CHAPTER 3

Saradoc found Esmeralda supervising the spring cleaning in some of the lesser used tunnels. He wanted to let her know where he was going and why.

“Oh, Sara--what could those men want with our lads now?” For she feared that perhaps they had come to take them away on another quest.

“Never fear, my dear. I do believe I know what they want, and it will be quite well. Remember the letter that Merry’s King of Rohan sent us when he came home?”

“Ah!” That was better. Now she knew. Relieved, she gave her husband a hug, and reminded him to wear a scarf. “For it may be spring, but it’s early yet, and can still be very chilly.”

He went out, to find the messenger waiting with both the ponies. “Well, lad--which Banks are you?”

“Rolly, sir.”

“Very well, Rolly, let us make haste to Brandywine Bridge.”

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Denny Banks sat outside the gatehouse with the two Men. It was strange, they looked like large versions of Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin in their warlike get-up and with their swords and armor and all, yet even with all that, they did not seem so threatening as those ruffians who had over-run the Shire last year. These two were soft-spoken and mannerly, and very formal in their speech, not at all like the crude, coarse and cruel Men that Denny had seen before.

Right now he listened in fascination as they told of the deeds of Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin. They seemed right proud of those two, just as if they were kin or something. The one in black and silver had told as how Mr. Pippin had saved a prince from being burned alive by his own father, and then how he had slain a great troll. Seems trolls were real, and not just something made up by old Mad Baggins. They sounded right frightful--how could a hobbit kill a great creature like that?

And now the one in green and white was telling how Mr. Merry destroyed a wicked sorcerer with the help of a princess. Although this sounded unlikely, the fellow seemed quite serious about it. There was nothing to show he was having one on or making it up. He said as how Mr. Merry was a great warrior--now that Denny could believe, after seeing how he had dealt with those ruffians in the Shire. Maybe after all those other great deeds, ruffians had seemed a little tame.

Just as the Men had begun to ask polite questions about the Shire, they heard the sound of ponies approaching. It was Rolly and Master Brandybuck.

The two men stood up. Denny flinched. While he had been sitting on a barrel, and they upon the ground, he had forgotten for a while just how large they were.

Rolly and Saradoc dismounted and approached.

“Good day. I am Saradoc Brandybuck, father of Meriadoc, at your service.”

The two men bowed. The one in black and silver spoke. “Greetings, Lord Brandybuck, I am Targon, of the Third Company of the Guard of the Citadel in Minas Tirith. My companion is Éothain, of the personal éored of the King of Rohan. We have business with your son, Sir Meriadoc and with his cousin Sir Peregrin, as well as a message from King Elessar for yourself and other worthies of your land, the Thain as I believe he is called, and for the Ringbearer Frodo Baggins--” Targon’s voice took on an almost reverential note when he spoke that name, “who we are given to understand holds also an office of importance.”

The one in green spoke. “It is good to meet the father of our Holdwine. We had hoped to soon see him.”

Saradoc bowed slightly himself, somewhat flustered, though he hoped he did not show it. “Welcome to the Shire, Targon and Éothain. I am no ‘Lord’, for we use no such titles here in the Shire, but am the Master of Buckland. I am sorry to say that my son and his cousin are two or three days journey from here. However, I have sent someone after them to tell them of your presence, and that they should come back straightaway. I would imagine that Frodo will accompany them, since they have gone to see him.”

The two Men looked disappointed, but not surprised. “We will wait; there is no hurry now that we have arrived upon the appointed day. Are you having no celebrations here?” said Targon.

Rolly and Denny, who had been following the exchange with fascination, looked puzzled. Saradoc flushed. How to explain to these Men, who wished to honor his kin, that the hobbits of the Shire did not really know much of what the four Travellers had done, especially Frodo? How to explain that even had they known, they would not have understood the importance of his deed? He suddenly felt embarrassed at realizing how little honor Frodo and Sam had received in their own homeland. Aloud, he merely said “We still observe the New Year at the end of Yule.”

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Merry and Pippin gaped at one another. Messengers from the South? Already?

Berilac said “Merry, your father said to remind you of the date.”

“Of course!” Merry smacked himself in the forehead. “It’s the New Year for Rohan and Gondor! I should have been expecting this.” But somehow he had managed to forget all about it.

Pippin laughed. “Who else would forget two ponies and a hundred silver pennies?”

“Don’t laugh at me, cousin. There seems to be a delegation from Gondor as well as from Rohan. Who knows what Aragorn has sent to you?”

Berilac looked puzzled. “Uncle Saradoc seemed to know what this was all about, but I certainly don’t.”

Merry blushed. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s simple, Beri,” Pippin explained. “Last year when we left Rohan, King Éomer wanted to give Merry all kinds of wonderful gifts, but my cousin, being the noble fellow he is turned them all down except for the silver horn Lady Éowyn gave him. However, his liege is a determined fellow, so he sent a message to Uncle Saradoc, informing him that every spring on New Year’s Day he’d be sending good Sir Meriadoc two ponies and a hundred silver pennies.”

Beri whistled. Merry shook his head and rolled his eyes. He could not help it if this whole thing made him feel uncomfortable.

Pippin smiled fondly at his older cousin. Though he teased him, he knew the real reason Merry was uncomfortable with this. For even though the small Knight of Rohan *knew* without any doubt that he could not have done anything, in his heart he still felt guilty that he did not somehow save King Théoden, whom he had dearly loved. He knew Merry also still felt guilty that they had allowed themselves to become separated from Frodo. That was a bit of guilt he felt himself from time to time.

“Well,” he said “this isn’t getting this cartload of stuff any closer to Bag End; we can’t go back until we get rid of it. I suggest we get on with it since we have guests waiting at the Bridge.”

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Sam approached the Cotton farm with a light step. He would be glad to see Mr. Frodo and his Rosie again, after traipsing all over the Shire trying to undo the damage that old Saruman had caused with his wicked deviltry. He’d been gone since the first week of Rethe, and here they were almost to the end of the month. Right about the middle of that time, he’d been so lonesome he’d had a couple of those nasty nightmares about old Shelob. But he was back now, and today they’d be finishing up Bag End, and Mr. Frodo could finally go home.

He looked up to see Rosie running to meet him, and he opened his arms for her. He enfolded her in a gentle embrace and breathed in the scent of her hair. “Oh, lass, it’s so good to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Sam. I think I missed you even more than I did when you were gone last year.”

“How is everything? How is Mr. Frodo?”

Rosie stiffened.

“What is it, Rose? Is something wrong with Mr. Frodo?” Suddenly he remembered--he should never have forgotten--Lord Elrond and Strider had both warned him--he paled. “Oh, Sam, you ninnyhammer! How could you have forgotten your poor Mr. Frodo!”

“Sam, he’s all right, now! He had a bad couple of days, but he’s fine. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin came to check on him afterward. He didn’t want us to tell them, or you, but I couldn’t keep that back from them. Please don’t let on that you know!”

Sam turned away from her, tears standing his eyes, and his fists clenched at his sides. “Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin will think I’m not fit for anything. And they’d be right. But if Mr. Frodo wants to pretend nothing happened, I will have to try to act like I don’t know. But to go off on my own like that when I should have *remembered*! There’s no hard name anyone could call me that I don’t deserve.”

Rose knew better than to argue with him, but she put her arms back around the still form of her betrothed, and after a moment he relaxed and returned her embrace. He’d not stopped blaming himself, but he’d put it aside for now, for Mr. Frodo’s sake. And he’d be seeing Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin later on today or tomorrow when they got here with the rest of the furnishings for Bag End. He’d be ready to endure any hard words they would have for him.

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Merry and Pippin, accompanied by Berilac, went straight to Bag End with their cart-load. It was near teatime and Frodo came out to greet them cheerily enough.

“Well met, cousins! Come on in. Sam’s put the kettle on; you’re just in time for tea.”

But Merry noticed that he bustled them into the kitchen without letting them look him in the eye.

Sam, however, met their gaze directly, and flushed. He looked apprehensive. So. He had found out--probably Rosie told him. Now he was expecting, maybe even hoping, for a tongue-lashing as soon as Frodo was out of ear-shot.

Pippin’s chin came up, and his green eyes glittered. Merry decided that if Pippin still wanted to upbraid Sam, he would not interfere. It might be more merciful than letting the gardener stew in his own guilt.

Meanwhile, they had news to convey. With the Men who were waiting back at the Bridge, they would have to get back as soon as possible.

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