CHAPTER 19

The next morning, when Sam came into the kitchen to start first breakfast, he found Pippin there ahead of him, nearly finished with his own meal.

“Well, you’re up early, Mr. Pippin,” he said.

“Sam, when are you going to stop calling me ‘mister’?” He asked without much hope. All three of the cousins had this conversation with Sam, more than once. Every so often they would try again. Merry thought they might eventually wear him down. Frodo said there was no more stubborn hobbit in the Two Kingdoms when it came to being ‘proper’, and that it would never happen.

“Now, Mr. Pippin, you know it wouldn’t be proper,” answered Sam, unaware of Pippin mouthing the words along with him and rolling his eyes. “So is there a reason you are up so early?”

“I’m going fishing with young Bergil this morning. The poor lad’s never been.”

“Well, that’s right nice of you. The child needs to have a little fun--he is far too serious for his age.”

“That’s what my aunt thinks. My father’s going with us.” Pippin said this last a bit shyly.

“That’s really good. I take it that your talk with him last night went all right then?” Sam had been concerned. The Thain’s temper was legendary.

“Yes, he really seemed to listen. But I think that he is trying too hard to understand something that he never will be able to. I don’t really want him to understand some of it, Sam.”

“Don’t worry about it overmuch, Mr. Pippin. He’ll understand at least enough to maybe give you some peace.”

“I’ll settle for a nice morning’s fishing. I just hope they are biting, and that Bergil catches a few. Nothing more frustrating to a new angler than not catching anything.”

“Well, I hope they’re biting, too. Would you like me to make you some sandwiches to take with you?”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll pick up a picnic lunch from one of the kitchens at the Hall.”

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When Pippin arrived at Brandy Hall, he found Paladin and Bergil on one of the benches in the front garden waiting for him. Paladin had already picked up a hamper of food from the main kitchen. He was listening in fascination to Bergil, who was chatting away, telling him some very interesting facts about life in Minas Tirith, and about life in Ithilien, now that Prince Faramir was there. Pippin watched them, smiling, for a few moments before they were aware he had arrived. Then they saw him.

“Good morning, Father. Hullo Bergil. Are you ready to go, then?”

Pippin knew just the quiet spot on the riverbank, where he and Merry often went to catch a mess of fish for their supper.

Bergil was a quick learner, and caught three good sized fish. The child’s laughter and excitement each time he got a bite, and especially when he landed a fish, did Pippin’s heart good. He had heard little enough laughter from the lad in the city.

They fished until after luncheon, having second breakfast, elevenses, and lunch from the capacious basket.

When they had a nice string of fish, Pippin showed Bergil how to clean his catch.

Paladin was surprised. When he had fished with Pippin as a lad, they had not cleaned their catch, but had taken it home for the kitchen to deal with. “How did you learn to do this?” he asked his son.

“Oh, well, Merry and I would sometimes fish on our journey to eke out the travel fare, which could get tiresome after a while. We’d give the fish we caught to Sam, since he did most of the camp cooking, and never much thought about it. But one day, Frodo got annoyed with us, and told us that Sam had enough work to do without us making more for him. Anyway, Strider--Aragorn--settled the argument by teaching us how to clean our catch.”

Paladin shook his head in amazement, and wondered if he would ever meet this King, who was also a healer, and did not think he was too good to clean fish.

Before they left the riverside, Pippin taught Bergil to skip stones. The lad was soon managing three skips. Pippin was still hoping to get five again. He and Merry had each managed this exactly once, and were in a bit of a competition to see which of them could do it again first. Paladin had not skipped stones since he was a lad, but he gave it a try, and was surprised to get three right away.

They walked back to Brandy Hall to deliver the catch to the main kitchen. When they arrived, they were greeted by the clamor of young hobbits, teens and tweens, who wanted to spirit Bergil away for more stories.

“Remember what I told you, Bergil,” admonished Pippin.

“No battles, no blood and no killing,” said the boy glumly. “The stories won’t be very interesting.”

“Tell them about oliphaunts--you know, the mûmakil.”

“But you said ‘no battles’.”

“Oh, yes,” Pippin thought for a moment, then brightened. “Tell them about the feasts!”

“The feasts?” Bergil looked doubtful.

“Yes. The feast at Cormallen, the Coronation feast, the Wedding feast--tell them all about them.”

Bergil shook his head. “It sounds boring.”

“Trust me, Bergil, they will be fascinated.” Pippin grinned, and his father chuckled. Descriptions of food could hold hobbits for hours, almost as well as actually eating.

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The two Tooks went into the Hall, to the Master’s family suite, and in Esmeralda’s and Saradoc’s sitting room they saw a scene of domestic tranquility.

Merry and his guests had arrived in their absence. Saradoc and Gimli sat at a small table in a corner, absorbed in a game of draughts. Merry and Sam were showing something to Merimac and Berilac in one of the books of herb lore. Esmeralda sat upon the settee, Frodo’s head in her lap, his face relaxed into slumber, as she gently smoothed his dark curls. Legolas sat upon the floor next to them, softly singing in Elvish.

Paladin and Pippin silently took in the scene for a few moments, then Paladin walked over to watch the draughts game. Perhaps he would offer to play the winner.

Pippin went over and sat down next to Legolas, leaning into his side, and joined his own warm furry voice to the cool clear Elven one. Strangely, they blended perfectly, and without thinking about it, began to sing a bit more loudly. When the last notes faded away, they realized everyone was looking at them, including Frodo, who had opened his blue eyes and was watching them. There was a peace and joy in them that Pippin had not seen in a very long time. He wondered how long that would last.

Unabashed, Pippin looked up at the Elf. “That was nice, Legolas. I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s it mean?”

“It is a song about the Eagles,” the Elf replied. “Frodo, can you translate?”

Frodo turned his head to look at the ceiling, and thought for a second:“In a dream I was lifted up. Carried--no--borne from the darkness above the rivers of fire, on wings, hmm, on wings aloft?” he looked at Legolas, who nodded “on wings aloft as the wind. What’s happened to the world? Is everything--sorrowful--no--sad going to come untrue?”*

Legolas nodded again. “Very good, Frodo.”

Pippin looked up at his Elven friend. “You made that song for Frodo and Sam, didn’t you? I thought it sounded like flying. You sang it when we were waiting for them to wake up. I couldn’t sing along at the time, what with my ribs strapped up and all, but I loved to listen to it.”

“It was one of the songs, yes,” said the Elf. Everyone in the room was listening to the conversation. Most had tears in their eyes.

Frodo turned his face to his cousin and Legolas. “Sing some more,” he smiled.

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Dinner was once more in the main dining hall. The inhabitants of Brandy Hall were beginning to get used to the presence of the unusual guests, but they were no less fascinated. This time, at his own request, Bergil sat at the table that was usually reserved for the tweens and older teens--he’d made a few friends among them, notably Celandine and Sarimac--and he felt less self-conscious there than at the high table. He looked up at Pippin, who tipped him a wink, and then went back to his discussion with the two young hobbits.

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It was in the wee hours of the morning. Outside one of the side entrances to Brandy Hall, were three figures: two hobbit sized and one tall.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” whispered Merry, as he turned a key in the door.

“Come now, it’s for Bergil’s sake,” answered Pippin. “Besides, it’ll be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in a long time--not only is it overdue, but no one will suspect us, now that we are respectable.”

“We’re too *old* for this, Pip,” but it did not stop Merry from opening the door and peering in.

“If *I* am not too old, Master Meriadoc,” whispered Legolas “then I know that you are not.”

Pippin gave a soft chuckle. “He knows that. He’s just protesting as a matter of form. That way, if we get caught, he can say ‘I told you so’.”

“You know me too well, cousin.”

“I ought to.”

They found Bergil sound asleep on his pallet in the guest room. Pippin shook him by the shoulder. “Psst, Bergil, wake up.”

The boy shook himself awake and opened his eyes. “Pippin? Sir Merry? Master Legolas? What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“We have decided to make you an honorary cousin. Legolas is here as a witness.”

Bergil sat up, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “An honorary cousin? What do I have to do?”

“Well,” said Pippin with a grin, “it *starts* with a midnight snack.”

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The Master and Mistress were wakened early by an urgent rapping upon their door.

“Mistress Brandybuck! You need to come.” It was one of the kitchen hobbits.

“Go back to sleep, Sara, I will see what the crisis is” said Esmeralda as she slipped on a dressing gown. She followed the kitchen hobbit down one of the back passages to the main kitchen.

She found one of the other kitchen hobbits sweeping a large amount of flour on the floor. “It was propped upon the top of the door, so that it would fall when the door was opened Mistress. Four of the pies we had prepared for breakfast this morning are missing.”

“Have you checked to see if the sugar and salt have been switched?” asked the Mistress, shaking her head.

“Oh, mercy! No, we hadn’t thought of that yet. But Mistress, you must go see the dining hall!”

Shaking her head, and chuckling in spite of herself, she opened the door to the dining hall, and stopped in amazement.

The room was festooned from ceiling to floor in an intricately woven web of yarn. It would take hours to untangle this mess. But who? She did not think that Brandy Hall currently housed such imaginative mischief makers--she had seen nothing like this since Merry and Pippin were much younger.

Surely not! They were not even living in the Hall--they were off at Crickhollow--and were much too old and mature now for such things, weren’t they? Still shaking her head in amazement, she began directing the clean-up.

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*translation in italics of “The Eagles” from the Return of the King soundtrack found at http://www.elvish.org/gwaith/movie_soundtrack_rotk.htm