The War of the Ring was ended, but it did not seem as if a great darkness had been lifted. No, the evil had gone from the southern countries, and they, in that glory that Men seemed to make of war, had celebrated the downfall of Sauron and of his barbaric servants, and rejoiced even as they returned to Minas Tirith. This battle, however, had ended not with a cheer but with a deep sigh and an uncertain silence.
Those hobbits who had fought now dropped their weapons, and stood as if still awaiting orders, for they had never seen such horror before, and almost did not know quite how to react. The Shire had been for a long while tortured, and now, though that was over, there was a lot of clearing up to do, and it was difficult to know where to start.
'You had better say something,' murmured Peregrin then to his cousin who stood beside him; both felt the eyes of many on them, for they had commanded and they were yet dressed in that foreign gear of war that they had so unexpectedly brought northwards.
And at this suggestion Meriadoc Brandybuck crested the slope that ran down to the village, and looked out over the small crowd of confused hobbits with a pitiful eye, and called for silence.
His was a strong voice, and when he began to speak in his carrying, distinctive Bucklandish accent all turned to him; after his plea for them to listen, he stood for a moment, thinking, and then began.
'My dear friends... it is over.
'It is over: there is a King on the throne in Gondor, and the War of the Ring is ended. Let there now be peace in Middle-Earth, and now let the Shire be made beautiful once again.
'Until now, there had never been blood spilt on Shire soil... Let there never be again. May none ever kill another. It is over.
'Remember, my friends, those who fought to-day; remember the Took and Thain who brought his forces to our aid...' Here he indicated Pippin's father, who bowed his head modestly. 'And remember Peregrin Took, who helped lead us to victory.'
'And remember Merry,' Pippin cut in, coming to his cousin's side and putting his arm round his shoulder. Merry smiled slightly. 'Meriadoc the Magnificent, if you will, great commander of hobbits and a Knight of the Mark, no less.'
Merry blushed a little. 'Remember the names of those who fought, those who chose to risk their lives so that others might live, those who went to battle and so did what no hobbit should ever have had to do. Thank you, all of you.
'But especially, let us remember those who lost their lives to-day. The first and last hobbits to be killed at another's hand. Stand, then, and be silent, and remember...'
The silence was almost deafening; the hobbits all bowed their heads, and even the birds ceased to sing. When at last they emerged from their thoughts, a good deal had broken through that restraint that confusion had laid upon them, and had begun to cry. Merry himself had to brush away tears and compose himself before continuing.
'It is over... Go, go now, go to your families, and tell them what has happened, and let us now rebuild our dear homeland. Tell your children and your grandchildren the story of the War of the Ring, tell them how it ended at Bywater; tell them the names of those brave souls who should never have –'
He swallowed and for a moment could not go on.
'Let there now be eternal peace: and let us never forget.'
And he descended from the knoll, quietly, modestly, and went to try and bring back the Shire to which he had so hoped to return.
