Chapter 11

The sun was just a hand span above the western horizon and Frodo was beginning to think that he may well have to go in search of Pennemiriel. He kept glancing toward the hallway and the front door, listening intently. Meanwhile, the kettles were all boiling and the kitchen was humid with their steam. The rich aroma of pot roast filled the air. Bilbo was busily mixing up a batch of biscuits while Pippin stoked up the little wood stove for baking them. Merry had brought in a pair of pails and was filling them with cold water when the sound of singing echoed down the hall.

“Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles, and warm woolen mittens,” came a light feminine voice singing at a lively pace. “Brown paper packages tied up with string. These are a few of my favorite things. “

Frodo hurried to the door and peeked down the hallway. There came Penn, dancing in time with her singing and twirling like a ballerina on tiptoe toward him. He ducked quickly back into the kitchen.

“When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad,” she continued. “I simply remember my favorite things and then I don’t feeeeeelllllll soooooo baaaaadddd.”

She swept into the kitchen and caught Frodo by the hands as he backed away from her, startled. Pulling him into the dance as she waltzed backward, he took a quick glance at her moving feet and immediately stepped into the dance with her.

“Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes.” She didn’t miss a beat and they moved around the kitchen table sending everyone in their path scurrying. “Silver white winters that melt into spring. These are a few of my favorite things.” Frodo was getting a bit giddy; and it seemed far too late for Penn, who was giddy beyond recall. “When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad. I simply remember my favorite things.” Her voice crescendoed dramatically and she stopped, still holding Frodo’s hands. “And then I don’t feeeeeellllllll ssooooooooo baaaaaadddd!” She had thrown her head back like a wolf baying at the moon.

Laughing at the sight of Frodo’s dumbstruck expression and that of everyone else in the room, Penn bent forward and kissed Frodo’s cheek.

“Thank you kindly for the dance, sir.” Her eyes sparkled like brilliant cut aquamarines. “You really are as good as Sam says you are. Unless, of course, the waltz is popular here. You picked that up rather well.”

“Waltz? Is that the dance you were doing?” Frodo’s eyes sparkled back at her. “Well, we do have something with a similar rhythm but this is something new to me. I quite enjoyed it myself. I can see that you will make a good student for the Springle-ring.” He grinned at her.

“I can hardly wait to learn!” Then a wicked grin tweaked her mouth. “Besides, I’d rather waltz with you than have you dragging me back to Bag End by my hair.” She winked at him as he blushed in front of the other’s questioning looks. “Believe me, Master Baggins, I was watching the sun carefully. And my poor bare feet were getting quite cold from the wet grass. I believe you now about needing more hair on them!” She was laughing again.

“Frodo!” Merry was looking at him quizzically. “You threatened to drag her back by her hair?”

“Hair would be a good thing for your feet,” added Pippin out of nowhere, giving Penn’s feet a critical look.

“Never you mind,” interrupted Penn before Frodo could answer Merry’s comment. “The hair-dragging is between Frodo and me, so leave that one alone, Merry, if you please.” She winked at him. “But my feet are getting colder by the minute. This slate floor makes me wish that I had lots of hair on my feet, Pippin.” A shiver suddenly coursed through her whole body.

“Well, I have just the cure for that, m’lady.” Frodo nodded at Merry and then offered Penn his arm. “This way, if you please.”

With a curious smile, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the side room door. Merry had grabbed two, thick potholders and retrieved one of the steaming kettles from the rack over the fire. Frodo pushed the door open and led her toward the big, copper tub. It was an oval shaped tub with a high back. Merry skirted them and began to pour the kettle of hot water into it. Clouds of steam billowed up.

“A hot bath!” Penn’s surprise and pleasure were clear, but she suddenly began to laugh. Looking straight at Merry, she said, “Oh blessed Meriadoc!” All at once she was hugging Merry, who had all he could do to set the hot kettle down before either of them got burned.

“I’m glad that you are pleased, Penn,” said Merry, hugging her back. “But it was Frodo’s idea. And thank you for the blessing all the same.”

Frodo didn’t really look at all pleased to have Merry receiving all the attention for his idea until Penn rounded on him and had him in her arms, hugging him ferociously. He hugged her back and whispered in her ear.

“Oh blessed Meriadoc??? What is that all about?” He seemed to know that she was repeating something “future”.

“Just what I said and no more,” she whispered back. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he responded with a bit of disappointment.

“And a blessing on you as well for thinking of it, Frodo.” This she said aloud as she stood up.

“Perhaps you’d like to get some fresh clothes and some of your favorite soap from your room. I see that your skirt has gotten wet from the grass as well.” Frodo was examining the hem of her skirt. He went to one corner and got a chair to set in front of the fireplace. “You can hang your skirt here to dry. Merry, fetch another kettle while I pour some cold water into this.” He was picking up a bucket even as he spoke. “Go on, then, Penn. Get what you’ll need. Supper will be ready as soon as you finish your bath.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted him and disappeared before he could wonder what that meant.

In short order, she returned with soap in hand and a clean blouse and her boots. Frodo took the soap from her smiling. He picked up a small knife that lay on a sideboard and quickly shaved a handful of fine slivers into the hot water. The scent of roses filled the room as Merry came back with another kettle of hot water and poured it in as well. Merry’s nose scrunched up ever so slightly at the fragrance as if to say, “thank goodness we are all getting first baths!” He shrugged at Frodo as he left with the empty kettle

“You may add cold to your own liking: and if you need more water, hot or cold, just sing out.” Frodo bowed as he left, closing the door.

Stripping quickly, Penn hung her damp skirt over the back of the chair and laid the rest on the seat. She held up the beautiful blouse that she had only just put on at Gran’s request and seemed to decide that it would be worth wearing yet. Setting the clean and folded blouse on the sideboard, she happened to notice that her left arm was wrapped in bandages. Muttering “bother” to herself, she spent a moment carefully unwrapping the cloth. She let them fall in a heap by the chair and then stepped one foot into the hot bath. Almost instantly, she withdrew her toe and picked up the bucket of cold water, dashing half of it into the tub. This time, she stirred the water with her hand and found it comfortable. Once settled, she sighed dreamily and simply lay there soaking for a long, long while.

The sun was a melting butterscotch ball on the horizon and four hobbit gentlemen were getting restless in the kitchen.

“What can be taking her so long?” wondered Pippin, fidgeting with an empty plate at the table and glancing longingly at the large pot that held supper. “She’s goin’ to pucker like a prune if she doesn’t get done soon.”

Frodo and Merry burst out laughing, and Pippin gave them a dark look.

“What?” he asked a bit petulantly.

“Prune. Soon. Poetry is in your blood, Pip,” answered Frodo. “Anyway, she can take as long as she likes.”

“We shall have to start supper without her if she takes much longer,” said Bilbo as he pulled out a sheet of lightly browned biscuits from the cookstove. “The roast is ready as well. Perhaps someone should at least let her know that supper is ready.”

Before Frodo could leave his seat, the door to the side room opened and Penn stepped out looking fresh and with a towel still wrapped about her head, turban-style. Frodo, Merry, and Pippin stood up at once.

“Gentlemen, please, sit down,” she said. “Something smells wonderful. By the way, Frodo, how do you drain the tub?” This she said quietly, bending down to speak in Frodo’s ear.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, offering her a seat at the table. “I’ll take care of that after supper. The rest of us are looking forward to baths as well.” He had made certain that she was seated next to him.

“Oh.” She blushed slightly, realizing that she had taken perhaps too much time in the tub. “My apologies, gentlemen, for taking so long. But you understand, I’m sure. How does it go? ‘Oh, water hot is a noble thing.’ At least that’s one line that I remember.”

“You know the bath song?” Pippin looked at her in surprise.

“Not all of it. Just bits and pieces.” She placed a napkin in her lap as Bilbo set a platter with a large roast surrounded by small, red-skinned potatoes and plenty of carrots in the center of the table.

“Well, perhaps you’ll get a chance to learn it all.” Merry offered her some hot biscuits from a wooden bowl. “Bilbo has promised to read some of his book tonight. He has a book or two of poetry as well. High and fancy stuff as well as your ordinary, every-day stuff.”

And so supper continued with light conversation. Laughter, good food, and good friends: who could have asked for more? All through the meal Frodo kept taking quick, furtive glances at Penn, who sat on his right. At first, Penn didn’t seem to notice his looks but then realized that it wasn’t so much her that he was looking at as the two, finely drawn lines of angry red on her left arm. She had pushed the sleeves of the blouse as high on her arm as she could because she had forgotten the ointment. She had quickly discovered that the welts burned to have the cloth of the blouse touch them. She had also been afraid of staining the lovely new blouse as well. Then, he was looking gravely at her face. The ointment had been washed away from the wound along the edge of her face as well. It was as bold as a new tattoo, tracing the perimeter of it with a perfect curl just above her left eye where the tip of the whip had flexed. Suddenly uneasy with his perusal, Penn quickly finished the last bite of her biscuit.

“If you will excuse me,” she said, quickly pushing back her chair. “I should finish drying my hair and get some more salve on these cuts.”

“You’ll want help wrapping that arm.” Frodo was also pushing back his chair. “I’ll get some clean wrappings and…”

“That’s all right, Frodo,” interrupted Penn, seeming suddenly ill at ease. “I…well, I…” She stopped herself deliberately and stood up straight. “On one condition.”

“What?” Frodo was completely befuddled.

“I’ll let you help with the bandaging as long as you do not mention one word about the incident or the person involved.” She had stubborn edge in her voice, but her eyes beseeched him. “No more arguing tonight and no more angry words or hard feeling under this roof. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he answered quietly.

“Well, lads,” interjected Bilbo out of the clear blue. “I see that that leaves the three of us to clean up.”

“What about baths?” chirped Pippin, suddenly anxious.

“It’ll take a bit for the kettles to boil again,” reminded Bilbo. “Just enough time to clean up here and in the sideroom. Merry, go set that tub to draining if you all want ‘first’ baths.”

At that, there was a burst of activity. Frodo was just about to take Penn’s elbow and lead her out of the kitchen, when she changed her mind. Intense interest lit her face and she nearly bowled Frodo over as she followed on Merry’s heels.

“I’ve got to see how this is done,” she called over her shoulder as Frodo came after her.

“It’s fairly simple, really,” said Merry as he went to the left side of the tub. There was a spigot protruding from the bottom edge of the tub that was positioned over a deep, bowl-like indentation in the floor. It was obviously a drain, for there was a hole in the bottom of the indentation. “There’s bit of pipe that leads out to the side of the hill. The water just soaks into the ground outside.” With that, he turned the spigot and water flowed easily down the drain. “Of course, once it gets low, it’ll need a bit of a rinse.” Merry went to a tall cupboard which held brooms and mops and a long-handled brush that seemed specially made for scrubbing soap rings off the copper tub. “This’ll help as well.” He then sloshed the rest of the pail of cold water into the tub and whisked it around vigorously. “And there we are. Ready for the next bath.”

“Well, well.” Penn seemed impressed; and then, clapping her hands approvingly, she turned to Merry. “You’d make a great salesman, Merry. That was a fine demonstration. “

“Salesman?” Merry scratched his head and then shook it firmly. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d care to be.” With that, he picked up the two pails and returned to the kitchen.

“Shall we go tend to those wounds now, Penn?” Frodo seemed a bit put out, but said no more.

“Sure,” she answered, allowing him to take her elbow as they left the kitchen “Frodo, I am all right, you know.”

“Of course, you are.” Frodo looked up at her questioningly. “I just want to.”

“Want to what?” she asked, stopping in the hallway and facing him.

“Make sure that…well…” Frodo trailed off uncertainly.

“Yes? Go on. Make sure that what?” She seemed intent on making him come to the point.

“That you are safe and unharmed and…well, happy.” By now he was coloring right to the roots of his hair.

“All of those things are impossible for you to do for me, Frodo.” She smiled at him and reached out a hand to touch his face. “You can help, but you can’t guarantee those things. Especially happiness. That starts with me, not you or Bilbo or Gandalf or anyone else. Me.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “But I thank you with all my heart for wanting to do so much for me, Frodo. Someone once told me to stop being so dreadfully concerned about my words. Well, I should say that applies to almost anything that gets dreadfully out of control. You needn’t be so dreadfully concerned for me. I am all grown up and can take care of myself in most instances. Believe me, I’ll let you know very clearly if I need you to jump in with both feet and help me.”

“Getting a bit stifling, am I?” Frodo grinned sheepishly.

After a moment of stunned silence, Penn smiled and said, “Just a bit.”

“Well, I shall try to remedy that situation if you will allow me to help remedy this one.” He reached out and ran one finger along the edge of the weal on her arm. “Fresh bandages and salve, m’lady?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered.

Chapter 12

She sat obediently in the chair and allowed Frodo free reign.  He very gently smoothed a neat line of ointment on her forearm and wrapped it with quick expertise, tucking the end in just so.  When it came to the upper arm, however, Penn jumped at his touch and burst into a fit of giggling.

“That tickles,” she explained as he stood there with a finger-full of salve and a startled expression on his face.

“So you’re ticklish, eh?”  He gave her a thoughtful nod, as if he were storing that information away for future reference, and made a second attempt to apply the ointment.

Even as she started to jump and pull away, giggling ridiculously, he took hold of her arm firmly with his left hand and held her steady.  Shaking his head, he went for the weal for the third try.   The salve went on, but not nearly as neatly as the forearm treatment.

“Will you stop that and hold still,” he scolded, trying not to grin.

“I’m sorry, but once I get the giggles…” she trailed off in little titters, trying desperately to hold her arm still.  “Can’t you just put the...bandage on…and be done…with it!”   Giggles kept bursting out like little firecrackers.

“All right, all right.”  With that, he began to wrap the arm, shaking his head as he did. 

With a sigh of relief, Penn managed to swallow the last giggle.  “Thank you kindly, sir.”

“What about your face?”  He clearly wanted to dress that wound as well.

“That’s OK.”  She stood up and went to the dresser mirror.  “I can handle that.”

“OK?  I’ve never heard that expression before, but I’m assuming that it means ‘all right’.”  He accepted her refusal and held up the jar of ointment.  “You’re sure?”  She nodded silently, holding out her hand. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, accepting the jar that he surrendered with a sigh.  Her eyes met his and she tipped her head to one side. “I’ll be right out when I’m done.  I don’t want to miss the storytelling.”

With that she took the jar from him and turned back to the mirror.  He watched her for a long moment as she carefully drew a fine line of white over the red welt.  Stopping to pick up more ointment, she glanced over at him.  She held his gaze for a moment and smiled.  With another reluctant sigh, he smiled back and turned to leave.  She went back to the task at hand.  He almost said something more, but thought better of it and slowly left the room, closing the door behind him.

The rest of the evening sailed by in a most delightful manner.  One would have thought that four more baths would have taken hours, but Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Bilbo did not seem to waste much time or water.  The house was filled with a fresh, woodsy fragrance like a pinewood after a rain.  Apparently, hobbits liked clean, outdoorsy scents.  In less that an hour, all were seated in Bilbo’s den waiting for the book to come out.  Several books came out and were read as requests for particular poems or passages pelted Bilbo’s ears.

Evening was drawing deeper toward night and Pennemiriel was beginning to nod in the big chair that Bilbo had insisted that she take.  Bilbo’s voice murmured on the edge of her hearing.  She was vaguely aware of Elvish words.  After a moment, she began to recite along with him aloud, unaware that she was doing so.

“O menel aglar elannath, Na chaered palan diriel,” she chanted softly.  “O galadthremin ennorath, Finuillas le linnathon.  Nef aer.  Si, nef aeron.”  Her voice was carrying on alone, though she did not know it.

The sudden, intense silence caused her to start as if waking from a dream.  She looked around as if she expected something to be wrong.  Everyone was looking at her with slightly open-mouthed expressions and raised brows.  All at once, Pippin began to clap.

“That was excellent, Pennemiriel,” he raved.  “You speak Elvish!  I have never been able to get the hang of it myself, but that was excellent!”

“Thanks, but that’s all the Elvish I know and I really don’t know what it means at that,” she acknowledged, blushing deep scarlet.  “I just memorized it because I like the sound of it.  It has such a musical quality to it, Elvish.”

“That it does,” replied Bilbo, closing the book that lay open on his desk.  “You really ought to learn the language rather than just memorize it, though.  It could come in handy one day.”

“Only if you will teach me,” she said, stifling a huge yawn with one hand.  Stretching her legs out from under her, she rose to her feet.  “I don’t think that I can stay awake another minute.  The stories were wonderful, Bilbo.  Thank you.”  She leaned over his desk and pecked him on the cheek.  “Good night.”   He returned the kiss before she could get away.

She turned and was about to say goodnight to the rest of them, when Pippin popped up from his seat on the floor and crooked a finger at her.  Bending down to see what he wanted, he surprised her with a quick kiss on the cheek and turned his head, expecting the same in return.  With a soft laugh, she kissed his offered cheek and there was Merry, next in line.  Another kiss for her and one for him, and she found herself glancing in Frodo’s direction.  But he was no longer sitting on the stool by the fireplace.  Looking about curiously, she discovered that he had gone to the door and seemed to be waiting for her.

“I think that I am ready to retire as well,” he said, waiting by the door for her with a candle in hand.  “My room is just down the hall from yours, you know.  May I escort you to your room, m’lady?”  He offered her his arm.

“Watch yourself with that one, Penn,” piped up Merry.  “There’s many a broken heart in Bywater and Hobbiton over the unattainable Master Frodo!”

“Just ask Anabella Rushey, or Bell Fields, or Daisy Dimplewood, or…” Pippin was counting off names on his fingers while Merry sniggered. 

Frodo’s eyes narrowed and he stepped toward the pair.  Bilbo sat back shaking his head in exasperation.  Apparently he had been through this routine before.  Merry and Pippin just stood their ground, daring Frodo to do something about it.

“Me?  Watch myself?”  Penn lifted her nose haughtily in the air before Frodo could respond. She could see that he wanted to in the worst way.  “I’d say that you gentlemen have it turned about.  It’s Frodo who needs to be doing the watching.”   She turned, giving Frodo a conspiratorial wink as she accepted his arm, which was resistant to say the least. 

“Oooooooo,” catcalled Merry.  “Better be careful, Frodo.  She’s onto us already.”

“Wonder how many hearts she has to her credit,” Pippin called out mercilessly.

Frodo stiffened and would have turned back, but Penn had a firm grip on his arm and refused to let him move anywhere but forward.

“Yours could be next!” she called back over her shoulder, giving them both a look of challenge.

“All right, Merry, Pippin, I do believe that that will do!” admonished Bilbo, doing his best to keep the smile off his face.  “I wouldn’t encourage them if I were you, Penn.  They can get quite carried away at times, y’know.”

“Undoubtedly,” she answered, blushing slightly and wondering if she, too, was stepping over the bounds of polite company.  “I shall try to be more careful.” 

Bilbo winked at her and smiled.  Relieved that she had not offended him, she winked back and firmly pulled Frodo out of the door.  She bent down close to his ear as they walked down the hall.

“Frodo!” she exclaimed very softly.  “They were only having a bit of fun.  Surely the three of you have been doing such things all of your lives.  Don’t you dare let me be the cause of any bad blood between you.  Besides, they have no clue as to how really naughty my comments can be.”  She smiled wickedly at him.

“You?  Naughty?”  His eyes were large and round with disbelief.  “Not possible.  You are a lady through and through.” 

“My dear, sweet Frodo,” she admonished as they reached her bedroom door.  “I hate to shatter your image of me, but I was married for over thirty years to a farmer.  Of course, he was the only man I ever knew, biblically speaking as well as…anyway.  Be that as it may.”  She opened the door and stopped just inside, looking back at him with a sweet, innocent smile.  Fluttering her eyelashes, she said, “I may not be experienced with lots of men, but I am well read.”

With that she bent down, meaning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  But he was way ahead of her in spite of his astonishment.  In the blink of an eye, he turned his head and their lips met.  Her quick intake of breath told him that he had accomplished his goal.  Now she knew that he was perhaps not so naïve himself.  He did not attempt to make the kiss last any longer than she would allow, and she withdrew in only a moment with a stunned expression.

“And I am well read as well as experienced, m’lady,” he stated with a satisfied look.  Grinning broadly, he bowed low and left her standing there speechless.

“Good night,” she whispered almost to herself long after he had disappeared into his own room.

Finally standing up straight, she shook her head as if just waking.  She tingled all over from head to toe; and the warm, firm pressure of his lips lingered on her own.  Drawing a shaky breath, she turned around, closing the door behind her.  Almost in slow motion, she reached up and undid the towel that was wrapped around her head.  Shaking out her hair, she began to laugh so softly that she almost didn’t hear it herself.  For some strange reason, her fingertips came up to her lips and traced them in wonder as if she could not believe what had just happened.  She stepped in front of the mirror and picked up the comb that lay on the dresser.

She stopped short, gazing at her own reflection.  The face that gazed back at her was not the fiery red of embarrassment that she had expected to see.  A soft, cool blush bloomed on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled bluer than she had ever seen them before, the high, sheer blue of a summer sky.  Actually, she thought to herself, she looked rather good.

“I always knew that there was a good reason why I like kissing so much,” she told the mirrored image.  “It makes me look as young as it makes me feel!”  With that she began to work out the tangled mass of hair that stood out like a corona all around her head.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin had been standing in the darkened hallway, dumbfounded.  They looked at each other in silent astonishment; and when Pennemiriel’s door finally closed, they began to snicker and giggle at each other as if unable to find words.  Merry jerked his head toward the now empty hallway, inviting Pippin to follow him.

“He kissed her!”  Pippin finally managed to say, almost shouting; but Merry stifled him with one hand, shushing him almost as loudly as the shout would have been.  “Full on the mouth!” continued Pippin, pulling away Merry’s offending hand.

“And who wouldn’t if he thought she’d be willing,” interjected Merry in a hushed voice.  “I didn’t see her pulling back or slapping his face.  Did you?”

“Well, no…” Pippin responded a bit doubtfully.  “But then he took her at unawares.  What could she do?”

“Pippin,” admonished Merry, halting just beyond Pennemiriel’s door.  “If you were any thicker, you’d be pudding!”  He was shaking his head ruefully.  “Haven’t you seen how she looks at him?  Sure, she’s happy to give us all sisterly hugs and kisses.  And I’m not saying that she doesn’t mean it or put her heart into it for us as well; but I’m betting it’s done mostly so she can hug and kiss Frodo without looking as if she’s wanton.”

“Wanton?!”  This time, Pippin seemed outraged.  “You take that back this minute, Meriadoc Brandybuck, or I’ll beat it out of you here and now.  Pennemiriel is not wanton!  She’s a lady!”  His fists were up at the ready.

“She is indeed, and maybe wanton wasn’t the word I meant to use at all,” admitted Merry, holding up his hands in surrender.  “What I mean is that maybe she doesn’t want Frodo to know how she feels just yet.”

“It looked to me more like it was Frodo being the wanton,” muttered Pippin defensively.  “He’s the one that can’t keep his eyes off her or bear to be out of her sight for an instant.”

“Right you are, Pippin.  Maybe you’re not so thick after all.”  Merry pounded him heartily on the back.  “But just think what fun we can have with Frodo after what we’ve seen!”  Devilment gleamed in Merry’s eyes as he cocked one brow a Pippin.

“Oooohhhhh,” hissed Pippin cautiously, his eyes wide with thought.  “That might not be such a good idea, Merry.  Remember what he did to us after we caught him out spooning with Daisy Dimplewood in the moonlight?  I’m not in the mood to be chased from here to Bucklebury Ferry with a walking stick again.”

“He never did catch us though, did he?”  Merry reminded Pippin with a grin.  “But I suppose it would be best to leave this one alone.  I wouldn’t want to upset Penn.  At least, not until I get to know her well enough!”  He winked at Pippin, and they laughed together as they headed down the hall beyond Frodo’s door to their own rooms.

Night drew on; and the slender, crescent moon was a bit more rounded than it had been when Pennemiriel had arrived three nights before.    Bag End was quiet, save for the occasional bout of snoring from various rooms.  It was the first hour past midnight when Penn stirred in her sleep, moaning softly.  Her eyes under her closed lids moved quickly this way and that as if she were searching for something hidden.  Her lips parted and a faint whisper of fear made them quiver.  Gasping, she rolled over onto her back, flinging her injured left arm over her head.  It struck the headboard a glancing blow and she sat bolt upright, screaming more from some unnamed fear than pain.  But scream she did.  Even as she choked back another scream and cradled her arm close to her, she heard the hard pounding of feet in the hallway.  The door burst open; and there was Frodo, shining like a white ghost in the frail moonlight that reflected on the white of his nightshirt.   She looked at him beseechingly, but did not speak, dared not speak.

Without saying a word, Frodo went directly to the fireplace and picked up a sliver of wood, holding it to the embers and blowing it into flame.  He took it to the candles at the dresser and lit them.  Blowing out the stick, he threw it more or less in the direction of the fireplace and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper, still holding tightly to her arm.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.  It was just a dream.”

“Just a dream?” he questioned, gently taking hold of her injured arm and drawing it toward him.  “No.  I believe that these are more than just dreams, Penn.”  He inspected the bandaging and saw tiny flecks of blood seeping through on the forearm.  “I think that he is trying to find you, and you are most vulnerable to his search when you are asleep.”  As he spoke he unwound the bandage carefully.   “I just happen to be the one nearest to give you comfort when you wake yourself up.  After all, waking up is the only real escape you have, isn’t it?”  He stood up and went to pour some water into the basin on the dresser.

“Yes, it is.”  Penn was watching him closely and with some trepidation as he dipped a clean end of the cloth bandage into the water and came back to wash the tiny dollops of blood away.  “But I have to sleep.  Without sleep, you die.”

“That is a fact.”  He did not look at her as he applied a fresh coating of salve to her arm.  “I don’t have an answer.”  He got up and went to the wardrobe where the clean bandaging had been stored on a shelf.  “I don’t know if there is an answer.  Unless you have any ideas?”  He looked into her eyes and she saw the unshed tears shimmering in them for her.

She realized with a start that the reason his voice sounded so deep and sincere was from his effort to keep control of himself.  He carefully wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm.  When he had finished, he laid his hand lightly on it.  Without thinking, she placed her right hand over his and squeezed it.

“Neither do I,” she said, hanging her head.  And then, just as quickly, her head came up; and she seemed to be looking right past Frodo.  “Wait!  No, maybe I do know what’s happening at least.  This time, the dream wasn’t nearly as bad.”  She seemed to be trying to sort out her thoughts as she pulled up her legs and hung them over the side of the bed, now sitting up next to him.  “I mean, I was still running; and I could feel him pursuing me.  But it felt as if he were very far away this time.  I even felt secure enough to turn around and have a look.”

“And what did you see?” he prompted her when she failed to continue.

“Nothing,” she whispered, amazed.  “Nothing at all.  There was no heat, no fire, no eye!  I was alone, surrounded by a pale, white light like moonlight.”

“Then why did you scream out?” he wondered aloud.

“I…I thought it was over,” she answered, looking deep into his eyes.  “I thought that all of this was over, and I didn’t want it to be.  So I screamed, hoping that you would hear me and come for me.”  She looked away from him, not wanting him to see how foolish she felt.  “And I woke myself up instead.  And you as well, for nothing.”

“Well, then,” he said, laughing lightly.  “Maybe this one was just a dream after all.”

“And maybe now, we can all get a good night’s rest,” added a voice from the doorway.  There stood Bilbo, candleholder in hand, shaking the sleep out of his head.  “You two have got to stop meeting like this,” he growled sarcastically.  “Come along, Frodo.  Back to bed for both of you; and don’t think that I haven’t caught on to your schemes!”  He harrumphed to cover up his laughter.  “Good night, Penn!”  He turned back just long enough to give her sly wink.

“I’m so sorry, Bilbo,” she started, getting up from the bed.  “I really didn’t mean to…”

“Tut, tut, m’dear,” he said, stopping her short.  “Don’t spoil an old hobbit’s fun.  Out with those candles and back to bed at once.  No more bad dreams tonight!  And I mean that sincerely, Penn.  Good night.”  He was pulling the door closed behind him as he spoke.

“Visitors?  Who would be visiting me?”  She stood up, looking remarkably fit after her bout with dreams and visions.  She did, however, look thoroughly confused.

“Well,” replied Bilbo looking her up and down closely.  He looked intently at her face, as if deciding something.  He was gratified to see that her eyes were bright and clear.  She also seemed to be standing quite steadily on her own.   The roses had returned to her cheeks as well.  Nodding almost to himself, he continued,  “Anyone who saw what happened in town yesterday or has even just heard tell of it will most likely be coming by to offer their condolences and get a good look at you and the, er, damage.”  At this he threw up his hands.  “What can I say?  Except that it is very important among hobbits to express our concern and well-wishes, as it were.  I suspect that you will have a great many visitors.  Ma and Dad Twofoot are here to see you; and if I am not mistaken, there are several others coming up the road even as we speak.  And not one is empty-handed.”

“Oh.”  She seemed nonplussed, but then smiled.  “I see. That’s very kind of them.  Of course I’ll see them.  I’ll be just a minute.”

“This is ridiculous,” blurted Frodo as he set a plate with nicely browned toast hot off the stove on the table.  “You are NOT in any condition to have visitors after what happened this morning!  You should be resting and recuperating.  We will send someone to say that you are not well enough to attend the hearing today as well.  And NO visitors!”

He stood his ground beside her holding a long fork in his hand as if it were a sword.  Pennemiriel resumed her seat and took his hand, getting his attention with a gentle squeeze.  His face softened just a bit as he turned and looked directly into her eyes.  She was going to gainsay him and he could see it.  Before he could say anything, she glanced at each of the others in the room.

“Might we have a moment alone,” she asked quietly.  “Please.”

Without a word, everyone filed out of the kitchen and closed the door to the hallway behind them.

She didn’t say anything.  Taking the fork out of his hand and setting it on the table, she drew him to her, wrapping her arms about his waist.  He resisted for no more than a heartbeat before folding his arms around her as well.  It was good to be taller than she was for a change, thought Frodo.  They simply held each other close for a long moment.  Then, turning her head so that her warm cheek brushed smoothly over his, she let her lips press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I feel a thousand times better all of a sudden,” she whispered without moving away from him.

He seemed to melt a bit in her embrace, for she felt him relax, laying his head on her shoulder.

“You should rest,” he insisted in a soft whisper, returning the same kiss to her, brief and sweet.

“I will,” she promised, sitting back to look into the depths of his blue eyes.  “Later, before lunch, before going into town for the hearing.”  He was stiffening again and rebellion was burning in his eyes.  Placing a hand on either side of his face, she smiled at him.  “I really, really do feel great right at this moment, Frodo.  And I think that it’s a feeling that’s going to last and last.”  Her brows went up and her eyes opened wide like pale blue reflections of the sky to his deep blue twilight eyes.  “OK?”

“There’s that silly phrase again,” he admonished suddenly.  “OK?  What in the world is that?” 

“I wish I knew,” she laughed.  And then she blinked as if something long forgotten had popped into her head unbidden.  “But it’s a very common phrase where I’m from, I think.  It just means alright, as you guessed it did.”  She shrugged as if she, herself, wondered where that information had come from.

Then she rose from her seat and left the table at a cautious walk.  Frodo followed her into the hallway; but Bilbo took his arm, shaking his head firmly, before he could follow her to her room.  They watched her continue to walk more firmly and steadily with each step until she was moving with a straight-backed, purposeful stride into her room.  The door closed behind her.

“She’s doing remarkably well, Frodo. We must go and greet our guests.”  Bilbo turned to the others and began issuing orders like a general before battle.  “ Merry, get out the tray and some cups and saucers.  Pippin, we will need more tea set to brewing.  Sam, get the table cleared.  We are going to need some space for all of the gifts Penn will be getting.  Come along, Frodo.” 

Bilbo hooked his arm in Frodo’s and marched him down the hall.

“We must allow Pennemiriel time to get dressed,” Bilbo began.  Another knock at the door interrupted him.  “And so it begins.  You go to the study and speak with Ma and Dad while I get the door.  No doubt, we will all end up in the kitchen, but we must begin somewhere.  Best foot forward, be polite!”  The last order was accompanied by Bilbo’s finger held up and shaken just once.

Frodo sighed heavily.  Putting a smile on as if it were a shield, he went into the study. 

The rest of the morning right through elevenses was a constant stream of visitors.  All came bearing gifts, mostly of food or drink.  All expressed their sincere regret and sympathy for such a terrible occurrence.  Every one, either with subtlety or without, stared at the faint pink line of the welt on Pennemiriel’s face and tsked over the bandaged arm.  She did her best to be gracious and to answer all questions, no matter how trivial.  The one joy to come from all the visitors was the hobbit-children who came with their parents.  Several were bold enough to speak with her themselves and even to climb on her lap when offered a piece of whatever sweet was currently available.  There they sat, asking childish questions and sampling the treats along with Pennemiriel.  Much to the delight of the parents, she happily answered all their questions and was not in the least offended when one bold lad asked loudly, “How did you get so very, very tall?”

“By eating all my spinach!” she exclaimed before his parents had time to be appalled.  Then she laughed delightedly when he made a sour face.   “That’s how you get to be big and strong, you know.”

“Well, I do believe that we shall have to bid one and all good day,” interrupted Bilbo, handing down young Tim Proudfoot to his mortified parents.  “We must have time to prepare for the hearing, you know.  Thank you all for stopping by.”  He was shooing people by the bushel out of the front door.

“Yes, thank you all,” called Pennemiriel as the last one was bundled out of the door and onto the path home.  She waved to them, and each one waved in return as they trooped off to get ready for the excitement in town themselves.

“Whew,” sighed Bilbo as he began to close the door.  But someone was pushing back and knocking all at the same time.  “What is it?”  There was a sharp edge in Bilbo’s voice as he pulled the door open again.

There stood a young hobbit-lad, doffing his cap as he bowed.  He was breathing hard as if he had been running.  He extended his right hand and offered Bilbo an official-looking envelope.

“From the office of Magistrate Aurelius Brandybuck himself, if you please, sir,” he managed to say between gulping breaths.  “For Lady Pennemiriel.”

“Do I look like Lady Pennemiriel?’  Bilbo had his hands on his hips, glaring at the boy.  “This is Lady Pennemiriel.”

“Your pardon, m’lady,” he said as he turned beet red and handed her the envelope.  “Sign here, please.”  He held out a slip of paper laid on a small piece of slate that bore the stamp of the Magistrate’s office on it.

“Just Pennemiriel, I…” started Penn as she accepted the envelope.

“LADY Pennemiriel,” corrected Bilbo, lifting a brow at her.  “Would be pleased to sign for the letter.”

Biting back the rest of her response, Penn accepted a rather thick wooden tool that apparently had a core of charcoal or even graphite in it.  Her first attempt to sign her name caused the tip to break.  The delivery boy fished in his pocket for a small knife and quickly sharpened the tip for her.  This time, she took care to write gently.

“Thank you,” she was saying even as the lad tipped his hat and hurried off toward Hobbiton.  “What, no tip?”

“Tip?” asked Bilbo.

“You know, a tip.  It means ‘to insure promptness’, I think,” she answered, sorting out thoughts that seemed to want to get away before she could get hold of them.  “A monetary remuneration for a job well done.”

“Monetary remuneration, now there’s a mouthful to be sure,” said Bilbo with wide eyes.  “You mean a few coins for the delivery.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a laugh and then shook a finger at him.  “Be nice.  I’m still learning.”

“So are we, m’dear.  Believe me, so are we.”  With that he closed the door.  “Well, what does Aury have to say?”

“Who?  Oh, you mean the letter.”  Penn turned the envelope over in her hands.

It was a very high quality of vellum and the lettering was in an elaborate black script so neatly written that it looked as if a ruler had been used to keep a straight line.  She broke the wax seal on the back and pulled a single sheet of parchment out of the envelope.  It was folded in half.  Shaking it out, she read aloud.

“’To the Lady Pennemiriel residing at Bag End, Hobbiton,’” she began.  “’You are hereby requested to appear at the office of Mayor Wil Whitfoot at 3 PM on this day, Saturday, June 17, 1401 for the hearing of one, Master T. Sandyman of Hobbiton.  Testimony may be required at that time.’”  It was signed with a great flourish by His Honour, the Magistrate Aurelius Brandybuck.  She paused and looked up at Bilbo.

“As if we didn’t know that already,” muttered Bilbo, shaking his head.  He started to walk away down the hall.

“There’s more,” Penn said, causing him to turn and look at her expectantly.  “’Please notify Masters B. and F. Baggins that their presence will also be required as witnesses.’”

“Short and to the point, that’s Aury through and through,” remarked Bilbo, scowling.

Just then, there came another knock at the front door.

“Confound it!”  Bilbo was livid as he pulled the door open.

“Where’s Samwise got to?” came a curmudgeonly voice before the door was even all the way open.

“Hamfast!”  Bilbo opened the door wide and the old hobbit hurried in as if his feet were on fire.  “He’s in the kitchen.”

But Hamfast was already halfway down the hall.  It was then that they noticed the half-crumpled paper that he clutched in his hand.  Penn and Bilbo looked at each other and then hurried after him.

“Samwise!  Samwise!”  Even as Hamfast strode into the kitchen, Sam was coming to meet him.  “Got an important bit of mail here for you.  Direct from the Magistrate, himself.  What have you gone and done, lad?”  He was thrusting the crumpled paper into Sam’s hand as he spoke.  “Did Farmer Dingle finally figure out who put his outhouse on the chicken coop roof?”

“That was nigh on a year ago, “ Sam blurted out defensively as he untangled the paper that turned out to be an envelope almost exactly like the one in Pennemiriel’s hand.  “Besides, no one would ever let out about that.  Everyone who knew was in on it.”

Pennemiriel was about to split at the seams just imagining Sam and his cohorts, whom she could only guess meant Frodo, Merry, and Pippin at the least, bundling an outhouse onto a chicken coop roof in the wee hours of the morning.  Had it been a dare or had they downed a few too many ales at the Ivy Bush and gone looking for something fun to do?  She knew that she would have to corner someone on that score soon.  But she came back to the moment in a hurry as Sam had opened his envelope and was reading aloud.

“’…notified that your presence is required at the office of Mayor Wil Whitfoot at 3 PM on this day, June 17, 1401at the hearing of one, Master T. Sandyman, as a witness and a defendant.’”  Sam stopped short and read the word again.  “Defendant?  What’s that all about?”

“We won’t know until you have finished reading the whole thing,” prompted Bilbo as he tried to read over his shoulder.  Unfortunately, Sam was a bit taller than Bilbo.

”’You are hereby countercharged with malicious assault with the intent to do great bodily harm to one, Master T. Sandyman.’”  Sam finished slowly.

“Intent?  I’d say you did a great deal of ‘bodily harm’ at that,” crowed Pippin, pounding Sam on the back.

“Malicious assault?  He’s the one who…” Sam couldn’t finish for the rage that was boiling up in him.

A loud knocking from the front room interrupted them once more.

“I don’t believe this,” shouted Frodo suddenly.

He hurried angrily to the door and nearly tore it off it’s hinges throwing it open.  A startled and flabbergasted delivery hobbit stood there.  It was the very same young lad, if Frodo had known, who had just delivered the letter to Pennemiriel.  He held out two envelopes.  They shook as he held them.

“Your pardon, sir, but I nearly forgot to deliver these for Master Meriadoc Brandybuck and Master Peregrin Took, if you please, sir,” he stammered.  Then he very cautiously held out the slate with signature slips on it.  “Could you sign for them please, sir?”  The poor lad was shaking like a leaf, his eyes wide with fear as Frodo stood there glowering at him.

“Merry!  Pippin!” Frodo called out over his shoulder.  Turning back to the quaking delivery hobbit, he smiled and said calmly, “I believe that they would like to sign for themselves.”

Both arrived in short order and signed for their notices, accepting the envelopes with some trepidation.  Neither was willing to open his first, until they reached the kitchen.  They opened them together and read silently.  Merry nearly exploded like firecracker.

“That cur has filed charges against me as well!”  He threw the offending notice on the table.

“And me!”  Pippin was livid.  “How can he do that?  Wouldn’t we have been arrested and taken to the lock-up as well?”

“Calm yourselves, lads,” Bilbo said as he picked up the letters and glanced at them before tossing them back on the table.  “It’s the action of a desperate hobbit.  Tit for tat, that’s all.  He brought the charges after the fact and that’s as much as admitting his own guilt in the matter.  You were never arrested because no one would speak against you for it.  Remember, you can’t be arrested if there’s no one to accuse you; and if the one doing the accusing does it from lock-up, it’s not a criminal matter unless the accuser is found innocent of the original crime.”

“How do you know all that, Bilbo?”  Sam stood amazed.

“Aurelius is my cousin, after all,” answered Bilbo, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.  “We used to visit a great deal before he became Magistrate, and we still write often and at length.  He’s a fine debater.  I’ve learned a great deal about Shire law from him.”

“Then we’ve nothing to worry about,” interjected Frodo as he also read the notices.  “Everyone knows what happened and no one will fault any of you for defending Pennemiriel.  I still wish that I’d gotten in a few good blows.”  His fists clenched on the papers.

There was long, angry silence.  Penn turned away with a look of utter dismay and slowly walked out of the kitchen without a word.  Almost at once, Frodo glanced in her direction and started after her.  Bilbo stepped into his path.

“Are you going to help her get cleaned up for this afternoon, Frodo?”  Bilbo’s eyes bored into him.  “I know how you feel about her, lad; but don’t behave like a smitten puppy.  Especially at the hearing.  I don’t believe that Hobbiton is ready for that yet.”  He patted Frodo’s shoulder and went on before Frodo could think of an angry response.  “It’s all right, Frodo.  Just keep your head about you as well as your heart.  Believe me, she’s already got many friends here besides us, especially since Sandyman’s attack on her.  It will go better for both of you if you just slow down and give it some time.  Besides, she’s a grown woman.  She doesn’t want you to do every little thing for her, you know.”

“I know,” answered Frodo so quietly that he could barely be heard.  “I know.”

“There’s a good lad,” said Bilbo, bestowing a bear hug on him.  “Perhaps we should all be getting cleaned up and dressed as well.”  He pulled his pocketwatch out and checked it.  “12:40.  We’ll have to leave by 2 in order to be on time.”

“We’ll be half to three-quarters of an hour early if we leave at 2,” said Sam.

“Better to be early than late for this sort of doing,” responded Hamfast.  “Let’s get you home and dress you up in your best, Sam.  That jackanapes won’t be seein’ you grovelin’ in work clothes before the Magistrate, to be sure.”

“He won’t never see me grovelin’ anywhere, anytime, gaffer,” replied Sam stoutly.

“Does this mean we’re not going to have lunch then?” asked Pippin.  Merry cuffed him up the back of his head.

“It most certainly does not!” answered Bilbo.  “All of you, out of the kitchen and get cleaned up.  I’ll make us a bit of something before I clean up myself.”

The afternoon wore away in almost complete silence.  Pennemiriel made a brief appearance at lunch, all dressed up in the dark brown skirt with the plain peasant blouse and doeskin boots.  She ate one slice of bread with a bit of ham and cheese and had another cup of tea before disappearing into her room again.  Sam had not returned, but Merry and Pippin ate half-heartedly all decked out in fine waistcoats and jackets.  Frodo simply simmered, especially after Penn had left in silence.  She had not given him an opportunity to speak; and when their eyes did meet, she quickly looked away as if she feared to speak.  It was almost quarter to two when Frodo suddenly rose from the table and stalked out of the kitchen.    Bilbo, Merry, and Pippin looked at each other with raised brows when they heard the firm knocking of Frodo’s knuckles on her bedroom door.

“Yes?” came her voice from within.

“Penn, I need to speak with you,” Frodo said, speaking close to the door and glancing down the hall toward the kitchen.

He heard the soft tread of her feet and the door opened slightly.  She looked at him questioningly.

“Penn,” he started then seemed to lose steam and faltered. 

“Yes, Frodo, what is it?”  She made no move to invite him in, but her eyes were creased with worry.

“Why are you still angry at me?” he blurted out without thinking.

“Angry!?  Oh, Frodo, I am not angry with you,” she answered, her shoulders sagging.  Then she opened the door wide and motioned for him to enter.  “I’m sorry if I made you think that.”  He stepped inside and immediately noticed that she had closed the window and drawn the blinds.  The room was dim and stuffy.  “I’m just a little nervous.  Maybe even a little frightened.  I don’t know.  I’ve never been in a courtroom in my life.  Oh, I want this to be over with.  I wish it had never happened.”  Suddenly, she was pacing the room like trapped cat.  “I hate having to do stuff like this.  And to make matters worse, now Sam, Merry and Pippin are in trouble and all because of me!  It makes ME feel so guilty.”

“You?!  Why would you be guilty?  You’ve certainly done nothing wrong.  And it was Sandyman’s fault, not yours.”  Frodo reached out and took hold of her left hand to stop her from pacing.  She wouldn’t look at him.  “There’s more to this than you’re saying.  What is the matter, Penn?”

“They will want me to testify.  I hate having to say bad things about anyone.  Worse than that, I don’t even remember what happened.  I certainly didn’t see it coming, much less who actually hit me!  How can I testify to what I didn’t see and don’t know!”  She was working herself into a fit.  “I hate conflicts so much, Frodo.  I hate arguing and accusing and…well, I just hate it.”

“You didn’t seem to mind taking me to task over how fairly Ted Sandyman would be treated yesterday,” he reminded her bluntly.

“And I left in a hurry, too, didn’t I!”  She began to pace again.  “Oh, Frodo, I’m a terrible wuss.”

“A what?”  He wrinkled up his face in disbelief.  “A wuss?  What in blue blazes is that?”

“A coward!  OK?  A big, fat coward!” she hissed at him.  “I feel guilty all the time, even when I’m not.  And accusing someone makes me feel guilty because I shouldn’t be accusing anyone of anything because I’m not a perfect person either so how can I accuse anyone of anything if I’m not…well, innocent?”

Frodo simply stood there for the longest time with a blank stare on his face that said quite plainly that he hadn’t a clue as to what she had just said.  After some time, he shook his head and a bewildered furrow creased his brow.

“Say that again,” he challenged.

“Not in a million years,” she said, suddenly bursting into giggles.  Her hand came up to her mouth as she tried to stifle the sound; but Frodo was laughing out loud with her.

Chapter 15

Sam arrived at the front door with Nimbus and the wagon that he had again borrowed from Dad Twofoot.  Everyone scrambled aboard and they were off at a brisk trot.  It was a fine early summer’s day.  A light breeze and massive, white cumulus clouds drifting through a blue sky kept the sun from making the day too hot.  Such a fine day could only make the doings of the afternoon an appealing diversion.  The road soon became cluttered with pedestrian traffic as well as buggies and cartloads of hobbits headed for Hobbiton as well.  Going soon became slow and Nimbus began to fret, chewing the bit and shaking his head.

“Easy there, son,” murmured Sam in an even tone.  Gripping the reins firmly, he guided Nimbus carefully through the crowd.  “No need to hurry.  Easy does it.”  Nimbus’ ears flicked back as he listened to Sam’s soothing voice.

“Looks like this is going to draw as great a crowd as the fair,” commented Merry.

“How are they going to fit all these people into Mayor Whitfoot’s office?” wondered Pippin.

“I dare say that they will be forced to carry on the hearing out of doors,” remarked Bilbo, pulling thoughtfully on his pipe.  “Aury will be very surprised to see this gathering descending on his hearing.  Sandyman may find it rather disconcerting as well.”

As they progressed, many hobbits called out in greeting to various members of their party.  A fair number of hobbit lasses flirted outrageously with Merry and teased Pippin with winks and giggles.  They had reached the edge of town when a winning, young lass with torrents of flaming red hair and flashing green eyes looked over her shoulder as Nimbus and the cart approached.  A dazzling smile lit her face and nearly bowled Sam over in his seat when her eyes met his.

“Good day, to you, Samwise,” she called, not letting him out of her gaze for an instant.  She tilted her head just a bit to one side and gave a brief flirting flutter of lashes to him.

“Good day, Rosie,” he answered, trying not to look directly at her and failing miserably.  He was blushing the most incredible red, and he seemed to have lost track of what he was doing, for Nimbus suddenly sidestepped when the reins went a bit slack.  “Whoa there, son!” called Sam as he tugged the lines tight again and directed the horse to the proper path and pace.

“Haven’t seen you at the Ivy Bush since Wednesday night,” she remarked, her lips curving downward into a sensuous pout for a moment.  “Are you gettin’ bored with me?”  

“No,” he retorted and then noted that she was teasing him for all he was worth.  Sitting up straight and proper, he looked down his nose at her in a haughty manner.  “Been busy, that’s all.”

“Busy, is it?”  She allowed her glance to stray to the back of the cart and rest ever-so-briefly on Pennemiriel.  “To be sure.”

“Now, none of that, missy,” scolded Sam.  “This is neither the time nor the place nor even the proper person to be teasing.”

“Would you be so kind as to introduce me, Master Gamgee?” asked Penn with an innocent look.

“Er, uh, Rosie Cotton, this is Lady Pennemiriel,” started Sam with a stutter and turning quite pale.  “Penn, er, I mean, Lady Pennemiriel, this here is Rosie Cotton.”

“Just Penn or Pennemiriel, if you would, Mistress Cotton,” corrected Penn and she leaned forward, extending her right hand.

Frodo was not at all pleased with Penn’s action and put his hand out, resting it on her knee, as if he feared that she would fall off the cart as it moved along slowly.  But she gripped the back of the front seat with her left hand as she offered her right hand.  Rosie looked askance at the proffered hand, but quickly took it and held it for a moment as if she was uncertain what was expected.  Pennemiriel lightly shook her hand in return, smiling brightly and nodding.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Penn,” Rosie said, smiling back with a gleam in her eye.  She had no trouble keeping pace with the cart in the midst of the crowd.   “And I’d be pleased if you’d call me Rosie.”  She turned suddenly serious as she traced the thin, red line on Penn’s face with her eyes.  “I hope that you are recovering from your ordeal.  It wasn’t a very pleasant way to begin life in Hobbiton and I’m sorry for it, as we all are.”

“Thank you.  I am recovering quickly.  I’ve been well taken care of at Bag End.”   She sat back at last, giving Frodo a sidelong look and gently removing his hand from her knee before turning back to Rosie with wink and a smile.  “It wasn’t as serious an injury as some believed.  But I’ve made good use of it.”

“Have you now?”  Rosie’s curiosity was piqued.  “And how may that be?”

“Well,” Penn began, smiling like a cat with whisker’s full of cream.  “I’ve a penchant for hugging and kissing; and of course, they couldn’t refuse an injured lady.  So far, I’ve managed to hug and kiss them all, except Sam.  But at least now I know why.”  She smiled at Rosie confidentially.  “I’d say that Bilbo is the best at it.  Doesn’t squeeze the wind out of you, and you don’t need a towel after his kiss.”  Both girls noticed Bilbo chuckling almost silently while pretending to ignore the whole exchange.

“Experience counts when it comes to hugging and kissing,” commented Rosie.  “Is it still at the cheek stage or have you managed to get beyond that?"

“Cheeks at the moment,” replied Penn.  Frodo smiled almost to himself over the fact that she hadn’t let on about their kisses.  He nearly sighed with relief.   “Merry and Pippin are very good at it, too,” she continued as if thinking out loud.

“Well, they would be, wouldn’t they?”  Rosie cocked her head so that she stared at the backs of their heads.   “Seein’s how they’ll hug and kiss anything in a skirt, as they say.”  She smiled smugly as both Merry and Pippin sat up ramrod straight and jerked their heads around to give her black looks.

“Well, perhaps,” Penn said, shrugging her shoulders.  “I haven’t known them long enough to know whether they are just trifling with me.  But I can live with that.”  It was all Penn could do to keep from glancing over her shoulder to see if she was getting the desired reaction without giving the game away.

“You’ve said nothing about Frodo,” noted Rosie.  “I hear he likes to hug and kiss with the best of them.  ‘Course, I wouldn’t know myself.  He’s very particular about who he hugs and kisses.  Or so I hear.”

“Well, what can I say about Frodo,” she offered effusively.  “He’s just…. well, so…yes, well…I have no comment beyond that at this moment, Rosie.”    They both grinned at each other and giggled.  Frodo squirmed uncomfortably.

“You and I are going to be great friends, I think, Penn,” Rosie announced.  “You know how to take the wind out of certain sails.  I like that.  You’ll have to come down to the Ivy Bush soon.  I do a bit of serving there.  Should you ever need work, that’s the place to go, and I’d be glad to put in a good word for you.”

“Sounds tempting,” Penn said thoughtfully while Frodo narrowed his eyes at her.  She didn’t see the retaliatory thoughtfulness he directed at her with a faint smile.  “I shall certainly give it some thought.”

“Since you seem to be feeling so much better,” commented Frodo with the barest hint of sarcasm.  “Perhaps you’d like to go out and celebrate this evening at the Ivy Bush, Penn. “

Penn was not completely naïve.  She had caught the slight change in his tone and looked at him carefully.  One brow went up and still she said nothing, as if she were assessing the situation. 

“Careful, Penn,” advised Rosie as she leaned toward the cart and put one hand to her mouth as if she could hide what she was saying from Frodo’s ears.  “He’s notorious for leaving broken hearts in his wake.”  Rosie winked.

“Oh,” said Penn, suddenly wanting to leave their silly game in the dust.   “I don’t believe that for a moment.  Frodo is simply not the kind to toy with hearts.  It’s just not his style at all.”  She did not even turn her head toward Rosie.  Her eyes held his and her smile was warm and open.  “I believe that I would like to wait until after the hearing to decide whether I am up to going out for a celebration, Frodo.  But should I decide to go anywhere, it will be with you.”

“So that’s the way of it,” said Rosie almost to herself as she quickly noted the intimacy of their gaze.

“Here we are!” interrupted Sam with authority, obviously relieved to have put a halt to the rather disconcerting conversation.

They had come to a halt not far from Gran Whitford’s shoppe.  It was as close as they could get to the Mayor’s office, which was still a block and a half down the street.  Apparently, someone had seen the size of the crowd and was already preparing for an outdoor hearing.  Benches were being carted out of the town hall and from several businesses.  They were lined up neatly out in the street in front of the Mayor’s office.  A desk and chair had been placed on the sidewalk to accommodate the Magistrate.  Several individual chairs had been set as the front row, facing the Magistrate’s table and with a good distance between chairs on the left and those on the right. 

“Well, lads,” said Bilbo as he got down from the cart.  “Now that you’ve been teased into submission by these fair ladies, let’s see if we can make our way through this mob.”

“Teased?” muttered Merry.  “Abused is more like it.”  He gave Penn an injured look and Pippin stood just behind him frowning at her as well with his arms folded indignantly across his chest.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Merry!” Penn implored, becoming instantly concerned that she had overdone the joke.  Frodo handed her down from the cart, grinning like a Cheshire Cat behind her back.  “Pippin, please!  You didn’t take any of that to heart, did you?”  She returned their hurt looks in kind.  “Honestly, I was only teasing.”  Neither of them would speak.  “All right, I promise that I won’t ever do it again.  I truly apologize.”   She seemed at a loss when they stubbornly refused to acknowledge her plea. Abruptly, she turned on her heels to leave.

“Hey, where are you going?” Merry called as she started to walk away.  “This is where you’re supposed to offer us a hug and a kiss to make up, isn’t it?”

Pippin could stand it no longer.  “There’s a price to pay, m’lady,” he chortled.  “Always remember that!”

Penn stopped dead in her tracks and did an about face to find them both standing there with smirks on their faces and arms open wide.  Frodo shrugged his shoulders and tried to look innocent.  Even Rosie was watching from Sam’s side. Her arm was hooked through his and she was laughing saucily.  Sam just grinned at Penn merrily.  Bilbo gave her a look that clearly said, ‘You asked for it’.  Finally, laughing at herself for falling into their trap, she came back and walked into their arms.

“You beasts!” she remarked as she kissed each one lightly.  “I should know better than to try and outdo you two at teasing.”

“That you should,” answered Merry.  “Besides, we couldn’t let you go to your seat without a hug and a kiss to keep your spirits up, could we?”  With that, he pecked her cheek on the left and Pippin got the right.

“And we’d never trifle with you, Penn,” said Pippin earnestly in her ear as he kissed her cheek again.

“I never thought it for a moment,” she answered.  Then she turned with her hands on her hips to give Rosie an offended look. “Did you know that they were up to something?”

“Well, I knew they’d figure out how to get you back,” Rose answered.  “But I didn’t think they’d be this quick about it.  They usually take a bit more time to make their plans.  Sam almost always thinks up the best ones.”  She beamed at him while he grinned sheepishly.

“Do you conspire with these ruffians often then?” asked Penn.

“Only all the time,” she confessed.  Then she gave Sam a quick kiss.  “I’d better go find a good seat before they’re all gone.  And don’t you worry, Sam.  No one’s going to charge you with anything but being a hero.”   She straightened his collar, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and turned to go.

“I’d say you don’t know us quite so well as you may have thought,” said Bilbo, taking Pennemiriel’s arm.  “You were much too easily taken in by these two scalawags.”

“Know you?  I’ve only been here for four days,” she exclaimed.  “How could I know you?”  She frowned thoughtfully.  “Four days.  What was there before that?  I wish I could remember.”  She spoke as if to herself as they walked down the street.

Bilbo and Frodo looked at each other in troubled silence.  As they made their way through the crowd, Penn seemed far away in thought and allowed them to lead her where they would.  The crowd parted before them as they approached.  Penn was still lost in thought with her hand tucked in Bilbo’s elbow when a sharp, rapping sound of wood on wood brought the din of the crowd to silence.

“Everyone find a seat,” called out Harbold Budgeford as he pounded a heavy gavel on the desk again.  “The hearing is about to begin.  Witnesses for the accused, front row, left.  Witnesses for the Lady Pennemiriel, front row, right.  Only those with proper documentation will be allowed in the front row.  Present your letters to me.  Everyone else be seated.”

Bilbo immediately fished in his waistcoat pocket for the letters that had been delivered that day.  Merry, Sam, and Pippin fidgeted with their letters as they all lined up to present them to Harbold.  He barely glanced at each one and soon they were all seated on the right.  Penn sat between Bilbo and Frodo on a chair that was, of course, hobbit-size.  Her knees tended to look like mountains, sticking up under her skirt in an awkward fashion until she tucked her feet under the chair.  Her nervousness was all too clear, for as her right hand fretted with a fold of her skirt Frodo suddenly reached out and took it in his and squeezed it encouragingly.  She looked over into his smiling face, which was now level with hers, and tried to smile back as best she could.  Merry, Pippin and Sam were all looking at her and seemed to be trying to give her their support with a wink here and a smiling nod there.

“It’s all right, my dear,” whispered Bilbo as he patted her left hand.  “No need to fuss and worry so. “

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice quivering slightly.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t look like Sandyman will have anyone to speak on his behalf but his mum and Tobe,” remarked Merry, leaning forward a bit as he checked out the seat on their left. 

A tiny, speck of a hobbit lady sat rigidly in one of the chairs.  She was dressed from head to foot in heavy, dark cloth.  Even her head was covered with a thick scarf that was tied under her chin.  Had it not been for an occasional blink of the eye, one would have mistaken her for a statue.  On her left sat the young hobbit lad that Pennemiriel had seen at Sandyman’s mill two days before.  He was as nervous as a rabbit in hunting season and kept taking quick, furtive glances at them and at all those seated behind him.  His discomfort was plain to see as he twisted and untwisted the cap in his hands.  He nearly fell off his seat in fright when Harbold brought the gavel smashing down again and called the whole place to order.

“Hear ye!  Hear ye!” intoned Harbold from deep in his barrel chest.  Silence fell completely.  “His Honor, Magistrate Aurelius Brandybuck calls this hearing to order!”

With that, a stout, ruddy-faced hobbit gentleman dressed in a fine, dark blue weskit and a black jacket and trousers came out of the Mayor’s office followed closely by the mayor himself.  As Wil Whitfoot took a seat on the Magistrate’s right, the Magistrate settled into the large, heavy-armed chair behind the desk that had been set out for him.  Aurelius Brandybuck gazed authoritatively over the crowd and nodded in recognition when his eyes found Bilbo.  Portly was without doubt the best description for Aurelius.  He was taller and certainly fuller than Wil Whitfoot, but he had the air of authority that Wil lacked in many respects.  His head was balding from the front to the back, leaving a hem of long, curling gray hair from just above his ears all the way around his pate.

“We are here on the matter of an assault, allegedly perpetrated by one, Master Ted Sandyman, upon the person of one, Lady Pennemiriel, on the morning of June 16, 1401,” intoned His Honor.  “Bring the accused forward.”

Harbold went to the door of the Mayor’s office and reached inside.  Almost like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he produced Ted from within.  Ted was quite a sight to see.  One eye was still purple-black and only just beginning to see daylight again.  There was a dark, but yellowing bruise along the edge of his chin on the left and another round bruise on his forehead just above his left eye. The swelling was only just going down.  His hands had been bound in front of him, but he was apparently not looking for sympathy as he wrestled against Harbold who escorted him to a seat next to his mother, who barely blinked as he was seated.  He glared hotly at Harbold in spite of the nearly-closed eye.

Without realizing it, Penn’s hand had gone to her mouth and a look of shock was etched on her face.  Frodo held tightly to her right hand and glowered, but with satisfaction, at Ted.  Merry, Sam, and Pippin seemed almost to be admiring their handiwork and nodded to each other, obviously content.

“Not bad for a stray punch,” remarked Merry to Frodo.  “I do believe the eye was my doing.”

“Sam made good on the jaw, I see,” continued Pippin.  “I think his forehead is where I cracked my knuckles though.”

There was a crisp, rustle as Pennemiriel jerked her hand away from Frodo and turned an outraged glare at them all.  Her eyes were on fire with anger and her jaw was clenched tight.  They all sat back as if they had been stuck a blow to the face and looked away from her.

“Who has filed the accusation in this hearing,” asked Magistrate Brandybuck.

“I did, your Honor,” answered Harbold Budgeford.

“Then take the witness’ seat and make your accusation to all here present,” recited His Honor, waving one hand at the chair on his left beside the desk.  He turned slightly so that he could watch Harbold as he sat down and began his testimony.

“I accuse Ted Sandyman of assault on the lady,” started Harbold, pointing at Pennemiriel.  “Friday morning, Ted Sandyman came to my shoppe to have a shaft repaired.  He was rantin’ and ravin’ about the cost and the many times it had already been repaired.  Then he started spoutin’ off about a witch being to blame for all his problems.  ‘Witch?’ says I.  ‘There’s no witches hereabouts.’  ‘There is and for sure,’ he says to me.  ‘Mad Baggins has taken one in.  Some relation of Gandalf’s, so he says.  Well any relation to that crazy wizard has to be a witch, hasn’t she?’ he says.”  Harbold paused to glance at the magistrate and at the front row where Bilbo sat listening intently.  “So then he starts in again on the shaft, which I tells him I can’t fix again.  I told him when he had it made that the quality of the metal was poor, but he wouldn’t part with the pennies it needed to get a good one.”  Harbold shook his head and then noticed that the Aurelius was frowning at him.  Clearing his throat, he continued.  “So, he keeps on and on about how it’s all because of the witch that he’s having such troubles.  Then without so much as a ‘by your leave’, he throws the shaft to the ground so’s it sticks there like a fencepost and marches off down the street with his buggy whip in hand muttering about ‘clearin’ out’ such riff raff from Hobbiton and the Shire.”  He looked at Pennemiriel and hung his head.  “I shoulda’ gone after him then and there.  I didn’t see the Lady and her friends down the street or I woulda’ known what he was about.”

“Please continue, Harbold, and come to the point,” said Aurelius, tapping his fingers ever so lightly on the desk.

“Well, your Honor, as I was bent down pullin’ that dratted shaft out’n the ground, I heard the bell on Gran Whitfoot's shoppe a’ringin’ and then an uproar.  When I turned about, there was Ted, flailin’ with his buggy whip over someone on the ground.  Then I see Samwise Gamgee tryin’ to get his horse and cart out’n the way so’s he can stop Ted from strikin’ again.  That’s when Sam caught Ted a good one with his right fist and sent him flyin’ into the street.  He’d no more than landed when Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took there leaped onto Ted and starts poundin’ on him for all they’re worth.”  By this point, Harbold was animated.  His hands and head moved in perfectly synchronized time with his story.  His huge fists pummeled the air and he nodded with a pleased expression on his face as he finished the fight.  “But, of course, I couldn’t let them keep on like that.  I am a shirriff after all. So I wades into the fray and hauls Ted out by his neck.  That’s when I see Lady Pennemiriel folded up in Master Bilbo Baggins arms all cut and bleedin’ from the whippin’ Ted give her.”  At this, Harbold’s face turned dark and angry, and he turned a deadly glare on Ted Sandyman who sat stock-still and staring straight ahead.  “He had no call to go doin’ such a thing.  None at all.  So’s I hauled him to the lock-up and turned in the accusation myself.”  Harbold turned a sad-eyed look to Pennemiriel and then looked at the ground.  “Had I been payin’ attention instead of fussin’ with the shaft, I might have stopped Ted afore he could do such a thing.  I’m truly sorry, Lady Pennemiriel.  Truly sorry.”

Pennemiriel was sitting spellbound at the description of events and tears started in her eyes when Harbold apologized.  She would have spoken had Bilbo not laid a restraining hand on hers.  She smiled gratefully at Harbold, trying to let him know that she did not hold anything against him. 

“You did not witness the actual assault, then?” questioned Aurelius, showing no sign of either sympathy or condemnation.

“No, your Honor,” came his reply.  “Just his hand comin’ down with the whip on someone.  I couldn’t see who he was after through the crowd, sir.  Not ‘til I got there and seen the Lady all cut up and bleedin’ so.”

“Thank you, Master Budgeford,” said Aurelius.  “You are excused from the witness seat.  I call the Lady Pennemiriel to the witness’ seat.”  He looked directly at her, but neither smiled nor frowned.

Penn suddenly found standing to be a great effort.  Frodo did not like her color, or rather lack of it, at all.  But Bilbo rose and helped her out of the small chair, escorting her to the witness stand.  As she sat down, it seemed that she didn’t want to release his elbow and he gave her hand a warm squeeze to get her to release it.  Smiling into her face and holding her eyes with his, he whispered, “It’s all right, my dear.  Aurelius barks, but he never bites the innocent.  You’ll be fine.”  With that, he turned a solemn look at the Magistrate and nodded once, returning to his seat.

“Are you comfortable, Lady Pennemiriel?” His voice had taken on a fatherly tone, and Penn turned a relieved, if baffled, look at the Magistrate.  There was the barest hint of a smile on his full, ruddy lips.  His dark brown eyes made a quick movement as they noted the weal on her face and the bandaging on her arm. 

“Yes, your Honor, quite comfortable.  Thank you.”  Her voice was small and quaked a bit, but color was coming back to her cheeks and she was breathing again.

“Good,” he said, lifting one brow.  “Please tell us what you remember of the morning in question.”

Chapter 16

“I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember much of anything, your Honor,” she began, looking at the Magistrate and worrying a fold in her skirt.  “Bilbo, I mean, Master Baggins had brought me into town to do some shopping.  We had gone to Gran Whitfoot’s shoppe to pick up an order.  I remember opening the door to leave and turning back to say ‘Thank you and goodbye’ to Gran.  Then I started to turn and felt a blow to my head.  It was hard enough to knock me down.  All the packages went flying and I fell into Bilbo’s arms.  We both fell.  I raised my arm because I could hear cursing and thought that someone would strike me again.  There was a stinging blow to my arm and then a huge commotion of noise and yelling.  After that, I only remember Gran tending to my face and arm while Bilbo held me.”  Penn’s lips quivered, and she pursed them tightly to keep control.  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but not one fell.  Clearing her throat, she continued, “And that’s all that I can recall, your Honor.  I never saw who struck me and I still don’t understand why.”

“Well, Lady Pennemiriel, the truth of your statement is quite literally written on your face,” commented Aurelius, shaking his head.  “Please accept our profound apologies for this heinous crime and know that justice will be served at this hearing.”

“Thank you, your Honor.  I know that it will be.”  She was relieved to be done.  But as she placed her hands on the arms of the chair, ready to leave, Aurelius stopped her with another question.

“This hearing needs only one other question answered by you, Lady Pennemiriel,” started Aurelius, looking deep into her eyes.  “Are you a witch?”

Before Pennemiriel could answer, Bilbo was on his feet.  “Magistrate Brandybuck, I am appalled that you would ask such a thing of one who has not been accused of any misdeed.”  Instantly, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and many others in the crowd rose to their feet clamoring angrily.  “This hearing is concerned with an assault on her person only.  She is not on trial here!”  Bilbo shouted to be heard.

The loud pounding of the gavel by the Magistrate took a moment to restore order.  Bilbo was still on his feet, but everyone else had been seated.  There was a deep grumbling murmur running through the crowd.

“Order!  This hearing will come to order!” declared Aurelius, a large vein in his temple bulging and throbbing as he roared.  “Master Baggins, please take your seat.”  Bilbo slowly sat down, glaring at the magistrate as he did.  “Lady Pennemiriel is NOT on trial here.  However, the accused has made certain statements, which have been attested to by a witness that must be authenticated.  If Master Sandyman believed that he was in some way defending us all from harm, his actions cannot be held against him.  Indeed, he would be lauded for courage.”  At this there was a general angry rumble from the crowd.  “However, if his belief had no basis in fact, then he is accountable for his actions to fullest extent of our laws.”  All this he said straight to Bilbo, never once taking his eyes from him.  “Please answer the question, Lady Pennemiriel.  Are you a witch?”  He had turned back to Penn whose countenance was nothing less than stunned.

“No!” she declared, looking straight into Magistrate Brandybuck’s eyes.  “No, I am not a witch.”

“But you are related to Gandalf, whom we all know to be a wizard,” he remarked, still holding her eyes.

“By marriage only,” she said, suddenly sitting up straight and frowning at the magistrate.  “He is my late husband’s great uncle on his mother’s side.”   Penn was not used to lying, but the words spilled out of her mouth as if they had been there all the while.

“I see,” said Aurelius, nodding and abruptly smiling at her.  “Thank you, Lady Pennemiriel.  You may return to your seat.”

“Besides, if I were a witch,” added Pennemiriel, tilting her head at a slight angle so that she glimpsed Ted Sandyman out of the corner of her eye.  He still sat ramrod straight and stiff, refusing to look at anyone.  “Would the accused be walking about under his own power?  I think not.  I am an ordinary woman.  I have no grudge or ill-will toward Master Sandyman other than to wonder why he would so despise someone he does not even know.”  She noted the flicker of his eyelids as she spoke of possibilities had she been a witch.

“Your testimony is duly noted,” declared Aurelius, neither frowning nor smiling as he scribbled notes on a sheet of parchment with a quill pen.  “And the truth of your statements is acknowledged and accepted.”  He continued to scribble until she rose and returned to her seat amidst murmurs of approval.

There followed a number of hobbits who had witnessed all but the first blow.  Each declared that Ted Sandyman had been like a madman, wielding the whip with vigor and apparent delight.  Sam, Merry, and Pippin all solemnly testified to their parts.  But during the retelling of the details of the fisticuffs, Magistrate Brandybuck was required to use his gavel several times to restore order when cheers and applause broke out.  Finally, Ted Sandyman was called to the witness seat.  The restraints were removed from his wrists; but he did no more than sit there glowering at one and all.

“Master Sandyman, you have heard the charges and the witnesses,” remarked Aurelius, holding his quill pen at the ready.  “You may now refute any testimony given; and, in your own words, relate the incident of the morning of June 16, 1401.”

Silence fell and remained.  Ted sat in dour silence and hardly moved a muscle.

“Master Sandyman.”  Aurelius spoke quietly, but firmly.  “Have you nothing to say in your defense?”

“Why bother,” Ted suddenly blurted out.  “She’s got you all bewitched.  None will be wise enough to hear and believe what I have to say.  Defending Hobbiton and all the Shire is what I was doing and no thanks will I get.  Ever!”  The last he spoke in a high-pitched challenge, glancing sideways at the magistrate as if he knew that he ran a risk by using Aurelius’ own words.

“And have you any proof that the lady is a witch?”  Aurelius looked hard into Sandyman’s face, tapping the tip of the quill thoughtfully on the paper.

“Proof!?”  Ted gripped the arms of the chair and his face turned a raging red.   “What more proof do you need than that blazing, red comet that brought her here in Gandalf’s keeping to be dropped off nice as you please on Mad Baggins’ doorstep.  Dressed in the queerest clothes anyone ever did see and shoes the like of which none of us has ever seen.  Who knows what monstrous hide they be made from. “

“We all saw the comet that passed over the Shire early on Wednesday, Master Sandyman,” sighed Aurelius.  “The heavens sometimes display great wonders to us, but that does not make it an ill omen nor does it make a coach and four to bring one of the Big Folk among us.  Did you see the lady riding the comet or did you see it set her down?”

“’Course not, but…” stuttered Sandyman.

“Is there anyone present who saw the comet stop and let off any passengers?”  Aurelius scanned the crowd even as they all tittered and whispered at the comment.  “I find your evidence against Lady Pennemiriel to be less than insufficient.  Preposterous would better describe your testimony, Master Sandyman.  Do you have any further evidence or rational statements in your defense?”

He closed himself up behind a brick wall that any with eyes could see and sat once more stiff and resistant in his chair.  But now, his glare was aimed directly at Pennemiriel.  Unfortunately, she did not look away, but held his gaze with a pitying look in her pale, blue eyes.  It was more than Sandyman cared to endure for he suddenly bolted from his seat and flung himself toward her.  It seemed that Frodo had been waiting for just such a move.  Before Sandyman had taken his second step, right hand raised in a hard fist, Frodo shot out of his seat and tackled him to the ground at his waist.  Everyone heard the hard thud and ‘oooommmmppphhhh’ that Sandyman made as the air was knocked out of him.  He hit the ground with Frodo on top of him.   Gasps came from the crowd and half of them were on their feet.  It was as if someone had taken a still picture as Frodo sat on Sandyman’s middle with his right fist at the ready, rage glaring from his eyes while Ted tried desperately to get air back into his lungs.

“Frodo,” came a whispered plea that almost no one heard but the one named.  Pennemiriel was standing with her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed with desperation.  “No more, please, Frodo.  Please.”  Still she whispered so softly that even those closest could barely hear her.

Breathing hard, Frodo uncocked his fist and leaned back, standing up in one swift movement.  He stood over Ted Sandyman, who was suddenly scrabbling to get from under him.  Bending slightly forward, he said in a cold, clear voice that all could hear, “If you ever touch Lady Pennemiriel again, you will never see the light of day as long as you live.”  With that he spun on his heels and returned to his seat, brushing past Pennemiriel without looking at her.

Harbold had hold of Ted by the time Frodo sat down; and Aurelius, who had leaped to his feet with the gavel in hand, nodded to him to escort Ted back to his seat.  A tumult of noise and chattering erupted as Pennemiriel also managed to sit down, her eyes locked on Frodo, tears streaking down her cheeks.  She dared not touch him, his face was still as hard as granite and the fire still burned in his eyes.  Merry, Pippin, and Sam had all they could do not to congratulate Frodo as they wished to.  Their faces beamed with justifiable anger that had been satisfied.  Bilbo had taken Penn’s hand when she sat down and held it tightly.  Then the gavel was pounding and pounding.  Aurelius could barely be heard above the din.

“This hearing will come to order.  Be seated.”  He shouted but was not heard for several moments.

Then Harbold stepped up and the boom of his voice brought instant silence.  “Order, if you please!  Take your seats!”

  “Now then,” began Aurelius in the unsettling silence.  “I see no need for further testimony.  I am also adding charges of my own to the one with which Master Ted Sandyman has been charged.”  The Magistrate’s quill began to flutter and dance rapidly as he wrote on the parchment.  “One charge of malicious disruption of a hearing and another charge for attempted assault upon the person of Lady Pennemiriel as witnessed by Magistrate Aurelius Brandybuck and all present at said hearing.”  His quill stopped its dance abruptly.   “I also find that I do not require time to deliberate my findings in this case.”  The quill jerked into motion once more.  “I find Master Ted Sandyman guilty as accused of all charges herein entered.  I further dismiss any and all charges against Master Samwise Gamgee, Master Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Master Peregrin Took.  It is further noted that the gratitude of this court is extended to Master Frodo Baggins for his actions this day in preventing another crime from being committed in the very presence of the Magistrate.”  Laying the quill aside, Aurelius Brandybuck rose to his feet amid applause and cheering.  His gavel immediately went into action.  “Order.  Order, I say.”  When all had been quieted once more, Aurelius continued, “I do, however, need time to determine an appropriate punishment.  Sentencing will be held on Monday morning, June 19 at 10 AM.  Master Sandyman will remain in custody until that time. This hearing is dismissed.”

With that, the cheering resumed at full force.  The only ones who did not seem to be participating were those seated in the row of chairs in the front.  Pennemiriel still looked longingly at Frodo, who stubbornly refused to even glance at her.  Bilbo had risen and was trying to get Penn to come with him.  Merry, Pippin, and Sam looked like balloons with no air left in them.  And unnoticed by any, Ted Sandyman’s mother rose from her seat, took Tobe by the arm and left the scene in utter and complete silence without a backward glance, a tear, a smile, or a frown.

“Come along, Pennemiriel,” pleaded Bilbo, putting one hand on her elbow and trying to direct her back to the cart.

“Frodo?”   She leaned toward him trying to get him to look at her, but he was still seething.  “Frodo, thank you so much.”

He leaped to his feet as if stung.  “Thank you?  Thank you?!”  He spluttered and fumed, and his eye finally came up to meet hers.  “Thank you for what?  I did exactly what you hate.  I tried to beat the living…”

“But you didn’t,” she interrupted quickly.  “You didn’t.  You did just enough to protect me and everyone else.  Just enough.”

He was giving her an unbelieving gape.  “Enough?  What are you talking about?”

“I forget who said it or even where it comes from, but there’s an old code that says something to this effect,” she began, pausing to collect her thoughts.  “Do not harm when holding is enough; do not maim when harming is enough; do not kill when maiming is enough.”  She broke off and shook her head as if she wasn’t quite satisfied with that particular choice of quotes.  “Anyway, it has to do with use of force.  It’s really hard to use only necessary force, especially when you are angry.  That’s all I want.  Justifiable use of force.  And you chose to do just enough, Frodo.”

“I think that I understand what you are saying,” he answered, mulling it over in his mind.  “But I wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t…” She bent and gave him a soft, quick kiss on the lips to stop him.

“I know,” she said quietly, reaching out to brush a stray curl from his forehead.  “There wasn’t anyone there to hold back Sam and Merry and Pippin the other day and look what came of it.  Ted Sandyman’s injuries looked far worse than mine.”

“He deserved it,” declared an irate voice from behind Frodo.  Merry was there with Pippin and Sam, looking very put off.  “I’d do it again whether you approved or not, Penn.  No one has the right to do what he did.  No one.”

“No one, indeed, Merry,” replied Penn, holding out her hand to him.  He balked for a moment and then took it.  She pulled him closer and then bent over, kissing him very nearly on the mouth.  “And I do thank you for coming to my rescue.  Even if it was a more intense rescue than I might have liked.”  Her eyes held his until he smiled.  “Pippin, you were as brave as any damsel in distress could have hoped for as well.”  He didn’t hesitate for an instant when she held out her hand to him.  Bending once more, she placed a proper kiss on the edge of his mouth as well.  “Thank you very much.”  Pippin was blushing unabashedly and grinning like a fool, a very happy fool.  “Sam, you were more than brave.  You were…. incredible.  I doubt that a mere kiss would say how glad I am that you were there and that you leaped right in with both feet to help me.  May I have the honor of giving you your first hug and kiss from me?”  Sam’s eyes went wide for a moment then he nodded his consent and allowed her to wrap her arms round him and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“What’s this then?” asked a mockingly angry voice.  “Turn my back and you’re kissing another.”  It was Rosie, smiling all the while.

“He’s got fine cheeks for kissing, too,” noted Penn, smiling back at her.

“And that’ll be as far you get with this one, then,” Rosie replied, tucking her arm in Sam’s as he blushed and stammered.

Frodo offered Penn his arm, which she took gratefully.  She leaned over and whispered something in his ear that made him blush to the roots of his hair, but left a broad smile on his face.  With that, they all trooped down the street to the cart.  Before they could climb aboard, Harbold came up to Bilbo with a note in hand.  Opening it, Bilbo nodded his head as he read it. 

“Tell Aury that I’ll be there shortly,” he said to Harbold.  “Well, I will be staying in town for dinner.  I’d recommend that the lot of you head for home and leave the Ivy Bush for another evening.  It isn’t wise to gloat, y’know.”

“Gloat?  Who cares about gloating!  We want to down a few pints to the demise of one Ted Sandyman,” crowed Pippin.

“May he rot in lock-up for a month of Sundays!” Merry chortled.

“And be fined a thousand silver to boot!” added Sam while Rosie laughed and squeezed his arm.

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Frodo, keeping an eye on Penn’s reactions.  “Let’s not take too much pleasure in the poor man’s difficulties, even if they were his own doing.  Let’s drink to justice being served.” 

“I would drink to that, Frodo,” said Penn with a smile.  “But I am just not in the mood to go partying tonight.  You may drop me off at home and feel free to do as you like.”  A sudden, unexpected yawn slipped out of Penn’s mouth before she could get her hand up to hide it.  “Excuse me!  But it’s home and hearth for me tonight.”

After bidding goodnight to Bilbo, Sam handed Rosie up to sit beside him in the cart.  Everyone else trundled aboard and they headed for home at a good pace.  The hearing had not lasted more than two hours and the sun was still well above the horizon at five in the afternoon in June.  By the time that they reached Bag End, one would have thought that they had all been on holiday, for they were laughing and talking and even tossing out a bit of song now and again.  Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Pennemiriel were dropped off at Bag End.  Sam and Rosie, having already turned down an invitation to dinner, went off to return Nimbus and the cart to Dad Twofoot.  It seemed clear that they would be spending the rest of the evening together one way or another.

Dinner became a cobbled-together affair that pretty much included supper as well.  There was non-stop eating as they managed to scavenge every bit of anything left over in the house.  Frodo produced a bottle of Old Winyards and proposed a toast.  After filling glasses all around, he held up his glass and looked at Pennemiriel.

“Here’s to the best thing to come along at Bag End since who knows when!  To Lady Pennemiriel!”  He grinned sheepishly at her and sipped the wine along with her.

“Bag End?  To come along to Hobbiton as well!” added Merry, downing his glass in one gulp

“To come along to the Shire and all!” cried Pippin, filling his glass as fast as he could.

“And here’s to the bravest, finest hobbits in all of Middle Earth,” pronounced Penn as Merry refilled her glass as well.  “Merry, Pippin, Sam, even if he’s not here, and to Frodo!”  She downed almost half the glass and Merry obligingly filled it again.

“We’ll drink to that!” roared Merry, refilling everyone else’s glass.  By the time he reached his own, the bottle was empty. “Frodo, one is not enough.”  He waved the empty bottle in front of Frodo’s face.

Another bottle was produced and emptied with great gusto and many toasts of various and sundry sorts.  When the toasts at last became silly just to be sure that they had a reason to tip their glasses up, they fell to laughing at almost everything, even a hiccup that slipped past Penn’s lips. 

“’Scuse me,” she slurred behind her hand, bobbling slightly as she reached for her glass.  Merry tried to fill it before she could pick it up and wine sloshed a bit out of the glass.  “Ooooppssssyyy!  Don’t waste any of this absotively mahvellous wine!”  She began to giggle as she ran her finger up the side of the glass to catch the overflow.

Chapter 17

At about 9 PM, when the sun was at last setting, a wine-hazed silence had settled on all at the kitchen table in Bag End.  They sat looking at one another with silly grins and nothing left to say.  Thinking was out of the question, and Pennemiriel let out with a huge yawn that spread contagiously to Pippin then Merry and finally Frodo.  Looking hard at her empty glass, Penn finally stood up, or tried to.  She listed somewhat to the right and caught the back of the chair just in time to stay on her feet.  Merry, who had been sitting on her right, made the mistake of attempting to leap up and assist.  Somehow he ended up on his backside on the floor, blinking like a sleepy owl and wondering where his own chair had got to.  Pippin took a fit of through-the-nose laughing at the sight of Merry sitting on the floor; and Frodo didn’t notice any of it as his head was pillowed on his arms on the table.  Faint, wheezing snores emanated from him.

“Well, gentlemen,” commented Penn with a hiccup.  “I do believe that I am going to bed now.”  She hiccupped again and turned very slowly to leave.  “Good night.”  She picked up one foot and set it down as if she were walking on ice.  “Good night,” she repeated and picked up the other foot carefully, letting go of the chair back as she did. 

She stood as still as was possible for a moment, getting her bearings and then stuck her arms out much as a tightrope walker would do.  Aiming for the door, she stared hard at the opening and stepped forward cautiously.  One wobbling step at a time, she made her way toward the hall.  Frodo suddenly jerked awake with a sound reminiscent of a chain saw hitting a nail in a tree that startled everyone.  With a high-pitched yelp, Penn jumped and nearly toppled.  She caught the doorjamb and slid sideways around it before stopping.  Pippin tipped over backward in his chair and lay gasping on the floor while Merry, who was already on the floor, merely jumped like a frog at the sound.   Frodo sat up blinking.

“Where’d everyone go?” he asked. Looking about, he spotted Penn righting herself in the doorway.  “Off to bed so soon?”  He blinked thoughtfully at her as she hiccupped and waved at him in the way of a goodnight.  Just then, Merry and Pippin almost simultaneously clutched the edge of the table and stood up, holding on and wavering as if they stood on the deck of ship at sea.  “Oh, there you are.  What are doing down there?”  When no answer was forthcoming, Frodo reached for his glass.  “Is there any more wine left?” he asked, gazing sadly at the empty glass.  Merry and Pippin looked at each other but seemed unable to process what had been asked.  Merry looked about the table and finally shook his head.  “Well, then, I guess that it is time for bed.  Wait for me, Penn, and I’ll escort you to your room.”  Frodo stood up and saw that the doorway was empty.  Penn was gone.

“Penn?” he asked the room at large.  “I know she was there.  Penn?”  He stumbled toward the door and turned into the hallway to see her standing a few steps away looking this way and that  “Wait for me!” he called and she turned to grin at him, holding up her right hand and moving her fingers in a half wave.  “What’s the matter?”  As he came up to her, she was gazing about with a muddled look on her face.

“I’ve lost my room and I don’t know where to find it,” she murmured mournfully.  Then she burst into a fit of giggling.  “No, no, no.  That was sheep and it was Bo Peep who lost them, not me.”  She seemed to find that thought endlessly amusing as she sniggered and giggled while Frodo looked at her with a thoughtful frown.

“Bo Peep?  Who’s Bo Peep?” he asked, still frowning.  “What sheep?”

“You know,” she declared with an edge of irritation in her voice.  “Bo Peep.  Sheep. She lost them.  You know.”  She looked at him as if he was trying to make fun of her.

“Never heard of her,” Frodo declared.  “Does she live in the Shire?  Never heard the name Peep before.  Except with chickens.”  He made a snorting noise through his nose as if he had just made a fine joke.

“Very funny,” she replied, apparently not at all amused.  She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Do you mean to tell me that you never heard of Little Bo Peep?  Everyone’s read Mother Goose rhymes before.”

“Mother Goose?  You certainly know a lot of ‘fowl’ people.”  Frodo explode with open-mouthed guffaws at what he obviously found hysterically funny.

For a moment it seemed that Penn was not going to share in his amusement, but then she bubbled over into staccato laughter that left her breathless.  It was several minutes before she could catch her breath and Frodo was literally doubled over with laughter.  When it finally wound down, Penn stood up with a ghostly white pallor to her face and suddenly said, “I don’t feel so good.”  Turning in a slow, indecisive circle she mumbled.  “I gotta go to bed.  Where is my room?”

“Right there, Penn.”  Frodo pointed to the left and then staggered forward and took her elbow.  “Here it is.”  He guided her through the door and into the dark room.  “Shall I light a candle for you?” 

“No,” she murmured, stumbling forward.  “I gotta go to bed.”  There was a soft bump as her legs found the edge of the bed and a full, ‘plump’ as she simply collapsed onto it.  “G’night, Frodo.” 

“Good night, Penn.”  Frodo simply stood in the doorway for a moment.  “Did you get your boots off?” he asked in a whisper. 

“Mmm.  Mmmm.” Came a distant response.

“You really ought to take off your boots, Penn.” 

Frodo walked forward into the darkness with his hands out in front of him.  Momentarily, he bumped into a pair of legs jutting out from the bed.  She had simply fallen forward onto her stomach and her feet stuck out from the edge of the bed, toes down.  Frodo felt his way up the boot on one foot until he found the tied lace at the top.  He tried to untie it, but his fingers simply wouldn’t cooperate and they brushed against the inside of her knee.  Without warning, Penn kicked upward with a hard jolt and shrieked through a fit of ticklish giggles.  Her heel caught him in the side of the head and knocked him onto the bed.  She quit kicking and turned over, flopping her left arm out.  It fell across his face as he lay there, stunned.  Feeling something in bed with her, she let out another startled shriek and leaped up.  Just then, Bilbo came in with a lantern, holding it high.

“What IS going on in here?” he demanded, seeing Pennemiriel standing wide-eyed and gasping with her hands pressed over her heart.  Frodo was still stretched out on the bed.  “Frodo!  What ARE you doing?”  Bilbo’s voice was more demanding that ever.

“Nothing,” came a muttered answer from the bed.  Frodo sat up, rubbing his nose as if it hurt.  “Penn went to bed with her boots on,” began the explanation as Frodo looked up into Bilbo’s decidedly unimpressed eyes.  “I was just trying to get them off for her so that she could sleep more comfortably.  And she kicked me!”  Frodo shot an annoyed look at Penn, who was still gasping for air after being so startled.

“Oh, Frodo,” she said, suddenly concerned.  “I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?  It tickled.  I couldn’t help it.”  She was reaching out to see if he was really hurt.  “Did I hurt you?  You scared the daylights out of me.”  She tipped his head up with her hand under his chin.  He tried to scowl at her and then sniggered.

“Scared you!  You nearly knocked my head off.  I’ll be sure to watch out for the ticklishness next time.”  He smiled and took her hand in his.  “Don’t worry about me.  It’s not broken or bleeding.”  He rubbed his nose again.  “You have a very hard arm.”

“And the two of you have apparently had enough Old Winyards for one night,” remarked Bilbo, sniffing the air with a frown.  “Time to sleep it off.  To bed with both of you.  Your own beds!”  Bilbo’s toe tapped smartly on the floor and he looked straight at Frodo, who was wise enough to blush.

“We’ve missed it again!” came a sorry exclamation from the doorway.  Pippin stood there, looking cherubic with wine-reddened cheeks.  Merry was gawking over his shoulder, looking befuddled.

“Does it seem to you, Penn, that we are always getting caught out by this group of eavesdroppers?”  Frodo shook his head in dismay.  “Do none of you have anything better to do than catch Penn and me in awkward positions?”

“That IS the best thing we have to do,” answered Merry.  “What better could there be?”

Bilbo was struggling to keep the smile off his face.  “You two do seem to have a penchant for it, Frodo.  Penn.   Discretion seems to escape both of you.”  With that he let out a full grin and, shaking his head, left the room snickering.  “Don’t make me come and chase you into your own room, Frodo,” he said over his shoulder as he herded Merry and Pippin before him.  Their protests were drunkenly weak and in vain.  “Can’t leave the lot of you at home alone for one evening without you all getting into mischief,” Bilbo commented as he tsked his way down the hall.  “Can’t imagine what sort of disaster would have occurred had you all gone to the Ivy Bush.”

Pennemiriel, who had been watching as Bilbo left with his charges fleeing before him, turned back to Frodo.  She was blushing ferociously, but there was a barely contained smile on her face.  With a sigh, she came and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Well,” she said at a loss. 

“Yes, well…” Frodo added without much more luck at words.  “I suppose that I’d better be getting to bed.”  But he made no move to get up.

“I suppose so,” she answered, nodding and glancing over at him.  “I probably should get these boots off and get to bed myself.”  But she made no move to do so. 

They sat there just taking quick, furtive glances at each other for a moment.  Then a light went on in Frodo’s eyes and he jumped off the bed, standing before her.

“Can I help you, m’lady?”  He bent forward as if to bow, smiling.

“Sure,” said Penn and she hitched her skirt up to her knees and offered him her right foot.  “Careful, though.  It may go off if the proper trigger is pressed.”  Her blush deepened.

“Trigger?”  He had no clue as to what she meant, but he got down on one knee and began to unlace the boot.

“I’m sorry.  I keep forgetting.  You don’t have guns or anything like that yet, do you?”   She spoke softly, not really looking at him, but into some distance that he couldn’t see. 

“No, never heard of that before,” he answered as he pulled off the boot.  He looked up and saw the distance in her eyes.  “Penn?  Are you all right?”  He set the boot down and laid his hand over hers as it lay in her lap.  “Penn?”

She came back with a start and a sigh.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Just a bit of something popping into my head again.”  She shook her head and her brows drew together.  “I can’t make much sense of it, but it’s there now and again.”  Looking into his face, she saw the concern in his eyes.  “Ready for the other one?”  She stuck out her left leg

“Bilbo and I have been concerned about you ever since the night of your vision,” Frodo said as he unlaced the other boot.  “You seemed to forget all about your other life in the future after it happened.  I suppose it’s for the best, but you seem troubled at times over it.”

“Vision?”  She had to think hard through the remains of the wine.  “Yes, the vision.  Irmo.  The garden.  It was so beautiful.”  She sighed deeply.  “But the harder I try to remember any of it, the more it slips away.  If I don’t try, it comes to me in bits and pieces that make sense for a moment.”  Again, she sighed and then a yawn escaped her. 

Pulling the boot off, Frodo picked up the other and went to set them by the wardrobe.  “Then I wouldn’t try too hard to remember,” he advised.  “Apparently Irmo will let out all of it in its own good time.  Probably when you have need of it.”  When he turned back, Penn was already curled up on her side in bed fully clothed.

“Probably,” she murmured, drifting away into sleep.

“Good night, Penn,” he whispered as he pulled the blanket over her.  Bending down, he set a gentle kiss to her lips and she sighed, smiling.

Chapter 18 

The midnight hour passed and Penn awoke with a deep breath.  She could not tell why she had come awake until she tried to turn over and the blankets twisted about her skirted legs.  It was oppressively hot and stuffy in her room.  Struggling to untangle herself, she found that there was a foul taste in her mouth as well.  Old Winyards was not nearly so good after the fact.  She finally got herself free of the blanket and swung her legs out of bed.  Even before she thought to stand up, her toes met an obstruction on the floor.  That’s when she noticed that her door was more than halfway open. 

The very faint light of a candle in a holder out in the hallway did little to ease the darkness in her room, but it did show up the lump of what looked like dirty laundry piled on the floor beside her bed.  Pulling her feet back into bed, she leaned over so that she could inspect the rumpled mass of cloth.  Sure enough, there was a tousled head of curly, brown hair sticking out of one end.  Chuckling, she reached down and poked the lump gently at first.  When there was no more response than a muffled groan, she prodded harder and leaned closer.

“Frodo, is that you?” she asked hoarsely.  Still nothing. 

She leaned a bit closer and gave him a good, hard prod.  Instantly, he jerked upward and their heads collided with a sickening whack.  Both of them yelped simultaneously.  Penn rolled over and kept saying, “Ow, Ow, Ow” while pressing her hand to her forehead.  Frodo had both of his hands to his head and was sucking in air in short hisses of pain. 

“What did you do that for?” he moaned finally.

“What are you doing on the floor in my room?” she retorted.