Chapter Three - The Summons

Merry walked down the hallway to the familiar oak door that his father used to shut the cacophony of the world out on busy days. He knocked once and then entered. As son of the Master, Merry was afforded certain privileges though he rarely invoked them, except on this occasion. He had been summoned from Crickhollow early this morning to receive an urgent message from the Master of the Hall.

Merry stood and addressed the Master. “Hullo, Dad, you wanted to see me?”

Saradoc looked up, seeing his son he rose from his desk and gave him a warm embrace. “How are you, Merry? Is Crickhollow treating you well?” He stood back, giving his son the once-over, noting he was still slimmer than most hobbits his age. Perhaps with the right lass he would shape up--or out, as it goes with hobbits.

Merry smiled politely, though he knew that this was only a precursor of the true reason he was asked here. “Crickhollow is peaceful, private, and I love living there.” He sat down on the couch next to his father. “Can you tell me why I am here?”

Saradoc’s smile waned. “You have always been a perceptive lad, Merry. I was going to get to that eventually, though it seems I must perform my duty whether I like it or no.” Saradoc went to his desk and fumbled for a particular document. “Ah! Here it is.” He came back and gave it to Merry to read. “I received it late yesterday, but waited until this morning to summon you here. I saw no need in making an uproar sooner than need be. Paladin wants his son in Tuckborough--in Great Smials--as early as this afternoon, though he doesn’t state why.”

Merry sat silently reading the parchment with the red seal of the Thain pressed into it.

“To the Master of Buckland,

I am requiring the presence of my son, Peregrin Took, on Afteryule 10, 1420. He will present himself in my office no later than Four o’clock.

Sincerely,

Thain Paladin, II”

Merry looked at his father, “Uncle Paladin isn’t asking--he is demanding Pippin’s presence. Do you know why?”

Saradoc shook his head, “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“I don’t have any idea,” Merry answered, sighing. “We have no time to waste then. I must take my leave of you, Dad. Whatever awaits Pippin at Great Smials, he may need me.”

“I agree,” said his father. “Take as long as you wish, Merry. I only ask that you send word of Pippin. I’d like to help, if I can.”

“I don’t want to make a promise that I may not be able to keep,” Merry replied, “but I will send word if I am able to. How’s that?”

Saradoc smiled grimly, “Thank you, son. That will be fine.”

* * *

Silas picked up the bag at his daughter’s feet and none too gently swung it into the back of the cart. “Get in,” he said, hoisting himself into the driver’s seat. “Get in, lass!” he said more harshly. “All o’ Hobbiton now knows--are ye waiting for all of the Shire to learn it ‘fore ye get t’ moving?

With one last look to her mother, Lilas walked over to the passenger side of the cart. She would not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her tears. She pulled herself up into the cart and fixed her gaze at her feet.

No sooner had Silas learned of his daughter’s condition that he told her under no uncertain terms was she to abide any longer under his roof. If she was old enough to consort with lads and have babies, then she was old enough to move out. When he discovered who the expectant father was, he had another idea. He had visited Great Smials the day before on his own and spoke with the lad’s father--the Thain himself. He figured perhaps the couples’ circumstance could help further along the family finances. Orders for his storage barrels were down ever since the demise of Lotho and his Leaf exports to foreigners away south of the Shire.

As she and her father rode through Hobbiton, Lilas could see out of the corner of her downcast eyes the folks stopping to stare; staring at the sullied lass. She could hear the talking and the giggles in the distance.

“See what ye’ve done?” he spoke in a hushed tone. “They’re laughing at you--and they’re laughing at me, too. Not being able to keep a tight rein on my own daughter. Folks will never forget this; ye’re never to come back, hear?” He looked over and saw her face was still downward; tears streaking down her cheeks. “Ah…ye never listen anyway.”

* * *

It had been a long ride from the Bucklebury Ferry all the way to Tuckborough. Merry was ill at ease the entire ride because Pippin took too long in getting ready and as a result got a late start. Taking the South Road, now well tended after the War, Merry and Pippin arrived with only enough time to wash off the road dirt. Merry had told Pippin that the Thain’s summons was an official document, so each wore their authoritative livery from their respective, far away kingdoms that they served.

On their way to their rooms, the lads passed Pimpernel carrying her six month old son, Hilfred; named after his father who was murdered by trespassing ruffians during the Shire occupation. Pimpernel stopped and gaped at her younger brother.

Pippin noticed his sister’s unnerving stare. “Hullo, Pim--are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Pippin,” she answered. “Are you on your way to Father’s office?”

“Yes, Merry and I--” he stopped and was perplexed by her shaking her head.

Pippin was now aware that his sister had not greeted him in the same manner she had in the past. “Pim, I’m asking you, what is wrong?”

“I can’t say, Pip. Father would be angry with me if he found out I spoke to you beforehand.” Then she leaned in close, “Whatever you do, don’t wear your official garments into the meeting. Change your clothes, Pip.”

“What’s wrong with wearing our official livery?”

“Everything, Pippin,” she answered, then looked at their cousin, “and I’m afraid that you are not invited to the discussion, though you are welcome to wait with me in my quarters. I’m going there now to feed Hil.”

Pippin got the feeling this was going to be a very solemn meeting between him and his father, and for whatever reason, Pimpernel was warning him. “How is Father doing, Pim?”

She cast an anxious glance from cousin to brother, “You had better hurry up and change, Pip, then head straight for Father’s office. It’s almost a quarter to four--and he expects you to be prompt.”