frodobaggins
FRODO'S JOURNAL - A day in the life of a Hobbit of the Shire. (Pre-Quest Years)
A Friendly Wager part 2 or The Voice of Reason
lord of the ringsNot long after Merry, Pippin and Sam departed, I found myself in the study, wrestling with metaphors, alliteration, rhyming and couplets. I actually wrote down several but ended up discarding them all. My floor was littered with scraps of parchment containing various rejected verses. It was somewhat reminiscent of the day that my floor had been strewn with Sam’s cast off gardening notes. But this time there was a deadline involved, which was fast approaching and looking at the crumpled wads of failed verse that decorated my rug caused me to fret just a trifle. For someone, who had only a short time ago, condemned the contest as "silly," I was certainly letting a few futile, poetic attempts get the better of me. However reluctant I was though, I had to admit to myself that I really wanted to win.
Perhaps that was the reason for the struggle, I was trying too hard. In reality there was more to it than that. Not only did I want to win the contest; that wasn’t enough. I genuinely wanted to impress both Bennie and Mundee. In truth, I would have liked to have composed two works, each composed specifically for that particular girl, especially since the girls were so opposite each other, having their own special, unique qualities. However, time and the rules of the
contest would not allow me the luxury.
There was also, one other troubling matter. It had occurred to me that it might be difficult to keep Mundee and Bennie from finding out about the contest. Not much made it past those sharp females. Nevertheless, the placing of wagers was most often considered a male dominated pastime, not many young, single females indulged in the sport of gambling. So I
hoped that this particular contest would escape their
notice.
I was just beginning on a clean sheet of parchment, when I was interrupted by a knock upon the door. My first impulse was to ignore it and continue writing, but the knocking grew insistent enough to compel me to set aside my pen and answer the summons.
Imagine my surprise to find Bennie standing there, a mischievous smile on her pretty face. She had abandoned her usual breeches in favour of more feminine attire. No, I stand corrected. I should say extremely feminine attire; a fetching skirt with a form fitting, blue bodice. For one brief and alarming
second, I felt as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs, for I knew Bennie well enough to know that she only donned dresses when she wanted something from a fellow. Her greeting confirmed that fact.
"Hello, Frodo, would you like your kiss now, or after the contest?"
After that blatant statement, it was a moment before I could answer, during which time she continued to smile at me, exuding a tremendous amount of charm.
Dumbfounded, I asked, "You know about the contest?"
"Of course." She stated pragmatically, and without waiting for an invitation, she sashayed through the door. Turning round again, she said. "As a matter of fact, I have a bet on you myself." At the surprised raise of my eyebrows, she went on to explain, "Anonymously, via Fatty Bolger. Why should I miss out on the chance to make a little money on the side, as long as you, Fastred, and the rest of the male patrons of The Ivy Bush intend to involve me in this little farce?"
"Bennie, isn’t that a bit unethical?"
"Oh, don’t worry, I intend to be thoroughly objective when it comes to the winning poem. But I just can’t imagine Fastred being the more talented writer."
"You might be surprised." I warned. "Anyway, how did you find out?"
She broke into a delightfully charming grin. "My sweet cousin, did you honestly think that I wouldn’t find out? For that matter, much as I’m loathe to mention it, I would guess that Cousin Mundee is also aware of the competition." At another surprised look on my part, she added, "Ted Sandyman talks, and quite a lot at that."
"So...let’s get back to the matter of that kiss, shall we?" She suggested, taking a step in my direction.
"Wait a minute, aren’t you even curious about the poem?" I asked.
"Not really."
"You mean you don’t even want to see it?" I found that slightly puzzling.
"May I?" She asked, although the question seemed more out of politeness that genuine interest.
"Umm...no...it’s not finished." And, at the rate things were going I was beginning to have serious doubts about ever completing the task. "Actually, I’d better get to work straight away, or you may not win your money back."
During this discourse I became suddenly aware of the fact that Bennie had positioned herself nearer to me. Close enough that I could smell the subtle fragrance of her lilac perfume.
"Oh, forget about the bet, for now.... About that kiss... how would you like it? Short and sweet, or long and luscious?" She said slowly as if savoring every word. Then, she hooked her fingers playfully around my *braces. "Or shall I choose for you?" Without giving me a chance to answer, she forged ahead. " I know! Let’s try both ways!"
"Bennie..." That was the only word I managed to get out of my mouth.
With astonishing swiftness, her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips locked onto mine. She tasted tantalisingly sweet, like a delicious sugarplum, and I found that I didn’t want to take my lips off hers. It was she, however who stopped first, but only long enough to apply her lips to another spot, this time, my ear. After nibbling on that for several excruciatingly pleasurable seconds, she moved on to my neck. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the enjoyment of the experience. Actually, enjoyment is not the proper word. I was relatively transported to a state of delirious bliss. It was only when I became vaguely aware that she was toying with the buttons on my shirt that a shred of rationality began to creep
back into my brain.
I opened my eyes to see that not only had she been at work on my attire, but she had somehow deftly managed to loosen the bodice of her blouse so that it hung enticingly off her fair shoulders, along with the straps of the delicate lace camisole underneath, making that hidden by the woven, blue cloth a little more accessible. I briefly relived that day long ago in the wisteria arbor, and a part of me longed to finish what she had started. It would only have meant undoing a few more buttons and then...but fortunately an expeditious voice in my head reminded me of propriety.
"Bennie." I tried to sound authoritative, as I pushed her gently away. "This isn’t proper. I can’t let you put yourself in such a compromising position. You and I both know that. Besides, I believe we’ve had a similar conversation before."
"That’s very sweet of you, Frodo, but as I believe I have told you in said ‘similar conversation,’ you needn’t take it upon yourself to worry about my honour." She quipped with a saucy smile.
"I suppose someone has to, seeing as you’re not."
She merely laughed at that. "Don’t scold, Frodo. It doesn’t suit you."
I fiddled with the buttons on my shirt, which for some reason refused to cooperate with my attempts to redo them. "I’m only thinking of the conclusions people might jump to, if anyone saw you... like that." I hastily indicated her bared shoulders, trying desperately to keep my eyes from roaming over the creamy flesh exposed there and my mind from drifting
to and lingering on inappropriate thoughts.
"Is it likely that anyone would see us? Do visitors often walk into your home, unannounced?"
"Well...no...," I answered slowly. But, I might have reminded her of a day not too long ago, when her father, Bodo, had blundered into Bag End unannounced and nearly gotten an eyeful of Bennie and me kissing. Bennie herself was not above calling without an invitation or a chaperone, something not commonly done by young, hobbit maidens. However, Bennie was used to doing things her own way and although unattached, she was considered "of age," which seemed to make her actions acceptable, at least to her way of thinking.
In a second she had closed the gap between us again and I felt a slight pressure as she rested her hand lightly on my chest. The warmth of her touch felt through the linen cloth of my shirt caused a thrill of pleasure to race through my being.
"Perhaps it would be better if we took ourselves out of your entryway, and to another room... preferably one without windows...," she suggested, and though her voice held a playful note, those blue eyes leveled at my own bespoke of utter seriousness.
My mouth went completely dry. But at last I managed to work up enough moisture to summon up a vain effort to at least appear the epitome of the proper gentlehobbit, "Perhaps it would be best if you... uh... c-covered yourself."
Bennie laughed again. "You make it sound as if I’m bare naked."
"Bennie!"
"Since when did you become a prude, Frodo?" she teased. "You weren’t always so."
"I’m not a prude." I replied, feeling slightly offended. "But, must you behave so...so...."
"So....what?" she asked, assuming a guileless attitude.
"So... brazen." I stated bluntly. Immediately, I wished I had chosen another word, for hurt was apparent on my cousin’s lovely face.
"Brazen am I? Well, I’ve always gone after whatever I wanted and I know some folk don’t care for that sort of behavior in a lass. Should I play the part of other some other girls, all purity, humbleness and generosity and come across a naive, little fool, while life passes me by?"
Though she mentioned no name in particular, I had a feeling that she was referring to her foster sister, Mundee.
"Bennie, I didn’t mean to...I meant..." I faltered.
"Frodo, I thought you liked me that way...’brazen’..." an impish smile began to form at the corners of her mouth, "...at least you always seemed to when we were tweens. I do have good qualities, too, you know."
"Yes...yes, you do." I agreed. "Quite a few."
She dimpled at me. " Tell me..."
"You want me to list them?" I asked in surprise.
"Oh no, but I do want to know if you think I’m pretty."
"Bennie, you know you’re pretty."
This elicited another merry laugh on her part. "Yes," She admitted readily. "But, do you find me pretty?"
"Yes, I think you’re extremely pretty." She sighed, then pressing her body against mine, she laid her head against my chest and I breathed in the sweet perfume of her dark, silken curls. Only a fool would have thought she would be content to let things go at that. So, I suppose that makes me a fool.
It wasn’t long before her fingers once more sought out the buttons on my shirt. I caught hold of her hands, rather belatedly I fear, for she had accomplished the act of unfastening a few more buttons. I held her delicate hands firmly in an attempt to keep those prying, dextrous fingers at bay. However, there was no way to imprison her lips, which she then employed freely to great advantage. The pleasure I had experienced moments ago upon our initial kiss was revisited full force.
This time I wasn’t thinking about propriety or anything along those lines. I just wanted to savor the sweetness of her honeyed kiss. If she was so willing to give such favors so freely, why shouldn’t I accept them, gratefully.
That inner voice, which had interfered in such a timely fashion before, began whispering to me again. "Frodo Baggins, have you left off your senses along with any shame you might have? How dare you take advantage of Bennie in this way!" In addition to conscience, I was assaulted by a deluge of other
emotions, most prominent of which was desire. And, at that moment desire was winning. I forced that nagging voice out of my mind as I let my lips travel down the curve of her neck to one of those smooth, silky shoulders...
(*For the benefit of American readers who might not be aware, braces are suspenders.)
Those tweenage longings felt so keenly in the past, hit me at that moment with a force that nearly left me breathless. But strangely enough, it was almost as if it was someone else sliding Bennie’s blouse lower on her shoulders to take pleasure in her soft, scented skin. After all this time, all the years of having known Bennie, some part of me couldn’t believe what
was possibly about to happen...
Then quite unexpectedly, she twisted away from me. For a moment I was left confused, and once again I felt like that tweenage boy of days gone by, wondering if I had done something to put a damper on the moment. But then Bennie smiled, and taking me by the hand, she began leading me away from the entrance hall. However, she only took a few steps before she stopped and putting her hands to my face so that she could bring it closer to hers, she pressed her lips to mine again. This happened a couple of times, and I found
myself fascinated with her little game.
Time and time again, I would bring her close to kiss and she would just barely let me do so before she moved on. During our playful journey down the hall, we must have brushed too close to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, for it fell with a clatter. As I stopped to pick up the painting, I became aware of a draft in the hall and noticed that Bennie had freed my shirt from my trousers and deftly managed to undo half
of the buttons.
I looked up just in time to catch her pouting, at which point she began a new ploy to keep my attention. The ribbon that was supposed to keep her blouse modestly gathered was now being slowly pulled out of its casing. As that last inch came free, she playfully flicked the ribbon at me, making sure that her blouse fell even lower on her shoulders as she did so.
"Frodo," she cooed, her eyes dancing. "I'm having a wee bit of trouble...," her hands were now behind her on the fastenings of her bodice. "... would you... help me...?"
I’m sure I broke into what must have been an inane grin. Without a second thought, I immediately let the painting drop to the floor. As I rushed, all too eagerly to help her, her arms went around my neck, her lips showering me with kisses even as my arms encircled her tiny waist, my hands trying desperately to find that confounded lacing and unknot it. How I wanted to free her from that frock! I surprised myself by attacking the laces with determination, as my lips sought out hers, all the while, frantically trying to get my bearings. As it happened, the library door was just inches from us. I lifted Bennie just a bit, and much to my surprise she wrapped her legs around my waist as if she had anticipated my moves, never once taking her mouth from mine.
I succeeded in steering us into the aforementioned library. Since my mind was bent on working on those laces --which by this time were finally coming undone-- as well as seeing how far we might explore the boundaries of our relationship, I positioned us in the general direction of the settee, located near the center of the room.
Something warm and wet, and utterly delightful snaked its way into my ear and I realised it was Bennie’s tongue, which spurred me to move a little more quickly to a resting place. Piles of books that Bilbo had left, and I had never removed,
were scattered here and there on the floor and knocked over as I tried not to trip over them. Curios from Bilbo's adventures tipped and fell over as I bumped into the display case and then, one of the side tables.
That's when my left foot found the carved leg of the settee. I hurriedly set Bennie down as one emotion was replaced by another. Passion was momentarily exchanged for pain as I stepped back to wiggle my toes in an attempt to ascertain whether they were broken or not. In that instant, Bennie, never one to let an opportunity escape, reached up and grabbed my unbuttoned shirt and pulled me to her with such force that next thing we knew, the settee had tipped backwards, spilling us to the floor! I found myself splayed atop my lovely cousin.
"Goodness, Frodo!" She said, breathlessly in a flirtatious voice. "I knew you would be eager, but I never guessed just how much so!"
I don’t know if the pain in my toe or the fall to the floor brought my senses back. But that scolding inner voice that resided somewhere in the depths of my conscience was slowly reawakening. "Perhaps, you’d best stop and take stock of the situation...," it said.
Scruples slowly began to overcome desire and I grudgingly pushed myself to a sitting position however, a part of me was still curious as to how far I --I mean, she-- might be willing to go. Seeing Bennie lying there.. ravishingly lovely, her bodice
abandoned, her blouse open and reveling the scanty, lace-trimmed camisole beneath, she was too tantalising to ignore and I gave in to one last kiss. Well... I tried to make it one last kiss... but she was just as intent that it should not be the last. I could feel her soft hands within my open shirt, caressing my skin in an attempt to keep me with her.
"Frodo, my lad," My conscience, interrupted again. "You don't want to keep her in this position."
Actually, my other senses did, both literally and figuratively. Her kisses were sweeter than honey, and as heady as any wine I had ever had the pleasure of sampling.
Bennie must have sensed that my emotions were at war, for she redoubled her efforts with a vigor that was astonishing. She wrapped her arms about my neck and proceeded to explore the depths of my mouth and beyond with her tongue. I wondered, but only fleetingly, for I was much too overwhelmed to give way to much reflection, just where she might have acquired such skills. I found myself weakening again, and pulled her close to me, allowing my hands to explore the delicate curves of her body....
My eyes opened suddenly as I thought I heard... what?
a rap upon the door? I waited a second or two, reluctant to believe my ears. No. Must have been my imagination.
Although I told myself that it was only my imagination, my conscience wouldn't let it be, and was on the alert despite my best effort to squelch it. I found myself vacillating between desire and guilt. I must have been listing more to the guilty side, for when the knocking came again I actually started, for there was no mistaking it this time. Someone was
rapping in earnest!
I left Bennie with a quick directive to cover herself and dashed to the door as I fumbled hastily with the buttons on my shirt, managing to only redo about four of them. I stopped just long enough to take a deep breath before swinging open the door. There, with his arm raised, about to bang on my door again, was Fredegar Bolger, affectionately known as Fatty.
"Hullo, Frodo!" he said amiably.
"H-Hello, Fatty!" I stammered, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. "What..um...brings you here?"
Fatty didn't reply immediately. He was too busy looking me up and down. Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair then tried to tuck my shirt into pants a little better. It was then I noticed that the buttons I had managed to do up didn’t quite match the corresponding button holes. Immediately I set about rectifying that problem.
"Is something wrong, Fatty?" I tried to act innocent.
"I was just about to ask the same of you, Frodo," was his reply.
Suddenly, there was the sound of something falling to the floor from somewhere in inside Bag End. Fatty tried to look past me inside the hole.
"What was that?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, still trying to act innocent. "I didn't hear anything."
"That noise. Something fell," he said, still trying to see around me.
"Oh, um, I-I've been doing a bit of rearranging...." was the first plausible explanation that came to mind, and it was partially true, if one counted the overturned settee. Besides, I couldn’t admit straight out that Bennie Baggins was in my library, in a condition that would have been compromising at best. I did have her honour to think of. "...it...um...must have been that stack of books that I was moving about. I was afraid that would happen, but I had to set them down in a hurry to answer the door."
He nodded, seemingly believing my explanation all too easily. Then he grinned. "Well? Are you going to invite me in?"
"In?" I must have looked like a startled deer.
"Well..., yes."
"Now is not a good time, Fatty," I tried to explain in what I thought was a no-nonsense voice.
"Why not?" he asked. "Since when is it ever a bad time at Bag End?"
"Well, today it is."
"Why?" Fatty persisted.
"Because...the hole is a rather untidy at the moment." I hedged. "I can't let you in right now..."
"Oh, come on, Frodo!" he replied, not buying a word I said. "I had a long walk up here, and I'm famished and thirsty. Surely, you wouldn't be refusing me a drink, at least. Since when has Bag End been such a mess that you won't invite your poor, thirsty friend in for a mere sip of ale?"
"What do you really want, Fatty?" I asked rather bluntly. "If it's about my progress on the poetry, it's coming along."
"Actually, that is my reason for seeing you." Fatty admitted slowly. "Are you prepared for tomorrow, then?" His eyes sparkled, showing his anticipation.
"Yes, yes... I'll be ready." I answered a bit shortly.
Fatty leaned over to me. "Mind reciting what you have for me?"
"Yes, I do mind!" I was seriously beginning to lose patience. "What I have written is for the contest. Telling you what I've come up with would be tantamount to having it spread all over Hobbiton before I even arrive at The Ivy Bush tomorrow!"
Fatty placed his hand on his chest as if wounded by my words. "Now, now, Frodo! I can assure you that wouldn't be the case. I was only curious to learn what you’ve come up with, that’s all. Can’t blame a fellow for that, can you, especially when I have quite a few coins riding on your success. But... I know you'll be ready. I was just hoping to hear you say that you’d finished before Fastred."
That name caught my attention and caused me to temporarily forget my present dilemma. "What about Fastred?" I asked warily, fearing the worst.
That’s when Fatty informed me that Fastred was bragging he'd already finished his poem, and had even written several more to choose from when the time came to recite them.
"Really?" I tried to sound calm, but my mind was beginning to race with worry. Here I was, not even close to writing anything, Fastred was claiming he was done, and the deadline was tomorrow. I cleared my throat. "Well, good for him!"
"Yes, good for him...." That look was on Fatty's face again, which brought me back to the problem at hand. Without thinking, I threw a hasty glance toward my door. "Are you certain everything is alright, Frodo? I mean, if you're not finished, we could... postpone the 'recital'... even if it does mean I'd lose my wager...."
"I assure you, everything is fine, but I have no wish to spoil the fun, let alone cost anyone their bet. Look, Fatty, I would like to have you in, but I really do need to finish my poem."
That's when we both heard it. The sound of something being dragged and then set down hard in one of the rooms.
Fatty looked sharply at me, and this time instead of merely trying to see around me, he made a blatant attempt to get past me.
"NO!" I exclaimed adamantly and, again, blocked the doorway. "Fatty," I was nearly begging. "You have to understand. I need to be alone."
I’m sure my actions must have been unusual to Fatty, but I was just as determined he not go in as he was determined to find out what was going on. Nevertheless, as he tried to push his considerable bulk past me, he suddenly froze and sniffed the air. Then he sniffed at me.
It was such unexpected behavior that I paused long enough to raise my forearm and take a sniff, too. Lilac. Bennie’s lilac perfume. It clung to me, implicating me quite thoroughly.
Fatty broke into a jubilant grin. Then suddenly, without a word of warning, he shoved me back against the open door and out of his way. Leaving him free to charge into Bag End and down the hallway.
"Fatty! Come back here!" I called out to no avail, as I struggled to regain my balance. In no time I was following after him. However, plump as he is, Fatty can move very quickly when the notion strikes him.
Before I could stop him, the worst had to happen. Bennie's voice came lilting from the library. "Oh, Frodo, you're back! I was wondering when you would come back to finish what we started...!"
Fatty looked back at me, grinning wickedly before he padded the last few feet to the door of the Library.
"I do hope you sent away whoever it was so we could continue...." Bennie’s voice held sufficiently naughty overtones.
"Actually, no," Fatty said, as he popped his head around the corner of the door just as I caught up with him. "Frodo tried, but I was too quick for him."
There, before us, sat Bennie, poised seductively on the now upright settee. Her blouse was draped around her shoulders, and enough silky leg was exposed to give any lad ideas of where this meeting would end.
Suddenly, there was a scream, and some surprisingly frank and unrefined language issued from Bennie's delicate lips as she leapt off the settee and dived behind it. In a bare second, a book flew at Fatty’s head, followed closely by another one as Bennie flung insults at Fatty as quickly as she threw books.
Why he didn’t turn tail and run as soon as the first projectile whistled dangerously close to his ear, I’m not sure. It might have had something to do with the vision of a very lovely, albeit scantily clad female before his eyes. Something Fredegar Bolger wasn’t used to feasting his sight, as a rule. So, he continued to stare and grin. Fortunately, he was surprisingly adept at dodging the books.
"You ...you ..." Bennie had seemingly depleted her reserve of colourful epithets for Fatty. "Get out of here!" Then she turned on me. "Frodo! Get him out of here!"
I would have done just that, had I not been a little wary of having my own ears clipped by some flying work of text. But at any rate, I decided I’d better intervene before Bennie ran out of Bilbo’s old books and found something else to fling, something breakable or more capable of inflicting damage.
Moving swiftly, I grabbed a handful of Fatty’s jacket and unceremoniously hauled him out of the room. Which was no great feat, as his feet didn’t willingly cooperate, right away. As I lead him down the hall and toward the front door, he began to spout phrases like, "Bennie Baggins! Frodo, ol’ boy! Wait til the other lads hear about this!"
I turned a startled expression on him as I showed him the porch. "No! Fatty! You mustn’t, you can’t say anything about this... anyone! Not even to Folco! Do you understand?"
"Why not?" he asked, surprise registering on his good-natured face.
"Think of what it would do to Bennie’s reputation."
"Frodo...I hate to say this, but any girl that would put herself in that sort of situation deserves to-"
"Fatty!" I cut him off. "No one deserves to have their good name sullied with idle gossip." I refrained from mentioning that I had no desire to smack in the middle of village rumour mill, myself.
"But it’s not ‘sullying’ if it’s true." Fatty insisted.
I merely met his argument with a raised eyebrow. That seemed enough to turn his thinking around, for he heaved a sigh and said, "I suppose you’re right."
With that he departed, promising to keep silent about my guest and the purpose of her visit. And I was left to try and soothe Bennie’s ruffled feathers.
I watched as Fatty's large presence disappeared around the bend of the road, headed into the village. I closed the door, and leaned heavily against it, sighing in utter relief. However, the sound of Bennie's angry voice emanating from the library brought me back to the fact that I still had to deal with her as well. I took a deep breath as I prepared myself to face her ire, then quietly walked back to the library, wincing as I listened to Bennie's continued litany of what she was going to do to Fatty the next time he dared come near her.
"Bennie," I said outside the room, giving her (and me) warning of my presence.
"May I come in?"
"Is Fatty gone?" was her terse reply.
"Yes, he's gone," I answered. "I watched until he was down the Hill and out of sight."
Bennie was pacing in the little bit of the library floor that hadn't had books or vases or other trinkets littered upon it. "Just wait until I get my hands on him!" She turned and strode up to me I had a fleeting feeling that she was going to demonstrate on my person. "How could you, Frodo? How could you let him inside?"
Verbena’s wrath can be formidable at times, but amazingly, I stood my ground. "Do you think I would have willingly let him enter if I could have prevented it? Believe me, Bennie, I did try to stop him!"
She stopped and looked at me with those big, beautiful, fiery blue eyes. I have to admit that she is just as beautiful when she is angry as she is when seductive.
"But, he...he saw...well...something that was meant for your eyes only." Bennie said, with a slight tremor in her voice and it was obvious that she was still quite shaken by the incident.
So, I did what so many other males have done when facing a disgruntled female. I apologised. "Bennie, I’m sorry. Truly, I am."
"Weellll...."
I licked my lips nervously, not sure if I should listen to that annoying, niggling voice that kept warning me of the dangers of remaining in this room with this seductress at this time. It might have been a foolhardy thing to do, but I crossed over to her, closing the distance between us. I don’t know what
made me take her in my arms, before without even thinking, that’s exactly what I did. At my touch I could almost feel the tension slipping from her body and she let me guide her gently to the settee.
I, in turn, found myself not wanting to let go of her, at least, not yet. However, seeing her seated comfortably, I thought perhaps the next order of business should be to offer to fetch her a drink. But as I made to pull away from her she didn’t seem to ready to release my hand and the words died on my
lips.
She looked up at me with that fire fully rekindled and tugged firmly, but gently on my hand. Those creamy shoulders were still revealed in all their soft, silken loveliness, and as she tossed back her sable curls, revealing the exquisite curve of her delicate throat, I felt a sensation as of heat spreading suddenly and swiftly through my body.
"Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?" she asked playfully.
I sank to the settee beside her and she scooted close to me, her fingers working nimbly, once more unfastening the buttons that I had worked so hard to redo. I was lost in the moment, enveloped by warm, sweet-scented skin, savoring her lips and the way her slender body felt pressed against mine. Needless to say, it wasn't too long before we were back in the throes of passion, making up for lost time, it would seem.
But fate was about to intervene once more, in the form of another knock at the door.
Bennie was the first to pull away, obviously unhappy about the interruption. However, upon seeing my reluctance to answer the door, she pulled me closer, and between kisses, whispered, "Don't answer the door."
In truth, part of me was throughly hoping that whoever it was would just leave a note and go home. I was fairly intent on kissing and caressing some more, but the knocking persisted. An unbidden thought occurred. What if this visitor happened to be Bennie’s father, Bodo? I don’t know why that thought hadn’t entered my head at the first intrusion. But for whatever reason, it leapt foremost into my mind at this particular moment.
"Umm...Bennie..."I whispered, breaking off in the middle of a kiss. "Where is your father?"
"Hmmm? Oh...don’t worry he and mother are both at home, in Woodhall." She replied, then proceeded to nibble on my ear.
Then, that little voice in my head started talking again. "What if it's Fatty again or Folco, or Sam or even Mundee? What if she should walk in to check on you?" Unpleasant visions of a catfight between the two girls came to mind.
As if in response to my conscience, the knocking seemed to become louder. This time I pulled away. "I'm sorry, Bennie, but I have to answer the door."
"No, you don't," she whispered huskily, as she tried to wrap her arms around my neck. "Just stay right here with me and..."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Bennie, I have to." I said as I untangled her fingers from my hair. "Before they either break down the door, or shatter the windows!"
Bennie stiffened, then reluctantly propped herself on the end of the settee. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't at all happy.
"All right, answer the door. But don’t let them in!"
I turned to go, but she suddenly caught hold of my hand and pulled me back to her for one more kiss, as if to remind me of what delights would be waiting upon my speedy return. Again, I had to pull myself together in order to greet my newest visitor. This time, I really took an extra second or two to make sure my shirt was buttoned and tucked into my pants.
The visitor was still knocking when I reached the door. I had just about decided it was Fatty back for another round of prying and I began to speak before I actually looked. "Fatty, I already told you I would be ready for... Oh! Mr. Gamgee! Forgive me! I thought you were Fat... um, Fredegar Bolger!"
Hamfast Gamgee stood there silently, as I prattled on about Fatty and the poetry contest and how I thought it was it was Fatty back again to badger me into letting him hear my poem. It took me a moment to realize that I was running off at the mouth and another moment before the Gaffer finally spoke.
"Oi was only comin' by ter thank ye fer 'elpin' my Samwise wi' th' gran'kids." That said, he hoisted up a basket full of early vegetables, as well as a jug of what could only be some of his home brewed ale.
He must have done a fair amount of sampling the brew before he’d bottled it, judging by the slight slur in his voice as he handed the basket to me. "Oi know my Samwise kin fix them veg'tables up in no time fer yer dinner tomorrow. An' let me tell you that this be th' best batch of brew Oi've made in a long while! 'ere! Le' me pour ye some!"
He made as if to come inside and I knew from past experience, that he was intent on grabbing the two biggest mugs I owned, and joining me in a toast to nearly everything one could think of to toast--and then some.
"N-No!" I shouted, louder than I should have, and found myself, once again, blocking the way into my hole. "I would love to have you come in, Sir, but I have to finish writing my poem, and memorize it as well, before I turn in for the night."
"Nah, Oi won't bother ye long, Frodo Lad," he said as he proceeded to enter despite my best efforts. "Oi merely want yer opinion on th' quality of my home brew!"
That's when we both heard it.
Bennie must have decided that I was taking too long in disposing of my guest, for she let go another of her colourful expressions, which was followed by the thud of a book (heavy from the sound of it) slamming against the library wall.
The Gaffer stopped and listened, then looked at me. "Why didn't ye say ye were entertainin'?" He smiled and shook my hand. "Oi'll leave ye be, Mister Frodo. Take care an' let me know what ye... and yor impatient lady friend... think o' my brew, as soon as ye get a chance. That is, if ye get a chance, seein’ as yer a might busy..."
He winked, then went on his way, whistling a merry tune, and doing his best to stay upright while walking down the slope to his hole.
I shook my head and turned to head back to the library, but I didn't get far. Bennie came stomping out of the room, her bodice once more intact. Make that fairly intact. She fumbled irritably with the ribbon she was trying to thread back into the casing of her blouse.
"Bennie, what are you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Home!" she hissed.
"But... but... the Gaffer left!"
"As if that's going to keep any other hobbit in the Shire from knocking on your door again?" She replied in a voice full of exasperation.
"Well...I doubt that-"
"Look," she cut me off as she finally succeeded in getting the ribbon in and tied (albeit, haphazardly). "Tonight just isn’t working..." She sighed, and added, "besides, you do need to finish your poem. Heaven forbid that I should have to kiss Fastred. I’d never hear the end of it!" she finished with an attempt to make light of the situation. At least her anger had
dissipated. But that’s the way with Bennie. Her emotions are ever changeable.
As for me, I was filled with a disappointment of my own. Ironic, since I had spent a good portion of her visit vacillating between desire and guilt. Now, I wanted nothing more than to hold her captive for the evening, but she was right. So, there was nothing left to do but see her to the door.
Just before she exited, she turned and said. "I’ll come back on a night when you’re in less demand..."
Then, she brushed her lips against my cheek, letting them linger for one long, pleasing moment before she slipped into the gathering twilight. And... it was back to the writing desk for me as the hours slipped quickly away...
Perhaps that was the reason for the struggle, I was trying too hard. In reality there was more to it than that. Not only did I want to win the contest; that wasn’t enough. I genuinely wanted to impress both Bennie and Mundee. In truth, I would have liked to have composed two works, each composed specifically for that particular girl, especially since the girls were so opposite each other, having their own special, unique qualities. However, time and the rules of the
contest would not allow me the luxury.
There was also, one other troubling matter. It had occurred to me that it might be difficult to keep Mundee and Bennie from finding out about the contest. Not much made it past those sharp females. Nevertheless, the placing of wagers was most often considered a male dominated pastime, not many young, single females indulged in the sport of gambling. So I
hoped that this particular contest would escape their
notice.
I was just beginning on a clean sheet of parchment, when I was interrupted by a knock upon the door. My first impulse was to ignore it and continue writing, but the knocking grew insistent enough to compel me to set aside my pen and answer the summons.
Imagine my surprise to find Bennie standing there, a mischievous smile on her pretty face. She had abandoned her usual breeches in favour of more feminine attire. No, I stand corrected. I should say extremely feminine attire; a fetching skirt with a form fitting, blue bodice. For one brief and alarming
second, I felt as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs, for I knew Bennie well enough to know that she only donned dresses when she wanted something from a fellow. Her greeting confirmed that fact.
"Hello, Frodo, would you like your kiss now, or after the contest?"
After that blatant statement, it was a moment before I could answer, during which time she continued to smile at me, exuding a tremendous amount of charm.
Dumbfounded, I asked, "You know about the contest?"
"Of course." She stated pragmatically, and without waiting for an invitation, she sashayed through the door. Turning round again, she said. "As a matter of fact, I have a bet on you myself." At the surprised raise of my eyebrows, she went on to explain, "Anonymously, via Fatty Bolger. Why should I miss out on the chance to make a little money on the side, as long as you, Fastred, and the rest of the male patrons of The Ivy Bush intend to involve me in this little farce?"
"Bennie, isn’t that a bit unethical?"
"Oh, don’t worry, I intend to be thoroughly objective when it comes to the winning poem. But I just can’t imagine Fastred being the more talented writer."
"You might be surprised." I warned. "Anyway, how did you find out?"
She broke into a delightfully charming grin. "My sweet cousin, did you honestly think that I wouldn’t find out? For that matter, much as I’m loathe to mention it, I would guess that Cousin Mundee is also aware of the competition." At another surprised look on my part, she added, "Ted Sandyman talks, and quite a lot at that."
"So...let’s get back to the matter of that kiss, shall we?" She suggested, taking a step in my direction.
"Wait a minute, aren’t you even curious about the poem?" I asked.
"Not really."
"You mean you don’t even want to see it?" I found that slightly puzzling.
"May I?" She asked, although the question seemed more out of politeness that genuine interest.
"Umm...no...it’s not finished." And, at the rate things were going I was beginning to have serious doubts about ever completing the task. "Actually, I’d better get to work straight away, or you may not win your money back."
During this discourse I became suddenly aware of the fact that Bennie had positioned herself nearer to me. Close enough that I could smell the subtle fragrance of her lilac perfume.
"Oh, forget about the bet, for now.... About that kiss... how would you like it? Short and sweet, or long and luscious?" She said slowly as if savoring every word. Then, she hooked her fingers playfully around my *braces. "Or shall I choose for you?" Without giving me a chance to answer, she forged ahead. " I know! Let’s try both ways!"
"Bennie..." That was the only word I managed to get out of my mouth.
With astonishing swiftness, her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips locked onto mine. She tasted tantalisingly sweet, like a delicious sugarplum, and I found that I didn’t want to take my lips off hers. It was she, however who stopped first, but only long enough to apply her lips to another spot, this time, my ear. After nibbling on that for several excruciatingly pleasurable seconds, she moved on to my neck. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the enjoyment of the experience. Actually, enjoyment is not the proper word. I was relatively transported to a state of delirious bliss. It was only when I became vaguely aware that she was toying with the buttons on my shirt that a shred of rationality began to creep
back into my brain.
I opened my eyes to see that not only had she been at work on my attire, but she had somehow deftly managed to loosen the bodice of her blouse so that it hung enticingly off her fair shoulders, along with the straps of the delicate lace camisole underneath, making that hidden by the woven, blue cloth a little more accessible. I briefly relived that day long ago in the wisteria arbor, and a part of me longed to finish what she had started. It would only have meant undoing a few more buttons and then...but fortunately an expeditious voice in my head reminded me of propriety.
"Bennie." I tried to sound authoritative, as I pushed her gently away. "This isn’t proper. I can’t let you put yourself in such a compromising position. You and I both know that. Besides, I believe we’ve had a similar conversation before."
"That’s very sweet of you, Frodo, but as I believe I have told you in said ‘similar conversation,’ you needn’t take it upon yourself to worry about my honour." She quipped with a saucy smile.
"I suppose someone has to, seeing as you’re not."
She merely laughed at that. "Don’t scold, Frodo. It doesn’t suit you."
I fiddled with the buttons on my shirt, which for some reason refused to cooperate with my attempts to redo them. "I’m only thinking of the conclusions people might jump to, if anyone saw you... like that." I hastily indicated her bared shoulders, trying desperately to keep my eyes from roaming over the creamy flesh exposed there and my mind from drifting
to and lingering on inappropriate thoughts.
"Is it likely that anyone would see us? Do visitors often walk into your home, unannounced?"
"Well...no...," I answered slowly. But, I might have reminded her of a day not too long ago, when her father, Bodo, had blundered into Bag End unannounced and nearly gotten an eyeful of Bennie and me kissing. Bennie herself was not above calling without an invitation or a chaperone, something not commonly done by young, hobbit maidens. However, Bennie was used to doing things her own way and although unattached, she was considered "of age," which seemed to make her actions acceptable, at least to her way of thinking.
In a second she had closed the gap between us again and I felt a slight pressure as she rested her hand lightly on my chest. The warmth of her touch felt through the linen cloth of my shirt caused a thrill of pleasure to race through my being.
"Perhaps it would be better if we took ourselves out of your entryway, and to another room... preferably one without windows...," she suggested, and though her voice held a playful note, those blue eyes leveled at my own bespoke of utter seriousness.
My mouth went completely dry. But at last I managed to work up enough moisture to summon up a vain effort to at least appear the epitome of the proper gentlehobbit, "Perhaps it would be best if you... uh... c-covered yourself."
Bennie laughed again. "You make it sound as if I’m bare naked."
"Bennie!"
"Since when did you become a prude, Frodo?" she teased. "You weren’t always so."
"I’m not a prude." I replied, feeling slightly offended. "But, must you behave so...so...."
"So....what?" she asked, assuming a guileless attitude.
"So... brazen." I stated bluntly. Immediately, I wished I had chosen another word, for hurt was apparent on my cousin’s lovely face.
"Brazen am I? Well, I’ve always gone after whatever I wanted and I know some folk don’t care for that sort of behavior in a lass. Should I play the part of other some other girls, all purity, humbleness and generosity and come across a naive, little fool, while life passes me by?"
Though she mentioned no name in particular, I had a feeling that she was referring to her foster sister, Mundee.
"Bennie, I didn’t mean to...I meant..." I faltered.
"Frodo, I thought you liked me that way...’brazen’..." an impish smile began to form at the corners of her mouth, "...at least you always seemed to when we were tweens. I do have good qualities, too, you know."
"Yes...yes, you do." I agreed. "Quite a few."
She dimpled at me. " Tell me..."
"You want me to list them?" I asked in surprise.
"Oh no, but I do want to know if you think I’m pretty."
"Bennie, you know you’re pretty."
This elicited another merry laugh on her part. "Yes," She admitted readily. "But, do you find me pretty?"
"Yes, I think you’re extremely pretty." She sighed, then pressing her body against mine, she laid her head against my chest and I breathed in the sweet perfume of her dark, silken curls. Only a fool would have thought she would be content to let things go at that. So, I suppose that makes me a fool.
It wasn’t long before her fingers once more sought out the buttons on my shirt. I caught hold of her hands, rather belatedly I fear, for she had accomplished the act of unfastening a few more buttons. I held her delicate hands firmly in an attempt to keep those prying, dextrous fingers at bay. However, there was no way to imprison her lips, which she then employed freely to great advantage. The pleasure I had experienced moments ago upon our initial kiss was revisited full force.
This time I wasn’t thinking about propriety or anything along those lines. I just wanted to savor the sweetness of her honeyed kiss. If she was so willing to give such favors so freely, why shouldn’t I accept them, gratefully.
That inner voice, which had interfered in such a timely fashion before, began whispering to me again. "Frodo Baggins, have you left off your senses along with any shame you might have? How dare you take advantage of Bennie in this way!" In addition to conscience, I was assaulted by a deluge of other
emotions, most prominent of which was desire. And, at that moment desire was winning. I forced that nagging voice out of my mind as I let my lips travel down the curve of her neck to one of those smooth, silky shoulders...
(*For the benefit of American readers who might not be aware, braces are suspenders.)
Those tweenage longings felt so keenly in the past, hit me at that moment with a force that nearly left me breathless. But strangely enough, it was almost as if it was someone else sliding Bennie’s blouse lower on her shoulders to take pleasure in her soft, scented skin. After all this time, all the years of having known Bennie, some part of me couldn’t believe what
was possibly about to happen...
Then quite unexpectedly, she twisted away from me. For a moment I was left confused, and once again I felt like that tweenage boy of days gone by, wondering if I had done something to put a damper on the moment. But then Bennie smiled, and taking me by the hand, she began leading me away from the entrance hall. However, she only took a few steps before she stopped and putting her hands to my face so that she could bring it closer to hers, she pressed her lips to mine again. This happened a couple of times, and I found
myself fascinated with her little game.
Time and time again, I would bring her close to kiss and she would just barely let me do so before she moved on. During our playful journey down the hall, we must have brushed too close to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, for it fell with a clatter. As I stopped to pick up the painting, I became aware of a draft in the hall and noticed that Bennie had freed my shirt from my trousers and deftly managed to undo half
of the buttons.
I looked up just in time to catch her pouting, at which point she began a new ploy to keep my attention. The ribbon that was supposed to keep her blouse modestly gathered was now being slowly pulled out of its casing. As that last inch came free, she playfully flicked the ribbon at me, making sure that her blouse fell even lower on her shoulders as she did so.
"Frodo," she cooed, her eyes dancing. "I'm having a wee bit of trouble...," her hands were now behind her on the fastenings of her bodice. "... would you... help me...?"
I’m sure I broke into what must have been an inane grin. Without a second thought, I immediately let the painting drop to the floor. As I rushed, all too eagerly to help her, her arms went around my neck, her lips showering me with kisses even as my arms encircled her tiny waist, my hands trying desperately to find that confounded lacing and unknot it. How I wanted to free her from that frock! I surprised myself by attacking the laces with determination, as my lips sought out hers, all the while, frantically trying to get my bearings. As it happened, the library door was just inches from us. I lifted Bennie just a bit, and much to my surprise she wrapped her legs around my waist as if she had anticipated my moves, never once taking her mouth from mine.
I succeeded in steering us into the aforementioned library. Since my mind was bent on working on those laces --which by this time were finally coming undone-- as well as seeing how far we might explore the boundaries of our relationship, I positioned us in the general direction of the settee, located near the center of the room.
Something warm and wet, and utterly delightful snaked its way into my ear and I realised it was Bennie’s tongue, which spurred me to move a little more quickly to a resting place. Piles of books that Bilbo had left, and I had never removed,
were scattered here and there on the floor and knocked over as I tried not to trip over them. Curios from Bilbo's adventures tipped and fell over as I bumped into the display case and then, one of the side tables.
That's when my left foot found the carved leg of the settee. I hurriedly set Bennie down as one emotion was replaced by another. Passion was momentarily exchanged for pain as I stepped back to wiggle my toes in an attempt to ascertain whether they were broken or not. In that instant, Bennie, never one to let an opportunity escape, reached up and grabbed my unbuttoned shirt and pulled me to her with such force that next thing we knew, the settee had tipped backwards, spilling us to the floor! I found myself splayed atop my lovely cousin.
"Goodness, Frodo!" She said, breathlessly in a flirtatious voice. "I knew you would be eager, but I never guessed just how much so!"
I don’t know if the pain in my toe or the fall to the floor brought my senses back. But that scolding inner voice that resided somewhere in the depths of my conscience was slowly reawakening. "Perhaps, you’d best stop and take stock of the situation...," it said.
Scruples slowly began to overcome desire and I grudgingly pushed myself to a sitting position however, a part of me was still curious as to how far I --I mean, she-- might be willing to go. Seeing Bennie lying there.. ravishingly lovely, her bodice
abandoned, her blouse open and reveling the scanty, lace-trimmed camisole beneath, she was too tantalising to ignore and I gave in to one last kiss. Well... I tried to make it one last kiss... but she was just as intent that it should not be the last. I could feel her soft hands within my open shirt, caressing my skin in an attempt to keep me with her.
"Frodo, my lad," My conscience, interrupted again. "You don't want to keep her in this position."
Actually, my other senses did, both literally and figuratively. Her kisses were sweeter than honey, and as heady as any wine I had ever had the pleasure of sampling.
Bennie must have sensed that my emotions were at war, for she redoubled her efforts with a vigor that was astonishing. She wrapped her arms about my neck and proceeded to explore the depths of my mouth and beyond with her tongue. I wondered, but only fleetingly, for I was much too overwhelmed to give way to much reflection, just where she might have acquired such skills. I found myself weakening again, and pulled her close to me, allowing my hands to explore the delicate curves of her body....
My eyes opened suddenly as I thought I heard... what?
a rap upon the door? I waited a second or two, reluctant to believe my ears. No. Must have been my imagination.
Although I told myself that it was only my imagination, my conscience wouldn't let it be, and was on the alert despite my best effort to squelch it. I found myself vacillating between desire and guilt. I must have been listing more to the guilty side, for when the knocking came again I actually started, for there was no mistaking it this time. Someone was
rapping in earnest!
I left Bennie with a quick directive to cover herself and dashed to the door as I fumbled hastily with the buttons on my shirt, managing to only redo about four of them. I stopped just long enough to take a deep breath before swinging open the door. There, with his arm raised, about to bang on my door again, was Fredegar Bolger, affectionately known as Fatty.
"Hullo, Frodo!" he said amiably.
"H-Hello, Fatty!" I stammered, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. "What..um...brings you here?"
Fatty didn't reply immediately. He was too busy looking me up and down. Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair then tried to tuck my shirt into pants a little better. It was then I noticed that the buttons I had managed to do up didn’t quite match the corresponding button holes. Immediately I set about rectifying that problem.
"Is something wrong, Fatty?" I tried to act innocent.
"I was just about to ask the same of you, Frodo," was his reply.
Suddenly, there was the sound of something falling to the floor from somewhere in inside Bag End. Fatty tried to look past me inside the hole.
"What was that?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, still trying to act innocent. "I didn't hear anything."
"That noise. Something fell," he said, still trying to see around me.
"Oh, um, I-I've been doing a bit of rearranging...." was the first plausible explanation that came to mind, and it was partially true, if one counted the overturned settee. Besides, I couldn’t admit straight out that Bennie Baggins was in my library, in a condition that would have been compromising at best. I did have her honour to think of. "...it...um...must have been that stack of books that I was moving about. I was afraid that would happen, but I had to set them down in a hurry to answer the door."
He nodded, seemingly believing my explanation all too easily. Then he grinned. "Well? Are you going to invite me in?"
"In?" I must have looked like a startled deer.
"Well..., yes."
"Now is not a good time, Fatty," I tried to explain in what I thought was a no-nonsense voice.
"Why not?" he asked. "Since when is it ever a bad time at Bag End?"
"Well, today it is."
"Why?" Fatty persisted.
"Because...the hole is a rather untidy at the moment." I hedged. "I can't let you in right now..."
"Oh, come on, Frodo!" he replied, not buying a word I said. "I had a long walk up here, and I'm famished and thirsty. Surely, you wouldn't be refusing me a drink, at least. Since when has Bag End been such a mess that you won't invite your poor, thirsty friend in for a mere sip of ale?"
"What do you really want, Fatty?" I asked rather bluntly. "If it's about my progress on the poetry, it's coming along."
"Actually, that is my reason for seeing you." Fatty admitted slowly. "Are you prepared for tomorrow, then?" His eyes sparkled, showing his anticipation.
"Yes, yes... I'll be ready." I answered a bit shortly.
Fatty leaned over to me. "Mind reciting what you have for me?"
"Yes, I do mind!" I was seriously beginning to lose patience. "What I have written is for the contest. Telling you what I've come up with would be tantamount to having it spread all over Hobbiton before I even arrive at The Ivy Bush tomorrow!"
Fatty placed his hand on his chest as if wounded by my words. "Now, now, Frodo! I can assure you that wouldn't be the case. I was only curious to learn what you’ve come up with, that’s all. Can’t blame a fellow for that, can you, especially when I have quite a few coins riding on your success. But... I know you'll be ready. I was just hoping to hear you say that you’d finished before Fastred."
That name caught my attention and caused me to temporarily forget my present dilemma. "What about Fastred?" I asked warily, fearing the worst.
That’s when Fatty informed me that Fastred was bragging he'd already finished his poem, and had even written several more to choose from when the time came to recite them.
"Really?" I tried to sound calm, but my mind was beginning to race with worry. Here I was, not even close to writing anything, Fastred was claiming he was done, and the deadline was tomorrow. I cleared my throat. "Well, good for him!"
"Yes, good for him...." That look was on Fatty's face again, which brought me back to the problem at hand. Without thinking, I threw a hasty glance toward my door. "Are you certain everything is alright, Frodo? I mean, if you're not finished, we could... postpone the 'recital'... even if it does mean I'd lose my wager...."
"I assure you, everything is fine, but I have no wish to spoil the fun, let alone cost anyone their bet. Look, Fatty, I would like to have you in, but I really do need to finish my poem."
That's when we both heard it. The sound of something being dragged and then set down hard in one of the rooms.
Fatty looked sharply at me, and this time instead of merely trying to see around me, he made a blatant attempt to get past me.
"NO!" I exclaimed adamantly and, again, blocked the doorway. "Fatty," I was nearly begging. "You have to understand. I need to be alone."
I’m sure my actions must have been unusual to Fatty, but I was just as determined he not go in as he was determined to find out what was going on. Nevertheless, as he tried to push his considerable bulk past me, he suddenly froze and sniffed the air. Then he sniffed at me.
It was such unexpected behavior that I paused long enough to raise my forearm and take a sniff, too. Lilac. Bennie’s lilac perfume. It clung to me, implicating me quite thoroughly.
Fatty broke into a jubilant grin. Then suddenly, without a word of warning, he shoved me back against the open door and out of his way. Leaving him free to charge into Bag End and down the hallway.
"Fatty! Come back here!" I called out to no avail, as I struggled to regain my balance. In no time I was following after him. However, plump as he is, Fatty can move very quickly when the notion strikes him.
Before I could stop him, the worst had to happen. Bennie's voice came lilting from the library. "Oh, Frodo, you're back! I was wondering when you would come back to finish what we started...!"
Fatty looked back at me, grinning wickedly before he padded the last few feet to the door of the Library.
"I do hope you sent away whoever it was so we could continue...." Bennie’s voice held sufficiently naughty overtones.
"Actually, no," Fatty said, as he popped his head around the corner of the door just as I caught up with him. "Frodo tried, but I was too quick for him."
There, before us, sat Bennie, poised seductively on the now upright settee. Her blouse was draped around her shoulders, and enough silky leg was exposed to give any lad ideas of where this meeting would end.
Suddenly, there was a scream, and some surprisingly frank and unrefined language issued from Bennie's delicate lips as she leapt off the settee and dived behind it. In a bare second, a book flew at Fatty’s head, followed closely by another one as Bennie flung insults at Fatty as quickly as she threw books.
Why he didn’t turn tail and run as soon as the first projectile whistled dangerously close to his ear, I’m not sure. It might have had something to do with the vision of a very lovely, albeit scantily clad female before his eyes. Something Fredegar Bolger wasn’t used to feasting his sight, as a rule. So, he continued to stare and grin. Fortunately, he was surprisingly adept at dodging the books.
"You ...you ..." Bennie had seemingly depleted her reserve of colourful epithets for Fatty. "Get out of here!" Then she turned on me. "Frodo! Get him out of here!"
I would have done just that, had I not been a little wary of having my own ears clipped by some flying work of text. But at any rate, I decided I’d better intervene before Bennie ran out of Bilbo’s old books and found something else to fling, something breakable or more capable of inflicting damage.
Moving swiftly, I grabbed a handful of Fatty’s jacket and unceremoniously hauled him out of the room. Which was no great feat, as his feet didn’t willingly cooperate, right away. As I lead him down the hall and toward the front door, he began to spout phrases like, "Bennie Baggins! Frodo, ol’ boy! Wait til the other lads hear about this!"
I turned a startled expression on him as I showed him the porch. "No! Fatty! You mustn’t, you can’t say anything about this... anyone! Not even to Folco! Do you understand?"
"Why not?" he asked, surprise registering on his good-natured face.
"Think of what it would do to Bennie’s reputation."
"Frodo...I hate to say this, but any girl that would put herself in that sort of situation deserves to-"
"Fatty!" I cut him off. "No one deserves to have their good name sullied with idle gossip." I refrained from mentioning that I had no desire to smack in the middle of village rumour mill, myself.
"But it’s not ‘sullying’ if it’s true." Fatty insisted.
I merely met his argument with a raised eyebrow. That seemed enough to turn his thinking around, for he heaved a sigh and said, "I suppose you’re right."
With that he departed, promising to keep silent about my guest and the purpose of her visit. And I was left to try and soothe Bennie’s ruffled feathers.
I watched as Fatty's large presence disappeared around the bend of the road, headed into the village. I closed the door, and leaned heavily against it, sighing in utter relief. However, the sound of Bennie's angry voice emanating from the library brought me back to the fact that I still had to deal with her as well. I took a deep breath as I prepared myself to face her ire, then quietly walked back to the library, wincing as I listened to Bennie's continued litany of what she was going to do to Fatty the next time he dared come near her.
"Bennie," I said outside the room, giving her (and me) warning of my presence.
"May I come in?"
"Is Fatty gone?" was her terse reply.
"Yes, he's gone," I answered. "I watched until he was down the Hill and out of sight."
Bennie was pacing in the little bit of the library floor that hadn't had books or vases or other trinkets littered upon it. "Just wait until I get my hands on him!" She turned and strode up to me I had a fleeting feeling that she was going to demonstrate on my person. "How could you, Frodo? How could you let him inside?"
Verbena’s wrath can be formidable at times, but amazingly, I stood my ground. "Do you think I would have willingly let him enter if I could have prevented it? Believe me, Bennie, I did try to stop him!"
She stopped and looked at me with those big, beautiful, fiery blue eyes. I have to admit that she is just as beautiful when she is angry as she is when seductive.
"But, he...he saw...well...something that was meant for your eyes only." Bennie said, with a slight tremor in her voice and it was obvious that she was still quite shaken by the incident.
So, I did what so many other males have done when facing a disgruntled female. I apologised. "Bennie, I’m sorry. Truly, I am."
"Weellll...."
I licked my lips nervously, not sure if I should listen to that annoying, niggling voice that kept warning me of the dangers of remaining in this room with this seductress at this time. It might have been a foolhardy thing to do, but I crossed over to her, closing the distance between us. I don’t know what
made me take her in my arms, before without even thinking, that’s exactly what I did. At my touch I could almost feel the tension slipping from her body and she let me guide her gently to the settee.
I, in turn, found myself not wanting to let go of her, at least, not yet. However, seeing her seated comfortably, I thought perhaps the next order of business should be to offer to fetch her a drink. But as I made to pull away from her she didn’t seem to ready to release my hand and the words died on my
lips.
She looked up at me with that fire fully rekindled and tugged firmly, but gently on my hand. Those creamy shoulders were still revealed in all their soft, silken loveliness, and as she tossed back her sable curls, revealing the exquisite curve of her delicate throat, I felt a sensation as of heat spreading suddenly and swiftly through my body.
"Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?" she asked playfully.
I sank to the settee beside her and she scooted close to me, her fingers working nimbly, once more unfastening the buttons that I had worked so hard to redo. I was lost in the moment, enveloped by warm, sweet-scented skin, savoring her lips and the way her slender body felt pressed against mine. Needless to say, it wasn't too long before we were back in the throes of passion, making up for lost time, it would seem.
But fate was about to intervene once more, in the form of another knock at the door.
Bennie was the first to pull away, obviously unhappy about the interruption. However, upon seeing my reluctance to answer the door, she pulled me closer, and between kisses, whispered, "Don't answer the door."
In truth, part of me was throughly hoping that whoever it was would just leave a note and go home. I was fairly intent on kissing and caressing some more, but the knocking persisted. An unbidden thought occurred. What if this visitor happened to be Bennie’s father, Bodo? I don’t know why that thought hadn’t entered my head at the first intrusion. But for whatever reason, it leapt foremost into my mind at this particular moment.
"Umm...Bennie..."I whispered, breaking off in the middle of a kiss. "Where is your father?"
"Hmmm? Oh...don’t worry he and mother are both at home, in Woodhall." She replied, then proceeded to nibble on my ear.
Then, that little voice in my head started talking again. "What if it's Fatty again or Folco, or Sam or even Mundee? What if she should walk in to check on you?" Unpleasant visions of a catfight between the two girls came to mind.
As if in response to my conscience, the knocking seemed to become louder. This time I pulled away. "I'm sorry, Bennie, but I have to answer the door."
"No, you don't," she whispered huskily, as she tried to wrap her arms around my neck. "Just stay right here with me and..."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Bennie, I have to." I said as I untangled her fingers from my hair. "Before they either break down the door, or shatter the windows!"
Bennie stiffened, then reluctantly propped herself on the end of the settee. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't at all happy.
"All right, answer the door. But don’t let them in!"
I turned to go, but she suddenly caught hold of my hand and pulled me back to her for one more kiss, as if to remind me of what delights would be waiting upon my speedy return. Again, I had to pull myself together in order to greet my newest visitor. This time, I really took an extra second or two to make sure my shirt was buttoned and tucked into my pants.
The visitor was still knocking when I reached the door. I had just about decided it was Fatty back for another round of prying and I began to speak before I actually looked. "Fatty, I already told you I would be ready for... Oh! Mr. Gamgee! Forgive me! I thought you were Fat... um, Fredegar Bolger!"
Hamfast Gamgee stood there silently, as I prattled on about Fatty and the poetry contest and how I thought it was it was Fatty back again to badger me into letting him hear my poem. It took me a moment to realize that I was running off at the mouth and another moment before the Gaffer finally spoke.
"Oi was only comin' by ter thank ye fer 'elpin' my Samwise wi' th' gran'kids." That said, he hoisted up a basket full of early vegetables, as well as a jug of what could only be some of his home brewed ale.
He must have done a fair amount of sampling the brew before he’d bottled it, judging by the slight slur in his voice as he handed the basket to me. "Oi know my Samwise kin fix them veg'tables up in no time fer yer dinner tomorrow. An' let me tell you that this be th' best batch of brew Oi've made in a long while! 'ere! Le' me pour ye some!"
He made as if to come inside and I knew from past experience, that he was intent on grabbing the two biggest mugs I owned, and joining me in a toast to nearly everything one could think of to toast--and then some.
"N-No!" I shouted, louder than I should have, and found myself, once again, blocking the way into my hole. "I would love to have you come in, Sir, but I have to finish writing my poem, and memorize it as well, before I turn in for the night."
"Nah, Oi won't bother ye long, Frodo Lad," he said as he proceeded to enter despite my best efforts. "Oi merely want yer opinion on th' quality of my home brew!"
That's when we both heard it.
Bennie must have decided that I was taking too long in disposing of my guest, for she let go another of her colourful expressions, which was followed by the thud of a book (heavy from the sound of it) slamming against the library wall.
The Gaffer stopped and listened, then looked at me. "Why didn't ye say ye were entertainin'?" He smiled and shook my hand. "Oi'll leave ye be, Mister Frodo. Take care an' let me know what ye... and yor impatient lady friend... think o' my brew, as soon as ye get a chance. That is, if ye get a chance, seein’ as yer a might busy..."
He winked, then went on his way, whistling a merry tune, and doing his best to stay upright while walking down the slope to his hole.
I shook my head and turned to head back to the library, but I didn't get far. Bennie came stomping out of the room, her bodice once more intact. Make that fairly intact. She fumbled irritably with the ribbon she was trying to thread back into the casing of her blouse.
"Bennie, what are you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Home!" she hissed.
"But... but... the Gaffer left!"
"As if that's going to keep any other hobbit in the Shire from knocking on your door again?" She replied in a voice full of exasperation.
"Well...I doubt that-"
"Look," she cut me off as she finally succeeded in getting the ribbon in and tied (albeit, haphazardly). "Tonight just isn’t working..." She sighed, and added, "besides, you do need to finish your poem. Heaven forbid that I should have to kiss Fastred. I’d never hear the end of it!" she finished with an attempt to make light of the situation. At least her anger had
dissipated. But that’s the way with Bennie. Her emotions are ever changeable.
As for me, I was filled with a disappointment of my own. Ironic, since I had spent a good portion of her visit vacillating between desire and guilt. Now, I wanted nothing more than to hold her captive for the evening, but she was right. So, there was nothing left to do but see her to the door.
Just before she exited, she turned and said. "I’ll come back on a night when you’re in less demand..."
Then, she brushed her lips against my cheek, letting them linger for one long, pleasing moment before she slipped into the gathering twilight. And... it was back to the writing desk for me as the hours slipped quickly away...
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