13. The Meek Shall Not Go Empty

The King was breakfasting with Arwen and the visiting Prince Imrahil when the messenger was shown in. He was caked with mud, and swaying with weariness, and he had serious doubts about the state of his horse, but pushing all this aside, he thrust the message at the King with the briefest of bows.

'Message from the Halflings, my Lord,' he said.

Elessar rose, taking the message, scanning the contents. His lips tightened, and Arwen said, 'What is it, my love?'

'The North-kingdom has been fairly quiet, these past six years, I believe,' Imrahil commented.

'No longer,' Elessar said shortly. 'The hobbits are being hunted as trophies.'

Shocked exclamations greeted his pronouncement, and he nodded. 'Evidently one of the rulers of Harad has a new hobby... a collection of exotic "pets", and he wishes to add hobbits to his collection. He has announced a generous reward for the capture and delivery of such "creatures".'

'Pets,' Imrahil murmured, sickened.

'Ruffians have entered the Shire proper to try to kidnap hobbits. Mayor Samwise's eldest daughters were taken.'

'Elanor?' Arwen gasped, thinking of her little maid of honour.

Elessar nodded grimly. 'Rosie and Elanor were rescued, but Pippin's steward was mortally wounded, the message says.'

'What are we going to do about this?' Arwen asked.

'An attack upon the Shire is an attack upon my Kingdom,' Elessar said soberly. He looked to the guardsman at the door. 'Send the Captain of the guard to me,' he said.

'At once, my Lord,' the guardsman saluted, and was gone.

Turning back to Imrahil, Elessar said gravely, 'Are you with me on this, brother?'

Imrahil nodded. 'I think we can persuade my neighbours, the Haradrim, to give up their little... pastime.' He thought a moment, then said, 'What kingdom?' Harad was divided into many petty kingdoms, after all, and the Prince of Dol Amroth had not heard of any rulers collecting Pheriannath, recently.

The King looked at the message. 'They don't say,' he answered slowly.

'Near Harad, or Far Harad?' Imrahil went on. 'It would help in planning just whose door we're to go knocking on.'

Elessar sat back in his chair, thinking deeply. At last, he said, 'The traders ought to know. They travel through all the lands with a certain amount of impunity... and they hear the news.' He looked to his scribe. 'Bring me a trader who's recently returned from the Haradwaith.'

'Yes, my Lord,' the scribe rose, gave a quick bow, and left.

A knock at the door heralded the Captain of the guard. Elessar gave swift instructions, and he was soon on his way to carry them out.

***

At the same time the messenger of the King was sliding from his staggering mount in the White City, another messenger was pushing a latherred pony as fast as he dared down the steep cut in the Far Downs, to Greenholm. He blew the horn he carried, to warn of his approach, and was greeted by a crowd of hobbits as he reined his pony to a stop.

'The Thain! I need the Thain!' he shouted.

One of the farmers stepped forward. 'I'll take you to him,' he said. 'This way.'

The messenger followed, wishing the farmer might break into a jog, but he supposed forward progress was better than no progress at all. Finally they reached a room where the door was ajar and quiet conversation was heard within.

'Hullo!' the farmer shouted. 'Message for the Thain.'

One of the Thain's escort pushed the door a little wider, and recognising Ilberic Brandybuck, stood aside to let him enter.

'Ilberic!' Pippin said, rising from the chair beside the bed. 'Did Merry get my message?'

'Too late,' Ilberic said grimly. 'Ruffians had already struck when your news arrived.'

'And?' Pippin asked, dread in his heart.

'They've taken...' he swallowed hard, and continued, 'several Brandybucks; came over the High Hay in broad daylight.'

'Who?' Pippin demanded. Ilberic took a piece of paper from his belt, holding it out with a shaking hand.

The Thain took the paper, unfolded it, read the names on the list, looked up slowly. 'Celandine... your sister?'

Ilberic nodded. 'She's one of them. The rest are her eight children, two lasses--tweens, and half a dozen littler ones. They were on a picnic when they were taken.'

'They took the entire family?' Ferdi gasped, and Ilberic nodded again soberly.

'Berimas was working with Doderic; he was to have joined them later. He came, only to find his family gone, and a dying Shirriff...'

'You're sure it was ruffians?' Pippin asked, but he already knew the answer.

'A Shirriff saw the abduction and tried to sound the alarm, but was struck down. He was still alive when found and was able to tell what had happened, and which way the ruffians departed. Too late... Merry thinks they went down to Haysend and took to the River from there.'

'They probably won't be harmed, if that's any comfort,' Ferdi said. 'They're wanted as "pets" for a prize collection, and must be delivered intact.'

Pippin, feeling weak in the knees, sat down again. Ilberic looked to the bed for the first time. 'Reginard! I'd heard you were dead!'

'Not quite,' Regi said quietly. His eyes were dark with grief at the thought of hobbits in the hands of those monstrous ruffians.

***

Celandine Brandybuck nursed her littlest as she tried to comfort her weeping children. They must be in a boat, she thought from the rocking motion, rather than some other conveyance. The ruffians had left their hands unbound, that was handy; but with chains about their ankles, the possibility of freeing themselves seemed remote. Chained together here in the dark, stuffy hold--she wondered where they were being taken. The ruffians had been surprisingly gentle, even though they'd stuffed the hobbits into sacks and carried them bumpingly along, before removing the sacks and chaining them to the walls in this confined space. She'd managed a quick glance around before the lantern had been taken away.

Now she said brightly, 'How about a song, then? Who knows a good song to sing?' She began to sing one of the nursery rhymes that was customary to comfort little ones when a storm blew up, the one about the wind blowing the leaves round and round, round and round, round and round, and soon one timid little voice joined in, to be followed by another.

'The raindrops, they come down and down, down and down, down and down...' she sang softly, and to her relief, one of the tweens began to sing in a watery voice, and soon the other did. When the song ended, the only sound in the darkness was the soft smacking of the nursing babe.

'There, now, that's better,' she said cheerily. 'Who knows another they'd like to sing?'

Little Berilas, brave lad that he was, began a song about a fox and a clever coney, and after that they sang the one about the acorns falling from the trees, which was naturally followed by the leaf song. They were startled into silence when the hatch above them was pulled aside, and a rough voice said, 'Keep that noise down, you hear?' A sack was tossed into their midst, but the hatch was left open. 'If you're quiet, we'll let you have light, for a bit, but if you squeak, we'll leave you in the dark.'

Celandine looked up to see the ruffian's bulk outlined against the light as he peered at them, and she nodded vigorously, saying softly to the children. 'All right, mice, we must be quiet now, very quiet, just like the mouse game, remember?'

'That there's food,' the ruffian said, 'so don't let it go to waste.'

At Celandine's nod, young Poppy opened the sack, finding coarse bread and chunks of cheese, and two leathern flasks that proved to contain water, overlarge for hobbit hands, but welcome for all that. The children were able to drink with the tweens holding the flasks for them, and the food served to calm them still more.

This was a good sign, Celandine thought. At least they were being fed. One of the little ones tugged at her dress, whispering.

'I beg your pardon...?' she called. 'Hullo?'

The face appeared again. 'I thought I told you, no talk!' he said grumpily, and started to pull the hatch cover to again.

'Wait!' Celandine called desperately. 'We've little ones here, who need to... need to...' She didn't know quite how to put it, to this stranger, and a Man at that.

Thankfully he understood. Leaving the hatch cover half closed, he disappeared, but returned quickly, lowering a copper pot with tight-fitting cover down to them. 'Use the pot, but be sure to fasten down the lid when you're done,' he said. 'If'n we hit a rough patch...' Celandine could just imagine. The hold was smelly enough without having to put up with that.

'Thank you,' she called back softly. No harm in good manners, after all.

Since singing made more noise than the ruffians allowed, Celandine began to tell a story instead, in a soft tone that would not go beyond the hatch cover. Little Poppy nestled close to her side, and the tweens took a little one under each arm. She spoke in a sing-song, droning way that soon had her listeners drowsy, and one by one they nodded off to sleep, including baby Blossom, cuddled softly against her breast, in illusion of safety.

***

Note to Readers (from original posting in 2003, apparently nearly a year ago!):

I am going on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.

I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.