No Welcome - No Home

It was about two weeks after the Ghosts had visited Marrin and Clary that Old Martin, the ferryhobbit at the Bucklebury Ferry, gave the driver of a carriage seeking passage over the Brandywine an odd look.

“What did you say yer name were, young hobbit?”

“Other Brandybuck. You know me, Martin.”

“I s’pose I might. Then again, I might not.” The old hobbit paused before adding, “Pull yer carriage onta the ferry, lad, and be quick ‘bout it.”

Macidoc looked at Other from under his hood, there was a look of alarm in his eyes. Mac had pulled up his hood so as not to be recognized as they returned to the Hall. Neither he nor Other spoke until they were off the ferry and on their way down the road to the Hall.

Mac gave a low, soft whistle. “That was strange,” he added.

“It certainly was. I can’t count the times I’ve used the ferry and Old Martin has seen me most every time.”

They drove a bit further when Other reined the ponies to a halt. There was loud shouting coming from the direction of Brandy Hall while light that looked like fire light shone in the gloaming.

Somehow, by some mysterious coincidence, Other stopped the carriage right where they had wanted him to. With the quickness inherent to hobbits the carriage was surrounded by angry Brandybucks. Those who didn’t have a bow, drawn with an arrow nocked and ready, had a stone in their hand. One particularly large hobbit stepped forward.

“You will dismount the carriage.”

“I think not, if it’s all the same to you,” Other replied with an easy manner that belied how afraid he felt. One of his best swords was within easy reach, tucked behind him. However, he really did not like the thought of drawing it out. “You look a bit too angry for me to just step down.”

“You will dismount the carriage, or be dragged off of it.”

Macidoc threw back his hood. There was no fear at all in Mac, he was, after all, the Master’s heir. “You will step back from this carriage and let us pass, if you know what is good for you.”

The armed hobbits didn’t move.

“The order extends to you, Macidoc Brandybuck. Dismount the carriage, sir. Now!”

Several things happened at once. Other drew his sword only to drop it with a gasp of pain as an arrow pierced his forearm. Mac dove at the nearest hobbits only to be overpowered by the others nearby. He was rolled to his back and his arms were bound in front of him before he had a chance to try fighting them off. The carriage door was jerked open. Jebbin was hit in the head with a well aimed stone as he tried to leap out at their captors. With the lads all injured or bound, Marjy and Athelas were forced out of the carriage. The arrow was roughly snapped then drawn from Other’s arm, a handkerchief was bound over the wound. Other and Jebbin were bound, like Mac, then the five of them were led off to Brandy Hall.

But they didn’t go into the Hall. It had indeed been fire light they had seen as the Sun set. There was a huge bonfire out on the front lawn of Brandy Hall. Hundreds of Brandybucks stood about it, watching as the two young couples and the Master’s son were led up to the edge of the circle of light. Macimas II looked even more pompous and puffed up than usual. Longo Caskbury stood at his side holding some papers.

Old Pompous did not bother with any preliminaries, which was unusual for him, but went straight to the matter at hand.

“Jebbin Brandybuck. You are a traitor to the heritage of the great family of Brandybuck. You have sought to dishonor our most Noble Ancestor, Meriadoc the Magnificent. You have tried to make him out as common, as fearful and as weak. Your actions are a disgrace not only to all Brandybucks but to all of Buckland and the Shire as well. The ingenuity of Meriadoc the Magnificent and Peregrin the Peerless in acquiring the magic talismans and skills of those around them, enabled them to rise to great heights. To conquer every enemy. To lead the weak in their company to victory over the Dark Lord. If not for them, Frodo the Faithful and Fearless and Samwise the Stalwart, would never have made it to Mount Doom. Without our Noble Ancestor and the Noble Took, Frodo Baggins would have faded sooner than he did. It was only by the magic they had acquired that he survived in Middle-earth as long as he did. He did little to help the Shire in either the Battle of Bywater or afterwards. Samwise returned to being the simple gardener he had always been, and though he performed adequately as Mayor of the Shire, the Quest had rendered him nearly as weak as the Baggins. Meriadoc the Magnificent and Peregrin the Peerless shone forth to their fellow hobbits as the true heroes and saviors of the Shire.”

Macimas II paused. All eyes were on him, particularly those of the three bound hobbits and the two frightened wives. The only sound was the roar and crackle of the large fire.

“You are held most accountable for this act of treason.” The Master held aloft the only copy of Jebbin’s book that had been in Brandy Hall; the original. “You are a traitor.”

The hobbits holding onto Jebbin heard him gasp. They felt him tremble. They thought he might swoon, or at lest lose the strength in his legs. But the young scholar stood firm.

“Other Brandybuck. You have given your support to your brother in his act of treason. You have aided him in every way you were able. You therefore share his guilt. You are a traitor.”

Other drew himself up as tall as he could. “You’re the traitor!” he shouted, and was immediately slapped across the mouth. He somehow stood firm, but said no more.

“Marjoram Proudfoot Brandybuck. You are wife to Jebbin Brandybuck, The Traitor. As a wife you are bound to the support of your husband. But it states in this treasonous rag,” Macimas once more shook Jebbin’s book. “that you helped with the supposed research. That is more than mere moral support given to one’s mate. You are a traitor.”

Marjy walked away from her guards to stand beside Jebbin. For a moment the Master was afraid. The lass’ eyes glowed yellow like the flames behind him and he wondered if the fire of them could burn him. He quickly looked away.

“Athelas Took Brandybuck. You are the wife of Other Brandybuck, A Traitor. As a wife you are bound to support your husband. But the author of this treasonous rag is *not* your husband. It clearly states that you produced all the known copies of this filth. That is more than moral support to a family member. You are a traitor.”

Athelas walked forward to stand between Other and Jebbin. Macimas caught a flash of bright green eyes. They were like his wife’s eyes, and he had a good many suspicions of what her eyes could do. The Master quickly looked away.

There was another pause. Every eye turned upon Macidoc Brandybuck. His signet ring upon his bound hands glinted in the firelight. Surely the Master would spare his only son.

“Macidoc Brandybuck.”

Macimas II paused again. Those standing near to him saw him swallow hard a couple of times. He seemed to look at his secretary, who gave his boss a subtle nod.

“Macidoc Brandybuck. You are the son of the Master of Buckland, Master of Brandy Hall. Your tie to Jebbin Brandybuck, The Traitor, is that of friendship. There . . . there is no excusing your actions. You lied to cover your going forth with The Traitor to spread his filthy treason. There is no evidence of coercion in this matter.”

Again Macimas II paused. His heart pained him so he could barely breathe. His face twitched and a tear came from his left eye to slowly meander down his cheek. In a choked voice he spoke the words.

“You are a traitor.”

Macidoc felt he was being torn apart. No physical pain he had ever known compared to this. Tears streamed down his face.

“I am no traitor,” he said in a voice much stronger than he felt.

His father did not respond. Longo held out one of the papers he held in his hands. The Master of Buckland took it, cleared his throat and read aloud.

“Jebbin Brandybuck. A place of incarceration has been prepared for you in Brandy Hall. It is not the way of Hobbits to condemn anyone without giving them a fair hearing. You will be held for three days in isolation prior to your hearing.”

The same was read to the others, though the wives were to be incarcerated together, confined to a small apartment. Another paper was handed to the Master.

“Jebbin and Other Brandybuck. With this document you have been officially disowned by your parents. They have stricken your names from all family records. You have no claim on them or their possessions. You are orphans.”

The brothers looked deep into each other’s eyes. They wanted to not believe it. But the secretary took back the paper and brought it over to them, holding it out so they could see. Their parents signatures were there along with the signatures of seven witnesses in red ink. Other sank to his knees. His head spun. The thought, ‘What has this all come to?’ kept tumbling about in his brain. Somehow, Jebbin still stood. He moved a bit behind his younger brother to rest his bound hands on Other’s shoulder.

“I don’t believe it, Er. Don’t believe it. Don’t,” Jebbin whispered.

Another paper had been given to Macimas II. His voice interrupted Jebbin’s whispering.

“Macidoc Brandybuck. With this . . . With this document you have been officially . . .”

The Master could go no further. He handed the paper to Longo Caskbury who read the words in his thin voice.

“With this document you have been officially disowned by your parents. They have stricken your name from all family records. You have no claim on them or their possessions. You are an orphan.”

Lies. Mac knew it all had to be lies. His mother would never agree to such a thing, and indeed, he had noticed she was not to be seen amongst the crowd of gawking hobbits. Macidoc made a decision. He jerked free of his guards and strode up to his father, working at something with his bound hands as he walked. He stopped a few paces away from the Master of Buckland. The guards were waved back. Macidoc stood alone.

“You are wrong, sir. You are the one who is being deceived.” He turned so he faced the throng of Brandybucks. “Believe what and who you will. I know the Truth when I hear it. Jebbin Brandybuck speaks the truth and I will stand with him, no matter what fate awaits him and his family.” Macidoc turned back to his father. “I am disowned? So be it.”

As he had strode forward, Macidoc had worked loose his signet ring. He held it up for all to see before he threw it into the fire. He turned his back on his father and walked back to stand beside Jebbin and Other.

Oddly, it was Longo Caskbury who broke the silence.

“A fitting gesture but of little consequence. A new ring has already been ordered for the new heir, your first cousin, Gorgulas Brandybuck. But . . .” Longo paused. He took a slow look at the five traitors, “this fire wasn’t built for your use, orphan.”

He snatched Jebbin’s book from the Master and tossed it in a high arch into the heart of the fire.

“Noooo!” Jebbin screamed and tired to dive toward the fire. The guards grabbed him and held him fast as he, like Other before him, sank to his knees.

A wheelbarrow was wheeled out from the shadows by the Hall. It was filled with books. Not a word was said, but Jebbin knew. If they had the original of his book, they had gone to the apartment. He knew these were his reference books.

Longo nudged The Master forward and, one by one, they tossed the books into the blaze. Longo saved the deathblow for the last.

Jebbin swooned as he saw the Red Book of Westmarch flash into flame in the ferocious heat of the bonfire.

Marjy threw herself upon her unconscious husband. The guards stood back and let her have her moment of grieving. What they did not see was her taking two small books from her husband’s jacket pockets and stuffing them down her bodice. She feared her husband would be searched. Because of her quick thinking, Jebiamac’s and Adelard’s journals survived.

*********

A/N: Tolkien states that the original of the Red Book of Westmarch had been lost, and that he had used the copy made in Gondor that had been kept in the library at Great Smials to write “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings”.