CHAPTER 9

The hobbits of the Bridgefields area, and the surrounding lands as far west as Whitfurrow and as far south as Newbury had been hearing about this business of the Men from the King. They had been gathering since the day before, and now there was quite an assembly, ready to hold an impromptu festival. With no formal organization at all, baskets of food began to make an appearance, as well as vendors of food. A celebratory air began to be felt.

Saradoc was relieved. The good manners of the Men, as well as their respectful attitude, not to mention the gifts they had brought, had impressed the local hobbitry no end. He had feared that lingering resentment towards the ruffians would spoil this unexpected visit, but so far there had been no open signs of it. Of course, he was not fool enough to think that meant there was none at all. But the general atmosphere now was light-hearted.

He looked over to where Frodo, Sam and Merry were in animated discussion with the Elf, Legolas, and the Dwarf, Gimli. He thought perhaps it was the happiest he had seen any of them since their return. Pippin was talking to the lad Bergil. As he watched, Pippin drew the child away and brought him over. It was odd to realize how young he must be, though he overtopped Peregrin by more than a foot.

“Uncle, I know that you were introduced to my friend Bergil, but I don’t know if you realize just what good friends he and his father Beregond were for me during the Siege.” He glanced up fondly at the child. “His father is serving with Prince Faramir in Ithilien right now, and could not be spared for this visit. But the King thought that Bergil might enjoy this chance to come and see me. He has been serving as page and squire to all the Men who came.”

“How old are you, Bergil?” Saradoc asked politely.

“Why I turned eleven just before we left the White City, sir.”

Now Saradoc was shocked. He had known the lad was young, but not *that* young! And for his father to allow him to travel hundreds of miles away from his family like this! Truly, Men were stranger than he had thought.

Pippin was amused. He knew what his uncle was thinking. “It’s all right, Uncle Saradoc. The children of Men grow up more quickly, and Bergil has had a lot of responsibility before.” Now his face grew sober. “Being in a City at War does make one grow up quickly.”

His uncle knew that he was not talking only about this child, his friend. Pippin, too, had grown up quickly in a City at War.

“Anyway,” Pippin continued, “We are prevailing on Legolas and Gimli to come back down to Crickhollow with us, as well as Frodo and Sam. I’d like Bergil to come, too, if Targon will give permission. But there’s the matter of space at Crickhollow, and I was wondering if you and Aunt Esme might put Bergil up at the Hall. I don’t imagine my father will be here before late tomorrow at the soonest, and until the new inn is finished, there’s no place to stay here.”

Saradoc smiled. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure your aunt would enjoy meeting him.”

Bergil’s face broke into a wide grin. “Thank you, Master Brandybuck! Thank you, Sir Peregrin!”

Pippin looked up at the child sternly. “When we are on duty, you may call me ‘Sir Peregrin’. The rest of the time, you are just my friend, and you must call me Pippin, as you used to.”

The child ducked his head, abashed. “Yes, Pippin.”

“That’s better.”

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After a bit of discussion, Paladin and Berilac had decided to take the Tuckborough Road to Woodhall, and then cut across to Buckleberry Ferry. They knew that it would take at least two days to make the journey, and as Paladin said, with no inn at the Bridge right now, it was more than likely that they would actually find everyone at Brandy Hall anyway; if not, it would take no longer to approach the Bridge from the south than it would to have to ride north to the road that ran through Frogmorton. Paladin had kin living near the western edge of Woody End, where they could stay the night.

Paladin was taking the time to get to know Berilac. He had met him a time or two, but he did not know him well as he did Merry, who had spent nearly as much time growing up in Tuckborough as he had in Buckland.

It was clear that even though Beri was actually a couple of years older than Merry and nearly ten years older than Pippin, he had developed a serious case of hero worship for them both. Since he seemed to be a sensible lad, that must mean a lot. It was just so hard for Paladin to get used to the idea that his son had left as an irresponsible tweenager and returned as a seasoned warrior and a hero.

The Thain was worried over his son. He had badly mishandled Pippin’s return, and though they had reconciled, they had not really had time to mend all the broken places in their relationship yet. For it had been deemed urgent that Pippin and Merry be together and away from others, in order to deal with some of their more frightening memories.

Now with Pippin in Buckland at Crickhollow, he had no way to know how his son was really getting on. Oh, he wrote frequently enough, but he had never been a good correspondent. His letters were always brief, and usually uninformative. He shook his head ruefully, as he remembered the note he’d found in his son’s wastebasket after his disappearance. Apparently even Pippin had realized how useless it was as an explanation. Yet it was not much different from any letter he had ever written.

The need to know was one reason Pearl had gone to Buckland; she was still there. They’d had only one letter from her, and it had confirmed that Pippin was still suffering from nightmares. But it had not given any of the details he would have liked to know.

And now here were more Men to deal with. He had been pleased with what he had learned about the new King; but still he was wary about Men. Anyone who had been in the Shire when Lotho and Sharkey held sway would be.

He hoped that they were not going to regret this.

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While the four Travellers occupied themselves with their old friends, Saradoc began to circulate among the various groups of hobbits, staying far enough back not to interfere with conversation, but close enough to overhear what was being said.

He heard several garbled accounts of Bilbo’s disappearance, still good for gossip after nearly twenty years. He also heard a lot of talk about Lotho and the ruffians--the “new Men” as he was hearing them called, seemed to fare rather better by comparison, but there was still a note of suspicion in some voices. He heard some rather avaricious talk about the gifts that Merry and Pippin had received--several hobbits had thought of things for them to spend their silver on, at a nice profit; others were wondering about the ponies. He heard a deal of speculation as to what his son and his companions had done “away south”. He approached a group of hobbits who had started a small bonfire, and were roasting sausages on sticks.

“Well,” Denny Banks was saying, ”I know Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin did some right fierce fighting. I got that right from the two leaders of these Men. They were there.”

“Mebbe so,” said another skeptically, “but they sure act funny about Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. Imagine getting down on their knees to them!”

“Did you hear that one say the King’d do anything Mr. Frodo wanted? Why would ‘e say a thing like that?”

“I was at Brandy Hall last fall,” said a rather stout fellow, “I was there when Mr. Merry gave Gil Chubb a serious tongue-lashing for daring to speak ill of Frodo Baggins.”

“I remember that. Such a look he gave him, it would have blistered the paint on the wall. If he’d given me a look like that, I think I would have curled up and died on the spot. He told that Chubb that Frodo had saved us all. I wouldn’t have cared to doubt it.”

“Saved us from what, I’d like to know…” but just then they noticed the Master, and the talk died off. They looked at Saradoc, wondering what he’d heard. He decided he might as well have his say.

“You will find, I think, that Frodo, Samwise, Meriadoc and Peregrin deserve every honor that these Men have come to bestow on them. Do not forget that we have a King now, and that our four lads are his dear friends.”

He moved away smiling to himself, and imagined the tongues wagging behind him.

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