Chapter 2
Merry and Pippin waved wildly at Sam, who had turned off at Bywater and was now heading toward Hobbiton and the Hill. They had risen early, but had idled on the way. Sam seemed thoughtful, and Merry and Pippin quietly respected his silence. Pippin had been thinking the night before about Sam and his responsibilities as a husband and father. Pippin suspected that Sam's days of journeying were over. The ponies plodded slowly down the East Road, and their riders did little to hurry them. The sun was almost overhead when they finally reached the fork in the road. To continue would take them to Frogmorton and Whitfurrows, eventually over the Brandywine River to Buckland. To turn north would take them past Bywater, into Hobbiton and on to Bag End. Sam even invited them to come with him. But there were things to do and they had to make ready for their trip.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked once more. "Rosie would be happy to see you. And you've not seen little Elanor since she was born!"
Merry laughed. "Mistress Rose would be wonderful and welcoming, and she would give you a proper dressing down as soon as we left for not giving her more notice."
"Look for us in a few days," Pippin promised. "We'll stop in for a quick visit before heading up north. And we'll bring a present for little Elanor."
As Sam turned away, Merry and Pippin began to sing. They were going on a quest. They would go to Crickhollow and close up the house for a short time. Fatty Bolger would probably look in on the house from time to time, if they asked. But they did need to plan and pack.
They nodded and waved to friends and acquaintances, indifferent to or unaware of the looks of admiration that shone in the eyes of more than one hobbit maiden. That they made striking figures, taller than most hobbits, mounted on large ponies, and garbed in the livery of Gondor and Rohan, wasn't really important to the two young hobbits. They reveled in the company of the other, and now they were starting another journey! The miles passed quickly but being October, it was nearly nightfall when they finally reached the small house in Crickhollow that Frodo had purchased two years ago. He'd done so to hide his departure from the Shire, but had never lived there. Instead he had given it to his young cousins for their use.
The little house was dark, with the windows shuttered against the cold of the season, but as they dismounted, the door swung open.
"Ah, here you are! Back and none too soon, either!" Fredegar Bolger, still thin for a hobbit from his time spent in the Lockholes, was standing at the door and looking up at them with an expectant smile.
"Fatty! Whatever are you doing here? Is anything amiss?" Merry asked, handing his reins to Pippin and moving to clasp Fredegar's hands warmly.
Fredegar shook his head, but didn't answer Merry's question when Pippin called, " Wait 'til I get back! I want to hear, too!"
Pippin led the ponies to their small stable around back to remove their saddles and rub them down. It would take some time, so Merry and Fredegar entered the long, low house, closing the round door against the coming night. A large fire burned in the main hearth and luscious smells drifted from the kitchen.
"If you want to clean up, I'll just see to the supper," Fredegar told Merry as they neared the kitchen. "I'll send Pippin in to bathe when he comes in."
Merry nodded and headed eagerly to the bathing room. The room was large; easily large enough to accommodate four hobbit-sized tubs, although right now there were only two. Both tubs were brimming with hot water, while more water simmered gently over the low fire in the grate. Soft, plush towels were piled on a bench against the wall, and Merry noted with delight that his favorite dressing gown had been hung on a peg near the door. It was warm and welcoming and just what was needed after almost a fortnight on the road. Hobbits were tough and doughty at need, but it could never be said that they didn't enjoy the simpler delights in life, such as good food, conversation, and a wonderful bath at day's end.
Merry had a leisurely bath and changed into his dressing gown. Pippin had entered midway through Merry's bath and was trying to catch him up, so he decided to wait. Both hobbits emerged, clean, relaxed and comfortable, just as Fredegar called them to supper. As they ate in the cozy kitchen, Fredegar plied them with questions about Bilbo and Gandalf and all the fair folk they'd seen. He asked after Frodo, as well. They all knew that the loss of the One Ring, along with the various other hurts Frodo had received, took its toll on his health. But now, it seemed, he would be able to be at peace. Pippin volunteered to wash up, while Merry and Fatty took care of the mess they'd left in the bathroom.
When all was clean and tidy once again, the hobbits settled themselves around the fire. Fredegar brought out three tankards of cool ale, which they sipped with relish. The ale was of the 1420 vintage, and thought to be the best ever. It was from one of many barrels which Pippin and Merry had put up. Known as the Great Year of Plenty, 1420 had produced some of the best ale, pipe-weed, crops, and even the most newborns in memory. It had been, a wonderful year especially after the destruction caused by Saruman in the previous year. Taking another healthy sip of his ale, Merry fixed Fredegar with a curious look and finally asked what was in all their minds.
"So, Fatty, what are you doing here? I thought you were away in the South Farthing for another week."
Fredegar took a long pull from his tankard, and set it aside with a smile of satisfaction. "Ah, that's proper 1420, and no doubt of it!" he said contentedly. "I was in the South Farthing and would be still, but for a letter I was to deliver. In person."
Merry and Pippin sat forward eagerly.
"A letter? But why not just use the post?"
"From who?"
Fredegar made a show of digging into his pocket. He withdrew a note, folded and sealed with a large disk of wax. Merry reached for it, but Pippin was there first, tugging it from Fredegar's hand and examining the seal.
"An Elf rune, that's certain," he said, passing the note to Merry.
"You're right, Pip, it's the elvish letter 'G'."
They looked at each other and said together, "Gandalf!"
Fredegar chuckled. "He found me a fortnight ago and told me I was to be here on the seventh of October to present that to you two. He said you two might hare off to the North Farthing early if I didn't get that to you. You're going to the North Farthing?"
Pippin whistled, but Merry merely shook his head. "I don't know how he does it! Must have given you this just before he stopped to tell us that Frodo was leaving. Why didn't he just give it to us himself?"
"We didn't know we were going, or at least Merry didn't know, until last night. How Gandalf knew is anyone's guess. Come on, Merry, open it."
The other two hobbits leaned forward as Merry broke the seal. Unfolding the note, he read aloud the following:
"My Dear Hobbits, I am sure this note finds you in good spirits. You will now be sitting, unless I miss my guess, in front of your comfortable fire, the inestimable Mr. Bolger at your side, and wondering what you're going to do for excitement now. You will also be wondering how I knew of your journey to the North Farthing, no doubt. I know, young Peregrin, that the Took has asked you to travel to the North Farthing and that you will do so soon. And I think I know the inquisitiveness of young hobbits enough to know that had I mentioned it to you, I should have been delayed hours, if not days, in the answering of all your questions. Therefore, I chose to leave this note for your return to Crickhollow. I am in hopes that you can convince Merry to accompany you in your journey. I also suggest that before you depart, you visit Sam's cousin, Halfast. He might have an interesting story to pass along to you concerning the Ents, or 'Tree-men' as he would call them. My visit with old Bombadil led me to believe that your search might not be in vain, but I would caution you against entering the Old Forest as he says the Onodrim have not resided there in many lives of men. I do not think that Sam will choose to accompany you, as he has different responsibilities now. Do ensure, however, that you include details of your tale for him so he may write them down in the book Frodo left him. I feel certain that you will have many an interesting tale to tell when all is done. Although many of your friends (and I flatter myself to include myself in so exalted a group) are now gone, passed away over the sea, be assured that you will all be often in our thoughts, as I hope we are in yours. I see many great things in your futures; sorrows and joys and triumphs. Take each as it comes, and look to your friends, your companions for strength and counsel in times of need. Remember also that although you may feel your service to your kings is at an end, be assured that they think often of their 'Periannath' and 'Holdwine'. You have pledged your lives in the service of your kings and they will not forget you. You were all part of many great events, which have changed you all to some extent All that you do and have done only prepares you to better meet the destiny that has been chosen for you long ago. Accept your destiny, be of good cheer, and remember us! May you fare well, wherever you fare.
Gandalf"
Merry's voice stopped suddenly, and all three hobbits stared into the fire for a few minutes. Merry finally folded the note again, and tucked it away in his breast pocket.
"How does he do that!?" Pippin ventured after a moment. "How did he know about the Took? I only found out just before we left to see Frodo off!"
Fredegar remained silent, but Merry's eyes sparkled as he gazed into the fire. "Not as close as he was used to be, eh, Pip? Closer and more mysterious, I'd say. Huh, our 'destinies'." Merry looked thoughtfully at Pippin, then said, "I'll miss him, though."
"He could be daunting and frightening at times, but I'll miss him too," Pippin said with a yawn. He looked at Merry and Fredegar and saw that they looked tired as well. The hobbits decided not to dwell on the mystery of Gandalf's letter that night. They were fatigued with almost two weeks of riding and lulled by a hearty supper and a warm fire. Pippin was already yawning and Merry's eyes were scratchy with sleep.
"A most interesting puzzle, I admit," Merry said finally, seeming to have startled both Pippin and Fredegar out of a light doze. "But one for the road. I'm for bed."
"And I!" Pippin agreed. "Fatty, you'll sleep here, of course?"
Fredegar stood and stretched. He gazed longingly at the warm fire, but shook his head. "No, I'm for home. Its not that far."
The hobbits saw their friend out, locked up and went to bed. Although he was tired to the bone, Pippin couldn't sleep immediately.
"You're out of shape, old chap," Pippin thought to himself. "On the road for barely a fortnight and exhausted already. Good thing you're going on a long tramp, just to keep yourself in shape!"
The sound of Merry's slow, rhythmic breathing was annoying since Pippin couldn't sleep, himself. Finally, he slipped quietly from his bed and donned his dressing gown. Carefully taking up a candle and lighting it in the low flames of their bedroom fireplace, he wandered to the drawing room. It was here that he and Merry kept their journals, maps, letters and papers. Setting the candle on the large desk, Pippin pulled a large, rolled map of the Shire from a basket on the floor. The basket held at least a dozen maps of Middle Earth, Gondor, Rohan, Esgaroth, and other places, as well as maps of Bree and each of the four sections of the Shire. He smoothed the map he held onto the surface of the desk, pinning the corners with paperweights. He then studied the North Farthing again. It would be easy to get there on pony-back, even with stopping at Bag End first. They could easily walk the open fields north of the Hill, keeping the river on the east until they came to Bindbole Wood. Then they could cut northeast toward Needlehole, and up to the North Downs. Long Cleeve was located in a fold of land at the southern point of the hills named Annuminas. In fact, Long Cleeve was a bare five or six leagues from the border of what was recognized as the Shire. Once there, Pippin could find his non-corresponding relations. After he'd looked in on the North-tooks, he and Merry would be free to explore the Wood. Pippin ran his fingers through his dark curls, still marveling at how thick his hair had become after a few days of subsisting on nothing but lembas and Ent-draught. Try as he might, Pippin couldn't remember a single one of his North-took relatives, although he had met them when he was in his teens. He yawned and stretched, and then rolled the map again. Extinguishing the candle he'd brought in with him, Pippin stumbled back to his bed. Without bothering to remove his dressing gown, he flopped onto his bed and this time fell quickly asleep.
Merry slept soundly, but Pippin's dreams were strange. He dreamed that he was back in Fangorn, but in the future, not the past. He was searching for Treebeard or Quickbeam or any of the other Ents, but they seemed to have disappeared. He was in great need, he knew that, but couldn't quite remember what was needed. He had something of great importance to tell them. He continued to search, stumbling through abandoned Ent homes, but found nothing of his old friends. He finally fell, weeping, among a large grove of dark old trees with gnarled branches. He heard the harsh whispers of the trees, Huorns he guessed, and could feel their branches reaching for him.
Pippin shot straight up, covered with sweat and panting as though he'd been running miles! He looked around the cozy bedroom and saw Merry sleeping peacefully in his bed a few feet away. Pippin shivered as a draft brushed his damp skin. He lay back and tugged the blankets up to his ears, trying to shake off the last dregs of the dream. Huorns! He shuddered again as he remembered the troop of trees, row after row of them, which had taken up position outside Isengard. When Isengard had emptied its armies, Pippin could feel the tension, the hostility and hate, vibrating from the deadly forest. They had followed the armies south, and had destroyed most of the Orcs in the Battle of Helm's Deep. He remembered Merry telling Strider- King Elessar, he corrected himself, that he would not want to meet up with Huorns without a true Ent about. Pippin felt the same way. He didn't even want to dream about them.
When they had been on their journey with Frodo, Sam and the rest of the Fellowship, Pippin had had strange dreams, especially in Tom Bombadil's house. His dreams were of things that had happened or that did happen later. This made tonight's dream even more frightening. But, after careful consideration he shrugged it off. There was little chance that he would ever venture into Fangorn alone, and less that if he did he would be unable to find at least one Ent. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he snuggled into his blankets and was again fast asleep.
Pippin woke the following morning to the delightful aroma of eggs and bacon. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered briefly what time it was. Just then, Merry stuck his head in the room.
"Pippin! Finally! I thought you were going to sleep the day away. Its already nine o'clock and I'm working on a midmorning snack for myself. Are you having breakfast, or shall I finish it myself?"
Pippin needed no other encouragement. "Half a moment," he cried, jumping out of bed and barely registering that he was still wearing slippers and his dressing gown. Merry raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He merely nodded and disappeared. Pippin hurried to the bathroom and rinsed his face in cold water. He felt as though he hadn't slept well, but couldn't remember why. He must have had a bad dream. Drying his face and hands, he returned to his bedroom and changed into soft, black breeches, a linen shirt and a warm, quilted waistcoat, noting that Merry had been casually dressed, too. He would decide on his wardrobe for the trip after breakfast.
Merry was just buttering some toasted bread as Pippin entered the kitchen. "What can I do to help," he asked.
"Mmmm, would you get the teapot and cups out? And some of those berry preserves Mistress Rose gave us? And unless I miss my guess, we should set a place for one more. I have a feeling Fatty will be joining us soon."
Pippin laughed and agreed. Fredegar Bolger didn't have an adventurous bone in his body, for all that he led a group of rebels when ruffians tried to take over the Shire two years ago. But he, much like Sam, loved to hear tales of adventure, and was never happier when he was helping plan this escapade or that, even if he didn't participate.
The tea was steeping in the teapot and Merry was just sliding the eggs onto three plates when they heard a jolly tune being whistled outside the kitchen window. The whistling continued toward the back of the house and a moment later, Fredegar was hallooing from the back door.
Pippin called for him to come in and within minutes the three hobbits were settled down to a modest breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, porridge, tea and preserves. There was a general silence save the sound of forks and knives busily at work. When the initial edge of their hunger was taken off, though, Merry pushed himself back a bit and looked keenly at his cousin. Pippin looked back with a frown.
His fork paused as he asked, "What is it Merry? Have I got egg on my face?"
"No, not at all. I was just wondering about your dreams last night? You seemed to be having some bad ones."
Pippin shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen and his friends smiling kindly at him. Looking down hastily he mumbled, "I don't remember."
He wondered if Merry would try to find out more, but Pippin honestly DIDN'T remember. He just remembered that it was bad. Merry nodded and continued to eat. Fredegar began talking about his cousin Tolwin and his nightmares, and the rest of the meal passed quickly. After washing up, the hobbits filed into the drawing room to plan the trip. They would plan today and leave early the next morning. Pippin penned a quick note to Sam, asking him to meet them at the Green Dragon at about noon, and to bring his cousin Hal with him, if possible. Fredegar took it out to the post box and returned quickly.
"Well, then, if we're visiting the North-tooks first," Merry was saying, tracing the map, "perhaps we should go 'round by Needlehole and north from there, first, then come back across the moors to Bindbole."
Pippin nodded. "Although, it IS getting cold up there. I wish the Took would have thought of this two months ago."
"Not to worry, Pippin, my lad," Merry said cheerfully. "We've been in worse places than the North Farthing in the fall, right?"
Pippin nodded again, and turned to Fredegar. "Are you coming with us, Fatty? Just think of the adventure you missed last time!"
Fredegar gave Pippin a look of comic horror. "What? And have shadow men chasing me? Or were you speaking of the leisurely stroll you all had through those mines?" He shivered theatrically. "No, you can keep your adventure, Master Periannath! Just bring the tales home with you!"
Merry and Pippin laughed. Of course the tales they'd brought from their journey were well known (though few believed more than half of what they'd done and even fewer understood the importance of the events they'd had a hand in bringing about). But Fredegar would have been surprised to know that he was actually named in the 'Red Book', which was what Frodo and Sam had taken to calling the thick, red-bound volume that Bilbo had begun and passed on to Frodo. In fact, before handing the book in his turn on to Sam, Frodo had not only told of Fatty's help with the Crickhollow incident, but had even mentioned his bravery in resisting the ruffians during the oppression of 1419.
"Very well, Master Fredegar," Pippin said loftily. "You, too, are forgiven this quest. But you will come with us to Bywater, tomorrow, won't you?"
"Of course!" he answered. He knew he would be hearing about the 'tree-men' from the only hobbit (besides Pippin, Merry and Sam, that is) who actually claimed to have seen one. Besides, the 'Travellers' had seen their tree- men away south, and that didn't really count as it hadn't happened in the Shire.
Pippin and Merry finalized their travel arrangements and set aside a few smaller rolled maps, these of Long Cleeve and the surrounding downs, and of the known areas of Bindbole. This wasn't very much, even though Bindbole was a small wood. It was just that few hobbits ventured farther than the eaves of the wood before scampering back out, unable to say exactly why. Merry and Pippin both felt, though, that after dealing with Orcs, experiencing the terror of the Nazgul, and conversing with real Ents, there was little in the sheltered Shire to fear.
"Except perhaps finding the Inns along the way closed!" Fredegar said with a smile. "Well, I will leave you two to your packing. Do you ride or walk tomorrow?"
"We'll ride to Bywater, and leave the ponies with Sam. They get on quite well with his Bill, you know." They had decided that they would then walk from Bag End, despite the cold weather. As Merry said, their belts could do with a bit of tightening. Besides, it would be more satisfying to their sense of adventure and would make it last a bit longer.
"Well, then, I'll ride with you to the Dragon. What time do we leave?"
After a brief consultation, they agreed that ten o'clock would serve very well for all of them. They would make good time to Bywater on ponies, so it wouldn't be necessary to leave earlier. Fredegar took his leave and the cousins turned to their packing.
They didn't need to bother with food just yet. They could purchase provisions along the way since they weren't leaving the Shire. And since Pippin was representing the Took, they would stay at an inn in Long Cleeve so he would be presentable. If necessary, they could both hunt for food, but it was unlikely that they would need to. The most difficult task seemed to be choosing what to wear. Both Pippin and Merry were used to wearing the uniforms of Gondor and Rohan, along with their swords, shields and mail shirts. Even though they doubted the kings remembered their oaths of service, they took them very seriously. But the garb was impractical for what they had in mind. Indeed, warm woolen breeches with woven shirts and quilted waistcoats, along with their Elven cloaks were much more practical. After some consideration, the hobbits decided to carry their swords and wear the mail under their shirts, but they would pack their uniforms to wear only when presenting themselves to the patriarch in Long Cleeve. That decided, and warm clothing packed, they moved on to the more practical matter of pipe weed, pocket-handkerchiefs, and money. When they finished, each hobbit had a large, overstuffed haversack. Pippin tried to heave his onto his back, but it was quite a struggle.
"You're out of shape, old chap," Merry teased, reaching out to drag the pack off of Pippin's back. He nearly dropped it and looked at Pippin with surprise. "What have you got in there?" he asked.
Pippin looked rather sheepish as he hoisted the pack onto his bed and emptied it out. Besides his clothing and necessities were several jars of preserves, two large, wrapped bread loaves, a fragrant cheese wheel, plates, knives, forks, and a large, dried sausage!
"My dear Pippin! We're not going into Wilderland!" Merry exclaimed, laughing. "We're taking a tame bit of a walk up to the North Farthing!"
"Yes," Pippin agreed, "but this was just in case we got a bit hungry on the way!"
Merry finally talked Pippin into leaving everything, reasoning that they had to have SOMETHING to eat tonight and for breakfast, didn't they? They spent the remainder of the day writing letters to family to let them know where the young hobbits might be found for the next few weeks. They had tea in the drawing room while deciding whether to take even more maps or not, and finally finished writing just in time for supper. Hobbits, of course, were almost as devoted to writing acquaintances and family as they were to food. They received a note from Sam by return post that tomorrow would be fine and that Hal would be glad to be there. Mistress Rose sent her regards, as well, and was looking forward to having them visit and stay the night. After supper and a bath, Pippin retired early. He was still fatigued from his broken sleep of the night before.
The next morning broke gray and drear, with a steady drizzle coming down in a fine mist that promised to chill to the bone. Pippin had not had another strange dream; in fact, he had slept soundly all night. After a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, fried potatoes, tea and toast, Merry and Pippin cleaned the few dishes. They went to their bedroom to gather their supplies and Pippin looked at himself in the mirror. He felt awkward without his uniform, hauberk, and shield, but they were just not practical for this trip. Merry chuckled.
"I know, Pippin. I feel uncomfortable, myself." Merry looked down at his outfit and was still a bit surprised not to see the green and white of Rohan.
Pippin took a last look at his soft, black breeches, the warm linen shirt and the thick cotton waistcoat. Pulling a face, he donned his cloak and fastened the green brooch, feeling somewhat better. Then he strapped on his sword and hefted his pack. "Come, cousin, time is wasting!"
The hobbits made sure the house was locked, mounted up, and turned their ponies north.
Merry and Pippin waved wildly at Sam, who had turned off at Bywater and was now heading toward Hobbiton and the Hill. They had risen early, but had idled on the way. Sam seemed thoughtful, and Merry and Pippin quietly respected his silence. Pippin had been thinking the night before about Sam and his responsibilities as a husband and father. Pippin suspected that Sam's days of journeying were over. The ponies plodded slowly down the East Road, and their riders did little to hurry them. The sun was almost overhead when they finally reached the fork in the road. To continue would take them to Frogmorton and Whitfurrows, eventually over the Brandywine River to Buckland. To turn north would take them past Bywater, into Hobbiton and on to Bag End. Sam even invited them to come with him. But there were things to do and they had to make ready for their trip.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked once more. "Rosie would be happy to see you. And you've not seen little Elanor since she was born!"
Merry laughed. "Mistress Rose would be wonderful and welcoming, and she would give you a proper dressing down as soon as we left for not giving her more notice."
"Look for us in a few days," Pippin promised. "We'll stop in for a quick visit before heading up north. And we'll bring a present for little Elanor."
As Sam turned away, Merry and Pippin began to sing. They were going on a quest. They would go to Crickhollow and close up the house for a short time. Fatty Bolger would probably look in on the house from time to time, if they asked. But they did need to plan and pack.
They nodded and waved to friends and acquaintances, indifferent to or unaware of the looks of admiration that shone in the eyes of more than one hobbit maiden. That they made striking figures, taller than most hobbits, mounted on large ponies, and garbed in the livery of Gondor and Rohan, wasn't really important to the two young hobbits. They reveled in the company of the other, and now they were starting another journey! The miles passed quickly but being October, it was nearly nightfall when they finally reached the small house in Crickhollow that Frodo had purchased two years ago. He'd done so to hide his departure from the Shire, but had never lived there. Instead he had given it to his young cousins for their use.
The little house was dark, with the windows shuttered against the cold of the season, but as they dismounted, the door swung open.
"Ah, here you are! Back and none too soon, either!" Fredegar Bolger, still thin for a hobbit from his time spent in the Lockholes, was standing at the door and looking up at them with an expectant smile.
"Fatty! Whatever are you doing here? Is anything amiss?" Merry asked, handing his reins to Pippin and moving to clasp Fredegar's hands warmly.
Fredegar shook his head, but didn't answer Merry's question when Pippin called, " Wait 'til I get back! I want to hear, too!"
Pippin led the ponies to their small stable around back to remove their saddles and rub them down. It would take some time, so Merry and Fredegar entered the long, low house, closing the round door against the coming night. A large fire burned in the main hearth and luscious smells drifted from the kitchen.
"If you want to clean up, I'll just see to the supper," Fredegar told Merry as they neared the kitchen. "I'll send Pippin in to bathe when he comes in."
Merry nodded and headed eagerly to the bathing room. The room was large; easily large enough to accommodate four hobbit-sized tubs, although right now there were only two. Both tubs were brimming with hot water, while more water simmered gently over the low fire in the grate. Soft, plush towels were piled on a bench against the wall, and Merry noted with delight that his favorite dressing gown had been hung on a peg near the door. It was warm and welcoming and just what was needed after almost a fortnight on the road. Hobbits were tough and doughty at need, but it could never be said that they didn't enjoy the simpler delights in life, such as good food, conversation, and a wonderful bath at day's end.
Merry had a leisurely bath and changed into his dressing gown. Pippin had entered midway through Merry's bath and was trying to catch him up, so he decided to wait. Both hobbits emerged, clean, relaxed and comfortable, just as Fredegar called them to supper. As they ate in the cozy kitchen, Fredegar plied them with questions about Bilbo and Gandalf and all the fair folk they'd seen. He asked after Frodo, as well. They all knew that the loss of the One Ring, along with the various other hurts Frodo had received, took its toll on his health. But now, it seemed, he would be able to be at peace. Pippin volunteered to wash up, while Merry and Fatty took care of the mess they'd left in the bathroom.
When all was clean and tidy once again, the hobbits settled themselves around the fire. Fredegar brought out three tankards of cool ale, which they sipped with relish. The ale was of the 1420 vintage, and thought to be the best ever. It was from one of many barrels which Pippin and Merry had put up. Known as the Great Year of Plenty, 1420 had produced some of the best ale, pipe-weed, crops, and even the most newborns in memory. It had been, a wonderful year especially after the destruction caused by Saruman in the previous year. Taking another healthy sip of his ale, Merry fixed Fredegar with a curious look and finally asked what was in all their minds.
"So, Fatty, what are you doing here? I thought you were away in the South Farthing for another week."
Fredegar took a long pull from his tankard, and set it aside with a smile of satisfaction. "Ah, that's proper 1420, and no doubt of it!" he said contentedly. "I was in the South Farthing and would be still, but for a letter I was to deliver. In person."
Merry and Pippin sat forward eagerly.
"A letter? But why not just use the post?"
"From who?"
Fredegar made a show of digging into his pocket. He withdrew a note, folded and sealed with a large disk of wax. Merry reached for it, but Pippin was there first, tugging it from Fredegar's hand and examining the seal.
"An Elf rune, that's certain," he said, passing the note to Merry.
"You're right, Pip, it's the elvish letter 'G'."
They looked at each other and said together, "Gandalf!"
Fredegar chuckled. "He found me a fortnight ago and told me I was to be here on the seventh of October to present that to you two. He said you two might hare off to the North Farthing early if I didn't get that to you. You're going to the North Farthing?"
Pippin whistled, but Merry merely shook his head. "I don't know how he does it! Must have given you this just before he stopped to tell us that Frodo was leaving. Why didn't he just give it to us himself?"
"We didn't know we were going, or at least Merry didn't know, until last night. How Gandalf knew is anyone's guess. Come on, Merry, open it."
The other two hobbits leaned forward as Merry broke the seal. Unfolding the note, he read aloud the following:
"My Dear Hobbits, I am sure this note finds you in good spirits. You will now be sitting, unless I miss my guess, in front of your comfortable fire, the inestimable Mr. Bolger at your side, and wondering what you're going to do for excitement now. You will also be wondering how I knew of your journey to the North Farthing, no doubt. I know, young Peregrin, that the Took has asked you to travel to the North Farthing and that you will do so soon. And I think I know the inquisitiveness of young hobbits enough to know that had I mentioned it to you, I should have been delayed hours, if not days, in the answering of all your questions. Therefore, I chose to leave this note for your return to Crickhollow. I am in hopes that you can convince Merry to accompany you in your journey. I also suggest that before you depart, you visit Sam's cousin, Halfast. He might have an interesting story to pass along to you concerning the Ents, or 'Tree-men' as he would call them. My visit with old Bombadil led me to believe that your search might not be in vain, but I would caution you against entering the Old Forest as he says the Onodrim have not resided there in many lives of men. I do not think that Sam will choose to accompany you, as he has different responsibilities now. Do ensure, however, that you include details of your tale for him so he may write them down in the book Frodo left him. I feel certain that you will have many an interesting tale to tell when all is done. Although many of your friends (and I flatter myself to include myself in so exalted a group) are now gone, passed away over the sea, be assured that you will all be often in our thoughts, as I hope we are in yours. I see many great things in your futures; sorrows and joys and triumphs. Take each as it comes, and look to your friends, your companions for strength and counsel in times of need. Remember also that although you may feel your service to your kings is at an end, be assured that they think often of their 'Periannath' and 'Holdwine'. You have pledged your lives in the service of your kings and they will not forget you. You were all part of many great events, which have changed you all to some extent All that you do and have done only prepares you to better meet the destiny that has been chosen for you long ago. Accept your destiny, be of good cheer, and remember us! May you fare well, wherever you fare.
Gandalf"
Merry's voice stopped suddenly, and all three hobbits stared into the fire for a few minutes. Merry finally folded the note again, and tucked it away in his breast pocket.
"How does he do that!?" Pippin ventured after a moment. "How did he know about the Took? I only found out just before we left to see Frodo off!"
Fredegar remained silent, but Merry's eyes sparkled as he gazed into the fire. "Not as close as he was used to be, eh, Pip? Closer and more mysterious, I'd say. Huh, our 'destinies'." Merry looked thoughtfully at Pippin, then said, "I'll miss him, though."
"He could be daunting and frightening at times, but I'll miss him too," Pippin said with a yawn. He looked at Merry and Fredegar and saw that they looked tired as well. The hobbits decided not to dwell on the mystery of Gandalf's letter that night. They were fatigued with almost two weeks of riding and lulled by a hearty supper and a warm fire. Pippin was already yawning and Merry's eyes were scratchy with sleep.
"A most interesting puzzle, I admit," Merry said finally, seeming to have startled both Pippin and Fredegar out of a light doze. "But one for the road. I'm for bed."
"And I!" Pippin agreed. "Fatty, you'll sleep here, of course?"
Fredegar stood and stretched. He gazed longingly at the warm fire, but shook his head. "No, I'm for home. Its not that far."
The hobbits saw their friend out, locked up and went to bed. Although he was tired to the bone, Pippin couldn't sleep immediately.
"You're out of shape, old chap," Pippin thought to himself. "On the road for barely a fortnight and exhausted already. Good thing you're going on a long tramp, just to keep yourself in shape!"
The sound of Merry's slow, rhythmic breathing was annoying since Pippin couldn't sleep, himself. Finally, he slipped quietly from his bed and donned his dressing gown. Carefully taking up a candle and lighting it in the low flames of their bedroom fireplace, he wandered to the drawing room. It was here that he and Merry kept their journals, maps, letters and papers. Setting the candle on the large desk, Pippin pulled a large, rolled map of the Shire from a basket on the floor. The basket held at least a dozen maps of Middle Earth, Gondor, Rohan, Esgaroth, and other places, as well as maps of Bree and each of the four sections of the Shire. He smoothed the map he held onto the surface of the desk, pinning the corners with paperweights. He then studied the North Farthing again. It would be easy to get there on pony-back, even with stopping at Bag End first. They could easily walk the open fields north of the Hill, keeping the river on the east until they came to Bindbole Wood. Then they could cut northeast toward Needlehole, and up to the North Downs. Long Cleeve was located in a fold of land at the southern point of the hills named Annuminas. In fact, Long Cleeve was a bare five or six leagues from the border of what was recognized as the Shire. Once there, Pippin could find his non-corresponding relations. After he'd looked in on the North-tooks, he and Merry would be free to explore the Wood. Pippin ran his fingers through his dark curls, still marveling at how thick his hair had become after a few days of subsisting on nothing but lembas and Ent-draught. Try as he might, Pippin couldn't remember a single one of his North-took relatives, although he had met them when he was in his teens. He yawned and stretched, and then rolled the map again. Extinguishing the candle he'd brought in with him, Pippin stumbled back to his bed. Without bothering to remove his dressing gown, he flopped onto his bed and this time fell quickly asleep.
Merry slept soundly, but Pippin's dreams were strange. He dreamed that he was back in Fangorn, but in the future, not the past. He was searching for Treebeard or Quickbeam or any of the other Ents, but they seemed to have disappeared. He was in great need, he knew that, but couldn't quite remember what was needed. He had something of great importance to tell them. He continued to search, stumbling through abandoned Ent homes, but found nothing of his old friends. He finally fell, weeping, among a large grove of dark old trees with gnarled branches. He heard the harsh whispers of the trees, Huorns he guessed, and could feel their branches reaching for him.
Pippin shot straight up, covered with sweat and panting as though he'd been running miles! He looked around the cozy bedroom and saw Merry sleeping peacefully in his bed a few feet away. Pippin shivered as a draft brushed his damp skin. He lay back and tugged the blankets up to his ears, trying to shake off the last dregs of the dream. Huorns! He shuddered again as he remembered the troop of trees, row after row of them, which had taken up position outside Isengard. When Isengard had emptied its armies, Pippin could feel the tension, the hostility and hate, vibrating from the deadly forest. They had followed the armies south, and had destroyed most of the Orcs in the Battle of Helm's Deep. He remembered Merry telling Strider- King Elessar, he corrected himself, that he would not want to meet up with Huorns without a true Ent about. Pippin felt the same way. He didn't even want to dream about them.
When they had been on their journey with Frodo, Sam and the rest of the Fellowship, Pippin had had strange dreams, especially in Tom Bombadil's house. His dreams were of things that had happened or that did happen later. This made tonight's dream even more frightening. But, after careful consideration he shrugged it off. There was little chance that he would ever venture into Fangorn alone, and less that if he did he would be unable to find at least one Ent. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he snuggled into his blankets and was again fast asleep.
Pippin woke the following morning to the delightful aroma of eggs and bacon. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered briefly what time it was. Just then, Merry stuck his head in the room.
"Pippin! Finally! I thought you were going to sleep the day away. Its already nine o'clock and I'm working on a midmorning snack for myself. Are you having breakfast, or shall I finish it myself?"
Pippin needed no other encouragement. "Half a moment," he cried, jumping out of bed and barely registering that he was still wearing slippers and his dressing gown. Merry raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He merely nodded and disappeared. Pippin hurried to the bathroom and rinsed his face in cold water. He felt as though he hadn't slept well, but couldn't remember why. He must have had a bad dream. Drying his face and hands, he returned to his bedroom and changed into soft, black breeches, a linen shirt and a warm, quilted waistcoat, noting that Merry had been casually dressed, too. He would decide on his wardrobe for the trip after breakfast.
Merry was just buttering some toasted bread as Pippin entered the kitchen. "What can I do to help," he asked.
"Mmmm, would you get the teapot and cups out? And some of those berry preserves Mistress Rose gave us? And unless I miss my guess, we should set a place for one more. I have a feeling Fatty will be joining us soon."
Pippin laughed and agreed. Fredegar Bolger didn't have an adventurous bone in his body, for all that he led a group of rebels when ruffians tried to take over the Shire two years ago. But he, much like Sam, loved to hear tales of adventure, and was never happier when he was helping plan this escapade or that, even if he didn't participate.
The tea was steeping in the teapot and Merry was just sliding the eggs onto three plates when they heard a jolly tune being whistled outside the kitchen window. The whistling continued toward the back of the house and a moment later, Fredegar was hallooing from the back door.
Pippin called for him to come in and within minutes the three hobbits were settled down to a modest breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, porridge, tea and preserves. There was a general silence save the sound of forks and knives busily at work. When the initial edge of their hunger was taken off, though, Merry pushed himself back a bit and looked keenly at his cousin. Pippin looked back with a frown.
His fork paused as he asked, "What is it Merry? Have I got egg on my face?"
"No, not at all. I was just wondering about your dreams last night? You seemed to be having some bad ones."
Pippin shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen and his friends smiling kindly at him. Looking down hastily he mumbled, "I don't remember."
He wondered if Merry would try to find out more, but Pippin honestly DIDN'T remember. He just remembered that it was bad. Merry nodded and continued to eat. Fredegar began talking about his cousin Tolwin and his nightmares, and the rest of the meal passed quickly. After washing up, the hobbits filed into the drawing room to plan the trip. They would plan today and leave early the next morning. Pippin penned a quick note to Sam, asking him to meet them at the Green Dragon at about noon, and to bring his cousin Hal with him, if possible. Fredegar took it out to the post box and returned quickly.
"Well, then, if we're visiting the North-tooks first," Merry was saying, tracing the map, "perhaps we should go 'round by Needlehole and north from there, first, then come back across the moors to Bindbole."
Pippin nodded. "Although, it IS getting cold up there. I wish the Took would have thought of this two months ago."
"Not to worry, Pippin, my lad," Merry said cheerfully. "We've been in worse places than the North Farthing in the fall, right?"
Pippin nodded again, and turned to Fredegar. "Are you coming with us, Fatty? Just think of the adventure you missed last time!"
Fredegar gave Pippin a look of comic horror. "What? And have shadow men chasing me? Or were you speaking of the leisurely stroll you all had through those mines?" He shivered theatrically. "No, you can keep your adventure, Master Periannath! Just bring the tales home with you!"
Merry and Pippin laughed. Of course the tales they'd brought from their journey were well known (though few believed more than half of what they'd done and even fewer understood the importance of the events they'd had a hand in bringing about). But Fredegar would have been surprised to know that he was actually named in the 'Red Book', which was what Frodo and Sam had taken to calling the thick, red-bound volume that Bilbo had begun and passed on to Frodo. In fact, before handing the book in his turn on to Sam, Frodo had not only told of Fatty's help with the Crickhollow incident, but had even mentioned his bravery in resisting the ruffians during the oppression of 1419.
"Very well, Master Fredegar," Pippin said loftily. "You, too, are forgiven this quest. But you will come with us to Bywater, tomorrow, won't you?"
"Of course!" he answered. He knew he would be hearing about the 'tree-men' from the only hobbit (besides Pippin, Merry and Sam, that is) who actually claimed to have seen one. Besides, the 'Travellers' had seen their tree- men away south, and that didn't really count as it hadn't happened in the Shire.
Pippin and Merry finalized their travel arrangements and set aside a few smaller rolled maps, these of Long Cleeve and the surrounding downs, and of the known areas of Bindbole. This wasn't very much, even though Bindbole was a small wood. It was just that few hobbits ventured farther than the eaves of the wood before scampering back out, unable to say exactly why. Merry and Pippin both felt, though, that after dealing with Orcs, experiencing the terror of the Nazgul, and conversing with real Ents, there was little in the sheltered Shire to fear.
"Except perhaps finding the Inns along the way closed!" Fredegar said with a smile. "Well, I will leave you two to your packing. Do you ride or walk tomorrow?"
"We'll ride to Bywater, and leave the ponies with Sam. They get on quite well with his Bill, you know." They had decided that they would then walk from Bag End, despite the cold weather. As Merry said, their belts could do with a bit of tightening. Besides, it would be more satisfying to their sense of adventure and would make it last a bit longer.
"Well, then, I'll ride with you to the Dragon. What time do we leave?"
After a brief consultation, they agreed that ten o'clock would serve very well for all of them. They would make good time to Bywater on ponies, so it wouldn't be necessary to leave earlier. Fredegar took his leave and the cousins turned to their packing.
They didn't need to bother with food just yet. They could purchase provisions along the way since they weren't leaving the Shire. And since Pippin was representing the Took, they would stay at an inn in Long Cleeve so he would be presentable. If necessary, they could both hunt for food, but it was unlikely that they would need to. The most difficult task seemed to be choosing what to wear. Both Pippin and Merry were used to wearing the uniforms of Gondor and Rohan, along with their swords, shields and mail shirts. Even though they doubted the kings remembered their oaths of service, they took them very seriously. But the garb was impractical for what they had in mind. Indeed, warm woolen breeches with woven shirts and quilted waistcoats, along with their Elven cloaks were much more practical. After some consideration, the hobbits decided to carry their swords and wear the mail under their shirts, but they would pack their uniforms to wear only when presenting themselves to the patriarch in Long Cleeve. That decided, and warm clothing packed, they moved on to the more practical matter of pipe weed, pocket-handkerchiefs, and money. When they finished, each hobbit had a large, overstuffed haversack. Pippin tried to heave his onto his back, but it was quite a struggle.
"You're out of shape, old chap," Merry teased, reaching out to drag the pack off of Pippin's back. He nearly dropped it and looked at Pippin with surprise. "What have you got in there?" he asked.
Pippin looked rather sheepish as he hoisted the pack onto his bed and emptied it out. Besides his clothing and necessities were several jars of preserves, two large, wrapped bread loaves, a fragrant cheese wheel, plates, knives, forks, and a large, dried sausage!
"My dear Pippin! We're not going into Wilderland!" Merry exclaimed, laughing. "We're taking a tame bit of a walk up to the North Farthing!"
"Yes," Pippin agreed, "but this was just in case we got a bit hungry on the way!"
Merry finally talked Pippin into leaving everything, reasoning that they had to have SOMETHING to eat tonight and for breakfast, didn't they? They spent the remainder of the day writing letters to family to let them know where the young hobbits might be found for the next few weeks. They had tea in the drawing room while deciding whether to take even more maps or not, and finally finished writing just in time for supper. Hobbits, of course, were almost as devoted to writing acquaintances and family as they were to food. They received a note from Sam by return post that tomorrow would be fine and that Hal would be glad to be there. Mistress Rose sent her regards, as well, and was looking forward to having them visit and stay the night. After supper and a bath, Pippin retired early. He was still fatigued from his broken sleep of the night before.
The next morning broke gray and drear, with a steady drizzle coming down in a fine mist that promised to chill to the bone. Pippin had not had another strange dream; in fact, he had slept soundly all night. After a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, fried potatoes, tea and toast, Merry and Pippin cleaned the few dishes. They went to their bedroom to gather their supplies and Pippin looked at himself in the mirror. He felt awkward without his uniform, hauberk, and shield, but they were just not practical for this trip. Merry chuckled.
"I know, Pippin. I feel uncomfortable, myself." Merry looked down at his outfit and was still a bit surprised not to see the green and white of Rohan.
Pippin took a last look at his soft, black breeches, the warm linen shirt and the thick cotton waistcoat. Pulling a face, he donned his cloak and fastened the green brooch, feeling somewhat better. Then he strapped on his sword and hefted his pack. "Come, cousin, time is wasting!"
The hobbits made sure the house was locked, mounted up, and turned their ponies north.