"Happy Birthday, Smeagol!"

    Violet smiled as she trailed Smeagol, followed by Smeagol's mother and Aunt Rosa, into the grand hall. Smeagol blushed as he pushed the cloth-covered cart before him. In anticipation, all the hobbit kids stared.

    "Go ahead," Violet whispered to Smeagol. "Just like we practiced ..."

    Smeagol blushed deeper and spoke in a hesitant voice.

    "T-thank you for coming to my birthday party," Smeagol said. "As you know, I can't afford gifts for all ..."

    Smeagol gulped and seemed to have forgotten the rest of his speech.

    "So Smeagol got up two hours before dawn," Violet spoke up. "And, with help from his mother and Aunt Rosa, he's baked for you ..."

    Violet dramatically pulled the cloth cover off the cart.

    "Cookies!" all the young hobbits cheered.

    A thunderous rush; small, furry feet charged forward extending grasping hands. Every young hobbit grabbed as many as they could. Despite their thickness, the tall pile of cookies quickly diminished.

    "Everyone, bring your cookies over here," Smeagol's mother overspoke the commotion. "While you're eating, Old Man Underhill is going to tell you an exciting story, and then we'll play games."

    All hurried over to sit on the thick carpet before Old Man Underhill’s chair. Only Violet and Smeagol stayed behind, standing by the cart.

    "That went wonderfully," Violet grinned.

    "You forgot yourself," Smeagol said. "Golly, you helped cook as much as I did."

    "I enjoyed it, Smeagol my love," Violet said. "You deserve a wonderful birthday, and Deagol's father is letting you borrow his boat today."

    "We'll be able to fish the middle of the river!" Smeagol said excitedly. "That's where the big fish swim!"

    "And tonight I've got a special surprise for you," Violet blushed.

    "What is it?" Smeagol asked.

    "It won't be a secret if I tell," Violet smiled.

    "Golly, I won't tell," Smeagol said.

    "Shame on you, Smeagol!" Violet said. "Now, go join your guests. You don't want to miss your own party!"

    Four cookies were left. Smeagol grabbed three, and then looked hesitantly at Violet, blushed, and put one back. Then he hurried over to hear Old Man Underhill's story.

    Violet smiled and ate the last two cookies.

    After the story, they played Ghost-King Haunt, Hook the Ring, and Smeagol's favorite: a riddle contest. Violet watched proudly as Smeagol played and competed; his birthday party was everything she'd hoped.

    The call for lunch ended the happy party. All the hobbit kids hurried home to eat, but Violet stayed behind; she'd promised Smeagol's mother and Aunt Rosa that she'd help clean the kitchen afterwards so Smeagol could go fishing with Deagol.

    Finally Violet hurried back home, hungry, but also eager to change into her new dress, which she'd just finished sewing. She couldn't wait for her quiet after-supper walk with Smeagol, which she'd carefully planned.

    However, right before first dinner, the Riverhill horn blew. Violet's father jumped up, grabbed his bow and arrows, and ran to discover the cause of the commotion. Violet and her mother watched fearfully from their round door as the menfolk of Riverhill ran up-trail to hear the news. Watching, Violet fretted; the last time the Riverhill horn blew a party of warg-riding orcs had attacked the lowest dwellings of Greensward.

    The news, when it arrived, shouted from door to door, was worse.

    "Accident on the river!" a young matron shouted. "A boy was lost in deep water!"

    Violet screamed and ran out her door, heedless of her mother shouts, first dinner forgotten. Many grown hobbits ran past her as she dashed up the trail. From her vantage, she could see older hobbits launching boats to search for the boy, and younger men running alongside the bank.

    But who was missing?

    "Smeagol!" Violet cried as she spied him, and she pushed through the crowd to throw her arms around his wet, dripping neck.

    "It's Deagol!" Smeagol wailed. "A big fish pulled him overboard! He didn't come up! I jumped in ... tried to find him! He wasn't anywhere!"

    Smeagol burst into sobs and Violet tightened her hug.

    "The men will find him," an elderly hobbit widow assured them. "They won't stop searching until they bring Deagol home safe and sound."

    Three frantic days passed. Most of the men stayed out looking every night, but no sign was found. Those who returned to fetch food for the searchers looked exhausted.

    A week later, atop the summit of Riverhill, a memorial service was held for Deagol. Every hobbit gathered in solemn silence and then long speeches began. Smeagol stood up front with his parents and wept the whole time.

    The ceremony lasted until long after nightfall.

    As condolences were being offered to Deagol's family, Violet took Smeagol's hand and led him on a starlit walk under the small, white-blossomed party trees.

    "Smeagol, I'm so sorry," Violet said.

    "I feel guilty," Smeagol said.

    "It's not your fault," Violet said. "Deagol's grandfather said you'd done all you could."

    "I still blame myself," Smeagol said. "I should've jumped in sooner."

    "Then neither of you would've survived," Violet said. "Anduin is dangerous; most parents won't let their kids near its bank."

    "He was my best friend," Smeagol said.

    "I know," Violet consoled.

    Mostly in silence, together they circled the crown of Riverhill.

    "I never got to give you my birthday surprise," Violet said.

    "I don't deserve it," Smeagol said. "What is it?"

    "Not tonight," Violet said. "How about you meet me tomorrow night, after last supper, at the cross-trail in Mossyvale?"

    "I'll be there," Smeagol promised.

    "I'll be waiting," Violet smiled.

    The next night, as Violet approached, Smeagol stood by the lonely cross-road waiting for her. The darkening sky gleamed with the glints of emerging stars.

    "Smeagol my love," Violet greeted him. "I'm so glad you came."

    "Golly, Violet, my precious," Smeagol said. "Of course I came."

    To Violet's surprise Smeagol sounded different, almost as if ... his sadness of Deagol's death had completely vanished. As she took his hand, she saw he was smiling.

    "What did you bring me?" Smeagol asked. "What's my surprise?"

    "In good time," Violet said. "Come, let's walk a ways."

    Holding hands, Violet felt delighted that Smeagol looked so excited. She wondered if he'd guessed what her surprise was ... and she blushed, fearing he’d guessed.

    "Smeagol, do you ever think about your future?" Violet asked.

    "Indeed I do," Smeagol said. "I used to think I'd be a fisherman all my life, but now ... now I think I might be something more."

    "You deserve to be something more," Violet said.

    "I could be anything!" Smeagol said. "Perhaps even ... Hill-Master!"

    "Hill-Master?" Violet asked. "But ... we're barely distant cousins to the Hill-Master, if that. Every Hill-Master for five generations has passed their title to a son or daughter."

    "But ... what if someone became very powerful?" Smeagol asked. "What if they became a ... a wizard?"

    "A hobbit wizard?" Violet asked. "I don't think anyone can become a wizard. Wizards came from across the sea, from the Immortal Lands. No hobbit has visited there."

    "Maybe I'll go," Smeagol said.

    "Smeagol, don't say that," Violet said.

    "Why not?" Smeagol asked.

    "Because that would take you away from me," Violet said. "Smeagol my sweet, when I asked about your future I didn't mean silly dreams. I wanted to know ... if you ever plan to build a hole of your own, settle down, and maybe have a family."

    "My dreams aren't silly!" Smeagol said. "Golly, if one hobbit had enough power, a secret power, they could do anything! They could rule ... be important!"

    "I don't want you to rule or be important," Violet said. "I want you to think about the good hobbit you'll someday be, with a ... a family of your own."

    "I want to rule," Smeagol said. "I want to sit up high, on top of Riverhill, and have everyone look up to me."

    "Smeagol my love, you're talking nonsense," Violet said.

    "Nonsense?" Smeagol demanded. "You don't know ... don't understand!"

    "Understand what?" Violet asked.

    "Nothing," Smeagol snapped. "It's a secret."

    "Smeagol, what's gotten into you?" Violet asked. "You sound ... strange, not like yourself!"

    Angrily Smeagol turned to glare at her, but then his expression softened.

    "No, Smeagol isn't himself," Smeagol said. "It ... it must be ... Deagol's loss. Smeagol doesn't ... I mean, I don't feel right ..."

    "Oh, my poor love," Violet said. "What happened was terrible, but you mustn't let it twist you. You're innocent. Deagol wouldn't want you to suffer."

    Smeagol nodded his head, yet kept frowning.

    "It was an awful birthday," Smeagol said. "Smeagol’s still sad."

    "You must stop thinking about it," Violet said. "Remember your party, if you can. You need to think of something else, like the strong and noble hobbit you'll someday grow to be. Here; let me give you my present."

    Smeagol stopped and looked about her for a hidden gift.

    "You won't find it that way," Violet grinned. "Smeagol my love, this is my surprise: when I think of the wonderful future I want you to have, I can't help but see … me ... standing beside you."

    Violet drew Smeagol in gently and softly kissed his lips.

    Smeagol drew back suddenly, as if scared.

    "I like you, Smeagol, very much," Violet said. "I know you've always been shy, and I like you this way. I think you like me, too, don't you?"

    Smeagol's mouth flapped soundlessly as if he could find no words. Violet beamed.

    "I hope I haven't frightened you," Violet said. "Please, say something."

    Smeagol stammered, but no words formed.

    "You don't have to say something now," Violet said. "Come, walk me home, and when you're ready I'll listen to anything you want to say."

    Clutching tightly to his arm, Violet walked, dreamy and delighted. Smeagol seemed in shock, and she worried her revelation of feelings might've been too soon after the horror of the boating accident. Yet her joy at walking arm-in-arm with Smeagol overwhelmed everything else. Eventually Smeagol would recover from his grief, but her love would last forever.

    Not another word was spoken on the way back. When they arrived at her doorstep, Violet smiled at Smeagol. She wanted to kiss him again, but feared her mother might see. Quietly she nodded to Smeagol, then opened her door and peeked inside. The fire was banked; she suspected her parents had retired for the night. Grateful, she turned back to Smeagol, intending to kiss him good-night.

    Smeagol had vanished.

    Violet stepped outside her door and looked about; plainly she saw the empty, moonlit trail and the wide, grassy slope before her door. How could Smeagol have vanished so suddenly and quietly ... almost as if he'd magically disappeared?

    Had her kiss frightened him? Had Smeagol been scared off by her talk of a future together? Yes, marriages usually happened between hobbits years older than they, but exceptions had been made ... at least, according to one of Old Man Underhill's stories.

    Well, Smeagol couldn't have run far; it was dangerous to travel beyond the farms around Riverhill. It was late; he must've dashed home. Doubtlessly she'd see him tomorrow.

    Violet stepped inside and closed her door. It warmed her heart to think Smeagol would spend all night thinking about her.

    After all, they'd shared their first kiss, and Violet hoped more would follow.

    The next day, after second-breakfast, Violet went and knocked on Smeagol's door. Aunt Rosa answered in a huffy mood.

    "Is Smeagol here?" Violet asked.

    "If you find him, you send him back home!" Aunt Rosa snapped. "I told him no running off until he'd shelled enough peas for two dinners. He hissed at me! I put him in the pantry with the peas ... and when I opened the door, he was gone! How he got out I don't know, but when I catch him ...!"

    Violet stared, taken aback by her vehemance.

    "I-I'll look for him!" Violet promised.

    Ten minutes later, Violet was walking near the riverbank. She knew Smeagol's secret fishing spot and headed determinedly toward it.

    Other hobbits were fishing by the bank, mostly old men, each hoping to feed their family. She smiled as she walked past them. To her right lay planted fields, crops starting to sprout, and to her left, across the wide river, trees rose tall and thick, mostly blocking her view of the distant Misty Mountains. Yet she kept her eyes forward and walked as quickly as wouldn't look suspicious.

    Violet fell silent as she approached; Smeagol would never forgive her if she revealed his secret spot. Then she heard voices; Smeagol wasn't alone.

    "No, no, we can't!" Smeagol said.

    "Yes, we can, we must!" said a deeper, scowling voice.

    "We'll get caught!"

    "We must have it! We wants it!"

    "We have the Pretty, the Precious!"

    "We loves the Precious, my Birthday Present! We must have more!"

    Violet blushed to realize Smeagol was talking to himself. He'd called her pretty ... and precious! His birthday present ... their first kiss! He loved it! He wanted more!

    Was that why Smeagol was acting so strange? Had her birthday present ... her kiss ... affected him so?

    Thinking quickly, Violet ran back, then called through her hands.

    "Smeagol? Smeagol? Are you here?"

    Smeagol's head popped out of the bushes hiding his secret fishing spot.

    "Smeagol!" Violet cried. "I've been looking for you!"

    "Violet?" Smeagol asked. "Why are you here?"

    "Aunt Rosa sent me to find you," Violet said. "She's very upset."

    "Bah!" Smeagol hissed. "She wants Smeagol to work."

    "We all have chores," Violet said.

    "Smeagol has better," Smeagol said.

    "We have better," Violet corrected him.

    "We ...?" Smeagol asked.

    "Yes ... your ... birthday present," Violet smiled.

    Smeagol's eyes widened. He jumped out of the bushes.

    "Violet knows ...?" Smeagol asked.

    "Of course I know how you feel," Violet said. "Girls always know. But you mustn't anger Aunt Rosa. She could keep you from ... your precious."

    "No, no, no!" Smeagol said. "Not from the Precious!"

    "Fine, then come with me," Violet said. "Come do what you must, and you can have your birthday present every day."

    Hand-in-hand, Violet and Smeagol walked back to Riverhill. Many saw them; Violet couldn't stop smiling.

    The next several days, Violet couldn't see Smeagol. In addition to being punished by Aunt Rosa, his mother had piled chores on him, and Smeagol was kept under close supervision; not allowed visitors.

    The next day, as Violet was finishing her chores, a knock came to the door. She opened it to find a sheriff standing on her doorstep.

    "Is your father home?" the sheriff asked.

    "He's doing his duty at Greensward," Violet said.

    "Good for him," the sheriff said. "I lost my uncle at Greensward and do my duty there every month. Is your mother home?"

    Violet fetched her mother and then stood silent while they talked.

    "Madam, forgive the intrusion, but there's trouble, and we're letting every house know," the sheriff said.

    "What's happened?" Violet's mother asked.

    "I'm sorry to say it, but we have a thief in Riverhill," the sheriff said.

    "A thief …?" Violet's mother exclaimed.

    "I'm afraid so," the sheriff said. "Small, valuable items keep vanishing, and no one knows how ..."

    "Could it be an orc?" Violet's mother asked.

    "Unlikely," the sheriff said. "We haven't seen an orc since Greensward. Greensward and Riverhill share borders with the horse-lords, the men that call us halflings. Their riders hunt orcs."

    "Who could it be?" Violet's mother asked.

    "No idea, but they're very cunning," the sheriff said. "They've snuck inside rooms no one believed could be robbed, and then just disappeared."

    Violet stepped away so they didn't see her cheeks pale. It couldn't be! Smeagol was being punished, watched like a hawk. Yet he was sneaky when he wanted to be, and he'd once disappeared on her doorstep ...

    "What will happen if the thief is caught?" Violet's mother asked.

    "They'll be expelled from Riverhill ... from all hobbit lands," the sheriff said.

    Violet could listen no more.

    After her chores, Violet walked straight to Smeagol's secret fishing spot. It was the one place Smeagol thought only he knew; Violet only knew about it because she'd secretly followed him, hoping for some private moments together.

    She glanced around, and seeing no one, slipped into the bushes beside the river. Smeagol had cleared out a section of brush, and the thick bush hung over her like a roof.

    Under a pile of sticks, Violet unearthed a small box and a fancy ornamented knife. Inside the box lay jeweled rings, necklaces, and bracelets Smeagol could’ve never afforded.

    Poor Smeagol! Violet thought. Deagol's death had affected him so, changed him entirely! What could she do to heal him of that terrible loss?

    Violet stole the taletell treasures and left them on the main path. Someone would find and return each item. Then Smeagol wouldn't be blamed.

    She couldn't bear to see Smeagol expelled!

    The next day, even worse news arrived. Her father came home, had a long talk with her mother, and together they sat Violet down for a solemn talking.

    "Violet, you mustn't get upset," her father said. "We’ve some bad news."

    Violet stared up at the grim faces of her parents.

    "Violet, it's about Deagol," her father said. "His body has been found."

    The cold stares of her parents filled her with dread.

    "That - that's a good thing, isn't it?" Violet asked.

    "No," her father said. "Deagol wasn't found in the river. Some animals uncovered him. He was buried in a shallow grave."

    "Grave ...?" Violet asked.

    "Yes, badly buried," her father said. "And the news is worse: he wasn't drowned. Deagol had been strangled."

    "Murdered," her mother said.

    "Murdered ...?" Violet gasped. "By who ...?"

    Her parent's eyes warned her.

    "No!" Violet shouted. "Smeagol ... he couldn't ...!"

    "Smeagol has been arrested," her father said. "He denied it, but they pressured him ..."

    "Smeagol didn't kill Deagol!" Violet shouted. "They were fishing! He ... he's my friend ...!"

    "He's been thoroughly questioned," her father said. "Violet ... he confessed."

    Violet burst into tears.

    The next day everyone gathered on the shore of the Great River. Whispers had to be spoken loudly so anyone could hear over the sheer volume of gossip being exchanged.

    At noon a group of sheriffs appeared. The Hill-Master followed them; she proceeded them down the high road. In the middle of the ring of sheriffs walked Smeagol.

    Violet stood watching, tears streaming down her face. All of Riverhill hurried to line the road, as the procession made its way down to the wide, grassy bank of Anduin.

    "Let all here forever witness," the Hill-Master shouted, her voice grim. "You know what has happened. The guilty party has been revealed. From this day forth, for the safety of all hobbits, it has been agreed by his and Deagol’s parents that young Smeagol shall not be executed, but he will be forever expelled from all hobbit-lands."

    Violet could stand no longer. She rushed forward and seized Smeagol in her arms, weeping, collaped upon him.

    "Smeagol, no!" Violet cried, staring into his eyes. "Say it isn't so!"

    Smeagol tried to speak, but a lump in his throat silenced his voice.

    "Golly, Golly, Gollum ...," Smeagol swallowed hard. "Violet, I didn't ... Smeagol is good ...!"

    He could say no more. Smeagol bowed his head.

    "Come back for me someday," Violet pleaded. "Or ... I'll come with you."

    "Yes, bless us!" Smeagol said. "Come with us! We wants you, my Precious!"

    For an instant, a wild gleam lit Smeagol's eyes, but then it faded and Smeagol hung his head.

    "No, no," Smeagol said. "We loves Violet; we can't ask her. She'll be sorry, and then she'll hate Smeagol."

    "No, I'll never ...!" Violet said.

    "Violet must stay here ... so Violet be safe!" Smeagol said.

    Smeagol kissed Violet, and then he pushed free of her arms and turned to face the river and his doom; the lands beyond.

    The sheriffs took Smeagol and loaded him onto a boat. Violet felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into the face of Smeagol's mother; both looked at each other through tear-filled eyes.

    With all of Riverhill watching, the sheriffs rowed their boat across Anduin. Only one small, pathetic figure got out on the far side. Smeagol was given a large bag of food and a rolled blanket, and then he turned away. Walking alone, Smeagol paced silently into the dense trees, over which only the tops of the distant Misty Mountains could be seen.

    Violet spent many years watching the far bank, waiting for him to come back for her.

    Smeagol never returned.



                              THE END.