"Where are you going at this hour?" Sam demanded.

Frodo had hoped to slip away unnoticed, "Never you mind, go back to sleep."

"We go everywhere together, Mister Frodo," his fellow Hobbit insisted.

Frodo considered deceiving his friend, claiming to merely be fullfilling eliminatory needs, but instead spoke forthrightly.

"I've got to look into the Mirror again."

Sam gasped. "The Lady won't permit it, not after Sauron saw you through it."

The other halfling nodded. "Which is why I'm not asking."

"That's trouble," Sam muttered.

Frodo buckled on his sword. "Stay then, pretend you never awakened."

His compatriot stood. "Mister Frodo, we do everything together--including regretting this later, I'm afraid."

Quickly and quietly they departed their sleeping companions, soon reaching the hollow containing a shallow basin.

"The Mirror of Galadriel," Frodo half-whispered. "Water, Sam."

The stocky gardener used the nearby ewer to fill the basin with water from the moonlit silver-flowing stream.

Looking down, the Hobbits observed the reflected night sky repaced by a daylight scene featuring both of them bidding each other farewell--forever perhaps, based on their sorrowful expressions.

Sam gulped. "Let's hope this future changes."

The image abruptly changed to that of their comrade Pippin, standing transfixed while staring into a shiny black globe; the fiery Eye of Sauron appeared within it.

Frodo cringed, remembering his earlier encounter with the Eye.

"We'd better warn him," he murmurred.

"What's this?" Sam wondered, viewing bent over and boyish-looking naked buttocks in the Mirror. Suddenly a scarlet-shining paddle cracked sharply against the trim twin hemispheres several times before the scene faded.

"Your immediate future," answered a firm feminine voice.

Both halflings turned to face a tall, beatiful blonde woman in a flowing turquoise robe; she was holding a wooden oval-headed paddle.

"Lady Galadriel!" Sam sounded panicky. "We were just..."

"Disregarding my wishes?" the Elf-queen queried. "There's a price to be paid for such misconduct in Lothlorien."

Frodo smiled resignedly. "How did you know, my Lady?"

She raised her hand, the ring Nenya sparkled in the full moon. "This told me that dire danger was present. Are you ready to be disciplined for your disobedience?"

"Yes, ma'am, but Sam--"

"Went along of my own choice," his friend interrupted. "I'll go first, your majesty."

Galadriel seated herself on a flat rock. "Very well, Sam. I'll want your trousers lowered, Elven punishments are always administered bare bottom."

Sam soon lay over her knee with his plump posterior exposed, which caused the paddle to glow redly.

"Thah-That's like..." Frodo stammered.

The blonde raised her implement. "Yes, Smack is somewhat like your sword Sting, Frodo, and likewise its effectiveness is magically enhanced."

She then demonstrated that concept emphatically, for her seemingly ladylike swings somehow delivered blistering-hard paddywhacks across Sam's chubby bumcheeks, making him wriggle, kick and wail energetically.

After eight minutes of spanking via Galadriel regally wielding Smack, the blubbering Hobbit was finally released.

"Remember this lesson," she told him. "Frodo, it's your turn pants-down across my lap--Smack awaits your bare behind."

Frodo sighed. "The Mirror was right about this..."