CHAPTER 65

Two days until the wedding. Merry shook his head. He had a lot of responsibility if he was going to stand with Sam; he sat against the head of his lovely new guest bed, and began to tick them off on his fingers. First he had to make sure that the marriage document was prepared. Since Frodo was officiating, that should be no problem. Frodo had probably already drawn it up, but he would need to check on it. Then he had to confirm the seven witnesses--as though *that* would be a problem. It looked like half the Shire was going to be in attendance, if out of nothing more than curiosity. He had to make sure that all of the gifts that Sam and Rosie had received made their way from the Cotton’s farm to Bag End. Of course he also had to come up with a suitable speech and a toast for after the wedding. And most importantly, he had to take care of Sam before the wedding, and make sure that the groom’s nerves did not wear him down. The usual task was to make sure the groom showed up, but Merry did not believe *that* would be a problem. He had never seen two hobbits more ready to be wed than Sam and Rosie.

He wondered if he and Estella would be like that, when it came time. He was sitting there with a vacant grin on his face, imagining the delightful scenario, when a tapping came at his door.

“Come on in, Pip. I’m awake.”

Pippin bounced in and flopped on the bed by Merry’s feet. “Good morning, cousin. You missed first breakfast.”

“I’m sure my share of the food wasn’t wasted, if you were there.”

Pippin laughed delightedly. “What have you got on for today?”

“I need to check with Frodo, to see if he has prepared the marriage document. After that, I’ll check with Sam, to see if he needs me to do anything. It’s not going to get really hectic until tomorrow.”

“We’re still taking them their *other* gift tomorrow?”*

Merry nodded. “We can pick it up from the framer today.”

Pippin grinned in anticipation. They had already given the couple gifts several days ago. Pippin had presented them with a carved figure of an oliphaunt actually carved from an oliphaunt’s tusk, that he had purchased in Minas Tirith. Merry had managed to get a book of recipes, written in Westron, of many of the dishes they had enjoyed in Rivendell. Merry still wondered if Lord Elrond had not actually written it out for him personally, but he had not dared to ask. But this gift was going to be from them both, and it was going to be fun.

“So,” said Merry, “what are *your* plans today?”

“Well, as you know, Rosie asked me to see to the music. I’ve already engaged a band for dancing, but I have a few people to see about special requests. Do you want to come with me?”

“After breakfast, right?”

“After *second* breakfast,” Pippin grinned.

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Frodo sat at the desk in his study, looking over what he had just written. He wanted it to be just perfect. He felt a presence behind him.

“Hullo, Merry,” he said without turning. “Did you have a good rest?”

“It was wonderful. The new bed is very comfortable. Thank you, Frodo.” He paused. “Is that the marriage lines for Sam and Rosie?”

“Yes, it is. Would you care to look it over?” He held the document up to his cousin.

Merry scanned it quickly, admiring, as he always did, Frodo’s beautiful and precise lettering. There had been a time, right after the Quest, when Frodo had not thought he’d be able to write like that again, due to his maimed hand. But Aragorn had worked with him, giving him exercises, and now his writing was almost as good as it had ever been. Merry nodded. “It looks fine. And plenty of room at the bottom for the witnesses. Well, that’s one of my jobs out of the way.”

“Merry, I’m glad Sam asked you to stand with him, since I can’t.”

Merry laughed. “You know, if you could be somehow split into two people, he would have had you to do both jobs.”

Frodo grinned. “I know, but I’m still glad he asked you. Do you remember the first time you met him?”

“Do I ever!” He grinned. “I was absolutely filthy--you had been playing in the dirt with me. And he came up to Bag End with his mother to bring the Gaffer his lunch. Saved me from a fate worse than death--having to sit in the study for two hours listening to you have an Elvish lesson from Bilbo!”

Frodo laughed. “Poor Merry! That must have been so boring for you. But it might have stood you in good stead later on if you had listened to the lessons.”

“Well Sam and I had a lot more fun, then and every spring after, though once he started apprenticing to the Gaffer we didn’t see each other quite so much. But when we got our conspiracy together, I knew I could trust good old Sam.”

Frodo sighed. “I still wish that I could have spared the three of you all the pain you had to go through--”

“None of that!” said Merry sharply. “If it had not been for our going with you, any number of things would have fallen out wrong. The Shire would be overrun with Orcs, and we’d be having to learn the Black Speech! We did nothing for you that you would not have done for us, my dear!” Merry shook his head, and continued more gently, “Frodo, we loved you, and we love you still. What’s done is done, and from all I can tell, it was meant to be. You’ve heard Gandalf on that subject before.”

Frodo turned in his chair, and gave Merry a brief embrace. “I don’t know why I should have such loyal friends, dear, but I’m glad that I do.”

Merry returned the embrace, and then put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You’re my Frodo, that’s all.” They looked at one another for a moment with eyes that glittered with tears, and then heard Pippin calling.

“Oi, Merry! Are you still coming with me?”

“Be right there, Pip!” He dropped a cousinly kiss on Frodo’s brow, and headed to meet Pippin in the front hall.

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“Where’s Bergil this morning, Pip?” Merry asked, as they made their way to the Men’s encampment.

“He’ll be there with Anwynd, having his flute lesson. That’s why we’re going there.”

Sure enough, as they approached, they could hear the unmistakable sounds of a flute--no two flutes.

“He’s really doing well!” said Merry in surprise. He could not tell which music was the teacher and which the pupil.

The two were sitting in the center of the campsite, playing. Merry and Pippin cast their eyes over the scene, taking in the sight of the other Men busy with different small tasks. Next to one of the far tents, they noticed Clovis, sitting bound. There was no sign of the other three. Merry looked at Anwynd with a questioning gaze. The Rohirrim left off his flute playing and shook his head. “He attacked his brother and broke his nose. We are keeping him separated from the others.”

“Ah,” said Merry. It didn’t surprise him. Clovis was and always had been, a nasty brute. He noted with mild irritation that Pip was looking sympathetic. Even after everything else, Pippin still felt sorry for the wretch.

Bergil had continued playing, and now the sprightly tune came to an end. He stopped and looked at Pippin, who grinned. “That was really very good, Bergil! How would you like to play at Sam’s wedding?”

Bergil’s jaw dropped. “Sir Pippin!” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps Anwynd might be persuaded to play with you?” He looked at Anwynd hopefully.

Anwynd nodded “I would be honored Sir Peregrin, if you truly think that they would want us. I do not know if they would care to have a Man play at a Hobbit wedding.”

“Of course they would! Besides, Bergil is an honorary hobbit, and you’re his teacher!”

They all laughed uproariously at this. Bergil looked at his shoes. “It’s a good thing it’s honorary--I don’t have the feet to be a real hobbit!”

Merry grinned at the lad. “I’ve a theory about that, you know. I think Men have such tiny little hairless feet because they keep them cooped up in shoes and boots all their life. If they always went about barefoot like hobbits, I venture to say they might actually develop respectable feet.”

The laughter grew even louder. Anwynd wiped his eyes. “Holdwine, I am sorry to destroy your theory, but as a lad, I went barefoot as much as possible. My feet never got any larger, nor hairier for it.”

“Ah, well, then, that’s a shame.” And they all went off once more into gales of laughter.

Clovis looked over and scowled. All of this trouble was Merry Brandybuck’s fault. What right did he have to be standing there laughing?

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They stayed up at the encampment until time for elevenses, visiting with their friends. Merry felt a bit melancholy. In just a few days the Men would be leaving the Shire, returning to Edoras and to Gondor. Legolas and Gimli would go as well. He was going to miss them. Much as he was glad to be home, he would love to see his sword-sister Éowyn, and his liege Éomer, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld again. And Aragorn, though he did not miss Gondor that much. Pip did, though. He knew Pip missed Strider and Faramir a lot. And they both missed Gandalf. He wondered if Gandalf would ever visit the Shire again, now that the Ring was gone. A visit from Gandalf might even perk Frodo up a bit. He sighed.

Pip looked at him. He knew what Merry was thinking. “Shall we go back with them, then, for a visit?” There was a strange note in his voice, fearful and hopeful at the same time. Merry suddenly knew that if he said the word, Pip would do just that without hesitation. But it wasn’t the right time. The Shire still needed them. Their families needed them. And Frodo needed them. Frodo, he knew, would never go back. His memories of the South were not good ones.

He gave another sigh, this one of resignation. “Not yet, Pip, not yet.”

Pippin nodded, and he looked relieved. But Merry noted there was still a hint of strain in Pip’s face. He’d have it out of him by the end of the day, he thought.

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After returning to Bag End for elevenses, Merry found Sam. He was still working away in the kitchen garden, harvesting young radishes and spring onions, and checking the blooms on the cucumber and tomato vines.

“Sam. You know you could take the next couple of days off. Frodo wouldn’t mind.”

“Mr. Merry, I know that. But I’ve already had too much time off as is. Besides, if I’m not working, I’m thinking. And right now, it don’t do me to be thinking overmuch.”

“Oh, Sam! I can’t believe you are getting second thoughts about this wedding! You’d be lost without Rose.”

“Well, never second thoughts about marrying my Rosie! But about the wedding? It’s going to be worse than that there Ball. At least there, folks had other folk to stare at, like you and Mr. Frodo and Mr. Pippin, and the Thain and all. But there’s not going to be nobody to take the attention away at the wedding!”

Merry laughed. “Of course there will! Sam, do you think *anyone* will pay attention to *you*? They’ll all be looking at your bride! Think of the weddings you’ve been to. Do you remember anything about the groom?”

Sam looked a bit taken aback. He thought for a second or two, and then grinned. “You know, Mr. Merry, I think you are absolutely right!”

“There you are, then,” he gave Sam a clap on the back and moved on, chuckling.

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He found Pippin in front of Bag End. He and Legolas were lying side by side on the front lawn. Gimli sat on the bench by the front door.

“I don’t suppose,” Pippin was saying to the Elf, “that it much matters *what* you sing if it’s in Elvish. No one but Frodo will know what the words mean anyway. But if you decide to choose a song in the Common Tongue, that will be all right as well. Far be it from me to tell an Elf what to sing.”

Legolas made a noise that could have been called a snort, if it had come from anyone else besides an Elf. “Oh, you would never do that, would you? I think having a troll fall on you impaired your memory. ‘Oooh, Legolas, sing *that* one again!’ I seem to recall hearing those words frequently from a young hobbit during our journey.”

Merry laughed. “He’s got you there, Pip.”

“Hullo, Mer. How’s Sam getting on?”

“A bit nervous about the actual wedding, but looking forward to being married,” said Merry. There was that cloud on Pippin’s face again. What was troubling him?

Legolas looked at the two cousins, and sprang gracefully to his feet. “Come, Gimli, let’s go see Arod. I think he may be in need of a bit of exercise.”

Pippin watched them leave, puzzled. Merry knew that the Elf sensed his need to talk to Pip privately. He flopped down on the space in the grass that Legolas had vacated.

“All right, Pip, out with it. Something has been troubling you nearly all day. What is it?”

Pippin did not say anything. Merry waited. He knew that Pippin was just gathering his thoughts. Sometimes other people would think that they were being ignored, Pippin took so long to answer, but Merry was used to it. It meant he would get a truthful answer, and not a joke.

Finally Pippin spoke. “Don’t get me wrong, Merry. I am so truly happy for Sam and Rosie, and I’m glad for you and Estella as well. But it’s just so hard for me. The other day, you witnessed Frodo’s will, but even though I witnessed it too, I couldn’t be *a* witness. The same for Sam’s marriage lines--you’ll sign them, and Freddy, and Tom and Jolly, and I suppose that you’ve found three more hobbits to do that as well, but I *can’t*! Even though I am a Knight of Gondor, even though I’m older than the King of Rohan, here I’m still just a child! And all of you are moving ahead without me. It’s going to be *three more years* until I am of age, and I don’t know how I’m going to stand it!”

Merry rolled over and looked at his cousin. Tears stood in Pippin’s eyes, and he dashed them away crossly. “Oh, Pip. It really is unfair to you. And there is nothing I can do to make it better, except just to tell you that *I* don’t think of you as a child, and neither do Frodo and Sam. Sam’s getting married the day after tomorrow, but I really don’t know yet when Estella and I are even getting betrothed, much less married. And Frodo is certainly not getting married. You know that.”

“That’s not fair either.” Pippin’s voice was flat.

“Yes. Well. I don’t think fairness even begins to enter into it when it comes to Frodo.”

Pippin sighed. “That’s true. And I shouldn’t be pouting like a child if I don’t want to be thought of as one.”

“You said that, I didn’t” replied Merry. He sat up. “Come on, let’s walk on down to The Ivy Bush, and have an ale, and maybe even luncheon.”

Pippin grinned and sat up. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Shall we see if we can coax good old Frodo to come along?” This was a task much more difficult than it once had been, but they still had an occasional success.

They managed another one this day.

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* Shameless plug for my silly little fic "The Lovely Rosie Cotton"