A Visit From Mayor Samwise

Chapter Eight: Of Love and Loons

Merry sighed and leaned back against Estella, watching Sam and Pippin frolic with Faramir out neat the orchard. The warm sunlight felt fantastically rich against his face.

He picked the petals off a dandelion lazily and as he dropped them, a few stuck to the wool of his waist-coat. He brushed them off.

"Maybe Pip is right," he mused playfully, "Maybe I am giving your brother Fredegar a run for his money."

Estella gave his ear a tug, the way that she often did to reprimand him.

"Nonsense. You have the look about you of one who’s well taken care of. Others look at you as you go through town and say ‘now there’s a proper hobbit who’s got a wife who knows how to feed him, not like that slip of a crazy Took.’"

Merry laughed. "Estella, you’re too cruel."

"There’s nothing cruel about me, Meriadoc Brandybuck," she informed him, running her fingers idly through his curls, which had only grown thicker over the years, "Diamond Took, for all her fair looks and fancy ways, could not fry a decent mushroom if your cousin’s life depended on it."

"Ah, but Pippin thinks the stars of her."

"Pippin is a goose."

Merry seemed to become melancholy then. He rested his hands on his belly and sighed, and turned his head to face his wife.

"But what am I to do?"

Estella looked down at him and wanted to say ‘he’s not your responsibility anymore,’ but she knew those words would be too much for him to hear, so she bit her lip and looked away.

Merry understood the meaning, though. He cleared his throat and sat upright, turning quickly so she couldn’t see his eyes. And with his back to her, he breathed slowly through his teeth until the danger of tears had gone away. He wished not for the first time that he could make her understand just how hard all of this was for him, but he knew he couldn’t. No one could ever understand what was between him and Pip except him and Pip. But that was how things had always been.

He turned back to her then, smiling brightly, as if he was truly changing the subject.

"Shall we go to Brandy Hall next week, you and I? To go and have a visit?"

Estella wanted more than a visit and Merry knew this, but this was the best she was going to get out of him for now.

"Alright," she nodded firmly, "I think that would be nice."

~~~~

Sam had been distracted by the small apple grove in the midst of their game and had he looked over his shoulder, he would have seen father and son Took giving him identical looks of impatience.

"These roots don’t look good to my eyes at all, Mister Pippin. May I ask what sort of watering you’ve been doin’ to them?"

Pippin sighed.

"You’ll have to ask Estella about that. I know not a wit about gardening, nor do I care to. These are her trees and her roots."

He had thought that that would settle things and they could go back to their game, but instead, Sam waved and called Estella over to conference the care and keeping of her apple roots. Pippin watched the discussion for a moment, doing his best to conceal his absolute boredom, but then he spied Merry still sitting in the grass near the house and decided to join him.

He hoisted Faramir up onto his shoulders and, holding tight to his little legs, galloped over to his cousin. Faramir squealed and giggled with delight and got so excited that he was hiccuping by the time they reached Merry’s side.

Pippin sprawled onto the grass, laughing, and held Faramir to his chest until the hiccups ceased to bother the lad. He turned to smile at his cousin then and was startled. The smile froze before reaching his lips and then drained away with all the blood that was in his face.

In the harsh sunlight of the outdoors the scar, the brown mark about Merry’s forehead that he had garnered so long ago in their terrible time with the Orcs, stood out clearly against his fair, white skin. It was the first time in years that Pippin had consciously noticed it.

Merry opened one eye and peered at his cousin. Noticing the ghostly pallor of his face, he started to sit up.

"What is it, Pip? Do you feel alright?"

Before Pippin could reply, Faramir interrupted. With a shriek of excitement, he let go of his father’s waistcoat and scrambled over to climb Mt. Merry.

Merry laughed as small knees dug into his middle and he accepted Faramir’s tiny hands into his own to help him balance. He was surprised, though, for although the weight of the lad seemed negligible, there was a strong force in his wee fists as they pressed against Merry’s palms.

Merry looked hard into the babe’s great eyes and at the rigid set of his slight jaw.

"So you are going to be a leader someday, aren’t you, love?" he whispered softly.

Then Pippin sat up and gazed downward at Merry. With his back to the sun, it was hard for Merry to read any expression at all on his face. He’d forgotten the distress he’d noted just a moment before.

"Mer?"

Merry squinted up at him, still unable to see much more than just a hint of his features. "Yes, Pip?"

Pippin hesitated, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. "It agrees with you…you know."

"What does?"

"The way you are…the way you look now these days…" Pippin broke off, remembering the awful time when he hadn’t known whether Merry was alive, or would be so for very long. He recalled the sallow, deathly look that had clung to his hollowed cheeks. All that journey he had feared for Merry, but what was worse, he thought with a flush of guilt, was that he was really only worrying about himself, worrying of how he would survive without Merry always there.

Merry laughed, startling him.

"What are you saying, Pip? Do you mean my ‘proper Hobbit shape’? I thought you would have me believe I’ve become the joke at every inn in the Shire."

Then Pippin said something that struck them both as very odd. He wasn’t even quite sure why he said it. But it chilled him to feel it tumble over his lips.

" Frodo got so terribly thin before he left."

The smile passed from Merry’s face. With one hand he laid Faramir flat against his chest and with the other he reached out to Pippin, pulled him down so that he lay beside him, put his head against his shoulder.

"I’m not going anywhere, you silly Took. You have no need to fear that. And I dare say, it is not likely I’ll be getting terribly thin anytime soon, so long as Estella has a pot and a potato."

Pippin shook his head gently. "That’s not quite what I mean. What I mean to say, Merry, is…well, to be straight-forth with you, are you happy?"

Merry looked at him incredulously. "Why, of course I am, you goose."

"No, cousin," Pippin implored, squeezing his eyes shut as if the strain of producing correct words was too great, "I want you to be very happy. I know your heart has returned to Brandy Hall and it’s only proper that you be there. I want you to go there, if you like, and to be a proper Master, and I want you to grow so grand and magnificent that they must push you out the door, float you across the Brandywine and roll you up to Tuckborough to come visit."

Merry was aghast. "Well, I should hope I never grow that magnificent. It sounds like quite a trial."

Pippin ignored this jest and continued on, encouraged by his own fervor.

"And I want you to have loads of hobbit children," he said, his face beaming with excitement, "Grand, strong, Brandybuck lads who will come to Great Smials and rescue my poor Faramir from all the awful lasses there, as you once did for me. The place seems destined to be overrun with them."

Merry sighed and tapped his finger against Faramir’s sharp little nose, trying to decide what one said in reply to this sort of spirited out-burst.

"Well, dear Pip, if I am to move to Brandy Hall and you are to return to the Smials, what shall become of this home we’ve made together in Crickhollow?"

"Hmmm." Pippin sat up, face lost deep in thought. Merry noted that he had been chewing grass during this discussion, a nervous habit he’d picked up at some point long ago, though Merry could no longer pinpoint when. Indeed, it seemed to have only gotten worse the past few years. The night Faramir had been born, Merry swore that Pippin grazed enough grass from the lawn to put all the sheep of Buckland out of work.

Finally, Pippin cocked his head and gave an answer.

"Could we—could we not still keep it? Perhaps as a retreat of sorts. For, I mean, there may come a day, and I’m sure only a single day or two or perhaps a weekend, where you do not feel like being the Master of Buckland for a bit and maybe I find the Thainship, or position as heir to the Thainship, a tad too tedious and perhaps then we could just slip away like we once did, just disappear one early morning and hide out for a spell in Crickhollow. For remember, Merry, we are but Hobbits, and though important Hobbits we may be, one still needs a place at times where he can think again as one’s self."

Merry was still for a bit and watched the warm autumn wind blow through the grasses. At last, a smile returned to his face.

"Let no one say," he murmured, "that Tooks do not possess good and common sense."

"Why, Merry," Pippin frowned, "Who has ever said that?"

~~~~

That evening, Estella prepared a marvelous early dinner as they bid farewell to Sam. She gave him a kiss on his blushing cheek before he left and a large basket of apple bread to take back for Rosie and the kids. Then with Faramir in her arms, she stood on the front steps and they waved bye-bye to Sam, who would be accompanied as far as the ferry by Merry and Pippin.

The three rode merrily on their ponies, chatting about plans to bring new life to Great Smials and Brandy Hall and the lovely retreat they would make out of Crickhollow, quite appropriate for any Master or Thain.

"Or Mayor, Sam," Pippin spoke enthusiastically, nearly losing his balance on Gromer with his excitement, "The Mayor surely needs a respite once and again, away from all the hustle and dramatics of Hobbiton."

"Aye," Sam nodded/coughed as Merry grinned devilishly back at him.

"And, you know, Sam," Pippin continued thoughtfully, "Faramir and Diamond and I shall be much closer to you now that we’ll be centered in Tuckborough. We must pay visits on each other more often and not let such opportunities go to waste."

"That’s true, Sam," Merry said dryly, giving his pony a good pat, "What’s lacking in most hobbit’s lives is a generous dose of Took."

"Quite so!" Pippin sat up proudly in his saddle.

"Aye, Mister Pippin," Sam smiled warmly, "it’ll be nice to be seeing you more often and when Mister Merry comes to visit you’ll be sure an’ let me know so’s I can be seeing the both of you together."

"Kill two birds with one stone." Merry laughed.

"More like two for the price of one, Merry." Pippin corrected him "That’s quite a bargain in the way of Thains and Masters."

Merry conceded happily. "You’re right, Pip."

As they reached the ferry, they helped Sam re-tie his packs more securely and then each said a brief, but heartfelt goodbye to their friend. They would certainly encounter him again in the Shire before too long, but that didn’t stop from making the small farewell feel like it had come too soon and would have to suffice for too long.

"Thank you, Sam," Merry whispered, as he embraced the friendly gardener.

"For what?" Sam looked confused.

"For helping me with Pip. You helped him find his sense. That helped me a lot."

"Oh," Sam blushed, "‘Twas nothing, Mister Merry, nothing at all."

Merry just smiled, as if he didn’t believe that at all.

Then Pippin said his goodbye and wrapped Sam in a bone-crushing embrace. He buried his head in Sam’s collar bone and whispered earnestly, "Thank you, Sam."

"Whatever for, Mister Pippin?"

"For putting sense into my Merry. He never would have listened to me otherwise."

"Oh," Sam stammered, thoroughly confused, "’Twas, uh, nothing. Nothing at all."

"Oh, alright, Sam, if you want to be modest." Pippin shook his curls and laughed. "Be so if you want to. Just remember I’ll have plenty of time once I’m closer to you in Tuckborough to pay you back."

Sam smiled. "I’ll not forget, sir."

Then Sam climbed onto the ferry and took his seat, waving back to the enthusiastic cousins as they grew smaller and smaller on the shore of the Brandywine. As it would be a bit of time before the ferry reached the other side, Sam lit his pipe and amused himself by guessing what Rosie would say to him when he got home. He knew exactly what her words would be. ‘Are they as ridiculous as ever, those two loons?’

Sam smiled and answered out loud to himself.

"Aye, and they may be loons, but I love them just the same."

The End