But lunch did not prove so easy to focus on. Even as they ate, and made conversation about other things, Frodo found that there was something about Sam's wriggling atop him while kissing his earlobe that demanded to be replayed repeatedly in his mind. He also found himself wondering whether it meant anything, the way Sam kept casting him curious looks from beneath his eyelashes. He even found himself *hoping* it meant something.
In all, he was quite glad Mariella seemed unable to read people's minds, for she would just be entirely too pleased if she knew where his was currently dwelling. He couldn't bear to see the smugness, or hear the squeals of delight. If only he and Sam could be alone somewhere, where they could be sure she wouldn't appear; then he would...he would...what? His mind, stuck in its rut, promptly supplied, "Have Sam lie on top of me and kiss my earlobe," but he knew that couldn't be right. He had never wanted such things of Sam before.
When he saw Sam to the door, to let him back out to his gardening tasks, he found himself standing quite close to the lad. And Sam wasn't moving away.
"Well, I'll probably see you soon, then," said Frodo, leaning on the door, looking into Sam's eyes.
"Reckon so," Sam agreed, sharing the step with him, his face perhaps three inches away.
Strangest thing, but Frodo's eyes darted to Sam's mouth. That seemed to give Sam a push of encouragement, for he leaned in and gave Frodo a kiss, right on the lips.
"Why, we weren't even being watched," said Frodo, who realized his voice sounded remarkably delighted.
"Guess I was just in a kissing mood," shrugged Sam, smiling. He eased off the step and sauntered backward into the garden. "See you later, then, sir."
"See you, Sam." Frodo gazed after him, till Sam turned and became obscured by the hedges.
Well, there was no doubt about it: whatever he used to feel for Sam, it was clear it had grown recently to encompass a great fondness and attraction. And he felt too happy to care one bit what that ghost-girl would say.
* * *
Sam's work, unfortunately, kept him away from Bag End all afternoon, and Frodo had to tell the pouting Mariella, when she appeared, that he was sorry but she would just have to come back later.
She showed up again as he was climbing into bed, to ask whether she couldn't persuade him to call Sam up here to spend the night. Frodo tried to imagine knocking on the Gamgees' door and asking the Gaffer for that kind of request, and firmly told her it was impossible.
She stamped her foot and fumed, "You had better repay me well tomorrow!" and disappeared in a storm, after overturning his laundry hamper and kicking his clothes around the room. The disconsolate Frodo had some trouble falling asleep after that.
But he felt quite revived when Sam came into the smial, just after second breakfast, and bestowed a beaming smile upon him. "Morning, sir!"
Frodo jumped up from his seat, beaming back. "Hello, Sam!"
Sam glanced around expectantly. "No sign of Herself today?"
"Not so far. Though she was prevailing upon me last night to go drag you out of bed. I thought that was rather too much."
"Oh, I wouldn't have minded. But she oughtn't to disturb you at all hours like that. It ain't civilized."
"Quite what I thought."
Sam's eye was caught by the dirty dishes Frodo had just abandoned. "Here, let me take care of those for you." He rushed forward and took them to the wash-basin.
"Why, thank you," Frodo said. He walked up and placed his hands on Sam's waist, while Sam stood pouring water over the dishes. When Sam turned his head in surprise, Frodo kissed him on the cheek.
"What was that for?" asked Sam, putting the water-pitcher down and turning further to ease himself into Frodo's arms.
"Just in a kissing mood, I guess," Frodo answered.
Sam smiled, and returned the kiss with one of his own, on the mouth.
That kept them busy for a minute or two, and when they broke apart Frodo looked around, somewhat agitated. "She's still not here?"
"Seemingly not," said Sam.
Frodo toyed with the cloth of Sam's sleeve. "Well...if you don't mind...I was thinking perhaps we should go out to the couch anyway, just in case. She seemed awfully angry with me last night, and it may take a lot to please her today, so..."
Sam nodded at once. "Perhaps if she found we'd already got started on our own, she'd not be so cross with us."
"Exactly. I'm so relieved you understand." Frodo caught Sam's fingers, and pulled him at almost a sprint into the parlor.
They landed in a diagonal slant on the couch, already kissing, legs and arms in a tangle. Very soon their shirts were unbuttoned and pulled open to let their skin touch, though they could not find the time to bother taking them all the way off.
"Oh, goodness, YES!" cried a voice a few minutes later--which, as it happened, was Mariella's.
The hobbits started, and looked up. There she stood, looming above the couch, clasping her pale hands in rapture. As soon as Frodo caught his breath, he chastised, "Well, it certainly took you long enough to get here! We've been doing this for I can't imagine how long, just waiting for you to show up."
"Yes, I'm sure that explains it. I like that new development," Mariella remarked, tilting her head so she could observe Sam's fingers upon Frodo's nipple.
"Aye, well," Sam said, furtively pulling his hand back. "Thought you might. That's why I was doing it, of course."
"Yes," Frodo agreed. "Really, the things we do for you! When will you leave us in peace?"
Mariella smirked, took hold of her skirts, and strolled a few steps away, where she dropped down to sit on the floor. "I'm dead, not stupid. You two are not fooling anyone. So, please--carry on."
"Really, I must insist that this maligning of our characters-" Frodo began.
"Oh, do be quiet! Carry on!" she commanded.
"As you wish," Frodo sulked. Then, brightening, he turned his face to Sam again, and they resumed their previous activity.
He became so immersed in the feel of Sam's lips, hands, and chest; and the novelty of moving his body around beneath Sam's (he wasn't sure how they had got into that position again, but so be it); that he was once again startled when Mariella spoke.
"All right," she complained. "It's been half an hour, and I am beginning to get bored. I'm afraid I need to hear some words of affection." She waved her hand peremptorily. "Frodo, you start."
"Words of affection? What on earth...?"
" 'Sam, my darling, you're such a wonderful lover,' that sort of thing. Go on!"
Frodo laughed, inadvertently. " 'My darling'? Sam, can you imagine me calling you that?"
Sam was grinning. "Does sound a bit silly."
"Then compare his eyes to the sea or something," snapped Mariella. "Tell him about the sleepless nights you've spent mooning over him."
"His eyes are brown, which, I gather, is not the color of the sea," Frodo explained patiently. "Which in any case I've never seen, so I'd hardly use it as a basis for comparison. And furthermore, the only sleepless nights I've spent lately have been *your* fault, ma'am, not his; so that would be a lie as well."
"Oh?" fumed Mariella. She turned her glare to Sam. "Perhaps *you* have some sentiments to express, Samwise? Surely you can find the names of flowers to compare to the texture of his skin."
Sam shrugged. "I suppose it's a bit like rose petals here and there, but roses don't have hairs, like." Sam tickled Frodo's lightly-furred chest, eliciting a giggle.
"Tell him you adore him and desire him and need him!" she shouted. "Give me poetry!"
"Now, really, Miss," said Sam, growing stern. "I've not said one word of complaint about kissing him and rolling around with him and such, but I said I'd put my foot down somewhere, and this sugary girly-talk is where I draw the line!"
"Indeed," observed Frodo, also addressing her. "It's ridiculous if you think about it. You claim you're drawn to us because we're lads, and yet you want us to speak like lasses?"
Mariella leaped to her feet and seized an Elvish dictionary to wield over them. Each hobbit raised an arm in self-defense. "Now you're just fooling about!" she cried. "I won't have it! I must know how this ends!"
"How this ends?" said the bewildered Frodo.
"Yes! The truth, curse you! If I weren't here, what would you do with each other? Tell me!"
"We'd..." Frodo glanced guiltily at Sam. "Well...to be honest..."
"Sir, I have to admit..." Sam began.
"I used her as an excuse today," Frodo blurted out. "I wanted to do this with you. I'm so sorry, Sam."
"Don't be," said Sam, who sounded relieved. "I was doing the same. I'm liking it too--quite a lot really."
"What are you saying?" demanded Mariella.
"Well," Frodo answered, "it seems if you weren't here, I'd--I'd most likely get carried away in a fashion that I certainly wouldn't allow if you *were* here."
Sam nodded in agreement, looking up at the hovering Elvish dictionary with a slight cringe. "Like as not, something more than this would happen, if we were alone."
"You're not just saying that because you think I want to hear it?" threatened Mariella, brandishing the dictionary at one of them and then the other.
"Well, I'd not use poetry on him, truthfully," Sam added, "but I'd be getting affectionate some way or another, and that's a fact."
"Oh, Sam," said Frodo, pleased. He was rewarded with a glowing, bashful smile from his closely situated friend.
Mariella slowly lowered the dictionary. "All right," she said a moment later. "I've brought you two together in a romantic fashion. Is that what you're telling me?"
"It's strange, but it seems that way," admitted Frodo, who, though he kept his eyes innocently upon her, had begun tangling his fingers in Sam's chest hair.
"I've awoken the spark of mutual desire in you?" she said suspiciously. "Given you impure thoughts about one another?"
"I can only speak for myself, but yes, for my part," said Frodo.
"Mine as well," contributed Sam.
"And if I leave," she went on, narrowing her eyes, "you'll act on those thoughts with something resembling abandon?"
"Something like it," said Frodo.
"Close as I can get to it," promised Sam.
She regarded them silently for a moment, then her face lit up with a wide grin, and she flung the dictionary into the air with a whoop. "Hurray! I've done it! I've created love!" She whirled about while she cheered; the dictionary fell, without incurring much damage, onto an armchair. Quite soon she stopped whirling, and bent to bestow a clammy fishlike kiss on the forehead of each hobbit. "Good lads! Good, good lads! All right, I'll be going now. I'll leave you to it. Farewell, boys! Oooh, what fun I'll have imagining it!" And she danced away and vanished into a wall.
Frodo sagged back onto the cushions. "Whew. Well, that got rid of her."
"Aye." Sam leaned in for a kiss, then stopped before he got there, a frown crossing his face. "Wait--then you just said all that to make her go away?"
"No--I mean, yes--I mean...did you?"
"Well, it might have crossed my mind," defended Sam.
"Yes, naturally it should." Frodo gnawed on his lower lip, lowering his eyes to where his fingers were playing at Sam's bare chest. "Of course, if you did mean it..."
"Then?"
"Then, that would be fine with me. I could..." Frodo shrugged one shoulder, attempting indifference. "I could find enjoyment in it, I suppose."
"Oh, you suppose." There was an echo of Mariella's smugness in Sam's voice. "When we're lying this close, I can tell that much, sir."
Frodo couldn't keep up the mask anymore, and dissolved into a shy grin. He hauled Sam down to complete the kiss that had been averted a minute earlier. "All right, it was true," he said. "Every word of it."
"Same here," assured Sam, hand firmly back inside Frodo's shirt, and making forays into the frontier of his waistband.
"So where's that 'abandon' we were to pursue?" Frodo murmured.
"Think if you look in my pocket here, you might find it."
"Oh, Sam!"
* * *
It was with great joy, two weeks later, that Frodo answered his door and found Gandalf standing there. He embraced the wizard and begged him to come inside for a plate of food, freshly prepared by Sam. He wasted no time, over the meal, in getting to the problem at hand: namely, his house ghost Mariella, who still had not gone away. She kept reappearing, in fact, at the most inopportune and private moments, often when Frodo was trying to entertain Sam; and whether or not Sam was there, she had developed a habit of asking for shockingly specific details. Her impertinence and intrusion were really getting out of hand.
He related all this to Gandalf with much blushing and twisting of his fingers in his lap. Sam hung shyly in the background, wrapping a dishtowel around his wrists, and throwing in a word of support or clarification now and then. The book of Caerolas's drawings sat open on the table before Gandalf, who leafed through it as he listened.
The wizard, after he had bestowed a frown on each hobbit in turn, broke into a kindly smile at last and said, "Indeed. Well, I rather expected you were headed that direction, lads. I just didn't think you would get there so soon! Nor that it would take a spirit to talk you into it." He laughed.
"I knew you'd understand," said Frodo, deeply relieved. "You see, Sam, I told you he would!"
"But, Mr. Gandalf, you understand that if my Gaffer found out..."
"Oh, yes, yes, Sam; you have my utmost discretion," Gandalf soothed. "The question is: what to do about your ghost?"
"She really must go," Frodo agreed. "I'm even willing to part with the book, I think, but who could I sell it to, with a clear conscience? And what might she say about us to its new owner?"
"That's simple," said Gandalf. "You sell it to me. Here!" From the bag hanging at his belt he produced a small handful of coins, which he dumped into Frodo's hand. "More than it's worth, considering the marks she's put all over it."
Frodo stared at the coins, then at the wizard, with uncertain happiness. "But what will *you* do with her, Gandalf?"
"I? Oh, don't worry about me. I have a trick or two up my sleeve; and if those fail, I know a jolly little fellow in the Old Forest who has quite a skill for banishing ghosts. I'm sure he'd make light work of her!"
"What's going to happen to me?" said a fearful female voice. They all turned to see Mariella hovering in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the wizard.
"Goodness me!" said Gandalf. "What a sight. I see how you might have been intimidated, Frodo. Apparently they haven't any *combs* in the spirit world."
"You're my new owner, aren't you?" Mariella went on. "I can feel it! You bought the book!"
"Yes, he did," said Frodo, holding up the fist full of coins in triumph. "I'm finally rid of you, Miss! With many thanks for all you've done for me, of course."
"What will become of me?" whimpered Mariella, shrinking back from Gandalf, who was smirking at her.
"I'll send you where you belong," he responded. "Where you should have gone when you died, rather than attaching yourself to your, shall we say, earthly pleasures."
"But where is that?" she asked.
"Oh--" Gandalf waved a hand in the air. "Beyond the silver curtain, through the veil; so forth and so on. It's nothing to fear, you silly girl. You'll have it a hundred times better there than you do here, tormenting poor little hobbits."
"Will there be--man-flesh there?" she inquired, seeming to get a little more interested in the prospect.
"Not *flesh* per se, but as much man as you could ask for. Only every hero who ever lived and died."
She beamed, and clapped her hands together. "Then let's go at once! Oh, I've been longing to meet so many of them!"
"All in good time," protested Gandalf. "Why, I've not yet finished my tea. Shoo! Off with you!"
Mariella nodded, curtsied, said several effusive words of thanks, and vanished for the time being.
Gandalf packed up his wagon that evening to begin the brief journey to the Old Forest, where he would send Mariella where she needed to go.
"I can't thank you enough, Gandalf," Frodo said, standing at the gate with Sam. "Though I will miss the book..."
"I'll bring it back to you when it has been evacuated, so to speak," Gandalf promised. "In the meantime, help yourself to one of these others." He threw back the cloth covering his wagon, and opened a trunk to reveal several books. "I only just bought them yesterday. I haven't examined them all, but I'm sure you'll find something you like."
Frodo's heart lifted at the sight of such treasure, and he spent the better part of fifteen minutes pawing through and poring over the selection, pointing out interesting things to the attentive Sam, before finally choosing one.
"An adventure," he said, perusing the first chapter. "With a lot of interesting commentary upon language, as well." He shut the book and grinned at Sam and Gandalf. "Probably very little in the way of girlish romance!"
"Thank goodness for that," Sam said.
Gandalf bade them farewell, promising to return soon. As his wagon drove away, the hobbits saw the cloth twitch aside again, and Mariella's transparent head poked out. They waved to her. She made a begging gesture with both hands. Frodo glanced at Sam, who shrugged, and obliged her by seizing Frodo and planting a long kiss on him.
The last thing they saw before the wagon turned the bend was the huge smile and frantically applauding hands of their ghost-girl.
"I'll almost miss her," Sam admitted, as they went into Bag End.
"She was interesting," Frodo allowed. "But think what we can do without her to intrude upon us." He shut the front door behind Sam, and pinned him against it with another long kiss.
"Mm," Sam murmured. "That book; it's digging into my ribs..."
"Sorry," breathed Frodo. He dropped the new book onto the nearest chair and rewrapped as many limbs as possible around Sam. He was just getting Sam's top trouser button unfastened when a deep voice boomed:
"Stop it at once! You wicked lads!"
Frodo and Sam gasped and flattened themselves to the wall, staring at the new apparition in Bag End. It was another Big Person--that is, another ghost of a Big Person--but a man this time. He was elderly, with spiky white hair and a clean-shaven face, and was wearing a tweed suit. He looked quite irritated with Sam and Frodo, and was glaring fixedly at them.
"Wh--who are you?" Frodo stammered.
"You may call me The Professor! I live in that book, and I shan't put up with any such gross indecency in my presence! For shame, boys, for shame!"
Sam's shoulders drooped. "Oh, you can't be serious."
"Don't talk back to me! Button up your shirt!" The Professor pointed a bony finger at Frodo. "You! Take that servant's hand off you!"
Frodo heaved a sigh. "Right. Sam, remind me to tell Gandalf that I shall *not* be interested in keeping this particular book."
"Want to come sleep at my house tonight?" Sam offered.
"I think I'd better."
"Stop!" shouted The Professor, behind them. "Don't run away while I'm speaking to you!"
But Frodo and Sam were already halfway down the hill, and Frodo was laughing, trying to imagine what kind of excuse they would give the Gaffer for arriving at his house with their clothes half undone and requesting that Mr. Frodo sleep under their roof tonight.
(THE END.)
In all, he was quite glad Mariella seemed unable to read people's minds, for she would just be entirely too pleased if she knew where his was currently dwelling. He couldn't bear to see the smugness, or hear the squeals of delight. If only he and Sam could be alone somewhere, where they could be sure she wouldn't appear; then he would...he would...what? His mind, stuck in its rut, promptly supplied, "Have Sam lie on top of me and kiss my earlobe," but he knew that couldn't be right. He had never wanted such things of Sam before.
When he saw Sam to the door, to let him back out to his gardening tasks, he found himself standing quite close to the lad. And Sam wasn't moving away.
"Well, I'll probably see you soon, then," said Frodo, leaning on the door, looking into Sam's eyes.
"Reckon so," Sam agreed, sharing the step with him, his face perhaps three inches away.
Strangest thing, but Frodo's eyes darted to Sam's mouth. That seemed to give Sam a push of encouragement, for he leaned in and gave Frodo a kiss, right on the lips.
"Why, we weren't even being watched," said Frodo, who realized his voice sounded remarkably delighted.
"Guess I was just in a kissing mood," shrugged Sam, smiling. He eased off the step and sauntered backward into the garden. "See you later, then, sir."
"See you, Sam." Frodo gazed after him, till Sam turned and became obscured by the hedges.
Well, there was no doubt about it: whatever he used to feel for Sam, it was clear it had grown recently to encompass a great fondness and attraction. And he felt too happy to care one bit what that ghost-girl would say.
* * *
Sam's work, unfortunately, kept him away from Bag End all afternoon, and Frodo had to tell the pouting Mariella, when she appeared, that he was sorry but she would just have to come back later.
She showed up again as he was climbing into bed, to ask whether she couldn't persuade him to call Sam up here to spend the night. Frodo tried to imagine knocking on the Gamgees' door and asking the Gaffer for that kind of request, and firmly told her it was impossible.
She stamped her foot and fumed, "You had better repay me well tomorrow!" and disappeared in a storm, after overturning his laundry hamper and kicking his clothes around the room. The disconsolate Frodo had some trouble falling asleep after that.
But he felt quite revived when Sam came into the smial, just after second breakfast, and bestowed a beaming smile upon him. "Morning, sir!"
Frodo jumped up from his seat, beaming back. "Hello, Sam!"
Sam glanced around expectantly. "No sign of Herself today?"
"Not so far. Though she was prevailing upon me last night to go drag you out of bed. I thought that was rather too much."
"Oh, I wouldn't have minded. But she oughtn't to disturb you at all hours like that. It ain't civilized."
"Quite what I thought."
Sam's eye was caught by the dirty dishes Frodo had just abandoned. "Here, let me take care of those for you." He rushed forward and took them to the wash-basin.
"Why, thank you," Frodo said. He walked up and placed his hands on Sam's waist, while Sam stood pouring water over the dishes. When Sam turned his head in surprise, Frodo kissed him on the cheek.
"What was that for?" asked Sam, putting the water-pitcher down and turning further to ease himself into Frodo's arms.
"Just in a kissing mood, I guess," Frodo answered.
Sam smiled, and returned the kiss with one of his own, on the mouth.
That kept them busy for a minute or two, and when they broke apart Frodo looked around, somewhat agitated. "She's still not here?"
"Seemingly not," said Sam.
Frodo toyed with the cloth of Sam's sleeve. "Well...if you don't mind...I was thinking perhaps we should go out to the couch anyway, just in case. She seemed awfully angry with me last night, and it may take a lot to please her today, so..."
Sam nodded at once. "Perhaps if she found we'd already got started on our own, she'd not be so cross with us."
"Exactly. I'm so relieved you understand." Frodo caught Sam's fingers, and pulled him at almost a sprint into the parlor.
They landed in a diagonal slant on the couch, already kissing, legs and arms in a tangle. Very soon their shirts were unbuttoned and pulled open to let their skin touch, though they could not find the time to bother taking them all the way off.
"Oh, goodness, YES!" cried a voice a few minutes later--which, as it happened, was Mariella's.
The hobbits started, and looked up. There she stood, looming above the couch, clasping her pale hands in rapture. As soon as Frodo caught his breath, he chastised, "Well, it certainly took you long enough to get here! We've been doing this for I can't imagine how long, just waiting for you to show up."
"Yes, I'm sure that explains it. I like that new development," Mariella remarked, tilting her head so she could observe Sam's fingers upon Frodo's nipple.
"Aye, well," Sam said, furtively pulling his hand back. "Thought you might. That's why I was doing it, of course."
"Yes," Frodo agreed. "Really, the things we do for you! When will you leave us in peace?"
Mariella smirked, took hold of her skirts, and strolled a few steps away, where she dropped down to sit on the floor. "I'm dead, not stupid. You two are not fooling anyone. So, please--carry on."
"Really, I must insist that this maligning of our characters-" Frodo began.
"Oh, do be quiet! Carry on!" she commanded.
"As you wish," Frodo sulked. Then, brightening, he turned his face to Sam again, and they resumed their previous activity.
He became so immersed in the feel of Sam's lips, hands, and chest; and the novelty of moving his body around beneath Sam's (he wasn't sure how they had got into that position again, but so be it); that he was once again startled when Mariella spoke.
"All right," she complained. "It's been half an hour, and I am beginning to get bored. I'm afraid I need to hear some words of affection." She waved her hand peremptorily. "Frodo, you start."
"Words of affection? What on earth...?"
" 'Sam, my darling, you're such a wonderful lover,' that sort of thing. Go on!"
Frodo laughed, inadvertently. " 'My darling'? Sam, can you imagine me calling you that?"
Sam was grinning. "Does sound a bit silly."
"Then compare his eyes to the sea or something," snapped Mariella. "Tell him about the sleepless nights you've spent mooning over him."
"His eyes are brown, which, I gather, is not the color of the sea," Frodo explained patiently. "Which in any case I've never seen, so I'd hardly use it as a basis for comparison. And furthermore, the only sleepless nights I've spent lately have been *your* fault, ma'am, not his; so that would be a lie as well."
"Oh?" fumed Mariella. She turned her glare to Sam. "Perhaps *you* have some sentiments to express, Samwise? Surely you can find the names of flowers to compare to the texture of his skin."
Sam shrugged. "I suppose it's a bit like rose petals here and there, but roses don't have hairs, like." Sam tickled Frodo's lightly-furred chest, eliciting a giggle.
"Tell him you adore him and desire him and need him!" she shouted. "Give me poetry!"
"Now, really, Miss," said Sam, growing stern. "I've not said one word of complaint about kissing him and rolling around with him and such, but I said I'd put my foot down somewhere, and this sugary girly-talk is where I draw the line!"
"Indeed," observed Frodo, also addressing her. "It's ridiculous if you think about it. You claim you're drawn to us because we're lads, and yet you want us to speak like lasses?"
Mariella leaped to her feet and seized an Elvish dictionary to wield over them. Each hobbit raised an arm in self-defense. "Now you're just fooling about!" she cried. "I won't have it! I must know how this ends!"
"How this ends?" said the bewildered Frodo.
"Yes! The truth, curse you! If I weren't here, what would you do with each other? Tell me!"
"We'd..." Frodo glanced guiltily at Sam. "Well...to be honest..."
"Sir, I have to admit..." Sam began.
"I used her as an excuse today," Frodo blurted out. "I wanted to do this with you. I'm so sorry, Sam."
"Don't be," said Sam, who sounded relieved. "I was doing the same. I'm liking it too--quite a lot really."
"What are you saying?" demanded Mariella.
"Well," Frodo answered, "it seems if you weren't here, I'd--I'd most likely get carried away in a fashion that I certainly wouldn't allow if you *were* here."
Sam nodded in agreement, looking up at the hovering Elvish dictionary with a slight cringe. "Like as not, something more than this would happen, if we were alone."
"You're not just saying that because you think I want to hear it?" threatened Mariella, brandishing the dictionary at one of them and then the other.
"Well, I'd not use poetry on him, truthfully," Sam added, "but I'd be getting affectionate some way or another, and that's a fact."
"Oh, Sam," said Frodo, pleased. He was rewarded with a glowing, bashful smile from his closely situated friend.
Mariella slowly lowered the dictionary. "All right," she said a moment later. "I've brought you two together in a romantic fashion. Is that what you're telling me?"
"It's strange, but it seems that way," admitted Frodo, who, though he kept his eyes innocently upon her, had begun tangling his fingers in Sam's chest hair.
"I've awoken the spark of mutual desire in you?" she said suspiciously. "Given you impure thoughts about one another?"
"I can only speak for myself, but yes, for my part," said Frodo.
"Mine as well," contributed Sam.
"And if I leave," she went on, narrowing her eyes, "you'll act on those thoughts with something resembling abandon?"
"Something like it," said Frodo.
"Close as I can get to it," promised Sam.
She regarded them silently for a moment, then her face lit up with a wide grin, and she flung the dictionary into the air with a whoop. "Hurray! I've done it! I've created love!" She whirled about while she cheered; the dictionary fell, without incurring much damage, onto an armchair. Quite soon she stopped whirling, and bent to bestow a clammy fishlike kiss on the forehead of each hobbit. "Good lads! Good, good lads! All right, I'll be going now. I'll leave you to it. Farewell, boys! Oooh, what fun I'll have imagining it!" And she danced away and vanished into a wall.
Frodo sagged back onto the cushions. "Whew. Well, that got rid of her."
"Aye." Sam leaned in for a kiss, then stopped before he got there, a frown crossing his face. "Wait--then you just said all that to make her go away?"
"No--I mean, yes--I mean...did you?"
"Well, it might have crossed my mind," defended Sam.
"Yes, naturally it should." Frodo gnawed on his lower lip, lowering his eyes to where his fingers were playing at Sam's bare chest. "Of course, if you did mean it..."
"Then?"
"Then, that would be fine with me. I could..." Frodo shrugged one shoulder, attempting indifference. "I could find enjoyment in it, I suppose."
"Oh, you suppose." There was an echo of Mariella's smugness in Sam's voice. "When we're lying this close, I can tell that much, sir."
Frodo couldn't keep up the mask anymore, and dissolved into a shy grin. He hauled Sam down to complete the kiss that had been averted a minute earlier. "All right, it was true," he said. "Every word of it."
"Same here," assured Sam, hand firmly back inside Frodo's shirt, and making forays into the frontier of his waistband.
"So where's that 'abandon' we were to pursue?" Frodo murmured.
"Think if you look in my pocket here, you might find it."
"Oh, Sam!"
* * *
It was with great joy, two weeks later, that Frodo answered his door and found Gandalf standing there. He embraced the wizard and begged him to come inside for a plate of food, freshly prepared by Sam. He wasted no time, over the meal, in getting to the problem at hand: namely, his house ghost Mariella, who still had not gone away. She kept reappearing, in fact, at the most inopportune and private moments, often when Frodo was trying to entertain Sam; and whether or not Sam was there, she had developed a habit of asking for shockingly specific details. Her impertinence and intrusion were really getting out of hand.
He related all this to Gandalf with much blushing and twisting of his fingers in his lap. Sam hung shyly in the background, wrapping a dishtowel around his wrists, and throwing in a word of support or clarification now and then. The book of Caerolas's drawings sat open on the table before Gandalf, who leafed through it as he listened.
The wizard, after he had bestowed a frown on each hobbit in turn, broke into a kindly smile at last and said, "Indeed. Well, I rather expected you were headed that direction, lads. I just didn't think you would get there so soon! Nor that it would take a spirit to talk you into it." He laughed.
"I knew you'd understand," said Frodo, deeply relieved. "You see, Sam, I told you he would!"
"But, Mr. Gandalf, you understand that if my Gaffer found out..."
"Oh, yes, yes, Sam; you have my utmost discretion," Gandalf soothed. "The question is: what to do about your ghost?"
"She really must go," Frodo agreed. "I'm even willing to part with the book, I think, but who could I sell it to, with a clear conscience? And what might she say about us to its new owner?"
"That's simple," said Gandalf. "You sell it to me. Here!" From the bag hanging at his belt he produced a small handful of coins, which he dumped into Frodo's hand. "More than it's worth, considering the marks she's put all over it."
Frodo stared at the coins, then at the wizard, with uncertain happiness. "But what will *you* do with her, Gandalf?"
"I? Oh, don't worry about me. I have a trick or two up my sleeve; and if those fail, I know a jolly little fellow in the Old Forest who has quite a skill for banishing ghosts. I'm sure he'd make light work of her!"
"What's going to happen to me?" said a fearful female voice. They all turned to see Mariella hovering in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the wizard.
"Goodness me!" said Gandalf. "What a sight. I see how you might have been intimidated, Frodo. Apparently they haven't any *combs* in the spirit world."
"You're my new owner, aren't you?" Mariella went on. "I can feel it! You bought the book!"
"Yes, he did," said Frodo, holding up the fist full of coins in triumph. "I'm finally rid of you, Miss! With many thanks for all you've done for me, of course."
"What will become of me?" whimpered Mariella, shrinking back from Gandalf, who was smirking at her.
"I'll send you where you belong," he responded. "Where you should have gone when you died, rather than attaching yourself to your, shall we say, earthly pleasures."
"But where is that?" she asked.
"Oh--" Gandalf waved a hand in the air. "Beyond the silver curtain, through the veil; so forth and so on. It's nothing to fear, you silly girl. You'll have it a hundred times better there than you do here, tormenting poor little hobbits."
"Will there be--man-flesh there?" she inquired, seeming to get a little more interested in the prospect.
"Not *flesh* per se, but as much man as you could ask for. Only every hero who ever lived and died."
She beamed, and clapped her hands together. "Then let's go at once! Oh, I've been longing to meet so many of them!"
"All in good time," protested Gandalf. "Why, I've not yet finished my tea. Shoo! Off with you!"
Mariella nodded, curtsied, said several effusive words of thanks, and vanished for the time being.
Gandalf packed up his wagon that evening to begin the brief journey to the Old Forest, where he would send Mariella where she needed to go.
"I can't thank you enough, Gandalf," Frodo said, standing at the gate with Sam. "Though I will miss the book..."
"I'll bring it back to you when it has been evacuated, so to speak," Gandalf promised. "In the meantime, help yourself to one of these others." He threw back the cloth covering his wagon, and opened a trunk to reveal several books. "I only just bought them yesterday. I haven't examined them all, but I'm sure you'll find something you like."
Frodo's heart lifted at the sight of such treasure, and he spent the better part of fifteen minutes pawing through and poring over the selection, pointing out interesting things to the attentive Sam, before finally choosing one.
"An adventure," he said, perusing the first chapter. "With a lot of interesting commentary upon language, as well." He shut the book and grinned at Sam and Gandalf. "Probably very little in the way of girlish romance!"
"Thank goodness for that," Sam said.
Gandalf bade them farewell, promising to return soon. As his wagon drove away, the hobbits saw the cloth twitch aside again, and Mariella's transparent head poked out. They waved to her. She made a begging gesture with both hands. Frodo glanced at Sam, who shrugged, and obliged her by seizing Frodo and planting a long kiss on him.
The last thing they saw before the wagon turned the bend was the huge smile and frantically applauding hands of their ghost-girl.
"I'll almost miss her," Sam admitted, as they went into Bag End.
"She was interesting," Frodo allowed. "But think what we can do without her to intrude upon us." He shut the front door behind Sam, and pinned him against it with another long kiss.
"Mm," Sam murmured. "That book; it's digging into my ribs..."
"Sorry," breathed Frodo. He dropped the new book onto the nearest chair and rewrapped as many limbs as possible around Sam. He was just getting Sam's top trouser button unfastened when a deep voice boomed:
"Stop it at once! You wicked lads!"
Frodo and Sam gasped and flattened themselves to the wall, staring at the new apparition in Bag End. It was another Big Person--that is, another ghost of a Big Person--but a man this time. He was elderly, with spiky white hair and a clean-shaven face, and was wearing a tweed suit. He looked quite irritated with Sam and Frodo, and was glaring fixedly at them.
"Wh--who are you?" Frodo stammered.
"You may call me The Professor! I live in that book, and I shan't put up with any such gross indecency in my presence! For shame, boys, for shame!"
Sam's shoulders drooped. "Oh, you can't be serious."
"Don't talk back to me! Button up your shirt!" The Professor pointed a bony finger at Frodo. "You! Take that servant's hand off you!"
Frodo heaved a sigh. "Right. Sam, remind me to tell Gandalf that I shall *not* be interested in keeping this particular book."
"Want to come sleep at my house tonight?" Sam offered.
"I think I'd better."
"Stop!" shouted The Professor, behind them. "Don't run away while I'm speaking to you!"
But Frodo and Sam were already halfway down the hill, and Frodo was laughing, trying to imagine what kind of excuse they would give the Gaffer for arriving at his house with their clothes half undone and requesting that Mr. Frodo sleep under their roof tonight.
(THE END.)