Girl of the North Country, 6

VI.

March came, and Gondor prepared for its great feast of the New Year. Faramir and Eowyn informed Diamond that it had become their custom to remove to Minas Tirith for the duration of the festivities. She was welcome to stay … but the town would be quite lonesome.

“I will go with you,” Diamond said.

Merry had come back. He had ridden back to the Shire suddenly in January, for his father had been stricken suddenly and had lost some movement in his right side. He had returned only a week before. Saradoc was as well as could be, he said. It was clear to Diamond, who had come to know her husband’s dearest friend well over these many days, that something of the mirth and gaiety of Merry Brandybuck had slipped away for good on that visit back to Buckland. In its place turned the cold wheels of metal that made up his mind. He would be a formidable Master in his day … which seemed to come soon.

Merry’s trip back had given Diamond the thought of going back to the Shire herself. It was almost four months now, from early December to late March, and no further word had come of Pippin. Certainly there were rumors, come from mariners who sailed to Umbar, of great things that stirred in Far Harad—half-fancied stories of fallen stars and the wars of gods and men. Diamond would not have given them any credence, had it not been for one aspect the stories had in common: they all involved “the falcon”, which she had begun to assume was not a simple bird. She had learned, from Bergil and others, that “falcon” was her husband’s nickname among the Tower Guard; that the falcons she saw here in Gondor were called peregrines, and thus her husband had been called the same.

But it was a small hope to latch onto, fainter than any she had ever tried to hold. She gave serious thought to returning to the Shire. To the Northfarthing, if the Tooks of Great Smials let her. That would be a problem. Faramir was still in the succession. Pearl and Reginard would not allow it to pass to a boy raised in Long Cleeve.

Diamond decided that she would never play the game, as Merry called it. He could play it if he chose; indeed, she watched him now, and she knew that he would make himself a king among the other pieces, moving little, manipulating all. That was his choice. Her husband would ever be the wayward knight. But she, she would neither be queen nor pawn. Nor would her son. When Faramir wed, she promised, he would wed for love, no matter if the girl were of the fairest Fallohide blood or just the granddaughter of a common gaffer. Her son, Diamond swore, would marry for love; she intended to make sure of that.

She broached the subject of returning to Merry. As she expected, he did not turn any arguments directly her way. He would wait. All he said was, “Wait until after the New Year. You should see it while you’re here. The full Court will be in all their splendor. And it would be appropriate for the Shire to be represented by its future Lady.”

Diamond acquiesced. What harm would it do? And Merry was right. It was her duty.

There was a ceremony at daybreak upon the Fountain Court, with the King speaking in an Elvish tongue about the events of thirteen years before. Legolas and the Queen sang a song honoring the great Elf-friend heroes: Beren, and Hurin, and Turin, and Tuor, and Frodo. It was that which finally made Diamond understand the extent of the deeds and the depth of the sacrifice made by Frodo Baggins, whom she had never known, and had only heard spoken of as the poor queer old bachelor alone in his grand and empty hole. “Egleria, Iorhael, Daur en Annun,” sang Legolas and Arwen, facing against the sunrise, towards the West. Diamond listened, uncomfortable and deeply moved, as she saw Merry weeping openly for his foster-brother and friend. Frodo Baggins. Savior of their world. She wondered what else lay hidden in all the hobbits she thought she knew.

Guests from all the fiefs of Gondor would now come before the King and Queen in full regalia, as well as friend and allied countries and ambassadors from other lands. Diamond saw Haradrim embassies in long robes and tightly wound turbans; Easterling messengers in fur and bone; the various princes and captains of Gondor’s realms, from the Cape of Andrast to the vales of the White Mountains to Dol Amroth by the sea. There were representatives from the grain-fed isle of Tolfalas in the Bay, and even settlers from the new lands in the west. Faramir walked alone, as Prince of Ithilien, holding the rod of the Steward of Gondor. He bowed deeply before Aragorn Elessar on his throne, and Arwen upon her chair, before going to his own chair across the dais from hers and announcing the first of the allied realms: “Eowyn of Rohan, Princess of Ithilien, daughter of the house of Eorl.”

And Eowyn walked in, in a long white dress of Rohan, with a jeweled front piece, her hair intricately braided into a coronet around her head. “On behalf of my brother Eomer King, Rohan greets Gondor upon her New Year,” she said as she bowed before Aragorn.

“Gondor gladly accepts Rohan’s friendship,” Aragorn replied.

Then came Legolas. He spoke in Elvish. “May the blessings of Elbereth and all the Valar be upon the realm of the Men of Numenor upon the coming of the New Year,” he said. He was followed by Gimli, leading a delegation of Aglarond Dwarves. There were ambassadors from Dale and Erebor, and from Eryn Lasgalen, and from Lorien. There was even a surprise for the Queen: her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, come all the way from Rivendell. Their meeting was joyous in the quiet manner of Elves.

“For the free land of Buckland under the Scepter,” announced a herald, “on behalf of Saradoc its Master, his son Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Fellowship of the Ring, Master’s Heir.” And Diamond saw Merry, not in his Rohan livery but in his best frock coat and waistcoat of Buckland, march to the King’s throne and bow.

And then it was her turn.

“For the free land of the Shire under the Scepter, on behalf of Paladin II its Thain and his son Peregrin of the Fellowship of the Ring, Thain’s Heir: her ladyship, Diamond of Long Cleeve.”

So Diamond took a breath, took up the skirt of her gown, and walked out into the Hall of the King.

It was longer than she remembered from even the day before, and filled with people who remarked upon her as she passed: Haradrim and Easterlings, Gondorians of high race and low, Rohirrim, Dwarves, Elves. She kept her head high and her face as still as she could. Ice, she thought: ice flows in my veins.

Before Arwen on her white chair and Faramir standing before his black chair, before the throne of the King and Aragorn Elessar seated thereon, Diamond descended into a deep and graceful honor. “My liege,” she said. “On behalf of my husband, my Thain, and my people, may you and all Gondor have a joyful and bountiful New Year.”

The King Elessar’s grey eyes were warm upon her. “Gratefully do we receive these wishes from our friends and loved ones in the sweet and unspoilt Shire,” said Aragorn, “home of three of the Fellowship of the Ring, and the land that gave unto us our savior, which the Ringbearer, Frodo. This day three years ago and ten he went into the Fire of Doom and caused our Enemy’s end. Thus we call this New Year’s Day: for Frodo.” At the name all of Gondor bowed in homage.

Diamond remained in her bow, until she felt it time to rise. And she saw Arwen smiling upon her, and Faramir as well. And Faramir took her hand and escorted her to a place of honor among the nobles of the lands.

Diamond saw Merry beaming at her. She nodded. Again she thought: not bad, for a girl of the north country, who grew up covered in burrs from the downs.

The last of the embassies and presentations was near completion when a Guardsman hurriedly made his way towards Faramir on his chair. Diamond noticed the Steward of Gondor’s face alter in surprise, and her heart beat faster. Faramir rose and went to the King and spoke quietly with Aragorn, who nodded and looked at the door. Just then, outside, she heard a falcon’s cry.

“Merry,” she said out loud, and Merry turned to her in alarm.

When the doors swung open again, she knew. And even as the herald announced it, she fled into the crowd, suddenly overcome with doubt.

She glanced through the throng, to the open Hall, catching glimpses of him as he walked, smart and almost swaggering, the long wolfish lope she had come to know, grown even more easy and heedless than she remembered. She heard him call out “Strider!” in the presence of all the nobles and embassies gathered to honor the King Elessar; and even in her state she nearly laughed when Aragorn responded in kind.

Then Merry called out to him, and the wandering vagabond, browned by sun, clad in a leather shirt both sleeveless and worn open, tattooed and bearing beast’s tooth and pirate’s dagger and his own ancient sword, hair spun a ruddy gold, suddenly became a thoughtless tween again, running pell-mell and crashing against his oldest and dearest friend like an avalanche among the mountains. “Merry, Merry, Merry!” he cried, and his voice was both changed—lower, tougher, mature—and as cheerful as ever.

It was him. It was her husband. Diamond balled her fists and forced ice once more into her mind. It was all she could do to hold herself from breaking, from running out and into his arms and covering him in a torrent of regretful tears. She reminded herself that she had her pride, and her pride would protect her even now.

But when he himself espied her, Diamond knew there was no escaping. And quick as a rosy dawn could turn into a bright new day, she knew what she had to do, what she would say, and how she would say it.

She stepped into the sunlight, into his eyes; and the touch of his sea-green gaze melted all the ice left in her heart.

He said her name, in frank disbelief.

She responded in kind. “Peregrin,” she said.

Her husband was dumbfounded. “But how—why—?” he stammered. “What are you doing here, Di?”

Di. No one ever called her Di. “Silly hobbit,” said Diamond of Long Cleeve to the husband she loved: “I came to find you.”