6. Of Pipe-weed and Ruffians

Monday, 22 Thrimidge, 1420 S.R.

"What about fourteen and a half for those pipe-weed fields?" Largo asked around a mouthful of bread. He and Frodo were having luncheon in a small inn called The Stuffed Goose just outside Hamtown. Both were enjoying the house speciality: garlic mushroom soup, fresh garden salad, skillet potatoes, and roasted goose with apple and walnut stuffing, with two sweet rolls and a large wedge of cheese for a dessert.

Frodo looked up at him from his plateful of goose and stuffing quizzically. "Do you mean for rent?" he queried.

"Yes," Largo braced himself for a fight as Frodo began to frown.

"Personally I was thinking sixteen," he said thoughtfully.

"Well, that's just-" Largo began and then faltered. "Sixteen?"

"Yes," Frodo nodded. "There's good earth there still, and a clean water source nearby. That should make them worth about sixteen silvers apiece per quarter, with perhaps fifteen percent of the profit going into the coffers as well."

Largo, who had been rather surprised at this assessment, now frowned also. Fifteen was a little excessive for a landowner's percentage cut in any family, and with as generous as the Baggins had been yesterday this almost sounded exorbitant. What is the Baggins up to now? "Fifteen?" he mused. "Why not ten?"

"I know it does seem a bit much," Frodo admitted, "but this is for the restoration of the Shire. With a fifteen percent rate a family will be able to live off of the profits, but we are still fulfilling Lobelia's request." His voice took on a sardonic tone, "Provender for so many can be rather expensive, you know," and then more seriously, "not to mention all of the supplies and tools for rebuilding, costs of caring for the wounded and homeless, other oddments and 'homey touches,' as Sam would say, and of course any emergencies which may come up, the Valar forbid."

Valar. Largo shook his head, wondering what in the Shire the Baggins was talking about now.

"If you're going to think about it that way, why not just make it half of the profit, or even sixty-three percent?" he wondered. "A hobbit could live off of that."

"It depends on the harvest and how large his family is," Frodo disagreed. "You and your sister could, perhaps, live off of that little. Many hobbits however have six or seven in their family. And if there were a poor harvest even you and Belle couldn't live off of that."

"Hmm," was all that Largo would reply, and he thoughtfully shovelled goose into his mouth. Frodo ate a few bites as well before pausing again with a frown.

"We wouldn't be able to let the place either, if we charged so much," he mused.

"Quite right," Largo spoke through a mouthful. He washed it down with a drink of cool tea and added, "Which leads to the question, how do you intend to let these fields with such a high percentage cut?" He stabbed at a potato to underline his point.

Frodo slowly chewed his own mouthful before answering "It wouldn't remain so high." he finally said. "After about five years have passed the Shire should be sufficiently recovered. On the second of Yule, 1425, the percentage would be reduced to seven percent, at which point the money would then be set aside for the upkeep of the Shire, helping businesses to thrive, and other matters of that nature."

Largo's eyebrows rose until they almost touched his hairline. "Well, I must say that you seem to have this all figured out," he said. Then they lowered again. "What if the Shire isn't sufficiently recovered by then?"

Frodo took a sip of his tea, then said, "I don't believe that we will have any problems there, but you do have a point." He mulled on that for a few moments, nodding thoughtfully to himself as he did so. "We could leave the specified date for the reverting of the percentage out of the contract. We would tell the renters that we expect the rent to remain the same for five to seven years or until the Shire is sufficiently recovered, as you say, and then it would change to seven percent at the end of that time period, or they could have the option of purchasing the property outright then. If we are to do that though it must be written in the agreement." His voice hardened suddenly. "I won't have anyone trying to take advantage of some kind of loophole in the paperwork."

"Well, fine. You're the owner. Do what you want," Largo said, a little surprised at the vehemence in the Baggins's tone.

Frodo flushed slightly and brushed a hand across his forehead. "Yes. Forgive me," he murmured, "It's just been such a mess trying to straighten everything out. I don't want that kind of trouble to even have a chance to find a foothold here again."

"I definitely agree there," Largo nodded. He took another mouthful of stuffing, glanced at the Baggins's half-full plate, and then up into his face. "You look sick," he said bluntly, noting the pained look in his comrade's eyes.

Frodo shook his head. "No, I'm just cold. Please excuse me for a moment." He began to get up from the table.

"Cold?" Largo exclaimed, "It's Thrimidge and we're sitting next to the fire! How can you possibly be cold?"

The Baggins made no answer, but made his way towards the innkeeper's counter. Largo shrugged and returned his attention to his meal, plotting how to broach the next subject.

When Frodo returned to the table he brought with him a steaming cup of tea which he cupped his hands around as if trying to warm himself. Largo's eyebrow's shot up to his hairline, but he refrained from commenting. The Baggins gingerly sat back down, eyed his comrade's plate, and frowned.

"How many more properties do we need to visit yet today?"

"Two more fields and a smial," Largo answered. "Fortunately, they're all right next to each other. We should make home before seven this time."

Frodo gave him a small smile and Largo eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

Frodo straightened up. "Of course I'm certain," he retorted. "I'm just a little tired, that's all. How many do we have left altogether?"

Ah, just the lead-in Largo was looking for. "Mmm, including today's tally," he did a hasty estimation in his mind, "about twenty-three."

"So, twenty more after today."

"Yes, hopefully. And several of them are actually near the Hobbiton/Bywater area."

Frodo made no reply.

Largo growled inwardly. Apparently the Baggins wasn't feeling very helpful. Outwardly, however, he said, "I think that there's about seven or eight of them. That's why I told you that we'd only be here for about a week."

Frodo began nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, and I do need to be back by next Trewsday, so I hope that you're right."

Largo frowned. "Why?"

"I have some obligations in Michel Delving to fulfil."

Ah, yes. Sometimes it was a little difficult to remember that this soft-spoken, stubborn hobbit was practically the mayor. "Perhaps we could stop by there on the way back to Hobbiton."

Frodo gave him an odd look. "We?"

Ah, now this would be the tricky part. Largo affected his best official yet ingratiating tone and replied, "Why, yes. As Lobelia's barrister I am under legal obligation to show you all of her properties. In this case that will include two smials in Hobbiton, five in Bywater, including the Sackville-Bagginses own home, and one near Frogmorton. Therefore, once we are finished here I need to accompany you back to Hobbiton."

"I see." The Baggins regarded him with a measure of annoyance for a few minutes, then said, "You knew about this Sterday, did you not?"

Largo felt a bit uncomfortable under the Baggins's gaze. "Well, yes, of course I did," he blustered. "I've been aware of all of these properties for ten years, when Lobelia first contracted my services."

"Why in Middle Earth didn't you tell me then?" Frodo demanded. "I could have asked Sam to start preparing a guest room right away. Now, I'll have to write him a letter."

"Hm? What's that?" Largo tried to act nonchalant. Was this going to be easier than he thought?

The Baggins gave him another annoyed look, not fooled by Largo's careless attitude and returned, "If you are forced to travel to Hobbiton on my account then the very least that I can do is put you up until we conclude our business. That is, of course, unless you object to staying at Bag End with Sam, Rose, and myself." He eyed Largo as if he expected this news to change everything. Largo, on the other hand was struggling to keep his expression neutral, his emotions were so torn between triumph and shock. He had heard, of course, of the Shire-famous Baggins hospitality, but hadn't expected it to be offered so readily.

"No, no," he finally said, "Bag End will be fine. It's just a little unexpected. I had thought to stay at the Green Dragon, a good inn by all accounts, but if you truly want to put me up-"

"I do," Frodo answered firmly."

"Then I will certainly take you up on that offer," Largo affirmed. "I do thank you for the kindness," he added in polite hobbit form, getting up and bowing as was proper.

To his surprise Frodo's cheeks flushed scarlet. "You are most graciously welcome in my home," he responded correctly, adding, "Now, for goodness sake, sit back down."

"What?" Largo was puzzled, but he resumed his chair.

"I'm sorry," Frodo murmured, "I just...don't want anyone to notice me," he finished lamely.

Largo gave him a look and then chuckled in a friendly manner. "You're an odd duck, Baggins," he smiled.

The other hobbit gave Largo a hard look for a few minutes, and then said quietly, "Thank you."

They regarded each other for another minute and then Largo looked down and resumed eating his lunch. The Baggins watched him for another minute and then quietly began eating his as well. After about five minutes had passed Largo felt that it was time to broach one last subject. After all, his plate was nearly empty, and watching his companion eat he had a good feeling that as soon as he finished Frodo would be ready to leave also.

"There may be one slight hitch in our plans."

Frodo paused with the fork halfway to his mouth and looked up. "Oh?"

"Yes. You see, I had planned on bringing Belle with me."

The Baggins put down his forkful. "I see," he said. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

Largo began rubbing his thumb across his fingers in a nervous manner. This had to work. "Oh," he said, again trying to sound nonchalant, "several reasons really. Belle's been wanting to go for some time. I think that she wants to do some shopping or some such thing in Bywater. And she's heard the rumour of the golden tree and wants to see if it's true, and things of that nature, I'm sure. And if we did stop by Michel Delving I'll wager that she'd love to visit the markets there, as well..." he drifted to a halt. The Baggins was looking at him that way again. Largo felt as if every thought in his head was exposed.

"And why do you wish for her to come?" came the quiet rejoiner.

Largo flushed and wondered if maybe Frodo's sight was as sharp as his hearing. "I don't want her to be alone," he admitted. It was true, he didn't - either next week or the rest of her life. Frodo was still looking at him and he felt compelled to continue. "Sometimes I'll wake up in the night thinking that those Ruffians are in her room. I know that they're gone, but I'm still scared for her."

That keen gaze softened. "Do you check on her?"

Largo snorted softly. "Every time. I know every squeak in the floor of her room I've examined it so many times. There's never anyone there, but that doesn't calm me when I first wake. I have to see that she's safe." He gave Frodo a shame-faced smile. "Pretty foolish, isn't it?"

"No," was the decisive answer, "I don't find it foolish at all." The Baggins was rubbing his necklace between his fingers again.

Largo was surprised and a bit angry that he had admitted such a thing to Frodo Baggins of all people. Especially when he hadn't even told his sister.

"You can't tell Belle about that, do you hear," he warned.

The Baggins's eyebrows rose to the roots of his hair. "Certainly not," he agreed coolly, "just as you can't tell Sam about my dream."

"What? Your dream?" Largo snorted. "I don't know two coppers worth about your dream; just that it scared us half to death."

"Nevertheless you can't tell Sam about it," Frodo insisted. "It's over and I want to forget it."

"Fine. He'll hear no word from me."

Frodo let out a quiet huff. "And Miss Bracegirdle shall hear no word from me."

"Good." Largo was not about to admit how relieved he felt. Not to a Baggins, that was certain. He eyed his companion. "So, you don't mind if Belle comes?" he ventured.

Frodo smiled at him. To Largo's surprise it was a rather understanding smile, although a little sad. "If you truly feel that concerned about your sister, then you may certainly bring her." He glanced down at Largo's plate and added, "If you are finished eating then may we go please? I have a rather lengthy letter to write tonight, and I should like to return to Green Hill as soon as possible."

Largo glanced down as well. He had three bites left, and hurriedly finished them. He noticed the Baggins pocketing his uneaten sweet rolls and cheese and hastily did the same.

"Afters?" he queried.

"That's the plan," Frodo answered. "Shall we be off?"

-o-o-o-

Shire Translations

Thrimidge - May

Trewsday - Tuesday

Sterday - Saturday

A/N: Largo is not calling Frodo 'the Baggins' out of spite, except perhaps twice. As the oldest living male of the Baggins family Frodo is the head of the family and the keeper of the genealogy books, etc. Hence the respectful title 'the Baggins.'