CHAPTER 50

Bergil woke abruptly. It was not quite morning, but he was wide awake. How could he sleep? He would see his father today!

Oh, how he had missed his father! He had not thought he would miss him so much. He was, after all almost twelve now, and quite grown--a page to the Tower Guard, in service to the King! He’d travelled with the Guardsmen all the way to the Shire, and most of the way back. Why, even his father himself had never travelled so far as Bergil had!

But still there had been those nights when he missed his father, and could not keep the tears from flowing. And now, from what the messenger had said last night, his father would be arriving with the others today!

Bergil glanced around the room. It was a common sleeping room, set aside for visiting foreign soldiery. None of the others were yet awake, and he did not wish to disturb anyone, but he just could not stay quietly abed. The others would probably sleep until the morning horn blew. He sat up carefully in his cot, and took his clothes and boots from beneath it. He dressed very silently, and then putting his boots and his stockings under his arm, he padded from the room.

Quietly, he closed the door to the chamber behind him, and sat down on the cold flagstones to put on his stockings and boots. He glanced up, after lacing his second boot, and flashed a smile at the Rohirric guard who stood at the end of the corridor.

The guard smiled back, and as Bergil passed him with a whispered “Good morning,” he said, “You are up early today, Master Bergil.”

Bergil grinned. “The messenger who came last night said my father will be here today, Bedwig!”

“So I have heard,” was the quiet reply. “I am sure that if you make your way to the kitchen, you might be able to break your fast early.”

“Thank you,” Bergil nodded, and darted off.

Meduseld was not nearly so large as the Citadel, so it did not take him long to make his way to the kitchen. The only ones abroad at this hour were a few servants and an occasional guard. All of them smiled and greeted him by name. In the few weeks that he had been there, he had come to know many of them.

He found Mistress Grimhild overseeing the preparations of the trays which would be taken to the King and the more important guests in their chambers, while she also kept an eye upon the preparations for the meal which would be served in the Hall for everyone else.

But when she saw him, she said, “There is bread and fruit on the table, boy, and there is frumenty* on the hearth. Clovis, give the child a clean bowl.”

Clovis, whom Bergil had not seen at first, left the pile of dirty pots, and grabbed a wooden bowl from a stack of clean ones on a table. He handed it to Bergil. They avoided looking each other in the eye, and Clovis turned abruptly back to his pots. Bergil flushed. He was not sure why, but Clovis and Cado made him feel vaguely guilty for some reason. Yet he had never done anything to them. Maybe he felt like it was his fault they got caught. He was the one who had found Danulf after all.

“Master Bergil!”

“Jolly!” The hobbit sat alone at the table, and it was clear he had already been eating for a while. But his bowl was nearly full of frumenty, so Bergil thought it must be the hobbit’s second serving. He filled his own bowl with the fragrant porridge and went to sit next to him.

“You’re up early, Master Bergil,” said Jolly.

“So are you,” said Bergil.

Jolly chuckled. “I’m a farmer. I’m always up early.” He gave Bergil a conspiratorial wink and said, “Besides, this way, I get first and second breakfast.”

Bergil giggled, and then applied himself to his own food.

“So, I heard your dad’s coming along with them others from Gondor, who’re coming to fetch us the rest of the way?”

Bergil nodded. “I will be very pleased to see him again, Jolly. I have not seen him in a very long time.”

The hobbit nodded. “I miss my own dad, and it’s not been nearly so long for me!” He leaned closer, and said “Did you hear about the Dwarves?”

“Dwarves?” asked Bergil, puzzled.

“Seems as if there’s Dwarves coming along; some o’ Mr. Gimli’s kinfolk from the Mountain, come down to help with some building and such.”

Bergil shook his head. Once he had heard the momentous news that his father was among those coming, he had ceased to listen to the rest of the messenger’s report.

“Mr. Gimli’s not so pleased as he ought to be, by my way o’ thinking. His own dad’s a-coming with ‘em, and seems as how they two had a bit of a row afore Mr. Gimli come to the Shire.”

This was news to Bergil, and he and Jolly gossiped for a bit. Jolly asked him questions about what it would be like in Minas Tirith, but soon enough they had finished their meal. Bergil noticed that the trays were ready to be taken away. “Mistress Grimhild?” he asked.

“Yes, Bergil?”

“Might I take Captain Targon’s tray to him?”

“Now, a thoughtful child you are! Yes, yes you may do that!”

Bergil blushed. He did not think it was all that thoughtful--it was part of his duty after all, though he had not been needed for it here in Meduseld.

He excused himself to Jolly, who was polishing off the last few bites of a pear, and took the tray that Mistress Grimhild indicated.

Captain Targon had been given a small chamber to himself, apart from his men, as he was the ranking Gondorian of the group. Bergil paused as he reached the door to balance the tray, so that he could open the door. He tapped lightly.

"Enter," came the Captain's voice. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed, and was pulling on his boots. "Bergil?" he said in surprise. Usually it was one of Meduseld's servants who brought his morning tray.

Yes, sir," Bergil said. "I was in the kitchen finishing my own breakfast, and asked to bring your tray."

"Thank you, lad." He gestured at the small table that sat beneath a window, and Bergil put his burden down there. "Are you excited about seeing your father today?" he asked.

Bergil grinned. "I am. It has been so long, Captain."

"I know it has. And while I know that you have enjoyed the experience, I also know that there were some parts of it that were not very pleasant. You have done an excellent job, Bergil, seeing to our needs, and I will be very pleased to tell your father what an wonderful page you have been."

"Oh, thank you, sir!"

Soon Targon had finished his breakfast. He stood up. "Shall we go find the others, then, Bergil?"

They soon found the other Gondorian soldiers having their breakfast in the common dining room--along with all of the hobbits, including Jolly, who had a full dish before him. He gave Bergil a wink. Captain Targon went over to speak to his Men, and Freddy gestured to Bergil to join them.

“I’ve already had my breakfast, Mr. Freddy,” he said politely. He looked pointedly at Jolly, who just grinned.

“Well, I won’t press you. But you could sit and keep us company for a few minutes, until you are needed for your duties.”

He sat down between Mr. Fredegar and Mr. Berilac. “Have you heard yet what time they will arrive?” he asked.

“Not yet; we were told that a watch is being kept, and we’ll be told when they come within sight of Edoras. Then it will only be a short time until they enter the City.”

“We’ll be setting off for Minas Tirith the day after tomorrow,” said Berilac.

Bergil nodded. “Are you pleased to be going?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Freddy, “although we’ll be sorry to leave Edoras behind. We have made some good friends here.”

“I know.” Bergil thought of the Rohirrim who had ridden with them to the Shire: Danulf, Leodwald and Anwynd, and Lord Éothain. He had served them as much as he had served the Guardsmen. And he was especially going to miss Anwynd and his flute lessons.

Just then there was a stir at the other end of the table. It was Lord Éothain, who had come in and bent to have a word in Captain Targon’s ear. The Captain stood, as did his Men. He came over to the hobbits and Bergil. “Word has come. The escort is about an hour from entering Edoras. We will need to make ready. We will await them in the Great Hall.”

A short time later, the Guardsmen stood together at one side of the Hall. Next to them stood the hobbits, and Legolas and Gimli. There were many Rohirrim as well. Éomer King sat upon his throne, and behind him stood his cousin, Lord Éothain, the Second Marshall of the Riddermark, Lord Elfhelm, and his aunt, the Lady Eormangilda.

Bergil was beginning to feel restless inside, but he had already learned one of the more important lessons of being a page: standing still and appearing alert, no matter what thoughts were going through one’s mind. Borondir had told him once that it was a lesson a Guardsman needed as well. So he stood straight, his posture perfect, his hands behind his back, while his eyes roamed over the Hall. Anwynd was among the Rohirrim who were also standing guard, and he caught Bergil’s gaze briefly, and allowed him a very tiny smile. Bergil did the same, briefly, and composed his face once more.

He had so much to tell his father--he had not told him everything in his letters home. For one thing, he had never mentioned his near-drowning and his subsequent illness. When he had been sick, he could not have done so, and to bring it up once he was well again would only have worried his father pointlessly. But he was going to have to tell him now, for he wanted his father to realize how Mr. Freddy had saved him. Perhaps it would not be necessary--maybe Targon had already mentioned it in one of *his* letters.

As he was beginning to wonder how he would bring the subject up, the huge doors to the Hall opened, and the doorward, Hending, entered, followed by a group of people--Bergil noticed several Dwarves among them, and he heard a soft and quickly stifled exclamation from Gimli. And there--there was his father! He was clad in the grey and white livery of Ithilien! Bergil wanted to shout a greeting, but he knew that he could not do so.

“My Lord Éomer King, Lord Amrothos son of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth.” Hending announced. It was the custom in the court at Meduseld to allow the leader of a company introduce those whom he had brought with him. Bergil saw Lord Amrothos standing at the forefront of the group, looking splendid in his blue and silver livery. There was a beautiful young woman standing next to him, her hand upon his arm. That must be the princess.

Lord Amrothos inclined his head in a slight bow. “My Lord Éomer King, may I have the honour to present my sister, the Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth.”

Lothíriel made a graceful curtsey, and in a low musical voice said “It is an honour to meet you, my Lord King.”

Bergil thought she was nearly as beautiful as Queen Arwen, with her long dark hair and fair skin. She was clad in a gown of blue, girdled with silver, and on her brow was bound a silver circlet set with a blue stone.

The King nodded gravely. “Our Hall is all the lighter for your presence, my Lady,” he said. Bergil noticed that the King’s voice seemed a bit hoarse.

The Princess stepped back, and Imrahil turned and said, “My Lord, Captain Beregond of Ithilien, who brings word to you.”

Bergil held his breath a moment, as he saw his father step forward and bow deeply. “Éomer King, I bring you fond greetings from your brother, Prince Faramir of Ithilien, and from his Lady your sister, the Princess Éowyn.

They sorrow that their duties did not allow them to make a visit to you at this time, but hope that they will be able to do so at the turning of the year. I bring also a message for Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalen, whom I have been told is among you?”

There was a stir, then, and Legolas took a step forth from his place. “I am,” he said.

“My Lord Prince has bid me to tell you that word has been sent: a group of your people are travelling to Ithilien, and are expected to arrive at any day.”

A slight widening of the Elf’s eyes was all the indication of surprise that he gave. Legolas nodded, and said “I thank your Lord for these tidings, and will journey at once to Ithilien.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Beregond said. His eyes flicked to Bergil, and their glances met for a moment. Bergil wanted to run to him, but restrained himself.

And then Lord Amrothos was introducing “Master Gloín son of Groín, and Master Nuri son of Nain.”

Bergil barely listened to the explanations of the Dwarves’ presence--apparently they’d come to help Gimli as he settled the Glittering Caves. But all Bergil could think about was the moment when the official business would be over with and he could embrace his father once more.

Several of the lesser members of the party were now introduced, and Éomer King gave the travellers over to his aunt, the Lady Eormangilda, to show them to their chambers and to offer them refreshment. As soon as the court was dismissed, Bergil saw his father turn to him.

With a glad cry, he dashed into his father’s arms. “Ada!” he cried, “I am so glad to see you.”