CHAPTER 42

Jolly trailed along with the others, following the tall lady. She seemed very stern and formal. So, that was the king’s aunt. He tried to remember what Captain Freddy had told them of the king’s family, that he‘d had from Mr. Merry. Éomer King’s uncle, the king that was, had four sisters--the youngest one was this king’s mother. Of the other aunts, they had birthed only daughters, except for the oldest, and her son had been killed many years ago, afore he wed. He wasn’t sure which aunt this one was. He hoped he’d be able to wrap his tongue about her name. He could not for the life of him, remember it now.

She did not take them up the wide staircase, but led the hobbits down a wide, short corridor on the south side of the great hall, and flung open a door.

Whatever Jolly had been expecting, it was not this. It was a very large room surrounded on three sides by wide banks of windows. A large fireplace was between the windows in the center of the south side, and soft rugs covered the flagstone floor. The room was oddly furnished, obviously with the hobbits in mind: there were two beds, such as they had used at the inn in Tharbad, but the legs had been sawn down to make them easier for the hobbits to clamber onto the beds. On the right side of the room was a large carved screen. Their packs and belongings had been piled there in front of the screen. Jolly could glimpse another bed behind it. In the center of the room was a wide table, also with the legs sawn down; it was surrounded by what were clearly a number of footstools, though they were of just the right height for hobbits to sit.

Most importantly, the table was laid with a lavish luncheon, and the most marvelous smells were coming from it!

He heard the lady speaking, and turned his attention to her.

“This room was once the solar of my mother, Morwen Queen. As Sir Meriadoc told us that your people are uncomfortable on upper floors, it has been outfitted for your use while you are here. He also wrote to us that you would prefer to stay together if you could. I hope that you do not mind sleeping three to a bed?”

Captain Freddy shook his head. “No we don’t mind at all.”

“The bed behind the screen is for your womenfolk--the healer and her apprentice. But if you would prefer them to have a separate room, that may be arranged. It would however, have to be on an upper floor.”

“No,” said Freddy. “This is a good arrangement.”

“Very well.” She pointed to the wall beside the door, where low tables were placed holding basins and ewers of water. “Warm water has been provided for you to wash the dust of travel. After your luncheon, if you so choose, baths may be arranged before the feast tonight.”

“My lady, this is most hospitable of you! We shall be very comfortable here.”

Her stern face relaxed just a little into the barest hint of a smile. “That is good. I shall leave you to your daymeal. There is a servant at the end of the passage if you need anything else.”

She turned to leave, and then turned back to them, smiling just a little more. “Welcome to Meduseld.”

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Dago felt his heart sink, as the barred door slammed, and the key was turned in the lock. A prison.

He was in a prison. It was definitely underground; as a hobbit he knew the feel of being beneath the earth. The massive door had a window at the top, covered with iron bars, at the height a Man could have looked out, but far above the eye-level of a hobbit; the floor and walls were of stone. The only light came from torches in sconces outside the cell where the guards stood.

He had felt a moment’s panic, as the door had slammed behind him, and he’d heard the key turning in the lock, for unlike the flimsy cell at Tharbad, he had been put in here alone--completely alone. He heard two other doors slam as well. They had separated the Banks brothers. He looked about him. There was a huge cot, obviously meant for a Man. It had only one thin blanket and no pillow. Beneath the cot was a brass chamber pot. There was nothing else in the room.

How long would he be kept here? Not permanently, for he knew he was meant to go on, and journey to the High King’s City, where he would receive his punishment. He thought of the Lockholes, and how hobbits of the Shire had been locked up this way. At least, they’d been together, he supposed, for there had been so many of them.

What would be his fate? He remembered long, long ago, as a lad, hearing stories of Men, and how they would sometimes lock one another up this way for punishment for years on end.

He climbed upon the cot and curled in upon himself, trying to escape the gloomy thoughts in sleep, but sleep eluded him, and all he could feel was the tight ball of fear in his belly.

Silently he called down every curse he could think of on Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

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Poppy and Viola had at first followed the Lady, the King’s aunt, but she had gestured to a servant, and Anwynd had followed him up a long wide flight of stone stairs to an upper floor.

Poppy grunted with effort, and not a little twinge of pain in her knees. She had a bit of joint ill in her knees, and found herself not a little stiff at having to climb those stairs. They followed Anwynd and the servant down a corridor to a chamber where a bed had been prepared--it was a large bed for a sick hobbit, though it was probably not much more than a cot for a Man. But the room was clean and airy, if plain, and there was a large chair next to the bed.

Anwynd assisted Poppy and Viola to settle Clodio into the bed. He had begun to stir and Poppy checked his pulse before the Man placed him in the bed.  It was a bit thready, and she said as much to Viola. The servant looked to be sure that there was water in the ewer, and then turned to Poppy.

In very heavily accented Westron, she said “Lady Holbytla, I am Hiltrude. Lady Eormangilda said I serve you. What need you?” She gave a rather hesitant and shy, but nevertheless warm smile.

Poppy smiled back. “Thank you, Hiltrude. Would it be possible for my apprentice and myself to have a little something to eat? And perhaps some clear broth for my patient?”

The serving woman smiled broadly, and nodded vigorously. “I see to it at once, Mistress,” she said as she went out.

Anwynd said, “I will stand as guard for now, Mistress Poppy. If you need me for anything at all, I shall be just outside the door of this chamber.”

“Thank you, Anwynd. You’ve been a great help.” Poppy turned to Viola, who had climbed upon the large bed and taken the patient’s wrist in a very competent manner. She gave her apprentice a look of inquiry.

“His pulse is growing stronger, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Viola.” She smiled at the lass. “Since you are already up there, you may save your Mistress’ old bones, and tell me how he is doing.”

Viola nodded, and lifted her pendulum over her head. She got up on her knees, and swung it over the patient, beginning at his feet and working up slowly towards his head. His eyes were fully opened now, and he watched her work with trepidation.

“He is weak still, Mistress Poppy, but otherwise seems to be improving.”

Poppy walked over to the bed. Her chin just barely looked over the edge. “Excellent work, Viola,” she said.

Viola blushed at the praise.

The patient turned his head to her. “What happened? Where are my sons?”

Poppy pursed her lips. “You fainted, and thereby escaped from having to be imprisoned, like your sons.”

Clodio moaned. “What’s to become of us?” he whispered.

Poppy found herself feeling unaccountably sorry for him. Even though he had brought all this on himself with his greed and treachery, she pitied him. Perhaps he was finally beginning to realize what he had done. “I shouldn’t worry too much on that at present,” she said briskly. “This King seems a practical and careful sort. I am quite sure your fate will be less than you deserve.” As reassurance, it was not much, but it seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He closed his eyes.

Just then the door opened, and Hiltrude entered, bearing a large tray, from which the tantalizing smells of food could be detected. Poppy could not help a chuckle as Viola’s stomach responded with a rumble.

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After leaving the King with Éothain, Legolas and Gimli followed Witlaf to an upper floor, where they were shown to their guest chambers. They passed Anwynd, standing outside one door, and gave him a polite nod.

Gimli said, “That must be where they put the prisoner.”

“Clodio Banks,” said Legolas reproachfully.

Gimli simply raised his brows and pursed his lips.

Legolas shook his head at his companion. “Do not look at me that way, Master Dwarf. We are not Hobbits of the Shire, constrained to pretend that he no longer has a name.”

“Disapproval?” asked Gimli. “I thought that you *liked* the Shire!”

“I liked it very much. But that does not mean I liked everything about it. They are going to have to change their ways of dealing with their wrong-doers. Turning them out of the Shire and pretending they do not exist is not going to work any more, if it ever did.”

Gimli nodded. “You do have a point. But I think that Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Sam will not allow that to stand much longer. And they are in a position to do something about it.”

Just then Witlaf stopped. “This is the guest chamber assigned for you, Lord Gimli. And the door on the other side of the passage is your chamber, Lord Legolas. Your belongings have already been placed there, and baths have been drawn.”

Gimli made a face. Legolas smiled. “Thank you, Witlaf.”

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After dismissing his cousin, Éomer opened the diplomatic pouch which had been brought to him. He put aside the letter from the Thain. There was one from the Ringbearer as well, but what he was looking forward to was the rather thick letter from Merry…

My Liege and Lord King,

Greetings to you from your Holdwine, Meriadoc of Buckland. Your Knight thanks you most gratefully for your gifts of coin and especially for the ponies, which are much admired by my father the Master.

Now that formality is over with, you are a deceitful Man, my Lord, sending all that bounty to me, when I had made it plain I wanted no such gifts! However, my father’s made it clear as to your reasons, so I suppose I must accept them with grace. But it rankles that both my father and Frodo find the whole thing funny. My only consolation is that Pippin was even more shocked by his gifts from the High King! I could hear the thud when his jaw hit the ground. At least I had some warning from the letter you sent my father.

I know that you’ve had reports of the state of things here in the Shire, and your other little joke has everyone a-buzz from one end of the Shire to the other. Most hobbits still have no idea who “Sharkey”, as they called Saruman here, was--but they have quite taken to the idea that we deserve a share in his plunder. I know that Éothain will have reported to you the results of the decision to accept your offer, so I’ll say no more on it now.

I believe you will be very pleased to know how wonderfully well the horn of the Mark works. I do believe it was the clear notes of that horn which put heart in our hobbits, and enabled us to rouse the Shire. Silver and ponies aside, that still remains a treasured keepsake, and I will always hold it close to my heart.

I know that you will have given a warm welcome to the Hobbits we’ve sent your way. Freddy Bolger is a stout fellow, with far more courage than he gives himself credit for; he roused Buckland to the Black Riders, and led rebels against the Ruffians. He’s a good friend and I trust him to lead this embassy with honor. ( By the way, I look to make a match with his sister Estella soon. We are only awaiting his return to announce our betrothal! She’s a wonderful lass, and I could take pages and pages to sing her praises, but I don’t wish to be tedious.)

My cousins Berilac and Mosco are also along on the expedition. Beri’s a first cousin, son of my Uncle Merimac, and a couple of years older than I. He’s very sharp and observant. Well, he’s a Brandybuck, after all! I am quite sure he’ll do us all proud.

Mosco is my second cousin twice removed, and is rather young, having just come of age--though he is older than Pippin was when we came away from the Shire. He says his reason for going is to look after his Aunt Poppy Burrows (she’s actually a cousin, but he calls her “Aunt” out of courtesy) but I don’t know of any hobbitess that needs less looking after than Mistress Poppy! I look forward to hearing what you make of her and her apprentice, Miss Viola Harfoot.

Jolly--his given name is Wilcome--is Sam’s brother-in-law, brother of Sam’s wife Rose, and it will be easy enough for you to see how he came by that name, after all. He’s also a very stout fellow, and was among those who fought the Ruffians alongside Freddy.

Rolly and Denny Banks have the misfortune to be related to three of those prisoners. That’s actually the reason they’ve gone along, a way of redeeming the family name so to speak, for they’ve suddenly found that they have risen in the world due to the misdeeds of their kinfolk. They are Bucklanders, though, and I expect they will do well.

As to those prisoners, well, I don’t doubt that Éothain’s made a full report to you, and I am sure that Frodo has written as well as my Uncle Paladin. But I do think that I should put my two farthings in, as the saying goes (that being the price of delivering the post here in the Shire) and tell you not to trust them as far as you can throw them. The two older ones are greedy traitors, cut from much the same cloth as Frodo’s late and unlamented cousin Lotho, though I think them even bigger fools which is saying something.

The two younger have made Pippin’s life miserable for as long as I can remember them, and the way they endangered his life when he was only twenty still makes my blood boil to think on! They are bullies, though I think the older one the worse--it’s possible his younger brother might not have been so vile without his brother’s influence, I suppose. Pippin would say they’ve got their just deserts and to let it go, and I think Frodo would tell me I should forgive them, but I’m still mistrustful of them.

On to pleasanter subjects: Sam’s wedding was wonderful. His Rose is a lovely lass, who’s waited years for him. They make a perfect couple, and I was honored when Sam asked me to stand witness for him. Frodo officiated at the ceremony, of course. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Frodo happier than at Sam’s wedding, though Strider’s Aragorn’s wedding comes close. Pippin was in his element playing and singing, and I got to dance with my Estella. I wish you could have been there!

I would say that this is looking to be a good year for the Shire--not least because of your sending Saruman’s weregild--but also because of the blessing of the Lady of Lórien. She gave Sam some earth from the Golden Wood, along with the seed of a mallorn tree, and he has spread her bounty far and wide across the Shire, healing the hurts Saruman made.

I am very glad to be once more home among my family. It’s good to be in Buckland once more, and to wander the banks of the Brandywine again. I dreamed of home so often while I was gone.

But happy as I am, sometimes I find myself also dreaming of Rohan: the wide plains and the fair Golden Hall of Meduseld, and riding like the wind with my sword-sister. And I miss you as well, my liege lord and friend. Perhaps the time may come when I can visit you once more, and sit at your feet, and exchange tales. And you shall tell me to my face what you think of my kin that you have now met. I will hope that Berilac keeps himself out of trouble while there; he can be quite as fiendish as Pippin sometimes, when it comes to jests. (While *I* of course would never indulge in such things! Well, perhaps not “never“.)

Fondly I remain
your Knight and sword-thain,
Holdwine
Meriadoc Brandybuck

 Éomer smiled.  He could just hear Merry's droll voice. Putting the letter aside to re-read later, he took forth the more official reports from the Thain and Frodo.