Chapter 2. A Conspiracy Unmasked

‘Keeping from you?’ Pippin said, adding a laugh that wouldn’t have fooled a faunt, much less his world-weary older cousin. ‘Why, you know, Frodo, that we’ve never been able to keep anything from you! You know us much too well!’

‘Keeping from me,’ Frodo said firmly. ‘Already I’ve found out that Merry at least has been in the middle of a battle, or worse, and that I “might ask the same of the youngster” in the words of our venerable Dwarf.’

Gimli harrumphed theatrically at being called venerable, but none of the hobbits laughed.

Sam, attempting to be peacemaker, said, ‘Well you know very well, Mr. Frodo, that both of them have been in the middle of a battle – why, have you forgotten what happened at Balin’s tomb?’

‘Yes, of course – I mean, no, I’ve not forgotten,’ Frodo said, and his younger cousins relaxed, only to tense again as he continued with a look of keen inquiry, ‘but I rather had the impression that that battle was not the one referred to just now.’ He looked from Merry to Pippin and back again. ‘So just what battle is it that we are discussing?’

‘Yes, Merry,’ Pippin said in his lightest tone. ‘Just which battle?’ But his attempt to deflect the older cousin was a dismal failure, for Frodo, instead of dismissing his words as nonsense, turned his full and most piercing regard on the youth.

‘Which battle,’ he said softly, ‘...as in, more than one, I take it.’

‘Well,’ Pippin said, striving for casualness, ‘I wasn’t really in all of them. After all, we weren’t at Helms Deep with Gimli and Legolas and Strider and all the others, and I really had nothing to do with the battle for Minas Tirith, for I was tight inside the walls of the city most of the time, and the battle was mostly outside the walls and in the First Circle...’

‘And you missed most of the battle before the Black Gate,’ Gimli put in.

Pippin brightened and turned to him – anything! – to get away from Frodo’s grim stare. ‘That’s right, I did! I was out of that battle fairly early, and a good thing, too, for I understand the fighting was fierce, what with all those Orcs and Hill Trolls and Southrons and Easterlings...’

‘Did you get hit on the head with a rock, as Bilbo did at the Battle of the Five Armies?’ Frodo said sternly.

‘Why, no!’ Pippin said, in perfect honesty, all wide-eyed innocence. But Merry sighed, for Frodo knew that look as well as he knew the fur on the top of his feet.

‘And that still doesn’t tell how you got to be taller than a proper hobbit ought to be,’ Sam put in, trying to distract Frodo from his purpose, for he knew a conspiracy when he saw one.

Pippin, however, rather spoiled things by drawing a hand across his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said vaguely, ‘I don’t know quite what’s come over me, but...’ and he swayed, and Frodo moved to catch him, but was not buried beneath him this time, because Gimli and Merry took a hand, easing the young hobbit to the ground.

‘Pippin! What’s the matter? Strider!’ Frodo cried in alarm.

‘No need to take that tone; I’m perfectly well,’ Pippin said hazily, but his hands went to his breast as if he guarded some hidden pain, and his breath came short.

‘Steady, lad,’ Gimli said gruffly. ‘Steady breaths, in and out again. You know you’re not to excite yourself, or be worried about aught...’

‘And you ought not to worry him,’ Merry said to Frodo. ‘He’s been... under the weather, and it’s not long since he regained his feet.’

Gimli snorted and muttered under his breath, about being under-something-or-other, and whether it was weather or whether or not - though Frodo didn’t quite hear. Sam stood still in shock, for it must be his imagination, but he could have sworn the dwarf had said something about a troll.

‘Ent-draughts,’ Pippin whispered.

‘What was that?’ Frodo said, bending closer, his tone as gentle now as it had been firm earlier, and he removed his cloak and, bundling it together, tucked it under the young hobbit’s head. He turned. ‘Gandalf, is there any more wine? And where is Strider? Oughtn’t he to be here, with some athelas or something, or some other healer?’

‘Ent-draughts, Sam,’ Pippin repeated, his voice slightly stronger. ‘That’s what it was, made us grow so tall.’

‘Ent-draughts?’ Sam said, scratching his head. He crouched down to address the youngest hobbit. ‘What in the world are Ent-draughts? Draughts made from ants? Or someone’s auntie brewed them?’

‘Ents,’ Merry said. ‘Tree-herders. They look a lot like trees themselves, actually, except they can walk. Sort of like the trees of the Old Forest move about, only these really can stride along at an astonishing rate, and they talk, and drink...’

‘They don’t eat, though,’ Pippin said, ‘and they stand up to sleep.’

‘Ents?’ Sam said, completely befuzzled.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ Frodo said, and when Pippin would have sat up again he stayed his younger cousin. ‘We really ought to have a healer...’

‘The healers said I could get up, Frodo,’ Pippin said in an injured tone. ‘They said so!’

‘Healers,’ Frodo said. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. What did you need healers for?’ He peered suspiciously at Pippin. ‘Does this have anything to do with a battle?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ Gandalf said quietly, ‘it does.’ He sat himself down on the other side of Pippin and held out a glass. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I poured out another glass of wine, and I think a few sips might do you some good.’

‘No, really, I’m all right,’ Pippin said. ‘I think I ought to refrain, at least for a bit. I’m woozled as it is.’

‘I meant for Frodo here,’ Gandalf said, pushing the glass into Frodo’s hands, and then he helped the youngest hobbit into a sitting position. ‘Steady, now.’

Legolas, who’d been poised to leave in search of Aragorn, relaxed somewhat as his eyes met the wizard’s, and the old man nodded in subtle reassurance.

‘I wish everyone would stop telling me to be steady,’ Pippin said. ‘Makes me feel all queer and... unsteady, rather!’

‘Drink that now,’ Gandalf said with a nod to Frodo. ‘Your cousins ought to have known they couldn’t keep all their absurd exploits and ridiculous feats from you.’

Frodo thought back to his awakening at Rivendell, and Gandalf’s use of “absurd” at the time. ‘They’ve been doing all sorts of heroic things, I’d imagine,’ he said.

The wizard smiled. ‘That they have,’ he said. ‘And I do believe if you try them a little more gently, they’ll bare a clean breast of it all.’

‘Yes,’ Frodo said. ‘Let us have a thorough wash of the matter, shall we? No more conspiracies! All is well, Gandalf tells me, and the Quest -’ his face darkened briefly, so briefly that none save the wizard, perhaps, saw it ‘- the Quest is achieved. No need for any more secrets, especially after all we’ve been through.’

‘You’re quite right, Frodo,’ Merry said after a thoughtful pause. He sighed. ‘We didn’t want to distress you, after all you’d been through, but...’

‘But I need to know,’ Frodo said. ‘I need to know that it was the right thing, to allow you to come along – that I did the right thing in not persuading Lord Elrond to send you back to the Shire.’

‘Have no doubts about it,’ Gandalf said. ‘Had they gone back to the Shire, had they not come to Isengard, and Rohan, and Minas Tirith, all manner of ruin might have resulted, despite yours and Sam’s best efforts...’

‘Isengard!’ Sam said, startled. ‘I thought we were doing our best to stay away from Isengard!’

‘Yes, well,’ Gandalf began, and cleared his throat, looking at Merry.

‘Very well,’ Merry said.

‘All’s well that ends well,’ Gimli put in helpfully.

‘Yes, we’ve agreed that it’s well, and even good, into the bargain,’ Frodo said. ‘But what I want to know is, what is all this about battles, and how did you get to be knights of Gondor and Rohan!’

‘That is what we're trying to tell you, Frodo, if we could only get a word in edgewise,’ Pippin said. He was breathing quite steadily now, and might have regained his feet if not for the wizard’s steadying arm.

‘Hush, young hobbit!’ Gandalf said.

But Pippin turned to him, to say very reasonably, ‘Now how can I hush and satisfy Frodo’s wishes at the same time?’

‘Hush,’ Frodo said, and looked to Merry. ‘Now, Merry, why don’t you begin?’