Chapter 13. Washing Troubles Away

Merry made his way to the bathing tents, figuring that if he started getting ready at early mess call, he'd have time for a quick bath before changing into his “fancy-dress” uniform. After all, he could afford to skip breakfast after last night's feasting.

When he saw the queues at the bathing tents, he shook his head. Evidently half the guardsmen in the camp had the same idea. He had turned away when a hand touched his shoulder and a respectful voice said, 'Master Perian?'

He turned to see a smiling guardsman. 'Your cousin the Ernil i Pheriannath was here earlier, and charged me to watch for you.'

To Merry's chagrin he was escorted past a long queue of respectful guardsmen to the tent opening, where he was greeted and shown immediately to a steaming bath. He shook his head. Being related to royalty sometimes paid off, he supposed.

'Will you be needing any help, sir?' a deferential servant asked.

'No, thank you; I'll call if I need anything,' Merry answered, and the Man bowed, hung his armload of towels upon a rack next to the tub, and exited the tent.

Merry tested the water in wonder. It was hot, and clean. He would be the first to use this tubful. Really, having a Prince of the Halflings for a cousin was very useful, indeed.

Merry bathed quickly, aware of the guardsmen awaiting a turn, and dressed himself as befitting a knight of the Rohirrim. He carefully folded his hobbit clothing--he had dressed simply for Frodo's sake, no need to complicate his awakening unnecessarily. He traced one of the neatly mended slashes in the shirt, a reminder of Orc whips. More reminders decorated his back and legs in the form of scars, but he hardly thought about them; they had healed quickly after he and Pippin drank the Ent draughts.

As Merry had been recovering in the Houses of Healing, in the interlude between the siege of Minas Tirith and the march to the Black Gate, Pippin had found someone in the City, a widow Beregond knew, who had mended their clothes and somehow washed away the bloodstains, a necessary skill in a warrior society, Merry imagined. He was still struck by the contrast between warlike Men and his own people. The hobbits of the Shire were probably still quietly going about their business with no idea of the great events happening in other parts of the world. The funny thing was, even if someone came to tell them, they wouldn't be all that interested anyway.

The Shire, green and beckoning, rose in his mind’s eye, the Brandywine rolling as it ever did between the rich black fields of Buckland and the lushness of the Marish. The colours of springtide would be over the land, verdure and blossom, the land wakening from its winter slumber, the trees decked out in their new finery, the children dancing to welcome the sunshine after the rains--and snows--of winter.

He chuckled to himself. After Caradhras, the heaviest Shire snowfall would seem a mere dusting by comparison.

Ah, the Shire... the memory of his home was one of the things that had kept him going, that and love of Frodo, and of Pippin, who’d been as determined as Merry himself to follow Frodo. Though Merry did not have such an adventurous spirit as his two cousins--he much preferred the settled life—well, someone had been needed to go along to keep an eye on them, keep them out of trouble. His face relaxed in a smile. Keep them out of trouble! If that was what he’d done, he’d like to know how they might have found any more troubles than they had found!

On second thought, perhaps he didn’t want to know.

But, ah, the Shire. They’d never be able to imagine, back home, the sights to be seen here at Cormallen. Tall Men bowing gravely to Pippin, calling him “Prince” in a strange tongue. Bowing, as well, to Merry, though it brought the hot blood to his cheeks and made him want to stammer like a blushing lad, asking a lass to dance. As surely as they’d be bowing to Frodo and Sam, and rightly so! (His eyes twinkled as he imagined Sam's reaction.)

But he’d be glad to leave it all behind again, even the celebration and feasting, and return home to the Shire, like wakening from a dream into good, solid reality again, where nothing ever changed and all things stayed the same.

After the scolding he anticipated from his parents and near relations for being gone... what was it, six months now? ...they’d be back to life as it always was, in the Shire, day-in-and-day-out, six proper meals a day, mundane tasks to perform that he’d never quite take for granted again.

He realized he was getting lost in his thoughts, and keeping others waiting. He shook himself, picked up his bundle of clothes, and left the tent.

The servant was hovering outside the entrance to the tent, evidently waiting for a call from within. He bowed as Merry emerged, saying, 'I hope that everything was to your satisfaction, sir.'

Merry thanked him, glanced at the angle of the sun, and realized he still had time for breakfast.

He found Pippin already eating, and joined him. 'So how are Frodo and Sam?' asked Pippin. Gimli had conducted him direct from his bed to his breakfast, promising him time with Frodo after he’d taken on enough food for the day’s endeavours; and Pippin, ravenous with recovering hunger in addition to a tween’s usual appetite, had not resisted too much.

'Frodo's awake,' Merry said, 'or at least he was a little while ago. Sam's still sawing logs and looks as if he could sleep another week.'

'I've had enough sleep to last a lifetime,' Pippin said. 'I may never sleep again!'

Merry laughed. His cousin had fallen asleep at the table in the middle of the celebrating the previous night, and been carried to his bed. 'Let's just take it one day at a time,' he told Pippin. 'You've only been up since yesterday. Don't push yourself.'

Pippin snorted in frustration. 'How can I?' he said, 'with so many, Big People, and hobbit, elf, and dwarf looking after me it would be pretty hard to push myself.'

The words sounded familiar to Merry, though he couldn't place them, exactly. 'I know just what you mean,' he said feelingly. 'I'm afraid to sneeze for fear someone will pop me into a bed. There are too many healers about with too little to do. I hope they all get sent packing to the City again soon.' He took a last bite and rose, saying, 'I see Elfhelm; he's come to tell me it's time to attend the King. I'll see you at the feast, cousin, if not before.'

Pippin nodded and waved cheerily, his mouth too full for speech.