Passing for Underhill Chapter Fourteen

"Why could we all move as soon as Saruman left? Why aren't we all still spellbound?" Ilberic asked. "The enchantment on Pippin was permanent."

"I don't know," Merry said. "Maybe Saruman knows how to limit his own magic. Maybe the ring is stronger. Maybe it only works like that on Pippin. Because the order came from me."

Ilberic looked away. Some of the other Brandybucks were frankly staring, and Celandine looked away and shuffled her feet.

"Don't look at me like that! It's not my fault. Please, Ilby, Celandine, everyone, don't be afraid of me."

Berilac said, "You know what we're all thinking, Merry: like father, like son."

It was Merry's turn to look away uncomfortably. "Later. We'll deal with that later. I don't know if Saruman can really teleport or if he just distracted us with the flash of light and is running away on foot. Scouts should go after him. Try to get Pippin back. Or at least find out where Saruman has gone. Yes, that's it. Go out by twos. If Saruman stops anywhere that looks like he's going to be there for a while, one come back and tell us, the other stay and watch. Divide yourselves into pairs."

"Not you, Frodo-lad," said Sam. "Stay here with me. We don't know this country. Let the Brandybucks do the scouting. And that goes double for you, Eldarion."

As the first brace of Brandybucks slipped out into the countryside, Diamond came running into the great room. "Eldarion! Estella's in labor!"

"It's too soon!" the healer screeched, panic in his eyes. "Lead me!" As he and Diamond ran off, he shouted back over his shoulder, "Someone bring my herbs and kit!"

Merry pointed at Celandine. "Get the healer's gear." Then he ran after Eldarion.

Estella had collapsed in a dusty parlor. She lay panting on a couch now, but there was an ominous wet spot in the wool rug. Eldarion, kneeling before Estella, looked up frantically at Merry. "Never have I healed someone I can neither see nor touch! I know not how to find him! I can feel him, but I cannot hear him in my mind— I do not know how to do this!"

Diamond put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Your magic will work when you brew the kingsfoil."

"Yes," Merry jumped to agree, "Celandine's bringing your bag. Your powers work with the herb, you'll do fine."

"No," groaned Estella. "It's over. My water broke." Her face ran with sweat.

"I will heal him!" Eldarion screamed.

"It can't be over," Merry said. "Not after all we've been through to get this far."

Celandine blew in like a tempest with Eldarion's kit. "I sent Meli to the kitchen for hot water." She distributed the other supplies next to Eldarion.

Estella gasped, rolled halfway off the divan and planted her feet. A mess like a jarful of grape jelly hit the floor.

"I do not know what to do!" Eldarion shrieked. "Get a midwife!"

"It's too late for that," Estella panted. "The baby is gone. I can feel it. I'm empty. Just save my womb, Eldarion." Then blood splashed under her dress, and she swooned.

"Estella!" Merry cried.

Eldarion caught her and set her back on the couch. "Where is that water? I must save her now!"

Merry held Estella's hand, whispering entreaties, his face a mask of grief.

Eldarion set a hand on Estella's brow and closed his eyes. Estella's breathing steadied, but she did not wake up. "Estella, Estella, come back," Eldarion called softly. "Here my voice, come back." He looked up at Merry, and said raggedly, "Call her."

"'Stella? Wake up, Estella." Merry sobbed, "It's not working, is it?" When Eldarion did not reply, Merry said, "Would—would more power help?"

"More power is coming," Eldarion said. "Athelas needs to steep to release its properties. Could I but have one wish, it would be that water would boil faster."

Merry shook his head. "Not that kind." He took the ring from his pocket. "Will it help or harm to call her with the Voice?"

"I do not know," replied Eldarion. "Now indeed do we miss our soothsayer."

"I'm going to try it," Merry resolved. He put on the ring. Instantly the world was plunged into shadow and chaos. Everything was a queasy fluttering like pennants on a smoking battlefield. "Estella, come back to me." He heard his own voice distantly, and over it, oddly melted into it, Saruman's Voice issued from the glowing circle of fire on his hand. "Live, Estella. Wake up. Return to health and hope."

Estella stirred a little.

"It is enough," Eldarion proclaimed. "The worst is over. Or, well, I should say, she will live. It remains to be seen what the touch of the ring has done to her. That power was never made for healing."

Merry bowed his tear-streaked face over Estella's hands.

Melilot rushed in with a steaming teapot and bowl, and set them down by Eldarion. The prince began his routine.

Saruman's lair looked like an ordinary hobbit house. Not a hobbit hole; Pippin noted windows in all three of the visible walls, and more sunlight pouring in from an open door down the corridor. They were not underground.

Two of Saruman's minions went off on some errand. Saruman, still looking very much like a hobbit, walked around the prone Pippin, who got a good look at Saruman's fake foot fur. It had been artfully applied. Even from close up, he could not have told it from the real thing but for his soothsayer's gift.

The third goon asked Saruman, "You want I should help you with him, Merlin?"

"Nay. I believe I shall enjoy dealing with him myself." Saruman put a foot on Pippin's ribcage and leaned. Then he stomped hard. There was an audible pop, and Pippin grunted and closed his eyes tight. "Interesting," Saruman breathed.

To his henchman, he said offhandedly, "You may build up the fire, Carl. Place the poker in it."

"Sure thing, boss."

Saruman bent down and removed Pippin's clothing, lifting an arm here, a leg there. Pippin did not resist. When Saruman let Pippin's arm fall out of position, Pippin moved only to resume his pose. "What intriguing reactions," Saruman commented.

The minion came over to look. "Quite the collection of scars, eh Merlin?"

"Indeed," the wizard agreed. "Clearly, it would be pointless to beat him."

"Too bad." Carl scratched and shrugged. "Got me a taste for that kind of sport, while your Chiefship was in charge of the Shire. The Big Men at the Lockholes let me do a lot of the whippings for them. Like it was a chore they got tired of, you might say. Well, not all of them, some of the Men were right enthusiastic about it."

"Ah. There will be 'sport'. My fighting Uruk-hai used the same term. For me this is an intellectual puzzle, a scientific experiment. To probe the limits of mental conditioning. However, that does not exclude the enjoyment of the exercise." Saruman glanced at the hearth. "The poker will not yet be ready. Tell me, Carl, have you or Ted or Pressy a taste for the male of your species?"

Pippin's eyes opened wide. "Kherekh burzum!"

Saruman flinched. Pippin grinned up at him, and fired off a string of all the bluest curses he knew in the Black Speech of Mordor. Saruman staggered back, batting at the air as if fighting unseen foes. His skin peeled and blood ran from his eyes. "Carl, gag him!"

Carl picked up Pippin's own shirt, tore off a sleeve, and stuffed it into Pippin's mouth. Then he bound it fast with Pippin's suspenders.

Saruman grated, "Very clever, Peregrin Took. But your weapon is silenced now." Saruman started to whirl off dramatically, then moderated his steps. Pippin hoped that meant the evil sorcerer was dizzy.

At the door, Saruman paused and said, "If any of you care to use him before I begin the burning, I shall be occupied for at least an hour, fixing this damage." He turned back once more. "Oh, and Pippin. If you choose to rise and leave, no one here will stop you by force. It would ruin my experiment if I had you restrained. This is all to see how long, and under what circumstances, you will stay down." Then accursed wizard left, to lick his wounds, Pippin presumed.

Pippin tried to curse again, but the improvised gag was effective. 'Oh, well,' Pippin thought, 'the cursing was good while it lasted'.

Saruman seemed to have been completely diverted from trying to get the ring. Pippin wondered how long he could provide a distraction, and if Merry could get to a smithy and destroy the ring before Saruman lost interest in torturing Pippin.

Pippin resolved to stay down as long as possible. Every minute he purchased gave Merry more time to reach Stock. And with the gag in place, Pippin could not accidentally reveal their plan. He could not have arranged a more perfect diversion if he had done it on purpose.

At that moment, Merry had no thought of reaching Stock. He stayed by Estella's side, where she had been moved to their bedchamber, while she slept fitfully, waking occasionally to ask for water.

His scouts returned at nightfall, but Merry would not go out to them, or hear them. Berilac and Sam took their reports. They had found nothing.

In the morning, Sam came to Merry and said gently, "Merry, Eldarion is here. He wants to give Estella another treatment. Get some rest now. Eldarion will tend her." Merry allowed himself to be led away, and settled on a sofa for a short nap. When he awoke, he found Sam waiting for him. "Your cook brought up a light breakfast for you, Mr. Merry. Have something to eat. I know you're in the depths of despair right now, but we've a quest we can't set aside, and a wizard to fight."

"Quest?" Merry blinked.

"To destroy the ring. If you've forgotten, even a stone troll would forgive you, what with your worriting over Estella and all. But you've still got it, Saruman still wants it, and Stock still has a blacksmith shop not a day's ride from here."

"I can't destroy it!" Merry protested. "What if I need it again? The Voice saved Estella. It made the difference, while we were waiting for the hot water for the athelas. Even Eldarion said so."

"Oh, now Mr. Merry, I know you mean well and all, but do you know what old Gandalf said about the One? I overheard this eavesdropping, and read it again in Mr. Frodo's book. Gandalf said, 'the way of the ring to my heart is by pity, and the desire of strength to do good'. Maybe I don't have that exact, but you take my meaning, sir."

Merry sighed in frustration. "It's not the One Ring. It's not even close. It has different powers, and an altogether different maker."

"But it was made as a copy of it," Sam said. "It had to have been, like Eldarion said."

"Gandalf wore a Ring of Power himself. Just because the One was evil, doesn't mean they all are. And it's isn't even a real Ring of Power, just a cheap knockoff."

"You're saying it's useful, and it hasn't shown itself to be very evil in your hands yet, and you want to keep it."

"Yes. That's what I'm saying."

"And don't you think I've heard all that before?"

Merry looked away. "It's not the One Ring."

"It's promising you things, isn't it?" Sam said. "Each to his own dreams. A long and happy future with Estella, and lots of children, is that it?"

"Yes," Merry whispered.

"And what would Middle-earth be like today, if that was what Frodo had chosen?"

"Oh Sam! It's not the same!"

"It is!" Sam insisted. "It's true it's not the One Ring. It's true it wasn't made by Sauron. But the power of the One came from its maker, Sauron, who was a Maia. And the power of Saruman's ring also comes from its maker, a Maia. Eldarion explained all that. Don't you see, Merry? With Sauron gone, and with Gandalf gone, and Galadriel, and all the most powerful elves and all the other wizards, Saruman is the only really powerful being left. Don't you see it, Mr. Merry? He'll take the ring back. Then he'll be Sauron. He'll be the Dark Lord. Just like Gandalf feared he would become, if he took the One Ring. And Galadriel, she was afraid she'd become a Dark Queen. And she wasn't even a Maia."

"I can't deal with this now," Merry whispered. "I can't go off to Stock, or fight wizards, or save Middle-earth, while Estella hangs by a thread."

"It's hard, Mr. Merry. Cruel hard. But if you can't do it, you're bounden to give it to someone who can."

Merry jumped up. "You want it for yourself!"

"No! Merry, think! It's me, Sam. I took the One Ring once. And then I gave it back."

"You what?" Merry asked, flopping back into his overstuffed chair. "Did I miss something when the minstrels of Gondor sang about the Ring of Doom?"

Sam snorted. "Minstrels. I suppose I ought to let more people read the Red Book. Eldarion wants me to have copies made. Yes, Merry, I took it. I took the Ring from Frodo. I wore it. I used it. And then I gave it back. It wasn't even very hard."

"Dear me, Sam. I never knew that."

"Berilac's already called together a company for the road. The Brandybucks are armed and ready. Your pony is saddled. Will you ride to Stock with me, and save the world?"

Merry barked an odd laugh. "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

End of Chapter Fourteen