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At the End of His Rope  by Lindelea

Chapter 55. Chickens in the Pot

Pippin dozed in the chair beside the bed, awakening in the morning to find someone had put a blanket over him sometime in the night. Merry still slept, exhaustion plain on his countenance now that he was no longer forcing himself to keep up a good face in front of everyone. Pippin had persuaded him to drink the herbal concoction when he had awakened sometime in the middle night. Not long afterwards, Merry had fallen into a heavy sleep, and as far as Pippin knew, had not wakened again.

He stretched, noticed the door swinging open silently, to reveal Doderas. Nodding, he rose from the chair, quietly walked to the door, motioning the tween to retreat to the corridor. He pulled the door to behind them.

'D'you have news for me?' he asked in a low voice. 'Is there another message from Tookland?'

'No, Sir, not from Tookland,' the lad answered. 'The messengers have returned.'

Pippin was startled. 'Returned? They should just about now be riding into Bree.'

'They met King's messengers along the way, coming to the Shire with a message of their own; the King himself is coming to meet the Counsellors at the Bridge. He is to arrive midday.'

'Where are they?' Pippin asked.

'Ilberic's in the Master's study,' Doderas answered. 'I was to inform you, and take your place by the Master's bedside.'

'Good lad,' Pippin said. 'Someone's got a head on his shoulders, it seems.' He headed for the study.

There he found Berilac already seated behind the Master's desk, Sam sitting by the cold hearth, dust-covered Ilberic standing in the middle of the room; he had come immediately from his pony but had not wanted to mar one of the chairs, for dust clung to him even though he'd brushed as much off as he could before entering the Hall.

'What's this about the King coming?' Pippin asked.

Berilac met his eye. 'Seems as if Breeland's had the same luck as the Shire. They were thinking to trade with us for food,' he said, a humourless smile lifting the corner of his mouth. 'The King wanted to come consult with the Counsellors of the north-Kingdom, to settle on the best course of action. Fornost, to the North, has had an adequate harvest, nothing extra, mind, but enough to carry them through. And the lands a little ways South along the Greenway report the same. Looks like they got some of the rain that passed us by. They didn't grow enough extra to share, of course...'

'Is all of Middle-earth running short of food, then?' Sam asked.

Pippin shook his head. 'No, whilst I was at the Lake with the King he told me the South has enjoyed bumper crops these past three years. Enough to feast and fill more warehouses than they had built. Perfect conditions, plenty of rain but not too much of a good thing, plenty of sun but not the heat we've had shriveling our crops.'

'Hurrah for them,' Sam said. 'For all the good it does us.'

There was a tap on the study door and a servant entered with a tea tray, pouring out a cup for each hobbit in the study, then exiting. 'Ilberic,' Berilac said, 'Be sure to stop by the kitchen for a bite.'

The messenger looked surprised. 'But I thought...'

'No more early breakfast for the time being, I know. But you've ridden through the night, you need to take some food and then take yourself off to bed.'

'Think I can fit a bath in?' Ilberic said dryly.

'Only if you think you really need one,' Berilac said with a smile. Ilberic gulped down his tea and left the room.

Berilac turned to the others. 'We'll be loading wagons of food from the storeholes through the morning,' he said. 'Messengers went out last night, to all the Shire, to tell all about the gathering and sharing.'

'Do you think there'll be any trouble about that?' Sam asked.

Berilac shook his head. 'No, the part of Eastfarthing that had a harvest looks to the Master of Buckland; they recognise his authority. They'll do what they're told in this. There may be some grumbling, but I don't think anyone would stand by while hobbit children in other parts of the Shire are going hungry. And the parts of Eastfarthing that are further to the West... well, they've nothing to share, now, do they?'

'They're not going hungry quite yet,' Sam said quietly. 'Though we are about to the end of our reserves in Hobbiton. I had thought to trade for food here in Buckland whilst we were here for the races.'

'A lot of other hobbits had the same idea,' Berilac said. 'We turned none away empty-handed...'

'Though you had none to spare as it is,' Pippin murmured.

Berilac looked at him ruefully. 'We had it all planned out, you know,' he said. 'We figured that what we harvested, with what we could trade for, would take us through the next harvest. We weren't thinking there'd be no food for trade, that hobbits would be coming to *us* for food.'

'Best laid plans...' Pippin sighed. 'I learned long ago never to count my chickens until they're in the pot.'





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