Chapter Seven - Flight of the Eagle

Merry walked up the alleyway where he and his brother Pippin had been living inside a makeshift shelter. It was made with parts of wooden crates and anything else that would offer some protection against the rain and other elements of inclement weather. As he approached he saw that Pippin was already lying down inside it. Unless it was a hard day of work for the boy, Pippin would usually be waiting up for him, wanting to just talk for a while; reaffirming the deep ties of brotherly companionship. This night, as Merry drew close and sat down on the floorboard of their crate, he saw that though Pippin seemed asleep, he was not.

“Hullo, Merry.”

“Hullo, Pip.” Merry noticed Pippin was holding a bundle next to him. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just a scratch.”

Merry let out a sigh; he knew better. “Let me see.” He pulled away the cloth his brother was holding, and lifted his arm in a way so the street lanterns would reflect light upon it. It was much more than a ‘scratch’. It was a long, deep gash running the length of Pippin’s forearm. He replaced the rags when blood began oozing from the wound, “Did you go to the healer’s house?”

“It costs pennies that we don’t have to see the healer, Merry.”

“For a simple bandage? Pippin, one silver penny ought to buy a whole bundle of clean bandages!” He looked at Pippin, “How did this happen?”

“I slipped down the Hornblower’s chimney and landed on top of my tools that fell with me. It’s a good thing I was already near the bottom.” Then Pippin made a face and confessed, “I didn’t see the healer because I was quartered four times this week.”

“Four times--Pippin!” Merry bit back the build up of anger. Not at Pippin, but at life’s circumstances; he and Pippin being alone against the hard, cold world. No money, and no longer having a father or mother who would love and care for them. “You probably won’t receive any wages this week.”

“I’m sorry, Merry.” Pippin’s eyes welled with tears. “Sometimes it’s so hard to wake up in the morning.”

Merry brought the boy next to him and gently hugged him just as their father would do mere months ago. “I’m not much better, Pip. My Overlooker took papa’s timepiece from me, and now I don’t know how we’re going to be able to keep time at all. Now we both will be late and quartered as often as they are wont to do.” Merry figured this was as good a time as any to present his idea to his younger brother. “Pip, we have to do something.”

“Like what? Your Overlooker is huge! Me and you together can’t wrestle him to the ground to get back papa’s timepiece.”

“Don’t be silly, Pippin.” Merry sat back against the side of their crate-house. “Thatch has probably got it in his own pockets by now.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you and I ought to think about leaving Michel Delving, Pippin. There’s a lad at the mill doing the same thing with his younger brother. You and I will head east. The countryside has plenty of hobbit-holes and houses that wealthy folk live in. We can present ourselves to the landlord and offer our services in exchange for a soft bed and a hobbit-sized breakfast.”

Pippin wasn’t so sure about all this. As cramped as city life was, this was where he grew up--and where his parents died. “Merry, how do we know these well-to-do folks will hire us on? What if they aren’t needing any more help? What do we do then?”

Merry had no answer for that. He shrugged, “Walk on to the next house, I suppose.”

Pippin looked around, ensuring no ears were close by. He whispered, “What about Pervinca?”

Merry’s heart broke even further. Pervinca was their sister who came down with the Sickness the week after their father died. But instead of allowing her to die in the open shelter of the alleyway where they were living, he and Pippin took her to the Bunce Estate, and offered her housekeeping and laundry services for a soft bed and healing medicines. Merry could readily see the Bunces had no need of additional help, but the Lady of the house took pity on their beautiful sister. She took Pervinca into her house--on the grounds that neither he, nor Pippin, were allowed to visit her for the next six months, as it would be an adjustment period for the girl. “Well...we can’t visit her, but I’m certain we could leave a letter for her. Telling her why we did what we did, and that we would return in time to visit with her.”

Pippin held his injured arm to his chest, pressing the filthy rags against the wound. “And who do you think would write the letter for us and not tattle to Thatch where we put our sister?”

“I wouldn’t worry about Thatch finding out where Pervinca is,” said Merry. “I’ve paid off dad’s debt--and I daresay Mr. Thatch would only let me pay it off by working at his mill. She’s quite safe at the Bunces.”

Pippin hated the thought of leaving the familiar landscape of Michel Delving. What few friends he had lived and worked here in the chief town of the Shire. Both of his parents were buried in the graveyard on the other side of the empty field where all the poor and destitute were buried. And now his sister was a servant to Mrs. Bunce. “Do we have to leave right now, Merry? Can’t we not wait on this decision just one day?”

This was easier than Merry had thought. “Very well,” he answered. “One day it is. Tomorrow at this time we decide to stay, or leave Michel Delving.” He laid himself down and then made enough room for Pippin and his injured arm. “And tomorrow you will see the healer for your arm. I have two pennies in my pocket, and that should be more than enough.”

“Pippin!”

“Hmm?”

“Pippin! Get up! We’re late!” Merry shook his little brother awake.

Pippin sat up with a start, “Late?” Then he remembered about the timepiece. He jumped out of the crate, nearly tripping over Merry in the process and called over his shoulder as he ran up the alley, “Watch out for the grinding wheel!”

“Wait! Pippin!” Merry ran after him and handed him two coins, “You watch out for the chimney drop!” Then they both sprinted off in opposite directions.

Merry winced as he picked up another bundle of grain to be ground. His legs had red welts and stung. He watched as his Overlooker observed his work from above; smirking as he repeatedly smacked one had with the long flat stick he carried in the other. For his tardiness Merry received a punishment and was quartered twice.

It was another long, arduous day full of grueling labor. Merry’s back ached and he longed to get back...home--if you want to call it that. He and Pippin had a decision to make, and he was in hopes that it was an easy one for his brother. If not, somehow Merry would convince him--older brothers had a flair for such things. Either way, Merry would not return to work at the mill tomorrow.

On his way home, Merry wondered where his new friend was. Perhaps Tad and his brother had already left. Then Merry decided he wanted one last time to visit his parents alone. He and Pippin would visit them before leaving of course, but Merry wanted this time to himself. He often would take the short cut from the mill to the empty field to the graveyard on the far side to talk to his father. Merry felt a pressing need to speak to him on the matter of leaving Michel Delving. Of course, it was a one-way conversation, but Merry didn’t care. He was just as close to his father now as he was when he was alive.

He followed the well-worn path he often took through the field, being extra careful in the dark as there were still a few holes left over from hobbit-hole delving hundreds of years ago. He stopped as the graveyard drew near. He scanned the grave markers until he spotted the markers of his parents, laid next to one another. Merry walked over and sat down next to his mother’s grave, pulling up a few unsightly weeds as he spoke. His father’s grave was still freshly dug earth and had no weeds yet.

“Hullo, mum...dad.” He flung the weeds off to the side. “I’ve come to tell you my plan for me and Pip.” He sighed. “You already know where Pervinca is hid because I told you when we did it. I wasn’t going to have her be a slave to that madman they call Thatch--no telling what terrible things he does behind those doors of his. I’ve paid off your debt just last week, and well...Pip and I are going to decide tonight about leaving Michel Delving.” He pause, as if waiting for some sort of answer. “Pippin thinks he’s old enough to work at the mill, but I won’t have him working there, either. I hate it there, dad. I’d rather starve out on the green grasses of the countryside rather than starve there in the alley along with Pippin, living in a dirty crate and tightening our belts every morning.” His finger traced the etched letters upon his father’s marker. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d understand. We’ll be back someday--we must because Pervinca will be working for the Bunces. We can’t leave her here forever without visiting her.” He sat silently in the peaceful graveyard, taking one last look at his parent’s grave. Finally he spoke softly, “Goodbye.”

Merry got up and ran to the edge of the burial place where he stood just before he came in and stopped, and then carefully stepped back into the path he’d treaded upon earlier. He saw a large rock in the distance and cautiously made his way in that direction. He climbed up from behind it and stood upon it. Northward, from west to east he let his eyes rove from one end of Michel Delving down the main road to the farthest end, as if saying farewell to his childhood home. He closed his eyes and slowly lifted his arms out. He imagined himself a great lord of eagles, soaring high above the rocky mountains in the distance--above the hardships and poverty that he and Pippin would face in life down here on Middle Earth. He smiled, feeling the wind rushing against his cheeks and lifting him higher towards the canopy of clouds. Merry allowed himself a few moments of this dream, then arms still gliding outward and eyes still closed, he stepped off the rock to land on solid ground. But his feet didn't meet solid earth--right away. He never saw the hole. No one heard the small cry that escaped his lips.