Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, his family, New Line cinema, etc . I have written this short story purely for my own enjoyment.

Credit to  www.Tuckborough.net.

Much Ado about Mushrooms

Chapter 5

Merry and Pippin listened meekly to their sentence - and then gave a gasp of horror at the revelation of what they were expected to do as contrition for their crimes.

He and Pippin would have to report to Master Barleyburn each morning in the cooks' tent for the duration of the Gondorians' visit to carry out any and all tasks required of them by the cook - no matter how menial.

They would be responsible (under the strict supervision of Sam) for all the mushroom dishes that were to be served: they would cook them as Farlibar instructed, he would deem if they were fit to be consumed and dispose of them according to his own preferences if they were not.

But they were not allowed to eat any of them.

Ever.

Or else.

Merry almost cried.

Pippin actually stifled a sob.

The following afternoon, they were to report to Faramir, who would supply them with parchment and ink and supervise them while they wrote a copy of that blasted song to be sent to Minas Anor (Uncle Imrahil would love it, the Steward assured them), Dol Amroth (the Steward‘s cousins would apparently love it too), Rohan (Merry was very upset to hear this) and the Steward in the North Kingdom.

Pippin was foolish enough to ask what the point of that was, as he didn’t even know them.

But Strider just smiled wickedly and said: "Yet.”

They were not too pleased to learn that they would be expected to visit during the King’s sojourn by Lake Evendim. 

So much for avoiding Annúminas.

But at least he hadn't mentioned anything about sending a copy to Rivendell. Or Legolas and Gimli.

"I suspect that my brothers and the elves of Eryn Lasgalen may also enjoy a song from the Shire. And let us not forget our trusty Dwarven friends," he added.

Oh, but this was dreadful!

"And if you cause any further mischief to unsuspecting cooks - or indeed, anyone else - this song shall not be kept solely for our friends' amusement, for I will gladly give permission to any who ask to have it spread throughout their lands."

Aragorn was rapidly plummeting through various levels of Merry's esteem and had now joined Sam as a mortal enemy.

"I would also hope that both of you are contrite enough to apologise to Master Barleyburn for your poor treatment of him,” said Aragorn a little more gravely. “But I shall not force you to do this.”

Merry and Pippin looked up at him in surprise.

“I shall leave it to your own good conscience to lead you to that end.”

He gave them both a look of such disappointment that Merry would have gladly sought out the cook and grovelled at his feet that very moment, if it would wipe it off his face.

“As for your final punishment - Sam?” Aragorn turned to the Mayor.

“Well, seeing as how your behaviour reflects on your whole family and all…”

No! He hadn’t!

“…I thought it only fair…”

Merry and Pippin cringed.

“…to send for your wives, so’s you could tell ’em how responsible you’ve both been, as head of your families and all.”

The cousins glowered at him, but Sam just put his hands behind his back and puffed out his chest, obviously very pleased with himself.

And when both Aragorn and Faramir credited their punishment to Sam, both hobbits glared at him accusingly, and Merry wondered if there was a level of enemy worse than 'mortal'.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The following morning

Farlibar Barleyburn hummed a merry tune as he prepared a cooking area for his new assistants and reflected with wonder on the previous evening.

For he’d been a special guest of the King's - a special guest of the King's - at dinner, and (once he’d conquered his quailing nerves with a few glasses of Mistress Goodenough‘s fine brandy wine - she would understand) he'd had the time of his life listening to all the grand folk in the pavilion compliment his good cooking!

But the best part had been when the Bucklander was ordered by the King to attend to his every need during the meal. Him! Farlibar Barleyburn! Attended on by the Master of Buckland! It had been the most satisfying moment of the entire day: having a plate of his own stuffed mushrooms delivered to him by one of the very people who’d tried to trick him out of them!

And sitting next to all those grand folks!

The Steward had introduced him to his beautiful wife, the Lady Eowyn, saying she was quite eager to learn some culinary tips from him (although Farlibar wasn‘t too sure about that claim - she‘d looked at her husband very queer-like at his ‘keen to learn some culinary tips‘ remark). Luckily, it was her husband she glared at, and not poor Farlibar, for he wasn’t sure that she didn’t have a sword concealed somewhere in her flowing dress after all the wild tales he’d heard of her (although he was secretly grateful it was a dress she was wearing and not breeches).

Farlibar sighed as he remembered the other beautiful lady he’d seen at dinner. The Star Queen. Oh, but she was magnificent! He’d composed a song in her honour (not intending to repeat it of course) and sang it to himself when he thought he was alone in the Gamgees' tent (Mayor Sam had kindly given him the loan of a right smart pair of brown trousers and a nice red jacket for dinner seeing as he hadn’t brought anything nearly as fine with him for such an occasion).

Unfortunately, he’d not been as alone as he’d thought and almost perished with embarrassment when Merry-lad Gamgee declared (during dinner, no less) that he knew a good song about jam roly-poly and started to sing the (thankfully) single verse he’d heard the cook reciting earlier.

Of course, the Disaster of Buckland had somehow known it was Farlibar’s creation (probably because the cook had sprayed his ale all over the table at the first line) and had taken great delight in announcing that Frogmorton’s ’finest cook’ was also a talented poet - before remembering (no doubt) that one of his 'poems' had been about him and promptly flushing as red as his best strawberry tarts! But the glorious Star Queen was delighted to have been (he’d burned the words into his memory) ‘the inspiration for such a delicious creation’! After which, the King had ordered the offensive Bucklander to replenish the cook’s ale!

All in all, a truly wonderful meal.

Smiling happily, Farlibar placed a spoon next to the half-empty barrel of onions and patted it fondly. He’d fished it out of the bucket of onion skins yesterday afternoon after his meeting with the King, the Steward and the Best Hobbit The Shire Had Ever Known. It had taken him several minutes to bend it back into shape, but no matter. It was worth it. His little ‘friend’ would be put to use again before this very hour was done!

As if the thought had conjured them up, the tent flap opened and Mayor Sam delivered the Master of Buckland and the Thain into his ’care’.

“Good morning, Master Farlibar! Merry and Pippin here are right keen to get started on those mushrooms dishes we talked about yesterday, so I’ll be happy to watch over them if you want to carry on with preparing your other courses.”

Of course, any fool could see that the two hobbits were anything but ’keen’ to work with the delicious fungi and not be allowed to eat any. They glared at the Mayor and Farlibar shook his head at their lack of respect.

“Well, thank you kindly, sir. But I thought we’d start off with some unfinished business first of all.” He indicated the barrel of onions and the gentlehobbits’ faces lost all colour.

“That’s a very sensible idea Master Farlibar! Waste not, want not, after all.” The Mayor walked over to the table and appeared to admire the solitary spoon, then turned to him.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, though, you might need another spoon. Wouldn’t want them to start fighting over who gets the honour of…ahem…slicing these fine onions.”

Farlibar thought that was a right clever idea - and told Mayor Sam so too, as he retrieved a second spoon and placed it next to its kin on the table.

But the Master and the Thain obviously did not agree. The Took, in particular, looked very upset and he’d not even touched an onion yet! But Farlibar would not feel pity for him, oh no! He’d been generous enough to let the Thain off lightly yesterday with just peeling them - and look at the thanks that got him! So perhaps it was time to let the Knight (no, the Fright) of Gondor realise that the cook’s generosity was not to be spurned!

Still, he might go easier on them once they’d apologised, something they had yet to do. But no apology was forthcoming.

So, looking at the unhappy duo with a broad smile, he casually waved a hand at the table of onions, and - with a final glare at the Mayor (really, someone should teach them some manners!) - they reluctantly plodded towards their fate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

3 hours later

Merry and Pippin had just endured the worst morning of their lives since before the fall of Sauron.

And the day was not over yet.

Now they walked (as slowly as possible) across the field to report to the Steward’s tent after finishing their luncheon duties.

Upon fleeing their wives yesterday, he and Pippin had agreed to apologise to Master Farlibar before dinner started, but had experienced some difficulty in locating him for he was not in the cooks' tent. The other cooks had no idea where he'd 'hidden himself' and they had spent another ten minutes wandering the field in the vain hope of spotting him. When they’d finally given up the search and arrived for their duties at the late afternoon meal, they found him sitting next to Eowyn, dressed in Sam’s brown trousers and red coat (the very ones he’d teased the Mayor about an hour earlier) and having the time of his life! Merry had been expected to serve the smiling cook for the rest of the evening, and he and Pippin never got the chance to speak with him alone to offer their sincere apologies.

So they had decided to try again this morning, before their ‘cooking lessons’ and ‘other menial tasks’ commenced. But that idea hadn’t worked out any better when Farlibar (who Merry was rapidly losing sympathy with) and Sam (he still hadn’t thought of a level of enemy worse than ’mortal’) had joined forces against them before they even had the chance to open their mouths!

After spending an hour peeling and mashing onions under their mortal enemy’s supervision, they’d suffered the torture of trying to cook mushrooms through a haze of tears (not all of which were caused by the onions) and had burnt several due to their visual incapacitation. The Frog from the Floating Log had been so annoyed that he’d ordered them out of the way and told them to bathe their eyes while he finished the job.

And then he and Sam had shared a plate of the delicious, fragrant, tempting fried mushrooms in batter while he and Pippin were forced to watch! The smell of their hobbity goodness had gone through his skin and round his heart as they watched the evil duo scoff the whole lot.

His poor abused eyes had begun leaking again at that point (and Pippin had actually started to sniffle). Merry hadn’t cried so much since Frodo sailed into the West…

“Mer, my eyes are still stinging,” moaned Pippin as they reluctantly made their way to Faramir’s tent.

“Mine, too Pip. Maybe we won’t have to stay too long if we tell Faramir that we had to slice onions all morning…with a spoon.” He couldn’t believe they’d been forced to do that again. It had taken most of yesterday afternoon for his eyes to calm down after just five minutes of the task - it would be several days at least before he could see properly after this morning’s humiliation.

Pippin snorted. “I don’t think so! He wasn’t too sympathetic yesterday afternoon when Strider was listing all our punishments.”

Merry groaned. His cousin had a point.

“Still, at least we don’t need to see Sam until afternoon tea,” said Pippin, in an attempt to raise their spirits.

“I suppose so. It was bad enough we had to see him stuffing his face with mushrooms this morning,” he replied.

Pippin's comments had done little to cheer the elder hobbit, though. He was still upset that Sam had sent for Estella and Diamond while they were having their breath of ‘fresh air’ at the rock (and would bet that one of the guards they had been so nice to before meeting Strider had taken care of that). After being sentenced by the King, he and Pippin had been marched back to his tent to find two very curious hobbit wives waiting. Upon seeing their husbands’ guilty faces, though, that curiosity had fled - to be replaced by growing suspicion. And it only got worse after that...

“But let’s not forget that Estella and Diamond still aren’t talking to us because of him, Pip," he said resentfully. "So it doesn't matter that we won't see him until afternoon tea - he can still cause plenty of havoc in his absence.”

“Well, strictly speaking, that’s our own fault, Mer. If we hadn’t tried to trick the cook we wouldn’t be in this mess,” stated Pippin and ignored the glowering look his cousin gave him.

“Besides, what he did is nothing compared to Diamond and Estella’s punishment.”

The Master of Buckland couldn’t argue with that when he remembered what had happened when they’d arrived back at Aragorn’s tent…

~*~*~*~

The previous afternoon

Merry and Pippin cringed as they entered Aragorn’s tent and found their wives there.

Estella and Diamond had no idea why they were invited to the King’s tent and were more than a little curious when the small party arrived back.

But that quickly changed after Strider explained that their husbands had something to tell them.

Perhaps it had been the tone in his voice when he said  ‘something to tell them’ that had turned the pretty hobbit wives’ expressions so swiftly to suspicion.

And their three tormentors stayed long enough to make sure they told them everything (sometimes filling in missing bits of information they had heard from the cook himself).

Estella and Diamond folded their arms (in unison) and raised their eyebrows (also in unison) while the very guilty duo confessed their crimes.

Only then did their one former friend and two mortal enemies excuse themselves, giving the ladies use of the tent until they had 'seen to their husbands as they deemed fit’. But Merry had seen them hovering outside the tent flap and making very little effort to be discreet about it.

Really, he fumed, would it have been too much to allow them the dignity of having their tellings-off in private?

Apparently so.

Merry thought friends were highly overrated anyway, as the cousins cowered before the wrath of their spouses.

And then the Mistress of Buckland and the Thain’s wife duly 'saw to their husbands as they deemed fit’.

Estella was mortified that he’d treated a good fellow like the cook in such a way - and dragging the Thain into the whole sorry affair too!

But Diamond declared (with a very alarming glare at Pippin) that the Thain’s foolishness was not to be underestimated, and that anyone who didn’t inform the mother of a five year old that her son had been carrying around sharp instruments was capable of all sorts of stupidity without outside influence.

Pippin was quite put-out at this and very unwisely chose to open his mouth in his own defence, but quickly changed his mind when his furious wife stuck one hand on her hip and waved a finger at him with the other.

“Don’t you even dare try to defend yourself, Peregrin Took! It’s bad enough you frightened the life out of Master Barleyburn, but not to let me know when Faramir-lad leaves the Smials carrying such things? He could have accidentally hurt himself - or someone else!”

Taking in her battle-ready stance, his cousin remained silent.

Merry was relieved his own, sweet Estella had none of the famous Long-Cleeve temper.

Until she advanced on him.

“What in the name of the Shire were you both thinking? Acting like rascals! You are the Master of Buckland and the Thain of the Shire, not a pair of naughty hobbit-lads! And shaming your families and the entire Shire in front of guests - Royalty, no less! What must they think of us!”

The Master of Buckland wondered whether his wife really ought be reprimanding the Thain as well - but Diamond didn’t seem to mind at all. Oh, no. She was nodding her head in agreement!

“’Stell…” he began, but was harshly cut off.

“Don’t you ‘Stell’ me Meriadoc Brandybuck! That is a name used by the responsible adult that is my husband - not some ageing tween!”

Ageing tween? Oh, that hurt!

Pippin sniggered beside him, but Diamond was at his side in an instant.

"She was referring to you as well when she said that. And I completely agree with her.”

The Took instantly regained his composure at this and eyed his glowering wife cautiously, knowing she would either pronounce sentence soon - or thump him.

Privately, Merry hoped she opted for the latter.

“So, Diamond, what do you think we ought to do with them?” queried Estella in a very ominous tone.

“Well, ‘Stell (Merry flinched at this), I think that if they want to act like tweenagers, we ought to treat them as such!”

The cousins gulped - in unison.

“I don’t know what His Majesty has planned for you both, but when you get back to Tuckborough, Peregrin Took, it’ll be separate bedrooms for a start, until you can learn to act your age!”

Merry winced at his cousin’s misfortune - it looked like Faramir-lad could forget about that brother he wanted for the foreseeable future.

"That goes for you too, Meriadoc Brandybuck!” declared Estella.

And he could forget about an heir.

But that was only the beginning. Before they were allowed to scurry out the tent in shame, they had been issued with enough punishments to keep them occupied for the rest of their natural lives - including a ban on mushroom consumption for the next month, starting immediately (both nearly fainted at this), a week of scrubbing the stables (which Merry didn ’t mind too much, but Pippin was horrified - the Great Smials had a great deal more ponies than Brandy Hall) and - as recompense for their treatment of him - a two-week long visit to each of their households by none other than Master Farlibar Barleyburn.

~*~*~*~

Merry shuddered at the recollection. He didn’t mind the unexpected summer visitor, he was sure he could put up with cook if he really tried (and after all, he wasn’t such a bad fellow, apart from his annoying talent with songs), but what had really riled him was his wife’s parting shot.

"And you had better be sure you treat him with nothing but respect or I’ll be sending for the local Shirriffs to throw you out of the Shire quicker than you can say ‘Horn of the Mark’,” she’d threatened, as she’d loomed over him (a feat in itself as he was several inches taller than her).

He and Pippin had quickly fled the tent afterwards, passing the sniggering forms of Aragorn, Faramir and Sam on the way.

What had she meant by that anyway? Anyone would think he walked around Buckland with it swinging from his neck and waiting for the first opportunity to make use of it!

Pippin was regarding him curiously and (not comprehending the danger he was in) chose to ask: “Where did you put the Horn, Mer? It’s not like you to leave it lying around instead of having it swinging from your neck wherever you go.”

Merry thumped him.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” cried the very surprised Thain, rubbing his arm.

“Because I’m hungry!” he seethed in annoyance. “You do realise we’ve not had any mushrooms for a day now, don‘t you?”

“What’s that got to do with the Horn?” asked the mystified Thain. “And anyway, you’d better get used to not eating mushrooms. We’ve an entire month of that particular trial to get through. Not to mention the fact that Diamond has thrown me out, so I’ve had to ask the Captain of the Guard if I can sleep in the soldiers‘ tent.”

His cousin looked so forlorn (and he so completely understood his pain - Estella had done the same to him) that Merry placed an arm around him.

“Sorry, Pip. You’re right. We Brandybucks and Tooks have to stick together; face the evils of the world side by side; show our enemies that we laugh in the face of despair; carry our burdens so graciously that any Baggins would be proud to be related to us!”

Pippin felt his courage rise with every magnificent word his cousin uttered - until he heard the latter ones.

“Merry?” he ventured hesitantly.

“Yes, Pip?”

“I think that Bilbo and Frodo would be more proud to be related to Sam. After all, even they couldn‘t have thought of such terrible punishments.”

Merry almost thumped him again, but the Thain had cautiously darted out of the way.

“If it’s any consolation, though, I’ve thought of a new name for him,” said the younger hobbit.

“What is it then?” huffed Merry, not fully placated.

“Peregrin’s Peril.”

The Master of Buckland rolled his eyes (which - for the second day in a row - caused him some discomfort) and looked at his cousin in despair. “That’s not nearly good enough Pippin! We need something much better than that! Something which accurately describes the fear, eh, I mean caution that he should be treated with.”

Pippin looked affronted at having his colourful title for Sam trounced by his cousin. But he was the bigger hobbit (figuratively and literally, regardless of the Master of Buckland’s wild claims to the contrary), so he would listen to any alternatives offered. “All right, then. What do you think we should call him?”

“Brandybuck’s Bane!” Merry was quite pleased with himself.

“Well, that’s not fair! Why is your name better for him than mine? I am the Thain, you know!”

And they squabbled the rest of the way to Faramir’s tent.

THE END

Author's Note: Farlibar's song describing Arwen's beauty is posted here under the title 'Ode to a Star Queen'. Many thanks to all my wonderful reviewers - and it's never too late for you to leave a review too! Byee.

Kara's Aunty.