16. False Trails And Hidden Paths

At dawn, Pippin found himself at the head of twenty hobbits, armed and eager to pursue their quarry.  Most of them were Bucklanders who reported directly to Merry and patrolled with him along the High Hay, including Berilac, a close cousin who had grown up in Brandy Hall.  Pippin was glad to see the sharp-eyed hobbit, whose sure nose for trouble and a roguish eye for the ladies had once rivaled his own until the Mistress’s maid had collared him and married him into good sense.  He now led the Master of Buckland’s border guards, his handsome round face marred only by the dark patch over his left eye, a token of his resistance to the ruffians’ depredations.

More confident in their well honed tracking skills than Pippin had been alone, they all moved quickly across the fields northward towards the hills beyond Scary.  Though some effort had been made to sweep all evidence of their passage, the culprits had badly rushed the job and left more than enough for them to follow in the light of day.  The trail wound back among the deep folds of land where flocks of sheep grazed on the greening heights.  Much time was lost when they crossed the paths of the tramping beasts, innocently masking the traces left by those they pursued.  Some time later in the day, the tracks doubled back directly upon themselves and veered east.  The company gazed long at both options before following the fresher of the two towards the Brandywine, whose gray-green line they soon saw past Bridgefields as they came out of the hills.

During his lonely vigil in the night, Pippin had wrestled with the likely nature and motivation of Merry’s assailants and none of the possibilities that had presented themselves were pleasant to consider.  Either ruffians, bent on vengeance or ransom, had somehow forded the Brandywine and set upon the first hobbits they had encountered, or, more sinister still, someone had lain in wait specifically for the Master’s son.  The idea that one hobbit could lay violent hands upon another was anathema, even to eyes that had witnessed the intemperate perfidy of Men, but Pippin found it hard not to hear again his father’s anguished words regarding his sister’s abductors.

‘”Hobbits took her.  To them.”’

Betrayal had come easily enough to some.  This darker thought struck him anew when the hoof prints turned up a narrow lane, away from the river that marked the easternmost border of the Shire.

Pippin signaled the party to pass on eastward and into the small wood a half-mile beyond.  “Whose lands are these?” he asked the others as they rested themselves and their mounts in the shade.

“Goodbody’s.  Owns most of the fields hereabouts, property runs right up to the Bolgers’,” one of the Bounders replied, running a sun dark hand through the graying hair beneath his cap.  “He don’t take well to strangers on his lands, not even us Bounders, through he’s civil enough to a jingling purse…  What hey!” he reproached his neighbor, who’d dug a cautioning elbow into his ribs with a quick nod towards the young gentlehobbit he was addressing.  “Mister Took knows I don’t mean no disrespect,” he continued, “but handsome is as handsome does and that Tengo Goodbody don’t care about nothing but coin.  Not like his father, bless his bones.  Half the fortune and twice the heart, he had.”

Two oldsters in the company grunted in agreement, and Pippin turned to look out across the fields.

“Let’s go find what we may, then.”

Leaving behind the ponies, they crept quickly through the fields where the wheat was golden and high, a perfect screen for they approach.  Wriggling up to the hedge that separated field from the rear courtyard, they were confronted by the most damning evidence of Tengo’s complicity short of the missing hobbits’ presence.  Merry’s dark mare, one odd sock clear enough identification even without her tack, was being led from the yard on a halter, closely followed by the cream gelding Estella had been riding.

“Ride hard for Michel Delving.  The fair opens there in three days and we’ll lack no buyers for such fine mounts, preferably some yokel from out west near the bounds.”

“Yes, sir,” the pair of dark clothed hobbits responded, mounting their own ponies.

“Remember, no names!”

As they cantered from the yard, Pippin beckoned the three Bounders in the company closer, whispering, “Catch them up before they can sell those ponies and detain them for theft.  The mare was shoed in Rohan, one of only two ponies in the whole of the Shire.  The farrier’s mark ought to be proof enough for now.  We’ll deal with the rest.”

They darted off silently as the remainder of the party resumed their anxious watch.  The portly hobbit on the broad steps rested meaty hands on his hips, his posture fairly radiating a deeply satisfied arrogance.  He gazed long at the dark humps of the hills that reared to the northwest before finally turning back inside.

“What now?” Berilac mouthed at him.

“I don’t know…” Pippin replied staring at the cheerful curtains blowing through the open windows.  “Depends on whether you think he could be hiding them here or someplace else.  But I wonder why he’s involved….”

“That I can answer quick enough, sir,” interjected a young cousin whose name he could not at the moment recall.  “He’s been courting Miss Bolger for some time now, same as me.  I heard he took it none too well when Cousin Merry claimed her for his own, and with her father’s blessing no less.”

“That’s ridiculous!  What does he hope to accomplish by holding them?  Stubborn as Tooks, both of them, begging your pardon, cousin,” Berilac apologized absently.

Pippin waved the comment off, distractedly chewing on his lower lip.

“It’s not Merry’s mind he needs to change…  And Estella may find few choices before her if he has truly sunk this low.”

“So where is he keeping them?  His sister lives here, and there are too many other hobbits about to safely stow away two unwilling guests.”

“That trail in the hills….  What if they didn’t just double back to confuse their tracks?  The rebels had some tidy hideouts up in those hills I hear, the whole range is riddled with caves and burrows but without at livable hole in sight.  Were any of you part of Freddy’s crew?”

They all shook their heads glumly, for once sorry to have been on home guard at Brandy Hall during the Troubles.

“Mister Freddy was said to know every track and crevasse in those rocks,” the youngest lad said, a note of wistful awe in his voice.  “He led those ruffians a merry chase ‘til some fool betrayed him to the Lockholes…  I think we can all guess who that might be now.  But he’d be right useful to us today…”

“Well, it’s no use wishing for snow in July, as they say.”

They split again, and Berilac and six other lads were left to watch Tengo’s movements in case the other trail proved false.  Pippin took the best trackers back to their ponies, the noon sun hot on their necks as they sped westward over the flat plain.

***   ***   ***

The cooling night had forced them to huddle close under his light cloak while they dozed through the soundless hours, and now Estella stretched slowly against him, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine, and Merry curled an arm tight about her and buried his face in her hair.

“Merry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Not a dream then…”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, regretfully unwinding his arms from her and sitting up.  “But breakfast might compensate for the less than cozy surroundings.”

“That’s not funny, Merry.  What are we, dwarves, that we should eat rocks?”

“Hardly!” he laughed, the sound echoing crazily about in the confined space.  “Besides, dwarves don’t eat rocks, and I’ve no intention of growing a beard.  Dreadfully itchy from what I’ve seen.  But here,” he said, thrusting a smooth rounded object into her hand.  “An apple should give us the start we need.”

“Wonderful, Merry, but where did you get it?” she replied happily, sinking her teeth into its firm flesh.

“I’ve always got a few in my pocket, never know when you’ll need one…  Do leave me half, sweet.   I’m saving the others for later.”

“Freddy and Pippin will find us,” she said confidently, and he thought better of dashing what hopes she still had for rescue.

“Well, there’s a stream or something this way,” he finally said, changing the subject.  “I can hear water.”

The half eaten apple was folded back into his hand, sticky with juice, and he felt Estella rise to her feet.

“Oh good, I’m parched!” she said, stepping away.

He scrambled up to follow her, somewhat surprised at her bravado, genuine or feigned, in this dark situation.  Her ardor cooled a bit after a few stumbles and their progress slowed to a cautious shuffle along the cave wall.  Her foot finally struck water, icy cold upon her toes.

“I’ve found it,” she said, tugging him gently down beside her.  They knelt and drank in careful sips, and Merry soon heard the vigorous splash of Estella’s hands as she scrubbed the blood from her fingers.  He reached for her in the darkness, fingers meeting her bowed shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I’m alright,” she murmured.

He turned back towards the cave wall, running his hands along the edge of the little run of water to its source.  It seeped under a low lip of rock, which he followed round a fold in the stone face.  Stepping past the water, he found a narrow crevice that split the dark rock about waist high down to the pooling spring.  Hope quickening his movements, he found the crack quite wide enough for him to wriggle through, though it likely meant splashing through it on hands and knees.

“Estella, I’ve found something, could be a way out.”

“Where?”

He heard her splash towards him and pulled her close.

“Wait here until I’m sure it’s safe,” he said, putting her hand against the opening.

The tiny passage wormed through some three feet of rock before widening again.  To his right, the water deepened, but a solid bank lay to his left, and he moved out of the chilly water with a shiver.  His light-starved eyes immediately noticed the faint shimmer of light upon the water and he almost shouted for joy.  Light, air and water all must enter somewhere and that could easily mean an escape from their makeshift prison.  Estella splashed out of the little tunnel behind him, muttering under her breath and he could make out her faint movements nearby.

“To the left,” he called, and heard the dark rustling of her skirts as she put herself in order.  For a wonder the soft swirl of dry cloth brushed his cold leg as she stepped close.

“Is that light?”

“It is.  Faint and distant, but it’s definitely there,” he confirmed with a grin.

Hand in hand, they stepped carefully into the open space before them, still following the curve of the cave wall.  They had not gone a dozen paces when Merry’s foot snagged on a small mound of cloth.  He knelt to touch the dusty fabric, palms smoothing it against hard shapes beneath.  Curiosity turned to horror as his fingers brushed the soft silk of hair and he recoiled violently, knocking Estella back into the rock.

“Bright Lady save us!” he gasped.

“Merry!  What’s going on?” Estella snapped, missing his distress in her irritation as she picked herself up from the hard ground.

“Stay back, I … Just wait a minute,” he mumbled, gathering his wits.

He forced himself to touch again the body in their path, fingers trailing down what he now recognized as a worn woven cloak to its hem.

“No boots…  One of the rebels, I guess.  Poor soul…  What an end.”

He carefully guided Estella past the sad obstacle, her shocked silence and bruising grip on his hand the only indication of the distress she was trying hard to hold in check.  A hundred paces further on, the wall abruptly disappeared under his hand, and the source of the faint light was revealed around the corner.  High in the cave’s arching roof, inaccessible as the moon itself, a narrow crack let in the silvered moonlight that bathed the world above.  It shone coldly down upon them, picking out the silent tears Estella was bravely trying to rub from her cheeks.

“There’s hope yet, love,” Merry murmured, pulling her close. “The pool must have a source.”

They gazed a moment at the vast span of water that extended far into the dark, before pressing on along the rocky bank.  They stumbled on until their path ended quite suddenly beneath their feet and only Estella’s quick hand upon his collar kept Merry from a freezing plunge into the icy depths below.

“Can you swim?” he asked, as they sat in the gloom, catching their breath.

“Certainly not!” she replied indignantly, for a moment forgetting the strange pride her intended’s family set by that most unhobbit-like skill.

“We shall have to turn back then, for we’ve run out of rock,” Merry said, turning away to hide his grin.  “I don’t imagine this is the best place for your first swimming lesson, in any case.”