Chapter 9. Pondering

A few days after, Aragorn met Merry at the entrance to Frodo and Sam's grove. There was a grin on the Ranger's face as he said, 'Good news!'

'Yes?' Merry asked. 'Such is always welcome.'

'Frodo and Samwise are out of danger,' Aragorn replied. 'At the rate hobbits recover, they ought to be on their feet in another week.'

'That is good news!' Merry said, matching the other's grin.

Aragorn put a cautionary hand on the hobbit's arm. 'They will remain in the healing sleep for some days yet,' he said. 'I'd like you to keep sitting with them in the afternoons. There's something to the healing hands of a hobbit...'

Merry laughed. 'All the horses of Rohan couldn't drag me away,' he said.

When he entered, he saw his cousin's face for the first time since their parting at Parth Galen. Frodo was terribly thin for a hobbit, the healing skin healthy but very pale. Samwise, too, was thin, Merry saw, startled. He had always seemed so... substantial.

Merry returned the smiles of the healers as he took his place on the stool, placing both his hands around the clasped ones. 'It's a good thing Bilbo told us all those stories,' he said to Frodo and Sam. 'I'm afraid I'd have run out by now, otherwise.'

There was no response from the still faces, relaxed in sleep.

He continued, 'Now, where were we? O yes, Bombur had fallen into the black river, and nobody had noticed but Bilbo...'

***

Legolas entered the grove and stood, smiling, to hear Merry describe the feasting of the Wood Elves. He stepped forward, saying, 'Ah, but you do not do justice to the wine, Merry!'

'I have never tasted it,' Merry answered, breaking off the story.

'We shall have to remedy that!' Legolas laughed. 'Come, now, the wine of Gondor does not compare but it is palatable, nonetheless, and it is time for you to eat.'

Merry nodded and patted the sleeping hobbits' hands. 'That's all for the moment,' he whispered to Frodo and Sam. 'Don't go anywhere; I'll be back to tell you more, later.'

King Éomer joined them as they ate, waving Merry to remain seated. He pulled out a chair, sitting down with a weary sigh. Legolas poured him a glass of wine and he nodded, taking it up for a long draught before setting it down and stretching out his legs before him.

'How goes the hunt?' Legolas asked him.

'We've slaughtered several more companies of Orcs that escaped the battle,' Éomer said. 'It's hardly sporting: The creatures are weary from running and have no clear direction.'

'Good riddance,' the Wood Elf said, with a sip of his wine.

A server brought a plate to the King of Rohan, who thanked him and fell to heartily. 'Mmmm,' he said, 'Nice change from waybread and dried meat eaten in the saddle.'

'We're living in the lap of luxury here,' Legolas said, 'but I miss the hunt.'

'Ride out with us,' Éomer said. 'We just came back for fresh supplies.'

The Elf smiled. 'Thank you, I will do that if Aragorn doesn't have any other duty for me.'

'Bring the Dwarf along. I'm sure his axe hasn't lost its thirst for Orc blood.' Éomer turned to Merry. 'And how about you, Master Holbytla? Are you healed and rested, ready to ride again with the Rohirrim?'

'My duty to my kinsmen keeps me here at the moment,' Merry answered, 'or I would gladly ride with you.'

Legolas rose smoothly from the table. 'I will seek out Gimli and tell him the good news,' he said. 'I think his axe has been feeling rather neglected of late, and in need of exercise.' He bowed and left.

Éomer turned to Merry. 'Something is troubling you,' he said. 'The battle is over but you are still fighting. I can see it in your eyes.'

Merry would not lie to his king. 'I am troubled,' he admitted. 'I find the laws of Men confusing.'

Éomer nodded, encouraging him to continue, and so Merry told him about Beregond's fate. 'Do you have a similar law in the Mark?' he concluded.

Éomer nodded. 'When a Man spills the blood of his own comrade, deliberately, there is a payment that must be made.' He looked intently at the hobbit. 'What happens in the land whence you come?'

Merry shook his head. 'It has never come up. As far back as we have history, no hobbit has deliberately taken the life of another. Accidents do happen, yes, but murder...' He no longer stumbled over the word, having lived this long among Men.

The king gazed at him in wonder. 'Murder is unknown among your kind?'

Merry met his eyes. 'Life is too precious,' he said. 'Do not Men feel the same?' He looked down at the table, fiddling with his fork. 'I know that war makes things different.'

'Have you no wars in your land, then?'

'O we have fought when threatened. Wolves, for example, that came over the Brandywine in the Fell Winter. But hobbits do not make war on other hobbits.'

Éomer shook his head in amazement. 'There should be a guard set about the borders of the Shire,' he said. 'We ought to protect your people from the evil influence of Man. Would that you were not contaminated by our madness.'

Merry stared at him in astonishment.

Éomer nodded to himself. 'I will speak to Lord Aragorn on this matter.'

'You're serious!' Merry gasped.

'Indeed,' Éomer said. 'I had considered this matter during long hours in the saddle, Meriadoc. I had thought to protect your people from Men, who would prey on the smaller and the weaker. Not all men are wise and noble, as you well know.'

'No more are hobbits,' Merry answered.

'Nay, but Men with black hearts can do much harm amongst smaller folk,' Éomer maintained. 'But now I see that we must guard you as well against the contagion of the violence that is a part of our kind, not just that which might be used against you.' He shook his head. 'No such thing as murder... your land must be a fair one indeed.'

'We have our quarrels and our blots,' Merry said. 'We're not perfect, not by any means.'

'Nay, perhaps you are not,' Éomer said with a slow smile. 'You, at least, rode out in defiance of the orders of the king, upon a time, as I recall.' He sobered. 'But I think it is of value to keep any further blots or stains from your fair land.' He rose again. 'I take my leave, Meriadoc, but will look for you upon my return.'

Merry sat a long while in front of his unfinished dinner, pondering the words of the king.