Authors Note: I did not write The Mewlips, the poem is Tolkien’s from the excellent book A Tolkien Miscellany. As usual the characters are not mine and I make no money from this not for profit story. Thanks to my reviewers, I both fear and love feedback, and it means a great deal to read your opinions. Thanks also to Lindelea, who is a most excellent author, and whose suggestions and help with editing I could not do without.

Chapter 12

Of Mewlips and Mysterious Nightmares

In the small hours of the morning a gentle summer rain had fallen. This was good news to the travelers, for the roads wouldn’t be so dusty, at least on the first leg of the journey. As Boromir rose and washed his face he could smell Estella’s ham cooking in the private kitchen. Estella had a way with a good ham, and the anticipation of enjoying the fruit of her culinary prowess made little fountains well up under Boromir’s tongue.

The table in the great dining hall was laden with every kind of tasty breakfast item a Man could ask for, except for one thing. As the hobbits joined him at the table, Pippin recognized the look of longing on Boromir’s face.

“I know that look! Many a time I saw you looking like that on our journey,” Pippin said, helping himself to a large portion of mushrooms, which he spooned atop a small mountain of eggs. “You always looked like that when you were thinking of Gondor and missed being at home.”

Boromir sighed. “You always had a knack for reading my heart,” Boromir replied. “I was only just thinking of these little white cakes we have in Gondor. Every morning Faramir and I broke our fast with coffee and a few of those cakes. I don’t suppose you ever…?”

“In fact,” said Merry, “we did have them, when we were in Gondor. We grew quite fond of them, though I admit to my astonishment I have never thought to send a letter asking for the recipe.”

“Pray, do not let it spoil your appetites that I was thinking of home,” Boromir said, “Besides, the feast that sits before me has no rival. Galapas would have something to say about my mood, I am certain.”

Pippin stopped in mid-chew to look quizzically at his friend and Merry said, “Well? Aren’t you going to tell us?”

Boromir laughed, thinking that he should ever be aware of leaving any statement open-ended with a hobbit, then answered, “He would say that one can only achieve peace of heart and mind by wanting what one has, not by having what one wants.”

“How so?” Merry said.

“Well, if you think you can only be happy by having what you want, then you’ll never be happy, because as soon as you get what you want, you’ll only begin to want something else. The wiser course lies in wanting what you already have.”

The hobbits all stopped chewing for a moment and there was not a single sound of the tap of fork on plate as they pondered what he had just said. The scene was quite comic, but Boromir only allowed himself a smile. He would not have his friends think he was laughing at them. But hobbits take their repasts quite seriously, and soon they returned to the business of eating, though Merry nodded and remarked, “Your Galapas sounds like a very wise fellow.”

“I hope you will tell us more about him, once you have finished telling Diamond and Estella your story,” Pippin said around a mouthful of ham.

“I can scarcely wait to hear what you have to say,” Diamond added, though she had been careful to swallow before speaking.

“If we don’t leave soon, I shall certainly die of curiosity,” Estella said adding cream to her coffee. “The tale is bound to make for an interesting journey! I see we will have some of that ham to take with us. Diamond and I made custard pies yesterday, and there are still plenty of those to take along as well.”

“Don’t forget the pickled eggs!” said Theo.

“Or the dried figs!” added Faro.

“We know, we know,” Diamond said, “or the seed-cakes, or the mushrooms, or the cheese…”

“Which roads do we take?” asked Boromir.

“Once we get on the East Road it is a fairly straight shot,” Merry said.

“Will we stop at Whitfurrows and Frogmorton?” Diamond asked.

“I should think so,” Pippin replied. “Our journey will last some few days, weather allowing. We shall sleep under the stars for quite a few nights, and I don’t see why we need be in any great hurry. Instead I would like to show Boromir how we hobbits take a holiday. It isn’t so far that we couldn’t get there in two days if we wanted, but I should very much like it if we would take our time. A night or two in a real bed will be a welcome respite, but I’m looking forward to making camp. The lads love it, and you, my pet,” Pippin said to Diamond, “have been far and away too busy of late. You could use a little time to forget your duties, and the moon will be full. How lovely my darling wife is in the moonlight! And the fresh air will do you good, no doubt.”

“We can all benefit from this little holiday, cousin! It has been a long time since we took our families camping together,” Merry said, his eyes brightening at the thought. “We used to go together often, Boromir; Pippin’s family and mine. Our duties seem to multiply, while the time we like to spend with our families seems to dwindle. We should set more time aside for such things. It seems the older I grow, the shorter grow the days. At this rate, we shall be old and grey before you know it.”

“We shall all be old and grey before we even get on the road, if we sit here talking much longer,” said Pippin. “Let us make ready. I’m sure Diamond and Estella are ready to hear Boromir’s tale, and to be truthful, I should like to hear the account again.”

“Have you supplies left in your wagon, Boromir?” asked Merry. He knew a Man moving through the Shire as a merchant would be expected to carry merchandise.

“Aye,” he answered. “I expect I shall be leaving some with Sam. It is only fitting, after all.”

“Then let us make ready and go,” Merry said, rising from his seat. “I have tents enough for us all, though you, Boromir, may have to stick your feet out of yours!”

“No need to worry for my feet,” Boromir said, “I have my own tent in my wagon.”

The morning was still young when they set off. The youngsters were allowed to drive the coach belonging to the Tooks as a special treat, while the adults rode with Boromir in his wagon. They were well on their way on the East Road before Boromir finished his tale

“My goodness!” Estella said, “What a story you have to tell! Rescued by Wild Men, tutelage by a wise old hermit, love found and lost, self-banishment, and now living in the Old Forest!”

“I am so sorry you feel you can never see your brother again, Boromir,” Diamond added. “You sacrifice much for the sake of Prince Faramir and the King. But there is another sacrifice I would speak of just now.”

“As would I,” Estella said. “Diamond and I have often thought of that Boromir before we ever knew you were he, indeed, since we first learned of what you did at Amon Hen.”

Boromir, suddenly intent on studying his boots hung his head and said, “What I did at Amon Hen…”

“Yes,” said Diamond. “You were willing to die to save our husbands. For that, we loved you before we ever knew you, and though our Beeman is dear to our hearts, you are even dearer to us now. And so long have our husbands grieved your loss, now that you are here, it is as if a dark curtain has been drawn aside for them.”

“I thank you for your kind words,” Boromir said, “but please, it was no more than any friend would do. I could not desert my brothers-in-arms. I would rather have died where I stood by their side, my sword in this good right hand, than to leave them to the tender mercies of those… monstrous, monstrous… creatures.”

“Nonsense!” Estella cried. “Many would have deserted them. You did not. We know how badly you wanted to go home to your city and your family, yet you chose to fight, when you must have known what would happen to you.”

“And we are glad you did not die, as we thought,” Diamond added. “Though it saddens me to think you shan’t see your brother again, if you had not come, well, Merry and Pippin would still be grieving you. But can you never let your presence be known? Must you remain ‘dead’ to those you love at home, and to the King?”

“There may be another way, but if there is,” Boromir said, head bent, “I cannot see it. It is a matter of honor, I fear. I cannot bring shame on my brother’s name, and I cannot bring confusion to the King’s Court, which my presence would certainly do. The Kingdoms of Anor and Ithil are at last safe and secure, and in good hands. It is my duty, dear ladies, that I do nothing to disturb this time of peace and prosperity. It is the least I can do, since… ” Heaviness settled around him, and he was loath to speak further. “I should have been more wary of Sauron’s wiles,” he continued, his voice so low it seemed he spoke only to himself. “So desperate was I to save my city that I forgot the dangers of ignoring good counsel. Deeds both rash and ill, indeed, ought to be settled, in this life or the next. I choose to make my payment in this life.”

“Well, you know best in that matter, I suppose,” Estella said, patting his hand warmly. “But I cannot pretend I am content that your brother must think you dead, still. I am sorry if my words upset you, but it just doesn’t seem right, somehow.”

“In truth, neither am I content,” Boromir said. “But if there is another path, it is yet to be revealed to me. But if no other path is to be revealed, I will remain where I am. I feel I have been led here, for what purpose I know not. So though I would it were different, yet I am satisfied to dwell here, close to my friends. But come, let us not dwell on it! Galapas used to say that most of the things we find worrisome are things that never come to pass, or things we have not the power to alter. Wisdom lies rather in understanding which path is passable, and then having the courage and faith to follow that path.”

“That is certainly food for thought,” said Merry, “And speaking of food and paths, our path has gone on long enough without food! Just ahead is a shady spot that is perfect for resting and eating. Who wants some more of that ham?”

Just around a gentle bend in the road they spied the place Merry spoke of: a rutted path, which veered away and then rejoined the East road. There they idled away a little over two hours before moving on toward Whitfurrows. They were traveling in the manner of hobbits on a holiday, which meant they could take their time. A third of the way to Whitfurrows they stopped to camp for the night. There was a rough, well-rutted road that led away from the East road to a little garth just far enough away to afford the travelers quiet and privacy. The hobbits had made good use of it many times, as well as others who passed by or through on their way to who-knows-where. The garth was a peaceful and pleasant place to rest or to eat, or both. Tents were pitched and wood gathered by Merry, Theo and Faro while Pippin and Boromir tended the ponies. They then built a fire, over which fat sausages were broiled and potatoes baked.

The travelers sat in a circle around the fire, listening to the juicy sausages sizzling. Waiting for their simple meal to finish cooking, Theo and Faro decided now would be a perfect time for a song or story. Their elders suggested a few, but the youngsters, protesting these were far too tame, were in the mood for something exciting, and in the manner of the young everywhere, they requested a ghost story.

“I have just the thing,” said Pippin. “I wager you’ve not heard this one, Boromir!”

He laughed softly. “I haven’t had such a tale since I was but a lad,” he said. “Give us the tale, then.”

“Well, it is actually more a poem than a tale,” Pippin said. “It goes like this:

“The shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

“You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

“Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

“Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool's borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

“The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

“Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

“They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they've finished, in a sack
Your bones they take to keep.

“Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road,
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
and through the wood of hanging tees and the gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips --- and the Mewlips feed.”

“Well,” said Estella, “That should serve to keep us a-jitter tonight!”

“Splendid!” Faro said.

Curious as to Boromir’s liking for the poem, they turned to look at their friend. Pale of face, he seemed to be staring into the fire, then, with a shake like a wet dog, he muttered, “What a… what a poem,” He smiled sheepishly and, seemingly unaware his friends could hear him muttered under his breath, “Monstrous… monstrous… ” Then he cleared his throat and, looking around the group, he laughed half-heartedly.

“What is wrong, Uncle Bom?” asked Theo.

“Did the Mewlips frighten you?” Faro asked.

“Well, of course!” He winked at Pippin, and then turned his attention to the sausages and potatoes.

“Food’s ready,” he said, almost absent-mindedly. He walked to his wagon to fetch a blanket for them to sit on while they ate.

“Is he all right, d’you think?” Pippin said to Merry. “I don’t care for they way the Mewlips affected him. Did you hear his tone? All flat-like and, well, it sounded almost… dead.”

Merry appeared deep in thought for a moment, then whispered, “Perhaps it reminded him of something unpleasant, from his years at war.”

“That sounds likely,” Estella observed. “Let us not disturb unkind memories further, shall we?”

“Yes,” Merry said hastily, “Let’s just eat and speak of other more pleasant things.”

When Boromir returned with the blanket, whatever shadow had crossed his heart seemed at first to have fled, but he became more silent than usual the rest of the evening, mostly staring into the flames. He ate but little, and had to be prodded by Merry to take his medicine. His mood lifted a little when the youngsters sang some silly songs, and for a while all seemed well. But in the small, cool hours of the morning Pippin was suddenly awakened by a sound he could not at first identify. He crept out of his tent, taking care not to disturb Diamond. He followed the sound. As he neared Boromir’s tent, he found the source of the noise. Boromir, apparently in the grip of some unpleasant dream, seemed to be thrashing around in his sleep. There was a loud gasp as of one wakening from a terrible nightmare. Pippin was very still, mindful of not letting Boromir know he had disturbed anyone. He could hear Boromir breathing shakily.

Then he heard his friend speaking softly: “Monstrous, monstrous…” was all he said. At last Boromir’s breathing became easier, and it seemed to Pippin his friend must have laid himself down again. Pippin listened for the steady breathing of a sleeper for some time, but only heard the sound of tossing and turning. He quietly padded back to his tent, sure that the poem about the Mewlips must have stirred up something unpleasant in Boromir’s mind, like a careless stone thrown at a hornet’s nest. He was sure Boromir did not sleep again that night, at least not before Pippin, wondering what the problem might possibly be, dozed off again.