Chapter Three: Putting Together

He was sitting in the Master’s study. He could hear the crackling of the fire, could feel its warmth glow on his back and smell the scent of apple wood. Merimac sat beside him and his voice, as well as the Master’s, echoed in his ears. Old Rory sat in a huge leather chair, the Hall Records spread out on the desk before him, and while he read Merimac was adding bits and pieces of the story he had been told in his childhood. This was Brandy Hall’s history and while the Brandybucks heard tales about half-forgotten incidents in their early childhood, Paladin had never heard the whole story of the flood in 1226 and he couldn’t help but get lost in the words.

During the time of Gormadoc Deepdelver Brandy Hall had prospered like seldom before. The Master gathered kin and distant relations about him until the smial threatened to burst. But Buck Hill was huge and every few months, new passages were dug and a second level, which soon grew to be part of the Master’s quarters, was installed.

Brandy Hall, more than ever, became the pride of the Bucklanders and especially of their Master. As the years passed by, Gormadoc grew more and more daring and he expanded his smial to the west, ignoring the threat the river had always posed to the Brandybucks. The river, however, was what brought down the Master’s haughtiness in the end, and two families besides.

The new corridor had just been built, and the first families had moved into new quarters when one night in late spring the Brandywine burst its banks and the western passages were flooded. Children and adults ran for safety, but for four hobbits all hope was lost. The new passage collapsed, so sparing the rest of the Hall from the spate of water, but taking the lives of two families. One was a newly-wed couple, Gormadoc’s own granddaughter Asphodel, and her husband Rufus Puddifoot; the other had been a father and his only child, Mungo Greenhill and his daughter, young Daisy, who had come to see the Master’s support, since Daisy’s mother had died in childbed some years previously.

“… and Paladin thinks there’s something behind the wall, down where the old corridor was, the one that’s been flooded,” Merimac once again explained to the Master and Paladin looked up as if he were waking from a dream.

“Someone,” he corrected his cousin who looked at him in confusion. “Daisy Greenhill, if I’m not mistaken.”

Merimac wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow but turned back to his father to repeat: “Daisy Greenhill.”

Rorimac pondered that for a few moments and though it had been Merimac who had spoken to him it was Paladin his eyes rested on. “The wooden wall? The same one you made such a kerfuffle over some fifty years ago?”

Paladin nodded and ventured further than he knew he was allowed to go. “Can we tear it down?”

Merimac nodded his agreement and, like he had done fifty years pervious, when he was always eager to please his older cousin, he turned to repeat the question to his father.

“Can we--“ he stared at Paladin. “What?!”

“I need to know what’s behind there and I’m quite sure it isn’t just a collapsed corridor,” Paladin said and looked imploringly at the Master. “It’s an old wall, Rorimac. It needs mending anyhow so why not kill two birds with one stone? Let me have a look at what lies hidden and secure. You’re ahead by replacing rotten wood with fresh planks.”

Rorimac gazed sternly at him. His manner changed and all of a sudden the air seemed to sizzle with the Master’s authority. “Tell me, Paladin,” the old hobbit said in a voice that had lost nothing of its influence, “since when does a Took know what is best for the Brandybucks?”

Paladin sighed. “Sir, I did not intend to leave you out. I’m certainly not implying that I know much about managing a smial like Brandy Hall. I simply ask for your permission and want to point out that it wouldn’t only be to my advantage.”

“I see that,” the Master answered. While the old hobbit rose to fetch his pipe from a chest of drawers, Paladin too, got to his feet and looked enquiringly at Merimac who shrugged but said nothing.

“You say my home is haunted by the ghost of a girl who drowned more than a hundred years ago?”

“She is grieved by her fate,” Paladin said. “She was so young and she feels alone. My son has the same dream which troubles me, and Merimac tells me that when he was distressed after his parents’ death Frodo…”

“Frodo?” Rorimac stopped mid-movement and looked at them. His features softened and a distant expression flickered across his face. He smiled lovingly and though his eyes were sad they spoke of acceptance. Rorimac, like his eldest son, had done what was best for their beloved fosterling, even though it meant letting the boy go.

“Very well,” the old hobbit finally said and produced a pouch from his breast pocket. “You have my permission, though I would like you to wait until the new planks are finished.”

“Certainly,” the cousins chorused and as the Master gestured for them to sit down again and have a smoke with him, Paladin smiled and bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you.”

~*~*~

“Tea-time, lads!”

Esmeralda walked around the corner, loaded with a huge tray filled with mugs, a jug, and sandwiches for all of them.

“Food!” Merimac was the first to welcome her. “You’re a treasure!”

“Dad!”

Paladin followed his cousin’s example to find his son stumbling towards him with a huge mug in both hands. He wiped his smut-streaked and sweaty brow and took the drink from him before scooping to boy into his arms. “Hullo, my dear.”

“Did you find something?”

Paladin looked about him. The passageway was in a terrible state. Two days previous the carpenters had torn down the wall, only to reveal a corridor full of debris. Paladin did not know how he had convinced Old Rory to let him have a look behind the rubble, but ever since he, Saradoc, Merimac, and sometimes even Marmadas had burrowed a hole into the old corridor. They had dug so deep now, they needed beams to support the ceiling and no one felt quite safe anymore.

“Nothing,” Paladin replied and wondered when he had turned into a fool. He kissed Pippin’s forehead. “Promise me to never run after a ghost like me.”

“Yes, dad.” Pippin hugged him close and Paladin had a feeling the boy had not at all listened to him.

Paladin ruffled his curls and nonetheless felt glad about his son’s curiosity and that he, along with Frodo and Merry, had not yet lost belief in him. The children came to check on their progress every few hours and while Paladin slowly lost faith in himself, the boys turned their grubbing into one huge treasure hunt.

“This is the last afternoon,” Paladin heard Saradoc promise Esmeralda before he pressed a kiss onto her lips. “If we’re not through until dinner I doubt we’ll ever be.”

Esmeralda nodded, and then turned to him to offer him a sandwich. Paladin gratefully accepted. The look on her face told him two things. First, she was annoyed that he kept her husband busy all day. Second, she knew about his disappointment. They should have found something by now.

“I think you’re through.”

Paladin turned in surprise to find Frodo standing in the narrow passage they had excavated.

“Get out of there, Frodo,” Esmeralda ordered. “It’s dangerous.”

“I think he’s right, mother,” Merry agreed and within seconds, Esmeralda was in the tunnel herself to drag her son out, only she couldn’t.

Paladin and his cousins had clustered in behind her just in time to see Frodo push a shovel through the loose earth, which trickled to the ground immediately. Saradoc handed a lamp to the boy who held it up high to reveal the remains of an old passage. The corridor was still discernible, although the wood had long rotted. Several ancient, rusted lamp holders lay on the floor and the smell of decay and wet earth filled the air.

“Look!” Pippin suddenly called out and Paladin knew at once that the request was aimed at him. The boy pointed past Frodo, and he could see that the corridor was, indeed, changing. Walls, ceiling, and floor brightened and were once again covered with clay and wood. The flickering light of sconces cast the passage into a friendly, welcoming light. The scent that tickled his nostrils was fresh and unsullied – the sweet fragrance of a new home.

And there, just a few steps ahead of them stood a girl. Her hair, neatly combed and fastened into a pony tail, was black. Her eyes were dark and her dress was scarlet as a rose’s petal. She waved at him and smiled, and in her eyes was the shimmer of a hundred falling stars. She was a pretty little girl, all rosy-cheeked and healthy.

Paladin’s heart swelled with joy and he pulled Pippin closer to him when the boy tightened his grip around his neck. The girl, Daisy, looked at them for a long while and then she waved in farewell. When she turned her back on them and ran down the corridor Paladin no longer felt an urge to follow. And just as her figure faded in the distance the corridor grew dark and rotten once more.

“She’s happy now.”

Paladin blinked to find the others look at him expectantly but he didn’t heed them and instead kissed Pippin on the forehead. “I think she is, my boy. I think she finally is.”

With that Paladin walked out of the ancient corridor, relief in his heart, and did not speak about the incident again until late that night when he, Frodo, his cousins and their wives sat together over a mug of ale.

“It’s not fair!” Merimac pointed out when Paladin had recounted his vision. “I couldn’t see a thing in that stinking old passage. Good thing the new planks will block it out again come tomorrow.”

“Couldn’t you feel it at all?” Frodo asked in surprise, and Paladin pricked his ears, curious. “All of a sudden everything was calm and peaceful; light.”

Paladin smiled at that and exchanged a knowing glance with Merimac. There was some mysterious air about the boy.

“You’ve got too much Took blood in you, scallywag,” Merimac said and clapped the tween’s back. “Stick to us Brandybucks. Stick to sense.”

Merimac winked at him and Paladin did not hesitate to raise his mug and smile. “To sense!”

“To sense,” the others agreed laughing and while he drank Paladin thought that perhaps it wasn’t always so bad to get his way, even if his reasons could not be explained easily. He sensed more than others, and if Pippin should one day decide to hunt after a ghost after all Paladin would not hesitate to support him.

~THE END~