CHAPTER 2

When the three of them arrived, it was to the news that the guest had fallen asleep once more.

Cousin Dody was firm. “Sara, I know you wish to question him, but not until he awakens. I suggest that you take some luncheon, and then rest yourself for a few hours. He should be awake before teatime.”

Saradoc’s intention to argue was spoiled by a yawn, and so he ruefully agreed to the healer’s advice. Merry and Pippin decided that a nap would not come amiss for themselves as well. The three of them went to their rooms in the Master’s apartment. Merry and Pippin had decided to wait until after dinner to return home to Crickhollow.

Later that afternoon, informed that the Ranger was awake, the three of them approached his guest room. As they neared the door, they heard the hesitant sounds of music. Reaching up to knock, Pippin winced at the sound of a flat note.

Ilberic opened the door, his shepherd’s pipes in his hand. “Cousin Pippin!

Merry and Uncle Sara!” he exclaimed, blushing. “Er, Mellor said he would like to hear me play, and I needed to practice--”

Pippin grinned. “You most certainly do,” he laughed. He was Ilbie’s teacher, after all. “Come up to Crickhollow tomorrow, and we’ll work on it some.”

Saradoc interrupted. “Ilberic, we need to speak to our guest.”

The tweenager took the hint, and with a nod, and a “Welcome home,” he took his leave.

As the three of them entered the room, Mellor looked up at them from his pallet. He had met Merry and Pippin once before, and of course the Master of Buckland bore no small resemblance to his son. “Sir Meriadoc, Sir Peregrin, Master Brandybuck! Please forgive me for not rising…”

Saradoc shook his head. “I don’t think that would be wise under the circumstances.”

Merry grinned. “I am glad to see you again, Mellor, though I must say you were looking rather better upon our first meeting.” For Mellor and Eradan had met the two hobbit knights when they had come to take into custody the hobbit traitor the Rangers had captured.

Pippin knelt down by the Man’s pallet. “Have you any idea of what happened, Mellor?”

He turned to look into the young Took’s concerned face. “I remember parting with Eradan at the Greenway. He was to catch up with the King’s Messenger who was heading to Bree. He had information that needed to be brought to the Thain. Did he--”

“We received the message about Ted Sandyman just a few days ago,” answered Pippin.

“So you know he was killed by Ruffians, then. Even though it was several months since the event took place, we thought it wise to see if we could find any trace of their trail. If nothing else, to discover which way they went so a warning could be sent. People of that sort are dangerous, and cannot simply be allowed to roam loose throughout the Two Kingdoms.”

Pippin flushed, and Merry gave Saradoc a lifted eyebrow. For months the two younger hobbits had been trying to convince their fathers that banishment was not always the best way to deal with wrongdoers. All it did was foist the Shire’s problems off on someone else. When the Bankses and Dago Bracegirdle had been banished, it had been into the custody of the King’s Men; but that was not always going to be feasible. Unfortunately, when their fathers asked them for a better idea, Merry and Pippin had yet to come up with one.

Saradoc nodded at his son, as if to say “point taken”, not in agreement. But he looked thoughtful.

Mellor continued his account, unaware of the silent communication. “The trail was cold, of course, but I was casting about, backtracking from the location of the hobbit’s body. I vaguely recall travelling for a few days in a general northward direction, but after that--” he shook his head. “I’ve no idea how I was injured, nor how I ended up in Buckland.” He broke off, clearly distressed. “I am sorry, Sir Peregrin.”

Pippin laid a hand on the Ranger’s arm. “Please be easy, Mellor. I am sure that it will soon come back to you. And please, call me Pippin.”

“Very well--Pippin--” he smiled at the young hobbit, sitting there so seriously in the livery of Gondor. He glanced up at the two Brandybucks as well, who were also giving him a welcoming smile. Mellor was glad for this kindly welcome; for so many years he had been accustomed to the disdain of the folk whom the Rangers protected, and of course the hobbits of the Shire had been completely ignorant of their existence. It warmed his heart to realize that now friendship and respect was there.

“So, Mellor,” asked Pippin. “Are you related to Aragorn?”

“We are distant cousins, through his late mother Gilraen, I am not quite certain of the exact degree. It would be a close kinship as you hobbits reckon such things, but not especially close in the way of Men.”

Pippin laughed. “We came to realize that not everyone is as interested their family trees as are hobbits. Merry and I used to drive poor Boromir to distraction, not to mention boring Legolas and Gimli to death.”

Saradoc came closer, and squatted down next to Pippin. “I am sorry to press you, Mellor, but do you think that your injury could have been caused by violence? It’s very important.”

The Ranger looked distressed. He understood their fear. If the Ruffians were still close enough to the borders of the Shire, and had dared to assault one of the King‘s Rangers, they could easily be in danger. “I do understand, Master Brandybuck, but I am afraid that I really cannot recall. There does not seem to be any memory at all of how it happened.”

Just then the healer appeared at the door. Cousin Dody shook his head.

“I need to check on my patient,” he said. Looking at the worried expression on Mellor’s face, he added, “don’t be upsetting him. He may never remember exactly what happened to him. That would not be unusual in such injuries as this.”

Cousin Dody came over and knelt down by the patient, carefully examining his head. He lit a candle and examined Mellor’s pupils, and then took off his pendulum.

Mellor had been curious about this for a while, so after the healer replaced it about his neck, he asked. “Is that the tooth of a wolf?”

“So I was told by my former Mistress, who had it of her former Master. It dates all the way back to the Fell Winter of 1311. It serves me very well.”

“I have never seen a healer do such a thing before,” said Mellor. “What is the purpose?”

Dodinas looked surprised. “All the healers *I* know use a pendulum,” he answered. “We can see by watching the patterns it makes as it swings how the patient’s energies lie, whether he or she is in pain, if there is anything amiss or out of balance. The best way to explain it to you is this: everyone’s life creates a certain force about them. Using a pendulum helps a healer to discern this, which would otherwise remain unseen.”

Mellor was impressed. The healers among Men did not seem to know about this, but he had seen Aragorn at work as a healer when he was still only the Chieftain of the Dúnadain, and had noticed he seemed to see something which other healers did not. But Aragorn’s descent from the rulers of lost Westernesse and his training by the Elves enabled him to understand and see the disturbances which illness or injury caused to a person’s fëa. It would seem that hobbit healers had found their own way to do this.

After putting his pendulum back on, Dody reached over and took the Ranger’s pulse, and felt his brow. He nodded in a satisfied manner.

“I’ve a bit of good news for you. I think that this evening, you might be allowed to get up for your supper. And tomorrow, if you do not overexert yourself, you may rise and walk about.”

“And how soon may I travel? For I’ve a partner who will be getting anxious about my return, and I’ve duties to see to.” Mellor was sure that Eradan *must* be getting very worried.

“If you are doing well for the next couple of days, I think that you should be fit to travel inside of a week, barring any setbacks.”
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It had been five days now without any sign of Mellor’s returning. Eradan was convinced that something was wrong. It was time to go in search of his partner. He knew his own tracking skills were not nearly as good as those of the Northern Ranger. In Ithilien, other survival skills were more emphasized. But he was not completely without ability, and the trail his partner left would be fresh, not old, and Mellor should by rights, leave some signs to his passing as well.

He knew that Mellor had headed northwest, into the areas just below the Shire. He put out the fire, and gathered up some supplies. He carefully obliterated traces of the campsite, and hid the remaining supplies in their cunningly concealed shelter.

If all went well, then he would cross paths with his partner, who would be returning with some reasonable explanation for his delay, and the two of them would come back here together.
If all went well.
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Esmeralda was pleased with the news that their guest was now up to dining with the family. She let her husband, son and nephew know that they would all be eating in the main hall this night. Then she went to see to putting the dining room to rights. Mellor could eat on a cushion, the way Legolas had done last spring.

She knew that it was important to do this tonight. Although there had not been a lot said in her presence, she was aware of the gossip surrounding the injured Man. When he appeared tonight as an honored guest of the Master and his family, it would lay a lot of rumors to rest. She had learned that hobbits were quite ready to make friends of Men, if they could only get a chance to know them firsthand, and know that they were not like the others who had come in during the Troubles.

If only they could learn *how* Mellor had come to be injured, and how he had ended up in Buckland.
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Eradan had not made much progress. He was going side to side as much as he was forward, worrying about missing any signs his partner might have left. The afternoon was drawing on, and he had not gone more than about four miles from the base camp, when he noticed it--on a small evergreen tree, standing somewhat apart from several other larger trees. Just beneath the lowest branch: a little triangular nick, freshly cut, and next to it, carved only lightly, the rune for “M”. So Mellor *had* passed this way. The triangle was pointed to the north. That meant that was the direction he had gone. With a sigh of relief, Eradan resumed his search, feeling his energy renewed by the knowledge that he was on the right track.
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Mellor found himself seated on a cushion next to Merry. The Master and Mistress of course were in the places of honor in the center of the head table, with Merry seated next to his father’s right hand and Pippin next to his aunt. On Mellor’s other side was the Master’s younger brother, Merimac. There were a few other close family members at the head table. Other family, friends and household members were seated at other smaller tables set at right angles to, but not right next to, the head table. There was one table at the far side of the room that seemed to consist entirely of children, and another that seemed to be mostly young people-- “tweens”--as the hobbits called them. He saw Ilberic there, and the young hobbit gave him a grin very reminiscent of his older cousin.

The fare was brought to the table, and for a while there was little of conversation that did not involve the meal. This was the way of hobbits, he reminded himself. They liked to pay proper attention to their food. And Mellor had to admit, this food was quite worthy of attention. Saradoc was famed for his hospitality, and the table fairly groaned with food. But as the meal progressed the talk began to gradually turn to other things.

“So, Master Mellor,” said Merimac, “I understand that you saw our delegation on their journey?”

“Yes, yes I did. I met Fredegar Bolger, Mosco Burrows, and Mistress Poppy Burrows. We spoke at length.” Mellor hesitated. He did not know how much the Master of Buckland had revealed about the reason that he had met those people.

But Merimac reassured him. “My brother has confided in me about the discovery of Ted Sandyman’s body. But did you meet any of the other delegates? My son Berilac is among them.”

Mellor realized what he was hoping to hear, glad that he could answer. “I did not have the chance for any conversation with him. However, we were introduced when Eradan and I escorted the others back to the rest of the company at Tharbad. We did no more than exchange the usual pleasantries, yet I would say that to all outward appearances, Master Merimac, your son appeared hale and happy.”

Merimac nodded. “That is good to know.”

Merry turned in their direction; he had been speaking to his father. “I’m glad that you had a chance to see Beri, Mellor. Uncle Mac won’t admit it, but he’s been worried I know.”

Merimac nodded. “At least I know where he’s going and about how long he will be gone. And I am able to have letters and messages.”

Merry flushed, and Mellor realized that there was some hidden slight rebuke there.

“You know, Uncle, that I did what I had to do. There was neither time nor opportunity; and it would not have been wise to let any word of our whereabouts fall into enemy hands.” Merry’s voice was even, and a bit sad. Mellor suddenly realized what that had been about--Sir Meriadoc’s absence during the Quest of the Ring.

Merimac sighed. “I know that lad, but it was hard, not knowing what had become of you.”

Mellor interrupted, “It is always a difficult thing for family, when sons and brothers must heed the call of duty, and it takes them away from those they love.”

“On the brighter side,” said Merry, changing the subject, “have you had any word from the south recently?”
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Eradan continued his trek northward. He had found one more blazon, which helped him to realize that he was still on the right track. But the day was beginning to fade, and he was soon going to have to stop for the night. He topped a small rise, not quite so large as to warrant being called a hill, and looked ahead of him.

A long line of darkness spread before him on the horizon. If he continued the way he was going, he would be heading towards the Old Forest.

“Well,” he thought, “that’s perfect. Just perfect.”
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