' the innkeeper insisted, 'not that lad, not the Mayor's son.'

'He won't be the Mayor's son much longer,' a farmer in town for market day said. 'Samwise'll never get elected again, not with a thief for a son.'

'He'll pull out of the election, I'll warrant,' another agreed.

'I'd imagine old Gaffer Gamgee is spinning in his grave at the moment,' Ches said soberly, taking his regular seat. 'Anybody seen Rusty yet? This has got to be a bad blow for the Burrows. Daughter nearly married to a thief, and all.'

'She had a narrow escape, that's for certain,' the gaffer agreed. 'I imagine he's counting his blessings.'

As a matter of fact, he wasn't. He was sitting at his kitchen table, cup of tea gone cold before him, numbly listening to the weeping of his wife and daughters. Old Mr Proudfoot's garden would be sadly neglected this day, but to be honest, Rusty Burrows wasn't thinking of the ire of his best-paying client. He was remembering instead the haunted eyes of his assistant as the Mayor's waggon bore Frodo slowly by him, when he'd walked whistling out his door to start another day.