Part Four

Four hobbits, an elf, a dwarf, a wizard, and a king all sat around a large table in the great hall discussing the plans for midsummer. In the middle of the table sat empty dishes, mugs, and platters from the evening meal--and two pans that once held Honey-nut pastry. Merry described in detail to his audience just how the confection was made as he watched it being prepared earlier that day.

Pippin sat uncomfortably next to Aragorn, cradling his arm as Bergil brought in a rubbing ointment from the Houses of Healing, handing it to the former ranger. Aragorn took the vial, poured a bit of the oil into his palm, then began massaging it into Pippin’s swollen elbow. “This is what happens to young knights when they try to accomplish too much before they are truly ready,” said Aragorn. He grinned, knowing that his remark needled at the active, young hobbit. “You must refrain from exerting your arm for a few days at least, Pippin.”

“I want to help,” Pippin answered, wincing at the ache in his elbow while the king tended to it. However, he didn’t say that in helping to restore the city, he was helping to heal his own heart.

“Of course you do, but--” The king’s speech was interrupted by a messenger boy who spoke in the king’s ear. “Very well, send them in.”

A young girl, accompanied by her grandmother, approached the king’s table holding a covered basket; her eyes to the floor. She curtsied low, saying, “My king, I have come not to have speech with thee, but to speak with another who sits at your gracious table. My grandmother and I wish to thank him for his labour yesterday.”

Pippin cleared his throat loudly in order to gain the girl’s attention. She faced the king, but her eyes glanced around the table looking for certain person…or hobbit.

“I see,” answered the king, noting where her eyes shifted to. “To whom do you wish to speak?”

“Merry…Brandybuck, if you please, my lord.” All eyes turned towards the young Bucklander. Merry blushed at being the object of the young girl’s affections. “I’m sitting over here, Liddia,” he responded in kind.

The girl walked over to Merry, sitting between Legolas and Gandalf, setting the basket before him. “This is for you, Merry. In gratefulness for repairing our home.”

Merry noticed that Liddia was wearing yet another yellow ribbon in her hair. He ignored the hard glare and drumming fingernails upon the table from his younger cousin.

Bergil looked over at the familiar girl, “Hello, Liddia. As you can see, I am an errand boy at the Houses of Healing.”

Slightly distracted, Liddia replied, “I see that--good for you, Bergil.”

Merry shook his head sadly. “Liddia, I--I cannot take this,” he began, though when he looked up, the girl was not there. Liddia was off to the side speaking with the errand boy; smiling attentively as Bergil described his very important duties to her. Just before she and Bergil excused themselves from the king’s presence, Liddia came over to Merry.

“I am sorry, Merry. It was just not meant to be.” Liddia then kissed Merry’s cheek, turned and left hand-in-hand with Bergil.

Everyone was respectfully silent until the grandmother and children left the hall, then all burst into hearty laughter.

“It seems you’ve been sacked for another lad, Merry!” laughed Pippin, though he was delighted that breaking the girl’s heart had been avoided.

Merry pretended he crushed, “Why are you all laughing? I’ve just had my heart broken by a little girl!” Then he lifted the linens from the basket revealing: Honey-nut pastries! Pippin licked his lips at the sight of the delicious delicacies. Merry kept a close eye on his younger cousin.

Frodo asked, “Are you going to drown your sorrows in your treats all by yourself, cousin?”

Merry gently took the basket between his hands.

“Yes, mister Merry,” chimed in Sam, “You oughtn’t to be alone at a time like this.”

Getting worried, Merry gripped the basket tighter.

“Remember that we are all friends here, young master hobbit,” added Gimli.

Merry brought the basket closer to himself as if to embrace it.

Legolas knew Merry as well as anyone. He studied the young hobbit sitting next to him then remarked with a grin, “He will not go anywhere with the basket.”

“Merry,” Aragorn put in, “May I remind you whose table this is?”

“All right, all right!” said Merry, smiling at all his companions. Friends that over the past five months he had grown to love. He let go of the basket as he set it in the middle of the table. “There’s plenty for all.”

Later, in the evening, Pippin found his cousin standing alone on the balcony of the room that they shared in the house of the Fellowship. Merry was staring out into the panoramic view of lantern lights twinkling in windows at various levels in the city below. Stars were scattered across the clear night sky like diamonds upon a sable canvass. A cool spring breeze blew through Pippin’s nightshirt, though he didn’t shiver. He breathed in deeply a long draught of the fresh air.

Aware of Pippin’s presence, Merry continued to gaze out over the flickering city lights, then broke the long quiet with his soft voice. “I hope she finds someone who loves her dearly, Pip--and he’d better treat her proper.”

Pippin said nothing; he merely stood next to Merry, putting his arm around the shoulder of his dearest friend, sharing in the peaceful night.

The End