2.
Hunter's Moon
(February: Wolf Moon)
Astonishingly, Sam had fallen asleep. Pippin let him sleep, for when had been
the last unbroken night either of them had known? As for himself, sleep was the
farthest thing from his mind.
Pippin pulled out a blanket and laid it gently over Sam. Merry raised his
drooping head. 'Pip?' he whispered. 'I'm cold, too, Pip.'
'I know, Merry,' Pippin said compassionately. 'It won't be much longer. We
promised Aragorn we'd wait for him, but he'll be here soon.'
***
(The Previous November: Hunter's Moon)
It was such a relief to escape from the Smials after an entire month and head
back to Crickhollow. There was only so much time that he could spend under his
father's watchful gaze before he needed to ride free. With harvest behind them,
Pippin was free for the time. He decided to cut across country to visit Bag
End, and then head back to Buckland on the Great East Road. He could stop off
at Budgeford and see Fatty Bolger on the way. It was getting dark by the time
that he arrived and the Moon was beginning to rise; it was nearly full. To
Pippin's surprise, when invited into Bag End, he found that Merry was already
there.
'My father wanted me to carry a message to Mayor Whitfoot, and I was just
passing on my way back to Buckland,' Merry mumbled, strangely ill-at-ease.
'Then we can ride back to Brandy Hall together,' Pippin said, pleased.
Merry tried to smile. 'That's a fine idea,' he said.
Whilst sipping tea by the comfort of the parlour fire, Pippin's eye was drawn
to the gleaming sword hanging above the mantel.
'Why, Sam,' he said, 'Isn't that Sting? How is it that Frodo forgot to take it
with him?'
'He didn't forget, Mr Pippin,' Sam said. 'He left it a-purpose, said I might be
needing it someday.'
'Whyever for?' Merry asked, getting up to take another apple tart from the tea
tray.
Samwise stirred his tea, seeming to weigh his words before answering. Finally,
he said, 'Mr Frodo said it was a right handy sword for slaying monsters of all
kinds.'
Pippin erupted into surprised laughter. 'There are no monsters in the Shire!'
he protested.
'Not since those ruffians left, anyhow,' Rose said, pouring more water from the
steaming kettle into the teapot.
Merry did not join in the burst of laughter that followed, seemingly sunk deep
in thought. At Rose's question, he looked up and said, 'Eh? More tea? No, thank
you kindly, Mistress Rosie, but I think I'll turn in now. I'm a bit tired
tonight.' As he left, the conversation flowed on, comfortable talk of doings in
the Shire now that harvest time was over.
***
Riding back to Buckland, ponies' breath pluming in the chill November air,
Merry sang and joked as usual, but Pippin, who had come to know his cousin's
moods very well in the months they had travelled together, noticed an
undercurrent of strain.
'You're as jumpy as if you expected orcs to be hiding in the bushes,' he said
as a song ended.
'Orcs?' Merry laughed. 'Pip, I think we need to stop at the next inn and get
you something warm to eat, and something to drink, to take your mind off your
fancies.' His pony stumbled, and he jerked at the reins with an impatience that
Pippin had never seen in him before.
'What's wrong, Merry?' Pippin pressed. 'Usually I'm the one who dreads
heading homewards, knowing what the Thain has in store for me... more dusty
records to copy out in a fair hand, more boring lectures to sit through, more
disputes to hear, and try to figure out how my father would handle, and write
down my solution, and Elbereth help me if what I've written does not match the
judgment he hands down...'
Merry shook his head in irritation. 'Nothing's wrong!' he snapped, and Pippin
decided to let him be. They rode on in silence for awhile, but the younger
cousin noticed that the other often brought up his hand to rub at the back of
his neck.
The next inn came into sight, and Pippin sighed. It was the Wagging Dog, not
known for the fineness of its brew, but it would have to do. They stopped and
had an unmemorable meal, washed down with an inferior beer, and Pippin resolved
to plan better next time, either pack along supplies, or time the journey so
that they would be stopping at the inn before or the one after the Dog.
Merry, however, seemed to relax a bit after his second mug.
'Headache gone?' Pippin asked as they went back to claim their ponies.
'How did you know?' Merry said. 'It's been nagging at me since second
breakfast, but I'm feeling better now.'
'You gents ought to stay over,' the ostler said. 'Looks as if a storm might be
blowin' up.'
Pippin cast a glance at the gathering clouds in the sky and looked at Merry,
who grimaced.
'Let's chance it,' Merry said. Pippin nodded. At least, they could try to make
it to the next inn, just an hour or two down the road. He hated the thought of
another meal at the Dog.
'Thanks,' he said to the ostler. 'We're in a bit of a rush. If we push a
little, we ought to be able to make it to the next inn before the storm catches
us.'
'It's your burial,' the ostler said sourly. 'Don't say I didn't try to warn
you.'
'We won't!' Pippin grinned as he swung into his saddle. 'Coming, Merry?'
'I'm right behind you,' Merry answered with a grin of his own.
The rain started when they were perhaps at the halfway point between inns, and
it was no gentle rain, but a deluge as if some mischievous tween had upended a
bucketful of water over the Travellers. This stretch of road was hard-packed
clay when dry, but a slippery mess when wet, and new gravel had not yet been
laid against the winter storms. Despite the obvious desire to reach shelter, the
cousins found themselves having to pull their beasts down to a careful walk.
'Ah, well,' Pippin shouted into the wind. 'At least we won't need a bath when
we arrive! Seems as if the weather has already taken care of that for us!' He
was well rewarded with Merry's laughter.
There was a flash in the sky above, and a boom of thunder, and Pippin flinched,
cringing lower in the saddle. Rain was one thing, but lightning put a soberer
face on their situation.
'Is there any shelter nearer than the inn?' he cried.
Merry grimly shook his head, his hands full of panicky pony. 'Let's just press
on,' he shouted back. 'Perhaps we're safer if we keep moving!'
Pippin rather doubted it; on the other hand, if they kept going, eventually
they would come to a farmhouse where they could take shelter until the worst of
the storm passed.
Another flash and boom came nearly together; the lightning was close, much too
close for Pippin's comfort. Merry's pony apparently agreed, for he went mad,
fighting and plunging, trying to flee, but only succeeding in losing his
footing and going down in the mud. Merry threw himself free, but his foot stuck
in one stirrup and he fell hard with the pony, lying unmoving on the ground as
the beast scrambled to its feet.
Pippin flung himself from the saddle and grabbed at the head of Merry's mount
before it could race away, dragging his helpless cousin behind. Though he
pulled the head down with all his weight, the pony fought him, and he felt one
of the sharp hoofs score his ankle, but he hung on grimly until the beast
stilled, trembling. There were no more bright flashes, and the grumble of
thunder sounded increasingly distant, to Pippin's relief.
Finally, the worst fury of the storm seemed spent, and even the rain came
lighter. With a firm grip on the reins, Pippin moved to the off side of Merry's
pony, freeing the trapped foot, leaving Merry lying in the road. He quickly
jogged the ponies to the nearest tree and tied them securely, then ran back to
his cousin, lifting Merry's head into his lap.
'Merry!' he called urgently. He loosened Merry's shirt at the neck, to allow
his cousin more air. Pulling the shirt open, he saw the beginnings of a bruise
on his cousin's breast. With a gasp, he undid more buttons, to see a dark
bruise over Merry's heart. Had his cousin been kicked as the pony fell, or
regained its feet?
Just then, Merry's hands closed over his own, and he looked with relief to see
his cousin's eyes open. 'Thanks, Pip,' Merry gasped. 'I'm all right.' He pushed
Pippin's hands away and began to button his shirt.
'That bruise...' Pippin said.
'I'm fine,' Merry said, and struggled to regain his feet. Against Pippin's
better judgment, he helped his cousin get up. Merry staggered a bit, putting
his hand to his head. 'I knew it couldn't last,' he muttered. 'The headache's
back.'
'But that bruise...' Pippin protested.
'That's not where it hurts,' Merry said shortly, then forced a smile. 'Let us
get on our ponies. We aren't going to get to that next inn by just standing
here, and I could dearly use a mug of beer about now.'
Pippin nodded, and they reclaimed their ponies from the tree, mounted, and rode
on.
***
It was a relief to take the familiar turn off the Standelf Road, towards Brandy
Hall. They had talked about going direct to Crickhollow, but the house had been
shut up and empty and would be cold and cheerless. At the Hall, there were
prospects for hot baths, a hearty meal cooked by someone else and ready to eat
as they came through the door, and a warm welcome by a crackling fire that
neither of the cousins needed to split wood for, nor lay, nor strike sparks and
wait to catch.
The Hall was all they'd hoped for, and more. Esmeralda welcomed them, taking
them under her wings as the fussiest mother hen, shooing them into the Hall,
shucking off their wet cloaks, clucking and fussing.
'You'll catch your deaths!' she said. 'Whatever were you thinking, traveling in
the rain and the cold?'
'Well, we could have stayed the winter at Bag End, I suppose,' Pippin teased,
'but I was looking forward to Yule at Brandy Hall.'
'O, you,' Aunt Essie scolded. She gave quick orders, and servants scattered to
do her bidding. 'You'll have hot baths in three shakes of a pony's mane, and
dry clothes, and a good hot meal,' she said. 'Now off with you, and I do not
want to see your faces again until you're warm, dry, and fed!'
Laughing, Merry kissed his mother, and Pippin added his salute on her cheek,
and then the two obediently allowed themselves to be dragged off and popped
into steaming tubs in the bath room across the corridor from their rooms.
With a glass of brandy in hand, Pippin leaned forward to allow a servant to
pour hot water down his back, then slouched back with a sigh. 'You were right,'
he said to Merry. 'This is much better than Crickhollow.'
'I'm always right,' Merry maintained stoutly. 'Stick with me, cousin, you'll
never go wrong.' He sipped his own brandy with a sigh. 'Seems as if nothing ill
could come to pass, here at home,' he said, as if to himself.
'It can't,' Pippin agreed. 'Brandy Hall is the finest place I know in
Middle-earth.'
'Better than the Smials?' Merry asked in astonishment. 'What sort of Took are
you, anyway?'
'I've been corrupted,' Pippin said smugly, with another sip of brandy.
'Kidnapped by evil cousins, forced to drink brandy, soak in a bath, eat fine
food... and never made to copy out dusty records...'
'We'll have to see about that,' Merry said. 'I'm sure there are dusty records
lying about somewhere in the Hall, wanting copying...'
'Bite your tongue,' Pippin said, with a mock glare.
Merry laughed. 'So are we going to soak away the day, or are we going to find
out what smelt so delicious as we entered the Hall?'
Pippin splashed a bit of water at him, and he protested, laughing. 'We'll never
get dry at this rate!' he said.
'You'll never get dry,' Pippin said, lunging out of the bath. 'I'm going
to be first at the table and eat my fill before you are half dressed.'
'Indeed!' Merry said, leaving his own bath. Drying off and dressing became a
good-natured race, and soon they were walking into the great room, jostling
each other and laughing.
Saradoc looked up as his son came in, with a feeling of relief. Surely this
laughing, joking Merry meant that all was well with the Brandybuck family. He
fought down memory of his brother Merimac's warning, after Merry had departed
the Hall the last time. Still... the moon was waxing. There was no harm in
taking precautions.
After the lads had filled themselves with enough food for an army of hobbits,
Saradoc gestured for attention. 'Pippin,' he said. 'I want you to ride down to
Standelf, check on the hobbits there, make sure the gaffers have enough
firewood to get them through the deep cold. If they don't, see the head
forester, and make sure those supplies of wood are delivered before the week is
out.'
'Yes, Sir,' Pippin said, rising from his chair. 'Coming, Merry?'
His uncle forestalled him. 'Take Ilberic with you,' he said. 'I have another
task for Merry.'
'Another task, Father?' Merry asked.
The Master of Buckland nodded. 'It's a delicate matter,' he said. 'Family
business. Come see me in my study when you've finished the sweet course.' He
threw down his serviette and rose from the table. 'Peregrin, if you leave now,
you can have tea in Standelf; Farmer Oakleaf sets a fine table. You'll be back
to the Hall in time for late supper.'
'Yes, Uncle,' Pippin said obediently, with a wry grin at his cousin. 'Merry's
probably tired of my company, anyhow.'
'More likely you're tired of mine,' Merry grinned back.
'No, as long as I keep you well supplied with beer, you're a jolly enough
companion,' Pippin said, and took his leave.
'What did he mean by that?' Saradoc asked.
'O it's nothing, Father,' Merry said, embarrassed.
'Headaches?' his father said, more softly. 'And the beer helps them, a bit?'
'How did you know?' Merry asked.
'Just a guess,' Saradoc said. 'I had an uncle with a similar complaint.' Though
his face did not show it, his heart was dark with grief and despair, as he left
to find his brother Merimac.
***
Riding alone back to Brandy Hall, for Ilberic had fallen ill of stomach cramps
and remained at Standelf, Pippin thought he saw the flash of a lantern where
there should be none. Could there be ruffians, come through the Old Forest,
over the High Hay, and lurking in Buckland?
He slipped from the saddle, tying his pony to a nearby tree, walking softly
towards the distant glimmer. He heard soft voices talking and stopped to
listen.
He could not make out any of the soft words, but the conversation sounded
serious, and he recognised the voices of Merimas and Berilac Brandybuck. His
curiosity aroused, he stepped forward into the little clearing. His cousins
were seated before an old, windowless shed. Sturdy boards had been nailed
across the door.
'What are you doing here?' Pippin said.
Merimas looked up with a start. 'O Pip,' he answered. 'I might ask the same of
you.'
'Funny place to be loitering,' Pippin said. 'I thought you might be ruffians,
skulking about.'
'No,' Berilac answered. 'We just needed a quiet place to talk. There's no
privacy at the Hall, you know that.'
'Indeed. What are we talking about?' Pippin said, crouching down to join the
others.
'We're planning a surprise party,' Merimas said sourly. 'And you'll go and
spoil it if you say aught to anyone, so be off with you now, and leave us to
our plots.'
Just then, a heavy thump came from the shed, as if something threw itself
against the door. The three hobbits started.
'What was that?' Pippin gasped.
'O, nothing,' Berilac said nonchalantly. 'We've caught ourselves a wolf, and
are just waiting for the forester to come and dispatch him for us.'
'A wolf!' Pippin said. 'In these parts?'
'O, you never know what's going to come through the Old Forest,' Merimas said.
'Anyhow, we had the advantage of surprise; we managed to get a rope on him
before he knew we were there.'
A low growling was heard from the shed, and more thumps.
'He sounds right vicious,' Pippin said.
'Very dangerous, I warrant,' Berilac nodded soberly. 'But we'll keep watch
until the forester comes.'
'Want help?' Pippin asked. 'I've got my sword with me.'
'No, door's strong,' Merimas said hastily. 'You can see we've nailed it well.
It'll be a bit of a chore to get it open, really.'
'Now be off with you,' Berilac said. 'We'll be fine here, and we'll be able to
get a bit of planning in, in the meantime. But not with you sitting here.'
'Is it a surprise party for me?' Pippin asked mischievously.
'That would be telling!' Berilac grinned. 'Now be off!' His grin faded a
bit as the growling was heard again, but he forced the cheerful look to return
and said, 'We'll see you back at the Hall as soon as our business here is
done.'
As Pippin emerged from the trees, the full Hunter's moon shone down, turning
the frosty fields to silver.
