Epilogue

Merry and Pippin were lying atop the smial roof under the mighty oak, watching the clouds drift by and enjoying the warm summer breeze. The heat wave had broken the day after they returned from their trip and the last three days had been one beautifully perfect day after another. Now it was Highday, and they were lingering outside as long as they could, not wanting to go home just yet. They knew that as soon as luncheon was over, they would have be off for home, him to Whitwell and Merry to Buckland.

“Tell me about Posy Goold,” Pippin said again. He had been pestering Merry incessantly about this since their return and he was nowhere near close to giving up.

“Tell me why you listen to Sam,” Merry came back immediately.

“But I can’t tell you,” Pippin said, frustration obvious in his voice. Then his face lit up hopefully and he grinned at Merry mischievously. “But, if you just happened to find out on your own…”

“You wouldn’t actually be telling me,” Merry finished, grinning back.

“Sam should be here soon then,” Pippin added with a wink and went back to staring up at the clouds.  

“Hullo, Mr. Frodo,” Sam called a few minutes later as he came through the gate.

Frodo looked up from his book in surprise. He was sitting on the porch, enjoying the brisk summer day as his cousins played about the garden somewhere. He was only marginally concerned that he couldn’t hear them. He could only hope that they weren’t getting into mischief wherever they were, as he was enjoying the peaceful, quiet morning far too much to go hunt them down.

“Good morning, Sam,” Frodo said and noted the bag Sam held. “What’s that?”

“Oh, ‘tis the laundry, sir,” Sam replied casually.

“You didn’t need to bring it up on your day off,” Frodo said and stood to take the bag, but Sam held it away.

“But I did, sir, begging your pardon. ‘Tis Mr. Merry’s and Master Pippin’s things. They can’t be going home without them. Where are Mr. Merry and Master Pippin?” Sam asked, looking about.

“Oh, they’re about the gardens somewhere,” Frodo answered and made another attempt for the bag. Again, Sam effortlessly held it out of his reach.

“It’s not a bother, Mr. Frodo,” Sam insisted. “You sit back down and enjoy your book. I’ll take it inside.”

“Are you certain?”

“Aye, sir,” Sam assured and stepped past Frodo and into the smial before his master could raise a protest.

“So that’s how you do it,” Frodo muttered to himself when the door closed behind his gardener. He laughed softly and sat back down. “Very clever indeed.”

Inside, Sam quickly made his way to the guest room and pulled Pippin’s pack from the wardrobe. He removed the laundry from the bag he had brought and placed the clean, folded clothes at the foot of the bed. He then pulled out several parcels and stowed them away at the bottom of the pack, beneath the camp gear. He placed the pack back in the wardrobe exactly as he had found it and straightened the wrinkles from the coverlet. Then he went to Merry’s room and deposited his clothes on the foot of that bed, and finally bunched the laundry bag under his arm and strolled out of the smial.

“Good day, Mr. Frodo.”

“Good day, Sam,” Frodo said and couldn’t hide his laugh.

Sam glanced back at him questioningly. “What’s so funny, sir?”

“Oh, nothing,” Frodo answered. “I’m just wondering why I never thought of it. Though I suppose it wouldn’t work for us. We’re his cousins after all; we’re practically brothers, and far be it for us to deprive him of anything.” He arched his eyebrow conspiratorially and nodded his head back into the smial. “How long exactly has this been going on?”

“A few years,” Sam answered, blushing brightly. “You’re not upset are you, Mr. Frodo?”

“Goodness no. Anything that keeps my pantries stocked while he’s here is fine by me. I’m just wondering how Eglantine or Paladin have never caught on, knowing how Pippin can get when he has too many…”

“He’s not allowed more than one a day. It’s part of the deal,” Sam answered, then lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper and leaned in so only Frodo could hear him. “And his parents do know, sir. They’re grateful for it actually, though Mistress Took weren’t too sure of it at first. But they say it keeps him from complaining so much when he doesn’t get his way. He thinks he’s getting away with something, see, and you know how Master Pippin loves that.”

“You think of everything don’t you, Sam?” Frodo said admiringly.

Sam shrugged. “I try to, sir.” Then he smiled, turned and strolled out the garden and back down the Hill, whistling all the while.  

Merry waited until Sam disappeared around the bend of the Hill before jumping up and running down the path to the back door. He slipped into the smial and went to the guest room he and Pippin shared.

He checked the laundry folded expertly on the bed and found nothing. He scratched his head and looked about the room, trying to solve this puzzle. If Sam had been bringing something secret for Pippin, clearly he wouldn’t leave it in plain sight. … Of course! He went over to the wardrobe and pulled out Pippin’s pack. He opened it up and rummaged through it until he spotted the tightly wrapped parcels. He pulled out the first one and carefully and gingerly opened it enough so he could see what was inside. He gasped at what he saw. ‘No, Sam would never!’

He pulled out every parcel and opened them one by one, his disbelief growing with each package. All this time, Pippin had been trying to give him hints with his conversations with Sam, and he had been too daft to realize it. How many such conversations had there been over the years, right there under his very nose? He shook his head and laughed at it all before quickly wrapping everything up again and putting the parcels back into the pack. He stowed the pack away and slipped out of the smial, running silently to the roof where Pippin was still lounging in the mid-morning sun under the oak tree.

Merry sat down next to his friend and stared at him, a fond smile on his face. “He’s bribing you?” he said at last. “He keeps you from eating everything in sight by giving you sweets? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does,” Pippin said. “Why should I go through all the trouble of stealing food and getting caught and in trouble when he’s just going to give it to me anyway?”

“You steal food all the time,” Merry pointed out.

“At Brandy Hall and Great Smials, where it’s easy to get away with such things, but how often am I there? And there, I always have to share with someone, and it never lasts more than a day. I have no hope of sneaking sweets at home, I’d never get away with it. And here, well, there’s no need to, now is there? This way is much easier and I have a steady supply all to myself whenever I want it. It’s a fair trade I say.”

“But you could still sneak food when he isn’t around,” Merry pointed out.

“I did once at the beginning of this deal and Sam found out about it from Frodo,” Pippin said. “Frodo also told him when I was eating too much at table. Of course, he didn’t know what was going on and Sam was very sneaky about it all. Sam just made some comment about me eating Frodo out of smial and hole and Frodo lets out with the whole story. He wasn’t very pleased with me that first time and I got nothing even though I behaved the rest of my stay. But I always get something now. So, what did he bring me?”

“Well, there were cheesecake biscuits, chocolate truffles, caramel apples, cream-filled puff balls, a couple of chocolate-covered strawberries, apple tarts and two cinnamon rolls.”

“Mmmm,” Pippin said, tasting the sweets already. It was always a sore test to refrain himself from eating them all at once, but he was honest by Sam and always kept to his “one a day” rule. He didn’t want to get caught anymore than Sam did, and he had a sneaky suspicion that if he broke that rule, Sam would somehow find out; the gardener had ways of gathering information that left Pippin in awe. Besides, the rule did allow him to enjoy the treats much longer, and if he was careful, he could usually stretch the treats out until his next visit to Bag End.

Merry was still having difficulty believing all of this and his bemused expression showed it. “This is hardly proper. Why would Sam agree to do this?”

“Sam isn’t always proper, you know,” Pippin said and smiled innocently. He clearly was not going to say anything more about the subject. “Now, about Posy Goold.”

Merry sighed with resignation. He would have to think of another way to get the rest of the story out of Pippin, but for now, a deal was a deal. “Ah, yes, about Posy Goold,” Merry said and grinned back, just as innocently.
 
 
 

The End.
 
 
 

GF 2/28/05