Title: Death on the Brandywine
Author: Kathryn Ramage 
Email: kramage@erols.com
Codes: Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin
Rated: PG13
Summary: A murder mystery, set in Buckland. When Merry is suspected 
of murdering a Brandybuck cousin, Frodo conducts his own 
investigation (with Sam's assistance) to clear Merry's name and find 
the guilty party.

Notes: Although I've taken a lot of backstory from the book, I've 
also used two key elements from the film version: the Shire is 
untouched, and our four main hobbits are all around the same age. 
 
Almost all of the names used in this story are taken from the 
Brandybuck family tree in Appendix C, but the characterizations are 
mostly my own (with apologies to any Brandybucks whom I may have 
unfairly maligned by making them suspects in a murder).

This story takes place in the spring of 1420 (S.R.), about six months 
after the boys have returned from the quest.

Disclaimer: The characters and overall storyline are certainly not 
mine. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, and I'm just playing 
with them to entertain myself and anyone else who likes this kind of 
thing.

June 2004 (revised April 2005)

!~|i|~! 

When the news that Berilac Brandybuck was missing and presumably 
drowned in the Brandywine River first reached other parts of the 
Shire, it was called a "sad accident." Residents of Hobbiton shook 
their heads and spoke, as they often did, of the peculiarities of 
that family; the way the Brandybucks persisted in engaging in such 
dangerous activities as swimming and taking boats out onto the river, 
it was a wonder that accidents like poor Berilac's didn't occur every 
week!

Then, when Berilac's body was recovered downstream two days later, 
alarming stories quickly spread about strange bruises on his hands 
and even more suspicious wounds on his head. Speculation ran wild. 
Was the young hobbit's death not an accident after all? 

"It must've been one of those odd folk that was hanging about our 
borders," was the common opinion. Buckland was as near the border as 
anything. Any wandering ruffian might easily cross into the Shire 
there and, finding Berilac alone, assault and cast him into the water 
for some nefarious reason.

Then, even more astonishing news reached Hobbiton the following day.

"The shirriffs in Buckland have arrested Mr. Merry," Sam reported 
when he returned from a mid-morning trip to the Bywater Market. He'd 
moved into Bag End after they'd come home last fall to look after 
Frodo, who was still recovering from his quest into Mordor.

Frodo was just finishing the breakfast Sam had set out for him before 
going on his errands; as Sam came into the kitchen and delivered this 
news, he lay his knife and fork down on his plate and stared at his 
friend blankly. "What on earth for?"

"They're saying he murdered his cousin, the one that was drowned."

"What- Berilac?" Frodo sputtered. "But that's nonsense! You must have 
misunderstood."

"There's no mistake," Sam assured him. "I got it right from Robin- 
Sherriff Smallburrows, that is. He had the news from Buckland this 
morning. When I first heard the story going 'round the market, I 
didn't know what to make of it. You know how folk'll talk. Once they 
get hold of some gossip, they'll tell it over 'n' over 'til it's all 
mixed up and twisted around, and if they don't know the facts, 
they'll make up whatever comes into their heads. So I went to Robin 
for the truth of it. I wanted to be sure before I told you, seeing as 
how it's Mr. Merry."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Sam," Frodo spoke abstractly, stunned by 
this news. In his agitation, he lifted his empty teacup to his lips, 
put it back down on the table and reached for the teapot as if he 
meant to refill the cup, then changed his mind. He rose to his feet 
and went to the kitchen doorway, then stopped there with one hand on 
the curved doorpost while he decided what to do. "Sam, will you pack 
a bag for me? I'm going to ride over to Buckland. If Merry's in 
trouble, I've got to go to him."

"What can you do?" Sam asked, astonished that Frodo was ready to go 
tearing halfway across the Shire at a moment's notice because Merry 
Brandybuck was in trouble. 

"I don't know," Frodo admitted, "but I must do _something_."

!~|ii|~!

Sam packed a traveling bag for Frodo and one for himself, since he 
wouldn't dream of letting Frodo go without him, and they left Bag End 
within the hour. It was 40 miles from Hobbiton to the borders of 
Buckland, and Frodo was eager to get there as soon as possible; they 
rode swiftly, stopping only at Frogmorton and Whitfurrows for a bite 
to eat and to let the ponies rest, and crossed the Brandywine Bridge 
late that afternoon. 

The Buckshead Inn lay at the crossroads just beyond the Buckland side 
of the bridge. The innkeeper, who kept himself apprised of all the 
important news, told them that Merry had been locked up in the 
guardshouse at Newbury. Although both he and Sam were weary after 
their long ride, it was only another seven miles to Newbury; Frodo 
decided to press on without further delay.

The guardshouse was a long, low, wooden structure, built during those 
uneasy days when strange folk were too often seen on the Shire's 
borders. It was intended to store weapons and supplies in case of 
invasion or other emergency, and also served as a central office 
where Bucklanders could always find a sherriff when one was needed. 

Hob Hayward, who was on duty when Frodo and Sam arrived, allowed them 
in to see the prisoner.

"We don't have no cells to lock people up in," Hob explained as he 
led them through the long hall of the armory, to a door at the very 
back. "We had to put Mr. Merry in the room where the sherriff on duty 
sleeps, as there was nothing else we could do with him." He knocked 
on the door. "Here's some visitors for you, Mr. Merry."

The door opened into a small room with curving walls in the 
traditional hobbit style, furnished sparsely--sparse, at least, by 
hobbit standards--to provide basic comforts to the sherriff who must 
occupy it for a night or two. There was also usually a rack for pipes 
and a locker full of food supplies, which Hob had removed to the 
hall, along with other small comforts, when he'd vacated the room to 
accommodate his prisoner.

Merry lay on his back on the narrow bed, a pipe in his mouth and his 
eyes on the ceiling, but he sat up when he saw who his visitors were. 
"Frodo! And Sam too! I didn't know you were here."

"We came straight away when I heard the news," said Frodo. "How are 
you, Merry? Have they been treating you well?"

"I've been in worse places," Merry answered with a grin. "It's not so 
bad. Hob here has seen that I get decent meals and plenty of 
pipeweed. He just won't let me go past that door." 

"You know I can't, Mr. Merry," Hob said apologetically. "I was told 
in particular not to, not `til we've finished conducting our 
investigation-" he pronounced these last words carefully, relishing 
each official-sounding syllable, "and the matter is sorted out. 
You've got it better than I do. That's my bed you're sleeping in, 
while I'm left a-sitting out against the door all night. I've got to 
keep guard over you and see you don't walk out."

"If I did, I'd only go back to Crickhollow," Merry retorted. "You'd 
just have to go over there when you want me."

"Then you might as well stay here," said Hob, "and save me the 
trouble of going to get you."

"May we speak to your prisoner alone, please?" Frodo requested, 
interrupting this badinage.

"There's no rule against private conversations, is there, Hob?" Merry 
asked.

Hob considered it. "No one's said you could, and no one's said you 
couldn't either. Seeing as how it's Mr. Frodo, come all the way from 
Hobbiton to see you special, I guess it's all right. But mind now, 
Mr. Merry, if you're going to confess to anything we ought to know 
about..."

"You'll be the first one I tell, Hob. I promise."

Hob left them alone to talk.

"I've never seen the sherriffs so happy," said Merry once the door 
had shut. "They're enjoying themselves, you know. Even for all his 
grumbling, Hob's having a high old time of it."

Frodo glanced at the door--and Hob somewhere beyond it--with a scowl 
of disapproval. "Horrid lot of brutes," said Sam. 

"Don't be too hard on them. They've got a real, live murder to 
investigate. It's the most excitement they've seen in all their years 
on the job."

"What happened, Merry?" Frodo sat down on the bed beside his cousin. 
Sam stayed near the door to ensure that Hob didn't eavesdrop. "I want 
to help. I'll do anything I can, but I don't understand why you've 
been arrested. Why do they think you've got something to do with 
Berilac's death? What proof do they have?"

"No proof," Merry answered, "but there's enough against me that looks 
suspicious."

"Were you anywhere near the place where he drowned?"

"It's just a mile or so from Crickhollow, where Pip and I have been 
staying. You remember that end of the lane, where it meets the 
footpath along the river? That marshy bit where the rushes grow tall, 
and the bottom's muddy?"

A strange look came over Frodo's face. "Yes," he said, "I know it."

"Pip and I found the boat pulled up there."

"Pulled up, not washed up?"

"No. Someone had dragged it half onto the bank. There's a muddy flat 
below the path that's a sort of a natural landing. We didn't know 
who'd left it there. We didn't know about Berilac's being missing. No 
one did, not `til he didn't come home for dinner that night. He left 
the Hall that morning from the boathouse, and that was the last 
anyone saw of him. Pip and I never saw Berilac, dead or alive, but of 
course the sherriffs have it that I met him by the river earlier in 
the day. They say I fought with him and, by accident or deliberately, 
hit him on the head and killed him."

"But _why_? Why do they think you fought with him?" As far as Frodo 
knew, even if Merry and Berilac were not on the friendliest terms, 
they were not openly hostile toward each other. "That's nothing to 
arrest you for. Unless they have some proof, they've no right to shut 
you up here like a criminal." Another question occurred to him. 
"Merry, who's ordered Hob to keep you under guard?"

"The local magistrate," Merry said dryly. "You know who _that_ is."

Frodo did know. The office of magistrate was traditionally held by 
the most prominent hobbit in the vicinity. In Buckland, that was the 
Master of the Hall. "Oh, Merry, not your _father_?"

Merry nodded.

"Surely he doesn't believe you did this?"

"I don't think that has anything to do with it." 

"Merry..." Frodo lowered his voice, "what's going on? Tell me. 
There's more to this than Berilac's death, isn't there?"

"Berry's death is only the end of it." Merry sighed. "I suppose all 
this business began when we left the Shire- No, it goes even farther 
back than that. Father was always fond of Berry. Remember how he used 
to hold him up as an example of a properly behaved hobbit-lad, and 
wonder why I couldn't be more like him? And you know what an old 
stickleback Berry was! _He_ never got into trouble, or wanted to go 
off on adventures. He wouldn't disappear for more than a year without 
a word of warning. When we left the Shire as suddenly as we did, no 
one could tell what'd happened to us. As far as the family knew, I'd 
fallen off the face of the earth. They had no idea if I was ever 
coming back, and so Father started looking to Berry as the next in 
line."

"And when we came home-?"

"I was put back in my rightful place, and Berry went back to his."

"If you don't mind me saying, that sounds more like a reason for Mr. 
Berilac to push _you_ into the river than the other way `round," Sam 
observed.

"Maybe it was. We never got on very well--Frodo can tell you about 
_that_--but if Berry bore me any grudge, he was smart enough to keep 
his feelings to himself. He said he was glad to see me alive and 
well, and welcomed me home just like the rest of the family. If 
anybody was obviously disappointed to have me back again, it was 
Uncle Merimac--not that Uncle Merry would wish me dead, but he's 
ambitious enough to like the idea of _his_ son being the next Master 
of the Hall if I never came home. In any case, there wasn't any 
trouble, not `til the day before Berry went missing. I had a quarrel 
with Father. He threatened to disown me. He'd found out about Pippin, 
you see."

"Found out what about Pippin?" asked Frodo.

Merry regarded his cousin with eyebrows archly and meaningfully 
upraised.

"Oh," said Frodo. "But surely he knew about _that_ ages ago."

"He did, but he never minded it when Pip and I were just boys playing 
around. It's _serious_ now. Since I've come home, Father's decided 
it's time for me to settle down. I've had half a dozen girl-cousins 
paraded before me, until I couldn't stand it any more. We finally had 
it out. I went to Father and told him that I might get married one 
day, but I'm not in any rush and whoever I choose, she has to 
understand how things are between me and Pip. After all we've been 
through together, we don't want to let each other go. I'm sure you 
know what _that's_ like--you and Sam."

Sam blushed, but Frodo smiled and said, "Yes, I know exactly what 
that's like."

"Well, Father didn't see it that way at all. He said it wasn't 
natural. I wasn't a boy playing games anymore, and I had to stop 
seeing Pippin before it became a scandal. I told him I wouldn't. I'm 
not afraid of scandal, and I'd leave the Hall for good rather than 
break it off. I'd never seen Father so angry before. 

"Everyone knows we've quarreled--half the household must've heard him 
shouting that he'd cut me off--but no one knew what it was about 
before Berry's body was taken out of the river all battered and 
bruised, and the sherriffs started to wonder who would want to do him 
harm. Once they heard of my fight with Father, they came up with the 
idea that Father was going set me aside and put Berry into my place, 
and so I must have knocked him over the head and tossed him into the 
Brandywine to get rid of him way once and for all. Yesterday, they 
came round to Crickhollow to tell me I was under suspicion and to ask 
me to account for my whereabouts at the time of the murder."

"Who told them about it?" asked Frodo.

"I don't know. Anyone might've. It could even be Father himself. He 
didn't lift a finger against it when the sherriffs took me. When he 
came here yesterday to give Hob his orders, he said that justice must 
take its course, but _that's_ not the reason he's doing this. I'm 
being punished, and not for anything to do with Berilac. At least, 
Father can't hold Berry over me anymore."

Frodo understood. The sort of "boys playing games" relationship that 
Merry and Pippin had shared since their late tweens went on all the 
time between young hobbits; it was not openly acknowledged and rarely 
spoken of in public, but it was accepted... up to a point. The Shire 
could turn a blind eye to it as long as it didn't go on too long to 
be called child's play, or become too indiscreet to be overlooked. 
Merry and Pippin had breached that limit of acceptability, just as he 
and Sam had--but they had been caught out, and Merry was paying for 
it.

"Couldn't you account for your whereabouts?" Sam asked Merry.

Merry shook his head. "The morning that Berilac drowned, I was off by 
myself. I was upset after the quarrel, so I went for a walk. I wanted 
to think things through, to figure out what we would do if Father 
made good on his threats and Pippin and I had to go somewhere else. I 
was out 'til lunchtime--nowhere near the river, mostly on the path to 
Bucklebury along the Hedge--but I've no proof of that. There's only 
my word for it." He smiled. "Pippin was ready to say he'd been with 
me, but I wouldn't let him do it. They'd only think he was lying for 
my sake, which he would've been. No one's accused him of helping me 
to get Berry out of the way, and I won't give them the chance to."
 
"Where is Pippin now?" asked Frodo.

"Still at Crickhollow." Merry grabbed Frodo's sleeve, suddenly 
earnest. "Look in on him for me, will you? I don't like to think of 
him being there alone, not knowing what's going on. Stop by and let 
him know I'm all right. Tell him not to worry."

"Do you want us to stay with him while we're here?"

"No, if you're going to do any good, you'd better go to the Hall. 
Mother will be glad to put you up, and you can work on Father. He 
likes you. He's always said you were a young hobbit of uncommon 
sense, even if you did go off on an adventure and took me along. He 
might listen to you."

"Yes, of course," Frodo promised. "I won't let you sit in this awful 
place a minute longer than I have to."

"It isn't so bad, really. I don't like being caged up, but I can 
stand it. I don't even begrudge the sherriffs the fun of their 
investigation... as long as I don't get hanged at the end of it." 
Merry's smile faded and the cheerful facade dropped. They saw how 
frightened he really was. 

"Oh, Merry-" Frodo hugged him. "That won't happen. I won't let it, 
even if it means rescuing you from the gallows at sword-point." Merry 
laughed against his shoulder, and they went on clinging to each other 
until Sam began to fidget. As they drew apart, Frodo took Merry by 
the arms and said, "I'll come back tomorrow and, with luck, I'll 
bring good news."

!~|iii|~!

Pippin was not in when they stopped by the cottage at Crickhollow, so 
Frodo and Sam continued along the back road that curved around the 
foot of Buck Hill and went past Bucklebury. It was twilight when they 
arrived at Brandy Hall. They left their ponies at the stable and 
walked to the front of the Hall across the wide, green lawn. 

Sam gaped up as the last lights of the sunset glittered in the scores 
of westward-facing windows around and over the three front doors. On 
the quest with Frodo, he'd been in the great cities of Men and Elves 
and Dwarfs, and seen towers that nearly touched the sky, but he'd 
never before seen a hobbit-hole of this size, nor one with a second 
and third story. Brandy Hall tunneled through the entire hillside, 
and outbuildings extended from the earth atop the hill and away from 
its slopes.

"The old warren hasn't changed a bit," Frodo said wistfully as they 
approached the nearest front door. "I was born at Brandy Hall, you 
know, and spent my childhood here before I went to live at Bag End. 
Do you remember when Merry and I came to visit Bilbo that first time, 
the summer after my parents died?"

"I remember," Sam answered. As if he could forget! It had been years 
before Mr. Bilbo had adopted Frodo. Sam had only been a small hobbit-
lad then, helping his father to tend the garden at Bag End. When he 
wasn't needed in the garden, he would go up to the house for his 
lessons. Mr. Bilbo had not only taught him to read and write, but the 
peculiar old gentleman had also amused himself by giving the 
gardener's boy poems to recite and by telling him wonderful stories 
about faraway places, goblins, dragons, and best of all, the Elves--
filling his head with all sorts of nonsense that the Gaffer had said 
would give him ideas above his place and never do him a lick of good. 

But when he'd gone up for his lessons on that memorable afternoon, 
Bilbo had said there would be none. 

"I have a special job for you, Sam my lad," Bilbo had announced 
instead. "Some of my young cousins are coming to stay with us for a 
few days. They're boys near your own age. One of them has lost his 
mother, just as you have, and his father too. I'd like you to make 
them welcome. Show them about. Play with them."

Sam had agreed, but with some bashful doubts. Until that day, his 
only playfellows had been the Cotton boys and other country lads from 
the farms around Hobbiton. Little gents, such as the two that had 
arrived that same afternoon, dressed in their best clothes for their 
visit, high-spirited and skittish as a pair of unbroken colts, were 
even more strange and foreign creatures to his experience than girls. 
What could he do to make friends with _them_?

As much as he would like to say that it was love at first sight, the 
truth was that, at that first meeting, he could only tell Frodo apart 
from Merry in that one boy was dark-haired and the other fair. He'd 
learned to distinguish between them later on, when Frodo took an 
interest what Bilbo was teaching him and wanted to hear some of the 
poems he'd learned. They had begun to be friends over that. Merry, on 
the other hand, was always looking for ways to get them all into 
trouble.

He had been in a tug-of-war with Merry over Frodo since then. Sam 
didn't want to be jealous, but sometimes he couldn't help it. He'd 
felt the pangs of it this morning when Frodo had wanted to come 
racing here to help Merry, and again when they had hugged for so long 
in the guardshouse.

It wasn't that he suspected there had ever been anything between the 
two--Frodo had told him there wasn't, and Sam trusted that he 
wouldn't lie about it--but that there was a whole, long history 
they'd shared before _he_ had come into it. Merry and Frodo had known 
each other since they were practically babies and had been brought up 
almost as brothers. On the other hand, Frodo was twelve when he'd 
come to visit Bag End that first summer; Sam had never seen him 
before then, and had only had little pieces of Frodo's life 
afterwards until Frodo had come to live with Bilbo nearly ten years 
afterwards. It was all that time that he was jealous of, all those 
years that Merry had had with Frodo that he hadn't, and the strong 
bond that lay between them because of that. 

He felt as if the balance had only tipped in his favor since he'd 
accompanied Frodo on his quest into Mordor. Awful as it had been in 
so many ways, that experience had given him a bond of his own to 
share with Frodo that no one else in the world could ever have, not 
even Merry Brandybuck. 

Frodo pulled on the bell-rope; after some clanging within and an 
interval of silence, the imposing figure of Bramblebanks, the chief 
porter and majordomo of the Hall, answered at the door. 

"Bramblebanks, hello," Frodo said as if his appearance were not 
completely unexpected. "It's been quite awhile, hasn't it? I've come 
for a visit. Will you tell Aunt Esmeralda and Uncle Saradoc that I'm 
here, please?"

Bramblebanks let them in and left them standing in the front hall 
with their luggage while he went "to inform the Mistress of your 
arrival."

"I call them my aunt and uncle, but they aren't really," Frodo 
explained while he and Sam were waiting. "Uncle Saradoc and his 
brother Merimac are actually my first cousins, and Aunt Esme's a 
second cousin on the Took side--but she really is Pippin's aunt, his 
father's sister. Uncle Bilbo isn't an uncle either. You know that, 
Sam. He's my mother's first cousin and my father's second." He 
smiled. "I'm afraid it all must sound terribly complicated."

Sam shook his head. He had the usual hobbit love of genealogy, and 
even though he had heard parts of Frodo's family tree before, he 
liked hearing it again. In the first place, he was rather proud of 
Frodo's pedigree--some of the best blood in the Shire had gone into 
his making--and in the second place, it helped him to keep all these 
people straight in his head.

"As a general rule, we call them aunts and uncles if they're more 
than 20 years older," Frodo continued, "and nieces and nephews if 
they're 20 years younger. Everyone in between is a cousin. It's much 
less confusing that way."

He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching. Bramblebanks 
appeared around the curve of the main tunnel, accompanied by 
Esmeralda Brandybuck, the Mistress of the Hall and Merry's mother. 

In normal circumstances, Esmeralda's strawberry-blonde curls and that 
Tookish impishness which she had passed on to Merry made her seem 
more like a young girl than a grand hobbit-lady, but today, her 
spirits were subdued. There was a haunted look instead of the usual 
sparkle in her eyes, but she smiled with genuine happiness as she 
came forward to embrace Frodo and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Frodo, darling! How sweet of you to come." 

Frodo returned her kiss. "It's good to see you too, Aunt Esme." 

"How have you been, dear? We haven't seen you at the Hall in ages, 
not since before you went away on your travels." As she took both his 
hands in hers, she noticed the missing finger. "How did you do 
_that_? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know any more about the 
dangers you boys were in while you were away. Merry and Pippin are 
always telling horrible stories about battles they've fought in, 
walking trees, Big Folk on horseback, and hordes of orcs. I ought to 
be grateful you've all come home alive. Merry has a scar..." She put 
one hand to her own brow, indicating the place where Merry had been 
struck by the hilt of an orc's blade. "You've heard about Merry? If 
it weren't bad enough that poor Berilac should die, we must have 
this-!" Tears filled her eyes, and she quickly pulled a handkerchief 
from her bodice to dab them away.

"Yes, I've heard all about it. That's why I've come. I've just been 
to visit Merry at the guardshouse, to see what I can do to help him."

"Dearest Frodo!" She gave him another kiss. "I'm certain Merry can 
count on you, even if it's only to say that _you_ don't believe that 
these awful accusations are true. You've always been his friend. If 
only Saradoc..." The corner of Esmeralda's mouth turned down, but she 
stopped before she said anything against her husband. "Will you be 
staying with us awhile?" she asked Frodo instead.

"As long as you'll let me," he answered. 

"As long as you like!" she responded affectionately. "I'll show you 
to your room. After he carries your bags, Bramblebanks will find a 
bed for your servant in the staff quarters."

"If you don't mind, Aunt Esme, I'd like Sam near me," said Frodo. "I 
have... bad spells now and again, and shouldn't be left alone at 
night."

"You poor thing," she murmured sympathetically, and considered Sam 
for the first time; he squirmed and colored slightly under her gaze. 
"Yes, I think that can be arranged. Bramblebanks, the big guest room 
near the master suite. That will do." 

The porter nodded and picked up Frodo's bag. Sam carried his own, 
following the lady and Frodo from the front hall. 

Like most hobbit-holes, Brandy Hall had no stairs. The main tunnel 
wound around within the hill in a spiral, starting out very wide at 
the ground level as it passed the main rooms, but growing more narrow 
as it went up to the bedrooms above. Esmeralda led them through a 
full circuit of the tunnel, until they came to one of the outer rooms 
with a window that looked out on the gardens on the southwestern 
slope of the hill. 

"It's one of our nicest rooms," said Esmeralda, "and there's a cot in 
the dressing room your servant can use. The bath is just across the 
hallway, but I'll have some hot water sent to you so you can wash 
quickly before dinner. You're just in time to join us." She squeezed 
the fingers of his undamaged hand. "I'll leave you to freshen up."

After she and Bramblebanks had gone, Frodo peeked through the 
connecting door into the dressing room. "You ought to sleep in there 
tonight, for appearances' sake," he told Sam. "If I'm to do Merry any 
good, Uncle Saradoc shouldn't hear any gossip about _us_. Will you be 
comfortable with that little bed?"

Sam joined him at the dressing-room doorway: the spare bed tucked 
between the massive chest of drawers and towering wardrobe was small, 
but no smaller than the one he'd slept in for years in the room he'd 
shared with his brothers in Number 3 Bagshot Row. "I think I'll be 
able to squeeze in," he answered. "We got spoiled at Minas Tirith. We 
were sleeping on rocks and dirt for weeks before that, and wishing 
for a mattress as soft as anything in the Shire!"
 
Frodo laughed, and leaned closer to put an arm around him. "You don't 
mind playing the servant for a few days, do you, Sam?"

"No, I don't mind." Sam never minded. He wished Frodo could 
understand that. Frodo had been so insistent when he'd asked Sam to 
come live with him that he was not to be a servant, and he was always 
apologetic whenever he asked Sam to do something that might be seen 
as waiting on him. But this was what Sam wanted to do. He liked that 
Frodo relied on him so naturally; he wouldn't know what to do with 
himself if he didn't feel useful and needed. It was not a duty, but a 
pleasure. Whatever he did to take care of Frodo was as much an act of 
love as anything they did in bed. "It's what I came to Bag End for, 
to look after you." 

Frodo smiled. "Is that the only reason?" he teased.

"No," Sam answered, teasing in return, "not the only reason. There's 
a bit more to it than that." 

They were drawing into a kiss, when there was a knock at the door--
and they both jumped back from each other, startled. Frodo laughed at 
their foolishness and said, "It must be the hot water."

Sam let in the maidservant, who had brought up the promised cans of 
hot water. "You'd better hurry up and wash," he said as he poured 
water into the washbasin. "You don't want to be late for dinner."

!~|iv|~! 

Frodo went down to join the family as they were gathering for dinner. 
To his surprise, his second cousins Fatty and Estella Bolger were 
standing just outside the dining-room door with their Aunt Beryl, who 
was also Berilac's aunt on the Bolger side.

"Frodo, hello!" Fatty cried out in his own surprise and delight as he 
gave Frodo an enthusiastic hug. "I didn't know you were here!"

"I just arrived. What about you? How long have you been in Buckland?" 
The Bolgers' home was Budgeford in the Eastfarthing, but as close 
relations to the Brandybucks, they were frequent visitors at the 
Hall. 

"I came the day before yesterday," Fatty answered, "but Aunt Beryl 
and 'Stella here-" he nodded his head to indicate his sister, "have 
been at the Hall this past week. Uncle Saradoc invited them 
special... before all this trouble began." He lowered his voice at 
these last words. 

Estella, mousy-haired and apple-cheeked like her brother, came 
forward shyly to greet Frodo. She'd been a little girl the last time 
he'd seen her, but was nearly of age now. He then received a kiss 
from Aunt Beryl, and murmured his sympathies about the tragic loss of 
her other nephew. 

They went into the dining room, which was a large, round room at the 
heart of Brandy Hall. The dining table was likewise large and 
circular, its head distinguished by a chair more elaborately carved 
than the others, and by its proximity to the sideboard. 

Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of the Hall, was already seated in this 
chair, waiting for the rest of the family to take their places around 
the table. He was as prosperous-looking a hobbit as could be found in 
the Shire: fat, florid, and fair-haired, what Merry might be in 40 
years given a sedentary life and six square meals a day. Merimac, the 
Master's younger brother and Berilac's father, was like Saradoc in 
looks, but shorter and sandy-haired. Also at the table were Aunt 
Hilda and her sons Doderic and Ilberic--the boys were two years 
apart, but enough alike to be twins--and Aunt Melisaunte, arriving 
late with her younger daughter Melilot. Melilot was a plump, pretty 
girl with a riot of brunette ringlets. Frodo remembered her dancing 
at Bilbo's birthday party. She looked wan today, and rather strained; 
there were circles under her large brown eyes.

"Mentha is not well," Melisaunte apologized for the absence of her 
elder daughter as she took her seat. "She prefers to stay in her room 
tonight."

The dinner conversation was focused at first on Frodo and his 
unexpected arrival. Once everyone had expressed their surprise and 
offered their heart-felt greetings, they insisted on hearing the news 
from Hobbiton. Frodo was glad to oblige, but he noticed that when 
they told him in turn of the doings in Buckland, no one spoke of the 
incidents which must be foremost on all their minds. Whether it was 
grief over Berilac or worry for Merry, the depth of distress felt 
during this family tragedy was indicated primarily by how little 
appetite anyone had. The womenfolk especially passed over course 
after course untouched, but even Saradoc was seen to push away his 
plate.

The talk turned to the recent marriage of Hilda's daughter Celandine 
and Melisaunte's son Merimas, neither of whom was present that night. 

"You missed the wedding, of course," Hilda told Frodo. "It was last 
autumn, before you returned home. I'm sorry you weren't here for it. 
It was the grandest celebration we've had in years. Celie and Merimas 
are the first children of the Hall to marry."

"It's a very good match," said Saradoc. "The sort of thing we hope to 
see from all you young people now you're old enough."

"Do you have any plans for marriage yourself, Frodo?" Beryl asked 
him. "Is there some nice girl around Hobbiton you've got an eye on?"

"No- No one in particular," Frodo answered, blushing more than the 
innocent question warranted. "And where is the- ah- young couple 
now?" 

"They've taken a cottage up the river," said Melisaunte. "They only 
meant to spend their honeymoon there, but it's turned out that they 
like having their own household so much that they've stayed on these 
last six months." 

"You'll see them tomorrow," added Hilda. "They'll be here for the 
funeral."

There was an awkward silence.

Now that the taboo had been breached, the subject could be discussed. 
Melilot was the first to speak. "What will happen to Merry?" she 
asked tentatively. 

"The official penalty for murder is death by hanging-" said Saradoc.

Esmeralda made a small, choked sound.

"You needn't be frightened for the boy's ultimate fate, my dear," her 
husband hastened to reassure her. "I don't know if it's ever actually 
been done. Has there ever been a murder in Buckland before? Anywhere 
in the Shire?"

The question went around the table, but no one could think of one 
example of a murder happening in the last hundred years. There were 
some tragic accidents and one or two mysterious disappearances, like 
old Bilbo's, but one hobbit deliberately killing another-? No. There 
had never been a trial for murder that anyone could recall. Crime in 
the Shire was rarely more serious than a drunken quarrel coming to 
blows, or the theft of farm produce.

"The sherriffs must be mistaken," said Melisaunte. "There can be 
nothing in these terrible suspicions against Merry. I'm positive that 
some outsider must have done it--something... strange lurking in the 
Old Forest came through the Hedge, or one of those nasty-looking Big 
Folk or dwarves."

"It can't be true," Estella agreed softly. "Not Merry."

"I don't believe it _was_ murder at all," said Fatty. "We'll find 
that this was an accident, I'm sure of it. Boats are dangerous 
things." Fatty was not a native Bucklander, and only went boating 
reluctantly. "To go out on the river alone and tell no one where 
you're going, the way Berilac did, is asking for trouble."

"As I see it, the difficulty is that Merry can't prove he was 
somewhere else when poor Berry was drowned," said Doderic. "That's 
why the sherriffs have arrested him, isn't it, Uncle Saradoc? But 
what's in that? Who can ever account for their time, as if we knew in 
advance that something horrible was going to happen, and we must 
always be prepared to defend ourselves against accusations? Can 
anyone here say where they were that morning?" He looked at the 
others around the table. "If the sherriffs had asked me, I couldn't 
have given them a better answer than Merry's. No, mine is even more 
suspicious, for I was out on the river too, fishing down at the 
Standelf pool." His gaze landed on his brother and, with a note of 
teasing, he asked, "And where were _you_, Ilbie?"

"You know I was up in my bedroom," Ilberic answered with a little 
huff. "I slept in rather late. Can I prove it? I don't suppose so, 
not unless someone heard me snoring. Did anyone, Dodi?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say," his brother replied, "but you do snore 
rather loudly. Someone must have heard! Now, what about the rest of 
you?"

"I was out for a walk," said Melilot.

Estella opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but a 
glance from Aunt Beryl stopped her; she blushed in confusion and 
began to rearrange the vegetables on her plate with her fork.

"I wasn't here at all," Fatty contributed. "I was in Budgeford."

"Not good enough, Fatty!" said Doderic. "You might easily have ridden 
over-"

"I don't like this game of yours," Merimac said darkly. "I don't find 
it at all funny."

Doderic immediately looked contrite. "I am sorry, Uncle. It wasn't 
meant to be a game. I only wanted to show that any one of us might be 
suspected as easily as Merry, and for reasons just as flimsy. If the 
sherriffs have nothing better than _that_ to hold Merry for, then 
I've no doubt they'll have to let him go in the end."

"It couldn't have been Merry," said Aunt Beryl. "It certainly 
couldn't have been any one of _our_ people." 

!~|v|~! 

After dinner, the ladies retired, either to their beds or the drawing 
room. The young lads headed out for the pub at Bucklebury; Frodo was 
about to accompany them, when Saradoc turned to him and said, "Frodo 
lad, it's been quite some time since we've had a talk. Why don't you 
join us for a pipe?"

Since old Rory Brandybuck's day, it had been a custom for the Master 
of the Hall and other adult males in the house to settle down to 
smoke and enjoy a glass of wine after dinner. While Frodo would have 
preferred to go out with Fatty and his other cousins--and walk over 
to Crickhollow before the evening grew too late--if he was going to 
do the job Merry had asked him to, he needed to be in his uncle's 
company. "Yes, thank you, Uncle. I will." 

The children had always been forbidden to play in the master's study, 
and Frodo felt a little strange as he followed Merimac and Saradoc 
in. In spite of all the things he'd seen and done out in the greater 
world, _this_ invitation from his uncle made him feel as if he were 
truly considered one of the grown-ups.

He'd only been called into this room full of musty books and ledgers 
before on serious matters: He and Merry had received scoldings and 
punishments for whatever mischief they'd gotten themselves into, and 
he had occasionally discussed business concerning the property his 
parents had left him. As Frodo's legal guardian, Saradoc had managed 
things for him before he'd come of age. It had been a point of pride 
for Saradoc to give scrupulous attention to the finances of the 
orphan in his care. No one could accuse him of mishandling the boy's 
affairs! Frodo recalled that his uncle had been especially proud to 
hand everything over to him on his 21st birthday in a better 
condition than it'd been in when he'd taken charge of it. That was 
the last time Frodo had been in this room, just before he'd gone to 
live with Bilbo. 

He sank into one of the overstuffed leather chairs near the fire. His 
own pipe had been left upstairs with his baggage; Saradoc offered him 
one from the rack on the mantelpiece, then poured out three glasses 
of dark red wine from a decanter on the sideboard. 

As he handed Frodo one of the wine glasses, Saradoc patted his 
shoulder. "It's times like this I'm sorry we let you go to old Bilbo 
Baggins and fall under his influence. Not that it hasn't provided for 
you nicely, my lad, but Bilbo was always a bit odd with his writing 
poetry, and running off on adventures with that wizard-friend of his 
and putting it into your head to go running off too. Well, he's paid 
for his oddities. At least, _you've_ come back. As Merry tells it, I 
gather that you're a hero to the Big Folk."

"You're a friend to this new king," said Merimac with some 
appreciation.

"Merry and Pippin have also done some brave deeds," Frodo replied 
modestly. "They stand very high among the heroes of Gondor, and are 
great friends of King Aragorn themselves."

"Be that as it may, you're all home now." Saradoc was not as 
impressed by his son's and nephews' place in the Big Folk's world. 
"You've had your adventure and I daresay it was all great fun, but 
it's time to settle down and be respectable. Merry has to realize 
that. Your Aunt Esmeralda's told me that you've been to see him 
today."

"Yes, sir. Merry is very dear to me, you know. I intend to stand by 
him until he's been cleared of this awful charge against him. You 
don't think he's guilty, do you?" Frodo looked from one uncle to the 
other.

"I wouldn't like to say so in front of Esmeralda and the other 
ladies," said Merimac, "and I don't say Merry _is_ responsible for my 
boy's death, but _if_ he is, then hanging's too good for him."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't come to that. They won't hang a Brandybuck. 
There are a few things that look bad against Merry, but it'll all be 
cleared up soon enough," Saradoc answered confidently. "In my 
official capacity as magistrate, I have to see that this 
investigation is conducted properly, with no question of special 
favors. That's only fair. Justice must be seen to be done. The heir 
to the Hall shouldn't be treated differently from any common murder 
suspect."

"But to be shut up like a criminal on nothing but suspicions-" Frodo 
began.

"He'll come to no harm in the sherriffs' custody. And it'll be a 
lesson for the boy. Merry's always been too flighty."
 
"It's the Tookish nature," said Merimac. "He gets it from his 
mother's family. I told you there'd be trouble one day when you 
married a Took."

"Esmeralda was flighty in her youth," Saradoc admitted grudgingly, 
"but she's grown much steadier with age and I've never had any reason 
to complain about her conduct. Even at her most Tookish, she was 
never so wild as Merry's been."

"The boy should have been reined in," Merimac responded. "It may be 
too late for him now. It's certainly too late for my Berry."

"No, I think Merry still has a chance," Saradoc said, and turned to 
refill Frodo's glass. "You're a sensible young hobbit, Frodo. The 
Bagginses are good stock--"

"Nearly as solid as the Bolgers!" Merimac interjected.

"A little stodgy, but a decent, respectable family."

Frodo sipped his wine, and did not tell his uncles that the Bagginses 
had always attributed his peculiarities, especially his fondness for 
reading and his ability to swim, to his Brandybuck blood.

"Now that you're master of your own household, you know what 
responsibility is," Saradoc continued. "Can't you talk to Merry? Make 
him see reason."

Frodo had to smile. "Merry asked me to talk to _you_, Uncle. He told 
me of your- ah- quarrel."

"That's just the sort of thing I mean!" With a glance at his brother, 
Saradoc leaned closer to Frodo and spoke barely above a whisper. "I 
don't mind Pippin Took. He's not a bad lad, but he's not the best 
companion I could choose for Merry. He's too easily led. He lets 
Merry get away with too much, and there are limits to what decency 
will stand. The two of them setting up house together! And the 
stories I've heard about what goes on at that cottage! He's gone too 
far this time, Frodo, and it's got to stop." 

"If Merry does agree to give up Pippin-" Frodo asked, although he was 
quite certain that Merry would never accept his father's terms, "will 
you tell the sherriffs to let him out, Uncle?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that without some proof of his innocence," said 
Saradoc, "but I would be glad to speak to them about reconsidering 
their case against him. Fair's fair."

!~|vi|~!

When Frodo returned to his room, Sam was already there, crouching 
before the chest of drawers in the dressing room as he put away the 
clothes in Frodo's traveling bag. Frodo's nightshirt and dressing 
gown had been laid out across the foot of his bed. 

"You don't have to do that for me, Sam."

"If I'm playing the part, I ought to play it all," Sam replied, and 
went on with what he was doing. "You'd only make a mess of it anyway. 
You don't know what's packed."

"I did tell you to pack my bag..." Frodo murmured, abashed as he 
always was when he caught himself treating Sam as if he were a 
servant. 

"You know I don't mind it," Sam told him, "and it's just as well you 
did. The state you were in this morning, you wouldn't've remembered 
to bring your nightshirt, or something to wear for your cousin's 
funeral." 

As Frodo lay down on his bed, he could see that the doors to the 
wardrobe were open and Sam had hung up one of his good lawn shirts, 
freshly pressed, along with his best black coat with the velvet 
collar and a pale gray, silver-threaded waistcoat.

"No, I wasn't thinking about the funeral," he said. "I've barely 
thought of anything but Merry." He lay his head in the crook of one 
arm; he felt very weary, and the glasses of wine he'd had with his 
uncles had gone straight to his head. "I'd hoped to go and see Pippin 
tonight, but I'm too tired now for the walk."

"That's no surprise, not after the day you had!" said Sam, and shut 
the drawers of the chest with a series of brisk bangs. "You rode 
fifty miles or more, worrying about Mr. Merry every inch of the way, 
and you've scarcely had time to catch your breath since we got here." 
He came into Frodo's room and, shoving aside the clothing laid out 
there, sat on the foot of the bed; with a little urging, Frodo moved 
his head to rest on Sam's lap. "You're not up to such running about 
anymore--you know you're not. It takes too much out of you. You won't 
get well again if you push yourself so hard." 

Frodo sighed. "I know. I'll try to rest tomorrow before the funeral." 
As Sam stroked his hair, he shut his eyes. "Poor Berry. I've hardly 
given him a thought at all..." 

"Did you know him very well?" 

"Berilac? We both grew up in this house," Frodo answered somewhat 
evasively. "He was my first cousin, once removed, just the same as 
Merry. He was actually closer to my age than Merry is."

"I never hear you talk about him." Now that Sam thought about it, he 
couldn't recall ever meeting Berilac himself. But there were so many 
Brandybucks, it was hard to keep track of them all!

"I hadn't seen him in years. We were never very friendly, even as 
children," Frodo admitted. "His father didn't encourage it. Uncle 
Merimac was always at his brother's right hand, you see, and since 
Merry has no brother of his own, he seemed to think that Berilac 
ought to stand beside Merry in the same way. He never liked that 
Merry and I were best friends. After my parents died, Aunt Esme and 
Uncle Saradoc became like another mother and father to me. I think 
Merimac was afraid that they might adopt me. He saw me as a usurper, 
as if I were taking the place that _his_ son ought to have. Berilac 
must have had some of the same feelings, even if he wasn't very fond 
of Merry, and Merry didn't like him."

"An old 'stickleback,' Mr. Merry called him," Sam remembered.

"And that's just what Berry was as a boy--clinging and sticky. He 
made up to the grown-ups. One doesn't like to speak ill of the 
dead..." Frodo hesitated, and then did so. If he couldn't tell Sam 
the truth, who could he confide in? "Berilac used to tattle on us. He 
was always sneaking off to his father or mine or Uncle Saradoc to 
tell them what mischief Merry and I were up to and making it sound 
worse than it really was. If he meant to come between us, it didn't 
work. It only made us more determined to stand together. We used to 
find ways to sneak around him, so that he couldn't prove his 
tattling-tales. I thought we'd outgrown such childish tricks, and our 
quarrel with him had ended years ago." He lifted his head and twisted 
around to look up at Sam. "But, do you know, it wouldn't surprise me 
to learn that Berilac had carried tales about Merry and Pippin to 
Merry's father--and put their friendship in the ugliest possible 
light, if Uncle Saradoc's reaction is any indication." 

"You talked to your uncle about letting Mr. Merry go then?"

"I've just spent the most awful hour in conference with him." Frodo 
sat up. "Oh, Sam, you should have heard him! Merry understands his 
father all too well. Uncle Saradoc doesn't believe for a minute that 
Merry's guilty of this crime. He's punishing him for their quarrel, 
for Pippin. He practically told me that he could have Merry released 
from the sherriffs' custody at a word, but he won't do it. He wants 
to teach 'the boy' a lesson by keeping him shut away. I can't talk 
him out of it--in fact, _he_ wants me to talk to Merry and convince 
him to give Pippin up! Then there's Uncle Merimac, who's doing his 
best to poison his brother's mind against Merry. I heard him do it. 
He never misses a chance to remind Uncle Saradoc how wild and 
irresponsible Merry is. I can see now where Berry learned that sort 
of thing! It's no good--the only way I can possibly help Merry is to 
find some proof of his innocence that Uncle Saradoc can't ignore. 
He'll have to set Merry free then." His eyes earnestly sought Sam's. 
"You'll help me, won't you?"

"'Course I will," said Sam. "But you're not going to go running all 
up and down Buckland. You just said you'd rest."

"I promise I won't push myself too hard," Frodo assured him, "but I 
must do this. You can see how important it is. Merry's depending on 
me. None of the family believes he had anything to do with Berilac's 
death--except perhaps Uncle Merimac--but they'll only sit and wait 
for the sherriffs' investigation to take its course. I can't sit by 
with them. That's not what I came here to do. I have to look into 
this matter myself." He considered Sam as an idea began to form. "You 
can help me by being my eyes and ears, and save me some 'running 
about'. You had your dinner in the servants' hall, didn't you?"

Sam nodded, although he didn't see the point of this question. "They 
set a fair table--mushroom stew and some good beer, though not as 
good as what we have at home."

"And was there any gossip? What do the servants think of this 
business?"

"They talked of nothing else! They're all for Mr. Merry. They say 
he's 'a bit wild,' but good-hearted and would never do such a thing. 
Now, the other..." Here, Sam trailed off delicately.

Frodo looked curious. "What about 'the other'? I'd like to hear their 
opinion of Berilac too."

"Well, the Master of this here Hall might've had a high opinion of 
him, but according to them in the servants' hall, Mr. Berilac 
Brandybuck wasn't the proper little hobbit-lad he made himself out to 
be. They say he was something of a caution with the pretty maids."

"Was he? That's a possibility I hadn't thought of." Frodo considered 
it. "If there was some maid that Berry was trifling with, perhaps an 
outraged father or brother or jilted sweetheart tried to put a stop 
to it, and went too far."

"And there's more," Sam told him, then hesitated again.

"_What_, Sam? Out with it."

"It's second-hand news, you might say. One of the undercooks is 
sister to a farmer that lives on the other side of the river outside 
Stock and she went visiting him today, to get the mushrooms. Over 
dinner, she was telling how her brother said he'd seen a hobbit-lad 
and lass, a pretty, dark-haired girl, rowing up the river the day 
your cousin went missing. _She_ has it that it must've been Mr. 
Berilac, up to something."

"Berry had a girl with him?" Frodo cried, astonished. "Can that be 
true? Everyone in the family seems to think he went out alone." 

"It mightn't be so," Sam said. "Like I was saying, it's second hand 
and not everybody believed it. Some of `em down in the servants' hall 
said that the cook's brother was making up a tale out of smoke and 
wishes to make himself important. And then someone else said it 
must've been this girl, and not Mr. Merry, who pushed Berilac into 
the water, and some more of `em agreed with _that_. They said the 
cook ought to tell the sherriffs about it, and the ones who didn't 
believe it said there wasn't nothing to tell and she'd best keep her 
mouth shut. They were quarreling over it when I came away."

"It could be a fuss over nothing," Frodo had to agree. "It might've 
been another boy and girl. Lots of courting couples go out boating on 
the Brandywine...." He lay down again, pillowing his head on Sam's 
knee and shutting his eyes, but he was still thinking. After awhile, 
he said, "But, Sam, what if it's true? You see, don't you? If Merry 
didn't do this, someone else must have."

!~|vii|~! 

The next morning, Frodo announced his intention to visit Crickhollow 
on his way to see Merry at Newbury. Sam, as always, accompanied him.

Instead of taking the back road around the foot of Buck Hill past 
Bucklebury--the way they had ridden to the Hall the night before--
Frodo headed down the main road to the point where it intersected 
with the lane eastward to Crickhollow; stopping at a wooden gate on 
the western side of the road, he went through it toward the river. 
There, a footpath bordered by tall grass and long-stemmed blue and 
white asters ran atop a raised earthwork embankment and, below it, a 
grassy slope went down to the water. Rushes grew close to the bank, 
except for one broad, flat muddy area that had been cleared to 
provide a boat landing. 

Frodo climbed up onto the embankment and stood looking out over the 
wide, golden-brown river glittering in the sun. 

"I thought we were going to see Mr. Pippin," Sam said when he caught 
up.

"We are," answered Frodo, "but I wanted to come here first. I wanted 
to see where Merry and Pippin found Berilac's boat. If I'm going to 
investigate this matter myself, it seems like the best place to 
start." He continued to look out on the water as he spoke. "This 
isn't very far from where my parents drowned." 

Sam understood the odd look that had crossed Frodo's face when Merry 
had described this place.

Frodo rarely spoke of the incident, but Sam had heard the old rumors 
about how Frodo's parents had died; he could still hear Ted 
Sandyman's jeering voice: "_I_ heard tell she pushed him in, and he 
pulled her in after him." The Gaffer had quashed these stories 
whenever he heard them, saying that boats were dangerous enough 
without any pushing and pulling, and Sam was inclined to agree. He'd 
had some experience of boats now, and had nearly drowned once 
himself. It wasn't a way of dying that he liked to think much about.

"Were you there when it happened?" he asked.

Frodo shook his head. "They had gone out after dinner for a row in 
the moonlight. I was up at the Hall, playing with Merry and the other 
children in the nursery. I didn't hear about it `til the next 
morning, when Aunt Esme took me aside and told me she had some bad 
news, and I must be very brave.

"It's a treacherous part of the river, even without foul play. 
Because of the mud, you can't see the bottom, and it drops very 
suddenly from the shallows, where the rushes are, to the deeps. The 
currents are strong out there. You can be pulled under..." He took 
his eyes from the water and looked down at the bank immediately below 
where he was standing to find a long, flat scrape in the mud. "The 
boat was drawn up there." He pointed. "Berilac's body was found much 
farther downriver, but he must have gone into the water near this 
spot. Why do you suppose he got out here?"

"Maybe he was visiting someone," Sam suggested.

"Who?" Both hobbits turned to consider the hill-like hummocks of 
cottages visible along the winding lane that led away through the 
trees on the far side of the road. "Merry and Pip? It's possible. He 
might have intended to go to Crickhollow to see them after the 
quarrel--to offer his condolences, or to gloat--but I don't think 
they were expecting him to call. Merry would have said so if they 
had, and they would've guessed who the boat belonged to when they 
found it."

"Does anybody else live out this way?"

"Two of my cousins were just married and have set up house in one of 
the cottages. Berry might have meant to visit them, but I can't 
imagine that _they_ had any part in this. A newlywed pair of 
murderers doesn't sound very likely. Perhaps they saw or heard 
something. And there are others who keep cottages out here. Old Uncle 
Dinodas retires to his cottage whenever the Hall becomes too noisy 
and crowded for him, and my cousin Mentha used to have a studio, and 
still does for all I know." 

"Studio?" Sam echoed.

"She paints." All around the scraped area where the boat had landed 
was a churn of multiple bare heel- and toe-prints; Frodo scrambled 
down the slope and crouched to examine these more closely. "I wish I 
could tell something by the footprints, but there are so many of 
them. It looks like half of Buckland has been trampling here!"

"If Strider was here, he could look at that muddle and say who each 
of those feet belonged to, how long ago they were here, and what they 
were up to," Sam said as he came down to join Frodo at the water's 
edge.

"Unfortunately, Strider's too busy being king, so we'll have to 
puzzle this out ourselves. I'd be happy if we knew at least what 
Berilac was up to. If he wasn't visiting one of the family cottages, 
perhaps he intended to meet with some girl from Newbury or one of the 
neighboring farms, although it's an odd place to come ashore for 
that." Frodo rose from his crouched position and walked slowly along 
the river's edge with his eyes on the ground; he had not gone five 
yards from the place where the boat had been when he spotted a 
metallic glint in the muddy water. "Here, what's that?"

Sam watched anxiously as Frodo waded out into the shallows amid the 
rushes. The water only washed around Frodo's calves, but he had 
spoken mere minutes ago of how treacherous this part of the river 
was. "Don't go out no deeper!" Sam warned him. "You know I can't swim 
if you fall in."

"I won't." Frodo bent over and reached down into the mud; he brought 
up something that glittered in the sunlight and swished it around in 
the water to rinse it off.

"What'd you find?" asked Sam.

Frodo waded back to the shore to show him: an ornamental fragment 
made up of three swirls of silver shaped like leaves intertwined, two 
of them broken at one end, distorted and elongated, as if they'd been 
pulled away from other, missing swirls. Within each curl of silver 
was set a red garnet. "It looks like part of a cloak pin, or perhaps 
a lady's brooch. So a woman _was_ here!" he said with growing 
excitement as his imagination took flight. "Do you suppose this 
belongs to the mysterious girl your cook's brother claims he saw in 
the boat with Berry? Who could she have been? And what happened to 
her?"

"That might've fallen there at any time," Sam pointed out. "You said 
yourself that too many people've been on this spot since Mr. 
Berilac's boat was found. Anybody could've dropped it, before or 
afterwards."

"It can't have been in the water for very long," Frodo countered. 
"The silver isn't tarnished."

"But if it fell before, why didn't the sherriffs find it?"

"They may not have been looking for it," Frodo answered after giving 
the question some thought. "They thought that Berilac's death was an 
accident at first, and if they lit upon Merry soon after they found 
the body downriver, they mayn't have come back to this spot to look 
for clues. It wouldn't mean anything to them. They haven't heard the 
story about the mysterious girl." Then he sighed. "Well, you're 
probably right, Sam. It may have nothing to do with the murder, but 
maybe..." He tucked the scrap of silver into his waistcoat pocket. 
"It can't hurt to keep hold of it and ask."

!~|viii|~!

They crossed the road and went up the lane toward Crickhollow, 
walking and leading their ponies. As they passed the first cottage on 
their left, a feminine voice called out from the other side of the 
fence, "Frodo, hello! When did you get here?" A pretty girl with 
profuse brown curls in pink ribbons came up to the gate and held out 
one hand to him over it.

"Celie!" Frodo handed Sam his pony's reigns and went over to her. 
"How are you? How is married life?" 

Celandine was the youngest of his Brandybuck cousins, only 27; Frodo 
had been surprised to hear that she was the first to be married--and 
to Merimas, of all people! Merimas was forty, and generally 
acknowledged to be the most conventionally-minded Brandybuck of his 
generation. 

"Wonderful! You can't know how nice it is having a home of our own, 
even if it's only four little rooms. We're just about to go back to 
the Hall, for poor Berry's funeral." Celie turned as her husband 
emerged from the cottage, carrying a pair of traveling bags, and 
said, "Darling, look who it is! Frodo Baggins, and his friend- I'm 
sorry, I don't know your name."

"This is Sam Gamgee," Frodo introduced him.

"D'you do," Merimas mumbled and nodded his head at the pair. 

"Are you lads staying at the Hall?" Celie asked Frodo.

"Yes, we arrived last night. We're going to pay a visit on Pippin, 
then ride to Newbury to see Merry."

Merimas snorted at the mention of Merry and Pippin, and took the 
baggage around to a track at the side of the cottage, leading to a 
small stable at the back where a pony was tethered. 

"You mustn't mind him," Celie said. "He never approved of Merry, and 
now-! Isn't it horrible?"

"Awful," Frodo agreed.

"But I don't believe Merry would ever do such a thing. I don't see 
how he had the chance. He was never by the river that morning, as far 
as I saw." 

"So you didn't see Merry pass toward the river?" Frodo asked, then 
turned to include Merimas, who was leading his baggage-laden pony 
into the lane. "Did either of you see anyone?"

"No," Merimas answered. "No one who hadn't a reason to be there."

"We did see Merry and Pippin, but that was well after noon," added 
Celie. "I'm certain that Merry never came this way earlier."

"Were you here all that morning?" asked Frodo.

"What d'you mean?" Merimas asked back.

"Only that if you were out, you might've missed seeing something 
important," Frodo replied, "something that will help Merry. I want to 
help him, if I can."

"We were here," said Celie. "I was in the parlor from breakfast `til 
lunch-time, and Merimas was in and out, but of course I didn't sit 
and stare out the window every minute. I never saw anyone pass. I 
wish I had! I'd tell the sherriffs and Uncle Saradoc _that_." 

As she came out through the gate, Frodo asked her, "By the way, have 
you lost any jewelry, Celie? I found a broken piece by the river." He 
took it out of his pocket. "Could it be yours?" 

The girl stared at the fragment of jewelry in the palm of Frodo's 
hand. "No," she shook her head. "That isn't mine." But Frodo thought 
she sounded reluctant, as if she weren't telling all the truth. "I 
haven't been near the river in ages. Merimas doesn't like to go 
boating." 

"But Berry did?" Frodo asked softly.

"Oh, yes," Celie answered, and tears welled in her eyes. "Poor Berry. 
I'll miss him. He was such fun--but," she insisted with sudden 
urgency, "_that_ was all a long time ago!"

"Celie, come along!" Merimas summoned her, then turned to lead his 
pony down the lane toward the main road. 

With a glance of apology at Frodo, Celie ran to join her husband. 
"We'll see you at the Hall later!" she called over her shoulder as 
she took Merimas's hand and the two of them walked away.

"_She's_ got dark hair," Sam observed once the newlyweds had gone. 
"And I'll wager anything you like she's been out a-boating on the 
river with Mr. Berry."

Frodo couldn't disagree; that was the impression he'd gotten as well. 
"I don't think Celie could kill anybody," he said. "She can be a 
silly little chit, but she's harmless. And besides, she sounded 
genuinely sorry that Berry's dead. It doesn't seem that very many 
people are." But there was a tickle of suspicion at the back of his 
mind that made his joke about murderous newlyweds seem not so funny 
anymore. The newly-married couple wouldn't commit a murder together, 
but if Berry had been paying attentions to Celie before her marriage-
-or even afterwards--who knew how her husband might react?

The idea was disturbing. He didn't want to suspect such a horrible 
thing of any of his cousins.

They walked a little farther along the lane, until they came to a 
shabbier cottage with an untrimmed hedge. An elderly hobbit was 
standing on the small front lawn, pipe clenched between his teeth, 
practicing his golfing. 

"Uncle Dinodas! Hello!" Frodo shouted out loudly enough for the old 
hobbit to hear. 

Dinodas looked up, squinted in Frodo's direction, then burst into a 
smile. "Is that young Frodo? Primmy's boy?"

"Yes, it is." Frodo went up to the hedge and pushed some of the 
untrimmed branches down to look over the top. "It's good to see you, 
Uncle." 

Dinodas tucked his golf club under one arm and stepped over a number 
of little white wooden balls scattered in the grass to come to the 
hedge and speak to his nephew. "It's been quite some time since I 
last saw you, but I'd know you anywhere, my lad. You're the image of 
your mother, poor Prim." He shook his head sadly at the memory of his 
long-dead, much younger sister. "Have you come for the funeral?"

"Yes, that's right." But Frodo observed that his uncle was in a 
battered and patched old tweed jacket and trousers, and didn't look 
as if he were planning to go anywhere. "Aren't you going to attend 
yourself?"

"Oh, I'll have to go and stand by the vault with the rest of the 
family for appearances' sake," said Dinodas, "but I'm not going to 
the Hall before or after. The speeches'll be bad enough to listen to-
-I couldn't stand to hear all the women sobbing and everyone going on 
about how wonderful Berry Brandybuck was, when it wasn't the case at 
all!" Frodo's eyes widened at this frank admission, and his uncle 
continued, "Now, you haven't been home in awhile, lad. You didn't see 
how Berry was doing his best to take what was Merry's rightful place 
as heir to the Hall while the two of you were off on your adventures. 
It was disgusting, seeing how he wormed his way into Saradoc's good 
graces."

"But surely he was set aside once Merry returned," said Frodo.
 
"He was, but _I_ know he didn't give up trying, nor had his father. 
They meant for Berry to be the next Master here, no matter what. I 
don't say Merry knocked him into the river, but if he did, then Berry 
had it coming. I'd say he got what he deserved, whoever did it." 
Dinodas gave a golfball on the grass near his feet a good whack and 
sent it across the lawn into an overgrown border. "Are you're going 
to see Merry at the gaol? If you are, mind you tell him I said so. 
I'm on his side in this."

"Yes, Uncle. I will."

"And the way he chased after girls!" the old hobbit went on. "None of 
the local maids was safe with him. `Twas a disgrace. Why, I saw one 
myself just last week, running up the lane from the river. If Berry 
was chasing her, I can guess what that upstart was after her for!"

"A girl?" said Frodo, suddenly alert. "What girl?"

"I couldn't say. She went by very quickly, and my old eyes aren't 
what they used to be. I don't know who she was."

"Was she dark-haired?" Sam asked eagerly. 

Dinodas peered at Frodo's companion. "I think she was."

"Did you see her on the day Berry was drowned?" asked Frodo.

"It might've been, but I can't be sure," Dinodas admitted. "Berry 
used to come up here often. Mind, I didn't hear about his drowning 
`til days afterwards, when he was pulled out of the river, so it 
might've been a day or two before." 

As he and Sam walked away from Dinodas's cottage, Frodo said, "If my 
uncle really did see a girl that day, she could very well be the one 
we're looking for."

"But you don't think it was this Mrs. Celie?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't," Frodo said quickly. "Even if she was lying and had 
been down at the river when Berry was there, she would have gone 
straight home. She'd no reason to come this far up the lane, for 
Uncle Dinodas to see."

"Unless she was running to somebody else. Didn't you say there was 
another cousin of yours who lived along here?" 

"Yes, Mentha. That must be her studio, just ahead." There were other, 
unoccupied cottages in the greenery along the lane; Frodo pointed to 
one that was obviously inhabited, on the opposite side of the lane 
from the two they had just passed: the neatly tended garden was 
bounded by a low, wooden fence painted white and a row of red rose-
bushes. Vines ran up tall trellises on either side of the front door 
and over the rounded roof. A sign on the gate that read 'Ivysmial' 
was likewise decorated with painted rosebuds and ivy vines around its 
borders. "But she isn't there now. She's back at the Hall."

"What about her? Has she got dark hair?"

"She does, and so do her sister Melilot and their mother. So do a 
good many other women in Buckland." Frodo laughed, a little 
nervously. "Enough of suspecting my relatives, Sam. If we're not 
careful, we'll begin to see murderers everywhere!"

!~|ix|~! 

The cottage where Merry and Pippin were living was at the very end of 
the lane, set farther back than the others and hidden behind a tall 
hedge. It had been built after the style of a hobbit-hole--low, 
round-roofed, and sod-covered, so it resembled a natural hill amid a 
grove of trees. Only the facade around the front door showed a brick 
face. There was a neglected garden before the house, and Sam looked 
at the overgrown grass and untended flowers in dismay as he followed 
Frodo up the stone walk.

Before Frodo could knock, the door flew open and Pippin sprang out to 
throw his arms around him. 

"I knew you'd be coming!" Pippin announced gleefully. "When I saw 
Dodi, Fatty, and Ilbie at the Buckle's Notch last night, they told me 
you were at the Hall. I've had an eye out the window all morning, 
watching for you. Have you had any breakfast yet?"

"Yes, just before we came out," said Sam.

"Well come in and have some more! I was just sitting down for a 
bite."

The inside of the cottage was as unkempt as the garden, for the two 
young hobbits who occupied it were indifferent housekeepers at the 
best of times, and Pippin more careless than usual since Merry had 
gone. Dishes were piled in the kitchen sink and the floor looked as 
if it hadn't been swept in a week, but a fresh pot of tea and a plate 
of currant buns had been set on the table. Pippin wiped out a couple 
of mugs with a dishcloth and poured tea for his guests.

"I'd hoped to see you last night," Frodo told him, "but Uncle Saradoc 
took me off after dinner for a serious talk... about Merry."

Pippin sobered at this. "You've heard about their quarrel then?"

"Merry told us everything."

"They let you see him? I'm not allowed to--the sherriffs are under 
'special orders' to keep me out."

"We saw him yesterday. Merry asked me to come by and tell you that 
he's fine. He was afraid you'd been left alone here." Frodo was 
relieved to know that that wasn't so; if Doderic, Ilberic, and Fatty 
were meeting Pippin in the pub at Bucklebury, then he had not been 
entirely shut out by the family. 

He said so, and Pippin answered, "Oh, yes, all the lads have rallied 
'round. Dodi was here the morning after the quarrel to say he was on 
our side, and Fatty came straight away when he got to Buckland. And 
our neighbors have been very kind. Old Uncle Dino says he'll stand by 
Merry... although I don't think he really understands what Merry and 
I have done to be in trouble. Celie's as sweet as that stodgy husband 
of hers will let her be, and Mentha had a word or two for us when we 
went by." 

"Doderic was here..." Frodo's brow creased in a small, thoughtful 
frown. 

"Even Aunt Esme came by yesterday morning," Pippin continued as he 
offered the currant buns; Sam took one. "She was bringing a few 
things over to Merry at the guardshouse, and wanted to be sure I was 
all right. She said I could come stay at the Hall if I wanted to, but 
_I_ think I'm better off keeping out of the way `til the trouble's 
past." He picked up one of the buns, took a bite, and continued 
through the mouthful. "Not Berry's murder, I mean. You can see why 
I'm not exactly eager to get in Uncle Saradoc's sight right now. If 
he remembers that I'm here, I'll be thrown off the premises and no 
doubt sent packing home to Tuckburough in disgrace. And I refuse to 
go. I won't leave Merry, not while he needs me. I'm going to rescue 
him." He sat down and, leaning over the table, told them 
confidentially, "That's the reason why I'm meeting the lads at the 
pub: We're making a plan to raid the Newbury guardshouse and set 
Merry free. Want to join us?"

"I've already promised Merry I'd do something of the kind if worst 
came to worst," said Frodo, "but I think we ought to keep that as a 
last resort, don't you? I mean, there are other, more peaceable means 
of freeing Merry we might try before it comes to that, and we all 
have to flee the Shire and live as outcasts." 

"I guess so..." Pippin answered, reluctant to abandon his plans to 
rescue Merry himself. 

"It seems to me that the best way to help Merry is by finding out 
who's really responsible for Berilac's murder." Frodo sat down 
opposite his cousin. "I intend to look for whatever facts the 
sherriffs might have missed to prove Merry's innocence. Will you give 
me a day or two to do that before you and the others do anything 
rash?"

"Yes, all right." 

"And can I rely on your help?"

"What can I do?" Pippin folded his hands on the table and looked 
attentive and earnest.

"Tell me everything that happened that morning. Was there anything 
odd?"

"It was an odd day even before we knew about Berry. Merry was very 
upset, you see, by his fight with his father. He'd been tossing all 
night, and he was up early. He barely touched his breakfast, and then 
he said he was going out. I offered to go with him, but he wanted to 
be by himself and think."

"You stayed here through the morning?"

Pippin nodded. "I wanted to be here when Merry came back."

"Did you see anyone? Berry didn't come by, did he?"

"No, certainly not!"

"What about Dodi? When exactly did he visit?"

"Dodi dropped by around elevenses, but he was gone by the time Merry 
came back and we had our lunch. After lunch, Merry said he was sorry 
he'd been so awful before, and offered to go out for another walk 
with me. We went down the lane `til we got to the river."

"Did you speak to any of your neighbors? Celie? Uncle Dinodas?" asked 
Frodo.

"I think Uncle Dino was in his front yard when we went by, but we 
didn't stop to talk to him. Mentha was in her garden. We didn't see 
Celie or Merimas."

"And why did you go that particular way?" 

"Well... the Notch doesn't open for afternoon business `til 4:00, and 
we thought we'd take the long way `round and stop on our way back 
through Bucklebury for an ale or two. But when we found the boat, we 
went around to the Hall boathouse instead to ask them about it. It 
looked odd to us. The oars were missing."

"You didn't see anyone along the river? Not Berry, nor anyone else? 
Any girls?"

"Girls?" Pippin shook his head.

Frodo brought out the swirls of silver from his pocket. "Did you 
notice this, or the rest of it, when you discovered Berilac's boat?" 

"What is it?" his cousin asked as he took the piece. "It looks like a 
broken bit of jewelry."

"I found it in the river, near the place where the boat was pulled up 
onto the bank. It's why I think some girl might've been there. You've 
never seen it before? You don't know who it belongs to?"

"No," came the regretful answer as Pippin gave it back. "It doesn't 
look like I've got much useful information for you, does it?"

"Nonsense. You've cleared up several points, and given me one or two 
ideas to look into. One last question, Pippin: You've been living 
here in Buckland for months. You know the people at Brandy Hall and 
around it, seen things first-hand. Do you have any suspicions who 
might have wanted to kill Berry?"

Pippin picked up another bun and munched thoughtfully. "I've been 
wondering about that since the sherriffs took Merry away, since I 
don't have much else to do. But I haven't the least idea. No one 
liked Berry--that is, no one who really _knew_ him--but to bash his 
head in... well, that takes a special kind of hatred, doesn't it? 
You'd have to want him dead in the worst way to do that. I can't see 
any of the Brandybucks getting worked up enough to kill one of their 
own family and be so vicious about it, not even Merry." 

Frodo looked shocked, and Pippin explained: "Well, you know it's not 
true that Merry wouldn't ever kill _anybody_. He has. We've all had 
to fight-" he looked to Sam, who nodded in understanding. They had 
all seen battle, had drawn their swords to defend themselves or 
others, and all of them except Frodo had come away with blood on 
their blades. "But this isn't some orc. It's a cousin! Even if Merry 
hated him enough to want to get rid of him, he wouldn't do it in that 
nasty way. I couldn't tell the sherriffs that, though. They wouldn't 
understand. They'd only see that if there's one Brandybuck who's 
actually killed someone, it's our Merry. They'd say that if he did it 
before, he'd do it again." He asked Frodo, "Are you going to see him 
again today?"

"I promised him I'd come back," Frodo answered. "Besides, Uncle 
Saradoc asked me to see him, to talk him out of going on with you."

Pippin grinned impishly. "In that case, will you give him a kiss for 
me? And tell him I'm still here, waiting for him to come home."

!~|x|~!

Hob Hayward was still the sherriff on duty when they arrived at the 
guardshouse.

"How is your investigation coming along?" Frodo asked as Hob let them 
in to see Merry. "Have you spoken to anyone at the Hall? The 
servants? There may be something there you've missed."

"We've finished our inquiries at the Hall," Hob informed him. "We 
don't wish to disturb the Master nor any of his household more'n is 
necessary `til we have some news to report."

"And have you any?"

Hob shook his head.

"Have you asked the members of the family that live in the lane if 
they saw anybody?"

"We did, just afore Mr. Merry was arrested, but they didn't have much 
to say."

"Perhaps you ought to talk to them again," Frodo suggested. "My 
cousin Celandine tells me that she didn't see Merry go to the river 
that morning."

"That only shows he could've gone `round another way so he wouldn't 
be seen," Hob responded. "Now you leave us to do our investigating as 
we see fit, Mr. Frodo."

"What've you been doing?" Sam wondered.

"We are asking them as live in Bucklebury and Newbury near the Hedge 
if they've seen any suspicious characters lurking about," Hob replied 
with an officious huff. Then he added in more conciliatory tones, 
"Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo. If Mr. Merry's innocent, we'll turn 
something up." 

As they walked the length of the armory hall, Sam gave Frodo a 
quizzical glance behind the sherriff's back; Frodo fingered the edge 
of his waistcoat pocket, but said nothing.

Hob unlocked the door to Merry's room, then left them to speak in 
private.

Merry lay sprawled on the bed, just as he'd been the day before; he 
lifted his head to smile at them and say, "Hello! What's the news? 
Anything good?" but he did not get up until Frodo sat down beside him 
to convey Pippin's message and deliver his kiss. That brought Merry's 
spirits up a little, and he was even more cheerful when he heard that 
Pippin had not been cast out by the family. 

"Mother went to see him?" Merry smiled. "She never said a word about 
it when she was here yesterday, and I never thought to ask her to 
look after Pip for me. And good old Dodi! I knew I could count on him 
not to let us down." 

Frodo had given him the good news first. Now, he told Merry of his 
conversation with Saradoc.

The smile vanished. "I didn't have much hope of you talking Father 
over, but it was worth a try." 

"I wish I could have done better for you, Merry." 

"`Tisn't your fault. Father won't budge, and that's that." Merry 
flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "I've been thinking things 
over, Frodo. Before the sherriffs came for me, Pippin and I were 
talking over what we would do if I was disinherited. We said we might 
leave the Shire for good and go back to Minas Tirith. If I get out of 
this mess, I think that's what we'll do. It's the best thing, really. 
We were both much happier there, you know, once the war was over. Pip 
has a place waiting for him in the King's court, and I could find 
something too. It was nice being home again at first, but I don't 
feel like I belong here anymore. We were heroes in Gondor--in the 
Shire, we're an embarrassment to our families. We're better off out 
of the way. If Berry was alive, I'd tell him he could be the next 
Master of the Hall and welcome to it! I suppose it'll go to Dodi now. 
He's next in line."

The other two hobbits exchanged worried glances. Merry was normally 
so high-spirited and optimistic; they had never heard him sound 
bitter like this before. The frustration of being locked up and 
falsely accused was beginning to tell on him.

"You shouldn't start packing just yet," Sam told him. "Frodo's 
working on a way to get you out of here."

Merry regarded his cousin with curiosity. "What are you going to do?"

"I've decided to conduct my own investigation," Frodo explained. "I'm 
going to prove your innocence beyond all doubt, then they'll have to 
let you go." 

This made Merry smile again. "You'll do a better job than the 
sherriffs. You couldn't help it--you're smarter than the whole lot of 
them together!"

"They've focused their attention in the wrong places-" Frodo agreed. 
"They're looking for some outsider-"

"Hob says they're looking for 'suspicious characters' around that 
Hedge," Sam interjected with a derisive snort.

"-but _I_ think they ought to be looking closer to home." 

Now, Merry was intensely interested. "Really? Who do you think did 
it?"

"Well, it's only a theory of mine," Frodo answered, curbing his 
enthusiasm; he had no real proof yet, and didn't want to give Merry 
false hope. "I believe that there's a girl involved--a girl who was 
with Berry that day. I've been down to the river this morning to have 
a look at the spot where you and Pippin found Berry's boat, and I 
found this." He took the broken ornament from his pocket.

Merry took it, turned it over in his fingers to examine it. His 
expression, which had been so avid only seconds before, suddenly went 
blank. "This was down by the river, you say?"

"Yes. Do you have any idea who might have lost it there?"

"No, I've never seen it before." Merry returned the trinket to Frodo.

"It doesn't belong to anyone you know?"

"Not that I know of. Sorry, Frodo. I wish I could say otherwise, but 
I can't."

Merry was a good liar when he needed to be, but Frodo knew him too 
well to be fooled; he could see that his cousin was keeping something 
back. 

"I though you were going to tell the sherriffs about that girl in the 
boat and the piece of jewelry you found?" Sam said once Hob had shown 
them out of the guardshouse and they were alone.

"I meant to," Frodo admitted, "but they wouldn't know what to do with 
it. The story about the girl is just that--a story, no more. The girl 
Uncle Dinodas saw might be anybody, or might've been there on another 
day. I need to find something more substantial. Until I do, I'm only 
a meddler. You heard how stuffy Hob became simply because we asked a 
few questions. The sherriffs wouldn't appreciate it if anyone, even a 
relation of the Brandybucks, went poking his nose into their official 
business. As for this- ah- clue of ours," he patted his pocket, "I 
think I'd better hold onto it awhile longer, `til I learn more about 
it. I don't know if it has anything to do with Berilac, but it does 
mean something to Merry." 

"He was lying," Sam murmured under his breath. 

"I know. I'm certain that Merry knows who that trinket belongs to. 
But why won't he tell _me_?" That was what stung the most. "I'm 
trying to help him. Doesn't he see that?" Then he gripped Sam's arm. 
"Sam, it _must_ be someone at the Hall! Merry's trying to protect 
someone there. One of the family? Yes, that's the only answer that 
makes sense. Merry would speak up if it were anyone else. A cousin? 
One of the aunties? Surely not his mother!" He shook his head. "I 
can't see Aunt Esme smashing anyone's head in. It's too absurd. In 
fact, none of the ladies at the Hall, even the dark-haired ones, seem 
likely as a murderess." He spoke as if he were joking, but a serious, 
unpleasant idea was forming in his mind: what if the broken piece of 
jewelry were Celie's, and she had lied about it? Would Merry lie for 
her? "When we get back to the Hall, I'll have to find out-" 

"Not right off, you're not," Sam stopped him with a no-nonsense tone. 
"You've done your running about for the morning. When we're back at 
the Hall, I want you to lie down awhile before the funeral. You can 
do more investigating afterwards."

"I'll rest," Frodo promised. In truth, he was beginning to feel weary 
after his morning's exertions. "But you must work for me while I'm 
resting. Be my eyes and ears, remember?"

Sam nodded. "What d'you want me to do?"

"The servants won't attend the funeral. It'll be the perfect time for 
you to ask them some questions."

"Do you want me to show that bit of jewelry about?" 

"No, I'll do that myself, discreetly, among the family. I'd rather 
not have very many people know about it before _I_ know whose it is. 
But there are a few other things I'd like to find out more about. If 
we're going to conduct our own investigation properly, we must be 
methodical and go through every step in an orderly fashion." He 
enumerated the questions he wanted answers to, counting them off on 
his fingers:

"First, we have to find out if Berilac was alone or if he had someone 
with him when he went out--and if there was, _who_ she was. I'd also 
like to know exactly when he left, and if he said anything about 
where he was going. The hobbits who work at the Hall boathouse will 
be able to tell you that. The boathouse is that big, wooden building 
that hangs out over the river at the northernmost end of the 
property. If you follow the path under the willows along the river's 
edge, you can't help but find your way to it.

"Second, I want to know where Doderic was. Ask the boatsmen about him 
as well. They can tell you when he went out and when he came back." 
He told Sam, "Last night at dinner, Dodi said that he'd been fishing 
at Standelf pool that morning, but that's not where he went, not if 
he was visiting Pippin at Crickhollow. You heard Pippin say so."

Sam nodded. "I saw how you took particular interest in that, but I 
couldn't see why. You don't think _he_-?"

"I don't know! I don't want to think anything so horrible about a 
cousin of mine, but I know he lied. It's hardly possible for him to 
have been in both places--the two are miles apart, on either side of 
Buck Hill. I think that he must have taken a boat, so that he could 
say he was going south to Standelf when he rowed upriver instead... 
perhaps to follow Berry."

"Why would he do that?" 

Frodo voiced his worst thoughts: "What if this piece of jewelry 
belongs to Celie? What if she did go to the river to meet Berry, and 
someone else followed and found them there?"

"But why this Doderic, not her husband?" Sam looked confused.

"Yes, I thought it might be Merimas, at first--but, Sam, Dodi is 
Celie's brother." He could see Sam's expression brighten with 
understanding. "He wouldn't like it any better than her husband 
would. Perhaps he..."

Frodo tried to imagine what had happened: Berry had stopped at the 
landing at the end of the lane for a pre-arranged meeting with Celie. 
Doderic had known about it and followed him there in a second boat, 
and surprised the two in their tryst. To avenge his sister's honor, 
he'd struck Berry, knocking him into the river deliberately or by 
accident--and then what? Could he have gone to pay a friendly visit 
on Pippin after committing a murderous assault? Pippin wasn't the 
most observant hobbit in the Shire, but surely he would have noticed 
if Dodi were behaving oddly. And what about Celie? If she had 
witnessed Doderic's fight with Berry, that might explain why she had 
run up the lane past Uncle Dinodas's cottage instead of going home; 
she was seeking help or shelter from Mentha. But if she had seen the 
two fighting, she must also know or guess that her brother was 
responsible for Berry's death. She might lie to protect him, but 
would she be so composed about it? Celie had seemed upset about Berry 
when Frodo had spoken to her, but not as upset as a girl whose 
brother had just killed her lover might reasonably be.

It didn't make sense. Something wasn't right.

"No." He stopped himself. "I mustn't jump to conclusions before I 
have the facts. I need to know more. Ask about Dodi, and you might 
try to find out if there was any gossip about Celie and Berry, before 
or after her marriage."

Sam nodded.

"I doubt if you'll be able to learn what the family in the lane were 
all doing, but can you find out who else was away from the Hall that 
morning?" Frodo counted off a third finger. "After Dodi told us where 
he was supposed to have been when Berry was killed, some of the 
others at the table told where they were as well." He tried to 
remember. "Fatty said he wasn't here yet. Melilot said she was out 
for a walk. Perhaps someone can tell us where she went. Ilberic said 
he slept late. That one might be easiest to discover the truth of. 
Whatever you find, Sam, you can tell me about it after the funeral."

!~|xi|~!

As he returned to the Hall, Frodo was intercepted by Saradoc. His 
uncle must have been waiting for him, for Saradoc emerged from the 
study almost as soon as the young hobbit was in the front door. "If 
you don't mind, my lad--a word or two before lunch?"

"Yes, Uncle, of course." With a glance at Sam, who nodded and went up 
the curving corridor alone, Frodo went into the study. He was 
relieved to see that Merimac was not there; he knew that his uncle 
meant to ask him about Merry, and it would be much easier for them to 
talk without those poisonous asides.

Saradoc shut the study door. "You've been to Newbury?" he asked. "Had 
your talk with Merry?"

"I've spoken with him," Frodo answered.

"And will he see reason?"

"If you mean 'does Merry intend break with Pippin,' the answer is 
'No'. He refuses to do so." When Saradoc's mouth turned down in a 
disappointed frown, Frodo added quickly, "As a matter of fact, he 
spoke of returning to Gondor rather than agree to that." He believed 
that Merry had spoken in despair and anger, but he also thought that 
Saradoc ought to see how strongly his son felt about this intolerable 
situation.

"Leave Buckland!" To Saradoc Brandybuck, such a thing was 
unimaginable.

"That is what Merry said," Frodo confirmed. "He won't change his 
mind, but he doesn't wish to be an embarrassment to the family." This 
wasn't exactly what Merry had said, but it had the effect on Saradoc 
that Frodo hoped it would. 

"He doesn't have to do that!"

"You must see how Merry feels at being shut up like a criminal, 
Uncle. He's longing to get out, and get away. Can you blame him?" 

"Oh, I know the boy's in a tight spot, but that's no reason to do 
anything rash," said Saradoc. "If he'd just sit still another day or 
two, be patient until the sherriffs have investigated the matter 
fully and cleared him, then everything will be all right. And I _do_ 
blame Merry for getting himself into this." The elder hobbit paced 
the room. "If only he'd be sensible, marry a nice girl, and do his 
duty to the family. That's all I ask. I wouldn't care what he and 
Pippin Took got up to in private if he'd behave himself in public. 
None of this would've happened if he'd just done that."

"Berry wouldn't have been killed?" Frodo asked, puzzled.

"No, I didn't mean that. But if Merry had done as I'd asked, we would 
never have quarreled. No suspicion would have fallen on him when poor 
Berry died, and I wouldn't be in the absurd position of having to 
arrest my own son--the son of the Hall!--for his cousin's murder. 
What else could I do once the sherriffs heard of our quarrel? I had 
no choice but to let them take him in. I wouldn't have put Berry in 
his place, not really," Saradoc admitted grudgingly. "Berry was a 
good lad, but he never had Merry's cleverness, if Merry would put his 
wits to good use!"

"Perhaps if you had told Merry-" Frodo began, when there was a 
tentative knock on the study door. The family was waiting to go into 
lunch, but could not sit down to eat until the Master was there to 
preside over the table. Saradoc, who made a point of never being late 
for meals out of courtesy to his family as well as personal 
inclination, went to join the others.

The same party was at lunch as had been at dinner the night before, 
with the additions of the newly married couple returned from their 
honeymoon cottage and Mentha, who sat red-eyed beside her younger 
sister Melilot. Mentha was dark like her sister, but taller and more 
plain, and of a somber disposition even at the best of times. 

"Have all the arrangements been settled for this afternoon?" asked 
Beryl. "Are we quite ready to see poor Berry to his rest?"

"Nearly ready," said Esmeralda, "but we need another lad to carry the 
bier." By long-standing tradition, four young males were called to 
bring the body to the vault.

"It ought to be a son of the house," Doderic said pointedly, "but we 
seem to be short of them these days."

"There aren't enough suitable youths," Esmeralda agreed more 
tactfully, "but Fredegar has been kind enough to volunteer. I was 
hoping, Frodo, that you might stand in for Merry at the ceremony. 
Will you, please?"

"I'd be glad to, Aunt Esme." Frodo tried to recall exactly what the 
lead bier-bearer did. He had not played a part in the last family 
funeral he'd attended, old Rory Brandybuck's. That had been a very 
large and grand affair, with half the Shire turning out to pay their 
respects to the last Master of the Hall; today's ceremony, by 
contrast, would be a much smaller and more private occasion, but 
surely he would be called to do that same things that Merry had done 
then? "I won't have to give a speech, will I?" The speeches over old 
Rory had gone on for hours.

"Only if you'd like to, dear," his aunt assured him. "Otherwise, you 
have only to lead the procession out of the Hall, and stand by poor 
Berry during the farewells. Who is going to speak? Merimac, you will, 
certainly."

"Yes, of course," said Merimac. "And you, Saradoc? You were fond of 
my boy--that's only fitting."

"I'd like to say my farewells," said Beryl, "just as I did for my 
poor sister, his mother. I never thought I would live to speak over 
them both."

"What about you, Mentha dear?" Esmeralda addressed her eldest niece 
with tender solicitude. "Do you feel fit to attend the funeral? Would 
you like to say a few words about Berry?"

Mentha nodded. "I will be present, Auntie," she answered. She reached 
to take her sister's hand, and Melilot gave her fingers a comforting 
squeeze.

!~|*|~!

After lunch, Frodo approached the two sisters as they left the table. 
"May I talk to you?"

"We were just going up to our rooms," said Melilot. "Mentha ought to 
rest." 

"Yes," Mentha agreed. "I need to lie down for awhile... before the 
funeral."

"I'm going to rest too." Frodo smiled softly. "I promised I would." 
The pair did not object as he left the dining hall and walked up the 
corridor toward the bedrooms with them. "Do you mind?" he asked. "I'm 
trying to help Merry. I'd like to ask you both a question or two, 
about the day Berry died."

Mentha gripped her sister's arm. "What do you want to know?"

"I wanted to ask about Celie."

"Celie?" Mentha echoed. Both sisters looked puzzled.

"She didn't pay a call on you, did she?" 

"No," said Mentha. "I didn't see Celie that day. Only Melly."

"Melly?" Frodo was surprised. "Is that where you were going?" he 
asked Melilot. "You said last night you were out for a walk. You went 
to Mentha's?"

"Yes, if you must know," the younger girl answered. "I went to visit 
my sister. I spent the day at her cottage, and we walked back to the 
Hall together for dinner."

Frodo wondered if she was the dark-haired girl Dinodas had seen, and 
not Celandine. "Did you notice if Uncle Dinodas was out in his yard 
when you passed, Melly?"

"Uncle Dino? No, I didn't notice him." Melilot cast a glance at her 
sister. "Was he there?"

"He said he saw a girl go past his cottage," Frodo explained. "I 
thought it was Celie, but I'm afraid Uncle Dinodas doesn't see all 
that well any more." He felt rather silly; he'd been imagining a girl 
flying down the lane in fright, when all the time it had been Melly 
going on an ordinary visit. This was what came of jumping to 
conclusions and letting his imagination mislead him!
 
"Here, Frodo!" their brother Merimas shouted. As he came up the 
corridor after them, Frodo stopped, but Mentha and Melilot took the 
opportunity to go on alone. "What d'you mean by going around asking 
everybody questions?" Merimas demanded. "Well, no more! I won't have 
it. You've upset my wife, and now my sisters. What is it you're 
after?"

"Whatever proof I can find that Merry didn't kill Berilac," Frodo 
responded frankly. "Merry is my dearest friend, like a brother to me. 
I don't wish to distress the ladies more than they've already been 
distressed by this, but if they can tell me anything that will help 
to get Merry out of gaol and the danger of being hanged, then I will 
ask them. I want to see justice done, don't you?" 

Merimas grudgingly admitted that he wanted justice, even if he didn't 
approve of Merry. "But just you mind, Frodo Baggins--don't go 
bothering them any more than you have to. I'll put a stop to it if 
you don't, Merry be hanged or not!"

!~|xii|~!

When Frodo went to his room for his nap, he found Sam placing his 
clothes for the funeral over the back of a chair. Frodo sat down on 
the bed and told Sam about his latest conversation with his uncle as 
he took off his coat and waistcoat.

"You think Master Saradoc'll come around after all?" Sam asked as he 
took the cast-off garments and put them in the wardrobe.

"I don't know yet, but I've given him something to think about." 
Frodo slipped his braces off his shoulders and lay down. "Uncle 
Saradoc isn't so bad, usually. He's not the warmest-hearted hobbit in 
the Shire, but he's always had a strong sense of family honor. His 
behavior of late hasn't been the best, but that's only because he's 
so proud. You know how rare it is for any family of hobbits to have 
only one child--when one of the great families produces a single 
heir, it's a cause for alarm! Even though Merry's only just come of 
age, Uncle Saradoc's put it all on him to carry on the precious 
Brandybuck line, but for the same reason, he wouldn't set his only 
son aside. It'd be too great a wound to his pride. He'll threaten 
Merry with disinheritance, but he says now that he never really meant 
to put Berilac in Merry's place. I wonder if Berilac knew that, or if 
he thought Uncle Saradoc actually meant to do it..." He sighed. 
"Well, I won't give up my investigation, even if my uncle relents. 
There are too many questions left unanswered." He looked up as Sam 
came to stand beside the bed. "Did you get any answers to my 
questions in the servants' hall?"

"There wasn't a proper luncheon today, as they had the funeral to get 
ready for and most of the maids were out in the yard with the 
laundry," Sam reported. "But while I was having a bite to eat in the 
kitchen, I got on good terms with some of the older servants. That's 
mostly due to you, Frodo."

"To _me_?"

"The ones that remember when you were a boy here have naught but good 
things to say of you." Then Sam added, "Old Bramblebanks hears tell 
you've gone a mite peculiar since you went off to live with Mr. 
Bilbo, but he's sure you've kept a sound head in spite of it." 

Frodo laughed. 

"If I wanted stories about what you were like as a little lad growing 
up," said Sam, "I could get more'n enough to suit. They'll tell me 
anything about the Brandybucks if I ask."

"Have they told you anything?"

"I heard a bit more about Mr. Berry's carryings-on. I asked `em about 
Mrs. Celandine. She ran a bit wild, they say, when she was still a 
miss. She was out with Mr. Berry from time to time, and other lads 
from Bucklebury. Them in the servants' hall had it that she was to 
marry Mr. Berry once she was of an age, but she chose Mr. Merimas 
instead and the family approved, him being so steady-like. After 
that, Mr. Berry started courting one of his other cousins."

"Mentha," guessed Frodo. Upon reflection, it seemed obvious: Mentha 
had been too upset to come down to dinner last night, and why else 
would Aunt Esme invite her in particular to speak over Berry unless 
there was a special connection between them? "Is there more?"

"Not yet, but I'll be going to the boathouse while you're out at the 
funeral, and I want to talk to the maids when they come in. They'll 
know the most about the family's comings and goings."

"Is that what you're going to do next?" 

"Just as soon as I see you resting." Sam drew the curtains over the 
window, then leaned down to give Frodo a kiss on the cheek. "Go to 
sleep."

Frodo was glad to comply. He did feel very tired, almost as if it 
were an effort to keep his eyes open. He shut them.

Just before he dropped off, he heard a light tap on the door, then 
Sam spoke softly: "Can you come back later, Daffy? Mr. Frodo's 
sleeping and mustn't be disturbed. Wait, I've got a question for 
you..." and Sam went out into the hallway.

!~|xiii|~!

"It doesn't matter about Mr. Frodo's bed," said the maid named Daffy 
as she and Sam went into the room next door. "He's only slept in his 
sheets the one night, and we'll get 'em for washing after you've 
gone." As she began to strip the bed, she glanced up at Sam and 
asked, "Will you be staying with us for very long?"

"I don't know rightly," Sam answered, and came forward to help her 
gather up the bundle of sheets. "We'll stay 'til we've finished what 
we came here for." He looked about the bedroom, which was very like 
the one Frodo was staying in. "Whose room is this?"

"Mr. Fredegar Bolger, who's visiting too." 

"He didn't come `til just before we did," Sam ventured. "Isn't that 
so?"

"Yes, that's right. Just the day before." As they left the room, 
Daffy took the armload of sheets from Sam and dropped them into a 
large wicker basket sitting in the hallway. "He's come up for the 
funeral. But his sister Miss Estella's been here awhile with their 
aunt. This is her room," she announced as they went into another room 
farther along the passage. "A sweet little miss, she is, and hardly 
any trouble to look after, `cept for that once..." 

As they went from room to room, Sam helping the maid to gather the 
bedsheets, she told him many interesting things about the occupants 
of each. Sam listened attentively, asked questions, and thought he 
would never be able to remember it all to tell Frodo. He'd have to 
write everything down when he got a chance! 

"You're sweet to give a hand, Sam Gamgee," Daffy told him when they 
had finished with the last bedroom. "It's got my job done so much 
quicker."

"Glad to've helped," Sam mumbled rather shyly. It was the least he 
could do to repay her for the information she'd given him. He had 
only one question left to ask. "Can you tell me, Daff? We've been in 
all the rooms. Which one belonged to this Mr. Berilac who died?"

"It's that one." Daffy pointed to a closed door at the far upward 
curve of the hallway, a room they had not entered. "It's been shut 
up. Nought to look at, if you've a mind to go in. Why d'you want to?"

"Oh, I was curious. I've heard so much talk about him. All sorts of 
odd things."

"That's no surprise!" she laughed. "Mr. Berilac was a caution! Old 
Bramblebanks warned me about 'm the day I started to work here at the 
Hall. 'You're a pretty girl,' he said. 'Watch yourself around that 
one.'"

Sam wondered if Berry had paid improper attention to Daffy--she _was_ 
quite pretty--but he couldn't suspect her. They were looking for a 
dark-haired girl, and Daffy's hair was yellow. "He didn't give you 
any trouble, did he?"

The question made Daffy smile at him. "No," she answered, "save for a 
teasing word or two. I was on my guard, but I've heard stories about 
girls that wasn't!" She leaned closed to Sam and told him 
confidentially, "Last summer, there was a maid who worked here, 
Milliflora, her name was. She had to go off and marry quick-like to a 
lad at one of the farms down the river Standelf-way. She had her baby 
only three months after." Her eyes were wide. "Now that's scandal 
enough, but it was settled all right in the end, 'til her husband 
came to the Hall wanting to see Mr. Berilac--wanting to fight with 
him over Milli! He said Mr. Berry'd disgraced her."

Sam was agog at the dazzling array of sexual indiscretions he had 
discovered going on around Brandy Hall--and all centered around one 
person! It made his own secret with Frodo seem quite mild by 
comparison. "You mean the baby was Mr. Berry's?" he whispered.

"Well, there's no way of knowing," Daffy admitted. "The cook has it 
that even Milli wouldn't know for certain one way or the other. But 
her husband wouldn't have any more to do with her after that. She and 
the baby went home to her family, and they've been there since. What 
else can we think of it?"

Sam agreed that this was suggestive. "And what about the husband? Did 
he fight Mr. Berry?"

"No," the girl answered regretfully. "Old Bramblebanks sent him off, 
and he never saw Mr. Berry." 

Sam was eager to find out more about this incident, but before he 
could ask for more details, there was a shout from someone below: 
"Daff!" 

"Coming!" Daffy shouted back, and gave Sam another smile. "I 
shouldn't stand out here a-talking all day when there's work to be 
done." She shoved the wicker basket full of bedsheets down a narrow, 
steep side-tunnel, and went after it.

After she had gone, Sam tried the door to Berry's room, and found it 
locked.

!~|xiv|~!

When Frodo woke from his nap, Sam wasn't there. He must still be out 
asking questions, Frodo concluded, and since his clothes had been set 
out for him, he had only to wash up and dress before going to attend 
the funeral ceremony.

He went down to the Hall's back parlor, where Berilac's body had been 
laid out. The other bier-bearers were waiting outside the parlor 
door. 

"I'm sorry," he said as he joined them. "Am I late?"

"No," Fatty assured him. "We're waiting for Uncle Saradoc to let us 
into the parlor. The door's locked."

"It's good of you to give a hand, Frodo," said Ilberic. "Even if 
Merry _were_ here, it'd be impossible for him to do this. Uncle 
Merimac would throttle him barehanded if he dared to touch Berry's 
bier."

"And Aunt Esme couldn't ask Pippin to take the duty," added Doderic. 
"I hope Pip's had the sense not to show up. This funeral's going to 
be awkward as it is. Imagine if he did come after the row Uncle 
Saradoc and Merry had over him-!"

They fell quiet as Saradoc arrived. The elder hobbit fished a large 
ring of keys from his waistcoat pocket and hastily unlocked the 
parlor door. "Ready, lads? It's time," he said as he pushed the door 
open. "The door to the garden is open and everyone's waiting outside. 
You can bring poor Berry out." 

With a chorus of "Yes, Uncle," the four young hobbits followed him 
into the darkened parlor, lit only by the shafts of sunlight that 
filtered in through the gaps between the closed curtains and the 
crack of the slightly ajar outer door. Berilac's body lay on its bier 
on a table at the center of the room; Frodo was surprised to see that 
it was covered with a sheet of thick black cloth. 

They took up the long poles that extended from the ends of the bier--
Frodo, in Merry's place, was first, with Doderic directly behind him, 
and the other two at the other end--and lifted it from the table. 
Saradoc held the garden door open for them. Once the bier had been 
brought out, the rest of the family and those friends and neighbors 
who had come to attend the funeral fell in behind, forming a 
procession. With slow, measured steps, they walked down the garden 
path, out through the gate, and across the lawn to the vault.
 
The Brandybuck burial vault was a low hill on the northern end of the 
Hall property, not far from the river amid a grove of willow trees. 
In accordance with custom, the body was first set on a low platform 
before the entrance to the vault; there, the mourners could bid 
farewell to the departed before he was taken in to his final resting 
place.

"They can't show Berry," Doderic explained in a murmur to Frodo as 
they set the bier down outside the vault. "That's why he's covered. 
He's not a pretty sight. He was in the water, you know, for two days 
before they fished him out."

The four bearers stood ranged on one side of the body, heads bowed 
and hands clasped respectfully while those who wished to said a few 
words of remembrance for Berilac. The Master of the Hall spoke first, 
praising his nephew and lamenting the loss of so promising a young 
hobbit. Merimac spoke next, more in anger than grief, vowing justice 
for his dead son. Beryl wept openly. Celie's eyes brimmed with tears 
and she hid her nose in her handkerchief. At the back of the family 
group, Dinodas looked impatient.

"Have you seen him?" Frodo whispered.

"No," Doderic whispered back. "No one's been allowed to view him 
since he's been laid out, except the women who prepared him for 
burial."

"Aunt Beryl wanted to see him," Fatty added under his breath, "but 
Uncle Saradoc said she'd better not. It's more than Berry's being in 
the water so long. I heard that his head was awfully bashed in when 
they found him." 

"That's true," said Doderic. "That's how the sherriffs knew it wasn't 
an accident, although why they lit on Merry-."

"Dodi, Fatty, ssh!" Ilberic hissed. Mentha was approaching. She 
placed a bundle of flowers on the bier and turned to face the crowd 
of mourners as if she too meant to speak. But instead of speaking, 
she burst into tears and quickly moved away. 

"Poor Mentha's all torn up about Berry," Ilberic said with sympathy 
as she sank down on a bench near the entrance to the vault and sobbed 
into her handkerchief. Melilot went to stand over her sister and 
offered comforting whispers and pats; their mother Melisaunte joined 
them. "Except for Uncle Merimac, this must be most distressing for 
her. There was an understanding between the two of them, you know."

"No, I hadn't heard." But it confirmed his guess after what Sam had 
told him.

Others went past the bier, leaving more flowers, some standing for a 
moment to say their farewells. Once the last of the mourners had 
passed, the four young hobbits resumed their places around the bier, 
which was now covered by a mound of flowers. In concert, they lifted 
Berilac's body, taking care not to let the flowers spill off onto the 
ground. 

As they carried the bier toward the entrance to the vault, Mentha 
lifted her head to look at the covered body and let out a piercing 
wail, "Berry! My Berry--_why_?" Then she lapsed into a fit of 
hysterics and could not be calmed down. Melilot and Melisaunte 
quickly escorted her away from the funeral and back to the Hall.

The ceremony concluded soon after this outburst. Once Berry was laid 
in his place in the vault, the heavy doors were pushed shut with a 
resounding, final clang. Saradoc thanked the guests for attending and 
invited them to join the family at the Hall for some refreshment.

!~|xv|~!

"That wasn't so awful," Fatty said as the bier-bearers walked back 
toward the Hall together, trailing behind the others. "Except for 
poor Mentha."

"I was afraid Uncle Merimas would make a scene when it came his turn 
to speak," said Doderic. "I thought he might accuse Merry right there 
over his son's body. Could the family ever recover from _that_? As if 
we haven't provided enough scandal already to keep the Shire busy 
chattering for months! By the way, Frodo, what's this about Merry 
intending to leave the Shire once he's free?" 

"How did you learn about _that_?" Frodo asked, startled.

"I overheard Uncle Saradoc telling Aunt Esme. Is it true?" All three 
cousins looked extremely interested.

"I don't know if he truly means it, but it's what Merry said when I 
saw him this morning. I had to tell Uncle Saradoc, in hopes it would 
make him change his mind." 

"I hope it does, but it hasn't gotten Merry out of gaol yet," said 
Doderic. "We're working on that ourselves, you know." 

"Yes, Pippin told me about your plans," Frodo answered. "I think it's 
wonderful the way you've all stood by them. They need their friends 
especially now."

"Why shouldn't we stick with them?" Doderic responded. "Merry's our 
cousin, so is Pip, and in spite of the fuss Uncle Saradoc's made 
about it, they haven't done anything we haven't all done too." He 
grinned. "With Merry around, I expect every one of us has been up to 
precisely the same games-"

"_With_ Merry," his brother finished, and both of them and Fatty 
chuckled companionably.

Frodo understood their joke: In their 'tweens, before Merry had 
settled on Pippin, both brothers and Fatty had been among Merry's 
earlier playmates. It was only natural that they assumed he had 
played around the same way with Merry himself, since the two of them 
had always been particularly close friends; in fact, they would be 
surprised and disbelieving if he told them otherwise. 

He wondered what they would say if they knew of his relationship with 
Sam. Games between cousins of the best hobbit-families was one thing, 
but a love-affair with one of the common folk, especially a servant, 
was quite another matter. It wouldn't be seen in the same amusing 
light as their own romps with Merry, but as a serious breach of 
gentlehobbit conduct similar to Berilac's reputed dalliances with 
housemaids.

"Nothing wrong in it," Ilberic concluded as the boys stifled their 
laughter, for Estella had left the company of the aunties and was 
headed in their direction. "The only difference is that Uncle Saradoc 
isn't so eager to see any of _us_ married off right away." He smiled 
at Estella as she drew near, and she shyly smiled in return.

"It might be better if Merry and Pip did go away for awhile," Fatty 
said softly, so his sister would not overhear. "Not out of the Shire, 
of course, but away from Buckland once this unpleasantness is over 
and done with. It'd do them a world of good to get away from these 
Brandybucks- That is-" He paused, flustered. "I beg your pardon. I 
didn't mean-"

"Quite all right, Fatty." Doderic smiled. "We know _we_ aren't the 
Brandybucks you're referring to, and anyway I agree with you."

"But Merry can't go away," said Estella, who had heard after all. "It 
wouldn't be fair, not if he's innocent as we all know he is." She 
looked appealingly from one lad to another. "You do believe he's 
innocent, don't you?"

"Of course we do," Ilberic answered. "Nobody in their right mind 
could think otherwise." He received another shy smile. 

"It's ridiculous!" Doderic agreed. "Why, _I've_ got as much reason to 
get rid of Berry as Merry did. With both him and Berry out of the 
way, I'd be next in line as heir to the Master of the Hall. Or it 
might've been Ilberic."

"_Me_!" cried his brother. "What reason would _I_ have?"

"Once the way was clear, you'd only have to give me a good knock over 
the head to get rid of me too."

"Estella, dear," Beryl called her away from the group of boys.

"It's a pity Merry doesn't take an interest in girls," said Fatty as 
Estella returned to their aunt. "Stel's grown up rather nice, if I do 
say so as a brother. And she's so obviously sweet on him." 

"Obviously," echoed Ilberic, and Fatty looked contrite again.

As they headed toward the Hall, Frodo spotted Sam standing beneath 
the row of willows along the river, half-hidden by the curtain of 
long leaves, and waving to draw his attention. He quietly left the 
group and headed toward the trees.

"I've just come from the boathouse," Sam announced once Frodo had 
ducked under the fringe of willow leaves to join him. 

"What did you find out?" 

In response, Sam took a small memoranda book out of the pocket of his 
jacket; Frodo smiled at the sight of it, and Sam explained, "You said 
we ought to be methodical, so I thought as I'd better write it all 
down to be sure I got it right.

"Now then," he opened the tiny book and read from his notes, "Mr. 
Berilac went to the boathouse right after first breakfast. The 
boatsmen say he was alone when he rowed off, and that was the last 
they saw of 'm. He didn't tell them where he was going. They said 
they told the sherriffs just the same the day after Mr. Berilac went 
missing, and didn't have more to add." 

"What about Doderic?" asked Frodo. "Did he take a boat too?"

"Mr. Doderic took a boat out less than an hour after Mr. Berilac, but 
here's the curious thing: He didn't bring it back. His brother, Mr. 
Ilberic, did."

"_Ilbie_? Are they quite sure of that?"

"Well, they allow it's easy enough to get the two brothers mixed up, 
as they look so much alike, but one of the old boatsman, Tubby 
Ragwort, his name is, swears it was Ilberic Brandybuck that came back 
to the boathouse just before noon."

"Yes, I remember Old Tubby," said Frodo. "He's been with the family 
for years. He'd know one lad from the other. Ilbie said he slept late 
that morning, but he must have been lying. Did you look into that?"

"I did, and _that_ makes what the boatsmen told me curiouser still." 
Sam turned back to the first page in his notebook. "I asked the 
housemaid that does the family's bedrooms when she came to see if we 
had any washing that needed doing. We had a nice, long chat while you 
were sleeping. She says Mr. Ilberic was snoring very loud when she 
went to straighten his room. She didn't try to go in then, but came 
back just before lunch, when he wasn't there. Earlier that morning, 
she was taking water up to your cousins' rooms as she does for `em 
most days, but she says he was quiet then. She knocked on the door, 
but there was no answer."

"He must have been out earlier and come back to the house," Frodo 
mused. Under the cover of the trees, where no one could see them, he 
put an around Sam and leaned on him. "But why would he do that? It 
doesn't make sense. Why go out, then come back in for a nap, and then 
go out again at noon to return Dodi's boat? What could he and Dodi 
have been up to?" He watched the figures on the lawn, the last of the 
funeral party, going into the Hall via the front doors. "What about 
the others, Fatty and Melly?"

"Miss Melilot was out all day, and didn't come back `til dinner-time 
with her sister, Miss Mentha," Sam reported. 

"Yes, that fits with what Melly told me. She walked over to visit 
Mentha at her studio." 

"And as far as anyone can say, Mr. Fatty didn't come to the Hall `til 
yesterday morning." 

"Budgeford's 25 miles away. I suppose it's possible that he could 
have ridden down here unseen, then gone home again... but I can't 
think of a reason _why_ he would." Frodo laughed. "I find it hard to 
imagine Fatty Bolger riding hard through Buckland with murder on his 
mind, don't you?"

"It does make an odd picture," Sam agreed, "but there's one other 
person you didn't ask about that might've brought him down from 
Budgeford in a hurry: Miss 'Stella Bolger was missing for an hour or 
more that morning."

"Estella!"

"She turned up again at lunch, right as rain, but Daffy said that her 
aunt, Miss Beryl, was making the biggest fuss, setting the whole 
house upside down looking for her."

"Yes, Aunt Beryl watches over Estella very closely. Would she have 
sent for Fatty if his sister were missing?" Frodo shook his head. 
"What a peculiar business this is! Ilberic, Doderic, possibly Fatty, 
and now Estella--was anyone where they said they were?"

!~|xvi|~!

They parted on the front lawn; Sam went around to the southern side 
of the hill, and Frodo went into the Hall. The funeral party had gone 
on to partake of the offered refreshments and the front hall was 
empty. The door to the Master's study was ajar and, as Frodo went 
past, he could hear his uncles arguing within:

"-'til you know the truth of the matter, it's only just!" Merimac was 
saying, his voice rising with emotion. "That's all I ask for, 
Saradoc--justice for my son."

"What about _my_ son? It's hard on the boy if he's innocent, harder 
than I thought it'd be if he's talking of leaving Buckland rather 
than give in."

"If he's innocent, there'll be proof of it. And if you're afraid of 
Merry's running off, then keeping him locked up's the best way to see 
he stays right where he is."

Saradoc sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right..."  

Frodo's heart sank at this exchange, and he stole quietly past the 
door and down the corridor to the best drawing room, where the rest 
of the family and guests had gathered. Esmeralda was serving tea with 
small cakes and sandwiches to refresh the party and sustain them 
until dinner. The drawing room was large and well-furnished, full of 
comfortable chairs, plump tuffets, and settees, but very crowded 
today. Since Frodo was late coming in, there were no empty seats; 
once he'd been given his tea, he found a place to stand at the 
mantelpiece, beneath a large portrait of Aunt Esme. From this vantage 
point, he could keep an eye on Doderic and Ilberic, who were at the 
other end of the room, wedged in behind the chair their mother was 
sitting in. He meant to speak to them first about the curious things 
Sam had told him, if only he could catch them alone.
 
Melisaunte and her daughters were absent, but their absence made them 
a prime topic of conversation. There were some disapproving murmurs 
among the guests about Mentha's behavior. Tears were expected at a 
funeral--indeed, they were a proper show of mourning--but so public 
an exhibition of deep, personal grief was shocking. Someone suggested 
that it was even in bad taste. 

"Questionable taste it may have been, but I can't blame the poor 
child. I feel quite sorry for her," Hilda declared. "It's a terrible 
thing to happen to a young girl. It's bad enough to be widowed, but 
at least _then_ you've had your years with your husband, and your 
children together." She looked fondly up at her own sons and newlywed 
daughter. "But to lose your betrothed-!" Hilda shook her head sadly. 
"Poor Mentha won't even have memories of happier times, and it will 
be so much harder for her to give her heart to another lad after this 
tragedy."

Other widowed ladies in the room were likewise sympathetic, but there 
was still some disagreement about the correctness of Mentha's 
conduct, broken heart or no broken heart. The question might have 
become an argument, if it had not ended abruptly when Melilot came 
in.

"How is your sister, dear?" Esmeralda asked her. 

"She's calmer now, Aunt Esme. We've put her to bed and Mother's 
sitting by her." Melilot accepted the cup of tea her aunt offered. 
Her brother, who was seated nearby, gave her his place. "Mentha wants 
to go back to her cottage as soon she's fit, and I'm going with her 
to look after her. She can have quiet there, and it will do her good 
to be among her own things."

"It might also do her good to return to her work," said Esme. "It 
will help to take her mind off her sorrows." 

"Yes, I think so too," Melly agreed, "and so does Mother."

"A girl so artistic as your Mentha must be very sensitive," one of 
the guests observed. "Is she still painting her pictures?" Mentha's 
paintings were a noteworthy peculiarity even among the peculiar 
Brandybucks. 

"Yes, she is. She's really rather talented, you know," Merimas 
informed them. "She mostly paints pictures of gardens, flowers, ivy-
covered cottages and such-like, but she does portraits too."

"She did a lovely picture of Merimas and Celie to commemorate their 
wedding," Hilda added proudly. "And she painted that." She indicated 
the portrait of Esmeralda. Those visitors who had not been in the 
drawing room to see this portrait before expressed their appreciation 
of it. "It's very beautiful work, isn't it? An excellent likeness." 

"Mentha promised me one of Saradoc, to match it," said Esmeralda. 
"Perhaps she will paint it, once she's sufficiently recovered from 
her loss."
 
Frodo sipped his tea and continued to watch Doderic and Ilberic. He 
paid little attention to what was being said, for his thoughts were 
scattered in other directions. 

What had the two been up to on the river that day? And was Estella 
Bolger part of it, or was her disappearance due to some other matter 
entirely? For an instant, Frodo considered the possibility that she 
might be the girl seen in Berry's boat, then he dismissed the idea. 
Estella could never be described as 'dark-haired,' and she was too 
innocent a young girl for such goings-on with the likes of Berry... 
wasn't she?

Also, he couldn't help thinking of that ridiculous joke Doderic had 
made on the walk back from the funeral. He would have taken it as 
nothing more than Dodi's usual nonsense, if Merry hadn't said nearly 
the same thing. Frodo had first considered Dodi's mysterious actions 
that day in connection with Celie, but he doubted now that Celie was 
involved in this at all. Did Dodi have a more selfish reason for 
wanting rid of Berry? An absurd idea had occurred to him: Now that 
Berry was dead, what if Merry were hanged for his murder or fled the 
Shire forever? Doderic would become the next Master of the Hall. Was 
that reason enough to kill one cousin and keep silent while another 
was accused of the crime? And would his brother assist him?

No, it was _too_ ridiculous. Frodo couldn't believe it, not of Dodi 
and Ilbie.

At last, Doderic made his excuses and squeezed out from behind his 
mother's chair. Ilberic slipped out after him. They left the drawing 
room. Frodo left his teacup on the mantelpiece, and followed them. 

He caught up with the pair in the spiraling hallway going up to the 
bedrooms and took Doderic by the arm. "Dodi, wait a moment. I want to 
talk to you--to both of you." Ilberic stopped a few feet farther 
along the corridor. "I wanted to ask you some questions about what 
you said at dinner last night. Dodi, didn't you tell everyone that 
you went fishing at Standelf pool the morning Berry was killed?"

Both boys looked curious at the question. Doderic nodded. "Yes, 
that's right."

"Pippin says you were at Crickhollow. Which is it?"

"Crickhollow," his cousin answered after a hesitation. "Once I 
learned what Merry's quarrel with his father was about, I wanted to 
give my support to him and Pip, so I went to see them. Merry wasn't 
in, but Pippin and I had a talk instead. Why do you ask?" 

"Because you were out on the river when Berry was killed," Frodo 
pursued. "If you went to see Merry and Pippin, you must have gone 
upstream just as Berry did, and landed your boat at the same place on 
the bank. Were you there when he was? Did you see him? I want the 
truth."

Doderic laughed at first, then stared at him in astonishment. "Frodo 
Baggins, what are you thinking of? Are you actually asking if I had 
something to do with Berry's death?"

"No..." Frodo blushed in spite of himself. Hadn't he been thinking 
just that? "But you lied about your whereabouts, and I want to know 
why. It was such a silly lie. Honestly, Dodi, you should have at 
least asked Pippin to keep his mouth shut."

"I wasn't trying to hide the truth from you, Frodo. It was Uncle 
Saradoc I didn't want to know! There's no chance that _he'd_ talk to 
Pippin with things as they are now."

"Then why did you bring it up at the table last night, when you might 
have easily said nothing?"

"Well, I am on Merry's side, you know, and I thought I had to say 
_something_ on his behalf. Where I really was didn't alter my point 
about Merry's being arrested on no more than trumped-up suspicions. 
Besides," Dodi lowered his voice, "last night, I said my position was 
no better than Merry's. You can see now that, except for that quarrel 
with his father, it's nearly the same. If the sherriffs thought I had 
a reason to want rid of Berilac, I could be in Merry's place!" 

"Your position is worse than that," Frodo told him. "What were you 
and Ilbie up to when you played that trick with the boat?"

The question took both brothers completely by surprise. "You know 
about that too?" asked Ilberic.

"I asked the boatmen," said Frodo. "You're lucky that no one else 
has. If the sherriffs weren't so set on Merry, the two of you might 
be in serious trouble." He looked from one boy to the other. "What 
were you doing? Please, tell me."

Doderic looked at his brother; Ilberic nodded, giving him permission 
to speak. "If you must know, Ilbie wanted to get away for awhile and 
not have anyone know about it. He's awfully sweet on her."

"Who?" Frodo asked. Then, in a flash of comprehension, he understood. 
"Estella Bolger?"

"It's a secret," said Ilberic. "Uncle Saradoc and Estella's Aunt 
Beryl wouldn't approve it. They'd rather see her matched to Merry." 

"Is that why she was asked here?" asked Frodo. 

"You didn't see how Uncle Saradoc was pushing the poor girl at Merry 
when she arrived last week. Merry tried to be kind to her, but he 
wasn't going to let himself be married off no matter who his father 
picked out for him. Well, you know how _that_ turned out." 

"It's not that Merry objected to 'Stella in particular," Doderic 
added. "It's just that after all the others, she was the final 
straw."

Frodo remembered what Merry had told him about 'half a dozen girl-
cousins' being paraded before him as prospective brides. "There were