Chapter Nine - Anticipation

Pippin had not shown up at the tomato vines as Merry anticipated. He decided to ease his growing apprehension and go back to the carrot patch to have a look. He had a very bad feeling about this. Sure enough, as he came up to where he last saw Pippin, he noticed the field was empty. He couldn’t have gone back already! Yet Merry was secretly hoping that was exactly what happened. It was too quiet and he didn’t like the sound of it. Then he heard the slap of pony reins and the sound of bridle jingling. A cart not much bigger than the one Frodo started out with on their journey rolled by. In the back was the figure of a small hobbit. Merry focused on the figure. No! Merry got to his feet and ran after the cart.

Pippin caught sight of his cousin running in the shadows. He looked up at the Shirrifs; neither seemed to be paying him any mind. He looked back out towards Merry and shook his head vigorously. The Second-Shirrif caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and turned round, “What are ye shakin’ yer head for?” The Shirrif peered into the darkness, but Merry caught his movement and leapt to the side of the road in the cover of the thickets. Merry's heart sank, realizing that his action cost him any ability to rescue Pippin. When the cart was too far to see in the darkness, Merry stood in road deciding what to do next. He indeed saw Pippin shaking his head--but did it mean to not follow him? Merry decided to take the signal exactly how he guessed Pippin intended it: “Don’t follow!”

Merry was already spent from his sprint alongside the cart yet he ran as fast as his burning lungs would allow back to where his older cousin waited. “Frodo!” He gasped, “Frodo! They got him!”

The knot in Frodo’s stomach tightened at seeing his cousin running up without Pippin following behind. “What happened?”

Merry went into where he followed Pippin inside his uncle’s crop fields and what he saw. “It’s all my fault, Frodo! I should have stayed with him!” He sat miserably on the ground with his head in his hands.

“No Merry, this is really my fault,” Frodo said, sitting down next to him. “I’m the adult hobbit who should be minding my younger cousins.” He slowly shook his head. “I‘ve never been very good at it, have I? I should have put my foot down with Pippin and said no more trespassing.”

Merry was very anxious, “What are we going to do now? I’ll be lucky if Uncle Paladin still calls me his nephew.”

Frodo looked up at the moon rising above the horizon; evening was getting on. “They must be taking him to Paladin,” Frodo said, “Let’s follow him to the Smials.”

The two hobbits gathered up all the packs and tied them together, then tied them across the pony’s back. Onward they trudged towards Tuckborough.

As they walked towards Great Smials, Merry’s mind was preparing for the meeting with his uncle. None of his speeches or alibis ended nicely. What was his uncle thinking? How did it feel to have your son brought home by the Shirrifs? Still, a couple miles away from Tuckborough, Merry was lost in his own thoughts and then was brought back to the present when he felt Frodo tug on his shirt. He asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Shhh--I hear something coming this way from around the corner,” Frodo replied, taking the pony into the shadows of the trees.

Sure enough, soon the sound of hooves came up from out of the darkness. Merry was peering into the void as a cloaked figure rode up from around the bend in the road. Rubbing his tired eyes, he imagined heard Frodo identify the rider.

“Pervinca Took!” Frodo cried, “What in the Shire, Lass, are you doing riding alone in the dark--and at this hour?”

Pervinca was sort of an unofficial member of Merry and Pippin’s band of friends. While she didn’t go tramping about the Shire, she did aid in their cover-ups, packed their provisions, or stitched up the rips and tears in their clothing so as not to risk being caught by their parents. When Pippin arrived home escorted by the Shirrifs, and no cousins in sight, Pervinca understood something went wrong with their plans. Pippin was never in this sort of trouble before, and she was concerned over her cousins as well. She saw Pippin glance in her direction as he passed by on his way to his room. Pervinca knew then that her cousins weren’t far behind...just not in sight as of yet. She nearly passed them by in the darkness; she carried no lantern with her. Pervinca stopped her pony and turned round, “I was looking for you!”

Frodo and Merry looked at each other. Merry asked, “Are you aware of Pippin?”

She looked from one cousin to the other. “Yes, I am,” she answered. “The Shirrifs brought him home half an hour ago. Father is incensed right now--don’t even think to talk to him tonight.”

“How is Pippin?” Merry ventured.

“He’s confined to his room. No visitors, messages, or letters because he won’t talk.”

“That’s what we’re riding to the Smials for--to talk,” offered Merry.

“As I said, Merry, not tonight. Here,” she handed Merry a sizable sack, “I’m guessing you’re both probably hungry. I’ll leave the trap door unlocked--the one next to the cellars. Merry knows the way.”

Merry took the sack she offered, “Thank you.”

Pervinca dropped her gaze. “I--I’ve got to get back,” she said, patting her pony’s neck. “Mother thinks I’m out in the stables grooming Sprinkles, here.”

“Wait!” Merry called after her, “Pervinca, if you get the chance to talk to Pippin, tell him we haven’t abandoned him. Please?”

With a sad smile, the teen nodded, “I will.” Pervinca turned her pony round, galloping back towards Great Smials.

* * * * * *

Merry and Frodo found the trap door unlocked just as Pervinca said. It was one of the many little doors that were used round the Smials as access doors for the storage rooms. It creaked loudly as Merry unlatched it and swung it open inside. Depending on which tunnel a trap door was accessing, it might open sideways to the wall of the tunnel, or as this one did, swing upwards near the ceiling. Merry led the way in, jumping down inside the tunnel. Once Frodo was safe inside, Merry took the burning candle out of the wall sconce and led the way down the passage.

Frodo looked about the dark, dusty old tunnel and whispered, “I’m glad you know your way around here.”

“When you live here on and off you get to know all the hidden crannies,” Merry said, smiling. He turned right at the corner and counted three doors, and on the fourth he stopped, putting his hand to the handle. “I have my own room in the my uncle’s tunnel, but I think I will wait until tomorrow when we meet with him first.” Merry opened the door, leading the way inside the room. It was filled with unwanted furniture: couches, chairs, tables, and desks. Merry headed for the couch in the centre. “This one’s mine!” He said as he hopped onto it.

“Why is that one your couch?” asked Frodo.

Merry squirmed about, trying to get comfortable, “Because I’m claiming it.”

“What happened to Brandybuck hospitality?”

“This isn’t Buckland, my friend. When in the Tooklands, one behaves like a Took!”

“You’d better be careful--my friend!” Frodo grinned in the dark, “You never know if this room is guarded by the spirit of the Old Took!”

Merry’s eyes snapped open; he raised his head and gazed about in the darkness.

“Sweet dreams!” Frodo smiled as he took one of the other dusty couches and fell asleep at once.

Merry lay awake tossing and turning for some time, but it wasn’t over spirits or the like. Merry was too old for such nonsense...or so he thought. He tossed and turned more times than he liked to count. All he could think about was his dear friend locked up in his room.

Before Merry realized it, morning had arrived. As there were no windows in a storage room, the only real way Merry knew it was morning was that he’d heard the hustle and bustle in the cellars next door. It was a normal occurrence at this time of the morning for the servants to enter the cellars and fetch breakfast items for the cooks.

Frodo awoke when he heard a knock at the door. Merry got up to answer it. He heard faint talking and whispers, then the door closing. “Who was that?” Frodo asked.

“She brought us breakfast,” Merry answered, laying a tray on a nearby table.

“Who?”

“Pervinca, silly.”

Frodo got up and padded over to the table. He indeed felt very hungry; he breathed in the aroma of flat-cakes and bacon. “She is a sweet lass, isn’t she?”

Merry was busy wiping off the table with an old rag that he found elsewhere in the room. He then sat down and prepared his own tea, letting Frodo satiate his appetite. After a few bites, Frodo set down his fork, “I’m too worried to eat.”

Merry sat watching the steam rising from his tea. “Me, too.”

“Do you think Paladin will be in his office by now?”

“No,” Merry answered. “Give him another hour or so. Though, I daresay he’d probably see us directly if he knew we were here.”

“No, no,” Frodo smiled nervously, “I wouldn’t want to disturb his time with his family.”

The more Merry thought about it, the more he wanted to be done with it. “I, for one, would like to get this waiting over with. Come with me!”