Chapter 38. Interlude

Hand in hand, my beloved and I walk from the Thain's apartments to the corridor nearby where important guests are accommodated. A suite of rooms is kept here for the Master of Buckland, and another for the Mayor of the Shire, and whether or not those worthies are staying at the Great Smials, their apartments are kept always at the ready for their arrival, and never given to other visitors.

I pause outside the Mayor's suite, squeezing my beloved's hand. 'I just want to check...' I say, and he nods with a knowing smile.

I push the door open, softly, and freeze at the sound I hear, my light mood vanished. Turning, I whisper, 'When Fennel comes with the draught for the Master, have him bring it to me here, instead, and make up another.'

His face very sober, he nods, brushes a kiss into the palm of my hand, and turns away, walking towards the infirmary to intercept Fennel. I slip through the door, to see Mistress Rose cradling her husband against her shoulder, and beyond them, the children, standing stricken in the doorway leading from the bedrooms to the sitting room. Mayor Samwise is weeping hopelessly, despairingly, like a lost child, and his Rose holds him, rubs his back, murmurs comfort to one who is beyond comfort.

He who thought to bring Pippin's cure, brought instead torment, agony.

Rose looks up, to see me in the doorway, and I put my finger to my lips. I am not here. She nods. I gesture to the children beyond, to Elanor and Frodo-lad, who hold the littler ones huddled close, and creeping on silent hobbit feet they cross the room to me. I hold the door wide enough to usher them out, and close it behind me so that a servant passing by will not see or hear the Mayor in his indisposition. Such flames of gossip as would be fanned... the word would quickly spread that the Thain had died in the night, and for some reason the news was being suppressed! Or something just as wild, I've no doubt.

The young Gamgees are all troubled, and tears streak several of the faces turned up to me. I smile, cupping little Goldi's face in my hand. 'Your father is very tired,' I say. 'He travelled a long journey, after all, and then from Buckland all the way to the Smials in one long, unbroken ride, and then he was up all night with the Thain...'

'Is...?' young Frodo asks, and gulps.

'Is he...?' Elanor says, but cannot voice her fear, no more than her brother.

'The Thain is sleeping now,' I say. 'He's looking much better than he was, and I'm sure your own father will be all the better for a good sleep. Ah, here's the draught I ordered...' My beloved approaches, carrying a covered cup.

'Now, you children go with Mr. Took, here, and he'll take you to the great hall, for they're serving early breakfast even now, and you must be hungry after all that travelling you did yesterday.'

'I'm hungry!' Pippin-lad announces. He's always been one to speak his mind, much like the hobbit whose name he bears.

'Well then!' My beloved says heartily, handing me the cup and picking up the two youngest Gamgees in his arms. 'I smelled griddlecakes cooking as I went by. How many griddlecakes do you suppose you could eat?' He continues to talk cheerful nonsense as he shepherds them down the corridor.

I must see to my business before he returns to shepherd me, off to breakfast and bed.

I enter, again soundlessly, tiptoe to the table, and lay down the cup with a significant look. Rose nods again, though her soothing talk never ceases. When her husband reaches the end of his strength, the sleeping draught will be there, ready to perform its charitable work.

I let myself out again without a word, shutting the door tightly behind me, and drawing a pocket-handkerchief out I drape it over the doorknob, a gesture the Tooks use to signal the servants, a sort of sign that says "Do not disturb!" It is very handy when a fussy babe is sleeping at last, or a hobbit tosses with fever, or a husband has returned to his wife after too long a journey... and it will keep any from intruding on the Mayor's grief and exhaustion this morning, with the best of intentions, but the worst of timing.

And now the Master... I go down to the next door and listen before tapping, hearing the murmur of voices, but nothing out of the ordinary.

I knock softly, and the voices break off. A moment later Merry opens the door, his expression of polite inquiry turning to surprise. 'Woodruff?' he says. 'Don't tell me; they cannot keep you abed?'

'As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to my bed,' I say with as much dignity as I can muster. 'I just stopped to see if all is well with you, and if you've eaten.'

'I was just telling him he ought to take some breakfast,' Estella says, rising and coming to the door. She glances over her shoulder; their little lad is still asleep, not even stirring at the sound of our voices. 'Breakfast, and then a good nap!'

'Just what the healer ordered,' I say with a smile. 'So, Fennel has not yet come by with his draught?' I know that he most likely has not had time...

'Merry said you were sending a draught,' Estella says, raising an eyebrow. 'I couldn't believe he was going to take it so calmly!'

He places his hands on her shoulders and kisses her cheek. 'Truth be told, I'm weary,' he says, 'but with all the excitement of the night, I'm not sure I could sleep without a draught. And Woodruff threatened to call out the Tooks to sit on me, to keep me in the bed, so I might as well just take the draught and save everyone a lot of trouble!'

'If you wouldn't mind, Mistress,' I say to Estella, 'just stepping down to the great room to order the Master's breakfast... I'd like to look him over and make sure he's taken no ill, riding in the rain, weary as he was from the long watch...'

Merry snorts. 'As if I'd melt!' he says.

But Estella is always eager to feed the hobbits around her, husband most especially, and so she smiles and says it will be her pleasure.

When she's gone, Merry puts out his right hand. 'Well?' he says.

I take the hand in mine, and my eyebrows go up. 'Warm!' I say, startled. 'I don't understand...'

'He's well,' Merry says, looking intently at me. 'Don't you see? He's...'

I'd check for fever but for the fact that he looks so well himself, not flushed and flustered, but calm, solid as a stone.

'After last night...' I begin, and to my astonishment he laughs.

'Yes!' he says, almost gaily. 'After last night!' At my dumbfounded look he takes hold of himself and explains. 'Didn't you hear?'

'Hear what?' I say, at a complete loss.

Merry laughs again, and I begin to wonder if he's lost his wits. 'Pippin, of course!' he says. 'Why, all these fearful days he's been meek as a lamb and twice as gentle, going quietly to his death without complaint, not wanting to grieve us any more in the manner of his passing, than we were to be grieved by its inevitability.'

'Aye,' I say slowly, but he sees that I do not understand.

Putting his hands on my shoulders, he looks into my eyes, and in his own eyes there is a joy, a lightness, that has been missing all too long. He does indeed suit the name "Merry" in this moment. 'Don't you realise...?' he says. 'He was rude, sarcastic; he called Sam an ass! He was hardly sparing our feelings...!'

My intake of breath is sharp in the silence after he stops speaking, and the hope that stabs me is as sharp. It cannot be...

Merry knows his cousin better than any other, true. And Pippin has never spared the sensibilities of the healers who've pestered him over the years, except in these last days, when we stood by helpless, hopeless, impotent, and powerless.

But... It cannot be.

I force a smile. Let him go to his rest, then, with this joyful thought. He'll rest all the easier for it, and be ready to meet whatever waits with renewed strength. 'It never occurred to me,' I admit. 'But that is not why I sent your wife away.'

'You sent Estella away?' he says, and it is his turn to be puzzled.

'I wish to speak plainly,' I say, 'to correct an injustice that has gone on far too long.'

'Injustice?' he says, straightening. 'Who is...? What injustice?'

'Do you love your wife?' I say outright.

He stiffens, looking down at me, but I stand my ground. 'Of course!' he says, indignant and insulted by the question. 'What right have you to...?'

'When was the last time you told her?' I say bluntly, ignoring his protest.

He is taken aback, and his mouth works silently for a moment as if he'd formulate an answer if he could.

'I tell her,' he says at last, rather lamely to my way of thinking.

'Do you, now?' I say coolly.

He flushes at my scepticism. 'Of course I do!' he says. 'Every day... at least, every day that I see her... I've been away from Buckland for some days...'

'Do you say the words?' I insist.

'The words?' he blusters, and I sigh in exasperation.

'When was the last time you said, "I love you, Estella"!' I snap.

His mouth opens in surprise, and a moment later he says, 'I...'

'Well?' I say, planting my hands upon my hips. I'd tap my foot to show my impatience, but I'm weary.

'She knows that I love her,' he says at last.

'Does she?' I challenge. 'Do you tell her? Or do you take her for granted, expect her to somehow divine your love from your actions?'

His blush tells me that I have hit close to home. 'She knows...' he says again.

I shake my head slowly.

'She...' he says again.

'In your worry over your cousin, you've been neglecting your beloved,' I say. 'She has loved you from her beginning, but you loved another...'

A sharp intake of breath, as if I have struck him in his abdomen with my fist.

'She's always had what was left over,' I say softly. 'Left over from Ruby, who died...'

'No,' he whispers, pained.

'Left over from Pippin, who nearly died...'

He shakes his head, half turns from me, but the hobbit is nothing if not courageous. He turns back. 'Why do you say this?' he whispers. 'Why would you...?'

'Because it's true,' I say. 'Many's the heart I've listened to, and some I can fix with a draught or some sage advice, and some stutter and come to a stop even while I'm listening...'

'But I do,' he says, a little louder. 'I love her, more than my own life; she is my life...'

'Then tell her,' I say, but just then there is a tap at the door; Fennel has arrived with the sleeping draught, and my beloved with him, and in another moment Estella returns and breathlessly announces that breakfast is on its way.

'See that he drinks the whole draught after his breakfast,' I tell her.

'I will!' she says, raising her chin to show her determination, but he draws her to his side and drops a kiss on her hair.

'No use resisting, I suppose,' he says lightly.

'No use at all!' she says, laughing up at him. He looks to me, and I see the tears spring to his eyes. He as quickly blinks them away, before Estella should notice.

'Thank you,' he says.

'Yes,' Estella says. 'Thank you for all you've done.'

I smile, my beloved's hand slips around my waist, he tugs me towards the door, I make my excuses. 'Eat well, sleep tight,' I say.

'And you as well,' Merry says as he closes the door behind us.