Chapter 16 – A Fable and A Table

“You didn’t figure it out?” Merry asked over breakfast the following morning. He yawned widely before his next spoon of porridge, too weary to gloat in his victory. Time enough for that later.

“I did not,” Frodo admitted with what dignity he could muster. He was only glad that no one else had been there to witness yesterday’s debacle, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Gandalf.

Legolas considered the two cousins, looking uncomfortable. “Perhaps my involvement did more harm than good,” he said in apology. “I meant only to warn you, Frodo.”

“I know that, and I thank you. We both underestimated Merry, it seems,” Frodo said.

“So you knew all along that Legolas was spying on you?” Gimli asked. “How so?”

Merry managed a smug grin which turned into another wide yawn. “In that, I was unexpectedly lucky. I just happened to spy Legolas and the twins talking to that lass and sending her into the thrift store to do their dirty work for them,” he said, chuckling. “She was very discreet, I’ll give her that. If I hadn’t spied you myself, I never would have suspected. But be assured, Legolas, it wouldn’t have mattered either way if Frodo had known about the clothes beforehand. Would it, cousin?”

Frodo paused to consider this. Would things have happened any differently if he had no foreknowledge? What would have been his reaction when he saw all his clothes gone, except for one set of clothing he had never seen before? “No, it wouldn’t have,” he admitted at last. “Bergil played his part too well. How did you coerce Bergil into taking part in this prank?”

“I told him that Sir Pippin would have done it without hesitation, had he not been otherwise engaged,” Merry said.

“So I helped!” Pippin said. “That counts. I helped.” He beamed in triumph.

“What did you tell the laundresses then?” Gandalf asked.

“And when did you have time to set this all up, lad?” Gimli asked.

“The morning after Frodo’s nightmare,” Merry said. “I took the clothes with me to Faramir’s, being sure first to grab a different bag for them so Legolas wouldn’t recognize it for what it was. I then told Faramir it was athelas and other supplies from the Houses of Healing. After I left his house, I went to Strider’s and gave the clothes to the laundresses. I told them the truth, more or less. I told them that we were having a prank war, which made you naturally suspicious of anything I might give you directly. Much better for the clothes to be delivered by an anonymous admirer, and to be sure that you actually wore them, they were to take all clothes from the house, including any that might have accidentally been kicked under any beds or fallen behind or under any desks or left inside any desk drawers. I figured Frodo would hide a set somewhere, once Legolas told him the prank involved clothes. They had already heard that Frodo was unwell, so convincing them to come early so as not to disturb him while he rested was easy enough. That way, they were sure to come before Bergil arrived to play his part.”

“You figured out then that I asked Faramir to gather information if he could?” Legolas asked.

This woke Merry up. He blinked at Legolas as this information pierced through the fuzzier parts of his brain. That explained Faramir’s urgent plea to see Merry as soon as possible, but as Pippin had already told Faramir about the prank, he hadn’t thought anything of it when Faramir brought it up. Faramir had not betrayed their confidences though; he had only told Legolas that the prank would take place before Highday. “I didn’t,” Merry said then shrugged. “He wasn’t told anything of importance at any rate. Besides, none of you would have worried about the prank being played on a day I wasn’t here. All I really needed to do was make sure Sam was going to be busy elsewhere. How are the gardens in the Citadel, Sam?” Did you find anything on Strider?

“They’re right fine, Mr. Merry,” Sam said. “I even learned a thing or two, for what it’ll be worth to me once we’re home at any rate.” I did, but naught promising.

“You’ll have to tell us about it later,” Merry said. “Perhaps a tour after luncheon. For now, I think Strider is expecting us.”

They finished their food and left with Gandalf to the Citadel, leaving the clean up to Legolas, his voluntary penance for not protecting Frodo better.  

Gandalf veered off at the White Tower and the hobbits continued to the King’s House alone. They arrived there to discover that much had been accomplished in their absence. Aragorn had approved their plans for the library but for two changes. First, the cushions of the chairs would be a light tan to counter the dark wood. Second, at Mistress Porcia’s suggestion, the making of a new rug had been abandoned. There was simply not enough time to make one, so Mistress Porcia had suggested instead painting the wood floor. Elrohir and Elladan had instantly approved this idea and drawn examples for designs similar to those found in Rivendell. The one chosen would be painted onto the floor as the final touch to the project in colors of white, pale green and tan.

As promised, Jodocus had found them crafters and carpenters, who were in the process of dismantling the library when the hobbits arrived. Jodocus greeted them at the door with a stately bow, despite the banging and loud orders issuing from down the hall. They looked dubiously in the direction of the library and Jodocus showed a rare smile.

“You will be working in the master suite today, my lords,” he said and guided them up the stairs to the top landing. The entire third floor was considered the master suite, and they wondered with no small amount of trepidation what exactly they would be required to do here.

The others were already present, sitting in the dining hall around the table. Adrik and Amarlicus stood as the hobbits entered and offered drink and food while their small companions took their seats. The hobbits noticed then that the sidebar had been stocked with food as well as pitchers of water and juice. No one wanted to risk Frodo, or the others, taking ill again, and for Hobbits there was no better medicine than a well-laid table.

Once everyone was settled again, Elrohir began. “The plan for these rooms were to again change the curtains and add a few elements of Elven artwork, in particular the bed posters in all the chambers, and the tables and chairs here and in the parlor. Estel also wishes to paint more Elven designs onto the floor here and in the sun room.”

“The curtains will be simple white lace,” Elladan said, “with a heavier white satin for the winter months. The designs for the furniture has also been decided on as well. What we must decide is where to place the artwork and what designs to put on which floors. Estel also wanted opinions on potted plants for the sitting room, parlor and the balconies of the chambers.

Sam perked up at this. Finally, something with which he could help.

As they stood to begin their day’s work, Merry turned to Elladan. “Perhaps you and your brother could solve a riddle for us,” he said. “A few days back, when we first toured the house, we noticed that the table in the reception parlor was damaged. I wondered why it would be put there, and Pippin felt it gave the table character. Do you think it is possible for furniture to have character?”

“I know the table of which you speak,” Amarlicus said. “I do not know the full account of its history, but I do know the story of that scar. It is said to have happened during the reign of King Rómendacil. His son was Valacar, the future king who would bring about the Kin-strife. When Valacar was very young and first learning his swordsmanship, it is said that he stole away in the night to practice in the house. Fearing his father would hear him if he practiced in his room, he would go down to the reception parlor, where there was sufficient room. One night, he misjudged the distance, for the lighting was poor, and he struck the desk with his sword. He did not say anything to his father the following morning when the damage was discovered but knowing already of his son’s nocturnal activities, King Rómendacil blamed the damage on a serving lad, a friend of Valacar’s. Only then did Valacar admit to his actions and he had to serve the household in his friend’s place for a month for his deceit.”

“Causing strife even then, was he?” Frodo said with a smirk.

“His reign would not be easy,” Amarlicus said, “though he was often praised for his ability to fight in dim light.”

“It is said he could see at night as owls do,” Adrik said. “Some say it was a skill he learned among his wife’s people, but others say he always had the ability. If your tale of the table is true, then he must have learned it while he was practicing at night.”

Amarlicus nodded. “If it is true,” he agreed.

“As for your question of character, Merry, the answer is yes,” Elladan said. “In fact, I think it would be quite impossible for furniture not to have character.”

“That’s what I told him, but does he ever listen to me?” Pippin asked with feigned exasperation.

“How so?” Merry asked, ignoring Pippin.

“Take this table for example,” Elrohir said. “What do you think when you look at it? What sort of impression does it give?”

“I think of food, and it makes me hungry because there is so little on it,” Merry said. “I much prefer the sidebar.”

The others laughed. Elrohir continued with his lesson. “Beyond food. The first time you walked into this room, what did you think of it?”

“You said it would be good for dinner parties, but you wouldn’t want to eat here all the time,” Frodo said. “Why did you think that?”

Merry frowned. “Well, it’s too dark for one. Rather off-putting. Far too formal.”

“Precisely,” Elrohir said with the air of someone who had just proved his point.

“And that’s all because of the table you think?” Merry said, taking in the room as a whole. The chandelier and candelabra were simple but elegant. The walls were covered with a soft blue wallpaper and the floor was the same dark maple wood as the rest of the house. The table, chairs and the sidebar were stained black and were carved of hard lines and had thick legs.

“You shall see, once they have been redesigned and stripped to their original color,” Elladan said. “For now, there is much to decide upon today. Shall we get started?”

The morning progressed with little excitement. One by one, they went through the rooms, making their notes and coming to decisions, which Amarlicus wrote down for Aragorn’s final approval later. They worked steadily, the Big Folk making sure the hobbits did not overstretch themselves and ate at regular intervals.

At luncheon, they all paused for refreshment in the sun room, which overlooked the wide lawn between the house and the barracks. Frodo entertained them all with a recounting of Merry’s prank, and Merry was now sufficiently awake to gloat throughout and relish in his explanation of his magnificent plan. They then regaled their friends with stories of pranks past. Afterwards, once everyone stopped laughing, it was agreed upon that Merry had at last equaled Frodo’s mastery of prank warfare.

“But not surpassed,” Frodo ended with a sly smirk that sent shivers up Merry’s spine. “You won the battle, Merry, not the war.”

“So there is still another campaign to wage?” Adrik asked, intrigued by this aspect of his new friends. He would have once thought them too dignified for such silly matters, the Ring-bearer in particular. He had quickly learned during their first day together just how informal they really were.

“One final stroke,” Merry said. “I’m eager to see what you’ve come up with, Frodo.”

Frodo merely smiled and finished his meal. Sam poured more water and said nothing.

Midway through the afternoon’s work, Elladan and Elrohir dismissed themselves to take their day’s decisions to Aragorn. Merry looked at Sam pointedly.

“I suppose I should go and have a look at the gardens again,” Sam said a few minutes after the twins’ departure. “I best be figuring out what plants will look and grow best here.”

“We can come with you,” Frodo said, eager for some sun and air.

“Now Frodo, don’t think you can leave Pippin and me alone to test all these paints ourselves,” Merry said. “Amarlicus and Adrik are busy outlining the floors for the murals and we need to test the paint in all of the rooms.”

“Very well,” Frodo said. “Just hurry back, Sam.”

“Are you all right then, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, suddenly worried.

“He’s fine, Sam. Stop coddling him, or he’ll never learn to take care of himself,” Pippin said and shooed him out the door. “Come now, Frodo. Let’s try this periwinkle color first. What do you say?”

“I say you’re up to something,” Frodo said, leading his cousins to the master chamber. “What are you sending Sam to do?”

“Nothing,” Merry and Pippin chimed, a sure sign of mischief if Frodo ever heard one.

“I saw that look that passed between you. I know what that look means,” Frodo said, giving a look of his own that indicated they better talk or suffer the consequences.

Merry sighed. “Very well. Sam’s spying on Strider for me.”

“What?!” Frodo exclaimed. “Merry! That’s treason! Sam could get into serious trouble for that.”

“No, he can’t. Strider gave his permission,” Merry said.

“Strider gave his permission? Merry, that doesn’t make any sense,” Frodo said. “Pippin had something to do with this, didn’t he?”

“Frodo, you insult me,” Merry said. “I am half-Took, remember. I’m just as capable as not making sense as Pippin is.”

“That’s right!” Pippin agreed.

Frodo couldn’t exactly deny this statement. “All right then. Start at the beginning, leave nothing out.”

So Merry told Frodo about their attempt to discover what was distracting Aragorn. Meanwhile, they each took a paint brush from the pile and began to cover the wall of the master chamber with samples of the paints available to them. When Merry finished his explanation, Frodo merely stared at them for a time, as though he was looking at something and he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“I can’t believe you sent Sam to spy for you,” he said at last, disapproval finally conquering his features.

“I don't see why. It wouldn’t be the first time,” Merry pointed out.

“Besides, Sam volunteered,” Pippin said. “In fact, it was practically his idea. And anyway, you were the one who taught him how to spy in the first place, so really, this is all your fault.”

“Sam volunteered to spy on the King?” Frodo asked, ignoring the last part of Pippin’s statement. It was true; he was the one who taught Sam to spy. However, this current situation was hardly his doing. Pippin knew this as well, but his attempt to distract Frodo from the real issue was not going to work.

Merry shook his head. “Sam volunteered to spy on Strider, and Strider, as I already told you, approved it. I don’t understand why you’re having such a hard time with this.”

“Why would Strider approve it then?” Frodo asked, for that was the part of all this that was truly bothering him.

What king would submit to having his own people spy upon his every move, friend or not? Unless he was confident that Sam would not hear or learn anything of great importance, in which case, Aragorn really didn’t know Sam as well as he thought he did. Unless… Of course, a king would have spies of his own, who could report back any suspicious movements to their liege. But who? Adrik and Amarlicus? Elladan and Elrohir? Quite possibly all four of them, and more. There were pieces at play here that he could not see, and that was never good.  

Sam walked downstairs to the king’s private study, stepping casually yet purposefully. He had learned long ago that the best way to go undetected, or at least unsuspected, was to act as though nothing were amiss. If the guards outside Aragorn’s study thought for just a moment that he meant trouble, then trouble there would be. As it was, the guards merely nodded at him, and he nodded back, never once breaking his stride. He listened carefully as he passed, but could not hear any hint of conversation within.

Knowing that Aragorn had planned to take his luncheon in his house today, in order to discuss the renovations with his foster brothers, Sam continued down the hall towards the library. Would Aragorn and the twins perhaps be there instead, checking on the work that the men were doing? Yes, they were. Sam could hear them talking from the hallway, though he could not make out their words until he was about ten yards away. He lightened his step and walked into the library along the farthest wall, where his entry would be blocked by the bookshelves. He peeked through the shelves, but the silence alone told him that the craftsmen had been dismissed for their own luncheon. He was not surprised to see that only Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir remained in the room, and they were all surveying the mess of demolition left by the workers.

“-you’re sure about this?” Aragorn was asking. He sounded both uncertain and hopeful, yet there was something else there as well, a longing that for some reason brought to Sam’s mind images of Rosie Cotton. But that was silly. Aragorn didn’t even know Rosie.

“It looks a wreck now only because it is,” Elladan said, sounding cheerful. “But be of good cheer, brother. By the time it is finished, you will not even be able to recognize it.”

“I cannot even recognize it now,” Aragorn said, though he chuckled ruefully as he said it. “We should have started this sooner. I have already kept you from Arwen long enough.”

“Your need is the greater,” Elrohir said. “You have a kingdom to organize, ambassadors to entertain, soldiers to quarter and nurse back to health, and a city to rebuild. This would naturally be the last thing on your mind but have no fear. Your home will be complete before we depart.”

They then began speaking of the plans for the master suite. Sam waited behind a shelf until they left the library and were far down the hall. When he could no longer hear them, he slipped out of his hiding place and returned upstairs, mulling over all he just heard. So, Elladan and Elrohir did not have much longer in the city, and something seemed amiss with Arwen, yet it could not be anything too serious if they had not gone to her already.

He was still attempting to piece together this riddle when he returned to the master suite and found his friends now in the first bedchamber, diligently working away. Sam picked up a brush and started working alongside Frodo.

“So?” Merry asked at once upon seeing Sam returned. “What did you discover yesterday and today? Don’t worry. We explained to Frodo about Strider.”

Frodo lifted an eyebrow at Sam, who could only shrug in response. What’s done was done, after all.

“I didn’t find much, truth be told,” Sam said. “He does have a secret drawer in that hutch in his study, though it weren’t filled with anything all that interesting, just the remodeling plans for the house, a list of proprietors in the city, and a calendar.”

“What proprietors?” Pippin asked.

“Boutiques, seamers, smiths and jewelers mostly,” Sam said.

“What’s the connection?” Pippin asked.

“I couldn’t be saying, sir,” Sam said.

“What were Strider and the twins talking about just now then?” Merry asked next.

Now it was Sam’s turn to look disapproving. He stopped painting long enough to scowl at Merry. “Now, Mr. Merry, you know as I promised Strider I wouldn’t repeat aught I overheard to you or Mr. Pippin.”

“Fine. We’ll leave the room, you tell Frodo, and when we come back in, Frodo will tell us,” Merry said and began to usher Pippin towards the door.

“I will not,” Frodo said. “I will have nothing to do with this, and Sam, you’ll have nothing to do with it anymore either. If Merry and Pippin want to plan at treason, let it be their own necks in the noose.”

“But Strider gave his permission!” Pippin said.

Sam nodded. “I made sure of it, sir.”

“I don’t care. Strider would never agree to something like this unless he had a reason. I for one will not have you going about the citadel and poking your nose into business that does not involve you until I can figure out what that reason is,” Frodo said. “You are my responsibility, Sam, and I will not be found lacking in my duty to keep you safe.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Frodo’s determined face melted any arguments on his tongue. “Yes, Master,” he agreed, hanging his head in submission.

“Pulling rank is beneath you, Frodo,” Pippin said.

“Wonderful. Now who am I supposed to use as a spy?” Merry asked.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Frodo said. “You always do.”

To be continued…

GF 5/29/09
Published 6/22/09