Ring around the Merry:
An AU tale of what happens to Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry when Merry
decides that neither the Ring nor its bearer must leave the Shire
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_________________________________________ Chapter 1: A Conspiracy Unmasked
It was late, and the ferry man had returned to the comforts of his home. This fact did not daunt Merry, who led his companions and his own pony onto the large, flat ferry boat and pushed across the broad slow river with a long pole.
Frodo glanced down at the stripes of moonlight gliding across the rippling water. The water glimmering so sultry beneath his feet had stolen his parents, and Frodo remained silent and contemplative as he stared down into its beckoning depths as they crossed. Buckland was a place of mixed memories for Frodo, some wonderful, some bad, some downright awful. Frodo, in a way, felt as if he truly was returning home, if ever he would have need of a home again.
Sam, meanwhile, saw his old life receding behind him as the hazy outline of the ferry dock shrank in the distance and finally disappeared in the encompassing fog. Sam was accustomed to being around stock animals, and immediately picked up on the pony's discomfort around the water, and chuckled to himself, realizing he was only slightly more comfortable with this boat nonsense than the pony. Sam gave the pony a reassuring pat on the leg. The horse whinnied his thanks and nuzzled Sam's cheek.
"Good, boy," said Sam, "we'll be 'cross afore you know it and safe on dry land." But as soon as Sam said these words, he wondered if they were really true. "Perhaps those nasty horsemen can't get across the water," thought Sam. "Leastwise I hope not, not if their steeds share this pony's feelings!" It would have been of little comfort to Sam to know that there was a bridge across the Brandywine twenty miles to their north. Frodo knew of the bridge, and remained alert and on edge for the remainder of the journey to his new house.
Pippin sat on the edge of the boat wrapped in a cloak, near Merry's feet. He stared up admiringly at his cousin, now steering the boat with sure movements as if he'd been born a ferryman and not heir to the Master of the Hall. Merry felt Pippin's gaze upon him and glanced down upon Pippin with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
"Pippin, did you plan to come to Maggot's?" asked Merry in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
'No," answered Pippin. "We cut across country at Frodo's suggestion and landed upon it," Pippin paused for a moment, "by happenstance."
Merry flashed Pippin a knowing grin, and seeing that Frodo and Sam's eyes were occupied elsewhere, mouthed 'good work' to Pippin and continued rowing.
Merry began to hum a lively rowing tune as they approached the opposite shore. Frodo, somehow, did not find the song comforting, as he normally would. With his dark memories of dark riders, Frodo found Merry's chipper humming distinctly out of place. He would ask Merry about the riders, of course, but not until they all were inside, surrounded by the comfort of light, warmth, and locked doors.
The hobbits stepped off the ferry onto the solid ground of Buckland. Merry immediately suggested he ride ahead to see to supper, a second one, for the weary travelers.
"Frodo, Pip, you know the way," he said.
"But Merry, what about those black riders? Are you quite sure you want to ride alone?" asked Pippin.
"The riders should not trouble us any more, I think,' answered Merry; and with a flick of the reins, Merry rode off into the darkness.
It was a number of miles from the ferry landing to Frodo's new house at Crickhollow, but the hobbits covered it quickly.
"Look there, Sam!" Frodo said abruptly.
Sam threw his head around, expecting to see a whole heard of black riders.
"No, silly ass," laughed Frodo. "I just wanted to point out Brady Hall, where Merry and I lived together as children before I came to Bag End with Bilbo. Merry still lives there."
Sam squinted and strained his eyes, hoping to better make out the shape of the thing in the darkness and the fog.
"Where, Mr. Frodo? Behind that huge hill?"
"It //is// that huge hill," said Frodo. "The Brandybuck clan have lived there for many generations, and every year there seems to be more of them, and they just keep adding more tunnels and more rooms. There's nothing like it in Hobbiton, Sam. Hundreds of hobbits attached to the dwelling. And Merry will be their master someday."
"Not a job I'd want. Mr. Frodo," said Sam.
"Nor I," replied Frodo. "But, Merry, he's different from you and I. He relishes it, I think. He likes having responsibility, at least he handles it very well when it's given to him. He even tried to order me around when I was twice his size, to limited effect, I might say."
"Give me a goodly wife, a gaggle of hobbit children, a nice hole with a warm fire, and a garden," said Sam reflectively. "That's all I really want out of life! But what about you, Master? When this mess is all over, what do you suppose you'll be wanting to do?"
Frodo stared wistfully at the shrouded moon and several moments passed before he answered.
"I can't even think of that yet, Samwise," he said. "I'd love to be your neighbor and watch your fine chubby little hobbit children grow."
"But what about starting your //own// family, Mr. Frodo?" chased Sam. "Surely you see that you're a candle to moths when it comes to the lasses!"
"Me, or Bilbo's treasure?" laughed Frodo grimly. "No, Sam, Your Master is not the catch you imagine him to be. And, somehow, I just can't see the future from here, not a future with me in it at any rate. The simple joys of Shire life seem so very distant to me of late. I feel, somehow, cut off.."
Frodo's voice trailed off like dawn mists into an afternoon sun, and Sam did not pursue it. His Master's answers had made him quite sad.
And hour of solid walking passed until, at last, they plodded down the final path to the house, marked by a thin gate set in a thick hedge. Had Sam not known better, he would never have suspected a house lay here at all. The unpainted gated opened with a squeak and instead of seeing a house, Sam only saw a belt of low trees.
"There //is// a house here, isn't there, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam.
"Yes Samwise, it is here; but it is hidden behind the hedge and trees," said Frodo. "It used to be one of the Brandybuck guesthouses, well sheltered from the bustle of the Hall. It's hidden from view on all sides, as you can well see, or rather, not see. It is practically invisible at night when the shutters are closed, unless you know where to find the door. There are no neighbors nearby and for that reason, it is very easy to sneak in and out without being noticed. And that, Sam, is exactly why I chose it! This house will serve my purposes just fine!"
The three hobbits finally broke through the trees into a very wide circle of lawn, and there, in the center, was a long, low house with a turf roof that, in the night, might have been mistaken for a hillock and nothing more. As they approached the door, Pippin cried out and fell on his knees and palms into a muddy patch of uneven ground. Sam nearly tumbled down over Pippin, but steadied himself in the nick of time.
"Have a care, Mr. Frodo!" warned Sam. "The ground is very uneven here, looks like a pack of Oliphants have been traipsing about the path."
"Or horses," thought Frodo, who said nothing, but skirted around the rough ground. Frodo hoped that the disturbed soil was simply the result of heavy furniture being dragged through it. The image unbidden came to Frodo's mind of four black horses rearing in the soft earth, their riders hissing out his own name.
Without warning the door opened and a light flooded out onto the path.
"Are you three going to wallow in the mud," asked Merry's voice, "or were you planning to come in? I have baths ready for you, and I see that at least one of you travelers sorely needs it!"
Pippin pulled himself up from the ground, his knees and hands now caked with mud, though his face was now glowing.
"A bath! O blessed Meriadoc!"
* * *
As the four stepped inside, Frodo saw that Merry and Fatty Bolger had arranged his old furniture from Bag End as attractively as possible in its new setting. The well-worn sofa and Bilbo's favorite over-stuffed chair sat in front of the hearth where a fire had been banked awaiting their arrival. It wasn't Bag End, but warm and inviting nonetheless and Frodo found himself sighing in relief at the prospect of a soft bed and quiet evening with friends before beginning his journey in earnest. There would be few comforts on his road come tomorrow and he meant to take full advantage of those available to him this evening.
The scent wafting from the basket that Mrs. Maggot had sent along with them came in tantalizing wisps to Frodo's nose and made his stomach rumble in anticipation. Naturally, thoughts of his stomach led to thoughts of Fatty Bolger and he peered around in the glow of the firelight for his friend. But Fatty was nowhere in sight.
"Fatty?" called Frodo as he stepped through the round door, hoping to thank his longtime friend for the efforts at making Frodo's new home welcoming. Frodo thought a nice snack of fried mushrooms and bacon would be a fitting thank you to the one person he knew who loved the things at least as much as he did.although, bearing in mind Fatty's considerable girth, Frodo might have to admit that Fatty probably had him soundly beaten in his love of all foods - including mushrooms.
"Fatty has gone back to Hobbiton," answered Merry without a trace of surprise as he went about the room lighting candles to enhance the light in the firelit room. "Or at least I suppose he has since he is not back yet."
"Gone?" mused Frodo, "it is not like him to leave without so much as a fare- you-well."
"It seemed the only safe thing to do. He couldn't stay here alone, now could he, and you three had to be found," explained Merry. "While I went off looking for you on the outskirts of the Buckland, I sent him to look for you on the road. I told him that if you didn't bump into one another, he could either come back here or continue on home." Merry shrugged. "I guess he started home."
Suddenly a question that had been long delayed resurfaced in Frodo's mind.
"Merry, now that we are here, I must ask you how-"
"No questions," cut in Merry. "Not until you're washed and fed! In that room there are three tubs and plenty of steaming hot water. Now get inside and be quick!"
As Frodo and Sam went into the bathing room, Pippin collapsed into Bilbo's chair with a weary sigh. He did not begrudge Fredegar's absence. It only meant there was one less interfering presence to compete for the attention of his dearest Merry.
As Frodo and Sam began unpacking their bundles, Pippin could only stare at his cousin. Pippin noted how handsomely Merry's features glowed in the bask of the firelight. Pippin, now 28, was never quite sure when his childhood admiration for the elder Brandybuck had transformed into infatuation, and when the cousinly love had become obsession. All Pippin knew for sure was the emptiness he felt in the pit of his being when not in the presence of his beloved cousin. Merry. Merry who he loved with all of his heart. Merry, who still treated him like a lad of ten summers.
"Off the chair you go, Pip!"
Pippin looked up startled into Merry's face.
"You are caked with mud, lad, and I won't let you sully Frodo's furniture," ordered Merry, picking Pippin up by his shirt front, and herding him to the Baths with a playful slap to his rump. "Off you go!"
Pippin gave Merry his best try at a dirty look, but inside him a wave of warmth flowed through him. He obeyed in a moment, throwing off his clothes in a sloppy pile and climbing into the copper tub with a contented sigh. In moments the young Took was lifting his voice in one of Bilbo's favorite bath songs, much to Frodo's enjoyment.
The bath felt heavenly after the journey. As Frodo listened to Pippin singing and splashing, he was reminded of what he would be leaving behind in the morning - not merely warm baths and soft beds, but beloved friends. Breaking the news to his cousins would be hard, but it couldn't be helped; nor could it be delayed. He'd have to do it that very night before they all went to bed. Merry would understand. Pippin would take it harder, of course, but Merry would surely make him understand.
Pippin finished his bath song, and his bath with an almighty splash that sent the floor swimming.
"Lawks!" exclaimed Merry as he poked his head in. "You'll mop that up before you get a bite, Pip!"
Pip scrunched up his face in a pout.
"You need not scold me, Merry," he said ruefully. "I'm not a child!"
"Tell that to the wet floor," answered Merry as he stuffed the broom in Pippin's hand.
Pippin grumbled. "There it is again!" he thought. "Like I'm a naughty puppy! I'll show my mettle on this adventure, I will!"
And as Pippin's mind turned to the so-called adventure ahead, he thought about what Frodo would say when they revealed the conspiracy to him at last. Those black riders may have changed things, if anything, sped things along. Frodo would not want to linger at Crickhollow now, Pippin thought. That was just as well. Merry and Pippin had their packs all ready, hidden in a back room where Frodo would be unlikely to find them before the right time. Sam had brought what he'd need on his back; Frodo knew full well the gardener would accompany them. Pippin began to chuckle to himself imagining Frodo's astonished expression when the three of them revealed that they knew all along about his secret plan and the beastly Ring and that Sam, loyal Sam, had been their chief investigator- well, spy. 'But Frodo will be glad of it,' thought Pippin. 'He will try to dissuade us, but in the end he will love us for coming.'
"Pip?" said Frodo.
Pippin suddenly realized he had been staring at Frodo with what must have been a ridiculous grin.
"What's so funny?" asked Frodo, now leaning back on hands folded behind his wet head. "Other than the floor you just turned into a lake?"
Pippin's face flushed. He was a pitiful liar, so he settled on the most benign truth he could come up with.
"It's just, Frodo, " stammered Pippin, "It's just that I love you, cousin, and I'm glad we are all together right now."
Frodo smiled with effort, his eyes sad and distant. Oh-this coming conversation would cut him deep!
* * *
Merry held the pan of mushrooms sizzling over the stove, now listening to the clear high tenor of his young cousin's voice as it rose about the snatches of competing songs emanating from the bath room. But this is not what was occupying his thoughts. Merry's mind was in absolute turmoil. He was torn between what he wished to do, and what he must do. Two competing plans dueled for supremacy in the stormy swirl of his mind-- one the original plan; accompany Frodo to Rivendell, relinquish the Ring to the Elves, just as Gandalf had advised, and let other disinterested parties determine the fate of the Shire, the Ring, and its keeper; the other, a second harder, perhaps better path.
Gandalf. The very thought of the conjurer rankled the hobbit. He had vanished without a trace, leaving Frodo to dangle like a worm on a hook Those riders would have made mince-meat out of Frodo if Merry had not stepped in! Well, he'd outmaneuvered the wizard at any rate, found out his plans. Two plans, and however Merry chose, one thing was clear - Merry must remain by Frodo's side. He must stand by his cousin whether they all decided to depart for Rivendell, or-or..Merry dropped his face into his sheltering palms to stop his mind from spinning out of control. Or the other plan.
Deep in Merry's heart, the //other// plan seemed best, even if it seemed harsher, harsh to the point of being cruel. Frodo wouldn't like it, but he could be brought round. And because Frodo wouldn't like it, Sam wouldn't like it either. Pip could be made to understand. Pip trusted him; Pip loved him. Pip might even be in love with him. At any rate, Pippin would be an ally. Sam was the piece that could bind the puzzle together, or make it fall apart. If Merry could screw himself up enough to follow the other plan, Merry would have to deal with Samwise.
Merry had laid the groundwork for both contingencies. Merry had taken care of Fatty, though it had pained him to do so. But unsavory allies could be jettisoned once all was safe and enemies of the Shire were brought to bear. Merry could take care of Sam too, even use him to bring Frodo to heel. No one else need be hurt if all went smoothly, and Merry was very very good at making things go smoothly. And when the time came to put hobbits into songs or tales, to write the book on the great deeds of famous hobbits, it would be Meriadoc Brandybuck who would be remembered as the hobbit who had saved the Shire and everyone in it. It would be he who was shrewd enough to use the Enemy's weapon against him, for the good of all! Meriadoc the Mighty! Meriadoc the Magnificent! This, it seemed was his best destiny.
"Merry," said a small voice that belonged to Pippin.
It was then Merry realized that he was staring into space with an iron pan of mushrooms clutched in his hand, the handle long since grown uncomfortably hot. He jerked his hand, now fairly scalded, from the pan and snapped his head abruptly to his side. Pippin stood there meekly, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.
Pippin gasped. As Merry turned to him, Pippin saw something in Merry's eyes that had surprised, even frightened him. The jovial sparkle had been replaced by a cold, pale flame and Merry's face appeared cold and cruel as stone. Pippin backed himself into the kitchen wall without even knowing why he did so.
"I'm sorry!" squeaked Pippin.
Merry's face softened, but his grey eyes glinted like cold steel and Pippin was afraid.
"Why do you apologize?" asked Merry as he rubbed his reddened palm.
"Are you not angry?" asked Pippin.
Merry shook his head.
"I, I," began Pippin. "Well isn't it about time to speak with Frodo?"
"After we eat, Pippin," said Merry.
Pippin glanced down at the Mrs. Maggot's mushrooms, nearly charred in the pan. "I'm no cook, Mer," chanced Pippin, "but I'd say those mushrooms are just about done in."
A swell of rage that defied explanation rose up in Merry. He seized up the pan from the oven and slammed it down with such force that the table nearly toppled. Pippin shrunk back in horror as he saw that Merry's hand was raised, poised to strike him.
But scarcely had the cold fury pulsed through Merry, when it dissipated and was gone. Merry stared up in disbelief at his own upraised hand, not even remembering how it got there, and wondering for an instant if he had already struck his cousin and just didn't recall it. Seeing that this was not so, Merry wondered if the pressure of this decision had driven him to the brink of insanity. This anger had seemed to come from a force outside of himself, something beyond his own control.
Then he looked down into the anguished face of his cousin. Pippin looked as if he were a piece of glass that had just shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Forgive me dearest Pip!" cried Merry, lowering his hand and drawing Pippin into a tight embrace. Pippin was quivering like a leaf in a stiff breeze. "I don't know why I did that, Pip. Please don't fear me! I did not mean to scare you. I will need you in the coming days, Pippin. Please say you still trust your Merry!"
Pippin pulled himself together. The conspiracy must have indeed taken a toll on Merry to make him act in such a way. Pippin realized suddenly that he was comforting Merry, now breathing hard in his arms. Pippin dared himself to pull back and gaze into Merry's eyes again. The pale flame had fled, leaving only the slate grey eyes wet with the glassy veneer of unshed tears. Pippin thought he'd never seen his Merry look so vulnerable.
"It's alright Merry," soothed Pippin. "Of course I still trust you - you're my older cousin! And I'll help you and Frodo at every turn. He will be pleased that we will be going with him, I think; and it's you that arranged the whole thing!"
"I suppose so, but," Merry paused, "The second plan could wait, perhaps indefinitely.
"But?" asked Pippin expectantly.
"But I do think these mushrooms are done for," answered Merry feebly.
"Nonsense!" said Pippin. "Put these out with the meat and beer, and no one, but Sam, perhaps, will be the wiser. It's high time we eat, then fess up to Frodo. It is time to unmask your brilliant conspiracy!"
Merry felt his heart would burst with affection for the lad. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Pippin's damp forehead and watched with satisfaction the rosy blush that flowed across Pippin's sweet face.
"What would I do without you, Pip?" sighed Merry. "What would I do without my lovely little cousin?"
Pippin felt as if he might melt with joy and his memory of the dark outburst faded into the air like the thin wisps of steam arising from the mushrooms. Pippin gave a last impish grin, and ran off to dress. Soon it would be time.
* * *
They took their supper in the kitchen, and none but Sam either noticed, or cared that the mushrooms were burnt. Finally, when all were well fed, the hobbits gathered their tankards of ale, moved to the parlor, and sat themselves down in four sturdy chairs by the warmth of the fire. Finally Frodo spoke.
"Now, Merry, I must know how you found out about the riders and figured out they were dangerous," said Frodo. "I assume that Gandalf has come by to warn and advise you.'
Merry's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the wizard's name. Only Pippin noticed.
"The wizard has not seen fit to present himself at our door," answered Merry coldly. "Nor your door, as it would seem."
Frodo threw Merry a look of surprise mingled with deep disappointment and heaved a great sigh.
"Then you still have a story to tell, I suppose," said Frodo flatly.
"Just this," said Merry. "That where wizards fail, hobbits prevail. How I learned of the riders is a very long story, and right now we have more pressing matters to discuss than those problems which have already been dealt with.
"Cousin Frodo has been very close," said Pippin. "But the time has come for him to open out."
Frodo gave Pippin a quizzical look and turned his head to look at Sam; but Sam was staring into the fire and seemed to be avoiding his eyes.
"We know," said Merry, "that the riders were searching for a Baggins, and I am guessing there is a connection with Bilbo's old adventures, or more specifically, his treasure. Do I not hit near the mark?"
"Near," said Frodo, "but not in the gold. The riders indeed are searching for a Baggins, either Bilbo or myself. But the Baggins is not what they truly want; they want what I carry."
Which is?" asked Merry, and a smile crossed his lips that, to Sam, did not seem friendly. Sam unconsciously began to tense and dig his nails into the soft grain of his pine chair.
"Which is," continued Frodo, "something that has guaranteed that I shall not be safe here or anywhere else."
"It's coming out in a minute," whispered Pippin to Merry. Merry nodded, but Pippin detected some hesitation in his cousin's eyes, as if he had just come upon a fork in the road and was just then choosing a path.
Pippin glanced at Frodo who himself seemed to be steeling himself for what Pippin knew would be one of the least surprising and most anticipated words he'd ever speak.
"Well!" said Frodo at last, "I can't keep it in the dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all. But I don't know how to begin."
"I think I could help you," said Merry quietly, "by telling you some of it myself."
"What do you mean?" asked Frodo in a voice so astonished it went nearly shrill.
"Just this," answered Merry, "You are miserable because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come to meet you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you."
Frodo stared gape-mouthed at his companions in an expression so comical that they laughed.
"Dear old Frodo!" said Pippin. "Did you really think you had thrown dust in all our eyes?"
"Is the whole Shire discussing my departure then?" asked Frodo in exasperation.
"Oh no!" said Merry. "Your secret is known only to us."
"But Merry had you figured out very early on," chimed Pippin. "That's when he formed this conspiracy."
"For your well being, naturally," said Merry. "Gandalf laid a terrible burden upon you, dearest cousin, when he handed you Bilbo's ring."
"The Ring!" exclaimed Frodo.
"Yes, the Ring," said Merry; and his voice went low and became solemn. "Gandalf set this trinket of the Enemy in your gentle care, then disappeared into the mists from whence he came. Well, he's still not here; but we are. For my part, I have been watching you since you inherited the Ring seventeen years ago. It has been a weighty watch, but I love you and don't begrudge a minute of it. I kept my knowledge to myself until spring, when things got serious. I was serious too, and I began to plan in earnest."
Frodo sunk down in his chair with a defeated look upon his face. He felt foolish. His friends knew a lot, and no mistake. But Frodo wondered even now the real extent of their knowledge. More than anything, he wondered what had become of Gandalf.
"I don't know what Gandalf would say," said Frodo.
"I care not," said Merry curtly. "He is not here. As for how we know some of these things, you must remember that we know you well and are often with you. We can usually tell what you are thinking. We were terrified you might go follow Bilbo and give us the slip."
Merry stood from his chair and slowly plodded over to Frodo, purposefully, like a lizard creeping lethargically over a rock. After that he was silent for awhile, standing with his eyes fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read his cousin's thoughts. Frodo made eye contact with his cousin and thought he saw something in those eyes that he had never seen there before. Black as lacquer, they seemed lit from behind by pale blue flame. It made Frodo uneasy; yet he couldn't give it a name. Merry broke his gaze and stepped around to Frodo's back, now placing two strong hands on Frodo's slumped shoulders. The gesture felt more possessive than comforting and Frodo's muscles grew tensile. Sam instinctively slid his chair closer to his master's.
"Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account," explained Merry as he squeezed Frodo's shoulders, then did not let go. His lilting voice grew stern. "You are not going to escape so easily."
Frodo felt Merry's nails dig into his skin and it seemed to Frodo that Merry's hand quavered a little. Frodo paused for a moment, considering what Merry's words might mean. Then he spoke.
"But I must go," said Frodo firmly. "It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use trying to keep me."
Frodo began to stand, only to be forced down again by a strong push of Merry's hands upon his shoulders. Frodo fell back on the chair with a soft thud. He turned his head in shock and flashed his cousin a look somewhere between confusion and anger.
"Sit down, please, Frodo," said Merry, but not in his usual cheerful voice. It sounded strangely like an order.
Sam was in his feet in seconds. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Merry, but I think this conversation has gone on quite long enough," said Sam, but not in friendly tone. "We've got a big day ahead of his tomorrow, and you might as well tell him your plans and have done so the lot of us can get some sleep." Merry stood, balanced on the razor's edge. One part of his mind urged him to rend, to break, to throttle and squeeze until life ebbed out between his clutching fingers. Another part of him retreated in horror at this unfamiliar blood-lust and rebelled against it, begging him to thwart the darkness growing inside him before he was lost within it. They waged war within him and he himself stepped back, a spectator within his own mind, wondering which side would prevail and unsure if it mattered. Merry lifted his hands from Frodo's shoulders and turned to face Samwise. Pippin saw the smoldering look in Merry's eyes and shuddered. He'd seen this look before just before supper. It was the look of a snake raised up and poised to strike. What was happening to his Merry? If he did not step in, Pippin thought, the situation might disintegrate quickly. Merry would thank him when he calmed. Frodo must be told of the plan immediately, and if Merry could not at present, then Pippin would.
"Dear Frodo, you do not understand!" Pippin had tried to make his voice sound cheerful and optimistic, but it come out sounding thin and shrill. "You--"
"I'm not sure you understand either, Pip," cut in Merry in a harsh voice that Pippin barely recognized. Pippin was shocked silent, and slumped back down into his chair.
Merry felt the rage break over him again like a wave of malice, his thoughts tossing and roiling like a gale-churned sea. He took a cleansing breath, but the breath did not cleanse. The original plan which, minutes ago, had seemed so solid and sure now seemed rooted in folly. He stared unblinking into the fire as his thoughts unfurled and his mind unhinged.
* * * A vision crept into Merry's troubled mind just then, like a waking dream, though whether he saw these things in the shadows of the flame or in his own head, Merry could not say. He perceived the Shire, lovely and green, its fields bursting with swaying fields of corn. He perceived himself as Master of the Hall, surrounded by a sea of hobbits honoring him and seeking his wise counsel.
It occurred to Merry that in this vision, he was taller, taller than any hobbit that surrounded him. Pippin and Frodo were by his side, equals, yet not so. They bowed to him, it seemed. Frodo cupped a brilliant gold object in his hands, and held it out to Merry. Merry did not take it, but captured his older cousin in his arms, Ring and all, as if Frodo had been a small child. Frodo turned to Merry and seemed to be trying to say something, growing frantic, but no words came. Suddenly Frodo slammed his hands together, obscuring the ring, and dashed off through the crowd and out of the Hall. Merry bolted after him, but outside the door, Merry only saw a heavy impenetrable fog, with no land and no Frodo in sight. Merry perceived the fast patter of running hobbit feet through the gloom. 'Frodo! Frodo!' Merry seemed to call, but there was no answer, and the world went dark and silent again.
This first image faded to grey. But from the haze Merry perceived the emerging shapes of men, Big Folk, carrying torches. The scene came into sharp, horrifying focus. The Shire in flames, with hobbits fleeing in terror into the sheltering trees. The lurid red of the fire receded into the gloom again, and another scene coalesced in the mind of Meriadoc Brandybuck. The Shire, lovely and green once again, but with fields now plowed deep by lumbering oxen and peppered with two storeyed houses of brick with stark rectangular windows. No hobbits were in sight, only Big Folk. Merry gasped in a panic, though it was only a vision. 'Our land! They've stolen our beautiful land!' he thought, and felt as though he would weep.
This image too went dark, but not for long. In the inky black, Merry perceived a single Eye, yellow as a cat's, but rimmed with fire. The black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing. But, lo! Merry stared into the eye and saw, a small white dot of light in the pupil, growing ever brighter and ever larger as it drew near. A figure, holding aloft a glass like a star, dashed out of the pit and away from the eye toward Merry. Merry's breath caught in his throat as he realized that the running figure was Frodo.
Frodo drew nearer, calling Merry's name. Frodo's free hand was outstretched and in it he held the One Ring. 'Merry!' he called. 'Merry! Save me!" But just as it seemed Frodo would reach the place where Merry perceived he stood, the flames encircling the eye leapt up, as if stoked by a forest of trees, and Merry watched in horror as Frodo disappeared into the smoke. Then the eye spoke. It did not speak so that Merry could hear the words, but Merry looked and understood.
'This dainty is not for you,' it said. 'I will send for it at once.'
One the edge of Merry's consciousness, he heard another voice, thin but audible. It was Frodo, still wailing out his name; 'Merry! Merry! Save me!'
Then, miraculously, Frodo emerged from the smoke, still holding the light, still holding the Ring. The eye disappeared, and all was dark around them. Frodo approached, slowly now, silently. Merry reached out to embrace his friend. But just as Merry thought to lay hold of him, Frodo gave him suspicious look, then placed the Ring in his pocket and turned away.
'No! No!" cried a voice from inside Merry, 'You cannot go away! You cannot go and take it away! You are far too precious! Frodo!'
But Frodo kept walking slowly into the distance, and all was dark again. Then, Merry heard it. Laughter, but laughter like he'd never heard before. It was cruel, and Merry felt as if he were being stabbed with knives. 'Silence!' Merry cried, his own voice ringing in his ears. 'Silence!'
* * *
"Silence!" Merry had called out aloud; but no one had been talking and the voices Merry had wanted to quiet were the ones pounding in his head. He looked up to three astonished faces. What was happening to him? Was he losing his mind? He was acting like a hobbit possessed, he thought, and for a moment thought he had to lie down or perish. "I," started Merry again feebly, "I need a moment to collect my thoughts. Forgive me."
Pippin began to grow very worried about Merry. This wasn't like him. Merry seemed as though he might faint. And what had that calling out been about? The pressure had become too much for even Merry obviously, and it was up to him to relieve what small pressure he could. Pippin had promised to help Merry, and help Merry he would.
So with a deep breath, Pippin stood. He would finish Merry's well- rehearsed declaration and then they could all be off to bed. Sam shot Pippin a meaningful glance, wordlessly expressing his own desire to get this said and done.
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Remember how Mr. Gandalf told you to take someone as you can trust?"
"But it does not seem like I can trust anyone!" said Frodo, and for the moment, he did not. .
"It all depends on what you want," put in Pippin. "You can trust us to stick by you through thick and thin - to the bitter end." Pippin paused a moment, hoping that he had said this they way Merry would have. Merry's head was cradled in his hands, as if he had been injured. Pippin wrapped his arm protectively around Merry and continued. "And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours-closer than you keep it yourself.
'Now for it!' thought Pippin. "Announce your intentions to follow and it will all be out!' But Merry's head was up now, and it seemed that Merry, master conspirator, wished to deliver the final line, announcing a plan he had crafted himself. Pippin nodded to Merry, and Merry caught Frodo in his glazed eyes and spoke in a cold clear voice that did not remotely sound like the voice of a hobbit.
"But, dearest Frodo, you cannot trust us to let you embark on a fool's errand that will kill you and bring the Shire and all who dwell here to ruin."
Sam and Pippin's heads jerked up in horror. This was not the line they had been expecting. This had not been their plan! Sam and Pippin were so nonplussed, they did not even speak. Their carefully rehearsed words were now useless. Though neither expressed it, they both felt a swelling dread, as if they rode upon an out-of-control wagon barreling toward a precipice with little hope of salvation. Frodo, however, did not yet see his peril.
"I appreciate your concern, Meriadoc," sighed Frodo, not thinking Merry would fight the decision with anything but words, bombast, and Brandybuck charm. "And perhaps there is very little hope we shall succeed, though try we must. You must see, Merry, there really is no other choice. Sam and I must go."
Merry sauntered over to Frodo again, looking strangely predatory. Pippin suppressed an primal urge to cover his eyes..
"Oh Frodo," tutted Merry in an unfamiliar tone. "The world is full of choices. And this one is mine. I choose to prevent you from making a grave error. Can't you see, fool! I love you and I am trying to save you."
This was enough for Sam. No one called his master a fool without getting sent to the roundabouts by Sam Gamgee. Sam inserted himself between Frodo and Merry, impeding Merry's progress with the palm of his hand and wagged his finger in Merry's astonished face. Merry glowered down at the swarthy hand on his chest then dragged his eyes up to meet Sam's blazing stare.
"Now look here Mr. Merry---!"
Before Sam could finish his sentence, Merry raised his hand to strike, and this time it did not falter. He clouted Samwise hard and unexpected on the jaw. Sam reeled back, shocked at the level of violence. Despite the white lights dancing in his eyes, Sam righted himself quickly, his face a cold mask of fury, his jaw set, his fists clenched and ready to extract payment. But Merry was quicker. Merry struck again, this time deep into Sam's gut. The blow hit Sam like a battering ram and he tumbled down, slid across the floor, and crashed into the back wall. A tower of engraved pewter setting on the ledge above rained down upon the fallen hobbit with a fusillade of clatters and bangs.
"Do NOT question your betters!" spat out Merry at the figure now sprawled upon the flagstone floor. "You have no idea what your master really needs!"
"Well I do!" cried Frodo, now full on his feet and bristling. "I don't know what has come over you, Merry, but I won't brook it, not even from you! .
The shadow of rage receded from Merry's face and he seemed to shrink back down to normal hobbit size. His eyes still glowed with a stony and unfamiliar light.
"Sam and you are leaving on the morrow," said Merry; but it wasn't a question.
"Since you have guessed so much," said Frodo sternly, "please help me, and do not hinder me!"
Merry stepped over to Frodo and Sam, kneeling down so that his darkened eyes were level with Frodo's. Merry reached over, and with a trembling hand, cupped the side of Frodo's face.
"I am sorry, dear Frodo," answered Merry in a voice as cold as granite, potent as fire. "But I shall indeed hinder you. You are not going anywhere."
TBC
An AU tale of what happens to Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry when Merry
decides that neither the Ring nor its bearer must leave the Shire
____________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________ Chapter 1: A Conspiracy Unmasked
It was late, and the ferry man had returned to the comforts of his home. This fact did not daunt Merry, who led his companions and his own pony onto the large, flat ferry boat and pushed across the broad slow river with a long pole.
Frodo glanced down at the stripes of moonlight gliding across the rippling water. The water glimmering so sultry beneath his feet had stolen his parents, and Frodo remained silent and contemplative as he stared down into its beckoning depths as they crossed. Buckland was a place of mixed memories for Frodo, some wonderful, some bad, some downright awful. Frodo, in a way, felt as if he truly was returning home, if ever he would have need of a home again.
Sam, meanwhile, saw his old life receding behind him as the hazy outline of the ferry dock shrank in the distance and finally disappeared in the encompassing fog. Sam was accustomed to being around stock animals, and immediately picked up on the pony's discomfort around the water, and chuckled to himself, realizing he was only slightly more comfortable with this boat nonsense than the pony. Sam gave the pony a reassuring pat on the leg. The horse whinnied his thanks and nuzzled Sam's cheek.
"Good, boy," said Sam, "we'll be 'cross afore you know it and safe on dry land." But as soon as Sam said these words, he wondered if they were really true. "Perhaps those nasty horsemen can't get across the water," thought Sam. "Leastwise I hope not, not if their steeds share this pony's feelings!" It would have been of little comfort to Sam to know that there was a bridge across the Brandywine twenty miles to their north. Frodo knew of the bridge, and remained alert and on edge for the remainder of the journey to his new house.
Pippin sat on the edge of the boat wrapped in a cloak, near Merry's feet. He stared up admiringly at his cousin, now steering the boat with sure movements as if he'd been born a ferryman and not heir to the Master of the Hall. Merry felt Pippin's gaze upon him and glanced down upon Pippin with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
"Pippin, did you plan to come to Maggot's?" asked Merry in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
'No," answered Pippin. "We cut across country at Frodo's suggestion and landed upon it," Pippin paused for a moment, "by happenstance."
Merry flashed Pippin a knowing grin, and seeing that Frodo and Sam's eyes were occupied elsewhere, mouthed 'good work' to Pippin and continued rowing.
Merry began to hum a lively rowing tune as they approached the opposite shore. Frodo, somehow, did not find the song comforting, as he normally would. With his dark memories of dark riders, Frodo found Merry's chipper humming distinctly out of place. He would ask Merry about the riders, of course, but not until they all were inside, surrounded by the comfort of light, warmth, and locked doors.
The hobbits stepped off the ferry onto the solid ground of Buckland. Merry immediately suggested he ride ahead to see to supper, a second one, for the weary travelers.
"Frodo, Pip, you know the way," he said.
"But Merry, what about those black riders? Are you quite sure you want to ride alone?" asked Pippin.
"The riders should not trouble us any more, I think,' answered Merry; and with a flick of the reins, Merry rode off into the darkness.
It was a number of miles from the ferry landing to Frodo's new house at Crickhollow, but the hobbits covered it quickly.
"Look there, Sam!" Frodo said abruptly.
Sam threw his head around, expecting to see a whole heard of black riders.
"No, silly ass," laughed Frodo. "I just wanted to point out Brady Hall, where Merry and I lived together as children before I came to Bag End with Bilbo. Merry still lives there."
Sam squinted and strained his eyes, hoping to better make out the shape of the thing in the darkness and the fog.
"Where, Mr. Frodo? Behind that huge hill?"
"It //is// that huge hill," said Frodo. "The Brandybuck clan have lived there for many generations, and every year there seems to be more of them, and they just keep adding more tunnels and more rooms. There's nothing like it in Hobbiton, Sam. Hundreds of hobbits attached to the dwelling. And Merry will be their master someday."
"Not a job I'd want. Mr. Frodo," said Sam.
"Nor I," replied Frodo. "But, Merry, he's different from you and I. He relishes it, I think. He likes having responsibility, at least he handles it very well when it's given to him. He even tried to order me around when I was twice his size, to limited effect, I might say."
"Give me a goodly wife, a gaggle of hobbit children, a nice hole with a warm fire, and a garden," said Sam reflectively. "That's all I really want out of life! But what about you, Master? When this mess is all over, what do you suppose you'll be wanting to do?"
Frodo stared wistfully at the shrouded moon and several moments passed before he answered.
"I can't even think of that yet, Samwise," he said. "I'd love to be your neighbor and watch your fine chubby little hobbit children grow."
"But what about starting your //own// family, Mr. Frodo?" chased Sam. "Surely you see that you're a candle to moths when it comes to the lasses!"
"Me, or Bilbo's treasure?" laughed Frodo grimly. "No, Sam, Your Master is not the catch you imagine him to be. And, somehow, I just can't see the future from here, not a future with me in it at any rate. The simple joys of Shire life seem so very distant to me of late. I feel, somehow, cut off.."
Frodo's voice trailed off like dawn mists into an afternoon sun, and Sam did not pursue it. His Master's answers had made him quite sad.
And hour of solid walking passed until, at last, they plodded down the final path to the house, marked by a thin gate set in a thick hedge. Had Sam not known better, he would never have suspected a house lay here at all. The unpainted gated opened with a squeak and instead of seeing a house, Sam only saw a belt of low trees.
"There //is// a house here, isn't there, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam.
"Yes Samwise, it is here; but it is hidden behind the hedge and trees," said Frodo. "It used to be one of the Brandybuck guesthouses, well sheltered from the bustle of the Hall. It's hidden from view on all sides, as you can well see, or rather, not see. It is practically invisible at night when the shutters are closed, unless you know where to find the door. There are no neighbors nearby and for that reason, it is very easy to sneak in and out without being noticed. And that, Sam, is exactly why I chose it! This house will serve my purposes just fine!"
The three hobbits finally broke through the trees into a very wide circle of lawn, and there, in the center, was a long, low house with a turf roof that, in the night, might have been mistaken for a hillock and nothing more. As they approached the door, Pippin cried out and fell on his knees and palms into a muddy patch of uneven ground. Sam nearly tumbled down over Pippin, but steadied himself in the nick of time.
"Have a care, Mr. Frodo!" warned Sam. "The ground is very uneven here, looks like a pack of Oliphants have been traipsing about the path."
"Or horses," thought Frodo, who said nothing, but skirted around the rough ground. Frodo hoped that the disturbed soil was simply the result of heavy furniture being dragged through it. The image unbidden came to Frodo's mind of four black horses rearing in the soft earth, their riders hissing out his own name.
Without warning the door opened and a light flooded out onto the path.
"Are you three going to wallow in the mud," asked Merry's voice, "or were you planning to come in? I have baths ready for you, and I see that at least one of you travelers sorely needs it!"
Pippin pulled himself up from the ground, his knees and hands now caked with mud, though his face was now glowing.
"A bath! O blessed Meriadoc!"
* * *
As the four stepped inside, Frodo saw that Merry and Fatty Bolger had arranged his old furniture from Bag End as attractively as possible in its new setting. The well-worn sofa and Bilbo's favorite over-stuffed chair sat in front of the hearth where a fire had been banked awaiting their arrival. It wasn't Bag End, but warm and inviting nonetheless and Frodo found himself sighing in relief at the prospect of a soft bed and quiet evening with friends before beginning his journey in earnest. There would be few comforts on his road come tomorrow and he meant to take full advantage of those available to him this evening.
The scent wafting from the basket that Mrs. Maggot had sent along with them came in tantalizing wisps to Frodo's nose and made his stomach rumble in anticipation. Naturally, thoughts of his stomach led to thoughts of Fatty Bolger and he peered around in the glow of the firelight for his friend. But Fatty was nowhere in sight.
"Fatty?" called Frodo as he stepped through the round door, hoping to thank his longtime friend for the efforts at making Frodo's new home welcoming. Frodo thought a nice snack of fried mushrooms and bacon would be a fitting thank you to the one person he knew who loved the things at least as much as he did.although, bearing in mind Fatty's considerable girth, Frodo might have to admit that Fatty probably had him soundly beaten in his love of all foods - including mushrooms.
"Fatty has gone back to Hobbiton," answered Merry without a trace of surprise as he went about the room lighting candles to enhance the light in the firelit room. "Or at least I suppose he has since he is not back yet."
"Gone?" mused Frodo, "it is not like him to leave without so much as a fare- you-well."
"It seemed the only safe thing to do. He couldn't stay here alone, now could he, and you three had to be found," explained Merry. "While I went off looking for you on the outskirts of the Buckland, I sent him to look for you on the road. I told him that if you didn't bump into one another, he could either come back here or continue on home." Merry shrugged. "I guess he started home."
Suddenly a question that had been long delayed resurfaced in Frodo's mind.
"Merry, now that we are here, I must ask you how-"
"No questions," cut in Merry. "Not until you're washed and fed! In that room there are three tubs and plenty of steaming hot water. Now get inside and be quick!"
As Frodo and Sam went into the bathing room, Pippin collapsed into Bilbo's chair with a weary sigh. He did not begrudge Fredegar's absence. It only meant there was one less interfering presence to compete for the attention of his dearest Merry.
As Frodo and Sam began unpacking their bundles, Pippin could only stare at his cousin. Pippin noted how handsomely Merry's features glowed in the bask of the firelight. Pippin, now 28, was never quite sure when his childhood admiration for the elder Brandybuck had transformed into infatuation, and when the cousinly love had become obsession. All Pippin knew for sure was the emptiness he felt in the pit of his being when not in the presence of his beloved cousin. Merry. Merry who he loved with all of his heart. Merry, who still treated him like a lad of ten summers.
"Off the chair you go, Pip!"
Pippin looked up startled into Merry's face.
"You are caked with mud, lad, and I won't let you sully Frodo's furniture," ordered Merry, picking Pippin up by his shirt front, and herding him to the Baths with a playful slap to his rump. "Off you go!"
Pippin gave Merry his best try at a dirty look, but inside him a wave of warmth flowed through him. He obeyed in a moment, throwing off his clothes in a sloppy pile and climbing into the copper tub with a contented sigh. In moments the young Took was lifting his voice in one of Bilbo's favorite bath songs, much to Frodo's enjoyment.
The bath felt heavenly after the journey. As Frodo listened to Pippin singing and splashing, he was reminded of what he would be leaving behind in the morning - not merely warm baths and soft beds, but beloved friends. Breaking the news to his cousins would be hard, but it couldn't be helped; nor could it be delayed. He'd have to do it that very night before they all went to bed. Merry would understand. Pippin would take it harder, of course, but Merry would surely make him understand.
Pippin finished his bath song, and his bath with an almighty splash that sent the floor swimming.
"Lawks!" exclaimed Merry as he poked his head in. "You'll mop that up before you get a bite, Pip!"
Pip scrunched up his face in a pout.
"You need not scold me, Merry," he said ruefully. "I'm not a child!"
"Tell that to the wet floor," answered Merry as he stuffed the broom in Pippin's hand.
Pippin grumbled. "There it is again!" he thought. "Like I'm a naughty puppy! I'll show my mettle on this adventure, I will!"
And as Pippin's mind turned to the so-called adventure ahead, he thought about what Frodo would say when they revealed the conspiracy to him at last. Those black riders may have changed things, if anything, sped things along. Frodo would not want to linger at Crickhollow now, Pippin thought. That was just as well. Merry and Pippin had their packs all ready, hidden in a back room where Frodo would be unlikely to find them before the right time. Sam had brought what he'd need on his back; Frodo knew full well the gardener would accompany them. Pippin began to chuckle to himself imagining Frodo's astonished expression when the three of them revealed that they knew all along about his secret plan and the beastly Ring and that Sam, loyal Sam, had been their chief investigator- well, spy. 'But Frodo will be glad of it,' thought Pippin. 'He will try to dissuade us, but in the end he will love us for coming.'
"Pip?" said Frodo.
Pippin suddenly realized he had been staring at Frodo with what must have been a ridiculous grin.
"What's so funny?" asked Frodo, now leaning back on hands folded behind his wet head. "Other than the floor you just turned into a lake?"
Pippin's face flushed. He was a pitiful liar, so he settled on the most benign truth he could come up with.
"It's just, Frodo, " stammered Pippin, "It's just that I love you, cousin, and I'm glad we are all together right now."
Frodo smiled with effort, his eyes sad and distant. Oh-this coming conversation would cut him deep!
* * *
Merry held the pan of mushrooms sizzling over the stove, now listening to the clear high tenor of his young cousin's voice as it rose about the snatches of competing songs emanating from the bath room. But this is not what was occupying his thoughts. Merry's mind was in absolute turmoil. He was torn between what he wished to do, and what he must do. Two competing plans dueled for supremacy in the stormy swirl of his mind-- one the original plan; accompany Frodo to Rivendell, relinquish the Ring to the Elves, just as Gandalf had advised, and let other disinterested parties determine the fate of the Shire, the Ring, and its keeper; the other, a second harder, perhaps better path.
Gandalf. The very thought of the conjurer rankled the hobbit. He had vanished without a trace, leaving Frodo to dangle like a worm on a hook Those riders would have made mince-meat out of Frodo if Merry had not stepped in! Well, he'd outmaneuvered the wizard at any rate, found out his plans. Two plans, and however Merry chose, one thing was clear - Merry must remain by Frodo's side. He must stand by his cousin whether they all decided to depart for Rivendell, or-or..Merry dropped his face into his sheltering palms to stop his mind from spinning out of control. Or the other plan.
Deep in Merry's heart, the //other// plan seemed best, even if it seemed harsher, harsh to the point of being cruel. Frodo wouldn't like it, but he could be brought round. And because Frodo wouldn't like it, Sam wouldn't like it either. Pip could be made to understand. Pip trusted him; Pip loved him. Pip might even be in love with him. At any rate, Pippin would be an ally. Sam was the piece that could bind the puzzle together, or make it fall apart. If Merry could screw himself up enough to follow the other plan, Merry would have to deal with Samwise.
Merry had laid the groundwork for both contingencies. Merry had taken care of Fatty, though it had pained him to do so. But unsavory allies could be jettisoned once all was safe and enemies of the Shire were brought to bear. Merry could take care of Sam too, even use him to bring Frodo to heel. No one else need be hurt if all went smoothly, and Merry was very very good at making things go smoothly. And when the time came to put hobbits into songs or tales, to write the book on the great deeds of famous hobbits, it would be Meriadoc Brandybuck who would be remembered as the hobbit who had saved the Shire and everyone in it. It would be he who was shrewd enough to use the Enemy's weapon against him, for the good of all! Meriadoc the Mighty! Meriadoc the Magnificent! This, it seemed was his best destiny.
"Merry," said a small voice that belonged to Pippin.
It was then Merry realized that he was staring into space with an iron pan of mushrooms clutched in his hand, the handle long since grown uncomfortably hot. He jerked his hand, now fairly scalded, from the pan and snapped his head abruptly to his side. Pippin stood there meekly, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.
Pippin gasped. As Merry turned to him, Pippin saw something in Merry's eyes that had surprised, even frightened him. The jovial sparkle had been replaced by a cold, pale flame and Merry's face appeared cold and cruel as stone. Pippin backed himself into the kitchen wall without even knowing why he did so.
"I'm sorry!" squeaked Pippin.
Merry's face softened, but his grey eyes glinted like cold steel and Pippin was afraid.
"Why do you apologize?" asked Merry as he rubbed his reddened palm.
"Are you not angry?" asked Pippin.
Merry shook his head.
"I, I," began Pippin. "Well isn't it about time to speak with Frodo?"
"After we eat, Pippin," said Merry.
Pippin glanced down at the Mrs. Maggot's mushrooms, nearly charred in the pan. "I'm no cook, Mer," chanced Pippin, "but I'd say those mushrooms are just about done in."
A swell of rage that defied explanation rose up in Merry. He seized up the pan from the oven and slammed it down with such force that the table nearly toppled. Pippin shrunk back in horror as he saw that Merry's hand was raised, poised to strike him.
But scarcely had the cold fury pulsed through Merry, when it dissipated and was gone. Merry stared up in disbelief at his own upraised hand, not even remembering how it got there, and wondering for an instant if he had already struck his cousin and just didn't recall it. Seeing that this was not so, Merry wondered if the pressure of this decision had driven him to the brink of insanity. This anger had seemed to come from a force outside of himself, something beyond his own control.
Then he looked down into the anguished face of his cousin. Pippin looked as if he were a piece of glass that had just shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Forgive me dearest Pip!" cried Merry, lowering his hand and drawing Pippin into a tight embrace. Pippin was quivering like a leaf in a stiff breeze. "I don't know why I did that, Pip. Please don't fear me! I did not mean to scare you. I will need you in the coming days, Pippin. Please say you still trust your Merry!"
Pippin pulled himself together. The conspiracy must have indeed taken a toll on Merry to make him act in such a way. Pippin realized suddenly that he was comforting Merry, now breathing hard in his arms. Pippin dared himself to pull back and gaze into Merry's eyes again. The pale flame had fled, leaving only the slate grey eyes wet with the glassy veneer of unshed tears. Pippin thought he'd never seen his Merry look so vulnerable.
"It's alright Merry," soothed Pippin. "Of course I still trust you - you're my older cousin! And I'll help you and Frodo at every turn. He will be pleased that we will be going with him, I think; and it's you that arranged the whole thing!"
"I suppose so, but," Merry paused, "The second plan could wait, perhaps indefinitely.
"But?" asked Pippin expectantly.
"But I do think these mushrooms are done for," answered Merry feebly.
"Nonsense!" said Pippin. "Put these out with the meat and beer, and no one, but Sam, perhaps, will be the wiser. It's high time we eat, then fess up to Frodo. It is time to unmask your brilliant conspiracy!"
Merry felt his heart would burst with affection for the lad. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Pippin's damp forehead and watched with satisfaction the rosy blush that flowed across Pippin's sweet face.
"What would I do without you, Pip?" sighed Merry. "What would I do without my lovely little cousin?"
Pippin felt as if he might melt with joy and his memory of the dark outburst faded into the air like the thin wisps of steam arising from the mushrooms. Pippin gave a last impish grin, and ran off to dress. Soon it would be time.
* * *
They took their supper in the kitchen, and none but Sam either noticed, or cared that the mushrooms were burnt. Finally, when all were well fed, the hobbits gathered their tankards of ale, moved to the parlor, and sat themselves down in four sturdy chairs by the warmth of the fire. Finally Frodo spoke.
"Now, Merry, I must know how you found out about the riders and figured out they were dangerous," said Frodo. "I assume that Gandalf has come by to warn and advise you.'
Merry's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the wizard's name. Only Pippin noticed.
"The wizard has not seen fit to present himself at our door," answered Merry coldly. "Nor your door, as it would seem."
Frodo threw Merry a look of surprise mingled with deep disappointment and heaved a great sigh.
"Then you still have a story to tell, I suppose," said Frodo flatly.
"Just this," said Merry. "That where wizards fail, hobbits prevail. How I learned of the riders is a very long story, and right now we have more pressing matters to discuss than those problems which have already been dealt with.
"Cousin Frodo has been very close," said Pippin. "But the time has come for him to open out."
Frodo gave Pippin a quizzical look and turned his head to look at Sam; but Sam was staring into the fire and seemed to be avoiding his eyes.
"We know," said Merry, "that the riders were searching for a Baggins, and I am guessing there is a connection with Bilbo's old adventures, or more specifically, his treasure. Do I not hit near the mark?"
"Near," said Frodo, "but not in the gold. The riders indeed are searching for a Baggins, either Bilbo or myself. But the Baggins is not what they truly want; they want what I carry."
Which is?" asked Merry, and a smile crossed his lips that, to Sam, did not seem friendly. Sam unconsciously began to tense and dig his nails into the soft grain of his pine chair.
"Which is," continued Frodo, "something that has guaranteed that I shall not be safe here or anywhere else."
"It's coming out in a minute," whispered Pippin to Merry. Merry nodded, but Pippin detected some hesitation in his cousin's eyes, as if he had just come upon a fork in the road and was just then choosing a path.
Pippin glanced at Frodo who himself seemed to be steeling himself for what Pippin knew would be one of the least surprising and most anticipated words he'd ever speak.
"Well!" said Frodo at last, "I can't keep it in the dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all. But I don't know how to begin."
"I think I could help you," said Merry quietly, "by telling you some of it myself."
"What do you mean?" asked Frodo in a voice so astonished it went nearly shrill.
"Just this," answered Merry, "You are miserable because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come to meet you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you."
Frodo stared gape-mouthed at his companions in an expression so comical that they laughed.
"Dear old Frodo!" said Pippin. "Did you really think you had thrown dust in all our eyes?"
"Is the whole Shire discussing my departure then?" asked Frodo in exasperation.
"Oh no!" said Merry. "Your secret is known only to us."
"But Merry had you figured out very early on," chimed Pippin. "That's when he formed this conspiracy."
"For your well being, naturally," said Merry. "Gandalf laid a terrible burden upon you, dearest cousin, when he handed you Bilbo's ring."
"The Ring!" exclaimed Frodo.
"Yes, the Ring," said Merry; and his voice went low and became solemn. "Gandalf set this trinket of the Enemy in your gentle care, then disappeared into the mists from whence he came. Well, he's still not here; but we are. For my part, I have been watching you since you inherited the Ring seventeen years ago. It has been a weighty watch, but I love you and don't begrudge a minute of it. I kept my knowledge to myself until spring, when things got serious. I was serious too, and I began to plan in earnest."
Frodo sunk down in his chair with a defeated look upon his face. He felt foolish. His friends knew a lot, and no mistake. But Frodo wondered even now the real extent of their knowledge. More than anything, he wondered what had become of Gandalf.
"I don't know what Gandalf would say," said Frodo.
"I care not," said Merry curtly. "He is not here. As for how we know some of these things, you must remember that we know you well and are often with you. We can usually tell what you are thinking. We were terrified you might go follow Bilbo and give us the slip."
Merry stood from his chair and slowly plodded over to Frodo, purposefully, like a lizard creeping lethargically over a rock. After that he was silent for awhile, standing with his eyes fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read his cousin's thoughts. Frodo made eye contact with his cousin and thought he saw something in those eyes that he had never seen there before. Black as lacquer, they seemed lit from behind by pale blue flame. It made Frodo uneasy; yet he couldn't give it a name. Merry broke his gaze and stepped around to Frodo's back, now placing two strong hands on Frodo's slumped shoulders. The gesture felt more possessive than comforting and Frodo's muscles grew tensile. Sam instinctively slid his chair closer to his master's.
"Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account," explained Merry as he squeezed Frodo's shoulders, then did not let go. His lilting voice grew stern. "You are not going to escape so easily."
Frodo felt Merry's nails dig into his skin and it seemed to Frodo that Merry's hand quavered a little. Frodo paused for a moment, considering what Merry's words might mean. Then he spoke.
"But I must go," said Frodo firmly. "It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use trying to keep me."
Frodo began to stand, only to be forced down again by a strong push of Merry's hands upon his shoulders. Frodo fell back on the chair with a soft thud. He turned his head in shock and flashed his cousin a look somewhere between confusion and anger.
"Sit down, please, Frodo," said Merry, but not in his usual cheerful voice. It sounded strangely like an order.
Sam was in his feet in seconds. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Merry, but I think this conversation has gone on quite long enough," said Sam, but not in friendly tone. "We've got a big day ahead of his tomorrow, and you might as well tell him your plans and have done so the lot of us can get some sleep." Merry stood, balanced on the razor's edge. One part of his mind urged him to rend, to break, to throttle and squeeze until life ebbed out between his clutching fingers. Another part of him retreated in horror at this unfamiliar blood-lust and rebelled against it, begging him to thwart the darkness growing inside him before he was lost within it. They waged war within him and he himself stepped back, a spectator within his own mind, wondering which side would prevail and unsure if it mattered. Merry lifted his hands from Frodo's shoulders and turned to face Samwise. Pippin saw the smoldering look in Merry's eyes and shuddered. He'd seen this look before just before supper. It was the look of a snake raised up and poised to strike. What was happening to his Merry? If he did not step in, Pippin thought, the situation might disintegrate quickly. Merry would thank him when he calmed. Frodo must be told of the plan immediately, and if Merry could not at present, then Pippin would.
"Dear Frodo, you do not understand!" Pippin had tried to make his voice sound cheerful and optimistic, but it come out sounding thin and shrill. "You--"
"I'm not sure you understand either, Pip," cut in Merry in a harsh voice that Pippin barely recognized. Pippin was shocked silent, and slumped back down into his chair.
Merry felt the rage break over him again like a wave of malice, his thoughts tossing and roiling like a gale-churned sea. He took a cleansing breath, but the breath did not cleanse. The original plan which, minutes ago, had seemed so solid and sure now seemed rooted in folly. He stared unblinking into the fire as his thoughts unfurled and his mind unhinged.
* * * A vision crept into Merry's troubled mind just then, like a waking dream, though whether he saw these things in the shadows of the flame or in his own head, Merry could not say. He perceived the Shire, lovely and green, its fields bursting with swaying fields of corn. He perceived himself as Master of the Hall, surrounded by a sea of hobbits honoring him and seeking his wise counsel.
It occurred to Merry that in this vision, he was taller, taller than any hobbit that surrounded him. Pippin and Frodo were by his side, equals, yet not so. They bowed to him, it seemed. Frodo cupped a brilliant gold object in his hands, and held it out to Merry. Merry did not take it, but captured his older cousin in his arms, Ring and all, as if Frodo had been a small child. Frodo turned to Merry and seemed to be trying to say something, growing frantic, but no words came. Suddenly Frodo slammed his hands together, obscuring the ring, and dashed off through the crowd and out of the Hall. Merry bolted after him, but outside the door, Merry only saw a heavy impenetrable fog, with no land and no Frodo in sight. Merry perceived the fast patter of running hobbit feet through the gloom. 'Frodo! Frodo!' Merry seemed to call, but there was no answer, and the world went dark and silent again.
This first image faded to grey. But from the haze Merry perceived the emerging shapes of men, Big Folk, carrying torches. The scene came into sharp, horrifying focus. The Shire in flames, with hobbits fleeing in terror into the sheltering trees. The lurid red of the fire receded into the gloom again, and another scene coalesced in the mind of Meriadoc Brandybuck. The Shire, lovely and green once again, but with fields now plowed deep by lumbering oxen and peppered with two storeyed houses of brick with stark rectangular windows. No hobbits were in sight, only Big Folk. Merry gasped in a panic, though it was only a vision. 'Our land! They've stolen our beautiful land!' he thought, and felt as though he would weep.
This image too went dark, but not for long. In the inky black, Merry perceived a single Eye, yellow as a cat's, but rimmed with fire. The black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing. But, lo! Merry stared into the eye and saw, a small white dot of light in the pupil, growing ever brighter and ever larger as it drew near. A figure, holding aloft a glass like a star, dashed out of the pit and away from the eye toward Merry. Merry's breath caught in his throat as he realized that the running figure was Frodo.
Frodo drew nearer, calling Merry's name. Frodo's free hand was outstretched and in it he held the One Ring. 'Merry!' he called. 'Merry! Save me!" But just as it seemed Frodo would reach the place where Merry perceived he stood, the flames encircling the eye leapt up, as if stoked by a forest of trees, and Merry watched in horror as Frodo disappeared into the smoke. Then the eye spoke. It did not speak so that Merry could hear the words, but Merry looked and understood.
'This dainty is not for you,' it said. 'I will send for it at once.'
One the edge of Merry's consciousness, he heard another voice, thin but audible. It was Frodo, still wailing out his name; 'Merry! Merry! Save me!'
Then, miraculously, Frodo emerged from the smoke, still holding the light, still holding the Ring. The eye disappeared, and all was dark around them. Frodo approached, slowly now, silently. Merry reached out to embrace his friend. But just as Merry thought to lay hold of him, Frodo gave him suspicious look, then placed the Ring in his pocket and turned away.
'No! No!" cried a voice from inside Merry, 'You cannot go away! You cannot go and take it away! You are far too precious! Frodo!'
But Frodo kept walking slowly into the distance, and all was dark again. Then, Merry heard it. Laughter, but laughter like he'd never heard before. It was cruel, and Merry felt as if he were being stabbed with knives. 'Silence!' Merry cried, his own voice ringing in his ears. 'Silence!'
* * *
"Silence!" Merry had called out aloud; but no one had been talking and the voices Merry had wanted to quiet were the ones pounding in his head. He looked up to three astonished faces. What was happening to him? Was he losing his mind? He was acting like a hobbit possessed, he thought, and for a moment thought he had to lie down or perish. "I," started Merry again feebly, "I need a moment to collect my thoughts. Forgive me."
Pippin began to grow very worried about Merry. This wasn't like him. Merry seemed as though he might faint. And what had that calling out been about? The pressure had become too much for even Merry obviously, and it was up to him to relieve what small pressure he could. Pippin had promised to help Merry, and help Merry he would.
So with a deep breath, Pippin stood. He would finish Merry's well- rehearsed declaration and then they could all be off to bed. Sam shot Pippin a meaningful glance, wordlessly expressing his own desire to get this said and done.
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Remember how Mr. Gandalf told you to take someone as you can trust?"
"But it does not seem like I can trust anyone!" said Frodo, and for the moment, he did not. .
"It all depends on what you want," put in Pippin. "You can trust us to stick by you through thick and thin - to the bitter end." Pippin paused a moment, hoping that he had said this they way Merry would have. Merry's head was cradled in his hands, as if he had been injured. Pippin wrapped his arm protectively around Merry and continued. "And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours-closer than you keep it yourself.
'Now for it!' thought Pippin. "Announce your intentions to follow and it will all be out!' But Merry's head was up now, and it seemed that Merry, master conspirator, wished to deliver the final line, announcing a plan he had crafted himself. Pippin nodded to Merry, and Merry caught Frodo in his glazed eyes and spoke in a cold clear voice that did not remotely sound like the voice of a hobbit.
"But, dearest Frodo, you cannot trust us to let you embark on a fool's errand that will kill you and bring the Shire and all who dwell here to ruin."
Sam and Pippin's heads jerked up in horror. This was not the line they had been expecting. This had not been their plan! Sam and Pippin were so nonplussed, they did not even speak. Their carefully rehearsed words were now useless. Though neither expressed it, they both felt a swelling dread, as if they rode upon an out-of-control wagon barreling toward a precipice with little hope of salvation. Frodo, however, did not yet see his peril.
"I appreciate your concern, Meriadoc," sighed Frodo, not thinking Merry would fight the decision with anything but words, bombast, and Brandybuck charm. "And perhaps there is very little hope we shall succeed, though try we must. You must see, Merry, there really is no other choice. Sam and I must go."
Merry sauntered over to Frodo again, looking strangely predatory. Pippin suppressed an primal urge to cover his eyes..
"Oh Frodo," tutted Merry in an unfamiliar tone. "The world is full of choices. And this one is mine. I choose to prevent you from making a grave error. Can't you see, fool! I love you and I am trying to save you."
This was enough for Sam. No one called his master a fool without getting sent to the roundabouts by Sam Gamgee. Sam inserted himself between Frodo and Merry, impeding Merry's progress with the palm of his hand and wagged his finger in Merry's astonished face. Merry glowered down at the swarthy hand on his chest then dragged his eyes up to meet Sam's blazing stare.
"Now look here Mr. Merry---!"
Before Sam could finish his sentence, Merry raised his hand to strike, and this time it did not falter. He clouted Samwise hard and unexpected on the jaw. Sam reeled back, shocked at the level of violence. Despite the white lights dancing in his eyes, Sam righted himself quickly, his face a cold mask of fury, his jaw set, his fists clenched and ready to extract payment. But Merry was quicker. Merry struck again, this time deep into Sam's gut. The blow hit Sam like a battering ram and he tumbled down, slid across the floor, and crashed into the back wall. A tower of engraved pewter setting on the ledge above rained down upon the fallen hobbit with a fusillade of clatters and bangs.
"Do NOT question your betters!" spat out Merry at the figure now sprawled upon the flagstone floor. "You have no idea what your master really needs!"
"Well I do!" cried Frodo, now full on his feet and bristling. "I don't know what has come over you, Merry, but I won't brook it, not even from you! .
The shadow of rage receded from Merry's face and he seemed to shrink back down to normal hobbit size. His eyes still glowed with a stony and unfamiliar light.
"Sam and you are leaving on the morrow," said Merry; but it wasn't a question.
"Since you have guessed so much," said Frodo sternly, "please help me, and do not hinder me!"
Merry stepped over to Frodo and Sam, kneeling down so that his darkened eyes were level with Frodo's. Merry reached over, and with a trembling hand, cupped the side of Frodo's face.
"I am sorry, dear Frodo," answered Merry in a voice as cold as granite, potent as fire. "But I shall indeed hinder you. You are not going anywhere."
TBC