The Four Farthings Annual Agricultural Exhibit was in full swing. The livestock were being preened in anticipation of the Grand Parade and the produce, baked goods, preserves and flowers was being proudly displayed to best advantage on long trestle tables inside large tents.

The ale tent had been doing a roaring trade, and among its many well lubricated patrons, were two hobbits that had partaken in more than a few tankards. Frodo and Sam had been holding up the bar for hours and were well into their cups.

Eyes and then hands had started wondering and with a nod and a wink, the two hobbits ducked out of the tent, groping, groaning and giggling and found a quiet spot around the back of the produce tent.

Although the canvas of the tent was taut and, seemed, capable of holding two hobbit's weight, the robust motion of two hobbits in heat was enough to shake sturdy tent pegs from the ground and send the couple hurtling into the Oversized Vegetables display, landing on an extremely large gherkin or dill cucumber.

Sam sat down, blushing and muttering. "A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr Frodo!" he said, shaking his head.