Part 2: Of Secrets and Spies
As the word 'guilty' left Frodo's lips, a maid fainted in the back row. Voices chattered loudly. Two harried officials carried the maid's limp body from the courtroom, another fanning her with a scrap of paper. The mayor banged his hammer and restored order."Guilty? Are you sure?" the mayor asked, looking at Frodo with raised eyebrows.
Sam caught the slight stammer in Frodo's first word. "Y-yes, sir. I am guilty of all the charges Lobelia has made against me. I am indeed bedding Samwise Gamgee."
Lobelia's milk-curdling voice echoed throughout the room. "Then leave Bag End, you good-for-nothing Baggins!"
The mayor's handkerchief was becoming rather wet from his perspiration. "Quiet, Lobelia! Your turn will come."
Lobelia curtsied to Will and looked abashed. (At least she tried to; what she really looked like was somebody looking upon her uncle after Yuletide luncheon when he tries to drunkenly navigate his way to the privy but rather falls arse over onto the nearest couch, snoring loudly.) "Sorry, your Honour," she murmured.
The mayor peered at Frodo. "Are you sure, Mr. Baggins? Do you realise the consequences of your words?"
Frodo raised his chin, proud. "I do, sir. And I will leave Bag End if I am found guilty. But I wish to argue the validity of the laws, and prove that they are not honourable."
"Not honourable? Whatever do you mean?" A puzzled frown embedded itself between the mayor's eyebrows.
"I wish to argue that there is nothing wrong with what Sam and I do," Frodo said. "It is perfectly natural -- as natural as a hobbit-maid and lad, one might say."
Well, this sent the crowd into an uproar. Feet were stamped, umbrellas jabbed, food thrown (or eaten) and caps tossed. A few lasses began to cry. Officials escorted these poor women out with the promise of a rich cupcake with sugar sprinkled on top and garnished with thick clotted cream. While the hobbits made enough noise to wake the spirits lurking around the Barrow-downs, Frodo took a drink and looked wearily at Sam.
"This is going to take a long time," he said, "if there is a commotion every time I say something that, well, makes them uncomfortable."
Sam wiped his mouth and put his water bottle on the desk in front of him. "As long as we don't have to show 'em anything," he muttered.
Soon order was restored. Hobbits wriggled comfortably at the extra room available. Will looked down at Frodo. "I suppose you have an argument -- some evidence -- to support your claim, Mr. Baggins?"
"Oh, yes." Frodo indicated the papers before him with a bent finger. "I do. And witnesses."
"Witnesses?" The mayor's voice had the same particular sharpness as a half-ripe pear. It also made Frodo want to spit in disgust, and he reflected this would look not half as bad as him and Sam sharing the same bed.
"They won't be available till tomorrow, however." Frodo gave the mayor his warmest grin, friendly-like. Not too friendly, in case Will got the idea that the very handsome and very rich Frodo Baggins was trying to seduce him in the hope of the trial going in his favour.
Will's face took on a sickly-green appearance. He had been hoping, since Frodo had pleaded guilty, that the matter would be put to bed (pun not intended) before lunchtime, and he would have the rest of the afternoon to lounge around in his chambers drinking cold ale and fantasising about what his wife was making for dinner that night. (He hoped for her prize-winning honeyed leg of pork studded with little black cloves nesting in a bed of well-cooked vegetables drizzled with molasses-thick gravy. Though he wouldn't complain if she dished up her roasted chicken lying in its mouth-watering juices that practically crumbled in your mouth before you began to chew. And if dessert happened to be a berry tart with a sugar crust, well, he wasn't--)
One of the mayor's assistants had fallen off his chair. Startled, the mayor gave the hobbit a quick nod as he sat gingerly back in his chair, rubbing his elbow, and made a note to send the hobbit's wife a basket of mushrooms some time next week.
"All right then, Mr. Baggins, though I think we should take a lunch-break now," the mayor said hastily. "The court will open again at two o'clock." He banged his hammer down. "Court dismissed."
The crowd filed out, whispering to each other. Frodo gathered up his papers with a confident air and smiled at Sam. "That didn't go half as bad as I thought it would," he said.
"At least they're giving you a chance to argue," replied Sam. "'Twould be a shame to leave Bag End after all these years."
"Oh, dear Sam," said Frodo sadly, touching the corner of Sam's sleeve. "I'm sure it would be much harder for you to leave Bag End than I. Not that I don't love that smial dearly, but to think of all the work you've done in the garden."
"I always thought the garden was mine," said Sam quietly, looking down shame-faced. "Even before I came to live with you. I never told no-one, because it wasn't my place to say such nonsense. But when I wrap my hand around a daisy-stem, or dig my fingers in the soil, it feels like home, if you take my meaning."
"Oh, I do, Sam, I do. And if we aren't banished from the Westfarthing after all this, I shall give you a fifty percent share of Bag End, if you would like that."
Sam looked startled, earth-brown eyes widening. "Sir! Really."
"I will do my best, Sam," said Frodo solemnly.
"But I…I have nothing to give you!" burst out Sam.
"Nothing?" Frodo held both of Sam's wrists. "You give me your heart, your soul, your love. That is not nothing, Sam. It is the most wonderful gift I have ever received. Don't think so poorly of yourself. You deserve more than that."
Sam's eyes shone, and Frodo thought that it didn't matter if they were removed to the Eastfarthing. It didn't matter if they were chasing dragons or singing with elves or eating strawberries in the cool glades of the Marish: if Sam was with him, he would be happy. But Frodo wouldn't give up Bag End without a fight. Bilbo, his wise, brave Uncle who cared for him as if he were his son, had entrusted Bag End to Frodo. Lobelia and her pimple-scarred son were not going to wrest the home Frodo loved and cherished as easily as stealing sugared gooseberries from a hobbit-babe. And if Frodo could help some of the lads who wanted to tumble or live with another lad in a time to come, he would be delighted to help.
"Ha! You think so!" Lobelia had ambushed Frodo and Sam as they emerged from their bench. Her voice lowered. "I am going to have Bag End, Frodo Baggins, if it's the last thing I do. I don't care what 'evidence' you have. You and your catamite have clearly violated Shire law. We've been waiting long enough, and we're not going to miss out this time."
"Is that so?" asked Frodo politely. "We shall see. If you hadn't been spying in the window, you might not have seen anything. And I thought it was some perverse fetish of yours to watch people make love."
Lobelia blushed bright red and smoothed down her skirts. "I was only coming to visit a relative of mine to talk and drink tea."
"At nine o'clock at night?" Frodo pursed his lips together and waited for an answer.
Lobelia's stormy eyes narrowed. "I heard terrible noises; I thought you were being murdered!"
"Such a shame," Frodo murmured.
"I have never been more ashamed to be a Baggins in all my life when I saw what you and -- and your gardener were doing," said Lobelia icily. "You won't be so calm when you're sitting on Bag End's doorstep while I sit by the cosy hearth."
"Yes, Lobelia."
Lobelia clicked her fingers in front of Frodo's eyes. "Is that all you can say to that, Baggins?"
"Yes, Lobelia."
"Come on, Lotho." Lobelia grabbed her son's arm. "He's clearly as mad as Bilbo. I can barely stand the sight of him. All I can see in my mind is him and the help thrashing around in that bed of his. I don't know how they managed not to break their legs in that awkward position…" Her voice trailed off as she dragged Lotho through the courtroom. Messr Grubb trotted behind them clutching a pile of notes.
Frodo watched them leave. "I feel like having a bite to eat, Sam. Maybe some food will rid the sick feeling I get in my stomach when I listen to Lobelia prattle on. Should we head to The Waning Moon for lunch?"
If Sam had stared at Lobelia any harder during her exchange with Frodo, Sam thought she would probably have fallen dead on the spot. Not that Sam wished anybody to be dead, but he did like the idea of Lobelia being sent to the Lockholes for a few days. Maybe the rats and spiders and shadow-monsters would be her friend, since nobody else would.
The lightest touch on his cheek sent dark thoughts of Lobelia scrambling from Sam's mind.
Frodo's face gazed at Sam with such love, Sam thought his heart would burst and scatter like a shooting star burning up in the night sky.
"Yes, Frodo," he said.
Noll, the barman, dropped two tankards of ale in front of Sam and Frodo. "Lunch will be served shortly, sirs," he said in a rush. A plate of cheese landed on the table barely before he was off again.
"At least somebody treats us like normal hobbits," said Frodo with a grin. He took a long, refreshing drink of ale and reached for a piece of cheese, crumbling it in his mouth thoughtfully. The pub was busy; many people watching the trial had wandered over for lunch. Noll was delighted, and rushed off his feet, zigzagging his way through the crowd carrying pitchers of ale and plates groaning with food. Noll didn't care who was on trial. All he knew was that it brought in more customers, and maybe he'd have enough money to buy little Bess a new dress or two after this.
Frodo noticed Sam was looking at him with a curious -- and adorable -- expression. It was, Frodo thought, remarkably similar to the one which had graced Sam's features when Frodo had carried a bowl of warm melted chocolate into their room one night and proceeded to drip the slippery mixture all over Sam's belly with a silver spoon, sketching many pretty shapes and figures. And it was completely accidental when Frodo dropped one or two large blobs on Sam's nether regions, and, rather innocently, claimed he needed to lick them off Sam's extremely lickable nether regions. In the end, both of them needed to have a bath, after being smeared with chocolate (and another sticky substance), for the chocolate (and the other sticky substance) had gone hard and was pulling at their hairs when they tried to scrape it off with fingernails. And, oh the bath…
Sam watched as Frodo's countenance took on a dreamy expression, and his tongue sneaked out of his mouth and slicked his bottom lip. "Frodo?"
"W-what?" Startled out of his fantasy, Frodo spilled his drink over his thumb. Demurely, he licked the foam up and regarded Sam. "Yes, Sam?"
Sam swallowed. "I was wondering what evidence you have. You didn't tell me aught about it."
"Oh." Frodo took out his napkin and delicately wiped his mouth, looking smug. "You shall see, Sam."
"You think it will work?"
Frodo's face darkened a trace. "I hope so." He picked up another piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth.
"And you're not going to tell me," Sam probed, sliding a toe surreptitiously up Frodo's calf.
"Seducing me won't work, Samwise," said Frodo mildly. "And please keep your feet to yourself -- at least till we're home."
"I might think of a way of coaxing it out of you, Mr. Frodo," Sam said heavily.
Frodo leaned forward, with a hand on his chin and a flash of eyelashes. "It's good to see this trial has not stopped your flirting. Seriously, Sam, please don't worry. Ah -- here's lunch!"
A plump, large-bosomed maid set out plates of crusty bread thick with butter, mushrooms drowning in cheese sauce and little pies filled with chopped chicken in front of Sam and Frodo.
Frodo breathed deeply. "It smells heavenly."
"Glad to see you've found your appetite," said Sam, putting his mouth around a dripping mushroom.
"I'm feeling much more confident now," said Frodo, digging into his meal happily. "And more so when Merry and Pip arrive."
Sam raised a sceptical eyebrow. "They're not part of you plans, are they?"
A smile bloomed on Frodo's lips. "Maybe," he said mischievously.
Sam began to make a list of all the things he could do to Frodo tonight to make him spill the beans. After a moment's thought, the list had reached nine -- ah, ten. He hoped the bottle of oil hidden under Frodo's pillow would last an hour, let alone the night. He bit into a crust of bread and watched the gleam of the afternoon sun tickle Frodo's cheek.
Lunch tucked away in their bellies, and still a while till the court was to begin, Sam and Frodo stood under the shade of a tree and smoked their pipes, sending curling clouds dancing in the air. Hobbits dealt curious glances their way as they bustled about, and some stood in groups watching them carefully, though none had garnered the courage to speak with them.
Frodo touched Sam. "Look, Sam. Your father and sisters have arrived."
The Gaffer and Sam's sisters rode at their ease down the road in a pony trap. The Gaffer sat at the front with the driver, while Marigold and May sat at the back, gazing at their surroundings. They did not come to Michel Delving often, so everything was new and strange to them, especially now when they would be sitting in on their brother's lover's court case.
The cart halted before Sam and Frodo, and the Gaffer climbed out slowly, shooing away the driver who offered a hand. Frodo helped Marigold down, and Sam helped May, and soon the pony and cart were off, the pony taken to Morgo's for a well-earned rest.
"Well, Sam, how ye going?" the Gaffer grunted, taking a long, thirsty drink from the bottle Sam handed him. He looked old and hot, and lines of worry creased his brow. He'd been far from pleased to learn Sam was sharing Frodo's bed, but Sam had come of age years ago, and it weren't the Gaffer's place to say where Sam put his shovel, or ploughed his field, or watered his garden, so to speak.
"Yes, Sam, we're awful worried," May piped up, tucking damp threads of her wheat-coloured hair behind her ear. She tossed her braids over her shoulder and fanned her face with her hand. "And it's awful hot today."
"I'd be fine enough," said Sam, pecking May and Marigold on the cheek. "And I'd be grateful you're here."
"Of course we'd be here!" said Marigold. "We'd not let you down, Sam. 'Tis a silly law, and if Mr. Frodo's found guilty, I'll -- I'll… Well, 'twould be something awful." She blushed and glanced at Frodo. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, that Mrs. Lobelia is a right pain for doing this. I'd dye her underthings bright pink if I'd not think she'd whip me on the spot."
Frodo chuckled. "I don't mind. And don't do anything to Lobelia on my account. I'll see she get what she deserves."
"Well, I scratched my head, Mr. Frodo, all week," said the Gaffer, "and I can't think of no way to stop them finding 'ee guilty. The law's clear as a summer night full o' stars."
"I've got some plans, Mr. Gamgee," said Frodo. "I only hope they work, for I would hate Sam to leave his family and the garden he loves."
"Ah, well, 'twould be a shame, sir," answered the Gaffer. "But I'm no stranger to having family leave. Old Bell, she'd be nearly having her birthday if she'd be alive. And Hamson and Halfred went on their ways. But I've been telling everyone that Mr. Frodo looks after my Sam, and has never done naught disrespectful in front of my eyes, so 'tis no bother to me." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "And it'd not pain me to see Mrs. Lobelia get a kick in her skirts. Ever since she made me work in the rain last year and catch the 'flu I've waited for someone to do something. Don't you go saying aught, Mr. Frodo, 'bout that."
Frodo smiled. "Oh, I won't, Mr. Gamgee. And lately I've rather felt like getting even with Lobelia myself."
"You have my blessing," the Gaffer said, clasping Frodo's hand. "You just take care o' yourself and my Samwise, whatever would happen."
Sam stepped forward, eyes shining. "Thank you, sir," he said softly. "That'd mean more than anything to us."
"No need to be uppity," chuckled the Gaffer. "Plain old gaffer's fine, Sam, and you know it."
Sam laughed, a clear joyful laugh, and Frodo joined him, and so did the Gaffer, and finally Marigold and May did, and the hobbits watching them thought the Gamgees had gone as mad as the Bagginses.
A bell tolled then, and people shouted, and clouds of hot dust swirled about the Hole's steps: the court was about to begin.
TBC...