Chapter 10. Mustering Courage

Merry had been summoned to the tailors' tent for another fitting. He donned the hobbit-sized black and silver guardsman's uniform, then stood quietly while two tailors checked the fit. Though Pippin was perhaps a little taller, these days, Merry made a good substitute for fittings. Since he was less likely to fidget, there was less danger from pins, as well.

'Turn, please.' He rotated slowly. 'Very nice. I think it's ready.'

'Just in time, too,' the other tailor said. 'I hear there's to be a muster tomorrow, dress uniforms for all.'

'Yes, we finished just in time. The Ring-bearer's clothes need hemming, yet, but we should be able to knock that out by the feast the day after tomorrow. Isn't that when the Lord Aragorn said the Ring-bearer and his companion would be arising from their beds?'

'Yes, that's right.'

Merry broke in, 'Excuse me, please?'

'Oh, yes, we're done now; you may change into your own things.'

'No, I had a question,' Merry persisted.

'Yes, Master Perian?' the first tailor said respectfully.

'The muster... I hadn't heard about it yet. You said a muster has been called?'

Both tailors lost their smiles; neither seemed eager to speak.

Merry had a sinking feeling. 'What?' he asked haltingly. ‘What is it?’

The first tailor spoke slowly. 'It is rumoured that the guardsman Beregond is to be put to the sword.'

'He has waited overlong as it is,' the second tailor said in an undertone. 'They never should have drawn it out this long. Hard cruel on the man, I say.'

The first tailor hushed him and turned back to Merry. 'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'No, nothing, thank you,' Merry replied. He gathered his clothes and went to the changing area, his thoughts dark and sober.

Merry was glad he'd already spent time with Pippin early in the day. He didn't know how he could face his cousin. He had promised Beregond that he would not tell Pippin of the pending execution; now it looked as if Pippin would be a witness to it after all.

He went with a heavy heart to sit with Frodo and Sam. He was frankly amazed at how much progress the two had made in less than a week. Their flesh was filling out, their faces had colour and life again. He half expected Frodo to open his eyes and say, 'I've already heard that one, Merry, a dozen times. Don't you have any new stories to tell?'

The dressings had been removed from Frodo's right hand, and Merry grieved to see the missing finger. He'd heard Gandalf and Strider talking about Frodo and Sam's ordeal. He didn't know how they had found out the details, for he had not heard a single word from either hobbit in the whole time he'd sat with them. Perhaps they had roused and spoken when he was with Pippin. He wondered if he'd have found the courage within himself to do what Frodo and Sam had done. Probably not.

That night as Merry was picking at his evening meal, one of the Rohirrim came to him. 'There is to be a muster tomorrow,' the Rider said.

'I know,' Merry answered.

'Orders are for full dress uniform. Do you have all you need?'

'Yes, Elfhelm, thank you. I have all I need.'

'Will you be attending your cousin in the morning?' Elfhelm asked.

Merry nodded.

'Then join us at the sound of the trumpets,' the Marshall said. He inclined his head to the hobbit and left.

Merry slept poorly that night, mainly out of worry for Pippin. How badly would this shock set him back? He thought to himself, if they had to execute Beregond, why couldn't they have done it quietly and decently while his cousin was still bedridden? Why wait until now, the first day that Pippin would be allowed to get up?

He finally fell into a heavy doze near dawn, waking abruptly with the knowledge that he had overslept himself. He hurried into his "fancy togs", the fine uniform of the Rohirrim, clasping the brooch holding the heavy dark green cloak as he was walking to Pippin's grove. He found his cousin still sleeping. Someone had piled the folded pieces of the black and silver guardsman's uniform neatly by the bedside.

Merry touched his cousin's shoulder, to be answered by a light snore. He shook his cousin gently, insistently. 'Pippin? Are you awake?'

Pippin opened his eyes, blinking, confused. 'Merry! I... I'm ... I don't know what to say!'

Merry looked down at his fine-and-fancy uniform and smiled. 'Then don't say anything. It's time to get up, you've barely time to dress before we eat, and I know you wanted to see Frodo and Sam today. No, it's not the feast, that'll be tomorrow, but still we don't want to arrive at the mess after all the food is gone.'

'No, indeed!'

Merry helped Pippin to sit up.

His cousin swung his feet over the side of the bed, stretched, then noticed the pile of clothing. 'Ah, my clothes. Good, I was wondering when I'd get them back!'

Merry hesitated, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 'Well, not exactly the clothes you had... but these will do for today.' At Pippin's questioning look, he continued, even more ill at ease, 'your other clothes had to be cut away, you know. I'm afraid they're nothing but rags, now. But there's been a great deal of work done to properly clothe the armies of the West for the great feast tomorrow, so I think you'll find these adequate.'

Pippin started to pick up the undertunic, but feeling the fine silk it was made of, he went on to the intricately woven tunic of softest wool. He looked up at Merry in consternation. 'There's been some sort of mistake,' he said. 'This is an officer's uniform. All this is much too fine for me.'

Merry answered, 'It's yours, all right. They've been fitting it on me and pinning and refitting and sewing for days. It can't be for me, I already have a uniform! Besides, all the soldiers of the West are wearing their finest today.'

Hardly reassured, Pippin began to dress.

When he went to lift the mail, Merry saw a grimace cross his face, and he jumped to help ease the hauberk on, watching his younger cousin closely.

Pippin noticed the look and assured him that the mail coat was not too heavy.

'Here, let me,' Merry said, when Pippin picked up the black surcoat, also finely woven, broidered on the breast in silver with the token of the Tree. Merry lifted it over Pippin's head and settled it properly, front and back. Kneeling as if he were his cousin's esquire, he fastened the sword belt, then rose to clasp the black woolen cloak. He stepped back to survey his cousin critically; overall, Pippin wore the uniform to fine effect. It fit as if Pippin had been the one to stand through all those overlong sessions with the tailors.

Merry completed his assessment. 'You'll do. You're every inch a guardsman, from head to... well, not quite to toe.' He looked over at the shining boots that had been under the piled clothes and back at Pippin with a quizzical expression.

'Not on your life!' Pippin protested. 'I've walked the length of Middle-earth on my two good feet, and I don't intend to do any differently now!'

They laughed together.

Merry led him to where Frodo and Sam lay in their healing slumber. They didn't look that different from the hobbits who had set out from the Shire all those ages ago; thinner, perhaps, and Frodo's hand on the coverlet was missing a finger. Pippin gazed for a long time, and Merry saw tears come to his eyes. 'What is it, Pip?' he asked gently.

'I never thought I'd see them again,' Pippin answered.

Merry squeezed his arm in understanding. 'You'll get to see them again, tomorrow, and talk to them as well,' he said. 'I can hardly believe it, myself.' He looked at the angle of the sun. 'But we can spend no more time here if you want to eat.'

'Then we'd better go!' Pippin said. 'I'm hungry!'

The healers smiled as the two chuckling hobbits, looking like princes indeeed in their fine garb, left the grove.

Beregond met them on the way to the mess. He, too, was dressed in his finest, even carrying his injured arm in a sling of black silken material. He nodded to Merry, bowed to Pippin and smiled. 'You are a credit to the Guard of the Tower, Master Perian. You look ready for battle... But no battle today, only a few matters of business.'

Merry felt a stab of apprehension, remembering the rumour, but Beregond smiled and nodded reassuringly. Surely the man could not be going so calmly to his execution. Now was not the time to ask, not in front of his cousin.

Pippin thanked Beregond, and they entered a grove where long tables and benches had been laid out. The meal was simple, bread and cheese and new-drawn ale, but it was eaten with as much merriment as if it had been a feast. The guardsmen made much of Pippin, and included Merry in all they said and did.

Finally all was eaten and Beregond rose, hefting his mug in the air. He toasted the Captains of the West, and then the armies of the West, and then the common soldier, and all roared their agreement as they drank.

Then Beregond raised his mug silently, and as the mess quieted, he said, 'And now I ask that we drink to the ones who will not return, the comrades who fought beside us.' The men drank soberly.

Beregond turned towards Pippin and said, 'and one more toast. To my friend, and comrade, and one to whom I owe my life.'

Pippin grew red as the soldiers rose together to drink a toast in his honour. He rose from the table a little shakily. Merry was concerned, but Pippin put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and lifting his mug in return, he thanked the guardsmen, saying, 'and now let us drink to the start of a new age, but let us never forget the friendships of the old one.'

Toasts over, the men set down their mugs and began to go about their business. Pippin sat down again, and Merry could see he needed to catch his breath. Many of the soldiers came to rest a hand on his shoulder or gently slap him on the back and congratulate him on his recovery. All greeted Merry with respectful nods.

Pippin made the effort to rise again, and before Merry could move to support his cousin, Beregond's uninjured hand steadied Pippin. 'Make haste a little more slowly, my friend,' he said with a smile, then sobered. 'A Man with your injuries would have lain abed for months... or not risen at all.'

Trumpets sounded and Beregond was cheerful again. 'They are calling us to muster.'

Merry wondered again at his calm. In a few minutes, the guardsman would be called to stand forth, and then they would have to watch him being put to the sword. Merry felt sick, but for Pippin's sake he smiled and said, 'Let's go, cousin. We don't want to be late.' He would delay Pippin’s realisation so long as possible, and hope that it would all be over quickly, very quickly, and he’d hustle the younger cousin away again before Pippin could quite grasp what was happening. At least, that was Merry’s plan, poor as it might be.

When they reached the greensward they found many soldiers of Gondor and Rohan already drawn up in ranks, with Aragorn and Éomer standing together at their head.

Merry was puzzled. Why would the Rohirrim be assembled at the execution of a guardsman of Minas Tirith, he wondered for the first time since speaking with the Marshall the previous evening.

A trumpet sounded, and a herald cried, 'Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, Periain of the Shire, stand forth!'

Beregond's hand tightened reassuringly on Pippin's shoulder, and then he stepped into the rank.

Merry shot him a sharp glance, and the guardsman nodded again, smiling.

No execution today, this was something else, then. He wondered what it could be, and why himself and Pippin? His cousin was looking apprehensive as well, so he urged him forward, whispering, 'Come on, Pippin. Can't be any worse than a cave troll.'

They walked to the head of the file and were told to kneel, Merry before Éomer and Pippin before Aragorn. Merry presented his sword to Éomer as instructed, and saw Strider already holding Pippin's glittering sword.

There on the field of Cormallen, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck received their rank as Knights of the White City and of the Mark.

And when all was done, a great cheer arose, and the celebration began.