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Deeper Than the Darkness  by MithLuin

Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Postscript: Return to Crickhollow

Merry and Pippin let their ponies amble along. They were in no hurry to return to Crickhollow. The evening was cool, and except for a faint breeze that whispered about them on occasion, it was still and clear. They were returning home after Sam’s wedding. They had wandered in silence for some time, enjoying the night air. The last few days had been a whirlwind of people and music, laughing and dancing, food and drink. It was enough of a party even for Pippin’s tastes. Pippin began humming, and Merry frowned; he couldn’t place the tune.

"What is that you’re humming, then?" he asked Pippin.

"Oh, don’t you sing the Plum Picking song in Buckland?" Pippin replied, startled out of his reverie.

"I don’t think I’ve heard it, to be honest with you," said Merry. "How does it go?"

Pippin was only too happy to oblige him by singing:


When it’s plum picking time in the Westfarthing
Grape picking time in the vineyards
Apple picking time in the Eastfarthing
Ev’rybody picks on me
And when it’s sheep-sheering time in the Marish
The hobbits, they all party
Then down in ol’ Tuckborough
It’s gal picking time for me

There’s pipeweed down in the Southfarthing
Free Fair’s where they do the springle-ring
Northfarthing, now I’m a-coming
To you to spend the spring
Buckland, I hear you calling
I know I’ll see you soon
That’s when I’ll do a little picking
Underneath the old Shire moon

Now when hard times overtake you
I hope they don’t get me
For I have got a flower waitin’
For me over on the White Downs.
I know I’m goin’ to see her
I hope it won’t be long
That’s where we’ll pick a snug l’il hole
And call it our hillside home

‘Cause plum picking time in the Westfarthing
Is gal pickin’ time for me.

"No, I don’t think I’ve heard that one before," said Merry when he had finished. "It is a bit odd. What put it into your mind, just now?"

"Well, it is Spring, and we are headed back to Buckland, I guess," said Pippin slowly.

"Oh, good," laughed Merry, "just so long as you don’t have a girl waiting for you or something."

"Why, Merry, I do believe you are jealous of Sam," said Pippin with a sly smile. "Please tell me it isn’t true!"

"Oh, don’t worry, it isn’t," said Merry wryly. "I do believe I would find it lonely to ride about the Shire by myself, though, if both you and Sam were holed up at home with a young wife. And Peregrin Took, don’t you think you’re a bit young for that?" He said the last with a perfectly serious expression, so that Pippin had no choice but to laugh.

"Oh Merry, is that it?" he gasped. "Is that why you’ve looked so glum all this afternoon? And here I thought that you were missing dear cousin Frodo – all along you were worried about having to play bachelor all alone. Well, let me assure you, that I intend to play host at as many parties as you wish, and as for that other matter, I won’t have any wife who doesn’t like such things!"

"Yes, to be sure, Pippin, you will find it hard to attract the sort of lass who doesn’t! But I challenge you to find any lass who will let you ride to Gondor."

"Merry, we just came from there! Why in Middle Earth would we want to go back?" Pippin seemed a bit puzzled.

"Well, not now, of course. But wouldn’t you like to go back, someday?" Merry said, a bit wistfully. "I mean, can you honestly tell me that you would never want to see the White City or the fields of Rohan again?"

"Never is a bit long. But why worry about that now? I will go back with you, whenever you like, and maybe we will even see Treebeard again."

"Pippin, that’s what I mean," said Merry, turning in his saddle to face his young cousin. "I want to be free to do that. And to ride about the Shire, not worrying about when we get back. And to have parties, of course. Rosie is a fine lass, and it’s plain as anything that Sam is crazy about her, but I don’t think he’ll ever get another chance to go to Rivendell and visit elves. He might not mind that…" Merry’s voice trailed off. The ponies had reached a lane that was overhung with beech trees, so they passed into the deeper twilight beneath the leaves.

"And I fancy Fatty won’t mind much, either," Pippin continued.

"Fatty? What are you talking about?" asked Merry, puzzled.

"Well, can you picture him wanting to gallivant about, while a young lass sits at home sighing for him?" replied Pippin.

Merry had to chuckle, "No, I can’t see that at all."

"Well, then, there you go. Fatty should be the next to get married," Pippin concluded.

"And who do you think it will be? Little Melly?" asked Merry.

"Actually, no, it turns out we were wrong about them, after all," said Pippin, sobering up. "I asked Fatty about her, intending to tease him mercilessly, but he denied it all. He said she just asked him if he had seen Pongo while he was in the Lockholes, and he told her what he knew. So naturally, I decided to wheedle that story out of him instead."

"You are a young scoundrel," said Merry, a smile twitching his mouth. "What did he say?"

"All he told me was that Pongo had attempted to smuggle food to some of the other prisoners, but he got caught. The ruffians dragged him off, and he wasn’t seen again. But I guess that was enough for Melilot."

"Hmmm, there must be more to the story," said Merry. "I wonder if Melly does like Fatty after all, and he just hasn’t noticed yet."

"That’s possible!" laughed Pippin. "If so, I pity him…"

"I’ll wish him well, but I’m not ready for that myself. I am too restless for any hobbit-lasses right now, and I don’t know if I shall ever be able to put that aside. Fatty has never been a traveler, and he’s always enjoyed the comforts of home more than a walk about the countryside anyway. But I am not like him, and I didn’t think Sam was either."

"So, you are resolved to be a bachelor, like old Bilbo?" asked Pippin. "I will be sure to remind you of this in a few years when you decide to be smitten by some pretty young maid." Pippin grinned mischievously, so that Merry could see his teeth white in the moonlight.

"I’m sure you will!" laughed Merry. "I just ask for a few years to travel around and enjoy myself before resigning myself to my fate, that’s all. At least I will have you and Frodo for company."

"For the present!" laughed Pippin, and launched into another recital of his Plum Picking song.

***

"Hmmm, that’s funny," Merry mused, mostly to himself.

"What’s funny?" asked Pippin, looking up.

"Oh, nothing. At least, maybe nothing," said Merry looking up from the book he was reading. "This is just some of Bilbo’s translations. Frodo lent it to me."

They were in the sitting room of Crickhollow in the early summer. The windows were open, as the evening was calm and balmy.

"What was funny, though?" asked Pippin again, patiently. He had put down his pen, glad of any distraction from the answer he was attempting to write to a letter from his mother.

"Well, when we were helping Frodo move, I accidentally saw one of his papers. I didn’t mean to pry, but it fell out of the packet of letters. He saw me reading it, and said it was just a copy of one of these poems. And it is, but that isn’t quite the whole story, that’s all."

"Let’s hear the poem, then," asked Pippin.

"I can’t read you the whole thing!" laughed Merry. "It’s pages and pages long. The poem is by an elf named Daeron, and it’s all about Luthien. You remember, the elf that Strider sang to us about? But here is the part Frodo copied out." Merry read the short excerpt aloud.

"That isn’t funny at all! Sounds rather dismal to me," said Pippin when he had finished.

"Well, yes, that’s the funny part. Why on earth would Frodo want to copy out that particular part of the poem? I mean, the whole poem is a lament, but at least parts of it are just praising her beauty and such. It seems odd to me."

"Then it’s a good thing you’ve borrowed the book. There is no need for him to be musing over stuff like that when the sun is shining," Pippin concluded.

"Yes, I think so too. That was my main motivation in getting them away from him. As kind as the Cottons are, it must have been difficult for Frodo to live with them for so long. I mean, could you imagine being trapped in Brandy Hall for four months?" Merry asked.

"No, thank you!" said Pippin with a shudder. "I have the utmost respect for your relations, but I do need to get away from them from time to time."

"I was a bit worried about Frodo, but I think now that he’s back in Bag End, things will settle down for him. Sam and Rosie will look after him, of course, but Sam understands."

"Better than we do, probably," added Pippin.

"True. Things will work out in the end. The Shire has mended beautifully. This spring has been better than many that I remember," said Merry with a smile.

***

THE END

***

Author’s notes:

The epigram under the title is from Bilbo’s poem about Aragorn in The Fellowship of the Ring.

The ‘elvish poem’ is part of a translation of a Spanish poem by St. John of the Cross. The word "love" in the first line has been substituted for "bride."

The ‘gal-picking’ song that Pippin sings is based heavily on the bluegrass song "Peach picking time in Georgia" by Jimmie Rodgers.

Many thanks to my beta, pippinsqueak.  And thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Finished: July 4, 2005   (The interlude was the first fan-fiction I ever wrote, in March 2004.)

 





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