The Forgotten Quest: Chapter 4

Author's note: I don't own any of the characters or anything like that, you  all know that already.  Some of the landmarks in the Shire are messed up, I know this, so please don't leave any messages telling me this, I am well aware of it! But I'm too lazy to fix it.  The Misty Mountains are actually full of goblins, but 'orc' is the hobbit word for such creatures.  I'm sorry this took so long to get out…I'm writing a story for English too, which I'll post eventually.  But this chapter's finally done, so read and review!

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            Pippin awoke to a beautiful sunrise; so beautiful that it made him want to sing.  He had awoken a tad earlier than he had wanted to, but it had been worth it.  He sat up and stretched, humming an anthem from his travels in Gondor.  What a lovely dream he had had…Pippin smiled, ready for the day.

            "Radagast, put your staff against the wall, or something; there is no need to carry it around with you all the time.  It is rather large… what is that bird at the top?  I have never seen one like it before.  And what wood is it made from?  Beautiful material, that is," Merry's inquisitive voice sounded in the kitchen.

            "No, no, a wizard's staff is more important to him than any other possession.  I like to keep it around me.  It has become a habit, carrying it around with me all the time," Radagast's voice responded.

            Pippin blinked, and then suddenly remembered the previous night's events.  Hurrying into the kitchen, he found Radagast the Brown—exactly as the night before—standing over Merry, clutching his staff tightly while Merry peered at it (trying to discover the wood it was made from).

            "Peregrin Took, you sleepy-head!  I've been up for half an hour at least!  I thought you'd be nearly as excited as I am, being a Took and all," Merry scolded, laughing.

            "Meriadoc Brandybuck, the sun's only just risen!  I am not a sleepyhead!  And I'm more excited than you are!" Pippin laughed.  Radagast watched in amusement.

            Merry opened his mouth as if to reply, but was stopped by Radagast.  "If we are going to the Old Forest, we had better leave early.  After all, Merry only guessed that the Entwives were in the Old Forest; they may not actually be there.  Unless you two want to be searching for a year and a day, I suggest we begin soon."

            Merry closed his mouth, and the two hobbits nodded.  Pippin hurriedly got breakfast ready, while Merry and Radagast poured over the other old parchments Pippin had pulled out for them.  Merry watched Pippin rush around the kitchen, and commented: "Pippin, you had better slow down!  We are visiting Treebeard, remember, so you've got to stop being so hasty!"  This was followed by Merry's amusing imitation of Treebeard's Entish.

            After each had had their full (which included seconds and thirds of everything), they began to pack for their journey.

            "Do you think we will need swords?" Merry asked.

            Pippin tilted his head, thinking.  "Maybe.  We should bring some just in case.  Strider still hasn't gotten rid of all the Orcs out there."  Radagast nodded his approval, and handed Pippin a compass.  Merry laid his sword next to his pack.

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            "Are you ready?" Merry asked.  Radagast nodded, and Pippin smiled his approval.  "Let's go."

            Packs and baggage securely tied around them, the three travelers prepared to leave.  Merry read his note one last time:

            "Dear Frodo, Sam, and whomever this may concern,

            "Master Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master Peregrin Took, and Master Radagast the Brown (he's a wizard) are on an adventure.  We are off to find the Entwives…you do not know who they are, Frodo and Sam, for we met similar folk on our own travels in Fangorn Forest.  We heading to the Old Forest, but we will not be there for the entire adventure.  Please restrain yourself from rummaging through our houses while we are gone!  Thank you, and Good Morning (or Afternoon or Evening, whenever it may be)!

            "P.S. Frodo, keep yourself healthy!  We want to see you alive when we return!

            "P.P.S. Sam, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind keeping our gardens somewhat trim and tidy?  You know better than anyone else that a neat front lawn makes a house look more presentable and all.  Thank you!"

            It was a very hobbit-like letter, straight and to the point.  No fumbling around with fancy words or the reader may just ignore the letter and make off with Merry or Pippin's personal belongings!

            Pippin skimmed it over his friend's shoulder.  "Well, that's good enough," he said.  "Frodo and Sam are pretty bright, they'll be able to understand this."  Merry pinned the note on the door just above the doorknob in the middle.

            It was a beautiful day for a walk.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a slight breeze was blowing.  The grass seemed greener, the flowers brighter, and the air fresher and sweeter.  The two hobbits happily pointed out (and explained at length) each landmark they passed to the curious wizard, who listened politely.

            "Look, there is the Party Tree!" Merry cried suddenly.  Sure enough, a small mallorn look-alike sprouted out of the ground on a small hill.  "Bilbo Baggins is the oldest hobbit ever, and is one of the most famousest of hobbits, and that's saying a lot."

            "This is where he had his eleventy-first birthday party.  He simply vanished out of thin air with his magic Ring!  Wasn't really Bilbo's Ring now, it was the Enemy's Ring…but nobody knew it.  Anywho, Shire folk say that during the night of his birthday—September 22nd—he haunts the Party Tree…but that's crazy, because Bilbo's in Rivendell with the Elves!" Pippin explained.

            "The real Party Tree was cut down by the ruffians who took over the Shire while we were off.  But Galadriel gave Sam a box of soil with mallorn seeds, so he planted one here when he went around sprucing things up.  It's small and young now, but it'll grow big and beautiful as if it was born in Lórien, it will!" Merry added.

            "A mallorn tree in the Shire!" Radagast said almost to himself.  "Who would have thought?"

            "Galadriel apparently.  Look, there's New Row!" Merry said.  "The Wild Men ripped it all up, so when we got back we got everyone together, threw out the Men, and fixed it!  Not quite the same as the old Bagshot Row—partly because nobody's thought of a proper name for it—but almost as good."

            "The Wild Men and Sharkey—Saruman—ruined the Shire while we were off—Frodo, Sam, Merry and me—" Pippin explained.  Then the two hobbits proceeded to tell Radagast about the whole Scouring of the Shire and the Battle of Bywater (which you can read about at the end of The Return of the King).  It took a while, but the wizard listened politely, and the hobbits liked him more for it; that is what they would have done in his position.

            Before they knew it, dusk was beginning to fall.  They were almost out of Tookborough and were looking for a place to spend the night.  Merry spotted an inn called the Black Raven.

            The Black Raven seemed a combination of the Green Dragon and the Prancing Pony: it was a hobbit-inn, so of course it was comfortable and cozy.  However, it was in Tookborough, which made it unpredictable.  The Tooks liked adventures, so the conversation was often of far-away lands like the Old Forest and Bree (which were only far-away to Hobbiton-hobbits, who rarely even crossed the Brandywine).  Nevertheless, none of these hobbits had been to Gondor or Rohan, which put Merry and Pippin at an advantage adventure-wise; plus, they had Radagast the Brown.

            As soon as the three travelers entered the inn, all heads in the room immediately turned towards them.  Perhaps it was the sight of the wizard—an old, ragged man in appearance, but who obviously held some kind of power.  Perhaps it was the height of the hobbits, who were clearly a good deal taller than all of the others (thanks to many draughts of the water from the river Entwash).  Perhaps it was their gear: the hobbits had worn their Elven-cloaks from Lórien and carried short swords at their sides.  Perhaps it was a combination of the three; but whatever the reason, Merry, Pippin, and Radagast found themselves to be the center of attention: the room fell silent, and many pairs of eyes widened and stared at the newcomers.

            A short, fat hobbit hurried over, carrying a tray of dishes.  "W-welcome to the B-Black R-Raven!" he stuttered.  "P-p-please, m-make yourselves at h-home!  W-we have p-p-plenty of room available; I'll help you g-get settled as soon as I c-can!  Half a m-moment!"  He hustled off, dishes clattering.

            A few of the hobbits continued their conversation in hushed voices, but most of the room remained silent as Merry, Pippin, and Radagast made their way to an empty table.  They could hear some of the others muttering and whispering amongst themselves: "Queer, yes queer," "Isn't that odd, now?" "Strange, very strange."  As can be imagined, Merry and Pippin felt very self-conscious.  Radagast, who knew very little of hobbits, was only confused about why they considered him strange.

            The fat hobbit returned to them and showed them to their rooms.  After being settled, Merry and Pippin decided to get a drink.  Radagast declined their offer to join them, so Merry and Pippin returned without him.  They were very much reminded of the Prancing Pony; Pippin, remembering his slip, (mentioning Frodo's real name and causing all the commotion when he put the Ring on) made a mental note to watch his words.  They sat at a table not far from a large group of hobbits that were discussing about their adventures in far-off lands.

            "I once went all the way to the Misty Mountains," bragged one hobbit.  "Treacherous, they are, and full of Orcs the size of houses!"  (This was partially true: there were goblins in the Misty Mountains, but they were not nearly the size of houses.)

            "Well I've been to Mirkwood and spoken Elvish with the Woodland King!" said another.

            "You can't speak Elvish, and you've never been through the Old Forest!" replied the first hobbit.

            "Well you've never seen an Orc in your life, and you've never been farther than Bree!" said the second.

            "I've heard that there are huge kingdoms of Big Folk to the South and East," commented a third, "and their wars are going well.  I've heard that there is a new King of all Men."

            "A King?  He'll bring change about quick!  Let's hope he catches those ruffians who escaped after ruining our Shire," added another.

            "Change is no good.  We don't need a King!  Much less a Big Person as our King.  Most likely a thieving ruffian, he is," a grim-sounding hobbit said.

            Merry, hearing this said about Aragorn, grew angry, and turned to the group.  "He's no thieving ruffian!  He's brave and wise and an excellent King!"

            The hobbits glared at him rudely for contradicting.  "Hi!  What do you know about this King?"

            "I know a lot; he's my friend and I've traveled around the world with him, so I should know," Merry retorted.

            "He should," Pippin said, standing up, "because I was there too!"

            The hobbits stared at Pippin and Merry, startled, impressed, and suspicious.  "You went to the great kingdom of Big Folk?  What is it like there?" asked a curious young hobbit.

            "There are two great kingdoms: Rohan, the realm of the horse lords, and Gondor, who's King you have just mentioned," Pippin explained.  "We have been to both and are on friendly terms with their leaders."

            "Yes?" questioned a large hobbit.  "I don't believe you any more than I do these leery fellows, so prove it!"

            Merry drew his sword from its sheath.  His former blade had been destroyed when he slew the Chief of the Nazgul, the former King of Angmar.  When he returned to Rohan, he had been rewarded with a new blade in return for his bravery in battle.  The short sword was elaborately decorated and blessed with various good-luck spells and other enchantments that were useful in battle.  It also bore the shape of a horse at the knob of the hilt, a clear symbol of Rohan.  The hobbits stared at the sword, shining in the dim light.

            "You could have gotten that knife anywhere!" sputtered the large hobbit, scowling.

            "Looks pretty real to me, Harry," said the young hobbit.

            Pippin then drew his sword as well.  It, too, was embedded with the spells and designs of Gondor.  The hobbits were incredibly surprised, and stared wide-eyed at the peculiar blades.

            The innkeeper, who had caught sight of the blades, hurried over.  "Oh m-m-my!" he stuttered nervously.  "N-no fights allowed, p-p-please!  No d-drawn swords allowed!  It's simply t-t-too d-dangerous!"  None of the other hobbits had swords, (actually, nobody had ever brought a blade to the Black Raven before) so the innkeeper quickly made up that rule on the spot.  Above all, he did not want a fight to start, so he tried to stop one before it began.

            "We weren't fighting, we were showing them our swords," Pippin explained, sheathing his sword.

            "Yes, well, d-don't do it again!  I d-d-don't allow fights in here!" said the innkeeper as he hurried off (watching them from the corner of his eye).

            "Hi!  You really did go to the Big Folk-Kingdom?  Were they unprincipled ruffians like the Big Folk here?  Or more rascally and crude, like the Bree-folk?" asked the young hobbit.

            "The people of Gondor and Rohan are brave, principled, and noble, nothing like the Men you mention," Merry replied proudly.

            "Principled and noble?  Are you mad?  Big People are altogether stupid and ignorant.  They're good for nothing fools," said Harry.

            "They are principled and noble, and if it wasn't for them you'd all be dead by now!  They have been fighting off the Dark Lord of Mordor for so long and have had no thanks from any hobbit because the hobbits take their safety for granted.  If it wasn't for men, the Dark Lord would have swept across Middle-Earth and enslaved us all; the eternal, unending darkness would be horrible.  By the blood of Men are these lands kept safe!" Merry shouted furiously.

            "Big People aren't wholly bad," added a small hobbit with a heavy Bree-accent.  "I've seen many a man in my day, and some are fools and rascals, but most are kind, deep-down, and don't like killing or wars or anything.  Some are stupid; the Big Folk of Bree aren't that smart, but they're not evil, and I can't imagine the Big Folk of the Kingdoms are much different, save maybe they're smarter."

            Merry nodded his head in agreement.  Harry growled, slammed his pint on the table, and stormed off angrily.  Instantly the other hobbits crowded around Merry and Pippin, asking them questions about their travels and such.  Eventually they grew tired of it, and returned to their rooms.

            Merry, Pippin, and Radagast woke early the next morning.  They had a quick breakfast (by hobbit-reckoning) and quickly left the inn before any of the other hobbits awoke; they were tired of being peppered with questions, and they were almost at the Old Forest.

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            Ill tidings reach me here.  Those foul little black things fled from an army…right into our Forest.  The Huorns became very angry and were hard to c control.  Many Huorns here were restless, and a few have been very bloodthirsty.  A few dared to venture outside of the New Forest to kill the Black ones.  I fear the Black ones, as small as they are, as men fear spiders, for in numbers they are dangerous: I saw Willowstem burned alive when they drove us from our old Forest.  The Huorns do not fear much and neither do I; but many of the trees that were my friends were burned by the Black ones, and I have never been the same since.

            The Golden One was here again today.  She spoke soothing words to my tired ears, easing my weary mind.  She always has brought peace to my, and she always will.  However, she cannot bring peace to the world; evil is scattered, its leader destroyed, but nevertheless the servants carry out his wishes.  Killing at bay, the Black ones know no peace, no love, only hate and pain.  That is the sole reason for which they were born and bred: murder.  The Golden One can make the world seem right in my eyes…for a while.

            I might have died of grief if it had not been for she.  She helped us with our gardening; she has enlightened us of the world outside; she has been patient and not hasty; she has explained and solved all of our problems save one.  This problem she cannot solve.  It is impossible.  And the prophecy…it is too much to hope for.  No matter how she tries, the Golden One cannot reunite us with our husbands.  I would rather die than live another day in this loneliness, for there is only such limited pleasure as my garden can provide.  However, she convinces me that there is still hope.  She senses something draws near—she says the time is close.  The time for what, I do not know.

            Wandlimb grows sleepier day by day.  I am with her day and night.  I fear she shall not wake up in the morning.  Unless something happens, I do not think she will last much longer.  I now dread the sunset and crave the dawn.  The beautiful dawn—how it lifts me with hope…and yet as the day wears on the hope diminishes until it seems folly.  Perhaps I am going mad; perhaps I should simply fall asleep and hope the world turns out right in the end.  Until I decide, I shall linger on, unresolved, until I choose or wither into nothing.