Chapter 24: Trouble with Simpler Things
Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee sat at on the front doorstep of Bag End, resting in the humidity of the evening. Sam leaned against the hillside, puffing on a long stem of pipe-weed and listening to Frodo read a passage aloud from a book. Once in a while, he looked up to the sky, noting the clouds that floated past the horizon. Frodo would stop on occasion when he needed a drink or was tired of a certain paragraph and went in search of something else to read. He was currently reading from an old journal of Bilbo's that described the long-away forest called Mirkwood and its dangerous, overgrown spiders.
"My Gaffer doesn't care for spiders, much," Sam commented off-handedly. Frodo smiled, glancing at him as he set the book next to him.
"Neither do I, Sam." He laughed, flicking a bug from his trousers. "At least they keep the flies in line."
Their talk was halted when the creaking and bouncing of wheels suddenly appeared down the hill, a pony's canter mixing in. A hobbit carriage, box-shaped with a rectangular bench where the driver sat, trotted slowly into sight and pulled up near the gate. Frodo stood and clutched at his shirt lining, loosening the collar, as Paladin Took emerged, stepped down from the carriage and puffed through the gate up to the doorstep. His greeting snapped with an unfeeling tone. "Good afternoon, Frodo."
"Afternoon, Paladin, sir."
Sam echoed the remark, though Paladin didn't seem to hear.
"Frodo," he started, glancing down at his hands quickly. His words were hesitant, testing almost. "May I please see my son?"
Frodo's eyes widened momentarily, and he looked at Sam. "P-Pippin, you mean?"
"Yes! What other son have I, Frodo? I'm quite sorry to interrupt your studies, but I must speak to him. It is quite urgent." Frodo noticed Paladin's hand, twisting a thick sheet of paper between them to a thin rod. He looked back up in time to see Paladin clench his teeth and narrow his eyes. "He is here, isn't he?"
Once more, Frodo looked at Sam. Sam looked at Frodo, and then snapped his eyes back to Paladin. "Y-Yes. He's here," Sam said quickly, shakily. Frodo nodded at lightning speed.
"Yes, he's in Ba—bed. He's in bed." Frodo swallowed. He didn't know what Pippin had done now, but something told him he was heading for trouble himself. It was his will to protect Pippin that kept him partly steadfast.
Paladin smashed his cane into the ground. "At six in the evening?" Incredulity played upon his face. Frodo bit his lip, but didn't have to come up with a response when Paladin stormed past him. "He wouldn't be in bed this late. Come, Frodo. This is urgent! Where is he?"
Paladin was reaching for the door when Sam took action and dove across a bench and several gardening pots, racing to the fiery master of Tookland. "Well, beggin' your pardon, sir. Pippin—" He stopped and looked at Frodo. The Baggins shrugged. "Pippin ain't....ain't been here.... all day. He.... he...." Sam pushed a finger into his shirt collar and loosened it as though he were suddenly very warm.
Paladin stood tall and nearly seemed to be looking over the stocky hobbit. "Well? Shame on you both to be lying. If he's not it bed, where is he, then?"
"He-he-he went to Hobbiton! Right a few hours ago. Had to buy some vegetables!" Sam smiled, albeit a bit nervously. "That's it. He won't be back for awhile, Master Paladin, s-sir."
Pausing, Paladin glanced down at Sam, an equivocal expression daunting his face. He looked to Frodo and to Bag End, and then back to Sam. "Is that so? Well, then I shall go look for him. You're certain he won't be back for a awhile?"
They both shook their heads. Paladin made what can only be termed as a half sneer half smile and motioned to the driver of the carriage, sweeping past Frodo and Sam. "Thank you, Frodo Baggins. Have a good evening." His hand reached over his shoulder and waved, though he did not look back. He stepped into the carriage, and it resumed its clatter down the roadside. When the carriage had disappeared, Frodo looked to Sam. "Sam, I think you've gotten Pippin further into any mess he may be in now."
"Well, he might just deserved it. Pippin's got two eyes for mischief and two ears for evil, not to mention his hands, Mister Frodo. Probably off somewhere stealing a nice gardener's wheelbarrow and racing down the side of Tookland, mark my words—"
"Sam, if anything, he's probably over at Brandy Hall, right now."
It took a second for Sam to realize the words behind the sentence, and he gulped. "This isn't going to turn out good, is it, Mister Frodo?"
Frodo glanced down at the dirt, his eyelids flitting downward. When he looked up, his eyes shimmered, with worry and sympathy for his relatives. "No, Sam. It may just not, this time."
-
Paladin's eyes searched the horizon from the window of his carriage. He knew for certain now where Pippin was, and he was going to make sure every fiery demon he had miserably chained inside him would be unleashed on Saradoc and his foul crew. He leaned over his seat towards the driver, looking up into the forward window. "We go east, onto Buckland."
The driver turned his head, his eyes stunned. "But, sir. Roads are blocked that way. There's been too much flooding. The ponies won't dare—"
"Just do it, I say! I could see the lie in that gardener's eyes. Pippin hasn't been there at all. I bet Saradoc has just scooted over and taken my son into his stir-crazy household just to irk me to my limits. Oh, he has succeeded!" He sat back, glaring at the clouds beginning to stir once again. "It's going to rain tonight. Hard."
It took them a matter of three hours passing soggy terrain before they hit their first difficulty in the road. A part of the road had sunken beneath the water, but to Paladin and the driver's amusement, there were five Shirriffs and a crew equipped with buckets surrounding the area, three of the Shirriffs waist deep in the middle of the puddle. It was deemed safe enough for the carriage to go through, even though Paladin had to keep his feet from the carriage floor when water began to seep into the carriage itself. He sighed, suddenly wishing upon wishes that he didn't have a son who could cause him so much worry every single moment of every single day. He was tired, worn, damp, hungry, and all around miserable by the time the pony's hooves clattered onto the first stones of the Brandywine Bridge a while later. But his spirit once again awoke to fire when his eyes first spotted the glowing round specters of Brandy Hall's windows, floating in the darkened atmosphere.
-
Saradoc grumbled and tried desperately to snuggle into his pillows when a servant shook him in the still of the deepening night. "Master Saradoc!" His name was called again, another shake rumbling through his shoulders.
"Yeesssssss?" was his simple answer, drawn out and sleepy, muffled by his warm comforter.
"There is someone here, Master, in the sitting room. He demands to see you."
"Who? Who would want to see me at this time of night?" Saradoc slowly turned and sat up, pushing the sheets from his entangled sleeping wear.
"S-sir.... It's Paladin Took."
It took a moment of movement and stretching for Saradoc to connect that name to that face, but when it registered, all but one movement stopped. He suddenly dove onto the other side of the bed and shook Esmeralda awake. When she had been told the news, she stood almost mechanically and grabbed her robe, striding out of their bedroom with Saradoc following at her heels.
With time to stand more regal and moving to his wife's side, Saradoc composed himself enough to remove the stark trepidation from his countenance. They turned the corner and into the sitting room, only to be greeted by Paladin, clothed in his regal green, furiously waving away a servant, standing in an imposing, threatening posture. His head snapped around to face them. His eyes blazed.
There was no room for greetings in this situation, but luckily almost for Saradoc, Paladin quickly erupted. "Where . . ." the Took began, clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyebrows, "is my son?"