CHAPTER 69

Now that the luncheon was ended, it was Pippin’s turn to get to work. He moved to the bandstand, and jumping up, he let out with a shrill whistle that cut through all the conversation like a knife through cheese.

“My dear hobbits!” he called, pitching his voice to be heard far back in the field, “we have some special songs and music to honor our bride and groom!”

Tom and Jolly carried forward a couple of chairs, which they placed in front of the bandstand, and Merry and Marigold escorted Sam and Rosie to them.

Blushing, Sam and Rose were seated; Sam was still a bit apprehensive about this; he didn’t think Mr. Pippin would have any of *those* songs he’d learned from the soldiers in Gondor, but with him, you never knew for sure. He’d never known a hobbit so unpredictable. And after that little “gift” he and Mr. Merry had given Sam and Rosie yesterday, well, he didn’t know *what* to think. Rose, on the other hand was perfectly serene; Mr. Pippin liked a joke, but he was fond of Sam, and he’d not disgrace their wedding. Her Sam would know better, too, if he weren’t so nervous already. She glanced up and behind. Frodo and Merry stood behind her new husband, and each had a hand upon his shoulder. Frodo saw her looking, and returned her smile; Merry’s eyes were on Pippin, and he was grinning.

“First of all,” proclaimed Pippin, “we will have a bit of flute music from two of our visitors to the Shire, Anwynd Anfrith’s son and Bergil, son of Beregond!”

Anwynd came and sat upon the edge of the bandstand, and Bergil sat down next to him. Bergil gave Pippin a nervous look, and Pippin smiled his reassurance.

They began to play, in perfect unison, a sprightly air that was used to usher in the spring in Rohan. Pippin had stepped back, and he watched the crowd, as many of them began to bounce upon their heels or tap their feet in time to the music. Once he had begun to play, Bergil had lost his nervousness, and the music was perfect, with not a single shrill or sour note to spoil it. The tune finally came to an end, and the two musicians stood and took their bows to much applause.

Then Pippin stood up, and looked Sam dead in the eye. “The song I am going to sing for you now was written by Samwise himself in honor of his Rose, while we were far from home in Minas Tirith.”

Sam blushed bright red. It had been bad enough yesterday, to be confronted with his scribblings; now everyone in the Shire was going to hear. He started to sink down in his chair, but Rose reached over and put her hand beneath his elbow, and he could feel Frodo’s and Merry’s firm hands upon his shoulders, pinning him in place.

Pippin’s smile was fond, not mischievous, as he began to sing-- “Oh, the lovely Rosie Cotton, I’m going home to see…” (1)

When the song came to an end, there were any number of sniffles heard among the crowd, and Rose’s face glowed like the sunshine. Looking at her, Sam thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad song as he had thought at the time. His Rosie liked it, and he guessed that was all that mattered.

Now Pippin decided to lighten the mood a bit. “Some of us remember fondly a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, who was last seen in the Shire on this very spot. The dear fellow made a number of songs, and this is one of his favorites--

The Man in the Moon had silver shoon,
and his beard was of silver thread;
With opals crowned and pearls all bound
about his girdle stead,
In his mantle grey he walked one day
across a shining floor,
And with crystal key in secrecy
he opened and ivory door--”

The song was a long one; he wasn’t nearly halfway through when he had to pause to down some ale that Merry held up to him, to wet his throat.

“Thanks, cousin!” he said before continuing.

This song had been a favorite among many of the young hobbits who had spent time at Bilbo’s knee when they were faunts, and by the end, Pippin heard a number of voices singing along.

For hunger or drouth naught passed his mouth
till he gave both crown and cloak;
And all that he got, in an earthen pot
broken and black with smoke,
Was porridge cold and two days old
to eat with a wooden spoon.
For puddings of Yule with plums, poor fool,
he arrived so much too soon;
An unwary guest on a lunatic quest
from the Mountains of the Moon.” (2)

Needing a breather, Pippin nodded to Legolas, who had been watching with a smile from the side. The Elf came up and sat on the edge of the bandstand, and without introduction began to sing in Sindarin. It was not so sad as most Elven songs, a paean of praise to the Sun and to the Spring and to all good things that make life wonderful in Arda.  It was a long song, and  he did not sing it all, but just enough of it to make an impression. His clear voice soared over the assembled hobbits, and lifted their hearts up with it.

Then he began to sing another song, this one in Westron. It was not an Elven song, but a song of the Dunedain, which he had learned of Aragorn long ago.

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves,
Under the floods that are deepest,
Which Ulmo obey
Over rocks that are the steepest,
Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly,
Where the goat dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
But if Love comes, he will enter,
And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
A child for his might
Or you may deem him
A coward from his flight.
But if she whom Love doth honor,
Be concealed from the day
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
By having him confined
Some do suppose him
Poor thing, to be blind;
But if ne’er so close ye wall him,
So the best that you may,
Blind Love, if so ye call him,
Will find out the way.

You may train the falcon
To stoop to your fist;
Coax even a dragon
To spare you, at least;
The wolf, you may move her
To give o’er her prey;
But you’ll ne’er stop a lover;
He will find out the way.(3)

When Legolas finished there was silence, broken only by a number of feminine sighs, and a collective deep breath.

Pippin, who had taken advantage of the respite to have another tankard of ale, stood once more upon the bandstand, and asked for requests. There were quite a few songs called out, and he chose from among the requests a jolly song about a couple who never spoke to one another directly, but made their maidservant relay all their words to one another. But one night she eloped with her suitor, knocking over a lamp when she went; the hole caught fire, and the couple only escaped by the skin of their teeth when they finally had to yell “fire!” Having learned their lesson, they never stopped talking again, save when they had food in their mouths. He followed this with a song about three sisters who loved the same lad. The two older fought over him, while the third and youngest happily made off with him. He fielded a request for Bilbo’s “Perry-the-Winkle” and dutifully sang it, though comic songs about trolls now made him shudder.

Finally, he stopped for a bit more ale, and then sang a soft and gentle Tookland song of love.

Why should thy cheek be pale,

Shaded with sorrow’s veil?
Why shoulds’t thou grieve me?
I will never, never leave thee,
‘Mid my deepest sadness
‘Mid my gayest gladness,
I am thine, believe me;
I will never, never leave thee.

Life’s storms may rudely blow,
Laying hope and pleasure low;
I’d ne’er deceive thee;
I could never, never leave thee.
Ne’er till my cheek grow pale,
And my heart pulses fail,
And my last breath grieve thee
Can I ever, ever leave thee!(4)

Now there were many sniffles, and noses being blown. Pippin stepped back and grinned. “Shall we dance?” he called. Giving a signal to the band, he jumped down.

As the infectious music began to be played, and circles began to form, Pippin hopped down. Sam and Rose stood up, and Rose gave him a hug. “That was lovely, Mr. Pippin! Thank you!”

“It was fun Rosie. Thank you for letting me do it!” he turned to Sam, who stood looking at him with shining eyes, “Go dance with your bride, before I take her off and dance with her myself.” He gave Sam a little shove in the direction of the nearest circle. Grinning, Sam grabbed his new wife by the hand.

Pippin turned to Merry. “Not dancing today, cousin?”

“Estella’s not here.” Merry stood watching the dancers wistfully, arms folded.

“Ah.” Pippin looked about. “Well, there’s a circle needs a lad! I’m off!”

Frodo shook his head, smiling, and he and Merry laughed. “That Took!”

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In the Men’s encampment, the guarding hobbits had been listening to the music with pleasure. The prisoners had sat there sullenly, but had not said anything, knowing they would be ignored--all except Clovis, who had been making nasty and snide remarks from the start. The shirriffs had ignored him as well, paying no attention at all to his invective, and he was beginning to get shrill and hoarse. Cado looked at him in disgust. Didn’t his brother *ever* know when to quit? But he kept his own mouth shut.

Finally, Nip Tunelly had had enough. He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a slightly soiled and rather large red handkerchief. Without  even a word, he turned and stuffed it into Clovis’ open mouth.  Clovis grew even redder at this rude gag, but his mouth was sufficiently stopped that he could not manage anything more than annoyed grunts.

The hobbit next to Nip looked at him sidewise. “Seems like the midges are a bit less noisy now.”

Nip smirked. “Waste of a perfectly good handkerchief.”

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(1) From my story “The Lovely Rosie Cotton”

(2) From The Tolkien Reader “The Man in the Moon Came Down too Soon”

(3) Adapted from a folk song “Love Will Find Out the Way” found at

http://www.contemplator.com/england/lovefind

(4) From a folk song “I’ll Never Leave Thee” found at

 http://www.contemplator.com/scotland/neverleave.html