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A New Reckoning  by Dreamflower

CHAPTER 22

The group broke their journey at Whitfurrow for luncheon. Hampers were unloaded from the pack animals, but many of the local hobbits, alerted by the messengers the day before, brought their own contributions, and what was to be a brief picnic turned into almost a party.

Merry took his father to one side. “Da, since it looks as though we will be here a while, I’m going to slip away to Budgeford, to Brock Hall, for a short time.”

Saradoc smiled. “I suppose Miss Estella has missed you.”

His son blushed. “One can hope,” he smiled. “But I would like to see Fredegar. I’ve not seen him since he came out of the Lockholes, and he was hardly in a fit state then for conversation.” Indeed, to Merry’s eyes, his friend’s thin and bruised form had looked much like Frodo and Sam had after coming out of Mordor. He had found that extremely disturbing.

Saradoc nodded. Fredegar’s exploits against the ruffians were beginning to become the stuff of songs.

“Well, be off with you then, son,” he said. “I do not think we will remain here more than another hour at most. But if we move on before you get back, you can easily catch us. We are going no further than Frogmorton today. And as you are going to Brock Hall, find out if Odovocar would care to come and meet the envoys now.” For Fredegar’s father was the head of the Bolger clan, and would represent them at the assembly in Tuckborough.

________________________________________________

Merry rode up to Brock Hall a few moments later. It was an old-fashioned place, part smial, part house, and more akin to Bag End, being a single family dwelling, though opulent, than to Brandy Hall or the Great Smials.

It had suffered only minor damage during the occupation, for when Fredegar had abandoned it, Lotho had given it to one of Ted Sandyman’s cousins as a reward. The hobbit had moved in, and of course taken it over, but had not damaged his new home, beyond his rather slovenly habits. He had quite roughly been evicted during the Scouring of the Shire, and the Bolger family had then returned to their home.

When Merry knocked upon the door, it was opened by Rosamunda Bolger. He endured her rather hostile glare, since her actual greeting was polite.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck, good day. I am afraid that Estella is out for the day.” Rosamunda had mixed feelings about Merry. On the one hand, she blamed him for much of the misfortune that had befallen her son Fredegar--if her son had not fallen in with Merry and his cousins, she felt, he would never have come afoul of Lotho; on the other hand, she was well aware of the mutual attraction of her daughter and the heir to all of Buckland, something which appealed to her acquisitive soul.

“Quite all right, Mistress Rosamunda. I have business with Odovocar, and I would like to see Freddy.”

Her eyebrows rose. The business probably had to deal with that message the Master had sent yesterday, summoning her husband to Tuckborough for a conclave of family heads. But she was not happy with his wish to see Fredegar--hadn’t her son suffered enough on his friends’ account?

She led Merry to her husband’s study, where he was busy working on some accounts, trying to find out what they still had left after the Occupation.

“Hullo, Odovocar,” said Merry. “My father asked me to let you know that if you would care to do so, you may meet with the envoys today, as they are lunching in Whitfurrow, and will be camping at Frogmorton this evening. If you want, then you may come with me when I leave.”

Odovocar sat back and looked at Merry. “Sit down, lad. Tell me what this is all about. The message was brief, and there were not enough details to suit me.” He was disturbed by the whole thing. After all the trouble it was to get Men *out* of the Shire, what were the Thain and the Master thinking of to invite a bunch of them back in?

So Merry briefly explained the missions of the delegations from Gondor and Rohan. Odovocar’s eyes grew wide as he listened.

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Paladin and Saradoc were talking with Frodo, Sam and Pippin. The picnic had finally broken up, and the ponies were being readied to continue on to Frogmorton, just a short distance away.

Just then, Pippin looked up sharply. “Father, Uncle Saradoc--” he hissed, pointing with his chin. Nearby a group of more than a dozen male hobbits with very unfriendly expressions, had gathered.

Pippin glanced around. Good--his sister and aunt were some distance away, still talking to some of the locals who had brought food. Legolas and Gimli had moved in to stand behind Frodo. He and Sam stepped to either side of his cousin. Pippin then shot a look at the Men, behind them. They had gathered together, standing alert and wary, with Bergil in the middle, but to Pippin’s eyes, they were having to make an effort to keep their hands off their weapons. Targon caught Pippin’s eyes and gave a sharp nod, as if to say they would let the hobbits handle it. He wished Merry hadn’t left.

As the group of angry hobbits moved in their direction, he was aware of Sam tensing and moving even closer to Frodo. His cousin was wearing a sad and distant expression--probably blaming himself again.

Paladin and Saradoc looked at one another. “Let me,” said the Master, “I know most of them, at least by sight.” The Thain nodded.

Saradoc stepped forward. “Well, friends,” he said lightly, “what can I do for you?”

The friendly tone confused a few of them. They looked at one another as though wondering why they were there; the rest, though looked even more belligerent. One of them stepped to the fore. “We want to know what you think you’re doing bringing these *Men*,” he spat to one side contemptuously, “into the Shire? Didn’t we have enough trouble throwing ‘em out last year without replacing ‘em with more? I hear they brought you a pretty penny to let ‘em come in!”

Pippin tensed angrily, and Sam blurted out “Now, see here--” but Frodo placed a restraining hand on each of them and shook his head.

Saradoc looked the angry hobbit coolly in the eye. “Gil Chubb. I do not recall that *you* were put to any trouble at all turning out the ruffians. I seem to recall that during the Troubles--while *my son* and his kin were tossing out the ruffians--you were keeping safe under *my* roof, speaking slander against *my* kinsman.” He spoke clearly and firmly, with only a hint of anger.

Chubb flushed, but had not sense enough to back down, when he thought he had a dozen others to back him up. He did not realize that his supporters were, one by one, slipping away. “You know what I mean. How about that money to let ‘em in?” he said sullenly.

Saradoc’s head came up. “Yes. I do know what you mean.” His voice had a hint of steel in it, and was raised to carry without shouting. Other hobbits were gathering to see what was happening, and more of Chubb’s friends were slipping back into this crowd. “I know *exactly* what you mean. What money has changed hands so far was owed to my son and to his cousin for their services to their Kings. The Thain--” Paladin stepped forward, “the acting Mayor--” Frodo’s chin came up, and he too stepped forth, raising his hand slightly to stay his friends from moving, “and myself have given these King’s Men permission to enter the Shire on the King’s business.” Saradoc glanced at Paladin.

Now the Took spoke up. “Part of that business involves reparations to the *Shire* from Sharkey’s holding in the South. If you spoke to the messengers who came through yesterday, you know we have called an assembly at Tuckborough. Mr. Chubb, I strongly recommend that if you have concerns about the way we have handled this, that you bring them to the head of your family, Chico Chubb, so that he may address them there in the proper time and place.”

Chubb was visibly wilting under the Thain’s angry glare. There were only about three hobbits left, and these were plucking at him to come away.

Frodo chose this moment to also speak; he too seemed to have the knack of making his voice carry. “I know these Men and their Kings. I give you my word that these are people of good will and honor. If my word is not good enough for you, then use your own eyes to observe them and your own ears to listen to them, and judge for yourselves. I, for one, have no doubt of the outcome if you judge fairly.” He sent his piercing blue gaze out over the crowd of hobbits, his sincerity plain to read.

Chubb suddenly realized he was alone except for one kinsman, who was tugging at him to go. “Mayhap I was a bit hasty; mayhap I will talk to old Cousin Chico.” He allowed himself to be led away, wondering how this had happened, and where all his friends had gone.

Once the troublemaker had turned his back and left, Pippin breathed a sigh of relief, one that was echoed by all his companions.

Targon and his Men also heaved a collective deep breath. He had been worried that they would have to go to the defense of the Ringbearer and his companions, and that would have been disastrous. He had seldom seen such an amazing display of innate authority. Among Men, there would have been trouble, no doubt about it, ending at the very least with the troublemakers in prison or at the worst, in violence. It brought home to him like nothing yet had, just what a peaceful people these Shirelings were.

Paladin slapped Saradoc on the back. “You handled that very well, brother.”

Saradoc gave a rueful laugh. “Gil Chubb is a fool, who always thinks the worst, and has not enough sense to keep his mouth shut. The last time he spouted off Merry had to take him down a peg.”

Frodo shook his head ruefully. “I just hope that we do not encounter too many more such fools between here and Tuckborough. I’m not sure my nerves can take it.”

Saradoc and Paladin gave a chuckle. Saradoc gave his younger cousin a brief hug, and said “Don’t worry, Frodo, it’s just politics.”

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