Thank you for the lovely reviews. The Muse was inspired to write another chapter and is busy blocking the action in the next chapter to follow.

Chapter 47. The Two Shall Be as One

 ‘Here you are!’ a deep voice boomed, albeit softly, in the cavernous hall.

 ‘Ulrich?’ Merry said, looking up and then rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Elfwine lifted his head from the table where he’d been dozing and blinked. ‘Ulrich, what are you doing here?’

 ‘He asked me to come and fetch you,’ Bergil said. ‘I told him you wouldn’t come, that you are on the hunt and will not turn from the trail until you find the prey you are seeking.’

 ‘I doubt there is anything in those dusty records to save me,’ Ulrich said. ‘All tradition condemns me.’

 ‘There must be something,’ Merry insisted.

Ulrich shook his head. ‘I thank you for your efforts, master perian,’ he said. ‘But the hanging has been set for the day after tomorrow, and I doubt,’ his hand swept to encompass the nook where Merry sat, containing but a small portion of Gondor’s records, ‘I doubt very much that you will find anything in that time.’

Merry shook his head and pulled another stack of parchments towards himself.

Ulrich stepped forward to place a restraining hand upon the top of the stack. ‘I have a boon to ask of you,’ he said.

 ‘What is it?’ Merry asked, still tugging at the top sheet.

 ‘There is a handfasting, and your cousin the Thain expressed his desire that you could perform it,’ Ulrich said, ‘even as he acknowledged that he could not ask you to come away from this place.’

 ‘Who?’ Merry said.

 ‘The Thain’s daughter, and Fredegar’s son,’ Ulrich said.

Merry shook his head. ‘I ought to have seen that coming,’ he said. ‘Ferdi’s been predicting it for some days now.’

 ‘Your cousin is not well, you know,’ Ulrich said. ‘Well, actually, neither of them is. Freddy’s heart...’

 ‘I know about Freddy’s heart,’ Merry said impatiently. ‘What about Pippin?’

 ‘The fever weakened him,’ Ulrich said. ‘He asked the Mayor to perform the handfasting, as he lacks the strength, but he really wants you to do the deed.’

Merry looked to Bergil, who nodded soberly. ‘I heard him say so himself,’ he said. ‘He wasn’t complaining, just wishing aloud to Diamond.’

 ‘Please,’ Ulrich said. ‘Leave off this hopeless task. I don’t want to go to my death knowing that I’m the cause of sorrow on such a joyous occasion. They want you at the handfasting.’

 ‘When is it to take place?’ Elfwine asked.

 ‘They wanted to start as soon as possible,’ Ulrich said. ‘I do believe they’d wait long enough for you to wash and change into fresh clothing.’

 ‘Come, old friend,’ Elfwine said, giving Merry a poke. ‘We will not blot the handfasting with our absence. We will go, you will be a comfort to your cousin by performing the ceremony, we shall enjoy an hour or two of fresh air and sunshine, and then we will return, refreshed, to the task at hand, and all the better for the rest.’

Somehow Merry found himself persuaded. After he’d washed and dressed in his most festive clothes, he emerged from the Houses of Healing to a cheer from the hobbits assembled in the street outside. Elfwine stepped forward. He, too, had washed hastily and donned fresh clothing. ‘Come, Master Holdwine,’ he said. ‘It is too far for you to walk on booted feet, down to the Gate of the City and back again, so I offer my services.’ The prince of Rohan escorted Merry to his waiting horse and lifted the hobbit into the saddle. He next placed a beaming Estella behind Merry, and she squeezed her husband and placed a kiss on the back of his neck.

'Thank you for doing this,' she whispered. He nodded, not taking his eyes from Ulrich. What if the two hours spent celebrating robbed the Man of his life?

As if he divined Merry's thought, Ulrich saluted and turned to regale Ferdibrand with the story of his own wedding to sweet Merewyn. 

Ferdi was seated with Nell upon Bergil’s horse, Freddy and Melilot rode a horse led by Prince Faramir, and Pippin and Diamond were on the King’s own horse, led by Elessar and Arwen walking together. A jumble of Men and Hobbits walked together along the main street as it wound back and forth, leading down through intermediate gates to the entrance of the City. A song arose, and soon all were singing on the choruses. More Men joined the procession as it passed, until it was quite a great crowd that exited the great Gate and walked onto the Pelennor. Some waved banners, some had come from their tasks in their working clothes, some wore holiday attire. There were even some visiting Haradrim in the crowd, a scattered flock of exotic birds in their bright robes.

Laughing hobbit lasses darted out from the body of celebrating folk, gathering wildflowers. They were joined by girls of the City, picking flowers and weaving them into garlands and crowns. Forget-me-not’s sisters crowned her with bright blooms and melted into the circle forming around her and Frodovar, hobbits to the front of course, and curious Big Folk crowding behind them,

Merry raised his voice. ‘You are called here to witness a handfasting!’ he cried. A cheer arose from the crowd. ‘Frodovar? Ruby?’ he said, holding out his hands. “Ruby” was Forget-me-not’s love-name, in memory of Diamond’s older sister, gone these many years. The two stepped forward.

Merry took the left hand of each, for the left hand is where the heart-blood beats most strongly. He said,  ‘We are here to unite two lives, two hearts, two spirits,’ He lifted the hands he held, placing them palm together above hobbit head-height, and spoke the remainder of the traditional words as he wound a silken cord about them, tying them firmly together.

Ulrich listened soberly. He thought of his own sweet Merewyn, doomed to raise their children alone. He ought to have passed her by, let her go on to marry some upright young Man of Dindale... but the last dozen years had been the happiest of his life. Selfish beast that he was, he’d do the same over again, given the chance to repeat the past.

 ‘A handfasting is as binding as a wedding,’ Merry was saying. ‘Once the last knot is tied, Frodovar and Forget-me-not will be hobbit and wife in the eyes of all, their lives plaited together into one cord, to live, each for the other. The wedding to come will only complete what was begun this day.’

He waited, fingers holding the ends of the cord. ‘If for any reason this joining should not be, speak now your objections, or resolve to speak them never!’ In the silence that followed, he waited three breaths and then tied the two ends of the cord together, binding the two hands held high.

 ‘...And what has been joined here, before witnesses, let no one tear asunder!’ he ended loudly. ‘You are all invited to come seven years from now to witness a wedding!’ It was the earliest date Pippin and Diamond would agree to, for in seven years their daughter would be nine-and-twenty—a little young to marry, by hobbit standards, but not scandalously so.

A cheer arose from the crowd, but Merry turned to the parents of the newly joined couple. ‘Have you any words to say?’ he asked, looking from Pippin and Diamond on one side to Freddy and Melilot on the other.

Pippin stepped forward to kiss Forget-me-not and embrace his new son-in-love. ‘You may bring your hands down now,’ he whispered, ‘before your arms fall off!’

 ‘Bless you, my dears,’ Diamond said with a kiss and embrace of her own.

Freddy and Melilot moved to welcome their new daughter-in-love, and then the parents stood to  either side of Frodovar and Forget-me-not to accept congratulations from the many well-wishers crowding in about them. The King and Queen with their children were the first, of course, and Prince Faramir and his family. Bergil, amongst the guardsmen spread throughout the crowd, nodded his congratulations to Pippin and received a nod and a grin in return.

A song arose and hobbit lasses and girls of the City joined hands to dance about the newly-joined couple. ‘Spread out a picnic upon the field and you’d not know we were away from the Shire,’ Ferdi said from behind Pippin, with Pimpernel smiling at his side.

 ‘A bit warmer here than it is in the Shire, this time of year,’ Pippin answered, and Freddy laughed.

 ‘When your bones grow too old for northern winters, you ought to remove to the Southlands and join our little colony in Ithilien,’ he said.

Forget-me-not’s face brightened at the thought, and Pippin nodded thoughtfully.

 ‘Such an idea is not out of the question,’ he said. Merry shot him a sharp glance and he smiled, adding, ‘I think, however, that we will plan to return to the Shire as scheduled, at least this time.’

 ‘This time,’ Diamond said dryly. ‘I’m sure Farry would be glad to hear that.’

 ‘I have ordered a banquet to be laid in the great hall,’ Arwen bent to say. ‘Shall we remove there? While it is undoubtedly warmer here than in the Shire, it is not quite warm enough to recline upon the grass to feast.’

 ‘A goodly idea,’ Pippin said. ‘What do you say, Freddy? How about a feast to complete the celebration?’

 ‘If I were to drink the last sip of the cup this very moment, I could not wish for more,’ Fredegar said quietly. ‘I have all I ever wanted, and more... my blessings are too many to number.’

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, and Ulrich looked at him sharply, and then at Freddy and Melilot. There was a slight smile on Freddy’s face, but his wife was blinking back tears. Freddy? Was Fredegar, the hobbit Ulrich had so mercilessly tortured, the same hobbit who’d offered his life for Ulrich’s?

He put the thought firmly away. He had not been responsible for the death of a Halfling, not even under the influence of the wizard, and he vowed that he would never be. This night, after the feast, Bergil would return him to his dungeon cell, lock the shackles on his wrists and ankles, clang the door shut behind him... another dawn, a day, a night, and Ulrich would not greet the following day. He had earned the penalty, and he would pay it.

 ‘To the feast!’ Elessar said firmly. He signalled to the guardsman holding the reins of the waiting horses, and the Man started forward. The King raised his voice that the crowd might hear. ‘A feast! A feast in the great hall! All are welcome!’ A cheer arose, and those on the outskirts of the crowd began to turn back towards the Gate.

The Pilgrim watched. He’d been able to edge quite close to the hobbits in his colourful guise. The robes of a Southron were wonderfully concealing, and his head was conveniently covered by the headscarf wrapped over and around his head, a concealing fold pulled up to cover all but his eyes as was custom among the Haradrim when in the presence of those not of their Law. No one had noticed that his eyes were of the grey of Gondor, not even the other Southrons.

Now he was mentally rubbing his hands together at the bounty spread before him. It was all he could do to keep from laughing aloud. So many little ones to choose from! How the flames would sing, if only he could surround the creatures with a wall of fire, burning slowly inwards until all had been claimed and only blackened ruin remained. But no, he must be cautious, move slowly, not give himself away. Surely on the journey back up the winding street of the City he’d have his chance to snatch a lagging hobbit, and no one the wiser save himself, the hobbit, and the flames...

The crowd parted for the guardsman leading the horses. Elessar lifted Diamond to the saddle and turned to take up Pippin.

As Bergil waited to lift him to the saddle, Ferdibrand tendered his congratulations to Frodovar and kissed his niece on the cheek. ‘A Bolger!’ he said to her. ‘That’s the next best thing to marrying a Took.’ He was half Bolger himself, as it were.

The Pilgrim stiffened. It could not be! The Fox was dead; Brant had killed him with a blow... but there he stood, in the midst of the celebrating hobbits. A red mist of rage rose before his eyes, and he moved forward without thinking, drawing the wicked Southron blade that hung at his belt, intending to strike as swiftly as a snake, destruction and murder in his heart.