This chapter PG 13

Grim Discoveries

Merry sank to his knees. His face buried in his hands.

Frodo and Sam looked at each other, looked at Merry, then looked out the open door into the garden.

“Pippin needs to calm down,” Frodo said firmly, nodding toward the door. “We’ll see to Merry first.”

They went over to Merry.

“What have I done?” They could hear him whispering to himself over and over. Then he was up, running out the door into the garden. He flung open the gate, but there was no sign of Pippin. Merry looked back and forth. The street the gate opened into fed out onto other streets at either end, and those streets quickly spread into other short twisting streets. He would have no chance of knowing which way Pippin had gone. He sat down with a thump on the grass. Frodo and Sam had followed Merry out and now stood beside him.

“Come back in, Merry. You look white as a sheet.” Frodo put his hand under Merry’s arm and tugged on him to stand up.

“I’ll get you some strong tea, Mis . . . Merry. And we’ll work out what to do.” Sam said as he tugged on Merry’s other arm.

They hauled him up then they walked slowly back to the kitchen with Merry turning to look back at the gate every other step or so. Back in the kitchen, Frodo and Sam sat the pale, shaking hobbit in a chair at the table. Sam threw a towel over the broken pottery and spilt tea on the table, put the kettle on to boil, then began to rummage through the cupboards in search of a new tea pot while Frodo held and rubbed Merry’s hands. Merry winced and pulled his right hand back. The tea had burned it a bit, the skin was a dark pink. Frodo went to get a dish towel to soak in cool water.

Merry stared out the doorway then turned to look at his elder cousin.

“Why? Why did I say that, Frodo? What ever possessed me to say . . .” He stopped and stared out the door again.

Frodo came back to the table and wrapped Merry’s hand in the wrung out towel. He sighed.

“I have no idea, Merry. Or, rather I do. I’ve been near to the end of my patience with Pippin lately as well. Having hot tea poured on your hand pushed you over the edge.”

Merry looked at his wrapped hand. “No. I mean yes, it was the last straw, but only to yell at the lad not to . . .” He looked into the garden once more. “Not to crush him, Frodo. I only named the two worst things he has done in his entire life.”

Frodo said nothing. What more was there to say? There was no way to make light of what had been said.

Merry shook his head as he let it droop until his chin nearly rested upon his chest. “He’s been so annoying lately.” He brought his left hand up and put his forehead in its open palm as though his head was too great a weight for his neck to hold up. “No excuse, that. No excuse at all for what I said, but he has been. It’s been as though every annoying habit of his has been magnified. Not paying attention. Letting his mind wander so far that it is like he isn’t there, though before it seemed easier to get his attention. Now I tap him, nudge him, I raise my voice and it doesn’t seem to do a thing.”

Frodo gestured over the towel covered mess on the table. “Yes, he’s been all of that and clumsier as well. Although I’ve blamed most of that on his arm and hand.” And myself, he added in his thoughts.

Merry stood up. “I need to . . . I’ll be right back.”

His friends let him go, thinking he needed to use the privy or wanted to wash the tears from his face. Instead, Merry went to his room. He needed some time alone to think. He sat on his bed. Directly opposite was the door that led from his room into Pippin’s room.

Pippin.

Memories flitted through his mind. A giggling Pippin learning how to walk.
Pippin’s first time boating on the Brandywine without a parent or sister with him; just he and Pip. Yule celebrations. Birthday parties.

Bilbo’s birthday party.

The Ring.

Now the mental pictures were Pippin on the Quest. How he had cheered Merry so many times. How he had frightened him so many times.

His Pippin.

He was drawn into the lad’s room. It smelled a bit odd so Merry opened the shutters before sitting down on Pippin’s unmade bed. He smiled a sad smile. Pip never had been one for making his bed. Aunt Lanti was always after him about that. They were all always after the lad for something, especially when he was little. Not in a mean way, mind . . . not like this morning.

“Why can’t time go backwards?” Merry thought as tears started to pool in his eyes before dripping on to his lap. “Would I be able to not say those horrible things? Or would I do the same thing no matter how many times I went back?” He rubbed at his eyes. “Pip didn’t deserve that, no matter how frustrating he’s been of late.”

Something caught his eye. Pippin’s scarf was lying on the floor. That was strange that Pip would not bother to pick up his scarf. Merry bent over to pick it up. The odd smell grew stronger and he noticed some piece of clothing had been shoved under the bed. With the scarf in his hand, Merry bent over further to look.

Whatever it was, it seemed to be stuffed into the chamber pot.

“Well,” Merry muttered aloud, “that explains the smell. But why would something be stuffed into a used chamber pot?” He paused as an unpleasant thought came to his mind. Quickly Merry stuffed the scarf into his back pocket and got down on his knees. He reached under the bed to grab the pot by it’s handle then headed toward the door to the privy at the end of the hall. Once in the privy, Merry took a deep breath, held it, pulled the lid off the pot and, touching it as little as possible, pulled out its contents.

What he saw made him gasp which in turn made him gag, both from the smell and from recognizing what the cloth was. It was Pippin’s nightshirt, thoroughly soiled with feces and wet with urine.

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“Pippin must really be worried about something to be so distracted.” Frodo mused aloud. “Not that he hasn’t always had trouble with getting distracted. Remember that time when he was about eight years old and we sent him out to pick some strawberries for elevenses?”

Sam smiled as he poured the boiling water from the kettle into the new teapot. “Yes. We were just about ready to sit to the meal when we realized he hadn’t come back in. He was out followin’ a butterfly around the garden and had eaten every berry he’d picked.”

Sam’s smile faded. “But he’s not a wee lad anymore and I think it might be more, beggin’ your pardon.” Sam’s voice was soft but firm. He turned from setting the tea to steep. “I’ve been thinkin’ on this for a few days now, since that afternoon Mis . . . Pippin helped me with gettin’ ready for afternoon tea. Or tried to help is more the way of it.”

Sam turned to check the tea, decided it needed more time and turned back to Frodo. “Three times in less than fifteen minutes he stopped what he was doin’, he was mixin’ up a cake batter you see. Three times he stopped, then when he moved again, he would go back nearly to the beginnin’ of the recipe and add ingredients he’d already put in.”

“Was he distracted do you think, or daydreaming,” Frodo added.

Sam shook his head. He brought the pot over to the table. “I think it might be somethin’ else. He was never like that before, least ways not while cookin’. He takes cookin’ seriously, does Mis . . .” Sam blushed. “I am tryin’, Frodo. As I was sayin’, Pippin takes cookin’ seriously. Since he’s been older he rarely makes mistakes when he’s helpin’ in the kitchen. I’m wonderin’ if his arm and knee are hurtin’ worse than he’s lettin’ on. Not wantin’ to worry you and . . . Merry, if you follow me. And tryin’ to hide how bad he’s hurtin’ takes so much effort that he misses thin’s.”

Sam lifted the teapot was just looking for a place to set it on the table when Merry rushed into the kitchen. Sam set the teapot back on the counter.

“Frodo, Sam!” Merry was shouting.

“What . . . eeww!” Frodo screwed up his face at the smell. “You reek, Merry. What is on your hands?”

“It’s . . . it’s.” He struggled for a moment with how to respond. “I went to Pip’s room to think and it stunk and I looked under the bed, and . . . well, his nightshirt was stuffed into his chamber pot. It was filthy the only . . . stuff in there was what was on the shirt. Frodo, he messed himself.”

The three hobbits stood there staring at Merry’s hands.

“Pippin choked a bit on his porridge when I mentioned I’d cleaned up a mess in the bathing room.” Sam whispered

Merry was shaking his head. “He has to feel totally humiliated. First this, he’s never been this sort of drunk in his life, then me ripping him with my words.”

Frodo nodded, still staring at his cousin’s hands. “Merry, go wash your hands at the garden pump. What did you do with the nightshirt?”

“I dumped it down the privy. I had taken the pot in there to find out what was in it.”

“All right, go wash your hands.”

Sam tossed Merry a piece of soap and he left to wash up outside.

“I think we all could use a strong cup of tea now,” Sam sighed. He picked up the teapot and brought it to the table then sighed again. The mess from earlier was still on the table. He started moving some things around, then suddenly he threw the tea-soaked towel on the floor and began digging with his free hand amongst the shards of Merry’s earlier cup of tea and the tea pot Pippin had let fall.

“What is it, Sam? What are you looking for?”

Sam stopped. His hands were shaking, he had gone pale. “There was a knife on the table, Mr. Frodo.” He looked Frodo in the eye. “It’s not here.”

Merry had just stepped back into the kitchen. “That trimming knife?” he asked casually. “It was by where Pip . . . where Pippin was sitting!” The blood drained from Merry’s face and he turned to head back out the door.

“Merry!” Frodo’s volume and tone stopped his cousin. “We can’t just go running off without thinking.”

“No! We have to find him. We have to . . .” Suddenly, Merry thought of he and Pippin running about Parth Galen yelling for Frodo, and accomplishing nothing. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You’re right, but we need to hurry, Frodo”

Sam had rarely seen Merry look so fierce when speaking to Frodo.

“Agreed. Why don't you go up, Merry. You know this level and the Citadel better than we do. Sam, you go toward the market places. I think you know those the best. I will get Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli as I was up early this morning and I know where all of them were expecting to be this morning. We will divide up the rest of the city amongst us.

In seconds, the kitchen was empty.