Deeper than the Darkness

"The old that is strong does not wither; deep roots are not reached by the frost."

***

Part 1: Visit to Brandy Hall

"How the wind whistles around this house!" said Merry, looking out of the window at what was sure to be another storm. He stopped his pacing, and broke the (relative) silence of the room. He and Pippin were in the sitting room of Crickhollow, and no one had spoken for some time. It was early Spring; they had been living in the house since November, but Merry still was not accustomed to the openness of walls that faced nothing but air.

"Yes, it looks like more rain," agreed Pippin, looking up. He put down the book that he had been trying to read, without much success. "Sam, at least, should be pleased. I’m sure it will help his trees." He paused, and his eyes seemed to be looking at something far away. "Do you remember when we left Rivendell, the first time I mean?"

"This isn’t that bad! I was sure I would never be warm again with that awful East wind," Merry said with a shiver. He turned his back to the window and walked over to where Pippin was sitting.

"Well, I should hope not! I just meant the sound, though even that isn’t quite as bad."

"It’s funny," Merry mused. "You would think all of our time in the Wild would have cured us of ever wanting to go for a walk again. But I can’t picture sitting indoors all the rest of my life. Can you?"

"Indeed not!" replied Pippin with some fervor, jumping up from his seat. "I look on it as training. What is a little wind and rain to such old campaigners as ourselves?" He then struck a dashing pose, and began fencing with the air. Merry burst out laughing. He threw a small cushion at him, hitting him on the nose. Pippin paused, as if shocked; Merry only laughed louder.

"Well then, old campaigner, I take it you think this a perfect time for a jaunt down to Brandy Hall? Surely a little wind and rain would not deter you, brave sir," said Merry, trying to keep a straight face.

Undaunted, Pippin took up the challenge. "Why of course! That is within spitting distance. We can probably be there and back before a single drop falls."

"This I would like to see!" said Merry, who was already heading down the hall. As he put on his cloak, Pippin came up behind him. He also strapped on his gear.

"Of course, we’ll be taking the ponies. It might be good to keep them in practice as well."

"Or save us the tedium of trudging home in the rain," said Merry with a wink. He opened the door, and wind rushed down the hall. "Oi, what weather!"

Merry pulled his hood down to shield his face from the wind. It rattled the door of the tool shed and hissed through the grass. They walked down the path to the stable, where they found their ponies munching contentedly on some hay.

"Hullo! Ready for another grand adventure in the wind and rain?" asked Pippin. The ponies looked up, but they did not look ready for any adventures.

"I thought we were just going out in the wind," said Merry.

"Oh, well, I just thought I’d prepare them for the worst." In a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "They’ve been getting soft." One of the ponies snorted.

"Oh, you needn’t worry – you aren’t going anywhere," said Pippin in response. "You know we only take you along when the lads come over to help hunt Ruffians." He stroked his muzzle in consolation. "It’s these foreign ponies I worry about."

***

When the two hobbits arrived in front of Brandy Hall, no one seemed to be about outside, but that did not deter them from continuing to sing loudly. Before they had a chance to dismount, the front door of the Hall burst open and several children ran out, calling "It’s Mr. Merry! Mr. Merry has come to visit! And Mr. Pippin, too!" Apparently, the visitors were quite popular, at least with their younger relations. Merry picked up a young lass and swung her around so that she shrieked, while Pippin picked up a tot and sat him in his saddle. One of the boys tried to grab Pippin’s sword while he was distracted, but he quickly shooed him away.

"This sword belongs to a Knight of Gondor, and will not be used as a plaything." He looked so stern as he said this that the boy took a few steps back, and clearly considered bolting for the door. But before he could, Pippin burst out laughing, and rummaged through his saddle bag to find something to give to the boy. "Here you are, Orbi, a tinder box should be fine for a lad your age. Mind you don’t catch your clothes on fire." Orbi reached out for it eagerly. He knew how to use one, of course, but he had never had one of his own.

Merry and Pippin led the ponies around to the stables, and most of the children continued to follow them, despite the biting wind. It wasn’t too long before one of their mothers came to fetch them.

"Run along, you scamps. You’ll catch cold running about without coats." She bent down to pick up young Cora. "In you go. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin will come inside shortly." Nina Brandybuck gave them a slightly disapproving look as she ushered most of the children into a side door. Two of the older ones, though, had made it to the stables already. As Pippin entered the stables, he was accosted by the scent of hay, leather and ponies. After the wind, the building was warm and welcome. Since Merry was busy making the ponies comfortable, Pippin showed his gear to the admiring children.

"Did you really fight a troll with that, like Bilbo Baggins?" Amethyst pointed to his sword. The child was too young to remember Bilbo herself, of course, but stories of his journey had become a bit of a legend in the Hall.

"Yes, I did, though I would not recommend it. They’re awfully heavy creatures."

She giggled.

"Can I hold it? Please?" Her cousin Orodric looked at him longingly.

Pippin eyed the lad critically. "Have you ever held a sword before?"

He looked down, and picked at the straw with his toes. "Well, no, I haven’t."

"Then I will have to show you how to hold it correctly, won’t I?" asked Pippin, smiling.

Orodric’s face brightened visibly.

"The very first rule is that you never swing a sword around without looking. If I were to take this out and go swipe, I might just take off Amy’s curls, you see?"

He nodded dumbly, with wide eyes.

"You can hold it, but I want you to just hold it like this. No swinging!" With that, Pippin took out the sword and held it in front of him with the point up. Then he very carefully handed it to Orodric.

Amethyst watched admiringly. "Can I hold it, too?"

"You may, but the same goes for you, young miss. No swinging."

Orodric rather reluctantly passed the sword to her.

Merry had been watching this exchange with some amusement. "Well, I think it is time we were getting to the hall. Pippin may have come all this way to visit his uncle’s ponies, but I would like to see some of the relations, myself."

The children giggled, and Amethyst reverently handed the sword back to Pippin. Then they both raced ahead back to the Hall.

Back outside, they leaned into the wind as they picked their way along the flagstones towards the smial. Some old leaves were blowing about the yard, and crocuses bobbed their fragile heads.

Merry and Pippin barely made it in the door before being accosted by Nora Brandybuck, Amethyst’s mother. "So, I hear you were letting them play with that sword you carry. You know I don’t hold with the children handling weapons and the like. They will be sword-fighting up and down the corridors for the next three days, make no mistake about it." As if to punctuate her words, the voice of Amethyst could be heard down the hall, calling "Amalac, Amalac, Mr. Pippin let me hold his sword!"

"I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Brandybuck," said Merry apologetically. "We only carry them on the chance that we run into a ruffian on the road. I know we haven’t seen any of those folk in over a month, but you can never be too cautious, you know."

"Well, of course you must take care," said Nora softening a bit. "And I’m sure the children have seen a mite more of fighting that we did in my days, more’s the pity. But that is no call for you to go giving them swords!"

"We’ll try to be more careful in the future," Merry continued. "I know that they are still too young to be trusted with a dangerous weapon."

Pippin was alternately impatient and indignant throughout this conversation, but he did manage to hold his tongue. But he could not help adding, as Merry moved to walk further into the smial, "It is so good to see you again, Mrs. Brandybuck. Always a pleasure." With a smart bow, he turned to follow Merry.

They wandered around the Hall, paying courtesies to those they met, and entertaining the children who popped out of doors to surprise the guests, and then scampered off with peals of laughter. Pippin was briefly involved in a game of indoor tag, while Merry stopped into his father’s study. They lingered longest once they made their way into a kitchen. There really is nothing like a windy day to bring out a hobbit’s appetite. They were offered a large plate of apple tarts and seed-cakes, which they did not refuse. Mrs. Hilda Brandybuck and her daughter Celandine were there, chopping vegetables, and they had a long chat about this and that.

Pippin asked her how she and her family were keeping, and she replied that everyone was well enough, what with the winter being so mild. They talked about the weather and the comings and goings of the Hall. Then Celandine piped up.

"I want to thank you both so much for having Melilot over to Crickhollow for your party last week. Doderic told me all about it. He said it was grand, and even Merimas enjoyed it. He has been ever so serious since he married Nina, don’t you think?" she asked, turning to her mother.

"Well, I’d say it was more becoming a father as did it," smiled Hilda. "But yes, it sounded marvelous, and Melilot has looked a good bit cheerier this past week. Her step is a bit lighter, I would say."

Merry and Pippin exchanged quizzical looks. Pippin started to speak, saying "Well, of course we were pleased to have her. She and her brother are always welcome."

"What, didn’t you know?" asked Celandine in surprise. "I thought…and here I thought you were being extra thoughtful."

"What is this about?" Merry asked, hoping to stop any more speculation into their intentions. He was a bit uneasy about the way this conversation was going. Did they think that he or Pippin had produced this change in Melilot?

"Well, she has had quite a time of it, and no mistake," Hilda answered him. "But I forget, you were away for most of the troubles, and I reckon nobody said anything more once you returned. As everyone knows, she was being courted by Mr. Pongo Baggins."

"Porto’s son? I didn’t know that," interrupted Pippin.

"Ah, well, that would explain your confusion, then," Hilda continued. "Yes, I believe they had an understanding. I’m not certain about what happened, but there were people as saw the lad taken to the Lockholes. That was hard enough on the lass. When he wasn’t found there, he was presumed dead, you know."

"Yes, we were there the day the prisoners were released," Merry said slowly. "His uncle, that’s Mr. Ponto Baggins, kept asking if anyone had seen him."

"Poor Melilot," added Pippin. "She has been keeping a brave face on it, though. I had no idea."

"That Lotho! I’m sure he had him killed on purpose!" said Celandine with some vehemence. She was apparently quite unhappy with the carrot she was slicing, as she began hacking at it.

"Cellie! That’s enough!" said her mother. "And that is no way to talk about family nor those who have died, no matter what we might think of them." Lotho was Hilda’s first cousin. "I know Lotho had his disagreements with both Ponto and Porto, and he was probably a bit sore about not having an heir, of course. But that does not give you any excuse to accuse him of, of murder."

"An heir?" asked Pippin puzzled. "You mean, you think Lotho had Pongo killed out of spite?" Hilda pursed her lips, but said nothing, for the moment.
"Well, think about it. He was not getting any younger, and what hobbit-maid would have him, any way?" reasoned Celandine, undaunted. "So, naturally, after he was gone, the headship of the Bagginses would pass to Ponto."

"Presuming neither Bilbo nor Frodo had anything to say about it, you mean," interrupted Merry.

"Well, they were gone, and most folk thought that they weren’t coming back."

"But wait, how does Pongo enter into all of this?" asked Pippin. "He wouldn’t have been Ponto’s heir unless Angelica didn’t marry, and we all know how likely that is!" Merry, at least, laughed.

"It was Porto who had the row with Aunt Lobelia, that’s why," Celandine continued.

"That is quite enough," interrupted Hilda. "It has been difficult enough for all of the families, and you have no call to be saying what you are saying. I know Cousin Lotho did some horrible things, but it broke his mother’s heart when she learned of his death. Why, she has been sickly all winter, my mother says. If you want to know, I think it was those awful ruffians who did something to poor Pongo, and without any sayso from Lotho."

"Well, whichever way you look at it, it has been difficult for Melilot and I just wanted to say thank you for getting her to go out and spend some time in good company." Celandine looked intently at her cutting board so that the others would not see her face. A rather awkward silence fell.

Berilac appeared, calling out as he entered the kitchen, "There you are! I heard the noise, and I thought that only you two could be the cause of it." He very artfully reached over Pippin to help himself to the last apple tart. "The children go wild when such grand lords come to visit," he finished with a smile.

Merry and Pippin both stood up to greet him, and were relieved when he brought up a cheerier subject.

"Guess who is staying at the Golden Perch," he asked, after the usual pleasantries. "Will you believe that Samwise Gamgee is in Stock?"

"Sam’s here? And he hasn’t come to visit us yet?" asked Pippin in surprise.

Berilac laughed. "To hear tell, he aims to visit everyone in the Shire. Why, just this week he was all the way down to Willowbottom, if you can imagine, and folk say he is headed up to Whitfurrows and maybe even Scary. But don’t you worry, I’m sure he will manage to visit you, too," he added with a wink at Pippin.

"Why were you in Stock, may I ask?" added a puzzled Merry.

"Oh, I wasn’t. I was in Bucklebury this morning, to inquire about buying some ducklings this spring, when I met up with Tim Goodman. He had been over in the Marish most of last week, and he mentioned that the talk was all of a visitor from the Westfarthing. I asked him who that might be, and he said it was Sam Gamgee. Now what do you say to that?"

"Well, I must say that I am surprised." Pippin began slowly. "He must be checking on all of those trees that he planted. But I can’t think why he didn’t let us know."

"Right you are. That’s why everyone was talking about him. He isn’t headed to all of those places to visit anyone, just to check the trees!" laughed Berilac. "Though, I am certain he is doing a bit of visiting along the way," he conceded.

"Well, you can tell when a young man doesn’t have a lass to keep him at home, that is all I have to say about it," added Hilda.

"So, you’re buying ducks?" Merry asked Berilac, changing the subject. "I guess you were thinking of putting them in that pond by the sheep pasture?"

"Oh, no, I think they’d do better nearer the Hall. With the dogs around, the foxes might stay away. The pond behind the stables is small, but it should serve well enough for just a few. I don’t intend to have a whole flock!"

"Then why get any at all?" asked Celandine, rejoining the conversation.

"Because some duck eggs are better than none!" he shot back, playfully flicking her ear. "And besides, they might eat some of the grasses that were choking that pond last summer."

"Now, if you are going to distract my helper, you can just remove yourselves from this kitchen." Apparently, Hilda was beginning to realize that all of this talk was threatening to make supper late. "Go on, take the …" The plate of tarts and cakes was empty. "Take these scones, and get going." She refilled the plate with some raisin scones from a large tin in the cupboard behind her, and continued, "Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin, it was very pleasant to chat with you, and I hope you do stop by to visit again soon. I’m sure the children appreciate seeing you, but I would ask you to be careful with your weapons and such around them." Then she handed them the plate and ushered them out the door. "Will you be staying long?"

Merry was taken a bit off guard by this abrupt farewell, but he did manage to say, "Oh, no, we were just stopping in for the afternoon. We’ll be headed back to Crickhollow soon. But I am sure we will be back before long. It was good to see you again, Mrs. Brandybuck."

Pippin added, "And Cellie too, of course, and we thank you for the lovely tarts."

As the three wandered down the hall, Berilac asked them about their plans. "So, you aren’t going to stay tonight?"

"No, we really just meant for this to be a short visit, a chance to get out and give the ponies a bit of exercise." Merry explained.

"Well, you may be in for a nasty trip home. It looked threatening when I came in. I would be surprised if the rain hasn’t started yet," replied Berilac.

"Let’s check the windows in the library," suggested Pippin, ducking down the next hallway and opening the door on his right. Brandy Hall’s library was a rather impressive room. Three large round windows dominated the far wall, and every other wall was lined with dark wooden bookshelves. Most of the books were thick and somber-looking tomes, but scattered among these were thin volumes that promised to be filled with anecdotal stories rather than the doings of the Four Farthings. Some of these books even had hand-painted pictures in them. The wall along the windows contained desks, lamp stands and curio cabinets filled with mathoms. To the left of the door was a wide stone fireplace, and large chairs were arranged around it. Though the room looked formal when empty, these three hobbits could distinctly remember forming a barricade of the chairs and pelting each other with pillows on a rainy day long ago.

In fact, the current view from the windows must have reminded them. The wind moved in silver waves across the long grass in the field leading down to the Ferry. Several of the trees were bent sideways as if they had suddenly become top-heavy. And overhead, the sky was an ominous grey, much darker than would be expected for mid-afternoon.

"You’re still thinking of going home in this weather?" asked Berilac doubtfully. The library did seem almost warm and inviting now.

"Oh yes. Merry and I must keep up our image as daring young lords, you know. It wouldn’t do for us to be daunted by the threat of rain." Pippin said cheerily, putting down the plate of scones on a small table. He had not forgotten the conversation in the sitting room at Crickhollow, or at least, he now remembered it.

"No, we mustn’t disappoint the children," agreed Merry with a smile.

Berilac looked slightly surprised, but he just shrugged. "Well, I will not keep you any longer then. Take care, and I will see you around."

They both said goodbye to Berilac, reminding him to stop by Crickhollow any time. As the library door closed behind them, Merry turned to Pippin. "Do you still think we can beat the rain home, my dashing campaigner?"

"Yes, of course, though I am glad I prepared the ponies for the worst. Should we say goodbye to anyone else, or just make a dash for it?" Pippin asked.

"I am in favor of dashing, if we do not run into anyone on the way out."

Merry and Pippin made their way to the side door, only encountering a few children. The walk to the stables was chilly, but at least the rain had not started yet. They nodded a greeting to old Tom Earl who was polishing bridles in the tack room. He nodded back without putting down his rag. They were free to go. The ponies complacently allowed their saddles and bridles to be put on, but did not seem eager to go out into the gathering storm.

But Merry and Pippin were still in good spirits, so they started off briskly, and were soon laughing at nothing in particular. Merry began singing an old song, or at least a song that sounded like one that all hobbit-children know. The words are nonsense, but perhaps Merry changed some of them to suit the occasion:

A mouse poked his head out of his hole one day

And noticed the sun and stars.

‘Tis strange, said he, that both the sun and stars

should shine brightly from afar

So I think that I…

Here he paused, and Pippin finished with will go back to bed! and began the next verse:

A mouse was munching some grain one day

When he noticed the corn and the taters

Growing under the ground was the grubby corn

while the taters waved their golden crowns.

So I think that I’ll…

Merry chimed in with eat them all! and continued the song:

A mouse woke up from his sleep one day

And saw the wind and rain.

What fine weather we have with the gusty wind

And the rain that will soak the skin.

So I think that I’ll…

Pippin shouted go for a walk! and just then, the first drops of rain began to fall.

They had made it as far as the lane that led down to Crickhollow, but the house was not yet in sight.

"Well, it looks as if you were wrong, Pip. We haven’t made it back yet."

"Just dodge the drops," insisted Pippin. "There’s no need to get wet in this."

It was not long before the rain began falling a little harder. "How am I supposed to dodge these?" complained Merry.

"Just wave your arms around, like this." Pippin demonstrated, holding his reins loosely in one hand, and waving the other back and forth over his head. He appeared quite comical.

"Where did you learn that?" laughed Merry.

"From Tom Bombadil, of course," quipped Pippin, grinning.

When the house came into view, they broke into a canter. By now, it was raining steadily, and they were nearly soaked. They managed to get into the stables, though the rain pounded deafeningly on the roof. Pippin’s pony looked at him reproachfully as he pulled the saddle off. Steam was rising from the backs of both ponies.

"I’ll rub them down," said Merry. "Why don’t you make a dash for it and put some water on for tea?"

***

Merry shut the round door behind him and shook out his cloak over the stone floor. He piled his gear in the hall, and was about to make his way into the house in search of a warm fire.

"Hullo, what’s this?" he asked.

On a small table near the door, he found a sealed letter. He did not recall seeing it before they left. "Pippin, did you see this letter?" he called.

"Oh, I suppose the Post came." Pippin’s voice came from the kitchen. "Must have been dropped off while we were out. Who is it from?"

Merry picked it up, and turned it over to see the address. "It’s to both of us, and it looks like Frodo’s handwriting." He walked into the kitchen. It was snug and warm after the blustery weather. Left-over stew was in the pot over the bright fire, and the scent of carrots and mushrooms wafted into the room.

Pippin was sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. He had a blanket draped across his shoulders. "So, what does cousin Frodo have to say?" he asked.

Merry did not answer immediately, but put down the letter on the table and first poured himself a cup of tea. Once he had settled down with his back to the fire, he opened the letter, and read out loud to Pippin:

To my dear cousins, friends and fellow travellers, greetings. I trust that all is well with you at Crickhollow. Things here are quite busy; at times it seems overwhelming. Work on Bag End continues steadily. Sam has been a marvel, overseeing that for me. The sheds have all been torn down, and most of the refuse has been burned. Hobbiton is beginning to look itself again. I am still staying with the Cottons, who have been most kind and hospitable.

I am writing to let you know that Sam is planning to visit his trees, to see how they have fared over the winter. He does not think he will make it to Buckland, but he will be passing through the Eastfarthing and hopes to see you both. Keep an eye and ear out for him. I will not be with him; there are some things I must see to here.

Yours, Frodo

P.S. – Please let me know what day you receive this. We have had several complaints about letters going astray. I suspect that the new letter carriers (some of them former Shirrifs) are to blame.

Pippin laughed at the post-script. "When did he send that, anyway?"

"Hmm, let’s see, it’s dated February 30^th. So, it’s only been about a week, well, no, more like 10 days."

"Well, that’s not too bad. I wouldn’t expect it to be any faster than a week."

"It’s this silly centralized system," replied Merry. "If they didn’t send all of the letters to Michel Delving first, we would get them much sooner."

"Maybe, maybe not. They would have to go through a lot more hands if we did it another way, and you know that that just means it is more likely that letters will get lost," argued Pippin.

"Well, I can tell you grew up by Tuckborough," said Merry with a smile. "I think you would find that all of the Bucklanders disagree with you."

"I am glad that Frodo wrote to us," said Pippin, returning to the purpose of the letter. "I was wondering why Sam hadn’t told us he was coming."

"Maybe Sam did write us, as soon as he arrived in Stock. But of course, we won’t get his letter until after he leaves," said Merry, returning to the previous argument.

"Oh, you’re hopeless!" answered Pippin, throwing up his hands. The blanket slipped off his shoulders. "If Sam really is staying in Stock, we ought to go over there tomorrow and see how things are."

***