Chapter 17. Heart-to-Heart with an Old Badger

Pippin arose from the bath feeling remarkably well, refreshed, and clear-headed, for the first time since... he frowned. Dark thoughts did not fit the brilliant light that flooded the room, the incredible sense of lightness he felt, almost as if he could float... or fly.

‘That was exactly what was wanted, Ossilan old fellow,’ he said to the healer, who was still bent over the tub. ‘I do believe you’ve managed it, this time.’

Ossilan didn’t answer; perhaps he was weary after the long fight. In any event, he didn’t lift his head. Odd place for a nap, bending over a tub. No, wait, he wasn’t napping, but bending over a hobbit so bruised and battered as to be nearly unrecognisable. Pippin wondered who else had suffered capture by the horrible Orcs; undoubtedly they’d kept the news from him, ill as he’d been. Pippin bent closer, the better to distinguish the battered hobbit’s features, but found himself pulled away, dark thoughts dissipating as a mist might, under the assault of the bright sun.

He looked to Merry, standing beside him, and said, ‘What’s it all about, Merry? I’m feeling much better... tell me what I’ve missed.’

Merry, however, was intent on the drama playing out in the tub, the healer desperately searching for signs of life, and from the look of it, finding none.

A comforting arm slid about Pippin’s shoulders, and a rumbling voice said, ‘Steady, lad.’

He turned. ‘Uncle Badger!’ he cried. ‘You have come back! I thought you were but a fever dream, but now I see...’

‘I have,’ Merimac said cheerfully. ‘I am happy to report that the Shire proper seems to be free of vermin.’

‘Ah, that’s good news!’ Pippin cried. Turning to Merry, he said, ‘Did you hear, Merry? No more Orcs!’

Merry paid no heed. He was breathing shallowly, staring at Ossilan and the still figure in the tub, undoubtedly one of his cousins. His hands were clenched into tight fists.

‘Pippin-lad,’ Merimac said. ‘I’m afraid my time is short.’

Pippin turned back to him. ‘That’s right,’ he said, wrinkling his forehead in recollection. ‘I seem to remember you saying you had a message for me, or I had a task to do, or somewhat...’

Merimac laughed. ‘That you do, lad,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with humour.

‘I’ll get right on’t,’ Pippin promised, standing a little straighter. That was life with the Brandybucks; they loaded him down with tasks to do, gave him his head to succeed or fail on his own merit, and lavished him with praise—well, not exactly, the latter. A quiet nod on Saradoc’s part, a wink from Merimac, but from them, such was high praise indeed, and they never failed to bestow it, and refrained from pointing out every mistake he’d made along the way. Instead, they’d ask Pippin for his opinion, drawing out his thoughts on the matter, nodding as he reviewed his actions and considerations, raising an eyebrow to stop him in his narrative and spur him to deeper reflection.

Subtle, these Brandybucks, and slow to anger. They spurred the impulsive young Took to greater effort and set an example of thought before action, a deliberation in all they accomplished.

‘First things first,’ Merimac said ponderously, trying to frown, but soon giving up the effort he laughed again.

‘First things first,’ Pippin said agreeably. ‘Let us not start in the middle, for mercy’s sake!’

‘Your mother sends her love,’ Merimac said abruptly. ‘She misses you very much, though she understands why you refuse to return.’

‘Is she well?’ Pippin said.

‘Is she happy? Will she recover from her sorrow? Is her husband good to her?’ Merimac said, and paused before giving a nod. ‘She is well.’

‘What is it, Ossilan?’ Saradoc demanded.

Pippin and Merimac looked towards the tub, but the old healer did not answer. Time seemed to stand still.

‘You said you had a task for me,’ Pippin said. Somehow the tableau in the room seemed unimportant, though he ought to be feeling more concern for the bruised hobbit. The room crackled with tension, but Pippin could not shake a feeling of peace and well-being.

Merimac laughed again. ‘I do!’ he said, ‘though rather a different task than it would have been, had we breakfasted together this morning as I’d planned...’

‘Is it time for breakfast?’ Pippin said. ‘Fancy, I’m not a bit hungry.’ He stretched. ‘I feel full, and satisfied, and...’

‘Well,’ Merimac said, his smile brightening as if he knew a delightful secret. ‘You feel very well, do you, lad?’

‘I do,’ Pippin said, beaming. ‘Why, that last draught Ossilan forced down must have done wonders, for all the objectionable taste!’

‘In any event, the news I thought I must share with you would have sent you out of your bed and off to the Tookland, before you were half-healed,’ Merimac said.

‘Such news! I cannot imagine it,’ Pippin said, and added anxiously, ‘But you said my mother is well?’

‘She is,’ Merimac said, and the anxiety dissipated at once. Really, Pippin could not sustain such an unsettling emotion, in the state he currently inhabited.

‘Then what is the news?’ Pippin said.

‘I cannot feel his heart beating...’ Ossilan said gravely.

‘That I cannot tell you now,’ Merimac said. ‘I said I would have told you, and you’d’ve hauled yourself from the bed, impulsive Took that you are, listening to no one who tried to argue you out of it, and dressed yourself, kissed your wife, and flung yourself on your pony and been off on the Ferry, with no thought for the consequences.’

‘What is the news?’ Pippin said again, more urgently.

‘Of course, Merry would have followed you, that nephew of mine... always has it in his head that he’s your guardian and must look out for you, and you have indeed needed looking after, over the years, with your Tookish capacity for leaping before you look...’

‘What was the news?’ Pippin insisted.

‘And halfway across the River,’ Merimac continued, unperturbed, ‘you’d have fainted, still weak from the fever, and fallen in, and Merry, grabbing for you, would have missed his footing and fallen as well, hitting his head as he went over, and...’

‘What?’ Pippin demanded.

‘No!’ Merry cried, falling to his knees beside the tub.

‘And you’d both have drowned,’ Merimac said. ‘I was given the grace to see that, just now, and so I’ve changed my mind about telling you.’

‘So what is the task?’ Pippin said. Merimac's mind was made up about not telling the news; Pippin could tell, and from long years of experience he knew the Brandybuck would not be budged. Stubborn as a badger, old Merimac was. Might as well move on to the next topic of conversation: the task Merimac had mentioned.

Merry gave a moan, burying his face in his hands.

Pippin was torn between wanting to hear what Merimac had to say, and comforting Merry on the death of his cousin, but Merimac's arm tightened about Pippin's shoulders, commanding his attention. ‘You said there was work for me yet to do, Uncle Badger?’

‘There is work,’ Merimac said gaily. ‘You are to return to the Tookland, true, when the time is right, but before that there is a great deal of work to be done!’

‘And what is the work?’ Pippin said, trying to speak in an even tone despite his frustration. It was also nagging at him that he and Merimac both ought to be more concerned about the hobbit in the tub, but the matter seemed somehow unimportant and unrelated to the matter under discussion.

‘That’s it, young Took!’ Merimac said. ‘Curb that Tookish temper and impulsiveness! Master yourself, that you might Master the Tooks someday, or rather, be Thain to the Tooks, and even the Shire!’

‘I gave that up,’ Pippin argued, but Merimac wasn’t finished.

‘My time grows short,’ he said. ‘My work here is done. This Badger will delve no more in the dark earth, ‘tis time to burst the cocoon and try my wings!’

‘You’re making less sense than I usually do,’ Pippin said with a frown, but the old hobbit laughed, removing his sustaining arm and clapping Pippin on the shoulder.

‘Use the time well,’ he said. ‘Use it profitably. When the time comes, you’ll know it.’

‘When the time comes...’ Pippin said, confused.

‘Fine steel, that’s what you’re made up of, Pippin-lad. Fine steel, but it wants a bit more of tempering. Use the time well. Learn from my brother, and his son. But my time is nearly gone... I have no regrets. I’ve kissed my wife every morning and every evening and told her how I love her; as well as many times in between! And my sons know how I love them, and how proud I am, and my daughter as well...’ Merimac broke off to wipe a tear from his eye, but his face was strangely radiant.

‘Uncle Badger,’ Pippin said, wondering.

‘We’ll be together again at the Feast, of course,’ Merimac said briskly. ‘Bless you, lad, and that fine family of yours,’ he added. ‘Faramir, Forget-me-not and Merigrin, Jonquil with her head of bright hair as if the Sun herself had been laid in the cradle, Borogrin and Beregrin, and let us not forget little Lapis and Lazuli!’

‘I don’t understand,’ Pippin said. ‘We’d joked about the name “Faramir”, but...’

‘A fine name, for a fine Man,’ Merimac said. ‘A Prince among Men, as a matter of fact, as I’ve been given to understand!’

‘I have told you about him, I suppose...’ Pippin mused, but the old hobbit laughed.

‘A little, perhaps,’ Merimac said, ‘but only a little. I’ve been given to see much; much more than you’ve told! What a role he played, what wisdom he exercised, and mercy, and restraint; what courage he showed in the face of despair, and how wisely he rules his people, even now...’

‘How...?’ Pippin said in wonder.

‘You’ll understand someday,’ Merimac said, ‘when your days are full and the time is right. But I am called away...’ He embraced Pippin, pulling the taller hobbit’s face down that he might lay his cheek against Pippin’s in a moment of blessing.

‘Be well, lad,’ he whispered. Straightening, he stepped away, the twinkle back in his eye. ‘I’ll see you at the Feast!’

‘The feast?’ Pippin said dumbly.

‘When the time is full,’ Merimac said, but he seemed to be fading, receding. In any event, Pippin could not see him clearly, and his voice came as if from far away.

‘Pippin,’ Diamond sobbed. ‘Please, no...’

For the first time, Pippin noticed that Diamond was in the room. How could he have overlooked her? True, he’d been distracted by the injured Brandybuck cousin in the tub—who was it? And Merry’s distress, and then old Merimac had rather usurped his attention...

Now he saw his Aunt Esmeralda clinging to his Uncle Saradoc, weeping bitterly. Saradoc’s face looked suddenly old, grey with grief and long hours of watching. He held his wife close, whispering broken words of comfort.

Other Brandybucks, evidently those who’d borne the bruised hobbit to the Master’s suite and the large tub that resided there, stood about in a solemn cluster, several surreptitiously wiping away tears.

‘Diamond,’ Pippin said, ‘all’s well...’ But of course all was not well. Ossilan had said the battered hobbit’s heart had stopped beating. He tried to go to her, then, to take her from Estella, but he was feeling a strange heaviness of spirit and body, a sinking feeling, as if he might faint right through the floor and down into the depths of the earth.

Putting a hand to his suddenly-aching head, he closed his eyes, just for a moment, to see if he could muster enough strength to fight the dizziness that assailed him. And then...

Diamond stumbled forward, pulling free of Estella’s nerveless grasp. ‘Pippin,’ she sobbed. She reached the tub, bending awkwardly over her beloved, and no one tried to pull her away. She gently closed the staring eyes, then took Pippin’s face between her hands, laying her forehead against his, nose to nose, mouth to mouth, eye to eye, and there she remained, frozen in grief.

Estella moved to Merry’s side, leaning over to embrace him, her tears mingling with his.

Ossilan rose slowly, stiffly, shoulders slumping in defeat. He placed a heavy hand upon Merry’s shoulder as that hobbit wept, his hands covering his face. ‘I’m sorry, young master,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I had the wrong of it...’

Berilac thrust himself into the room. There were tears on his face; how had he heard the news so quickly?

Making his way to the Master and Mistress, he seized Saradoc’s hand, gulping. ‘My father,’ he stammered, ‘your brother...’

‘Merimac!’ Saradoc said. ‘What is it?’

‘Died...’ Berilac said brokenly. ‘Died in his sleep. My mother started up, thinking he’d called her name, and found him, still warm, but gone...’

‘Ossilan!’ Saradoc snapped, and the healer hurried from the room. Perhaps it was not too late... Perhaps there was something...

Diamond felt the faintest puff of air against her lips, and started up, exclaiming. ‘A breath!’

‘Not possible,’ Saradoc said, turning from the doorway; he’d been going to his stricken brother.

Diamond stared intently into Pippin’s face, taut with dread and hope. ‘He’s breathing!’ she insisted. ‘He is! Pippin-love, speak to me!’

Pippin’s eyelids fluttered, and his mouth opened as he began to take deeper breaths.

‘Pippin!’ Diamond said again. Estella raised her head from Merry’s to look, and then she began to whisper urgently in her husband’s ear. Merry looked up slowly, his face ravaged by grief and self-blame, not daring to hope.

‘Di—Diamond?’ Pippin whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again as the Brandybuck cousins gathered round. Esmeralda moved to the tub, Saradoc close behind.

‘Pippin,’ Merry whispered, while Diamond, speechless with joy, laid her face against Pippin’s curls and gave a shudder of relief.

Pippin straightened in the tub as he took in his surroundings, and all the staring faces ringing the tub. His head ached abominably, his body, too; he felt as if he'd been beaten against the rocks of the river like so much dirty laundry, wrung well, and plunged back into the chilly water to be rinsed. He gathered the shreds of strength remaining to him, grasped at a lingering feeling of well-being, looked from face to face.

‘Honestly!’ he said in his perturbation, not much caring that exhaustion slurred his words. ‘Can’t a fellow have a bath in decent privacy? What is the matter with all you folk?’

(3/7/05)