Elements:
A third anniversary
A garden
The Black Breath
Beef Tea

Free

They had finally made it to Minas Tirith, three years after the passing of their fathers. A long time, certainly, but it was not a short nor easy trip to make, especially for the Master of Buckland and the Took and Thain of the Shire. If it had not been matters of importance to their lands and people, it had been personal matters of expectant wives, newborn children, various illnesses and injuries and the loss of loved ones close to home. It hadn’t been as though they had missed final farewells. Their fathers had departed this world in death a month before they even knew they were gone, it having taken that long for word to arrive from the High King Elessar.

What was strange, to the nobles of the City, was the mood of the Master and Thain; they were jovial. They had arrived the day before the anniversary of the death of Sir Peregrin, two before the day of the passing of Sir Meriadoc, and they were jovial.

The two had travelled alone. Being as close friends as their fathers had been they enjoyed each other’s company and had decided they wanted to make the journey to Minas Tirith as their fathers had that last time; just the two of them. This had been a large part of the delay in making the trip; it had been difficult to find a time both of them could leave their responsibilities behind for a while. Finally, they had simply set a date and told everyone else they would have to work around it.

This was not their first trip to the kingdoms in the south. Each, upon coming of age, had gone to learn the ways of the realms their fathers served as knights, with both Theodoc and Faramir earning the rank for themselves. This time they had, as had their fathers, gone first to Rohan. They went to Edoras to show their respects for the King Sir Meriadoc had so faithfully served. The new King, Elfwine the Fair, and his people relished their visit, making much of Sir Meriadoc’s heir and his kinsman. The two hobbits remained in that place a fortnight, leaving only when they had to in order to be in the White City for the anniversaries.

There was a sombre feast the evening Sir Theodoc and Sir Faramir arrived, and the two seemed uncomfortable with the solemnity. It was said, coming from those of the royal servants who had been given charge over the knight’s needs, that after retiring from the feast they sat together in the Master of Buckland’s room long into the night talking, laughing and singing.

The next morning, being the date upon which Sir Peregrin left this life, the pheriannath were taken to Fen Hollen. There, they were more subdued. They stood, each with an arm about the other’s shoulders, quietly gazing upon the carved likenesses of their noble fathers that graced the two tombs.

“They aren’t next to each other,” Sir Faramir broke their silence.

“I was thinking the same thing, Faramir. Why are they not closer together, Sire?”

The two turned tear filled eyes to their King.

“There is enough space there for one tomb. It is where I shall lie in my final rest,” King Elessar responded as his tears also ran. “It was the highest honor left that I could bestow upon them. They knew of my wish and gladly granted it.” The King smiled a soft smile. “They agreed between them it was best that way, so my eternal rest might not become too dull.”

The hobbits smiled.

“We have a couple of wishes of our own that we are hoping you will grant, Sire,” Sir Theodoc said. “Perhaps we can talk to you privately about it over elevenses in the parlor of our house?”

“Of course, my dear friends,” the King replied with a slight bowing of his head to the two knights. “I am at your call today and the next as you have need of me.”

“Most kind of you, my liege,” Sir Faramir replied, smiling broadly for a moment before the more sorrowful expression returned to his face. “Until then, my lord, could we have some time alone here? We mean,” he paused and looked around at the nobles and servants standing in the hallows at a respectful distance, “alone, just Theo and I.”

With a word and a nod to the pheriannath knights, the High King and the entourage left the hallows. After a few moments of standing in silence at the foot of the tombs, The Master of Buckland and the Thain of the Shire each went to their respective father’s side.

“Do you think they saw these carvings before they died?”

“I doubt it, Fari. They would never have approved them.” Theo ran a gentle fingertip over the lips of the graven image of his father. “It is a marvelous likeness, otherwise.”

“Same for my Da,” Fari agreed while running the back of his first finger slowly down the side of the face of his own father’s image. “We shall have to inquire if there is a possibility of altering these a bit.” They stood a few more moments in silence, then Faramir asked his cousin, “Do you remember when . . .”

A short while later, the porter at the Closed Door heard laughter as the two pheriannath approached his little house. Coming out to see whether his ears were deceiving him, he was warmly greeted by the two smiling hobbits as they passed him by. “Most strange,” he thought to himself, shaking his head as he returned to his post.

It was nearing the mid point of the night as a small group made its way from the Citadel to a park in the second circle of the city. It was at the mid point of the Great Road that wound its way back and forth across the face of the mountain. Passing though intricately carved gates, the Road ran though the midst of a pleasant expanse of grass and trees, ponds and fountains, paths and beds of flowers. The second circle of Minas Tirith was one of the widest of the City’s seven circles, and the park covered the entire width of the circle for nearly a quarter-mile’s length of the Road.

It was a gift to the People of Minas Tirith from the Ringbearer and his Kindred of the Company of the Ring. The hobbits had wanted no rewards nor grand gifts bestowed upon them. They had said if the desire of the King of Gondor was to honor them, he could do so by setting aside one of the most damaged parts of the City to become a garden, a park, open to all the people so there would be a place all could enjoy the beauty of green and growing things. Where children could run and play upon grass or splash about in the ponds and fountains. Not a stuffy, formal garden but instead a place to play and picnic. So was built, by the Dwarves of Durin’s race and the Elves of the Greenwood, a garden fulfilling the hobbits’ wishes. It was named “Shire Garden”.

The group made its way to a pillar, not much taller than the hobbits and set into the ground near the outer wall. The wall at this point had been built to a height over which a perian could easily look out upon the first circle, the gate and the Pelennor beyond. The pillar had been carved with the names of the four Noble Pheriannath and explained that the garden was a gift from them to the People of Minas Tirith.

Sir Theodoc handed his lantern to King Elessar, then drew a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket.

“We came to this garden for a special celebration at this time between the days when first Sir Peregrin Took then Sir Meriadoc Brandybuck left Middle-earth forever. This is a letter I received from my father six months before he and my Uncle Pippin passed away. It was actually written by both of our fathers, and they sent a copy to each of us. In part, it reads”:

Now, to the matter of what you should do when word reaches you both that one or the other of us has died. (Pippin says, ‘When we both have died.’ as though he knows something I don’t) We know that you have mourned our leaving you already. We know it brought great sorrow to all our loved ones when we chose to leave the Shire. Don’t go through all that again. This time, be happy in your memories and thoughts of us. We go to where our dearest wives have gone before us. We hope that we will be with Frodo and Sam again. We will be beyond the reach of the pain of our memories and the pains from our old injuries. There will be no more dark spells to sap our strength, leaving us ill, in need of beef tea and overly warm rooms.

I was as close to death as one can be without dying once. But, I was deep in the grip of the darkness, and I have no memory of anything but loneliness and pain. Pippin has told me many a time that he also was near to crossing over from life here to life there. He remembers it drew him, that it seemed to him that there was light and beauty and peace to be had in that land. He chose to not leave Middle-earth that day, but he told me that he knew when the time finally did arrive, he could face it peacefully, knowing that a wholly good place lay beyond.

And so that is what we ask of you. Be happy in your memories of us. Be at peace knowing we are in a goodly place, that we are happy there and that someday, you will all see us again.”

There was a pause before Sir Faramir spoke. “Theo and I have done as our fathers requested, both at home in the Shire and on our journey here. They were right, we mourned when they left us. We wept. We were angry that they chose to leave hearth and home. But, they wrote letters to us and we heard their laughter in the letters, laughter we hadn’t been hearing while they were in the Shire. Laughter that we hadn’t heard much since our mothers had passed on. Gradually, we realized they were finding a renewal they would not have found at home where they were constantly reminded of their lost loves.”

“We began to do as they asked in this letter before it even arrived,” continued Sir Theodoc. “We let the joy they were finding on their journey, and their time in Rohan and here in Gondor, fill us as well. Our families remembered them with joy. When word came that they had followed our mothers, there were tears, it’s true, but not for long. There was joy at the thought our parents were now reunited and that our fathers would have put the hurts they carried behind them.”

Sir Faramir pulled something from his pocket, holding it forth on the palm of his hand for all to see. It was a small, clear glass ball.

“My Father is free from the memories of the evil that wounded him when he looked in the palantir, and the visions of the ending of the Lord Denethor in the flames; an ending the Steward chose because of his use of a palantir.”

He put the ball on the ground and smashed it beneath his leathery hobbit’s foot.

Sir Theodoc pulled a small bag from one of his pockets.

“My Father is free from the evil of The Black Breath that touched him in Bree at the beginning of the Quest, and nearly claimed his life after the Battle of Pelennor Fields.”

He held the bag up and poured forth a black dust, which he blew away as it fell before his face.

The High King spoke. “They will remember these and other painful things, but no longer will the memories tear at them, making them ill. No longer will nightmares trouble their hearts and minds. My dear friends are free from evil, having gone forever beyond its grasp.”

And there fell over them a peace, there in the fresh green and flowered scent of the garden, looking over the beauty of the reborn parts of the White City, looking at the moonlit expanse of the Pelennor. And they thought of the life the Four Noble Pheriannath had secured for all the races of Middle-earth. And joy grew within them all.

“Sire,” Sir Faramir said to the King. “Do you remember when our fathers . . .”

And their laughter soon drifted over the garden.

A month later, in Fen Hollen, gentle smiles were now to be seen upon the graven images of two hobbit knights.