Chapter 14

Of Wishes and Squirrels and Round Doors of Green

Pippin woke early the day they were to finish the last leg of their sojourn. Silently he slipped out of the tent he and Diamond shared, yawned hugely and stretched so hard he went up on his toes. The sun had not yet risen; the tag end of the night slowly dimmed the remaining stars. He gave his ribs a good scratch, then strolled to the remnants of the fire to add wood for the cooking of their morning repast. As he placed the wood over the coals, he heard footfalls behind him.

“Good morning!” Boromir said cheerily. Pippin turned to see his friend smiling and scratching his own ribs. “I hope you rested well. As for myself, I slept like the dead.” He joined Pippin by the coals, crouching to help the hobbit blow them back into a small flame.

“Well, you are in a fine mood this morning,” Pippin observed. “I’m glad you rested well last night.”

There was a short silence as Boromir regarded his friend. “May I assume from your remark that you noticed I do not always rest so well?” Boromir finally said, sitting down tailor-fashion before the fire.

“Och! No, I did not intend to imply anything of the sort. I am sorry.” Pippin heaved a sigh. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but since you brought it up, yes; I have noticed it.”

“I see,” Boromir replied. He picked up a twig and began to draw in the dust around the fire.

“Please, don’t feel discomfited because I know about the nightmares,” Pippin said, laying a hand on Boromir’s shoulder. “I may be an inquisitive fool of a Took, but I will not ask you to speak of it. All I ask is that you remember this: If you ever do wish to speak of it, you can tell me. I promise to keep your confidences. But let us speak no more of it! If you wish to talk with me about it, I am more than willing to help, and if not then I can respect your wishes in this as well. You do not have to say anything. I shan’t press you.”

Boromir continued to scratch in the dust with his twig, and then he raised his eyes and looked at his friend. A small, sad smile crept across his features. “You are the most excellent of friends, dear Pippin. How wise you have grown! Come; let us leave such matters behind us today. This is a day for better things! How shall we start the day today?”

“Why, with breakfast, of course, you great goose!” Pippin said, poking Boromir in the ribs. “What else?”

Boromir playfully rolled his eyes and shook his head in mock disbelief. “Hobbits! Someone really should have warned me about hobbits.”

“Well, I like that!” countered Pippin, “I’ve yet to see you turn down good hobbit fare.”

“Nor are you likely to,” Boromir said. “You cook. I’ll fetch some water.”

By the time the rest awoke everything was ready. There was tea and toast with a variety of wild berries, and bacon fried crisp yet still chewy, and porridge steaming in the big iron pot with pools of melted butter atop, and afterwards a visit to the little stream to wash their faces and hands. Having washed and put away the pots and pans, along with tents and blankets, the ladies and youngsters scrambled into wagons and onto saddles As Pippin dallied a moment to talk to Dapplegrim, Boromir noticed Merry eyeing him. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question—What is the matter?

Careful to speak softly, Merry said, “Boromir, I beg your pardon, but I must ask… the poem about the Mewlips, did it disturb you because of… That is, was it because...”

Hastily Boromir placed a finger across his lips for silence, giving an almost imperceptible nod. “I never told him, you know,” he whispered. “Pray do not mention it now, he will only think we’ve kept secrets from him. He was too young to hear it then, and too afraid. If he finds out now that we never let on, he will only feel left out. Best to let it lie as it is, at least for now.”

Merry silently nodded in agreement, but he doubted the reasoning. There must be more to it than that. Perhaps this was a wound which might well fester as long as his large friend lived, for some wounds are too deep ever to heal completely. For now, Merry would, as Boromir said, let it lie, as it were. Besides, it was as plain as plain Boromir had enough on his mind. This journey was important to him; that much was easy enough to see. First things first. The visit with Sam would be several steps closer to the healing Boromir sought, and he seemed well enough for now, all things considered. Besides, the weather was fair this morning, and the day held the promise of good things to come. Merry gave an assertive nod to himself and took his seat in the wagon beside Estella. “Pippin, when you and Dapplegrim have finished your counsels, may we please be on our way? It is getting hot already!”

“All right,” Pippin shouted back, and took his place beside Diamond.

The ride to the Three Farthing stone was but a short one of only fifteen miles or so, passing swiftly and pleasantly. The young ones gave Boromir a good accounting of Sam broadcasting theLothlórien earth to the four winds, blessing the Shire with a time of plenty. Boromir wanted to stop the wagons and have a good look at it. “Ever since then,” Faro added, “it is said that if you walk around the stone four times and make a wish, your wish will come true. Make a wish, Uncle Bom!”

“Only if you two will make a wish with me,” he replied. The youngsters dismounted and, each of them taking one of Boromir’s hands led him around the stone. After the fourth time around they pulled him to a stop.

“Now,” said Theo, “You have to face the stone and make your wish. And you have to wish it four times.”

“I wish… ” Boromir began. Only, what should he wish for? “I wish, I wish for…”

“No!” Faro said, “You have to close your eyes, silly!”

“And do not say the wish aloud!” Theo instructed.

“All right,” Boromir said obediently. He faced the stone and closed his eyes. Feeling somewhat foolish, he thought, Of course it is nonsense, but it cannot hurt to make a wish.

The older hobbits watched his face for some clue as to when he was going to make the wish. Boromir scrunched his face, and then seemed to settle on something.

“Ready?” asked Faro. Boromir nodded. “Then let us all make our wishes.”

“Do not forget, Uncle Bom,” Theo added sagely. “Wish your wish four times!”

He stood very still for a while, and then nodded his head. “Done and done,” he smiled at the youngsters. “Must I make another wish for nuncheon?”

“Nuncheon?” Theo said quizzically.

“That is what we call our midday meal in Gondor,” Boromir explained.

“Nuncheon, eh? What a funny word!” Faro said.

“Well, whatever you may call it, I’m quite ready for it,” Theo said.

Beneath the shade of a nearby oak they spread a blanket. Estella pulled out the blackberry tarts while Diamond found the pickled eggs and a generous wedge of cheese. Boromir ate but a little, unlike the hobbits. Wherever do they put it all? He wondered as he sat, his back against the oak, and watched the hobbits continue to eat. After the tarts, he watched Faro and Theo playing tag. He was sun-drowsy, and had nearly fallen asleep when he saw a squirrel run up to the blanket they had sat on and grab one of the leftover tarts in its mouth.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Pippin cried, eyeing the squirrel balefully.

“Oh, for goodness sake, dear, just… ” Diamond began.

“Pippin, don’t… ” Merry added.

The squirrel took off with Pippin in pursuit. He vanished over a small hummock, and a loud howl was heard.

“Not again!” Merry laughed. “He will never learn!”

“This I have got to see this with my own eyes,” Boromir said, rising swiftly to run over the top of the hummock.

There was Pippin, a squirrel firmly attached by paws and teeth to his hand. He was swinging the squirrel around in a futile attempt to get it to let go and flailing about, kicking up an impressive cloud of dust in the effort. This made it seem as if he was using the pugnacious little beast to dust himself off. Boromir laughed until he thought his ribs would crack, and the tears flowed down his cheeks. To make matters yet worse, when the squirrel finally let go of the hobbit, it pounced on the tart, chattering angrily. To Boromir’s surprise, Pippin, not to be bested by the creature, reached for the prize yet again, but withdrew when it lunged at him, ferocious in its defense of the tart.

“Squirrels! Foul, accursed little beasts!” Pippin shouted as the squirrel flicked its tail in righteous and victorious fury. He kicked dust at it and the squirrel lunged yet again. Pippin, finally accepting defeat, turned and stumped back to join the others. As he walked by Boromir, who was bent double with laughter, he glared at him and barked “Not a word!”

Back at the wagon, Diamond cleaned Pippin’s most recent battle-wound. It wasn’t much of a wound, but enough so that it needed binding, which Boromir was more than happy to do in silence, though it was quite an effort to keep from grinning at the very least. But Pippin was never a sullen creature and soon his bright spirit reasserted itself (in spite of, or perhaps because of Merry’s teasing) and they departed to complete their journey.

They hadn’t gone far when Pippin noticed Boromir bouncing his legs up and down nervously. He tried to ignore it, thinking perhaps he shouldn’t point it out in front of others, but when the Man began to bite his nails, it was too much for Pippin.

“Boromir, will you please stop? You have fidgeted all the way from the Three Farthing stone!” Pippin scolded. “What’s wrong? Do you need a privy?”

“Very funny, Pippin. No, I am just a little –– bah! What is the use? All right, I suppose I’m a little on edge.” Boromir shuffled his sandaled feet, trying not to fidget.

“It’s only Sam! I assure you he won’t bite you.” Pippin said with a little laugh.

“Ah, Pippin, I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. This is not so simple as it seems.”

Pippin studied his large friend’s face. Well, he thought, it is not as though I was born yesterday, you great goose! Do you think I do not know what this is all about? You have to face Sam in order to face yourself. Well, you shall get your wish, and I hope it shall put matters to rest for you.

“You’re doing it again, Boromir,” was what he said aloud, without a trace of humor.

“Sorry,” Boromir muttered and stared at his feet.

“All will be well,” Pippin said, patting Boromir’s knee. “Please, don’t work yourself into such a state.”

Boromir said nothing, but looked doubtful, his brow creased in deep thought. Diamond patted the back of Boromir’s scarred hand in an almost motherly fashion. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “I don’t understand why you are so jumpy, but I do say it distresses me to see you this way.” She thought of his “condition,” as she put it, and hoped that he wouldn’t start gasping and changing colors on them. He was a dear man, and her Pippin loved him so.

The wagons and saddle-ponies eased up the Hill, and soon they were there. So many times had Boromir heard of the famous Bag End, and now, here he was at last. The little round green door looked exactly as he had imagined it would. He thought of old Bilbo, sitting in the morning sun and smoking a pipe as a wizard approached, looking for his burglar. He thought of Frodo and Sam, leaving Bag End on that fateful day with young Pippin in tow, no more than a lad. He thought of the occupation of the Shire, and the Scouring. He thought of the Lady and of Gandalf, and how he wished he could have at least seen them ere they departed, especially Gandalf. Most of all he thought of poor Frodo leaving for the Grey Havens without his Sam –– and of so much left unsaid and un-mended between himself and the Ring-bearer. It had been a long road that had led him here, where he knew he must some day come.

The little troop poured out of their wagons and walked to the door. Pippin tapped with the knocker, and soon the door popped open. And there he was, the very one Boromir had to see and speak to.

“Why, Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck, and the whole families and all!” said Sam, delighted. Pippin looked around. Sure enough, there was Boromir, hiding behind the doorframe.

“I have a surprise for you, Sam. Hold onto your braces!” Pippin said, grabbing Boromir by the hand and pulling him forward. Boromir allowed himself to be led.

He tried to speak, but at first nothing would come out. He cleared his throat, and managed, “Hello, Sam.” He immediately felt that it was the most idiotic thing he could have said. Why had he not thought of something kind or clever or funny? Boromir’s heart raced as he tried desperately to read Sam’s face. He took several deep, slow breaths. Light-headed, he leaned heavily against the doorframe. Slowly he sank until he all but sat on the doorstep.