AUTHOR: Dreamflower
RATING: G
CATEGORY: General
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for Marigold's Challenge #17. I had to include Esmeralda Brandybuck, a ranger, and the phrase "Well, that's perfect! Just perfect."

SUMMARY: A Ranger finds himself partaking of the hospitality of Buckland…
DISCLAIMER: Middle-earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.

THE UNEXPECTED GUEST

Mellor opened his eyes cautiously. He could tell, even before he opened them that he was indoors, and lying among soft blankets, though not, apparently, in a bed. He must have been rescued. But this was not a ranger station, nor did it look like Tharbad. The ceiling was very low--could he be in Bree? He could not remember much after leaving Eradan at the Greenway. He thought he must have struck his head. What had happened? His memory was very fuzzy. And most of all, where was he?

A gentle feminine voice with a slight but unplaceable accent spoke. “I think he has awakened, Cousin Dody.”*

“I think you are correct,” replied a male voice.

A face swam into his range of vision. “Good day, Master Ranger,” said the male voice. It was a hobbit, looking down at him with concern. “I am Master Dodinas Brandybuck, and I am a healer. You’ve suffered a blow to the head.”

Mellor tried to respond, but his voice did not seem to be cooperating. The healer lifted his head carefully, and held to his lips a tiny cup of water. “Slowly, slowly,” he said.

After a couple of sips, which nearly emptied the small cup, Mellor tried his voice again. “I am Mellor, son of Meneldil, and a Ranger of Arnor,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thank you for your care.” He stopped for a moment, talking was an effort. It made his head hurt even worse. “Where--”

“Do not speak right now, Master Mellor,” said the feminine voice. “You are in Buckland, in Brandy Hall, and I am Mistress Esmeralda Brandybuck, Mistress of the Hall.”

“I am in the Shire? I should not--” panic seized him. Without the permission of the Thain, the Master and the Mayor, Men were not to be in the Shire.

“Be at ease,” she said. “I am the Mistress of Buckland, and in my husband’s absence, I am in charge. Buckland is not the Shire proper, anyway, and word has been sent. I am quite sure that the permission will be quickly forthcoming. It is not as though you actually had any choice in the matter.”

Just then, Mellor realized what the accent was. “You are a Took.”

“Indeed I am. I am sister to the Thain and aunt to Sir Peregrin.” She used her nephew’s Outland title, for she was sure that was how the Man would know of him.

“I am honored, milady.”

She laughed. It was a charming sound. “I am not a ‘lady’. Only my sister-in-law Eglantine holds that title in the Shire, and even with her it is seldom used. If you must be formal, call me Mistress Brandybuck. But I hope that we shall soon be friends, and you may call me by my given name.”

Mellor nodded. The brief conversation was tiring him, but he needed to know one more thing. “How--how did I come here?”

“You were found unconscious on the east bank of the Brandywine, about a mile north of Standelf. It was clear that you had suffered a blow to the head, but how you came to be there, or to be in the River--”

Esmeralda shrugged. “At any rate, the Bounder who found you knew you for a Ranger by the Star you wore, and when I got word, I had them bring you here.”

Dodinas had reached over to take the Ranger’s pulse. The healer frowned. “I think that he needs to rest right now, Esme.”

She nodded. “I’ll speak with you again when you are feeling better. Word has been sent, and I should hear from the Master soon.” Esmeralda was more worried about his presence than she was letting on.

Mellor tried to respond, but a lassitude had overcome him, and he had begun to drift off before she had quite finished speaking.

_____________________________________

Dody followed his cousin’s wife out of the room where they had placed the injured Ranger. They had made him as comfortable as possible, on a thick pallet, and now the most important thing for him was rest.

“Since he does not seem to be bleeding inside his head, I am going to leave some willow-bark for him; he‘s bound to be in a deal of pain, and suffer a headache for some days to come. I am not quite certain how strong to make it for someone his size; I fear that I am underestimating the amount, but it’s better to err on the side of caution. Right now he needs rest more than anything else.”

“The blow?” asked Esmeralda, concerned, “was it made by violence?” For this was her greatest fear, that perhaps he had been waylaid by straggling Ruffians, who even now might be making their way into Buckland or the Shire. She had ordered extra vigilance, and had asked the Bounders to redouble their watch near the southern borders of Buckland.

“I am not certain. It looks more to me like a fall, that perhaps he struck his head upon a rock on the ground. It has not the force I would expect of a deliberate blow. I think a blow any harder would most assuredly have been fatal. But as to *how* he came to fall and strike his head I could not tell you. That could have been caused by violence--remember what the Banks lads did, spooking the Big Folks‘ horses? If he were thrown from a horse--”

Esmeralda nodded. She was only slightly reassured.

“Well, perhaps when his wits have recovered a bit from being shaken, he will be able to tell us. I wonder if his presence has anything to do with the message that took the lads and Saradoc to Tookland.”

Dody shook his head. “As to that, cousin, your guess is as good as mine.”

____________________________________________

In the Thain’s study at the Great Smials, Paladin Took sat with his brother-in-law Saradoc Brandybuck, and his son and nephew, and with the Mayor Will Whitfoot. The Mayor was distinctly uncomfortable; he wished Frodo Baggins had come in his place. But Frodo had already told him that he would not act as his Deputy after mid-summer which was only a few weeks off, and had not felt up to the trip to Tuckborough this week.

Paladin was tapping the latest messages to come to them through Bree.

“So, now we know Ted Sandyman’s fate. I cannot say I am sorry he is dead, but I am very sorry about the manner of his death.” He pursed his lips. “You know that the reward I was offering was still standing. I suppose that it should by rights go to these Rangers who found his body.”

Pippin and Merry exchanged a glance, and then Pippin shook his head. “They are the King’s Rangers; they’ll accept no reward. Still, it is the right thing to do, to offer it--just do not be surprised or offended, Father, when they turn it down.”

Merry nodded. “They are Men of honor; they serve for the love of Aragorn, not for gain.”

Paladin nodded. Having met several Men who were in service to the King this past spring he had begun to understand. Those Men had a very strict code of honor; he was not unhappy that his son and his nephew seemed to have made that code their own.

Saradoc sighed. “What troubles me is this account from Fredegar. We must decide how much should be told about the way in which he died.

“Do the people need to know that he was tortured to death by the Ruffians he had served?”

Merry sighed. What troubled him was that Fredegar had been there to identify the body. He hoped it had not been too traumatic for his future brother-in-law. But Freddy was in the wide world now, and there would probably be a number of unpleasant experiences in his immediate future.

But Merry was sure that it would have been a very disturbing reminder of Freddy’s experiences during the Troubles.

Just then there was an urgent rapping on the door. Paladin scowled. “Reggie knows I’m not to be disturbed right now! This had better be important. Enter!” he called sharply.

Reggie opened the door, an apologetic, yet serious expression on his face. There was a rather sweaty and flushed hobbit standing behind him. “My apologies Thain Paladin,” he said formally, “but there is an extremely urgent message just arrived by Quick Post from Buckland. It’s from Mistress Brandybuck.”

Saradoc leapt to his feet, and Merry sat forward with an exclamation of dismay; Pippin laid a comforting hand on his cousin’s arm. The messenger entered diffidently, and handed the message to the Master of Buckland. Saradoc took it with trepidation. Paladin reached across the desk and handed him a letter opener. Taking a deep breath Saradoc opened it and read the letter. “Ah!” he said with relief. “There’s no illness or disaster to any of the family. But we do have an unexpected guest. It seems the Bounders found an injured Ranger on the banks of the River near Standelf. They took him to Brandy Hall for treatment.”

“An injured Ranger?” asked Pippin with concern. All the Rangers were Aragorn’s people, and most of them were close kin to the King. “Who is he?”

“The letter does not say. He was still unconscious when Esme sent this. However, she suggests that as long as the three of us are together, that we send formal permission for him to be in the Shire. That way he should not be in any trouble for breaking the edict.”

Paladin nodded, and drew forth a sheet of clean parchment and a quill. He scribbled a quick note, and then took out another bottle of red ink, and a fresh quill and signed his name. Saradoc did the same.

Paladin glanced at the Mayor, who had remarkably little to say about what was going on. “Will?”

The Mayor gave a start, and then rose and walked over to Paladin’s desk to add his signature. This did not require seven witnesses, fortunately.

Paladin folded the document and sealed it. He looked at the messenger. “You are worn out. Go to the kitchens and get a meal, and we have a room in which you can get some rest. Reggie, if you would, get one of our own messengers to take the reply?”

Reggie nodded, and took the letter, and the messenger and went out.

Will Whitfoot had sat back down. “Thain Paladin, what should we do now?” he asked diffidently.

Paladin sighed. Not for the first time, he wished that Frodo were still the acting Mayor. His Baggins cousin knew how to deal with these Outlandish affairs. But Frodo had been adamant that he was no longer up to the job. “We will finish deciding what brought us here: what to tell the people of the Shire about Sandyman. Then I am sure that Saradoc will wish to return home to see about his unexpected guest.

"Peregrin, I cannot leave Tookland this time of year, with the Lithedays fast approaching. Please keep me informed of what you find out about this Ranger, and let me know at once if it appears that any danger threatens. I am depending on you.”

Pippin nodded. “Yes, sir.” His face remained solemn--there was nothing happy about what they were dealing with, but there was a spark of pride and pleasure in his green eyes, at his father’s trust and confidence. That was a new thing for him, and it gave him satisfaction to know that his father finally believed he was grown up enough to give such a task. The two of them had come a long way since his return.

The Thain pursed his lips, and leaning back, looked at his son and his nephew. “What do you think we should do about this news?”

Merry sat forward, his chin determined. “I think, Uncle Paladin, that we must tell them the truth, but not all the truth. The brutal details do not have to be mentioned. There are still those in the Shire who will be able to supply those out of their own memories of the Troubles. If we say that he escaped to his former cronies, and that he fell out with them and they murdered him, that should be sufficient.”

“I agree, Father. No end is served by recounting his torture.”

“There is this--” added Saradoc “--if we do tell all the details, there are those who will use it to stir up the Shire against Men again, and perhaps undo all the good work the delegation did while they were here.”

Paladin nodded. He looked at the Mayor. “Will?”

Will sighed and nodded. Of course they were right. They always were. He wondered why they even bothered with his opinion. He longed for the days when his only duty was to go to banquets and make speeches at festivals. Having to deal with the aftermath of the Troubles and the King’s return was more than he had ever bargained for.

“Very well. I think the best way to do it would be to send letters to all the Post Masters of the major towns and villages, and let them spread the word: Ted Sandyman is dead at the hands of the Ruffians, and the reward no longer stands.”

___________________________________________________

“Hullo, are you awake, then?” said a cheerful young hobbit voice.

Mellor smiled at the youth who was seated next to his pallet. He was undeniably Brandybuck, looking like a much younger version of Sir Meriadoc, whom Mellor had met. “Good morning, Master--?”

The lad blushed. “Ilberic Brandybuck, at your service, sir. But you can call me Ilbie,” he blurted.

“Mellor, son of Meneldil, at yours and your family’s” he responded with a smile. “You are close kin to Sir Meriadoc, are you not?”

He nodded. “I’m his second cousin once removed, through his great-uncle Saradas, who was my grandfather.”

The Ranger grinned at this earnest recital; such kinship among Men would not be reckoned especially close, but among hobbits it most certainly was. “I am very pleased to meet you, then, Ilbie. So you have been told off to watch me then?”

He shook his head. “No, I offered. Lots of us wanted a turn to watch you.”

Mellor found this frank admission rather disarming.

“I had better let Aunt Esme know you are awake, though, because the healer wants a look at you, and then of course, you need to eat…” He put down the book he had been holding, and darted to the door, before Mellor could protest that he was not especially hungry. And yet even as he thought this, his stomach growled.

“I’m turning into a hobbit, already,” he muttered to himself. Hungry or not, the thought of food was not especially appealing with his head still throbbing so.

___________________________________________

It wasn’t long until Ilbie returned, bearing a loaded tray of food, and followed by Mistress Brandybuck and Master Dodinas.

Ilbie put the tray down, and Dodinas came over to him, removing the pendulum from his neck. It was the tooth of some sort of animal, suspended from a leather cord --Mellor’s eyebrows rose--if he were any judge of such things, that looked like a wolf’s tooth! How he wondered, had such a thing come to a hobbit? He watched curiously as the hobbit dangled the pendulum over him. This was not something he had seen before.

The hobbit studied the patterns of the swinging pendulum intently.

“You are still in a good deal of pain,” said the healer. “I think that I need to increase the willow-bark I have been giving you. And now you need to eat something and build up your strength.” The healer reached a hand down, to assist Mellor to sit up. The hobbit was surprisingly strong.

For a moment the room swayed, and Mellor thought he might end up flat on his back again, but after an instant the dizziness passed. Ilbie put the tray down, and Mellor inspected it. There was far more food there than he would have cared to eat even in full health. There was a bowl of porridge, toast and jam, a plate with a mushroom omelet and several sausages, and a pot of tea. But he looked with dismay at the tiny cup and the utensils--they would be awkward in his large hands. Still, with care, he found he could manage them.

He ate more than he thought he would--all the porridge and most of the omelet, though he took only a bite or two of toast, and did not touch the sausages. The tea was very good, and sweetened with honey. Each cup was only a couple of swallows.

Esmeralda sat next to him, pouring more from the teapot as he finished each cupful.

“I am pleased that you are feeling somewhat better, Master Mellor. You will be glad to know that I received the letter of permission from Thain, Master and Mayor just this morning; I expect that the Master, and Merry and Pippin will be in Buckland before the day is out.”

Mellor was briefly puzzled, before he recalled that those were the nicknames of Sir Meriadoc and Sir Peregrin.

“Thank you, Mistress Brandybuck. You have been kindness itself.”

“I am glad to be of help to you. We of the Shire have only recently become aware of the debt we owe you Rangers for generations of safety and security. Your people have paid a high price for the protection of ours.”

Mellor looked at her earnestly. “It was our duty, but also our privilege. And it was worth every moment of it, for what your people in the end did for ours. It was, after all, a hobbit, who finally saw accomplished that which even the King Isildur could not do. And all our years of watching and waiting led up to that moment, though we knew it not.”

A sad smile came to her face, and for an instant, tears stood in her green eyes. She blinked. “Frodo. And of course Merry and Pippin and Samwise. It is still hard to understand, but I am beginning to.”

______________________________________________

As they dismounted at the Ferry, Merry looked at his father with concern. “Are you all right, Da?”

Saradoc chuckled wearily. “I am not so young as I used to be. Riding through the night straight through is something I have not done in many years.”

“Well, you can take it easy now, Uncle Sara, for we’re home,” said Pippin.

He turned to his cousin, who had signaled the hobbit on duty across the River to bring the ferry over. “What will we do next, Merry?”

“I don’t know, Pip. It’s going to depend on what this Ranger has to tell us, and how he came to be injured.” Merry was worried. If the Ranger had been injured by violence it could mean a serious problem for the Shire.

___________________________________________________

Eradan was worried. His partner was supposed to have met him back at their camp, where the road to Sarn Ford met the Greenway. He had not at first worried, for he had returned from his own errand more quickly than he thought--he had caught up to the King’s Messenger long before Bree. Still, after three days, he was getting very concerned. What could have happened to Mellor?

_____________________________________________

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: The character of Cousin Dody is loosely based on Ariel’s OC, Dody, in her wonderful story, “Fear”.