Walking into Bag End without so much as a second thought, Sam slammed the door and started to walk into the hall. Turning ever so slightly so he could peer into the kitchen, he let out a startled gasp as he noticed a short, rather willowy old man bent over a boiling teakettle. At Sam's gasp, the old man jerked up.
"What in the name of Took is going on here? Who are YOU?" snapped the man, pointing a long, dirty finger at Sam. Sam looked at the finger and gaped openly.
"I...I..." suddenly Sam felt anger searing through him, giving him strength. He balled his hands into fists.
"I just so happen to be Frodo Baggins's BEST FRIEND! If anyone has a right here, it's ME!! I should be asking YOU what you're doing here, you dirty old..." and Sam stopped, knowing his mouth would get him into trouble. But the man just cocked an eyebrow.
"Dirty, yes. Old, yes. Kin of the Baggins's, yes. I have MORE so right to be here, sonny! But...glory me...you must be Sam." At those last few words, the man's words softened. Sam was speechless.
"Why...why yes, I am. But how did you know?? I've never seen you around here before!" The man chuckled and shook his head.
"Boy, I believe you're the only one in Hobbiton besides my dear relatives to have seen me. I would come in the dead of night, the Baggins would accept no visitors for a few days, and then I'd leave. I'm a very secretive old man, Sam, very secretive. I know things about your dear Frodo that would make your hair curl!" Sam bristled, but also had a weird desire to laugh.
"Yeah, well, WHAT?? Your not the ONLY one who knows some of the Baggins's secrets!" Again, the man cocked an eyebrow.
"I know I'm gonna regret sayin' this, but...do these "secrets" that you know of have anything to do with an evil young lass named Rosaline?" Sam, knocked speechless at his good luck, nodded viciously. "Ah...well, you'd better come here then." The old man then beckoned and shuffled off in the direction of Frodo's bedroom.
"Wait..." Sam stumbled after him. Gosh, the man was moving so SMOOTHLY for someone so OLD... "wait, sir, I don't even know your NAME!" And the man, without even stopping, turned his head and gave Sam a wide-almost EVIL-grin.
"Oh, you don't need my name, what's a name? Nothing but people's referral to one another! No, no, you're much better off without it..." and the man continued to mutter inaudible things as they progressed.
This man may be kooky, thought Sam, but he might provide valuable info, and I can't risk losing that.
Finally, they were at the bedroom. The man, smiling too widely to be natural, began to rifle through Frodo's chest of drawers.
"Hey...hey what...?" began Sam, but the old man was talking louder and louder, and Sam started to listen.
"I knew you came here at this time for a reason, boy...oh, yes, what a reason indeed. Good old Frodo..." and then the man launched into a series of high-pitched giggles, which never became a cough, unusual for most of the old people in this town. Sam, rather frightened by now, began to back away. But the old man spoke up again.
"Oh, no, my boy...you can't run away...no no no, that would spoil EVERYTHING...besides, you can't!"
"What are you talking..." cried Sam, fumbling with the doorknob, and realizing with horror that the door was locked. He COULDN'T get out! And now the man was starting to look more serious.
"Look, sonny, even if you COULD get out, I have valuable information on this Rosaline deal, and you DON'T want to miss that!" practically the SAME WORDS Sam himself had thought just a few minutes before.
"Um...um...yes?" stammered Sam. And this evidentially was good enough for the old man, who turned back to the chest of drawers and began rifling through again.
While he was doing this, Sam tried the door again. Still locked.
Since when do the doors at Bag End have LOCKS? Thought Sam, rather mystified. But before that thought could grow, a triumphant cry from the old man protruded his thoughts.
"Ah HA!" he cried, pulling something out and holding it like a treasure. "I've found it...what I came here for...and what YOU are NEEDED for..." Sam was about to inquire what the man meant, but he saw what the man was holding and he choked on his own words.
In the old man's gnarled, dusty hands there was held a knife. A large knife; not even used for the kitchen, probably. The handle was short, thick, and brown. Sam thought he saw a face carved in it at first, but then it disappeared. The handle was long, shiny, and curved. But that wasn't what terrified him so much that he THUNKED back against the wall, staring in horror. Nope, what made him do that was that practically the entire front HALF of the knife was stained with blood. Not FRESH blood, but old blood. It was apparent that somebody had tried and scrub it off; some patches were missing here and there, and the blood was rather faded, but it was there. And, almost as terrifying, was that the man's gigantic grin had returned.
"Gregory de Boone's," said the man, turning his gigantor smile on the knife. "Isn't that just GREAT, Sam? Stealing something from another man and then MURDERING him with it? Ah, that Frodo was a genius, pure genius..."
"NOOOOOOO!!!" shrieked Sam, practically tearing the door off it's hinges. "No! NONONO!!" But the man's grin just widened.
"Yes, Sam, yes yes YES!" cried the man, still holding the knife like a treasured possession. "Frodo killed Gregory de Boone because it was the RIGHT THING TO DO!! Do you understand??" Those words had a spellbinding effect on Sam. He dropped his hands from the doorknob, and turned to the man. His pupils even seemed to be flashing different sizes.
"Y-yes." He replied shakily, and the old man grinned.
Wait...why the hell did I say that?? Thought Sam panickly. But the old man spoke again.
"Good. Now listen-killing that FILTHY de Boone hobbit was just a PART of Frodo's plan!"
Yes, thought Sam, filthy filthy filthy de Boone's
"But, unfortunately, he had to go away before he could complete it!"
"No..." breathed Sam, his hands barely brushing the doorknob again.
"Yes, I know, it's scandalous. And that, my fine Gamgee, is why I am CERTAIN you are here."
"What...what...why?" asked Sam edgily, still wary of the man's sanity.
The man's grin, once again, erupted on his face.
"Oh, you'll know..." and before Sam could protest, the knife was in his hands. "Frodo wanted it done..." and suddenly, unexplainably, the man was gone.
"What the..." Sam wanted to drop the knife, but he couldn't.
Maybe I'M the insane one he thought worriedly, staring at the very much real knife in his hands.
Oh, you're not INSANE cooed a voice inside his head. That monstrous voice that had driven Sam away from his family that morning was back. You're just...special. Now, down to business...
What "business"?? thought Sam angrily.
Why, what the old man SAID, of course!
But what did he SAY? Thought Sam in frustration. All he said was, "Frodo wanted it done".
Yes, he did replied the voice simply. Sam was ready to start screaming.
Well, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS! Screamed Sam mentally. Frodo wanted WHAT done??
You know. Replied the voice, and it sounded so incredibly evil normally Sam would've given a little jerk, but he didn't. He just stood rock-still. He DID know. And, silently, he turned and left, not even noticing that the door opened fine.
Good boy, thought the voice, still rather evilly. Now, let's go take care of some unfinished business of "Mister Frodo's..." If the voice had been a real-life super-villan, it DEFINITELY would have started laughing right then.