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Chapter eleven: Interlude

"I don’t know as I feel right comfortable with all o’ this, Mr. Merry." Sam tightened his grip on the half-pint of beer he held. "It’s all well and good for you to go spying on Mr. Frodo, you bein’ his cousin an’ all. If I were to get caught, my old Gaffer would skin me alive, not to mention what Mr. Frodo would have to say on the matter. It’s not proper."

Samwise Gamgee would say no more on the matter, no matter how eloquently Merry pled his case. An hour later, having exerted himself to no avail, Merry paid the bill and gathered up his pony. He would ride to Whitwell tonight and visit with Pippin for a few days before returning to Brandy Hall. Maybe Pip would have some ideas about how to keep tabs on their older cousin.

Pippin had several ideas, all of which were farfetched and impractical, the least unlikely involving adoption scenarios.

"Frodo is not going to adopt you, Pippin," Merry snorted in disgust.

"Whyever not?" Pippin exclaimed indignantly. "You’re not an orphan, for one thing," Merry answered tartly, "and for another, you’d be too much work for him. After having you about the smial for a month or two, he’d flee the Shire just to get a little peace and quiet."

Merry had been at Whitwell for less than two days when a message came for him in the Post. He took the letter from Aunt Eglantine with a curious look. The envelope was addressed to Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck, in neat, upright letters.

Raising an eyebrow at Pippin, Merry opened the letter to find it was from Sam.        

Dear Mr. Merry,

I have been giving your plan some more thought. Mr. Frodo had Mr. Bilbo’s old maps out today and he was measuring distances, though he tried to hide it from me. I think you are right. He’s planning to leave the Shire. I’ll send you as much information as I can about his plans, without betraying his trust.

                                                                                           Sincerely,

                                                                                           S. Gamgee

"That’s how it all started for you, wasn’t it, Sam?" Merry sat between the two cots, glad of the chance to visit with Frodo and Sam for a few minutes before taking a walk through the camp with Legolas. Sitting here, in this airy pavilion that had been set up for the two recovering hobbits, he’d begun to think about how this whole thing had started, and for Sam, it had been that conversation in the Green Dragon. If he hadn’t been eavesdropping for Merry and Pippin, he wouldn’t have been caught by Gandalf and forced to come along on this terrible Quest. But then, would Frodo have survived without faithful Sam at his side?

Merry wished he knew what had happened to these two, but knew that would have to wait until they woke up. If they woke up. No, he corrected himself sternly, they would wake up, it was only a question of when. Already, they were beginning to heal. The wounds were closing and the bruises fading. Soon they would be up and on their feet again.

"Coming, Merry?" Legolas interrupted Merry’s thoughts.

"Yes, Legolas, just a moment." Merry turned back to the sleeping hobbits. "Rest well, Sam. You’ve truly earned it."

He shifted his gaze to his cousin. He tried to find something lighthearted to say, but for once, was unable to find the words. "You just rest easy, Frodo," he finally said, instead. " I’ll take care of things until you are ready to wake." Clearing his throat and rubbing surreptitiously at his eyes, he gently patted Frodo’s hand, stood and followed Legolas from the pavilion.

Merry and Legolas wandered through the camp companionably, speaking little. The hobbit was content to look about him and note the few places of interest that Legolas pointed out. Eventually, the elf steered him away from the tents of men and into a lightly wooded area not far from the camp.

"This grove is well within the perimeter of the guard, but it is very quiet and peaceful," Legolas explained as he led Merry to a small, swift stream that flowed down to meet the Anduin. There, under the shade of a drooping old willow, the two settled down for a rest. Merry, remembering his experience in the Old Forest, could not help but feel a bit uneasy about resting at the foot of another willow.

"Do not fear," Legolas said, apparently sensing the hobbit’s discomfort. "This is a sleepy old tree, her thoughts full of sunshine and squirrels. I sense no darkness in her."

Putting one hand on the trunk, Merry thought he could feel the warmth and contentment of the tree. Trusting Legolas’ judgment completely, he sat with his back against the curve of the trunk and allowed himself to relax fully. Eyes closing sleepily, he thought he might even nap for a bit.

He rested like that for over an hour, basking in the quiet contentment of the secluded corner, aware only of the chatter of the stream and the call of birds. Finally, feeling much refreshed, he opened his eyes and looked about.

Legolas had wandered a bit upstream and was standing with his head cocked slightly to one side. Merry had the impression that he was listening to the stream and he wondered what the elf heard in its babble.

Standing and stretching, he moved to join his companion. "What do the waters say to you, Legolas?"

"They speak of the joy and sorrow of this land." Legolas answered quietly. "Joy that a great evil is gone from the world, and sorrow that so much irreparable damage has been done."

"Tell me about the battle," Merry said, suddenly feeling a strong need to know. He needed to know what had happened to Pippin and to the others, while he was sitting safe in the Houses of Healing.

"No, Merry. It is still too close for me, and you are not yet ready." Legolas smiled gently, but there was a deep sorrow in his eyes that spoke more than words of the horror of war.

"It’s not a matter of me being ready, Legolas," Merry protested, determined to know. "I can’t help Pippin with his memories unless I know what happened to him."

"Surely Aragorn told you what happened?"

"I don’t know, I suppose he might have." Merry hated to admit that he couldn’t really remember much of what Aragorn had said that first night. "I was so tired that I don’t think I really heard much of what he said, beyond that Pippin was alive and would recover but that he couldn’t remember anything after Bree." He shrugged, embarrassed at this failure of his memory.

"I do not honestly know much of what happened to Peregrin." Legolas frowned thoughtfully. "Gimli and I stood with Aragorn and Gandalf. Pippin was in a group of Gondorian soldiers standing with Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. The last time I saw him, he was standing beside his friend, Beregond, in the front ranks. When the battle was ended, he could not be found." The elf paused, looking into Merry’s eyes as if trying to judge how much the hobbit before him could stand to hear.

"Aragorn was called away to tend the wounded but spared several soldiers to search for young Peregrin. Gimli and I, having received little or no injury in the battle, aided the soldiers. We searched for several hours, gradually losing hope of ever finding him. I was searching through a pile of orcs and Rohirrim, dreading what I might find at the bottom, when Gimli called to me. He was pushing and pulling frantically at a large troll, muttering something incoherent about hobbit feet. Together, we were able to move the beast’s carcass off to one side and there, just as Gimli said, was your cousin. We lifted him up and carried him to Aragorn, who bound his wounds and set watch over him."

Legolas paused in his narrative, bending to the stream and scooping up a handful of water. He drank, then continued his tale. "Pippin had taken a bad head wound and Aragorn was very worried for him. He wrote that note to you and sent if off with the messengers to Minas Tirith, but he didn’t want to say too much, not knowing what Pippin’s condition would be when you arrived. And then, too, Frodo and Sam had just been brought in by the eagles and no one knew if they would survive. It was a long night for Aragorn, but in the morning Frodo and Sam were sleeping peacefully and Pippin woke not long after sunrise. He had no memory of us or where he was, which naturally upset him a great deal, especially as his cousins were not there with him. I don’t think he relaxed at all until you arrived two days ago."

Merry was quiet for a long while, absorbing all that he had been told.

"He killed the troll, you know." Legolas gently inserted. "When we looked at the beast, we found Pippin’s sword stuck in its vitals. There is no doubt that it was Pippin who killed it. That is quite an accomplishment, even for a Man. For a hobbit, it is something remarkable, something to be proud of, indeed."

Merry stared at Legolas, struck dumb with amazement, and pride in his cousin. Then he grinned. "Well of course he killed the troll. I would expect nothing less from that particular Took. He’s been trying to outdo the Bullroarer since he was a small lad. What better way to do that than to kill a troll?"

The two companions lingered by the stream for a little while longer, until the rumbling of Merry’s stomach reminded him that he had missed both second breakfast and elevenses. It was time to return to the tent and see how Pippin was getting on.