Chapter: 1
Title: The Commission
The day we reentered Minas Tirith after Aragorn was acclaimed King was the day the Fellowship set up camp in one of the abandoned houses. It was a large building on the sixth level, with many private rooms facing East and slightly North, affronting spectacular views of the plains below. We could have each had our own room, but naturally gravitated to reestablish sleeping arrangements much the way we did while on the journey. Gandalf had his own room with its own exterior door, since he was constantly going in and out on various missions. Gimli and I shared a room. And the four hobbits occupied two adjoining rooms nearest to the kitchen. One would assume that Frodo and Sam would share a room, while Merry and Pippin occupied another, but that was not exactly the case. It started out that way, but Merry, Pippin and Sam ended up sharing one bedroom, giving Frodo his own room, though Sam often slept at his master's side. The hobbits were especially careful to give the Ringbearer the privacy and seclusion he desired and needed.
The Fellowship was in various stages of recovery during that time. Gimli, Gandalf and I fared best through all the fighting, having suffered no serious injuries. Aragorn required a few stitches along one forearm, but otherwise escaped unhurt. The four hobbits, on the other hand, suffered near-fatal injuries which required rest.
Master Meriodoc was only lately released from the Houses of Healing when we set up residences on the sixth level. His sword arm was tender and painful to use for many weeks. His pride kept him from using the sling very often. Pippin also was recuperating, having sustained a severe shoulder dislocation and a broken ankle from being crushed by a troll which the hobbit managed to kill single-handedly. Being the youngest of the Fellowship, he rebounded quickly and was off crutches before we reentered the White City. But he walked with a slight limp for the rest of his life.
Samwise and Frodo were still weak from their long ordeal without food and water in Mordor. Frodo's missing finger developed a fester which eventually required him to have the stump further amputated and cauterized. Sam was the one who persuaded him to seek a doctor at the Houses of Healing. Samwise, himself, did not escape injury. He bears an ugly scar upon his forehead from where the creature Gollum attacked him while at the Cracks of Doom. They are brave folk, these hobbits. Often it is the innocent who are hurt the most by war, and such was the case with our Fellowship. Ye they bore it bravely and without complaint.
Samwise occupied his time in Minas Tirith with undertaking to "fatten up" Frodo. The steadfast gardener roamed the city markets and made friends with the city's food suppliers in an attempt to rekindle Frodo's diminished desire for eating. Our shared house became well-known on the sixth level for the fabulous smells emanating from the kitchen. Frequently, Aragorn himself would quit the King's Level to eat Sam's home-cooked meals.
It was during one of these meals around the kitchen table that Merry broached the subject.
"Aragorn?" Merry asked as he skewered a slice of lamb roast with his knife, "What can we do to be of use now that the fighting's all over? "
"Yes," Pippin spoke up between bites. "I am tired of sitting around all day doing nothing but polishing my sword or stoking the fire for Sam. Surely there is something we can do to help."
"The lad's right, you know," Gimli said. "If you leave those two alone with nothing to do, they'll soon be fast into mischief. Best if you give 'em something official and somewhat constructive to do."
"The same could be said for you, my friend," I teased Gimli.
"I am already quite busy, as you know," the dwarf huffed back. "This city needs rebuilding, and dwarves are naturally gifted in matters of stone and rock."
"We could help," Pippin said.
"Pip, you know as much about stonework as I know about ship-building," Merry laughed.
"I might not be a stone mason, but I can at least help remove debris," Pippin retorted.
"Aragorn? Have you any idea as to exactly what needs to be done throughout the levels of the city?" Gandalf asked. "Which buildings need repair? Which gates are salvageable? Is there a repair plan for the city?"
"Other than the main gate on the first level needing to be replaced, I do not have any information about the city's needs," Aragorn replied. "I have my hands full right now dealing with the Southrons and slave labor still entrenched inside Mordor. But this survey of the city does sound like a task uniquely suited for the six of you."
"We will need maps," Gimli said.
"I will send someone down from the library tomorrow," Aragorn said. "Take a walk through the levels and note down what needs to be done. I give all of you authority to coordinate the cleansing and rebuilding of the city. But as much as I desire to visit with all of you, I only have time for one to report back to me. Please elect a representative from amongst yourselves." He politely belched, grabbed his sword and headed out the door. "I shall see one of you in two days, after my meetings with the Captains of the Southrons is over." He disappeared down the street.
"I think Mr. Frodo should be the leader," Sam said as he cleared the table. "That way he can stay here and let us do all the leg work."
"I will have no such thing," Frodo hopped down from a chair. "The doctors say it will do me good to get out and walk the city a bit, and that's exactly what I plan to do."
"But Sam's still right about you being the reporter," Merry said. "You are far better than any of us at listening and reading and writing down things in their proper order. You've a gift for writing, you know."
"That's right, Mer," Pippin said. "Cousin Frodo for the scribe's job."
"Makes sense to me," Gimli added. I nodded my agreement.
