Unspoken

The next day dawned as glorious as the one preceding it. The entire small city that was the tents of the Armies of the West was a-buzz waiting for word to come that they should take their places in the Field of Honor.

It came not long after the sun rose. Frodo Baggins, Ring Bearer, had awakened and Samwise Gamgee, Ring Bearer, would awaken soon. All who were able bodied were to be at the ready on the field. Only those yet abed from their injuries in battle and those who tended them remained in the tents. It was nearly noon when the command to be at attention was given. The gathered soldiers raised a great shout of praise as The Ring Bearers approached and passed them on their way to the King.

Merry and Pippin were each at the front of a row of Riders of Rohan and Guards of the Citadel, respectively. When the assembled soldiers sat upon the lawn to listen to the minstrel sing of “Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom”, the two moved back a bit to the edge of the crowd to the right of the thrones. Pippin would most likely need to stand and stretch his legs before the tale was fully sung and he did not wish to attract attention by moving about at the front. So it was that neither of the Ring Bearers saw the two, amongst the many, whom they most desired to see. And their thoughts strayed a bit, as they looked upon Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Strider. Where were their kith and kin?

Pippin fell asleep during the long song. Just as well Merry felt, as they were to help serve their kings at the feast that would begin almost immediately after the minstrel finished, and the lad really was still new to being up and about.

At the meal, Sir Peregrin was the first to serve King Elessar, bringing him his cup of wine, then the fruit that was the first course, both of these being items he was able to carry one-handed. It was then, while Merry and Pippin were serving the wine, that Sam noticed them, pointing them out to Frodo. After a few quick comments they hurried away, Frodo’s eyes following them as they left. Pride and concern wrestled in his heart. They were knights, a high honor indeed, resplendant in their livery. Sam was right they looked taller, but maybe it was how they carried themselves with their heads held high. Yet Merry had looked tired and pale, Pippin was limping and his arm was in a sling.

After they finished their turn at serving their kings, the cousins sat with the other knights of the realms they served. Merry watched, a contented smile lighting his face as he saw the knight seated to Pippin’s right offer and then cut Pippin’s fowl for him. Whatever embarrassment his cousin might have felt at this Merry knew was swept away after the lad took a quick look up and down the table. He was by no means the only soldier needing assistance.

Afterward, there was a joyous reunion as the hobbits hugged each other until they ached from the squeezing and talked all at once so that those around them couldn’t understand a single word. They talked and talked. First the Hobbits and the White Wizard, then later Parsow, Legolas and Gimli joined them. Parsow stayed back a bit not wishing to intrude, but he had become dear to the two knights and to the Dwarf as well, so he was welcomed into the gathering. Merry noticed that, once again, there were times that Pip seemed to lose the thread of the conversation, either asking a question that had already been asked, or repeating himself. At one point he thought the lad had fallen asleep with his eyes wide open while his left hand played with his scarf, which he had sent Parsow to fetch for him as the evening air grew cooler. Pippin had stared off at nothing for many seconds, perhaps near to a minute, then had seemed much more tired afterwards. Merry noticed Gandalf watching Pip as well and found himself more grateful than he would have expected himself to be when the Wizard stood, stretched and said it was time for Frodo and Sam to go to bed. He was even more grateful when Gimli said that applied to Pippin as well for Merry feared Pippin may have insisted that he and the others stay up and talk. As it was, Pippin nodded to the Dwarf, yawned then asked his cousin to help him up.

“You’ll come along and help me out of all of this finery as well, won’t you, Merry?”

“Of course, Pippin. Although I’ll admit to wondering how well you might do at it yourself.”

The younger hobbit shook his head as he yawned. “Not tonight, Merry,” he mumbled. “Too tired to try. Just sleep in my clothes if you don’t help.”

“Then you have the services of a knight of Rohan this evening, good knight of Gondor. I’d hate to have you so badly wrinkle your surcoat.”

Pippin grinned and nodded. “My Mum always said velvet wrinkles much too easily. She won’t be at all happy to see this rig.”

Parsow walked along with the two small knights and helped see both of them into their beds.
******************

There followed nearly a month of halcyon days for the Hobbits and the Companions of the Ring. They wandered about Ithilien, visited Henneth Annun and ate and relaxed as they pleased, excepting those times Pippin and Frodo needed to do their recovery exercises. Everything seemed more than a bit utopian. The Ring Bearers were simply glad to be alive with their friends in a world, more or less, at peace. Merry suffered no shadows of the darkness of the Black Breath. Pippin teased and joked about his own needs and even of Frodo’s as they learned how to do without the use of some of their fingers. Sam’s feet were tender, as were Frodo’s, and for a time he was less protective of Frodo than Strider had anticipated.

It was discovered that Pippin had a bit more damage to his knee than had been thought. If he walked for too long a time or at too fast a pace, his calf muscle would suffer from sudden, sharp cramping. Aragorn had the Master Healer look at Pippin’s leg, and they agreed that it was likely to be a permanent problem, but also that it was one that could be improved upon. They felt that patient use of the leg would gradually increase its endurance, but that the hobbit would always need to be cautious about overtiring it. And even this the lad took, so to say, in stride. And so the four hobbits enjoyed a slower pace on their ramblings, stopping often to rest Pippin’s leg, Sam’s feet and their own spirits as they would soak in the calming atmosphere of Ithilien.

It was easy to accept their limitations, for all about them were soldiers with similar conditions. Everywhere you looked you saw someone using crutches, a cane or leaning on a friend. No meal was taken but there were many needing others to help them with their meal. Some had been blinded, some had lost much or all of their hearing and many wore expressions darkened by memories of battle and the Black Breath. It was easy for the Hobbits to forget themselves.

Finally the day arrived for the journey back to Minas Tirith. Pippin was able to see Cair Andros, where the troops who could not face the Dead Lands and the Black Gate were sent to strike a blow to the enemy. And so down the Anduin to Osgiliath. A day they spent there, awaiting the arrival of the whole of the armies, then onto the Pelennor they rode until they set up their pavilions nigh the gates of the White City.

Frodo and Sam gaped in wonder at the great city built into the mountain, for they had never seen its like before. It gleamed, even as the light of day faded in the sky.

When the next day dawned, the city was first rose colored fading to pale peach then a faint yellow before shining white as though it were made of pearl. The Dunedain of the North approached the makeshift gates, then from their midst came Aragorn, Mithrandir and the four Periannath. The last ruling Steward and Hurin of the Keys met them. As the vast crowd watched the crown was given first to one of the Periannath, who bore it to Mithrandir who then crowned the new King. King Elessar entered his city and when he reached the Citadel, the banner of the Tree and Stars was raised to float proudly on the breeze.

After two days of ceremony and feasting, the Companions of the Ring settled into a house prepared for them not far from the Citadel. It was as light and airy a house as one could find in the Stone City, with windows facing south and a walled garden to one side. Two large bedrooms on the main floor had been made into four rooms for the Hobbits. Two rooms on each side of a hallway with each set having a connecting door. Merry and Pippin had the rooms on the left, Sam and Frodo the ones on the right. The main floor also had the kitchen, dining room, parlor, bathing room and privy. Gandalf, Gimli and Legolas had rooms on the upper level.

A light and airy abode in days of light and fairness in a world recently made free. But the gloom of evil never fades away completely, and though the Great Darkness of that age had been brought down, the darkness still lingered here and there like an illness with vague symptoms. It hung heavily over The Hallows. Not merely because it was the dwelling place of the dead. No, it had been brought hence by the Lord Denethor’s madness and it clung to the charred ruins of the House of the Stewards where the palantir of Minas Anor yet lay untouched. It dwelt high in the Tower of Ecthelion where the Seeing Stone had so long poisoned the last ruling steward. The darkness clung to the area of the Pelennor where the Witch King fell. And other places too it hid, not to be felt until times yet to come.

But it is also the curse of Arda that all things within and upon it carry the taint of the darkness.

Meriadoc Brandybuck was gifted with attention to details, the ability to turn those details into plans, and the energy to see those plans carried out. The taint within him at times turned these gifts to his being a fusspot, not being able to see the forest for the trees, and easily losing patience.

Frodo Baggins was gifted with a scholarly mindset, a patient and gentle nature, and a quick wit. He easily could brood, be patient when the time for patience had passed, and roguish in his teasing and pranks.

Peregrin Took was gifted with a blithe spirit, an inquisitive mind, and an eagerness for life. His cheer was sometimes out of place, his endless questions annoying, and his impulsiveness dangerous.

Samwise Gamgee was as solid as the earth he loved to cultivate, he often saw life with great clarity, and he knew well right from wrong. But solidity can be stubborn, clarity can miss nuances, and legalism can grown from right and wrong too tightly defined.

These four had know each other many long years and spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. But now they were all together for most of each day in the same home in a strange city amongst people not of their own kind. The taint of darkness within them knew it could use this to its advantage.

“Pippin. Pippin!”

The Knight of Gondor was seated at the kitchen table having a light repast. He had just come home from serving as esquire to King Elessar for the day. At the moment, however, he sat staring at the biscuits on the plate. His left hand held a biscuit part way to his mouth, but for some reason, the fingers were crumbling it.

Pippin gave a slight twitch. “What, Merry?”

The elder cousin was obviously displeased. “I asked you how things went today up in the Tower Hall. But, as is getting to be common, you didn’t answer.”

“You didn’t ask.” Pippin noticed the pieces of crumbled biscuit scattered on the table and his surcoat. He brushed them off onto the floor then picked up another biscuit.

“I asked you twice. Maybe I should have someone check your ears,” Merry grumbled. “Though no one seems particularly concerned over you of late. Parsow hasn’t been here in at least a week and Strider . . .”

“ . . . is rather busy, Merry.” Pippin interrupted peevishly. “He is the king. A fact of which I know you are aware. He doesn’t have the time right now to concern himself about me. And Parsow has been made a full fledged healer. He is busy as well.” He paused. “I’m fine, anyway. My leg is getting much better. I can lift my hand more easily and grip things a bit with my thumb and first two fingers. I stood my duty the whole afternoon today.” His look challenged his cousin to argue with him. “And, my hearing is just fine, thank you very much.”

Merry looked steadily back at Pippin. “I would beg to differ, but I see it will do no good.” He turned and left the kitchen and a few moments later Pippin heard his bedroom door get firmly shut.

“My hearing is fine.” Pippin muttered as he bit into his biscuit.

A few days later Frodo stood behind his youngest cousin as Pip struggled with making straight lines and small circles with a pen held in his left hand.

“It’s looking much neater, Pippin.” Frodo’s smile could be heard in his voice.

“Oh yes. It looks like a nine year old’s efforts instead of a seven year old’s,” Pippin replied sarcastically.

Frodo bit his lower lip. It was the third time the lad had snapped at him in the past half an hour. “It took awhile for you to learn to write the first time, you really shouldn’t . . .”

“ . . . shouldn’t what?” Peregrin snarled as he turned to face Frodo. “Shouldn’t expect to learn it the second time at least a bit more quickly? Shouldn’t ever expect to write like an adult again? Or cut my own food?” The look in Pippin’s eyes grew poisonous. “Or how about button my own trousers? What about that, Frodo? I just love having to find someone to undo them for me so I can relieve myself, and then of course have them do me back up when I . . .”

The glare in the Took’s eyes was gone. His right hand awkwardly fumbled about at his scarf. The hand hung somewhat limply from the wrist, the first three digits were twitching slightly while the last two stayed curled. He looked to be chewing a bit at his left cheek. Several moments passed.

Suddenly, Pippin threw the quill. “Do you expect me to learn to do this in a day, Frodo,” he whined. With an effort, he stood. He swayed a bit as he walked toward the archway that led out of the parlor. “I’m tired,” Pippin mumbled. “Going to bed.” And he was gone around the corner and down the hall to his room.

“He was trying to control his temper,” Frodo thought. “His injuries might be paining him. I shouldn’t have tried doing this with him in the afternoon.”

Frodo bent to pick up the quill and decided to practice his own writing as it was awkward now that his ring finger was missing.

A week later Pippin had the afternoon free. He offered to help Sam in the kitchen.

Sam was watching Mr. Frodo’s youngest cousin carefully while trying very hard not to let the lad notice. There! He was doing it again. That made the third time Pippin had backed up in the recipe, adding ingredients he had already added to the cake batter he was mixing.

“Mr. Pippin?”

“What Sam? You know,” Pip kept talking and stirring the batter without waiting for Sam to respond. “I’m really enjoying this. It hasn’t mattered all that much that my right hand is a bit weak. And you haven’t got annoyed with me. Merry gets so upset with me so often now, and even Frodo seems touchier than usual. But you haven’t got upset with me once.” Pippin finally looked over at Sam. “What was it you wanted, Sam?”

Sam was unsure now of what to say. He was going to say something about the cake batter being ruined, but hesitated after what Mr. Pippin had just said. Sam watched as Pippin dropped the mixing spoon into the bowl of batter then walk over to the sink. He stood there doing nothing for several moments, his right arm bent as though his hand was raised to his chest. He tipped his head to the left, straightened it, then tipped it again. Then his shoulders sagged and he grabbed hold of the edge of the sink.

“I don’t feel well, Sam.” Pippin’s voice was soft and tired sounding.

“Why don’t you go have yourself a bit of a nap, Mr. Pippin?”

“Yes. A nap.” The lad stopped to pat Sam on the shoulder on his way out of the kitchen. “You really don’t need to call me ‘Mr.’ any longer, Sam the Ring Bearer,” he smiled and said, then he left .

And that, Sam reckoned, was exactly the problem. Mr. - Frodo - and his cousins now saw Sam as an equal, but Sam wasn’t sure of the whole matter. All the title calling and finery didn’t change the fact that he was a working hobbit’s son and they were gentle hobbits. And now there was all this matter of young Mr. Pippin’s getting odder as each day passed. His cousins had said nothing . . . Sam decided it wasn’t his place to say anything either.