Chapter 30 – The Final Strike

Frodo wandered into the proprietor’s shop just before closing. The man looked up when the door opened and his face split into a grin. “My Lord!” he exclaimed and jumped up from his chair with enthusiasm. His thin frame had filled out somewhat in the weeks since Frodo’s initial visit but he still appeared thinner than he was accustomed to. “I was beginning to think you would not come and perhaps I should mail the package to you after all.”

“I am sorry for coming so late,” Frodo said. “I could not get away until now. Is it ready?”

The proprietor nodded. He went into the back room and returned with a small parcel wrapped in a rag. “I must ask, my lord, but why do you require only the one?” he said, handing over the parcel.

“It is a present for my cousin,” Frodo said, unwrapping the parcel to examine the so-called gift.

“I hope that it is satisfactory?” the proprietor asked, wringing his hands anxiously. “This is not my usual occupation. If it does not please you, I would be more than happy to gather more material and send it to a proper master.”

Frodo turned the gift around and upside down, then he too grinned. “No, this is perfect. Merry will be thrilled.”

“He is fond of them, then?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t say that,” Frodo said, wrapping up the parcel again and tucking it into his coat pocket. “I am afraid in my rush to leave tonight, I forget my purse at the house. I will return tomorrow with your fee. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the proprietor said. “A good night to you as well.”

Frodo exited the little shop and slipped into the alley to navigate his way back home in secret. He patted the parcel and chuckled with gleeful anticipation. He had forgotten how much fun this could be!

Sam was waiting for him on the porch when he returned. The moonlight cast the gardener in shades of pale blue. A small orange light flashed from a burning pipe and shadowy smoke rose into the air. Frodo gave him the parcel. “How did you get the pipeweed?”

“Won it,” Sam said. “Mr. Merry’s not so good at cards as he likes to think.”

“Is Merry looking for me?”

“Mr. Pippin’s got him distracted sorting through the mail,” Sam said. “Why do lasses insist on sending us bits of their hair? I find it very disturbing.”

“I think it must be some custom of Men, a way of showing one’s appreciation,” Frodo said. “Or at least, that’s what I hope it means.”

“They’re an odd sort, Big Folk are,” Sam said and drew again on his pipe.

Frodo leaned against the house beside him. Sam was still feeling talkative after his stone treatment the other night, and Frodo intended to take advantage of it if he could. “I wanted to talk to you about something. What do you say about going to Hobbiton first when we get home? There’s no need to go to Crickhollow straight away. Merry can go to Brandy Hall and let everyone know that we are back and well, and see the house readied for our arrival. Pippin will be wanting to get to Tuckborough as quickly as possible. We’ll travel with him to Three-Farthing Stone, then continue to Hobbiton together. We can see your father and the Cottons. They shouldn’t have to wait for the gossip to find out you’re back.”

“I’d like that,” Sam said, smiling wistfully. “You really wouldn’t mind? We’d likely run into the S.-B.s as soon as we set foot in Hobbiton.”

“I don’t mind,” Frodo said. “Sam, why didn’t you tell me about your worries earlier, about Rosie?”

“There’s naught as can be done about it,” Sam said. “Best not to talk about it.”

“I want to know when things are bothering you,” Frodo said. “You do consider me your friend, don’t you?”

“Of course, sir!”

“Good. Then no more secrets.”

“No more secrets, sir,” Sam said. He drew on his pipe again, lingering over the taste of the weed before letting out the smoke. He handed the pipe to Frodo. “You know, sir, I do have something as I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Did the Ring ever make you hate anyone?”

“Not that I can recall,” Frodo said slowly. “Why?”

“There were times that I hated Gollum, with every part of me,” Sam said. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but I have since then and I can’t figure why I hated him so much. He was a pitiable thing, he was, even if he was a villain. He didn’t deserve my trust, and that’s the truth, but he didn’t do aught as to make me hate him either. Do you think it was the Ring?”

“The Ring was whispering to Boromir long before we neared Mordor. It told him lies and showed him empty promises,” Frodo said. “You don’t have a hateful bone in your body, Sam.”

“But I must, if the Ring was able to find it.”

“Perhaps, but you’re a kind hobbit and that’s a fact,” Frodo said, handing the pipe back. “If you hated Gollum, I think it must have been the Ring. It knew if Gollum got his hands on It, he’d take It back to the caves. By making you hate him, or twisting your mistrust into hate, you prevented him from making a move too soon, when he could have escaped with It. The Ring wanted to return to Its master and It would have done anything to accomplish that.”

“We have that in common then,” Sam said.

“You have nothing in common with that thing,” Frodo said with vehemence. “Its devotion, if you can even call it that, wasn’t out of love, but the desire for power, and you, Samwise Gamgee, care nothing for power. You are the most humble and pure hobbit that I know, and the Quest would have been lost if not for you. I believe I owe you a very substantial raise. It may be a few years in coming though.”

Sam chuckled. “That’s all right, sir. I’ve no need for money, seeing as I won’t be getting married anytime soon.”

Frodo chuckled also and took back the pipe. “You’ll get married to your Rose if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Well, I should hope I won’t have to be waiting that long!” Sam said. “You really think she’s waited for me? They must have reckoned us dead long ago.”

“I know she did,” Frodo said. “You’ll be married in the spring. She’s going to look lovely.”

“She always looks lovely.”

They finished Sam’s pipe and went inside together. Sam went into the kitchen to hide the parcel, and Frodo went into the parlor where Merry and Pippin were on the floor surrounded by mail. Sitting in the chairs were Gimli and Legolas and scattered on the table between them were sketches of the houses being rebuilt on the Pelennor.

Legolas sorted through the sketches as Gimli made notes on them and put them aside. “Does the land wish for the homes to be where you are putting them?” Legolas asked.

Gimli regarded the elf with exasperation. “I imagine the land doesn’t much care where we put the houses,” he said. “Besides, they are being built on the foundations of the old houses, so if the land hasn’t protested their positions before, it seems unlikely it would do so now.”

“What about trees?” Legolas asked next. “They would provide shade and protection from the weather for the houses.”

“Trees will uproot the foundations,” Gimli said.

“You should plant the trees first, let them mature, then build around them,” Legolas said.

“Let them mature? Build around them? That would take years and…” Gimli stopped, suddenly noticing Legolas’s too-placid expression. “If you are bored, I suggest you go and help the hobbits with their mail. That will keep you entertained and out of my hair.”

“That’s a hairy proposition,” Pippin quipped with a glance at the locks of hair that were piling up between him and Merry. The cousins snickered.

Legolas shook his head. “I have hair enough of my own.” He stood and walked past Frodo to go outside. “I think I shall take a stroll in the moonlight.”

Frodo passed through the parlor to the study. He caught Pippin’s eyes on the way and winked. The plan was in motion.  

“Where’s Gandalf?” Pippin asked the next morning at breakfast.

“He did not return from the Citadel last night,” Legolas answered.

Gimli poured juice for himself and the hobbits and water for Legolas. “Another late night. It would not be the first time.”

“Perhaps,” Pippin agreed with a frown at Gandalf’s empty chair. “But he always sends word so we won’t worry.”

“You can lecture him when he comes home tonight,” Merry said.

Sam dished out the eggs and bacon. “I don’t like it,” he declared. “Mr. Pippin’s right. Gandalf always lets us know when he ain’t going to come back. On the other hand, if something had happened to him, I’m sure we’d’ve heard about it.”

“How then do you read this riddle?” Legolas asked.

“More secrets is how,” Sam answered. He sat next to his master and shook his head. “Him and Strider both. It don’t seem a proper way to begin your job as king, keeping secrets from your closest friends. That’s hard, that is. Folk shouldn’t keep secrets. Like you, Master, letting Mr. Merry think as you’re going to prank him back when you ain’t.”

“I knew it!” Merry exclaimed.

“And you, Mr. Merry, inviting all these folks to luncheon to force Mr. Frodo out of his room and the house,” Sam continued.

“Sam!” Merry cried.

“Merry,” Frodo growled.

“That’s the real prank, sir, and I’ve been feeling right awful keeping it from you,” Sam went on. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Sam. You needn’t ask,” Frodo said and patted his friend’s hand.

“That’s awfully big of you, cousin,” Merry said.

Frodo narrowed his eyes at Merry. “Sam is forgiven. You are not. And you, Pip? What was your involvement in this little scheme?”

“It was my idea!” Pippin said cheerfully. “I figured that if we started inviting over guests immediately after Merry declared war, you’d figure it out. So I suggested a decoy prank. Merry came up with that prank all on his own though, and wouldn’t let either of us help him. But Sam and I helped plenty with the real prank. I even went to Faramir and he agreed to give us copies of the court dockets so we could find potential houseguests, and he allowed us to use Bergil in hunting down their addresses and sending the invitations.”

“Bergil again,” Frodo muttered. “I can see the lad is benefiting from his acquaintance with you.”

Pippin nodded. “I think so.”

“Then you are forgiven too,” Frodo said.

“What? Why!” Merry demanded.

“I forgave him of any involvement ahead of time, remember,” Frodo said.

“But you already forgave him for the fake prank.”

“First, he clearly was not involved in the fake prank, so any forgiveness extended to him at that time was given prematurely. Second, even if he was involved, that prank is but a small part of the larger prank, and so the forgiveness would by rights included the entire prank,” Frodo said.

“You can’t be arguing with that, lad,” Gimli said.

“You have no such insurance,” Frodo continued to Merry.

“But I know what your prank is now, so the game is over,” Merry said hopefully. “You don’t have to stay for luncheon today if you don’t want to.”

“You played two pranks on me, Merry, not one as previously agreed upon. I believe that leaves me one short of the mark, and I will not be found short. This game is far from over, but believe me, you will soon be wishing that it was,” Frodo said. He picked up his cup of juice and lifted it into the air. “Cheers.”

“For you maybe,” Merry mumbled and stuffed his mouth with eggs.

“We’ll be meeting with Master Duilfin today,” Pippin said. “You’ve met him, haven’t you, Gimli?”

Gimli nodded. “Aye, he’s a fine cooper, the best in the city I’ve met. He built the casks in which we store the cement sand. It’s a shame about his son.”

“What happened to his son?” Frodo asked.

“He was one of many soldiers injured during the siege,” Gimli said. “His legs were crushed under one of the stones the Enemy was tossing over the walls. He lost them both. Many would consider him fortunate to be alive, but he does not share in that sentiment. He is healing physically, but the damage to his pride is proving stubborn. He can’t make peace with what he’s lost, and so he lingers in the Houses of the Healing, refusing to go home, though there is little more they can do for him there.”

“Poor chap,” Sam said.

“Has he met with Adrik’s father?” Frodo asked. “Adrik was telling me the other night that the men find his father to be an inspiration.”

“Oh, aye, they’ve known each other for years,” Gimli said. “Master Kirtis taught young Petras, and all the men in the Houses. Master Kirtis has been to see them all, and has spoken with the lad on many occasions. Petras seems set on festering though.”

“Perhaps we can go see him after Master Duilfin leaves. What will you be doing today?” Pippin asked of Gimli and Legolas.

“With the Haradrim gone, we have lost many good workers,” Gimli said. “We will have to find others that can help in their place, lest the reconstruction slow. We want to have as many houses completed before winter arrives.”

“We have an audience with Aragorn today to request more soldiers for the work,” Legolas said. “If that cannot be arranged, then we plan to request the help of the lords. They can afford to get their hands dirty.”

Only when Legolas and Gimli arrived at the White Tower, they were surprised to find the High Throne empty and Faramir alone holding the court. Faramir granted them their request of both soldiers and lords, but said nothing of the king’s whereabouts. As they left the Hall, they stopped to whisper with one of the guards at the White Tree.

“No one knows where they went,” said the guard. “The King Elessar and Mithrandir disappeared in the middle of the night. The king’s brothers went with them. Prince Faramir said only that they will return in a few day’s time and they will bring a gift for which the city has long awaited.”

Legolas and Gimli returned home, discussing what this gift might be, to find the hobbits in the midst of cooking and cleaning. Frodo and Sam were straightening up the parlor and study, while Pippin and Merry were in the kitchen putting together luncheon.

“You’ll be joining us?” Pippin asked when he saw them return.

“No, we must go and commission more workers,” Legolas said. “We just came from court and there is news, a new sentence to the riddle.”

Gimli gathered Frodo and Sam, and together they told them about the disappearance of Gandalf, Aragorn, Elrohir and Elladan and the gift they would be bringing back to the city.

“Do you suppose it’s Arwen?” Merry asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, thinking. “Elrohir and Elladan said that they’d be leaving as soon as the remodeling was finished, or rather, that the remodeling would be finished by the time they had to leave. I didn’t reckon them on coming back.”

“When did they say this?” Merry asked.

“That day you told Mr. Frodo I was spying on Strider,” Sam said. “Maybe that’s the day they were counting down to on that calendar. I figured it on Strider who was marking down to something, but it could have been them instead.”

“Maybe,” Pippin said. “It’s awfully strange, whatever is going on. We should ask around and find out what the people of the city have been waiting for, other than the king’s return.”

“We could ask Master Duilfin,” Merry said.

“We’ll ask the lords as we recruit their help,” Legolas said. “We should begin now. Enjoy your luncheon. We’ll meet here tonight and gather our data.”

“Wait. Lady Bodil was having her dinner party tonight,” Pippin said. “I can imagine all they’ll be talking about is the king’s disappearance. It would be simple enough to get them talking about any so-called gifts.”

“We should go to some of the inns also,” Merry said.

“Very well,” Frodo agreed. “But before we do any of that, we need to get through luncheon first.”

Gimli and Legolas departed and the hobbits went back to their duties. Frodo and Sam took up the dust cloths and attacked the surfaces of the furniture, while Merry and Pippin went back to cooking. When the rooms were cleaned, Frodo and Sam went into the dining room to set the table. They worked diligently, for luncheon was swiftly approaching and their guest would soon be arriving. Sam trotted outside to gather fresh cuttings from the garden for the centerpiece, and Frodo went to the closet to dig out the candlesticks. He set these in their sconces and lit them, then stood back and surveyed their work. He nodded; Mistress Porcia would approve.

Merry and Pippin were nearly done with the food preparations when they heard Sam outside in the garden greeting their guest. Pippin picked up the platter of water biscuits and sliced cheese and headed for the parlor. “Don’t forget the butter and preserves!” he called over his shoulder.

“Right!” Merry said. He darted over to the pantry, opened the door and let out a scream that could be heard clear to Mordor. There was a rat in the pantry! A huge, monstrous, hobbit-devouring rat! He slammed the door shut and ran from the kitchen.

Sam burst into the house, Master Duilfin following close behind, both looking startled. They ran into the parlor just as Merry reached it. Pippin stuck his head out of the dining room; he was still holding the platter.

“Merry?” he started to ask.

Merry pointed frantically in the direction of the kitchen. “Rat!” he squeaked. “In the pantry! It hissed at me!”

“A rat?” asked Master Duilfin, doing his best not to laugh.

Merry looked up and jumped. He had forgotten that their guest was here. He did his best to look composed as he drew himself to his full height. “Yes, a rat,” he said, his voice shaking for all that he tried to sound calm. “It’s just… Pippin’s afraid of them.”

Everyone looked at Pippin, who looked more startled by this pronouncement than anything else that had happened so far. He looked from Merry to Sam to Duilfin and back to Merry again. “Er, yes, I’m terrified of them. Nasty little critters,” he said.

“Shall I dispose of it for you, Sir Peregrin?” Duilfin asked, withdrawing a knife from his belt.

“Yes please,” Pippin said.

“Wait!” Merry shouted as Duilfin moved towards the kitchen. Merry’s eyes were as wide as teacups, and he looked ready to jump on the settee if need required it. “What if it jumps out of the pantry and runs into here?”

Sam picked up the newly-emptied trash bin and held it upside down. “We’ll catch it before it can get too close to Mr. Pippin.”

“Right,” Merry said and took a calming breath. “Be careful,” he said to Duilfin.

The man nodded. “I think I have the upper hand, Sir Meriadoc,” he said and went into the kitchen.

The hobbits listened with sharp ears, following by the sound the man’s careful approach of the pantry, the opening of the pantry door and then… absolute silence. Several long moments passed in which nothing happened. Now even Sam and Pippin were getting curious, and Sam was about to go into the kitchen himself when they heard the pantry door close. The man returned to the parlor and in his hand he held a brown shoe made of rat fur, the straw laces pulled to the heel and twirled together to resemble a rat’s tail.

“I believe I’ve found your culprit,” Duilfin said, looking stern. “He did not put up much of a fight.” He held out his finding. The hobbits leaned forward for a closer look.

“I’ve never seen a shoe made of rat fur before,” Pippin said.

“Nor have I,” said Duilfin. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Frodo,” Merry hissed and looked about. His dearly beloved older cousin was nowhere to be seen. He marched into the kitchen, the study and even went upstairs. Nothing. Merry returned to the parlor and only then noticed that the back door was opened ajar. “He snuck out while we weren’t looking! That scamp!”

“I told you he’d turn this around on you,” Pippin said.

“You said that about the prank we pulled on Strider,” Merry said.

“Did I?” Pippin asked, feigning confusion. “I’m certain that this is what I meant.”

“And you really should know Mr. Frodo better by now than to believe he’d do naught about it,” Sam said with a shrug. “Sorry, Mr. Merry, but he swore us to secrecy.”

“You were both in on this!” Merry asked in disbelief. “I expected this of Sam, but not you, Pip! You betrayed me.”

“Frodo wasn’t the only one who owed you for pranks, Merry,” Pippin said. “You tricked me into streaking too, and in front of all the Shire! You had this coming.”

“How long?” Merry asked. “How long have you all been plotting against me?”

“Only since Trewsday,” Pippin said. “It was all Frodo’s idea. He did all the legwork. Sam and I were just meant to keep you guessing, and it worked. Then when Sam spilled the milk about the fake prank after his bubble bath, Frodo knew just when to spring his rat trap on you. He really is quite brilliant, isn’t he?”

“He’s still a rascal and that’s a fact,” Sam agreed, beaming with pride.

“Rascal? Scamp? You cannot possibly mean Lord Frodo?” Duilfin asked, perplexed. He was still holding the rat shoe and looking from one hobbit to the other as though they had all completely lost their senses.

“Oh, we mean Lord Frodo, all right,” Merry said. “That lying, deceiving, wily little pretender! We had a pact! No more public pranks!”

“Well, technically, you are still in the house, Merry,” Pippin pointed out. “I’m sure that Master Duilfin will be discreet enough not to mention to anyone how afraid you – er, I – am of rats.”

“Please, sir, I beg you, just call this one over and done,” Sam said. “Mr. Frodo really does want to go easy on you. Believe me, he’s not above using real rats if there has to be a next time.”

“Fine. We’re even. It’s over,” Merry agreed grudgingly.

“I’m afraid I do not understand any of this,” Duilfin said, looking down at the shoe in his hand. He noticed then that he still held his knife in the other hand and he put this away. He set the rat shoe on the table.

“That’s my oven mitt!” Merry exclaimed, getting a better look at it. “I’ve been looking for that!” He noticed Sam and Pippin frowning at him, their arms crossed. “I have other slippers I could use.”

“Slippers for oven mitts?” Duilfin asked, more baffled than ever. “What exactly is this all about?”

“Sit down, Master Duilfin,” Pippin said and led the man to a nearby chair. “We’ll tell you all about it. Have you ever heard of streaking?”  

Frodo tiptoed past the kitchen and darted for the back door. He slipped outside onto the back porch and waited, his ear pressed to the door. Only a half-moment passed before Merry’s terrified shriek. Chuckling, he went out the gate and into the alley. He knew the alleys well and was able to reach the rat catcher’s without being seen, allowing him plenty of time to laugh and congratulate himself on a prank well pulled. He paused just outside the rat catcher’s cottage and willed his face into solemnity.

The old proprietor looked up when he entered. He came to Frodo immediately, looking both intrigued and worried. A more unusual request he had never been asked for before, the hide of a rat applied to a shoe – and he sincerely hoped not to be asked for more.

“Hullo,” Frodo greeted.

“Lord Frodo,” the proprietor said with a bow. “Are you not satisfied with your request?”

“I am perfectly satisfied,” Frodo said. “It did it’s job well. My cousin will never forget it. I’ve come to pay you. How much do I owe you?”

“You needn’t pay, my lord,” the proprietor said.

“How much do I owe you?” Frodo repeated, pulling out his purse. He counted out the proprietor’s mumbled response and added a couple of extra coins to the sum. “For a job well done.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the proprietor said, taking the money with another bow. “Will— will that be all that you require?”

“It will be,” Frodo said. “Thank you for your cooperation, and remember, this is our little secret.”

The proprietor nodded and watched the Ring-bearer leave. He heaved a deep sigh as the door closed behind the little lord and rattled the coins in his hand. He had heard that the halflings were strange and unpredictable creatures, but this was the first time he remembered when the reality exceeded the rumors!

To be continued…

GF 9/6/09
Published 10/19/09