Chapter 38. Bed and Breakfast

Diamond had dozed as well, but she was shocked awake as Pippin sat bolt upright with an exclamation of dismay. ‘The time!’

Bright sunshine streamed in through the window. ‘Merry,’ muttered Pippin, but as he rose Diamond caught at his hand.

‘The King said he’d call you,’ she said. She looked to the little bed where Farry had slept, but their son was gone, undoubtedly spirited out of the room while they slept themselves out.

He turned to her. ‘But what if Merry persuaded him I’d be better out of it?’ he said tightly. ‘After what happened in Rivendell...’

 ‘What happened in Rivendell?’ Diamond asked as calmly as she could, retaining her grip on his hand. Pippin was breathing as if he’d just run a race, and his colour was bad. She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight, in this state.

 ‘They tried to keep it from us,’ he said abstractedly, but as he turned away Diamond gave a yank and pulled him off-balance, landing him on the bed beside her.

 ‘Keep what?’ she persisted. The way he’d looked at her this morning, suspicion in his eyes: He’d thought she was keeping things from him, that she’d known of Merry’s pain and not told him about it... This would never do; she intended to put things right between them at once and not let the thorn fester.

Pippin’s breathing was unsteady and shallow; he stared at a bright tapestry on the wall, but Diamond had the feeling he was seeing something far different, and his next words confirmed her thoughts. ‘They kept us busy, you know, showing us about the place. So many wondrous things to see, and yet...  Sam wasn’t there to see those incredible gardens...’ He swung to look at her. ‘Why wasn’t Sam there?’ he demanded, but somehow, Diamond knew he wasn’t addressing her, but someone in the past that had seized him in its nightmare grip.

He gave a mirthless chuckle, turning away again. ‘Merry is the worrier, you know,’ he said, ‘but I was the one, I convinced him that something was wrong, badly wrong. Of course, with Elves shadowing our every step, showering us with hospitality and attention, I couldn’t say so in so many words. It was a squeeze of the hand, a significant look, a nod... I soon had him convinced. We tricked our escort; pretended sudden weariness, asked them to send for some little sustenance, lay down upon the grass to sleep, and when one left for the kitchens and the other was turned away we crept under the bushes... Such a hue and cry as you’ve never seen!’

Diamond smiled at the thought of playing “I hide and you seek me” with such august personages as Elves. Rivendell Elves, no less. She had met Elrohir and Elladan, visiting at Elessar’s invitation, at the welcoming feast, and while they’d been pleasant and charming, she’d also been overwhelmed by a sense of otherness, as if their eyes saw the world differently from hers, and a polite detachment that she found off-putting, to say the least. She missed Pippin’s next few words, but paid close attention as his voice dropped to a whisper.

 ‘Crept to the door, and heard voices within, Gandalf, Strider, the Lord Elrond. Merry reached up; he can turn a knob without sound, you know, and open a creaking door as silently as a ghost. There was Frodo, upon the bed, Sam holding his hand, old Bilbo sitting by with tears streaming down his face and Elrond...’

Pippin’s voice broke and he drew a shuddering breath. ‘Elrond’s hand was buried in Frodo’s flesh,’ he whispered. ‘Buried, pushing in, reaching—I could see it moving beneath the skin as a wave.’

Sickened, Diamond clung to Pippin’s hand in silence.

 ‘Elladan sat with one hand on Frodo’s throat,’ Pippin whispered, ‘feeling for his heartbeats, I suppose. He spoke then—I don’t know what he said, a warning no doubt, and Elrond growled a reply. Imagine an Elf—growling!’ Laughing and weeping in the same breath, Pippin squeezed his eyes shut.

 ‘Don’t, my love,’ Diamond implored, but he went on, the words wrung from him.

 ‘The Lord Elrond pulled his hand slowly free, crimson from fingertip to wrist, past his wrist, really, dripping blood, and then his eyes found us, frozen in the doorway.’

 ‘O my love,’ Diamond whispered. Pippin seemed to come to himself then; he buried his face on her shoulder and gave himself up to weeping. She stroked his unruly curls and whispered soothingly until he calmed once more. ‘Merry had the right of it,’ she said at last. ‘You ought not—’

 ‘But I must,’ Pippin said. ‘Don’t you see? The horror of that memory, and the ones that followed as they tried again to remove the sliver that sought to take Frodo forever from us, that horror is still with me. It is all that I see, when I think of Strider... cutting into Merry, plunging his hand in... I know that it is only Merry’s shoulder, and not his heart, but if I’m not there, if I don’t see...’

 ‘The memory is a thousand times worse than the reality,’ Diamond murmured, and Pippin raised his head from her shoulder, staring at her wide-eyed.

 ‘You see,’ he breathed. ‘You understand.’

 ‘I do,’ Diamond said. ‘You’ll drive yourself to distraction with your memories and imaginings, my love. Surely the reality can only be better. One would hope so, anyhow.’ She rose smoothly from the bed. ‘I’ll find out just where Merry is at the moment,’ she said, ‘but only if you’ll promise me to put those awful memories behind you. Stir yourself up, take heart, and eat breakfast.’

 ‘Yes, love,’ Pippin said, rubbing the tension from his forehead and rising to walk beside her, opening the door with great courtesy and gesturing her into the outer room.

The table was set for breakfast, the cosied teapot was hot (evidently replenished before their wakening), and they were greeted by baskets heaped with hobbit-sized loaves of varying flavour and texture, butter and preserves and jams. They had just sat down when a knock came at the door and servants entered, stooping to pass through the low doorway, with platters of hot shirred eggs and crispy bacon, griddlecakes and warm fruit compote, fried potatoes and more. They'd been listening at the door, no doubt, for signs of waking.

 ‘What is the time?’ Diamond asked, pulling her wrapper more closely about herself. ‘And where is Merry Brandybuck?’

 ‘Half-past ten, madam,’ one serving girl answered. ‘And Mr. Brandybuck is in the bath at the moment. The King sends word that you have time to eat before the Ernil is called to his side. Is there anything else you require?’

 ‘No, thank you very much,’ Diamond said. Imagine being caught in her wrapper at half-past ten in the morning!

 ‘Just ring if you need anything,’ the girl said with a smile, touching a silver bell standing in the centre of the table.

 ‘Where’s Farry?’ Pippin said.

The serving lass bowed. ‘He’s out with the young Gamgees,’ she said. ‘The Queen is showing them the gardens, and then I believe they’re to go to the stables, to pick out the ponies they’ll be riding through their summer stay here.’

 ‘Ponies!’ Diamond said.

 ‘The sweetest, gentlest beasts to be found,’ the girl said with a courtesy. ‘By special order of the King.’

 ‘Of course,’ Pippin said. ‘Frodo was never much of a rider, but Strider found him the perfect mount, to see him safely all the way back to the Shire.’

 ‘Named after himself, I hear,’ Diamond said, and Pippin chuckled. She was glad to see him relaxing.

 ‘Yes,’ Pippin said. ‘I wonder how he came by that name, anyhow?’

 ‘I wonder,’ Diamond said, and spooned a generous portion of strawberry preserves over her first piece of bread.

***

After polishing off his plateful, Ferdi returned to the kitchen for more. The serving-lass, having finished her own breakfast, was happy to oblige, even adding a generous dollop of strawberry preserves to brighten Ferdi’s bread-and-butter. ‘Much obliged,’ he said with a courtly bow. ‘The early bird might get the worm, but the early hobbit gets something much better, and a smile to go with it!’

 ‘Go on with you,’ the lass said, pleased to be complimented and bowed to by a pleasant smiling hobbit. It was a great deal more agreeable than being ordered about by a snappish assistant cook.

 ‘So I shall,’ Ferdi said, ‘and you may have the satisfaction of a job well done. I’m strengthened and well-prepared to take up my duties.’

May! The lass started at the sharp call. ‘Speaking of duties,’ she said ruefully.

Ferdi shook his head with a smile. ‘She’s working very hard at it,’ he said, and at May’s quizzical look, he added, ‘not to show preference, you know. She must be quite impressed with your dedication to your duties thus far.’

 ‘Quite,’ May said, and with a quick bob she hurried away. The assistant cook’s scolding, for some reason, did not reduce the lass to tears, and she went at her work with redoubled determination, intending to live up to the good opinion of the assistant cook, volubly expressed though it might be.

Ferdi finished his breakfast, deposited his plate on the little service trolley by the hatch, and took himself off. He’d thought to go for a ride as he always did in the dawning, but he’d check in with Nell first, and then take his ride, and then have a wash and change into clothes suitable for reporting to Reginard the steward, to find out what needed doing.

On second thought, reaching the bedroom, Nell looked so cosy there, curled sleeping on the bed. Ferdi, replete with good food, found himself stifling a yawn. It was early yet. A number of hobbits were about in the corridors, he wondered why, though none spared him a glance, dressed as he was in his comfortable old hunting togs, suitable for an early morning ride but not what he usually sported in company. Perhaps there was a special celebration planned for some reason or other? In any event, Ferdi had not been roped in to the preparations. He'd find out about it sooner or later, he was sure. Preparations or no, it was not yet time for him to take up his duties for the day. It was too soon for early breakfast to be served, officially, anyhow. The little ones weren't even up yet.

He laid himself down on the bed, snuggling under the covers, and curled himself around Pimpernel. She gave a contented sigh, resting her cheek on the arm he’d eased under her, and soon their soft breathing joined in a sweet duet of slumber.

Woodruff had been called away by a worried Meadowsweet, to check over her assistant, who was showing signs of fever. She escorted Fennel to his bed and soon had him tucked up with his wife watching over him. Though he wasn’t a Took, was only married to one, she didn’t trust him to stay abed without some persuasion, and certainly not so long as he was upset over Ferdibrand’s disappearance.

It took some argument, but she managed to get a healing draught into him—of the usual sort, willowbark tea with other relaxing herbs mixed in—and sat with him and his sweet Bellamira until he was safely asleep.