Notes to Readers:

A new week! Let us hope ff.net is over its troubles and lets me post a chapter daily as planned.

Please be sure to leave a review! They are very motivating, and each review you leave entitles you to a free cup of cyber-tea in the parlour (The Muse and I do try to make our guests feel welcome). What you are seeing here is the edited draft. (Thanks to my editor who prefers to work behind the scenes.) I call it "draft" though it will likely remain in this state, unless a reader points out a glaring error and it needs changing. "Final" sounds so... final.

Xena, the wizard did promise him a slow and painful death. I imagine he was able to eat little bits over the past fortnight, barely enough to keep him alive, as if he were in the Lockholes again. Poor Freddy! Good thing Pippin and Merry had been immunized against Saruman's spells.

Bookworm, at least they caught him in time. But something has got to be done about that Voice.

Runaway Update: Runaway is finished! It came in at 35 chapters. The second-to-last chapter is going up today.

Expect another chapter of "Small and Passing Thing" today, too, and "Shire" if all goes well. My editor is helping me whip them into shape, chapter by chapter.

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Chapter 43. Return to Bywater

The spell did not fade immediately upon crossing the Ford, but as the coach put miles between them and Budge Hall, the flesh seemed to melt from Freddy's face and frame, until the Bolgers saw their son as his cousins had seen him.

 'O Freddy!' Rosamunda sobbed softly when all became clear. 'O my beloved son...'

 'There's an inn up ahead,' Odo said to Finch, who'd jumped into the coach without a moment's hesitation, only sticking his head out of the window to send a message to his family by way of one of the weeping servants. 'Can we get something into him there?'

 'Broth, perhaps,' Finch answered. 'Thin gruel? If he hasn't eaten for days, he won't be able to manage anything substantial. That bread-and-butter nearly finished him.'

They stopped at the inn, and though it was the middle night, a quick explanation brought results. The innkeeper himself brought a mug of rich broth from the soup pot that simmered at all times in the kitchen, after his wife carefully strained out any solid bits.

 'Drink up, Mr Freddy,' Finch urged, but the sick hobbit turned his head away.

 'Come, cousin, a little sip only,' Frodo said, taking the cup from the healer. 'You owe me this much. I've not been able to do any writing at all the past fortnight, and it's all your fault!'

 'My fault!' Freddy breathed. 'How?' He took one sip, and then another, and then shook his head.

 'That's good,' Finch said. 'It's a start.'

The innkeeper's wife brought mugs of tea for all the travellers, even Merry and Pippin who'd vowed to go with them as far as Frogmorton. After the mugs were drained, they were able to get a few more sips of broth into Freddy, and then the coach started again.

They reached Frogmorton as the day was dawning, pulling into the yard of the best inn in the town. Finch went in to see that a bed was prepared for Freddy, softly padded and warmed, and then they carried him in.

 'I can walk!' Freddy protested, but Finch interrupted him.

 'Save your strength, lad,' he said. 'We've many strong hands here, it's no bother at all.'

Over breakfast with Merry and Pippin, Frodo tried to make sense of it all. 'Why were we affected by the spell?' he asked. 'Why did we all see what Freddy saw?'

Merry thought out loud. 'King Theoden was under Saruman's spell as well, and his people saw him as Saruman made him see himself,' he said slowly. 'He was a powerful wizard, the greatest of the Wise until he wandered from the way and was thrown down.'

 'But you did not fall under the spell,' Frodo said.

 'We saw Saruman thrown down, remember,' Merry said. 'We saw Theoden shake off the influence of his voice. I remember being under the spell, thinking Gandalf would go up and be persuaded, only to have the illusion shatter when Gandalf laughed. Perhaps it made a difference.' He cocked an eye at Frodo. 'You weren't affected, were you? You've been eating properly, I hope.'

 'Do I look substantial?' Frodo asked. 'As far as I can tell, I've been eating, but then, Freddy thought he was as well.'

 'You look well,' Pippin said critically. 'Keep on the way you're going and there'll be a "Fatty" Baggins, at the least, if not Bolger.'

They rested a few hours and then parted ways, the Travellers going to Buckland and the Bolgers' coach on its way to Bywater.

Finch kept encouraging Freddy to take sips of broth, replenishing the supply at every inn they passed, and Freddy declared himself stronger by the time the coach pulled into the yard before the Cottons' steps. They would not let him walk, however, and carried him up the steps and to his former room, where the bed was already warming.

Mrs Cotton brought more broth when they had him settled. Her face was smiling and cheerful as usual, for she concealed her shock at the ruin a fortnight had wrought. 'Here we are,' she said. 'Nice and rich and warming.'

 'More broth!' Freddy said. 'I'll float away!' He sipped, raising an eyebrow. 'It is the best broth I've had since we left Budge Hall, I must say.'

 'Go on with you, Mr Freddy,' Mrs Cotton said. She went back to the kitchen to splash her face with cold water and wipe away the tears that threatened.

 'There was a letter come for you yesterday, Mr Frodo,' Farmer Cotton said, pulling a paper from under a mug of spring flowers on the little mantel. 'I was just a-going to send it on when we got word you were coming.'

 'Thank you, Farmer Cotton,' Frodo said, accepting the letter. Lobelia's handwriting, he saw, and wondered. Perhaps she'd heard Bag End was nearing completion and was having second thoughts.

 'What is it?' Freddy asked.

 'Probably a marriage proposal,' Frodo said nonchalantly. 'After all, I'm mayor now. Quite a few lasses must be setting their caps for me.'

 'Deputy mayor,' Freddy reminded him.

 'O yes, that's right,' Frodo said, opening the letter and reading.

 'Isn't that Lobelia's writing?' Freddy asked.

 'Mmm-hmmm,' Frodo said, still immersed.

 'She's found you a wife?' Freddy said.

 'Not quite yet, it seems,' Frodo said. 'Sad, that. I had my heart set on marrying into that family.'

 'What does she want?' Freddy pressed.

 'Do be quiet and let me read, cousin,' Frodo said. 'Sip your broth, or somewhat.' He finished the letter and put it down with a sigh.

 'I have sipped my broth,' Freddy announced. 'Now will you tell me what is going on? I am perishing from curiosity.'

 'We mustn't have you perishing,' Frodo said. 'She wants me to come and visit her.'

 'Visit her! An invitation? That's a new one,' Freddy said. 'Usually she is the one to inflict herself on unsuspecting relatives.'

 'An invitation,' Frodo confirmed. 'A most pressing invitation, at that.' He eyed Freddy. 'How can I go?'

 'What, you're worried about me?' Freddy said. 'Go! I'll have my mother and my father and all the Cottons and Finch in the bargain, all pouring broth down my throat until I float away. But if you do not go and come back and report on why Lobelia sent for you, I shall perish despite all their efforts.'

 'It seems I must go, then,' Frodo said resignedly. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, getting up from the chair.

 'What, like that?' Freddy said. 'We just got here!'

Frodo fixed him with a stern eye. 'Drink your broth!' he said. 'You had better be fatter by the time I get back or I'll stuff you with food myself.'

 'Yes sir, Mr Mayor, sir!' Freddy said, saluting sharply.

 'Where did you learn that?' Frodo asked in astonishment.

 'Pippin taught me; he said the guardsmen in Gondor do it all the time when he walks by. They seem to think he's some sort of prince or something.'

 'Indeed!' Frodo laughed. 'They thought more of the "Prince of the Halflings" than they did of the Ring-bearer!'

 'You do all the dirty work and he gets all the credit,' Freddy grumbled.

 'When has it ever been different?' Frodo said, still chuckling, and on that happy note, he departed.