Ring Around the Merry Prelude Part 5/5
"To Crickhollow!" ____________________________________________________________________________
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September 23, 3018
(This is the morning after Frodo's 50th birthday)
The next morning the four hobbits were busy packing another cart with the remainder of the luggage. Merry took charge of this as he, along with Fatty (that is, Fredegar Bolger) had volunteered to go on ahead of Frodo and help prepare Frodo's new home.
"Someone must get there and warm the house before you arrive," Merry had told Frodo before he gave the other three conspirators a knowing glance that wordlessly informed them that their final parley was upon them.
"Frodo," Merry said as he made to climb up onto the board of the cart, "I believe I left my pipe somewhere in the back study. Could you bring it out while I tie down the rest of your luggage?"
"It would be the least I could do, cousin," answered Frodo.
Merry noted with blunt irritation that Frodo continued his ritual of casting his glance down the road in search of Gandalf each time he walked in or out of his door.
The moment the door shut, Sam, Pippin, and Fatty clustered around Merry.
"Are we all set with our plan then?" asked Pippin.
"Yes, Pip," answered Merry. "And Frodo, he still suspects nothing-Sam?"
"No sir! I'm flat sure of it!" affirmed Sam.
Merry nodded his head. "Good. That is as it should be."
"When shall we tell him?" burst in Fatty.
"When the time is right," answered Merry. "I'm trusting you two, Sam and Pip, to make dead certain that Frodo suspects nothing until we are all secure at Crickhollow. We must wait until then. That is vitally important."
"Not that I doubt you, Merry," continued Fatty, "But I am still at a bit of a loss as to why that is so import-to wait, I mean. He's going to find out by the by-why not tell him now and have done with having to be so mysterious."
Merry flashed a look at Fatty which was irritation mingled with what Pippin knew from long acquaintance to censored anger.
"Fatty, you are Frodo's friend, but you do not know Frodo quite as well as we do," explained Merry. "If Frodo found out about our little conspiracy on the way to Crickhollow, do you know what he would do?"
Fatty shrugged his shoulders.
"He would give all of us the slip and continue on his own to keep us out of harm's way. That is what he would do. And we absolutely cannot allow that to happen, lads!"
"Mr. Frodo wouldn't leave me, Mr. Merry. I wouldn't let him!" asserted Sam. "I'd jump down a dragon's throat to save him!"
"If you didn't trip over your own feet, Sam," chided Merry as he shook his head. "No Sam, Frodo would leave even you if he thought he could save you by doing so. But I am not talking of heroic action and battling dragons; I am speaking of not letting Frodo out of your sight. And I am speaking of making certain that Frodo is not tempted to escape from our care while he bears this bane. The Ring is Frodo's responsibility; Frodo is ours."
"What if Frodo does find out, Merry," asked Fatty again. "Do we have any sort of back-up plan?"
Merry's annoyance at Fatty was manifest. He'd been brought into their confidences rather late in the game, and his purpose, save one last deed, had been served. Merry did not have time for these questions. His plan was set, time was short, and his current mood did not brook questions, even well-meaning ones, in good stride.
"There will be no need for back-up plans, Fatty, as I am quite sure all with go smoothly," answered Merry evenly.
"Do you think it will be dangerous, Mer? Our walk, I mean?" asked Pippin earnestly.
"I am, perhaps, more resourceful than you know, dearest Pip, and will do my small part to keep the trip safe for the three of you. Your only concern should be Frodo and getting him to Crickhollow without suspecting our conspiracy. Besides," Merry chuckled, "We have not yet been scrupulous; why start now? You will find everything prepared for you when you arrive, your Merry will see to that!"
Merry was eternally glad for Pippin, as Pippin would not gainsay him. Pippin trusted Merry's instincts. Pippin trusted Merry. Merry resisted the urge to ruffle the lad's hair. Pippin had been a great help in this conspiracy and had offered some excellent ideas on this complicated matter. The ploy to have Frodo search for Merry's "lost" pipe had, in fact, come from Pippin. With each contribution, Merry marveled at how his younger cousin had matured. He'd continually remind himself that Pippin was no longer ten, and deserved to be treated like an equal and not like an eternally young imp. Pippin was, after all, coming up fast upon his majority. Like it or not, his Little Pip had grown up.
Just then Frodo burst through his door, his expression a case study in frustration.
"Blast it, Merry, but I must be getting blind with age!" exclaimed Frodo as he huffed toward the cart "I cannot find that pipe of yours anywhere!"
"Oh, dear, Mer!" said Pippin as he yanked the pipe from his pocket. "I've had your pipe all along. I just haven't thought to give it back to you."
Merry hid his smirk with his hand.
"Silly ass!" laughed Merry as Pippin handed him the pipe with a wink. "Frodo," continued Merry, "There is just one more detail to take care of before Fatty and I are off for your new home! These towering bundles need to be tied down, and I used the last of my rope on the last cart. Could you fetch any extra rope from your outbuilding? I fear we'll need every stitch to secure these bags!"
Frodo blushed at the simple request, realizing how seldom, if ever, he'd ever ventured to his own shed. Sam took care of all such things.
"Dear Sam," said Frodo, "Will you come help a useless Baggins navigate his own shed?"
"Yes Mr. Frodo!" said Sam and plodded off with his master.
Merry smiled, knowing full well this would be the result of his request. "Fatty?" added Merry.
"I'll go help them," he answered, already suspecting Merry had wanted to speak alone with his cousin. Fatty trundled his rotund body off toward his friends, huffing with exertion and leaving Merry and Pippin to themselves.
""Pippin, come sit with me a moment," said Merry.
Pippin grinned as he scrambled up, his emerald eyes sparkling. He plopped himself happily down by his cousin, emitting a surprised gasp as Merry gave him a fierce one-armed hug.
"Pippin, my lad!" exclaimed Merry, "have I ever told you how much you mean to me?"
Pippin nodded, eyes glazed over in joy, and Merry squeezed him toward him again.
"Pippin, you're not a child anymore, though, lor! Sometimes I have to remind myself."
Pippin chuckled warmly. Oh how he loved his cousin!
"You know, Pip, you have been an enormous help through all of this bad business. I am just so impressed at how mature you've become."
"Thanks Mer!" replied Pippin warmly, his face looking achingly young in the gentle morning light. "You've had a lot to do with it, you know!"
"I know!" Merry laughed. "And you have been a handful at times, for both your parents and for the likes of me!" Merry paused for a moment, trying to fish the right words from his mind. "Well, Pip, what I am really trying to say, what I wanted to tell you is, well..you'll make a fine Thain some day!"
Pippin beamed with pride. He knew that when it came to these type of open declarations, Merry had inherited his father's reserve, a trait that had become more pronounced as Merry grew older. The fact that these statements did not come easy for his cousin made the words all the more special.
"Thank you, Merry," said Pippin, placing an exuberant kiss upon Merry's flushed cheek. "It means the world to me!" And it did.
The two cousins lingered in a tight embrace, enjoying the encompassing warmth of each other's arms. Pippin swore he saw some accumulated moisture in Merry's eyes that looked suspiciously like tears. Pippin delivered another heartfelt kiss to the side of Merry's face, and Merry squeezed his eyes together to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to pour out. At last Merry pulled out of the hug, gripping Pippin by the shoulders and pushing him gently back so he could have a good look at him. Merry smiled pushing back the tide of bittersweet emotion. The soft lines of his cousin's baby face had gained some of the sharp precision that came with age. And this made Merry sad somehow. Finally, Merry spoke.
"These coming days may be more difficult than we know, Pippin," said Merry, sniffling a bit as he spoke. Pippin smiled, allowing his cousin to maintain the fiction that Merry's sniffles had been from a runny nose. "I'm just so glad to have you by my side, Peregrin."
"Me too, Merry. Me too."
"Pippin," continued Merry. "I need you to do something important for me on this journey, something important for Frodo. I can't tell you why it must be done, not yet, I think. But, if you can, I need you to encourage Frodo to stop by Farmer Maggot's on the way to Buckleberry Ferry. You know the way, don't you?"
"I do," said Pippin. "Shall I give a reason?"
"No," answered Merry. "It should seem happenstance."
"You are very mysterious!"
"The situation demands it, Pip," answered Merry. "Do this, but only if you can. Will you try, Pippin? Even if you do not know my ends, will you trust me?"
Pippin flung his arms about his older cousin's neck. "I always trust you, cousin!"
* * *
Merry glanced up to see the three hobbits returning with coil upon coil of rope, much of it pre-dating Bilbo's departure. The old hobbit had kept Bag End very well stocked.
"Are you sure we will need all this, Merry?" gasped Fatty, red-faced, sweaty, and holding enough rope to cordon off the whole hill. "It seems a bit much, if you ask me. I wanted to take just three or four coils, but Sam here said to take it all."
"It's like my Gaffer always says," reported Sam, "Rope-you'll want it, if you haven't got it. And I suspect we'll want it before our journey is done."
"A wise hobbit, your Gaffer, laughed Merry. "And if you hadn't of brought it all, I would have made you go back and fetch it! Even if I don't use it all here for the cart, Frodo will surely find a use for it at Crickhollow- better than giving free supplies to the S-Bs, don't you think?"
"I do!" agreed Frodo. Along with the rope, he and Sam had brought an armful of the better tools, that also upon the second-hand advice of Sam's Gaffer.
The four hobbits worked in silence as they wrapped the rope around the tall heap of baggage and furniture stacked precariously in the cart. With the furniture secured, Merry and Fatty made ready to depart.
"Frodo," said Merry thoughtfully, "a piece of advice. If you hear horses on the road, the full-sized ones like then ones Big People ride, you should make yourself scarce, I think. Trust your Merry on the one, will you?"
"I will," answered Frodo. "As I trust you with so many other matters."
Without warning, Frodo reached up and grasped Merry's hand, enclosing it in a warm grip.
"Thank you Merry!" Frodo said. "Thank you for being such a good friend."
Merry flashed Frodo a warm smile and squeezed his hand tightly. "We'll see you day after tomorrow, if you don't fall asleep on the way!" chided Merry. "We'll see you when you get home."
"Home," muttered Frodo somberly, and he watched Merry shake on the reins and drive the heavily laden cart bumpily down the path. As the last bit of his possessions disappeared round the bend, Frodo wondered what else he might be forced to part with before this was all over.
* * *
The night fell clear and bright, but with no sign of Gandalf striding through the dusk. Frodo promised himself for the third time that he'd be heading off in minutes, and for the third time, broke that promise. Once again, he waited to cast that last lingering glance down Hill Road for the elusive wizard. Frodo strolled slowly, very slowly down to the gate at the bottom of the path and then a dozen paces beyond that. There was, as Frodo had expected, no trace of the wizard.
He turned back toward Bag End, but halted suddenly. The sound of voices near the end of Bagshot Row stopped him in his tracks. One voice was certainly Sam's Gaffer. The other speaker spoke in a tone that more resembled a low hiss than a voice and was certainly not a hobbit. Frodo perked up his ears at the sound of his own name.
"No, Mr. Baggins has gone away," said the Gaffer, sounding quite put out. If Frodo did not know better, he would have thought he detected an edge of fear in the Gaffer's voice.
The speaker with the unpleasant voice hissed out another unintelligible question.
"Crickhollow?" said the Gaffer. "It's around Buckland or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is-a tidy way! What? And what business is it of yours? No, I can't give no message. Good night to you!"
Frodo heard the door slam, and the sound of heavy hoofbeats clopping down the hill- no Shire pony this. A chill ran down Frodo's spine upon hearing such an unsavory and unhobbity voice inquiring into his whereabouts with such precision. Suddenly he felt as if he were being chased. This encounter was the push that Frodo had needed to spur him on the road. He scrambled as fast as his legs could carry him back to Bag End. Pippin sat smoking on the porch, back resting against his pack. He stood up and shouldered his pack at the sight of his cousin huffing up the hill. Frodo nodded confirmation of Pippin's move, and threw open his door.
"Sam!" called Frodo through his round door. "Sam! Time!"
* * *
The mysterious visitor at the Gaffer's door had so disquieted Frodo that he almost forgot to wax sentimental at leaving Bag End for good. The realization had sunk in, but not until Hobbiton was a cluster of tiny lights in the distance. The three hobbits had stolen quietly and unnoticed out of the village, over newly harvested fields, over velvety sloped hills, nearly amethyst under the moonlight, and finally into the sheltering woods.
The night sky was spangled with twinkling stars that winked at the travelers through autumn-thinned tree branches. It was the finest kind of autumn night, the warm air cut through occasionally with the refreshing caress of a cool evening breeze. Sam gazed up at the full moon between puffs on his pipe; Pippin hummed a jolly hobbit walking tune; Frodo fiddled with the cold metal object in his pocket and fretted. Try as he might, he could not push away the crawling sense of dread that had infested his thoughts since hearing that noisome voice hissing his name.
A small warm hand suddenly landed gently upon Frodo's tensed neck. Frodo glanced down into Pippin's bright eyes.
"Don't fret so, cousin," said Pippin.
Frodo made to scrabble together a hasty denial, but Pippin stopped him with a short burst of laughter.
"Oh Frodo!" exclaimed Pippin. "If you could only see your own sour face, you'd not bother denying a thing. You are terribly worried, aren't you?"
"Worried," sighed Frodo. "Worried and more than a little homesick, I suppose. Or perhaps just tired."
Pippin wrapped his arm around Frodo in a sloppy but sincere hug.
"You're not alone, Frodo," Pippin replied cheerfully. "You are among friends, Frodo, and come what may, we will take care of you."
Frodo's expression bordered on quizzical. Pippin seemed to have guessed that this move was weighing heavily on him. Surely he guessed no more. Still, Frodo had a care to guard his replies to his cousin. He'd not give anything away.
"I've never doubted that, Pip," answered Frodo and took Pippin's hand in his own. "You must excuse my unease and the expression that, apparently, has come with it."
"No need for your unease or your furrowed brow, Frodo," assured Pippin. "Our Merry will see to everything. He always does. He's the smartest hobbit I know, aside from you, of course!"
Frodo noted that faraway look that always came into Pippin's eyes when he spoke of his older cousin. "You really love him, don't you Pip?" asked Frodo, eager to deflect the conversation from his own transparent anxiety.
"I suppose I do, Frodo," Pippin replied wistfully. "I look up to him the same way he looks up to you. But don't think for a moment that my admiration is based solely on him being my older cousin. Merry's special. Other folks see it too. Everyone in Buckland says he'll be a fine Master when his time comes-perhaps the finest since old Gormadoc."
Frodo gave a wry grin, wondering to himself where Pip had found the time to ask every last hobbit in Buckland their appraisal of Meriadoc. But Pippin was young, and a little hero worship among family was, perhaps, to be expected. Frodo nodded patiently through Pippin's tally of Merry's manifold unique qualities before sensing Pippin was at last approaching his point.
"So what I'm saying, Frodo, is that you are in very good hands," finished Pippin.
"May I remind you, Pip," said Frodo, "that your hands are as capable as any."
"Oh, but you sound just like Merry," sighed Pippin. "I've got a way to go yet and no mistake. But like good old Sam here, my heart works more efficiently than my head sometimes. Well, most times."
"Merry is right, Pip," said Frodo. "You should take more stock in your abilities. Merry does. And a good heart in uncertain times is a precious treasure indeed."
Pippin wagged his finger playfully at Frodo as a gentle breeze danced through his russet curls.
"Now, see here, Frodo! Let me comfort you without turning the tables, will you!"
Frodo could not help but chuckle at his irrepressible cousin. Pippin was growing up; yet in the softening glow of the moonlight, his cousin seemed more teen than tween.
A wave of guilt swelled through Frodo. What was he dragging this poor lad into? This journey was not a hobbit walking party - truly, they, all three of them, were in very real danger.
'Oh Pip!' thought Frodo. 'If only you knew what I carry! Would you jest then? All the love in the world cannot offer protection from this evil. Not you, Pip, not loyal Sam. Not even Merry, as you see him, can really help! And all who love me and strive to protect me shall be brought closer to darkness.'
And suddenly Frodo felt utterly and achingly alone.
* * *
The hobbits had retired late that first night, curling themselves up at the foot of a towering pine and taking what sleep they could. The morning dawned, vague and misty. As Frodo awoke, the dread that had been his last waking thought before he'd fallen into slumber became his first waking thought as he opened his eyes in the morning.
"Wake up, hobbits!" cried Frodo, trying to cover his fear with exuberance. "It's a beautiful morning!" But his cry fell flat and seemed thin somehow, and Frodo wondered if he'd ever see a beautiful morning again.
Pippin's first action was to peer out blearily from underneath his blanket and order Sam to make them breakfast.
Frodo's reaction was immediate. He bent down and grasped Pippin's blanket, stripping it off his cousin's body and rolling Pippin's prostate body over with his large foot.
"Hoy there!" exclaimed Pippin.
"If you're going to dole out orders," chided Frodo, "you might try to get upright yourself."
Pippin slogged to standing position, rubbing his eyes with slow deliberate hands that seemed to him to be made out of clay. "Oh bother!" said Pippin grumpily and gave a cavernous yawn.
Frodo watched Sam scramble off to his pack, removing his cooking gear with a loud clatter. Sam. True, Sam was a hobbit in his service. But he was so much more. By agreeing to accompany him on this dubious journey, Frodo understood Sam had agreed to sacrifice much, perhaps everything he would ever be, to aid him. For Frodo, that vow raised Sam to a level that transcended class, dissolved the distinction between master and servant. Sam was more than Frodo's servant; he was his friend.
But if Pippin's drowsy imperiousness had rankled Frodo, the feeling soon evaporated. Sam had come willingly upon this dark errand, Pippin had not, or, at least, not knowing the perils even this leg of the journey might entail. Crickhollow would be no protection, perhaps. Frodo felt it likely that the darkness had already begun to seep into the Shire, and the thought tore at his heart and mind. The eerie sound of a hissing voice muttering his name came back to Frodo and he shivered.
The three hobbits got back upon the road after a meager breakfast. The day had turned bright, and the autumn trees shone golden and crimson under the purple-blue sky. Sam and Pippin hummed out competing walking songs, stopping occasionally to tend to their pipes. Frodo tried to whistle, but it did not ring true. Shadows had crept into his mind, and, try as he might, he could not push them out. They walked the day away until the sun hung low in the lavender sky and dropped behind the swelling hills. Then Frodo heard it - the steady hard clopping of hooves, a horse, not a pony, and probably more than one. Big Folk?
Dread fell to the pit of Frodo's stomach like a brick. The horses were moving at a steady clip, and Frodo tremored.
"We need to get off the road and hide ourselves as we can!" cried Frodo. Frodo heard no signs of movement from his friends. He swerved around on his heel to face his startled companions. "Please, now!"
"It could be Gand--!" began Sam.
"It's not!" broke in Frodo, knowing it at once to be true. "Hide now!"
The hobbits dove off the road into long scratchy grass behind a thick tree. The hoof-beats slowed, as if the group of unseen riders had found something they had been seeking. Fear pulsed through the hobbits, though it was nothing compared to the terror that gripped them when the riders at last came into view. Four dark horsemen, swathed in black, crouching over their black steeds, moving their heads about in sweeping arcs, sniffing, always sniffing, as a cat trying to catch the scent of a nearby plate of fish. Their heads were hooded, faces invisible.
Frodo felt himself a prey, and stifled the unaccountable yet overwhelming desire to slip on the Ring and disappear. But before he could, the riders turned their heads toward the lead rider, nodded, and with a bone-chilling hiss that rent the air, they leapt off and barreled down the road toward Buckland.
The hobbits rose out of the crunching grass, brushing themselves off and giving each other terrified stares.
"What in Middle-earth?" gasped Pippin finally.
"Lor!" cried Sam. "But those Black Riders must have been friends of that strange customer that came skulking up to our door before we set off."
Frodo snapped his head around, mouth agape. "Sam? Why did you say nothing before?"
"I figured there weren't nothing we could do but be off, and be off quick. And you seemed to be so anxious, sir. And I guess I just didn't want to trouble you no more."
Sam's voice trailed off as he met the reproachful glance of his master.
"Trouble me!" demanded Frodo. "I need to know everything. And if it lightens your heart, I caught some of the conversation, your Gaffer' half at any rate. But I need to know exactly what this rider said."
"Well, master," began Sam, "my da mentioned one of the Big People coming to ask about your whereabouts. Seemed to know you'd be heading for Crickhollow, he did. Asked where it might be, or, rather, where you might be on the way to it. That's as far as it got before my Gaffer cut him off and slammed the door."
Sam turned to Frodo and took his master's hands in his own. "I'll admit it sir," he said, "it caused me no small concern that some strange Big Person knew your destination without being told. This was not the same fellow among those black horsemen, perhaps, but perhaps it was. My da said the rider was creepy and sent a shudder down his spine the moment his eyes lit on him. But his words don't do them justice. Downright sinister, I'd say. And all that sniffing and hissing! Well, I've had no dealing with Big Folk, but I'd never heard that hissing and sniffing were part of the bargain from those that did."
"Merry has had some dealing with Big People," burst in Pippin. "When he travels down to the Southfarthing with his father now and again. But he's never mentioned anything about sniffing!"
"No, that is not the typical behavior of men," said Frodo suddenly wondering if these shapes were human at all, and shuddered at the thought. "They've had problems in the south with Big Folk, I think."
"Merry says that Big People don't have to mean trouble," added Pippin. "Not if you know how to use them properly, that is."
"Gracious, Pip!" snapped Frodo. "But did those creatures look like folks that could be 'used properly'? Merry warned us to hide ourselves if we came upon any horsemen on the lane, if you remember."
"I do," retorted Pippin in an injured tone. "But the advice surprised me since Merry has not shown any fear of men before."
"Pippin," sighed Frodo, "Your cousin is brave -- brave but not reckless. There are no cold hard rules for dealing with the Big People, or any folk for that matter. Instinct, Pip. When all other counsel fails you, let your gut instinct guide you. That bit of wisdom was passed from Gandalf to Bilbo, to me, to Merry, and now to you. We've all needed to rely on our gut feelings, Pippin, and no doubt you'll need to once you are Thain. But it is never too early to start. And your gut instinct should have told you that those riders were dreadful and ought to be avoided."
"They did look terribly grim, didn't they Frodo?" said Pippin. "And I should like to know why those riders are racing toward Buckland."
"I should too," agreed Frodo. Though his own instinct supplied a ready answer. Frodo shuddered.
At that moment the sound of clear voices and laughter rang through the darkening gloom.
"Elves sir!" exclaimed Sam.
The voices came closer, and none of the company had the least desire to hide. Around the bend, they came, their faces young and fair, their raiment shimmering in the moonlight.
"Hail Frodo!" cried one of the fair folk in a musical voice as the elves gathered around the astonished group of hobbits.
"How do you know my name?" asked Frodo, too amazed to answer with his well- practiced Quenya.
"There is no time to explain," said the elf who had hailed him. "I am Gildor Inglorian, and you, Frodo Baggins, are in grave danger."
* * *
"Flee them, speak no words to them! They are deadly."
Gildor's words echoed in Frodo's mind as he awoke the in bower that had been his bed that past night.
The elves had gone, leaving Frodo with more cares than ever. He'd made up his mind. He would not linger at Crickhollow, not for even a day. The Black Riders were servants of the enemy, just as he had suspected, and deadly peril had been drawn into the Shire. Only Frodo himself could draw this poison out by leaving.
Frodo watched as Pippin traipsed off into the green singing merrily. Then it hit him, more painful than any blow. No! He couldn't do it! Dragging his innocent cousin into this web of darkness and danger from which Frodo and Sam, like as not, would never return. Pip's insouciant attitude through the ordeal proved to Frodo that the lad had no concept of the danger into which he'd been unwittingly drawn. And Sam, dear loyal Sam. He didn't even fell right having Sam come with him. Frodo turned and found the object of his misgiving staring back at him, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"I know what is on your mind, Frodo," said Sam, "and I am still coming with you."
"Most likely neither one of us will come back," warned Frodo.
"You're not much of a comfort, sir, but here it is; I told the elves that I would not leave you, and I shan't."
Frodo flushed with a surge of affection for his Sam. Not that he felt any more shielded from the forces of evil that seemed to loom so large above them. But Frodo no longer felt so utterly alone. Whatever befell him, even his inevitable demise, Sam would be by his side, and that grim thought filled Frodo with unspeakable relief.
"Gandalf chose me a good companion," said Frodo as Sam took his hands.
Sam smiled, knowing inwardly that he had chosen himself just as much as Gandalf had chosen him. And Merry and Pippin had chosen themselves, Frodo just didn't know it yet. Sam imagined he'd argue at first, but by the by, he'd be pleased.
Frodo glanced up again at Pippin, back against a tree, now whistling absently between mouthfuls of bread.
"Do you suppose they will take it hard? Pippin and Merry, I mean?" asked Frodo.
"Master Pippin, he'll bounce back," answered Sam wryly, "And you know Mr. Merry. He always has a plan."
"That's what concerns me!" laughed Frodo and he felt the darkness lifting from his shoulders, if only for a little while.
* * *
The hobbits walked the day away, deciding to cut across country to Buckleberrry Ferry rather than risk the open road and anything unsavory that might be on it. It had been Frodo's idea, and Pippin had heartily agreed. The going had not been as smooth as Frodo had hoped, but no black riders had materialized, much to Frodo's relief. Pippin knew this land better than the others, and led them through the bushes and brambles to the open ground, over a small stream, and through woods that Pippin continually said would end, but never seemed to do so. Just as Frodo and Sam were beginning to doubt Pippin's skill as a guide, the wilds began to melt into well-tended fields. At last they reached a gate and Pippin gave a great sigh of relief.
"This is Farmer Maggot's land!" exclaimed Pippin. The farmer knew Pip through Merry, and Frodo he knew from his mushroom-stealing days as one of the "worst young rascals in Buckland" - a title that drew snickers from Pippin and snarls from Samwise. The round-faced farmer had kept his dogs at bay and invited the travelers to supper, luring them in with the promise of home-brewed ale and news of some mysterious riders that had come knocking at his door.
Maggot set the travelers down at the end of a long sturdy table and immediately brought out four frothy mugs of amber ale so thick and rich it felt like food.
"Now then, Mr. Baggins," began the farmer as he pointed the stem of his pipe to Frodo. "Your name came up just yesterday, if yesterday it was. Late last night there was a pounding at my door, far past the time when decent folk should be abed. I yelled for the visitor to get himself gone or I'd set my hounds on him, but my dogs bolted down the hall whining and howling as if death himself had come calling and cowered in the back room. Well, that was a mite odd, I thought, and opened the door a crack to see what this fellow could want. As soon as I did, I wished I hadn't, for outside stood a man all hooded and cloaked up, sitting on the largest black horse I'd ever seen. He asked in a strange sort of voice if a Baggins had passed this way. Said he had something for you, though what you might want from the likes of him, I didn't dare guess. I told him that Baggins' were in Hobbiton, and do you know what he did?"
The three hobbits shook their heads, so rapt in the story that they scarcely could remember to swallow their ales.
"He laughed, he did!" said Maggot. "It was a cold cruel sort of laugh that sounded more like a hiss or a growl. Well I weren't laughing! Told him to take his three friends and go, I did, but he didn't move. Instead he hissed out that Baggins had left for Crickhollow, and asked how to find it, as you," Maggot again indicated Frodo with his pipe, "were expected there afternoon next."
Maggot stuck his pipe in his mouth and turned up his chin as if working out a problem in his head.
"Why, that would have it this very afternoon," he concluded. "It's a fine thing you are not there already!"
Frodo splurted out his beer and coughed heartily. He felt as if he had been struck by lightening.
"Now calm down, Mr. Baggins," said the farmer taking another draught of ale. "I didn't tell him a thing. He gave a final hiss and galloped off with his three nasty companions into the night."
"But Merry! Fatty!" cried Frodo in a voice ragged with panic. He stood up, rocking the long stool as he did. "They are at Crickhollow and are in terrible danger! We must go!"
"Merry is fine and well aware of the riders," said Maggot.
"How?" asked Frodo in disbelief.
"Don't rightly know," answered Maggot. "But he'd found out by the time he came by this morning."
"Merry was here?" asked Pippin hopefully.
"Yea," said the farmer. "At first I thought it was more of those black horseman again, but my dogs told a different tale. They gamboled down the path barking in excitement, not fear, and up walks Mr. Merry led by my hounds. 'Hallo Mr. Merry!' I hailed. 'What brings you to my door!?' He told me then that Peregrin Took, Frodo Baggins, and a hobbit in his service would be heading this way, perhaps on the road, perhaps not.
"'I'm stopping by all the farms on the outskirts of Buckland', he said. 'And to the ferryman at Buckleberry. I need to get a message to my cousins. There are strange Big Folk on black horses about, sniffing around searching for a Baggins on his way to Crickhollow. I don't like it, and I want them to wait until I can personally escort them home.'"
"I told him my tale, the one I just told you three. Merry didn't seem surprised, and bid me to help you if you crossed my land. 'If they turn up here, Maggot, would you feed them the best you can, and have them tarry here until evening? I shall meet them at Buckleberry Ferry at dusk. If you'd give them a drive too, I'd be much beholden to you!'"
"Well, Master Brandybuck, being a gentlehobbit of good family, offered to pay me, and pay me well," said Maggot. "I refused, of course. But after he set off, I found a pouch of coins at my gate!" The farmer let loose a soft chuckle as he lifted the leather pouch, the contents jangling merrily as he shook it. "Lads, I intended to earn these! So sit yourself down Master Baggins and sup with my household, or," he paused as a mischievous smile spread across his wide face, "or I may set my dogs on you for old times sake!"
"I'll take my mushrooms as I can!" laughed Frodo, the shadow lifting from his mind. Jolly old Merry! Pippin was right, Merry would make a fine Master someday, perhaps even now if fate should demand it of him.
"I told you Merry was good!" cried Pippin and took a mighty sip of ale that dribbled down his perky chin.
But Sam still looked uneasy. Frodo noticed Sam's discomfort, and took out his pipe.
"Sam, before we eat, would you like to take a smoke with me outside?"
Sam nodded, setting down his now empty tankard and drawing out his own pipe, then following his master out the front door. The moment the hobbits had cleared the threshold, Sam spoke.
"How do you reckon Mr. Merry found out about those riders, Master?" asked Sam. "I trust Mr. Merry, course I do! But, well, Master, this whole business makes me uneasy."
"Me too, Sam," answered Frodo. He stared out at the lengthening shadows stretching across Maggot's fields and sent a ring of smoke drifting across the footpath. "I don't know how Merry knows about the riders, but I'm glad he does, or his situation, as well as ours, might have turned out very poorly. But we know now that we must steal off from Crickhollow at first light tomorrow, and we must make sure Pip and Fatty leave too, for their own safety. If Merry knows of the riders, however he knows of them, he won't begrudge our leaving."
"Do you think Fatty and Merry came across riders, just as we did?" asked Sam.
"I don't know, Sam," answered Frodo. "If he has, our situation is even more perilous than I imagined. But I don't think so. Not unless he was riding about Buckland very late last night, which I doubt. I think that Gandalf has been this way. That is the only explanation that makes sense on all sides, and I am glad for it. Gandalf may well be waiting for us when we arrive at the house at Crickhollow."
Sam did not share his master's enthusiasm. Sam remembered Merry's doubt of the wizard, and wondered if Merry would follow any instructions given by Gandalf. 'I wonder if my master's instinct is serving him well just now,' Sam thought, but said nothing.
"You are still uneasy, Sam," said Frodo. "If it is any comfort, Sam, I do believe that Merry has this under control."
"Just the same, sir," continued Sam. "Folks in Buckland are queer. I trust my fear of those riders more than I trust anything right now, if you get my meaning."
"I don't altogether," answered Frodo. "But it won't do us any harm to be cautious."
Frodo and Sam stood in silence for a time, looking out warily into the fields for foes unseen. When they at last opened the door, the heavenly scent of mushrooms and bacon wafted out over the garden.
* * *
The light began to fail as the three well-fed hobbits threw their packs in Maggot's wagon and climbed in. Mrs. Maggot had given Frodo a generous basket of mushrooms "for old times sake" she'd said. Frodo had laughed then, but as they drove into the deepening evening fog, the old familiar uneasiness settled into his heart.
If was five miles from Maggot's lane to the Ferry, and all ears were strained to hear anything that sounded like horse hoofs. The wagon moved slowly, and by the time they approached the Ferry, Pippin's head was resting upon Frodo's shoulder. Pippin was asleep.
The two white posts of the Ferry lane appeared through the murk at last, and Maggot drew the reigns of the ponies until the wagon creaked to a halt. Then it came - the sound of hoofs approaching. Sam was up in a heartbeat. He jumped out of the wagon bed and stood over by Maggot, ready to protect his master from anything that might break through the soupy mists. Frodo woke Pippin, and both of them covered up with blankets and waited in silence and dread.
The farmer strode forward. "What do you want, and where are you going?" Maggot sternly asked the dark cloaked shape approaching through the gauzy air.
"I want Frodo, Pippin, and Sam, of course, Farmer Maggot. Do you have them there?"
The voice was that of Merry Brandybuck.
Pippin leapt up and threw off the blankets so exuberantly that they fell into the dewy grass below with a damp rustle of cotton and wool.
"Merry!" Pippin called. He scrambled out of the wagon and ran to embrace his cousin. "Frodo! Sam! It's Merry! We're saved!"
END
To see what happens next, please see Ring Around the Merry Chapter 1 "A Conspiracy Unmasked"
"To Crickhollow!" ____________________________________________________________________________
_
September 23, 3018
(This is the morning after Frodo's 50th birthday)
The next morning the four hobbits were busy packing another cart with the remainder of the luggage. Merry took charge of this as he, along with Fatty (that is, Fredegar Bolger) had volunteered to go on ahead of Frodo and help prepare Frodo's new home.
"Someone must get there and warm the house before you arrive," Merry had told Frodo before he gave the other three conspirators a knowing glance that wordlessly informed them that their final parley was upon them.
"Frodo," Merry said as he made to climb up onto the board of the cart, "I believe I left my pipe somewhere in the back study. Could you bring it out while I tie down the rest of your luggage?"
"It would be the least I could do, cousin," answered Frodo.
Merry noted with blunt irritation that Frodo continued his ritual of casting his glance down the road in search of Gandalf each time he walked in or out of his door.
The moment the door shut, Sam, Pippin, and Fatty clustered around Merry.
"Are we all set with our plan then?" asked Pippin.
"Yes, Pip," answered Merry. "And Frodo, he still suspects nothing-Sam?"
"No sir! I'm flat sure of it!" affirmed Sam.
Merry nodded his head. "Good. That is as it should be."
"When shall we tell him?" burst in Fatty.
"When the time is right," answered Merry. "I'm trusting you two, Sam and Pip, to make dead certain that Frodo suspects nothing until we are all secure at Crickhollow. We must wait until then. That is vitally important."
"Not that I doubt you, Merry," continued Fatty, "But I am still at a bit of a loss as to why that is so import-to wait, I mean. He's going to find out by the by-why not tell him now and have done with having to be so mysterious."
Merry flashed a look at Fatty which was irritation mingled with what Pippin knew from long acquaintance to censored anger.
"Fatty, you are Frodo's friend, but you do not know Frodo quite as well as we do," explained Merry. "If Frodo found out about our little conspiracy on the way to Crickhollow, do you know what he would do?"
Fatty shrugged his shoulders.
"He would give all of us the slip and continue on his own to keep us out of harm's way. That is what he would do. And we absolutely cannot allow that to happen, lads!"
"Mr. Frodo wouldn't leave me, Mr. Merry. I wouldn't let him!" asserted Sam. "I'd jump down a dragon's throat to save him!"
"If you didn't trip over your own feet, Sam," chided Merry as he shook his head. "No Sam, Frodo would leave even you if he thought he could save you by doing so. But I am not talking of heroic action and battling dragons; I am speaking of not letting Frodo out of your sight. And I am speaking of making certain that Frodo is not tempted to escape from our care while he bears this bane. The Ring is Frodo's responsibility; Frodo is ours."
"What if Frodo does find out, Merry," asked Fatty again. "Do we have any sort of back-up plan?"
Merry's annoyance at Fatty was manifest. He'd been brought into their confidences rather late in the game, and his purpose, save one last deed, had been served. Merry did not have time for these questions. His plan was set, time was short, and his current mood did not brook questions, even well-meaning ones, in good stride.
"There will be no need for back-up plans, Fatty, as I am quite sure all with go smoothly," answered Merry evenly.
"Do you think it will be dangerous, Mer? Our walk, I mean?" asked Pippin earnestly.
"I am, perhaps, more resourceful than you know, dearest Pip, and will do my small part to keep the trip safe for the three of you. Your only concern should be Frodo and getting him to Crickhollow without suspecting our conspiracy. Besides," Merry chuckled, "We have not yet been scrupulous; why start now? You will find everything prepared for you when you arrive, your Merry will see to that!"
Merry was eternally glad for Pippin, as Pippin would not gainsay him. Pippin trusted Merry's instincts. Pippin trusted Merry. Merry resisted the urge to ruffle the lad's hair. Pippin had been a great help in this conspiracy and had offered some excellent ideas on this complicated matter. The ploy to have Frodo search for Merry's "lost" pipe had, in fact, come from Pippin. With each contribution, Merry marveled at how his younger cousin had matured. He'd continually remind himself that Pippin was no longer ten, and deserved to be treated like an equal and not like an eternally young imp. Pippin was, after all, coming up fast upon his majority. Like it or not, his Little Pip had grown up.
Just then Frodo burst through his door, his expression a case study in frustration.
"Blast it, Merry, but I must be getting blind with age!" exclaimed Frodo as he huffed toward the cart "I cannot find that pipe of yours anywhere!"
"Oh, dear, Mer!" said Pippin as he yanked the pipe from his pocket. "I've had your pipe all along. I just haven't thought to give it back to you."
Merry hid his smirk with his hand.
"Silly ass!" laughed Merry as Pippin handed him the pipe with a wink. "Frodo," continued Merry, "There is just one more detail to take care of before Fatty and I are off for your new home! These towering bundles need to be tied down, and I used the last of my rope on the last cart. Could you fetch any extra rope from your outbuilding? I fear we'll need every stitch to secure these bags!"
Frodo blushed at the simple request, realizing how seldom, if ever, he'd ever ventured to his own shed. Sam took care of all such things.
"Dear Sam," said Frodo, "Will you come help a useless Baggins navigate his own shed?"
"Yes Mr. Frodo!" said Sam and plodded off with his master.
Merry smiled, knowing full well this would be the result of his request. "Fatty?" added Merry.
"I'll go help them," he answered, already suspecting Merry had wanted to speak alone with his cousin. Fatty trundled his rotund body off toward his friends, huffing with exertion and leaving Merry and Pippin to themselves.
""Pippin, come sit with me a moment," said Merry.
Pippin grinned as he scrambled up, his emerald eyes sparkling. He plopped himself happily down by his cousin, emitting a surprised gasp as Merry gave him a fierce one-armed hug.
"Pippin, my lad!" exclaimed Merry, "have I ever told you how much you mean to me?"
Pippin nodded, eyes glazed over in joy, and Merry squeezed him toward him again.
"Pippin, you're not a child anymore, though, lor! Sometimes I have to remind myself."
Pippin chuckled warmly. Oh how he loved his cousin!
"You know, Pip, you have been an enormous help through all of this bad business. I am just so impressed at how mature you've become."
"Thanks Mer!" replied Pippin warmly, his face looking achingly young in the gentle morning light. "You've had a lot to do with it, you know!"
"I know!" Merry laughed. "And you have been a handful at times, for both your parents and for the likes of me!" Merry paused for a moment, trying to fish the right words from his mind. "Well, Pip, what I am really trying to say, what I wanted to tell you is, well..you'll make a fine Thain some day!"
Pippin beamed with pride. He knew that when it came to these type of open declarations, Merry had inherited his father's reserve, a trait that had become more pronounced as Merry grew older. The fact that these statements did not come easy for his cousin made the words all the more special.
"Thank you, Merry," said Pippin, placing an exuberant kiss upon Merry's flushed cheek. "It means the world to me!" And it did.
The two cousins lingered in a tight embrace, enjoying the encompassing warmth of each other's arms. Pippin swore he saw some accumulated moisture in Merry's eyes that looked suspiciously like tears. Pippin delivered another heartfelt kiss to the side of Merry's face, and Merry squeezed his eyes together to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to pour out. At last Merry pulled out of the hug, gripping Pippin by the shoulders and pushing him gently back so he could have a good look at him. Merry smiled pushing back the tide of bittersweet emotion. The soft lines of his cousin's baby face had gained some of the sharp precision that came with age. And this made Merry sad somehow. Finally, Merry spoke.
"These coming days may be more difficult than we know, Pippin," said Merry, sniffling a bit as he spoke. Pippin smiled, allowing his cousin to maintain the fiction that Merry's sniffles had been from a runny nose. "I'm just so glad to have you by my side, Peregrin."
"Me too, Merry. Me too."
"Pippin," continued Merry. "I need you to do something important for me on this journey, something important for Frodo. I can't tell you why it must be done, not yet, I think. But, if you can, I need you to encourage Frodo to stop by Farmer Maggot's on the way to Buckleberry Ferry. You know the way, don't you?"
"I do," said Pippin. "Shall I give a reason?"
"No," answered Merry. "It should seem happenstance."
"You are very mysterious!"
"The situation demands it, Pip," answered Merry. "Do this, but only if you can. Will you try, Pippin? Even if you do not know my ends, will you trust me?"
Pippin flung his arms about his older cousin's neck. "I always trust you, cousin!"
* * *
Merry glanced up to see the three hobbits returning with coil upon coil of rope, much of it pre-dating Bilbo's departure. The old hobbit had kept Bag End very well stocked.
"Are you sure we will need all this, Merry?" gasped Fatty, red-faced, sweaty, and holding enough rope to cordon off the whole hill. "It seems a bit much, if you ask me. I wanted to take just three or four coils, but Sam here said to take it all."
"It's like my Gaffer always says," reported Sam, "Rope-you'll want it, if you haven't got it. And I suspect we'll want it before our journey is done."
"A wise hobbit, your Gaffer, laughed Merry. "And if you hadn't of brought it all, I would have made you go back and fetch it! Even if I don't use it all here for the cart, Frodo will surely find a use for it at Crickhollow- better than giving free supplies to the S-Bs, don't you think?"
"I do!" agreed Frodo. Along with the rope, he and Sam had brought an armful of the better tools, that also upon the second-hand advice of Sam's Gaffer.
The four hobbits worked in silence as they wrapped the rope around the tall heap of baggage and furniture stacked precariously in the cart. With the furniture secured, Merry and Fatty made ready to depart.
"Frodo," said Merry thoughtfully, "a piece of advice. If you hear horses on the road, the full-sized ones like then ones Big People ride, you should make yourself scarce, I think. Trust your Merry on the one, will you?"
"I will," answered Frodo. "As I trust you with so many other matters."
Without warning, Frodo reached up and grasped Merry's hand, enclosing it in a warm grip.
"Thank you Merry!" Frodo said. "Thank you for being such a good friend."
Merry flashed Frodo a warm smile and squeezed his hand tightly. "We'll see you day after tomorrow, if you don't fall asleep on the way!" chided Merry. "We'll see you when you get home."
"Home," muttered Frodo somberly, and he watched Merry shake on the reins and drive the heavily laden cart bumpily down the path. As the last bit of his possessions disappeared round the bend, Frodo wondered what else he might be forced to part with before this was all over.
* * *
The night fell clear and bright, but with no sign of Gandalf striding through the dusk. Frodo promised himself for the third time that he'd be heading off in minutes, and for the third time, broke that promise. Once again, he waited to cast that last lingering glance down Hill Road for the elusive wizard. Frodo strolled slowly, very slowly down to the gate at the bottom of the path and then a dozen paces beyond that. There was, as Frodo had expected, no trace of the wizard.
He turned back toward Bag End, but halted suddenly. The sound of voices near the end of Bagshot Row stopped him in his tracks. One voice was certainly Sam's Gaffer. The other speaker spoke in a tone that more resembled a low hiss than a voice and was certainly not a hobbit. Frodo perked up his ears at the sound of his own name.
"No, Mr. Baggins has gone away," said the Gaffer, sounding quite put out. If Frodo did not know better, he would have thought he detected an edge of fear in the Gaffer's voice.
The speaker with the unpleasant voice hissed out another unintelligible question.
"Crickhollow?" said the Gaffer. "It's around Buckland or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is-a tidy way! What? And what business is it of yours? No, I can't give no message. Good night to you!"
Frodo heard the door slam, and the sound of heavy hoofbeats clopping down the hill- no Shire pony this. A chill ran down Frodo's spine upon hearing such an unsavory and unhobbity voice inquiring into his whereabouts with such precision. Suddenly he felt as if he were being chased. This encounter was the push that Frodo had needed to spur him on the road. He scrambled as fast as his legs could carry him back to Bag End. Pippin sat smoking on the porch, back resting against his pack. He stood up and shouldered his pack at the sight of his cousin huffing up the hill. Frodo nodded confirmation of Pippin's move, and threw open his door.
"Sam!" called Frodo through his round door. "Sam! Time!"
* * *
The mysterious visitor at the Gaffer's door had so disquieted Frodo that he almost forgot to wax sentimental at leaving Bag End for good. The realization had sunk in, but not until Hobbiton was a cluster of tiny lights in the distance. The three hobbits had stolen quietly and unnoticed out of the village, over newly harvested fields, over velvety sloped hills, nearly amethyst under the moonlight, and finally into the sheltering woods.
The night sky was spangled with twinkling stars that winked at the travelers through autumn-thinned tree branches. It was the finest kind of autumn night, the warm air cut through occasionally with the refreshing caress of a cool evening breeze. Sam gazed up at the full moon between puffs on his pipe; Pippin hummed a jolly hobbit walking tune; Frodo fiddled with the cold metal object in his pocket and fretted. Try as he might, he could not push away the crawling sense of dread that had infested his thoughts since hearing that noisome voice hissing his name.
A small warm hand suddenly landed gently upon Frodo's tensed neck. Frodo glanced down into Pippin's bright eyes.
"Don't fret so, cousin," said Pippin.
Frodo made to scrabble together a hasty denial, but Pippin stopped him with a short burst of laughter.
"Oh Frodo!" exclaimed Pippin. "If you could only see your own sour face, you'd not bother denying a thing. You are terribly worried, aren't you?"
"Worried," sighed Frodo. "Worried and more than a little homesick, I suppose. Or perhaps just tired."
Pippin wrapped his arm around Frodo in a sloppy but sincere hug.
"You're not alone, Frodo," Pippin replied cheerfully. "You are among friends, Frodo, and come what may, we will take care of you."
Frodo's expression bordered on quizzical. Pippin seemed to have guessed that this move was weighing heavily on him. Surely he guessed no more. Still, Frodo had a care to guard his replies to his cousin. He'd not give anything away.
"I've never doubted that, Pip," answered Frodo and took Pippin's hand in his own. "You must excuse my unease and the expression that, apparently, has come with it."
"No need for your unease or your furrowed brow, Frodo," assured Pippin. "Our Merry will see to everything. He always does. He's the smartest hobbit I know, aside from you, of course!"
Frodo noted that faraway look that always came into Pippin's eyes when he spoke of his older cousin. "You really love him, don't you Pip?" asked Frodo, eager to deflect the conversation from his own transparent anxiety.
"I suppose I do, Frodo," Pippin replied wistfully. "I look up to him the same way he looks up to you. But don't think for a moment that my admiration is based solely on him being my older cousin. Merry's special. Other folks see it too. Everyone in Buckland says he'll be a fine Master when his time comes-perhaps the finest since old Gormadoc."
Frodo gave a wry grin, wondering to himself where Pip had found the time to ask every last hobbit in Buckland their appraisal of Meriadoc. But Pippin was young, and a little hero worship among family was, perhaps, to be expected. Frodo nodded patiently through Pippin's tally of Merry's manifold unique qualities before sensing Pippin was at last approaching his point.
"So what I'm saying, Frodo, is that you are in very good hands," finished Pippin.
"May I remind you, Pip," said Frodo, "that your hands are as capable as any."
"Oh, but you sound just like Merry," sighed Pippin. "I've got a way to go yet and no mistake. But like good old Sam here, my heart works more efficiently than my head sometimes. Well, most times."
"Merry is right, Pip," said Frodo. "You should take more stock in your abilities. Merry does. And a good heart in uncertain times is a precious treasure indeed."
Pippin wagged his finger playfully at Frodo as a gentle breeze danced through his russet curls.
"Now, see here, Frodo! Let me comfort you without turning the tables, will you!"
Frodo could not help but chuckle at his irrepressible cousin. Pippin was growing up; yet in the softening glow of the moonlight, his cousin seemed more teen than tween.
A wave of guilt swelled through Frodo. What was he dragging this poor lad into? This journey was not a hobbit walking party - truly, they, all three of them, were in very real danger.
'Oh Pip!' thought Frodo. 'If only you knew what I carry! Would you jest then? All the love in the world cannot offer protection from this evil. Not you, Pip, not loyal Sam. Not even Merry, as you see him, can really help! And all who love me and strive to protect me shall be brought closer to darkness.'
And suddenly Frodo felt utterly and achingly alone.
* * *
The hobbits had retired late that first night, curling themselves up at the foot of a towering pine and taking what sleep they could. The morning dawned, vague and misty. As Frodo awoke, the dread that had been his last waking thought before he'd fallen into slumber became his first waking thought as he opened his eyes in the morning.
"Wake up, hobbits!" cried Frodo, trying to cover his fear with exuberance. "It's a beautiful morning!" But his cry fell flat and seemed thin somehow, and Frodo wondered if he'd ever see a beautiful morning again.
Pippin's first action was to peer out blearily from underneath his blanket and order Sam to make them breakfast.
Frodo's reaction was immediate. He bent down and grasped Pippin's blanket, stripping it off his cousin's body and rolling Pippin's prostate body over with his large foot.
"Hoy there!" exclaimed Pippin.
"If you're going to dole out orders," chided Frodo, "you might try to get upright yourself."
Pippin slogged to standing position, rubbing his eyes with slow deliberate hands that seemed to him to be made out of clay. "Oh bother!" said Pippin grumpily and gave a cavernous yawn.
Frodo watched Sam scramble off to his pack, removing his cooking gear with a loud clatter. Sam. True, Sam was a hobbit in his service. But he was so much more. By agreeing to accompany him on this dubious journey, Frodo understood Sam had agreed to sacrifice much, perhaps everything he would ever be, to aid him. For Frodo, that vow raised Sam to a level that transcended class, dissolved the distinction between master and servant. Sam was more than Frodo's servant; he was his friend.
But if Pippin's drowsy imperiousness had rankled Frodo, the feeling soon evaporated. Sam had come willingly upon this dark errand, Pippin had not, or, at least, not knowing the perils even this leg of the journey might entail. Crickhollow would be no protection, perhaps. Frodo felt it likely that the darkness had already begun to seep into the Shire, and the thought tore at his heart and mind. The eerie sound of a hissing voice muttering his name came back to Frodo and he shivered.
The three hobbits got back upon the road after a meager breakfast. The day had turned bright, and the autumn trees shone golden and crimson under the purple-blue sky. Sam and Pippin hummed out competing walking songs, stopping occasionally to tend to their pipes. Frodo tried to whistle, but it did not ring true. Shadows had crept into his mind, and, try as he might, he could not push them out. They walked the day away until the sun hung low in the lavender sky and dropped behind the swelling hills. Then Frodo heard it - the steady hard clopping of hooves, a horse, not a pony, and probably more than one. Big Folk?
Dread fell to the pit of Frodo's stomach like a brick. The horses were moving at a steady clip, and Frodo tremored.
"We need to get off the road and hide ourselves as we can!" cried Frodo. Frodo heard no signs of movement from his friends. He swerved around on his heel to face his startled companions. "Please, now!"
"It could be Gand--!" began Sam.
"It's not!" broke in Frodo, knowing it at once to be true. "Hide now!"
The hobbits dove off the road into long scratchy grass behind a thick tree. The hoof-beats slowed, as if the group of unseen riders had found something they had been seeking. Fear pulsed through the hobbits, though it was nothing compared to the terror that gripped them when the riders at last came into view. Four dark horsemen, swathed in black, crouching over their black steeds, moving their heads about in sweeping arcs, sniffing, always sniffing, as a cat trying to catch the scent of a nearby plate of fish. Their heads were hooded, faces invisible.
Frodo felt himself a prey, and stifled the unaccountable yet overwhelming desire to slip on the Ring and disappear. But before he could, the riders turned their heads toward the lead rider, nodded, and with a bone-chilling hiss that rent the air, they leapt off and barreled down the road toward Buckland.
The hobbits rose out of the crunching grass, brushing themselves off and giving each other terrified stares.
"What in Middle-earth?" gasped Pippin finally.
"Lor!" cried Sam. "But those Black Riders must have been friends of that strange customer that came skulking up to our door before we set off."
Frodo snapped his head around, mouth agape. "Sam? Why did you say nothing before?"
"I figured there weren't nothing we could do but be off, and be off quick. And you seemed to be so anxious, sir. And I guess I just didn't want to trouble you no more."
Sam's voice trailed off as he met the reproachful glance of his master.
"Trouble me!" demanded Frodo. "I need to know everything. And if it lightens your heart, I caught some of the conversation, your Gaffer' half at any rate. But I need to know exactly what this rider said."
"Well, master," began Sam, "my da mentioned one of the Big People coming to ask about your whereabouts. Seemed to know you'd be heading for Crickhollow, he did. Asked where it might be, or, rather, where you might be on the way to it. That's as far as it got before my Gaffer cut him off and slammed the door."
Sam turned to Frodo and took his master's hands in his own. "I'll admit it sir," he said, "it caused me no small concern that some strange Big Person knew your destination without being told. This was not the same fellow among those black horsemen, perhaps, but perhaps it was. My da said the rider was creepy and sent a shudder down his spine the moment his eyes lit on him. But his words don't do them justice. Downright sinister, I'd say. And all that sniffing and hissing! Well, I've had no dealing with Big Folk, but I'd never heard that hissing and sniffing were part of the bargain from those that did."
"Merry has had some dealing with Big People," burst in Pippin. "When he travels down to the Southfarthing with his father now and again. But he's never mentioned anything about sniffing!"
"No, that is not the typical behavior of men," said Frodo suddenly wondering if these shapes were human at all, and shuddered at the thought. "They've had problems in the south with Big Folk, I think."
"Merry says that Big People don't have to mean trouble," added Pippin. "Not if you know how to use them properly, that is."
"Gracious, Pip!" snapped Frodo. "But did those creatures look like folks that could be 'used properly'? Merry warned us to hide ourselves if we came upon any horsemen on the lane, if you remember."
"I do," retorted Pippin in an injured tone. "But the advice surprised me since Merry has not shown any fear of men before."
"Pippin," sighed Frodo, "Your cousin is brave -- brave but not reckless. There are no cold hard rules for dealing with the Big People, or any folk for that matter. Instinct, Pip. When all other counsel fails you, let your gut instinct guide you. That bit of wisdom was passed from Gandalf to Bilbo, to me, to Merry, and now to you. We've all needed to rely on our gut feelings, Pippin, and no doubt you'll need to once you are Thain. But it is never too early to start. And your gut instinct should have told you that those riders were dreadful and ought to be avoided."
"They did look terribly grim, didn't they Frodo?" said Pippin. "And I should like to know why those riders are racing toward Buckland."
"I should too," agreed Frodo. Though his own instinct supplied a ready answer. Frodo shuddered.
At that moment the sound of clear voices and laughter rang through the darkening gloom.
"Elves sir!" exclaimed Sam.
The voices came closer, and none of the company had the least desire to hide. Around the bend, they came, their faces young and fair, their raiment shimmering in the moonlight.
"Hail Frodo!" cried one of the fair folk in a musical voice as the elves gathered around the astonished group of hobbits.
"How do you know my name?" asked Frodo, too amazed to answer with his well- practiced Quenya.
"There is no time to explain," said the elf who had hailed him. "I am Gildor Inglorian, and you, Frodo Baggins, are in grave danger."
* * *
"Flee them, speak no words to them! They are deadly."
Gildor's words echoed in Frodo's mind as he awoke the in bower that had been his bed that past night.
The elves had gone, leaving Frodo with more cares than ever. He'd made up his mind. He would not linger at Crickhollow, not for even a day. The Black Riders were servants of the enemy, just as he had suspected, and deadly peril had been drawn into the Shire. Only Frodo himself could draw this poison out by leaving.
Frodo watched as Pippin traipsed off into the green singing merrily. Then it hit him, more painful than any blow. No! He couldn't do it! Dragging his innocent cousin into this web of darkness and danger from which Frodo and Sam, like as not, would never return. Pip's insouciant attitude through the ordeal proved to Frodo that the lad had no concept of the danger into which he'd been unwittingly drawn. And Sam, dear loyal Sam. He didn't even fell right having Sam come with him. Frodo turned and found the object of his misgiving staring back at him, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"I know what is on your mind, Frodo," said Sam, "and I am still coming with you."
"Most likely neither one of us will come back," warned Frodo.
"You're not much of a comfort, sir, but here it is; I told the elves that I would not leave you, and I shan't."
Frodo flushed with a surge of affection for his Sam. Not that he felt any more shielded from the forces of evil that seemed to loom so large above them. But Frodo no longer felt so utterly alone. Whatever befell him, even his inevitable demise, Sam would be by his side, and that grim thought filled Frodo with unspeakable relief.
"Gandalf chose me a good companion," said Frodo as Sam took his hands.
Sam smiled, knowing inwardly that he had chosen himself just as much as Gandalf had chosen him. And Merry and Pippin had chosen themselves, Frodo just didn't know it yet. Sam imagined he'd argue at first, but by the by, he'd be pleased.
Frodo glanced up again at Pippin, back against a tree, now whistling absently between mouthfuls of bread.
"Do you suppose they will take it hard? Pippin and Merry, I mean?" asked Frodo.
"Master Pippin, he'll bounce back," answered Sam wryly, "And you know Mr. Merry. He always has a plan."
"That's what concerns me!" laughed Frodo and he felt the darkness lifting from his shoulders, if only for a little while.
* * *
The hobbits walked the day away, deciding to cut across country to Buckleberrry Ferry rather than risk the open road and anything unsavory that might be on it. It had been Frodo's idea, and Pippin had heartily agreed. The going had not been as smooth as Frodo had hoped, but no black riders had materialized, much to Frodo's relief. Pippin knew this land better than the others, and led them through the bushes and brambles to the open ground, over a small stream, and through woods that Pippin continually said would end, but never seemed to do so. Just as Frodo and Sam were beginning to doubt Pippin's skill as a guide, the wilds began to melt into well-tended fields. At last they reached a gate and Pippin gave a great sigh of relief.
"This is Farmer Maggot's land!" exclaimed Pippin. The farmer knew Pip through Merry, and Frodo he knew from his mushroom-stealing days as one of the "worst young rascals in Buckland" - a title that drew snickers from Pippin and snarls from Samwise. The round-faced farmer had kept his dogs at bay and invited the travelers to supper, luring them in with the promise of home-brewed ale and news of some mysterious riders that had come knocking at his door.
Maggot set the travelers down at the end of a long sturdy table and immediately brought out four frothy mugs of amber ale so thick and rich it felt like food.
"Now then, Mr. Baggins," began the farmer as he pointed the stem of his pipe to Frodo. "Your name came up just yesterday, if yesterday it was. Late last night there was a pounding at my door, far past the time when decent folk should be abed. I yelled for the visitor to get himself gone or I'd set my hounds on him, but my dogs bolted down the hall whining and howling as if death himself had come calling and cowered in the back room. Well, that was a mite odd, I thought, and opened the door a crack to see what this fellow could want. As soon as I did, I wished I hadn't, for outside stood a man all hooded and cloaked up, sitting on the largest black horse I'd ever seen. He asked in a strange sort of voice if a Baggins had passed this way. Said he had something for you, though what you might want from the likes of him, I didn't dare guess. I told him that Baggins' were in Hobbiton, and do you know what he did?"
The three hobbits shook their heads, so rapt in the story that they scarcely could remember to swallow their ales.
"He laughed, he did!" said Maggot. "It was a cold cruel sort of laugh that sounded more like a hiss or a growl. Well I weren't laughing! Told him to take his three friends and go, I did, but he didn't move. Instead he hissed out that Baggins had left for Crickhollow, and asked how to find it, as you," Maggot again indicated Frodo with his pipe, "were expected there afternoon next."
Maggot stuck his pipe in his mouth and turned up his chin as if working out a problem in his head.
"Why, that would have it this very afternoon," he concluded. "It's a fine thing you are not there already!"
Frodo splurted out his beer and coughed heartily. He felt as if he had been struck by lightening.
"Now calm down, Mr. Baggins," said the farmer taking another draught of ale. "I didn't tell him a thing. He gave a final hiss and galloped off with his three nasty companions into the night."
"But Merry! Fatty!" cried Frodo in a voice ragged with panic. He stood up, rocking the long stool as he did. "They are at Crickhollow and are in terrible danger! We must go!"
"Merry is fine and well aware of the riders," said Maggot.
"How?" asked Frodo in disbelief.
"Don't rightly know," answered Maggot. "But he'd found out by the time he came by this morning."
"Merry was here?" asked Pippin hopefully.
"Yea," said the farmer. "At first I thought it was more of those black horseman again, but my dogs told a different tale. They gamboled down the path barking in excitement, not fear, and up walks Mr. Merry led by my hounds. 'Hallo Mr. Merry!' I hailed. 'What brings you to my door!?' He told me then that Peregrin Took, Frodo Baggins, and a hobbit in his service would be heading this way, perhaps on the road, perhaps not.
"'I'm stopping by all the farms on the outskirts of Buckland', he said. 'And to the ferryman at Buckleberry. I need to get a message to my cousins. There are strange Big Folk on black horses about, sniffing around searching for a Baggins on his way to Crickhollow. I don't like it, and I want them to wait until I can personally escort them home.'"
"I told him my tale, the one I just told you three. Merry didn't seem surprised, and bid me to help you if you crossed my land. 'If they turn up here, Maggot, would you feed them the best you can, and have them tarry here until evening? I shall meet them at Buckleberry Ferry at dusk. If you'd give them a drive too, I'd be much beholden to you!'"
"Well, Master Brandybuck, being a gentlehobbit of good family, offered to pay me, and pay me well," said Maggot. "I refused, of course. But after he set off, I found a pouch of coins at my gate!" The farmer let loose a soft chuckle as he lifted the leather pouch, the contents jangling merrily as he shook it. "Lads, I intended to earn these! So sit yourself down Master Baggins and sup with my household, or," he paused as a mischievous smile spread across his wide face, "or I may set my dogs on you for old times sake!"
"I'll take my mushrooms as I can!" laughed Frodo, the shadow lifting from his mind. Jolly old Merry! Pippin was right, Merry would make a fine Master someday, perhaps even now if fate should demand it of him.
"I told you Merry was good!" cried Pippin and took a mighty sip of ale that dribbled down his perky chin.
But Sam still looked uneasy. Frodo noticed Sam's discomfort, and took out his pipe.
"Sam, before we eat, would you like to take a smoke with me outside?"
Sam nodded, setting down his now empty tankard and drawing out his own pipe, then following his master out the front door. The moment the hobbits had cleared the threshold, Sam spoke.
"How do you reckon Mr. Merry found out about those riders, Master?" asked Sam. "I trust Mr. Merry, course I do! But, well, Master, this whole business makes me uneasy."
"Me too, Sam," answered Frodo. He stared out at the lengthening shadows stretching across Maggot's fields and sent a ring of smoke drifting across the footpath. "I don't know how Merry knows about the riders, but I'm glad he does, or his situation, as well as ours, might have turned out very poorly. But we know now that we must steal off from Crickhollow at first light tomorrow, and we must make sure Pip and Fatty leave too, for their own safety. If Merry knows of the riders, however he knows of them, he won't begrudge our leaving."
"Do you think Fatty and Merry came across riders, just as we did?" asked Sam.
"I don't know, Sam," answered Frodo. "If he has, our situation is even more perilous than I imagined. But I don't think so. Not unless he was riding about Buckland very late last night, which I doubt. I think that Gandalf has been this way. That is the only explanation that makes sense on all sides, and I am glad for it. Gandalf may well be waiting for us when we arrive at the house at Crickhollow."
Sam did not share his master's enthusiasm. Sam remembered Merry's doubt of the wizard, and wondered if Merry would follow any instructions given by Gandalf. 'I wonder if my master's instinct is serving him well just now,' Sam thought, but said nothing.
"You are still uneasy, Sam," said Frodo. "If it is any comfort, Sam, I do believe that Merry has this under control."
"Just the same, sir," continued Sam. "Folks in Buckland are queer. I trust my fear of those riders more than I trust anything right now, if you get my meaning."
"I don't altogether," answered Frodo. "But it won't do us any harm to be cautious."
Frodo and Sam stood in silence for a time, looking out warily into the fields for foes unseen. When they at last opened the door, the heavenly scent of mushrooms and bacon wafted out over the garden.
* * *
The light began to fail as the three well-fed hobbits threw their packs in Maggot's wagon and climbed in. Mrs. Maggot had given Frodo a generous basket of mushrooms "for old times sake" she'd said. Frodo had laughed then, but as they drove into the deepening evening fog, the old familiar uneasiness settled into his heart.
If was five miles from Maggot's lane to the Ferry, and all ears were strained to hear anything that sounded like horse hoofs. The wagon moved slowly, and by the time they approached the Ferry, Pippin's head was resting upon Frodo's shoulder. Pippin was asleep.
The two white posts of the Ferry lane appeared through the murk at last, and Maggot drew the reigns of the ponies until the wagon creaked to a halt. Then it came - the sound of hoofs approaching. Sam was up in a heartbeat. He jumped out of the wagon bed and stood over by Maggot, ready to protect his master from anything that might break through the soupy mists. Frodo woke Pippin, and both of them covered up with blankets and waited in silence and dread.
The farmer strode forward. "What do you want, and where are you going?" Maggot sternly asked the dark cloaked shape approaching through the gauzy air.
"I want Frodo, Pippin, and Sam, of course, Farmer Maggot. Do you have them there?"
The voice was that of Merry Brandybuck.
Pippin leapt up and threw off the blankets so exuberantly that they fell into the dewy grass below with a damp rustle of cotton and wool.
"Merry!" Pippin called. He scrambled out of the wagon and ran to embrace his cousin. "Frodo! Sam! It's Merry! We're saved!"
END
To see what happens next, please see Ring Around the Merry Chapter 1 "A Conspiracy Unmasked"