AUTHOR: Dreamflower
RATING: G
CATEGORY: General
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for Marigold's Challenge #17. I had to include Esmeralda Brandybuck, a ranger, and the phrase "Well, that's perfect! Just perfect."

SUMMARY: A Ranger finds himself partaking of the hospitality of Buckland…
DISCLAIMER: Middle-earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.

THE UNEXPECTED GUEST

Mellor opened his eyes cautiously. He could tell, even before he opened them that he was indoors, and lying among soft blankets, though not, apparently, in a bed. He must have been rescued. But this was not a ranger station, nor did it look like Tharbad. The ceiling was very low--could he be in Bree? He could not remember much after leaving Eradan at the Greenway. He thought he must have struck his head. What had happened? His memory was very fuzzy. And most of all, where was he?

A gentle feminine voice with a slight but unplaceable accent spoke. “I think he has awakened, Cousin Dody.”*

“I think you are correct,” replied a male voice.

A face swam into his range of vision. “Good day, Master Ranger,” said the male voice. It was a hobbit, looking down at him with concern. “I am Master Dodinas Brandybuck, and I am a healer. You’ve suffered a blow to the head.”

Mellor tried to respond, but his voice did not seem to be cooperating. The healer lifted his head carefully, and held to his lips a tiny cup of water. “Slowly, slowly,” he said.

After a couple of sips, which nearly emptied the small cup, Mellor tried his voice again. “I am Mellor, son of Meneldil, and a Ranger of Arnor,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thank you for your care.” He stopped for a moment, talking was an effort. It made his head hurt even worse. “Where--”

“Do not speak right now, Master Mellor,” said the feminine voice. “You are in Buckland, in Brandy Hall, and I am Mistress Esmeralda Brandybuck, Mistress of the Hall.”

“I am in the Shire? I should not--” panic seized him. Without the permission of the Thain, the Master and the Mayor, Men were not to be in the Shire.

“Be at ease,” she said. “I am the Mistress of Buckland, and in my husband’s absence, I am in charge. Buckland is not the Shire proper, anyway, and word has been sent. I am quite sure that the permission will be quickly forthcoming. It is not as though you actually had any choice in the matter.”

Just then, Mellor realized what the accent was. “You are a Took.”

“Indeed I am. I am sister to the Thain and aunt to Sir Peregrin.” She used her nephew’s Outland title, for she was sure that was how the Man would know of him.

“I am honored, milady.”

She laughed. It was a charming sound. “I am not a ‘lady’. Only my sister-in-law Eglantine holds that title in the Shire, and even with her it is seldom used. If you must be formal, call me Mistress Brandybuck. But I hope that we shall soon be friends, and you may call me by my given name.”

Mellor nodded. The brief conversation was tiring him, but he needed to know one more thing. “How--how did I come here?”

“You were found unconscious on the east bank of the Brandywine, about a mile north of Standelf. It was clear that you had suffered a blow to the head, but how you came to be there, or to be in the River--”

Esmeralda shrugged. “At any rate, the Bounder who found you knew you for a Ranger by the Star you wore, and when I got word, I had them bring you here.”

Dodinas had reached over to take the Ranger’s pulse. The healer frowned. “I think that he needs to rest right now, Esme.”

She nodded. “I’ll speak with you again when you are feeling better. Word has been sent, and I should hear from the Master soon.” Esmeralda was more worried about his presence than she was letting on.

Mellor tried to respond, but a lassitude had overcome him, and he had begun to drift off before she had quite finished speaking.

_____________________________________

Dody followed his cousin’s wife out of the room where they had placed the injured Ranger. They had made him as comfortable as possible, on a thick pallet, and now the most important thing for him was rest.

“Since he does not seem to be bleeding inside his head, I am going to leave some willow-bark for him; he‘s bound to be in a deal of pain, and suffer a headache for some days to come. I am not quite certain how strong to make it for someone his size; I fear that I am underestimating the amount, but it’s better to err on the side of caution. Right now he needs rest more than anything else.”

“The blow?” asked Esmeralda, concerned, “was it made by violence?” For this was her greatest fear, that perhaps he had been waylaid by straggling Ruffians, who even now might be making their way into Buckland or the Shire. She had ordered extra vigilance, and had asked the Bounders to redouble their watch near the southern borders of Buckland.

“I am not certain. It looks more to me like a fall, that perhaps he struck his head upon a rock on the ground. It has not the force I would expect of a deliberate blow. I think a blow any harder would most assuredly have been fatal. But as to *how* he came to fall and strike his head I could not tell you. That could have been caused by violence--remember what the Banks lads did, spooking the Big Folks‘ horses? If he were thrown from a horse--”

Esmeralda nodded. She was only slightly reassured.

“Well, perhaps when his wits have recovered a bit from being shaken, he will be able to tell us. I wonder if his presence has anything to do with the message that took the lads and Saradoc to Tookland.”

Dody shook his head. “As to that, cousin, your guess is as good as mine.”

____________________________________________

In the Thain’s study at the Great Smials, Paladin Took sat with his brother-in-law Saradoc Brandybuck, and his son and nephew, and with the Mayor Will Whitfoot. The Mayor was distinctly uncomfortable; he wished Frodo Baggins had come in his place. But Frodo had already told him that he would not act as his Deputy after mid-summer which was only a few weeks off, and had not felt up to the trip to Tuckborough this week.

Paladin was tapping the latest messages to come to them through Bree.

“So, now we know Ted Sandyman’s fate. I cannot say I am sorry he is dead, but I am very sorry about the manner of his death.” He pursed his lips. “You know that the reward I was offering was still standing. I suppose that it should by rights go to these Rangers who found his body.”

Pippin and Merry exchanged a glance, and then Pippin shook his head. “They are the King’s Rangers; they’ll accept no reward. Still, it is the right thing to do, to offer it--just do not be surprised or offended, Father, when they turn it down.”

Merry nodded. “They are Men of honor; they serve for the love of Aragorn, not for gain.”

Paladin nodded. Having met several Men who were in service to the King this past spring he had begun to understand. Those Men had a very strict code of honor; he was not unhappy that his son and his nephew seemed to have made that code their own.

Saradoc sighed. “What troubles me is this account from Fredegar. We must decide how much should be told about the way in which he died.

“Do the people need to know that he was tortured to death by the Ruffians he had served?”

Merry sighed. What troubled him was that Fredegar had been there to identify the body. He hoped it had not been too traumatic for his future brother-in-law. But Freddy was in the wide world now, and there would probably be a number of unpleasant experiences in his immediate future.

But Merry was sure that it would have been a very disturbing reminder of Freddy’s experiences during the Troubles.

Just then there was an urgent rapping on the door. Paladin scowled. “Reggie knows I’m not to be disturbed right now! This had better be important. Enter!” he called sharply.

Reggie opened the door, an apologetic, yet serious expression on his face. There was a rather sweaty and flushed hobbit standing behind him. “My apologies Thain Paladin,” he said formally, “but there is an extremely urgent message just arrived by Quick Post from Buckland. It’s from Mistress Brandybuck.”

Saradoc leapt to his feet, and Merry sat forward with an exclamation of dismay; Pippin laid a comforting hand on his cousin’s arm. The messenger entered diffidently, and handed the message to the Master of Buckland. Saradoc took it with trepidation. Paladin reached across the desk and handed him a letter opener. Taking a deep breath Saradoc opened it and read the letter. “Ah!” he said with relief. “There’s no illness or disaster to any of the family. But we do have an unexpected guest. It seems the Bounders found an injured Ranger on the banks of the River near Standelf. They took him to Brandy Hall for treatment.”

“An injured Ranger?” asked Pippin with concern. All the Rangers were Aragorn’s people, and most of them were close kin to the King. “Who is he?”

“The letter does not say. He was still unconscious when Esme sent this. However, she suggests that as long as the three of us are together, that we send formal permission for him to be in the Shire. That way he should not be in any trouble for breaking the edict.”

Paladin nodded, and drew forth a sheet of clean parchment and a quill. He scribbled a quick note, and then took out another bottle of red ink, and a fresh quill and signed his name. Saradoc did the same.

Paladin glanced at the Mayor, who had remarkably little to say about what was going on. “Will?”

The Mayor gave a start, and then rose and walked over to Paladin’s desk to add his signature. This did not require seven witnesses, fortunately.

Paladin folded the document and sealed it. He looked at the messenger. “You are worn out. Go to the kitchens and get a meal, and we have a room in which you can get some rest. Reggie, if you would, get one of our own messengers to take the reply?”

Reggie nodded, and took the letter, and the messenger and went out.

Will Whitfoot had sat back down. “Thain Paladin, what should we do now?” he asked diffidently.

Paladin sighed. Not for the first time, he wished that Frodo were still the acting Mayor. His Baggins cousin knew how to deal with these Outlandish affairs. But Frodo had been adamant that he was no longer up to the job. “We will finish deciding what brought us here: what to tell the people of the Shire about Sandyman. Then I am sure that Saradoc will wish to return home to see about his unexpected guest.

"Peregrin, I cannot leave Tookland this time of year, with the Lithedays fast approaching. Please keep me informed of what you find out about this Ranger, and let me know at once if it appears that any danger threatens. I am depending on you.”

Pippin nodded. “Yes, sir.” His face remained solemn--there was nothing happy about what they were dealing with, but there was a spark of pride and pleasure in his green eyes, at his father’s trust and confidence. That was a new thing for him, and it gave him satisfaction to know that his father finally believed he was grown up enough to give such a task. The two of them had come a long way since his return.

The Thain pursed his lips, and leaning back, looked at his son and his nephew. “What do you think we should do about this news?”

Merry sat forward, his chin determined. “I think, Uncle Paladin, that we must tell them the truth, but not all the truth. The brutal details do not have to be mentioned. There are still those in the Shire who will be able to supply those out of their own memories of the Troubles. If we say that he escaped to his former cronies, and that he fell out with them and they murdered him, that should be sufficient.”

“I agree, Father. No end is served by recounting his torture.”

“There is this--” added Saradoc “--if we do tell all the details, there are those who will use it to stir up the Shire against Men again, and perhaps undo all the good work the delegation did while they were here.”

Paladin nodded. He looked at the Mayor. “Will?”

Will sighed and nodded. Of course they were right. They always were. He wondered why they even bothered with his opinion. He longed for the days when his only duty was to go to banquets and make speeches at festivals. Having to deal with the aftermath of the Troubles and the King’s return was more than he had ever bargained for.

“Very well. I think the best way to do it would be to send letters to all the Post Masters of the major towns and villages, and let them spread the word: Ted Sandyman is dead at the hands of the Ruffians, and the reward no longer stands.”

___________________________________________________

“Hullo, are you awake, then?” said a cheerful young hobbit voice.

Mellor smiled at the youth who was seated next to his pallet. He was undeniably Brandybuck, looking like a much younger version of Sir Meriadoc, whom Mellor had met. “Good morning, Master--?”

The lad blushed. “Ilberic Brandybuck, at your service, sir. But you can call me Ilbie,” he blurted.

“Mellor, son of Meneldil, at yours and your family’s” he responded with a smile. “You are close kin to Sir Meriadoc, are you not?”

He nodded. “I’m his second cousin once removed, through his great-uncle Saradas, who was my grandfather.”

The Ranger grinned at this earnest recital; such kinship among Men would not be reckoned especially close, but among hobbits it most certainly was. “I am very pleased to meet you, then, Ilbie. So you have been told off to watch me then?”

He shook his head. “No, I offered. Lots of us wanted a turn to watch you.”

Mellor found this frank admission rather disarming.

“I had better let Aunt Esme know you are awake, though, because the healer wants a look at you, and then of course, you need to eat…” He put down the book he had been holding, and darted to the door, before Mellor could protest that he was not especially hungry. And yet even as he thought this, his stomach growled.

“I’m turning into a hobbit, already,” he muttered to himself. Hungry or not, the thought of food was not especially appealing with his head still throbbing so.

___________________________________________

It wasn’t long until Ilbie returned, bearing a loaded tray of food, and followed by Mistress Brandybuck and Master Dodinas.

Ilbie put the tray down, and Dodinas came over to him, removing the pendulum from his neck. It was the tooth of some sort of animal, suspended from a leather cord --Mellor’s eyebrows rose--if he were any judge of such things, that looked like a wolf’s tooth! How he wondered, had such a thing come to a hobbit? He watched curiously as the hobbit dangled the pendulum over him. This was not something he had seen before.

The hobbit studied the patterns of the swinging pendulum intently.

“You are still in a good deal of pain,” said the healer. “I think that I need to increase the willow-bark I have been giving you. And now you need to eat something and build up your strength.” The healer reached a hand down, to assist Mellor to sit up. The hobbit was surprisingly strong.

For a moment the room swayed, and Mellor thought he might end up flat on his back again, but after an instant the dizziness passed. Ilbie put the tray down, and Mellor inspected it. There was far more food there than he would have cared to eat even in full health. There was a bowl of porridge, toast and jam, a plate with a mushroom omelet and several sausages, and a pot of tea. But he looked with dismay at the tiny cup and the utensils--they would be awkward in his large hands. Still, with care, he found he could manage them.

He ate more than he thought he would--all the porridge and most of the omelet, though he took only a bite or two of toast, and did not touch the sausages. The tea was very good, and sweetened with honey. Each cup was only a couple of swallows.

Esmeralda sat next to him, pouring more from the teapot as he finished each cupful.

“I am pleased that you are feeling somewhat better, Master Mellor. You will be glad to know that I received the letter of permission from Thain, Master and Mayor just this morning; I expect that the Master, and Merry and Pippin will be in Buckland before the day is out.”

Mellor was briefly puzzled, before he recalled that those were the nicknames of Sir Meriadoc and Sir Peregrin.

“Thank you, Mistress Brandybuck. You have been kindness itself.”

“I am glad to be of help to you. We of the Shire have only recently become aware of the debt we owe you Rangers for generations of safety and security. Your people have paid a high price for the protection of ours.”

Mellor looked at her earnestly. “It was our duty, but also our privilege. And it was worth every moment of it, for what your people in the end did for ours. It was, after all, a hobbit, who finally saw accomplished that which even the King Isildur could not do. And all our years of watching and waiting led up to that moment, though we knew it not.”

A sad smile came to her face, and for an instant, tears stood in her green eyes. She blinked. “Frodo. And of course Merry and Pippin and Samwise. It is still hard to understand, but I am beginning to.”

______________________________________________

As they dismounted at the Ferry, Merry looked at his father with concern. “Are you all right, Da?”

Saradoc chuckled wearily. “I am not so young as I used to be. Riding through the night straight through is something I have not done in many years.”

“Well, you can take it easy now, Uncle Sara, for we’re home,” said Pippin.

He turned to his cousin, who had signaled the hobbit on duty across the River to bring the ferry over. “What will we do next, Merry?”

“I don’t know, Pip. It’s going to depend on what this Ranger has to tell us, and how he came to be injured.” Merry was worried. If the Ranger had been injured by violence it could mean a serious problem for the Shire.

___________________________________________________

Eradan was worried. His partner was supposed to have met him back at their camp, where the road to Sarn Ford met the Greenway. He had not at first worried, for he had returned from his own errand more quickly than he thought--he had caught up to the King’s Messenger long before Bree. Still, after three days, he was getting very concerned. What could have happened to Mellor?

_____________________________________________

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: The character of Cousin Dody is loosely based on Ariel’s OC, Dody, in her wonderful story, “Fear”.

 CHAPTER 2

When the three of them arrived, it was to the news that the guest had fallen asleep once more.

Cousin Dody was firm. “Sara, I know you wish to question him, but not until he awakens. I suggest that you take some luncheon, and then rest yourself for a few hours. He should be awake before teatime.”

Saradoc’s intention to argue was spoiled by a yawn, and so he ruefully agreed to the healer’s advice. Merry and Pippin decided that a nap would not come amiss for themselves as well. The three of them went to their rooms in the Master’s apartment. Merry and Pippin had decided to wait until after dinner to return home to Crickhollow.

Later that afternoon, informed that the Ranger was awake, the three of them approached his guest room. As they neared the door, they heard the hesitant sounds of music. Reaching up to knock, Pippin winced at the sound of a flat note.

Ilberic opened the door, his shepherd’s pipes in his hand. “Cousin Pippin!

Merry and Uncle Sara!” he exclaimed, blushing. “Er, Mellor said he would like to hear me play, and I needed to practice--”

Pippin grinned. “You most certainly do,” he laughed. He was Ilbie’s teacher, after all. “Come up to Crickhollow tomorrow, and we’ll work on it some.”

Saradoc interrupted. “Ilberic, we need to speak to our guest.”

The tweenager took the hint, and with a nod, and a “Welcome home,” he took his leave.

As the three of them entered the room, Mellor looked up at them from his pallet. He had met Merry and Pippin once before, and of course the Master of Buckland bore no small resemblance to his son. “Sir Meriadoc, Sir Peregrin, Master Brandybuck! Please forgive me for not rising…”

Saradoc shook his head. “I don’t think that would be wise under the circumstances.”

Merry grinned. “I am glad to see you again, Mellor, though I must say you were looking rather better upon our first meeting.” For Mellor and Eradan had met the two hobbit knights when they had come to take into custody the hobbit traitor the Rangers had captured.

Pippin knelt down by the Man’s pallet. “Have you any idea of what happened, Mellor?”

He turned to look into the young Took’s concerned face. “I remember parting with Eradan at the Greenway. He was to catch up with the King’s Messenger who was heading to Bree. He had information that needed to be brought to the Thain. Did he--”

“We received the message about Ted Sandyman just a few days ago,” answered Pippin.

“So you know he was killed by Ruffians, then. Even though it was several months since the event took place, we thought it wise to see if we could find any trace of their trail. If nothing else, to discover which way they went so a warning could be sent. People of that sort are dangerous, and cannot simply be allowed to roam loose throughout the Two Kingdoms.”

Pippin flushed, and Merry gave Saradoc a lifted eyebrow. For months the two younger hobbits had been trying to convince their fathers that banishment was not always the best way to deal with wrongdoers. All it did was foist the Shire’s problems off on someone else. When the Bankses and Dago Bracegirdle had been banished, it had been into the custody of the King’s Men; but that was not always going to be feasible. Unfortunately, when their fathers asked them for a better idea, Merry and Pippin had yet to come up with one.

Saradoc nodded at his son, as if to say “point taken”, not in agreement. But he looked thoughtful.

Mellor continued his account, unaware of the silent communication. “The trail was cold, of course, but I was casting about, backtracking from the location of the hobbit’s body. I vaguely recall travelling for a few days in a general northward direction, but after that--” he shook his head. “I’ve no idea how I was injured, nor how I ended up in Buckland.” He broke off, clearly distressed. “I am sorry, Sir Peregrin.”

Pippin laid a hand on the Ranger’s arm. “Please be easy, Mellor. I am sure that it will soon come back to you. And please, call me Pippin.”

“Very well--Pippin--” he smiled at the young hobbit, sitting there so seriously in the livery of Gondor. He glanced up at the two Brandybucks as well, who were also giving him a welcoming smile. Mellor was glad for this kindly welcome; for so many years he had been accustomed to the disdain of the folk whom the Rangers protected, and of course the hobbits of the Shire had been completely ignorant of their existence. It warmed his heart to realize that now friendship and respect was there.

“So, Mellor,” asked Pippin. “Are you related to Aragorn?”

“We are distant cousins, through his late mother Gilraen, I am not quite certain of the exact degree. It would be a close kinship as you hobbits reckon such things, but not especially close in the way of Men.”

Pippin laughed. “We came to realize that not everyone is as interested their family trees as are hobbits. Merry and I used to drive poor Boromir to distraction, not to mention boring Legolas and Gimli to death.”

Saradoc came closer, and squatted down next to Pippin. “I am sorry to press you, Mellor, but do you think that your injury could have been caused by violence? It’s very important.”

The Ranger looked distressed. He understood their fear. If the Ruffians were still close enough to the borders of the Shire, and had dared to assault one of the King‘s Rangers, they could easily be in danger. “I do understand, Master Brandybuck, but I am afraid that I really cannot recall. There does not seem to be any memory at all of how it happened.”

Just then the healer appeared at the door. Cousin Dody shook his head.

“I need to check on my patient,” he said. Looking at the worried expression on Mellor’s face, he added, “don’t be upsetting him. He may never remember exactly what happened to him. That would not be unusual in such injuries as this.”

Cousin Dody came over and knelt down by the patient, carefully examining his head. He lit a candle and examined Mellor’s pupils, and then took off his pendulum.

Mellor had been curious about this for a while, so after the healer replaced it about his neck, he asked. “Is that the tooth of a wolf?”

“So I was told by my former Mistress, who had it of her former Master. It dates all the way back to the Fell Winter of 1311. It serves me very well.”

“I have never seen a healer do such a thing before,” said Mellor. “What is the purpose?”

Dodinas looked surprised. “All the healers *I* know use a pendulum,” he answered. “We can see by watching the patterns it makes as it swings how the patient’s energies lie, whether he or she is in pain, if there is anything amiss or out of balance. The best way to explain it to you is this: everyone’s life creates a certain force about them. Using a pendulum helps a healer to discern this, which would otherwise remain unseen.”

Mellor was impressed. The healers among Men did not seem to know about this, but he had seen Aragorn at work as a healer when he was still only the Chieftain of the Dúnadain, and had noticed he seemed to see something which other healers did not. But Aragorn’s descent from the rulers of lost Westernesse and his training by the Elves enabled him to understand and see the disturbances which illness or injury caused to a person’s fëa. It would seem that hobbit healers had found their own way to do this.

After putting his pendulum back on, Dody reached over and took the Ranger’s pulse, and felt his brow. He nodded in a satisfied manner.

“I’ve a bit of good news for you. I think that this evening, you might be allowed to get up for your supper. And tomorrow, if you do not overexert yourself, you may rise and walk about.”

“And how soon may I travel? For I’ve a partner who will be getting anxious about my return, and I’ve duties to see to.” Mellor was sure that Eradan *must* be getting very worried.

“If you are doing well for the next couple of days, I think that you should be fit to travel inside of a week, barring any setbacks.”
__________________________________

It had been five days now without any sign of Mellor’s returning. Eradan was convinced that something was wrong. It was time to go in search of his partner. He knew his own tracking skills were not nearly as good as those of the Northern Ranger. In Ithilien, other survival skills were more emphasized. But he was not completely without ability, and the trail his partner left would be fresh, not old, and Mellor should by rights, leave some signs to his passing as well.

He knew that Mellor had headed northwest, into the areas just below the Shire. He put out the fire, and gathered up some supplies. He carefully obliterated traces of the campsite, and hid the remaining supplies in their cunningly concealed shelter.

If all went well, then he would cross paths with his partner, who would be returning with some reasonable explanation for his delay, and the two of them would come back here together.
If all went well.
_______________________________

Esmeralda was pleased with the news that their guest was now up to dining with the family. She let her husband, son and nephew know that they would all be eating in the main hall this night. Then she went to see to putting the dining room to rights. Mellor could eat on a cushion, the way Legolas had done last spring.

She knew that it was important to do this tonight. Although there had not been a lot said in her presence, she was aware of the gossip surrounding the injured Man. When he appeared tonight as an honored guest of the Master and his family, it would lay a lot of rumors to rest. She had learned that hobbits were quite ready to make friends of Men, if they could only get a chance to know them firsthand, and know that they were not like the others who had come in during the Troubles.

If only they could learn *how* Mellor had come to be injured, and how he had ended up in Buckland.
________________________________________

Eradan had not made much progress. He was going side to side as much as he was forward, worrying about missing any signs his partner might have left. The afternoon was drawing on, and he had not gone more than about four miles from the base camp, when he noticed it--on a small evergreen tree, standing somewhat apart from several other larger trees. Just beneath the lowest branch: a little triangular nick, freshly cut, and next to it, carved only lightly, the rune for “M”. So Mellor *had* passed this way. The triangle was pointed to the north. That meant that was the direction he had gone. With a sigh of relief, Eradan resumed his search, feeling his energy renewed by the knowledge that he was on the right track.
___________________________________________

Mellor found himself seated on a cushion next to Merry. The Master and Mistress of course were in the places of honor in the center of the head table, with Merry seated next to his father’s right hand and Pippin next to his aunt. On Mellor’s other side was the Master’s younger brother, Merimac. There were a few other close family members at the head table. Other family, friends and household members were seated at other smaller tables set at right angles to, but not right next to, the head table. There was one table at the far side of the room that seemed to consist entirely of children, and another that seemed to be mostly young people-- “tweens”--as the hobbits called them. He saw Ilberic there, and the young hobbit gave him a grin very reminiscent of his older cousin.

The fare was brought to the table, and for a while there was little of conversation that did not involve the meal. This was the way of hobbits, he reminded himself. They liked to pay proper attention to their food. And Mellor had to admit, this food was quite worthy of attention. Saradoc was famed for his hospitality, and the table fairly groaned with food. But as the meal progressed the talk began to gradually turn to other things.

“So, Master Mellor,” said Merimac, “I understand that you saw our delegation on their journey?”

“Yes, yes I did. I met Fredegar Bolger, Mosco Burrows, and Mistress Poppy Burrows. We spoke at length.” Mellor hesitated. He did not know how much the Master of Buckland had revealed about the reason that he had met those people.

But Merimac reassured him. “My brother has confided in me about the discovery of Ted Sandyman’s body. But did you meet any of the other delegates? My son Berilac is among them.”

Mellor realized what he was hoping to hear, glad that he could answer. “I did not have the chance for any conversation with him. However, we were introduced when Eradan and I escorted the others back to the rest of the company at Tharbad. We did no more than exchange the usual pleasantries, yet I would say that to all outward appearances, Master Merimac, your son appeared hale and happy.”

Merimac nodded. “That is good to know.”

Merry turned in their direction; he had been speaking to his father. “I’m glad that you had a chance to see Beri, Mellor. Uncle Mac won’t admit it, but he’s been worried I know.”

Merimac nodded. “At least I know where he’s going and about how long he will be gone. And I am able to have letters and messages.”

Merry flushed, and Mellor realized that there was some hidden slight rebuke there.

“You know, Uncle, that I did what I had to do. There was neither time nor opportunity; and it would not have been wise to let any word of our whereabouts fall into enemy hands.” Merry’s voice was even, and a bit sad. Mellor suddenly realized what that had been about--Sir Meriadoc’s absence during the Quest of the Ring.

Merimac sighed. “I know that lad, but it was hard, not knowing what had become of you.”

Mellor interrupted, “It is always a difficult thing for family, when sons and brothers must heed the call of duty, and it takes them away from those they love.”

“On the brighter side,” said Merry, changing the subject, “have you had any word from the south recently?”
_________________________________________

Eradan continued his trek northward. He had found one more blazon, which helped him to realize that he was still on the right track. But the day was beginning to fade, and he was soon going to have to stop for the night. He topped a small rise, not quite so large as to warrant being called a hill, and looked ahead of him.

A long line of darkness spread before him on the horizon. If he continued the way he was going, he would be heading towards the Old Forest.

“Well,” he thought, “that’s perfect. Just perfect.”
________________________________

 CHAPTER 3

Dody put his pendulum back around his neck, and nodded at the Man. “I do believe that you may well be up and around, today. Do take things slowly, however, and if you feel any dizziness or faintness at all, please sit down immediately and send someone for me.” He moved to put things away into his medical satchel.

“Yes, Master Dodinas,” the ranger responded. He hesitated. “I am most grateful for your attentive care, but I have not the means--”

The healer shook his head. “You are a guest of Brandy Hall. I answer to the Master, and Cousin Saradoc sees to my fees. Do not let it worry you.”

“Very well.” Mellor was relieved. “I would not wish to be taking advantage, however.”

“Rest assured that you are not,” Dody responded. “And I must say, you have been a most reasonable patient. I appreciate not having to argue you into doing what is in your own best interest. Brandybucks are second only to Tooks as obstreperous patients.”

The Ranger chuckled. “Having been under the care of my Chief before he was King, I soon learned the futility of arguing with healers.”

Dody smiled. “I must confess myself curious about him. Young Merry and Pippin sing his praises highly, and say that he saved their lives as well as that of their cousin Frodo and their friend Samwise. Yet I think that it must be a difficult thing for him to be a warrior and a king as well as a healer.”

“I am sure you are right. I think that if he could have chosen his own road in life, he would have *been* only a healer; yet he could not deny his duty or his destiny. One of these days, he will return to his Northern realm; perhaps then you might be able to meet him yourself.”

The healer laughed. “I think I should like that. Now, you take yourself out of here, find some food, and get a bit of fresh air.”
____________________________________________________

In the kitchen at Bag End with Sam and Rose, Frodo looked again at the letters he had received. There were four of them: one from the Thain, one from Saradoc, another from Merry, and finally one from Will Whitfoot.

He sighed, and read the letter from Merry again. His cousin was hinting that he would welcome his presence in Brandy Hall while they were trying to clear up the mystery of the injured Ranger.

Rose poured him a cup of tea. “Is anything amiss, Mr. Frodo?”

“Is it aught to do with that Sandyman business?” asked Sam.

“In a roundabout way.” He pushed the letter from Merry over for Sam to read.

Sam pursed his lips in a brief whistle as he read. “An injured Ranger! Are you going to go to Buckland?”

Frodo was silent for a moment. Sam waited patiently for the answer. He truthfully was not sure what he wanted Frodo to say. He was not sure that Frodo would be well enough for such a trip right now. And Sam could not just up and go with him this time. He had a wife to consider. On the other hand, it would be good if Mr. Frodo had something to take him out of himself.

Frodo blew out a deep breath, and shook his head. “No; no, I don’t believe that I will go. I am not sure I want to make the trip that far, and I have already told Will Whitfoot that I will be giving over my office after Marigold’s and Tom’s wedding at Midsummer; this is not something I should be meddling in right now.” But he gave the letter a regretful look all the same. He hated letting Merry down.
______________________________________________

Eradan picked his way over the stony ground, once more looking for traces of his friend. If their situations were reversed, he was sure Mellor would have found *him* by now. He just was not as good a tracker as the Northern Ranger.

As he came up a small hill, off in the distance to the west, he could see the dark line of the Baranduin--the Brandywine, as the pheriannath called it. Further ahead, as the river curved back to the east the ground had become somewhat marshy. He would have to be careful of his footing there. He paused to take a drink from his waterskin, and then looked about him closely.

Then he noticed it: five small stones, carefully stacked--they would never occur that way in nature. He walked over to them. A stick lay alongside, pointing north, with the “M” rune carved into it. He gave a sigh of relief.

He continued on his way for another hour, watching the ground closely for any further signs. Then he saw it, half buried, it looked like a very small wooden bucket. It was nearly rotted out. From the size of it, it had to either belong to a child--or a hobbit. He looked about, and saw a place off to his right, nearly overgrown with weeds, but he could discern the remains of a chimney. Close inspection told him that it had once been a tiny house, now burned down and overgrown. There was a booted footprint near what would have been the door. It was only a few days old. Mellor had been here. What had he found? Eradan looked about, and saw the small charred bones.

So, a hobbit or hobbits, had for some reason made a small home here outside the protection of the Shire. And of course, the Ruffians had despoiled it and burned it down. This was the kind of thing his partner had been searching for--signs of the Ruffians who had killed Sandyman. Soon he spotted another footprint, and he realized that his partner was heading from here in the direction of the River. Not to mention the Old Forest.

__________________________________________________

Merry and Pippin had slept late that morning, and now sat on the steps of Crickhollow, enjoying an after-elevenses smoke. They heard a cheery whistling coming up the lane, and looked up to see Ilberic approaching the gate.

“Hullo, cousins!” he called.

“Good morning, Ilbie,” responded Merry.

“Come for your lesson, have you?” asked Pippin.

Ilbie nodded as he approached, his shepherd’s pipes in his hand. Merry managed to refrain from groaning. Pippin had learned to play from Legolas while on the Quest, and of course like every other instrument he had tried, he took to it instantly. Ilberic’s talent was not on a level with Pippin’s, and though Pippin was a competent teacher, his student was still patently a beginner. It could have been worse, thought Merry, he could have asked Pip to teach him the Tookland pipes instead. Then they could have heard the flat notes all over Buckland.

He stood up with what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, and said, “Well, I shall leave you two to the lesson then. I think I’ll walk down to the Hall, and beg luncheon from Mum, and see how our Ranger is doing.”

Pippin grinned at him with a twinkle in his eye. He knew Merry just wanted to get away from Ilbie’s inevitable shrill notes. Out loud he said, “You do that, then, Merry. And we’ll be back down there after the lesson as well.”

As Merry strolled off he could hear Pippin’s patient voice--”Now Ilbie, about your fingering…”

When Merry arrived at Brandy Hall, he saw Mellor sitting on the ground under the huge oak in the front garden, surrounded by several teens and tweens. Apparently they had inveigled the Ranger into telling a story. As he drew closer, he realized that he was telling a tale of Aragorn when he was young.

“Our cousin Halbarad was most perplexed to find that Aragorn had gone off on his own to hunt, especially as his foster brothers Elladan and Elrohir had arrived to check up on him. They were berating Halbarad for allowing their younger brother out of his sight, when Aragorn strolls back into the camp with a fully grown bear slung across his shoulders. He dropped it onto the ground and looked at all of us and said ‘Here’s supper.’ And of course then our wager with him came out. That was the last time in my life I ever wagered *against* his hunting skills; and Halbarad had us to clean and skin the bear as well.”

Some of the tweens looked amazed, and there was a look of disgust on a couple of the lasses’ faces. One of them made a face. “Bear?” she said in a tone of loathing.

Merry strode forward. “Yes, bear. It’s not bad when cooked properly. Samwise Gamgee made us some excellent bear stew once. Aragorn and Boromir brought that one down.” He approached the Ranger, and the young people scattered. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing much better,” he said. “Young hobbits are almost as insatiable for tales as they are for food.”

Merry laughed. “That is quite true. Have you remembered anything further?”

“Nothing coherent,” the Man responded. “I have some flashes of memory, but I do not know what they mean.”

“Shall we go see my mother, and have some luncheon?” The two went into Brandy Hall, the Ranger having to duck to enter. But the ceilings there were high enough that he did not need to worry about bumping his sore head. They went to the small private dining room in the Master’s apartment.

“Hullo, Mum,” said Merry, giving his mother a buss on the cheek. “Where’s Da?”

“Oh, he’s gone across to the Marish this morning to talk to Farmer Maggot. And where is my scapegrace nephew?”

“Pip’s giving Ilbie a lesson.” He made a face.

“Now, be nice, Merry! Not everyone can be as quick to learn as Pippin is. And you are a fine one to complain when you wouldn’t even try to learn.” Merry opened his mouth to protest, but his mother turned to Mellor. “I am glad that you are up and around now, Mellor. Do have a seat.”

She had placed a cushion by the table, and the Man took his seat there. Merry and his mother took their accustomed places, and the three of them had a light summer lunch of soup, salad, sandwiches and fruit.
_______________________________________________

Eradan almost missed it, hidden as it was by overgrowth. It was an abandoned smial. But the small hobbit door had been thrown aside, and a larger rectangular door, rather crudely constructed, had taken its place. But it hung crazily from the frayed leather hinges, and the doorway itself was blocked by a pile of large rocks. He looked more closely. A ragged bit of rotten sacking poked from beneath the pile. A bit of broken rope was hanging in the doorway.

And one of the rocks had blood on it.

He looked about carefully, and found a couple of footprints leading away. They appeared to be staggering.

It was clear what had happened: someone had arranged a deadfall trap above the door of what must have been used as a hideout for the Ruffians. It appeared as though Mellor must have been injured, but was able to walk away from it. Yet where could he have gone? His wits would have been addled after such a blow; he could not have gone far.

Well, the few footprints he came across led him in the direction of the Brandywine, as well as further north. He’d soon be in those marshes, and nearly up against the Old Forest. And now he had the urgency of knowing that his friend was injured.

No delay now. He had to find Mellor.

 CHAPTER 4

Eradan picked his way through the marshy ground, wondering if he would ever find another sign of his partner. He was very close to the River on the one hand, now, and to the eaves of the Old Forest on the other. He headed more in the direction of the River. He came to the riverbank and made his way slowly northward along it, when he came to a spot where the reeds and marsh plants growing down to the bank were flattened and crushed.

He sped up and began to closely look the area over. It seemed clear that a heavy weight had at some point fallen here.

To all appearances, it looked as though Mellor had collapsed on the riverbank. Yet he was no longer there, and there were no footprints on any indications that he had risen and walked away. Still something told Eradan to continue his way northward. He looked up at the looming shadows ahead of him, and taking a deep breath of trepidation, headed in that direction, still following the banks of the Brandywine.

______________________________________________________

Merry and Pippin found Mellor sitting under the tree again, smoking his pipe. He was looking very thoughtful. They made their way to him, and sat down by him.

“Is something wrong, Mellor?” asked Merry.

The Ranger nodded. “I am certain that my partner Eradan is searching for me. I am worried about what he might discover. He is an adequate tracker, but he is no Aragorn. And with my memory so undependable, I do not know if I left the usual signs and blazons for him to follow. And if he should happen to find my trail, it leads into Buckland and the Shire. I should not wish for him to fall into trouble for entering in his search for me.”

Merry shook his head. “That won’t happen, Mellor. As soon as Da realized someone might be searching for you, he sent word to the southern reaches of Buckland, to Haysend and Standelf, and to the Marish in the Shire, to the Bounders there, that any Ranger was to be permitted to enter. He’s already extended the permission granted to you to include your partner.”

Pippin lit his pipe, and offered his pouch to Merry. “I am surprised that you say Eradan is not a very good tracker?”

“He was not trained in the North. He is a Southern Ranger from Ithilien.”

Pippin’s brows rose. “One of Faramir’s people?”

“Aye,” said the Ranger. “After the War, there were very few of us Northern Dúnadain left. Volunteers from the South came north to fill out our ranks somewhat, for a while. Eradan is one of those.”

“Ah,” said Merry. “I don’t suppose tracking was quite so important in Ithilien.”

Mellor shook his head. “No, setting ambushes and stealth were far more important skills. Not that we did not need those skills ourselves, but not to the same extent.”

Merry nodded. “You know, Aragorn is the most amazing tracker. His search for Pippin and me on the plains of Rohan is legendary. You should have heard Legolas and Gimli describe his discovery that we were alive near the eaves of Fangorn…”

______________________________________________________

It was nearing dusk. Eradan looked at the Old Forest doubtfully. It had been emphasized to him over and over that all the tales of it were true, and that it was a very dangerous place to enter.

______________________________________________________

Saradoc was relieved as he made his way back to Bucklebury Ferry; his conversation with Farmer Maggot had been very helpful.

“No sir, Master Brandybuck. My dogs have caught no whiff of any strangers nor even any adventurous lads these last seven days. I’ll keep my eyes open in case any of them Ruffians is of a mind to return. I am sorry to hear of the King’s Ranger being hurt, though. But I’ve a mind of *who* might know a bit about that. *He* knows most everything goes on in this part of the world. Mayhap I’ll have a word with him.”

The name was never spoken out loud, but the Masters of Buckland had long known--well before Merry and the other lads had ventured into the Old Forest--that the Bombadil of story and song was a real person. The Maggots of the Marish had a long acquaintance with that mysterious personage.

“Everything else is going well, Master Brandybuck. The crops are a-growing apace, and like to be a harvest such as we’ve not seen for years, thanks to that Samwise Gamgee coming round. He sprinkled some of that dust he said was given him by an Elven queen. My sons were wont to snicker over that--they thought he was either cracked from going out of the Shire or having them on--but not anymore! I’m thinking that must’ve been some Elven magic, the way everything is shooting up. Things are growing almost twice as fast as usual, and mayhap we’ll be having an early harvest and time to put another crop in the ground.”

Saradoc was pleased to hear this. It had been a lean year and a difficult one last year, in spite of a bountiful harvest, for Lotho’s Ruffians had despoiled the Shire of its bounty. In spite of the fact that much of it had been recovered, a good deal of last year’s harvest had been lost. This year’s bountiful harvest looked to go a good deal towards mending that hurt.

Well, the day was drawing on, and there was the Ferry. He’d be home in Brandy Hall very soon.

_______________________________________________

Eradan decided to make a cold camp, and wait until morning to enter the Forest. It would do no good going in there at night, when he could not see any signs that Mellor might have left. But his heart sank at the delay, though no help for it could he find.

Suddenly he gave a start, as he heard a cheerful voice singing:

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!*
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! O Ranger!
Do not fret, do not fear, Tom is not a danger-”

__________________________________________________

Mellor had retired early to his pallet, after taking a good sized draught of willow-bark tea to ease his head, which was aching again. He had soon drifted into a sounder sleep than he usually knew when out in the wild. Something about being among these hobbits enabled him to relax and to be off his guard somewhat.

It was the middle of the night, when he heard a commotion in the passageway outside his room.

Saradoc got up to answer the urgent knocking at the door to the Master’s quarters. A servant handed him a message.

“Sara?” asked Esmeralda sleepily. “What is it?”

“Go back to sleep, Esme dear. It’s just a message from Haysend.”

He moved away, closing the door behind him, and moved into the sitting room, where he lit a lamp. Opening the message, he scanned it and smiled.

Just then, he looked up to see his guest, standing in the door of the room he was using, looking alert and dangerous. “Is there a problem, Master Brandybuck?” He asked.

Saradoc had no doubt that if there had been, injured and unarmed as he was, this Man would have yet tried to defend him. “No, Mellor. Quite the contrary. I have just received a message from Haysend; your partner is there. He will be guested there for the night, and he should be here tomorrow before elevenses.”

_____________________________________________________

Eradan sat on the floor in the Master’s study, Mellor by his side. Merry and Pippin were there, as well as Saradoc and Master Dodinas.

“You were found by Tom Bombadil,” said Eradan. “He realized that you needed a different sort of healing than he was equipped to provide, so he put you where you would be immediately found and tended. You *were* injured by some of the Ruffians in a way--they had been gone from that smial they were using as a hideout for months, but they set the trap before they left.”

Mellor narrowed his eyes in concentration. “I do remember hazily, approaching what appeared to be an abandoned hobbit smial that appeared to have been altered for the use of Men; I thought I was being cautious, but I am afraid I was looking for live enemies, rather than traps they might have set.”

“Well, you must have realized at the last second, and leapt back. Otherwise you would have not merely received a glancing blow, but you would have been killed outright. Those were good-sized rocks, and there were a number of them. If one had directly landed on your skull--”

Saradoc gave a shudder; he noticed, however that Merry and Pippin, although somewhat distressed to hear of how Mellor had come by his injury, did not look either especially appalled or surprised. It was one more thing to be laid to their experiences of War.

“What I do not understand,” he said, “is what hobbit dwellings were doing *outside* the Shire like that, so close, and yet beyond the protection of our borders?”

Eradan looked thoughtful. He had a message to deliver. Yet he did not wish to offend this hobbit, who was one of the Shire’s three worthies, and Master of his own small land. He cast about in his mind what to say, and then realized that there was no way to sweeten the news.

“From what Tom Bombadil told me, those were the dwelling places of hobbits who had been banished. Some of them took their families with them--I understand that is a choice their families are given--and were unwilling to settle any further away than they could help. They built crude dwellings for themselves where they could still look across and see their homeland, though they might never return. When Saruman’s Men were driven out, they were vulnerable. I am afraid the Men slew them and took what they wanted, using their homes for their hideouts.”

Saradoc blanched. Hobbits who were banished from the Shire altogether were considered as good as dead, yet the Shirefolk would never have wished it on them in reality. They were banished for such things as chronic thievery, or perhaps if they were violent when drunk; there were a few other crimes where it would be imposed, such as the treachery of the Bankses and Dago Bracegirdle. Yet none of them deserved death. And the wives who chose to follow their hobbits into exile, along with any children they might have, were completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

He glanced over at Merry and Pippin, who were looking back at him with implacable expressions. He did not need to be a mind reader to see the “I told you so” in their faces.

He nodded. “I can see that this is information the Thain will need to consider. We may have to make some changes in the future.”

____________________________________________________

Two days later Master Dodinas had pronounced Mellor fit enough to travel again. “Do not overdo it, Master Mellor. You will still tire more easily and be prone to headaches for a little while.” He handed him a small pouch. “Here is powder for willow-bark tea.”

There was a good sized crowd standing about to see them off, and Merry and Pippin were going to escort them as far as the Brandywine Bridge, and they waited patiently for the farewells.

“I thank you,” said Saradoc, “for all you have done for our people.”

“It is our privilege as well as our duty, Master Brandybuck,” said Mellor, as he knelt down to shake the small hand.

Esmeralda came over. “Now you take care of yourself, Mellor. And the two of you hold on to those permissions you have. You are welcome in Buckland anytime, as far as we are concerned,” and she leaned over to plant a motherly kiss on Mellor’s rough chin.

“Come along,” grinned Pippin. “We are burning daylight.”

_______________________________________________

*From The Fellowship of the Ring Book I, Chapter VI, “The Old Forest”