CHAPTER 2

Pippin sat down in the armchair and studied the game. They had left it out to finish; he did not disturb the game pieces--that would be cheating--but he did turn it around so he could see it better. He studied the board a bit; if he could just roll a five when next they played, he’d be able to purchase Bywater.

But just looking without playing was not much fun. For a few minutes, he amused himself by counting and stacking the “coins”, and pretending it was gold from a dragon’s lair. Someday, he thought, I won’t just pretend. Someday I will have an Adventure, just like Bilbo. In spite of himself, his eyes strayed over to the boarded up door.

Merry had told him no.

But he hadn’t promised.

But Merry would expect him to do as he said--he always minded Merry, though it never stopped him from wheedling to get his own way, he had never out and out disobeyed his cousin. His parents, his sisters, yes, but not Merry.

But he *hadn’t* promised. He had only said “I understand.”

Almost in spite of himself, he got up, took the lantern, and went to peer in through the gaps in the boards. He couldn’t see very far.

Maybe if he pulled one of the boards loose, he could see better. If he pulled one of the boards loose and saw something interesting, maybe Merry would come with him to explore. But he probably wasn’t strong enough to pull down one of the boards, with all those nails.

He gave a tug to the lowest one.

It came loose immediately. He almost fell over when it gave way.

Holding the lantern up, he stared into the darkness. It only illuminated things for a short distance. Maybe he’d just go in a short way. That wouldn’t really hurt anything, would it?

The tunnel sloped downward, toward a lower level, which surprised Pippin. He had thought the level they were on was the lowest. He went in about twenty feet, and looked about him. There didn’t seem to be anything of interest yet, so he went just a little further, and then realized that the passageway forked.

Which way should he go? He had completely forgotten his resolution to only go a short way, and then return and get Merry.

Pointing his finger back and forth, he recited the old counting rhyme hobbit children would say to make a choice:

“One, two, three, four, five,
I caught a fox alive;
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,
I let him go again.
One will win and one will lose
A birdie says that I must *choose*!”

His finger was pointing to the left, on the word “choose”. He turned and went in that direction, feeling very much like he was on an Adventure.

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Merry raced through the corridors, ignoring the exclamations of protest from the adults he passed, and crashed unceremoniously into the sitting room, where his parents had already begun to take tea without waiting for the lads to return.

His father’s rebuke died unspoken as he took in Merry’s white and terrified face and the fact that Pippin was not with him.

“Da! Pip’s gone into the old back tunnels! The ones that were closed off for being unsafe!”

Esmeralda made an exclamation of dismay, and Saradoc sat forward. “How do you know that, son?” he asked sharply.

Merry took a deep breath. Voice shaking, he said “We were down in one of the old mathom rooms this morning before luncheon. I thought he might have gone back there, so I went to check. His footsteps go up to the boarded up door, and one of the boards has been pulled off.”

Saradoc stood up, and glanced at his wife. “We’ll have to see to this, Esme.”

Pale, she nodded.

“Come, Merry, let’s go get your grandfather and then you must show us this place.” He took Merry’s trembling hand and they went to find the Master of the Hall.

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Rorimac was taking his own tea in his study, as he sometimes did, when there came a knock on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Saradoc came in with Merry. Rorimac’s first thought was that the lad had done some transgression that warranted his punishment by the Master instead of his father. It had happened once or twice, after all.

But that did not explain the worry on his son’s face.

“Merry, tell your grandda what you told me.”

So once more, Merry repeated the information. “I *told* him not to go in there, Grandda, I did! I *told* him it was dangerous!” His eyes were swimming in unshed tears, and he bit his lip. He didn’t want to cry. It wouldn’t help Pip if he cried.

Rorimac stood up. “I believe you, Meriadoc,” he said gently. “Let’s go down and see what we can find out.”

Merry led the way. They went silently, Merry almost afraid to talk, lest he burst into tears. He showed them the little room.

Rorimac raised his eyebrows at the sight of the little “retreat”, but did not say anything. “Show me the door.”

Merry pointed, and they went over. Only the lowest board had been removed. Pippin’s footsteps were clear in the dust.

Saradoc reached out, and tore down the remaining two boards, and held the lantern up. The little footsteps led down as far as the light would reach.

Rorimac held up his own lantern. “Go in as far as this light reaches, and see how much further you can see.”

Saradoc walked down about fifteen feet, and held up the lantern again.

“No sign.” He called out “Pippin! Peregrin Took!” But there was no answer.

“Come back out, Sara. Merry, I want you to go and fetch your Uncle Merimac, your Cousin Seredic and your Cousin Marmadas. Tell them to come at once, and to bring lanterns and rope. A lot of rope.”

Merry flew to do his grandfather’s bidding.

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Pippin had come to another intersection of tunnels. At first, he went straight on, but he did not see anything new, so he turned back and went into the turning on the right. That passageway had doors. That was promising. He went on to open the first door on the right. It smelled dank and musty, and there was *nothing* in the room, scarcely even any dust. The smell made his eyes water and his nose and throat itch. Disappointed, he backed out, though he did not shut the door.

Crossing the hallway, he opened the first door on the other side; it, too, was bare, and one section of the room had caved in. With a sigh, he retraced his steps to the spot where he had first turned, and went down the other passage. He stopped for a moment as his stomach growled. Teatime.

He started to head for the exit, then hesitated. Maybe he could take just a few moments to go down the other passage. After all, Bilbo didn’t go home just because it was teatime--and what difference would just a *few* minutes make?

He headed into the right-hand passage--just a few minutes, really. As he walked, he noticed that this passage was not dusty, and it smelled very musty indeed. In fact, the floor felt somewhat damp beneath his feet. His eyes began to burn, and he sneezed a few times.

There was a door on his right. This was it, then--Merry was probably right. If there was nothing in that room, he’d leave and go on up to tea. He was hungry anyway.

Opening the door, he held the lantern out. This room was very large--larger than the other two rooms he had explored, but just as empty, and some of the beams were broken, and one side of the room was collapsed. He waved the lantern back and forth.

And heard a sound. Something skittering in the darkness; out of the corner of his eye, he caught a slight movement! Heart in his throat, chest pounding, he backed out, pulling the door shut. Panicked, he began to run--

Further in, not out.

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Once more, Merry went pelting through the Hall. He found Cousin Hilda immediately. “Grandda wants to see Cousin Seredic right away, down in the old tunnels by the last mathom room. It’s an emergency! Where is he?”

“I’m waiting for him to come in now, Merry, we were going to take tea with your Uncle Merimac.”

Merry gasped for breath. “He wants to see him, too! I’ll go let him know.”

Racing on, he got to Merimac’s apartment. It was close to his own family’s quarters. He pounded on the door, and it was opened by Berilac.

“Beri, where’s your father?”

“Merry? What in the world?” his cousin looked perplexed.

“I’m right here, Meriadoc,” said his uncle from inside the room. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Pip’s lost in the old abandoned tunnels. Grandda wants you, Seredic and Marmadas down there right away. He said bring lanterns and lots of rope! Please hurry, Uncle Mac! Pippin could be in all kinds of trouble!” He felt the tears threatening him again, and dashed them away with an impatient hand.

Merimac nodded sharply. “I will take care of it. Beri, you go back with Merry and tell your grandfather that we are on the way. Merry, try not to worry too much. I’m sure we will find Pippin soon.”

“Thank you, Uncle Mac! Come on, Beri!” He turned to run back, with his cousin right on his heels.

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Pippin’s heart was hammering so hard he could hear it. He stopped running as he began to get a stitch in his side. He held the lantern up. Where was he? He must have gone around several curves, for he could not see anything back in the direction from which he came. He turned around, and was going to go back, but then he realized he’d have to go past whatever it was that had made that noise. Tears sprang to his eyes, and leaning against the wall, he slid down to the floor, and cried. After a few moments, he realized he was getting damp and cold sitting there, so he sniffed, wiped his eyes, and got to his feet. He coughed a bit, as well.

Oh, lovely! he thought, now I’m getting sick on top of it. He held up the lantern once more. But he could not seem to get his bearings. Which way had he come?

Now, under normal circumstances, hobbits do not get lost underground. They have an excellent sense of direction and are not easily confused. But Pippin was young, tired, hungry and frightened. Perhaps if he could have rested and relaxed, he would have got beyond his confusion, but he was beginning to get even more frightened. And now he had no idea of which way he had come.

With a determined gulp, he picked a direction and started.

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Rorimac looked at the hobbits he had summoned to help him. All of them wore determined and grim expressions.

“The reason these tunnels were closed off years ago is that they had a tendency to flood when the River was very high. It happened rarely, but it was still a hazard. A result of that is that many of the support beams and structures will have rotted; the ground has settled in many places back there, I am certain. My father always wanted to fill those tunnels in, and so had I, but we never seemed to find the right time.”

He spoke grimly. If those tunnels had been filled in they would not be having to worry about young Peregrin now.

“Saradoc has been in, and checked the footprints Pippin left. Unfortunately, he seems to have backtracked and crossed his own trail, for the footprints go in more than one direction. Saradoc will take one end of the rope, and check the branch off to the right; Merimac, I want you to take the other end and go in the opposite direction. If they have to go very far in, Seredic and Marmadas, you will have to follow and add to the rope.” He cast his glance at the anxious faces of his grandsons.

“Beri-lad, I would like for you to go up to one of the kitchens and see to having some warm drinks and some food sent down. Merry, you keep close at hand. Little Pippin will need you when we find him.”

Merry nodded; Berilac headed off to do his grandfather’s bidding.

Merry went over and slumped down in one of the armchairs; he reached over to the game, and picked up the little playing piece that Pippin had been using. He turned it over and over in his fingers. Rorimac looked at the lad with compassion. Merry was as taut as a bowstring. He hoped they found Pippin before Merry snapped.

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Hours had passed.

Esmeralda, unable to stand waiting any longer, had come down, and she now sat in one of the armchairs, holding Merry in her lap as if he were half his age. He was still fingering the tiny hobbit.

Just then, Saradoc and Merimac came out, followed by the other two.

Merry jumped up, and Esmeralda stood up as well. But Merry’s eager face fell when he realized there was no sign of his small cousin.

“We came out to get something to drink and eat,” said Merry’s father. “We are fairly certain that he took the right-hand passage at the end. But there aren’t any footprints down that way; not enough dust.” He looked at the Master. “Those are the tunnels that flood. We are going to have to go deeper, Da. You will need to tie on more rope.”

Rorimac nodded. “Esme, my dear, would you go up and see if you can find us some more rope.”

She nodded, and went out.

The weary searchers drank their tea, and took a few bites of bread and cheese, and headed back into the passageway.

They had not gone very far, when they heard the awful sound of a terrified shriek echoing through the tunnels, followed by an agonized

“MERRRRYY!”

“merrymerrymerrymerry…..” came the mocking echoes.

It was only his grandfather’s firm grip on him that kept Merry from dashing in himself, though he struggled mightily.