FRODO'S JOURNAL - A day in the life of a Hobbit of the Shire. (Pre-Quest Years)

"Oi don’t know, Mr. Frodo..." Sam said slowly as he sniffed the dark brown glass bottle suspiciously. He made a face, stuck the cork back into the bottle quickly and then shoved it back into Olo Pott’s hand.

Mr. Pott was undaunted. Equipped with a polished silver spoon, he drawled as he practically pushed the bottle under Sam’s nose, "Well, why don’t you at least sample it?"
Sam promptly pushed it right back. Olo turned his attention to me next, holding it so close to my face that my eyes practically crossed as I read the words scribbled on the label in an elaborate hand,"Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic."

I raised a hand in gentle but firm protest and, thankfully, Olo withdrew the bottle.

"You ‘onestly expect someone to put somethin’ that foul smellin’ into their mouth?" Sam commented.

Behind us, from where we stood on the front porch of Bag End, Mr. Pott’s pony snorted and shook himself in his harness, causing the conglomeration of pots, pans and various glassware in Olo’s rattletrap cart to clank and tinkle in discordant notes.

"Most things good for what ails you smell bad, but do wonders for the soul." Olo bandied back. "Ain’t that right Mr. Baggins?"

I looked at Sam with raised eyebrows before I replied, "That may well be, Mr. Potts, but I don’t believe Sam or myself has a need for your tonic today."

But Olo wasn’t about to leave without making a sale. "This ain’t just any tonic. This here is Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic. It’s not supposed to wait on a shelf until you get sick. A spoonful in the morning and another before bed, every day, will keep a body healthy!"

Sam snorted under his breath. " Oi think I’d get sick from the smell of it alone...."

It was hard for me to keep from laughing outright, for Sam’s thoughts followed my own. However, this didn’t seem to phase Mr. Potts. "Half a moment," he said, as he scooted back to his overloaded cart and began to rummage through the pile of odds and ends. He returned with what looked to be a piece of stained and tattered wool. "Well then...can I interest you in this here mighty fine rug?"

‘Fine’ was not a word I would have used. Ugly and ratty leapt to mind, for the rug had obviously seen better days--much better days.

"Just feel how soft it is. A baby could lay on this with no problem."

I shrewdly chose not to, but Mr. Potts thrust the article in my face. The smell of the rug was not much better that the odour given off by the afore mentioned tonic.

"Thank you, but I’m not in the market for a rug today, Mr. Potts." I coughed.

"See ‘ere!" said Sam. "We ain’t interested in nothin’ you ‘ave to sell."

Potts remained resolute. Instead of leaving, he merely returned to his cart and commenced to dig through his wares, pulling items out of his cart and piling them here and there on the ground, all the while keeping up a one-sided conversation with us, which was rather difficult to decipher at moments for his head was practically buried in his considerable pile of goods.

"Let me show you something I’ve been saving for a special customer; someone who’d appreciate such a valuable artifact."

If the items piled on ground were any indication, I seriously doubted that the peddler’s cart contained anything that could actually be deemed ‘valuable.’

"Ah! Here it is!" He climbed off the cart holding a small wooden box, rather plain but for the strange symbols which adorned it. He held it as if it was the most precious thing he possessed. "This came from the far off Sunlands!"

"The Sunlands?" I heard Sam say. There was an unmistakable hint of interest in Sam’s voice.

"From Harad, to be precise." Potts confirmed.

"Harad?" Sam repeated, his curiosity piqued even more. "Oi’ve heard of that place. Oliphants come from there."

Olo smiled and patted the box. "Why, yes they do, my lad. Mighty strange creatures they are, too. Not that I’ve ever seen one myself, of course!"

"What are the symbols?" I indicated the carving on the box. However, I didn’t really expect Mr. Potts to offer an actual translation.

"That’s the writing of Harad."

Sam, on the other hand, apparently did expect a translation, for he asked, "What does it say?"

Olo drew himself up importantly. "It tells the story of the valuable treasure in this box, which belonged to a very important, very famous and wealthy queen of the Swertings."

Now, I’ve never claimed to be the worldliest of hobbits, but neither am I the most gullible, either. However, I got the distinct impression that Mr. Potts was feeding us a line of bull and thoroughly enjoying himself in the bargain. He held the mysterious box in front of Sam’s curious eyes as if it were a carrot dangling before a hungry pony.

"Can’t be an Oliphant in that..." Sam mused.

"No, not an Oliphant. I’d have to have a much bigger wagon to hold such a beast!" The peddler chuckled.

"Oi didn’t mean a live one, o’ course." Sam replied in a rather miffed tone. "Oi was thinkin’ more along the lines of a statue or somethin’."

"Well..." Potts was milking this for all it was worth. "You’re getting warmer..."

Sam crossed his arms. "All right then... what is in the box? Or, maybe you don’t ‘ave nothin’ in there. Maybe it’s just an old empty box."

"Oh there’s something in here, all right. But, the box itself is worth more than all the bottles of tonic in my cart!"

I figured that wasn’t saying much, but I held my tongue. To Sam’s credit, he appeared unimpressed as well, saying, "If it ain’t a likeness of an Oliphant, Oi ain’t interested." Then, in the very next instant he gave in to the curiosity that was overwhelming him. "So...what is it?"

The peddler glanced furtively about, as if checking for any other hobbits that might be lurking about the door step of Bag End. Slowly he began to lift the lid of the little box...

I must admit that by now, against my better judgement, my interest in the contents of the mysterious box had been thoroughly stimulated, and as Sam gazed into the coffer, I found myself stealing a peek over his shoulder. Resting on a threadbare velvet lining, was a small wooden carving of one of the oddest looking creatures I had ever seen.

Mr. Potts removed the carving from its container as carefully as if it were made of delicate glass, then displayed it in front of our faces so that we could get a better look at the uniqueness of the beast.

Sam’s face fell. "Why, it ain’t nothin’ but an ugly, old goat!"
I had to agree. The carving depicted an animal that did somewhat resemble a misshapen goat, sporting a long ewe neck, even longer legs, offset by knobby knees and oversized, splayed feet. But the strangest part of its anatomy was the large hump that it carried on its back, upon which rested an object that looked like some sort of saddle.

"Mr. Gamgee, you hurt my feelings!" Olo replied. "This carving is as rare as the animal itself. This is what is called a Ka’mel, a creature that is taller than the tallest of the big folk, able to travel great distances over burning sands with no need to drink for days at a time!"

"What’s that big knot?" Sam pointed to the spot on the little statue’s back.

"That is its hump." Mr. Potts answered in a matter-of-fact way.

"Is that supposed to be a saddle strapped onto its hump?" I enquired, taking a closer look at the object carved into the statue’s back.

Potts nodded and Sam snorted in disbelief. "Why, a person would topple right off of anything as deformed as that!"

"Oh no," Potts protested, "Ka’mels are a very important means of getting about in the deserts of the Sunlands. And this particular animal wasn’t deformed. All Ka’mels have humps on their backs. That’s what keeps it from needing frequent drinks. It carries its own water in its hump."

Despite Mr. Potts’s obvious pride in his knowledge about such an unusual animal, I had a difficult time swallowing what sounded suspiciously like a load of rubbish.

Sam seemed to be a bit skeptical, as well. He regarded Potts with narrowed eyes for a moment, then shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and said simply, "Oi was ‘oping for an Oliphant."

It must have been all too apparent to Olo that he was dangerously close to losing a potential customer, so he resorted to the sales tactic of ‘laying it on pretty thick’ from that point on.

"Mr. Gamgee, among the inhabitants of Harad, the Ka’mel is far more revered than a mere Oliphant. They have tamed this creature to be more than a beast of burden. They are almost considered family members! Why, when a Ka’mel dies, the owner has it stuffed and mounted and put in a place of honour!"

"Stuffed and mounted?" Sam gave him a look of disbelief but I could tell his doubt was swiftly slipping away.

"And, look here," said the peddler, placing the statue in Sam’s hands. "You can see the craft and care that went into the making of this carving. Look at the gold, and the real rubies and emeralds trimming the saddle...not to mention the genuine diamond inset on the Ka’mel’s forehead."

The carving was decorative, if a bit gaudy, and I had reservations regarding the true value of the jewels enhancing it. But I could tell from the look on Sam’s face that the talented Mr. Potts was about to score a sale. I thought about intervening, but just as I was about to open my mouth, I heard Sam say, "Genuine diamond?"

"Sam..." I began.

" ‘Ow much for this? "

"Well now...", Potts took back the statue from Sam. "It’s quite valuable...However..." he scratched his head as he considered.

"However, what?" Asked Sam.

"Seeing as you’re so interested in Harad and exotic animals, perhaps... I could part with it... for something less than its true worth... provided you buy a bottle or two of Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic in the bargain."

I was certain that Sam would realise just how preposterous this deal sounded. It should have been the other way around if the statue was so precious—‘Buy this and I’ll throw in a couple of bottles of tonic?"

"Sam..." I interrupted again, but my friend had already pulled his little sack of coins out of his pocket. I tried again. "Sam, I’m not so sure this is a good idea..."

But Sam wasn’t listening. His eyes glowed at the thought of owning something seemingly as rare as the Ka’mel statue.

"Are you sure you can afford it, lad?" The peddler hedged.

"‘Ow much?"

Mr. Potts named his price, at which, even I couldn’t restrain a low whistle. Surely Sam would come to his senses. Instead, his face registered momentary disappointment, then he turned to me and asked in a hopeful voice, "Uh... um... Mr. Frodo... Oi... well... Oi don’t know how to ask... and well... maybe Oi shouldn’t dare to ask... um...."

"Sam, are you trying to ask me for a loan?"

"Oh no, Mr. Frodo!" Sam’s face coloured up. "More like an advance on my salary, that is... if you wouldn’t mind? You could just say it’s my wages for the next couple o’ months. Oi’d even be willing to take on more chores, if need be..."

"Sam! I couldn’t possibly...." I began to reply in surprise. At this, his look of disappointment deepened and I tried to explain. "Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind making you a loan, but I don’t feel at all right about you going without a salary for a month or two on account of an advance, nor do I think you should have to take on extra chores, especially for," and at my best words, I lowered my voice to a whisper, "an item that might not be worth the wood it’s carved on."

Mr. Potts cleared his throat and began to make a big production out of replacing the Ka’mel back in its wooden box.

Sam was beside himself. "Please, Sor! It’s from Far Harad. That alone makes it a rare treasure!"

I was tempted to remind Sam that he couldn’t really be sure the carving actually came from Harad. For all either of us knew, Mr. Potts’s cart might have contained a multitude of similar little, wooden Ka’mels adorned with coloured glass jewels.

But Sam had already made up his mind. A far as he was concerned, the carving was an item of uncommon worth.
So it was, that I found myself reaching into my own pocket, but not without a little haggling with Mr. Potts over a fair price. Or perhaps I should say, a price that was a little more reasonable and included the purchase of only one, as opposed to two, bottles of Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic.

We then watched as Olo Potts pocketed the money, climbed into his wagon and took up the reins. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Baggins. But, I’m sure that Mr. Gamgee couldn’t have a better friend. That was kind of you, helping him purchase such a fine, rare item!"

"Yes, yes. Fare well, Mr. Potts." I replied, rather hastily, wishing him off, before he thought of another ‘rarity’ to sell to Sam.

"So long, Sirs!" He said with a cheery wave as he turned his cart around and, thankfully, drove out of sight.

*****

Later that same evening, Sam and I paid a visit to the Green Dragon. I couldn’t help but notice that he had a small bundle tucked under his arm that upon a second glance revealed a now all too familiar, wooden box, embellished with the mysterious symbols of Far Harad.....

The tavern was crowded, as usual, and even though a haze of sweet-smelling smoke from several varieties of pipeweed permeated the common room, it was still easy enough to ascertain the identities of a few of the patrons right away from the sound of their voices; the loudest, of course, being that of the miller’s son, Ted Sandyman. He was in the midst of a conversation with Porto Goodbody and Folco Boffin.

"I say never trust a hobbit who isn’t wary of the Outside." He was saying.

"What’s that again?" Sam asked as we joined them.

Porto spoke up. "We were talkin’ about that peddler that’s been goin’ about... what’s his name?"

"Olo Potts." I answered, and Folco regarded me with one slightly raised eyebrow.

"That’s the name!" Porto exclaimed. "He claims to have traveled to Bree and beyond. Says that a lot of the things he has for sale even come from as far away as the Misty Mountains."

Ted snorted in derision and took a swig of his ale.

"I hear tell that most of the goods he was trying to unload looked as if they had seen better days." Folco declared as he prepared to light his pipe. "At any rate, I don’t think I’d care to purchase anything from him. Would you Frodo?"

I hesitated an instant before replying, "I suppose that would depend on if any of the items he was peddling happened to be something I might find useful... or appealing."

Ted responded with a short laugh. "I can’t imagine anything comin’ out o’ that cart o’ his that would fill either of those requirements!"

I noticed that during this entire discussion, Sam hadn’t said a word. Indeed, the more the other three said about Mr. Potts and his wares, the lower Sam seemed to scrunch in his seat. I also noticed that the little box was now completely out of sight--within the confines of his jacket, I suspected.

Just then, we were joined by Tolman Cotton and a few of his companions. Tolman seemed rather excited about something. As it turned out, he had also had an encounter with Mr. Potts. It was beginning to appear that if the peddler wasn’t exactly as well-traveled as he claimed, at the very least he certainly got around.

"That Potts fellow came by our place early this morning," said Tolman, "and talked Mum into buying some sort of tonic. ‘E promised it would ease ‘er aches and pains and make ‘er feel young again. It set me to thinkin’ that if it could give older folks extra get up and go, it might work even better for younger folk. I figured I could use some extra energy to ‘elp me get my chores done quicker."

"Don’t tell me you bought some of that horrible smellin’ stuff?" Porto asked.

Tolman’s answer was to pull a bottle out of his coat pocket, a bottle with a familiar label that read, Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic, although this particular bottle was neither the same shape nor colour as the one that Potts had proffered to Sam and me.

"Are you daft?" Ted nearly crowed. "Leave it to you to buy something like that!"

"‘E ain’t the only one."

Every eye turned to Sam, who looked both angry and embarrassed at the same time. "But it don’t mean we’re daft."

"Sam, surely you didn’t?" Folco asked.

Sam nodded hesitantly, then fished the bottle of tonic that he had purchased earlier that day from his own jacket pocket. I was more than a little surprised. I was well aware he had brought along his prized Ka’mel, but I had no idea that he’d also been toting the rather questionable elixir.

He placed it on the table, as he explained somewhat sheepishly, "Oi bought some tonic so’s Oi could get this..." Whereupon he opened his coat and brought forth the wooden box. This, too, he sat on the table.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at the box with its curious symbols. I groaned inwardly, clinging to the slim hope that at least one or two of the others might find the contents of the box as fascinating as Sam had, thus sparing him any further embarrassment.

Slowly, Sam opened the box and my hopes were dashed as I heard first one snicker, then another, punctuated by Ted Sandyman’s ridiculing hoot, "What in the Shire is that?"

"A Ka’mel." Sam replied.

"A Ka’mel?" Tolman echoed.

"Never heard of such," Porto declared. "Looks sort of like a starving pony, and a deformed one at that!"

"No, it’s no pony...," Folco mused. "But I do believe it’s the ugliest goat I’ve ever seen."

Sam set his jaw and answered in a determined voice. "It’s a Ka’mel, from the Sunlands. A very rare-"

"And revered animal." Porto finished, as Ted practically howled with glee.

Within those few seconds Sam’s expression went from bafflement to anger."Now wait just a minute," he fumed, "This ‘ere Ka’mel was owned by a very wealthy queen. Why, look at the gold an’ jools on it!"

It was at that very moment that one of the alleged jewels, one of the ‘genuine’ rubies, to be exact, happened to fall off the Ka’mel statue. In a flash, Ted, grabbed it.

Just as quickly, Sam rose from his seat. " ‘Ere now! Give that back!"

Too late. Ted brought the ruby to his mouth and bit it. After which, he more than willingly obliged Sam’s request, spitting out the crushed jewel and flicking it back to him with a smug grin. "Looks to me like your precious jools are no more than coloured paste."

"No! That can’t be!"

"My friend, I fear you’ve been taken." Folco said, slapping Sam on the back as he went on to explain that from the reports he had heard, Mr. Potts possessed a great many ‘valuable’ carvings of rare animals, thus confirming my earlier fears that Sam’s Ka’mel was not an original or unique work of art.

Then Porto spoke up. "If the carving is a fake, I wonder what’s in the tonic."

"I’d be afraid to find out." Folco added.

"Probably nothin’ more than sugar water..." Sam ventured, his tone bitter.

"Well....why don’t you try it and tell us?" Suggested Ted as he looked from Sam to Tolman. "Or are you fellas afraid?"

"I ain’t afraid of a little sugar water!" Tolman retorted.

"Me neither!" Sam was quick to add.

"Well, go on then, both of you!" Ted prompted. "You could take a swig at the same time. Then tell us if it makes you feel good...."

I felt it was about time to interrupt Ted’s goading. "I don’t think that’s wise... you don’t know that it’s sugar water...."

Ted wasn’t about to let me spoil his fun. "Bugger off, Frodo," he snapped.

Sam and Tolman exchanged hesitant looks. "Might as well find out together." Tolman said as he reached for his bottle. Sam followed suit, picking up his own bottle. There was the sound of two corks being popped, followed by several comments of, "Phew!" as the fumes from the bottles offended nearby noses.

Then, a voice followed by another, and another, began to chant. "Drink it up! Drink it up!"

Just as they began to tip the bottles to their mouths, two big burly hands grabbed their arms.

"STOP! Don't drink it!"

*****

All eyes turned to the voice and owner of the burly hands. It was none other than Tobold Took. Toby, as he's most often called, was another traveling sales hobbit, so to speak, but of a much different ilk than Olo Potts. He had the reputation of being an honest person with which to do business. First of all, he didn’t travel about the countryside in a rattletrap cart, going from door to door. And secondly, as far as I knew Toby dealt exclusively in Dr. Otton’s goods. And, although Toby is a very jovial person, capable of bantering and jesting with the best of them, at this particular moment the look upon his face told that he meant business.

"Don't drink it!" he commanded again.

"Why not?" Tolman asked, astonished. "We was just goin' to take a sip. Not the whole bottle."

"One sip or the whole bottle doesn't matter," Toby said as he whisked the bottles out of both of their of hands. "You'd both be either very ill or... possibly worse no matter how much you drank."

The room went quiet and in an instant, everyone in the Green Dragon congregated around our table.

"What's wrong wi' it?" someone asked, backing away.

Toby whisked Ted Sandyman’s mug of ale out of his hand.

"Here now!" Ted protested in a miffed voice.

Toby ignored him and downed the remainder of Ted’s ale in one swallow, after which, he slapped the mug down on the table with a loud thump. Without a word of explanation he poured a little of the elixir into the empty mug.

The concoction fizzed and foamed with a hiss and a bit of a mist seemed to form over the top of the mug, spilling over the rim. Then, pulling out his handkerchief, he dipped a corner of it into the brew. Carefully, Toby lifted the hanky up and spread it open for all to see.

The corner of the hanky was rapidly falling apart right in front of our eyes.

Sam gasped, and Tolman's face went white as he sat down quickly. "We almost drank that stuff!" he whispered hoarsely, then grew silent.

As a matter of fact, there was a sudden hush over the entire room. It couldn’t have been any more quiet in that room than if it had been an hour after closing time. As if in unison, every hobbit present pulled out a bottle or two from their coat and trouser pockets and began to pile the bottles on the table.

As I watched, I noticed that not even the labels matched-much less the bottles. I looked at Toby. "What is going on, Toby?"

"We were getting huge amounts of letters from hobbits demanding their money back for having bought our Famous Feel Good Tonic," he began to explain. "But the problem was, the area where the complaints were coming from was an area that I hadn't ever been to yet."

"Oi don' understand," Sam said. "You go everywhere selling stuff, don't ya?"

Toby nodded. "I do, but I don't generally sell my goods directly to the customer. I usually set up a deal with grocers and innkeepers an’ the like to sell Doctor Otton goods to their customers.

When hobbits started complaining about having bought some elixir from a peddler, my employer and I realized there was someone out there selling fake Doctor Otton's tonics! I've been following the route that hobbits said the peddler traveled in hopes of stopping him before someone else gets hurt or worse, killed."

That started a heated argument began over Olo’s fate once he was caught. A few folks felt that tarring and feathering might be suitable punishment, and others were of the opinion that tossing him in the lockholes in Michel Delving for awhile might be even better. Still, a few more felt that a combination of both would see justice served.

Toby waved his arms to get everyone's full attention. "What I need to know, now, is where he is so I can stop him!"

Everyone started talking at once. "I jus' saw 'im yesterday over by the Mill!"

"Oi saw 'im this 'ere mornin' comin' up th' lane to Overhill!"

"We'll help you catch him!" someone yelled, and the crowd echoed the sentiment.

"NO!" Toby was adament. "If he gets wind of a mob of folks after him, he'll know something is wrong. He’ll run for sure. But, if I go by myself, I have a much better chance of keeping him from going any further than he already has."

There was some grumbling among the crowd. They wanted justice and they wanted it now. The complaining grew louder. I feared there would be trouble so, without a moment’s hesitation, I climbed up on my chair to get everyone's attention.

"I'll buy a round for everyone here if each of you will cooperate and tell Toby when and where you last saw Mister Potts."

Quicker than you could say 'Long live the Shire,' everyone was clamoring to spill any information on the whereabouts of Olo Potts to Toby, who, after being supplied with a quill, ink and some parchment, sat down and began jotting down notes for later reference.

The last ones to talk to Toby were Sam and myself.

"Really," I said, "It was early this morning when Olo showed up at Bag End. I'm sure he has sold to other hobbits in Hobbiton since then."

"I have a fair idea of which way he's headed and just what it is besides the tonic he's trying to pass off as Doctor Otton goods."

Sam's eyebrows went up. "You mean 'e's tryin' t' sell other stuff, too?"

"Flour, cookies, ginger beer, you name it."

Sam snorted. "Doctor Otton sells that kinda stuff? Oi only thought 'e 'ad th' tonic." Then he shook his head in disbelief. "If any o' that stuff on that wagon was made by Doctor Otton, Oi'm surprised you still 'ave a job wi' him!"

Toby had to laugh. "Yes, I've heard of some of the stuff Mister Potts has tried to sell. Old rugs, flimsy pots and pans, fake jewelry, and even carvings said to be from far-off lands."

"But," he continued. "What I’m most I'm concerned about are the things that he's claiming are Doctor Otton's. The tonic is just one item. He's selling flour with Doctor Otton's seal on the bag. Even jugs of beer and ale claiming them to be made by Doctor Otton! The problem is, the beer and ale are definitely very poor quality and may have things substituted or added to them --just like this so-called tonic-- He’s liable to end up poisoning someone! THAT's why I have to stop him."

"You don’t believe..." I asked, concerned for my fellow hobbits. "...that Mister Potts is actually out to harm someone...do you?"

"No, I don't. But I do believe he’s under the delusion that he has hit on a sure way to make a tidy profit." Toby replied.

*****

It was very early the next morning. On the side of the road stood Halfast Banks with his pony and belongings. Halfast, who fortunately happened to be visiting Bywater, was a chemist by trade and had come forward offering his services for that very reason. He was also aware of, and troubled about Olo Potts and his sham tonic.

Halfast had received a sample of the infamous elixir when a friend of his, thinking he had gotten a bargain, had instead, ended up quite ill from a bad batch of the stuff. The concerned chemist had studied the sample and sorted out the rather dubious ingredients in the concoction. After these discoveries, he was more than willing to help put Potts out of the business.

Now, Halfast stood looking over his pony as if there was something wrong with its leg. I sat hunkered down with Sam and Toby, along with Tolman Cotton and his son Tom, behind some bushes and trees along the Bywater Road. According to information received, Potts had done a booming business in the Hobbiton and Bywater vicinity and it was doubtful that he’s be ready to give up this successful route.

This was the most likely path along which to waylay the peddler. Despite the fact that our party was in hiding, this was not to be a lynching. Toby had only enlisted the extra aid in the unlikely case that Olo proved to be a something of a nimble escape artist. Judging from what I remembered about the appearance of his cart and pony, not to mention his considerable bulk, I rather doubted that. Still, so far, Mr. Pott had been seemingly successful in eluding local authorities wherever he went.

As if on cue, we soon heard the ‘clip-clop’ of a pony’s footfall, the creaking of wagon wheels, as well as tinkling sounds that told us Olo Potts was headed our way.

Sure enough, the peddler pulled into view, and stopped beside Halfast and the pony.

"Have you a problem, Sir?" he asked.

"Why, yes, we do," Halfast said, in a properly dismal manner. "My pony seems to have gone lame on me and I have no way of alleviating the poor animal’s pain and suffering. I had so hoped to be farther along on my journey home to Springdell!"

Mr. Potts looked rather interested at this bit of information and he clucked sympathetically as he regarded Halfast’s pony. But all he said was, "Well, I’m on my way to Bywater, perhaps I could offer you a lift, or send someone back to help?"

Beside me, Toby’s face took on a look of surprised disappointment. This wasn’t at all what we had expected.

Then we heard Halfast reply, "Oh, I couldn’t just leave my pony here!"

"I suppose not. No,that wouldn’t do...," Potts mused, and I thought I could detect just a hint of craftiness in his voice.

"And I hate to see him in pain for one more minute than is necessary." Halfast added.

Olo stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Come on... Come on...,"I heard Sam on my other side, whisper, "Take the bait!"

The peddler’s eyes narrowed and he looked around as if checking for the whereabouts of other travelers. I thought for sure Sam’s whisper had given us away and all was for naught.

Just then, Halfast did something that turned Olo’s attention back to the situation at hand, he sneezed, not once but twice, for good measure.

A greedy light came into the Peddler’s eyes. He broke into a grin and started to climb down from his rickety wagon.

"Sounds as if you may be takin’ a cold." Potts said rather hopefully.

"Yes, I fear you may be right."Halfast answered.

"You know," he said, "I may have something in my cart here that might just help you after all... you and your pony. I have a tonic that can cure aches and pains and stop a cold in its tracks!"

"Is that so?" Halfast feigned interest.

Potts nodded and so it began. We watched as Halfast asked questions now and then of Olo, keeping the peddler busy as things were pulled one by one out of his wagon. From my earlier experience, I knew it might take a while before Olo actually finalized a transaction. After all, he wasn’t an idiot. I could tell that Olo was ‘feeling it out’ a bit before he would actually try to make a sale—hopefully, for more than just a measly bottle of tonic.

"We oughta rush ‘im now," Tolman grumped impatiently in my ear. "We know what ‘e’s about ter do!"

"Patience." Toby whispered. "It’s only a matter of moments, now."

Sure enough, Halfast, upon having paid for the tonic, removed his hat and wiped his brow.

That was our signal! We jumped up and ran toward a very surprised Olo Potts, who after his initial shock sprinted towards his wagon with astonishing fleetness. I caught up with him and managed to lay hold of one of his arms, but he turned round and gave me a swift kick in the shin. The force of that blow caused me regretfully to let go, but Tom dashed round to the front of the cart and grabbed hold of the pony’s bridle, while Sam managed to latch onto Olo’s coattails just as he started to launch himself into the seat of his cart.

Toby strode over to Halfast who, in turn, revealed not only a bottle of Dr. Otton’s ‘Feel Good Tonic,’ but also a not-so-small container of Dr. Otton’s ‘Rheumatism and Body Ache Remedy,’ and a case of Dr. Otton’s ‘Little Imps Ginger Beer’ and Dr. Otton’s Ginger Tea Biscuits.’

I limped over to the cart and when next I looked at Olo, Sam and Tolman had the peddler between them, each holding on to an ample arm.

"Now what would you want with a simple peddler?" Olo whined, as if we were thieves bent on robbing him. "I’ve got nothing that’s worth stealing!"

"You got that right," Sam said aloud and Tom snickered.

Olo was perplexed, and more than a little nervous as he watched Toby and Halfast begin digging through his wagon. "If it’s money you want, I’ll give it to you gladly. Please, don’t harm a poor peddler!"

Toby came walking back from the rear of the wagon and motioned for Sam and Tolman to release their charge. They did so, albeit, hesitantly. However, Potts didn’t get another chance to run, for Toby took him by the collar of his coat and promptly escorted him to a pile of goods laid out upon the ground. All were marked, ‘Dr. Otton’s.’

"Where did you get these things?" he asked.

Olo, thinking he could get out of this easily, spoke up readily. "I traded for them from Dr. Otton, himself!"

Toby’s eyebrow went up. "You did, did you?"

"Why sure, I did. I’m a very close friend with him! Practically a partner! Here! Let me prove it to you!"

He shrugged free of Toby’s grasp, brushed off his jacket somewhat insolently, and under the watchful eyes surrounding him, scurried to the wagon, climbed aboard and began to dig under the seat. "I know it’s here somewhere. Ah! Here it is!"

He fished out a small wooden box. Jumping down from the wagon, he handed it to Toby. "What’s in here…," he tapped a dirty finger on the lid. "…will prove what I said!"

Toby gave Olo a dubious look as he opened the box. Inside was an obviously very worn bit of paper that looked to have been folded and refolded many, many times. Toby took it out and carefully opened the parchment. After looking it over, he frowned and handed it to me.

I took a look at it and tried not to laugh. It was a document, to be sure, but a poorly executed one with numerous misspelled words:
‘I hearebye deeklare that Myster Olo Potts is a partneer of mine and shood be given awl doo rispeckt.
Sinsearly,
Doctor Otton, Esquire
Sarford’

It was dated 1379 SR

I gave it back to Toby, who then waved it under Olo’s nose. "I’ll have you know," he said with a growl, "that there is no such person named Dr. Otton. It’s the name my employers use to put on the things they sell from out of Little Delving!"

"Yes there is so a Dr. Otton-" Olo began to protest. Then, just as quickly he shut up as he realized what Toby had just said. "Y-your employers?" he squeaked. "Li-Little Delving?"

He sank to his knees, and pleaded, "Please don’t hurt me, Sir! I didn’t know! I swear to you I didn’t know!"

A very lengthy lecture began, of which I will not tell here. Suffice it to say that Halfast lectured him on just what it was in the tonic he was selling, and how dangerous it was to those that partook of it.

Toby, in turn, lectured him on selling fake goods marked with Dr. Otton’s label. By the time they were through, I was convinced they had not only scared Olo into being an honest Hobbit, but also those who were with us, as well.

Tom brought forth a rope in order to tie Olo’s hands to see to it that he be bound over to the local shirriff. But to all of our surprise, Sam stopped them.

"Ain’t no need ter go tyin’ Mister Potts ‘ands an’ such," he said. "Oi think we can trust ‘im to stop ‘is peddlin’."

Olo nodded vigorously. "I swear I won’t peddle anymore!"

"Now, see here, Samwise Gamgee," Toby began to sputter. "I didn’t come all this way just to set Potts free!"

Sam just looked at him. "Didn’t you tell Miss Mundee on your last trip to Hobbiton that you needed to find some other enterprising hobbits to help you on your routes?"

Toby stood there, mouth open, looking from Sam to me to Olo. A great struggle was going on inside his head. "Well, yes… I did…. But…"

"Well, you can’t say Mister Olo doesn’t have the knack to sell stuff to folks… Can you?"

"Well, yes, I mean, no…"

Toby was silent for a moment or two as he thought over what Sam was hinting at. When he did speak, it was to Olo, himself.

"Sam is right on two things. One, my route has become too large for just one Hobbit to handle in a timely fashion. And, two, I have to admit you do have the abilities I am looking for in a saleshobbit. Of course, there is the damage done to your reputation from peddling sham products... but that may be overcome with time and proper training.... So, I can’t promise you anything, but my employers are good and generous folk and if you would be willing to join me in my trip back to Little Delving, and if you are willing to help make remuneration for the fake goods you’ve sold under the Dr.Otton’s label..."

"Remooner-what?" Olo asked.

"If you are willing to work out some sort of agreement to pay Dr. Otton’s back for using the name, then perhaps–-just perhaps--you won’t have to face the local magistrate and they may even allow you to work for them selling the real Doctor Otton’s. What do you say?"

Olo was taken by surprise. "Me? Go with you?"

"It’s that or be escorted out of the Shire for good by my friends," Toby pointed out.

Olo didn’t take much time to think it over.

Toby stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

"Deal!"

*****

Later that day, Sam and I saw Toby and Olo off. Olo’s pony and rattletrap cart was tethered behind Toby’s own cart. They hadn’t even climbed aboard before Olo was already trying to convince Toby that he’d made a very wise decision in taking Olo on as a ‘partner.’

Hopefully, for Toby’s sake, he can convince Olo not to talk quite so much on the long trip to Little Delving.