Chapter Four - Of All Things

“Pippin!” Merry yelled out into the vast countryside of The Yale. He’d been searching for his wayward cousin for more than ten minutes. “Pippin!” In the distance, Merry could see Pippin marching at a brisk pace over hills, around trees and bushes. Out of breath, he hunched over with his hands on his knees to rest. After a bit more of a run, he stopped, cupping his hands to his mouth he shouted again, “Pippin! If you don’t stop and answer me, I’ll tell your father!”

Far up ahead in the pathway, the small figure abruptly stopped and turned round. “What do you want?” When Merry failed to answer at once, the teen shouted, “Fine! Then leave me alone!”

“No!” Merry yelled in return, gasping for breath, “Stay…where you are…I’m… coming towards you!”

Pippin began to jog in order to stay ahead of his pursuer, though slightly winded himself.

When Merry finally got near to Pippin he snapped, “Stop!”

Pippin slowed down to a moderate pace, yet he continued to ignore his cousin and kept walking. At last, Merry caught up to him. He took hold of Pippin’s arm and pulled him round, “I said stop!”

“Give me one good reason.” Pippin stood rooted, breathing hard with arms crossed over his chest waiting for an answer.

Merry pulled out his pocket handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. “I know you’re angry, Pip,” he said, “but truth be told, I didn’t know all of Frodo’s plans, either.”

“But you knew enough. More than I ever did.” Pippin sat his pack on the ground and was now pacing back and forth in front of his cousin.

“The only thing I knew that you didn’t was that Frodo wanted to be at the Woody End by midnight tomorrow--and I still don’t know why. He still wouldn’t tell me even after you left.”

“But why does he keep secrets like that? Doesn’t he trust me? Doesn’t he trust us? I daresay he is closest to you, Merry--why would he keep a secret from you?” Pippin gazed at the countryside around them; his anger was wearing off a little. “Is he in any sort of trouble?”

Merry shook his head, “I asked him that same question and he told me no. But...he may not be telling everything, as he’s done so far.” Then a thought came to him, “He may not be in any trouble, but I wonder if trouble will find him at Woody End? I left him alone up by the road.” Another thought occurred to the young tween.

The young hobbits fixed their eyes on each other. Pippin picked up his pack and said, “Let’s go!” Both began running back in the direction of the road where Merry had left Frodo.

Some minutes later the two cousins broke through the trees and thickets that lined the East Road. Merry looked up and down only to find the East Road empty in both directions, except for the broken cart lying on it’s side over yonder. “There,” Merry pointed farther up the road, “There’s the cart way up there, and that’s where I left him.” They continued to jog until they came near the cart. “Frodo!” They called again, “Frodo!”

Merry looked around, “Where has he gone? I told him we would both return.”

“Seems to me he had a mind to leave and left just like I did,” said Pippin. He nodded towards Merry’s pack lying on the ground. He then surveyed the surrounding area, “He even took the pony!”

“Of all the...,” Merry said, kicking the dirt in the road. “I need a rest; I can’t go on just yet.” He looked up into the sky wondering how much daylight they had left. “What do you have in your pack, Pip? I’m afraid I didn’t bring much except what I could purchase at the market in Bywater.” Merry sat down on the side of the road and opened his pack, taking out several pieces of fruit and a small loaf of bread.

Pippin untied his pack and rummaged around, “I have only a few apples and a handful of biscuits that I pinched from the kitchens before we left the Smials. This might hold us for a little while, unless you want to Whitfurrows for more food.”

“No,” Merry shook his head, gazing far westward up the road towards the Brandywine Bridge. “That will take too long. He’ll gain too much of a lead. Frodo can’t get very far leading a pony.”

Pippin shot Merry a look, “What if he’s riding it?”

“He couldn’t,” Merry replied. “For one, he didn’t have a saddle, and two--”

Pippin interrupted, shaking his head, “But we’ve all ridden bare-back enough times, Merry.”

Pippin had a point. Merry imagined himself climbing onto the teetering cart and then climbing onto a pony. How could Frodo abandon us out here with only our feet and a few morsels of food? Then he sighed, saying, “Then perhaps we ought to run as much as we can. He’s probably more than halfway there already.”

Heading for Woodhall, Merry and Pippin ran and walked in stints as the brambles allowed for a couple hours straight across the Yale. They were heading the same way Frodo should have been travelling in. The sun descended closer towards the horizon as the two lads trudged with heavy footsteps, walking across the lower road that ran between Stock and Tuckborough. Onwards they pressed towards the Woody End.

After two more hours Pippin was famished, and their provisions were depleted. It takes more than a few morsels of bread, fruit, and biscuits to keep the appetite of a growing hobbit teen at bay. “Merry,” Pippin scowled, “we need to stop and rest--and hopefully find some food quick!” His growling stomach was making him slightly irritable.

Merry was still in a foul mood over their cousin leaving them in dire circumstance. “Wait,” he said sarcastically, “Let me just run over to Buckland and get my Mum to make us a pot of potato stew!”

“I’m serious, Merry,” said Pippin rubbing his stomach. “I’m so hungry.”

Merry stood up, scanning the distant meadows and fields between the Stock Road and the Marish. He knew there were some crop fields not far away, remembering Frodo’s earlier words, ‘Do you remember what we used to do....?’ He looked at Pippin, “I think I have an idea.”

It was a large field that sat near the road where they were crossing. The farmhouse could be seen further in the distance. “Let us wait until it’s dark,” Merry said, leading Pippin into the shade of an elm tree.

Sometime later, the sun had descended beyond the Old Forest and twilight was passing when Merry decided to start out. They marched alongside the fields until Merry stopped and quietly dropped his pack at the foot of the fence; the less to carry. He put his fingers to his lips, signalling for silence. He motioned for Pippin to stay put where he was. Without a sound, Merry eased himself between the wooden slats in the fence.

Once he was on the inside, Merry skulked down, crawling to the edge of the cornfield. The corn stalks were tall; a natural abet for him in his forage for food. He cautiously looked around before stuffing a few ears of corn into his shirt. He continued to creep across the fields in the night, snatching stray vegetables that were in his path. There! He spotted the potato patch. Before stepping out into the wide open field he looked around for anyone watching. Merry didn’t know why--he just had that feeling. Then he heard someone behind him. Merry froze in place, slowly turning his head to see exactly who it was. The sound was that of his foolish cousin trailing some yards behind, shadowing his every move. Merry cringed.

Until now, Merry knew his cousin had never done this sort of thing before. Pippin had never really lifted from gardens or fields--even in a contest against other lads. Pippin’s father owned and farmed the lands round Whitwell, so Pippin never wanted in the matter of food. And another fact was that it had been a long time since Merry himself had done anything like this--and greatly feared he may be out of practice. When Merry was a small child he would tag along with Frodo on his little excursions to Farmer Maggot’s field, which usually ended with them getting caught and poor Frodo taking the brunt of it.

Ignoring Pippin--as long as he was quiet, Merry crawled into the potato patch upon his stomach. He reached out and plucked a few nice round ones, also scooping them into his shirt. He noticed his hands were trembling. Then he heard it--barking! Dogs! Merry became as still as stone. He didn’t particularly care for dogs ever since he was a young boy; a fear that developed while on the aforementioned excursions. Merry’s limbs became as jelly, then quickly recovered his wits. Forgetting about the shadow behind him, Merry jumped up and ran, nearly losing his plunder.

Pippin also heard the ferocious barking then saw his cousin leap up. He did the same, whispering loudly, “Don’t leave me here!” What in the Shire was he whispering for? The dogs certainly weren’t!

Merry ran for his life as he heard the barking get closer. As he ran, he could hear Pippin running directly behind him. Merry slowed down then ran to one side, gently guiding his young cousin ahead of him.

At length, Merry turned his head around to see the dogs chasing him. He could see not only one, but two dark shapes with very long white fangs gaining on him fast. His blood ran cold. In the dim moonlight, Merry could see the silhouette of yet another wooden fence coming up in Pippin’s path, but didn’t guess it would keep the dogs behind it. He saw Pippin clear the railing in one jump. So did he, and almost stumbled as he landed on the other side. As he guessed, the dogs ran right through the fence and kept pursuing them, barking and snarling quite loudly.

Merry stole another glance behind him then tripped on a tree root, falling with a nasty thud just short of a large tree trunk. The dogs were nearly upon him. He quickly gathered up the spilled contents of his shirt then started to get up and run again, but something jerked his leg back. One dog had a piece of his breeches in its muzzle and wouldn’t let go, while the other one was snarling and baring his teeth near Merry’s face. Terrified, Merry let go of his spoils, turning onto his backside to scoot himself backwards until he met up with the tree trunk, all the while his breeches were was being torn to pieces by snarling fangs. Merry was so petrified he couldn’t even find his tongue to yell for help.

Up ahead, Pippin stopped and looked back when he heard Merry fall. He saw his friend lying on the ground unsuccessfully fending off the dogs. “Merry!” Pippin’s heart threatened to thump out of his chest. Pippin ran back to aid his vulnerable cousin but stopped in his tracks when hindered by a third growling shadow baring its teeth at him.

Merry was frightened and spent, but wasn’t about to give up yet. He fruitlessly kicked at the dog tearing at his trousers using his free foot. The dog yanked harder, pulling Merry out from the safety of the tree trunk. The second dog lunged at their prey from the other direction. Merry could only use his arms to shield himself from the terror to come.