CHAPTER 13

Back at Crickhollow, Merry and his guests had been sitting around the kitchen table talking. Having exhausted the topic of how Aragorn’s rule was being received in the south, they had moved on to the subject of Legolas’ and Gimli’s future realms in Ithilien and in Aglarond. Although both Elf and Dwarf were looking forward to this, and had made many plans, it would be a few years yet until they could get started. They had promised to help Aragorn restore Minas Tirith first.

Frodo and Merry were quite interested in all this, listening and asking some rather astute questions. Sam listened closely as well, but had yet to say anything.

Observing his gardener, Frodo was beginning to think Sam had something he wanted to say to Legolas and Gimli, but he was not going to interrupt as long as he and Merry were present.

“Merry,” he said, “I think you may have missed a few of my books in that last cart-load you brought to Bag End. There was one I’d like to show Legolas. Would you come to the study with me to check?”

Merry cocked an eyebrow at his cousin; Frodo was absolutely the worst liar he knew. The last box of books had not even been opened, and still sat in the front hall at Bag End. But he got up and obediently followed him from the kitchen.

“What’s this all about, Frodo?” he asked when they had left the room.

“I think Sam wanted to talk to Legolas and Gimli. But he wouldn’t say anything with us there. It wouldn’t be ‘proper’.” He said the last word wryly. He heard it far too often from Sam to suit him.

“What about? Oh. Oh, yes. Our Sam only has one thing on his mind these days, doesn’t he?” Merry grinned.

“Exactly.”

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“So, Mr. Legolas and Mr. Gimli, you’re going to go back to see the King?”

“Aye, Master Samwise,” Gimli answered. “We will be returning that way.”

Sam blushed. “How soon do you think you might have to leave?”

“I think, Sam,” said Legolas with a smile, “that we are not in such a hurry that we could not stay long enough to see a dear friend through his wedding day.”

“Oh, glory!” Sam exclaimed. “Wait till Rosie hears about this!”

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After tea, they were going once more to dine at Brandy Hall. Frodo and Gimli sat on the front step to wait for Merry and Sam, who were doing the washing up in the kitchen. Legolas had gone to the stable to have a word with Arod.

“Gimli, I am so glad you and Legolas came to see us. I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you lads, as well. It’s strange how quickly one can get used to having hobbits about,” the Dwarf chuckled.

“How is Legolas?” Frodo asked solemnly.

Gimli looked at him shrewdly. “The sea-longing is there. It will never go away until he gives in to it. But he is a very determined Elf, and he has vowed not to sail as long as Aragorn lives.”

“It must be hard for him.”

“Aye, laddie, it is. But he is an Elf, and time has not the same meaning for him.”

Just then the object of their conversation approached and Merry and Sam came out also. It was time to head for Brandy Hall.

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It was late afternoon when Paladin and Berilac approached Bucklebury Ferry. Berilac hailed the hobbit on duty, and soon the two of them were on the Buckland side of the Brandywine.

As they stepped out onto the landing, Paladin caught sight of two figures coming towards them. Both were dressed in the black and silver of Gondor. One, of course was his son, a welcoming smile on his familiar features. The other--surely too tall for a hobbit, too short for a Man. He realized with a start that it was a young Man-child.

Pippin came up and gave his father a rather formal embrace. “Hullo, father. I’d like you to meet my good friend, Bergil son of Beregond, who made my time in Gondor much less dreary.

Bergil, this is my father, Paladin Took.”

Bergil bowed politely. “Thain Paladin, it is good to meet the father of my friend Sir Peregrin--er, Pippin.” The look he cast at Pippin fairly glowed with hero-worship.

Paladin looked his son over. His face was thinner than he had seen it last; there was no childishness left in it, though he still had three more years until his majority. And what was that hanging around his neck? That chain looked like solid gold. Pippin noticed his glance, and blushed; neither of them said anything.

“Shall we walk on up to the Hall, father? I know that Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme will be glad to see you, and so will Pearl.”

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Frodo was pleased that tonight they would be dining privately with the family instead of in the main dining hall. He had felt entirely too much on display the night before at the high table--he’d had more than enough of that kind of thing in Gondor. But at least he was being watched as “that strange Frodo Baggins who went off on an adventure,” and *not* as “Frodo the Nine-fingered, Ringbearer”. As good as it was to see his friends, it was another reminder of something he’d rather not think about.

Legolas, Gimli, Sam and Bergil were visiting with Pearl in the Master’s sitting room. . Saradoc, Paladin, Merry and Pippin had gone from the room. Frodo suspected that they were going to the strongroom. Frodo went to seek out Esmeralda, who was seeing to having the meal sent up.

“Hullo, Aunt Esme. Can I be of any assistance?”

She stopped what she was doing and gave him a light hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Frodo, dearest. No, I don’t think so. The servers will bring it up and set it out, and I already have the table laid.”

Frodo looked at her shrewdly. “Is something wrong, Aunt Esme?”

She shook her head. “You always were a perceptive lad. I’m afraid I’m finding this visit from strangers a bit disturbing. I’m learning more than I really wanted to know about what happened to all of you while you were away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s a matter of opinion. I wish there had never been a Ring, much less that we had anything to do with it.” He stopped. He had not meant to say as much to her, and was surprised at his own outburst.

“Oh, Frodo!” She reached out and gave him a hug. “Do not blame yourself for any of it.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to relax into her embrace, as he seldom had when he was a child.

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Paladin stared in shock at the chest that Pippin had unlocked for him.

Pippin looked at his father. “One hundred fifty, silver. This chain, and a fine pony. The chain, I’ll keep, the pony as well. But you may take the silver for the Took’s treasury. Next year, and every year after, it will be two hundred fifty.”

“Son, the King sent this to you.”

“I’m not of age yet. So even if he did, it’s still technically yours. Besides, I don’t need that much.”

Paladin looked at Saradoc and Merry. “How have you settled this?”

Saradoc glanced at Merry, and nodded for his son to answer. “Da thinks I should keep it. I’ll settle for having it here in the Brandybuck strongroom, and will use of it what I need; but I consider it family money as well. Da said one reason for such a stipend is to help me fulfill my obligations as Holdwine of the Mark without having to dip into Buckland’s coffers, which makes sense. But I’m of age. It does make a difference.”

This was true. According to Shire law, until Pippin turned thirty-three, everything he had belonged to his parents.

Paladin shook his head. Since the gift had been given so publicly, everyone in the Shire would soon know about it, and hobbit opinion would also consider it Took money, rather than Pippin’s. Once he would have had no qualms about taking it. He had deliberately kept his son short of money, as the lad spent indiscriminately and lavishly, and then was out of pocket. But this new, mature hobbit who had come home from the War would not be like that, would he?

On the other hand, he could not deny that an infusion of cash into the Took coffers would be welcome. They had suffered financially during the Occupation, and still were trying to recover.

“Let me think it over, Peregrin. This is somewhat unexpected, to say the least.”

“That’s all right, Father. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

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Pearl found herself finally beginning to relax. At first, every time she met the Elf’s gaze, she blushed. She couldn’t help it. He was so comely; but he was very polite, and pretended not to notice, and soon she began to see the humor in how silly she was being. Acting like a tweenager--like Celandine, in fact. At least she had not been tongue-tied in his presence.

She was listening with half an ear as Sam and Gimli discussed some incident that had happened on their journey, and wondering when she was going to get a chance to get her father alone and let him know what had been going on with Pippin. He needed to know about what happened a couple of weeks ago, when Merry was so ill, and about that story the boy had told this afternoon. She had seen her brother’s face when the child was talking, and she had never known it to have such a stark expression before. And the implications of the story worried her.

Just then, her father and the rest returned from their visit to the strongroom, and Esmerelda announced that dinner was ready.

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Bergil had eaten very carefully all day, taking Esmeralda’s advice, and just having a cup of tea and a nibble. Now he felt ready to have a meal, but he was going to be cautious as to the size of the portions on his plate.

Legolas was sitting across from him, and he noticed how he was eating. He would let the Elf be his example.

Esmeralda watched the child, and saw he had learned his lesson about trying to eat like a hobbit. Poor motherless lad, so far from home. She remembered what Pippin had told her about him, and resolved that he would learn to enjoy himself as a child should, before he left the Shire.

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