15. Conversation on Mayorship

It was half past five when they finally arrived in Michel Delving. They found Frodo in the Town Hole sitting behind a large official-looking desk scribbling away at something. He barely glanced up as the siblings entered.

"Good evendim," he said clearly, although the pen never paused. "Allow me a moment to finish this, please, and then I shall be with you."

Largo was looking the room over with interest, and perhaps a bit of jealousy as well. "Take your time," he returned.

"Thank you," the deputy mayor answered.

The pair found a series of chairs set up against the wall opposite and settled in to wait. They didn't have long, thankfully. Only a few moments after they took their seats a sturdy hobbit in a richly embroidered green waistcoat entered the room as well and took a seat without comment. After that Frodo may have taken five minutes finishing up, but Belle rather doubted that. Once he capped his ink and wiped his pen he looked up. The other hobbit was at his side almost at once, accepting several pages from the deputy mayor and briefly perusing them, glancing from time to time at the one which was still drying. Finally he nodded.

"I don't think that anyone could accuse you of personal interest with this," he said, a slight accent to his voice, but not a Tookish one.

Frodo raised an eyebrow at him. "After today I think that anyone could accuse me of anything," he returned dryly.

"Well, this will go a long way towards dispelling the rumour of said anyone," the hobbit returned

Frodo gave a sharp bark of unamused laughter. "Perhaps," he retorted.

"You can only try, cousin, am I right?"

After a moment Frodo sighed and shook his head. "You are right, of course. But some days I am so tired of trying."

The other hobbit laughed. "You haven't changed a bit," he teased.

Frodo's shoulders went back and both eyebrows went up. "I haven't changed?" he echoed, looking the other up and down.

"Nope!" the other declared, still laughing.

Frodo shook his head. "Well, if you insist," he returned dryly, passing the last piece of paper to the fellow in the green waistcoat. "Here, this one is ready. Could you see that the mayor receives these? And you are certain that you won't need me tomorrow?"

"Positive," the hobbit answered. "Not tomorrow, nor the next day, and if we need you after that we'll send the Quick Post to Bag End." He grinned at the last statement.

"Then thank you, Orgulas," Frodo finally smiled.

"I think I'll just run these down to Will now," Orgulas added, straightening the papers carefully. "After all, he did say that he wanted to see them right away."

"Very true," Frodo sighed. He glanced sharply at the older hobbit. "You do not mind?"

"No," the other smiled. "Besides, if I go now perhaps I'll be invited to dinner."

Frodo laughed. "You wretch," he retorted. "I shall have to warn Will against your nefarious schemes when I return."

"See! Haven't changed a bit," Orgulas returned, and headed for the door. "I'm off. Take care of yourself, Master Baggins."

Frodo shook his head. "Goodnight, Orgulas," he returned firmly.

Still laughing and shaking his head the hobbit in the green waistcoat quit the room.

Finally Frodo looked up at the siblings apologetically. "My apologies for keeping you waiting," he said, inclining his head slightly.

Belle laughed a little, trying to throw off the concern that he was being so distant. "It's only us, Frodo. You needn't be so formal."

A slight smile quirked his lips to the side briefly and then was gone. "I suppose it's all those weeks of being forced to submit to the formality in Aragorn's court," he commented. "This room always reminds me strongly of it, for reasons which I cannot fathom."

Belle laughed.

"Then it's high time we got you out of it," Largo commented. "Are you finished?"

Frodo appeared startled and for a moment rather grateful. "Nearly. I just need to tidy up a little." He began straightening the things on his desk and putting items into various drawers. Curious, Belle came over to watch.

"Frodo?"

"Hmm?"

"Who was that?"

Frodo glanced up at her. "My cousin Orgulas. We are rather distantly related, being cousins through Gormadoc, he a descendant of Gormadoc's youngest son, Marroc, and I descending through his eldest, Madoc."

"Ah," Belle nodded in understanding. "But what was he doing here?"

"He's a barrister," Frodo shrugged. "When he heard that I was to be the deputy mayor he decided that there should be a Brandybuck in Michel Delving to fend off any advances made upon my good will by those troublesome Tooks." He glanced up at her again. "He was joking, of course."

"Of course he was," Belle nodded.

"Sometimes it seems as if he just wanted to keep an eye on me," Frodo muttered, as if to himself, "but that's likely just..me."

Belle had her head tipped to one side. "His name sounds familiar. Did you and Reginard mention him last night?"

Frodo chuckled. "Remind me to find a way to curb that Took's tongue," he returned. "Yes, Orgulas was one of my room-mates, after a fashion." He straightened up with a smile. "I believe that takes care of my mess," he added. "Would you care to adjourn this conversation until later? I've made arrangements for us to stay at the Speckled Cock Inn, and they do serve a very fine chicken pie."

Largo's own eyebrows shot up. "You're interested in food?" he teased, giving the Baggins a comradely grin, much as the Brandybuck had, and Reginard the night before.

Frodo, instead of responding in kind, stiffened. "I am as interested in food as any other hobbit in the Shire," he returned sharply, glaring at Largo. For a moment it seemed that he would say more, but then he closed his mouth tightly and glanced away, clutching at the white jewel hanging around his neck.

Largo scowled at him, all pretence of friendship gone again. "That was a joke."

"Hm." Frodo said no more as he moved to the row of pegs on the far wall and removed his cloak.

"Nice to know that you'll only take one from your cousins," Largo muttered at his back.

"My cousins jest about many things, Mr Bracegirdle," the Baggins returned sharply. "Some greater and some smaller, and several that I wish they would not bring up at all, but one thing that they do not tease me about is food. I know that I do not eat much, and I wish that I could, and they are gracious enough not to taunt me about matters which are innate to a hobbit, yet I must give up!"

"Give up?" the siblings echoed, and Frodo flushed.

"Not entirely," he murmured, his tone becoming more self-conscious. He fumbled with the brilliant green brooch clasp, trying to pin it.

"So, you did like my cooking?" Belle asked softly.

Frodo flinched. "Yes, Miss Brace-Miss Belle, I did," he returned just as softly.

"What happened?" Largo asked, none of his usual disdain evident in the tone.

Frodo shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Sam and I went through the same lands and felt the same deprivation, but his appetite and his body have fully recovered, while mine..." he shrugged and let the sentence die.

"Deprivation?" Belle murmured.

Frodo's cheeks were growing pink. "I would prefer not to discuss that."
Largo groaned. "Baggins, you've got to talk to someone."

"I have," the other returned, his flush deepening, "and I would prefer not to do so again." He managed to close the clasp and looked up at them, still and solemn. "I do ask that you not mention anything we have just discussed with anyone. I would not have the entire Shire discussing my personal business."

"Frodo," Belle began hesitantly, "has this anything to do with-" she paused, trying to decide how to ask without breaking her promise "-Highday?" she finally finished.

Frodo blanched. "I forgot that you knew about that," he murmured, just as Largo said, "Highday? With Lilla?"

Belle kept her gaze firm. "Does it?"

For a long moment Frodo gazed back at the pair, his face cool and impassive, but a myriad of emotions playing through his eyes, too quickly to read any of them. Finally they settled on...stern.

"I respectfully request that you never speak of these things again," he said firmly. "My privacy is my own, and I would like it to remain that way, Master Bracegirdle, Miss Belle." He looked at each of them in turn as he spoke their names. "Now, if we may repair to the inn and a chicken pie?"

Silently the siblings nodded and followed the deputy-mayor out of the smial, pausing as he locked the large mahogany door.

-fjfjfjfjf-

The inn was decent enough, in Belle's estimation, and the supper was very good, especially the pie. They quietly discussed the meal and each other's journeys (both were relatively uneventful), and then Largo, curious about the Town Hole proceedings, began discussing the business of mayorship. The pair were deep in a conversation regarding the management of inns (and leaving Belle feeling quite alone) when Belle noticed Reginard Took coming quickly up behind them. She glanced away, trying to keep an anticipatory smile off of her face. Before the hobbit had reached the table though Frodo spoke.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business," Reginard answered quietly, coming to stand behind his cousin. "Family business." He didn't act surprised that Frodo had caught him.

Frodo glanced up at him with curiosity and not a little trepidation.

"Pippin and Merry have just come from th' Great Smials."

Frodo winced. "And?" he prompted, just as quietly.

"An' I let them into th' Town Hole," Reginard answered. "Pip was in an awful state. I though' it best if he cooled off away from pryin' eyes."

Frodo turned away, taking another drink of ale. "I feared as much," he told the depths of his mug.

After a moment he put the mug down and rose to his feet. "Thank you, Reginard," he murmured. "Just let me fetch my cloak and I'll come at once." He turned to the Bracegirdles. "I am terribly sorry, but I'm afraid that I must go," he apologised. "Please don't wait up for me."

"How long do you think you'll be?" Belle wondered.

"As long as I must," Frodo answered firmly. "Please excuse me." He nodded to them both and then hurried down the passage to his room, Reginard tailing him closely, seemingly unaware of the several sets of eyes which were following their departure.

Once they were out of sight a hobbit sitting at the table across from the Bracegirdles was heard to comment, "Well, there he goes again."

There was a general nodding and consensus amongst the others.

"Wonder what's come up now," another hobbit mused. The first one shrugged in return.

Largo glanced over at them. "Does this happen often?"

The first hobbit, a fellow in a red waistcoat, shrugged. "Well, it ain't thet often as he even comes down here, for all the beer's that good, but when he does it ain't often as he stays long."

More nodding and murmurings went around the room

"Why is that?" Largo asked.

The red waistcoated hobbit shrugged again. "Dunno," he returned, taking a swig of his ale. Then, seeming to dismiss the subject altogether he turned back to his companion and the duo began to animatedly discuss a rather startling tumble someone had taken earlier that day.

Largo gazed down the passage thoughtfully and then turning towards the other two hobbits he began to make small talk.

Belle was stunned. Largo didn't associate with such people; Bracegirdles stood on propriety and ceremony. They did not run about making free with the common folk. Yet there Largo sat, visiting and joking with them.

He sat there, in fact, for more than an hour, laughing and talking as the inn filled up with hobbits and Belle sat in a corner and stewed. They discussed weather, crops, the doings of the market, the pony races at the upcoming Free Fair, the Free Fair itself, the activities about the town, and many other subjects. Then the conversation turned to politics.

"So, what do you think of the current mayor?" Largo asked as he set down his mug.

The crowd of hobbits at his table seemed surprised by the question. "D'you mean Will Whitfoot 'r d'you mean Frodo Baggins?" the hobbit in the red waistcoat finally asked.

"Frodo Baggins," Largo answered, but the others were already following the other thread of conversation.

"I like Will. He's good and solid. Dependable."

"Sturdy," agreed another.

"Hasn't been too sturdy on his feet lately," a third hobbit put in, shifting a brown cap on his head. Belle found herself wondering about the fellow's lack of manners and why no one had told him to remove it.

"Eh," the hobbit in the red waistcoat considered this for a moment and then shrugged it off. "He's healing up though. I went to see him the other day and he said that he should be up and running about again by the Free Fair."

"Really?"

"Yep. Ready to go back to work."

"Well, that's good."

"I saw him yesterday," the second hobbit put in. "He looks...mm." He shook his head.

"He's so thin he ain't th' size a proper mayor ought t' be," agreed the fellow with the weskit.

"He's thin?" the one with the hat scoffed. "You oughta see th' deputy mayor."

"What d'you mean?" the red one looked at him with interest.

"Have you seen him?"

The fellow shook his head. "I haven' really been lookin'. Been waitin' for Will t' come back."

"That hobbit don't eat enough."

Now there's the understatement of the year, Belle thought.

"He's," Brown Hat paused, eyeing his companion critically . "He's only about half o' you."

The red waistcoated hobbit stared at him. "That ain't proper."

"No it isn't, an' that's what I say," agreed the hat. "Why can't that hobbit eat more?"

The conversation was catching the attention of the rest of the room, it seemed, and several nods were shared at this.

Red Waistcoat shrugged again. "I admit as he's right fair enough in th' office."

"Just," agreed another.

"He put them Big Folk down; stopped 'em from makin' messes."

"Stopped them Gatherers an' Sharers from gatherin' more than they ought."

"Stopped them Gatherers an' Sharers altogether," put in a younger voice. Belle glanced at the speaker. He appeared to be a youngster, barely into his majority, if that.

"Actually, that were th' Captains," Red returned authoritatively.

"Really?" Several hobbits seemed surprised by this tidbit.

"Aye. He just made sure as they stopped sharin'."

"That don't seem right,"

"Shouldn' it be th' mayor's position t' do that?"

"Well, maybe it were. I don' know," Red conceded. There was a pause and then, "He's a funny one though."

"Who?"

"Frodo Baggins!" Red exclaimed. "Like I said, he's sturdy enough in th' office, but," he paused again. "Well, now he is a Baggins what's related t' th' Tooks."

Several agreed with this.

"Does that have something to do with it?" Largo ventured.

"Yeah!" Red declared. "More likely t' bolt off into th' Blue." Then he threw a quick look toward a sun-browned hobbit in a blue jacket and added hastily, "Now, I'm not sayin' anything again Tooks, Iz. Ever'one knows this."

"I know, I know," Iz grumbled. "I'm not going to bolt off into the Blue though, and certainly not the way Baggins did."

Largo (and Belle from her corner) turned an interested gaze on 'Iz', who was nursing a quiet half. "How closely are you related?" Largo asked.

"Oh, he's my fourth cousin on my mother's side."

"Oh."

"Iz is part-Took too," offered Brown Hat. "He's a Boffin, but his family was Tooks."

"I see." Largo looked back at 'Iz' with interest. "So, do you know him well?" he asked.

"No," the other hobbit drawled. "He was always too quiet. Shy, almost. He'd speak his piece at family gatherings, and everyone would listen to him because he is The Baggins, after all, but," he shook his head. "No. He's friends with the Thain and the Master and their sons; that's all that I know about him. And he goes bolting off into the Blue for no reason."

The other hobbits all grunted in agreement.

"Well, it isn't exactly no reason." the tween piped up again. "I mean, the captains all say that he had a reason. It's just that if you ask him about it he says 'I was doing what needed to be done. I didn't intend for any of these'... things, basically, 'to happen. I was just doing what I had to to prevent a worse evil.'

"But if you ask him about it he closes right up an' glares at you!" added another.

"Ooh, you wouldn' cross tha' glare, either."

Red was back in at once. "See, he'd make a dangerous mayor, I think, 'cause everyone'd be afraid t' cross him. An' that's not what y' need in a mayor; y' need someone," he hesitated. "Y' need someone with authority, of course, but y've got t' be able t' speak your piece." There was general nodding at this

"I don't know. I've found that glare to be effective. He knows how to use it in the right way," a hobbit in a yellow waistcoat commented

Silence reigned for a few moments.

"So," Brown Hat said, "talkin' of the Captains, how's that Pippin Took comin'?"

Red shrugged. "Eh, I don't reckon as his parents are ever gonna let him back. I mean, they want him back, but, well," the hobbit lowered his voice. "He's been in foreign parts. Sometimes he just acts right weird."

"Huh."

"Oh, I've seen 'em all act weird," Yellow Weskit piped up. "Even the Gardener."

"The Gardener?" one hobbit queried.

"Aye, um, Sam, that is, I think. Sam Gamgee. He's th' one what plants trees all up an' down here?"

Belle froze. Sam? Sam Gamgee is the Gardener? Frodo's SAM!?

"Well, I seen him on, when was it?" the hobbit paused and thought for a moment. "The thirteenth o' Rethe it were," he finally declared. "I were workin' with him then, an' we were all sleepin' (for i't'were night), an' all o' a sudden I hear him cryin' out, claimin' as his master's dyin'. An' screamin', really; y' could probably hear him a quarter-mile away! Screamin' for someone, some filth, to leave his master alone. An' ever'one knows as that's Frodo Baggins."

"Huh. Well, that's a funny thing!"

"Aye! That's what I thought too, so I asked him about it later, after I managed t' wake him up. An' he shrugged it off an' said t'were naught but a dream."

"Odd."

Several hobbits agreed with this assessment, Largo included. Belle stored the information in the back of her mind to mull on later.

"But going back to the deputy mayor," Largo recalled their attention.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Why don't you think that he'd make a good mayor? I mean, besides the glare."

"Well, he's a Baggins, that's just it!" exclaimed Red. "Like as not t' bolt off into the Blue."

"He hasn't yet," Largo countered swiftly.

"Nah, but it hasn' been a year since he got back."

"Ah, but Mad Baggins waited longer, remember?" Brown Hat commented.

"He is Mad Baggins" Red returned.

"No, no, no. The elder. The first one."

"Oh, old Mr Bilbo! Yeah." The hobbit was nodding in agreement. "That's true, he was a right character too."

These working hobbits have the attention span of a squirrel, Belle thought.

Largo appeared to be thinking the same thing, for he sighed as he agreed, "Yes, but don't you think that Frodo Baggins has done well for the Shire?"

"I dunno," Red shrugged. Belle had decided long ago that he was far too given to shrugging.

"I reckon as he has," Yellow nodded.

"Stopped th' Ruffians."

"He gave my Lissy back her pearls."

"That were good of him. He didn' keep 'em for hisself."

"I don't think as he would." The speaker stretched "I like the Whitfoots, though 'cause they come from a sensible family. There's jus' some'at about those Bagginses..."

Again, several heads nodded.

"Eh, I don't know. Dependin' on who ran against him, I'd vote for him again," the young hobbit finally piped up again.

"Why?"

"Well, like I said, he's done good for the Shire. He made sure that my parents got food an' such. An' my brother, he was in th' Lockholes, remember? Aldo? T'was Mr Baggins as got him out."

There was general agreement that this was a good thing. Belle felt the absurd urge to laugh.

"An' he fixed them wills," the lad added.

"What wills?" Red bristled up.

"Well, ever'one says it's wills what caused th' problem," the youngster explained.

"He never!" Red protested. Belle frowned.

"No, no, signin' on 'em" the lad hastily explained. "Not Will Whitfoot. Deeds."

"Oh." Red eyed the younger hobbit suspiciously. "I never heard that."

"I did," Largo put in warmly. "I think that Frodo's the best hobbit for the job, really."

Belle had to stifle a rousing cheer.

The red waistcoated hobbit eyed Largo suspiciously "Say, what's your name again, mister?"

"Largo Bracegirdle."

Significant looks were exchanged around the room.

"So, you're not from these parts. You never actually met him," Brown Hat confirmed.

Largo raised an eyebrow at that. "Actually, I've been working with him all week."

A fellow in a green coat leaned forward, clearly itching to speak his piece. "Well, I know somethin' about him that none of y' know," he grinned. Several hobbits looked toward him with interest, and when he had everyone's attention the hobbit continued. "He falls asleep in his office chair."

"What?"

"Aye. I've caught him sleepin' once before. They'll let him sleep too. That means he probably had a 'bad night'."

This news caused a ripple of shock around the room and the hobbits spent several minutes discussing that information in detail.

He probably did have a bad night, Belle wanted to say. You have no idea what kind of dreams he has. But because she had no idea either she kept her mouth shut.

Brown Hat was the first to raise his voice. "Mm, Frodo's done good for th' Shire, I'll admit, but if it came down to a vote between him and Will, I think I'd take Will. I know his policies, I know what he'd do."

"Well, maybe then we need some new blood," Largo ventured.

Red Waistcoat eyed him suspiciously. "Say, whose side are you on, mister?"

"He's a Bracegirdle," another muttered. "He ain't one of us."

"A Bracegirdle?" the mumble echoed around the table like ripples of water from a dropped stone.

"Say, you wouldn't be related to the late Lotho Sackville-Baggins, would you?" a new voice demanded.

The tension grew as every eye in the inn locked on Largo. Belle shrank back, wondering what she should do if things turned ugly.

Largo held his ground, never flinching. "Yes," he returned coolly. "Like most families, there are always cousins you hate. You just don't admit it. I never had anything good to say about Lotho though."

"Why are you so anxious to get Baggins into the mayorship?" the newcomer demanded.

The hobbits all looked back at Largo with interest. Belle could almost hear their thoughts. 'Why would a Bracegirdle want to help a Baggins'?

Largo lifted his chin a little higher. "I think that he'd be good for the Shire. I've been working with him all week. He's got good plans; things that'll help the Shire grow and rebuild."

"What kind of plans?"

Largo grimaced. "It'd really be better if he explained them to you; I don't think I can. But, things that help the widows and orphans still be able to earn a living."

"Ain't their relatives takin' care of 'em?"

"I don't know," Largo muttered. A false step.

The newcomer was back in at once. "How bad were you touched?"

All eyes locked on Largo again. Now he appeared to be getting nervous. "My sister and I, we were raided several times."

"Any of your family disappear?" the newcomer retorted.

"My aunt," Largo returned a bit sharply. He grew quieter. "Several, actually. All of them were found in the Lockholes."

"No," Red shook his head. "He don't mean, 'did they go to the Lock'oles'. He means 'did they disappear'."

Largo glanced rapidly from the hobbit in the red weskit to the newcomer. "What do you mean?"

Silence fell like a woollen blanket, thick and smothering. Everyone watched anxiously as the newcomer stared Largo down. Finally he spoke in a low, angry, pain-laced voice.

"I've never seen my little sister again. The others got out all right, but her? We turned the town inside out looking for her, but now? Somehow I don't think she's still alive." The hobbit's balled-up fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he glared at Largo as if he was the one that had done it. "So I'll thank you to take you and your two-bit politicking and your fancy ways back to where ever it was that you came from, unless you can bring back my sister." He set his mug on the table with a loud thump and said tersely, "I'm out, lads. Goodnight."

There was a long pause after he left. Belle shivered. Was the room growing colder?

After several minutes like this Red Weskit offered half-heartedly, "Olin's like that. Half his family was put in th' Lockholes. But like he said, his sister..." he shook his head. "Got a bit of a chip on the Bracegirdles, it happens."

"The Bracegirdles struck him from their book," Largo returned quietly.

"Well, all the same," the hobbit shrugged, eyeing his mug. After a moment he nodded and put it down, not looking at Largo as he hurriedly threw on a brown jacket. "Good to meet you, good talk tonight, I enjoyed it," he looked up at Largo and there was a challenge in his eye as he added, "Sleep well."

The others seemed to take that as their cue to leave as well, and soon the large common room was empty save for Belle and Largo.