53. Mouthful of Bitterness

Pippin got up from his chair and called Sam over to the desk. 'You've been travelling over the Shire,' he said. 'You know what the fields have looked like. Draw me a map. I need to know who's got food and who hasn't.'

Sam took up pen and ink, sketched out a rough map of the Shire, then added shading.

A knock came at the door, Elberic bearing the paper he'd scribed. Pippin took it from him, looked it over, glanced around the room.

'To King Elessar,' he read aloud. 'From his Counsellors in the North-kingdom. Greetings...' He read the rest of the message, which stated simply the desperate situation they found themselves in, ending with a request for any aid the King might see fit to render. He looked up at Elberic, saying, 'Well scribed. I couldn't have done a better job, myself.' He took the pen and signed his name, handing the pen to Sam for his signature, then carrying paper and pen to Berilac, to sign as the Master's representative.

Merry awakened as Pippin was sealing the message. He noted the glasses of brandy and the crowd in the room and said, 'What's going on? Are we having a party?'

'Yes, we were planning your memorial,' Pippin answered. 'So do be good enough to go back to sleep.'

Merry struggled up on his elbows, and Sam helped him sit and placed a couple of pillows at his back.

'Don't do that,' Pippin said sharply. 'He'll be trying to get up the next thing, you'll see.'

Berilac said from his chair at the foot of the bed, 'We've been having a meeting; haven't you been paying attention?'

'No, my mind was wandering,' Merry said. 'Would you care to enlighten me?'

'Do you remember how we were discussing trading for food with other parts of the Shire that had a better harvest?' Berilac said. At Merry's nod, he went on, 'Well, it seems the other parts of the Shire had the same idea.' Noting the Master's confusion, he explained. 'Buckland's had the best harvest of the entire Shire.'

Merry was stunned. He looked at Pippin, then Sam, who nodded grimly back at him. 'So we've been having a meeting,' he finally said, slowly.

'O aye,' the Thain answered. He handed the message to Doderas, saying, 'Tell them to make the best speed they can. They're to go to Bree first, then seek southwards along the Greenway if they have to.' Doderas nodded and was gone.

'And did we decide something?' Merry asked.

'You really ought to pay more attention, Merry,' Pippin said. 'We decided to appeal to the King for help.'

'Gondor? Appeal to the King... for shipments of grain? I thought I dreamed that,' Merry said.

'You did,' Pippin answered. 'But it sounded like the only option, so we went ahead and considered it even though you were sleeping on the job.'

He looked over at the Mayor, noting his bleak expression. 'What is it, Sam?' he asked softly. 'You look as if someone's salted your tea.'

Sam grimaced, then looked up and said bitterly, 'It's hard to swallow, going to the Big Folk with our hands held out empty, like.' He'd left off the careful speech hobbits expected of the Mayor and was for the moment plain Sam the gardener again.

'You'd rather starve,' Pippin said.

Sam lifted his chin defiantly, 'That I would,' he answered. 'It sticks in my throat, to beg.'

'And what about Rose?' Pippin asked, his voice even lower. 'What about Elanor, and Tolman, and all the ones in between? Would you see them starve as well?'

Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat. 'We must needs beg, then,' he said. 'But it's bitter, O so very bitter...' He looked up again. 'And what do we do, if the Big Folk feed us through the winter, and the rains still have not returned?'

'We'll ice that cake when it comes out of the oven,' Merry said. 'Today's trouble is about all I can manage at the moment.'

'The grain will be paid for, if it takes every last speck of gold in the Shire, Sam,' Pippin said, laying his hand on the other's shoulder. The Mayor nodded, but did not raise his head. Pippin clapped him on the shoulder and went back to his rough-sketched map. 'So, what you've shaded here, these are areas of the Shire that had some kind of harvest, the rest had none to speak of?' Most of the shading was found in Buckland, and on the other side of the Brandywine, in the parts of the Eastfarthing that hugged the River.

Sam came over. 'That's right,' he said.

'So two-thirds of the Shire is going hungry as we speak,' the Thain said, shaken.

Merry spoke from the bed. 'Let me see that,' he said. He looked a long time at the map. 'Here's what we are going to do,' he said, finally. 'We're going to take a serving from the ruffians' platter...'

'What's that?' Pippin asked.

'Gathering and sharing,' Merry said. 'It will serve us well, where they served the Shire ill. We will ask those with food to give up two-thirds to those who don't.'

'Do you think they will?' Sam asked.

'Do you think the hobbits of Buckland will eat, knowing that children in Bywater are crying for the pain of their empty bellies? We will all eat, or we'll all starve together.' Merry looked at Berilac. 'If we give up two-thirds of our stores, how long will we eat?'

Berilac had gone over the numbers so many times he knew without having to calculate what his answer must be. 'Through October, I think. Our stores would have carried us through Yule, barring disaster, of course. If we keep one third, ration it out carefully, tighten our belts, we'll eat at least until Remembering Day.' The next feast day, after the usual harvest feast, was November the Second, the day when hobbits all over the Shire remember those who have passed on since the previous year.

Pippin smiled without humour. 'Then we can have a final funeral feast, for the entire Shire,' he said. Looking sharply at Sam, he added. 'You see, Sam? There really is no choice in the matter. We're going to have to swallow this mouthful, if there's to be anything at all to swallow this winter.' He looked down at the map, shaking his head. 'No choice.'