Black Gold
Some weeks before Gandalf boarded the white ship and sailed away, a Ranger brought a package to the North-gate of Buckland and asked the guards on duty to send for Merry.
Merry returned to the Hall with a dazed expression on his face and a set of hobbit-sized saddlebags in his hand. He closeted himself with his father and Uncle Merimac, the Hall's chief engineer in charge of digging and delving.
Pippin didn't pay much attention; at the time the message had come for Merry, he'd been splashing in the River with a group of tweens from the Hall, finding relief from the heat on that warm summer's day and watching over the children who were playing in the water to keep them safe from the benign-seeming but never-to-be-trusted River.
That evening, as the two cousins relaxed in front of the hearth at Crickhollow, Pippin quite naturally sought to satisfy his curiosity about Merry's absence from the Hall earlier in the day, followed by his long session with his father in the Master's study.
'What was it?' he said to Merry.
'What was what?' Merry said absently, staring into his glass. He wasn't being evasive; he was used to Pippin asking all sorts of questions ranging from sharply-pointed to extraordinarily vague. He sighed. It had been a long day, and he still wasn't quite sure what he thought about events and certain restrictions that his father and uncle had imposed upon him.
Pippin persisted, targeting his inquiries more precisely for his weary older cousin's sake. 'What did the messenger bring you? Word from Strider?'
Merry started. 'Gandalf,' he said after a pause.
'Gandalf! Is he coming for a visit?'
Merry stared at his younger cousin for so long, Pippin began to wonder what he'd done wrong.
'Come now, Merry,' the young Took said. 'I haven't dropped any pebbles down wells in ever so long, nor have I tried to look into any large, round stones of seeing lately, nor have I been pestering a certain Wizard with questions until he threatens to turn me into a door knocker! So tell me...'
Merry raised an eyebrow.
Pippin took an exaggerated breath and continued, '...just what word the messenger brought from the old fellow! It really cannot be that bad, now, can it?'
'I cannot say,' Merry responded slowly.
'You cannot say what the news is?' Pippin asked, tilting his head to one side in puzzlement.
'I cannot say if it is that bad, or if it perhaps will turn out to be a good thing in the end,' Merry said.
'Really, cousin,' Pippin said. 'That's hard! Why, we tell each other everything!'
'That does make it hard, indeed,' Merry said. 'But I am sworn to silence, Pip, I'm sorry to say. I argued that you were trustworthy, but older heads than mine insist you must not be brought into the secret until you come of age.'
'Older heads...' Pippin mused, then, 'Uncle Saradoc?'
'I'm sorry, Pip.' And that was all Merry would say about the matter.
***
Over the months that followed, the tween put together certain happenings and reached a surprisingly canny conclusion, as he was to find out later. Rumours began circulating almost at once that the Hall's engineers had discovered a means of delving more efficiently and were cautiously exploring the possibilities of the new method. Though efficient, it was said to be somewhat more dangerous than traditional methods.
But the fireworks display at the Lithedays Fair in Michel Delving the following summer, "courtesy of the Master of Buckland", was the deciding factor.
After the last rocket exploded in a shower of stars, Pippin pulled Merry aside, away from the delighted crowd of spectators. 'That message from Gandalf...' he said.
'What message?' Merry asked.
'That secret message!' Pippin hissed. 'I know what it's about.'
'Do you now?' Merry said coolly.
'You can keep your great secret if you wish, Meriadoc Brandybuck!' Pippin said with a flash of anger. 'For all the good it does! Any fool can put two and two together and come out with four if he tries hard enough!'
'At least a fool of a Took can do so, it seems,' Merry said. 'Pip, please! I gave my word.'
'Well I didn't!' Pippin said.
But as he turned away, Merry caught him by the sleeve. 'It's not you,' he said.
'Not me – what?' Pippin demanded.
'Gandalf thought the knowledge would be safe with hobbits, do you see?' Merry said. 'But he was so concerned about the matter, he asked me to burn his letter.'
'He asked you? When did he ask you that?'
'In the letter,' Merry muttered.
'He asked you in a letter to burn the letter?' Pippin said in amazement. 'And you did so?'
'Why, of course I did so!' Merry said. 'I wouldn't have wanted the old fellow to think I wasn't trustworthy!'
'You of all people,' Pippin said. 'O' course he knew you'd be trustworthy!'
Merry put his hands on Pippin's shoulders. 'He trusted you as well, Pip,' he said.
'You might have fooled me!' Pippin snapped.
'But my father...'
'And old Merimac along with him, I'm sure,' Pippin put in, and in one of his quicksilver changes of mood, he went from anger to laughter at seeing Merry's expression in the light of the lantern hanging from a nearby pole.
'I...' Merry said, nonplussed.
Pippin pulled him close and whispered in his ear. 'It's black powder, that's what it is,' he said.
As he pushed Merry back, the expression on his older cousin's face confirmed the guess.
But Merry surprised Pippin by pulling him close, in turn, and whispering, 'Gandalf did not want the art of fireworks to disappear from Middle-earth when he did so, and it seems he thought long and hard on the matter. He decided in the end that the Dwarves were a shade too aggressive to have the secret, though I'd've argued with him that they'd never use the stuff in delving or mining, not after hearing Gimli talk about their art. That said, his greatest concern was that Men might misuse the stuff, and he said – in the letter, that is...'
'The letter you burned,' Pippin clarified.
'That's right, the letter I burned,' Merry answered, drawing a curious look from a passerby. He took Pippin's arm and drew him further away from the other hobbits nearest them and added in a whisper, 'He said that Strider agreed with him.'
'And the Elves?' Pippin said, keeping his own voice low.
Merry shook his head. 'The Elves would have no use for it,' he said. 'I think old Gandalf had the right of it, there.'
But he maintained his grip on Pippin's arm. 'Strider knows because Gandalf told him,' he said in a low voice that was almost lost in the celebration surrounding them, Shire-folk walking from the racecourse back into the town, chattering about the wonders they'd just seen. 'But it's got to stay a secret, Pip! For Gandalf has given the Shire-folk a great treasure, and he trusts us to hold it secret, that Men and Dwarves will not guess its true nature...'
'Gimli would guess, I should think,' Pippin argued.
'We don't want rogue Men waylaying hobbits in hopes of learning the secret!' Merry insisted, and Pippin suddenly went still as this thought hit home.
'No,' he said slowly. 'I suppose we don't.' He blinked solemnly and added, 'It will be enough that they may marvel at the beauty of the fireworks shining in the sky, and never know the terrible power of the stuff behind it...'
Suddenly his gaze sharpened, and he stared into Merry's eyes. 'Perhaps Gandalf ought to have taken the secret with him over the Sea,' he said. 'Are hobbits to be trusted with such knowledge?'
Merry started to answer, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, then said, 'I think hobbits proved themselves to the old fellow, proved themselves and their trustworthiness. For Frodo and Sam took a little ring, the least of rings, to the edge of the Fire; something even the Great were unwilling to attempt...'
The younger cousin stood very still, and then he nodded. 'The secret is safe with me, Merry,' he said. 'You can rest assured.'
'I know I can,' Merry said, punctuating this thought with a hug.
***
And Pippin kept his word, even to the point of acting astonished when, after he'd come of age, old Merimac solemnly informed him of the great privilege and heavy responsibility the White Wizard had levied upon the Brandybucks.
'Black powder? You don't say!'
'No, lad,' Merimac rumbled. 'The point I'm making is that you don't say!'
'Of course I won't!' Pippin answered, and Merry slapped his younger cousin on the back with a grin.
Old Merimac didn't know the half of it. And, knowing Pippin, the old hobbit would never find out, either.
***