Author's Note
: No cliffhanger this time, I promise!Chapter 37
Strider smiled down at Pippin, for Strider he was with no crown upon his head and dressed in ranger's garb. He brushed the tousled curls from Pippin's eyes and Pippin managed to smile weakly up at him. Pippin had missed that face, a face that once he had not looked upon so favorably, but that he now loved as dearly as that of his own kin. Strider studied Pippin's eyes and tongue and pressed his ear against the hobbit's chest. He gently probed the wound and saw that it was not healing as it should. Strider turned to the crowd at the door.
"Please, forgive my rudeness as I have not yet been properly introduced, but I have need of several items," he said kindly to the weeping horde whose faces were crushed together in the doorway. He could plainly see the hope that was burning in their eyes and was moved by it. "From you, lasses, I need boiled water in a kettle and clean cloths," he said as Eglantine, Thistle and the others scrambled down the hall to fulfill his requests. Paladin and his sons-in-law remained hopeful that they, too, could assist the great and gracious man.
"Gentlemen, I need you to go and fetch every hobbit of influence you can find and bring them to one place, nearby. For Pippin's health is not the only ill news I have heard of late," he said seriously. The Thain nodded, but he was hesitant to leave his son's side. Strider met his eyes and gave him a reassuring look and after a pause, Paladin and the lads flew off as fast as their ponies could carry them. Once the mob had been dispatched to various duties, Strider turned his attentions to Pippin and opened up his satchel.
* * *
It was nearly morning when Strider emerged from Pippin's room. He tiptoed out past the mass of sleeping hobbits managing not to step a curly head, nor to bump his own on the low ceilings. He ducked out the door and stretched as well as he could beneath the roof of the front porch. The sky was dim, but the clouds were thinner than they had been for days and the growing sunlight was piercing them in places.
"Will he live?" Merry asked quietly from his seat before the window, the smoke from his pipe a wreath around his head . Strider approached Merry slowly and sat down on the wooden porch stretching his legs out. The tips of his boots extended beyond the lip of the porch, where they were splattered by a light rain.
"He will, but he needs rest, as do you all, so it can wait a moment," Strider replied. Merry closed his eyes in relief, tears spilling from beneath his eyelids. "Please accept my apology Merry. Do not imagine I took the news of Pippin's illness lightly. It was only that I was presented with a number of troubles all at once. I had to weigh the outcome of each."
"I suppose the life of one small hobbit does not weigh heavily on the mind of a mighty king," Merry cried angrily. Strider turned to Merry and took him by the shoulders.
"It weighed like a mountain of stone, Merry. But I have so many duties and I cannot allow my… friendships to interfere with my decisions. But he was never far from my thoughts. None of you ever are. You and Pippin, Sam and …" his voice caught a bit as he spoke the last name, "Frodo." Merry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then put his hand on Strider's shoulder.
"I know. I know, my friend," Merry stated simply. They sat in the quiet of the morning listening to the soft patter of the rain on the ground around them for a long moment. Then Merry asked, "You said last night that some other matter also brought you here, what was it?"
"It is one as dire as Pippin's to be sure, but it involves far more than those in this hut. It involves the whole of the Shire, and there is not a moment to lose!" Strider replied cryptically.
* * *
"Diamond…" a small voice said, stirring Diamond from her restless slumber. She and Merry had assisted Strider throughout his ministrations, but when Strider had instructed that Pippin was to be left alone to rest, she had refused to leave and had instead curled up on the floor beside his bed. Now she heard his voice and sat up, clutching his warm hand in hers.
"Pippin, you are alive," she cried.
"It would appear so," he laughed quietly. "Hmm..The hands of the King-"
"-are the hands of a healer," Diamond finished.
"So you have heard my stories?" Pippin laughed again. Diamond looked down to the floor, tears rising quickly in her eyes.
"Oh, Pippin," she cried softly.
"Dear, Diamond," he responded tenderly.
"Please, forgive me, Pippin," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his hand.
"No, you must for give me," he insisted, "I should have apologized long ago. Forgive my lying and my leaving. I never meant to hurt you, Diamond. I did not really know what I had gotten myself into, I only knew that Frodo needed me."
"You did what you should have done. I was a fool to have punished you for your loyalty," she cried, gently stroking his warm palm with her fingers.
"Perhaps we were both foolish," he whispered, tears coursing down his cheeks. She looked up at him and was surprised to find how powerful her feelings for him still were; how much he stirred her passions; how much he touched her heart. But to Pippin's eyes, she showed relief and some affection, but nothing more. He had long since given up the idea of being with her again as he once had been. His despondence in those long dark months, wracked by pain and plagued by despair, had ended his dream of being reunited with her. He considered her presence there a testament to what they had once meant to each other, but nothing more.
"Diamond, I hope… I hope we can be… friends," he whispered.
"As do I," she replied, flustered and trying to hide her surprise and disappointment at his words. She rose and sat on his bedside, her hand smoothing his wild hair from his face. He raised his hand to take hers, but a bolt of pain shot up through his chest. He gasped and dropped his arm to his side again.
"Pippin!" she shouted.
"I'm all right. I'll just have to… move slowly," he replied quietly. She smiled down at him, tears of defeat and regret glistening in her eyes.
"Please do," she whispered back. Just then the door flew open and the Tooks poured in, their faces relieved and wet with tears. Since they had been warned not to touch him just yet, they threw their arms around Diamond and each other.
Merry came to the door and smiled briefly, sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
"We'll have time to celebrate later," he said finally after receiving his share of embraces, "we have urgent business now."
* * *
The Thain stood in the centre of the barn. Around him, in all manner of dress and condition, stood the representatives of the largest of the Shire families. Chubbs and Boffins, Bolgers and Bracegirdles, Baggins' and Proudfeet as well as a host of others were crowded into the barn. The Thain called the attention of the room.
"Late last night we received a visitor. This man carried with him both good and ill news. The good was that he saved my son," at this a cheer rose up from the crowd, "The ill I will allow him to impart to this assembly as he is better acquainted with the details than I." The crowd of Hobbits murmured and waited to see whom this guest was, though they had heard tales. A man entered the barn. He was dressed simply, in clothes fit for the wilderness, not the court. Surely this was not the king. Surely this was one of his foot soldiers. Strider did nothing to alter their impressions, allowing them to think he was who he had been for years.
"Citizens of the Shire," he began formally, "I have come before you today from Gondor to inform you that you are in grave danger. I know you have some knowledge of the War of the Ring because some of the greatest heroes of the war are among your own people," he said, waving his hand to indicate Merry and Sam who stood near him, but off to the side. If their stature was high already, it had just gone up even further in the estimation of the esteemed crowd.
"Since the year before last, Gondor began hearing tales about a group of soldiers who had taken up residence in Eryn Vorn, a small forest on the coast between Baranduin and the Greyflood. At first we thought little of this. They had been exiled or driven out after the fall of Mordor, and as they were not accosting anyone, we thought it best to let them be. But we kept an eye and an ear on them, rest assured.
For a long while we understood they had been purchasing much of their foodstuffs from locals, including hobbits," at this the crowd grumbled and whispered, "As they had been paying for the goods, we could not fault them there. However, while the Shire has been enjoying many years of plenty," he continued, glancing at Samwise who blushed, "Outside the Shire, the years have not been so kind. Stores are low and farms are turning out little in the way of crops. Food is scarce in many places. Early this year, we heard rumours and in order to confirm or dismiss these rumours, a Gondorian went to live among these men, posing as a disgruntled soldier. He spent several months with them and was taken into their inner circle. Some men among them there were ones that you had cast out of the Shire after the Battle of Bywater. Their memories of the Shire are, sadly, quite keen and as our man understood it, the Shire soon became the focus of their attentions." The hobbits in the room who had been listening with mild curiosity until that point suddenly grasped the direction the speech was taking. They talked animatedly amongst themselves until Strider drew their attention again.
"Gentlemen. I came here on behalf of Gondor not only to warn you, but also to offer aid. The two men who accompanied me have ridden back to Sarn Ford from where we believe the attack will emanate. It is the only crossing possible because the Baranduin, the Brandywine, is overflowing her banks. Two others I sent back to Rohan after we passed over the Minhiriath, circling close to their encampment where we saw they were readying for battle. You have two days, three at the most before they march for the Shire."
"We've fought them off before," Old Cotton called out, "we can do it again." Many among them nodded and shouted out in agreement. Others seemed less certain.
"You did," Strider agreed, "you did most nobly and at great cost, I understand. But this is not a band of ruffians, or a ragtag group of misfits sent to do Saruman's dirty work," he tried to explain.
"But how is this your- Gondor's problem, sir? My son said our lads going on that quest of the wizard's was in order to train them for just such an eventuality," Paladin asked, careful not to reveal more than Strider himself had chosen to reveal.
"It was. We believe that was Gandalf's intention. But as I said this is no ordinary group of ruffs. These are fully armed, trained and vicious soldiers. Some of these men are from Isengard," he said to shouts and cries, "And some, I am sorry to say, are from as far away as Mordor," he finished solemnly. The cries rose and then died as the Thain raised his hand to quiet them.
"You doubt our ability to fight them off on our own," the Thain then said. Strider looked down at the earth between his feet before he raised his eyes again.
"It was our inaction that allowed this army to exist. It was our carelessness that had allowed it to grow, unchecked, on your borders. The mistake was Gondor's and I mean to set it right, with your permission," he finished. Another murmur rumbled through the crowd. Then Merry, who had a better understanding of warfare than any hobbit should have, stepped forward and addressed the Thain.
"Uncle, Gondor did not fight the battle against Mordor alone. Rohan and the Shire lent them aid, as well as other free peoples. We risked our lives to help them, allow them to return the favour," he pleaded. The Thain, proud though he was, was also reasonable. He turned to Strider after a minute of thoughtful contemplation.
"I do not want even one of those filthy beasts to set one foot on our land. The Battle of Bywater will have been the last battle ever fought in the Shire. Do I have your word on that?" he asked.
"You have the King's word," Strider replied. The Thain nodded finally and turned back to the assemblage. "Tell us your plan." he said.
* * *
Strider opened the door to Pippin's room to find him struggling to put on his hauberk.
"I can see Merry was quite correct, you do need to have some sense talked into you. Pippin, you cannot go," he said, sitting on the small bed as Pippin straightened his surcoat, his faced pinched in pain.
"I must go," he replied matter-of-factly. Strider shook his head. Hobbits were, by and large, stubborn, but this one was particularly tenacious.
"It has only been one day, you need a week's rest at least," he argued.
"Strider, you of all people should understand why I need to go. Would your people follow you now if you had not led them into battle at the Black Gate? Could you have been their King, so loved and revered, if you had stayed behind?" he asked gravely. Strider pretended to think about the question, though he knew the answer as well as Pippin did.
"No," he said finally.
"When my father passes, I am to be the leader of the Shire. What sort of leader would I be if I was home sick during the battle to save her?" he reasoned. Strider reached out and placed his hand on Pippin's head, ruffling his long, unruly hair.
"But you are riding with me, and staying out of harm's way," Strider commanded.
"I shall stay out of harm's way as much as you will m' lord," Pippin replied gratefully. Strider laughed, the first he'd had in weeks.
"Well, come on then, they will not wait for us."
* * *
A spectacle the Shirelings hoped they'd never see again was laid out before them: hobbits armed for war. Since their return from the Quest, Merry and Pippin had spent some time training not only the Shirriffs, but also the male population at large, in proper sword and shield use. They had even had a small armoury for a time and created a number of very fine and useful swords. Much better armed they were than during the Battle of Bywater. And much better trained in combat they had since become. They had collected nearly one hundred hobbits strong on the battlefield in Bywater.
Strider, his true nature still cloaked in ranger's garb, rode at the head with Sam, Merry, Pippin, Saradoc and Paladin. The rest fell in behind. Four rows there were on ponyback, six more rows on sturdy feet. Some clutched hunting bows, quivers filled with arrows on their backs, while others had swords at their sides, shields slung across their shoulders and helmets pressed securely on their heads. As they passed, the hobbit wives and gammers cried, the young lads and lasses waved proudly. Pippin scanned the crowd for Diamond's face, but could not see her.
She had come to see him earlier with his sisters and mother. They had tried to reason with him at first but had, in the end, resorted to begging. However, he could not be dissuaded from his purpose. He had assured them of the necessity of the undertaking and taken his leave of each. When he came to Diamond, he had taken her hand in his, looked deeply into her sapphire eyes and said, "Do not fear for me, I have faced much worse and survived." She had nodded, understanding perfectly that he meant not only the Quest, but also losing her. Then he had turned to go without looking back. Though he could not see her as they rode away, he could feel her presence near him and was comforted by that.
So he rode forward, his faith in his people, and in his King, strong enough to sustain him in his fear, and his pain, and in what was to come.