Deeper than the Darkness

"The old that is strong does not wither; deep roots are not reached by the frost."

***

Part 1: Visit to Brandy Hall

"How the wind whistles around this house!" said Merry, looking out of the window at what was sure to be another storm. He stopped his pacing, and broke the (relative) silence of the room. He and Pippin were in the sitting room of Crickhollow, and no one had spoken for some time. It was early Spring; they had been living in the house since November, but Merry still was not accustomed to the openness of walls that faced nothing but air.

"Yes, it looks like more rain," agreed Pippin, looking up. He put down the book that he had been trying to read, without much success. "Sam, at least, should be pleased. I’m sure it will help his trees." He paused, and his eyes seemed to be looking at something far away. "Do you remember when we left Rivendell, the first time I mean?"

"This isn’t that bad! I was sure I would never be warm again with that awful East wind," Merry said with a shiver. He turned his back to the window and walked over to where Pippin was sitting.

"Well, I should hope not! I just meant the sound, though even that isn’t quite as bad."

"It’s funny," Merry mused. "You would think all of our time in the Wild would have cured us of ever wanting to go for a walk again. But I can’t picture sitting indoors all the rest of my life. Can you?"

"Indeed not!" replied Pippin with some fervor, jumping up from his seat. "I look on it as training. What is a little wind and rain to such old campaigners as ourselves?" He then struck a dashing pose, and began fencing with the air. Merry burst out laughing. He threw a small cushion at him, hitting him on the nose. Pippin paused, as if shocked; Merry only laughed louder.

"Well then, old campaigner, I take it you think this a perfect time for a jaunt down to Brandy Hall? Surely a little wind and rain would not deter you, brave sir," said Merry, trying to keep a straight face.

Undaunted, Pippin took up the challenge. "Why of course! That is within spitting distance. We can probably be there and back before a single drop falls."

"This I would like to see!" said Merry, who was already heading down the hall. As he put on his cloak, Pippin came up behind him. He also strapped on his gear.

"Of course, we’ll be taking the ponies. It might be good to keep them in practice as well."

"Or save us the tedium of trudging home in the rain," said Merry with a wink. He opened the door, and wind rushed down the hall. "Oi, what weather!"

Merry pulled his hood down to shield his face from the wind. It rattled the door of the tool shed and hissed through the grass. They walked down the path to the stable, where they found their ponies munching contentedly on some hay.

"Hullo! Ready for another grand adventure in the wind and rain?" asked Pippin. The ponies looked up, but they did not look ready for any adventures.

"I thought we were just going out in the wind," said Merry.

"Oh, well, I just thought I’d prepare them for the worst." In a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "They’ve been getting soft." One of the ponies snorted.

"Oh, you needn’t worry – you aren’t going anywhere," said Pippin in response. "You know we only take you along when the lads come over to help hunt Ruffians." He stroked his muzzle in consolation. "It’s these foreign ponies I worry about."

***

When the two hobbits arrived in front of Brandy Hall, no one seemed to be about outside, but that did not deter them from continuing to sing loudly. Before they had a chance to dismount, the front door of the Hall burst open and several children ran out, calling "It’s Mr. Merry! Mr. Merry has come to visit! And Mr. Pippin, too!" Apparently, the visitors were quite popular, at least with their younger relations. Merry picked up a young lass and swung her around so that she shrieked, while Pippin picked up a tot and sat him in his saddle. One of the boys tried to grab Pippin’s sword while he was distracted, but he quickly shooed him away.

"This sword belongs to a Knight of Gondor, and will not be used as a plaything." He looked so stern as he said this that the boy took a few steps back, and clearly considered bolting for the door. But before he could, Pippin burst out laughing, and rummaged through his saddle bag to find something to give to the boy. "Here you are, Orbi, a tinder box should be fine for a lad your age. Mind you don’t catch your clothes on fire." Orbi reached out for it eagerly. He knew how to use one, of course, but he had never had one of his own.

Merry and Pippin led the ponies around to the stables, and most of the children continued to follow them, despite the biting wind. It wasn’t too long before one of their mothers came to fetch them.

"Run along, you scamps. You’ll catch cold running about without coats." She bent down to pick up young Cora. "In you go. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin will come inside shortly." Nina Brandybuck gave them a slightly disapproving look as she ushered most of the children into a side door. Two of the older ones, though, had made it to the stables already. As Pippin entered the stables, he was accosted by the scent of hay, leather and ponies. After the wind, the building was warm and welcome. Since Merry was busy making the ponies comfortable, Pippin showed his gear to the admiring children.

"Did you really fight a troll with that, like Bilbo Baggins?" Amethyst pointed to his sword. The child was too young to remember Bilbo herself, of course, but stories of his journey had become a bit of a legend in the Hall.

"Yes, I did, though I would not recommend it. They’re awfully heavy creatures."

She giggled.

"Can I hold it? Please?" Her cousin Orodric looked at him longingly.

Pippin eyed the lad critically. "Have you ever held a sword before?"

He looked down, and picked at the straw with his toes. "Well, no, I haven’t."

"Then I will have to show you how to hold it correctly, won’t I?" asked Pippin, smiling.

Orodric’s face brightened visibly.

"The very first rule is that you never swing a sword around without looking. If I were to take this out and go swipe, I might just take off Amy’s curls, you see?"

He nodded dumbly, with wide eyes.

"You can hold it, but I want you to just hold it like this. No swinging!" With that, Pippin took out the sword and held it in front of him with the point up. Then he very carefully handed it to Orodric.

Amethyst watched admiringly. "Can I hold it, too?"

"You may, but the same goes for you, young miss. No swinging."

Orodric rather reluctantly passed the sword to her.

Merry had been watching this exchange with some amusement. "Well, I think it is time we were getting to the hall. Pippin may have come all this way to visit his uncle’s ponies, but I would like to see some of the relations, myself."

The children giggled, and Amethyst reverently handed the sword back to Pippin. Then they both raced ahead back to the Hall.

Back outside, they leaned into the wind as they picked their way along the flagstones towards the smial. Some old leaves were blowing about the yard, and crocuses bobbed their fragile heads.

Merry and Pippin barely made it in the door before being accosted by Nora Brandybuck, Amethyst’s mother. "So, I hear you were letting them play with that sword you carry. You know I don’t hold with the children handling weapons and the like. They will be sword-fighting up and down the corridors for the next three days, make no mistake about it." As if to punctuate her words, the voice of Amethyst could be heard down the hall, calling "Amalac, Amalac, Mr. Pippin let me hold his sword!"

"I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Brandybuck," said Merry apologetically. "We only carry them on the chance that we run into a ruffian on the road. I know we haven’t seen any of those folk in over a month, but you can never be too cautious, you know."

"Well, of course you must take care," said Nora softening a bit. "And I’m sure the children have seen a mite more of fighting that we did in my days, more’s the pity. But that is no call for you to go giving them swords!"

"We’ll try to be more careful in the future," Merry continued. "I know that they are still too young to be trusted with a dangerous weapon."

Pippin was alternately impatient and indignant throughout this conversation, but he did manage to hold his tongue. But he could not help adding, as Merry moved to walk further into the smial, "It is so good to see you again, Mrs. Brandybuck. Always a pleasure." With a smart bow, he turned to follow Merry.

They wandered around the Hall, paying courtesies to those they met, and entertaining the children who popped out of doors to surprise the guests, and then scampered off with peals of laughter. Pippin was briefly involved in a game of indoor tag, while Merry stopped into his father’s study. They lingered longest once they made their way into a kitchen. There really is nothing like a windy day to bring out a hobbit’s appetite. They were offered a large plate of apple tarts and seed-cakes, which they did not refuse. Mrs. Hilda Brandybuck and her daughter Celandine were there, chopping vegetables, and they had a long chat about this and that.

Pippin asked her how she and her family were keeping, and she replied that everyone was well enough, what with the winter being so mild. They talked about the weather and the comings and goings of the Hall. Then Celandine piped up.

"I want to thank you both so much for having Melilot over to Crickhollow for your party last week. Doderic told me all about it. He said it was grand, and even Merimas enjoyed it. He has been ever so serious since he married Nina, don’t you think?" she asked, turning to her mother.

"Well, I’d say it was more becoming a father as did it," smiled Hilda. "But yes, it sounded marvelous, and Melilot has looked a good bit cheerier this past week. Her step is a bit lighter, I would say."

Merry and Pippin exchanged quizzical looks. Pippin started to speak, saying "Well, of course we were pleased to have her. She and her brother are always welcome."

"What, didn’t you know?" asked Celandine in surprise. "I thought…and here I thought you were being extra thoughtful."

"What is this about?" Merry asked, hoping to stop any more speculation into their intentions. He was a bit uneasy about the way this conversation was going. Did they think that he or Pippin had produced this change in Melilot?

"Well, she has had quite a time of it, and no mistake," Hilda answered him. "But I forget, you were away for most of the troubles, and I reckon nobody said anything more once you returned. As everyone knows, she was being courted by Mr. Pongo Baggins."

"Porto’s son? I didn’t know that," interrupted Pippin.

"Ah, well, that would explain your confusion, then," Hilda continued. "Yes, I believe they had an understanding. I’m not certain about what happened, but there were people as saw the lad taken to the Lockholes. That was hard enough on the lass. When he wasn’t found there, he was presumed dead, you know."

"Yes, we were there the day the prisoners were released," Merry said slowly. "His uncle, that’s Mr. Ponto Baggins, kept asking if anyone had seen him."

"Poor Melilot," added Pippin. "She has been keeping a brave face on it, though. I had no idea."

"That Lotho! I’m sure he had him killed on purpose!" said Celandine with some vehemence. She was apparently quite unhappy with the carrot she was slicing, as she began hacking at it.

"Cellie! That’s enough!" said her mother. "And that is no way to talk about family nor those who have died, no matter what we might think of them." Lotho was Hilda’s first cousin. "I know Lotho had his disagreements with both Ponto and Porto, and he was probably a bit sore about not having an heir, of course. But that does not give you any excuse to accuse him of, of murder."

"An heir?" asked Pippin puzzled. "You mean, you think Lotho had Pongo killed out of spite?" Hilda pursed her lips, but said nothing, for the moment.
"Well, think about it. He was not getting any younger, and what hobbit-maid would have him, any way?" reasoned Celandine, undaunted. "So, naturally, after he was gone, the headship of the Bagginses would pass to Ponto."

"Presuming neither Bilbo nor Frodo had anything to say about it, you mean," interrupted Merry.

"Well, they were gone, and most folk thought that they weren’t coming back."

"But wait, how does Pongo enter into all of this?" asked Pippin. "He wouldn’t have been Ponto’s heir unless Angelica didn’t marry, and we all know how likely that is!" Merry, at least, laughed.

"It was Porto who had the row with Aunt Lobelia, that’s why," Celandine continued.

"That is quite enough," interrupted Hilda. "It has been difficult enough for all of the families, and you have no call to be saying what you are saying. I know Cousin Lotho did some horrible things, but it broke his mother’s heart when she learned of his death. Why, she has been sickly all winter, my mother says. If you want to know, I think it was those awful ruffians who did something to poor Pongo, and without any sayso from Lotho."

"Well, whichever way you look at it, it has been difficult for Melilot and I just wanted to say thank you for getting her to go out and spend some time in good company." Celandine looked intently at her cutting board so that the others would not see her face. A rather awkward silence fell.

Berilac appeared, calling out as he entered the kitchen, "There you are! I heard the noise, and I thought that only you two could be the cause of it." He very artfully reached over Pippin to help himself to the last apple tart. "The children go wild when such grand lords come to visit," he finished with a smile.

Merry and Pippin both stood up to greet him, and were relieved when he brought up a cheerier subject.

"Guess who is staying at the Golden Perch," he asked, after the usual pleasantries. "Will you believe that Samwise Gamgee is in Stock?"

"Sam’s here? And he hasn’t come to visit us yet?" asked Pippin in surprise.

Berilac laughed. "To hear tell, he aims to visit everyone in the Shire. Why, just this week he was all the way down to Willowbottom, if you can imagine, and folk say he is headed up to Whitfurrows and maybe even Scary. But don’t you worry, I’m sure he will manage to visit you, too," he added with a wink at Pippin.

"Why were you in Stock, may I ask?" added a puzzled Merry.

"Oh, I wasn’t. I was in Bucklebury this morning, to inquire about buying some ducklings this spring, when I met up with Tim Goodman. He had been over in the Marish most of last week, and he mentioned that the talk was all of a visitor from the Westfarthing. I asked him who that might be, and he said it was Sam Gamgee. Now what do you say to that?"

"Well, I must say that I am surprised." Pippin began slowly. "He must be checking on all of those trees that he planted. But I can’t think why he didn’t let us know."

"Right you are. That’s why everyone was talking about him. He isn’t headed to all of those places to visit anyone, just to check the trees!" laughed Berilac. "Though, I am certain he is doing a bit of visiting along the way," he conceded.

"Well, you can tell when a young man doesn’t have a lass to keep him at home, that is all I have to say about it," added Hilda.

"So, you’re buying ducks?" Merry asked Berilac, changing the subject. "I guess you were thinking of putting them in that pond by the sheep pasture?"

"Oh, no, I think they’d do better nearer the Hall. With the dogs around, the foxes might stay away. The pond behind the stables is small, but it should serve well enough for just a few. I don’t intend to have a whole flock!"

"Then why get any at all?" asked Celandine, rejoining the conversation.

"Because some duck eggs are better than none!" he shot back, playfully flicking her ear. "And besides, they might eat some of the grasses that were choking that pond last summer."

"Now, if you are going to distract my helper, you can just remove yourselves from this kitchen." Apparently, Hilda was beginning to realize that all of this talk was threatening to make supper late. "Go on, take the …" The plate of tarts and cakes was empty. "Take these scones, and get going." She refilled the plate with some raisin scones from a large tin in the cupboard behind her, and continued, "Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin, it was very pleasant to chat with you, and I hope you do stop by to visit again soon. I’m sure the children appreciate seeing you, but I would ask you to be careful with your weapons and such around them." Then she handed them the plate and ushered them out the door. "Will you be staying long?"

Merry was taken a bit off guard by this abrupt farewell, but he did manage to say, "Oh, no, we were just stopping in for the afternoon. We’ll be headed back to Crickhollow soon. But I am sure we will be back before long. It was good to see you again, Mrs. Brandybuck."

Pippin added, "And Cellie too, of course, and we thank you for the lovely tarts."

As the three wandered down the hall, Berilac asked them about their plans. "So, you aren’t going to stay tonight?"

"No, we really just meant for this to be a short visit, a chance to get out and give the ponies a bit of exercise." Merry explained.

"Well, you may be in for a nasty trip home. It looked threatening when I came in. I would be surprised if the rain hasn’t started yet," replied Berilac.

"Let’s check the windows in the library," suggested Pippin, ducking down the next hallway and opening the door on his right. Brandy Hall’s library was a rather impressive room. Three large round windows dominated the far wall, and every other wall was lined with dark wooden bookshelves. Most of the books were thick and somber-looking tomes, but scattered among these were thin volumes that promised to be filled with anecdotal stories rather than the doings of the Four Farthings. Some of these books even had hand-painted pictures in them. The wall along the windows contained desks, lamp stands and curio cabinets filled with mathoms. To the left of the door was a wide stone fireplace, and large chairs were arranged around it. Though the room looked formal when empty, these three hobbits could distinctly remember forming a barricade of the chairs and pelting each other with pillows on a rainy day long ago.

In fact, the current view from the windows must have reminded them. The wind moved in silver waves across the long grass in the field leading down to the Ferry. Several of the trees were bent sideways as if they had suddenly become top-heavy. And overhead, the sky was an ominous grey, much darker than would be expected for mid-afternoon.

"You’re still thinking of going home in this weather?" asked Berilac doubtfully. The library did seem almost warm and inviting now.

"Oh yes. Merry and I must keep up our image as daring young lords, you know. It wouldn’t do for us to be daunted by the threat of rain." Pippin said cheerily, putting down the plate of scones on a small table. He had not forgotten the conversation in the sitting room at Crickhollow, or at least, he now remembered it.

"No, we mustn’t disappoint the children," agreed Merry with a smile.

Berilac looked slightly surprised, but he just shrugged. "Well, I will not keep you any longer then. Take care, and I will see you around."

They both said goodbye to Berilac, reminding him to stop by Crickhollow any time. As the library door closed behind them, Merry turned to Pippin. "Do you still think we can beat the rain home, my dashing campaigner?"

"Yes, of course, though I am glad I prepared the ponies for the worst. Should we say goodbye to anyone else, or just make a dash for it?" Pippin asked.

"I am in favor of dashing, if we do not run into anyone on the way out."

Merry and Pippin made their way to the side door, only encountering a few children. The walk to the stables was chilly, but at least the rain had not started yet. They nodded a greeting to old Tom Earl who was polishing bridles in the tack room. He nodded back without putting down his rag. They were free to go. The ponies complacently allowed their saddles and bridles to be put on, but did not seem eager to go out into the gathering storm.

But Merry and Pippin were still in good spirits, so they started off briskly, and were soon laughing at nothing in particular. Merry began singing an old song, or at least a song that sounded like one that all hobbit-children know. The words are nonsense, but perhaps Merry changed some of them to suit the occasion:

A mouse poked his head out of his hole one day

And noticed the sun and stars.

‘Tis strange, said he, that both the sun and stars

should shine brightly from afar

So I think that I…

Here he paused, and Pippin finished with will go back to bed! and began the next verse:

A mouse was munching some grain one day

When he noticed the corn and the taters

Growing under the ground was the grubby corn

while the taters waved their golden crowns.

So I think that I’ll…

Merry chimed in with eat them all! and continued the song:

A mouse woke up from his sleep one day

And saw the wind and rain.

What fine weather we have with the gusty wind

And the rain that will soak the skin.

So I think that I’ll…

Pippin shouted go for a walk! and just then, the first drops of rain began to fall.

They had made it as far as the lane that led down to Crickhollow, but the house was not yet in sight.

"Well, it looks as if you were wrong, Pip. We haven’t made it back yet."

"Just dodge the drops," insisted Pippin. "There’s no need to get wet in this."

It was not long before the rain began falling a little harder. "How am I supposed to dodge these?" complained Merry.

"Just wave your arms around, like this." Pippin demonstrated, holding his reins loosely in one hand, and waving the other back and forth over his head. He appeared quite comical.

"Where did you learn that?" laughed Merry.

"From Tom Bombadil, of course," quipped Pippin, grinning.

When the house came into view, they broke into a canter. By now, it was raining steadily, and they were nearly soaked. They managed to get into the stables, though the rain pounded deafeningly on the roof. Pippin’s pony looked at him reproachfully as he pulled the saddle off. Steam was rising from the backs of both ponies.

"I’ll rub them down," said Merry. "Why don’t you make a dash for it and put some water on for tea?"

***

Merry shut the round door behind him and shook out his cloak over the stone floor. He piled his gear in the hall, and was about to make his way into the house in search of a warm fire.

"Hullo, what’s this?" he asked.

On a small table near the door, he found a sealed letter. He did not recall seeing it before they left. "Pippin, did you see this letter?" he called.

"Oh, I suppose the Post came." Pippin’s voice came from the kitchen. "Must have been dropped off while we were out. Who is it from?"

Merry picked it up, and turned it over to see the address. "It’s to both of us, and it looks like Frodo’s handwriting." He walked into the kitchen. It was snug and warm after the blustery weather. Left-over stew was in the pot over the bright fire, and the scent of carrots and mushrooms wafted into the room.

Pippin was sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. He had a blanket draped across his shoulders. "So, what does cousin Frodo have to say?" he asked.

Merry did not answer immediately, but put down the letter on the table and first poured himself a cup of tea. Once he had settled down with his back to the fire, he opened the letter, and read out loud to Pippin:

To my dear cousins, friends and fellow travellers, greetings. I trust that all is well with you at Crickhollow. Things here are quite busy; at times it seems overwhelming. Work on Bag End continues steadily. Sam has been a marvel, overseeing that for me. The sheds have all been torn down, and most of the refuse has been burned. Hobbiton is beginning to look itself again. I am still staying with the Cottons, who have been most kind and hospitable.

I am writing to let you know that Sam is planning to visit his trees, to see how they have fared over the winter. He does not think he will make it to Buckland, but he will be passing through the Eastfarthing and hopes to see you both. Keep an eye and ear out for him. I will not be with him; there are some things I must see to here.

Yours, Frodo

P.S. – Please let me know what day you receive this. We have had several complaints about letters going astray. I suspect that the new letter carriers (some of them former Shirrifs) are to blame.

Pippin laughed at the post-script. "When did he send that, anyway?"

"Hmm, let’s see, it’s dated February 30^th. So, it’s only been about a week, well, no, more like 10 days."

"Well, that’s not too bad. I wouldn’t expect it to be any faster than a week."

"It’s this silly centralized system," replied Merry. "If they didn’t send all of the letters to Michel Delving first, we would get them much sooner."

"Maybe, maybe not. They would have to go through a lot more hands if we did it another way, and you know that that just means it is more likely that letters will get lost," argued Pippin.

"Well, I can tell you grew up by Tuckborough," said Merry with a smile. "I think you would find that all of the Bucklanders disagree with you."

"I am glad that Frodo wrote to us," said Pippin, returning to the purpose of the letter. "I was wondering why Sam hadn’t told us he was coming."

"Maybe Sam did write us, as soon as he arrived in Stock. But of course, we won’t get his letter until after he leaves," said Merry, returning to the previous argument.

"Oh, you’re hopeless!" answered Pippin, throwing up his hands. The blanket slipped off his shoulders. "If Sam really is staying in Stock, we ought to go over there tomorrow and see how things are."

***

 Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Part 2: Visit to Stock

The next day dawned bright; there were no signs of the storm clouds from the previous day. As he walked down the path to the Ferry, Merry reflected that the whole place looked as if it were scrubbed clean. Puddles of water still lingered in the path, but even these sparkled in the sun. Pippin had insisted on leaving early, so that they would have the whole day ahead of them. Merry shook his head. Sometimes there was no accounting for Peregrin Took. It was Pippin who had decided in favor of walking, as well. Apparently, he thought that the ponies had had plenty of exercise the day before, and when Merry pointed out that Stock was twice as far away as Brandy Hall, Pippin just grinned. It seemed his aversion was not to walking, but to getting wet.

"What are you thinking about this morning?" Pippin’s voice interrupted Merry’s thoughts.

"Oh, nothing, really." Merry replied off-handedly. "Just how silly you are sometimes."

"What! How am I silly?" Pippin asked, rather unwisely.

"Hmmmm." Merry held up his hand, ticking off on his fingers. "You make silly decisions, you talk silly, you wave your hands about silly, you play with children silly, you…" Merry would have continued, but Pippin interrupted.

"Enough! What did I do to deserve that?"

"Well, you did ask."

"True. I shall have to be more careful of my questions."

They continued in silence until they reached the Ferry. Merry untied the rope from one of the white bollards, and then jumped lightly onto the flat ferry. Pippin picked up the long pole and pushed off into the stream. He stared intently at the landing on the other side, so that he would be sure to hit it.

"What are you looking for?" asked Merry.

"Black Riders" said Pippin without blinking.

Merry started. "Pippin! Don’t do that! It isn’t funny."

"I know. I’m sorry. Truce?"

Merry just shook his head. "I should know better than to insult a Took."

Pippin looked smug.

"Especially such a silly Took as you," Merry continued.

Pippin raised an eyebrow, but still didn’t look at him.

"Alright, fine. Truce?"

Pippin smiled, and glanced over so that Merry could see the twinkle in his eyes.

They tied up the ferry on the west bank, and went up the lane to the Road. They could see the River from the Road in some places, but mostly it was shielded from their sight by trees and the budding greenery.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about what Cellie said yesterday," Pippin began. "I think I know who it was who had such an effect on Melilot."

"Really? Who?" asked Merry, with some curiosity.

"Well, I saw her sitting by Fatty for awhile, and they did have their heads together an awful lot."

"Melilot Brandybuck has taken a liking to dear Fatty? Oh that is good, Pip! Do you really think it’s true?" Merry asked. He seemed a bit surprised. "Not that there’s anything wrong with Fatty, of course," he hastily added.

"I don’t know. I don’t see why not, and why else would she have been hanging on his words?" Pip countered. "I mean, Fatty isn’t one to talk a girl’s ear off, I didn’t think. Besides, even Cellie noticed, and she wasn’t even there."

"In that case, we will just have to tease Fatty mercilessly next time we see him, until we can wring the truth from him," Merry finished.

***

Stock was about five miles north of the Ferry, and Berilac had said that Sam was staying at the Golden Perch, which was just south of the town. They did not meet anyone on the road, and arrived about mid-morning. As they crossed the bridge over the Stockbrook, they could see the old Inn on their left. The building had been worked on considerably since the last time they were there. Merry noticed a fresh coat of paint as well as a new sign. They stepped inside, and went in search of Mr. Gosner, the Innkeeper.

"Sam Gamgee? Yes, he’s staying here. Came in early yesterday morning, in fact. He’s not in at the moment, I’m afraid. Went out this morning. Didn’t say where he was off to, but he did tell me he’d be back for nuncheon. Shall I tell him you came by?"

"Oh, no, that’s alright. We’ll be back to see him then," replied Pippin.

Pippin followed Merry out, and they strolled about the village of Stock. They poked around in some of the shops, just to see what was for sale. They didn’t intend to buy anything, but the shopkeepers didn’t mind; they knew that visitors from Buckland were the best way to get customers from Buckland. The pair had just left Man Tinker’s blacksmith shop when Pippin spied Sam down the road.

"Hoy, Sam!" he called. Sam looked up in surprise, and then a smile spread across his face. "Why, Mr. Pippin!" He hurried up to meet them. "So good to see you. And Mr. Merry, too! What brings you to Stock?"

"You," said Pippin simply.
"Oh, so you got Mr. Frodo’s letter, then?"

"We did, but my cousin told us you were here before it arrived," grinned Merry.

"I would have written myself," Sam continued, "but he offered to, and I thought there weren’t no need for two letters. I was that busy before I left, you see."

"And how is Frodo keeping?" asked Merry.

"Oh, well enough, I think," Sam replied. "The Cottons are taking good care of him."

"Do you see much of him, then?" asked Pippin.

"Yes, I stop by the Cotton farm as often as I can," said Sam, suddenly blushing.

"Well, I hope they’re keeping him out of trouble," smiled Merry.

"We hear you’re checking on all of your trees," continued Pippin.

"That I am!" said Sam. "A good many of them have made it through the winter, and I’ve replanted some of those that haven’t. I stopped here to get some more supplies."

"What sort of supplies?" asked Merry.

"Well, mulch, for one thing. I used up an entire cartload of that already, if you can believe it. And I was hoping I could find a few more burlap sacks. Oh, and I had two shovels as needed repairing, but they’ve been taken care of, now."

"Sounds like quite the undertaking!" said Pippin, clearly impressed.

They went with Sam as he finished up his errands, and asked him for more news of Hobbiton. He told them of his sister and the Gaffer, and mentioned several other folks whom they only knew slightly. He filled them in on the progress of Bag End, and as much of Frodo's plans as he was familiar with. Sam also seemed to have acquired a good deal of news from the Southfarthing in his travels, some of which he shared with them. He wasn’t doing all of this work by himself. He had Robin Smallburrow with him, and a Bywater lad they didn’t know. It appeared those two were at a local farm, refilling the mulch cart. The three friends went back to the Golden Perch after Sam was finished his errands. As they entered the yard, they heard geese honking in the back.

"They’re as noisy as dogs," laughed Pippin.

"Tell me about it," replied Sam, dryly.

They went in, and asked Mr. Gosner for a small (by hobbit standards) meal. He served them a pot pie, biscuits with butter and honey, and tankards of ale.

"If you’re wanting anything else, just let me know. I’m afraid the beer isn’t our usual, but it is the best we can do, for now."

There weren’t many other people in the Inn, only a few small groups of hobbits scattered around. Merry, Pippin and Sam had a large wooden table to themselves. The talk of local affairs petered out, and the hobbits ate silently for awhile. Despite Mr. Gosner’s apology, the meal was excellent, and Sam thought the beer more than satisfactory.

"You know, there isn’t a single book in Brandy Hall’s library that so much as mentions Rohan," remarked Merry after awhile. "Doesn’t that seem odd?"

"Not at all!" laughed Pippin. "I would be more surprised if there were one."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Merry, but I don’t think as there’s a hobbit who even so much as heard of Rohan, before you and Mr. Pippin went there," Sam added.

"I suppose not," mused Merry. "I don’t know why it seems odd to me, now."

"Wait, now, I may be wrong about that," Sam continued. "Did Mr. Bilbo ever tell us anything about Rohan, do you recollect?"

"No, I don’t think so," said Pippin. "You would think we would have remembered the name, at least."
"That’s what put it in my mind," said Sam. "Thinking back, when you told your story to me and Mr. Frodo, back in Ithilien, I don’t think the name sounded strange to me then. At least, not as strange as all those other names! Rohan sounded more familiar-like. I just can’t think where I heard it before."

"Maybe Strider or Gandalf mentioned it, before you and Frodo left," suggested Pippin.

"That must be it!" Sam replied. "Now when would Mr. Gandalf have been talking about Rohan?"

"Didn’t Boromir come through there?" said Merry. "They might have discussed it before Moria."

"Oh, that’s it! They talked about it at the Council. How silly of me to forget. Though all of those places they talked about sounded so far away. I didn’t know I’d be visiting all of them myself, then!"
"Yes, we are rather well-traveled hobbits, aren’t we?" said Pippin.

"Here’s to us, and all Travellers!" said Merry, raising his glass. They all drank, though they received a few queer looks from the hobbits at the table nearest them.

After a moment, Pippin resumed the conversation. "Once the Roads are made safe again, we will probably have more folk traveling from Rohan and Gondor, to Bree at least. And maybe some hobbits will even go there."

"There you are, Mr. Merry," Sam smiled. "Some adventuresome hobbit will visit Rohan, and write a book for Brandy Hall’s library!"

After lunch, Sam showed Merry and Pippin the wagon he had out back. There were about fifteen trees (saplings, really) leaning against the side with burlap sacks around their roots. Various tools, several large buckets and a few bales of straw filled the rest of the space. Two wheelbarrows were clearly meant for the other cart. Sam explained that he had been doing some thinning as he went, collecting young trees from wooded areas, and replanting them where the damage was worst. It appeared that the Southfarthing was badly affected. Lotho must have started his mischief there earlier, though Sharkey made sure that that wasn’t the only place damaged. The Tooks had kept the ruffians at bay, though, so Tuckborough hadn’t been hurt nearly as much. Sam told them that he had gotten quite a few trees from there.

"Folk have been wonderful, really," Sam continued. "Everywhere I’ve been, I’ve had no want of help. Course, they all remember me from November, when I planted the trees in the first place. I’ve been offered a place to stay in every town I visit, and more food than I can eat, even. Why, in Hurston, they threw a small party. I’m thinking they don’t get many visitors there, leastways not from Hobbiton! But most places, they knew we were coming. News travels fast in the Shire, but I’m thinking Mr. Frodo wrote a few more letters than I expected."

"Speaking of Frodo, why didn’t he come with you?" asked Pippin, suddenly being reminded of the letter. "Why would he want to stay cooped up in Hobbiton instead of wandering around the Shire?"

"I don’t rightly know, though I suspect he wanted to keep a close watch on Bag End. The work there is going on apace, and it will probably be finished a’fore too long," Sam said. "He told me he had some business or other that he wanted to attend to, and he didn’t have no time to go anywhere ‘til its finished."

"That’s a shame. Your venture sounds as if it’s been a great success," said Merry.

"Yes, this is the first time I’ve stayed in an Inn, really, and it was just to have a chance to get organized again. The Puddifoots made sure the folk around here have taken care of the land themselves, so there really isn’t much for me to do. But I’ve heard things are different up by Scary, so it’s good we have this chance. Which reminds me, where are you two staying tonight?"

Merry looked over at Pippin, and then replied, "Oh, we’ll be heading back to Crickhollow this evening. We just came over for the day. How long are you staying in Stock, though?"

"Oh, we’ll probably be off in the morning, assuming those lads were able to get the mulch. Can’t see why farmers around here would keep mulch on hand, with the soil being so wet." Seeing the look of dismay on Pippin’s face, he continued, "Though of course I would have come on over to Crickhollow, if you two hadn’t made it here. I wouldn’t have come this far without stopping by!"

"Well, Sam, it looks like you have used the Lady’s gift well," said Merry. "I’m sure the Shire will be better for it, and I’m glad we were able to see you while you were here."

Sam blushed at the mention of Lady Galadriel, and waving aside Merry’s praise, he led them back inside.

Robin, and a lad he called Cres, rejoined them for supper. They had had to visit two different farms, but still managed to get what Sam wanted. They had a pleasant meal at the Inn, and though the conversation did dwell a bit more on trees than Pippin would have usually liked, there was a lot of laughter and comfortable talk about the goings-on around the Shire. It was getting late when he and Merry bid the other hobbits goodnight and began the walk back to the Ferry. The sky was deepening to a velvety blue, and the wind was still. Merry was whistling, and, faintly at first, the stars began to appear. Pippin was in good spirits.

"I’m glad we got to see Sam again." Pippin began. "Too bad Frodo wasn’t able to come by too."

"Oh well, I suppose we shall have to visit him in Hobbiton." Merry answered. "He sounded rather busy, though I don’t understand why he wouldn’t want to go tramping around with Sam."

"Yes, I think he must be getting rather set in his ways if he can’t even take off on a lark to go visit trees with Sam," laughed Pippin. "I shall have to tease him about that when we see him." They continued walking in amiable silence.

"Why don’t we go tramping around the Shire, as you put it?" Pippin continued after awhile. "Going out for the day and having guests is all well and good, but we should do something more, now that it is getting to be spring, don’t you think?"

"Yes, perhaps, though for now, I just want to enjoy the long walk home."

"Why are we walking, again?" asked Pippin.

"It was your idea, silly. You said the ponies got plenty of exercise yesterday."

"I did say that, didn’t I?" Pippin laughed. "Well, it is a beautiful quiet night, and the stars are coming out, so I think I will enjoy the walk after all."

Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Interlude: Packing Up

Pippin yawned as he walked into the kitchen early one morning. Merry was already there.

"You’re up early today," Pippin said, as he bent down to coax the fire back to life.

Merry was sitting in a chair by the table, wrapped in a blanket.

"Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might as well be up. Have a biscuit," he replied, gesturing to a plate of biscuits leftover from the day before.

Pippin glanced at the table with a slight frown, and instead disappeared into the larder. In a moment, he reappeared with several eggs and some strips of bacon. Merry shuffled over to the shelves and fetched a pitcher of water to fill the tea kettle, then sat back down again.

After Pippin had the bacon started, he went and got two mugs from their pegs near the window. Outside, the sun was lifting the morning haze, promising a warm day.

"It looks as if Spring is here for good now. We should probably be thinking about cleaning out this place again. Do you think it will be warm enough to open all the windows?"

Merry sat up and looked at him. "You’re thinking of cleaning? What is this world coming to?"

Pippin gave him a very patient look. "Yes, cousin, we Tooks do plan ahead a bit, though I would think that even a Brandybuck ought to be able to figure that much out."

"What are you talking about?" asked Merry.

Pippin cracked the eggs into the pan. "I am thinking of our letter from Frodo. He sounded quite optimistic about the work that has been going on up at Bag End. I think it might even resemble a respectable hole before summer arrives."

"Oh, I see. So if his home is respectable, ours ought to be as well?"

"Of course not, Merry," said Pippin, turning back towards the table. "I merely mention that because most of his belongings are here. We are going to have to clean up if we are to help him move in."

"Well, no harm in starting early. But I refuse to work on an empty stomach."

"I would not ask you to," grinned Pippin. He poured out the tea. "It just seemed like a good time to tear the place apart, since we aren’t expecting any visitors this week."

"We aren’t? None at all?" Merry looked surprised as he reached for his mug. "I guess you are right."

"Of course I’m right. Now eat some of this food, and wake up your sleepy head." Pippin placed the eggs and bacon on the table, and took a seat himself. It would not do to ignore his own advice, he thought, and then got down to business.

***

"Merry, did you ever write a reply to Frodo’s letter?" asked Pippin when they took a break from moving around the furniture in the sitting room. He sat down on a chair that had been moved away from the wall to reveal cobwebs, dust bunnies and an old felt hat.

"No, I haven’t done that yet. I guess I ought to soon," Merry replied.

"It’s been…what, five days since we received his letter?" said Pippin. "He probably wants to hear about when we got it. But, anyway, I was thinking that we could tell him that things are all ready here, so when he gives the word, we will load everything up on carts and whisk it off to Hobbiton."

"Wait, do you mean that we are going to pack up this house, and then just wait for Frodo’s word to leave?" asked Merry. "Won’t that be a bit awkward?"

"Not at all, because, my dear cousin, we aren’t going to be here!" said Pippin, jumping lightly out of the chair. "We are going to visit Great Smials, and then when Frodo writes to us there, we will have an excuse to escape. You said that you wanted to go tramping around the Shire, and now we have a perfect opportunity to do so."

"That’s excellent!" said Merry, with approval. "You seem to have thought of everything today. I probably should be worried, though. I think you may have cured me of my desire to go anywhere, just by suggesting it so suddenly."

"Well, I will give you a day or so to get used to the idea," said Pippin, temporizing. "But you must write to Frodo today."

"I’ll do that now, then. I must get out of this clutter, though," said Merry, also standing up. "I’ll be in my room."

Pippin found him there later, asleep in his chair. The finished letter was on the table.

Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Part 3: Visit to Hobbiton

As the cart rolled down the hill towards Bywater, Merry was struck by just how different the view was from the stark landscape that had greeted them the previous November. Spring was coming to Hobbiton, but more than that, the folk had cleaned the place up. There were bare patches of earth, but no piles of refuse or abandoned wood. The buildings all looked lived in, and he noticed that some of the new ones were missing. He sighed. The Shire was going to make it. It would take something worse than Sharkey to defeat even the simplest of hobbits. The thought was comforting, in a way.

His reverie was broken by Pippin, who was driving the other cart. "Merry, should we take all this stuff straight to Bag End," he called, "or stop at Cotton’s farm first?"

"Go to the Cotton’s," Merry called back to Pippin. "We’ll have to keep the ponies there anyway, and I want to talk to Frodo before we take anything up to Bag End."

They turned down the lane to the Cotton’s farm, and Merry was surprised by how many young trees dotted the landscape. Sam certainly had been busy. The Cotton’s farm was bustling. There were chickens in the yard, and several children running around the house. Merry began to unhitch his pony, when Nibs came out of the barn.

Nibs waved vigorously to them, and shouted back over his shoulder: "It’s Meriadoc Brandybuck and Pippin Took! They’ve brought Mr. Frodo’s belongings along, seemingly." Then he ran over to greet them. "Good to see you! Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin." He nodded at each of them. "Let me take care of these ponies for you. I’m sure you’ll be wanting something to drink after your long ride. You can just go right in the house. Mother will be glad to see you." He paused, and since they didn’t immediately turn away, he continued, "Will you mind if I leave these carts out here, or did you want them put away in the barn?"

"Oh, you can certainly leave them there for now, so long as they aren’t in your way," Merry replied. "We’ll have to talk to Frodo first, but I don’t imagine we’ll leave them there very long. Is Frodo inside?"

"Oh, aye, he should be in the house," said Nibs.

Pippin and Merry walked across the yard to the old farmhouse. But before they could knock, the round door was flung open, and there was Frodo. He smiled as he embraced them, but Merry thought he was rather pale. The winter has not treated him well. No wonder he didn’t travel with Sam, thought Merry. He said nothing, and allowed himself to be ushered into the Cotton’s home. Mrs. Cotton was glad to see them, and greeted them enthusiastically. "Rose, please show them the wash room so they can have a chance to freshen up a bit." She immediately set herself to bustling about the kitchen.

When Merry and Pippin returned, faces washed and hands clean, they found Frodo seated at the table with an assortment of cakes and tarts in front of him. A large pitcher of water and several glasses were also set. Frodo gestured for them to take a seat, saying "I can’t eat all of these myself, you know." He wanted to hear all about their escapades, so they told him about their visit at Tuckborough "on the way" to Hobbiton.

"So, you practically ride past my door, and then turn right around to go back to Buckland to get my things?" said Frodo, laughing. "And here I have been telling people that you manage things well!"

"Well, it isn’t our fault that Bag End wasn’t ready yet," answered Pippin. "We thought it would be more convenient for you to write to us at Great Smials, so we could fetch your things when you said the word. And we used Bywater carts, which are easily returned at your convenience." He turned to Merry. "You see, cousin, this is what we get for being prepared. I don’t think that the Bagginses properly understand planning, do you?"

"Of course not. Though Pippin, you have to admit, he never did ask us to take a tour of the Shire," Merry answered. "His belongings weren’t scattered everywhere. They aren’t trees, you know."

It was almost like old times, the three of them sitting around a kitchen table, laughing and eating. Almost. Merry’s glance strayed to Frodo’s right hand, and then he quickly averted his eyes. It wouldn’t do to have Frodo suspect he was watching him. The friendly banter continued until Farmer Cotton came in to greet his guests. He greeted them heartily, and told them they were welcome to stay at his house for as long as they wished.

"My lads will be more than willing to help you with the moving. I know it can be a bit daunting unpacking a smial! Many hands make light work, I always say. It’s a shame Sam Gamgee isn’t back yet. I’m sure he would have been happy to help as well."

Pippin looked up in surprise. "You mean, he’s still traveling around looking after his trees?"

"Don’t worry, Pip," Frodo interrupted. "He wrote to me from Elmstead and said he’s almost finished. He should be back in a day or so. You won’t miss him this time."

"We didn’t miss him at Stock, either, don’t worry," Merry said. Then they proceeded to tell Frodo about their visit with Sam. "It really is quite the undertaking," finished Pippin.

"Well, would you two like to see Bag End?" Frodo asked. "We can go up there now, and still make it back in time for supper."

"Of course," smiled Pippin. Merry hesitated a moment, but then nodded. He wanted to have a word with Mrs. Cotton, but he did not want to arouse Frodo’s suspicions, either.

As they crossed the bridge into Hobbiton, Merry’s gaze was naturally drawn to the top of the Hill. From here, Bag End looked nearly the same as always. The Party Tree was missing of course, he realized. As they got closer, he noticed more of the details. Bagshot Row was gone as well, though he had remembered that from his last visit. Bag End itself had its windows restored, though they were slightly different. No shutters, he realized. The door was repaired, and freshly painted too.

Frodo turned to his cousins: "Would youlike a tour?" he asked. He then opened the door, and bowed slowly as they entered. "We’ve put pegs up in the hall, but no umbrella stand. So, of course, Lobelia won’t be able to visit quite yet."

Pippin laughed. "Why, has she been asking you when she can?"

Frodo smiled. "No, actually. I wrote to her that the work on Bag End was completed shortly after I wrote to you. I knew she would hear about it anyway, and she was gracious enough to return it to me. But, she hasn’t written back. So, I’m not sure what that means. I hope it’s just that she is still in mourning for Lotho and it isn’t the beginning of another plot."

"Wait…do you mean to tell us that you actually invited Lobelia to visit Bag End?" Merry looked shocked.

"Yes, I did," Frodo replied, somewhat defiantly. "Don’t look at me like that! You are forgetting that the only reason I have Bag End now is because she gave it back to me. Really, it should be hers."

Merry just shook his head. "No, cousin, I was not forgetting that at all. But I have also not forgotten what Lobelia has been like every other time she has visited Bag End. I think you are going soft. Pippin, what do you think?" They had reached the kitchen, and were standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room.

"That both of you are being quite ridiculous," Pippin grinned. "Frodo, you are very brave or very foolish to invite Lobelia to see this place before the paint is dry or your things moved into it. Probably both. But since she doesn’t seem interested, I really don’t think there is any cause to get all worked up about it, Merry. Maybe she has gone soft in her old age, as hard as that would be to believe."

Frodo showed them the bedrooms, which had been furnished with bed frames, and thin straw mattresses. "There is one thing I do regret," he mused. "I wish I had not sold my feather-beds."

"I agree," said Pippin. "You should have taken them with you."

"To Crickhollow?" asked Frodo.

"No, to Mordor," shot back Pippin.

Frodo laughed, but the color had drained from his face. Merry gave Pippin a jab in the ribs, and when Pippin looked up, he glared at him. Pippin must have understood, because he seemed rather subdued for the remainder of the visit. The rest of the smial looked like it was in fairly good order, though it seemed quite spacious and bare. Merry and Pippin agreed that it looked like it was ready for the furniture.

After supper at the Cotton's that evening, Frodo excused himself early. When Pippin protested, he merely waved it off. "I’m not as young as you, Peregrin Took, and if I’m to help with the moving tomorrow, I need some rest. Once the work is done, I’ll stay up as late as you like. Just don’t look for me the next morning! A good night, everyone!" he waved, and was gone.

Pippin took out his pipe, and was soon in the midst of a conversation with Jolly about the proper time to begin planting. Merry saw his chance, and slipped into the kitchen, where Rosie and Mrs. Cotton were washing up the dishes. He wasn’t quite sure how to bring this up, so he decided to be forthright.

"Mrs. Cotton, I need to ask you something."

She seemed surprised, but merely nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Has Frodo been…well lately?"

"That certainly didn’t take long, Mr. Merry," she replied. "To be honest, no, he hasn’t. He seems to be on the mend, though, so I’m hoping the warmer weather will suit him. He’s been a bit off this past month, if I might make so bold, and I won’t say but what he’s had us a bit worried, now and again, but now, he seems to be on the mend, as I said. What do you think, Rose?"

"Yes, Mum. These past few days, he’s seemed well enough, just a bit subdued, is all. Not like earlier, when he had a touch of fever."

Merry thought about this for a moment. "So, you think he’s alright now?"

"Mr. Merry, if you are worried about him moving now, you needn’t be. That Sam Gamgee will be in and out of there every day, mark my words. He’ll be taken care of proper."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cotton, I’m much obliged for all you’ve done to care for him." Before she could protest, Merry returned to Pippin. When he entered the room, Pippin looked up sharply, and Jolly shut his mouth quickly. But the conversation soon resumed, and Merry found an opportunity to bring up the weather.

"Do you think there’s any chance of rain tonight?"

"I reckon not," said Jolly, chuckling. "It’s as clear as clear, and still, too. But why do you ask?"

"Well, it probably wouldn’t be good to leave Frodo’s things out in the rain, even though the carts are covered," said Merry. "But I didn’t think it really looked like rain myself."

"If it would make you rest easier, I’d be glad to move the carts into the shed," replied Jolly. "It would be no problem, really."

"No need, really," Merry replied. "If Frodo’s things have survived a year of neglect and a few months of being minded by Pippin and me, they can survive one night in the weather."

"I’ll be off to bed myself, then, if you two don’t mind," Jolly finished. "Is there anything you gentlehobbits will be needing?"

"No, nothing, thank you," said Pippin. "Nibs already showed us our room. We’ll be fine."

"Goodnight," said Merry. "We’ll see you in the morning."

After he left, Merry turned to Pippin. "So, what were you two discussing when I came back?"

"Whatever are you talking about?" Pippin asked, trying his best to look puzzled, but Merry was not fooled.

"Come now, Pippin, I have known you too long for that. Out with it."

"If you must know, I wanted to ask Jolly how Frodo was while you and he weren’t around. But it seems I could have brought it up openly, if you are just going to pry it out of me anyway."

Merry tried to keep a straight face. "And?"

Pippin looked at his toes and said, "Jolly says he’s been sick, but he’s mending."

Merry laughed, and Pippin seemed startled. "My dear Pippin, will you believe that I slipped out to ask Mrs. Cotton the same question?" Merry asked.

"For all your teasing, we do think alike, then," was all Pippin said.

"Well then, let’s get some rest," said Merry, standing up. "It seems that we will have to resign ourselves to doing the heavy lifting if we are to contrive to have Frodo merely direct operations."

"Ever the conspirator, aren’t you?" said Pippin with a smile.

***

The next day was bright and clear. Jolly seemed to have understood the weather, at least this time. True to their father’s word, the Cotton boys helped unload Frodo’s things, so that the carts were empty and Bag Endwas in disarray in no time. The Cottons returned to their farm in Bywater and left Frodo, Merry and Pippin the task of organizing. But before they left, they promised to send over a proper meal in the afternoon, because "you can’t work without vi’tuals," said Nibs solemnly.

It was almost eerie to be putting the old smial back together, Merry thought. So many of these things he had gotten used to seeing in Crickhollow, but when they were returned to their original place, they stirred up old memories. This was where these things belonged. Bag End was their home. He was reminded of visiting Bilbo when he was a lad, wandering around the quiet smial by himself and looking at all the strange mathoms while the adults talked. And then later, visiting Frodo for grand parties, or just staying up late by the fire, talking about all of their plans. He sighed, and looked around again. It was not quite the same. Some things were missing, and not all of the damage had been repaired. The door to the second pantry still needed to be replaced, he knew. But thankfully, there were few reminders of the dismal mess they had found on their return. "We certainly don’t need to think about that," he muttered to himself.

"Think about what?" asked Pippin, coming in the door and looking over his shoulder. "Are you just standing here thinking, or are you arranging this furniture?"

"A little of both," Merry admitted. "Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on Frodo? But while you are here, would you mind giving me a hand with this bureau? I don’t want to damage it."

They had about half of the rooms in some semblance of order before Nibs returned. "It’s looking good," he said approvingly. They were more than willing to take a break, and decided to eat outside, where there was less dust. It was still a bit cool, but the Hill shielded them from any vagrant breeze.

"Hobbiton really is looking itself again," Pippin remarked, as they looked down on the town. "Though it is a bit funny not to see Bagshot Row."

"Yes, the New Row is different, isn’t it?" Nibs remarked. "Though a good deal of work has gone into restoring everything! We were lucky to have everyone housed snugly before winter really set in. Though now that Bag End’s finished, I’d say we’re about done."

"Done?" Merry asked. "I think it will be a long time before all the scars are gone."

"True enough," Nibs replied. "Like enough, some things won’t never be the same."

"But scars and all, it is the Shire again," said Pippin. "I could not have abided to have things stay the way they were when we came home, but now, things really are the way they ought to be. Why, if Sam keeps on planting his trees, we won’t even be able to tell it was ever hurt, one of these days."

"And what will happen then, I wonder?" asked Frodo.

"We’ll just have to have an invasion of dragons to shake things up a bit," said Merry with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Nibs laughed, "Oh, I’m sure that would get people’s attention. Those fireworks of Gandalf’s sure did stir things up a bit, as you put it. Even now, people talk about the dragon the night old Bilbo Baggins disappeared."

"Do they really?" laughed Pippin.

When they had finished eating, Nibs left, after being assured that they didn’t need anything. The others went back inside and continued working. Early that evening, they were finished. Frodo’s belongings were back home, and wandering through the smial, it seemed almost like it always had.

"Why don’t we stay here tonight?" asked Pippin. "I’ll ride over to the Cottons and get anything we need."

"Yes, we should celebrate your return to your home," said Merry. "Luckily, Nibs brought enough to feed twice as many workers, so we have plenty of food. All we are missing is wine and pipeweed."

"I can’t help you with the wine, but I know I have enough pipeweed for us all," said Pippin. "So, is it a party, then?"

Frodo hesitated. "It would be nice to stay here tonight. I have missed this place. But all this work has left me tired. I don’t think I could manage a party."

"Well then, a celebratory meal, at least, and the first night back," Merry conceded.

"And you are forgetting, no feather mattresses," Frodo reminded him.

"We’ll get the blankets, and camp out in the den," said Pippin, not willing to be quenched.

"Fine!" Frodo laughed, throwing up his hands. "The two of you can camp out. I’ll sleep in my own bed, and just make do. But we can at least sit down to a meal before I fall asleep on my feet."
"Agreed," Merry replied.

"But I’m warning you," said Pippin with a smile, "I will get a party out of you yet, older cousin or no." Pippin was right, though he did have to wait a bit.

***

The next morning, Frodo slept late. Merry knocked softly on his door, but there was no response. So, he and Pippin rode over to the Cottons’ to collect Frodo’s things that had been left there. They told Mrs. Cotton that the move had gone well, and that the old hole looked respectable again. She seemed happy, but expressed her doubts that the menfolk had thought to clean anything.

"Don’t you worry," Merry laughed. "That is the order of business for today. We intend to air the place out and scrub it down from front to back. You can even send Miss Rose over to inspect it, if you don’t trust us."

She just shook her head, "You can do what you like, backwards or no. Just so long as the place ends up clean."

On the way back to Bag End, they stopped and bought some food to stock the bare pantries, and placed orders for some odds and ends they knew would be wanted soon enough. When they returned, they found Frodo up and about. Merry was amazed by how much better he looked. One night in his own home really had done wonders for him, it seemed. They cleaned the kitchen as the first order of business, and were able to cook up a noonday meal. After luncheon, they moved from room to room mopping and dusting, opening windows and letting in the light and air. It was a great deal of work, but it did enliven the place. Pippin, in particular, seemed to enjoy darting about, slopping water everywhere, and occasionally singing loudly. While he was finishing up in the study, Merry remembered that Frodo had had a collection of books and papers at the Cottons. So, he went out in the hall to fetch that packet and return it to its proper place. He intended to leave the entire stack on the desk for Frodo to sort through later, but as he unpacked it, a single leaf of paper fluttered to the ground. It had been tucked away in between the letters and a book. He bent down to pick it up, and realized that it was a poem, in Frodo’s handwriting:

I will go seek my love

and take upon myself

her weariness and labors

in which she suffers so;

and that she may have life

I will die for her,

And, lifting her out of that deep,

I will restore her to you.

As he stood there puzzling over that, Frodo walked in.

"Did you find my papers, then?" he asked, before he realized what Merry was looking at.

Merry hastily put the paper down, and said, "Yes, Pippin gathered them up. I hope we didn’t misplace anything."

"Oh, good. I had some letters in there I didn’t want to lose." Frodo glanced at the stack of papers, and suddenly realized what Merry had been reading. He started, and then quickly recovered himself. "Oh, and I’ve been copying some of Bilbo’s elvish poetry," he added, as casually as possible. "I see you found that." It wasn’t a question.

"I hope you don’t mind," Merry said, wondering himself why he was nearly blushing. "It fell out of the packet when I put the papers on your desk."

"Oh, not at all," Frodo lied. "Let me know if you are ever interested in borrowing the books Bilbo gave me." Frodo’s hand strayed to his chest, and touched something under his shirt.

"Thank you, I certainly will," said Merry, though he could think of other things he would be more interested in. "I was just finished cleaning in here, so it is ready for you to move back in now." He picked up his bucket and rags and left quickly, still trying to figure out what he had done to upset Frodo. Clearly that poem struck a nerve, even if it was written by elves. But Frodo had not told him everything, of that he was sure. Now that he thought about it, maybe he did want to see those books of Bilbo’s, after all.

Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Part 4: Return to Hobbiton

They finished cleaning late in the afternoon, and were just preparing to serve supper, when there came an incessant knocking at the door. Startled, Frodo went to answer it.

"Sam!" they heard him exclaim from down the hall. "Please, come in! But, whyever did you knock?"

"Well, sir, the Gaffer told me you had moved back in almost as soon as I came home, and I wanted to come see you, but I thought you might like it if we started treating Bag End like a home, and not have workers traipsing in and out all the time. So, I knocked, if you follow."

Frodo laughed, and they rejoined the others in the kitchen. They asked Sam about his travels, and he was more then willing to tell them all about his trees and how the Shire was doing. But he insisted on seeing all the rooms in Bag End, and kept telling Merry and Pippin that they were a marvel. "I haven’t seen the place in nearly a month, true, but it looks wonderful! When my gaffer said you’d moved in, I expected to find you camped out in here, and have a word with you. But now, it looks almost the same as it always did."

Pippin laughed, "You weren’t too far off. Last night, we were nearly camping. But now you will observe, we have food, and fire wood, so we are much better prepared."

"Would you like to join us for supper?" asked Frodo.

Sam hesitated. "I would, at that. It is my first night home, so I’d like to be getting back to my gaffer. But of course, Marigold had supper all ready for him, so it won’t hurt if I stay up here for a little while."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Pippin. "You can stay for supper, and now that Frodo is rested, it can be a bit more like a party than last night. We can celebrate your homecoming tonight."

"Pippin has been dying for a party," Frodo said as an aside to Sam. "I suspect it will be a long time before we get him to visit stuffy old Hobbiton again."

Now it was Merry’s turn to laugh. "And I think it will be a long time before you and Sam get stuffy." He turned back into the kitchen. "I’ll get the roast, and we have some potatoes. Pippin, would you mind filling the mugs?"

"With what?" asked Frodo.

"With beer, of course!" replied Pippin with a wink.

"Where did that come from?" asked Frodo, who was still mystified.

"Oh, Merry and I acquired a small barrel this morning, while you were sleeping." With a laugh, Pippin disappeared down the hallway, carrying the empty mugs.

Frodo turned to Merry. "Is there anything you two didn’t stock?"

Merry looked thoughtful for a moment. "You are still missing parsley," he said.

Sam laughed. "We’ll soon take care of that. Bag End has always grown its own herbs."

"Hmmm. Perhaps Pippin and I should look into that," said Merry. "It would be much more convenient." He picked up the roast, and then turned back to them. "Oh, and I almost forgot, you are still missing the feather beds."

Frodo grimaced. "I will look into that shortly, I promise."

They soon sat down at the dining room table and started discussing everyone’s coming and goings for the past month. Sam and Pippin were the most talkative. Frodo only spoke when Sam asked him questions about Hobbiton, but he smiled often, and seemed to enjoy their company. Sam seemed to be his usual cheerful self, and it seemed he had lost any provincial mistrust he may have had for the hobbits from more distant parts of the Shire. "Everywhere I went, it seemed, the folk were more’n willing to lend a hand. They all thanked me for what I were doing, and said they’d be glad to see things go back to the way they had been, right enough. ‘Course, it seemed to me like they all knew I was comin’, and when. And I don’t think that that was all Shire-talk, were it, Mr. Frodo?

"No, it wasn’t. I did write some letters." Frodo raised his hand before Sam could protest. "Sam, you know how the old ladies have been hassling me about the Post. Seems they think it isn’t as fast as it used to be, and they think their letters are going astray."

"Into a wastebasket, more like," muttered Pippin, who had many well-intentioned older relatives.

"Well, anyway, as Post Master, it seemed only right that I make some effort to make sure things run smoothly, at least until Old Will is ready to take things in hand." Frodo continued. "And no, Pippin, I honestly think that some of the letters weren’t reaching their destinations. So, Sam, I took advantage of your little holiday to write letters to towns all over the Shire. It turned out that some of the new letter-carriers were not doing their jobs very well at all. It seems that some Shirrifs had gotten used to being lazy. So, we’ve found new hobbits to do their work, and now it seems to be getting done."

"Well, I do thank you Mr. Frodo, though you needn’t have done that, really," said Sam.

"And the old ladies of Hobbiton thank you, too!" added Pippin.

"And what have the two of you been doing, other than moving all of Mr. Frodo’s things?" asked Sam.
Pippin launched into a description of their trip to Tuckborough, and then rather innocently asked Sam what sorts of trees grew in the North Farthing. He got more of an answer to that then he had thought possible.

"Those ruffians, though, they made quite a mess of Scary, let me tell you," Sam continued, shaking his head. "Why, they burned down so many trees, there weren’t no way I could replant them all. And houses, too! Imagine that, burning down folks’ homes. Terrible, that was. I hope that is the last we’ve seen of them."

Pippin seized on this opportunity to turn to a topic other than trees. "We haven’t seen any of them for nearly three months, and the last report we heard of them, down in the South Farthing, was about two months ago, now. I think we have seen the last of them, though of course we still have to keep a look-out."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So I guess it was lucky that Mr. Frodo bought Crickhollow after all. Though I’m forgetting, of course it belonged to the Brandybucks before anyway."

Merry laughed, "No, it’s been a life saver! We needed somewhere we could get the lads together, and Brandy Hall was definitely out of the question."

"Why is that?" asked Sam, puzzled. "It certainly looked big enough to me."

"Oh, the size isn’t the problem," said Pippin ruefully. "There are just too many mothers. ‘Don’t bring your sword in here,’ ‘Don’t let the children touch that war-gear,’ ugh!"

"Oh, I see," laughed Sam. "That would make it difficult to hold a muster! It is a shame, not being welcome in your own home, just because it’s hard times."

"He’s welcome, don’t worry about that!" said Pippin. "The mothers may complain about us, but the children love us. Especially after Merry’s birthday!"

"Why, what did he do?" asked Sam.

"Oh, he only made puppets for every child in the place," Pippin said offhandedly.

"That is a lot of puppets, then," smiled Sam.

"Well, you have to understand, I missed giving out gifts last year, so I had to make up for it. I tried to make dolls for the girls…" Merry began to explain.

"But they didn’t turn out well at all!" laughed Pippin, who had three older sisters.

"So I decided to turn them into puppets, which worked out much better. It’s easier to carve faces and have wooden bodies than to do all of that stitching, anyway. I just made mitten puppets for the younger ones, but they seemed to like them."

"But now that the ruffians are gone, what will you do?" asked Sam.

"We’ll have to talk to cousin Frodo about that," said Merry. "It depends on what his plans for Crickhollow are. Even though we probably won’t have to hold any more musters, we can certainly hold parties there! But we can talk business some other time."

They had finished eating, and were just filling up the corners, so Pippin got up to clear the plates away. From the kitchen, they soon heard his voice ring out with "Chip the bowls and crack the plates, that’s what Frodo Baggins hates…"

"Yes, I do, so you had better not break any!" called Frodo, as Merry laughed.

Sam stood up. "Mr. Merry, I thank you for the supper. It’s been that good to be back and see you all. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help out with the moving, but I’ll try to help with any loose ends. Like parsley," he added with a grin.

"Sam, we’re glad you were able to stay to dinner. Take care, and have a good evening."

"Goodnight, Mr. Pippin!" he called into the kitchen, and Pippin waved back. He was covered in soap suds to his elbows, but he was grinning.

Frodo stood up to walk Sam to the door. "I’m glad you’re back," he said simply.

"Me too, Mr. Frodo, me too," said Sam. "Hobbiton is home."

"I’m sure you have things to see to, since you just arrived today. I’d like to talk to you about the garden, but we can do that whenever you are ready. I just moved, too, so I have plenty to keep me busy here."

"Well, I do have some things to do tomorrow, sir, but I will be happy to talk about the garden the next day."

"Goodnight, Sam. Thank you for stopping by for supper."

"Goodnight, Mr. Frodo."

***

Sam had a lot on his mind as he walked down the hill that night. It had been a busy day. He’d arrived in Bywater and returned the carts (and Cres Cartwright) early that afternoon. He’d gone to visit his Gaffer straightaway, to make sure that everything was as it should be at home. He’d found Marigold there, of course, getting supper ready and doing the washing. The Gaffer told him that Mr. Frodo had already gone and moved hisself into Bag End with those cousins of his. He wondered a bit at that, but now that he had seen everything for himself, he thought it must be fine. Mr. Frodo, he did look a bit tired, though. Perhaps the moving should have been left to younger hobbits… He had offered to walk Marigold home, and she seemed pleased enough with that suggestion. She asked a few polite questions about his journey, and then caught him up with what was happening in Hobbiton. He had been gone for well nigh a month, so it shouldn't’ve surprised him that so much had happened. But it did catch him off guard, a bit.

He wished Marigold a good evening, and exchanged pleasantries with Tom. Then, since he was right there, it seemed as good a time as any to talk to Farmer Cotton. He’d been to see the Cottons nearly every day since he’d gotten back from Gondor, but he was a bit nervous, all the same. Don’t be a fool, Samwise, he told himself. You’ve talked to Farmer Cotton many a time, and you’ve got no reason to think he’ll disagree with you now. So, get it done, and no more delaying. You’re home now, and home for good. As luck would have it, Farmer Cotton was coming in from the fields as Sam came up the lane. He waved to him, and the old Farmer waited patiently enough for Sam to reach the yard.

"Mr. Cotton, may I ask to have a word with you?" Sam said, after the greetings.

"Why certainly, if it won’t be keeping me from my supper." Farmer Cotton replied. "And what might this be about?"

"It’s about your daughter, sir. I was hoping that I might have a word with her, I mean, talk to her. I mean…" Sam’s voice trailed off.

"Well then, Master Gamgee, and what would you like to talk to her about?" asked Farmer Cotton pleasantly. He did not seem to be surprised by this conversation.

"Sir, I would like to ask Rose to marry me," Sam said, standing up straight. "I’ve come home, to stay if you understand me, and I’m mighty glad that she’s waited for me all this time. So, if it’s agreeable to you, I’d like to speak with her tomorrow."

"I understand you, Master Gamgee," said Farmer Cotton. "I must say, I’m glad to hear that you’ve decided to put down some roots in Hobbiton. It doesn’t do to have family too far away. I’ll talk to the Misses, but I dare say she’ll be able to spare Rose tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you, sir!" Sam said, letting out his breath. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding it. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

The walk back to Hobbiton had been a blur for Sam. Thinking about it now, he smiled. Tomorrow certainly would be an important day! As he reached the door to the small hole he shared with the Gaffer, he remembered Bilbo’s parting comment to him in Rivendell. Bless the old hobbit! he thought. He knew well enough that once I came home, I’d be wanting to get married. I wonder if he remembers Rosie? Then he stepped inside.

***

The next morning, Sam took care of some odds and ends of business. Of course he had to listen to the Gaffer’s version of everything that had happened while he was away, and answer all of his questions about his trip. Sam was glad of his father’s advice, but he had trouble concentrating on everything that was said. After elevenses, he prepared to leave, and informed the Gaffer that he might not be back until later that evening. "Home again, and off already," said the Gaffer, shaking his head, but Sam did not elaborate. Better to wait until I have news, he thought. First, he stopped by Widow Rumble’s to give her a skein of wool yarn and some jars of pears that he had picked up on his travels. She had looked after the Gaffer while he was away, and he was grateful for that.

"Why, young Master Gamgee, there weren’t no need for you to do all of that!" she said when he presented his gifts to her. "You know I’m happy to check in on him, and see that all is well there. It does me good to get out and about too, you know," she smiled. "You know that Marigold has come over every week, and she probably could have managed just fine without me."

"I want to thank you, all the same," said Sam. "And it has been a relief to Marigold, knowing that you are here. She might not be able to always make it, now, with the baby coming in the summer."

"That’s true enough, but now that you are here, I doubt that there’ll be much for me to do, between the two of you. But I’ll still stop over, all the same, in case there is anything that needs doing. Sometimes you young folk don’t understand what it’s like, getting old," she finished with a grin.

Sam stayed a bit longer to listen to her news of her family, and then, with a final word of thanks, he bid her farewell and set off towards the Cottons. Over the past few weeks he had had some time to do some thinking. Most of the winter, he had been too busy to put two thoughts together, but travelling about the Shire, he had made up his mind.

Or so he thought. As much as he had known that Rosie was the girl for him, he had to think about his other responsibilities. Take his old Gaffer, now. He was getting up there in years, and needed someone to look after him. Sam had stayed with him all winter, but leaving on this trip to visit the trees had driven home to him the importance of staying close to home. He didn’t think that the Gaffer would mind having him and Rosie there, so that would be fine. But, he wasn’t sure what Rosie would think of all that. Sharing a home with his Gaffer might be too much to ask of a young bride. And then there was Frodo. Mr. Frodo. What was Sam to do? He had looked tired last night. He ought not to be up at Bag End, all by himself. His cousins loved him dearly, but sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t as young as them. And they would be leaving soon enough, to be sure. He felt a bit odd, going to talk to Rosie without knowing what Mr. Frodo thought of it. But there would be plenty of time for that. Assuming Rose said yes, he could tell his Gaffer and Mr. Frodo, and give them both plenty of time to get used to the idea, before the wedding. Assuming she said yes. Oh he did hope…well, there weren’t any need to dwell on that – he would hear an answer from her own lips soon enough.

But it was hard to think of those things now! Everything he saw reminded him of Rosie. As he walked through the village of Hobbiton, he was reminded of many market days. And always, weaving in and out of the crowd of faces, there was Rosie, buying things for her family, or more often selling, wearing her hat with the blue ribbon. As he crossed the bridge, he remembered playing in the Water. Rosie and Marigold had sat on the bank and laughed at the antics of the boys, and the sun had shown in her hair. If he had been nervous the night before, now he was in danger of floating away. A great fool I must look, he thought, grinning from ear to ear for no reason. As he walked down the lane to her family’s farm, he remembered warm summer days spent seeking the cool shade of the tall trees. Sitting in the grass, he could watch the light of the westering sun reflect in her bright eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cotton. I hope you are well?" Somehow, Sam had made it to the kitchen, though he did not remember how he got there.

"Very well, thank you. We’ve missed you this past month, and I hope you’ll tell us all about your trip sometime."

"I’d be happy to. Is Rosie about this afternoon?" he asked.

"Why, yes she is. Let me call her a moment." Mrs. Cotton stepped out of the kitchen, and called down the hall, "Rosie, you have a visitor." Then Mrs. Cotton turned back to Sam. "Oh, if you can remember, would you mention to Mr. Frodo that I told Regan he can deliver Frodo Baggins’ letters to Bag End now?"

Sam nodded absently, but his eyes strayed to the door. Rosie arrived a moment later, with her eyes shining. She grinned as soon as she saw him, even though she was clearly trying to keep a straight face. Sam, meanwhile, was trying to find his voice. He couldn’t remember her ever looking so beautiful.

"Rosie…" he began. "Rosie, would you like to go for a walk?" he finally managed.

"Yes, I would," she replied, still smiling.

Mrs. Cotton watched from the window as Sam and Rosie walked across the fields.

***

The crickets were chirping in the gloaming when Sam walked Rosie back to her door.

"What a day!" said Sam, taking Rosie’s hand. "I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy."

"Me neither," she laughed. "Now, it seems that all the time you were away was no more than a day or so. But I don’t want to let you out of my sight, now!"

"I don’t want to leave you, neither," he said, kissing her hand. "And I am sorry it’s been so difficult for you. I promise you, you’ll always know from now on. No more secrets and guessing between us."

"Well, much as I don’t want to, I should probably go inside and tell them the news." She laughed again. "Not that they can’t guess…"

"Oh, Rose dear, they can guess quite easily that I’d want to marry the prettiest girl in the Shire. But I’m not sure they’d be so certain about you!"

"Aren’t you?"

"Oh, aye, you could have had any lad in the world, and that is no lie. I’m right amazed you’ve waited all this time for me, I am. And I can’t ask you to wait any longer."

"Did you honestly think I’d say no?" she laughed. "I’ll let you know what they said tomorrow. And you’re going to tell me what your Gaffer says, won’t you?"

"Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, my love." He put his arms around her, holding her close and breathing in her sweet scent. "Goodnight, Rosie." He kissed her forehead and let her go, reluctantly.

"Goodnight, Sam," she said, but didn’t step away. He kissed her, and they both grinned. Then she turned, and went into the house.

***

Sam was in a bit of a fix. He’d been worrying over what to say to Frodo ever since he trudged up to Bag End that morning. How was he going to break the news? How was he going to tell Frodo that he and Rosie would be getting married, and right away at that? He couldn’t think what to say, so he let the day drag by, with Mr. Frodo content to go over the garden and the repairs of Bag End, discussing plans for the future. It wasn’t until the afternoon that he finally made up his mind to say something. Better he hear it from him directly, after all.

So, when Frodo asked him when he would be moving in, he tried the best he could to break the news gently. After all, Mr. Frodo had nearly as much claim to him as Rosie, but at least Rose knew all about Mr. Frodo. Frodo had never married, so Sam wasn’t sure if he would really understand. But Frodo surprised him. He should have known, he thought to himself, that Frodo would know him better than that. He had invited both him and Rosie to live at Bag End! What a solution – and in an entire month of puzzling over the situation, it had never occurred to Sam. He had only to tell Rosie tonight, but he thought she would be quite pleased with the arrangements.

***

Merry walked into Frodo’s study. He had just returned from a walk to Overhill with Pippin, and was in good spirits.

"Frodo, I hope I’m not interrupting you," he began. "I realize how important it is for you to stay in this stuffy room while it is bright and green outside."

Frodo looked up. "What? Oh, I’m sorry, Merry. How was your walk?"

"Lovely. Do you know, that tree Sam planted by the stump of the old Party Tree is already taller than I am?"

"And that is saying something," Frodo smiled. "I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go with you. These papers are a frightful nuisance, but they must be taken care of. I’ve just received a letter from the Bracegirdles. It seems Lobelia died earlier this week."

"Oh, I guess that explains why she didn’t answer your letter, then," was all Merry found to say in reply.

"Yes, though I think you may have to revise your opinion of her," said Frodo quietly.

"Oh? And why is that?" asked Merry.

"Because she has left everything to those hurt by Lotho. And, I’m afraid she entrusted it all to me."

"She did what!" Merry’s face was a study in shock. "First Bag End, and now everything she owns. And she left it…to you! I think you are right." He paused for a moment, and then mused, "We are not the only ones who have changed over this past year or so."

"No, indeed not. The whole Shire has changed, Merry. I can only hope it will be for the better," said Frodo.

"Frodo, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Crickhollow," Merry continued after awhile. "Now that you’ve settled into Bag End, do you know what your plans are for the place?"

"I haven’t thought of that recently, but I can assure you, I have no intention of turning you and Pippin out, if that’s what you’re worried about." Frodo smiled affectionately at his cousin.

"I’m glad to hear that!" said Merry, feigning relief. "But seriously, if you do think of selling, I’d like you to know that I am interested in buying it."

"Really?" Frodo seemed mildly surprised. "Well, it might as well go back to a Brandybuck at some point. There’s no hurry now, though. You can continue to live there at present, and when you are serious about settling down, we’ll discuss it again. Does your father know about this?"

"Yes, I talked to him about that before we went to Tuckborough. He understands why I need to stay clear of Brandy Hall, and I assured him that I wouldn’t be moving away permanently. It would just be good to know that I’ll always have a retreat away from the hustle and bustle of the family."

"So you have thought this out. I’m glad to hear that. Well, I’m not quite ready to let go of the place just yet, but I will keep this in mind. I can promise you that you will be the first person I talk to, when I do decide to sell it." Frodo’s face looked a bit pained, and Merry wondered at that. He hadn’t realized that Frodo felt attached to Crickhollow, since he’d never really lived there.

***

"So, Merry," began Pippin. "How long would you like to stay in Hobbiton?"

They were ambling around the Hill in the afternoon; Sam was in the garden, turning over the soil. Merry’s gaze strayed over to Bag End before he answered.

"That depends. Is there any pressing reason to go back to Crickhollow?"

"Well, no, not really." Pippin said, frowning. "I mean, I want to go back at some point, and of course we cannot just stay with Frodo indefinately."

"Yes, Frodo…" Merry said, "he’s not left his study since we’ve been here, and he’s rather tenaciously rejected all of your suggestions for parties. He is not himself." He sighed. "I’m not sure what’s to be done with him, but I am not going to leave here until I have at least an idea."

"He is not the only one who is being close," Pippin replied. "Sam has been unusually quiet since he got back. Either he knows about Frodo, and doesn’t want to talk about it, or else…well, what else would it be?"

"Let’s ask him," said Merry. He walked over to the garden, with Pippin following. Sam looked up when he saw them approaching, and paused, leaning on his shovel.

"Sam, do you know why Frodo’s been keeping himself cooped up since he moved?" Pippin asked.

"No, Mr. Pippin, I don’t, but I do know the Cottons have said he did the same while I were away, it seems. It isn’t good for him, but you know he doesn’t listen to no one when he has a mind."

"Well, I have a mind to change that," said Merry. "But Pippin and I will not be here indefinitely, so we’ll need your help, Sam."

"Why Mr. Merry, you aren’t starting another conspiracy, now are you?" asked Sam, with a grin.

"No, nothing so serious," Merry assured him.

"But we know that there is nothing like your gentle encouragement for getting Frodo to do things," Pippin grinned.

"You will be around after we leave, won’t you?" asked Merry.

"Well, yes, Mr. Merry, you know that. I live in Hobbiton," Sam answered, using a suspiciously long way of saying yes.

"What is it you aren’t telling us, Sam?" asked Pippin.

"Whatever it is, you’ll hear about it soon enough," he said gruffly, turning back to his shoveling. His ears, Pippin noticed, were bright red.

"Then why don’t you just tell us now?" persisted Merry.

"What was your plan to get Mr. Frodo out of his hobbit-hole?" Sam asked, pointedly ignoring the question and continuing to turn over the soil.

Pippin looked across at Merry as if to say "I-told-you-so," but Merry just ignored him. "Well, Pippin and I don’t have any clear plans, but we thought we’d start with something small, gradually working our way up to a long walk or a full-scale party, or both. But we weren’t sure how long that would take."

"Seeing as how we can’t even get him to spend an afternoon sitting in the garden, at the moment," Pippin chimed in helpfully.

"Oh, I see," said Sam, leaning on his shovel again. "You want to make sure he’s settled in, afore you leave, but you don’t want to stay all summer. Of course I’ll look after him, you needn’t worry about that. I can tell you, he has come out to the garden, though not for a whole afternoon." Sam paused, looked hard at his shovel for a moment. "I’ll tell you what. I was thinking of having a bit of a party next Saturday, just a few folk over, mind you, and I’d certainly be pleased if you would like to join us."

Merry clapped him on the back. "That will be perfect! We can play it up, and insist that the acting-Mayor attend your first birthday back in the Shire. What do you think, Pippin, will that do?"

Before he could answer, the kitchen door opened and Frodo came out. "Well, there you all are!" he called. "It was awfully quiet inside, and I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten to," he said as he slowly walked over to join them. "These cousins of mine need looking after, wouldn’t you agree, Sam?" he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Aye, that they do, sir. They are always dashing about here, there and everywhere. Why, what was it you were telling me you plan to do tomorrow, Mr. Pippin?"

"Oh, nothing much," Pippin replied, grinning. "I just thought that Merry might like to go for a bit of a ramble along the Water, and then maybe stop by the Ivy Bush on the way home. But, if you think we need looking after, Frodo, you’re welcome to join us." He put on his most innocent expression, knowing that it would make both his cousins even more suspicious. Sure enough, Frodo took the bait.

"Oh, Pippin, I know you’re up to something. You and Merry look thick as thieves. Very well, I’ll join you, if just to keep you respectable. But while I’m out here, I meant to ask you, Sam, how it’s going? I know it’s a frightful nuisance having to start the garden from scratch this year, and I hope you’ve not had too much trouble finding starter seed?"

"Oh no, sir, it’s been going fine. Slowly but surely, it’ll come back. All that ash is probably good for the soil, though we’ll see." Sam then proceeded to explain his plans to Frodo, and Merry and Pippin quietly excused themselves.

***

Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Postscript: Return to Crickhollow

Merry and Pippin let their ponies amble along. They were in no hurry to return to Crickhollow. The evening was cool, and except for a faint breeze that whispered about them on occasion, it was still and clear. They were returning home after Sam’s wedding. They had wandered in silence for some time, enjoying the night air. The last few days had been a whirlwind of people and music, laughing and dancing, food and drink. It was enough of a party even for Pippin’s tastes. Pippin began humming, and Merry frowned; he couldn’t place the tune.

"What is that you’re humming, then?" he asked Pippin.

"Oh, don’t you sing the Plum Picking song in Buckland?" Pippin replied, startled out of his reverie.

"I don’t think I’ve heard it, to be honest with you," said Merry. "How does it go?"

Pippin was only too happy to oblige him by singing:

When it’s plum picking time in the Westfarthing
Grape picking time in the vineyards
Apple picking time in the Eastfarthing
Ev’rybody picks on me
And when it’s sheep-sheering time in the Marish
The hobbits, they all party
Then down in ol’ Tuckborough
It’s gal picking time for me

There’s pipeweed down in the Southfarthing
Free Fair’s where they do the springle-ring
Northfarthing, now I’m a-coming
To you to spend the spring
Buckland, I hear you calling
I know I’ll see you soon
That’s when I’ll do a little picking
Underneath the old Shire moon

Now when hard times overtake you
I hope they don’t get me
For I have got a flower waitin’
For me over on the White Downs.
I know I’m goin’ to see her
I hope it won’t be long
That’s where we’ll pick a snug l’il hole
And call it our hillside home

‘Cause plum picking time in the Westfarthing
Is gal pickin’ time for me.

"No, I don’t think I’ve heard that one before," said Merry when he had finished. "It is a bit odd. What put it into your mind, just now?"

"Well, it is Spring, and we are headed back to Buckland, I guess," said Pippin slowly.

"Oh, good," laughed Merry, "just so long as you don’t have a girl waiting for you or something."

"Why, Merry, I do believe you are jealous of Sam," said Pippin with a sly smile. "Please tell me it isn’t true!"

"Oh, don’t worry, it isn’t," said Merry wryly. "I do believe I would find it lonely to ride about the Shire by myself, though, if both you and Sam were holed up at home with a young wife. And Peregrin Took, don’t you think you’re a bit young for that?" He said the last with a perfectly serious expression, so that Pippin had no choice but to laugh.

"Oh Merry, is that it?" he gasped. "Is that why you’ve looked so glum all this afternoon? And here I thought that you were missing dear cousin Frodo – all along you were worried about having to play bachelor all alone. Well, let me assure you, that I intend to play host at as many parties as you wish, and as for that other matter, I won’t have any wife who doesn’t like such things!"

"Yes, to be sure, Pippin, you will find it hard to attract the sort of lass who doesn’t! But I challenge you to find any lass who will let you ride to Gondor."

"Merry, we just came from there! Why in Middle Earth would we want to go back?" Pippin seemed a bit puzzled.

"Well, not now, of course. But wouldn’t you like to go back, someday?" Merry said, a bit wistfully. "I mean, can you honestly tell me that you would never want to see the White City or the fields of Rohan again?"

"Never is a bit long. But why worry about that now? I will go back with you, whenever you like, and maybe we will even see Treebeard again."

"Pippin, that’s what I mean," said Merry, turning in his saddle to face his young cousin. "I want to be free to do that. And to ride about the Shire, not worrying about when we get back. And to have parties, of course. Rosie is a fine lass, and it’s plain as anything that Sam is crazy about her, but I don’t think he’ll ever get another chance to go to Rivendell and visit elves. He might not mind that…" Merry’s voice trailed off. The ponies had reached a lane that was overhung with beech trees, so they passed into the deeper twilight beneath the leaves.

"And I fancy Fatty won’t mind much, either," Pippin continued.

"Fatty? What are you talking about?" asked Merry, puzzled.

"Well, can you picture him wanting to gallivant about, while a young lass sits at home sighing for him?" replied Pippin.

Merry had to chuckle, "No, I can’t see that at all."

"Well, then, there you go. Fatty should be the next to get married," Pippin concluded.

"And who do you think it will be? Little Melly?" asked Merry.

"Actually, no, it turns out we were wrong about them, after all," said Pippin, sobering up. "I asked Fatty about her, intending to tease him mercilessly, but he denied it all. He said she just asked him if he had seen Pongo while he was in the Lockholes, and he told her what he knew. So naturally, I decided to wheedle that story out of him instead."

"You are a young scoundrel," said Merry, a smile twitching his mouth. "What did he say?"

"All he told me was that Pongo had attempted to smuggle food to some of the other prisoners, but he got caught. The ruffians dragged him off, and he wasn’t seen again. But I guess that was enough for Melilot."

"Hmmm, there must be more to the story," said Merry. "I wonder if Melly does like Fatty after all, and he just hasn’t noticed yet."

"That’s possible!" laughed Pippin. "If so, I pity him…"

"I’ll wish him well, but I’m not ready for that myself. I am too restless for any hobbit-lasses right now, and I don’t know if I shall ever be able to put that aside. Fatty has never been a traveler, and he’s always enjoyed the comforts of home more than a walk about the countryside anyway. But I am not like him, and I didn’t think Sam was either."

"So, you are resolved to be a bachelor, like old Bilbo?" asked Pippin. "I will be sure to remind you of this in a few years when you decide to be smitten by some pretty young maid." Pippin grinned mischievously, so that Merry could see his teeth white in the moonlight.

"I’m sure you will!" laughed Merry. "I just ask for a few years to travel around and enjoy myself before resigning myself to my fate, that’s all. At least I will have you and Frodo for company."

"For the present!" laughed Pippin, and launched into another recital of his Plum Picking song.

***

"Hmmm, that’s funny," Merry mused, mostly to himself.

"What’s funny?" asked Pippin, looking up.

"Oh, nothing. At least, maybe nothing," said Merry looking up from the book he was reading. "This is just some of Bilbo’s translations. Frodo lent it to me."

They were in the sitting room of Crickhollow in the early summer. The windows were open, as the evening was calm and balmy.

"What was funny, though?" asked Pippin again, patiently. He had put down his pen, glad of any distraction from the answer he was attempting to write to a letter from his mother.

"Well, when we were helping Frodo move, I accidentally saw one of his papers. I didn’t mean to pry, but it fell out of the packet of letters. He saw me reading it, and said it was just a copy of one of these poems. And it is, but that isn’t quite the whole story, that’s all."

"Let’s hear the poem, then," asked Pippin.

"I can’t read you the whole thing!" laughed Merry. "It’s pages and pages long. The poem is by an elf named Daeron, and it’s all about Luthien. You remember, the elf that Strider sang to us about? But here is the part Frodo copied out." Merry read the short excerpt aloud.

"That isn’t funny at all! Sounds rather dismal to me," said Pippin when he had finished.

"Well, yes, that’s the funny part. Why on earth would Frodo want to copy out that particular part of the poem? I mean, the whole poem is a lament, but at least parts of it are just praising her beauty and such. It seems odd to me."

"Then it’s a good thing you’ve borrowed the book. There is no need for him to be musing over stuff like that when the sun is shining," Pippin concluded.

"Yes, I think so too. That was my main motivation in getting them away from him. As kind as the Cottons are, it must have been difficult for Frodo to live with them for so long. I mean, could you imagine being trapped in Brandy Hall for four months?" Merry asked.

"No, thank you!" said Pippin with a shudder. "I have the utmost respect for your relations, but I do need to get away from them from time to time."

"I was a bit worried about Frodo, but I think now that he’s back in Bag End, things will settle down for him. Sam and Rosie will look after him, of course, but Sam understands."

"Better than we do, probably," added Pippin.

"True. Things will work out in the end. The Shire has mended beautifully. This spring has been better than many that I remember," said Merry with a smile.

***

THE END

***

Author’s notes:

The epigram under the title is from Bilbo’s poem about Aragorn in The Fellowship of the Ring.

The ‘elvish poem’ is part of a translation of a Spanish poem by St. John of the Cross. The word "love" in the first line has been substituted for "bride."

The ‘gal-picking’ song that Pippin sings is based heavily on the bluegrass song "Peach picking time in Georgia" by Jimmie Rodgers.

Many thanks to my beta, pippinsqueak.  And thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Finished: July 4, 2005   (The interlude was the first fan-fiction I ever wrote, in March 2004.)