A/N: We now pick up where the prologue left off.

A/N: We now pick up where the Prologue left off.

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At the Hole in Twombly Woods

Marrin and Clary cautiously opened the door to Aunt Catamint’s former hole near Twombly. The hole had been closed up and shuttered for several months and the air inside smelled a bit musty, a tad unlived-in, but really not that bad. Their escape from the Hall had been flawless and by dawn they had been well away from the huge smial. Marrin said they should rest a bit in a small copse of trees then have their elevenses in Standelf. They had stayed on the Buckland side of the Brandywine until they reached Haysend where a bridge had been built over the river since the days of Meriadoc the Magnificent. There was a bit more regular road from the bridge to Deephallow then from there it was slower travel on a small road, hardly more than a lane, that ran from Deephallow to Twombly. They had been one night and two full days on the road.

They pulled the trap into the barn and tended to the pony before beginning to unload the few belongings they brought with them. Only when everything had been brought in and the kitchen door shut did they dare to light a lamp. Marrin used a bucket of water he’d drawn from the well to prime the pump then Clary washed the dust and cobwebs out of some pans and dishes. She made a simple dinner of ham, potatoes and dried mushrooms they had brought with them while Marrin washed off the table and chairs. Finally they sat down together to eat.

“Do you think there is any chance they got your letter, Marrin?”

“Other said they were going to Oatbarton first then to Isenbras Took’s farm in the South Farthing. I sent it to Oatbarton with instructions that if they had moved on to their next engagement that it was to be sent on.” Marrin paused a bit to eat then continued. “I’m just grateful Other finally told us about all of this, that he told us a month before the Harvest Festival. I cannot imagine how I would have coped with all of this if I’d had no idea of what might be coming.”

Clary nodded. “Athelas actually. You remember Other said she insisted we should be told.” She shook her head. “Odd lass, his Athelas. Odd but good. “After all,” Clary added with a shrug, “she is a Took and they’re known for being a bit eccentric.”

Marrin grinned at his wife. “And Brandybucks aren’t?” He reached over and took Clary’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Thank me?”

“For . . . for . . . Well, just for everything. You controlled yourself when Old Pompous insulted you. You are more concerned for our sons than you are for yourself. You left nearly everything we owned behind at a moment’s notice without complaint. I couldn’t have a better wife.”

Clary blushed and with her other hand patted his hand that held hers. “And who has always taken care of me so well and so kindly? Who was a caring, loving father to our sons? Thank you, my dear.”

They sat that way for a few moments before returning to their meal.

After dinner, they washed up and began tidying the rest of the hole. It wasn’t that late, though the Sun had long ago set, and despite the long journey taken in haste, they weren’t very tired. It wouldn’t take long to have most of the light cleaning done. Clary would be giving the hole a good scrubbing the next day, but for now it was mostly taking the covers off of the furniture and dusting. The hole was small, having only a large kitchen that was also the dining room, a parlor, two bedrooms and a bathing room.

Clary was off cleaning the back bedroom, the larger of the two and the one they had decided to use, while Marrin was busy in the parlor. They had brought some good, dry wood with them and he was lighting a fire in the hearth when he thought he heard a sound like the soft jingling of tiny bells. He shook his head, stuck a finger in each ear, wiggled it about a bit before popping it out. At first it seemed to have worked and he finished lighting the fire.

Then he heard the bells again.

“Must be more tired than I thought,” he said aloud to himself as he once again dug at his ears. “Perhaps if I blow my nose.”

He stood as he felt in his pocket, but his handkerchief wasn’t there. “Left it in the kitchen,” he muttered. Marrin turned to fetch his handkerchief and nearly ran into a rather tall hobbit. His initial surprise was quickly replaced with a surge of fear mixed with defensiveness.

“Who are you and what are you doing here,” he demanded with only a bit of shakiness showing in his voice.

“How odd, he hasn’t gone all fishy looking like his sons did at first.”

Marrin looked to his right. Whoever they were, there were two of them.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir, but that is not the issue here. The issue is who are you two and why are you in my home?” Marrin turned back to the stranger he had nearly run into.

At that moment, Clary gave out a loud gasp while dropping the load of furniture covers she had been carrying. They fell to the floor with a soft plumphing noise as her hands went to cover her mouth. What Clary was seeing was much different than what Marrin was seeing. Marrin had the soft light of the small fire behind him. With most of the room still quite dark, the strangers looked perfectly normal to him. Clary had come into the room to find herself looking at her husband and the fire through two misty beings.

The ghosts quickly turned towards the gasp. “Now there, Merry. She has the right look on her face.”

It took a moment before Marrin realized that he hadn’t needed to lean over or move to one side in order to see his wife . . . he was looking at Clary through the stranger in front of him. His mouth slowly fell open.

“There, Pip.” The first ghost had heard Marrin’s quiet intake of breath. “He has it too now. I think he couldn’t see through us at first, the light being behind him and all.”

“Good point,” Pippin said as he walked over to Clary. He held out his hand. “Good evening, Mrs. Brandybuck. I am Peregrin Took.”

Without thinking Clary gave her hand to the ghost. As her daughter-in-law before her, she found the cold of his touch a bit startling. Pippin bowed and kissed her hand. Clary shivered even as she nervously giggled at his formal greeting.

“You with your charming the lasses, Pippin,” Merry chided while rolling his eyes. “She’s married, as are you. Plus she’s several hundred years too young for you.”

Pippin winked as he let go of Clary’s hand. “I know all that,” he said moving back to stand beside his cousin. “But it never hurts to make a hobbitess feel special.”

“You’re them.” Clary whispered.

“They’re who, Clary?” There was irritation in Marrin’s voice. He was uncomfortable being confronted with ghosts and he wasn’t sure he liked the one ghost being so familiar with his wife.

“Remember when the lads were little, Marrin?” she replied softly. “Remember they said they had met the ghosts of Meriadoc the Magnificent and Peregrin the Peerless?”

“But Clary, dear, they were children . . .” Marrin’s voice left him as the ghost in front of him offered him his hand.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck, at your service.”

“Marrin Brandybuck at yours and your family’s.” Marrin replied mechanically while taking the proffered hand. It was cold, and yet there was an unexpected warmth in the firm handshake. A warmth of the heart. They were kin, he and this ghost. It’s living blood flowed in his own veins. Marrin smiled at his great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

The other ghost had begun taking the covers off of the chairs and the sofa while Marrin and Merry stood there still holding onto each other’s hand.

“No need to stand on ceremony when we can sit on our bums.” Pippin said cheerily. He stooped to pick up the covers Clary had dropped. “And where, good Madam, would you like me to put these?”

“Ah . . . in the front bedroom, please. The door on the right of the hall.”

Pippin went where he was told and started to walk through the door without opening it. He went through the door. The furniture covers fell to the floor against the door. The door opened, the covers were pulled into the room as Pippin’s voice could be heard saying, “Idiot!” before the door was closed again. Seconds later he was back in the parlor.

“What do you say to me setting the hole to rights while you tell Marrin and Clary all about what has been going on?” Pippin said brightly to his cousin.

“Thank you, Pip. Leave me with the touchy task while you are blithely off away from answering any difficult questions.” Merry raised a critical eyebrow at Pippin.

“Not at all, Merry. You’re a Brandybuck, you think the way Marrin thinks. He’ll understand it all better coming from you. And it really would be quite rude to keep them up talking, then leave them with no warm comfy bed to climb into when we leave.”

Merry sighed. “Very well. It would be rather a rude thing to do.”

Pippin smiled, then with a bow of his head, left to clean the hole as Merry began the story of their meeting Jebbin and Other and the writing of Jebbin’s book from its beginning. It was a bit jarring to Clary who occational saw a bucket and mop, a dust cloth or a broom go floating by as Pippin didn’t bother to stay visible as he worked.

Eventually the end of the tale and the end of the cleaning were reached and both of the Ghosts were sitting in the parlor with Marrin and Clary.

“And that is how we got to where we are now,” Merry said, concluding his recitation.

“Why aren’t you with the lads now?” Clary asked. “Surely they could use your help and support.”

The Ghosts looked uncomfortable and didn’t answer quickly. Finally, Pippin leaned forward in his chair and spoke up.

“When the lads were little and learning to walk, did you catch them every time they started to fall on their wee padded bottoms? Did you help them up each time?”

The two parents shook their heads.

“Exactly! No, you didn’t. You knew they had to do it all themselves or they wouldn’t learn how to walk. They wouldn’t grow strong and determined if they didn’t go through the sometimes hurtful experience of falling and the struggle of getting back up.” The ghost leaned back again. “This is the same thing. Harder to go through in some ways, though how many of us remember learning how to walk? It’s likely much harder than we think.”

His expression grew thoughtful. “It is like the Quest was for us. Particularly for Sam, Merry and me as we lived out our lives in the Shire.” Pippin wondered if that had been the right thing to say, not wanting to sound as though the Quest hadn’t been a trial for Frodo, but he couldn’t think of any other way to say what he was wanting to say.

“We went through dreadful things, but we came back strong enough to reclaim the Shire for the Hobbits. We were good leaders later on as well because of what we went through. I think there might have been times Gandalf or . . . well . . . let me just say a few others as well, I think there were times they could have helped us. But they didn’t because they knew we needed to learn we could do things for ourselves.”

Pippin’s voice faded off. He was looking at the floor, not at Marrin and Clary. Merry picked up the thread of Pippin’s thoughts.

“We’re curious sorts, Pip and I. We wanted to follow along with Jebbin and Other, but there are others involved with this and they helped us see, as we’re hoping this helps you to see, that they need to do this on their own.”

“Macidoc is with them. There are lessons to be learned,” Pippin said. There was an odd quality to his voice.

Marrin started to speak but Merry motioned for him to stay quiet.

“Feelings being stirred in sleeping hobbits. Decisions to be made. They really aren’t alone. Even when they will be taken from each other, they won’t be alone. And the sleeping hobbits will awaken and find they are strong, even without any magic. Friends are stronger than magic. Love is stronger than magic. It wasn’t magic that destroyed the Ring. You are not alone.”

Silence filled the passing seconds until the ghost of Peregrin Took looked up.

“It’s time to go, Merry,” he said as he started to fade from view.

“He says such things now,” Merry said to the two anxious living hobbits. “They are comforting when you think them through. We’ll meet again. Good night!”

Clary and Marrin were alone in the parlor of the little hole on the edge of Twombly Wood.