Chapter 8. Battle

Regi soon re-established order, for a group of ruffians might still come along, and they'd be in an ugly mood if the hobbits of the Shire were arising. He found himself shaking his head, over again, at the wonder of the son of The Took, returned from the dead. Tall, and... knightly. Come to deliver his fellow hobbits out from under the heavy hand of their oppressors, laughing in the face of battle, the stuff of tales. If Pippin truly managed to throw out the ruffians... there would be a Thain worth his loyalty. He listened to the hoofbeats until they faded from hearing.

Riding along to Tuckborough at a fast pace precluded much talk, though Pippin followed Ferdi's shouted directions quickly enough, and the hobbit lads behind them turned when they did, along the circuitous path that avoided the traps laid for ruffians.

As they rode into Tuckborough, they heard shouts, and a bonfire sprang up on the hillside above the town.

'We've been spotted by the watchers!' Ferdi shouted. 'You'll soon have all the attention you want.' Pippin laughed, and pulled his pony down to a trot, the other riders following suit. They trotted into the courtyard before the Smials, to face a ring of grim-faced archers, arrowheads gleaming in the light of many torches.

'Hold!' one of them shouted. 'What is your business here?'

Ferdi slid from the pony's back. 'Put down your weapons,' he called back. 'These are friends!'

'Ferdi? What goes on?' Thain Paladin's voice spoke from the line of archers. He lowered his bow and stepped forward. 'Why have you left your post?'

'We're raising the Shire against the ruffians,' Pippin said, sliding down to stand beside Ferdi. The Thain dropped the bow, and the arrow that he held, and took a step forward. From the corner of his eye, Ferdi saw Pippin remove his helm, tucking it under his arm. 'Hullo, Father,' he said. 'I'm sorry I missed your birthday dinner.'

'Pippin...?' the Thain gasped, and staggered towards his son. Pippin jumped to meet him, and the two embraced fiercely, the father sobbing unashamed, and tears glinting on the son's cheeks as well. Finally, Paladin straightened, putting Pippin away from him, holding him at arm's length to gaze at him in the torchlight. 'You... you're taller,' he said slowly, '...and dressed like an outlander... but no outlander I've ever seen before. Like something out of the old tales...'

Pippin laughed. 'I've been living in the old tales, so I might as well be dressed for it,' he said. 'Father, I need archers, to march to Bywater, as many as you can spare. We're raising the Shire against the ruffians.'

'Raising the Shire,' Paladin said slowly. 'You just got back... you just came back from the dead! What do you mean, "raising the Shire"?' He stepped back and eyed his son. 'You go off without a word, leaving us to think... what? I thought you were dead... Dead....' the old hobbit said, his voice beginning to shake.

Pippin saw, now, in the torchlight, how his father had aged over the past year. Smaller, he seemed, and it was not just the Ent draught that had added to Pippin's stature, but his father was stooped, his face lined with grief and worry, of thinking his only son lost, and of trying to hold Tookland against the ever-increasing threat of the ruffians.

'Da,' he said softly, torn between his father's need, and the knowledge that a body of ruffians would soon descend upon Bywater, whether or not he came in time with Tookish archers. 'I am not dead,' he said, his voice gaining strength. 'Indeed, I am alive, returned from the dead, perhaps... but other hobbits will not be so fortunate if I do not return to Bywater with a body of archers, and quickly!'

Thain Paladin drew a shaky breath, gaining control of himself once more.

'Raising the Shire against ruffians,' he repeated. 'Why Bywater?'

'The hobbits of Bywater have awakened, they are shaking off the chains of fear and doubt. They will fight with pitchforks, if need be, but archers might help them win the battle. And if Bywater goes, the rest of the Shire will be close behind. Bywater's been roused, and the ruffians know it. They'll be marching a large body against the hobbits there as quick as they can gather them. There's no time to waste!'

The Thain nodded. 'We'll sound the call throughout Tookland. The Shire's being raised?' He looked to Ferdi. 'This is what we've been waiting for! We're not going to stop here for the Men to come to us, we're going to drive them out!'

He turned his fierce gaze on Pippin. 'I can spare you about a hundred archers, I think. There's a large nest of vipers to the South; I'll take an army of Tooks that way to keep them from bothering anybody.'

To Ferdi, he said, 'Send word to all the watchers: Hunting season on ruffians just opened. The hunt is up! Drive them out. Kill any who resist, let them go if they throw down their weapons, but run them all the way to the Bounds!'

'Aye, Sir,' Ferdi said, and set about the business of spreading the news. When he returned, the archers were moving into marching formations, and Pippin's mother and sisters were embracing him as if they would never let him go again.

Pippin finally shook himself loose, saying, 'But the hunt is up, and we mustn't let the fox escape with any of the chickens! I promise, we'll have a fine feast once the Shire is free of vermin.'

'The archers are ready,' Ferdi said.

Thain Paladin nodded, embraced his son once more, and mounted his pony. 'Let us hunt some ruffians!' he called, and a great cheer went up. He led his group of archers out of the courtyard, marching smartly, singing as they went.

Pippin mounted his own pony, saying, 'Coming, Ferdi?'

'I'm right behind you, cousin, just one more job to do,' Ferdi answered. He finished going over the message with the messenger he was sending ahead to Bywater, nodded satisfaction to hear it repeated back properly, said, 'Good, you've got it, be off with you then!' and giving the messenger's pony a sharp slap on the rump for good measure. He then mounted his own pony, and led Pippin's archers along the safe paths to where he'd left Regi.

Reaching the ditch, they found the others ready and eager to join the march. Ferdi slipped from his pony, tossing the reins to Regi. 'I'm an archer now,' he said. 'I'll join the rest.'

'Let us go!' Pippin shouted, circling his sword above his head, then pointing it before him. 'To Bywater!'

'To Bywater!' the Tooks shouted, and began the seven-mile march with heads high and eyes shining.

Reaching Bywater at about half-past ten in the morning, they were directed by a mail-clad Meriadoc Brandybuck into the hedges atop the high banks on both sides of the Bywater Road. 'Kill only if you have to,' the word was passed down the lines. 'Shoot any who try to break out, but those who lay down their weapons are to be spared.'

They did not have long to wait before the ruffians, armed with torches, clubs, whips, wicked gleaming knives that would have served hobbits as swords, and bows, turned into the lane from the East Road, coming round the bend to a stout barrier of old farm-carts upturned. They stopped, and one gave a shout, pointing to the hedges. The others looked up into grim Tookish faces, arrows at the ready. 'Retreat!' one of the Men shouted in a hoarse voice, but when they turned back, they found the way blocked by more waggons.

From the top of one bank, Merry spoke. 'Well, you have walked into a trap. Your fellows from Hobbiton did the same, and one is dead and the rest are prisoners. Lay down your weapons! Then go back twenty paces and sit down. Any who try to break out will be shot.'

Several of the Men laid their weapons down and started to step back, only to be set upon, beaten down by the clubs of their fellows. There was a murmur of protest from the hobbits at this, but no time for outrage, for about a score of the Men charged the waggons, trying to break out. The hobbits shot six as the crowd pushed the waggons over, but more than a dozen burst out and ran across the fields, scattering in the direction of Woody End. Two of these fell, pierced by Tookish arrows as they ran. 'Hold your fire!' Pippin called. 'We've more to deal with here!'

Merry blew a loud horn-call, and there were answering calls from a distance.

'They won't get far,' said Pippin. 'All that country is alive with our hunters now.' He turned his attention back to the lane, where the remainder of the trapped Men, about four score, had hesitated as the shooting broke out. Now these were climbing the barrier and the banks, and the hobbits were obliged to try to cut them down however they could. The hobbits of Bywater grimly plied their axes and pitchforks, and Tookish arrows fell like rain.

On the western side of the lane, Ferdi cried a warning. 'They're breaking through!' A great squint-eyed ruffian, brandishing a wicked, spike-studded club, rose up before Reginard, only to fall as Ferdi's arrow found his heart. Before Ferdi could fit another arrow to his bow, another ruffian climbed over the bank before him, club raised, and Ferdi instinctively put up his arms to ward off the blow. With agonising slowness, as it seemed to him, the club came down. It splintered his fine bow to kindling, Ferdi had enough time to notice with regret, before it ploughed through his bow arm and onwards, inexorably bearing him down as a hammer strikes a nail into the plank. He knew but a moment of crushing pain before the club descended again on his head, plunging him into black silence. The Man was raising his club again, to finish his work, when Hilly's arrow found his throat, toppling him onto Ferdi's body.

The Tooks were fighting valiantly but wavering under the onslaught, when Merry and Pippin, who were on the east side of the lane, came across and charged the ruffians. One ruffian with a bow stood in the melee, taking careful aim at the mail-clad hobbit in black and silver. A hobbit with Shirriff's hat and brand on his cheek cast a well-aimed stone, and the ruffian's arrow flew wide of its mark, while a Tookish arrow put a stop to any more shooting on that ruffian's part. Another of the Men, observing this treachery from one of Lotho's minions, brought down his club upon the Shirriff, administering a kick to the fallen hobbit for good measure, before an arrow felled him.

Suddenly the fight was over, the leader of the ruffians slain, the last remnant of the Men encircled in a wide ring of archers. They laid down their weapons. 'Down! Down on the ground!' Merry shouted, and they dropped down to sit, hands behind their necks.

Frodo barely restrained a weeping Hilly from sending an arrow into the crowd of Men, jerking at his arm to spoil his aim, recalling him to himself with a few urgent words, before moving on to calm other hobbits who threatened the now-helpless Men in their wrath and sorrow over their losses.

The dead were set aside to be buried, and the wounded were tended. As much as could be done was done for the wounded Tooks, before they were loaded into the hastily-righted waggons to be slowly carted back to Tuckborough. Pippin watched over the loading with tears in his eyes, saying to Ferdi as they arranged him as comfortably as could be on a bed of straw, 'I'll see you back at the Smials, cousin.' Of course there was no answer, but Pippin pressed the limp hand and sadly hoped that he spoke the truth.

'Come on, Pip,' Merry said gently. 'Frodo wants us.'

'Right,' Pippin said, rubbing at his eyes with a grimy hand, and straightening. 'There's always more to be done,' he sighed. He squared his shoulders. 'So let's get on with it.'

***

Author's Note: Some material in this chapter was taken from "The Scouring of the Shire", The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.