Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Eucatastrophe: The Return  by Dreamflower

(This chapter was written for Marigold's Challenge #38)

RATING: G
AUTHOR'S NOTES: (1) The Challenge was to include Chapter XII - Flight to the Ford, and my three elements are a glove, a bar of soap and a bag of stones. (2) This story takes place in my "Eucatastrophe" universe; in that universe, the Three Elven Rings did not fade, but were freed to full power by the destruction of the One, Saruman was killed by Quickbeam during the storming of Isengard, and the journey to Elvenhome is now a two-way trip, allowing those who have gone to return to Middle-earth, if they so choose…
This part was beta’d by Llinos and Marigold
SUMMARY: A return home, and a new and less perilous adventure awaits Frodo…
DISCLAIMER: Middle-earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.
PREVIOUSLY: Frodo, Merry and Pippin arrived in Bree, in the company of the Rangers, Mellor and Eradan.

 EUCATASTROPHE: THE RETURN, PART THREE

Frodo gazed about him, at the blue sky overhead, the road on which they travelled, the hedgerows and fields they passed. He still seemed to be seeing everything with new eyes. The world was a far finer and happier place than he’d thought it to be for a very long time. It still filled him with wonder to realize how light his heart now was.

And he gazed fondly at his companions: it was good to be on this journey with his cousins. He did miss having Sam at his side, but he had very good reasons for leaving Sam at home. He grinned to himself. Yes indeed, if he were to have that little name-sake early next year, it was quite important that Sam and Rose have a bit of time together right now. He recalled the flashes of foresight he had about Sam and Rose and their children--he’d thought that a legacy of the Ring that might go away when he was healed, but it had not. Gandalf had told him it was his own hard-won wisdom, and he might as well enjoy it. He laughed out loud.

Merry and Pippin turned to look at him. “What’s so funny, Frodo? Can you share the joke?” asked Merry.

He smirked. “No. No, I don’t think I can!” And he laughed again, for sheer joy, and for the look they gave him.

They’d been so horribly worried, Frodo knew. All that they had done, they had done for him, and he had repaid their devotion with gloom and sorrow. But they were very glad to see him in better spirits now, and he was glad to *be* in better spirits.

Pippin shook his head in befuddlement, and then began to sing one of Bilbo’s songs; Frodo raised his voice to join in, and in a moment, so did Merry.

It was on average, a two-day ride to Bree. The three did not stop for second breakfast or elevenses, but ate from their saddlebags. However, they had gone about four leagues, or half the first day’s journey, when they decided to stop for luncheon.

Frodo spotted a likely clearing to the north of the Road, alongside a low stone wall that bordered some farmer’s orchard. A small copse of trees grew nearby, and a little brooklet trickled beneath the wall and ran alongside the Road for some distance.

Merry got out the supplies, while Pippin and Frodo fetched wood and water and started a fire. Soon they were brewing tea, and had taken out the food--bread, cheese, hard sausage and fruit.

A leisurely meal, punctuated by gossip and reminiscences, was followed by pipes all around. Frodo found himself beginning to drowse.

Suddenly, Merry and Pippin leaped to their feet, swords drawn in a single motion.

Frodo stared at them in shock. “What--” but then he saw the Men approaching around a bend in the road to the east. He realized his cousins must have heard them. However, Merry and Pippin relaxed and put their swords away, for both men wore the grey cloaks and the stars of Rangers.

“Well met! Sir Meriadoc, Sir Peregrin, Lord Frodo!” said one of them.

“Hullo, Mellor, Eradan!” said Pippin. “No need to be so formal! We‘ve told you before to call us ‘Pippin’ and ‘Merry’. ”

“You rather startled us,” said Merry as he sheathed his sword.

Frodo stood up. “I don’t believe we have met. How is it you know me?”

The older and taller of the two, the one who had spoken said “I know your cousins, Lord Frodo, and all the Dúnedain know your description. I am Mellor son of Meneldil, and this is my partner, Eradan son of Erellont--at your service.”

“Please, call me Frodo,” he said in bemusement. His own fame still amazed him, though it no longer distressed him.

The younger Ranger bowed. “It is an honor for me to finally speak to you--” he hesitated, “--Frodo. For though we have not spoken, I have seen you before.”

Frodo smiled at him. “You are not from here, are you? Your speech is that of Gondor.”

“You are right, I am from the South. I had the honor to serve Captain Faramir in Ithilien. I saw you and Lord Samwise when you were among us at Henneth Annûn, and then again at the Field of Cormallen.”

“Won’t you join us?” asked Pippin. “We’ve finished our meal, but we’ve pipe-weed to go around, and we can brew more tea.”

“Well, as to joining you, Pippin,” said Mellor, “that was our purpose. We’d had word you would be travelling this way, and were asked to bear you company for a while.”

“Asked?” said Merry, as he poured more water into the small kettle. “By whom?”

“By Gandalf,” was the reply. “He passed through this way several days ago, and had a word with us.”

Both the Men took tea, but only Mellor lit a pipe. “We thought to bear you company from here to Bree--perhaps beyond.”

Frodo smiled. “You’d be very welcome to do so. How is it that you know these two rascals here?” He gestured with a grin at his cousins.

“Oi!” said Pippin. “Rascals?” but he laughed even as he objected.

Merry chuckled. “Mellor and Eradan are two of the Rangers assigned to the Shire’s borders now. Our paths have crossed a few times.”

Soon the hobbits and the Rangers mounted up and rode out once more. Frodo found himself riding next to Eradan, and was delighted to have an opportunity to question him about Gondor, its history and tales, about Ithilien, and about Faramir. Merry and Pippin were glad to exchange a bit of gossip with Mellor, who was well acquainted with the Brandybucks. The hobbits occasionally pulled snacks from their saddlebags, and the little group of travellers did not stop until after what would have been teatime in the Shire.

There was no need to make up a campsite that evening. The Rangers had established a small waystation at the halfway point to Bree. It wasn’t much more than a small hut at the end of a faint dirt path just north off the road.

They made an early start the next morning--earlier than Frodo would have liked, actually, and soon were on the road to Bree once more.

This time, Frodo took the chance to ride alongside Mellor. He had some questions for the northern Dúnadan, and began to coax him for tales of the old Northern Kingdoms. It seemed Mellor knew a goodly number of such stories.

“Do you know much about the last days of Arvedui?”

“There are a few tales told among us. But that was a bad time, and a confusing one. You will learn much more when you reach Rivendell. The Elves there have kept the records of our people for all these long generations.”

Frodo nodded. “That is the reason for this journey. I am hoping to write a history including the early days of the Shire, when we were still a part of the Kingdom of Arthedain.”

“A worthy undertaking,” the Man responded. “It would be well if the history of those days was known once more. And not only among hobbits of the Shire. Few Men living in the North have any idea of the old kingdoms, nor of the honorable lineage of the Kings of old. It has yet to truly become real to them that the King has indeed returned.”

Frodo nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps the scope of his book could be expanded--it might very well be of interest to others outside the Shire.

Suddenly he chuckled. Mellor looked at him inquisitively. He flashed the Man a mischievous grin. “The first time I came through Bree I pretended I was writing a book! Now it’s actually true!”

After a brief stop for a noon meal, they were on their way once more. Soon the road curved away in a more southerly direction, and they could see to their right the low mist-enshrouded mounds of the Barrow-downs. All three hobbits shuddered, and Merry and Pippin rode up to either side of Frodo, while Mellor rode in front, with Eradan at the rear. It would be a very long time, thought Frodo, before anyone was ready to take the Barrow-downs lightly.

By late afternoon, they came to the gates of Bree, which stood open in the daytime. The town was pleasantly bustling. Frodo looked about with pleasure. Merry and Pippin had been here several times since they had returned from the Quest, to meet King’s Messengers. But this was the first time Frodo felt free to really take in the town. On his first visit, he had been far too anxious, and on their return, he had felt weighed down by the malaise that had crept upon him at the first anniversary of his wounding at Weathertop.

It really was a very nice town. Frodo supposed at one time he might have been more impressed by it, but having been in Minas Tirith, he realized that this was only a very small town after all.

Yet in many ways it was the chief town of the North, until Aragorn was able to rebuild his capital at Fornost. And it had, of course, the unique position of having the largest hobbit population outside the Shire itself.

He smiled, remembering Bilbo’s accounts of his passage through the town with the Dwarves, and how fascinated his Uncle had been by shops that catered to both “Big and Little”.

They soon made their way to The Prancing Pony’s courtyard. Bob, the stablehobbit came running up to them. “Hullo, Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin! And--” he looked askance at Frodo. “Er, I’ve seen you before, but I can’t say as I remember your name, rightly, Mr. er--”

Frodo smiled. “Baggins,” he supplied. He shook his head, remembering how he had introduced himself as “Underhill” the first time he came through, and how little good it had done.

As the hobbits dismounted, Bob looked up at the Rangers. “Master Mellor, and Master Eradan--if you will wait a minute I’ll call Mat--he’s the Big lad what handles the horses…”

Mellor shook his head. “No need to worry Mat, Bob. We’ll stable our horses ourselves.”

Merry looked at the Rangers. “We are going in to see to our rooms, but if you would care to join us in the common room for a bit of supper?” They agreed to this readily, and the hobbits turned into the Inn.

Butterburr was both delighted and surprised to see them. He directed them to the hobbit rooms, the very rooms in which they had been unable to sleep that fateful night so long ago, talking the whole way.

The cousins used the opportunity to wash their hands and faces before returning to meet the Rangers in the common room. There was some discussion as to what sort of table they would take, and it was finally decided that they would sit at one of the hobbit-sized tables, and the Men would sit on the floor.

“We are quite accustomed to that,” said Eradan.

“Well,” said Pippin, “we got accustomed to sitting in Big Folks’ chairs when we were on our journey.”

“Thank you, anyway,” said Frodo, giving Pippin a bit of an elbow. The matter had been settled, after all.

Nob came to the table just then, forestalling any future discussion. “We’ve some nice chicken stew,” he said. “Or if you’d rather--there’s a joint of mutton just done to a turn, and some taters and such.”

Everyone looked at Frodo for his preference. “I think the mutton sounds lovely, as do the potatoes. What else have you to go with them?”

“Well,” said Nob, “there’s a pot of beans been cooking, with onion and salt pork.”

“Bring some of those as well, and some bread and cheese. And a pitcher of beer.”

Pippin spoke up “You could also bring us some *small* bowls of the chicken stew as well! Are there mushrooms in it?” he asked hopefully.

The hobbits all grinned at Nob’s nod of assent, and before he could hurry off, Merry added “If there’s an apple tart around, I’m sure we wouldn’t mind if you brought some of that as well.” Frodo and Pippin grinned at him, and he said “I’m sure I smelled some! And if we wait to order afters until we have finished the rest of the meal, there might be none left!”

As Nob trotted off to see to their order, Pippin noted the Rangers’ amused looks. He put on his most innocent expression, “Oh, and what were *you* planning to eat?”

Everyone burst out into laughter, and Merry aimed an easily dodged swat at the back of Pippin’s head.

Soon Nob was back, with tankards for all and the pitcher of beer. Behind him was a Big lass, her cheerful round face proclaiming her close kinship to old Barliman, carrying a heavily laden tray. The food was soon deposited on the table, and she and Nob took their leave.

Frodo smiled at the prospect of the meal. It was so lovely to have a hobbit’s appetite again, after his years of not feeling up to a proper feed. With a flourish, he stood and carved the joint. Merry took it on himself to put the beans on the plates, and Pippin started to dish up the potatoes.

“Oi! What’s this?” He lifted the spoon, with a single piece of potato on it. It was cut into a rather unusual shape. He lifted out another. It was cut like the first.

Frodo peered at the potatoes. All of them were carved into the same strange shape--almost like chunky little boats--yet, not quite. He puzzled over them for a moment, and then noticed Mellor chuckling. “What’s so funny? What are these meant to be?” He took the spoon from Pippin and poked around in the dish. “They are just plain potatoes, boiled, with butter and parsley--but they are all cut into this odd shape.”

“They are meant to be little wooden shoes, such as the peasants in the countryside of Bree-land often wear.”

The hobbits stared at him. Finally Frodo said “Why would anyone cut potatoes into the shape of shoes?”

Eradan looked at his partner. “You know, I have wondered that myself.”

“Well,” said the Ranger, “that’s one of the few tales said to have come down from the time of the fall of the Kingdom.” He reached his hand to take the plate Merry offered him, for the hobbits had continued to dish out the food, even while they were listening to him.

“It’s a very simple tale, and there is no knowing how much truth there may be to it, but it was said that for a while things were so bad in the Bree-lands after the Enemy had passed through, that the folk had to resort to using their shoes as fuel for the hearths. When things got better, someone came up with this way of making potatoes, as a way of commemorating the event.”

There was an instant of stunned silence, and then the hobbits all laughed. “Can’t you imagine what Sam would say to this?” asked Frodo.

“He’d think it a lot of work for the cook! And he’d be quite right!” said Merry.

Pippin popped one into his mouth. “Well, whatever their shape, they *taste* just fine!”

There was another burst of laughter around the table, and Frodo watched it all with shining eyes! Oh, but he was having fun!

______________________________

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have this wonderful cookbook, first compiled in 1981, called Forgotten Recipes. All of the recipes come from old magazines published in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, and it also includes quaint little “household tips” and other neat things. I thought the recipe was charming and so cutely worded, and wondered when I saw it what hobbits would make of it. (Really, that *was* my first thought. Obsessed? Who, me?) At any rate, here it is:

"1931 Potatoes Galosche

6 large potatoes
¼ cup butter softened
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon white pepper

1 teaspoon grated lemon rind

Pare your potatoes and cut them in the shape of wooden shoes. If you don’t feel up to being quite that artistic, make them into potato balls, or just their regular shape. I don’t know about you, but when a recipe says to make wooden shoes, mine always come out looking like galoshes. Anyway…cook your potato shoes, balls or whatever in boiling water til tender; drain, and pour the following sauce over them. To make this sauce you’ll need to cream the butter in a warm dish until it is very soft, add the seasonings, parsley and lemon rind and serve. Use only the yellow part of the lemon rind…not the white."

From Forgotten Recipes: From the Magazines You Loved and the Days You Remembered Compiled and updated by Jaine Rodack, Published by Wimmer Books, (Memphis/Dallas: 1981) page 57





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List