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

I answered my door, earlier this evening to find a flustered looking Daffodil Underfoot standing on my doorstep. I must admit I was rather surprised, it was not often that this particular cousin came calling on me. In fact the last time she did had been to try and convince me to sit for a portrait. You see, my cousin happened to be an avid and talented artist. As it turned out, she also happened to be fairly talented in the art of persuasion, for although I had at first been reluctant to pose for her, I had at last relented and let her paint my portrait. Much to my pleasure it had turned out quite well. Daffodil had requested that I let her hang the portrait in her studio gallery for a time and I had agreed. She had informed me that I might have it back any time I wanted, but I couldn’t decide in what room in Bag End I wanted to hang it, and quite frankly, I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the thought of having such a large portrait of myself on display. It made me feel just a bit narcissistic. So, all this time it had remained in Daffodils care and eventually the portrait had slipped thankfully from my mind. That is, until my cousin turned up and rather breathlessly and embarrassedly announced that it had gone missing.

"What do you mean, ‘gone missing’?" I asked.

"Just what I said." Daffodil replied. "Chesman and I have looked all over the studio for it."

I was beginning to wonder with amusement , just how someone could lose something so large. "Well I shouldn’t worry too much, I’m sure it will turn up-"

"No, no! Frodo, you completely misunderstand." Daffodil interrupted. "We didn’t misplace it, it was taken!"

"You mean...stolen?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The portrait has been hanging in the exact same spot all this time. The only time either my husband or myself has touched the portrait has been to dust it. It was there this morning, but right after lunch, I noticed it was gone. I asked Chesman if he might have moved it, and he said no. I know I didn’t move it. And nothing else was taken."

"But ...stolen..." Somehow I just found it hard to believe. Why anyone would want to steal a portrait of me was beyond my comprehension.

Daffodil sighed, "I"m afraid so...I’m so sorry, Frodo."

I nodded. "So am I. It worries me to think that thieves have been visiting your shop."

"Well, it’s not as if someone broke in, it had to have been one of the shop patrons."

"Did you have many people in, looking around today?" I questioned.

"A few." Daffodil chewed n her lower lip a minute, thinking. "But the people who came calling were not the sort who would take something without asking, without paying It had to have been someone who came in when I wasn’t aware. Although, how in the Shire they slipped out unseen carrying a large portrait, frame and all is beyond me!"

I, too, was at a loss as to how someone might accomplish such a feat. While certainly not impossible, it would have been difficult at best, especially under the watchful eyes and sharp ears of my cousin, Daffodil. All I could do was promise her that if I saw or heard of anything suspicious I would alert her right away. I offered her a cup of tea, which she politely decline, but promised to accept on some other, happier occasion.

I closed the door and retreated to the study still pondering the mystery of the missing portrait, but it wasn’t long before my mind turned to other matters. Sam had left some papers with me. He was still compiling notes for his garden compendium and he had eagerly adopted me as his editor in chief. I didn’t mind, I was rather enjoying the project and I also happened to be learning a little about gardening in the bargain. (Though, had I known earlier of his talent for writing poetry, I might have encouraged him to forget the gardening book and compile a collection of his poems, instead.)

I was just settling in for a quiet night of perusing notes, when I was interrupted by more company. This time in the form of my two younger cousins, Merry and Pippin. Their normal high-spirits, seemed if possible, more unbridled than ususal as they wheedled me into a visit to the Green Dragon. Giving in, I sighed and gathered Sam’s notes into a pile, they would still be waiting when I got home.

Along the way, I made the amazing discovery that Merry and Pippin also knew of the missing portrait.

"But, I thought you two only just got here. How did you know about it?" I asked.

"Oh...it’s the talk of the village. We heard about it practically the minute we set foot in town." Merry stated nonchalantly.

"That’s right." Pippin confirmed. "Ted Sandyman waved us down. He couldn’t wait to give us the news."

"That figures." I muttered.

Ted was also already present at the Green Dragon when we arrived. Which meant that most everyone there was aware of the theft, if they hadn’t hear already. You couldn’t really blame people for gossiping and speculating. Things like this hardly ever happened in Hobbiton, or anywhere in the Shire for that matter. Thievery was not commonplace. However, practical jokes were not unheard of and there was some speculation gong round the tavern that this might just be somebody’s idea of a joke.

"Or maybe...revenge..." Ted suggested.

"Revenge? For what?" Someone asked.

"Well...you know...Fastred Brandybuck weren’t none too happy about the result of the poetry contest..." Ted replied.

"True. But Frodo didn’t really have anything to do with that. Fastred did himself him by cheatin’. He shouldn’t hold that against Frodo."

"Just a thought." Ted said with a puff on his pipe.

I thought for a minute about what Sandyman was suggesting and a sudden image leapt to mind, of Fastred, surreptitiously making off with my portrait and gleefully defacing it. I shook my head to rid myself of the vision, then mentally chastised myself for giving credence to Ted’s theory.

It was at that moment, Fatty Bolger barreled into the tavern, and between gasps for breath, loudly announced, "Have you heard? They just found Frodo’s portrait! Hanging on the Widow Rumble’s porch!"

*******



Merry and Pippin had returned later that evening, full of chatter and speculation.

"By the way," I asked, "where did the two of you disappear to during all the excitement? I looked for you in the crowd, but I didn’t see either of you."

"Oh ...well...you know...it was a big crowd." Was their explanation.

By breakfast the next morning, my cousins had disappeared once again. I assumed that they had already eaten so I didn’t give that too much thought. Nor did I dwell much on the mysterious happenings of the night before, for my attention was taken by another, smaller mystery. While gathering my eating utensils, it came to me that my silverware seemed in short supply. I might not have noticed, except for the fact that I couldn’t find the spoon I preferred to use. Further investigation revealed that the matching knife was also missing. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t eat my porridge with another spoon, but the fact was, other utensils were missing, as well. It was quite perplexing. I remembered Bilbo’s conviction that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had acquired a good many of his silver spoons while he was away on his former journey. But as far as I knew Lobelia hadn’t had occasion to come near any of my spoons in quite some time. In the end, hunger made me abandon my search and I soon tucked the worry away to deal with at a later time and sat down to enjoy my breakfast before it got cold.

"Mr. Frodo."

I looked up from my porridge to see Sam standing there. The look on his face told me something was amiss.

"You need to come outside, sor. There’s somethin’ you should see."

I set aside my bowl, rose and followed him outside without a word, despite being more than a little curious as to my gardener’s rather cryptic behaviour. My curiosity grew as we approached the Party Tree.

"Sam, what is going-" before I even finished my thought, I saw it. A familiar face stared down at me from where it hung on a branch. The missing painting swayed almost imperceptibly as the branch creaked in the gentle breeze.

"What in the...How?" I stammered.

"Those were my thoughts exactly, Mr. Frodo."

As I stared in wonder at the portrait, I became aware of a clinking, clanking noise, along with an occasional, almost blinding light as something flashed under the portrait as it rocked in the breeze. I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher what was attached to it.

"What’s causing that light and noise?"

"Oh that." Sam replied. " Oi couldn’t figure it out either, at first, but if ya move just a little to the side," at this, he caught hold of my shirt sleeve and pulled me a few feet to one side, "ya kin see it."

And, I could indeed. Someone had tied tableware to the painting’s frame. Silver spoons clinked merrily against each other along with a lone tin cup. Every now and then, the sunlight streaming through the branches would find the polished silver and set it ablaze, sending forth shafts of light as bright as the gleam of jewels. I marveled at the engineering of this feat. Someone, or more likely, more than one person, had taken a lot of trouble to remove the portrait from the Widow Rumble’s porch where they had stowed it, after first lifting it from Daffodil’s gallery. Then, they had gone to exceeding lengths to get the painting up into the branches of the Party Tree, which would have required a ladder or a skillful climber. ( It was this part, in particular, that made me doubt the ingenuity and agility of only one person.) After which, they had affixed the silverware, my silverware, more than likely. And how they had acquired those articles, left me baffled, and not a little uneasy.

"They wanted us to find it." I reflected aloud.

Sam snorted. "O’ course they did. Otherwise they wouldn’t have gone t’ so much trouble. If you ask me, someone’s ‘avin’ a great laugh about all this."

"Well at the risk of ruining their fun, we have to get the portrait down."

Sam nodded and looked uneasily up into the branches where the portrait rocked to and fro at every stir of the breeze.

"We need a ladder." I stated.

"Do you ‘ave one?" Asked Sam.

"You know ...I don’t rightly know." I answered with a small laugh.

"Come t’ of it, Oi don’t believe Oi’ remember seein’ a ladder on the property."

"I suppose we shall have to borrow one, then."

Sam shook his head. "Don’t worry, I know we ‘ave one at ‘ome. Oi’ don’t mind t’ go and fetch it... but maybe you’d best wait here, Mr. Frodo. It wouldn’t do to ‘ave that paintin’ disappear again."

I nodded in agreement and Sam trotted off on his mission while I stood guard over the portrait. After some moments of just standing and staring up into the branches I got bored, not to mention I was beginning to get a crick in my neck. The flash of sunlight reflected off of the swinging silverware was beginning to make my eyes water, too. Added to all of this was the fact that I was beginning to feel rather a ninny. It wasn’t as if the painting was going to disappear before my very eyes. At last, I sat down with my back against the trunk of the Party Tree and commenced to wait in a more comfortable fashion.

However, it seemed as if the minutes were stretching endlessly on and still Sam had not returned. I wondered if he had perhaps been mistaken in thinking that he had a ladder at home and had gone looking to borrow one after all. While I waited, I tried to remember if I had ever seen a ladder anywhere, at anytime, about the premises of Bag End. I even tried picturing the interior of the tool shed and all of its resident implements. But I could have counted on one hand the number of times I had visited the building, and when I had, I had scarcely paid attention to its inventory.

I rested against the tree, thinking and listening to the clinking of the cutlery and the occasional birdsong. My eyes sought out any sign of movement in front of me, but the only thing stirring in the immediate vicinity was the grass waving in the wind. There was no sign of Sam returning, nor was there any implication of someone trying to sneak back to steal the portrait.

After reaching the conclusion that Sam had definitely hit a snag in the ladder hunt, I sighed and stood up. Brushing off my trousers, I looked all around once more. Satisfied, I made the decision to risk a trip to the tool shed on the off chance that there might be a ladder there.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind nagged that leaving the portrait unattended might not be such a wise idea. A little later, as I was picking myself up off the floor of the gloomy toolshed after having tripped over a rusty bucket, I was, indeed, inclined to rethink my initial decision.

I emerged from the shed bedecked in cobwebs and ladderless, just in time to see that Sam had returned, equipped with a ladder, and, the Gaffer.

"Mr. Frodo!" He called as he hurried to meet me. "What ‘appened?"

Thinking that Sam was referring to my dusty trousers and the cobwebs in my hair, I replied, "Oh...nothing, really. I thought perhaps you had run into trouble finding the ladder, so I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to double check the tool shed. I tripped over a bucket and-"

But Sam was shaking his head. "No, Oi meant what ‘appened to the paintin’?"

I froze in the midst of dusting myself off. There was a note of trepidation in my voice as I replied slowly, "What... do you... mean?"

"Our ladder was on loan to Daddy Twofoot and we’ad to borrow it back, so t’ speak. That’s what took so long." Sam began to explain.

The Gaffer interrupted with a chuckle. " ‘Ad a ‘ard time convincin’ ‘im to let us ‘ave it, we did."

"By the time we got back ‘ere, there was no sign of you, or the portrait anywhere near the Party Tree!" Sam finished.

.....What could I do but stand chastised and hope that the portrait would make another appearance.

*****

Pippin and Merry turned up again around lunchtime. I filled them in on what had transpired in their absence and they listened in eager interest. It was hard to tell whether they were more astounded at the latest turn of events or regretful that they had missed out on the so-called "fun," as Pippin put it. The twinkle in his eyes was enough to raise my suspicions, momentarily. At the very least, their sudden and many comings and goings were enough to give one pause. I was sorely tempted to question them, however, for the time being I chose to ignore my suspicions and let the matter be.

It was just as well, for they insisted that we head down to
the Green Dragon for an early round of ale.

"Pip's treat!" Merry said. Pip nodded in agreement until he realized what it was Merry had said.

"What d' ye mean, my treat? I though' you were buyin' the first round."

"Come on, Pip!" Merry said slapping the younger cousin on the back. "You are merely buyin' the first round, is all. What say, Frodo? Up for a drink or two?"

"Well..." I replied with a grin, "if Pip is buying, I suppose I shall join you!"

The Green Dragon was busier than usual for this early in the day. It seemed that a lot of people were there to hear, much to my dismay, what they assumed was the last sighting of my portrait. Apparently, somewhere in between its exhibition at the Widow Rumble’s and its appearance among the branches of the Party Tree, it had paused in its travels for a brief showing, right here, at the Green Dragon.

"That's right," the Inn keeper, Milo Grubb explained, as he sat down three ales on the table for us. "Halfast Banks from Starfield was the last patron to leave," he stated. "Why, I no sooner closed the door and turned out the lights, then he was back bangin' on the door and sayin' there was someone peeking at him from the bushes."

"Tell us," Merry said eagerly, "what happened next?"

The barkeep nodded and continued. The entire room hushed as if trying to glean every single last word he might offer.
"Why, at first I thought he'd had too many mugs, an' I went with him just t' prove there weren't anybody out there. That's when I saw it... Mister Frodo's face smiling at me... just as if he were waitin’ for me to welcome him!"

Pippin looked at me innocently. "What were you doin' there, Frodo? I would have thought you’d be home in bed!"

Merry thumped him on the arm. "Not ‘our Frodo,’ you ninny! I think ‘e’s talkin’ about the paintin’."

Milo crossed his arms and continued with his narraitive. "Anyway, I pulled it out of the bushes an' brought it inside. I intended to keep it safe until morning so's I could return it personally to Mister Frodo...or to Miss Daffodil. But...." That's when the face fell. "When I awoke this mornin', the paintin' was gone again!"

"Gone? Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Merry said, a look of concern on his face.

"Why didn't you lock it up?" Ted Sandyman asked. "What with it goin' missing just as soon as it's found agin?"

Mr. Grubb was insulted and got quite huffy. "I took it upstairs with me to my livin' quarters. I never figured anybody would dare enter my rooms and nick it again."

I sat there, listening to all of this, trying to decide if I should relate my experience with the painting this morning and its consequential disappearance from the Party tree. I really didn't want to add to the mystery of the entire incident, nor did I wish to be an object of derision for having failed to secure my own painting. Why, it might even look as if I might have been involved with the disappearance....!

"I wonder where it is now, by chance?" Pippin mused aloud.
The crowd murmured again, speculations flying around the room as to who was behind this game of cat and mouse.

"I can tell you where it's not," the Gaffer's voice spoke up. He entered the tavern with Samwise.

"What d'ye mean, where it's not?" someone asked.

"Why, it's not in the Party tree," he said matter of factly."

"The Party tree?"

The Gaffer gave me a puzzled look. "Ye didn’t tell ‘em, Mr. Frodo?"

"Well...I ...uh...I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I was still getting over the shock of the protrait turning up here first."

"Go on." Sandyman urged, while bestowing a suspicious glance upon me.
"My Samwise came home lookin' for a ladder. 'e said something 'bout a picture hangin' from the Party tree." the Gaffer continued. "Sam here say's he found it hangin' in th' Party Tree, an' needed a ladder t' get it down."

"Is that a fact, Sam?" Ted asked, leaning over.

Sam's face reddened and he nodded as he stole a look my way before answering. "It was there in th' Party Tree, alright," he admitted. "Oi went lookin' fer a ladder, an' when the Gaffer found it an' got back t' th' tree, it were gone! Silverware, tin cup an' all!"

Then, he added in an aside to me, "Oi'm sorry, Sor. Oi wasn't gonner mention it. Oi didn't think you'd be wantin' it known that the prank was pulled on you, too."

"That's alright, Sam," I assured him. "It was bound to come out sooner or later."

Then the question I dreaded came forth.

"Where was Mister Baggins during all of this?" Holman Burrows, the local dairyman, asked. "An' why wouldn't you want anyone to know about the paintin' unless you had somethin' t' do with it...?"

Sam glared at the dairy farmer. "e din't know 'bout it 'till Oi came by to tell 'im Oi'd seen it!"

"But that doesn't answer where Frodo was while you went to fetch the ladder," Ted Sandyman spoke up.

"In the first place, why would I steal my own portrait?" I asked, in a perplexed voice. "I stayed there as long as I could, then figured that Sam was having trouble finding a ladder and that maybe I could find one in the old workshed. I couldn't have been gone for more than...perhaps fifteen minutes!"

Ted Sandyman wasn't the least bit impressed. Another murmur rippled through the crowd, and for a moment I thought perhaps they were concurring with him that I had something to do with the comings and goings of my own portrait.

Holman spoke up on my behalf. "Quiet down! Quiet down! Now, I for one believe Mr. Baggins. He doesn't seem to be the kind to draw attention to himself like this."

That's when another voice spoke up from behind me. "I agree with Holman, whatever the reason."

I am certain I was surprised at this, for the voice belonged to Fastred Brandybuck. I turned to look my adversary in the eye. He wasn't smiling, but he acknowledged my shock. "It seems that Frodo's ‘face’ has shown up again."

"What?" "Where?" "Who has it now?" Questions were spilling out faster than anyone could possibly answer.

Fastred waved a hand to silence the group. "I, for one, have just seen it...hanging in Bennie Baggins's stable."

You're pulling our legs," Merry said.

"I kid you not, my friends," Fastred stated. "I happened to be walking past Miss Baggins' estate when she, herself, flagged me down to come help her."

"I wonder how you were so conveniently walking past Bennie's place." I murmured to myself.

"What'd you say, Frodo?" Pippin asked.

"Oh, nothing, Pip," I replied . "Just thinking out loud, is all."

"Well, let's go fetch it back!" someone in the crowd suggested.

"Don't you care to hear where it was hung?" Fastred asked, a mischievious look in his eyes. He was definitely enjoying the attention.

"Well, it seems that you plan to tell us no matter what," Merry said, looking down at his fingernails. "So tell us, Fastred, where did you find it?"

"Well, as I said, I was walking past Miss Baggin's estate when she waved me down to come help her. Naturally, I thought she needed a hand with one of her many ponies. But she insisted it was much more urgent than that. Imagine!" He gave a little laugh, then continued. "As we entered the stable, I saw that all the stalls but one was empty. She'd already turned them out to pasture. Except the last one."

I was trying to visualize the stable in my mind. That's when I realized which stall he was referring to: Naur's. Difficult at the best of times, and downright nasty at the worst, but he was Bennie’s prized stallion.

"Well, let's get goin'! Let's fetch that paintin' 'ome!" declared the Gaffer.

"Wait a minute!" I stood up and shouted. "If that painting is hanging where I think it's hanging, we won't want a huge crowd there. The heavens above only knows what her stallion can do if he's spooked by so many people rushing in on him!"

It took a few moments to convince the curious tavern patrons to see my point, but at last it was decided that I, Sam, the Gaffer, and Fastred would go.

"Well, seein' as you don't need our company," Merry said, "I think Pip and I will head back to Bag End... that is, wi' your permission, Frodo?"

I nodded absently, waving them on we prepared to go to Bennies and dealt with the disappointed crowd. Soon, we were off. As we headed towards Fanciful Farm, Bennie’s Pony breeding establishment, a low rumble caused me to look skyward. Dark clouds had gathered swiftly in the late afternoon sky, threatening rain. I quickened my pace, as did the others. Fastred took the lead, looking and acting, (in my opinion) as if he’d played an indispensable part in the finding of the painting.

"I can’t tell you just how upset Bennie was to have found that painting hanging over her pony’s stall." He was saying. "Why, as she put it, if it had fallen it could have seriously hurt that stallion of hers." He then leaned towards me. "I’m rather surprised that the prankster behind this isn’t feeling a breeze through his britches or possibly missing a couple of fingers. When Bennie first acquired him from the Elves, that little demon nearly nailed me a couple of times with his hooves. And just a bit ago, when I entered his stall, he almost took off one of my fingers!"

Sam interrupted, incredulous, "Oi still can’t believe that someone actually managed to hang that paintin’ over that wild ‘orse o’ miss Bennie’s!"

"That’s not all," Fastred continued, "Just wait till you see how it was hung. Took a lot of guts to do what they did."

"Or a lot of stupidity!" Sam muttered under his breath.

Sam’s Gaffer spoke up. "Strikes me as odd ‘ow that portrait keeps turnin’ up everywhere. Seems loike ‘e wants to see just how many places ‘e can nip the paintin’ to before ‘e gets caught."

Or, perhaps he, or they, figured us all for fools and assumed they wouldn’t be caught at all. I thought to myself as we continued up Willow Springs Lane to our destination.

"Well here we are! Fastred announced. (As if none of us had ever set foot on Bennie’s property before and had no idea where we were.) Then as we neared the stable he called out, self-importantly, "Bennie! I’ve brought help as promised."

"Well, it’s about time!" Bennie’s voice could be heard from inside the building. "It took you long enough!"

She came striding out of the barn, looking as if she would lambast poor Fastred for being a sluggard. Then quite suddenly, her tone changed. Her hands went instinctively to her head as she did her best to pull straw out of her dark curls. (Or at least what could be seen of her hair beneath her battered work hat.)

"Frodo! I wasn’t expecting you to be here!" She took me by the arm, pouting prettily, and led us to the stable.
"I was setting the ponies out to pasture and really didn’t notice it until I got to this end of the stable." Bennie went on to explain. It was obvious she was irrate, yet there was a tinge of worry in her voice. "I got all the other ponies outside but I haven’t been able to get Naur to cooperate."

"As if that’s unusual..." Fastred remarked rather sarcastically.

Bennie was shaking her head, concern showing openly on her pretty features. " No, this is different. While it’s true that ponies and horses can be easily spooked by unfamiliar objects, this doesn’t seem to be the case...No, this is different...somehow..." she said again. "Something is definitely not right with Naur."

One by one, we followed her down the barn aisle and as we neared Naur’s stall, she said, "Just look!" and pointed up, although she didn’t have to, you’d have had to be blind to have missed the portrait.

"‘Ow the blazes...?" Sam’s words trailed off in amazement.

My portrait stared down at us, hanging just high enough from the overhead bean as to be out of reach. But that wasn’t all. A bridle was draped on it artistically, with the reins tied rather prettily in a bow, and a pair of leather riding gloves were placed just ‘so’, looking as if my image was wearing them as a pair of ear muffs. And, just as Bennie had said, Naur was still in his stall, but oddly enough, he wasn’t making quite the ruckus I expected. There was none of the familiar snorting and pawing. And, although the stallion usually greeted people with both ears pinned back, today, only one ear was pinned back, the other flopped rather loosely to the side giving him a somewhat cockeyed appearance. Though his eyes rolled till the whites showed, the normal malice in them was absent. It seemed, instead, as if he was having difficulty in fixing his gaze on us. All the while, he swayed almost imperceptibly on his feet.

"What’s the matter with him?" I asked, more to myself, not really expecting an answer.

"When I tried to get him to come out of his stall," Bennie said, "he wouldn’t budge. It was almost... as if he couldn’t, as if he was afraid he’d fall if he lifted a foot."

As if to offer proof, Naur made as if to move closer to the sound of our voices and wobbled unsteadily. Bennie opened the stall gate and went to him, speaking softly in the Elven phrases she had been taught to calm him. I found myself holding my breath, sincerely hoping that whatever was the matter with him, he wouldn’t turn on his mistress. As she stood at his neck talking in reassuring tones, he swung his head around to her, in a jerky, unbalanced movement.

Apparently, Sam had been harboring some of my fear for he shouted, "Look out, Miss Bennie!" Too late. I was sure Bennie was about to be bitten on the face.

"Oh my word!" Fastred said in disgust, for Naur wasn’t biting Bennie. He was licking her! Big, sloppy, wet kisses, all over her face.

"Ugh!" Bennie sputtered as she managed to back away. "His breath is terrible!"

Fastred moved quickly to offer her his handkerchief, but she refused it and took the one the Gaffer offered instead. Just then, was heard a tremendous belch. We looked at each other and then at Naur. He nickered at us and slowly went down and back onto his haunches, sitting much like a dog, before flopping over on his side in the straw and began snoring gently.

Bennie sank to her knees at the stallion’s side, cradling his head in her lap and lamenting, "What’s wrong with him?"

"If Oi didn’t know better," came the Gaffer’s amused voice. "Oi’d say that little ‘orse is drunk."

"Drunk?" I echoed his last word.

"Miss Bennie, are you in here?"

All heads turned in the direction of the door at the far end of the stable. At that very moment, Bennie’s new stable hand, Rory Goodbody, the youngest son of the local farrier, had come seeking his employer. He was toting what looked like a wooden bucket, complete with a ladle. From the way he handled it I assumed it was empty.

"I’m here, Rory. What do you need?" Bennie called out, refusing to abandon her spot beside Naur.

Rory said nothing to the four gentlehobbits who stood outside Naur’s stall. He did however, bestow a curious, semi-suspicious glance upon us. I nodded and smiled politely at the lad. He nodded back, yet remained silent, merely stretching on tiptoe to peek over the top of the stall door in order to get a better glimpse of his mistress and her prostrate pony.

"What happened? What’s wrong with Naur, Miss?"

Bennie frowned up at the lad. "According to Mr. Gamgee, Naur is drunk."

The stableboy’s eyes grew as large as saucers. Then he blubbered, "Oi ‘ad nothin’ to do with it, Miss! I swear!"

Bennie stood and let herself out of the stall. "I never said you did, Rory." She nodded at the objects he was holding. "What have you there?"

Rory swiped at his using his shirt sleeve. "Oi was on my way to the pasture to check on the ponies when Oi nearly tripped over this." He brandished the bucket and ladle.

Sam took the empty bucket from him and sniffed it. "Cider." He said, a grim look on his face. "An’ not the sweet kind, either. Ponies an’ ‘orses love apples. Oi think whoever did this knew that, too. Oi’m not surprised that they used this stuff to make friends with Naur so they could move around in ‘is stall."

"You may want to check your cellars, I’ll warrant you might find one of your kegs of cider emptied." Fastred told Bennie with a smirk.

Bennie’s features were dark with anger. "Whoever did this.....Ohhhh!" she kicked at the stall door, heedless of her toes. "When I catch them, I’ll...I’ll...."

Naur raised his head and whinnied, then with another loud belch, laid his head down once more, closed his eyes and began to snore softly. I peered over the stall door.

"Well, he’ll be having sweet dreams for a while, I would imagine."

Bennie gave me a look that indicated she was not amused by my comment. "What am I going to do now? How does one sober up a drunken pony?"

"Maybe you could give him something that would make him sick enough to throw up, that might get it out of his system a little quicker." Fastred suggested.

"You idiot," Bennie snapped, obviously not concerned with courtesies at the moment. "horses and ponies can’t vomit. So, I’m afraid your idea won’t work."

" Oi think the only thing ye can do fer the time bein’ is t’ let ‘im sleep it off." Said the Gaffer. "O’d worry more about how to cure the ‘angover that comes after." He chuckled, then with a nod he indicated the forgotten painting, "In the meantime, Oi suggest we use this opportunity to get that portrait down."

So it was that Sam and I got the job of climbing up and standing on the stall partitions to undo the rigging while the Gaffer and Fastred made sure the painting didn’t fall on Bennie or the snoozing stallion. It wasn’t an easy job. More than ever, I was sure that whoever had pulled this off had an accomplice. Even with Naur inebriated, it would have taken at least two people to hoist the painting into position, then decorate it in an appropriately suitable equestrian theme. (Then, there was the ‘procurement’ of the cider beforehand...that must have taken some skillful pilfering.)
Thankfully, Naur slept through the entire business of putting his stall to right again, only hiccuping every so often to let us know he was still alive.

"We’ll that was easy enough." Said Fastred, as he brushed himself off.

"Easy fer ‘im t’ say." Sam muttered to me. "Oi’d ‘ave paid good money to see ‘is sorry backside up there on the wall tryin’ t’ untie those ropes..."

It was quickly decided that the portrait should be returned to Daffodil’s gallery as soon as possible. Bennie offered the use of one of her pony carts to deliver the painting and promptly dispatched Rory to fetch a sober pony and bring round the cart. I almost groaned when the stableboy returned with a dainty looking cart complete with a canopy trimmed with tassels and fringe.

"A simple cart would have been fine." I reasoned.

"It looks like it might rain." Rory pointed out. And indeed, the dark clouds of earlier didn’t look any less threatening now. "The cart might be too fancy, but it’s the only one that’s ready with tarp or can-o-pee to protect the paintin’."

There was no disputing the stableboy’s observation. And as Bennie also pointed out, the cart had curtains to hide the painting and the occupants from busy bodies and gossipers, not to mention pranksters. So, soon the portrait was safely ensconced in the back of the cart with the curtains drawn round to protect it from the possibility of foul weather and prying eyes.

That’s when Fastred proclaimed. "I’m certainly getting hungry. And a drink wouldn’t hurt, either."

He turned his famous charm upon Bennie. She responded by rolling her eyes but when Rory selflessly volunteered to stand guard over the cart and contents she reasoned, "I think it may be safe enough for us to sit a moment and sup before you fellows take the painting back to Daffodil..Although, I really don’t mind if the portrait stays here with me, Frodo."

I sucked in my breath, then shook my head, ‘no.’ "I really believe that it ought to be returned to Daffodil. She’s been worried sick over this entire affair."

"Oh, all right, Frodo, if you insist." And she gave me a fetching smile before wrapping her arm about mine as we headed inside.
I
t couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later that Rory came bursting into Bennie’s hole, panting, "Miss Bennie! Mister Frodo! Someone is stealin’ the cart!"

Sure enough, as we in mass for the door, the cart could be seen swiftly vanishing down the lane in the direction of Hobbiton. Thanks to the drawn curtains it was impossible to tell who was driving it away!

Fastred took it upon himself to chastise Rory. "How could you let someone get to the cart? You were supposed to be guarding it!"

Rory trembled as he replied. From the look on his face, he fully expected Fastred to strike him for his mistake. "Oi’m sorry, truly Oi am! Please, Miss Bennie! Don’t be angry and please don’t fire me!"

"You’re not going to get fired, Rory. And no one is going to hurt you." At this she gave Fastred a steely look. "Just tell us what happened."

"Oi only wanted to make sure that Naur was doin’ allright! Oi didn’t figure it would ‘urt to sneak a peek at ‘im just for a minute or two. Oi wasn’t gone ‘ardly any time at all! Just as Oi was comin’ round the corner of the barn Oi saw the cart start to drive off. Oi couldn’t see who was in it, though, just heard ‘im say, "Gid ‘up, there!"

For a moment or two all we could do was look at one another helplessly. My portrait had been abducted again!

Bennie was the first to react. As she grabbed her hat and made to go out the door, we heard vow under her breath just what she planned to do to the culprits once they were caught. It didn’t promise to be pleasant.

But the Gaffer stopped her. "No goin' after them in the mood yer in, Lass."

Bennie scowled. "But it's my cart and my ponies that have been stolen this time! Do you think I’m going to stand for that? There’s no telling what will happen to my ponies. I intend to get them back right now!"

"And just where do you intend to start looking?" Asked Fastred. Then with a glance out the window he added, "Besides, it's about to rain, and all traces of their tracks will be washed away."

As if in answer, the sky opened up and sent a deluge of rain pouring down with a vengeance. There was nothing to be done now, but wait for the rain to abate. Hopefully Bennie’s wrath would diminish, as well.

Indeed the rainstorm dissipated almost as quickly as it had rolled in. Bennie’s ire, on the other hand, took a little longer to subside. However, with a little persuasion, (mostly on my part) we convinced Bennie there was nothing that could be done until morning, and left her with the promise that we would keep our eyes open for her pony and cart on our way home. So it was that Sam, the Gaffer, Fastred and I headed back towards Hobbiton. We spent most of the walk back listening to Fastred’s swaggering discourse on who the culprit was and how he was capable of giving the slip so easily. More than once I had to resist the urge to tell him to be quiet, and even more so to prevent dear Sam from attempting to tie Fastred’s tongue in a knot..

We left our pontificating companion at the Ivy Bush, as that was where his lodgings were. He invited us to join him for a drink before we went on our way, but after all that had happened today, I wasn't very much in the mood to answer curious questions about the latest sighting and what had happened. I was certain, however, that Fastred would make sure that everyone would know that I had been incapable of preventing my portrait from being swiped once again.

I also received an invitation from the Gaffer and Sam to join their family for a late meal, but I declined. At the moment I simply craved a little peace and quiet, and...perhaps a word or two with my errant cousins, Merry and Pippin.

The road was full of puddles as I walked the last bit up the Hill. As I approached my door, it opened wide. There stood Merry.

"I was wonderin' if you were comin' home or not," he said. Then he looked past me, a look of confusion on his face. "Where's your portrait?" he asked.

"I don't have it," was all I said.

"You don't have it? I thought that's what you went to do.""We managed to get it down from above Naur's stall." I said, not really caring to elaborate.

"You mean to tell me it got nicked again?" he asked.

I looked at him carefully. "I never said it got 'nicked' as you put it...."

"But you don't have it," he stated. "Or, did you return it to Cousin Daffodil?"

"No...It was taken again while we went inside Bennie's hole for a bite to eat." I finally admitted.

About this time, Pippin appeared from the kitchen. "While you were eating?"

"Along with Bennie’s cart and pony." I finished.

Merry looked at his cousin. "The nerve of some people!"

"Where's it got to now, I wonder...?" Pip asked.

"Who knows," I replied. "But if Bennie doesn't get her pony and cart back soon and in good condition, I hate to think of what she’ll do to the prankster or pranksters when caught."

There was a bit of silence as I settled into a chair. Then Pippin cleared his throat and asked, "Just what kind o' things are we talkin' about?"

I shrugged. "Knowing Bennie, it could be anything short of tarring and feathering the culprit to having him thrown in the lockholes at Michel Delving to cool his heels for a while."

Merry mulled this over and nodded his head. "Sounds like something Bennie would try. Well, I daresay the person that took that painting was pretty bold, if I do say so myself. Even braver than I would be."

Pip agreed. "Oh, yes. Much braver."

I eyed the two of them with more than a hint of suspicion. But their displayed demeanor remained flawlessly unimpeachable. And, as I was weary I excused myself for the remainder of the evening. Giving Merry and Pippin over to their own devices as I prepared for a bath and then a long, uninterrupted sleep.

*****

I awoke the next morning to what promised to be a bright and pleasant day. The rain clouds of the previous day had moved out and had been replaced with cheerful rays of sunshine. I padded to the kitchen and found Sam already preparing to start the day working around Bag End.

"Where's Merry and Pippin?" I asked as I took the mug of tea that Sam handed me.

"Oi ain't seen 'em, Sor," he said as he handed me a plate laden with bacon, toast and some crispy, golden potatoes. "But they left this." He indicated the food with a nod.

Apparently, my cousins had risen early, prepared breakfast and had already departed to who knew where. Oh well. I was grateful that they had fixed a surplus of breakfast foods.

But Sam was strangely silent as he worked to clean up the kitchen, and I could tell that something was bothering him.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nuthin,' Mr. Frodo," he said all too quickly. A definite sign that something was wrong.

I lay down my fork, and gave him a look as I motioned for him to join me at the table. "Tell me what is on your mind, Sam."

He wavered hesitantly, not really looking me in the eye. "Oi was thinkin' that the thief knew what we was up to at Miss Bennie's place."

"Yes?" I said, encouraging him to go on.

"Well, Sor, forgive me fer sayin' this, but Oi think 'e's someone what know's you."

"Just about everyone knows me, Sam," I replied.

"No, Sor, Oi meant, someone that knows you well."

"Well, whoever they -yes, they-" I said , at his look of surprise, "for I’ve given it some thought myself and come to the conclusion that there has to be more than one person involved. At any rate, they are very clever and, I believe lucky, too, but luck will only hold out so long and I think they’re getting braver with each abduction. It won’t be long before they get overly-confident in their abilities."

Sam sat there quiet for a moment. Then he looked at me and asked, "D' ye think Masters Merry an' Pippin moight 'ave somethin' t’ do with it?"

I looked up at him in some surprise. Sam must have misinterpreted my expression for he quickly apologized.

"Sorry, Sor." he said "Oi’m probably out of line in sayin’ that."

"I’m not so sure, Sam."

It was his turn to look at me in surprise.

As the morning progressed, there was no sign of Merry or Pippin. Morning became noon, and my young cousins made no appearance for lunch. Thinking perhaps they had gone off visiting some of our mutual friends (although usually they invited me along), I decided that I would go into town to learn if anyone had seen Bennie's pony and cart, not to mention any glimpse of Pippin and Merry.

Logically, the Green Dragon would be the most likely place to begin. Perhaps I would find my cousins there as well. I walked into the inn to find a group of fellow hobbits huddled around a table near the fireplace. As I drew near, I saw Fatty and Folco among them listening intently to someone. It was Ted Sandyman, covered in flour dust.

"I know it was there! I saw it with my own two eyes! I come in to open the mill and there it were... sittin' atop the mill stone purty as you please! An' it had a garland of wildflowers restin' on it's head, if you will. An' an empty tankard of ale in front of it. With a pipe still lit layin' there, too!"

"Aw, you're just seein' things, Teddy!" one of the mill workers said. "You came outta that mill screamin' as if you'd just found yer ol’ dad layin' dead on th' floor!" A twitter of laughter arose from those listening.

"I did not!" Ted was obviously offended. "I came out to get some of you louts t' come help me get it down. Twern't my fault it were gone when I got some o' ye t' follow me back inside to fetch it down." He looked around the small crowd. "I'm telling ye it were there! I ain't makin' this up!"

"Oh, we believe you, Ted," another said. "Just seems strange that it was able to disappear that fast, is all...."

The crowd murmured in agreement. That's when Fatty spotted me. "Frodo! Just the person we wanted to see!"

With that, he and Folco scurried over and escorted me to the table. "We were told by Fastred last night that you managed to lose your portrait... again." He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

"So... " I nodded to Sandyman. "Am I to understand it showed up at the Mill?"

Ted nodded, prepared to retell his tale. "Sure did. Why, I..."

I cut him short. "Any clues as to how it disappeared?"

"Never mind that," Folco said, butting in. "tell us how the painting was stolen from Bennie's!"

"I’m sure Fastred has already filled most everyone in," I answered.

"Is it true it was taken right out of the poor stableboy's hands?"

"The way Fastred was talkin', 'e thinks ye 'ad somethin' to do wi' it disappearin.'" Ted accused with a smirk.

I shook my head. "How could I have anything to do with it when I was inside Bennie's hole –with Fastred- when it was taken?"

A feminine voice spoke up behind me. "Is it really true your painting has gone astray?"

Every male in the place quickly removed their hats. Surprised, I turned to face the lovely Sparrow Singswell. "Sparrow! What a pleasure! I didn’t expect to see you here!"

Her eyes twinkled fetchingly. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Frodo! Actually, I have a singing engagement at the Ivy Bush. But... sshh... don’t tell Mr. Grubb." She stole a glance at the Green Dragon’s busy innkeeper, "He thinks he has exclusive rights to my talents!" she added with a merry laugh.

I made a mental note to try and catch her performance. The pleasure of hearing Sparrow’s lovely voice was a rare treat. It was also a sure bet that Fastred would be elated that he had chosen rooms at the Ivy Bush for his lodgings. It would afford him ample opportunity to flirt mercilessly with the pretty songstress.

"I suppose I should arrange to have a singing lesson while you’re here, if you have the time." I suggested hopefully. "I fear my voice is getting a bit rusty." (Sparrow’s talents as an accomplished singer and musician are equally matched by her ability as gifted teacher.)

"That could be arranged." She smiled, then wasting no time, she made herself comfortable in my lap, much to the amusement of my friends (While Sparrow is all seriousness when the time comes to instructing pupils in the art of music, this was not one of those times). I could feel the heat rising in my face and I must have blushed quite noticeably for Ted nudged Folco and snickered.

"But, for now I want to know," she asked as she placed her arms around my neck, "if it’s true, that your portrait was wearing a pair of Bennie Baggins’s silk bloomers?"

There was an excited buzz as the others drew near. Obviously, this was something new, albeit incorrect.

"No," I said, feeling myself blushing again. "Although it did have the honor of wearing a bridle and a pair of riding gloves. Not that Bennie’s stallion minded."

"Nor, I’m sure, did Bennie." Laughed Sparrow, as she vacated her spot on my lap

"Hey!" Came a voice from the doorway, just then.

Everyone turned to see who it was. I didn’t recognize the fellow. He wasn't from Hobbiton or Bywater, as I know most folks here.

"Anyone missin' a pony and cart?"

"Frodo, do you think it might be Bennie's cart?" Fatty asked out loud.

"Over here," I waved him over and motioned him to join us. "I have a cousin just down the road who had a cart and pony taken last night."

The newcomer introduced himself as Marcho Sandheaver of Overhill, and he was on his way to Frogmorton when he found a cart abandoned on the side of the road, stuck in mud up to the rear axle. A pony in harness was found nearby, happily munching on some corn growing by the roadside. Mr. Sandheaver had graciously and not without a certain amount of trouble extracted the cart and brought it and the corn stuffed pony to the closest public stable which happened to be located here, at the Green Dragon.

"There weren't any signs of the pony breakin’ free," he said as he accepted a mug of ale from Folco. "Looks as if someone just unhitched him and expected him to find his way home." Marcho chuckled. "‘e was a bit too ‘appy in that corn patch to want to stray far from it."

(As we were to discover later, the cart had been left at the edge of a piece of property belonging to Carl Longhole. It was his patch of corn that Bennie’s hungry pony had trampled and eaten. Mr. Longhole was not at all pleased about that.)

He took a swig, and then looked me over. "Tell me what sort o' pony an' cart your cousin is missin' and I'll tell you if it's th' one I found."

"The pony was a bay and the cart was painted black with a canopy and curtains of blue trimmed with grey fringe."

He nodded. "That's what I found, alright."

"Tell me, Mr. Sandheaver, did there happen to be a painting in the cart?" I asked, hoping against hope.

He shook his head. "No, no painting. Why? Yer cousin missing a picture, too?"

"No, Frodo is," Folco said. And everyone just had to tell the story of the mysterious traveling painting.

Marcho laughed. "Well, sorry I didn't find yer portrait, Mr. Baggins. But, whoever left the cart did leave this." With that, he reached into his vest pocket and handed me a small leather pouch. " ‘e must like the best of smokes. It's Old Toby."

One whiff confirmed that fact. Again, that question of whether Merry or Pippin was involved came to mind, as I tried to remember who carried a pipeweed pouch like this one. "I'm not sure who the pipeweed belongs to, but I shall see that the pony and cart are returned to my Cousin."

I thanked him and rewarded him a half crown for his troubles and headed to the stables to look over the pony and cart.

The stablehands were cleaning the muck from the cart, and the bay was in a stall having been rubbed down. I paid them for their troubles also, and once the pony and cart were hitched, I took it upon myself to return them to Bennie. It took a lot of talking to convince her that I hadn't found the culprits and even more to prevail upon her the assurance that I couldn't stay for a visit. She pouted, but managed to get a promise from me to come to dinner one day next week.

As I made my way back home, it occurred to me that I hadn’t laid eyes on Merry or Pippin the entire day. And when I let myself in the door, there was still no sign of them anywhere in Bag End. My curiosity was changing to minor irritation. For having come to visit me, they hadn't spent much of their time in my presence. Nevertheless, I assumed they would turn up soon enough.

Dinner came and went. And Merry and Pippin still hadn't appeared. It wasn't like them to miss meals. Especially when they were free. Sam finished his work and left for home. Twilight drifted into evening and I settled down to read a bit by the fire, intent on being awake when my cousins finally decided to return. I must admit, however that I was getting just a trifle worried. Yet at some point, I must have dozed off, for the jangling of my doorbell awakened me. The fire had died down, and it was definitely late.

"It's about time you came back...," I thought to myself, believing it must be Merry and Pippin yanking on the bell rope, until I remembered they never knocked, or rang. Instead, it was Mundee’s maid, Sally Underhill.

"Sally, whatever is wrong?" I asked, alarmed that something might have happened to her Mistress, Mundee. Now I could add that to my list of worries.

"I can't tell you anything 'cept that Miss Mundee needs you right away," The girl said and she ran off down the hill towards home, not waiting for me to join her.

Naturally, I followed close behind, thinking all sorts of terrible things. As I neared Mundee's hole, I could hear loud noises coming from within. Sam and the Gaffer beat me to the door, having been summoned by Sally as well.

"Whatever is going on, Sally?" I asked.

Sally's response was to open the door and call out to her Mistress.

"Tell them to hurry!" Mundee yelled back. "I don’t know how much longer I can keep them in there!"

Without waiting to follow Sally, I sprinted down the hall to the kitchen. There was Mundee, leaning against the door of her pantry, which also had a heavy chair propped under the handle. At the sight of me, she flashed me a grin, but remained stationed at her spot against the door.

Obviously, from the commotion coming from the other side of the door, someone was trapped in there... and it sounded as though her cat, Miss Priss, was in there as well, as I could hear an occasional hiss followed by a nervous, "nice kitty!" being said between the pounding on the door.

"Come on, Mundee, let us out!" a voice cajoled, while another voice let out a squeal of pain.

"Get it off! Get it off!" it was saying in a high pitch. The sound of things being bumped, pushed and knocked over could be heard.

"Shall I?" Mundee asked, a look of amusement on her face and made ready to remove the chair.

"Mundee, what are you doing?" I swiftly put out a hand and grabbed her wrist, stopping her just in time. "Who is in your cellar?"

"You mean to tell me," she said in mock consternation. "that you don't recognize their voices?"

At my puzzled look, she broke into another grin. As she gently extracted her wrist from my grip, I was vaguely aware of Sally, Sam and his Gaffer piling into the room behind me. With one deft movement Mundee pushed the chair away and yanked the door open wide. Out spilled two hobbits and one very irrate cat.

"Merry? Pippin? What are you...?"

Pippin stood up and scrambled to help a squealing Merry off the floor It was all too apparent why Merry was squawking like he was, for it seemed his foot had found one of the rat traps Mundee kept in the pantry. "Get it off! Get it off!" he kept saying, as he tried to remove it while hopping about the crowded room.

Between Sam and I, we managed to keep him still long enough for Mundee to remove the trap from his foot.

"That'll teach you to go sneaking in my cellar in the middle of the night." Mundee said, waving the trap under his nose. "Now, fess up as to what you're up to!"

Merry winced and smiled, albeit with gritted teeth. "Aw, come on, Mundee! We were only havin' a little fun."

Sally came over with the cat in her arms. Miss Priss looked anything but ‘prissy’ at the moment. Her fur was still standing up a ruffled ridge along her back. "You call sneaking in Miss Mundee's cellar 'fun?’ I'll show you fun!" With that, she slapped Merry upside the head.

Pippin made as to get between Sally and Merry, but when the cat hissed and swiped at him with claws extended, he quickly changed his mind. "N-nice kitty!" he said as he backed away.

Meanwhile the Gaffer took a peek into the pantry. "Well, would ye look-ee 'ere!" He went inside and after a second or two, he emerged holding nothing less than my missing portrait!

It was my turn to chastise the two. "I had a sneaking suspicion all along that the two of you were involved. But I preferred to give you the benefit of the doubt, hoping it would turn out I was wrong."

"Actually, you should be glad it was us that took it. It might have come to harm at someone else’s hands." Merry rationalized, as he rubbed his throbbing foot.

Whatever possessed the two of you to steal my painting and go gallivanting all over the countryside with it?" I demanded to know.

It turned out that it was Merry that had the idea to borrow the painting, intending to return it in a day or two with nobody the wiser as to who had done the borrowing. But with all the excitement over the missing painting, he and Pippin had decided to have a bit of fun having it show up here and there.

"The hardest one, of course," Pippin said, "was nipping it out of Bennie's stables."

"Oi woulda thought it been 'arder gettin' it into Bennie's stables," Sam said as he gave each of them a hard scowl.

"Oh, that was easy!" Merry said. "I know how the ponies at home loved to drink cider if we gave some to them. And I knew that it wouldn't take much to get Naur sauced once he had a taste of it."

"Easy for you to say," Pippin said. "Seein' as it was me you had feeding it to him while you got the ropes tied to the painting!"

"Well, you can tell us the entire story," Mundee said as she prepared to look at Merry's injury. "while I tend to your foot, Merry. And don't you go too far, Pippin. I see Miss Priss left her mark on your hand."

"Oi want t’ know," Sam said. "'ow yer goin' ter return this here picture t' Daffodil."

"Well, that's it, you see...," Merry confessed. "Ow! Be careful, Mundee! We hadn't rightly decided how to get it back"

"You didn't 'ave trouble pinchin’ it in the first place. And then spiritin' it all over the countryside," Sam pointed out.

"Yes, but nobody was looking for it where we went," Merry said. "They were all crowding ‘round where it had last been."

"And Daffodil's place, is pretty popular these days," said Pippin, "Fairly swarming it is with hobbits curious about Frodo’s ‘traveling’ portrait. You know," he added, "you could say we’ve actually done wonders for Daffodil’s art gallery. In a sense, we drummed up business for her."

"Maybe so, But somehow I don’t think Daffodil would see it that way." Merry remarked.

"You could just up and confess to your tomfoolery." Mundee stated.

"You wouldn't make us spoil the mystery of how it got around so well?" quipped Merry.

"You wouldn't want me to break another toe for you, would you?" Mundee teased as she grabbed one of his bruised toes.

*****

Needless to say, we managed to return the painting without Chesman or Daffodil knowing of it. It wasn't easy, but with the Gaffer's permission, we borrowed Bell's pony. Merry was given the duty of riding and holding on to the painting while Sam and I led the pony. Mundee and the Gaffer followed behind with Pippin.

When we were just out of earshot of the gallery, the Gaffer and Sam held the painting while Merry climbed down and hobbled with Pippin and Mundee to one of the windows. I was left to keep watch.

After some fiddling by Merry, he and Pippin were able to open the window and Pippin was hoisted inside. He then helped Mundee through the window. Once they were inside, Sam handed the painting through the opening to them and they placed it where it would be spotted by Daffodil and Chesman when they entered the shop.

I thought I heard a noise coming from nearby so I signaled the others to hurry up. Pippin popped out the window, but Mundee seemed to be taking her time. As I came closer and told them to hurry, she finally appeared and Sam and the Gaffer helped her back out.

We managed to scurry off and were well up the road to the Hill before any lights appeared in the vicinity of Daffodil's gallery. I could only hope we hadn't been spotted as we broke off and each headed to their own holes, leaving me with Merry and Pippin at Bag End.

*****

It is now just past Second Breakfast and Andy Twofoot has just left here leaving word that my portrait was found back in the Gallery, with no clue other than a big, red sash and a little note attached to it as to who had taken it.

It seems that Cousin Mundee left a note 'from' the portrait saying that it had gotten lonely and had hitched a ride with a passerby to see the countryside. It evidently went on to say that it hoped it hadn't caused too much trouble and that it was tired of traveling and was ready to stay put if Daffodil would let it do so.

I will be going into town with Merry, Pippin and Mundee to see for ourselves. I only hope we can keep a straight face when we see Daffodil.