Chapter Two

“Name’s Tate,” said the leader, still not quite sure if he should offer his hand in friendship yet.  “If ye’re from Hobbiton or Bywater, then how did ye get all the way here without gettin’ caught by the Chief’s Men?”

Pippin replied, “Do we look as if we’re footpads belonging to the Chief?  My cousin has told you that Lotho’s Men were defeated two days ago and are now scattered and pursued to the borders.  We’re here because there are hobbits locked up inside the old storage tunnels and we mean to get them out with your help or no.”

Tate addressed the rescuers, feeling convinced that the new group of hobbits didn’t pose a new threat.  “I mean t’ help ye,” he said, then the rest of his group made the same pledge.  

“The Men have been puttin’ hobbits inside that vile place since last Foreyule,” said Tate. “We heard trouble goin’ on out here ‘bout the time ye say ye threw out the Men, young lad.  The Chief’s Men were runnin’ round the Square spittin’ threats to anyone who thought t’ come outside even t’ get water from the town well.  Things quieted down yesterday, but we were still on our guard.  My brother and I got up enough courage t’ come out o’ our houses this morning t’ find no one here.”

Merry kicked the ground in anger.  “They ran off like the cowards that they are and left their prisoners to die!  We can’t waste any more time dithering in the road!  Where are they kept?”

Tate and his friends led the Travellers and company down a narrow passage that ran between the Town Hall and the Mathom House.  It emptied into a courtyard surrounded by two storeyed buildings that looked much like the one the Travellers stopped in on their first night in the Shire.

“Aren’t the Lockholes tunnels?” asked Sam. “All I see are these unsightly houses.”

“They’re behind that house in the centre,” said Tate, pointing ahead.

Pippin, Merry, Frodo, and Sam walked ahead while the others followed.  “No,” Tate called to them, “They built the house up against the face o’ the old tunnels sayin’ if there was any gate-breakin’ they‘d know about it first.”

Pippin started to run to the front door, but was held back by Merry.  “Let’s have a quick look about first,” he said, “No telling if someone is still guarding the hobbits inside.”

A swift and thorough investigation revealed no one inside the house.  “Now?” Pippin asked impatiently.

Merry nodded.  “Now!” he said, and the two knights lunged for the door but found it was locked.  “They weren’t going to make it easy, were they?”

“Darro,” Tate spoke to one of the younger lads, “Run and fetch some o’ yer axes!”  Darro nudged the shoulder of another lad and then they both ran back up the passage back the way they had come into the courtyard.  “He was apprentice t’ Gib the Forester o‘ *Westwood ‘fore the Chief came in an’ took charge o’ things,” Tate explained Darro’s small arsenal, “Darro‘s got plenty o’ axes - whatever size ye need for takin’ down trees or choppin’ wood.”

The hobbits all waited less than ten minutes for Darro and his friend to return.  Darro walked up to Merry and gave him two of his biggest cutters.  Merry handed one to Pippin and then they began the liberation of the falsely imprisoned hobbits.  Frodo was no less anxious to free the inhabitants of the makeshift prison, however, he let Merry carry out the logistics of getting them all to this critical stage.

Splinters of wood flew everywhere as the strong duo pummelled the door with heavy strokes.  When they had breached enough of the door to break through the hobbits stormed the house.  As soon as they entered, a wall of stench knocked them back toward the entrance.

Most of the hobbits gagged then ran back through the hole in the door to get outside for fresh air.  Pippin, Merry, and Sam recoiled but made no such move to retreat.  After a minute the hobbits recovered and then shielded their nostrils with either a handkerchief or pulled a shirt over their noses.  None of the Travellers were strangers to foul odours such as this, however, this time Frodo found it too much to bear.  The house, the stench all reminded him greatly of Shelob’s lair.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam shouted, seeing Frodo’s face go pale.  Sam thought for sure his master would swoon, but fortunately Merry reached out both of his arms in time and caught the Ringbearer before he had a chance to fall.

“I’m fine,” Frodo managed to whisper as his younger cousin slowly eased him to the floor to sit.

Sam and Merry gave one another a knowing nod.  “Just the same,” said Sam, “I think you and I ought to go outside for a bit and allow Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin to investigate further and see to the prisoners.”

Merry looked about the room then knelt beside Frodo on the floor.  “There’s still a few lads here with us,” he said, “Pippin and I can manage for a while - you and Sam can come along when you feel up to it.  We’ve got to get them out, Frodo.”  Merry was aware that Frodo still wasn’t quite himself, yet he knew his cousin would not dream of hindering the release of the captives.

Frodo met Merry’s gaze when he answered, “Just make sure you find our beloved Fatty.”

Pippin was crouched beside Merry. “You can be sure of that, dear cousin,” he said. 

As Sam was assisting Frodo out of the hovel, Merry spied what appeared to be a map of the old storage rooms with labels on rooms written in scrawl.  Only four of the old storage rooms had names marked on them: mayer, rebelian leeder, old hag, and frogmortn rat.  Merry instantly knew who the ‘rebelian leeder’ would be.  Also, according to the illustration, almost all of the rooms had been filled, although Merry wondered with how many in each.

Opening the chamber doors to the Lockholes was much easier than breaking into the front of the building.  On each door there was affixed at the top and bottom a sliding bolt, so all the liberators had to do was slide both bolts to the side and then open the door.  Obviously the prisoners couldn’t get out, but it was easy for the guards to access inside. 

There was no ventilation in the rooms and each contained a corner filled with bodily excretions.  The liberators soon found out why.  The other lads went to unlock the doors to the rest of the rooms while the Travellers went to find Fredegar.  However, instead of their cousin they found the mayor lying inside the room where the rebelian leeder should have been; apparently the map wasn’t followed exactly to the letter.

“They’d come once a week and put a shovel in our hands to empty our own corners into a wheelbarrow,” said Will Whitfoot, the Shire’s Mayor.  He was weak in body, but able to walk with the support of hobbits on either side of him. “But no one’s been round the past few days. No one’s fed us, no one’s given us water, and nothing’s been cleaned up for a while.”

Merry and Pippin grew incensed with every remark about the mistreatment of prisoners.  “We need to make sure ALL of the Ruffians are out of the Shire and that they never return, Merry.  And they better hope Trollsbane doesn’t meet up with any of them!”

When they got the Mayor outside to safety and in the company of friends to care for him, Merry and Pippin hurried back inside for a very special hobbit.  It was dark and dank inside the cellar where Fredegar was kept.  “I must be dead,” Fredegar murmured weakly.  When Merry and Pippin saw the state of their dear friend, they wept.

“No, Freddy,” said Merry.  He reverted to Fredegar’s childhood nickname, because Freddy was certainly no longer Fatty. “No,” he said again, “You’re very much alive and we’re here to rescue you.”

“But,” whispered Fredegar, “you’re supposed to be dead.  You perished in the Old Forest, remember?  If you‘re dead, then I must be, too.”

Merry smiled in spite of his tears.  “Fortunately, I don’t remember!  Frodo, Sam, Pippin, and I are all alive and have finally returned from the Quest.”  Merry didn’t wait for the other lads to arrive to help carry the courageous Rebel Leader, he felt it his and Pippin’s honour to carry this exceptional hobbit.  “Come, Pippin - you lift his legs and I’ll get his shoulders.  We‘re big enough to bear him ourselves.”

*“You would have done better to come with us after all, poor old Fredegar!” said Pippin, as they carried him out too week to walk. 

He opened an eye and tried gallantly to smile.  “Who’s this young giant with the loud voice?” he whispered.  “Not little Pippin!  What’s your size in hats now?”

Once outside and in fresh air they lay Fredegar on top of waiting blankets spread upon the ground for him by Frodo and Sam.  It was out in the daylight that they could see the many bruises on Fredegar‘s face.  “Oh, Freddy!” Frodo responded with horror, helping his cousin lie back.  He took off his Elven cloak to fold up for Fredegar to use as a pillow.  “I am so sorry!” 

Sam took his cloak off to keep his fellow Conspirator warm.  “Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin battled the Ruffians and beat them!  We can move about the Shire now without being bullied.  It’s over Mr. Fredegar, you’re safe now.”

No one knew if Fredegar heard or understood what had been said; his eyes were closed in what appeared to be a deep slumber.

Pippin scanned the courtyard for familiar faces.  Most he didn’t recognise; some were downcast and beaten, others appeared jubilant and were hugging their rescuers.  Judging from the soiled clothing the ex-prisoners wore, some, like Fredegar, had been incarcerated for many months, and some could not have been locked up for long.  Finally Pippin saw the face he was looking for; Sancho had a very miserable countenance.  Sadly, but without regret, Pippin turned to his cousins.  “I don’t think Sancho has found his brothers.  I made him a promise yesterday that I must keep.”

Merry was proud of Pippin’s behaviour the day before, so he offered to help.  But just as the pair made to walk in Sancho’s direction, they were witness to the other tween’s tears turning to joy.  He smiled and shouted to his brothers as they exited the Lockholes building.  The Proudfoot brothers must have heard a familiar voice; they shielded their eyes from the bright light and then grinned from ear to ear.  They embraced their little brother with as much strength that they had in their arms.  They appeared hale...for the most part.

Happy for Sancho, and for not having to leave his ill cousin’s side, Pippin took a seat beside Fredegar.  He took out his handkerchief and then wet it with water, using it to gently clean and caress Fredegar’s forehead and face.  He leant down low to kiss Freddy’s brow.  “Let’s get him home.”

*The Return of the King, Chapter IX, The Grey Havens

~The End~