Author's Note: This is Jewels, pretty much the foundation for the Fourth Age Shire built by the Muse and my imagination. It is as faithful to canon as I can make it, with the exception of Estella's age (ten years younger than she ought) in the earlier version. Though katakanadien asked me more than once about Estella's age in her patient beta-reading, I just didn't understand her question until the fact of Estella's age had been firmly entwined into the plot. Thanks to Dinossiel, I think I've resolved the issue. Whew!

Everything is as close to Tolkien's original as I can make it. I took all the notes and events and genealogies and timelines and used them as landmarks, and then I built a road from one to the next to the next. And as the originator said, early on, "The Road goes ever ever on..."

One last note: The melody to "Soldier's Life" and the other songs found in Jewels (and other stories) were available here on SoA, in a story entitled "Shire Songbook" but that hosting has gone away and so the music links most likely don't work. Trying to work out another hosting. Will update here when that happens.

1. Rescue of a Wee Cousin

There was something intoxicating in the spring breeze. The thump of the ponies' feet on the grassy path combined with the soft jingle of their gear to make a pleasant music as the two Travellers jogged along. They made a brave sight with their bright mail and shields, looking as if they had sprung from the pages of a storybook of errantry.

The rhythm reminded Pippin of an old song he'd learned in Gondor. First he hummed -- the music fit the ponies' trot perfectly -- and then broke into song.

O the life of a soldier's the life for me,
Marching along with the infantry,
Winking at each pretty girl I see,
Tis a soldier's life for me!

Merry picked up the tune.

O the life of a soldier's the life for me,
Riding along with the cavalry,
Leaving the dust for the infantry,
Tis a soldier's life for me!

Together they continued, 'O the life of a soldier's the life for me...'

As they passed a farmstead, children ran to the road to wave and cheer. A mother and tween-age daughter appeared at the doorway to shake their dishcloths, another daughter stepped out of the byre to flap her apron and blow a kiss. The riders waved as they passed. In the field beyond a figure following a two-pony plough straightened to raise a hand.

The green-clad rider turned to his companion with a wry smile. 'I swear, Pippin, if you wink at any more pretty girls, you will develop a permanent twitch!'

'Can I help it if they must blow kisses?' the other demanded.

Merry laughed. 'You are cutting quite a swath through the lasses in the area. I think every mother in this part of the Shire is setting her cap for you to marry her daughter!'

'That has its benefits. We're making up for all those meals we missed on our travels.'

'How many dinner invitations is it this week?'

Pippin guffawed. 'More than enough.' He sobered abruptly and looked very serious. 'It is quite a dilemma.'

Merry glanced over. 'What is?' The sudden twinkle in his cousin's eye warned him.

'D'you think it is possible to have two dinners a night?'

Merry burst out laughing at his cousin's wicked grin. When he got his breath back he answered, 'I don't see why not, perhaps even three, if we plan it well.'

Laughing, the two rode on.

The road passed through a little wood that for a wonder had not been cut down by the ruffians. A small figure, gesticulating wildly, ran up to them, causing Merry's pony to shy. He expertly controlled his mount and pulled up.

'Steady, lass,' Merry reproved. 'Do you not know better than to run up to a pony, flapping an apron?' He caught sight of the tears streaking the dirt-smeared face. He jumped down from the saddle and knelt before the child. 'What is it, lass?' he asked gently.

She hiccuped a sob, and Merry spoke soothingly. Finally he had her calm enough to speak. 'Toby's stuck up a great tree and I cannot get him to come down again!'

'It's like that, is it?' Merry crooned. He cocked an eye up at Pippin, still on his pony. 'Well, let us see what we can do.' He tossed his reins to his cousin. 'Watch him for me a minute? Seems as if I must rescue another young hobbit from up a tree!'

Pippin laughed and answered, 'Do not be too long about it or we all might just go on without you! Bright Nose and Socks are eager for their nuncheon, as am I!'

'Do not listen to him, Bright!' Merry called to the pony. 'You keep Socks from running away with his master, hear?' The pony tossed his coppery head as if in answer. Pippin's laughter followed him and the lass into the woods.

It was a tall tree, perhaps one of the tallest remaining in the Shire. Far up, too far, he could see a small figure sitting on a slender branch, clinging to the trunk of the tree, frozen with fear. There would be no talking this one down, he could tell. He bent to look into the young hobbit's face again. 'It will be all right, lass,' he reassured. 'I've done this sort of thing before. But... I am going to need your help.'

Wide-eyed, she gulped back her sobs. 'What can I do?' she asked.

'Well, yon lad up in tree does not know me, and I do not want him to panic and lose his grip as I reach him. So I want you to talk to him... your brother?'

'My cousin.'

'Ah.' Merry's grin brightened. 'A cousin is a fine thing for getting into scrapes. I have a cousin too, and I cannot tell you the number of scrapes I have got him out of!' His nonsense seemed to be having the desired effect; the lass was calmer.

'What do I tell him?'

'Tell him that he is all right. Tell him to hold on, and everything will be fine. Keep talking to him unless I tell you to stop.'

As the lass began shouting reassurances he removed his helm, unbuckled his sword belt, and divested himself of his cloak, surcoat, and hauberk. Armour did not make for good tree climbing. He removed his tunic as well, neatly folding it and laying it on the pile. The spring breeze blew cool through his thin undertunic, but the effort of climbing would warm him soon enough.

The tree was even taller than he had first thought. The shouts of the lass were fainter, the trunk and branches uncomfortably thin as he approached the stranded lad. Merry stopped short before he reached him. He did not want to startle the lad into losing his grip.

'Toby!' he called softly. The frozen form did not move. 'Toby!' he called again, trying for a light tone. He saw the arms tighten their hold on the trunk. 'Toby, all will be well. I am here to help you get down.' The wee face remained pressed against the trunk of the tree. Merry could not see if his words were having any effect.

'Now, Toby, we have just one rule we must be sure to follow!' he called, and waited.

Finally a muffled voice spoke. 'What?'

'There's a lad! The rule is, whatever you do, do not look down!'

'I already did,' the little one snuffled.

'All right, then, we will start fresh. Do not look down again, hear me, lad? Anyone can climb down a tree so long as he keeps his eyes off the ground.'

'Anyone?'

'Anybody, even you and I, lad. I have climbed down many a tall tree. You see, I had a wee cousin who loved to climb up but too often forgot how to climb down.' He thought he saw a smile crook the side of the tiny hobbit's mouth. Good. The lad was relaxing.

'All right, now, lad, just sit tight. I am going to climb a little closer.' The lad nodded and Merry began to climb again, choosing his branches with care. Even so, they were thinner than he liked, and one cracked dangerously under his foot; only a firm hand grip saved him. He could hear the lass below still shouting encouragement as he paused to catch his breath and let his heartbeat steady a bit.

The lad's grip on the tree had tightened when he heard the branch break. As soon as Merry could conjure a calm voice, he called again. 'That's all right, Toby lad, no harm done. But I cannot climb up to you any further. I need you to come down to me.'

'I cannot!' came the anguished reply.

'O yes, you can, lad. 'Tis just the same as climbing up, you know. Just remember our rule. Do you remember it?'

'Do not look down!' The lad sounded a little calmer.

'There's a fine lad. Now I am going to talk you down just like I used to talk my cousin Pippin down. You are going to be fine! Are you ready?'

He thought he saw a nod. 'Now then,' he said, keeping his tone determinedly light and cheerful. 'I want you to keep hanging on tight with your arms.' He was sure the lad would have no problem with that. It was the next bit that would be tricky.

'Now then,' he repeated, 'just below your right foot is another branch. Hold tight and reach down with your foot -- no!' he shouted rather louder than he meant to. 'Your other foot is your right!'

The lad paused, but thankfully did not freeze again. The other foot descended in quest for the promised branch.

'That's it!' Merry encouraged. 'You have it! Now rest your foot on the branch, slowly let your weight rest on it, keep holding on with your hands, just let your weight down easy -- don't look down!' Bit by bit he talked the lad down to where he was. They would have to get a little lower, he realized. The branches here were too thin to risk the weight of both of them. Carefully he worked them down to thicker branches, then stopped for a breather.

'Fine job, Toby,' he praised. 'We are nearly done.' Holding tight to the tree with legs and one arm, Merry got the young one to turn and cling to him. 'That's it, lad. Wrap your legs around my waist and hold tight with your arms.' The lad hugged tight and buried his face in Merry's chest. 'That's right. Now do not move and I will have us out of this tree in no time.'

Merry was as good as his word. The rest of the descent went quickly. It was quite an excellent climbing tree, with branches well placed for hand and foot holds. As he jumped lightly to the ground and put the lad down, the girl pounced to gather her cousin in a great hug. Only a moment later she was shaking the lad and scolding him.

Merry chuckled and picked up his belongings to hike back to Pippin, who must surely be wondering about him. He found his cousin stretched out, back to a tree, smoking his pipe while the ponies grazed nearby.

'Did you need any help?' Pippin asked with a grin.

'No, I was fine, it was no trouble at all. I've rescued wee hobbits from so many trees I could probably do it with my eyes closed.' He slipped his tunic over his head.

'That'd make it easier to remember not to look down.'

'I do not recall how many times I had to repeat that rule before you learned it!'

Pippin laughed. Merry was quickly dressed, and fastening his sword belt and slinging his shield over his back, he reclaimed his pony. Pippin had slipped the ponies' bits from their mouths and loosened the girths on the saddles to give them a rest in the interim.

Merry slipped the bit back into Bright's mouth and the pony nudged him; he chuckled, fondling Bright's nose. 'Sorry lad, not a carrot left! But we will get our nuncheon soon and that grass ought to keep you until then.' He checked every buckle and strap on the bridle, then ran a gentle finger down the crooked strip of white on the pony's face, all the way down to the splash of white that covered Bright's nose.

'There's a fine lad,' he crooned. 'Did he take good care of you, pet?' He walked back, running a hand along the copper-coloured coat, flicked a few specks of imaginary dirt from the shining flanks and picked up each foot in turn for a quick check before he bent to tighten the girth. All along he crooned a soft sing-song to the pony.

'You treat that pony as if he were your own son,' Pippin teased as he checked his own pony.

'Oh, yes,' Merry answered. 'Had you not heard? I have left everything to him in my Will!' He mounted and spoke to the pony again. ' 'Tis only fitting for the fastest pony in this part of the Shire.'

'Oh?' Pippin's eye gleamed with challenge. 'Do you care to prove those words?' Merry threw back his head and laughed.

Just before they had entered the woods was a fair green meadow. In the center of the field was a lone tree, one of the saplings Sam had planted and blessed with a grain of dust from the Lady of Lothlorien.

'Race out to the tree and around; first one back to the road buys the first pint!' Pippin cried.

'You're on!' Merry shouted, '...but do not run over the tree or Master Samwise will have our hides!'

'Go!'

At the same instant, they kicked their ponies and leaned forward into a glorious run. The breeze blew the ponies' long manes back into the riders' faces and the silky tails streamed out behind, one a banner of flame, the other of smoke. Pippin and Socks pulled ahead as they came around the tree, but Merry spoke to Bright Nose, the pony surged forward, Pippin heard his cousin's laughter. Neck and neck they raced back toward the road...

...and suddenly Merry was not there. Socks ran a few more lengths before Pippin could rein him to a stop and turn. His heart seemed to stop at the sight behind. Bright Nose struggled on the grass. Merry lay without moving.

Chapter 2. Walking in Darkness

Pippin raced Socks back to the scene of the disaster and jumped off before his pony had come to a stop. He bent to his cousin, calling his name, and rolled him over as gently as he could.

Merry's face was pale save a smudge of dirt and a smear of blood welling from a fresh cut on the forehead, and his eyes did not open to Pippin's urgent repetition of his name. The right arm hung at an agonizingly wrong angle.

Pippin did not know how long he crouched there before he heard the soft plop of ponies' feet in the grass and a jingle of chain. He looked up to see the farmer who had been ploughing in the next field; he had unhitched the ponies from the plough and ridden them over.

Pippin looked back to Merry, watching for the rise and fall of the chest that meant his cousin was still in the world. He felt the farmer's sturdy hand on his shoulder.

'Still breathing?' the gruff voice asked.

'Yes,' Pippin whispered.

'Right. I will see t' pony then.' The hand was gone.

Pippin turned his head to see the farmer bend to Bright Nose, still struggling on the grass and whistling in distress. He looked back to Merry... and suddenly the noise from the pony stopped. He looked over to see Bright lying deathly still.

The farmer returned, wiping his knife with a handful of grass. 'Leg break. Bad. I took care of 'im, poor lad.'

Pippin nodded thanks. The farmer bent to examine Merry. Pippin heard him suck in air through his teeth.

'Right then,' the farmer said abruptly. 'Let us get t' helm off.' The farmer's good sense broke Pippin free of the frozen horror. He held Merry while the gnarled hands gently removed the helm. He watched the hands gingerly feel around the skull, then down the neck. The farmer grunted. 'Neck is not broken, then.'

Galvanized into movement, Pippin ran his hands down his cousin's legs, and then the left arm, relieved to find no obvious breaks. But the right arm...

The farmer caught his gaze. 'We cannot move 'im yet. We'll need a litter, 'at's the best for this sort of thing. You stay with 'im; I'll ride for help.' He waited for Pippin's nod and then turned to the plough ponies that were taking advantage of the interruption of their workday to feast greedily on the meadow grass.

'Take my pony; he will be faster,' Pippin urged, one hand on Merry and the other holding out the grey pony's reins. The farmer took the reins from him, mounted lightly for all his bulk, reined Socks around and kneed him into a fast jog towards the farmstead.

'Merry!' Pippin called again, but his cousin made no sign of hearing. He undid his cloak and rolled it to make a pillow for Merry's head. 'Steady now, Merry. Help is coming.' The only relief he could find was the steady rise and fall of his cousin's chest. But for the right arm, he could not be too badly hurt... could he?

Finally he saw the farmer returning across the field with two younger copies of himself and a small lad. They brought two long poles and blankets which they quickly improvised into a litter.

'Now comes the tricky part,' grunted the farmer as he bent on Merry's other side. 'We must lift t' lad as best we can without jarring that shoulder.'

He and his eldest son placed the litter next to Merry. The four of them took hold of Merry and slid him over as gently as they could. A spasm of pain crossed his face but he did not waken.

'Right, now!' the farmer exclaimed. He turned to Pippin. 'Each one take a corner. We will come back later for his gear.' Pippin wanted to say hang the gear but only nodded. They lifted the litter with care and bore their burden to the farmstead, the lad following behind leading the plough ponies.

They brought Merry into the smial, through the main room which was evidently a sitting room and kitchen in one, to one of the bedrooms and laid him in the big bed. Hobbits crowded around. The farmer gave a roar and cleared the room.

The farmer's wife folded a clean cloth and pressed it to Merry's forehead to staunch the bleeding. Pippin and the farmer stripped Merry down to his undertunic, then Pippin grasped Merry's left hand. It was cool, too cool. The farmer's wife nodded to herself and drew blankets from a chest. Careful of the right arm, she tucked the blankets all around, went out again and returned with a few bricks wrapped in flannel.

'I put these by the fire when I heard you were comin' in. They will help to keep 'im warm, poor lad. He looks as if he needs them, so pale and all.'

Pippin abruptly remembered Socks and turned to the farmer. 'My pony...'

The farmer looked a little sheepish. 'I sent a lad for the healer on 'im. I hope I did not take too great a liberty, but we have no riding stock and the plough ponies are steady but not fast.'

'No, no, that was fine.' The sooner the healer could come, the better. The farmer pulled up a chair beside the bed and indicated that Pippin should settle himself there. 

The farmer went out again and was gone some time; when he returned, he had Merry's saddlebags and a silver horn. Laying them in a corner, he said to Pippin, 'My lads are burying 'is pony. It seemed the right thing t' do.' Pippin nodded his thanks.

Soon he heard the clatter of ponies' hoofs in the stony yard and an older hobbit entered, listening to the farmer's account of the accident. Pippin rose from the chair to move out of his way.

With barely a glance at Pippin, the healer went to Merry and began his examination. He lifted the cloth on the forehead, nodded to himself, ran practiced hands over Merry's left arm and legs, and then lifted the undertunic to check for abdominal bruising.

He looked up at Pippin with a brief smile. 'The head and the arm seem to be our worst problems. The arm is out of its place and will have to be put back.'

Pippin nodded, a sick feeling in his gut. The healer looked keenly at him. 'Do you want to stay or go out?'

Stung, he answered, 'I will stay. How can I help?'

The healer directed him and the farmer's eldest son to hold Merry steady while he and the farmer worked the arm back into its socket. They were all sweating and breathing hard by the time the deed was done, Merry included, though he did not waken.

The healer then turned his attention to the gash on Merry's forehead. 'Tis deep,' he said, 'and will need some stitching.' He drew out the supplies from his bag and had Pippin hold his cousin's head while he stitched. When finished, he took out a jar of salve and smeared it liberally on the wound.

With his finger he traced the adjacent brown scar on Merry's forehead and murmured, 'Seems this is not the first knock on the head for the lad.' Looking up, he added, 'We will leave it open to the air for now, air's good for healing. Bandage it if he gets restless.' 

'We'll take good care,' the farmer's wife said. She went to the doorway to ask those hovering in the main room if the tea was ready, yet?

The healer rose and said, 'He ought to be better tomorrow. Keep him warm. Get some broth into him if you can. I will come back on the morrow to see how he fares.'

Pippin thanked him and started to rise but the farmer waved him back to his chair.

'This is Healer Holbain, by the way,' he said, belatedly remembering introductions.

Pippin bowed again, though he kept his hold of Merry's hand. 'At your service,' he said.

Old Holbain gave him a sharp glance. 'I'd say you've already served my family well, throwing out the ruffians and all.' He bowed. 'I am at your service, young sir, and your family's.' His glance went over Merry once more and he nodded to himself. 'I'll be back on the morrow,' he repeated. He flashed a glance at the farmer. 'Make sure this one eats!'

'We will,' the farmer said with an emphatic nod. He said to Pippin, 'We'll bring you some tea and something to go with it in a moment.'

Though the last thing Pippin wanted at the moment was nuncheon, he said his thanks.

The farmer walked out with an arm about the healer's shoulders, talking about a barrel of brew that needed tapping.

Pippin ate, nuncheon and tea and supper, and as the evening shadows fell and the lamps were lit he held Merry's hand and sang every song that came to mind. When the farm family went to bed and all was dark and quiet, Pippin dozed in the chair beside the bed, ready to jump up at a word from Merry, but his cousin slept heavily and did not wake. The farmer's older daughters took turns through the night mending the fire and renewing the hot bricks in their wrappings.

In the morning, they coaxed Pippin from Merry's side long enough for him to wash and have breakfast. They brought him second breakfast at Merry's bedside. Merry was still in heavy slumber and did not respond to Pippin's voice.

The healer came just before midday and seemed surprised to see Merry not yet awake. He lifted Merry's eyelids, checked his hands and his feet. 'I do not like this,' he said to the farmer and Pippin. 'He should have wakened this morning with no more than a headache and very sore shoulder. Have you been keeping him warm?'

The farmer merely pointed to the bright fire on the little hearth and the flannel wrapped bricks tucked around Merry.

The healer shook his head. 'His limbs are cool,' he said. 'The right hand is particularly worrisome. I wonder if somehow the shoulder was more damaged than I thought.'

Pippin touched Merry's right hand. It was noticeably cooler than the left. The healer met Pippin's eye. 'If it is there is bleeding inside his head from the blow, that could be keeping him asleep. Keep talking to him. He might be able to hear you.' Pippin nodded. The healer left with instructions to use warmed blankets and more hot bricks, and to try to get some hot broth down the patient. He would return on the morrow.

Though they brought Pippin meals, he ate little more that day, staying in the chair by Merry's side, talking about everything and anything. The farmer's daughters, Ruby and Diamond, took turns sitting quietly in the chair by the fire. They learned a lot about the cousins that day.

Merry's hand and arm grew colder through the day, despite hot poultices. The daughters kept the fire burning brightly and the bricks warm. Pippin continued to talk to Merry, hoping somehow to get through. Towards evening he was encouraged when his cousin turned his head on the pillow and tried to open his eyes.

'Merry?'

His cousin's answer stunned him. 'Where is the king? And Eowyn?'

Pippin stammered, 'They - they are not here, Merry. Do you not remember what happened?'

Merry replied. 'It is dark... I feel so cold. I can't use my right arm, Pippin, not since I stabbed him. And my sword burned all away like a piece of wood.'

Pippin gasped, and Diamond looked up. She saw his hands gripping the blankets hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 'Merry!' he said urgently. 'That was a whole year ago. It is over and done with. The War is done; the Dark is gone.' His cheerful tone was belied by the anxiety that etched his face.

'Help me, Pippin!' Merry called faintly. 'It's all going dark again, and my arm is so cold.'

'Merry, it is but a dream. Wake up, Merry!'

'Are you going to bury me?'

To Diamond's dismay, Pippin bowed his head upon the bedclothes and wept.

It was the evening of the 15th of March. A year earlier, Merry had lain in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith in Gondor, and the healers had had no hope of helping him. Only the coming of the King had saved him from falling into black silence, deadly cold, and death. ...but the King was in Gondor, and they were now in the Shire, many, too many days' journey away...

Merry was quiet the rest of the night, but as the next day dawned he was restless, striking out and trying to tear the bandage from his head. Pippin held his hands while the healer made his examination.

'If he cannot be calmed we will have to bind his hands.'

'No!' Pippin objected vehemently. More softly he added, 'Do not bind him. I will hold his hands as long as it is necessary.'

Diamond spoke up from her chair in the corner. 'I will help, Master Holbain. We all will.'

While tending the ailing hobbit she had seen old scars on wrist and ankle as if ropes had once chafed and bitten deep. She had seen the same kinds of marks on hobbits released from the Lockholes after the ruffians were driven out.

Now she noticed similar marks on Pippin's wrists as he held his writhing cousin. These Travellers had seen ill use. She had found scars like whip marks on Merry's back and legs when she helped to wash him and change his bedding. She wondered if Pippin bore the same scars. He certainly was protective of his cousin.

Diamond and Ruby and their brothers took turns when Pippin tired, holding Merry's hands, speaking soothing words, trying to calm the twisting, desperate hobbit. The struggle lasted for three days more, exhausting them all, but still Pippin insisted that his cousin's hands must not be bound. Seeing the marks on Merry's wrists, the farmer and his wife agreed.

As the 20th of March dawned, Merry was quiet. They hoped that this meant healing.

Diamond watched Pippin's face as he watched Merry's. She had heard much about this Traveller, how he had helped cast the ruffians out of the Shire after returning from the War. What war she was not entirely sure, but rumours whispered of noble and terrible deeds and great honour. When Merry and Pippin had ridden by that morning an eternity ago, her whole family had paused in their work to admire the shining knights as they passed with their swords and shields, laughter and song. Now one of the brave ponies lay buried at the edge of their meadow, and his rider looked to be following him soon.

The healer returned each day, and as he left at the end of each visit his face was more troubled. Finally on the 24th he sent everyone from the room but Diamond, who sat out of the way in her chair by the fire. Holbain turned to Pippin. 'This is not a physical malady, I think.'

'What do you mean?'

'His hurts are not such that he should suffer in this way. I would have expected him to be up and out of bed days ago. What can you tell me that I do not know?'

After a long silence, Pippin answered reluctantly. 'It is an old trouble.'

'Can ye give it a name?'

'When I first heard of it, they called it the Black Shadow.' A chill seized Diamond's heart: Master Pippin's voice sounded so hopeless.

'Black Shadow,' the healer mused. Looking keenly into Pippin's face, he asked, "...and does it have somewhat to do with your travels?'

Pippin stared, wondering how much the healer knew. The sharpness of the old hobbit's gaze drew the answer from him. 'Aye,' he whispered.

'Mordor?' the healer said, so low that Diamond barely heard. She suppressed her gasp, not wanting to be sent from the room. For the moment they had forgotten her.

At the word, Merry stirred and moaned, then was again deathly still. Pippin only nodded.

Holbain looked down and sighed. When he raised his eyes again to Pippin, he shook his head. 'This is beyond my skill,' he admitted. 'I have done all I can do.'

'Surely...' Pippin protested.

The healer rose and repeated, 'There is nothing more that I can do. I am sorry. I wish I could have saved your cousin. I have heard of some of his brave deeds, and all of us in the Shire are in his debt, and yours.' He sadly patted Pippin's hand and left the room. 

3. Walking in Light

When Samwise returned to Bag End on the 25th of March from forestry business elsewhere in the Shire, he was surprised to see Mr Pippin's pony standing at the door. That was not a surprise in itself, but rather that Mr Merry's pony was not tied up beside. He knocked and entered, but instead of finding Frodo and Pippin he saw Frodo with a farmer's lad standing ill-at-ease in the entry. Mr Frodo held a paper in his hand, and a look of relief crossed his face as Sam entered.

'Sam! I am glad you are come. I hate to ask you to turn around and leave again, but I need to get to Long Cleeve just as soon as I can, and I would like you to come with me.'

'Of course, Mr Frodo. Let me just unload the waggon and get a fresh pony and we can be right off.'

Frodo shook his head. 'Sam, can you get someone to unload for you? I would like to set out right away, and riding will be faster than driving.'

Sam was surprised, but it must be important or Mr Frodo would not be in such a hurry. 'I will be right back, Mr Frodo!'

'Right, Sam! I want to be off within the hour.' Mr Frodo was in a hurry indeed.

Sam trotted the pony and waggon all the way to the Cottons'. As Farmer Cotton came out to greet him, he hopped down and with the barest greeting said, 'Mr Frodo needs to be off, and he wants me with him. Do you have a fresh pony I could ride?'

Farmer Cotton, ever a practical hobbit, immediately called one son to take the pony and waggon and another to saddle his fastest riding pony.

Sam covered the road from the Cottons' farm to Bag End much faster on the return trip. He found Frodo putting saddle bags on his pony, and Marigold there holding Sam's own bags, ready to slip over Sam's saddle as he pulled up. The farmer's lad mounted Pippin's pony and the three were off at a fast jog.

Frodo and Sam rode knee to knee, Frodo explaining the emergency.

'I wish I'd got back sooner,' Sam said with regret.

'You got back at just the right time, Sam,' Frodo reassured. 'Tim here arrived just before you did.' The farm lad dipped his head in greeting; there had been no time for introductions earlier.

They made good time, and by late afternoon were dismounting their lathered ponies in front of the farmstead door. The farmer's wife greeted them at the door with a look of relief, showing them to the room where Merry lay and Pippin watched. Diamond plied her needlework in the chair in the corner, ready to jump up to tend the fire when it burned low.

Pippin rose as they entered and Sam's first impression was that he looked terrible, drawn with worry and lack of sleep. Then he looked at the bed and decided that Pippin looked good next to Mr Merry.

Mr Pippin was talking urgently to Frodo. 'The healer says there's nothing,' his voice broke on the word, 'else that can be done. There is no reason for him to be sinking this way, but he is!'

Frodo bent to take Merry's right hand. It was icy cold. His cousin's face was grey and beads of cold sweat stood out on his skin; Merry seemed scarcely to breathe. He looked up at Pippin. 'Is this what he looked like before?'

Pippin knew what time he was talking about. 'Yes,' Pippin gulped. 'I wish that Strider... or even Gandalf...'

Frodo shook his head. 'We are on our own, I am afraid. Even if we knew where to send for Gandalf, he would likely not get the message in time to do any good.'

'What can we do, then?' It tore at Diamond's heart to hear the despair in Pippin's voice.

'Shhh. Let him think,' Sam said to Pippin. He had confidence that if there was anything to be done, Mr Frodo would think of it.

Without releasing Merry's hand, Frodo sank into the chair beside the bed. He bent his head, fingering a white jewel that hung at his neck. Suddenly he let go Merry's hand. Taking the jewel on its chain from his own neck, he gently eased the chain over Merry's head and placed the jewel over the stricken hobbit's heart. He picked up Merry's hands and clasped them about the jewel, keeping his own hands over Merry's. It all looked somehow elvish to Diamond, at least what she imagined an elvish sort of thing might be. Frodo bowed his head and the room was very quiet.

Frodo's hushed voice seemed loud as it broke the silence. 'He is walking in a very dark place.' Then he spoke to Merry. 'Come back! Walk no more in darkness, Meriadoc Brandybuck. Come back to us. Walk in the light, Merry!'

No change was apparent.

'Merry!' Frodo urged again, then bowed his head, keeping his hands clasped on Merry's.

There was a long silence.

'Is he going to die, Mr Frodo?' Sam whispered anxiously.

'I should hope not!' said a low voice. All in the room looked at each other in bewilderment until they realized the voice came from the bed. Merry's eyes were open. Frodo exclaimed with joy, Pippin seized Sam's hands and danced about the room, Diamond looked on from the corner, eyes shining.

When the uproar had died down, Merry whispered, 'I intend to dance at your wedding, Samwise Gamgee! Have you asked that lass to marry you yet?'

Frodo and Pippin chuckled. It was Merry's standing joke: The first thing he asked every time he met Sam was whether he had proposed to Rose Cotton, and he'd made quite a show at pursuing the lass since the Travellers' return from the Outlands, declaring his intentions to secure her and her meat-and-mushroom pie for his own table, though no one had taken him seriously, of course. Merry was his name, and Merry his nature.

Sam blushed and hung his head to hide his face, mumbling something unintelligible.

Merry continued as if he hadn't just been at death's door. 'If I find you have not asked her, I swear the next time I am in Hobbiton I am going to ask her myself. That lass makes the best meat and mushroom pie I've ever tasted.' He noticed Diamond in the corner and smiled, '...saving perhaps yourself, Miss, seeing as how I have not yet had the opportunity to try your cooking...'

Diamond buried herself in her needlework, tips of her ears burning, as Pippin chided Merry. 'Now, cousin, do not tease the lass so... she will fall in love with you and you know you cannot marry both her and Rose!'

Sam muttered something indignant and the three cousins burst into laughter.

Merry tired quickly and closed his eyes. Frodo bent closer. 'Merry?'

'I am well,' Merry whispered. 'I am just very tired. I want to sleep.'

The farmer's wife entered, face hopeful, drawn by the laughter. She carried a covered bowl and cloth. 'D'you suppose he might take a sip of this broth? I have been keeping it hot... it is good and rich.'

'Merry,' Frodo urged. 'Stay with us just a few moments longer. I want you to have some broth, then you can sleep.'

They propped him up, tucked the cloth under his chin, and Frodo spooned half the bowl of broth into him before his eyes would not stay open any longer.

'And now for you, Mr Peregrin, you have hardly had a bite to eat since he was taken. I have a good supper waiting on the table for you all. My Diamond will keep watch.'

Frodo took Pippin's arm and escorted him to the table. He had been as shocked at his cousin's appearance as Sam had. They made a good dinner with the farm family and hired hands, but Pippin's head kept nodding and he threatened to fall asleep in his plate, something he had not done since he was a very small hobbit-lad.

Diamond came to the doorway and beckoned smiling to Frodo. 'I have made up a bed for him on the floor in here, by the fire,' she said.

Frodo led Pippin to the bed and eased him down. He was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

As Sam and Frodo returned to the main room, the farmer rose to meet them. 'We do not have extra rooms, but we can make up beds for you by the fire easy enough.'

They thanked him for all he had done.

'Warn't nothing,' he answered. 'I should hope someone would do t' same for one of my lads should he fall ill on a journey.'

4. Moving House

Merry recovered at an astonishing rate the next day. The prodigious quantities of food that Ruby and Diamond and their mother managed to stuff into him might have had some bearing on the matter. By evening he was up out of bed and laughingly joining them at the supper table, and though he swore he was so stuffed he could hardly eat another bite, he made an admirable attempt.

The farmer would accept no pay for his kindness, so Frodo persuaded him to rent them a waggon* and two-pony team to remove his furniture from Crickhollow. 'Seein' as how we left our waggon t'home, and here we are halfway to Crickhollow already,' Sam added helpfully.

The next day the whole farmstead gathered in the front yard to see them off with many cheers and waves. Pippin was to drive the waggon, Merry beside him. Socks would remain at the farm until Pippin brought the waggon back. The farmer's sons had saddled Frodo's and Sam's ponies, and now all was in readiness. Goodbyes were being said all around.

Before hopping into the waggon, Pippin stopped before Diamond and Ruby. Diamond was relieved to see the bright smile and mischievous look in his eye after all those days of strain. 'Thank you for your grand cooking!' he said, rubbing his stomach. 'It is good for Socks that I am driving the waggon; I am not sure he could manage my weight!'

The girls laughed and blushed and Ruby answered, 'Go on with ye, Master Peregrin!'

He sobered, and took a hand of each. 'And thank you for your faithfulness in tending the fire. Your whole family has been... like family...'

The girls impulsively flew at him to hug him. Pippin looked up to see the watchful eye of their mother and stepped back hastily, the twinkle back in his eye. 'I cannot marry either of them yet, Mother dear!' he called. 'They will have to go back and bake a bit longer! I will be back in a few years when they are of age!'

'You will be back sooner than that, I hope, you rascal!' the farmer's wife answered, laughing.

Pippin grinned and jumped up to the seat of the waggon.

'He has to bring the waggon back!' one of the smaller hobbits shouted. Everyone laughed. The air was filled with waves and shouts and well wishes as the waggon drove out of the yard.

The drive to Crickhollow was a merry one, with much laughter and song. When they got to the house, Sam quickly dispelled the air of dusty disuse with a bright fire on the sitting room and kitchen hearths. He and Pippin removed all the covers from the furniture in the sitting room, taking them out to the lane for a good shake while Merry and Frodo set out a supper from one of the generous baskets packed by Ruby and Diamond. After supper, the two older cousins tidied up and enjoyed a pipe by the sitting room fire while Pippin and Sam took the dusty covers off the bedroom furniture and started a cheerful fire to warm each room.

'There!' Pippin exclaimed, emerging from the last room. 'All ready for the weary travellers to take their rest.'

'Well this traveller is not yet ready to go to bed!' Merry answered. 'The Sun has not yet hid her face, though She is painting a bright picture in the sky!'

Sam looked appreciatively at the sunset colors. 'It'll be good weather on the morrow. No need to worry about rain.'

Pippin laughed. 'I still remember being sent off to bed on a summer's eve and thinking it terribly wrong when the Sun was high in the sky!' The others chuckled, and he added, 'At least this time we need not be up before she is out of bed herself!'

Sam agreed, 'Aye, and it is nice to know we will be turning our backs on that Old Forest in the morning.'

A chill took Merry and he felt Frodo's hand cover his. Frodo called gaily, 'More light! The Sun is seeking her bed!'

'More light!' Pippin shouted and sprang to comply.

'Seek out every candle! The more we burn now, the less there is to pack on the morrow!' Frodo shouted with a grin. His hand tightened on Merry's.

Merry forced himself to take deep breaths and as light filled the sitting room he found himself relaxing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frodo nod. His cousin gave his hand a last squeeze and then rose to throw more wood on the fire.

'That's more like!' Frodo sang. 'Now the place looks truly homey. How about some music?'

Pippin broke out his flute and the others clapped and sang. The candles drove the shadows back into the corners, and the music drove the Dark from Merry's thoughts.

After a good night's sleep, they breakfasted off the other basket of food, and found plenty left for a picnic lunch along the way back to Bag End. Sam must have been up very early, or stayed up late the night before, for things were already well organized and packing went quickly.

'At this rate we will be back at Bag End in time for tea!' Frodo commented.

'Then Pippin can get the waggon back to Long Cleeve in time for late supper,' Merry added with a sly grin.

'Oh, coming that late he will have to stay over and have breakfast before heading back,' Frodo nodded solemnly.

'I hope that Socks can manage all the weight I've added!' Pippin exclaimed, rubbing his stomach. All burst into guffaws as Pippin grinned.

The others insisted that Merry rest while they moved the furniture to the waggon. 'I will take on a managerial capacity, then!' he teased, 'for which I am eminently qualified!' Instead of ordering the others about ('every good foreman knows when to let his hobbits alone!'), he retired to the garden to chew on a blade of grass and watch the clouds.

Frodo found him there when the packing was nearly complete. Sam and Pippin were winding ropes over and through the furniture to make sure all would stay on even if the waggon hit a large bump. Frodo lay down beside Merry and watched clouds in companionable silence, which Merry finally broke. 'Why would it come back that way?'

Frodo looked over at his cousin. Merry still stared at the clouds, but a shadow had fallen over his face. 'I think...' he said, striving for the right words. His hand sought the jewel. 'I think,' he began again, 'that when one has been touched by Shadow, it leaves a...' he had been going to say 'stain' but thought better of it and said instead, '... a mark. Even though the Shadow has passed away, the mark remains.' He thought of Merry's fits of melancholy and understood them better now. After all, he had his own evidence of remaining stains that could not be scrubbed or sanded away. 'You will always have to choose to walk in the Light, to turn your back on the Dark, from now on, but at least you are aware now that the choice must be made. Better than being taken unawares.'

Merry turned his face to meet Frodo's eyes. 'Is that what it is like for you?' he whispered. 'Is it a constant struggle?'

Frodo smiled but his eyes remained sad. 'Not constant,' he said. 'Not quite, anyway.' He held the jewel unconsciously in his fist. Sam could have told Merry how often he had clasped the Ring in like manner.

Frodo looked back to the sky. 'It seems that anniversaries are the most dangerous times,' he said reflectively. 'You will have to be very careful, it seems, around the 15th of March. Stay close to home. Surround yourself with friendship and laughter.'

'You think...? Will it always be this bad?'

'I think that the accident weakened you, so that on the next day when the Dark returned for a time, you did not have the strength to fight.' Merry nodded. Frodo added, 'Pippin can be a great help to you, I think.'

Merry smiled, and agreed, 'He is a jewel among hobbits, indeed.' Just then Pippin bounded into the garden with a laugh.

'So there you are, Mister Foreman!' He sketched a mock salute. 'I wish to report the waggon loaded and ready, Sir!'

'Very well,' Merry answered. 'Carry on, soldier!' Frodo helped him to his feet. They looked once more around the empty house. 'It is a very nice house,' Merry mused. 'What a shame to let it go to waste.'

'It is all paid for,' Frodo answered. 'You may have it if you like. Consider it a wedding gift!'

Merry turned to him in astonishment. 'Wedding gift?'

Frodo laughed. 'I saw the way those girls were looking at you as you left. Just wait until they are of age...'

Merry laughed but Pippin came up to them with a grin. 'I think it is a grand idea! Let us move in here, Merry. I found a young Took playing with my sword the other day; it would be grand to be out on our own!'

The drive back to Bag End was full of laughter. Before they unloaded the furniture, Frodo settled Merry in the parlour with a spot of tea. After unloading was finished, Pippin jumped back onto the waggon, cheerily waved the whip in the air, and was off. The ponies, with an empty waggon behind them and somehow knowing they were headed homewards, trotted briskly back down the lane.

As Sam entered with the teapot to freshen Merry's cup, the latter said, 'So, Samwise, what is it to be?'

'Begging your pardon, Mr Merry?'

'Who is to marry Miss Rose? Will it be you? ...or are you going to wait until I ask her yet again and she casts me into the dust with a broken heart!'

Sam wished he could pour the contents of the teapot over Merry, but he contented himself with filling the cup nearly brimful. 'Will there be anything else, Mr Merry?'

Merry smiled, 'No, Sam, thank you very much. I think I will finish this cup and have a bit of a nap.'

'Right, Sir.'

'You do not have to "Sir" me, Samwise Gamgee. Not after all we have been through together.'

'Very good, Sir... I mean Mr Merry... I mean...'

Merry laughed. 'Right! Off with you then! And do not come back until you have spoken to Rosie Cotton!'

That was one order Samwise was only too happy to obey.

*"waggon" is how the word is spelt in my copy of LOTR.

Chapter 5. A Long-Expected Wedding

'It is a fine day for a wedding!' Pippin sang as he came out of one of the guest rooms at Bag End. His face was freshly washed, a towel hung about his neck, and his hair stood up wild and in need of a brush.

Merry appeared in the doorway of his own room, yawning. 'What are you doing up so early?'

Pippin's grin was mischievous as ever. 'I thought Master Samwise might need a little help in preparing.'

Frodo's hand came out of nowhere and suddenly fastened itself on his ear. 'O no, you don't, cousin!' the elder cousin said in a laughing tone, but it was plain that he meant his warning. 'You two have badgered him into this wedding and you are not going to make him miserable about it!'

'Miserable!' Merry protested. 'This ought to be the happiest day of his life!'

Pippin had his own protest to make. ' "We" badgered him into it? I had nothing to do with it!'

'Merry, then,' conceded Frodo.

'Aye, and proud of it!' Merry cried. 'At the rate Sam was going, I would have been a grandfather before I became an honorary uncle!' Frodo regarded him with satisfaction, glad at seeing Merry fully recovered and cheerful as he ever had been.

'Ah, but think of all the meat and mushroom pie you will be missing,' Pippin teased. 'You could have talked the lass into marrying you!'

'I will be missing no pie, as I am sure that Miss Rosie Cotton -- I mean, Mistress Rose Gamgee -- will invite me plenty of times for pie in gratitude for my services.'

'Services! Services! Badgering her every time you saw her, to marry yourself as if she were to take such a thing seriously, and going down on one knee before her entire family and Samwise to try to goad him into speaking...'

'It was only to move the poor benighted hobbit in the right direction a little faster than a garden snail...'

'I'm sure he would have asked her eventually... and probably sooner, without you plaguing the life out of the two of them...' Frodo felt moved to put in.

'Well it worked, did it not? Is there not to be a wedding today?'

Pippin and Frodo stared at Merry, for the moment rendered speechless. Merry smiled and preened, and returned to his original point. 'And so, I'm sure the lass will be happy to bake me my favourite of her delectables whenever I appear on the front doorstep...'

'And Samwise will make you sit on the back step to eat it!'

The teasing and joking went on as they all prepared for the wedding and party to follow.

It was a grand day for a wedding indeed, and even with Sam's shyness and Rosie's blushes, the ceremony went perfectly, despite Merry's copious eye-wiping and Pippin's elbow jabs to quell him.

A cheer went up as Mayor Frodo pronounced them hobbit and wife. All adjourned to the Party Field, where Rosie and Sam stood beneath the young mallorn tree as the guests toasted the happy couple. The feasting and dancing went on well into the night.

Rose even danced a dance with Merry, laughing as he gazed at her with lovestruck eyes and said, pretending wistfulness, 'Ah, Rosie, lass, and to think you could have married me had I only been a wee bit faster than Samwise in my courting!' He relinquished the flushed and laughing bride to her new husband and returned to where he and Pippin were sitting, to catch his breath and drain his cup of wine.

Pippin walked off rather unsteadily to refill his and Merry's winecups. When he came back he found his cousin scribbling on the snowy tablecloth with a stubby pencil. He was not too tipsy to realize that Mistress Cotton's wrath might descend upon them at any moment.

'Merry! What do you think you are doing?' he gasped, spilling some of the wine as he set the cups down.

'I do not think I'm doing something, I AM doing it,' Merry answered happily without ceasing from his scribbling.

Distracted, Pippin bent to read the writing... and began to grin. 'It's got a catchy enough rhythm,' he said. He picked up his flute and began noodling until he had found a tune to fit the words.

'Yes!' Merry cried, throwing down the pencil. 'That is it, exactly!' He stepped up onto the bench and jumped from there to the table. 'Hullo, everyone!' he cried, holding up his winecup. 'A toast!' A cheer went up.

'Merry, what are you doing?' Frodo cried, half amused and half alarmed.

Merry regarded him cheerfully. 'You are not the only member of the family who can dance atop a table, Frodo Baggins,' he crowed. 'Captains Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck at your service, Mistress Rose Gamgee!' he said, bowing low to Rose and spilling a bit of his wine and nearly himself in the process. 'We have composed a little melody in your honor, just perfect for dancing at a wedding supper!' Pippin took his cue and began to play the tune. A few hobbits began to clap along and several couples got up to dance. The musicians quickly picked up the tune, and Merry began to sing.

Come all ye young lasses and lads, and lads,
Ye must listen to yer mums and yer dads, yer dads...
If ye want to be wise, just open yer eyes,
And I'll tell ye of Samwise Gamgee, Gamgee
The courtship of Samwise Gamgee.

There was a roar of appreciation from the crowd of merrymakers. Merry couldn't see Sam's face but Rosie was beaming.

The song went on to tell of how Samwise had braved countless adventures, yet on returning could not look his Rose in the eye...

Mistress Cotton suppressed a sigh at that great blundering Meriadoc Brandybuck dancing upon one of her best tablecloths. Ah, well. The lad was responsible for Samwise finally speaking to her Rose. She supposed a tablecloth was a small price to pay for gaining a fine son who had been like a member of the family all these years.

Mayor Frodo he had an idee, idee,
He said, 'Rosie, now listen to me, to me
With a wink of his eye, he said, 'Cook us a pie!'
And we'll give yer poor Samwise a tweak, a tweak,
We will help him find courage to speak.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, 'Hooray for Frodo!' Frodo bowed from his place by the buffet.

Mayor Frodo and Peregrin Took, young Took
'And handsome young Merry Brandybuck,

Pippin shouted, 'Yes, him too!' and everyone laughed as Merry took a bow.

All sat down to eat pie of mushrooms and meat,
And poor Samwise was eating that pie, that pie,
But he couldn't look Rose in the eye.

Over at one of the groaning food tables, Fredregar Bolger turned to Frodo. 'Looks like he is on the mend.'

Frodo laughed, 'I would say he's completely mended!' Fatty Bolger nodded and turned back to the table. He was doing his best to live up to his name, though it would take a few more months of good eating to make up for the Lockholes.

Then Merry he took him a bite, a bite
And his face was all spread with delight, delight
And he sang to the sky, with a gleam in his eye,
' 'Tis the finest pie ever could be, could be,
 'Come, dear Rosie lass, marry me!'

Frodo's cup was empty and he put it down on the table. Fatty fixed him with an unsteady eye, 'So, cousin, tell me, when will I be dancing at your wedding?'

Sharp Mistress Cotton had heard the question and seen the shadow of pain cross Frodo's face, and suddenly she swept him into the dance, crying, 'You have not danced yet at my Rosie's wedding, Mayor Frodo! I am claiming this dance!'

Captain Merry, he turned then to Sam, to Sam
And he said, 'I'll advise ye, my lamb, my lamb!
 'Better speak to her soon, beneath the full moon,
 'Or soon she'll be married to me, to me,
 'Better take warning, Samwise Gamgee!' 

All the crowd was clapping, now, and when the song was finished the musicians kept playing. Merry saw Rose pull Sam into the dance, and the gardener's scowl soon changed to a smile as they spun about to the gay tune.

'Sing it again!' someone shouted, and Merry was happy to oblige. Pippin put down his flute and joined him in singing, and several other voices joined as well.

At the end of the happy dance the breathless hobbits clapped and, as soon as they could find the breath, cheered lustily.

======
Note to readers: Full text of the song can be found at the following link:

The Courtship of Samwise Gamgee (see chapter 2)

Chapter 6. Gift of a Jewel

Merry woke to the sound of someone moving about the room, opening the curtains to admit the morning Sun.

'Time to wake up, Mr Merry! Breakfast is ready!'

'Samwise?' he murmured, trying to pry one eye open. 'Sam? I thought... What are you...?' He managed to focus, only to see Pippin's wide grin.

'I think he's delirious again, Frodo!' Pippin called in his own voice. 'Seems to think I am Sam!'

Frodo entered with a steaming cup. 'Here,' he said cheerily. 'Some of Sam's herbs. Very helpful in situations like this.'

Merry wrinkled his nose at the smell but gulped the hot brew bravely, managing to scald his tongue in the process. It was a small price to pay to make the room stop spinning. Soon he felt his stomach settle itself; the light became bearable to his eyes and sound no longer hurt his head.

'What...?' he asked. Despite his improvement he still seemed to be having trouble putting sentences together.

'It's time to wake up, sleepyhead!' repeated Pippin, not using Sam's voice this time. 'We've too much to do to be sleeping the day away.'

'I have a bucket of cold water ready if you need it,' Frodo added. 'Breakfast is ready and we do not want it to go cold waiting for you!' At Merry's continued confusion his voice softened. 'It seems you lived up to your name yesterday,' he said with a chuckle. 'Those herbs ought to be helping soon.'

In truth they were. The fog was clearing away. Merry shook his head to rid himself of the last bit, and he was relieved when it didn't hurt.

'What does Sam put in that tea, anyhow?' he demanded.

His cousins laughed and Frodo answered, 'He told me I wouldn't want to know so I never pressed the matter... now how about that bucket?'

'I'm up! I'm up!' Merry cried defensively. 'Spare me the cold water!'

'All right, Pippin, let's go and see how little breakfast we can leave him.'

Laughing, the two cousins exited.

Merry dressed at record speed. Despite their threats, Frodo and Pippin had left plenty of breakfast for him. The cousins feasted on eggs, ham, cheese, crusty bread from which the steam still rose, freshly churned butter, jam, sausages, fruit preserves, and all the other essentials that make up a proper hobbit breakfast.

Replete with good food, Merry sat back in his chair with a sigh, but Frodo prodded him. 'Nobody here but us to do the washing up, you know!'

Merry started to groan his way to his feet, but found himself bouncing out of his chair. What was in that tea of Sam's, anyway? The three cousins made short work of the stacks of pots and plates, singing songs in rounds to make the task go faster.

When all was tidy ('There's a nice wedding present for Mistress Rose,' said irrepressible Pippin), Frodo proposed a walk to settle their meal. The three cousins took walking sticks from the stand by the door and stepped out into the spring morning.

The lilies of the valley crowding the grassy bank gave a sweet scent to the air. 'Which way shall we go?' Merry asked, and Frodo answered, 'Let us see where our feet will lead us.'

Pippin laughed, 'Another adventure!'

Merry smiled at his enthusiasm, and Frodo caught his eye. 'Everything is an adventure with you around, Pip,' he teased.

Refusing to be quenched, Pippin strode along with twinkle in his eye and a bounce in his step.

When they reached the bottom of the Hill he hesitated a moment, then said, 'It is such a lovely day, let us go on a bit!' The older cousins indulged him. They continued to stroll, enjoying the day.

'We could go farther on ponies,' Pippin said suddenly.

'Yes, Long Cleeve is not that far by pony-back,' Frodo agreed cheerfully. 'How goes the search for a new mount, Merry?'

Merry sighed.

Pippin broke in, 'It doesn't, not at all! This one's too short, that one's too thin, and he doesn't like the look in the other one's eye...'

'Ah, well, plenty of ponies out there in the world. I'm sure yours is waiting somewhere,' Frodo said easily. Merry caught his knowing look and forced himself to shake off the encroaching melancholy. His older cousin gave an approving nod.

Pippin, of course, did not notice the silent exchange. 'As long as it doesn't die of old age waiting for him to claim it!' he laughed. They walked on in the sunshine.

Merry suddenly realized they were nearly to the Cotton farm. He stopped.

'What's the matter?' Frodo asked.

'Oughtn't we turn back? I shouldn't like to disturb the Cottons after that celebration.'

Frodo laughed. 'I am sure Samwise has shared his special tea with Rosie's family,' he chuckled. 'Look! There is Farmer Cotton now!' and looking out to the field where Frodo pointed, Merry could see a three pony plow being guided by the Farmer himself. The latter raised a hand and called a greeting to the three cousins, then bent again to his plowing.

'I hear Mistress Cotton sets out a fine second breakfast...' Pippin chuckled.

Merry protested but Frodo placed a reassuring hand on his arm. 'It's all right, Merry-my-lad, we're invited.'

'Oh... well then, if that's the case I shall make an effort to enjoy myself,' Merry conceded, then grinned. 'When did all this happen?'

'Nibs stopped by early,' Pippin smugly informed him, 'while you sleepyheads were still in bed.'

They made a good breakfast with much cheer and laughter on recalling the events of the day before. Halfway through the meal, Nibs excused himself and not long after Farmer Cotton joined them at table.

After breakfast they enjoyed a pipe by the front door, and Merry saw Nibs now guiding the plow ponies out in the field.

'Oh, yes,' interjected Farmer Cotton into the desultory conversation. 'I near forgot but what there is a present here for you, Mr Meriadoc.'

'A present?' Merry asked. 'Whose birthday is it?'

'With all the hobbits in the Shire, it must be someone's birthday today,' Frodo answered with a smile. 'Let's go and see,' he added to Farmer Cotton.

Knocking out his pipe, the farmer led the way towards the barn. Merry suddenly noticed Pippin was not with them, but before he could ask they had rounded the barn and stopped.

Pippin stood holding a shining chestnut pony with a wobbly stripe down the face ending in a splash of white on the nose. The pony tossed his fine head and the breeze caught his flowing mane. The Cottons had washed and curried and brushed him to within an inch of his life, and as the Sun peeked her face from behind a small cloud, his coat burst into living flame.

'Oh...' the sound escaped Merry without his awareness. He felt Frodo's hand tighten on his arm.

'Nick found him over at t'pony market in Bywater,' Farmer Cotton said easily.

'Nick, wherever did you find that sorry bag o' bones?' Tom Cotton asked in exasperation. 'I thought you went to Bywater t'get a pony!'

The lad's eyes were steady. 'There was something about his eyes, Dad.' He defended the miserable wreck that stood beside him. 'He's got heart.'

'I'm surprised it's still beating,' his father said. 'Look at 'im. Ribs you could do your washing on, moth-eaten winter coat only half shed, feet needing trimmed, knots in tail. He's so dirty you can't even see what color he might be. Whate'er you paid, it was twicet his worth.'

'But look at his eye, and the shape of his head,' his son argued. 'There's some breeding there.'

'Where'd he come from?' Farmer Cotton asked abruptly.

'The seller said he was one o' those saved from the mines.'

'Ah,' the farmer answered, softening involuntarily. Another victim of the ruffians. They'd had more than one kind of Lockhole. Against his better judgment he reached out to stroke the dirt-encrusted face. There was something about the soft dark eye that turned to his, and about the head that could still lift proudly on its thin neck. 'Well, go get him cleaned up, give him a bath and brush out all the winter coat you can, give him a good warm mash and bed him down thick. He'd not got enough meat on his bones even for this mild spring we're having.'

Nick grinned. 'Yes, Sir!' he shouted. Farmer Cotton hid a smile as he turned away. His sons had inherited his soft spot for downtrodden beasts.

He was mending harness in the barn when young Tom came in search. 'Dad,' he said urgently. 'You've got to come see this!'

'What is it?' he asked unperturbably.

'That pony Nick bought at market. You've got to see 'im.'

The farmer sighed. There must have been more wrong with the beast than met the eye, and now he would have to be put down and they'd be out the money. Ah, well, the lad would learn a lesson.

Young Tom actually grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards the door. 'Come on, Dad,' he said impatiently. Farmer Cotton felt the beginning stirrings of alarm. What if the pony'd brought something catching to the farm?

He allowed Tom to lead him rapidly out to the yard, and stopped still. Nick, Jolly and Nibs were all gathered around the pony, which looked bonier than ever now that it was washed and brushed. Its color was evident, now, a dull chestnut that when dry and healthy would shine like new copper, or flame.

Farmer Cotton stepped up and slowly traced the crooked white strip down the face, all the way to the splash of white that covered the nose. 'As like as...' he breathed.

'I was right!' Jolly shouted. 'I said it was Captain Meriadoc's pony! But how did he get into such a state?'

Farmer Cotton shook his head. 'Nay, lad,' he said heavily. 'Mr Merry's pony is dead and buried. Broke his leg down Long Cleeve way. And Mr Merry looks to be following him. Word come to Mayor Frodo that he's dying.'

At his sons' shocked exclamations, he slowly nodded. 'Aye. Marigold told Rose. Mr Frodo rode off in a hurry with Samwise this morning.'

'But if this isn't Captain Meriadoc's pony...' Nick began.

Jolly broke in. 'Is there such a thing as twins? In ponies, I mean?'

Farmer Cotton nodded thoughtfully. 'Aye. But it is very rare. And usually they do not survive, or the dam doesn't. But this pony is as like Bright Nose as any twin could be.' He sighed. 'Well, boys, feed him up, bed him down soft. We will take good care of him for that lad's sake.'

'Yes, Dad,' his sons answered.

Farmer Cotton added silently to himself, 'And mayhap... if the lad does not die... well, he'd be needing a pony. With all he's done for the Shire...' They could never pay him back for driving out the ruffians, but this would be a start.

'He's as like as can be...' Merry's voice trailed off. And he was! The pony could have been a twin to his Bright Nose.

Frodo gave him a little push. 'Go on!'

As if in a dream Merry stepped forward, reaching out to stroke the velvet nose. He received a nudge, and then Farmer Cotton put a carrot into his hand. Automatically he extended his palm to the pony, which gently lipped the treat from his hand.

'What are you going to name him?'

'He's as bright as t'other one was.'

'Yes, he is bright...' Merry said absently. He smiled. 'His name is Jewel.' He turned to meet his older cousin's gaze.

For the first time in a long time, Frodo's smile went all the way to his eyes.

 Chapter 7. Coming Home

The Master of Buckland sat in a brown study. His mood matched the room. He pushed aside the plans for the new diggings and buried his head in his hands. He was tired, so very tired.

After a great sigh, he lifted his eyes again to rest them on the fresh green of spring he could see from the window.

His mind went back over the past months, starting with the news that his son Meriadoc had disappeared into the Old Forest. He had not been worried, at first. Brandybucks had lived with the Forest at their backs ever since coming to Buckland. The lad knew as much about it as anyone, perhaps more. Saradoc had caught Merry more than once coming through the Forest Gate with pieces of plants in hand, to add to his notebooks on herblore. He had tolerated this eccentricity. After all, if the boy could apply himself so diligently in one area, it boded well for how he'd do with greater responsibility later.

The Black Riders who passed through Buckland and rode down the guards at the North Gate had been worrisome, and as the days stretched out into weeks people began to connect the disappearance of the four from Crickhollow with the mysterious goings on. Saradoc refused to believe his son dead -- Merry was too resourceful -- and rumour had put the four in Bree before they disappeared again, but Esmeralda went about with red eyes grieving her nephews and son.

The Troubles started and he was too busy, figuring ways to confound the ruffians without his people getting hurt or hauled off to the Lockholes, to worry much about Merry. He supposed he would have to start grooming another to take his place as Master someday, but he kept putting it off. After all, the way things were going, there might not be a Master after him. There might not be a Buckland.

He must have given up hope for his son, for when news came that hobbits had come from a far country and were stirring up the Shire against the ruffians, he had not thought of his Meriadoc. When his son stood before him, at first he had not recognized him, clad in shining mail and green cloak, taller than he remembered, more grim. Esmeralda had known him at once, had flown to embrace him, and as he smiled to greet her, Saradoc saw, finally, his son Merry had come back.

Esmeralda stood in the study doorway with the tea tray, watching the thoughts play across her husband's face. He was fretting about Merry again, she knew. She crossed into the room, put the tray down on the desk, poured him a cup of tea and fixed it to his taste. As he took it up with thanks, she moved behind him to massage the broad shoulders.

'Don't worry so,' her voice soothed. 'Meriadoc is getting better. I hear he made up a song at that wedding over in Hobbiton last week.'

'Yes, and danced upon a table, too. That young Frodo is a bad influence.'

Her laugh rippled as gently as the river on a summer day. ' "Young" Frodo is all of fifty-two, and Mayor of Hobbiton!'

'Old enough not to be dancing atop any tables.'

'You still believe that scurrilous rumour from Bree? Well, at least they had the right of it, that the lads did not perish in the Old Forest.'

'No, they went on South to some War or somewhat, gained honour and glory and came back to shake the Shire free.' He could not disguise the bitterness in his voice.

'Saradoc?'

'Who will free our son, Allie? Who will shake him free?' He had been so proud to hear how Merry had rallied the hobbits of the Shire with his silver horn, how Merry had planned the strategy to finally throw the ruffians out with as little bloodshed as might be.

Yet he had not come back, not the Merry who had left. Saradoc thought of the long solitary rides, the dark moods, the times he caught his son staring at nothing. He thought of the countless nights he found Meriadoc pacing the floor, unable to sleep. He missed his son's voice raised in song. And though Esmeralda tempted him with all his favorite foods, the lad was too thin.

He glanced down again at the letter on his desk. 'And now he wants to move out of the Hall, to live in Crickhollow...'

'Here in Buckland,' his wife soothed. 'And with young Peregrin, who seems to be a good influence for a change.'

'That young rascal...'

'He's practically a hobbit-grown; he certainly looks it! Half the lasses in the Shire want to marry him.' Esmeralda's voice rippled with laughter, and he closed his eyes to hear it. There had been so many months without.

'He will make a good catch someday, but he's not Thain yet.'

'...and Merry is grown, you know; you cannot be worrying after him as if he were still a tween,' his wife continued her train of thought. ' "Kittens grow up, and so do lads..." and a good thing, too, or who would be Master after you?'

'Ah, my Allie,' he pulled her to him. 'You always have just the right words...'

The sound of a silver horn interrupted them; shouts outside heralded the return of their son.

Esmeralda broke away, laughing, and said, 'I must make sure there is plenty of meat and mushroom pie!'

'Do, and see that there's plenty of apple tart as well!' Saradoc called after her. In truth, he liked apple tart quite as well as Meriadoc did.

He was at the entrance when they came from seeing to their ponies, "they" because young Peregrin had come too. That was a relief, for Merry seldom fell into one of his silences with young Took along. The rascal had a gift for pulling Merry out of himself.

So tall and fair they were, in their shining mail. He could not get used to gazing upon a knight and seeing his son's eyes looking back at him.

'Father!' Merry called, with a lightness in his voice that Saradoc had not heard since his return to the Shire. He stepped forward to embrace his son, then held him back for a better look. His son had more colour, more life.

'Don't I get a greeting, too?' Peregrin demanded.

'Get along with you, you young rascal!' Saradoc growled, and then they all burst into laughter. Oh, but it was good to hear his son's laughter. Peregrin got his hug. It seemed odd to be looking up at him. 'Come, lads,' he said. 'Tea's just been laid. Come let us hear all the news from Hobbiton.'

It was a cheerful meal, and afterward there was time for a long walk down to the River and back, while Saradoc recounted what leavings of the ruffians had been torn down and the plans for restoring Buckland. His son listened with a serious, but not sombre expression, and Peregrin had more than a few good suggestions to contribute. Esmeralda had the right of it: the brash lad was growing up indeed.

After supper -- and the servants had put together quite a feast considering the short notice -- Esmeralda laughingly claimed Meriadoc. 'It is my turn to have some time with our son,' she said. 'You and my nephew go off somewhere and smoke your pipes!'

He peeked his head into her chamber later to behold a cozy domestic scene. Meriadoc held his arms up, yarn wrapped about his hands, while his mother wound the yarn into a ball. A bright fire burned on the hearth, and two glasses of brandy stood upon the table. He started to close the door again but Allie saw him and called him in, and his son turned to greet him with a smile. He poured himself some of the brandy and sat down.

'Merry was just telling me of his adventures a few weeks back.'

'Oh? Rescued a damsel in distress, did you?'

His son actually chuckled. 'Not quite. It was a lad; he climbed up a tree but forgot how to climb down.'

'Did you have to go up after him?'

'That I did. Just like old times.'

'That rascal Peregrin gave you plenty of practice.'

'Did someone call me?' Pippin poked his head in at the door.

'Yes, as a matter of fact, we had some brandy going wanting and we wondered if we'd have to pour it out.'

Pippin laughed and entered, poured himself a glass and stretched out his long legs in a chair by the fire. 'There,' he said. 'I've saved you the trouble by pouring it out myself.' He drained half the glass and stifled a yawn.

Esmeralda immediately became all motherly concern. 'You lads have had a long ride from Hobbiton. You ought to seek your beds.'

Merry protested but she took the yarn from his hands and shooed him off. 'Go on with you! I am not going anywhere. You will see me early enough when I roust you out of bed for breakfast!' She turned on Pippin. 'And you, too, you young rascal!'

'I'm not tired,' Pippin protested.

'You are not too old to turn over my knee, imp! Off to bed with you!' she scolded. Laughing, her son kissed her forehead, Pippin gave her a hug, and they left the room.

'There,' she said, brushing her hands together. 'I thought I'd never get them off! They were in great danger of drinking up all the brandy!'

'We cannot have that!' he agreed, raising his glass in a toast. She came over to lean against his chair, taking his face in her hands and depositing a great kiss upon his forehead.

'No, indeed,' she said firmly. Her face grew thoughtful. 'Didn't I tell you he is getting better?'

He wanted to believe her. For her sake. No, for his own sake as well.

It was some time between middle night and dawn when he roused. He lay blinking, wondering if he had heard a step in the hallway. He thought back to all the nights he had found his son wandering sleepless. He rose as quietly as he could, pulled on a dressing gown, eased the door to the hall open. The light from the turned-down lamps showed no one there. He crept along to his son's room and listened at the door. No sound. He eased the door open, but the room was nearly dark save the watch-lamp burning at the window.

He stood a long time gazing into the face of his sleeping son.

Chapter 8. Of Mushrooms and Music

The Master of Buckland took his breakfast with his steward in his study, going over the status of the early spring planting.

'It'll be a good year: Everything is growing as if making up for lost time,' the steward commented. He hesitated, then added, 'Folk are going hungry now. They cannot wait until early harvest.'

'Yes. What do they have?'

'Those ruffians left little enough. Folk who managed to hide somewhat have shared with their neighbors. I know Brandy Hall has given out much food; we'll be running short, like as not, before harvest comes in.'

Buckland was not so "fortunate" as the main part of the Shire, where the ruffians had filled storeholes with "gathered" goods destined to be shipped to parts unknown. It was a good thing for the Shire-folk that Sharkey had been cast down when he was, or many hobbits would have gone hungry in the cold winter months. The sharing out of the gatherings had kept the wolf from many a door, but the Master of Buckland had refused Deputy Mayor Frodo's offer of help, saying that Buckland had not suffered so much as the rest of the Shire, and that it was only right for the Bucklanders to tighten their belts, a bit, as their part of helping the Shire-folk get back on their feet.

'Go on.'

'The cherries are ripe now, and a few early greens. Flour, now... winter barley's a month away, at least, and it won't be a good crop, the little we managed to sow when the ruffians were still here.'

'Too bad we didn't cast them out sooner.'

'You can say that over, and again. The earliest grain harvest, besides whatever winter barley we will get next month, looks to be July. And we cannot keep the birds out of the fruit, even with nets. Seems as if they are as hungry as everybody else this spring.'

'Send word around that the Hall is hiring beaters to keep birds out of the crops.' He might as well live up to the appellation "Scattergold". 'How about milk and eggs?'

'Ah, now, that's one piece of good news. We could bathe in milk and cream if we wanted, and there are plenty of eggs coming now.'

'All right, then.' He sat back to think the matter over. 'Let's divide the excess milk; rather than letting it all go to the pigs we will encourage extra cheese production. The soft cheeses don't need ripening, they can be eaten right away. We will slaughter more meat, too. I don't want to run the flocks and herds down too far, but people have got to eat.' The steward started to speak but he held up a hand to forestall him. 'If a hobbit has no money, take pledges instead: road repair, flood control, that sort of thing.' The steward nodded. They turned to the plans for the new digging.

Saradoc's thoughts returned to the problem of food. They were so close to early harvest. Though the barley crop promised to be poor, that plus the early vegetables would be enough to tide them over until the winter wheat came in. Another month and they would be "home free". He chuckled at the thought, and an image arose in his memory of being a small hobbit-lad playing in the summer dusk, hiding behind a tree, trying for just the right moment to run "home" without being tagged by one of the bigger hobbit lads or lasses.

The steward looked up at the chuckle. 'That's a fair sound, Sir.'

'Eh?'

The steward gazed at him solemnly, then his face creased in a smile. 'It was good to hear you laugh again, old friend.' He scrutinized Saradoc, then nodded to himself. 'Young Master's doing better, it is said.'

It shouldn't surprise him that Meriadoc was the subject of discussion among the servants. He had been sunk so deep in his own worries he hadn't thought about it before. He found his own face, unbidden, smiling. 'Yes, Carodoc. It seems he is.' They turned back to the plans.

Soon they were finished and the steward took his leave. 'I will get the word out about the food.'

'I am sure such news will spread quickly.'

Carodoc's smile faded. 'I hope so. The people have been digging for roots in the copses, but I am afraid some soon would be desperate enough to try the Old Forest.'

'We cannot have that,' Saradoc agreed. Carodoc left and the Master sat back in his chair to view the green vista outside the window. They were almost home free.

He heard the sound of voices raised in harmony coming down the hall, then the door sprang open to admit the tuneful pair, who happened to be his son and nephew. He added his voice to the mix and they sang the next two verses together. A sweet high voice joined them, and Esmeralda appeared in the doorway to help finish the song with a flourish. The song ended in laughter, and Saradoc felt a tight spot he didn't know had been there relaxing deep inside.

'Ah, that was lovely,' Esmeralda sighed. 'You lads must come around oftener. That does my heart good.'

Pippin bowed deep with a sweeping gesture. 'Your wish is my command, fair lady,' he said gallantly.

'Go on with you!' his aunt said, laughing, 'I will hold you to that, rapscallion!'

'As long as you keep feeding me, I will keep coming around!'

'Just like the stray cats your aunt insists on feeding,' Saradoc contributed.

'Stray cat? If Aunt feeds stray cats, then by all means I will be one! ...and speaking of cats...'

Saradoc waited. One was never sure what would come next from his nephew's mouth.

'Cats like fish, and so do I! And so, dear Uncle, Merry and I have come to invite you on a fishing expedition on this fair day!'

'Neatly done, Pip,' Merry said aside to his cousin.

'Oh, I told you I could bring it into the conversation! Now do not shake your head at me, Uncle! Or I will wheedle until you give in! Think of the waste of time when we could be fishing instead!'

Saradoc found himself laughing against his inclination. He caught Esmeralda's smiling eye; she nodded encouragement, and before he knew it he had agreed.

'Fine! The ponies are saddled, a picnic is packed, let us go and see what we can catch for the supper table!' Pippin sang.

Ponies saddled already? He must start being stricter with the rascal; Peregrin seemed to think he had his uncle wrapped neatly around his little finger. All right, then, he would start on the morrow. But today, he intended to enjoy himself.

Chapter 9. Of Fish and Forest

There might have been a shortage of food but plenty enough fish were biting. Merry proposed a second breakfast of freshly fried fish, and Pippin soon had a fire going.

'You've turned into quite the resourceful lad,' Saradoc mused.

'Oh, aye, there's no end to the things I can do!' Pippin answered with a chuckle. 'You need a fire started, fish cooked, tree climbed --'

'Troll killed,' Merry broke in. He and Pippin laughed. Saradoc looked at them sharply. They hadn't said much about their Travels when they got home, just enough for him to gather there'd been rather more danger than they'd let on. He had seen the scars on wrist and ankle, and once he had entered without knocking when his son was bathing and been shocked to see healed slashes reminiscent of whip marks on Merry's back.

'Ooooo, just smell that fish!' Pippin crooned. He bent closer to give it a poke, then pulled it from the fire. 'Perfect!'

They fell to with an appetite sharpened by the ride, the sunlight sparkling on the stream, the fresh air, the exercise of fishing. Adding the fish to the picnic in the basket, they made a fine meal. Then while Pippin scoured the pan with sand and packed everything away, Merry went to check the ponies.

'He sets great store by that pony of his,' Saradoc remarked conversationally to his nephew. He was surprised to see Pippin give a start, but no explanation was forthcoming, only a murmur of agreement. Then his nephew turned to him with an amusing story of how a Wood Elf and a Ranger had tickled fish out of a stream to feed their companions on the trip South, how a dwarf had tried the trick, lost his footing and nearly been carried away by the stream. How the dwarf had shook off his rescuers' hands with dignity, claiming that it was all part of his fishing technique, before stalking away to dry himself in the sunshine. Saradoc's hearty laughter greeted his son, returning from the ponies.

'Must have been a good story,' Merry commented, taking up his line.

Pippin chortled, 'Just a fishing story...'

Merry raised an eyebrow, 'Oh, aye. The dwarf?'

Convulsed with laughter, Pippin nodded. Merry grinned, 'Yes, it was quite a sight. Unique method of fishing, that!'

'But let us get back to our own fishing, if we are to have any to take back for supper,' Saradoc reminded his son and nephew.

The fish were not biting quite so well as earlier. It took longer to put together a decent string of fish, but Saradoc decided they had nearly enough. 'One more good sized one, I think, and we will head back. Cannot spare the whole day for fishing, you know.'

'Then let us see who can catch the biggest!' Pippin challenged.

All set to their fishing again. Merry had the first nibble, but the fish took the bait without taking the hook. Then Saradoc felt something nudging his line. He played the line skillfully and suddenly a great weight hit the line and pulled him a step or two towards the stream.

'Oh, Uncle, I think you have the big one on your line! It looks to be the biggest of the day!' Pippin shouted with excitement.

Saradoc grinned acknowledgement and set himself to fight the fish ashore, cheered on by the others.

The fish put up a fine fight, but the Master of Buckland was winning... when sudden pain seized his left arm and he staggered.

Pippin jumped to seize the line, but Merry grabbed his father, concern etching his face. 'What is it?'

'I am all right, Son,' he gasped, 'It is just a cramp,' but then a great band squeezed his chest and he could not get a breath. He sagged but Merry was there to steady him.

'Leave the fish!' Merry said shortly to Pippin.

'But...' Pippin started to protest, then looking around he dropped the line to help Merry ease Saradoc to the ground.

'Pippin, go! Get the healer, quick!' Merry said urgently, holding tight to his father.

Saradoc could not get enough breath to speak, but grasped his son's arm with a desperate hand.

Pippin ran to his pony, leaped to its back without bothering about a saddle, and went galloping up the path.

Merry held his father close. 'Hold on,' he encouraged. 'Help will be here soon.'

Saradoc could neither move nor speak. All the world contracted to the pain in his chest.

'Breathe, Father,' Merry urged. 'Just keep breathing.'

Huh. Easy enough for him to say. He didn't have this great band about his chest squeezing all the air out. His hold on Merry's arm tightened, but his son showed no sign of discomfort.

'Hold on, Father,' he said again. He was silent a moment, and then began to croon softly, an old song, one that Saradoc had sung to him in times of illness or injury, like the time he'd had to have stitches after stepping on a sharp stick while chasing young Peregrin across a stream.

[A/N: For the tune, click here]

'The water runs free, laddie, laddie,
'Comes now Mistress Spring,
'Lifting up her pretty flowered skirts
'To dance in the stream...
'Laddie, come sing now, come sing...'

Saradoc wondered how long a hobbit could last without air. Darkness swam before his eyes.

'The water runs low, laddie, laddie,
'Comes now Mistress Summer
'With her skirts sky blue and grassy green,
'To wander quite slow...
'Laddie, come sing now, come sing...'

Somehow the music was helping. He found he could draw one gasping breath, then another.

'The water runs chill, laddie, laddie,
'Comes now Mistress Autumn
'Turning leaves to gold and scarlet flame,
'As she wends her sweet will...
'Laddie, come sing now, come sing...'

'The water stands still, laddie, sparkling
'Jewels for Mistress Winter
'With her bright skirts of snowy white,
'Sweeping over the hill...
'Laddie, come sing now, come sing...'

'That's better,' he tried to say.

'Don't try to talk, Bahbah. Save your strength.' Bahbah. The old name that had fallen so sweetly from a small son's lips.

'You are my strength,' he gasped. 'My strong right arm.' He fought for another breath. 'I thought I'd lost you...'

He felt his son's arms tighten around him. 'I'm harder to lose than you think,' Merry murmured. He sat silent for a moment, and a faraway look came into his eyes. 'Though I thought I had lost myself, for awhile.' He came back from wherever his thoughts had wandered, to meet his father's anguished gaze. 'I am here now. I won't leave you that way again.'

The Dark hovered so close he could almost taste it. He looked up at the sparkling stream, then further to the sky, the sunshine pouring down through the canopy of the trees, and when he looked back to Saradoc, his father's eyes were closed.

'Father!' Saradoc's eyes opened again. 'Stay with me. Don't go to sleep now.' It seemed to him as if the best thing to do at the moment was to keep his father from sleeping.

'I'll... try.' Merry tried to sing again but his throat closed down. He coughed to clear it, felt his father squeeze his arm, looked down into understanding eyes.

'It is... so good to hear you sing again,' his father murmured. 'I've missed it.' Merry nodded, not trusting himself to answer. He had to get control of himself. He forced himself to take deep breaths, and smiled.

'We never seem to have much time to talk,' he said softly.

His father's eyes stayed fixed on his face. 'Tell me...'

'What?'

'What happened after... you went into the Old Forest?'

Merry smiled wryly. No one had shown much interest in their adventures in foreign parts, and in truth he'd not had the heart to talk about their travels. Too much had been lost, too much nightmare remained and the bright spots were mere specks of gold glinting in a dark background. Still, he could play at being a dwarf and mine the gold for his father's sake.

He told of going through the Forest Gate, the oddly changed path, the picnic on the hilltop, the unexpected nap.

'Foolish thing to do!' Saradoc roused enough to say.

'I know. You warned us enough times...' Merry continued his story: How the trees seemed to herd them towards the Withywindle, from where all the queerness in the Forest appeared to seep, and Old Man Willow.

A thin cloud floated across the face of the sun and Merry shook off a chill. He met his father's eyes, smiled, and continued.

'And then Frodo and Sam ran up the path calling for help, and what do you think happened?' A smile touched his father's lips as Merry fell back into the singsong of the storyteller fully involved in his tale. 'Who should come along but Tom in his blue coat and boots of yellow...'

'Bombadil,' his father murmured.

Merry stopped short in surprise. 'You know him?'

His father smiled again. 'I used to have time to wander the paths like... any other young hobbit.' He squeezed Merry's arm. 'Tom and I are... old friends.' He tried to speak further but a spasm of pain seized him.

'Hold on, Father. I can hear them coming.' The water rushing by had covered the riders' approach until they were nearly upon the waiting pair.

Pippin came first, jumping from his pony before it had stopped and running to crouch by them. 'The healer is right behind me,' he gasped, 'and more help is on the way.'

Saradoc reached a trembling hand to touch his nephew's arm. Merry saw his lips form the words "young rascal" but no sound came. Pippin jumped up to hide his tears and began to coax the coals of the fire into burning again, and put a pot of water to boil.

Another pony appeared on the path, not quite so precipitously ridden. The healer pulled his mount to a stop, swung down, threw the reins around a branch. Taking his saddlebags from the pony, he strode over to Saradoc and Merry.

'I'm glad you're here, Ossilan,' Merry said, perilously close to babbling. He started to scramble out of the way. 

'No, stay, keep him propped up,' the healer said to Merry as he began his examination. He took the Master's wrist in his hand, unobtrusively watching the rise and fall of the chest as he catalogued the grey face, gasping breaths, cold sweat and the pain-filled eyes. 'I think first we will give you something for the pain, Master,' he said finally.

He took a small flask from his bag and poured out a small cupful of clear liquid. 'Willow bark tea,' he said shortly. 'I have sweetened it with some honey, but it will be bitter.'

Saradoc nodded, sipped obediently, unusually cooperative. After he had got the entire cupful down, Ossilan poured from another flask, a clear amber liquid with a heady aroma. 'And now a little brandy to help you relax.'

'Only fitting for the Master of Brandy Hall,' Merry added.

Pippin came back from the fire. 'The water's boiling,' he informed the healer.

'Good.' Ossilan extended a small bag to him. 'Pour all of this -- don't spill any of the herbs, mind you, they've been carefully measured -- into the pot. Take it from the fire, cover it, and let it sit.'

'How long?'

'I will tell you when we are ready for it.' The healer turned his attention back to Saradoc. 'There's a litter coming. By the time it reaches us you ought to be feeling more comfortable.'

Merry met the healer's eye. 'What is it?' he asked.

Ossilan shook his head with a "will talk to you later" expression in his eyes, then looked back down at Saradoc.

'All the troubles of the past year or so have put a strain on your heart, Master. You are going to have to take my advice this time, not like the time you broke your leg,' his expression became stern, 'and have a good rest.' Saradoc tried to shake his head in protest, but the healer overruled him cheerfully, 'it is a good thing you have a fine son who can act as Master until we have you back on your feet again.'

Ossilan gave Merry a meaningful look and Merry looked down at his father and grinned. 'Oh, yes, my father, I promise that Peregrin and I will try out best not to run the place down into the ground.' 

Saradoc managed a weak chuckle.

The healer squeezed his arm and went to check on Pippin's pot of steeping herbs.

Chapter 10. Echoes of the Past

'His heart nearly gave out on him,' Ossilan concluded.

Esmeralda stood with one hand to her own breast, feeling as if her heart were about to stop as her husband's so nearly had.

The healer looked at her sharply. 'Mistress, your nephew has brought a chair for you; I would like you to use it,' he said with unusual sterness.

Esmeralda was too shocked by her husband's attack to bridle, and when she felt the lads' hands on her arms she allowed them to guide her into the chair.

'What must we do?' Merry asked practically.

'What he needs most of all right now is rest,' the healer said emphatically. He cocked his head, 'And if he is anything like he was the time he broke his leg, it will be extremely difficult to keep him quiet as long as he needs.'

Merry looked at his father in shock. Saradoc had broken his leg? When had that happened? ...while he'd been away, all too evidently, not there when his father had needed him. 

Esmeralda shook her head. She remembered the broken leg too well.

'Find something to keep his mind occupied. Not too much excitement. ...and I do not want him worrying about anything.'

'You're a good storyteller, Merry,' Pippin suggested, sensing his cousin's troubled mind. As all attention focused on him, he shrugged. 'Well, the only way they could get me to stay still when I had to stay in bed was to tell me stories!'

Esmeralda chuckled at her nephew. 'You young scalawag, why do I find that so easy to believe?' He grinned back at her.

Pippin turned to Merry. 'After all, you will need to take a break from your responsibilities some time! You don't want to be spending all your time running Buckland into the ground!' He saw Merry smile, and his own grin brightened.

Ossilan joined in the laughter, then fixed Pippin with his eye. 'I am counting on you, Master Peregrin, as well. Laughter has as much healing power as herbs. Maybe more.'

Pippin sobered. 'Oh, aye,' he said softly. 'I remember that from...' he broke off that thought and turned to his aunt with a bright smile. 'You can count on me, Aunt! I will keep things lively enough.'

'Just not too lively,' she warned with a smile, 'young scalawag. Bless you.'

'But I didn't even sneeze,' Pippin blinked in mock confusion, then allowed his aunt to envelop him in a great hug.

***

Saradoc was riveted by Merry's storytelling, and the story he wanted to hear most was what had happened to the four hobbits who left the Shire. Unfortunately, they had hit a rough spot. '...but why would such as those Black Riders be pursuing the likes of four hobbits?'

He fixed the lads with a stern eye. 'There's many as would say it's no more than you could expect if you leave the Shire, but I'd say there's more to it than that.' He frowned. 'Isn't there?'

Merry hesitated a long time, but there was no getting around it. 'Bilbo brought something back from his travels,' he admitted. 'A tiny Ring of gold. A little enough trinket. It had the curious quality of conveying invisibility to the one who wore it.'

'That explains a lot!' Saradoc exclaimed. 'I knew I saw him disappear at that Birthday Party. The wizard's flashes and smokes didn't fool me!'

'And that rumour of young Frodo vanishing into thin air at Bree... then it wasn't a rumour,' Esmeralda stated more than questioned.

Merry nodded. 'Bilbo left that trinket to Frodo along with Bag End. He only found out later that it was no trinket.'

The healer put his head in at the door. 'That is enough for today. It is time for the Master to rest.'

Saradoc protested, but Merry promised to return the next day with more of the story. 'I have to see to the slaughter of a few pigs now, anyhow, for we already put the word out that we would have fresh meat available this evening,' he said.

Pippin jumped up, rubbing his hands together. 'I will help!' he said. 'Fresh meat for supper! ...and I know a trick or two with pigs' bladders to amuse the young ones. Do you know you can blow them full of air?' He looked about the room. 'After the pigs don't need them anymore, of course!'

'Get along with you, you rascal!' cried his aunt. 'And don't be bringing any of your new toys into the Hall!' Laughing, Pippin strode from the room with a cheery, 'Coming, Merry?'

***

Merry had continued the story as promised the next day.

'...and so Gandalf told Frodo that he must leave the Shire, take the Ring to Rivendell.'

'I should never have let Mad Baggins have the lad,' Saradoc murmured with a sad shake of his head. 'I should have adopted him myself. You'd have had a brother, Merry. But I was younger then, and thought I was doing best for the lad. And then you came along, and I had little enough time for one son...' He thought of Essie's dangerous illness--she had lost the child they were so eagerly anticipating--brought on by the shock of the double drowning, and how she had nearly died two years later birthing Meriadoc. He had been so concerned with his wife, and Hall business, that he'd had little thought to spare for his orphaned nephew.

'I heard Gandalf say once that he thought Frodo was meant to have the Ring,' Pippin said slowly. 'Perhaps it would have come to him in any event.'

There was a long moment of silence as those who loved and remembered Frodo pondered this. 

***

The days fell into a routine. Merry would have second breakfast with his father and the steward, going over the business of Buckland. Then his mother would come in to talk about the doings of the Hall, while Merry and Carodoc excused themselves to see about their tasks. As they walked or rode about Buckland, the steward would tell Merry all the business of Buckland that he had deemed prudent to withhold from its Master.

Afternoons, Pippin and Merry would join Saradoc, share a glass of brandy, and regale him with stories. From teatime until suppertime was spent again on business, and evenings in quiet pursuit or song.

***

Carodoc the Steward had been right. The Hall's supply of food was dangerously low, and soon the cellars were echoingly empty. The cooks managed creatively with the spring greens, fresh eggs, meat and milk, occasionally supplemented with fish.

Saradoc said nothing when first root crops, then bread disappeared from the table. The only fruit available were preserves, served alongside the meat since there was no bread to spread these upon. He knew they were not telling him everything, and that they wanted to keep him from worry. Meriadoc must be doing some kind of job as Master; at least riots had not broken out amongst hungry hobbits, not that he'd heard, anyhow.

***

'Ah, custard again,' Pippin breathed, plying his spoon reluctantly. 'What I wouldn't give for a good bowl of porridge!'

Merry looked up in surprise. 'I thought you hated porridge!'

'I do,' Pippin admitted. 'But the change would be refreshing.'

Esmeralda turned a stern eye upon him. 'We are grateful for the abundance of eggs and cream,' she reminded him firmly.

Pippin looked back at his breakfast with a sigh. 'Oh, aye,' he agreed dutifully, and stirred up his custard with pretended enthusiasm.

***

Day by day, the story continued, and Saradoc slowly improved.

Esmeralda took to joining them to hear the stories, sitting back in the corner so that the lads would forget her presence and not leave anything out.

'...and then Pippin dropped the stone in the well.'

'You young scalawag! Thought you were on a hobbit walking party, did you?'

'Funny enough, that's just what Gandalf said!'

The healer stuck his head in at the door, drawn by the guffaws.

Saradoc looked up. 'Oh, it is not time, yet!' he protested.

'No, you have a few more minutes,' the old hobbit smiled. 'I was just wondering what all the merriment was about.'

'Come join us,' the Master of Buckland said slyly. If Ossilan became interested in the story he might not interrupt so soon...

Merry and Pippin alternated in telling the story of events in Moria after that stone fell. When they got to the part about the troll, Saradoc broke in. 'Was that the troll you killed, Peregrin?'

Merry and Pippin caught each other's eye and roared.

'No, that troll had the advantage of surprise,' Pippin returned.

His uncle nodded wisely, and sceptically. 'Get on with the story then,' was all he said.

***

'We have a treat for tea!' Esmeralda sang as she brought a tray to the study.

Saradoc had graduated from bed to chair, and was glad to once again have the green vista before him as he sat in his easy chair by the desk.

Pippin rose like a questing hound to hover over the tray. 'Fresh strawberries!' he exulted.

'Strawberries and cream,' his aunt agreed. 'As many as you like! The crop is coming in and there are enough to eat fresh and to make preserves and to spare!'

Saradoc nodded with a smile. Time was passing. They were making do. They were almost home free.

'Now go on about those Elf boats you got from the Lady of Lothlorien. You say they were slim and manoeuverable. Can you draw one for me?' His son obligingly put pen to paper.

***

One morning barley bread appeared on the breakfast tray. Saradoc looked inquiringly at the steward.

Carodoc nodded, smiling. 'The winter barley harvest has begun. Good news, too, despite the poor bit we were able to sow under the ruffians, it grew as vigorously as all the other crops are doing this year.'

That afternoon, Saradoc said, 'Now, you were telling me how Frodo had disappeared and you ran after him.'

'Oh, yes,' Merry said, more softly than his usual storytelling wont. 'We all scattered to call him, when we ran into Orcs.'

'Orcs?' his father said sharply.

'Oh, aye,' Pippin said softly. 'We encountered them other places than just Moria.'

'They didn't seem to see us at first--the elven cloaks, I suppose--but when they did see us they didn't try to hurt us, just to lay hold of us. Then Boromir came and slew many. He blew his great horn, but no help came...'

'Only more Orcs,' Pippin added.

'Then a black-feathered arrow...' Merry faltered and swallowed hard.

Pippin tried to speak, but couldn't.

Saradoc looked from son to nephew. Both had that faraway look in their eyes that he had come to associate with long silences and sleepless nights.

'An arrow?' he prompted gently.

'He sprouted feathers like a bird,' Merry said in a dreamlike voice, 'but we were the ones to fly away.'

His father looked at him, worried, then to the healer and to Esmeralda.

Ossilan was nodding. 'It's all right,' he whispered. 'The barb's being drawn, and now the poison can come out.'

Merry shook himself as if he'd just come up from the bottom of a deep dive into the River. He blinked at his father, then said in a normal voice, 'Now where was I? Oh, yes. The Orcs bound us and carried us off.' He looked at the scars on his wrists as if he'd never seen them before. 'Part of the time they carried us, part of the time they made us run before them.'

'Very uncouth fellows they were,' Pippin added. He had come out of his own trance. 'No conception of hospitality.'

'We ran nearly to Isengard before the Riders of Rohan came and slew them all.'

'How ever did you escape?'

Merry looked at his father, puzzled. 'I don't really know,' he said. 'I don't think I would have, but for Pippin, here.'

Chapter 11. The Long Road Home

As day followed day the crops ripened and the story continued. Saradoc learned of far lands and strange peoples. He found the Ents fascinating. 'Walking trees, and tree herds...' he mused. 'We could use a few of those tree herds here in the Old Forest.'

He went over every word of the parley at Isengard, then had his son go over it again. He shook his head. 'Hard to believe that he would come to ruin the Shire out of spite. That is a small thing for a great one to do.'

He found the idea of the palantirs interesting, to be able to speak over a distance, but somewhat disturbing as well. After all, if news was not worth writing down, or the trip to look someone in the eye whilst you told it, then it wasn't worth the telling.

Pippin was silent and withdrawn as Merry told of the stones of seeing. He'd not a single word to put in. Not like the lad at all.

Saradoc mused that not all wounds left scars that you could see.

The lads took turns with their storytelling after their ways had parted. Pippin had much to say about the White City, and Merry told of the Rohirrim and the Golden Hall.

Saradoc was interested to hear of the similarities in language between the Shire and Rohan, and was gratified by the kindness shown his son by the King of Rohan. Rohan... he rolled the name over his tongue, imagining rolling hills of waving grass. Perhaps someday...

And then his wife was replenishing his tea, fixing it just as he liked it and stirring with her usual thoroughness, and the half-formed thought was gone as he smiled into her beloved face. 

***

'The tale grows darker, I fear,' Merry said one afternoon.

Pippin had spoken of the siege of Gondor the previous day, and Saradoc regarded his son soberly. Darker?

Merry described the long, secret ride of the Rohirrim, by forgotten paths.

'They tried to leave you behind?' his father asked.

'Oh, aye, but they would have had to tie him up in a sack to leave him!' Pippin cried. 'And then he would have chewed his way out and followed them anyhow!'

Saradoc smiled at this picture of his son's determination.

Riding behing Dernhelm, tolerated, nay, ignored by the Riders, coming within sight of the burning city, the charge into battle... Merry fell silent.

Pippin touched his shoulder, gently.

'Merry?'

They waited.

'Merry? Do you want me to tell it?'

Meriadoc's head began to shake, ever so slightly.

Saradoc exchanged glances with his wife. The healer sat tense, expectant.

'Merry? Are we done with the Story for today?'

The headshake stopped. Merry sat quite still, seeming not to breathe.

'Merry?'

Suddenly he took a great, sobbing breath, and another, and Pippin caught him as he crumpled. Saradoc half rose from his seat in alarm, but the healer waved him back, watching intently.

The dam burst, and the hobbit began to weep, great wrenching sobs that shook his frame as Pippin held him. Ossilan nodded, satisfied, and motioned Saradoc and Esmeralda to go to their son. They enfolded him and Pippin in a great hug that lasted until the flood was over.

'My boy,' Saradoc whispered. 'My poor lad.'

'It was the Witch King,' Pippin said softly, still holding his cousin close. 'The Dark Captain of the Ringwraiths. He came on a winged nightmare, and Darkness followed him.'

'Go on,' said the healer, gently.

'The Rohirrim could not stand against him. The horses threw their riders and ran wild. The King's horse fell and crushed the King beneath him. The Witch King stooped to gloat, and the Lady Eowyn...'

'Eowyn!' broke in Saradoc. 'How came she to be there?'

'Dernhelm was Eowyn,' Merry spoke, so low that they had to strain to hear him. 'She was so fair, so desperate. It would have been wrong to let her die there alone.'

'Merry?' Pippin said again.

'I crawled aside after being thrown from the horse. I was behind him. I stabbed upwards as hard as I could. My arm turned to ice as my sword turned to fire and burned all away. Shadow fell upon me and I lost myself...' he paused, and there was no sound in the room for several breaths.

And then he resumed, as if there had been no pause at all. '...for a time. The King brought healing. He drove the Shadow away.'

Meriadoc's family held him for a long time, long after the tea in the cosied pot grew cold.

***

They were winding down to the end of the story. All that had been left to tell was the part that Frodo and Samwise had played. Merry and Pippin took turns telling of the long, weary journey. Saradoc and Esmeralda grieved for the young Frodo they had known and loved.

'...and he stood on the edge of the Cracks of Doom,' Merry said softly. His audience was riveted to every word, scarcely breathing, 'and the Ring, there in the place where it was made, came awake with its awful power, and it took him at last. He could not fight any longer. He had nothing left. He put the Thing on his finger.'

Saradoc buried his face in his hands. 'My poor boy,' he sobbed. 'Poor wee lad.'

Merry sat in shock, while his mother went immediately to Saradoc and embraced him in a fierce hug, then rose again to stand behind his chair, rubbing his neck and shoulders with gentle hands.

'It's all right,' Esmeralda said softly to Merry, hands soothing her husband's heaving shoulders. 'It's just... They are all the tears that he never let himself shed when we thought we had lost you...'

Saradoc regained himself and sat up again slowly. 'Forgive me, lads,' he whispered. 'You could not know that to me, young Frodo will always be the wee lad with wondering eyes who stood before me that day we found Primula and Drogo.' He gave a great sigh, then mastered himself and looked up. 'What happened, then? Obviously there is more... you all came back...'

'The creature Gollum had followed them into the Mountain's heart,' Merry continued. 'He threw Samwise down. Somehow, though Frodo stood unseen, the Ring drew the creature to him. They grappled. Gollum bit the Ring from Frodo's hand and fell into the Fire. Then, I think, Samwise carried Frodo down the Mountain as far as he could. Perhaps Frodo walked part of the way. They don't remember exactly.'

Esmeralda finally broke the silence. 'How then did they get back?'

Pippin stirred. 'The Eagles... I still remember the shouting, "The Eagles are coming!" ' He hugged his chest as if an old pain lingered there. 'Gandalf rode upon the wings of an Eagle to the Mountain, and brought them back.'

Saradoc turned to his nephew, 'And where were you while all this was going on?'

'Under a troll, I believe,' Merry said dryly. 'The creature was about to bite the throat of a good friend of his, so he stabbed it, but forgot to get out of the way as it fell.'

'Ah,' Saradoc grunted. 'I see. "Fires started, fish fried, trees climbed --" '

'Trolls killed!' Merry and Pippin chorused along with him.

Esmeralda blinked at the three in astonishment.

Saradoc smiled at her. 'Very resourceful and versatile lad, our nephew!'

'So I gather,' she answered.

Chapter 12. A Visit from a Favourite Nephew

Saradoc looked up from the letter he held as Esmeralda entered the study.

'I heard a messenger came.'

'News from Hobbiton,' Saradoc replied. 'Young Frodo has resigned his post as Mayor.'

'No!' she gasped 'Whyever for?'

'Seems Will Whitfoot is recovered from his stint in the Lockholes.' He looked down at the paper again. 'Frodo says he only volunteered to be temporary mayor until Will was back on his feet.'

Esmeralda nodded, somehow unsatisfied. It seemed as if the Shire owed more to him after what he'd done. She thought back to the story the lads had told just yesterday, the wearisome journey through horror to the Fire. Today's story had been of healing and celebration, glory and honour showered upon the Ring-bearer and his companion. Ironic, that strangers, Big People at that, would show Frodo more honour than his own.

'There's more,' Saradoc said.

'Oh?'

'Young Frodo says he's coming for a visit, if we'll have him.'

'If we'll have him!'

'Oh, all right, I put that in myself just to see what you would say.'

'You -- you are as mischievous as that young rascal of a nephew.'

'I know; he's a bad influence,' Saradoc grinned.

She changed the subject. 'When are we to expect him?'

'Any time now.'

'Well then!' Esmeralda put her hands on her hips. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place? There is so much to do! Plans to make...'

'What sort of plans?'

'Oh, you, Master of Buckland, you can plan crop planting and harvest but you do not understand simple hospitality. There's food! And sights to see! And we must have a party -- a dance, perhaps.'

'Dance?'

'I haven't heard of any plans on his part to marry, yet. He's Cousin Bilbo's heir, and now that all the mess has been straightened out he ought to be settling down. There are quite a few lasses here at the Hall who might make a good match.'

Saradoc threw up his hands. 'Do not talk to me of dances! I will go to one, but do not ask me to plan one!'

Esmeralda shook her head at him. 'Don't you worry, I won't! But what am I standing here talking for? I have work to do!' She whirled and flew from the room.

***

The visit was a happy one, for Saradoc and Esmeralda had always had a special fondness for the orphaned lad who had gone off to live amongst those odd folk in Hobbiton. They were glad to see that he had not been too badly warped by it, probably because of his solid Buckland upbringing before he was adopted by Bilbo.

Frodo entered cheerfully into all the activities planned for his pleasure. Newlywed Samwise had not been able to accompany him, of course, but Merry and Pippin spent every free hour in his company and he was never lonely. They even rode to Bree to visit the Prancing Pony, and took a side trip to see Tom Bombadil and Goldberry once again.

The first morning of the visit, Esmeralda came from the kitchen to the breakfast table to find a mug full of wildflowers at her place. She met Frodo's eyes, and they crinkled in a smile.

'Thank you, young Frodo,' she said as she took her place.

Frodo left his chair and came around behind her. He dropped a kiss on top of her head and his arms circled her in a brief hug. 'You are welcome, old Aunt,' he teased gently.

'Go on with you, young rascal!'

With a last squeeze he went back to his place at the table and picked up his spoon. 'Mmmmm,' he said, 'I think your strawberries are nearly the size of Sam's!'

Esmeralda watched this special nephew as he plied his spoon, talking and laughing with his uncle and cousins. She remembered other bouquets, half-wilted, clutched in a grubby hand, brought to her on the couch where she lay for so many months as she directed the domestic doings of Hall and kitchen.

Every morning another mug of freshly picked flowers appeared at her place, and she shared a secret smile with her nephew.

Frodo was too thin, to Esmeralda's thinking, and she made sure his favourite foods appeared at each meal.

Each time another dish was laid upon the table, he would look up at his aunt and his eyes would crinkle with silent laughter. I know what you're up to, his look said. You are trying to make me as fat as old Uncle Merimac!

She couldn't help laughing. It was only too true.

The first time she noticed the missing finger she grieved for the marring of the fine hand, but truly, the slim fingers were so often busy about something that soon she ceased to think of it. When Frodo was not out riding or walking with his cousins, he was sitting, but not idle. His hands carved wooden whistles for wee hobbits, fashioned sails for little boats, sketched pictures, gestured descriptively while telling a story, splashed skillfully in water battles in the shallows of the River... in other words, they were almost never at rest.

One day he was playing at Kings with young Peregrin. It was nearly teatime, and Esmeralda had left the last preparations to the cooks. It was a hot afternoon, and she felt the need to sit down for a few moments.

Frodo suddenly jumped his stone over three of Pippin's pieces. 'You can't do that!' Pippin hissed in outrage.

Frodo smiled cheerily. 'I just did.'

'But... but...' Pippin spluttered.

Frodo put a brotherly hand on the lad's shoulder. 'Pippin,' he said confidingly. 'Your problem is, you need to learn about strategy.' When Pippin looked up from the board, Frodo caught his eye and held it.

'You need to learn to plan,' he added. Something in his tone caught Esmeralda's attention, and she listened more carefully.

'I do know how to plan!' was Pippin's indignant response.

Frodo laughed. 'I am not talking about pranks or practical jokes,' he chuckled.

Pippin actually looked as if he were becoming angry! Her easygoing, blithe, mischievous nephew! ...but Frodo's gaze remained locked with his and Pippin quieted and became thoughtful.

Frodo lowered his voice to emphasize his words. 'How d'you suppose Merry drove those ruffians out of the Shire? He planned. He used strategy.'

Pippin listened intently, nodding slightly as Frodo drove the point home.

'What would have happened if he had gone off without a thought in his head to confront them? If he had not planned and organized the hobbits in the Shire?'

Pippin had no answer, and suddenly Frodo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 'It is so very hot this afternoon! I need to cool off, how about you?'

Pippin grinned, and Frodo added, 'I'll race you to the River!'

Esmeralda went to the door to see the race. Pippin quickly outdistanced his older cousin and had already stripped down to his underclothes by the time Frodo reached the River. They had a glorious splashing water battle, in which many of the hobbit-lads and lasses joyfully joined.

***

The days sped by, and too soon it was time for Frodo to return to his home. 'Samwise will be fretting if he has no one to care for,' he joked. 'And he will get too fat on Rosie's cooking to weed the garden, if I don't go back to help him eat it all!'

Saradoc and Esmeralda took him in a great hug between them. 'Oh, this has been good,' she murmured in his ear. 'Don't be a stranger, now.'

'Yes,' Saradoc agreed. 'Come back for a visit soon. If we do not see you any earlier than next Mid-year's Day, I will send a troop to carry you off!'

Frodo laughingly agreed, and turned to go. Merry and Pippin rode partway with him. 'After all,' Pippin said, 'We need to ride by Long Cleeve and see how my relatives the north-Tooks are doing.'

'Long Cleeve?' Saradoc had asked. 'Isn't that rather out of your way?'

'Not at all!' Pippin said with a sly nudge for Merry. 'After all, we aren't going all the way to Bag End! Only part-way, and right at that spot there's a side-branching road leading to the North Farthing...'

'Right at what spot?' Saradoc said, nearly losing his way in the flow of words.

'The spot where the road branches off,' Merry put in helpfully, though his mother gave him a thoughtful look.

'Long Cleeve?' Saradoc said once more.

'Oh, aye,' Pippin had said. 'Wonderful folk. They set a good table!'

Chapter 13. Another Visit

Saradoc continued to improve slowly. He fretted at the healer's restrictions more out of habit than anything else. In truth he was tired and did not have the energy he had previously enjoyed.

Though Meriadoc and Peregrin had moved to Crickhollow, they were at the Hall every day, except when Pippin persuaded his uncle that Merry was going stale from overwork and needed a holiday. Then the two cousins would be seen riding merrily about the Shire, sometimes all the way to Tuckborough or Hobbiton, laughing and singing, a bright and brave sight with their mail and shields. Merry continued to see to most of the Master's business, consulting with his father, of course, but making more and more of the decisions with Saradoc's blessing.

The abundant harvest that summer and fall filled the cellars to overflowing. For the first time in months the hobbits of Buckland had more to eat than they could ever want, and every day was a feast day. That Yule was a merry one indeed. The previous year the people of the Shire had still been licking the wounds left by the ruffians, and had had little enough food to live from day to day, much less celebrate anything.

The previous year servants had tiptoed about the Hall, for despite the return of the young master the place was plunged in gloom by his obvious suffering. This year he was recovered, his old self again; his singing rang through the halls, his laughter sounded often, and the Master and Mistress were joyful again. Not to mention young Peregrin, he couldn't seem to help livening things up.

Another beautiful spring came.

One day in mid-March, the cousins did not appear at the Hall as usual. Saradoc dispatched a rider to Crickhollow to find out if something was amiss. Word came back that his son was indisposed, but there was nothing to worry about, he'd be himself again in a day or two.

Esmeralda wanted to send the healer but her husband put his foot down. The lad was old enough to know if he needed a healer or not.

Merry appeared at the Hall two days later, looking none the worse for wear. He waved off his mother's questioning. 'I'm fine,' he insisted. He immediately plunged back into the business of the Hall.

Pippin rolled his eyes at his aunt. 'It's all a lot of fuss about nothing,' he teased. 'He just wanted to know if you'd miss him.'

'Get along with you, young scalawag!' she replied, and went back to her tasks, curiously reassured.

Towards the end of the month, word came from Hobbiton that Samwise and Rose had been blessed with the birth of a daughter. Meriadoc sent a few bottles of Brandy Hall's finest to congratulate the new parents. Pippin had secretly had the blacksmith make a set of tiny garden tools in anticipation of the joyous event, and he tucked them into the package with a wicked grin. 'Might as well start the child off right!' he said.

Just before Mid-year's Day a letter came from Hobbiton, announcing another visit from Frodo. The visit would be brief, for this time he would be bringing Samwise, and Rose could not spare her husband for too long.

Esmeralda and the other aunts at the Hall were once more off in a whirl of planning, and Saradoc and the cousins stayed out of their way.

Frodo and Samwise arrived in the midst of a summer afternoon cloudburst. When Esmeralda heard the clatter of ponies' hoofs on the stones outside, she ran to the study window to see two cloaked riders dismounting in the pouring rain. 'They're here!' she cried, 'And they are soaked to the skin, most likely. I had better have towels and blankets ready.'

Saradoc glanced out the window. Servants were unpacking baggage and taking the ponies to the stables, and the two figures were walking to the entrance. One seemed to be leaning upon the other. He went to the door of the study and bellowed for the lads.

Pippin poked his head out of the room that had been set aside as Meriadoc's study. 'Yes?'

'Your cousin has arrived.'

'In this?'

'I don't think he had much choice about the matter. A traveller cannot always dictate the weather.'

'O I thought you had ordered sunshine specifically for his arrival,' Pippin grinned.

'I did. The order must have gone amiss,' his uncle answered. 'They'll be coming in the door any moment. Do you plan to be there to greet them?'

'We'll be right there!' Pippin answered, and disappeared again.

Saradoc heard him saying, 'Merry, put your pen down!' as he strode down the hallway towards the entrance hall. He heard the lads come running up behind him.

Esmeralda and a servant stood by with towels and blankets. Saradoc reached the door just as it opened to admit the two streaming figures; he hesitated only for a brief instant of frozen startlement, then cried out, 'Welcome to Brandy Hall! It's about time you graced us with your presence again!'

Esmeralda ran to hug her nephew, careless of wet cloak, and Merry saw tears running from her eyes as she held Frodo tightly. That was the way of mothers, and he thought nothing of it. Then she and the others were fussing over Frodo and Sam, pulling off their wet cloaks, wrapping them in blankets, toweling their heads. They looked terrible, half drowned, and Esmeralda said with concern, 'Tea is just on. Come, we must get you warm.'

'We are not that wet,' Sam said practically. 'Mostly just our cloaks.'

But Esmeralda, still clucking concern, shepherded them to the parlour where a brisk fire was burning, and sat them down in chairs by the fire. 'Meriadoc, pour the tea, please!' she ordered.

When Merry handed Frodo his teacup, his cousin's hand shook and spilt half the contents. 'Oh, I'm sorry, Frodo!' he apologised, mopping up. 'I should not have filled it so full!'

'It's all right, Merry. If I want more than one cup I will ask for you to give me more. No need to fill it brimming over,' Frodo teased.

Frodo ate hardly any of the luscious tea treats, and barely sipped at his tea. He let Samwise answer most of the questions about the journey, and when tea was done, he looked up at his aunt.

She read his expression and said, 'But you lads must be tired after your long journey. Let me show you to your rooms. You can change out of your travelling things and freshen up a bit. I'll come and call you for dinner.'

Esmeralda took Sam and Frodo to the adjacent rooms that had been prepared for them, and after depositing Sam in his room, at Frodo's door she gave her nephew another hug. 'I am so glad you came,' she whispered to him.

He kissed her cheek, saying, 'It is nice to have such a warm welcome.'

'You look tired, Frodo. Why don't you lie down for a bit?'

'Thank you, Aunt. I think I will.' He closed the door behind him, and Esmeralda went to find her husband in his study.

At the sight of her face, he held out his arms, and she sought their solace. He held her a long time while she cried, gently stroking her hair, helpless to offer any other comfort.

***

Merry sat in the parlour, holding his empty cup whilst Pippin ravaged the tea table.

'Mmmm, these mushroom puffs are delicious, d'you want any?'

Merry shook his head. 'No, you can have them.'

'I will!'

As his cousin's attention was diverted by the food, Merry had time to think. Had he imagined his father's hastily covered shock at the door? His mother had cried when she greeted Frodo, but wasn't that just the kind of thing mothers did? He tried to reason away his own unease at his cousin's pallor and trembling hands. He's just tired, it was a long journey, they got caught in a cold rain. But Sam had been... well, Sam. He had appeared as hearty as ever.

Merry thought back to the last words of Saruman to Frodo, then shook his head. He was imagining things.

When dinner came, Frodo did not appear. Sam would have gone to check on him, but Esmeralda waved him back to his seat. 'I'll go!' she said. 'You go ahead and eat. We'll be right down.'

She came back to the table without her nephew, merely saying that Frodo was asleep and she did not want to disturb him. 'Perhaps you can take a tray to him when you go to bed, Samwise,' she said. 'Then he can have a bite when he awakens.'

Samwise thanked her.

She rose very early for there was much to be done about the Hall. She checked on her nephew even before Samwise was up. Frodo slept still, his right hand pillowed under his cheek, looking much like the young lad she had known and loved so long ago. She kissed his cheek and he smiled in his sleep. She took the untouched tray and left before her tears could return to waken him.

***

That visit was different from the one the previous summer.

Frodo was quieter, and did not join in the many activities the cousins had planned. He wanted to spend more time with his uncle and aunt this trip, and encouraged Merry and Pippin to take Sam around Buckland and show him all the sights.

He begged off a trip to the Prancing Pony, and while he would have liked to visit Tom and Goldberry, he did not want to take such a long ride so soon after the journey from Hobbiton, especially when they must turn around and return to Hobbiton a mere week later.

As during the previous visit, a mug of freshly picked wildflowers appeared daily at the breakfast table, though Frodo himself sat at breakfast only once or twice.

Near the end of the visit Esmeralda came out of the kitchen early, to find Sam setting that day's mug of flowers at her place.

He looked up and blushed. 'Mr Frodo asked me to.'

She smiled and thanked him gently.

At the dance to celebrate Mid-year Day he sat with the old aunts and told stories that kept them laughing. Merry noticed that he ate very little of the generous portions of food.

Once when he caught Merry's watchful eye, Frodo said, 'Good food here. Of course it doesn't compare to Rosie's meat and mushroom pie.'

Merry laughed dutifully, and Frodo's gaze sharpened but he said no more.

The next day Frodo and Sam sat to watch the Hall children cavorting in the shallows of the River. Pippin joined in the splashing, roaring like a dragon and sending them fleeing with delighted screams, only to return for another scaring. Sam was secretly glad that his master did not care to swim. The gardener still viewed the activity with distaste, if not active suspicion, regardless of the antics of the tiniest hobbit children.

Merry came up to sit beside them, wiping sweat from his brow. 'Who knew it would turn out so warm today?' he demanded. 'That water certainly looks inviting.'

Sam shot a look of disbelief his way and Merry laughed.

'Why don't you join them?' Frodo asked lightly.

'No time. I have to be at the Hall in a few minutes to receive complaints. I've barely time to dabble my feet.'

'Such a diverting pastime to look forward to! Why don't you give it a miss?' Frodo teased.

'Funny, you sound more like Pippin every day,' Merry rejoined.

Frodo looked over at Sam. 'Samwise,' he said.

'Yes, Mr Frodo?'

'All this splashing is making me quite thirsty. Would you mind bringing me a drink? I'd get it myself but I am feeling so deliciously lazy in this sunshine.'

'Be glad to, Mr Frodo,' said Sam, hopping up. He was never happier than when Mr Frodo asked for something, for it happened so seldom.

Frodo watched him go with a smile, then turned to Merry. 'So, cousin, how goes the fight?'

'It goes. You were right about anniversaries... but most days aren't too bad.'

'Not bad?' Frodo teased. 'Sunshine, splashing water, children's laughter, and the best you can say is "not bad"?' He looked away from Merry's stare.

'I was going to ask you the same question, cousin,' Merry said softly. 'How goes the fight?'

'I could give you the same answer. It goes.' He took a deep breath of the sweet summer air. 'Life is good, Merry. I might not have chosen the path that was set before me, but I cannot complain of the outcome.' He gestured vaguely to the laughing children, sunshine sparkling on the water, the bright sky, the myriad greens of grass and tree. 'Just look around, Merry. There is no Shadow here. And we helped to make the difference.'

He met Merry's quizzical gaze serenely. 'It goes, Merry,' he said again. 'All we can do... is our best.' He smiled. 'You just keep walking in the light, no matter what happens. Is it a promise?'

Merry did not quite know why, but he said, 'That's a promise, Frodo.'

Frodo's grin brightened. 'Good.'

Merry looked at the angle of the Sun and scrambled to his feet. 'I will have plenty of practice! It is time for me to go hear complaints!'

Frodo joined him in laughing as he turned back towards the Hall.

***

The visit ended too soon, on a day bright with sunshine, as unlike the day of their arrival as possible. Half the Hall gathered to see the travellers off.

Esmeralda was weeping again as she said goodbye. 'Oh, don't mind me,' she said, dashing the tears away as she hugged Samwise. 'I am just an old fuss budget! I am so glad you came, and I hate to see you go. Next time bring that wife and sweet child of yours!'

'I will,' Sam promised.

'You know you are always welcome at the Hall,' Saradoc added.

The Master and Mistress of Buckland turned to their nephew, to engulf him in a great hug between them. 'Oh, my lad,' Esmeralda murmured. 'You know I will always love you. I will miss you so.'

Frodo had no reply but to return the hug as tightly as he could.

'Be well, lad,' Saradoc whispered. He stepped back to slap Sam's back. 'Take good care of him on the trip home,' he said.

'I will,' Sam said.

'Of course you will.' Saradoc agreed, smiling.

Merry and Pippin led their ponies up to the group; again they would ride part of the way with Sam and Frodo.

Frodo cocked an eye up at Pippin. 'So, another visit to Long Cleeve?'

'Oh, aye,' Pippin answered with a smile. 'You know, cousin, you really ought to come visit oftener. It makes trips to Long Cleeve so much more convenient!'

'I just want to know if it is the food or the pretty girls?' Frodo teased.

'Do I have to choose between them?' Pippin asked in mock dismay.

Laughing, the four mounted their ponies and rode away amidst a chorus of goodbyes and waves.

***  

The Master and Mistress of Buckland soberly returned to the Hall.

Chapter 14. The Grey Havens

Merry and Pippin were down at Bucklebury Ferry, discussing repairs that needed to be finished before winter's storms arrived, when the shining figure upon the great white horse galloped up to them and stopped.

'Gandalf!' Pippin gasped, shading his eyes with his hand.

The wizard jumped down from Shadowfax and fronted the pair. 'Meriadoc,' he said, nodding in greeting. Turning to Pippin, he scowled and said, 'Peregrin Took. Don't you have a home to go to?'

Pippin laughed. 'Oh, aye,' he said easily. 'But my mum and my aunt argued over who was to have me, and Mother won!' He looked consideringly at the wizard. 'And besides,' he added, 'there'll be a time to go back home when I turn of age and,' he deepened his voice and allowed his shoulders to flatten as under an onerous burden, 'assume my heavy responsibilities.' Straightening, he looked around. 'On the other hand, there's already a Thain in Tookland. I might just stay here and study to become Master instead!'

Merry laughed and the wizard smiled. 'Still the same fool of a Took, I see! It is good to find you both here together. Saves me the trip to Tuckborough.'

'What is it, Gandalf?' Merry broke in.

The wizard turned his dark eyes on Merry. 'Frodo is sailing from the Havens. You will have to hurry if you want to catch him.' He smiled at Pippin's open-mouthed confusion, mounted his horse, and was gone in a whirl of dust.

Merry pushed Pippin out of his bemusement. 'Come on!' he said urgently. 'You go and saddle the ponies, I will tell my parents.' He took off running for the Hall, and Pippin turned to race to the stables.

Merry found Saradoc and Esmeralda together in his father's study. Good, that was a convenience he hadn't hoped for. 'Peregrin and I must be off!' he gasped.

His father rose from his chair, 'What is it, Son? What is the emergency?'

His mother put an arm around his shoulders. 'Steady now. Take a deep breath,' she encouraged.

'Frodo's leaving with the Elves.' At their wondering exclamations he nodded. His breath was coming easier now. 'Gandalf came to say he is sailing from the Havens, I do not know just when, but soon.'

'Gandalf...' his father said with a thoughtful nod, but Merry had no time for discussion.

'He said that we must hurry or we would miss him!'

'Then what are you waiting for? Go!'

His mother hugged him quickly. 'And give him our love,' she said simply.

He returned her hug, nodded to his father, and hurried from the room.

When he reached the yard, Pippin had his own pony already saddled and was just putting a blanket on Jewel. Merry nodded and took over the saddling. A servant ran over to affix water bottles to the saddle pads while the bridles were being put on. The cousins checked their girths one last time and sprang into the saddles.

A cry came as they turned their ponies to the road. 'Wait!'

Merry turned to see his mother approaching with a bag in her hand, and he walked Jewel over to her, curbing the prancing pony strongly, for Jewel had caught his excitement.

Esmeralda held up the bag. 'Bread and cheese, and new apples,' she said. 'I know you plan to ride straight through.'

'Thank you!' he said simply, but she smiled as she stepped back, lifting a hand in farewell.

The ribbon of road unwound beneath the ponies' swift feet. The need for speed pressed them so that they talked little, but rode deep in their own thoughts. The ponies were eager to run, but their riders, knowing the distance to be covered, held them to a controlled though fast pace. The first chance the cousins had for talking was when they pulled their ponies to a walk to rest them.

'Did Gandalf say we would be in time to stop him?' Pippin asked.

Merry looked up in surprise. 'Stop him?'

'Yes, talk him into staying.'

Compassion filled Merry's eyes as he regarded his younger cousin. 'No, Pip, we're going to see him off.'

'But... he cannot sail in an elven ship!'

Merry smiled sadly. 'Whyever not?'

Pippin spluttered, 'In the stories about hobbits who've sailed away, they never come back!'

'He cannot stay, Pippin. He has to go. It is his only chance.'

'I don't understand,' Pippin cried miserably. 'You want him to go?'

Merry shook his head and kicked Jewel back into a fast jog.

***

They rode through the day and into the night, continuing as the dawn rose behind their backs, stopping only to let their ponies drink briefly at each stream they crossed. They rode across the breadth of the Shire and out of it completely, going about the south skirts of the White Downs, then coming to the Far Downs, and to the Towers, where they pulled up to give the ponies a last breather.

Pippin spoke again for the first time. 'What's that?' he asked, pointing to a distant glimmer.

'The sea...' Merry breathed. He spoke softly to Jewel, and the tired pony picked up his head and began to trot again.

So they rode down at last to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune. There was no one at the gates as they rode through, but as they came to the Havens they saw the white ship lying, and Elves going aboard, and all being made ready to depart.

'Come on, Pippin!' Merry shouted, and they urged their ponies to a last effort, arriving in great haste. To their relief they saw three small figures on the quay, standing by the tall figure of the shining wizard.

'You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo,' Pippin said, dismounting. 'This time you have nearly succeeded,' he added, laughing through his tears, 'but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!'

The wizard smiled. 'Yes,' he said, 'That is right, young Peregrin Took. For it will be better to ride back three together than one alone.' He hugged Pippin, then Merry, then Sam, saying, 'Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.' And then he turned away and boarded the ship.

'Well, lads,' said Bilbo. 'I shall miss your mischief, young Pippin. But you will be a good Thain for Tookland. Stir them up quite a bit, I shouldn't wonder. And Merry...' the old hobbit turned to him, his face creasing in a broad smile, 'you will have to keep up the writing end of the family now. And try to be a little less serious, or Pippin will neglect his duties as Thain in his efforts to stir you up!'

Merry couldn't help a chuckle at the old hobbit's nonsense as Bilbo pulled both him and Pippin into a hug.

Bilbo turned to Sam. 'I cannot thank you enough, Samwise, for all that you have done,' he said simply. 'Frodo is here today because of you.' He hugged Sam, looked up at the sky, shook himself and said, 'Well, I am not much for goodbyes. I would rather just sneak off through the back gate.' His eyes twinkled. 'So, close your eyes and off I'll go!' He turned to board the ship. 'Coming, Frodo?'

'In a minute,' Frodo called back.

Pippin looked into his beloved cousin's lined and weary face and the realization hit him, what Merry had tried to tell him, the truth that he and Sam had refused that summer to admit to themselves. Frodo was dying. This journey to the Elvenhome might, perhaps, be his only chance at life.

Frodo smiled as if he guessed his young cousin's thoughts. 'Another adventure, Pippin!' he said lightly.

'Aye. Living is the adventure,' Pippin agreed. Frodo pulled him into a long hug, then turned to Merry, gazing searchingly into his eyes.

'Be well, Frodo,' Merry said meaningfully, putting his heart into the words.

Frodo nodded. 'And you, Merry.' His gaze locked with Merry's. 'Remember, walk in the light.'

'I will.' Merry reached out to embrace his cousin.

'That's right. Make it a good, long, hard hug, one to last...' Frodo murmured against his ear.

Finally he turned to Sam. Pippin did not hear the words they exchanged, but they hugged for a long time and the tears of all the hobbits ran freely.

***

They watched silently as the ship pulled away in the afternoon sun, following the white sails as they grew smaller, steadily dwindled and were finally swallowed up in the distance. Seeing a final gleam from the glass of Galadriel, they knew Frodo held his hand aloft in farewell. They watched the Sun seek her bed in the sea, continuing to wait as the evening deepened to darkness, seeing now only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. Long after the last gleam of sunset left the clouds, long after the scattered stars began their nightly dance, they stood and listened to the murmur of the waves.

At last they turned and without speaking, mounted their ponies and rode home to the Shire, Sam leading the pony with the empty saddle.

***

A/N: Portions have been taken from "The Grey Havens" in The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien and woven into this chapter.

Chapter 15. Invitation to Long Cleeve

Merry and Pippin returned, unusally subdued,  a week after they had so precipitously departed. They stayed at the Hall their first night back in Buckland.

Saradoc had brandy served in the parlour, and as they sat by the fire, he told stories of Frodo's younger days in the Hall, the mischief the lad got into, the sweet smile that usually got him out of trouble again.

'You take after him quite a bit, Peregrin,' he said, smiling into Pippin's eyes. To his sorrow he saw his nephew's eyes fill with tears.

Esmeralda rose and enveloped Pippin in a hug. 'We haven't lost him, lad,' she crooned. 'His memory will last as long as our love does.'

'I know,' Pippin mumbled miserably. 'I'm only thinking of myself.' He wiped his eyes and sat up. 'Did I ever tell you of the time...?'

They told stories into the wee hours of the night.

When Esmeralda came out of the kitchen next morning, a mug of wildflowers stood by her place at the breakfast table. She blinked back sudden tears and looked up to meet Pippin's smile.

***

That autumn was unusually beautiful, with the mild weather continuing into the beginning of November. Pippin and Merry took advantage of the good travelling weather to make a few more visits to see Sam and Rosie at Hobbiton, stopping of course at Long Cleeve both coming and going, even though it was not a little out of the way.

Pippin waxed eloquent about baby Elanor, her golden hair and blue eyes and sunny disposition, and how she preferred him to Merry. 'You ought to have seen it!' he joked. 'Whenever Meriadoc tried to hold her she would cry! And then I would have to soothe her again...'

'I think it must have been the pin you stuck into her whenever you'd hand her to me,' Merry rejoined.

'She is a very discerning lass,' Pippin maintained.

'I would like to hear more about the lasses at Long Cleeve,' Saradoc said meaningfully. 'Is there somewhat we ought to know about the family there?'

'Well, they are relations,' Pippin answered, 'They come of the north-Tooks, you know. Very proper and all.'

'If you are an example of a proper Took...' his uncle began.

'Oh, aye!' Pippin replied, and they all burst out laughing.

'Perhaps we should all take a journey to Long Cleeve and meet the family,' Saradoc pressed.

Merry and Pippin exchanged glances, and there was that curious feeling Saradoc had that arose whenever Long Cleeve was discussed. There was something they were not telling him. He caught Esmeralda's eye.

'Yes, Meriadoc,' his wife said, 'Tell us more about the family there.'

'Well,' Merry began uncomfortably. 'The farmer's name is Jotham...'

'Took, I gather,' Saradoc said dryly.

'Yes, Jotham Took. His wife is Pearl, and they have four sons, young Jotham, Tim, Thom, and Tad, he's the youngest, quite a bright lad and very lively.'

'And daughters?' Esmeralda asked casually.

Pippin made a great show at pondering the question. 'Let's see, now, there are four, aren't there, Meriadoc?' At his cousin's nod he continued. 'The eldest is Ruby, then there's Diamond, and the twins, Amethyst and Emerald, though they call them Ammy and Emmy.'

'Ah,' said Merry's mother. 'Sweet names, quite unusual.' She fixed her son firmly with her eye. 'And how old are the older girls?'

Merry looked to Pippin for help, and Pippin leaned back in his chair with a grin, before saying, 'Oh, I don't know. Meriadoc, do you have an idea?'

Merry glared at him and he laughed.

'Meriadoc!' Esmeralda's voice was unusally stern.

He sighed. 'Ruby will come of age next year.'

His mother smiled. 'And is she pretty?'

Her son reluctantly raised his eyes to hers, and then he couldn't help joining her as she began to laugh.

Saradoc nodded, then said firmly. 'Well, now, it seems as if we ought to invite the north-Tooks to the Hall. It is about time we made their acquaintance.'

Again a curious glance passed between his nephew and his son. He would have to get to the bottom of this. An invitation to the family at Long Cleeve seemed a good place to start.

***

The evening before the north-Tooks were to arrive, Merry and Pippin came to the Master's study, obviously ill at ease. Esmeralda rose to greet them and poured each a glass of brandy.

'There's something we need to tell you,' Merry began, then stared into his glass and subsided into silence.

'Yes, Meriadoc?' his mother smiled brightly.

'Well, it never seemed quite the right time to tell you... but...' He looked over at Pippin, but his cousin stared out the window into the darkness and offered no help at all.

'What is it, lad? It cannot be as bad as all that,' Saradoc said.

Meriadoc raised his eyes again and said miserably, 'Do you remember the lad who got caught up a tree, the day we left to go to Hobbiton to see Frodo?'

'Oh, I do, for that story brought back many old memories,' Saradoc replied.

'Well, after I got him down, Peregrin and I decided to race our ponies. There was a convenient field, it was a beautiful day, the ponies were aching for a run...'

Saradoc and Esmeralda waited.

Usually Pippin could not help jumping into a conversation, but he stared into his own glass in silence.

'We raced and... Bright Nose was in fine form, he'd never run so fast...' Merry blinked, took a gulp of his brandy, swallowed wrong and began to cough. He waved away Pippin's attempts to slap his back, got his coughing under control, took a few deep breaths.

Saradoc had the feeling that he was not going to like what he would be hearing next.

'He stepped in a hole,' Merry began, then tears filled his eyes and he finished in a whisper, '...and he broke his leg. He had to be put down.'

'Meriadoc!' his mother gasped.

Saradoc looked at his son, puzzled. 'But how...? That pony...?'

Merry understood his father's confusion. 'The pony I ride now is not Bright Nose. It must be his twin, he is so exactly like... he was saved from the mines and sold at the pony market in Bywater.'

'I'd wondered why you changed his name to Jewel,' his father said slowly.

'Were you hurt?' his mother asked.

Merry didn't answer, and Pippin finally looked up from his brandy. 'Oh, aye,' he breathed. Reluctantly he looked from his aunt to his uncle. 'He nearly died.'

Merry's parents sat frozen in shock. Finally his father said softly, 'Why was there no message? Why were we not told?'

Pippin met his uncle's eye steadily. 'I don't have a good explanation,' he admitted, and then, with a glance to Merry, he fumbled to explain. 'The healer said there was no reason for him to be as ill as he was. No reason...'

Merry stirred and his parents turned back to him. 'Do you remember the story about the charge of the Rohirrim?' he asked. His father nodded. 'The... the Dark Captain?' he forced himself to say.

'Yes, Son.'

'I... I fell under Shadow that day, the fifteenth of March, it was, and only the King could call me back,' Merry said.

'You left home for Hobbiton on the fourteenth of March,' his father said suddenly. 'I remember; it was Merimac's birthday.'

'Yes. And the Shadow came back to claim me the next day. Frodo said...' he met his father's gaze again, 'Frodo said that anniversaries are dangerous, that I will always need to take care on that date. He said that the accident weakened me so that I could not fight the Shadow.'

Pippin's face was bleak, and he stiffened as if expecting a blow. 'I did not want to send word to you. I did not want you to come and have to sit helpless and watch your son die under the Shadow...'

Saradoc looked his nephew directly in the eye, saying, 'That was not your choice to make.'

The reproof went straight to Pippin's heart. The pain in his face grieved his uncle, but he did not turn his eyes away from Saradoc. 'I was wrong,' he admitted. 'But I would not change what I did.'

His aunt caught her breath, and Saradoc turned to see the dawning realization on her face. 'You had seen this before...' she breathed.

Pippin gazed straight before him. 'I watched two guardsmen, friends of mine, just... slip away into silence, cold, finally... death. Then Merry...' He swallowed. 'The hands of the King are the hands of a Healer,' he said, as if he mused.

Saradoc remembered the story the lads had told the summer before last, the healing Meriadoc had found in the telling. He wondered how long the Shadow would continue to haunt Pippin, and how long it would stalk his son, lying in wait to waylay him. 'But the King is in Gondor,' he said gently.

Pippin had laced his fingers together in his lap, and now he stared down at his hands as if they held the key to the story. 'When the healer said there was no hope, I nearly sent for you. We had Socks saddled, young Tim was ready to mount, when I thought of Frodo. He had survived a Morgul wound himself. Perhaps he would know what to do. I told Tim to ride instead to Hobbiton.'

'And Frodo came,' Esmeralda prompted. 'And he knew what to do...?'

Merry stirred. 'I was trapped in Darkness. I could not find a way out. He... he brought light with him, and showed me the way out of the Shadow,' Merry answered. He straightened his shoulders. 'I know how to fight it now.'

Saradoc knew he must pursue this to the end. 'You were not ill this past March,' he stated.

To his father's amazement, Merry smiled. 'Oh, I was ill,' he said softly. 'Indeed.'

Fear for his son seized Saradoc's heart. Must he send Merry to live in Gondor, to be near the healing hands of the King? Must he give up his son to keep him safe?

Merry seemed to read his father's thought, for, still smiling, he shook his head. He repeated, 'But now, I know how to fight.'

Note to readers: Someone told me that there was too much chit-chat in this chapter, it borders on boring. But we need to spend just a bit of time in the frying pan before we plunge back into the fire...

***

Chapter 16. Invitation from Long Cleeve

The north-Tooks from Long Cleeve arrived just before tea-time and descended laughing from their waggon. The two eldest sons had stayed behind to tend the farm, but all the rest were there. The Master and Mistress of Buckland came out of the Hall to greet their guests, but the young master and his cousin were nowhere to be seen.

While graciously receiving Farmer Took and his wife, Esmeralda's sharp eyes catalogued the family. Well dressed, but not ostentatious. Waggon not new, but in excellent repair. Ponies healthy and well cared for, with a few extra touches--someone had braided bright ribbons into the flowing manes and tails. The four youngest piled out of the wagon like puppies, but lined up in fair order at a bark from their father, who then turned to help down his wife, and each of his two eldest daughters in turn. The girls were graceful in descending, and after a wide-eyed look at the sprawling Hall each kept her eyes demurely cast down. They were countrified little things, overawed at the grand, sprawling Hall, but they carried themselves well for all their natural shyness.

Farmer Took presented each family member to the Master and Mistress.

Esmeralda couldn't help catching her breath when Ruby raised her eyes as she was being introduced. The lass was lovely, indeed. She put out her hand to take the girl's, and it was not a soft hand but well kept despite the signs that the girl knew how to put her hands to useful tasks.

After greeting all the family down to the youngest boy (A rascal if ever I have seen one!) the Mistress stepped back with a smile and gesture towards the entrance. 'Come in!' she said with her most welcoming manner. 'Tea has just been laid.'

'You and the girls go on, Pearl,' the farmer said. 'Lads 'n' I will just see about the ponies.' He looked to Saradoc. 'Meaning no disrespect, mind, but we always take care of our ponies, and they take care of us in return.'

'Of course!' Saradoc replied. 'I'll walk with you. We have a fine stables here; your ponies will be very comfortable.'

The men followed the ponies to the stables, chatting comfortably, followed by the tumbling lads.

Esmeralda poured out tea for the guests, asking about the ride, the weather, the scenery. Mistress Took answered easily and helped to fill the plates from the tea tray. The older girls served their little sisters and then sat down themselves. Soon the men and boys came in, and the conversation became quite animated.

Suddenly a young voice pierced through the conversation. 'Where's Master Peregrin? He promised me a ride on Socks, the very next time I saw him!'

Mistress Took hushed her youngest.

Esmeralda could see the same question in the older girls' eyes.

'The lads went out to the fields today to see to the last of the harvest,' Saradoc answered. 'They were to be back in time for tea, but you never know how these things will go.'

Farmer Took agreed, and the conversation turned to all the things that could go wrong at harvest.

There was a clatter of ponies' feet out on the stones and the youngest boy jumped up with a yelp. 'I see them! There's Socks! There's Jewel!'

'Tad.' His father's voice was quiet, but it stopped him short of running out the door.

The boy turned, remembering his manners, and bowed to Esmeralda. 'May I be excused, please, Mistress, to greet your-son-and-nephew?' he asked in an obviously rehearsed manner.

She smiled, suppressing a chuckle, and said, 'Go ahead; I am sure they would love to receive your greeting.'

He was off like a shot, and the older hobbits all laughed. Esmeralda met Mistress Took's smiling eyes and said, 'Young Peregrin was much the same at that age.'

The farmer's wife laughed, saying, 'And he's not changed much, from what I can tell!'

All laughed together again, and constraint rapidly melted. Soon they were old friends.

'Please, call me Pearl.'

'Only if you will call me Allie.' A smiling nod in acknowledgement. 'Peregrin has a sister named Pearl.'

'An old family name. I think you will find a "Pearl" in every generation of Tooks, among the north-Tooks as well.'

They had quite a lively discussion, tracing the family tree, until they had properly established the family relationships.

At steps in the hallway, all looked up to see young Tad dragging the cousins into the room, having given a hand to each.

Ruby blushed to greet Meriadoc under his mother's eye, but her eyes were shining and she had such a sweet smile, to both mothers' searching eyes.

Merry was unusually reserved, his mother noted. Her eyes met Pearl's, and the mothers shared a significant look.

***

The north-Tooks stayed a month complete, through Yule, for this was a quiet season for the farmer and his sons could easily handle all the winter chores themselves. The two eldest sons rode out from Long Cleeve for the noonday feast that began the holiday, but had to leave again right after teatime to get back to the farm in time for evening chores. The Hall was beautifully decorated with greens the young hobbits had collected in the woods, and ribbons and bows tied by the girls. Esmeralda was reckless with the supply of candles, and the great room shone with festive light. The musicians were at their liveliest, Peregrin joined in with his flute, and at the insistence of the old aunts Meriadoc sang more than once, his fine voice floating over the great room. He and Ruby sang a duet, and their voices mingled so sweetly that the crowd hushed to silence to hear them.

The cooks had outdone themselves; there was food enough to feast upon through the day. The younger hobbits danced far into the night, ending only when the musicians cried exhaustion and stumbled off to the beds the Hall had provided. Then the ones who were not sleepy sat and told stories and roasted bacon and mushrooms on long sticks over the great Yule log that burned on the hearth. When the Sun peeked her head above the horizon once more, the Master of the Hall arose to shoo all the remaining celebrants off to their beds.

After a day of rest to recover from the celebration, the north-Tooks packed up their waggon and prepared to depart for Long Cleeve. Many from the Hall came out into the chilly air to see them off.

The Master and the farmer had shared a last pipe as the wagon was being loaded, and Farmer Took now turned to Saradoc with a twinkle in his eye. 'Remember,' he said, 'you are to come next summer for Mid-year's Day! It is our turn to host the celebration!'

'We will be there,' Saradoc promised. 'Shall we bring the lads as well?' A great shout of protest arose from the younger members in the waggon and he grinned. 'I take it that is a "yes",' he grinned.

'Oh, aye,' said the farmer. 'I doubt they would let you in at the door without the lads,' he added. Though there was a twinkle in his eye, he sounded quite serious.

Tad bounced out of the waggon and up to his father. 'Goodbye, Master!' he said cheerfully to Saradoc. 'I had a very good time. You can invite me any time you wish!'

'Get along with you, young rascal!' the farmer said.

Saradoc grinned.

'Can't I drive? You promised I could drive!'

The farmer climbed up onto the waggon seat and Saradoc lifted the lad into his arms. Tad's father settled the little one in his lap and picked up the reins. Tad proudly took hold of the ends of the reins and chirruped to the ponies. The waggon started, and there was a grand chorus of goodbyes and a great deal of waving that continued until the waggon was well down the road.

Peregrin and Meriadoc would escort them part of the way home, and their ponies pranced and blew white breath from their nostrils as they rode to either side of the wagon.

Saradoc sighed and turned back to the bustling Hall. Esmeralda regarded him with a raised eyebrow. 'It is going to be pretty quiet around here, now that they're gone,' he said. He took her arm, and laughing, they walked back into the Hall.

***

A/N: This chapter came about as a result of a challenge to write "in the style of Jane Austen" since I was "already boring people to tears as she did." LOL! I don't happen to find Jane Austen boring! (Though I admit I did, upon a time.) I don't know how "Jane Austenish" this chapter ended up, and would never claim to write as she did, but it does remind me, in retrospect, a little of reading stories set in that drawing-room style.)

Chapter 17. Tears of Joy

It was a wet spring, and ploughing and sowing came late. The River ran higher than the Master had seen it in many a year, and he and the lads were so busy seeing to flood control that there had been no trips to Long Cleeve for the cousins since Yule.

In mid-March Merry again failed to appear at the Hall. This time Saradoc himself rode out to Crickhollow through a misting rain.

Pippin did not want to let him in, but he insisted, gently putting his nephew aside to enter the house. Many candles lit the sitting room, there was a bright fire on the hearth, and Merry sat before it, wrapped in blankets. He did not greet his father, nor raise his eyes.

Saradoc crouched before him. 'Meriadoc?' he said softly. 'Son?'

'He doesn't hear you,' Pippin whispered. 'At least I think he doesn't.' He poured a mug of hot tea and held it to Merry's lips. After a moment, his cousin sipped.

'He didn't want you to see him like this,' Pippin said at length.

'It is nothing to be ashamed of!' Saradoc protested.

'No, you misunderstand me. He is not ashamed. He just didn't want to distress you.'

'Yes, I can see that,' Saradoc concurred. 'His mother would be very distressed. Here, let me take that.'

Pippin gave him the cup and he coaxed his son to take nearly half the tea. He looked up at Pippin. 'How long?'

'He will be better by tomorrow, not so cold, and by the next day he will be himself completely. He probably won't even remember this day.'

Saradoc grieved to see his son so, but carefully schooled his expression so as not to worry Pippin.

He sat and talked encouragingly to Merry for the rest of the day, helping Pippin to get more hot tea and rich broth down him, and renewing the flannel wrapped heated bricks tucked into the blanket. As the Sun was seeking her bed, he took his leave. He laid his hand upon his nephew's shoulder and looked into his eyes for a long time, then gathered the lad into a great hug.

Pippin nodded, no words were needed, and Saradoc got his pony from the little stable and returned to the Hall.

'How's Meriadoc?' his wife greeted him.

'He's fine,' Saradoc answered. 'Nought but a chill. He'll be better tomorrow or the next day.'

She gazed searchingly into his eyes, but asked no more questions.

***

The first day of April dawned fine. Meriadoc entered the study after breakfast without his cousin, for a change.

'Is somewhat wrong with Peregrin?' his mother asked with concern.

Merry smiled and shook his head, 'No, he's in fine fettle. I just needed to talk to you and Father.'

'Very well, Meriadoc; take a seat,' Saradoc said.

Esmeralda, who had been just about to leave, went back to stand by her husband's chair.

Merry looked down at his hands, then up again. He took a deep breath. 'It is not easy to find a place to start,' he admitted.

'Then just start and get it over with,' his father said. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

'What do you think of the family at Long Cleeve?' Merry asked.

'I think they are fine folk, Meriadoc. I was very impressed with them at Yule, and Farmer Took and I have been corresponding since.'

Merry sighed in relief and nodded. 'I had hoped...'

Esmeralda exchanged glances with her husband.

'Their eldest daughter will be coming of age this year, is that not right?'

'Yes, just before Mid-year's Day,' Merry nodded. 'Father...'

'Yes, my son?'

'I would like your blessing... to seek her hand... to seek Ruby's hand... to ask her father's permission...'

Saradoc put the poor lad out of his misery. 'Why, of course, Meriadoc. We have been waiting for you to come to a decision.'

'You have?'

Esmeralda laughed. 'Oh, yes, that rascal of a nephew of mine has been hinting about this since before Yule!'

Merry looked surprised, then broke into relieved laughter. 'I will have to thank him!' he exclaimed, and they all shared a good laugh.

'When do you want to ride to Long Cleeve?'

'Can you spare me today?'

Saradoc smiled to see his son's joy. 'Oh, of course. Take a whole week if you need it.'

Merry jumped up from his chair, pressed his father's hands, kissed his mother, and strode out of the study. A few minutes later they heard Peregrin's whoop from the courtyard in front of the Hall.

Esmeralda glanced out the window and laughed. 'The rapscallion! He already has their ponies saddled.' She entwined her hand with her husband's and sighed. 'It will be so nice to have a daughter!'

'Now, do not put the boat before the River, my dear, you might find yourself stranded on dry land,' Saradoc warned. 'Her father has not given his blessing, yet.'

'Ah, but how can he refuse, with such a fine suitor?' Esmeralda said with a smile.

Saradoc wanted to agree... but he never counted on a crop until he saw it harvested. He merely smiled and pulled his wife to him for a kiss, and then turned back to the business of the Hall.

***

The cousins arrived at Long Cleeve just after teatime, heralded by wild shouts from the younger hobbits.

Ruby and her mother came out the door wiping their hands. 'Good to see you!' called Mistress Took. 'Are you on your way to Hobbiton?'

'No,' Pippin called back, 'We came to see the north-Tooks this trip. Can you tell us where to find them?'

'You rascal, get down from that pony! You've just missed tea but I think we can find some leavings for you!'

Laughing, he and Merry dismounted and gave their reins to young Thom, who led the ponies to the barn.

'We were just washing up,' Ruby said shyly.

Merry bowed gallantly to Pearl, saying, 'Allow me, Mistress!' and extending his hand for her towel. Smiling, she surrendered it and Ruby and Merry moved to continue the washing up, singing together one of the old songs that sounded so well in harmony.

Pippin leaned against the doorpost and gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Lovely,' he breathed. 'Just lovely!'

Mistress Took gave him a push. 'Go on with you, young master. Taddy's in the barn and he has been asking about you every day since Yule. Go and put me out of his misery!' As he straightened up from the doorway she grabbed his ear and pulled his head down. 'Be sure to ask about the new calf!' she whispered.

'Oh, aye,' Pippin laughed, and headed towards the barn.

Mistress Took sat down at the table and let the twins finish clearing. They moved in a cloud of giggles between table and washstand.

Soon the table was cleared and scrubbed and the cloth put on, just as Tad and Pippin walked in from the barn. 'Ah, good timing!' Pippin said. They each clutched a fistful of pretty weeds. 'Tad and I just finished picking a bouquet for the table!'

Pearl made a great show of finding just the right container for her smallest son and his towering friend, and they arranged the weeds together until Tad pronounced it "just right".

'Is your father out in the barn?' Pearl asked.

'Oh, aye,' the lad said in perfect imitation of Pippin. 'He's doctoring Snip's hoof; seems she stepped on somewhat sharp in the field a little bit ago.'

Ruby and Merry exchanged a glance and a few whispered words. Merry put down his towel and said, 'I'll just go out to greet him, then.' He ignored Pippin's wide grin and strode out to the barn.

Pippin turned back to little Tad. 'Now, Taddy, you told me when next we met you would give me a rematch at Kings!'

'Oh, yes!' the boy shouted and jumped up to get the board and stones. Pearl smiled to see the two, heads together, setting out the game so carefully, and then she picked up the towel Merry had put down and went to finish drying the dishes Ruby had washed.

'I think I'll just go out and get a breath of fresh air,' Ruby said to her mother.

'You do that, lass... you're looking a bit pale,' Pearl answered gently.

Ruby went out and knelt to pull some weeds from the front flowerbed. When Merry came from the barn, she stood and waited for him to come up to her. He had a wide grin on his face. He took her hands, she asked a question, he gave a nod, her own face bloomed with joy.

'Why are you crying, Mama?' Tad asked curiously.

'Oh, I've just got a bit of a speck in my eye, Taddy lad,' she said, wiping at her eyes with the towel she still held.

She exchanged a great grin with Pippin.

For no reason that Tad could see, Pippin took hold of his mother's hands, towel and all, and danced her about the kitchen, whistling a sprightly tune.

Chapter 18. Mid-year's Eve, Morning

Preparations went on apace at both Long Cleeve and Brandy Hall, for the wedding was to be as great an affair as Bilbo's notorious birthday party had been.

'You must be related to half the Shire,' Ruby teased her husband-to-be.

'And you're related to the other half!' he returned with a grin. Her laughter washed around him in little ripples, and his fingers tightened on hers. Surely he was marrying the most beautiful hobbit-lass in the Shire.

With a farmer's practicality and economy, Ruby's father had set the date as Mid-year's Day, the day after Ruby's coming of age, making three celebrations spanning a mere two days. That left barely a month and a half, a short time in terms of preparation, an eternity to the young hobbit-lasses and lads at Hall and farm... and to the happy couple.

There was much riding back and forth for the two families, and Saradoc joked that he would have to put extra crews on road repairs. Esmeralda spent nearly as much time at Long Cleeve as she did in the Hall, and she and Pearl became closer even than she had been to her sisters before leaving Tuckborough to marry Saradoc. Little Emmy took to calling her 'Auntie' and plopping herself in the Mistress' lap whenever she sat down to rest, and with Ammy in her own mother's lap there were many companionable conversations.

Wee Taddy became Pippin's shadow; you could hardly see one without the other. He would still prefer his father's company when it came to driving a waggon, for the tiny lad felt that no one could chirrup to the ponies quite as properly as himself.

In the week before Ruby's birthday, several great pavilions were set up in the meadow near the house, one containing an open-air kitchen, more than one with long tables and benches for the feasting, and the largest for dancing. The children were everywhere underfoot, and good natured workers had to keep shooing them out of the way. There were no casualties, however, only a happy, busy, atmosphere that promised wonderful festivities to come.

Merry and Ruby had little time together. Sometimes they could steal away with Pippin and Diamond as escort. The four would pack a picnic and ride their ponies into the hills or woods and spend half a day talking, laughing, singing. These times were rare enough, for there was so much to be done about the farm to prepare for the wedding, and a wedding dress to be fitted and sewn and fitted again.

Most of their time together seemed to be washing and drying dishes. They would lift their voices in song, and often hobbits passing near the house on wedding business would stop to listen for a moment or two. The happy couple were glad that so much food needed to be cooked and served--and washed up after--in those busy days.

The evening before Ruby's birthday, all was ready. Ruby and Merry walked hand in hand in the fields behind the house, away from the bustle, trailed by Diamond and Pippin and faithful Tad. They stopped to look up at the canopy of stars spread above, and to enjoy the evening breeze after the warm, busy day. Merry took a deep breath and laughed. Ruby looked up inquiringly, and he looked down into her face and squeezed her hand.

'Why, we could get married tomorrow,' he chuckled. 'Everything is ready.'

'Now, Meriadoc, you would not spoil everyone's plans so! Half the relatives would miss the wedding!'

'And would that be a bad thing?' he teased.

She laughed. 'But think of the waste!'

He shook his head merrily. 'No waste. We can slip away and leave the feasting to them!'

'Mmmmm,' she answered. 'I must admit it is tempting.' She looked up again. 'But,' she sighed, 'It would not be fitting for the young Master-to-be of Buckland, not to mention Hero of the Shire, so to shirk his responsibilities.'

'Oh, I see how it is going to be,' he said. 'You are going to become my taskmaster.'

'Your conscience,' she corrected. They laughed together. Behind them they heard Taddy's voice pipe up, Pippin's answer, and a laugh from the little group behind them.

Diamond's voice floated to them on the breeze. 'Ruby!' she called.

'Yes?' Ruby called back.

'Taddy wants to know what you're going to give him on your birthday tomorrow!'

'How about a switch?' Ruby called.

She smiled at the outburst of pretended outrage from her little brother.

She felt Merry's shoulders shaking with laughter. 'Tell him it's a surprise!' she called back. All of her littlest brother's wheedling could not draw any more information than that.

***

Mid-year's Eve day dawned with great promise. Ruby met her father coming from the barn, put her arms around him, careful not to spill the milk in the buckets he held, and said, 'Well?'

He looked down at this eldest daughter of his, whom he would be giving away on the morrow. 'Ah, lass,' he said. 'Is it too late to call it all off?' At her quizzical expression he smiled. 'I do not know quite how I will be able to spare you.'

'I will make my new husband bring me for dinner twice a week,' she said with a smile of her own. 'And so, you see, the wedding is a good thing, for while you'll have less of me, you'll have more of Meriadoc! You were just saying the other day how fine it was to gain another son...'

'Oh, aye, verily,' her father replied. 'But can he manage a plow?'

Pearl heard their laughter as they approached the house. Her heart ached to be losing her lovely daughter, but that was the way of things. Birdlings grew up and flew from the nest, and it would hardly be fitting for her to keep her daughters at home until they were aunties by the fire.

There was a step behind her and she found herself enveloped in a gentle hug. 'I won't take her away if you don't want me to, Mother Pearl,' Merry's teasing voice said gently in her ear.

She pulled away and seized his ear. 'Now young master, I hope it's not cold feet that you're getting! Are we going to have to tie you up to keep you here until the wedding?'

'Oh, no!' Diamond said, entering. 'He wanted to have the wedding today, as a matter of fact.'

Pearl released the ear. 'Oh, well, then,' she said. 'That's all right.' At his look of surprise, she said, 'We can get the feasting over with and when the relatives arrive on the morrow they can help clean it all up again.'

The sound of Pippin's flute was heard, playing Sam and Rosie's wedding tune, and he entered the main room with young hobbits dancing about him. He put down the flute, eyes adance with mischief. 'So, cousin, have you told her all your secrets, yet?'

Merry's eyes met Ruby's soberly.

She knew all about the Shadow. She had been there the first time it had nearly taken him in the Shire, and Merry had told her about the subsequent attack. She had shown no qualms at having to deal with its return every mid-March. 'There will be happier anniversaries to celebrate, as well,' she'd said when he brought the subject up. Now she smiled suddenly and turned to Pippin, 'Oh, no!' she said lightly. 'I expect it'll take a lifetime to learn them all!'

'Good thing you plan to spend a lot of time in each other's company, then!' Diamond put in.

'O my,' Merry breathed, gazing at his bride-to-be. A lot of time, indeed.

Pippin broke out again. 'Ah, but does she know about the hobbit lass you left behind in Hobbiton?'

Her puzzled eyes met Merry's; she knew it was a joke of course, but what could he mean? Her mother laughed suddenly, and began to sing.

Then Merry he took him a bite, a bite
And his face was all spread with delight, delight
And he sang to the sky, with a gleam in his eye,
'Tis the finest pie ever could be, could be,
'Come, dear Rosie lass, marry me!'

The rest of the family joined in the song, Pippin seizing Pearl's hands to swing her into a dance about the kitchen. Soon the room was overfull of singing and dancing.

Captain Merry, he turned then to Sam, to Sam
And he said, 'I'll advise ye, my lamb, my lamb!
'Better speak to her soon, beneath the full moon,
'Or soon she'll be married to me, to me,
'Better take warning, Samwise Gamgee!'

The song ended in breathless laughter. 'How can she not know?' young Jotham cried. 'The song's been sung at every wedding in the Shire since!'

'Author! Author!' applauded Farmer Took.

Merry bowed, and Pearl broke in. 'All right then, unless you all want cold breakfast you'd better sit down at table!'

All the Tooks and Brandybucks present complied.

Chapter 19. Mid-year's Eve, Noontide

'What are you going to give me for your birthday, Ruby?' little Tad's voice rang above the cheerful conversation at the breakfast table.

Ruby met her father's eye. 'Well?' she said again, as she had when she met him coming from the barn earlier.

'Oh, the weather is fair enough. There might be a spot of rain this afternoon, but I think your plans will be fine for noontide.'

She laughed at Taddy's excited chatter. 'What is it, Ruby? What?'

She stood, and all eyes went to her. 'I have a birthday present for you all!' she announced gaily. 'I am taking you all on a picnic on the Hill!'

A chorus of cheers answered her, and she looked to the Master and Mistress of Brandy Hall. 'Brandybucks included, of course.'

'What about Tooks?' Thom shouted.

She pretended to give the matter serious consideration. 'Well, now...' she said. 'We've just enough room for north-Tooks. I don't know if any just-plain-Tooks can come along...'

A mutinous shout arose from the younger hobbits and she made a great show of changing her mind. 'Oh, well, then, I suppose we can all squeeze together a bit more to make room,' she said.

'Pip can sit on Diamond's lap!' Emmy shouted. The table erupted in laughter.

'Diamond can sit on his lap, that'd be cosier!' Ammy added her shout to the confusion.

'Girls!' their mother corrected, while Diamond ducked her head and--Pearl's gaze sharpened--Peregrin actually blushed.

'Pack up the food, lasses, and we will get the waggons ready,' the farmer said, rising from the table.

Merry and Pippin chose to leave their ponies in the stable and ride in the waggons with the rest. Ammy was right, it was much cosier. Young Jotham and Tim had elected to use the harnesses with bells sewn to the straps, and Emmy and Ammy had braided bright ribbons into the four ponies' manes and tails. It was a merry group that turned onto the road, jingling, laughing, singing.

They forded the Branch and turned off the road to follow a track that wound ever upwards, around the Hill. When they got near the top, the drivers set the brakes on the waggons. Merry and Pippin helped to unharness the ponies and set them out on long lines so that they could feast on the hillside grasses as the hobbits feasted on their picnic. Everyone piled out of the waggons to carry something to the top.

When Farmer Took, Jotham, Merry and Pippin reached the top of the hill, the blankets had been spread and the feast was nearly laid out. From the top of the Hill they could see for miles around: farms, villages, field, wood, and stream. To the east they could see all the way to the distant gleam of the Brandywine.

'What a view!' Merry exclaimed.

'Oh, aye,' Ruby answered, amusement in her tone, and when he looked over she was staring straight at him. They laughed together, and she fixed him another sandwich just to his liking.

After eating he took her hand and they wandered to where wildflowers rioted over the hillside. He picked a great bunch and presented them to her with a flourish and a bow.

Laughing, they returned to the picnic and she proceeded to braid the flowers into a long chain. 'There!' she said, holding them up. He took the chain from her, winding it into a crown which he gently placed on her head.

'Queen of the Hill,' he said smiling.

'You keep sweet-talking me that way, I just might marry you,' she returned.

Her father broke in. 'I'm sorry to spoil the fun, my lass, but those clouds there look to be coming up fast. I think we should take your Birthday back to the house now.'

Ruby grinned at Merry mischievously. 'My father is always right, you know,' she stated.

'Aye,' the farmer agreed, 'At least until you're married. Then your husband is always right!'

'Oh, aye,' Ruby giggled. She rose and all began to pack up the picnic, harness the ponies, hitch them up to the waggons that were being loaded as quickly as they had been unloaded.

Young Jotham drove the first waggon, Tim at his side; and riding "cosily" in the back were the Master and Mistress of Buckland, Pippin, Diamond, and Pearl. Farmer Took drove the second waggon, with Tad holding the ends of the reins. Ruby and Merry sat with Thom between them and a twin nestled against each side. Picnic baskets and blankets took up the rest of the waggon beds.

They wound down the side of the Hill. Merry looked down at Ruby and sighed. 'Oh, I hate to see it end.'

She looked up with a bright smile, 'Oh, no, my love, this is just the beginning.'

'Beginning of what?' Thom demanded.

'Her birthday, silly!' Emmy put in.

'There's still a great cake at home, and--' Ammy added, but was stopped suddenly by Thom's hand, clapped over her mouth.

'Shush!' he said. 'It's supposed to be a surprise!'

'What was that?' Ruby asked smilingly. 'I didn't quite hear...'

'Nothing!' all three small hobbits chorused.

Ruby looked back up at Merry. 'Aren't they sweet? Let's have just as big a family as we can manage!'

'Oh, aye,' Merry grinned.

'Who are you calling "sweet"?' Thom demanded.

'Your sisters, who else would I mean?' Ruby teased.

'Oh. Well, that's all right then,' Thom subsided, ruffled dignity soothed.

The first waggon crossed the Branch at the ford with no problem, but the second waggon bogged down in the middle with a sharp cracking sound. Farmer Took spoke to the ponies, and they pulled their best, but the waggon did not move. He jumped down with a splash into the shallow water to take a look.

He bent down, ran his hands down the wheel under the water, and straightened up again, cupping his hands to call to Young Jotham, waiting with the other waggon. 'Wheel's dropped into a hole and jammed against a rock! Get the rope out!'

Jotham nodded and set his brake, then got down from the driver's seat.

Farmer Took looked over at his passengers. 'You lot sit tight,' he said. 'We'll be out of here in no time.' He looked up at Taddy, still on the driver's seat. 'You hold those ponies, Taddy! Don't let them run away with the waggon.'

'Yes, Sir!' the tiny lad called back proudly.

Farmer Took splashed to the shore and hoisted himself into the back of the first waggon to help Jotham dig out the rope from under the seat.

'Looks as if we headed back at just the right time,' Esmeralda remarked to Pearl. 'Just listen to that thunder.'

Pippin cocked an ear, puzzled. 'That doesn't sound like thunder...' he said, but the dawning realization choked off his words as a wall of water appeared in the shallow bed of the Branch and thundered down upon the stalled waggon and its occupants.

Pippin had the nightmare feeling that he was back at the Bruinen as the flood came down to overwhelm the Black Riders. There was barely time for a shout before the water was upon them. Those in the first waggon watched in frozen horror as the flood lifted the second waggon, spilling the hobbits into the raging waters and dragging the screaming ponies downstream.

Pippin was up in a flash and running down the riverbank.

Saradoc started to rise, to follow, only to be stopped by a warning pain in his chest. 'Rope!' he gasped to Farmer Took, grabbing at his sleeve. The farmer looked at him dumbfounded, and he gestured to Pippin's downstream flight. The farmer nodded and scrambled to dig out ropes for Young Jotham and Tim and another for himself. They pelted after Pippin.

Diamond gasped as she saw Pippin pause and dive into the maelstrom.

Pippin had spotted a bit of bright fabric; a closer look showed the twins clinging together to a branch. He had no idea how they had managed to end up together, but he blessed the fact; it meant he could try to rescue two instead of one. He struggled to reach them, grabbing at the end of the branch.

The current pulled his head under and he struggled up again. 'Hang on,' he gasped to the twins. He caught a sight of their terrified faces before he was pulled under again, and something struck his side with a heavy blow. He swallowed water, but fought his way upward again and with a mighty kick he was above the water, gasping for air, and a great lunge brought his hand to the branch.

He heard a shout over the confusion of the water and a rope landed just ahead of him. He grabbed it as the current swept them along, held tight, felt the rope tighten, and then he was being hauled against the current towards the bank.

'Hold tight!' he shouted to the twins.

As soon as Tim and Jotham grasped the branch Pippin hauled himself from the water and ran downstream again. He saw a gleam of bright yellow--Tad!--and dove again, swimming as strongly as he could towards the yellow gleam. He caught the shirt as the tiny lad floated by, and struck out for shore, but one arm did not seem to be working properly; each stroke brought a gasp of pain. He felt rather than saw the rope brush past him, and with his last strength seized the line and held tight as he and Taddy were pulled in.

When he reached the bank, Taddy was taken from him and then he felt strong hands hauling him out of the water.

He gasped and coughed, feeling a stabbing pain at every breath. The water he'd swallowed made him sick, his efforts had exhausted him, and his limbs felt as limp as old lettuce leaves left in the sun to wilt.

The hands left him there and he looked up to see the farmer and his older son running along the bank, searching desperately for more bodies in the water.

Taddy lay unmoving beside him. Wincing, he sat up and pulled himself over to the lad. What was it they did at Brandy Hall when a young hobbit swallowed too much of the River? Oh, yes. He bent the tiny body over his arm and began to smack hard on the lad's back. He was rewarded after a few hard smacks with a cough, and then the lad vomited water, followed by more coughing.

A sobbing Mistress Took reached him then and took Taddy from his arms, holding the lad close. He looked up to see Diamond with her arms about the blanket-wrapped twins. He craned downstream to see the searching figures.

Where were Ruby and Thom?

Where was Merry?

Chapter 20. Mid-year's Eve, Afternoon into Evening

Ruby had been sharing a special look with Merry when her eyes widened and she cried out in fear. He turned to look behind him in time to see the wall of water scant pony-lengths away.

'Grab hold!' he shouted, and he saw Ruby take hold of Emmy beside her, and Thom between them, even as he grabbed Ammy and locked a desperate hand around Ruby's arm.

'Tad!' Ruby screamed. The water hit the waggon and everything began to move with agonizing slowness.

Merry watched in horror as the tiny lad was swept away, crying for his father, but he had little enough time to think; he was now fighting to kick his feet hard enough to drive them to the surface without losing his grip on the arms he held. He blessed the fact that he'd left his mail behind this day. Even without its weight he despaired of reaching the surface... when suddenly his head broke into air, he took a great gasp, he managed to shout, 'Kick your legs!' before they were pulled under again.

They came up again near a great broken-off branch bobbing on the tumult and with a terrible effort he managed to push Ammy towards it. 'Grab hold!' he shouted again, 'Ammy! Get the branch!'

Ammy reached out a desperate hand, and then she had it. She managed to pull herself over, and then Merry reached the branch and pulled the rest of them to its dubious safety.

Merry got hold of Thom to let Ruby grab for the branch, then worked his way around her to secure Thom and Emmy. Their weight caused the heavy branch to sink beneath the surface, but kicking his feet, he was able to get his weight off enough to keep the others afloat.

He had begun to hope that somehow they might come out of this, when they slammed against an obstruction. Thom lost his grip. Merry reached for him but missed, losing his own grasp on the branch. He heard Ruby scream his name as he went under. Something struck his head and he saw stars; he tried to swim but arms and legs had turned to lead and the effort did not seem to matter so much anymore. He fetched up hard against an obstruction, but numb, he no longer felt the current that was pushing against him, holding him in place. Everything was dim and far away as the roar of the rushing water closed over him.

Merry came to himself later, he didn't know how much later. He was being rolled on his stomach over a log, back and forth, until he vomited water and coughed himself sick. Hands pulled him upright and sat him with his back to something hard, he felt something soft and dry envelop him, something was pressed to his aching head, but he was feeling too vague to put a name to any of these things. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, heard his mother's voice say, 'It's bleeding bad, we must bind it up tight until it can be stitched.'

He had a pressing need but his head ached so that it was hard to remember. Then he did remember, and tried to sit up. Hands pressed him back and he fought them, trying to get up. 'Ruby!' he called. 'Ruby!' He had to find her.

His mother tried to soothe him but her voice broke, and then he knew... somehow he knew that it was too late.

He heard Farmer Took's deep voice, sounding weak and broken, saying, 'Can he walk or do we need to carry him?'

'I don't think he can walk,' his mother's voice answered. 'He's taken a bad blow to the head, and lost much blood, I think.'

'Come on, lads, let's see if we can lift him--not you, Peregrin, not with those cracked ribs of yourn. Don't be a fool, lad!'

'I can walk,' he protested, but could hardly hear his own voice in his ears.

Hands took hold under his arms, and the farmer's voice sounded in his ear. 'Easy, lad. If you can get your legs to move it'll be a great help.'

He was lifted to his feet and staggered blindly, supported on each side, until they stopped and the farmer's voice came again. 'Help get 'im into the waggon, now.'

He was lifted, hands laid him down, his head pillowed on something soft... a lap? His father's voice sounded close to his ear, his father's hand stroked his wet hair back from his face. Several were softly sobbing, then the waggon gave a jerk and they were in motion.

Time had no meaning. The waggon creaked and jolted slowly over the road, the journey took forever, the journey was over in an instant. The waggon was stopped.

More voices, shocked exclamations, hysterical weeping, the farmer's voice making explanation, the sound of a pony being ridden out of the yard at a gallop.

Merry felt himself being lifted out of the waggon by more hands than could belong to just Farmer Took, Jotham, and Tim. He opened his eyes to see Samwise and other hobbits who were due to arrive that evening, he couldn't quite remember why...

They were lifting two blanket-shrouded forms out of the waggon and he knew it was important but his head ached. He closed his eyes, welcoming the Darkness, and gratefully slipped back to that place where there were no thoughts to trouble him.

***

Pippin staggered as he was helped down from the waggon. Hands reached out to steady him, and he looked into the shock-bleached face of a cousin come from Tuckborough for the wedding. 'Ferdibrand?' he said.

'Oh, aye,' his cousin sighed. 'We'd just drove in when Regi shouted that he saw the waggon coming. We saw the ponies all decked out in their ribbons, and we heard the jingling bells. We thought--' He broke off and wiped his sleeve across his eyes.

Reginard came up to them and took Pippin from the other side. 'Come on, let's walk him to the house.'

'I can walk.'

'You can barely stand on your feet, lad. Give me some credit for having two eyes I know how to use.'

He allowed them to walk him to the house, and lower him to a chair by the hearth. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again. Breathing was painful. He remembered that feeling from Ithilien.

Reginard lifted his shirt to prod gently along his ribcage. He sucked in a breath, and that hurt too.

'Looks as if you've cracked some ribs.'

'Oh, aye, and don't I know it...'

'I can bind them for you. Might make you more comfortable until the healer gets here.'

'Thanks. That will be a help,' Pippin replied.

Someone spoke softly at his side. 'Master Pippin? I have a cup of tea here for you.'

He looked up to see Rosie Gamgee, a steaming cup between her hands. He reached for it with his right hand, which brought another twinge of pain from his side. She saw it in his face, and asked, 'Do you want me to hold it for you?'

'No, I will just make believe I'm left-handed for the moment,' he said, trying to smile. The tea was hot and oversweet, but sipping it seemed to steady him, and after a few sips the room did not threaten to tilt and whirl as much as it had done.

He heard voices in low conversation, '...downpour ...earthen dam gave way upstream. They didn't have a hope...'

Hopeless sobbing came from the bedroom, and Mistress Pearl was heard to cry out, 'Oh, Ruby lass! Oh my poor Thom!'

Merry had been laid on the long table, and soon the healer came in with the farmer and went right to him. 'He's the worst of the lot,' the farmer said.

'Broken limbs?'

'No, we don't think so. Blow to the head, and the left arm is a bit banged up. We had to bandage it tight, it was bleeding so. On top of it he's half drowned; we had to force a lot of water out.'

Strangely detached, Pippin watched the healer unwind the bandage as the farmer spoke, probe with gentle fingers, shake his head. 'Yes, that will have to be stitched. Head's not bad but we don't know what is going on inside, of course.'

The cup fell from Pippin's fingers as the room began to swim. 'It's all right, Master Pippin, I've got it,' Rosie's voice came. She caught him as he started to slide from the chair. 'Sam!' he heard her call sharply.

'We've no more beds,' he heard Diamond say wearily. 'You'll have to lay him on the floor. Let me get some blankets down first.'

'Easy now, Mr Pippin,' Sam said in his ear. 'We're just going to... ease... you... down, so,' and Pippin felt action suited to word.

The kitchen was silent save the crackling of the fire on the hearth, the sound of several voices softly sobbing, the occasional murmur from the healer. It did not seem possible that it could be the same place which had seen such merriment--dancing, song, laughter--scant hours earlier.

Chapter 21. Message from an Absent Cousin

Pippin woke to bright sunshine and muffled birdsong. He was lying on a hard, unyielding surface and for a minute couldn't figure out where he was. A fire was crackling nearby and someone who sounded quite close to him was crooning low. He opened his eyes to see the farmhouse kitchen, and Rosie Gamgee, a shawl covering the babe that she nursed as she sat beside him on the floor.

She saw his eyes open. 'Welcome back to the world,' she said softly. 'Do you feel like having any breakfast?'

He tried to sit up but was too stiff and sore.

Rosie looked beyond him and suddenly Samwise was there to help him sit. 'Careful, Mr Pippin,' he said. 'You've cracked some ribs.'

'Is that what it is?' Pippin asked wryly. 'Help me up, Sam. Where's Merry?'

Sam's eyes were sorrowful. 'They couldn't keep him abed. He insisted on sitting by the lass. He won't leave hold of her hand.'

'Help me up,' Pippin said again. 'Or are you going to make me crawl to him?'

Sam took the hint.

Stiff-and-sore did not begin to describe it. Pippin did his best to stifle a groan as Sam helped him to his feet. He felt as if the Orcs had taken hold of him again and beaten him over his entire body. He caught Rosie's look of concern. 'I am all right, Rosie-lass,' he reassured her. 'I felt far worse the day after your wedding supper.' He saw her swallow hard, and try to smile.

Sam walked him to the room with the big bed where he had watched through those dark days with Merry an eternity ago. Lying atop the coverlet were the two who had been lost in the Branch the previous day. They had been lovingly prepared for burial: Thom in his finest suit, Ruby in the dress she would have worn today under happier circumstances. Merry sat beside the bed, holding Ruby's hand.

Pippin stopped at the doorway and motioned Sam to stay. He limped into the room. Hearing his step, Merry looked up. 'Don't wake her,' he said. 'It's early yet.'

'Merry,' he breathed. His cousin did not answer but began to croon low, a song he had sung so many times with Ruby.

Pippin limped to the dresser, where someone had laid brushes and a gold hair clasp in a butterfly shape. He recognized the butterfly as one Merry had given to Ruby some weeks before. He picked it up, gently stroked the finely wrought wings, delicate, and beautiful, like its owner, and slipped it into a pocket.

He walked over to his cousin. 'Here, Merry,' he said, holding out his hand. 'Ruby wanted me to show you something, but you've got to come with me to see it.'

Merry tenderly kissed the cold hand and laid it gently on the bed. 'I'll be right back, Ruby love,' he murmured.

'Come along, then.' He reached out to take Merry's uninjured arm, nearly overbalancing, but caught himself at the last minute. He helped his cousin out of the chair. 'Come this way,' he encouraged.

Samwise carefully took Merry's other arm and they walked him to one of the chairs by the little bedroom hearth.

'Sit down here, Merry,' Pippin said lightly. He took the gold butterfly from his pocket and pressed it into his cousin's hands. 'Ruby wanted you to hold this, until... until she's done doing up her hair. Can you wait here?'

'I can wait,' Merry said softly. 'I've waited this long, I can wait a bit longer.' Sitting quietly in the chair, clasping the gold butterfly, he slipped away, Pippin saw, his look becoming unfocused as if he gazed into a far distance.

He didn't seem to notice when the sorrowful hobbits came to bear away the bodies.

***

Ruby and Thom were laid out in the pavilion that was to have held music and dance. Ruby looked beautiful in the dress she had helped to make for her wedding this day, and Thom in his fine suit might have been lying down to play a trick on his brothers; they expected at any moment he would jump up with a gleam in his eye and shout with laughter at their surprise.

A long line of mournful friends and relatives shuffled past to pay their respects to the family and take their leave of the departed. The remaining north-Tooks and the Brandybucks stood quietly to receive the broken words of condolence.

When the last of the line had passed, Farmer Took put his arm around his wife. 'It's time, Pearl.'

He tried to lead her gently away, but she broke from him with an exclamation.

'Pearl!' he said, grieved.

'No,' she repeated. 'Let me,' she said. 'It's my place.'

He stepped back silently.

She went to the still forms, gently drew up the shroud on each, kissing the cold cheek before carefully tucking the shroud around the beloved face. 'Good night, my darlings,' she crooned. 'May your dreams be peaceful ones.' She turned away and sought her husband's embrace.

Grim-faced hobbits picked up the poles and led the procession to the family burying ground. A song arose from the following crowd, song of present sorrow and future hope. The hobbits gathered around while the white-shrouded forms were laid to rest, continuing to sing until the last of the earth had been carefully mounded over. Falling silent, they turned to walk back to the funeral dinner.

Merry had gone through the day like a sleepwalker, walking where Pippin led him, standing when Pippin left him alone, barely acknowledging the soft words of condolence spoken to him. Now he stood by the side of the grave, still clutching Ruby's butterfly clasp in his hand.

Pippin put a guiding hand on his arm. 'Come along, Merry,' he said softly. 'It is time to go back to the house.'

They walked back past the dinner tents to the silent farmhouse, where Pippin eased him into a chair by the bedroom hearth. 'Merry?' Pippin asked. 'Merry? Do you hear me?'

Merry sat as if turned to stone, Pippin's words falling around him like spatters of rain, making about as much impression. Finally his cousin let him alone, and he gratefully sank back into that place where the pain was dull and far away.

He was dimly aware of the door opening and people coming in. Someone said, '...been like that for hours; he neither moves nor speaks.'

He heard Sam's voice say, 'Leave me alone with him, a bit?' and then the door closed and it was quiet again.

Sam's voice spoke in front of him, quite close. 'Merry? It's Sam. Do you know me?'

He sat staring at nothing, feeling nothing, thinking nothing, except in a place down deep inside himself that merely wished everyone would go and leave him be.

Sam's hands closed around his, much the same way Frodo's had in this same room, only instead of Frodo's white jewel he held a gold butterfly.

Sam's voice spoke again. 'Merry? I have a message for you from Frodo.'

Frodo stared down at the few words he'd managed to write with a vague sense of dissatisfaction. There was more, so much more, that he wanted to say, but the pen was too heavy and the nagging pain behind his eyes had returned with a vengeance. He slowly sprinkled the blotting sand over the glistening ink. After it had done its work he gently picked up the paper and blew the sand away. Even the paper felt heavy.

He sighed and wondered how he would ever be able to finish Bilbo's book. Ah, well, one line at a time, if need be. He folded the paper carefully into fourths, then reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and fingers, willing the headache to subside. He heard Sam's soft step, and then a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder.

'Lie down, Mr Frodo, why don't you? I'll bring a cool cloth for your head.' Sam helped him up from the desk and eased him down on the bed. 'Are you feeling poorly, Mr Frodo?'

'No, I'm fine,' he lied. 'I just got a little too much sun by the River, I think.' As Sam started to turn away Frodo called him back.

'Yes, Mr Frodo?'

'There's a paper on the desk, I want you to put it in a safe place and keep it for me.' He went on to tell Samwise what to do with the paper, and obtaining his constant companion's promise, he lay back and closed his eyes, confident that Samwise, though not understanding why, would be faithful to complete his commission.

The hands were taken away and he heard the sound of paper rustling as if being gently unfolded and smoothed out. Then one of Sam's great, work-hardened hands clasped his again.

'Merry? He left this with me, he said to give it to you when you needed it. He said I would know the right time...'

Sam began to read, and it was as if Merry could hear Frodo speaking through him.

'All we can do is our best. You just keep walking in the Light, Merry, no matter what happens. Will you promise me that you'll do your best? Keep walking in the Light.'

He couldn't explain it, but warm sunshine seemed to be breaking through the icy chill that held him in its grip. He found himself answering, 'That's a promise, Frodo.'

'Merry?' Sam asked hopefully. Merry's eyes lost their faraway look and came into focus on his face.

'Sam? When did you get here?'

'Oh, just a little while ago,' the gardener answered easily. 'Now, you need some rest, Merry. Here, let me help you,' and as carefully as he might have cared for his beloved Mr Frodo, he helped Merry out of the chair and into the bed, pulling up the covers and patting them down smooth. 'There you go, Merry. Have a bit of a rest and I'll be here if you need anything.'

Merry nodded his thanks, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and slipped gently into sleep.

Chapter 22. Sorrow Shared

The day after the buryings, many of the guests departed, but some of the closer relatives stayed to help pack everything up. Farmer Took and a small party of hobbits were to go back to the Branch in search of the ponies which had been dragged downstream; the bodies if left would foul the water. Others stayed to see to the dismantling of the pavilions and all the paraphernalia of celebration, to spare the grieving north-Tooks the chore. Willing hands joined in to aid in the work of the farm, as well, while the family got back on its feet from the double tragedy.

As Farmer Took heavily mounted to the seat of the waggon, he was hailed by a shout. He turned to see the Master of Buckland walking slowly across the yard.

'I would like to come, if I may,' Saradoc said.

Farmer Took wordlessly reached down to help the Master into the waggon, but as Saradoc settled himself, the farmer thought twice about it and spoke. 'Are you well enough?'

'I'm as well as can be,' Saradoc replied. 'There won't be overmuch excitement this trip, I shouldn't wonder.'

The farmer grunted in reply, and chirruped to the ponies.

Young Taddy was not well enough to help his father drive the ponies, having taken in enough water for lung fever to be threatening. Sam and Rosie alternated by Merry's bedside, to allow Pippin to sit with the lad, though he really ought to have been in bed himself.

When they got to the ford, the farmer put the brakes on the waggon. Several of the hobbits shouldered ropes or shovels and jumped out to walk both banks of the Branch.

Saradoc nodded to his host. 'I will stay and mind the ponies.'

Farmer Took only nodded in reply, but secretly he was relieved. They'd had enough sorrow without losing the Master of Buckland into the bargain due to heart strain.

Saradoc sat a long while in the waggon, listening to the gurgle of the water that only two days before had become a roar. Hearing a distant shout, he climbed down off the waggon seat and unhitched the ponies; hauling himself up on one, he rode them along the bank, far downstream, to where a crowd of hobbits was gathering.

Farmer Took knelt in the mud by the bodies. He gently stroked the snip of white on the face of the pony nearest him. Ribbons still hung from the lank manes and trailed from the tails spread out in the gently lapping water.

'Ah, Snip,' the farmer said softly. 'Ye did your best, my lass. You always did your best.' Suddenly he covered his face and began to sob. 'My lass,' he said brokenly, 'My poor, poor lass.'

Saradoc knew he was not talking about the pony.

The other hobbits turned away to give the farmer room for his grief. Saradoc slipped from the pony's back and Reginard Took stepped up to take the reins. The Master of Buckland put a hand on the farmer's shoulder. 'Come along,' he urged. 'There's enough lads to do this. Come away, Jotham.'

Tears were running down Young Jotham's face as he added, 'It's all right, Dad, I'll put Snip away for you. Haven't I always done?'

Farmer Took allowed the helping hands to lift him, to turn him away, to escort him upriver back to the ford. Saradoc found a convenient log for them to sit upon, and the two sat far enough away that the sounds of the bells were dim and dreamlike as the harness was removed from the bodies. They could hear only faintly the shouts of the sweating hobbits who tied ropes to each of the bodies in turn so that the North-Tooks' surviving ponies could drag them away from the river to be buried.

At last the work party came back to the waggons, only the jingling harnesses draped over shoulders to show for their efforts. No one spoke during the slow ride back to Long Cleeve.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, Saradoc felt a stab of dread. The healer's pony was tied up before the door.

Farmer Took jumped down from the waggon seat, while Young Jotham hurried up from behind to take the ponies' heads. Saradoc eased himself down a little more slowly. The warning pain in his chest from the other day had not completely gone.

The healer met them at the door, eyes sober though he tried to smile. 'That young Tad of yours is a fighter, Jotham,' he said. He put a hand on Farmer Took's shoulder and added, 'I will call again this evening.'

He turned sharp eyes on the Master of Buckland. 'Master Brandybuck, I would like to see you in a chair, preferably with your feet up.'

'Oh, of course,' Saradoc replied. 'I was just going to do that.'

Unfortunately Mistress Took was near enough the door to have heard the comment, and she and Esmeralda saw to it that the healer's advice was carried out.

He protested, 'I wanted to see Meriadoc first,' but was overruled.

'He's sleeping. Samwise is with him, and will call us when he wakes.'

He allowed them to sit him in a chair by the kitchen hearth, feet propped upon a stool. Young Rosie, Sam's sweet faced wife, brought him second breakfast. He hadn't had the heart to eat the early breakfast Diamond had pressed upon him.

He dozed in the chair and awoke with a start to find his son kneeling by his side.

'Meriadoc?'

'I was told you wanted to see me,' Merry said softly, rising to stand beside him.

Saradoc closed his eyes in his relief at seeing his son in his right mind.

'Father?'

At the note of worry in Merry's voice, Saradoc roused enough from the weight of his relief to offer reassurance. 'I'm well. Yes.' The Master reached up to grasp the hand that rested on his shoulder, pulled it down to his chest, buried his face against the arm, kept holding on tight. 'I am well,' he murmured again.

His son's arms encompassed him, and Merry whispered, 'I'm harder to lose than you think...'

Together they wept.

***

They stayed at Long Cleeve until Tad was pronounced out of danger. By that time Pippin's ribs were healed enough for him to ride without discomfort.

Esmeralda and Saradoc had agreed to their nephew's plan to take Meriadoc to Tuckborough for a time. It would do him good to get away for awhile.

After a visit to the graves to lay an armful of wildflowers at each, he and Merry stood in the yard, holding their ponies, while those yet remaining at the farm gathered to see them off. Diamond stepped up to give Merry a hug, looking up soberly, saying, 'Don't be a stranger, now. You'll always be a brother to me.'

Merry, his grief still too fresh for words, returned the hug in silence.

Diamond moved to Pippin, to embrace him next. 'Thank you for saving so many,' she whispered.

'I wish I could have done more,' he said softly. 'I wish I could have saved them all.'

He felt her head nod against his chest, and her arms tightened about him. His eyes met those of Farmer and Mistress Took, and he lifted his chin.

Mistress Took sucked in her breath and turned to her husband. They shared a long look, then turned back to Pippin. The farmer gave a deliberate nod.

Pippin smiled and looked down, gently disengaging Diamond's arms. 'I could stay here all day, but I'd hate to disappoint Socks. He's all saddled and ready to go and you know how he loves his outings.'

Diamond tried to smile, tried to answer with her usual sauciness. 'Go on with you, Master Peregrin,' she said weakly.

He nodded and grinned. 'I'll be back as soon as they kick me out of Tuckborough. Which oughtn't to take long.' He turned to the ponies. 'Coming, Merry?'

'I am ahead of you, for once,' Merry said from Jewel's back.

'Well don't get used to it! For once is about all you'll get!' Pippin retorted, swinging into the saddle.

They raised their hands in answer to the farewells and turned to the road.

Chapter 23. The Old and the New

Merry and Pippin had spent the morning of Remembering Day carefully carving a tiny boat each, hollowing them out, fitting them with wicks and pouring in the fragrant beeswax.

Now they gathered by the River with the rest of the hobbits of the Hall, watching the Sun seek her bed. As darkness fell, Saradoc, standing on the bank, lighted the torch in his hand, and the crowd turned respectfully to him.

'We gather together for remembering, as is our custom on this day. We remember those who have been lost to us since the last time we gathered so. We are here to celebrate their lives, their memory, our love which can never be lost, and the hope we share.'

Carodoc stepped up to him, small candle-boat in hand, and lit the wick from the Master's torch. Cradling the tiny craft, shielding the flame from any chance breeze, he turned to the River and set the boat on the water, naming his wife, who had died earlier in the spring. One by one the hobbits of the Hall who held similar craft stepped up to light the wick and set the floating candle afloat, naming a loved one.

Pippin lit his candle, bent to the water, saying softly, 'Thom'.

The flotilla of lights spread and grew and floated downstream, a constellation of tiny stars upon the water. Last to step up, Merry lit his candle and bent to the water. He cradled the tiny boat in his hands for a moment, then set it gently on the River. 'Ruby,' he said.

The hobbits stood to watch the candles float downstream. More small shining boats from upstream began to float by. A voice was raised in song, and many other voices joined to swell the tune. Esmeralda took Saradoc's hand; he squeezed hers as they heard Merry add his voice to the others, singing for the first time since losing his Ruby.

As the song ended, the hobbits started to turn away from the River, to be stopped by Saradoc's voice.

'We have something else to remember this day,' he called out. 'Three years ago, on this date, the hobbits of the Shire arose against their oppressors, and cast them out. Freedom is not something we can ever afford to take lightly. We must stand ever ready to defend the Shire, that our hobbit lads and lasses may grow up to live in peace.'

Merry stepped forward, raised his silver horn, and sounded a sweet note that echoed through the River valley. The hobbits stood a moment longer, then lifting up a new song, returned to their homes, to feast and share stories and remembrances.

***

That Yule was a quiet one, though the family from Long Cleeve had come once again to share the celebration with the family at Brandy Hall. The food was as sumptuous, decorations as beautiful, the Mistress perhaps even more reckless with the candles, but a sombre mood prevailed. The dancing was much too decorous to be called a proper Yuletide dance, though the musicians did their best to play their finest.

'Come, Meriadoc, lad, give us a tune,' pleaded one of the old aunts by the fire.

'Yes, it has been too long,' said another. 'Sing one of the old tunes for us, now, do.' Merry started to shake his head, but Pippin and Diamond came up behind him, each taking an arm.

'Come, let's brighten the darkness for them, shall we?' Pippin murmured.

Arms linked, the three walked over to the musicians. Merry nodded to the leader; when the song they were playing came to an end, they did not start another.

Merry opened his lips but no song came. He felt Pippin squeeze his arm, and then his cousin began to sing, a song about the dance of the stars through the seasons. Diamond joined in, and he listened to their voices in duet before adding his third to the harmony. The musicians came in softly behind them, and the crowd of hobbits in the great room hushed to silence to hear.

When the song was ended, Pippin began another, this time a joyful tune of ploughing, planting, sweat and worry, ending in harvest and celebration. The crowd began to clap, and many joined in on the chorus.

Song followed song. At the last, Merry raised his voice to sing a sweet lullaby of hope for the morning. When he finished, he put one arm about Diamond and the other about his cousin. 'Thank you,' he said, looking from one to the other.

'Any time,' Pippin answered, but his eyes glistened with tears that belied his light tone.

Merry gave him a great hug. 'I'll be all right, cousin. I wasn't so sure, for awhile, but I am now.'

He thought of the folded paper tucked safe in an inner pocket, graced with Frodo's firm flowing script. 'No matter what happens...'

'What?' his cousin asked, puzzled.

'Oh, just something a cousin told me once,' Merry answered.

***

After the "old folk" had sought their beds, Merry, Pippin and Diamond were among the hobbits left in the great hall, staring into the flames of the Yule log and talking of the New Year.

'I'm getting too old for this,' Pippin yawned.

'If you're too old, then I'm ancient,' Merry rejoined.

His cousin eyed him seriously. 'Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it...'

Diamond giggled as Merry gave Pippin a push. 'Go on with ye now, you young rascal!' Merry said in perfect imitation of one of the old aunts.

Pippin sobered again. 'This is probably my last Yule at Brandy Hall,' he mused, looking into the flames. At Diamond's exclamation, he shrugged. 'It's true. I will come of age this summer and my presence will be required in Tuckborough...' a grin crooked his mouth. '...if they'll let me back in, that is.'

Merry looked at him quizzically. 'You think...?'

Pippin grinned back at him. 'No-o-o-o-o,' he said, drawing out the word thoughtfully. 'I'm sure they've forgotten all about that by now...'

The two cousins laughed heartily and Merry said, 'Well, I'm sure there will always be a bed for you here at the Hall.'

Pippin sighed. 'Ah, but it is so romantic to wander homeless...' He cast a sentimental look at Diamond.

She laughed. 'My father's never fed tramps at the door, and he's not about to start now!'

'He'd let them starve?'

'Oh, no!' She eyed him sternly. 'He'd put them to work, good hard labour, and then of course they wouldn't be tramps anymore, now would they?'

Pippin shuddered theatrically. 'Oh, aye,' he breathed. 'Guess I'll just have to keep bouncing from Smials to Hall and back again, then!'

Chapter 24. Another Nephew's Visit

'It's Master Peregrin! He's come from Tuckborough!'

Esmeralda met him at the door with her standard question. 'All right, young rascal. What did you do this time?' Had the Took disowned his son once again?

He regarded her with his usual pretense at innocence. 'Me?'

'Yes, you, young scalawag. What did you do?'

He sobered and dropped his eyes. 'Oh, Aunt,' he mourned, 'I'm afraid it's too dreadful... I...'

In spite of herself she felt the stirring of alarm. She touched his arm, 'What is it, lad?' she asked more gently.

He raised dancing eyes to hers. 'I asked my father for a holiday!'

'Oooo. Get along with you now, young scoundrel! Or something dreadful really will happen!'

Laughing, he ducked the stern finger she shook at him and went to see to unpacking.

She glanced out to the yard and was surprised to see he'd brought a pack-pony this trip, loaded with parcels, topped by an odd flat one that he handled with great care, almost reverence.

Saradoc stepped up behind her, put an arm around her waist, and said, 'So, he's back! Paladin disowned him again?'

'No, it's just a visit, he says.'

'What is all the baggage?'

'I'm sure we'll find out ere long.'

'That's what I'm afraid of.' He kissed her and went out to greet his nephew.

Pippin allowed the servants to continue unloading the pony after he'd removed the flat package. It was awkward to carry, but he managed it, chatting away to his uncle as they strode towards the door.

'What is all this, then?'

'Oh, Da wanted to be sure you'd take me in, so he sent a great bribe.'

'Peregrin!'

'Would you believe me if I said they were early birthday presents?'

'I would not be so inclined, no.'

'All right, then. Just this one.' He put the flat package down on its edge, and taking out his knife began to cut the twine that bound the wrappings around it. 'Of course I couldn't be spared in mid-year, that's right when we're busiest in Tuckborough, so I convinced my father to let me come now to deliver this.'

What in the world could it be?

He slowly and carefully unwrapped it, enjoying his aunt and uncle's suspense. When he had the wrappings off, they saw only a blank rectangle with a curve of wire going from one side to the other.

'And what is it supposed to be, then?' she asked. One never knew with this nephew.

'Close your eyes,' Pippin said.

'What?'

'Close them,' he insisted, 'or you might never find out.'

Saradoc and Esmeralda exchanged a humorous look, then complied. What was their nephew up to, this time? When such a rascal told you to close your eyes, it made you want to count all your fingers and toes when you opened them again... They heard their nephew walking across the floor, heard him fiddling with something, resisted peeking.

'All right, you may look now.'

Esmeralda opened her eyes and gasped. Propped on the small table against the wall was a portrait of her favourite nephew. Frodo seemed about to step from the picture. His eyes gleamed with mischief, one side of his mouth quirked upward, and in his hands he bore a mug filled with wildflowers. For all the world, it was as if she had come from the kitchen early to find him placing the mug on the breakfast table.

'Oh,' she gasped, with a hand at her heart, and felt Saradoc's arm go about her shoulder.

Pippin's bright smile faded. 'Don't you like it?' he asked anxiously.

'Like it...?' Esmeralda breathed, walking up to the picture, reaching out a hand to not quite touch Frodo's cheek, then turning to envelop Pippin in a great hug. 'Oh, you rascal!' she murmured. 'Of course I like it. It is perfect--how could I not?'

Saradoc was examining the portrait closely. 'Who did this? It is... Words fail me.'

Pippin's laugh rang out. 'Uncle, you? Speechless?'

Merry's voice came from the hallway. 'Is that you, Pippin? What are you doing here?'

'No, my father has not disinherited me again!'

Merry's great strides brought him quickly up to his cousin and they hugged fiercely.

Pippin continued, 'I heard you needed some stirring up so here I am!'

'Well, you--' Merry's eyes found the portrait and he forgot what he was going to say. As his mother had, he walked up to it and reached out a hand, stopping just short of touching the surface.

'Who painted it?' Saradoc answered again. 'I have never seen such work.'

'Estella Bolger.'

Merry whirled. 'Little Estella Bolger? Fatty Bolger's sister? She did this?' he said incredulously.

Pippin laughed in his face. 'O aye. She's not so little anymore.'

'The little pest who tried to follow us everywhere whenever we were at Budgeford? She did this?'

'Meriadoc!' He had been so overwhelmed that he had forgotten he was speaking badly of a hobbit lass in front of his mother. He apologized sheepishly, but couldn't help shaking his head. Estella Bolger?

'Ah, Uncle!' Pippin exclaimed. 'Can you spare a glass or two of the Hall's finest? I'm that dry, I can hardly get a word out, my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth.'

'Sounds to me as if you are getting plenty of words out, lad,' Saradoc said good naturedly as they began to walk in the direction of his study.

'Coming, Merry?' Pippin called back over his shoulder.

'I'll be there soon,' Merry returned. He turned again to the portrait, a sudden ache of loss seizing him. He felt his mother's gentle hand on his arm.

'I know, lad. I miss him, too. It was a lovely thing for Peregrin to do.'

'Yes it was,' he agreed, and somehow managed to tear himself away to follow them to the study.

***

Pippin had been gone since last summer, and how quiet Brandy Hall had seemed, even with all the Brandybuck relations who remained. Funny how the lack of one lively nephew could be so keenly felt.

Esmeralda smiled to see the cousins together, the face of her Meriadoc, who had been all too serious these past months, lighting with a smile at young Peregrin's nonsense. She was glad her brother had seen fit to send the lad for a visit, even if it were only for two weeks. She saw new energy in her son, and marvelled to hear his laughter ring out once more. Too bad they couldn't keep that rascal of a nephew longer. She considered sending Meriadoc off to Tuckborough again, but no... they really could not spare him. He had taken much of the burden of running Buckland from his father's shoulders. Though Saradoc was Master in name and in most of the decision making, his son acted as his arms and legs, doing all the walking and riding that Saradoc could no longer manage. He had even given up the house at Crickhollow to be closer at hand.

A week after Pippin's arrival, Merry arrived at the study to hear Saradoc and his cousin deep in conversation. As he entered, they broke off.

'What is it?'

'How are you feeling?' his father asked.

'A little tired. I didn't sleep well,' he said, wondering why Saradoc was so concerned about his health all of a sudden.

Pippin nodded, 'That's how it always starts.'

Merry regarded him in astonishment. 'What are you talking about?' Then the realization hit him. He had been too busy about Hall business to pay much attention to the passing of time, or the day's date. 'You came back because...?' Anger washed over him. 'Do you really think I need a nursemaid?'

On consideration, as the first chill hit him, his anger turned to despair. 'Perhaps I do,' he whispered. Pippin patted his shoulder in a sympathetic manner.

He allowed them to guide him to the comfortable chair by the fire. Saradoc stayed with him, reassuring hand on his shoulder, while Pippin left, coming back quickly with an armload of blankets which he quickly wrapped about his cousin.

Pippin knelt down beside the chair, taking Merry's face between his hands.

He already seemed to be far away.

'Fight it, Merry!' the younger cousin said urgently.

Merry tried to swim upwards, but the current pulled him down so strongly and his arms and legs felt like lead. He tried harder and his head broke the surface; suddenly Pippin's face came into focus. 'Drink this,' he heard Pippin say, and the hot sweet tea gave him strength before the next freezing wave broke over him and threatened to pull him down.

'Father?' his father's face became clearer as Merry struggled to focus.

'I'm here, Meriadoc. Stay with me.'

'I'm trying... trying my best.' Frodo's voice came to him. All we can do is our best.

With help he was able to fight off the Darkness for half the day before it finally pulled him down and swept him away.

When he awoke, he was in his own bed. Pippin sat beside him.

'What time is it?'

'It's tomorrow,' Pippin said. 'Just think, you don't have to go through this for another year.'

'You're a great help,' he said dryly.

'O aye,' was all Pippin answered. 'Whenever you need a nursemaid, just call on me.'

Merry squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Pippin helped him to sit up. 'It was different this time,' he said. His right arm didn't seem to want to work right, and when he touched his left hand to the right he could feel that it wasn't as warm as it should be. But it wasn't as cold as it had been, either.

'No, you stayed with us longer, and you've come back out of it sooner. Either the Dark is getting weaker or you're getting stronger.'

'That's an encouraging thought,' Merry answered. A sudden idea struck him and he looked up at Pippin in wonder. 'You rode all the way here from Tuckborough for this?'

Pippin laughed heartily, 'Oh, no... the brandy supply in the Smials is dangerously low, so my father sent me with a pack-pony full of goods to trade!' At Merry's skeptical expression, he protested. 'It's true! Honest!' He shook his head, muttering, 'Why don't people ever believe me when I'm being serious?'

'Perhaps because you never are,' Merry answered. 'Come on, help me up. I'm hungry.'

From original author's note, early 2003 posting: ...and now we come to the infamous Chapter 25 that I've talked with some of you about. Hard to believe this was written barely a month ago; in fact, this story started writing itself only six weeks or so ago... Odd. Feel as if I'd known these hobbits all my life.

This is the ice storm Merry was referring to in "To Get to the Top", also posted here.

***

Chapter 25. One Year Later

Peregrin Took was in a fix, and no mistake. The cold rain had started before he crossed Brandywine Bridge, but he'd thought nothing of it. He'd ridden in rain before. He thought of seeking shelter until the rain let up, but Newbury was out of his way and Crickhollow was nearly as far as the Hall. Twenty miles in the rain, at a brisk trot, and they'd arrive fresh and invigorated and ready for a good dinner. The bracing air was turning chilly, though. It would be good to get to the Hall, change out of his wet things, have a hot drink and dinner to follow. Socks knew this road, knew that the stable at the Hall awaited him, and the pony quickened to a steady, ground-eating pace. They were making good time.

Pippin alternated between the trot and the canter to rest his mount while still making all possible speed. The temperature dropped steadily and after an hour or so, he could see his breath and the pony's. Breakfast seemed a long time ago, but Pippin didn't want to stop to get out the second breakfast he'd packed in his saddlebag before leaving the Inn. It seemed best to press on; they'd covered half the distance to the Hall already.

They were just a few miles from the Hall when ice began to mix with the rain. Pippin was thoroughly wet by this time, didn't know he could be more miserable, but here he was. He blessed the warmth of the pony under him, and pressed his hands against either side of the warm neck. The road was becoming more treacherous and Pippin had to slow the pony down after Socks slipped for the second time. The rain had changed now to sleet, and a wind was rising. He could see the icy coating forming on everything, trees, grass, bushes, road...

They were less than a mile from the Hall, and Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. He would be glad to get out of this weather. He'd had to pull Socks down to a walk, and the pony made his way cautiously, placing each foot with care. A gust of wind came and there was a sudden crack above them. Socks shied violently as a large tree limb crashed on the road a few feet away. The footing was too treacherous; Pippin tried to shift his weight to help the pony but realized with a sickening feeling that Socks was going down.

***

When he came to himself, he could see Socks close by, struggling to gain his feet. Pippin rolled over to his hands and knees, tried to get up himself, only to have his limbs slip out from underneath him, bloodying his chin as that member came in sharp contact with the ice on the road. The pony struggled again and somehow managed to pull himself to his feet. He took a few sliding steps over to his master and reached down to give Pippin an insistent nudge, just as if they were on a picnic and Socks was eager to return to the stable for his nuncheon. This was no time to be lying down, or so he seemed to be telling his rider.

Pippin tried to get up again, but could not find purchase on the slippery road. His pony was better off, with the spiked travelling shoes The Took insisted on for all of Tuckborough's ponies in the wintertime. The pony had been able to scramble to his feet, and was managing to stand.

Pippin gasped, 'Socks! Go home!'

The pony knew that this was not right. His training had taught him never to leave his rider. But now his rider, not in the saddle, was giving him the signal to go. It was too puzzling, not to mention irritating. The pony felt the pull of the stables ahead, he knew that shelter and food were not far away. He nudged Pippin again, and Pippin caught at the reins to try to pull himself up. Socks stood patiently, but his rider did not stand and mount, simply fell back to the road and told him once again to go home. The pony whinnied in protest, slid a few steps away, then returned to nuzzle his fallen rider. Shivering violently, Pippin tried to push himself up on the ice. He grabbed at the stirrup, tried to use it to pull himself up, but his efforts nearly brought the pony down and he released the stirrup to fall back onto the wet, icy road.

He pulled his heavy woollen cloak more closely about him, trying to huddle under its inadequate shelter, but the wet had soaked through cloak and clothing underneath all the way to his skin. The coating of ice forming on the cloak merely served to seal the cold and wet in, making the part of him under the cloak feel colder than the parts of him in the open air. He shouted for help once more; the only answer was the hissing of the falling sleet.

'Socks!' he said again desperately. The chattering of his teeth made it hard to get a word out. 'Go!'

Shaking its icy mane, the pony reluctantly turned towards the Hall. 'That's the boy,' he encouraged. 'Go home!' He curled up under his cloak, hugging his knees. He'd have to start crawling soon. In a minute, he would. Just as soon as the shivers eased up a bit. He was already feeling warmer, curled under his cloak. A warning voice in the back of his head told him this was not a good sign, he was starting to freeze to death, he needed to start crawling towards the Hall. He didn't fancy lying here until he turned to a great lump of ice, suitable for making farmers swear as their waggons jolted over the great lump.

Fool of a Took, Gandalf exploded. Did you think you were on a hobbit walking party?

'No, a hobbit crawling party,' Pippin replied, and giggled. He stifled himself instantly. Giggling was not appropriate for one who had reached his majority, on whom all the hopes of the Tookland were pinned, as his father was so fond of pointing out.

This is exactly the behaviour I'm talking about! the Thain snapped. Always doing what you oughtn't and not doing what you ought! Pippin wondered idly what he ought to be doing this time.

Boromir's voice sounded close by. This cold will be the death of the halflings. He sounded worried. Cold? What cold? Pippin was feeling warmer by the moment.

***

There was an urgent knock at the door of the Master's study. 'Come,' Saradoc called, and the door swung open to reveal a lad from the stables, breathing hard.

'Sir,' he said, bobbing quickly to show respect for the Master of Buckland, 'There's a pony come in without a rider.'

'In this?' The Master's eye went to the window. Though it was midafternoon, it might as well have been twilight. Sleet was beating against the windows in an unseasonably severe storm for March.

'Aye. Old Nob asks that ye come, Sir, by your leave.'

Saradoc exchanged glances with his son.

Merry put down the pen nib he'd been repairing and rose. 'Tell Nob we're coming,' he told the lad. The lad bobbed again and pelted from the room.

Saradoc and Merry put on their heavy cloaks even though the stables were but a few steps across the yard, and a good thing, too, for the ice stung even through the thickly felted wool. Merry supported his father, but more than once it was Saradoc who kept his son on his feet.

Old Nob met them at the entrance, and just beyond they could see the lad holding a pony with drooping head.

'Ee's been down, you can tell that right off. Just look at 'is knees.'

Saradoc stepped forward to examine the beast more closely. The old ostler held a lantern close so he could better see the bruised and bloodied knees.

'And there's more,' the ostler continued. 'Walk 'im a step or two, lad,' he ordered. The boy complied, and the pony took a step and almost fell. 'Dead lame,' the ostler said. 'Don't know how 'e made here from anywhere.'

Merry had been going over the pony carefully. Now he straightened to face his father. 'It's Socks,' he said.

'Are you sure?'

'I haven't seen him in nearly a year, but if it isn't Socks, I'd hazard a wager that it's his twin.' Merry shook his head. 'He never sent word to expect him... but why should he? He always just turns up like a stray pup at the door.'

It was March. He should have expected Pippin to come if it was at all possible.

'Peregrin is out afoot, in this?' Saradoc said, horrified.

'I hope he's afoot,' his son answered. 'The pony's gone down. Hard.'

Saradoc turned to the ostler. 'You say he couldn't get far in his condition.'

'Nay, I would doubt it. Every step the poor lad takes, 'e near goes down. I should think 'e wouldn't be able to get up again iffen he did. It's a miracle he got here, but Master Took was always a-bragging on how sure footed 'e is.'

'No one would ride in this weather, not unless he got caught out,' Merry said urgently. He turned to the ostler. 'What time did this ice start?'

'Oh, mid-morning, I'd say,' the ostler reckoned.

'So the pony's had four hours, perhaps less, to get here. How far would that be?'

The ostler scratched his head. 'Nought more than a mile, 'e's that bad off. Were he down for a time before findin' his feet it could be closer.'

Merry nodded. 'That would be about right.' He looked out into the pelting sleet. There was at least an inch of ice on the stones, maybe closer to two. If Pippin were out there, he thought despairingly, how would they get to him? 'There'd be no houses closer than Bucklebury, and he'd be practically to the Hall then, and no one on the road in this weather, to find him. If he got caught out, he might have figured Bucklebury or Brandy Hall as the closest place to find shelter and tried for it.'

'And if he made it safely to Bucklebury, the pony wouldn't have come here,' Saradoc put in.

Merry continued, 'After he fell--Socks would have known his way either to Crickhollow or here.'

'Good thing 'e came here, then,' the ostler concluded. 'Nobody at Crickhollow now.'

Saradoc broke in. 'How long would it take to fit a team of four ponies with spikes?' He'd been fascinated by the special shoes designed to give sure footing on slippery surfaces such as ice, an innovation Merry had brought back from Rohan. Now it seemed they would pay for themselves. Merry felt a sudden hope.

'Nought long. The new shoes the young Master made up, they slip on pretty quick. Not like having to pry the old shoes off to nail the new ones on. Half an hour, maybe.'

'We have perhaps two more hours of light. Make it as quick as you can. Hitch them up to a waggon and round up some hobbits to go out. I hate to send anyone out in this, but...'

'Iffen young Master Took is out in this you won't be lacking for volunteers,' the ostler maintained. He raised his voice. 'Roby! Get yourself and another started fitting spikes on the four steadiest ponies we've got!'

'Yes, sir,' the answer came back from further within the stables.

'I'll get them hobbits rounded up for you right away, Sir,' the old ostler said. He called another stable worker to take charge of the shivering pony. 'Rub 'im down good, bed 'im soft, see if 'e'll take a warm mash,' he said. The worker crooned encouragement to the pony as he led him, one stumbling step at a time, to a stall.

Merry turned to his father. 'I'm going, Father,' he said. 'I have to.'

Saradoc nodded grimly. 'I know, Son. Start loading up the waggon. Take axes and saws, there may be tree limbs across the road. See if you can get some blankets wrapped up in something waterproof, wrap them around hot bricks. I know the kitchen has been warming bricks to slip into the old aunties' and uncles' beds.'

He thought again. 'Take lanterns, already lit--you can put them under blankets for warmth, and they'll be a help to you if you get caught out by darkness. I don't think you could light a lantern in this.' He put a hand on Merry's shoulder. 'Be careful.'

Merry nodded. 'Don't worry. I'll find him.'

Even with the spiked shoes, every step was a struggle and soon the ponies were shivering, even under their blankets, from the sleet and from fear of slipping. They had to stop twice to clear large branches from the road; and other branches, coated thick with ice, creaked and cracked ominously above them. Still the sleet came pelting down with no sign of letting up, and soon their heavy cloaks were heavier with ice.

It took them an hour to cover little more than half a mile of road. Not far beyond one of the hobbits in the waggon shouted.

Merry jumped down, immediately slipping and falling on the ice despite the spikes he had strapped to his feet. He got up cautiously to make his way to what looked like a rock in the middle of the road where no jutting rock should be. He fell again and crawled the last few yards, to find his cousin, huddled under his cloak, covered in a layer of ice.

Other hands came to help and somehow they slipped and slid back to the waggon with their burden. Merry blessed his father's foresight as they stripped the ice-encased cloak from Pippin and eased him under the blankets where the air was warmed by the lanterns.

'Careful, now,' one of the hobbits shouted. 'Don't want him burned after being frozen!'

They tried to force some brandy down his throat, but it dribbled out of his mouth again. 'Let's just go!' Merry shouted above the sound of wind and ice.

They turned around for the nightmare journey back. More tree limbs were down across the road, and at one point one of the ponies slipped and nearly fell; if he had, he'd have taken the others down with him. It was nearly dark when the waggon pulled into the yard.

Hobbits were waiting there with torches and lanterns, and someone had been frequently spreading sand over the accumulating ice, so they were able to take Pippin from the waggon without slipping and dropping him. The healer Ossilan was there to meet them, and he did not wait for them to take their burden any further than the entry hall, but had them lay him down on the floor as soon as the door was closed to shut out the storm.

His face was grim as he made his examination. 'He's breathing... but so cold, he's not even shivering. Let's get him to the kitchen right away; there's a hot bath waiting.'

They cut his icy clothes away and got him into the tub, which Merry was surprised to find only lukewarm. Ossilan had the cooks slowly add kettles of steaming water to the tub, gradually warming the water. 'Keep the water moving,' he said to Merry.

The healer managed to get some hot sweet tea down Pippin's throat, with much patience, stroking the muscles to prompt the swallowing reflex. 'Keep warming him up,' he instructed the cooks.

'He's practically boiling now,' Merry heard one cook mutter to another, but they kept heating water and adding it to the tub, while Merry stirred it to mingle with the cooling water already there.

Once Merry's cousin had thawed to Ossilan's satisfaction, the latter said, 'Right, then. Let's get him well wrapped up and into a warm bed.' He met Merry's eyes. 'We can hope he'll awaken in the morning with no more than a bad chill.'

Merry hoped so.

As they tucked him into bed, he roused a bit, opening his eyes with a questing sound.

His aunt bent to him. 'Young scalawag,' she said tenderly.

'Made it to -- Hall' he managed to say.

'Aye, you did,' she answered.

'Don't -- remember.' He turned his eyes to Merry. 'Socks?'

'He's in the stables, got about as thick a bed as you,' Merry answered.

'Go to sleep now, lad,' his aunt said, pulling the covers up to his chin. 'You're safe now. You'll be fine in the morning.'

He nodded and closed his eyes.

'Rascal,' his aunt said softly. 'If only it were always that easy to get him to sleep.'

***

The healer's optimism seemed justified in the morning. Pippin was himself again, a little subdued, perhaps, but declared himself not much the worse for wear. After assuring his relatives that there was nothing wrong with him, he spent half the day in the stables trying to ease his pony. It grieved him to see the swollen knee, and he took time to chip away at the ice in the courtyard, tie the chips up in a cloth, and apply the cold compress to the swelling.

The ostler brought out more of the liniment they had earlier applied to the pony's cuts and bruises, and Pippin spent a long time rubbing the soothing salve into the bruised and cut flesh. Afterwards, he gave the pony a good grooming, spending extra time to rub the coat back to its usual gleam.

The ostler paused by the stall to admire Socks. 'Ee's a game one,' he said. 'Iffen 'e had not come in when 'e did, you'd probably still be lying out there.' The ostler jerked his chin at the door, indicating the landscape still gripped in its prison of ice. Sleet continued to blow in uneven spurts, and there was an occasional crash as one tree after another gave up under the weight of ice and shed a great limb.

'Oh, aye,' Pippin answered. 'Nothing's too good for this lad. I figure I owe him my life.'

***

Pippin had a bit of a dry cough that evening as they shared a brandy in the Master's study. He regaled his relatives with tales of the doings of Tuckborough, and Saradoc was glad to see some of the seriousness drop from Meriadoc in his cousin's presence. When the coughing threatened to interrupt the high point of a story, Esmeralda rose from her chair in concern.

'It's naught but a cold,' Pippin said, fending off her questing hand. 'I'm fine! All I need is a bit of brandy!' He poured himself another half a glass and told another story. Not long after, he confessed, 'Come to think of it, I am feeling a little tired. I think I'll turn in.'

'That's a first,' his aunt said. 'I've never known you to be tired before.' She eyed him with suspicion. 'What are you up to this time, rascal?'

He laughed, holding up his hands. 'I promise, I'm not going off to short-sheet the beds, really, I gave that up years ago.'

From the gleam in his eye, she was not so sure. However, when she pulled back the covers on the big bed before she and Saradoc retired, the linens were as they should have been. Perhaps the lad had been telling the truth. Or perhaps he'd only done something to Meriadoc's bed that night.

Pippin's cough seemed better the next morning but he was lacking the usual spring in his step. Still, the weather kept everyone locked indoors, and it was only natural to be engaged in quiet pursuits such as a game of Kings with one of the younger Brandybucks. He didn't feel much like eating--the food was somehow unappealing, but with the bustle of so many Brandybucks eating and talking at once, it didn't seem to matter. Pippin kept them laughing with his stories of Yule at Great Smials, and no one noticed that he was too busy talking to eat much.

In the evening the great room was full of Brandybucks, fuller than usual since everyone was a bit tired of being cooped up for three days. The Master'd had a crackling fire laid, and the younger hobbits roasted mushrooms and bacon. All enjoyed the singing, but Pippin declined to play his flute. He had a persistent tickle in his throat and did not want to encourage it into a cough.

At length he squeezed Merry's arm and rose to retire.

'It's early yet,' Merry said in surprise.

Pippin's answer turned into a coughing fit.

Merry tendered water, then brandy, but nothing seemed to help.

The singing hobbits around them quieted as Pippin's cough robbed him of breath. He clutched at Merry desperately and suddenly Esmeralda was there. She took hold of Pippin from the other side, easing him down on a bench, and said urgently to her son, 'Go and get Ossilan.' As he rose, she added, 'Run!'

The sound of Pippin's coughing followed him from the great room.

By the time Merry returned with the healer, the cough had subsided and Pippin had caught his breath. He tried to shrug off the fit, but Ossilan insisted on bundling him into bed. 'I'd like someone to sit with you in case that cough returns in the night,' the healer said.

In the end, he overruled all of Pippin's protests.

The next day, the young Took was happy enough to stay in bed. His cousin Merimas' wife and small daughter came to sit with him, to keep him company for the morning. He and Pansy Brandybuck had become good friends during his stays at the Hall, and they had fun telling young Heartsease about some of the pranks that had gone on in their younger days.

When Pippin tired, Pansy pulled up the covers, solicitous as any old auntie, as Pippin was only too glad to point out.

'Go on with you,' she said smiling. 'I can see you've got a bit of a chill. You just sit tight and keep little Heart out of trouble whilst I go and get a bedwarmer.'

By the time she returned, he was asleep and sweet little Heart sat quiet as a mouse, scarcely daring to breathe in case she might waken him.

Her mother gently stroked her cheek. 'You make a good nurse, love,' she said, and sat down again. She'd stay until her cousin wakened, in case he wanted anything.

Chapter 26. Fear Unspoken

'Fear unspoken grows.'
--old Shire proverb

Several of the families who lived at the Hall were sharing second breakfast when young Heartsease Brandybuck came in search of the Mistress.

'Please, Aunt, Mamma asked that you come,' she said, her little face worried.

Esmeralda rose smoothly from the table, nodding to Saradoc.

Merry rose as well. 'I'll come with you.'

Cousin Merimas called his daughter over. 'What did she tell you to do, Heart? Just to fetch your aunt?'

The lass twisted a handkerchief in her hands. 'No, Father, she said to get Aunt and then the healer.'

Merimas met his uncle's eyes as the latter started to rise. 'Stay, Uncle, finish your breakfast. I will go and find Ossilan.'

'Thank you, my boy.'

Merimas nodded as he rose from his own chair. 'I will come for you if you're needed.'

Esmeralda kissed her husband's cheek. 'I will meet you in your study.'

Saradoc cursed the weakness of his heart that made him accept their molly-coddling. In truth, he was tired, and there was the business of the Hall to see to. Ah, well, at least he could keep the rest of them from rushing off to young Peregrin's bedside and plaguing the lad.

'Doderic,' he called down the table. 'How many crews can you put together to get the roads cleared on the morrow?'

***

Pansy Brandybuck's worried face looked up from the bedside as Esmeralda and Merry entered.

'At first I was glad he seemed to be warming up at last, for he'd got a bit of a chill,' she said, 'but he's gone a way past that now.'

Esmeralda bent to her nephew. 'Have you tried to rouse him?'

'No.'

Pippin did not respond to his aunt's soft repetition of his name; his breathing was faster than it ought, and his cheeks were flushed. She laid a gentle hand against his cheek only to draw it back again in dismay.

'He's burning up!'

Pansy put her own hand against his cheek. 'He's much hotter than he was when I sent Heartsease to you!' she exclaimed. 'Fever's going up fast.'

'Merimas is fetching the healer. I want you to get basins of cold water and some cloths. Chip some ice from outside, add it to the basins. We might at least get some use from this weather.'

Pansy rose at once and hurried from the room.

Esmeralda sank into the chair beside the bed to place a cool hand on her nephew's forehead. 'Peregrin? Lad?' He moved restlessly under her touch.

Merry took up one of his cousin's hot hands, and met his mother's eye. 'What is it?' he asked.

She shook her head. 'I don't even want to think it,' she whispered.

The words hung unspoken between them. Lung fever--the Old Gaffer's Friend*. It had swept the Hall the previous winter and carried off several of the old aunties and uncles, and some of the younger cousins as well.

Ossilan the healer arrived and stood at Pippin's other side. He touched the back of his hand to the hot cheek, lifted an eyelid, pulled down the coverlet to listen at the ailing hobbit's chest. Straightening, he said, 'Right, then. Let's get him propped up.'

Merry helped to place the pillows and settle his cousin back against them. The healer picked up Pippin's wrist and watched the rise and fall of the chest. Putting the wrist down again, he turned sober eyes to the Mistress. 'We're in for a fight.'

Merry looked down at his cousin and said with a confidence he didn't feel, 'Well, Pippin's a fighter.'

Ossilan smiled. 'If sheer stubbornness can pull him through, he's got plenty.'

Pippin opened his eyes. His aunt bent to him. 'Young scalawag,' she said. 'It seems your cold has got a bit worse. You'll have to stay abed a few days.'

'I'm fine,' he managed to say. 'I can get up. I promised young Heart I'd teach her how to beat her brothers at Kings.'

'I'll tie you in the bed if I have to,' Esmeralda said, with a smile that belied the alarm in her heart.

Merry smiled as Pippin continued to protest. He held tighter to the hot hand as a shaking chill wracked his cousin.

Pansy brought the water, chunks of ice floating coldly, and Esmeralda wrung out a cloth and put it to Pippin's forehead. In the background, Merry could hear the healer instructing Pansy in what he'd be needing, 'And quick.'

Pippin breathed his thanks, took a deep breath, and began to cough violently. Merry supported him through the coughing fit, easing him back on the pillows when it ended.

The healer turned to Esmeralda. 'You'd best go about your business, Mistress,' he said. 'It is going to be a long day.'

The Mistress of Buckland protested, but her son arose and moved to her side, gently urging her. 'I will walk you to the study, Mother. Let's not worry Father just yet. Peregrin's not going anywhere.'

Her eyes on the bed, she allowed her son to help her to rise. 'No, he isn't, young rascal. When I think of the nights I couldn't keep him in his bed, no matter how many stories we told or lullabies we sang. What I wouldn't give...' Her voice trailed off as she fought back tears.

'I know,' Merry said soothingly as he escorted her out the door. He had no more comfort to offer. He had seen what the lung fever had done last winter.

He returned to Pippin's room in time to help Ossilan coax some bitter tea down his cousin's throat. Though it was well-laced with honey, Pippin made a face as the cup was held to his lips.

'What did you put in this,' he gasped, 'bitterroot?'

The healer smiled. 'No, young master, I'm fresh out of bitterroot today. But I can try to get some later if you'd wish.'

Pippin shook his head weakly. 'No, I'll just settle for gall, if I have to. Boneset's good and bitter, too.' He tried to smile but the coughing took him again. The cloth on his forehead was already warm and dry, and Pansy wrung out a fresh one for his forehead.

***

The next morning the bright Sun turned the ice in the yard to glittering jewels and fire, and each breath brought a stab of pain to Pippin. He opened his eyes, and looked puzzled at Merry. 'Did I crack my ribs again?' he asked. 'I tell you, if this keeps happening I'd rather do without them.'

Ossilan straightened up from listening to the rasping in the chest, and motioned the young master and Mistress to join him in the hallway. 'It's gone into pleurisy. The pain'll wear him down pretty quick, I fear.'

Crews of workers strapped spikes to their feet to go clear the roads on either side of the Hall. Saradoc ordered that they haul the wood back to the Hall and pile it for later cutting when the ice melted off.

By noontide the Sun had gained such strength after her rest from the previous days that she was melting the ice away at a rapid rate. The hobbits shook their heads at the vagaries of the weather. Like as not there'd be a blizzard later in the week, the way things were going.

For three more days, various aunts and cousins took turns sitting with Pippin, wringing out in cool water the cloths that were only too quickly warm again. The healer forced bitter herb drinks down him, and syrups which did nothing to ease the coughing. Hot poultices redolent of onion were applied to Pippin's chest, alternating with mustard plasters and steaming basins of fragrant herb mixtures for the breathing.

On the evening of the fourth day since Pippin had taken to his bed, Ossilan left Pippin's bedside long enough to seek out the Master of the Hall.

'I'd send for The Took right away, if he'll bother to come. If he hurries he might get here in time to take leave of his son.'

Saradoc nodded soberly and sent for Carodoc to dispatch a fast pony and rider to Tuckborough.

***

*A/N: Old Gaffer's Friend: Shire term for pneumonia, which carried off the weak and elderly in a relatively swift and painless manner.

Author's Note from original posting: We have now passed the halfway point, but it is definitely not all downhill from here. Lots of ups and downs yet to come.

Chapter 27. The Old Gaffer's Friend

'The old gaffer's friend.'
--Shire term for pneumonia, which took the elderly relatively quickly and painlessly

***

'Do you think he will come?' Merry asked his mother.

She shook her head. 'You never know what my brother is going to do,' she answered honestly. She looked up. 'I don't think he's left the Smials since...?'

Merry nodded. Paladin had sent other Tooks to represent him at the wedding that would have taken place three years earlier, had not an earthen dam given way.

Merry did some thinking. The rider dispatched that evening would reach Tuckborough sometime just before the dawn. At the earliest, The Took might arrive the next evening. Healer Ossilan didn't seem to expect Merry's cousin to last long enough to see his father's arrival. He met his mother's eyes. 'It's moving fast.'

'Aye,' she sighed. 'It can do that. It seems as if it takes the strongest, quickest of all.'

'Can we do nothing?' Merry whispered in frustration, but turned away, shaking his head. He already knew the answer. He'd seen the lung fever take another cousin just a year older than Pippin, the previous winter.

He stared out the window into the darkness, and his hand rose to his breast, to touch the paper nestled in his inmost pocket. 'I'm doing my best, Frodo,' he muttered.

By morning Pippin was breathing more easily, pain gone, and Merry looked hopefully to the healer.

The latter shook his head and motioned him outside. Once he'd made sure the door was securely closed behind them, he whispered, 'It's not a good sign.'

'But he's breathing easier!' Merry said, barely managing to keep his voice down.

'The pain is gone, yes, but he's breathing faster. Fluid is starting to fill the lungs; it eases the pleurisy but it can also drown him.'

Head reeling, the older cousin put a hand to the door handle, but the healer stopped him with an intent look. Merry took a deep breath, nodded, and pasted on a smile that went no deeper than his lips. He opened the door, walked to Pippin's bedside, and took up the fevered hand of this beloved cousin, yet another one he loved and yet slipping from his grasp, and him helpless to prevent it. He cleared his throat, forced his smile to brighten as Pippin's eyes opened and fixed upon his face, and spoke.

'Well, Pip, I'm glad to see you're feeling better.'

'Aye,' Pippin said, but didn't seem to have the breath or energy to say more.

'Come now, young Master Took,' the healer said, coming behind Merry. 'Time for a little cheer.'

'Cheer!' Pippin gasped.

'Save your breath,' Merry said, but Pippin wasn't done.

'If you call that "cheer" I'd like to know what you'd call the dregs of the awful draughts you stir up!'

'Now, young master,' Ossilan said, patting Pippin's shoulder. 'Don't speak too loud; I wouldn't want the news to get out that you think my draughts awful, for if a Took won't drink 'em, then who will, I'd like to know?'

Somehow, with Merry's help he managed to get Pippin to drink the "cheer", and if Merry hadn't felt so wretched at the whole situation, he'd've laughed at the face his cousin pulled.

Midday, Merry had to coax Pippin to drink another of the healer's bitter concoctions. Pippin opened his eyes wide at the taste and gagged. 'You know what he's doing,' he gasped to Merry. 'He's getting back at me for the time I put salt in the sugar bowl and he salted his tea!'

'Don't you worry your head about it, lad,' the healer said reassuringly. 'I'm thinking up much worse tasting brews even now.'

'Drink it down,' Merry urged. 'It will help you to cough.'

'Oh, so now you want me to cough!' Pippin commented. 'I wish you folk would make up your minds.' Making a face, he forced the bitter stuff down.

By afternoon he was coughing violently again. In between paroxysms he tried to jest. 'Your bitter brew worked, I'm coughing!'

Another fit seized him, and Merry saw with fear the blood that stained the handkerchief. Soothing syrups had no effect.

The healer looked intently at Daffodil Brandybuck and her tweenaged son, who sat at either side of the bed. 'Keep applying the cold cloths; support him through the coughing fits. I'll be back in three shakes.'

Daffodil gasped and her eyes were frightened. Ossilan smiled reassuringly. 'I'll be back directly.' He turned to Merry. 'I need to talk to the Master.'

Merry nodded and followed him from the room.

In the Master's study, Merry saw the healer ill-at-ease for perhaps the first time in his life. 'We're losing him. He's slipping away. I don't know if he'll last long enough to see The Took arrive. I've tried everything... but...'

The Master's gaze sharpened as he detected some faint hope in the words. 'What?' he asked quickly.

'The traders brought something new up the King's highway just before Yule. It came from the eastern lands, distilled from poppies. It might give him enough rest from the cough to gather his strength.'

'Then what are you waiting for?' Saradoc demanded.

Ossilan's face was tight with indecision. 'I've never used it before. I know what it is supposed to do, but... it could kill him as easily as help him.'

'What will happen if you don't use it?' Saradoc cut straight to the point.

The healer took a deep breath, then nodded. 'You're right,' he said. He met Merry's gaze. 'At least if it kills him, it will be an easier death than he's having now.' He shook his head. 'I will send word to you, Master, when the time comes to take your leave of him.'

He walked over to the sideboard in the study and poured half a glass of brandy, but did not drink it. Taking the glass with him, he indicated to Merry to follow him from the room.

Back in the sickroom, he took a small bag of oiled silk from the bedside table, where other herbs and failed potions rested. He shook a few grains into the glass, then turned to hold the glass to Pippin's lips. 'Come, lad, just a little more,' he coaxed. 'One more potion.' Pippin's eyes opened wearily. 'Come lad, try, now.'

Pippin sipped obediently, draining the glass. He smiled weakly. 'You ran out of bitter brews?' he whispered. Another fit of coughing shook him, but as they watched the coughing fits grew further apart and then stopped. Pippin lay back against the pillows, breathing rapidly, but soundly sleeping for the first time.

***

Saradoc heard the clatter of many ponies in the yard, and looked out to see a group of riders pulling up and dismounting. The Took had come.

He met Esmeralda as the door opened to admit Peregrin's father and mother. Paladin greeted his sister. 'Well, Allie, has that husband of yours stopped beating you yet?'

'Oh, no,' she returned, though her heart was not in it. 'I beat him nearly half the time since your son showed me some of his tricks at playing Kings.'

Paladin's forced smile faded. 'My son...'

'He's holding on. The healer didn't think he'd last the day... I think Peregrin stayed with us just to spite him.'

'Oh, aye,' her brother said heavily. 'No one ever could tell the lad what to do.'

'Where is he?' Pippin's mother, Eglantine asked.

'I'll take you to him,' Esmeralda replied.

Reaching the sickroom, she looked with dread on the still figure in the bed. They were too late after all... but Ossilan looked up with a smile.

'It's working,' he told the Master. 'He's resting, gaining strength. As long as he doesn't drown before we can get him to cough again, he just might pull through.' His eyes went to the other hobbits; from the air of command and the garments stained from hard travel on muddy roads, he surmised he was seeing The Took. 'Fever's going down, I think he might yet turn the corner.'

'Then I came for nothing,' Paladin said grimly, and the healer looked at him in surprise before realizing it was the Thain's attempt at humour. 'Lad always does make the most stir he can.'

'Young scalawag,' Eglantine said softly, bending to take her son's hand.

Chapter 28. Father and Son

Pippin continued very ill for some days, and the Thain and his party endured the hospitality of Brandy Hall, which was nothing to the Great Smials, of course, being a relative upstart in terms of Shire history. Saradoc noticed that the Thain never declined an offer of Buckland's brandy, however, though he was too polite to say anything about the matter. He'd long since become resigned to the strain in relations between Hall and Smials that had its roots in the days of Ferumbras and Lalia, that had bloomed full when Paladin was made Thain, with no more time for such frivols as friendship. He grieved for the easy friendship he and Paladin had shared, naturally echoed in their sons, but it had long since burned down to ash, not even a coal left to stir to warmth, for all Saradoc's efforts. He wondered, too, if Pippin would cut Merry off from his heart once the Thainship descended upon him... Like father, like son...

Paladin sat each day by the side of his son, holding his hand in silence, or wringing out a cloth in cold water to place on the burning brow. Esmeralda had wondered for some years if her brother truly loved his son, but in unguarded moments she saw the fear in his eyes while Pippin's life hung in the balance. It was strange to see the tenderness this rough, proud hobbit ruler displayed towards his helpless son, lifting him to ease a coughing spell, feeding Pippin like a babe from a spoon, holding a cup to his son's lips.

The fever rose and fell, burning away all Pippin's reserves, leaving him weak as a kitten and gaunt as a survivor of the Lockholes. Yet he clung to life with a tenacity that surprised even the healer, who had given up hope for him the night he sent for The Took.

Ten days after Pippin's arrival he opened his eyes to meet Merry's. 'How long?' he asked. Merry told him. He furrowed his brow as if trying to calculate; then giving up he asked, 'The date?'

Merry understood. 'Tomorrow,' he said. 'Tomorrow is the day.'

Saradoc and Merry's Uncle Merimac sat with Merry through the next day and into the night, until he was himself again. Pippin was restless in Merry's absence, and had to be restrained from throwing off his covers and attempting to rise from the bed.

Though worry for Pippin had worn him down, Merry still managed to fight off the onset of Darkness for some hours, and roused earlier after it released him from its grip. He was back at Pippin's bedside the day following the Shadow's attack, and Pippin, seeing him, calmed.

The day Ossilan pronounced Pippin out of danger was a day of celebration in the Hall. Smiling hobbits met each other in the hallways, and songs and laughter were once more raised in the great room that evening.

The healer met with the Master and Mistress, and the Thain and his wife, in the study. 'He has a long, slow recovery ahead of him now.'

'Can we take him to Tuckborough?' the Thain asked abruptly.

Ossilan shook his head. 'It would be dangerous to move him for some weeks.'

'Then I shall have to require your hospitality awhile longer, it seems,' Paladin said to Saradoc.

'Of course,' Saradoc replied.

***

Merry entered the Master's study that evening to find his parents and the Tooks laughing over some of Pippin's infamous exploits at Hall and Smial. His uncle suddenly swung around to fix him with a stern eye.

'What happened to old Ferdinand's teeth?'

Merry was taken aback. 'Teeth?' he asked blankly.

'Oh, aye. They disappeared that last day you were in the Great Smials!'

'His teeth disappeared?'

'You know the wooden teeth he had!' the Thain said irritably. 'He had to have a whole new set carved, and he nearly starved to death waiting for them!'

'Must've taken a long time to carve, then,' Esmeralda said dryly. Old Ferdinand was one of the stoutest among her relations.

'I'm sorry, Uncle, I have no idea where his teeth might be.' After staying just long enough for politeness' sake, having drunk his glass of brandy a little faster than he normally would have, he excused himself and went to his cousin's room.

'Pippin,' Merry hissed. His cousin stirred and opened his eyes halfway. 'They haven't found the teeth yet!'

Pippin's eyes opened a little wider. 'Oh, aye?' he breathed. 'I was sure they'd have breached that barrel of flour by now...'

'Perhaps they baked them into a cake or something.'

'But who could have eaten them?'

'Oh, I don't know. Perhaps Reginard. His mouth's big enough.'

'Oh, aye,' Pippin breathed, closing his eyes again. Soon he was asleep.

***

As Merry put his hand to the knob of the study door the next evening, he heard uproarious laughter burst out within the room. He paused a moment, to hear his Uncle Paladin say, '...was sure those scurrilous lads had something to do with it ...baked into a cake! ...should have seen Reginard's face when he bit into...'

Grinning broadly, Merry turned to go tell Pippin.

***

Only a few days after, Merry and his mother were surprised to hear raised voices coming from Pippin's room. They stopped outside the door to hear Pippin saying bitterly, '...then I want no part of it, or you, or Tuckborough. You can take all your grand plans and find someone else to be Thain after you!'

As Merry opened the door, he heard Paladin say in alarm, 'Peregrin? Pippin! Son!'

They entered to see Pippin lying rigid against his pillows, gasping for breath, hands pressed to his chest as he fought for air. Esmeralda pushed past her brother. 'Peregrin, lad,' she soothed, reaching out to stroke the curls back from his forehead. 'Steady now, it's all right, lad.' Merry ignored his uncle as he moved to Pippin's other side.

'What can I do?' Paladin said urgently.

'Haven't you done enough?' she asked coldly, but relented when she saw his face. 'You can go and fetch the healer.' She thought perhaps her brother would bridle and reply that he was no one's messenger lad, but to her surprise he nodded and left the room.

'What happened, do you think?' Merry asked when they had eased his cousin as best as they could, and he lay back against the pillows, breathing a little less raggedly, but spent and limp.

'I think the son has disinherited the father, for a change,' Esmeralda answered, her eyes on the cool cloth she was using on her nephew's face. She looked up at her son with an unusually grim expression. 'If my brother has done my nephew some mischief, they will indeed have to find someone to be Thain after him because I will wring his neck myself!'

She saw the surprise on Merry's face, and shook her head. 'My brother has always been willful,' she said softly. 'No one could ever tell him what to do, and it only got worse after they made him Thain.'

Merry couldn't help smiling as he glanced down at the bed and back at his mother. 'Sounds a lot like someone else we know.'

His mother did not smile in return. 'Peregrin does not have the strength he needs to fight Paladin right now,' she murmured. 'I do not want to see his father break his spirit.'

Merry shook his head in protest. 'That's not possible! Pippin?'

But his mother's gaze was steady, and he felt the stirrings of unease as Ossilan entered, saying, 'What mischief is this, then?'

***

Pippin slept the rest of that day, and through the night. When he awakened in the morning, his aunt was smiling in the chair by his bed.

'Good morning, lad. You're up just in time for breakfast.' She tucked a cloth under his chin and picked up bowl and spoon. 'Now I want you to eat every scrap of this lovely custard.'

He grimaced slightly and turned away.

'Come, lad,' she coaxed. 'You must eat. You need all your strength if you're to keep defying your father.'

Instead of smiling at her jest, his eyes returned to her face and she grieved at the hurt in them. He shook his head. 'He has always clutched so tight,' he whispered, holding out a trembling hand and illustrating his words with a clawlike grasping motion. 'He won't stop until he has squeezed everything out and there is nothing left of me!'

'You won't let him do that, now will you, lad,' Esmeralda soothed. 'Come, now, eat this lovely custard whilst it's still warm.'

He shook his head. 'I'm not hungry.'

Esmeralda put on a firm tone. 'Eat the custard, lad,' she repeated, adding brightly, 'Or would you prefer some lovely porridge instead?'

'I hate porridge,' he protested.

'I know,' she answered.

He sighed and took the spoonful she offered him.

Chapter 29. A Different Kind of Darkness

The Gamgees arrived for their annual visit to the Hall the last week of March. With the terrible travelling weather earlier, planting season starting in mid-April, and another addition to the family due later in the summer, it seemed the only time if they were to manage the trip this year.

The Master and Mistress greeted them warmly, exclaiming over how the children had grown since the previous spring. Four-year-old Elanor stood solemnly by her father's side, and two-year-old Frodo clung tightly to his mother's skirts, two fingers in his mouth, gazing wide-eyed at tall Merry.

'But you mustn't stand out here in the yard,' Esmeralda exclaimed, taking Rose's arm. 'Come inside, dear, we must sit you down and put your feet up! These husbands of ours could stand out here all day, talking of seed and harvest, with not a thought for anything else!'

Rose protested, colouring prettily. 'I'm fine, really!' At the Mistress' smiling insistence, she allowed herself to be guided into the parlour and settled in a comfortable chair by the fire, wee Frodo towed behind, firmly gripping her dress. He settled by his mother's feet, fingers still in mouth.

In the yard, Merry crouched low to see Elanor eye to eye. 'And how was your journey, young mistress?' he asked solemnly.

'I 'member you,' Elanor said softly. 'You're Uncle Merry.'

Merry laughed and swung her up to his shoulder. 'That's right, my lass, I'm your favourite uncle, aren't I?'

She laughed to see the world from that dizzying height.

'You're her tallest "uncle", anyhow,' Samwise chuckled, 'Next to Mr Pippin, that is. What's the news from Tuckborough?'

Merry sobered abruptly. 'Pippin's here.' At Sam's questioning look, Merry explained as they slowly walked into the Hall.

'I'm glad to hear he's out of danger.'

'Yes, but he's got a long road ahead,' Merry muttered.

Sam thought it a good time to change the subject. 'That ice storm did a fair amount of damage in Hobbiton,' Sam remarked.

'It tore up the trees around Buckland pretty badly,' Saradoc said.

'Aye,' Sam said. 'Perhaps I can help you out here, give your foresters some pointers in trimming the damaged branches, try and save some of the trees that would otherwise die.'

They entered the parlour, where Esmeralda was asking Rose, 'And what is this one to be?'

Rosie answered shyly, glancing up at her husband, 'Well, if it is a girl, Samwise wants to name her Rose, and if it's to be a boy...' she blushed and reached down to tousle little Frodo's curls.

Samwise spoke up, 'If it's a boy, we want to call him Merry, that is, if it would be all right.'

Saradoc laughed and slapped his son on the back. 'Well, Meriadoc, you're to have a namesake!'

'I would be honoured,' Merry answered Sam, who was staring at the picture of Frodo on the wall.

'Young Peregrin brought us that last spring, just after you visited last year,' Esmeralda said gently.

'It's very like him,' Sam replied. 'Very like.' He turned away to pick up young Frodo from the floor and carry him over to the picture.

'Look there,' he told his tiny son. 'His name is Frodo, too.'

***

While Samwise was out with the Hall's forester, Rose visited Pippin. She expected him to look bad; there'd been lung fever in the Shire as well this past winter, but it grieved her to see him brought so low.

He had not yet been allowed out of bed, and she expected to find an impatient hobbit chafing to be up and about, with half his relatives sitting on him to keep him abed. The listless, dull-eyed Pippin she found grieved her sadly.

She sat down beside him and told him all the news of Hobbiton, and he listened politely but had little to say. Pippin's cousin Pansy, who was sitting by the bed when Rose arrived, kept the conversation from lagging.

Finally Rose could bear no more, and got up from her chair. 'I must see to the children,' she said. 'Merry took them off and there's no knowing what mischief the three of them have got into.' Pansy laughed but Pippin barely smiled. 'I'm sure Samwise will be up to see you soon,' she said, and left.

***

Samwise found her later in their room, weeping. She quickly wiped her eyes when she heard his step, but he was not deceived. 'What is it, Rosie-lass?' he asked, tipping up her chin with a gentle finger.

'Oh, Sam,' she said.

'You've been to see Mr Pippin,' he said softly. 'He's that bad, then?'

'Oh, Sam,' she repeated. She forced himself to meet his eyes. 'I'm sorry to say this, but he 'minds me of Mr Frodo before he went away... His eyes...'

'What about his eyes?' Sam asked when she did not continue.

'Oh, you'll laugh at me, Master Samwise, and say my condition is giving me fancies!'

'I won't laugh, Rosie,' he said, pulling her close.

'Well, then... his eyes look like a pony's, what's been asked to pull a load that's too heavy up a hill that's too steep.'

Sam smiled to think of Mr Pippin as a pony, but he kept his promise and did not laugh.

'Ah, Rose,' he said, rubbing her back reassuringly, 'Don't you remember Mistress Proudfoot last winter? You helped your mother to nurse her.' She nodded against his chest. 'That "Old Gaffer's Friend" sucks the life out of a person, whether it kills him or no. Mr Pippin just has to get builded up again, that's all.'

'You're right,' she whispered against his shirt. 'Of course you are. I'm just being foolish. I cry so easily these days.'

'Come, let's sit you down and put your feet up,' Sam said gently. 'I'll bring you some tea.'

***

Sam understood Rose's concern when he made his own visit to Pippin. He seldom thought of Mordor any more, at least not in his waking hours, but Pippin reminded him much of Frodo near the end of their journey, and again that last summer before he went to the Grey Havens. He had concealed his illness from Sam as well as he could, but Rosie had known, she'd told him later. Mr Frodo had not told her, of course. His Rose was a special lass, with eyes in her heart.

Merry met him outside Pippin's door. He gazed searchingly into Sam's face, then nodded to himself. 'You see it, too,' he said. He put an arm on Sam's shoulders and began to walk towards the Master's study.

'It's like he's lost himself,' Sam said slowly. He stopped, and Merry met his eyes. 'But how do we help him find himself again?'

Merry shook his head. 'I wish I knew.'

'What about that letter of Mr Frodo's?' Sam asked. 'It helped you. Couldn't it help him?'

'No,' Merry said quietly. 'He is walking in a different kind of darkness, I'm afraid.' He sighed deeply. 'I can't seem to reach him. I had hoped...'

'You'd hoped that somehow I could, like I brought you back again with Mr Frodo's letter.'

'Yes.'

'Perhaps all he needs is some rest and feeding up.'

'Perhaps,' Merry agreed, but Sam could see he didn't believe it. Sam didn't believe it, himself.

***

Esmeralda watched her nephew anxiously. She'd expected him to shake off his low spirits after the Thain departed for Tuckborough; she'd found her brother's departure quite refreshing, herself. But Pippin did not perk up when his father's oppressive influence was removed. He remained quiet, speaking when spoken to, eating the food put before him, sleeping a great deal when nothing else was required of him.

Consulting the healer was unsatisfying, for Ossilan told her it was natural when recovering from lung fever to have no appetite and little energy. She couldn't put her concern into words; the closest she could come was to ask, 'Does it never worry you that he is such a cooperative patient?'

Ossilan laughed, 'I am glad to see it while it lasts! He'll be back to ignoring my advice in no time, I'm sure.' But when she left, he stared after her thoughtfully.

***

Some days later, Ossilan sought her out. 'I owe you an apology,' he said. At her questioning look, he continued, 'I told your nephew that he might get up tomorrow, to spend a little time in a chair. I expected him to jump up and ask why it could not be today, and whether the chair might be in the great room.'

'And he didn't?' she knew very well how unlikely it would have been.

'No, he just thanked me and said no more.'

***

Pippin was allowed to go to the great room for the feast to celebrate the breaking of the ground for that year's planting. He leaned on Merry for the long walk from his room, and sank into a chair with relief when they arrived. He picked at the feast, and Merry was once more reminded of Frodo, that last visit, with an important difference. Frodo had made peace with his circumstances, his eyes were serene, he enjoyed watching the dancers and talking with his relations. Pippin was polite but indifferent.

Families from Buckland and as far away as Bridgefields had come to the celebration. Fatty Bolger came up to them, slapped Merry on the back, thought better of slapping Pippin's back, said, 'Good to see you! Wish we could see more of you! Don't you ever stir from the Hall any more?'

'We are certainly seeing more of you,' Merry returned acidly. Fatty had made up for his long stint in the Lockholes, and more. Fatty turned away with a hearty laugh to refill his plate and cup.

'Why don't you go and dance?' Pippin asked Merry. He didn't really care one way or the other if Merry danced, but it would be nice to be left alone for a while without a nursemaid.

'No, I'm fine,' Merry smiled. 'Would you like me to get you anything?'

Pippin shook his head and lapsed again into silence, watching the dancers go by in a blur of colour and motion.

The music ended and the breathless dancers collapsed upon the chairs and benches that lined the walls, panting and laughing. Merry became aware of one lass in particular, with delicate features that reminded him somehow of Ruby, though her cascading curls were a deep black as opposed to Ruby's rich brown. Pippin followed his gaze. Something like bleak amusement crossed his face.

'That's Fatty Bolger's little pest of a sister,' he drawled.

Merry was thunderstruck. 'That's Estella Bolger?' he breathed.

Pippin's eyes dropped. 'Oh, aye,' he sighed. 'And there's more... that's the lass my father has picked out for me to marry.'

Chapter 30. Stable Conversations

The stable lads were used to seeing the young master at odd hours of the day or night. Merry came daily to the stables, sometimes several times in a day, to seek out the shining flame-coloured pony. He would always bring a treat, stroking the crooked stripe on the face while the treat was enjoyed; and then he would curry and brush and rub to high gloss the shining coat, murmuring in a wordless language that the two seemed to understand between them.

Every day except when the footing was treacherous, for he would not risk this pony, he would saddle Jewel and ride out. Some days they would not return for hours; other days he could steal only an hour or so from his responsibilities. Sometimes the ride must come late at night and they rode under the Moon's light or only that of the stars.

After Pippin took to his bed, Merry added Socks to his visits.

The old ostler would watch for his coming and quietly ask for news.

'I hear young Master Took's taken to 'is bed...?'

'Yes, it seems he has a bit of a chill from the other day.'

'Ah. Well, tell him we're taking good care of 'is lad.'

'Of course! Now, I wanted to try something new on this bad knee...'

Merry used all the skills he'd picked up among the Rohirrim to coax Socks back to soundness, and Old Nob took to watching and helping, marvelling at the young master's skilful hands and instinctive knowledge of what the pony needed.

'I hear young Master Took's taken bad. They say 'e won't last the night.'

'How did you...?'

'Young Saradic was sent out on Wingfoot this evening, to Tuckborough.'

'Ah.' Merry was silent for a long time after, brushing loose hair from Socks' coat. Then he bent to scrutinise the bad knee. 'Well, let's see if a hot poultice will give this lad some relief,' he said. 'We don't want my cousin to find a lame pony when he gets up again.'

Though he had less time for riding these days, yet daily he took Jewel out for a long ride--where, he never said, but sometimes the pony was muddy and sometimes he was lathered, or dried sweat clotted his coat.Merry would bring the pony back cool and breathing easy, the ostler was glad to see. If the pony had run hard, he'd been properly cooled out before returning. There would be another long grooming session, a last treat from the young master's hand, a pat and a wordless farewell.

'I hear young Master Took got up today. It's good news!'

'Yes, he was able to sit in a chair a bit.'

'It is good to hear he's on the mend. As is 'is pony; but for those scars on the knees you wouldn't know anything had happened.'

'I have something here to rub into the scar tissue. Borrowed some herbs of the healer and made up a little balm I remember the Rohirrim using. Hold him for me?'

'Aye.' Stroking the shining smoke-coloured neck. 'There's a lad. Steady, now.'

Merry cut other things from his schedule to add a daily workout with Socks. At first he did not risk his weight on the pony, but lounged Socks at the end of a long line on the grass. As the pony improved, he began to ride Socks: short, gentle outings to strengthen, not stress the healing leg.

'I hear...'

'What do you hear?'

The ostler was silent, as if trying to find the right words. Finally he spoke quietly, his usual smile gone. 'I hear young Master Took is not himself these days. They say he don't laugh, or sing, like when...' his voice trailed off.

'Like the days when I was walking in darkness...'

'Meaning no disrespect, Sir.'

'There is no disrespect in speaking truth, Nob.'

'They say 'e's lost 'imself.' The old ostler looked searchingly into the young master's face.

Merry patiently worked a tangle out of the long mane. He didn't speak for so long that the ostler turned to go, to be stopped by the young master's reply.

'He hasn't lost himself, Nob. He's only lost his way.'

'Can he find it again, ye think?'

'I hope so.'

Merry repeated the thought to himself, and to Socks, in that wordless language that only he and the ponies understood. I hope so.

Chapter 31. Bird in a Trap

'I don't understand. Why does he not simply say "No" to his father? He has never hesitated in the past.'

Merry had told his father and mother about Paladin's plans for Pippin.

'Evidently his parents have had an understanding with Fredregar's parents since the lad was born. They just never bothered to tell my cousin about it until now.'

'There's nothing formal and binding in an understanding... why has he given up this fight before it has begun?' Esmeralda said in aggravation. 'I knew my brother was up to something, but I never thought...'

'It is more complicated than that,' Saradoc put in. He picked up a letter from the desk. 'The Thain has already announced the handfasting. He's sent out invitations, probably to every relative in the Shire.'

'Oh, no,' Esmeralda moaned.

'But Pip's just barely come of age!' Merry protested. 'He's too young to take on a wife...'

'But he has good prospects,' Saradoc said dryly. 'And I imagine that's why his father announced a handfasting, and not a wedding. It's enough to secure Peregrin's future, and once the handfasting is done, why, it doesn't really matter when the wedding takes place.'

Merry nodded glumly. 'For it will take place. Or even if one of them should...' he could scarcely speak the word for the lump in his throat, the possibility had been so recently real, 'die...'

Saradoc gave a heavy sigh and finished his son's thought, 'They would still be considered married.' He shook his head. 'At least for all legal purposes. And i' truth, when a hobbit's affection is given...'

'But it's not!' Merry cried in an agony of despair for his poor, trapped cousin. For trapped, Pippin certainly was, hands tied by the handfasting invitations as surely as the orc ropes had bound them on that long, desperate journey towards Isengard. But he won free that time, a small voice mocked in the back of his brain. He rubbed at his face to dispel the thought. There was no escape in this situation. And little Stella Bolger is hardly an orc, he muttered to himself. A pest, perhaps, a gadfly...

His mother interrupted his thoughts, putting a hand on his arm and saying, 'But what about Diamond of the north-Tooks of Long Cleeve? Had he spoken to her already? That could be considered a previous engagement.'

Merry shook his head. 'No. He told me she was too young, that he would speak at a more appropriate time.'

'Speak at a more appropriate time!' Esmeralda snapped. 'What a pity my brother did not feel the need to show the same consideration as his son!'

Merry was sick at heart. 'He will not fight this,' he said, shaking his head. 'He can defy his father without a qualm, but he will not shame the lass.'

Esmeralda put her hands over her face. 'Oh, my poor lad,' she mourned. 'My poor, bright boy.'

Merry remembered being taken on a hunt as a youth, finding a brilliantly plumaged bird held in a leg trap, desperately beating its wings, one broken in repeated attempts to take flight, finally clubbed to stillness by the forester.

Saradoc said heavily, 'Well, I guess I had better invite Estella Bolger to the Hall for a visit, that they might get to know one another a little better before the handfasting. It's the only kindness I can think of in this.'

'The north-Tooks are due next week for a visit,' Esmeralda said.

'It might mean some awkwardness, but we might as well get past it now as later,' Saradoc said.

***

Esmeralda greeted Estella Bolger kindly. It was hardly the girl's fault that they were in this situation.

'I must tell you again how much we love your portrait of Frodo,' she said over tea in the parlour.

Estella glanced up at the painting, then looked back to the Mistress. 'It is how I choose to remember him,' she said politely.

'But how...?' Merry asked.

She turned to him with a smile. 'I remember everything I see. Most of the time it is a blessing. I can close my eyes, and see Frodo as if he were standing here before me.'

'My birthday is coming up,' Saradoc said. 'I would like you to paint a portrait of Meriadoc, for my wife.'

'Oh, Husband!' Esmeralda said, overcome.

Estella smiled. 'Since I'm here to visit anyway, I would be happy to do so.' She turned her eyes to Merry. 'Would you have time to sit for me? Or shall I sketch and then paint from memory?'

'What kind of memory?' Merry asked.

Her smile brightened. 'Oh, there's so much to choose from,' she said mischievously. 'Like the time you and Fatty were wrestling and ended up in that mudhole? Or the time you climbed to rescue that cat from a tree and it jumped upon your head with all claws flying...?'

'I can make the time to sit for you,' Merry said hastily.

Pippin sipped his tea and had nothing to add to the conversation.

***

Estella asked to meet Merry and Pippin's ponies. 'You can tell so much about a hobbit from his pony,' she teased. Meeting each pony in turn, she ran her hand down the shining neck, took a carrot from her pocket to offer on her flat hand, and murmured an endearment in words that only she and the pony understood.

'Well?' Merry asked as she stepped back.

'I think you both have very fine ponies,' she answered.

'So what can you tell about the hobbits who own the ponies?' he pressed.

'Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?' she laughed. 'If you can't work it out, I certainly am not going to enlighten you!'

Taking Pippin's arm, she said, 'Let's walk back to the Hall. All this exercise has given me quite an appetite.' She looked up at Pippin. 'And I don't know why, but I feel exactly like a mother bird, looking at you. I just want to stuff you full of food every time I see you!'

'You and everyone else,' said Pippin.

***

The north-Tooks arrived with a little less than their usual jollity. Farmer Took looked quizzically at Pippin, standing beside Estella as they waited to greet the arrivals with all the rest in the welcoming party. Pippin turned his eyes away from the hurt in Diamond's.

'I'm glad to see you on your feet, lad,' Farmer Took said quietly, when ponies and waggon had been put away, and they were walking to the Hall. He couldn't say much, with that lass walking at Pippin's side. He couldn't ask the questions begging to be asked. It was all he could do to make small talk without choking on the words. 'We'd heard you were laid pretty low.'

'I'm alive,' Pippin replied. For a hobbit who would be handfasted in a few weeks, he certainly looked sombre. 'That's something, anyway.'

After he had been closeted in the study with the Master later in the day, Farmer Took understood. He shook his head. 'Pity the lad,' he said. 'I thought such things had gone out of fashion.'

'The Thain has always been a law unto himself,' Saradoc muttered. 'Ever since it was thrust upon him without a by-your-leave by old Ferumbras...'

'Aye,' the farmer sighed. 'When you have to give orders long enough, whether you will or no, in the end you start to think you must live everyone else's life for them.'

'Well, Peregrin's never allowed his father to live his life for him. Not until now,' the Master said.

'I admire the lad his honour,' Farmer Took said slowly. 'But then I knew he'd got courage. He's shown it time and again.' He drained his glass of brandy. 'Well,' he said, 'I must go and explain to Pearl and to Diamond. I'm afraid they've had reason to think hard thoughts about the lad since the invitation for the handfasting arrived, though they didn't want to believe it of him.' He sighed. 'Well, it's not the lad's fault, nor the lass's, either.' He shook his head. 'It's a bad business.'

Saradoc could only agree.

Chapter 32. A Curious Courtship

Estella would not let Merry look at the work in progress. She kept the canvas turned away from him while she worked, and covered it at the end of each sitting.

At first he felt self-conscious, sitting there with her steady grey eyes moving between him and her brush, but she kept up a lively conversation and soon he found himself relaxing and answering in kind.

'You have a nice smile,' she remarked one day, 'but who would know? You hardly ever use it.'

'Then how do you know?' he asked.

'I remember your face the day you and Frodo stole the pie that was cooling on the windowsill and replaced it with an empty pie pan. How you laughed at the cook's confusion!' He chuckled at the memory. 'I was right!' she exclaimed. 'Your smile is just as I remember it. You ought to use it more.'

'There hasn't been much to smile about, lately,' he admitted.

'Oh, yes, my beloved was dangerously ill, wasn't he? For someone who is supposed to be on the mend, he's about as lively as a bowl of cold porridge.'

'He hates porridge,' Merry said absently.

'I know. I think it stems from the time I put salt in the sugar bowl, he sneaked an extra spoonful or three onto his porridge, and they made him eat it all up anyhow.'

'I've never seen him sweeten his porridge!' Merry said.

She smiled brightly. 'Well, now you know why!'

He couldn't help laughing again.

***

Estella became quite popular in the great room in the evenings. She always had a bag with her that was filled with paper and charcoal sticks. She would tell stories to an admiring circle of younger cousins, and sketches would bloom under her fingers nearly as quickly as her lips formed the tale.

Merry was drawn by a burst of laughter and came over to see what she was telling about now. He looked down at the table to see the spread-out sketches: A much younger Merry with a bright grin, covered in mud, rubbing mud into a squirming Fatty Bolger's curls. Frodo sitting on a grassy hill, reading, with a winking Pippin behind him, about to slip a frog down the back of his shirt. Frodo and Merry reaching for the pie cooling on the windowsill. Fatty and Frodo at the bottom of a tall tree, Merry halfway up, the objective of his climb a tiny Pippin near the top of the tree.

'How did you know about that? You weren't even there!'

'Oh, they are still telling the stories around Bridgefields. You're famous, you know.'

'Infamous is more likely.'

'Have it your way,' she grinned.

A chuckling Pansy collared Merry. 'I shall never look at you in quite the same way, cousin!' she said.

Merry looked in mock despair at Estella. 'You're ruining my reputation, you know. They'll never take me seriously around here again.'

She put her hands on her hips and regarded him sternly. 'And that is a bad thing? You take yourself entirely too seriously, I think!' Then she laughed again, and her laughter was a sweet sound that reminded him somehow of bells.

Estella leaned against Pippin, who stood beside her. Looking up, she said, 'Beloved, who is that sweet-faced lass who keeps staring at us?'

'Her name is Diamond. She's a cousin of mine, of the north-Tooks.'

'Ah! I like her looks. I am going to make her acquaintance!'

Before Merry or Pippin could intervene, she had crossed the distance and taken Diamond's hands in hers.

'Hullo! You have such an interesting face, may I sketch you?'

She laughed at Diamond's confusion. 'I am sorry, I simply cannot help myself. My father says I was born with a charcoal stick in my hand.'

Her carefree chatter disarmed Diamond, and the lass from Long Cleeve found herself drawn into the group.

'Sit here. Oh, I think we shall become best friends! Now tilt your head, so--Perfect! Don't move!' Estella said cheerily.

Under her capable hand a picture of Diamond sitting in a meadow with a lapful of wildflowers quickly emerged, and Pippin gasped at the likeness. Even in a rough charcoal sketch, Diamond seemed about to spring from the paper.

Estella looked up suddenly and laughed. 'I have a wonderful idea!' she crowed. 'Pippin and I are to ride out on a picnic tomorrow, and we need an escort. Cousins Merimas and Pansy were to come but wouldn't it be much better if it were Merry and Diamond? My heart is set upon it, you must agree!'

She tilted her chin down and smiled up through her eyelashes. 'Watch out! I am quite a matchmaker!' she teased. 'Perhaps we can have a double wedding!'

The hobbits around them laughed, and Pippin smiled dutifully.

Merry took Diamond's hand. 'Well?' he asked gently. 'Are you free to go on a picnic?' At her hesitation, he smiled and said, 'I am not planning to ask you to marry me anytime soon! You are much too young!'

She returned his smile, saying, 'Only if you promise that we will have apple tart.'

He nodded solemnly. 'Oh, yes. If the cooks do not pack apple tart for our picnic I shall assign them to sweep the stables for a month!'

Everyone laughed, and the evening continued convivially.

***

After that the four seemed to be together constantly. Diamond found herself becoming resigned to the coming match. Estella would be good for Pippin: She was a bright, cheerful, loving and easy-to-love hobbit-lass. As for Diamond, she and Merry spent much time reminiscing about Ruby and Thom and times at Long Cleeve as they rode or walked behind Pippin and Estella.

There were picnics and long walks, lazy times lounging and talking on a pile of hay in the stables, grooming the ponies, long rides, stealing into the kitchen in the wee hours of the night to cook up a mess of confectionary, and all manner of other adventures.

***

'I suppose it could be worse,' Pippin sighed to Merry one day as they sat in Merry's study, a rare moment alone.

'Oh?'

'The Sackville-Bagginses might have had a daughter. They would have been rich enough to tempt the Thain,' he said morosely.

'Deliver us from the Sackville-Bagginses!' Merry said fervently.

'O I think we already took care of that,' Pippin replied. He stared into the depths of the inkwell on the desk. 'You're going to need someone to take care of you when I'm gone,' he mused.

Merry started, 'Don't talk that way! It sounds as if you're planning a funeral rather than a wedding!'

'I'm sorry, Merry,' Pippin said, a rare apology coming from him. 'I didn't mean--'

But Merry shook his head, holding up a hand to forestall further comment.

'I know!' Pippin said suddenly. 'Estella's right, you could always marry Diamond. She'd make you a fine wife, and you're practically a north-Took already.'

'Two wrongs won't make a right, Pippin,' Merry said softly.

They sat in silence until it was time to join the family for tea.

***

Estella caught Diamond's hand in the great room. 'I am so glad we have become friends,' she said cheerfully. 'This has been a wonderful visit. I hope we can see lots more of each other... Long Cleeve is not that far from Bridgefields.'

'But after you're married, won't you move to Tuckborough?'

'I suppose so,' Estella admitted thoughtfully. 'O well, we can make use of the time we have and carry on a voluminous correspondence when we are parted!'

Diamond couldn't help laughing even as her heart was aching for Pippin. Estella would make him a good wife, she would draw him out of himself, and--sweet revenge--she would probably drive the Thain mad with her antics.

Estella gave Diamond's hand a tug. 'Come, dearest friend, I have something to show you. I have been painting again.'

'Painting again?'

'Oh, yes, I am always painting. I cannot help myself. I finish one and I simply must start another.'

The portrait of Merry had caused quite a stir in the Hall when it was unveiled on the Master's birthday. He stood, Jewel's head resting on his shoulder, one hand on the pony's cheek, looking half into the distance, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. He looked as if he was about to take the reins, swing into the saddle, and ride off on an adventure.

'Come!' She led Diamond to her room, saying, 'I usually don't let people see my work until it is completely finished, but this one is so nearly done...' She pulled the cover from the canvas.

Pippin stood holding Socks. He was not the gaunt, hollow-eyed Pippin of late, but the glowing hobbit with dancing eyes and an expression on his face that would have made his cousins check their beds for frogs.

'Who is it for?' Diamond asked curiously. 'Did you paint it for his aunt and uncle, or for his parents?'

'I painted it for you,' Estella said. At Diamond's stunned expression, she smiled. 'It is a promise, you see.'

Diamond's eyes filled with tears. 'I cannot believe this!' she gasped. 'How can you be so heartless and cruel?' She stumbled to her feet and fled the room.

***

Estella found her later in the great room, and pounced upon her before she could escape.

'No, stay,' Estella said softly, tightening her grasp on Diamond's wrist as the latter tried to pull away, 'Do not cause a scene that would embarrass your hosts!'

Diamond looked over at the Master and Mistress, sitting with her parents, listening to a group of hobbits singing in harmony.

Estella released her as she forced herself to relax, to smile at her mother's questioning glance, just for a second, then captured her hand once again as the adults turned back to the singing. Diamond wanted to jerk her hand back, but Estella smiled her curious smile and Diamond suffered herself to be held captive, even to be led away, to a quiet alcove away from the rest of the hobbits enjoying the evening's music.

'You didn't let me finish, earlier,' Estella said seriously, though to Diamond it seemed her eyes glinted with mischief through the shadows.

She shook herself free and huffed, indignant, though she kept her voice down to keep from attracting attention. 'I don't want the painting!'

'I must admit, I never was able to get my beloved to sit still for his portrait, but it is a fair likeness, isn't it?'

Diamond, torn between anger and tears, bit her lip to keep back the sharp words she wished to speak. Through all these days Estella had been gay as a lark, sweet as a primrose and lively as a butterfly flitting from bloom to bloom. Wilful, perhaps, for she'd been much indulged by her father, and yet she was accommodating and thoughtful of others... or had been, until this evening. What had got into her, or had she been hiding her true nature all along?

Poor Pip!

Estella smiled. 'It seems that we have hit a rock on the road of our friendship,' she said softly, as if she could read Diamond's thoughts. 'While we have been thrown so often into each other's company, I could not help noticing that you harboured feelings for my beloved.'

Diamond endured, not trusting herself to speak.

'I feared it would grieve you to hear how I plan to ill-use the poor lad, but I simply cannot help myself any longer,' Estella continued.

Diamond started at these awful words, and stared, not believing her ears. How could she have so misjudged the lass?

'I hope you can forgive me my heartless cruelty some day,' Estella said, dropping her voice to a sort of mock regret; but then she straightened, her tone grew stronger, and as one steeled by anger, she spoke the next few words between her teeth. 'His father may be trying to break his spirit, but I am going to be the one to break his heart!'

'What are you talking about?' Diamond gasped.

Estella smiled oddly at her. 'I am going to jilt my poor cousin,' she said cheerfully. 'I find I simply cannot marry him!'

Chapter 33. Dissolution of an Agreement

Pippin put his hand on Merry's arm to stay him as they reached the Master's study. 'What is this all about?' he asked.

Merry shook his head. 'I don't really know,' he admitted. 'My father just said there was to be a hearing, and you were needed.'

Saradoc looked searchingly at his son. 'Do you know aught of your cousin's behaviour that has been less than honourable?' he asked soberly.

'No,' Merry said, shaken. 'Who has brought accusation against him?' he demanded.

Saradoc shook his head. 'I know only that a hearing was requested; I do not know the charges. You know that he must be charged before witnesses. That custom stands for his own protection, as well as that of the other party in the matter. Bring him.'

They entered the study. Saradoc sat behind the desk, his face sober. To one side stood Carodoc the Steward, Farmer Took, and Merry's Uncle Merimac--Three Witnesses, by Shire custom, and all very solemn in appearance. Even their clothing was dark and subdued, starched to stiffness and very proper, as if they had dressed to attend a burial.

Pippin's eyes sought Merry's. This was a full formal hearing, about as formal as you could get in the Shire, barring signing a Will or Contract or Binding Agreement, the latter two a rarity in the Shire where a hobbit's word was held to be binding.

What was going on?

Merry squeezed his arm and went to sit by the desk, picking up his pen. He would act as scribe. He began to write as Saradoc spoke the formal words.

'We are met in full formal hearing, to consider the consequences of actions taken by one hobbit, Peregrin Took,' his voice softened as he met Pippin's eye, 'my nephew,' he concluded. 'We will now hear the evidence.'

Esmeralda rose to escort Estella Bolger from where they had sat, unnoticed to this point, in the corner. The lass was pale and serious.

'Estella Bolger of Budgeford in Bridgefields,' the Master intoned. 'What would you say before this hearing?'

'I have requested three witnesses to hear my words,' she answered in a clear voice, lifting her chin, 'and a scribe to take a full account,' she said, looking to Merry and then to the witnesses. She very pointedly avoided Pippin's wondering gaze. Turning her eyes to the Master, she drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, setting a resolute chin. 'Let there be no mistake.'

Pippin waited, breathless. He could think of lots of things he had done in the past, all just mischief, but nothing to warrant a hearing with three witnesses.

Estella Bolger? What could she have against him?

She turned to him at last, still serious, grey eyes taking his measure. 'Let me say first that Peregrin, son of Paladin, has never acted in less than honourable manner towards me.'

Pippin took a shallow breath, not quite reassured.

Estella continued, her gaze boring into Pippin's eyes, her voice trembling just a little as she spoke; she pressed her hands tight together as if to steady herself, and Esmeralda rested a sustaining hand on Estella's arm. 'Yet for reasons of my own, and no guilt on his part, I find it impossible to continue on the path set before us.'

Estella's voice firmed with the next words; she raised her chin in defiance. 'Peregrin Took, I dissolve the agreement between us. It is my right, and I choose to do this before witnesses.' She smiled, and the angry glint in her eye softened. 'I release you.'

Pippin stood as still as a sun-struck troll, mouth half-open, unable to take it in.

Sheer mischief danced in Estella's eyes as her glance swept the room. 'Now let the Thain stick that in his pipe and smoke it!' She looked quickly at Merry. 'Don't write that last part down!' she said urgently.

Merry shook his head, smiling, and handed the pen and paper to the Master, who signed his name and affixed his official seal. Carodoc, Farmer Took, and Merimac each took up the special pen, kept for the signatures of witnesses upon official document--this pen kept separate, with its companion bottle of crimson liquid, as of fresh-welling blood--one signing and passing the writing instrument in turn to each of the others, to add their signatures to the document.

'Done,' Saradoc said in satisfaction when all was done, then turned to his nephew, who still stood frozen in shock. Farmer Took caught Pippin as he swayed, led him to a chair and eased him down.

Merimac poured a glassful of brandy and offered it to him, keeping a steadying hand on Pippin's shoulder. 'Drink it, lad,' he urged.

Pippin sipped mechanically, still trying to absorb what had happened.

Estella came to kneel before him, placing a pleading hand upon his knee. 'Oh, my beloved,' she murmured, then smiled again, gently. 'My former beloved. I am sorry this came as such a shock.'

She looked up at Saradoc, then back to Pippin. 'But knowing the Thain, I thought it best to do it this way, that there would be no mistake, and no blame placed on you.'

She stroked Pippin's cheek with a gentle finger. 'Had I spoken to you beforehand, your father might have accused you of trying to influence me, and tried to set aside the decision.'

She looked searchingly into his eyes. 'Don't you understand?' she said urgently. 'You're free. Your father has no hold over you now.' Tears filled her eyes. 'I could never stand to see a wild creature caged,' she added.

At last released from his frozen state, he raised a hand to wipe away a tear from her cheek.

She lifted a hand to cup Pippin's palm against her face for the briefest of moments, giving a gentle squeeze before pulling his hand down and chafing it between her own palms as one might in effort to restore a hobbit from a swoon. 'You're free,' she repeated, her voice firm.

Merimac took the glass from him as Pippin reached forward to take Estella in a great hug.

When he released her, she stood up and smiled down at him. 'Now would it really have been so terrible to be married to me?' she teased.

Pippin opened his mouth again, but found no words to express his joy. Estella nodded her satisfaction; his shining eyes spoke volumes, and she understood him perfectly well.

She looked to the Master. 'All right, then,' she said. 'This has been a house of mourning long enough. I hope you are going to order a grand celebration in the great hall tonight.'

Esmeralda hugged the girl. 'The grandest there could possibly be,' she said with a grin of her own. 'The grandest indeed.'

Chapter 34. Beanpoles and Bedtime Snacks

Uncle Merimac bent to put a loaded plate in front of Pippin. 'Eat, lad,' he said. 'You look as if you'd blow away in a light breeze.'

Much laughter greeted the remark. The musicians started another lively tune and half the hobbits got up from the table to begin the dance.

'Now that you've shed yourself this beanpole, you'll be in need of a husband!' Merry's cousin Meliloc came up to say.

'It's much too soon after Pippin's narrow escape from me, to be thinking of marriage!' Estella retorted with a smile. 'You will have to talk to me about it later.'

Meliloc turned away with a grin to join the dance, and Estella shook her head. Merry heard her mutter, 'Much later!' The hobbits sitting around them erupted in laughter.

Estella smiled at Pippin. 'I think I will excuse myself, my former beloved.'

He reached out to take her hand, speaking his thanks with his eyes, fingers squeezing hers gently.

She pulled her hand from his. 'That's all very well... Now eat! Before I take up your spoon and feed you!'

Laughing, he complied, and she walked away.

After a few bites, Pippin looked down at Diamond beside him. 'I think handfasting is a good idea, don't you?' he said. 'The sooner the better, I'd say.'

She laughed up at him, 'I should say so! Before the Thain gets the idea of auctioning you off to the highest bidder!'

Everyone at the table chuckled but Pippin. 'That's not so far-fetched,' he said soberly.

'Who's the lucky lass to be?' cousin Celandine called across the table.

Pippin smiled down at Diamond. 'I do not think I will have to look far,' he replied.

Diamond felt her heart leap. 'Don't you have to ask my father?'

'He has already given his blessing.'

'Well who am I to argue, then? After all, my father is always right.'

'Until you get married,' he said. 'Then your husband is always right.'

'Oh, aye,' she said with a chuckle, nestling against him. 'Indeed.'

Hobbits' laughter washed around them, accented by the joyful music and bright swirling dance.

***

Sometime later in the evening, Esmeralda saw her son excuse himself and take his leave of the celebration. She squeezed her husband's hand and he followed her gaze.

'Off on another ride,' he said.

'Oh, Saradoc,' she murmured. 'How long will our son be alone?'

He had no answer, but patted her hand. 'Meriadoc will be well,' was all he could answer.

***

Merry reached the stables to find Estella feeding pieces of apple to Jewel, with cousins Merimas and Pansy her escorts this evening.

'Hello,' she said, looking up with a smile at his step. 'I'm just feeding my favourite lads a little snack before they get tucked up for the night.'

Merimas laughed. 'It's early yet,' he said, still chuckling. 'Many's the night Jewel wanders under the stars. He's only half pony, you know,' he teased. 'The other half is owl, I think.'

'As is his rider,' Pansy added.

'Oh, no, I merely go along to keep him out of trouble,' Merry said with a grin.

Estella's laughter chimed softly.

Pansy looked up at Merimas. 'Husband?' she asked. 'D'you really think that Wingfoot is going to win the pony races this year? Jewel is looking awfully fit.'

'Let us go and ask him,' Merimas replied, and hand in hand they wandered down the line of stalls.

Merry watched Estella offer apple slices to Jewel. When she was finished, she caressed the crooked stripe running down the pony's face, then gathered up the long forelock, braided it quickly and tucked it up. 'There!' she said. 'If you are to take a ramble in the middle night you ought to be able to see your feet.'

She turned to Merry with a sigh, 'It has been a good visit, for the most part.' She turned back to the pony, fingers playing with his silky mane. 'I will miss my lads,' she said. 'D'you suppose they'll miss me at all?'

'They won't be the only ones,' Merry answered. He did not see her tense in the semidarkness. He went on, 'Half the Hall will miss you when you go.'

Her shoulders slumped, but she quickly straightened and turned back to him with a bright smile that seemed to light the darkness. 'And the other half will be saying, 'Good riddance to that hard-hearted lass! How could she throw over fine Master Took that way!'

'The way they are celebrating in the Hall this night makes me think they are not feeling too sorry for poor Master Took this evening.'

Exasperated, she said, 'And would I have made him such a terrible wife? He'd have made me such a dashing husband!'

He laughed, and her mouth relaxed into a smile again. 'I must admit, the idea of being the Thain's wife was a tempting one. Of course, Pippin would have to survive to be Thain... if all of Tuckborough didn't kick us out and lock the door behind us. That dusty old place, with its dusty old rooms always brought out the worst in me. It needs a grand sweeping out.' She grinned mischievously up at Merry. 'I might not have been quite the wisest choice on the old Thain's part...'

'What do you mean?'

She didn't answer, but turned back to the braids she was making in Jewel's mane, saying to the pony's neck, 'Did you hear old Ferdinand's teeth have gone missing again?'

Hearing Merry's laughter ring out over the quiet stalls, Pansy turned to her husband with a wistful look. 'Oh, I wish...'

He squeezed her hand. 'I know.' He put an arm around her waist and she leaned into his shoulder.

Back in front of Jewel's stall, Merry mused, 'Pippin said I would need someone to take care of me when he's gone.'

'Oh? Is he planning on dying soon?' Estella asked idly, then nodded to herself. 'Oh, of course, of a broken heart. I nearly forgot. I've left him in the dust and the thought of him hardly crosses my mind any more.' She smiled at Merry again. 'Unless you mean The Took is going to kill him when he finds out I will not be bringing my fortune with me to the Great Smials.'

'He is too young to marry...'

'Ah, yes, but it would have been a marvellous handfasting.' She sighed, 'My mother had the loveliest dress made up, and Freddy had charge of the feast... and you know how he is about food, and how it must be,' here she dropped her voice to its huskiest tones, the better to imitate her brother, '...the highest quality and elegant presentation, (he's still defying the Lockholes, as you know, and likely will be for the rest of his life),' and returning to her natural voice added, '... all wasted now.'

In that moment, memory arose in Merry, not only Fatty Bolger's courage in defying the ruffians, and the high price he paid, but of Estella, as well. He thought of her courage and resourcefulness on the dangerous journey, escaping to the free Tookland during the dark days of the Troubles. He remembered her living there disguised as a half-grown lad after Ferdibrand Took left her with a family near the border, and did not return to bring her the rest of the way to the relative safety of the Great Smials. He remembered her loyalty, and fierce determination to nurse her brother back to life, to help him recover all that he'd lost in the Lockholes, and more. Mingled gratitude and admiration rose in him as he thought back over the past few days: her bright and cheerful mien, her obvious determination to make Pippin the best wife in her power to be, though it was evident enough that Pippin did not love her as she... as she...

His thoughts stuttered to a stop. Estella had been bright, cheerful, loving? ...even though there had always been a tinge of mischief to her words and looks. She never had loved Pip, Merry thought, the realisation washing over him like a cloudburst.

She had turned back to her braiding, her brow furrowed in concentration, eyes fixed on her flying fingers, and did not seem conscious of his intent look.

Suddenly, events of the past came clear to him, as sun breaking through clouds brings a meadow to sparkling brightness, and he drew a shallow breath, hearing a snort from one of the ponies, the knock of a hoof against a wall, the voices of Pansy and Merimas, a murmur followed by shared laughter.

Estella-the-pest, or Midge, as Frodo had called her, half-loving, half-teasing, and he could almost hear her you great donkey! in reply -- she had followed them everywhere, up hill and down, making a complete nuisance of herself...

A sense of wonder seized him and he breathed more deeply, dizzy, as he realized he'd been holding his breath. You're the great donkey, never to have seen it before, he told himself. He looked at her in the shadowy light of the stables, seeing together in one somehow, the Midge, and Twig the "boy", and Tilly the nurse, and Estella herself, a force to be reckoned with, unafraid, even, of the Thain and his influence -- giving Pip his freedom to marry Diamond, whom he loved, with no hope for her own happiness... Merry had never seen her, really seen her, paid her any mind, and yet she remained true in the face of his blindness.

He felt now as if blinders had been taken from his eyes, and a clear light shone in his heart, and lit his face, as he began to tremble with realisation. He mastered himself with an effort.

Could he be worthy of such a love?

'...all wasted now,' she repeated, lower, as if to herself, or perhaps the pony.

'It wouldn't have to go to waste,' Merry said gently.

She caught her breath and looked up at him.

He stumbled over his next words. Perhaps he had not quite mastered himself, but he plunged ahead with determination, not quite sure what to say, but bent on saying it, no matter the consequences. 'I... I may not be quite as dashing as my cousin, but... if you'd have me...'

She turned from the pony, wiped her hands absently on her skirts, and held them out to Merry, who took her hands in his.

The brightness of her smile dazzled him. 'If I'd have you?' she whispered, radiant with joy, no longer concealing her feelings for him behind cool mischief. 'Why do you think I was such a pest, following you all over Budgeford all those years ago?'

Merimas and Pansy smiled to hear the laughter pealing from the two in front of Jewel's stall.

(just a note: a fair amount of new material was added to the previous chapter--34--this morning, that had been inadvertently left off. Sorry about that.)

Chapter 35. New Beginnings

Master and Mistress Gamgee were having a serious difference of opinion.

'The babe is due to arrive more than a month from now! I never had any problems with Elanor or Frodo, and I'm not having any problems now!'

'No, Rosie,' Samwise said firmly. 'I am not willing to risk you.'

'What is the risk? Hobbits have been having babes for far many more years than you can count, Samwise Gamgee, for all your fine education that Mr Bilbo gave you!'

'Rose,' he said, grieved.

'You won't leave me... but you you know you can go, if you just take me with you! It's a day's journey in the waggon. Break it into two days, if you like. We can stay in an inn on the way! It'll be quite an adventure.'

'No, Rose,' he said, but she thought he might be weakening in his resolve.

'After all you went through with Mr Merry and Mr Pippin...'

'Merry,' he broke in.

'What?'

'He told me to call him Merry. No "Sir", no "Mr", just Merry.'

There. She'd distracted him from his worry. 'But it is not our place.'

'It grieves him when I call him Mr Merry. I've seen it in his eyes. And he told me...'

It was time to get back to the point at hand. 'Well, Husband, look in my eyes! I'm the one you're grieving now. They invited us to the handfasting ceremonies, a right fancy piece of paper at that, and you cannot be bothered to go!'

'Rose...'

She was so upset, she began to cry.

'Ah, Rosie lass...'

In the end, she argued him around to her position. It wasn't easy. He insisted on consulting with her mother, who, surprisingly, took Rose's part. 'The babe's more than a month off, and if Rose is comfortable enough riding the waggon here to the farm, she should be fine.' She looked hard at her daughter. 'And it will give you more time sitting down than you've allowed yourself the last few weeks!'

Rose laughed, and Samwise finally smiled.

***

When the two couples had decided to hold their handfasting ceremonies together (for having "jilted" Pippin, Estella must not, for propriety's sake, venture quickly into marriage with another hobbit), Long Cleeve seemed the logical place. It was more centrally located than Brandy Hall, handier for friends and relatives travelling from all over the Shire, and had more room to set up pavilions than the Bolgers had in Budgeford.

'It would be nice to bless the farm with a happy occasion,' Diamond had said wistfully, and Merry reached over to squeeze her hand in silent understanding.

'It sounds perfect!' Estella enthused. 'The green meadow, the wildflowers, the woods rising in the background and the rolling hills on the other side... I could almost paint it and I've never seen it yet!'

'What will your parents say, not having the ceremony in Budgeford?' Diamond asked.

'My father has already agreed,' Estella said. She was not one to let the grass grow under her feet. She grinned, 'Besides, it saves him all the trouble of setting it up and taking it down himself!'

Merry turned to Pippin. 'How are you feeling, cousin?'

Pippin shook his head in irritation. 'If it's not, "How are you feeling, cousin," it's "Eat! Eat!" or some such. I'm well!' He squirmed under the eye Merry fixed on him. 'All right, I'm not well. But I'm better. And that will have to do.'

Estella took his arm in hers. 'He just wants to get it over with as quickly as possible before the Thain thinks up some new mischief.' At his protest, she smiled up at him. 'Oh, I know you too well, Peregrin Took. After all, look at how long we were nearly married!'

They all laughed, and it was settled.

***

All was in readiness. The friends and relations had poured in until the farm could hardly hold them. Along with the pavilions across the road from the farmstead were many smaller tents brought by travelling guests to sleep under, their bright colors blooming like oversized flowers on the field behind the house.

The feasting had begun the day before, and Fatty Bolger, presiding over the open air kitchens, had outdone himself. It hardly seemed possible that there would be an even grander feast the day of the ceremony.

Pippin and Diamond did not attend all the festivities, for he still had little energy. They listened to the music and laughter coming through the open windows while sitting together at the kitchen table, holding hands, or taking turns playing at Kings with Taddy or the twins.

Occasionally Merry would poke his head in at the door, but Estella would soon appear to seize his hand and draw him back into the fray. Bursts of laughter marked their progress, and Pippin would meet Diamond's eye with a grin.

When Pippin tired of such quiet activities, Diamond would lead him over to one of the chairs by the hearth, sit him down with his feet up, and rub his shoulders until he fell asleep; he refused to be found in a bed during daylight hours. When he complained, she would soothe him. 'You're getting stronger every day. Don't try to eat an Oliphaunt in one bite! You'll choke!'

'Might as well be eating an Oliphaunt, all the food you keep stuffing into me,' he grumbled.

'I'll see if Fredregar Bolger can get you some Oliphaunt, then,' she teased.

'At least The Took saw fit not to come,' Pippin said, changing the subject.

Diamond could not decide whether she saw relief, or hurt in his eyes. Probably a little of both.

***

The next morning, the Brandybucks and the north-Tooks arose very early to gather wildflowers. They made a trip to the family burial ground to lay flowery wreaths upon the graves, to stand a moment in silent remembering, to sing a song. Then it was time to go back to the farmhouse, for there was much last-minute preparation to be done.

Diamond and Estella helped each other to dress and do their hair. Estella settled the crown of wildflowers upon Diamond's head and stepped back. 'There!' she said. 'You make such a picture! I will paint you someday, for a wedding present for your husband! Even though he doesn't deserve it.'

Diamond laughed, setting Estella's flowery crown in place. 'It does look pretty,' she said. 'But white is such an inconvenient color! I'll probably never wear this dress again!'

'Save it for the wedding!' Estella laughed.

'White for a wedding?' Diamond asked.

'Why not! It makes a fine contrast against the green field and the blue sky!' Estella returned.

'Well, if it survives the feasting and the dancing, I just might put it away and keep it until then. But who's to say I'll fit into it two years from now? I might eat so much, for having to wait so long, I'll end up as plump as your aunt Poppy.'

'Poor Pippin marry a puffball! Ah, well, serves him right!' Estella jested.

'Serves him right for what?'

'I don't know, in particular, but with all the mischief he's done it ought to serve him right for something!'

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. 'Lasses! It's time!'

As the Bolgers and north-Tooks escorted their daughters to the open field where the guests waited, a group of ponies was seen approaching on the road that ran past the farm. Esmeralda, standing with her husband and son, exclaimed, 'Well, I don't believe it! He's come!'

Merimac, standing by Pippin in Paladin's place, asked, 'Will he make trouble, do you think?'

'My brother excels at making trouble,' his sister-in-law answered. 'It is what he does best.'

Saradoc squeezed Merry's arm. 'Stay here, lad. This is business for the head of the family.' He slowly walked to the road to meet the approaching riders. Farmer Took and Odovocar Bolger left their wives and daughters standing by the farmhouse to join the Master.

The Thain signaled his party to pull up before the three. He did not have the courtesy to dismount, but sat upon his pony looking down at them.

'Paladin?' said the Farmer quietly. 'Have you come to celebrate?'

'I've come to protest!' the Thain said forcefully. 'There was a previous engagement--'

'Which was lawfully dissolved,' the Farmer said evenly. His steely gaze might have come from the eyes of the Bullroarer himself. 'It seems to me that you have two options, Paladin.'

The mounted hobbit stared in outrage, but the Farmer continued calmly. 'Thain or no Thain, this is north-Took land you're standing on. Either get out, or get down off that pony and stand by your son.'

They locked gazes, but the Thain was distracted by movement behind him. 'What are you doing?' he barked.

Eglantine had dismounted, and now she handed her reins to the rider next to her, looking up at her husband without expression. 'I'm getting down,' she said. 'You may do what you want, Dinny, but I'm going to go and stand by our son.' She turned and walked with great dignity to take her place at Pippin's side.

She smiled up at her son, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'I've come,' she said.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He saw her eyes widen, and looked up to see his father stalking across the field towards him. Merimac stepped away. Without a word, grim-faced, the Thain took his place at Pippin's other side.

Saradoc returned to Merry, and the Bolgers and north-Tooks escorted their daughters to the field. The parents joined the hands of their children together, and the traditional words of betrothal were spoken as each couple's hands were wound together with ribbons, legally binding their hearts and future lives together. A flute played sweetly, and then all fell silent after the invitation to consider the significance of the vows they had witnessed.

After this Farmer Took stepped forward, a beaming smile on his face, raised his arms and shouted, 'You are all invited to return, two years from today, to witness a wedding!'

A great cheer broke out, and hobbits moved forward to congratulate the families.

'Pippin? Do you want to sit down?' Diamond asked.

Pippin looked down at her. 'I'm well!' he said. 'I'll sit down at the feast, if you promise not to keep stuffing me with food.'

She laughed. 'Why then, what's the use of a feast?'

Just then the Gamgees came up. Diamond greeted them warmly. She had heard so much of Samwise and Rosie from Pippin, and had grown to love them in the short time they had spent at the farm after the tragedy three years earlier.

'Well, Rosie lass, I couldn't have you, for Samwise got you first, but I got the next best lass I could find,' Merry chuckled.

Estella laughed, she had heard all about the courtship of Sam and Rosie.

'Oh, go on with you, Meriadoc Bran--' Rose started to answer, but broke off with a gasp.

'Rose, what is it?' Samwise asked her.

She clutched at him and could not speak.

'Rose! Is it the baby?'

Rose found her voice. 'No, it cannot be, it's too early...' she said faintly.

Mistress Took came up on her other side, looking to the Farmer. 'Mind the feast,' she said, 'we'll get this lass to the house; I'm sure she just needs to put her feet up for a bit.'

Diamond could see that her mother was speaking for Sam's benefit, and that of the wee children who clung to their mother's skirts. She bent to wheedle tiny Frodo. 'Come here, lad!' she said in a conspiratorial tone. 'We've some new pups in the barn, want to see them?'

Estella joined in, 'Oh, they are the dearest little pups!' she enthused. 'I'm sure your Uncle Merry will show them to you if you ask him!'

Elanor looked up at her tall "uncle". 'May we see the pups?' she asked.

Merry swooped down to hoist a child to each shoulder. 'Of course you may! You must help us to pick out their names, now...' they heard him saying as he strode away.

Estella hurried to catch up, just as in the old days of their childhood, but unlike the old days, when she caught his elbow, Merry looked around, smiled, and adjusted his stride to match hers.

Rose gasped again, and Samwise swung her up into his arms to carry her to the house. 'It's too early...' she protested, then her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed, 'Oh, Samwise... I'm so sorry...'

Her husband spoke soothing words to her but she refused to be comforted.

The little group moved towards the house, while Farmer Took directed Tim to saddle Merry's pony and ride in search of the local midwife, or if she wasn't available, the healer. Both had been invited but must have been caught up in some business or other, for neither was in attendance. As the pony cantered down the lane, the good farmer turned back to the business of herding the guests to the feast, his booming reassurances clearly heard by all, including those entering the smial.

Pearl Took directed Samwise to the bedroom. 'Lay her on the bed there.' She ordered Esmeralda to get a pot of water going on the kitchen fire, and Diamond to get out what Pearl thought might be needed if what she suspected was happening, and then scrubbed her hands briskly.

Entering the bedroom again, she said to Rose, 'My dear, we need to take a look,' then looking to Sam said, 'Do you want to wait in the kitchen?'

Rose gasped and clung more tightly to her husband.

He shook his head, gently circling his arms about his wife.

Pearl smiled. 'All right, then. Let's see what we have here.' Her examination confirmed her fears. She smiled at Rose. 'Well, it seems this babe is in a hurry to meet his parents! Perhaps he didn't want to be left out of the feast... he's a proper hobbit lad, he is!'

Her nonsense seemed to calm the couple. She had Samwise help his wife out of her dress and into a loose shift.

Diamond came in with a covered cup. 'Here, Mistress Rose, I want you to drink this all down.'

Rose obeyed, a little calmer to be in competent hands.

'Master Samwise, rub your wife's back, and try and ease her muscles,' Pearl said. 'I'll be right back.' She motioned Diamond to follow her, and when they were well away, in the kitchen, she lowered her voice to speak. 'Lass, I know you've only helped your father deliver sheep and ponies and calves, but I am going to need your help in this.'

Diamond nodded, 'Tell me what to do.'

'She's a little thing, and your hands are smaller than mine. I want you to wash yourself well--scrub the way your father showed you when you helped him with the lambing--and be ready to jump in if I call you. I don't like the way things look.'

'What is it?'

'I think... the babe may be turned the wrong way.'

At her daughter's gasp, she smiled. 'Now, lass, you've delivered many a lamb with its legs back in the wrong place... this is just another wee lamb, you know.' At an outcry from Rose in the bedroom, she said, 'Hurry now!' and turned back to the room.

'Let's see if we can find you a comfortable position,' she crooned. Lying down on the bed was not the best way to labor with a babe turned the wrong way.

She and Sam got Rose upright between them and lowered her gently until she gasped, 'That's a bit better, but...' she bit her lip and moaned. 'Something's happening,' she choked.

'Let me see,' Pearl said soothingly. It was the worst possible news she could think of. 'Well,' she said, fighting for calm, 'this lad's going to be a contrary one. Wants to come out feet first.' She looked at Sam. 'There's no time to wait for healer or midwife, we've got to get this babe out now.'

'Do you know what you're doing?' he asked in an urgent undertone.

'I've helped a few neighbors. I've delivered lots of lambs,' she said. 'It'll have to do.' She raised her voice to call sharply. 'Diamond!'

Raising her eyes to Samwise, she said, 'Keep her calm. Talk to her.'

Diamond came in and Pearl instructed her in a whisper. 'One foot's out, the other needs to come out. Once you've got two feet, pull gently each time the muscles tighten.' She smiled into Diamond's eyes. 'No different from the lambing,' she said.

She raised her voice to say, 'Stay with us, Mistress Rose. We're almost finished! Just a bit more work to do.'

It was not long before she was swaddling a wee wrinkled red figure that cried lustily for all its coming a month early. She breathed a sigh of relief, for far too many early babies never drew breath... then smiling, she handed the bundle to Rose.

'You have a fine daughter,' she said, 'good and strong, for all she was in a hurry to get here.'

She and Diamond busied themselves with all the necessary tasks to get Rose cleaned up, settled, and comfortable, while Rose and Sam marveled over the small features and tiny fingers.

'What's her name to be, then?' Diamond asked softly when she had settled Rose against the pillows, baby nestled in her arms.

Samwise looked up with shining eyes, then down at his wife. 'Her name's Rose,' he said.

In the end, Diamond didn't miss the dancing at all. She was perfectly happy to collapse in the chair by the hearth, across from the other chair where her Pippin was lightly snoring.

Chapter 36. Lamp in the Window

The two convalescents sat in front of the farmhouse in the comfortable chairs that found their usual place by the hearth. These had been moved outside, to allow the springtide Sun to shine upon their occupants' faces and a fresh and gentle breeze to reach them, laden with the fragrance of the roses and other blooms surrounding the smial. Their feet were comfortably propped up, and light lap robes covered their legs, just in case they might take a chill in the fresh air, or if they might care to nap. A nap seemed unlikely at the moment, for Elanor and Frodo were tumbling in the grass nearby with the roly-poly puppies. Rose laughed as one fat puppy tried to chase after the toddler, only to be attacked from the side by a fatter brother, both rolling over and over to jump up and lick Frodo's face. The giggling of the toddler was music on the breeze.

Diamond came out of the farmhouse with a blanketed bundle in her arms, which she transferred to Rose. 'Here she is, all fresh and dry and ready for her tea,' she said with a smile.

Pippin politely averted his eyes while Diamond settled the babe in Rose's arms and fixed a discrete shawl in place.

She moved over to stand behind Pippin, placed a hand on either shoulder and bent to kiss the top of his head. 'And what can I get for you, my love?'

Pippin surprised her by musing, 'Warmed milk sounds rather inviting... put some honey in it?'

She squeezed his shoulders gently. 'And nutmeg... I'll fix it just the way you like it.' With another kiss, she was gone.

He closed his eyes to let the warm sun bathe his face. He had nearly fallen asleep when Rose's voice broke into this thoughts. 'It's peaceful here.'

'Yes, hard to believe all that mob were here a mere week ago.' He took a deep breath of the afternoon air and watched the little ones playing in the sunshine, letting himself drift in the peace of the moment.

It did not seem long before Diamond came up behind him and handed him a fragrant, steaming mug. He sipped and let the warmth spread through him. 'Hard to believe the handfasting was just a week ago,' he said again. 'Everyone's gone, everyone but ourselves, and the Gamgees, and all's quiet again.' He sipped again. 'I like the quiet. A fellow can think.'

'Yes, even the grass has sprung up again where the pavillions were. You might think nothing of import happened here, at all,' Diamond said, rubbing his shoulders, albeit carefully, lest she make him spill the milk, 'though of course it did!'

Pippin smiled, seized one of her hands and turned his head to lay a kiss there.

She laughed and gently pulled her hand away, resuming the interrupted shoulder rub, and added, 'It's so quiet since the Bolgers left.' 

Rose smiled and Pippin laughed.

'Oh, aye, it is quiet with Estella gone; the farm hardly seemed to contain her,' he answered.

'There'll be a lot of visiting between Budgeford and the Hall the next two years,' Diamond said. 'Just the thought of all that travel makes me dizzy!'

'Yes. The Master will see to that. Merry needs her.' Seeing her questioning look, he added, 'She's a lamp in the window for him.'

'You mean the one in the old story, that leads the lost traveller home?'

'Oh, aye.' Setting down his empty mug, he grasped the hand that lay on his shoulder, pulling it down to nestle his cheek against it. Diamond did not pull away again this time, but leaned over to rest her head on his curly top, and the two communed silently, listening to the laughter of the tots, the sweet song of a lark high above the field, the sleepy sound of bees droning in the blossoms nearby.

Little Rose had finished her "tea" and lay in sweet sleep, cuddled against her mother, who had closed her own eyes to drink in the sunshine.

Pippin chuckled. Diamond asked, 'What's the joke?'

'Poor Jewel. He only gets an hour or two of riding these days.'

'And Estella chattering away beside him...'

'Yes, poor lad, hardly has a quiet moment to think his own thoughts.'

'Are you talking about the pony, or Merry?' Diamond asked, and Rose joined in their laughter.

'Two years is a long time to wait,' Diamond sighed. 'I suppose there will have to be a lot of visiting between the Smials and Long Cleeve.' She smiled mischievously. 'Do you suppose they'll let me in the door?'

He didn't smile or answer her question, saying instead, 'Can your father pay a living wage to someone he hires, enough to keep a wife and family?'

She supposed he was asking for a relative who wanted to get out of Tuckborough, out from under the Thain's thumb as it were.

'Yes, he could use the extra help, but any hobbit working for him will have to work hard.'

'I can do that.'

Startled, she met his gaze. 'But...'

'I never wanted to be Thain, not really. It was all my father's idea. Well, I suppose I could blame the Tooks, anyhow. He never wanted to be Thain, either, but the Tooks made the bed and he had to lie in it.' He sighed. 'Still, it's not as if they're going to come and bear me back again whether I will or no! He disowned me on more than one occasion. I think, this time, if he tries to own me again, I'll tell him, Thank you very much for my part, but no.'

She swung around to kneel by his side, looking up at him in shock. 'Oh, Pippin...'

He shook his head. 'I'm weary, Diamond. I don't want to fight any more. He wins; I give over.' He met her eyes again. 'I'm not going back to Tuckborough.'

***

Rose told Samwise about the conversation when they were alone.

His eyes were troubled. 'I cannot see Mr Pippin as a farmer.'

She laughed. 'No, somehow the mail, sword and shield would look a bit out of place behind a plough.'

Sam did not share his wife's laughter. 'He cannot, Rose.' He saw that she didn't understand and tried again. 'The plough kicks up too much dust; his lungs won't stand it.'

'He's on the mend... by the time they are married...'

Samwise shook his head. 'First his lungs were battered and pierced by his shattered ribs when that troll fell on him, then the Old Gaffer's Friend nearly drowned him...' She winced, but he drove home the brutal truth. 'He will be well again if he lets those who love him take care of him, but he'll never be completely whole again. He'll have to be careful all the rest of his life.'

***

'Not going back to Tuckborough?' Merry put down the letter his father had given him to read.

'Aye. Dinny's--pardon me, Thain Paladin's a fool. He tried to bend his son to his will, but he broke him instead.'

'Broke him? Those are strong words...'

'Peregrin's stopped fighting, Son. Something's gone out of him, some spark. Perhaps that fine lass of his can coax it back to life, but be that as it may, the Thain has lost his son.'

Estella chimed in softly. 'Yes. He was always calling Peregrin the fool, but to my thinking he was the river calling the fish "wet".'

'I can't imagine Pippin not fighting his father. It's so much a part of him.'

Esmeralda sighed. 'Perhaps now he can find some peace.'

Saradoc looked sober. 'I wish I could say I thought so.'

Seeing Merry sinking into deep thoughts, Estella pulled at his hand. 'Come, beloved...'

He looked up and smiled. 'What is it?'

'Cannot you hear your poor sad-and-lonely, neglected pony calling? He wants us to go on a picnic this day!'

'He does?'

'Oh, yes! He told me he wanted me to paint a watercolour of the wildflowers, the ones by the little waterfall, today. We'll have to depart soon for the lighting to be the way he wants it.'

'He sounds very particular.'

'Oh, he is! And not afraid to say what he wants!'

Merry chuckled and returned the squeeze of her hand. 'Let us go and see if Merimas and Pansy are free for a picnic,' he said.

As the two left the study, hand in hand, Esmeralda gave her husband a joyful embrace. 'Oh, Saradoc...!' she murmured.

He looked down into her shining eyes, his own eyes filled with matching joy. 'I know,' was all he needed to say.

Chapter 37. The Steward of Buckland

'I'd like to take some time off, if I may,' Carodoc replied quietly to the Master's inquiry.

Saradoc stared in surprise. 'I can't think of the last day you've taken off,' he said.

'Then I suppose I'm overdue,' Carodoc replied with a smile.

'Certainly, certainly!' Saradoc answered. 'How much time do you need?'

'A week, perhaps. The young master ought to have little enough trouble keeping Hall and Land together whilst I'm gone. I hardly feel needed these days.'

'We ought to leave all the trouble to him and just go fishing,' Saradoc said.

'Might not be such a bad idea,' his steward chuckled. 'Well, then, I won't see you tomorrow.'

He did not volunteer where he would be going, and Saradoc respected his privacy.

***

Farmer Took looked up from the harness he was mending under cover of the overhang on the barn. He expected the lone traveller to pass by on the road that ran through the farm, and wondered what would send someone out in this drizzle. It was perfect for the crops, of course, but miserable to ride in. Ah, but staring after wayfarers would hardly get the harness mended. He went back to his work, his ears registering the gentle clop-clopping of the hoofs as they came nearer.

To his surprise, the pony stopped before him, and the rider slowly got down from the saddle. The Farmer recognized the stiff gait then; it was the Steward of Buckland. But what was he doing here?

He rose to meet the old hobbit, put down the harness, and extended a hand. 'Welcome,' he said. 'What brings you back so soon?'

The visitor smiled. 'You did say, as we were leaving, that we were welcome back at any time.'

Farmer Took nodded, his puzzlement growing. Of course he'd said it; it was the standard farewell from any host worth half his salt, but he hadn't really expected most of the guests to take the offer to heart. 'That I did,' he acknowledged. 'As I said.'

The steward smiled, as if he guessed the farmer's thoughts, and he probably did, being a shrewd old fellow, but all he said was, 'I find I simply did not get enough of your wife's excellent seedcake a fortnight ago.'

Farmer Took nodded, indicating that they should walk together to the house. A compliment it was, true, but if every hobbit who'd admired his wife's seedcake should come a-calling, well, their stores wouldn't last and the work would go wanting. He knew it must be something of import for the hobbit to ride here all the way from the Hall, but still he hesitated to ask. 'The young master,' he said, fitting his words around the title the steward would use, rather than the friendlier "Merry-lad". 'All is well with him, I hope?'

'Indeed,' the steward said. 'I left him well, and Miss Estella is visiting at the Hall with her family, and so I left him very well, indeed.'

'And all is well with the Master and the Mistress?' he asked.

Caradoc chuckled. 'Indeed,' he repeated. 'For were they not, I would hardly be riding away in search of seedcake, no matter how estimable the stuff might be!'

If the steward chose to keep his business to himself, Farmer Took was wise enough not to pry.

'Well, you're in luck, my wife just baked another batch today. It seems to be quite popular around these parts.'

Walking into the house, the steward spotted young master Took in the chair by the fire, feet propped up, a blanket over him, asleep. He nodded in that direction. 'How's he doing?'

'Getting better. It's slow, but sure.'

'When d'you suppose he'll be on his feet again?' Carodoc asked.

The farmer glanced sharply at the steward, sensing more than casual interest in the question. 'We're taking it slow,' he said. 'He nearly died, you know. It'll take him some time to come back,' he looked towards the sleeping Took and lowered his voice, 'if he comes back at all. Healer said...'

'I know what the healer said,' Carodoc replied, remembering Ossilan's warning. I don't really know what he's breathing with, the old healer had said. The illness pretty much did for his lungs. Half-breaths are the best he might hope for, and anything... dust, a whiff of smoke, a cold in the head that went to his chest... anything could carry him off.

But with care and time he'll recover, Saradoc had said, but the healer had only sadly shook his head.

'Well then,' the farmer went on. 'No use rushing these things; it only leads to trouble.'

'Are you going to put him to work, then?' the steward's eyes were shrewd.

The farmer shook his head. 'I'd like to have another son around, to help out...' His doubt was clear in his eyes.

'And your daughter could be a widow not long after the wedding,' Carodoc said bluntly, 'if not before.' He abruptly changed the subject. 'This fine drizzle came at just the right time, don't you think...?'

They talked of planting and harvest until the table was laid for tea.

***

Diamond gently took Pippin by the shoulder, 'Wake up, love, for it is time to eat.'

Pippin stretched in the chair, then complained, 'Seems as if it's always time to eat around here!'

'Ah, but there's a treat for tea,' Diamond coaxed. 'Mum has made some of her seedcake.'

'Now, that's worth getting up for,' Pippin said, as he allowed Diamond to help him up from the chair. He stopped in surprise at seeing Carodoc, and his face changed. 'Something's happened at the Hall?' he asked sharply.

The steward smiled reassuringly, 'All was well when I left, lad. Now sit yourself down.'

'Yes, you're holding the rest of us up,' Mistress Pearl said, smiling. 'Come and sit down, everyone.' She indicated the place where Carodoc was to sit, and he bowed to his host and took his seat.

The steward listened in silence to the chatter that went around the table, speaking only to answer a question directed at himself, but he smiled much, and enjoyed several helpings of cake.

'Miserable weather for travelling,' the farmer remarked. 'Where are you on your way to? Surprised the Master would send you out on such a day, were it not urgent business.'

'No, no urgent business,' Carodoc replied. 'I just saddled my pony and let him take me where he would.'

The farmer and his wife exchanged glances, then the farmer said, 'Well, the weather's too miserable for travelling any further tonight. Why don't you stay over, and go back in the morning.'

'Why, thank you,' the steward said, smiling. 'I will take you up on your kind offer.'

'If the weather continues drizzly, perhaps you'd like to stay a few days,' Mistress Took put in, with another glance to her husband, receiving the slightest of nods in reply. 'I'm sure young master Peregrin would enjoy having someone to chat with about the Hall.'

The steward nodded and smiled. 'I have no pressing matters of business at the moment,' he replied. He rose from the table. 'Thank you kindly for the meal,' he said, 'and for the rest of your hospitality.'

The farmer rose as well. 'Come then, let's have a smoke,' he said. 'Nothing like a good pipe after an excellent meal... I have some of Southfarthing's best here if you'd like.'

The farmer and the steward walked off companionably together.

Pippin stared after them, until he was interrupted by young Tad. 'How about a game of Kings, Pippin? I've figured out how you beat me last time.'

He smiled at the lad. 'So you're ready for a rematch? You're on!'

***

The Steward of Buckland stayed on through another two drizzly days. He and the farmer had many long, satisfying conversations about business while puttering about the barn, making what small repairs could be made in the wet weather.

The third day dawned fair, and the family scattered about to outdoor tasks that had been waiting for a dry day. Diamond settled Pippin by the fire, saying, 'I'll be back soon. I must help Mum with the washing.'

'I'll make sure the house doesn't creep away,' Pippin answered. 'They can be sneaky that way, if you don't keep a sharp eye on them.'

She laughed and kissed the top of his head. 'Keep your feet up,' she warned.

'Oh, aye, I must keep this stool from floating away on the breeze,' he answered, with a wiggle of his toes. 'Heavy are the responsibilities I must bear.' He squeezed her hand and let her go, and all was quiet in the smial, though the calling of the children blew in through the windows on the gentle breeze.

Pippin drowsed, and did not hear the steward enter.

'Mind if I join you?' Carodoc said, putting a hand on the back of the chair on the other side of the kitchen hearth. He apologised as Pippin awakened. 'Sorry, lad, I didn't see that you were sleeping. I just thought I'd have a seat, rest my old toes for a bit. Been walking about the farm this morning, to help settle that fine breakfast your Diamond and her mum stirred up.'

'Go right ahead,' Pippin said with an expansive gesture. 'I can't mind all the furniture by myself, as it is. We lost a bed just the other day...'

They sat in companionable silence for awhile, until Pippin stirred and asked abruptly, 'Why are you here?'

Carodoc chuckled. 'I suppose the whole family's asking that.'

Pippin shook his head, 'No, they're much too polite.' He met Carodoc's eyes. 'Did they send you to persuade me to go back to Tuckborough?'

Carodoc was startled, but on second thought he could see where the lad might get that idea. 'No, of course not.'

Pippin nodded, and silence stretched between them again.

Finally, the steward spoke. 'What sort of plans to you have?'

The younger hobbit sighed. 'I'm not sure,' he admitted. 'It's hard for someone in my position to make plans.' He raised his eyes to meet the steward's. 'Don't misunderstand me,' he said, 'The north-Tooks are wonderful people. I just don't intend to be kept as a pet for the rest of my days. As soon as I'm back on my feet I mean to find some kind of work.'

'What kind of work can you do?' Carodoc asked.

Pippin was quiet again, then said, 'I suppose there's not much call for knights of Gondor in these parts.'

'Not the last time I looked, no,' the steward answered, '...but there might be an opening for a new steward at the Hall, one of these days, to watch over the Brandybucks and the rest of Buckland, keep them out of trouble, as it were.' He smiled at Pippin's consternation. 'Don't forget to breathe, lad,' he added.

As Pippin stared at him, stunned, old Carodoc cocked his chin, looked consideringly at the younger hobbit, and went on. 'It would take lots of work on your part. There's much to learn.'

Pippin sat up straight in his chair. 'Did Merry put you up to this?'

Carodoc shook his head. 'The Master?' Pippin demanded.

'No, lad,' Carodoc said. 'This is no sinecure. It's my own idea, I haven't even talked to the Brandybucks yet. Sit back, don't stir yourself up so. You worry me, lad.'

Pippin obeyed, and as he relaxed, Carodoc continued. 'I have watched you, lad, over all these years.'

'I know,' the younger hobbit admitted ruefully, and the steward laughed.

'Not just to catch you in mischief, lad,' the steward said, smiling. 'Though I had to watch sharp enough for that...' Pippin laughed. 'Yes, you've been a handful, all right. Would you like a drink? No? Then wait a bit, I need to wet my tongue.'

Carodoc got up and poured himself some cool water from the pitcher on the shelf, then brought his glass back to the hearth and sat down. 'I learnt long ago, with my own lads, that so much of mischief is just a lively mind without enough to do,' he continued quietly. 'I've been watching you for years, lad,' he repeated. 'And I think you've a good head on your shoulders.'

He took a sip of his water. 'The Brandybuck lad I was training to take my place, well, the Old Gaffer's Friend took him a year ago,' he said quietly. 'I've been looking about ever since.' He fixed his gaze on his glass. 'I understand you're free of your previous obligations.'

'Oh, aye,' Pippin answered softly.

'I want you to consider coming to work under me,' Carodoc concluded. 'The Master will approve it, if I recommend it, and naught to do with him favoring you because you're his nephew. He trusts my judgement.'

The crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room for long minutes as the younger hobbit considered, and the older hobbit waited, watching the flames dance on the hearth. He could be patient. It was one of the skills he'd learnt as Steward to Buckland and the Brandybucks.

Hearing the young Took stir in his chair, Carodoc looked up to meet Pippin's eyes. Keen, they were, and intelligent, he thought, confirming his perceptions of a much younger Pippin, though the lad had been a jewel in the rough in those days. The Journey into the Outlands had rubbed away a lot of rough edges, he thought. Yet the younger hobbit held his tongue, and that was also a sign of his growing maturity, the old steward mused. He took a deep breath and decided to nudge the conversation along. 'How much time do you need to come to your decision?'

Pippin smiled, then sobered. 'When can I start?'