CHAPTER 49

It was nearly dawn when Merry and Pippin made their way back to the Smials after delivering the prisoners with the assistance of Targon, Borondir and Anwynd. When they had arrived at the campsite, they had found Legolas there, soothing Arod, who had returned with the rest of the horses. Merry took a few moments to speak to Éothain, and check on Danulf’s condition--it was much improved, and the last time he had been awakened he had indicated that he was hungry, always a good sign.

No one was yet astir as they crept to their rooms. Pippin opened the door to his, and stopped. “Psst, Merry!” he hissed. Merry came up behind him and looked in with a smile. Bergil was sound asleep in the bed; Esmeralda was in a chair next to the bed, sound asleep, with the young boy’s hand in hers.

“I don’t want to wake them,” Pippin whispered.

“You can come in with me, of course.”

They tiptoed into the room and Pippin drew a folded coverlet from the foot of the bed. He handed it to Merry, who gently draped it around his mother. Then they silently backed out and closed the door.

In Merry’s room, they helped one another out of their armor, and then flopped, still dressed on top of the bed.

As exhausted as he was, Pippin could not sleep.

“What’s wrong, Pip?” Merry propped himself up on one elbow to look into his cousin’s troubled green eyes.

“Merry, she wished me dead, and I’d only just been born! And Clovis and Cado--they never meant that apology at all.”

Merry sighed sadly. “I never thought they had, Pip.”

“You know, Merry, a lot of bad things happened to us on our journey--scary things, horrible things, painful things. But in a different kind of way, this hurts worse than any of that. Kin, Merry, kin should not be that way! They were my first cousins, too, but they’ve never cared anything at all about me. I mean, I never could have been as fond of them as I am of you and Frodo, but I did try. I would have been friends with them if they had let me.”

“I know you tried, Pip.” It was one reason Merry’s anger had burned so long. One of the goads they had used to dupe Pippin into that dangerous dare had been saying “You’d do it fast enough for Merry. You like him better than us.”

“And Hyacinth! Merry, she was worse than Denethor! At least he cared about his sons; it’s not what I’d call love, but at least he cared. She doesn’t care about her daughters at all. Poor Opal. To have her leg off--we’ve seen that Merry, how hard that is for big Men and warriors to have a leg or arm off. And she’s only a lass, and younger than I am. And all her mother could do was scream about ‘prospects’.”

Merry nodded; that bothered him, too.

“But all these years, Hyacinth wished I was dead, and I never knew. I used to feel bad because I didn’t much like her--and all that time she hated me--poor Uncle Reggie.”

The green eyes finally overflowed, and Merry held him until they closed into sleep.

Poor Pip. He cared so much, and tried so hard to see the best in everyone. It was hard to come up against people who had no best. Merry turned against his cousin’s side, and eased into sleep himself.

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It was done. The grisly business was over. Viola was exhausted, but she had managed to remain calm and helpful, and not disgrace herself by being sick. Mistress Poppy and Mistress Lavender had complimented her on the way she had kept her composure.

Now she wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet and have a good cry. When she had started out to be a healer, she had known that there would be some hard things, but this had been one of the hardest ever. Poor Opal. She was the same age. Her life would never be the same.

But the good cry would have to wait. Right now, she had to sit with the patient, while the healers cleaned up. And it wouldn’t do for the patient to awaken and find her in tears.

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Targon and Éothain looked at the three miserable hobbits huddled in the corner of the tent. The hobbits flinched anytime anyone glanced their way. They were clearly terrified, and the two envoys found themselves feeling sorry for their prisoners, even though they knew the pity was undeserved.

“What are we going to do with them?” asked Éothain.

“I do not really know. We are going to have to do some swift thinking, my friend. We need to have an answer before this assembly of hobbits this afternoon.”

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After Merry and Pippin had escorted the Bankses away, Paladin and Eglantine had gone to check on Reggie and Opal, and then seek a few hours of sleep before they had to prepare for the assembly.

Frodo and Saradoc remained in the Thain’s study. Saradoc took out his pipe. “I’m very proud of you, Frodo.” He puffed a bit. “This evening can’t have been easy for you, but you handled it very well.”

Frodo lit his own pipe and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. “Aside from the introduction,” he shrugged, “I was actually beginning to enjoy myself a little. It was a pleasant surprise. I was not at all sure I was still capable of enjoyment.” He sighed. “And then Clovis and Cado had to pull their little trick.”

“You handled the responsibility well--unlike my son. I am going to have to have a word with him.” Saradoc was most unhappy with the way Merry had used the authority Paladin had given him.

Frodo shook his head. “He’s lived with that particular anger for ten years. And you know Merry. Once he has a plan, all he needs is an excuse to carry it out. The only reason it didn’t happen sooner is they were canny enough to avoid him altogether. It’s a shame they didn’t keep that in mind tonight.”

Saradoc sighed. “I’ve no doubt they deserved it. But it was still very unwise.”

“Oh, as to that, I completely agree. Pippin and I both made our feelings clear on that, though Pip may have changed his mind after what happened to Opal. I’m afraid all this is very distressing for Pip.” Frodo shook his head. The pain in his youngest cousin’s eyes was very obvious when he had left.

“Yes,” said Saradoc, “Pippin, I am afraid, is as soft-hearted as ever.”

“Say great-hearted, Uncle Sara, and you will be nearer the mark. But he feels very betrayed, as do Paladin and Eglantine.”

“It’s a very bad business all the way around. What do you think the Men will do to them?”

“I am not sure. The justice of Men is much harder and less flexible than that of hobbits. I do not believe they will be executed, or I would not have allowed them to be turned over. But,” he smiled grimly, “it will not hurt them to think that they might be. I am glad that the truth is out, at least, painful as it is. In a way, this business makes me feel somewhat better about some things.”

Saradoc leaned forward. “Better, Frodo?”

“I had got into the habit of thinking that all the evils in the Shire were because of the Ring, because of Saruman, and so in a way, my fault. But I see now it’s not so. This had nothing to do with the Ring.”

“No, Frodo, it did not. This had to do with greed and selfishness and a seeking of power. The Sackville-Baggins were nasty people long before Bilbo got that Ring, and Banks and Bracegirdle wanted nothing more than a large and quick profit. Those are not common failings among hobbits, but they are there nonetheless.”

Frodo sighed. “Among Men, they are all too common, yet it does not seem nearly so grievous as to find such traits among our kind.” He looked up. “The Sun is making Her way through the window. I suppose we had better get some rest.”

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Sam sat up and looked at the Sun peeking through the trees outside his window. It had been a strange night, no doubt about it. Wonderful and terrible in turns. He remembered dancing with Rosie, more beautiful than ever in her pink dress. And hearing them say all those great and wonderful things about Mr. Frodo. It was a crying shame that those Bankses had ruined it all. He hoped the poor little Took lass would be all right.

But this was another day.

Just then he remembered something. He grinned.

“Proper.” he said. “Proper, proper, proper.” The week was up. He’d done it.