" I don’t know....Mr. Frodo..." Sam said slowly as he sniffed the dark brown, glass bottle suspiciously. He made a face then clapped stuck the cork back into the bottle quickly and shoved it back into Olo Pott’s hand.

Mr. Pott was undaunted. Equipped with a polished silver spoon, he drawled as he practically pushed the bottle under Sam’s nose, "Well, why don’t you at least sample it?"

Sam promptly pushed it right back. Olo turned his attention to me next, holding it so close to my face that my eyes practically crossed as I read the words scribbled on the label in an elaborate hand. "Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good Tonic."

I raised a hand in gentle but firm protest and thankfully Olo withdrew the bottle.

"You ‘onestly expect someone to put somethin’ that foul smellin’ into their mouth?" Sam commented.

Behind us, from where we stood on the front porch of Bag End, Mr. Pott’s pony snorted and shook himself in his harness causing the conglomeration of pots, pans and various glassware in Olo’s rattletrap cart to clank and tinkle in discordant notes.

"Most things good for what ails you smell bad, but do wonders for the soul." Olo bandied back. "Ain’t that right Mr. Baggins?"

I looked at Sam with raised eyebrows before I replied, "That may well be, Mr. Potts, but I don’t Sam or myself has a need for your tonic today."

But Olo wasn’t about to leave without making a sale. "This ain’t just any tonic. This here is Dr. Otton’s Famous Feel Good tonic. It’s not supposed to wait on a shelf until you get sick. A spoonful in the morning and another before bed, every day, will keep a body healthy!"

Sam snorted under his breath. " Oi think I’d get sick from the smell of it alone..."

It was hard for me to keep from laughing outright, for Sam’s thoughts followed my own. However, this didn’t seem to phase Mr. Potts. "Half a moment." He said, as he scooted back to his overloaded cart and began to rummage through the pile of odds and ends. He returned with what looked to be a piece of stained and tattered wool. "Well then...can I interest you in this here mighty fine rug?"

‘Fine’ was not a word I would have used. Ugly and ratty leapt to mind. The rug had obviously seen better days, much better days.

"Just feel how soft it is. A baby could lay on this with no problem."

I shrewdly chose not to, but Mr. Potts thrust the article in my face. The smell of the rug was not much better that the odour given off by the afore mentioned tonic. " Thank you, but I’m not in the market for a rug today, Mr. Potts." I coughed.

"See ‘ere!" Said Sam. "We ain’t interested in nothin’ you ‘ave to sell."

Potts remained resolute. Instead of leaving, he merely returned to his cart and commenced to dig through his wares, pulling items out of his cart and piling them here and there on the ground, all the while keeping up a one-sided conversation with us, which was rather difficult to decipher at moments for his head was practically buried in his considerable pile of goods.

"Let me show you something I’ve been saving for a special customer, someone who’d appreciate such a valuable artifact."

If the items piled on ground were any indication, I seriously doubted that the peddler’s cart contained anything that could actually be termed ‘valuable.’

"Ah! Here it is!" He climbed off the cart holding a small, wooden box, rather plain but for the strange symbols which adorned it. He held it as if it was the most precious thing he possessed. "This came from the far off Sunlands!"

"The Sunlands?" I heard Sam say. There was an unmistakable hint of interest in Sam’s voice.

"From Harad, to be precise." Potts confirmed.

"Harad?" Sam repeated, his curiosity piqued even more. "Oi’ve heard of that place. Oliphants come from there."

Olo smiled and patted the box. "Why, yes they do, my lad. Mighty strange creatures they are, too. Not that I’ve ever seen one myself, of course!"

"What are the symbols?" I indicated the carving on the box. However, I didn’t really expect Mr. Potts to offer an actual translation.

"That’s the writing of Harad."

Sam, on the other hand, apparently did expect a translation, for he asked, "What does it say?"

Olo drew himself up importantly. "It tells the story of the valuable treasure in this box, which belonged to a very important, very famous and wealthy queen of the Swertings."

Now, I’ve never claimed to be the worldliest of hobbits, but neither am I the most gullible, either. But, I got the distinct impression that Mr. Potts was feeding us a line of bull and thoroughly enjoying himself in the bargain. He held the mysterious box in front of Sam’s curious eyes as if it were a carrot dangling before a hungry pony.

"Can’t be an Oliphant in that..." Sam mused.

"No, not an Oliphant. I’d have to have a much bigger wagon to hold such a beast!" The peddler chuckled.

"Oi didn’t mean a live one, o’ course." Sam replied in a rather miffed tone. "Oi was thinkin’ more along the lines of a statue or somethin’."

"Well..." Potts was milking this for all it was worth. "You’re getting warmer..."

Sam crossed his arms. "All right then... what is in the box? Or, maybe you don’t ‘ave nothin’ in there. Maybe it’s just an old empty box."

"Oh there’s something in here, all right. But, the box itself is worth more than all the bottles of tonic in my cart!"

I figured that wasn’t saying much, but I held my tongue. To Sam’s credit, he appeared unimpressed as well, saying, "If it ain’t a likeness of an Oliphant, Oi ain’t interested." Then, in the very next instant he gave in to the curiosity that was overwhelming him. "So...what is it?"

The peddler glanced furtively about, as if checking for any other hobbits that might be lurking about the door step of Bag End. Slowly he began to lift the lid of the little box...