But it is the way of my people to use light words at such times and say less than they mean. We fear to say too much. -Merry, The Return of the King
The next day dawned bright and clear. Frodo yawned during breakfast and was suddenly aware of the other hobbits watching him, subtly weighing his movements and expression.
"Tired, Frodo?" Merry asked. "Perhaps you should give the writing a rest for today. I do not think Bilbo will truly expect a diary when we see him again. And even if you did give it to him, he will still want to hear the tale and set it down his own way."
Frodo fixed them with a stern look. "Do I find myself again at the mercy of a Conspiracy?" Sam flushed, and looked down at the floor, the very picture of a hobbit-lad caught stealing apples.
"Sam, look at your face! I should have blamed you for my pranks at Bag End all those years ago! I could look innocent enough, but what I really needed was someone else who looked guilty," Pippin said impishly. "Frodo, he didn't say a word, but you didn't really think you could be talking and stumbling around in the middle of the night and not wake us, did you?"
Frodo looked unconvinced, and Pippin hurried on, "Well, not without waking Merry, at any rate."
Frodo threw up his hands in mock-surrender. "Very well, very well, my dear friends and cousins! You need say no more." They are united in this, I see. I did stay up far later than I intended. Odd how enjoyable it felt to write so on a subject I would normally consider unpleasant or painful.
Merry and Sam consulted each other with a glance. "Then you will join us in our walk to the Markets today" Merry asked.
Frodo laughed. "Indeed. Shall I say it again, or will you take my word on it"
"Some sun and fresh air will do you good, Mr. Frodo" Sam said.
The City was abuzz with the re-opening of the Great Market of Minas Tirith. People filled the streets, and all seemed to be walking down, to the gates and outside. The sun was high, and the air clear, and the hobbits joined the stream of walkers. There was a holiday feeling, and talk and snatches of song filled the air. If Frodo closed his eyes, almost he could imagine himself at a Shire-fair, hearing high children's voices, and their parent's scolding, women gossiping and laughing. The thought brought a sharp pang of homesickness, and along with it wonderment that he could be homesick. I never thought to see the Shire again, and now I am through the dark water and into the light. Almost I can savor the feeling, because for the first time, I can anticipate its relief.
When they came to the gate at last, the sight of the Market stopped them. It stretched across the Pelennor, before the City walls, and to one side of the great road. The tents, stalls, and wagons were a multitude of bright colors, with flags and bunting draped over every available surface. The noise of it was immense, far outmatching a market day in the Shire. Thousands of voices haggling, yelling, singing, and shouting at passers-by.
Sam's eyes were huge as he tried to see everywhere at once. "I never dreamed there were this many Big People in the world"
Frodo laughed. "Nor did I, but we should have guessed it after exploring the City. Perhaps all those empty houses will soon be full again"
"Something smells good," Pippin said, sniffing appreciatively.
"Which something do you mean, Pip?" Frodo asked. "I smell roasting meat, cider, pastry, ale and sweets all at once."
"It's wonderful!" Pippin said. "I want to try all of them. Look over there." Pip gestured to where an old woman with a black headscarf stood beside her laden wagon. Before her was a plank set across two barrels, and on the plank was an assortment of golden pastries.
"Filled rolls!" Sam said.
Frodo looked at him, laughing. "Ah, Pippin you have hit upon one of Sam's weaknesses: a good pastry. I remember Bilbo remarking on it. It might have been cause for some difficulties once or twice."
"Bilbo is quite fond of pastry himself," Merry agreed.
Sam pushed forward until he stood before the old woman. "Good morrow, madam. What's in those rolls"
She looked at him curiously, but answered politely enough. "Meat and onions here, and dried fruits in these: apple and plum. And I have fresh eggs, butter, and some good salt meat for sale. There ain't anyone here with fresher, I vow."
The others had caught up to him and also heard her words. Pippin's eyes lit up. "Fruit rolls, Merry, did you hear that? I haven't had anything like that in ever so long."
"How much for a roll, Missus?" Merry asked.
She winked at him. "Me name's Melathe, and for you handsome boys, only a copper apiece."
Pippin looked stunned. "I don't have any money" He looked around in appeal. "Merry, Frodo, do you have any money"
Frodo shook his head. "I lost all of mine long ago. And what fools we are, to come to a market without money!" In truth, it did not bother him that much. He was content to look and walk, enjoying the sight of the Big People around him. These people were more like those of the Shire or of Bree than any he had encountered so far, he realized. Not so high and noble as Aragorn and Faramir, nor so grand: simple folk with simple concerns, who now had the chance to live out their small lives in peace.
Sam lifted a small pouch out of his shirt, and opened it. "That's not so, Mr. Frodo, not meaning to contradict you. I found your money scattered in your pack back in Rivendell, and I've kept it safe for you. It's Shire coinage, though."
The dame frowned. "Shire coins? What manner of money be that?"
Merry said cheerfully, "I don't think Shire money will help, Sam. Pippin, didn't you ever pick up your pay"
"I get paid?" Pippin said. He looked astonished.
Merry brought out a small purse, stamped with a horse in full gallop. "What of the coins of Rohan, good woman? I was told they match the weight of Gondor."
She nodded, looking relieved. "That they do, young one. The horse-masters' money spends fine in Gondor." Merry handed her four small coppers and she scrutinized them closely before nodding. All smiles, she pushed the board of pastries closer, and they each picked one.
Pippin immediately bit into his, and the juices smeared onto his face. "Mmmmm"
Melathe watched him, smiling. "I like to see a lad eat hearty, of my wares. Surely you little ones ain't here alone? Or are you with a show? That, I'd like to see."
Pippin's mouth fell open, releasing a shower of crumbs. "A show? What do you mean? Oh"
Sam looked as if he were not sure whether to be offended for Frodo's sake, or his own. Frodo knew he took pride in the solid respectability of the Gamgees, and to be taken for traveling players, who were commonly thought no better than vagabonds or thieves! Frodo was amused by the mistake, and Pippin and Merry, Frodo noticed, were downright delighted.
Sam said"Ma'am, we're no part of no traveling show. Why, Mr. Frodo here is—"
Frodo touched his arm, "Wait, Sam." Sam subsided, and Frodo continued"Madam, we're Halflings who have traveled from over the Mountains to Rohan and Gondor. Now we are visiting for a time in Minas Tirith. In our own land, everyone is our size."
The woman looked amazed. "Halflings! Well, I never. You say there's a whole land of little people over the mountains? Why, it's like something out of a story"
"Thank you, madam, but I assure you it is quite true."
"Oh, I believe you, I believe you" she said. "I did wonder how that one there" she pointed to Pippin"got that garb, truth to tell. The Guards, they don't take kindly to any making fun o' them. They'd have that off you in a quick minute if you hadn't a right to it."
Pippin smoothed down his tunic, and grinned. "Lord Denethor took my oath himself"
The woman exclaimed again. "That song about the Halfling prince is true, then? And think I told my youngest it was just a fairy story. Those City folks got too much empty time, I said, thinking up fancies like that. Princes at my stall!" She turned thoughtful. "I'm thinking perhaps I should give you your money back, uh, my lords. I didn't know who you were before."
Merry took over. "Not at all, my good Melathe. Our land is a quiet, homey place, where good food is greatly prized. Were you to come to the Shire, folk would stand in line to taste these delicious rolls. No, good dame, keep that money. You deserve it."
She wiped her hands on her apron, and blushed. "Why, thank you, sir. You're as generous and fair-spoken as a prince should be, I vow"
They said farewell to her, and she curtsied awkwardly. When they had put some distance between themselves and her stall, Pippin burst out laughing. "The look on your face when she curtsied, Sam! I thought you would choke."
"It's not funny, Mr. Pippin" Sam said. "A plain honest Gamgee's got no right to be taking on airs to good folk. Princes indeed! Mr. Merry ought to be ashamed of himself."
"We're not going to be able to correct the misperceptions of the entire Market, Sam. There's too many of them: too many misperceptions and too many Big People. We paid a fair price" Merry pointed out.
"Besides, Sam, think how much she'll enjoy telling everyone what Merry said about her cooking" Pippin added. "She'll probably sell everything she has before the day is out!"
Sam frowned, but had to admit the truth of this, and the four went on companionably. The Market stalls and booths stretched on and on, seemingly endlessly. They stopped to watch a minstrel sing "The King and the Steward." The minstrel accompanied himself on a small lute, singing of Aragorn's healing of Faramir. Pippin was much taken with the song, his eyes fixed on the minstrel's face.
"Faramir!" The minstrel cried, speaking as Aragorn. "Thy people have need of thee! Thy king has need of thee! Depart the dark places where the shadows lie deep. Return to the White City, beloved of it and by thee!"
The audience shifted and muttered, stirred by the ringing lyrics. "Faramir," whispered the people around them. A stout woman near them wiped tears from her eyes with her veil. Frodo watched her circumspectly, seeing the much-mended dress, and worn face. Just a common woman of the City, who likely had only seen Faramir from afar, as he traveled back and forth through the City, yet to her he was the heart of the City, her own hero to take pride in, born and bred here. Likely she had known of him since his birth, and followed the growth of the boy into the man, wept when the news came of Boromir's death, and looked forward to Faramir's wedding. Faramir had not only led his men, but been a symbol for the people, as well. All this devotion and expectation upon Faramir, and he had borne it so well, so honorably. Frodo was filled with new respect for the quiet, far-seeing Man.
Several verses about the King's coronation and the gifting of Ilthilien concluded the song. The minstrel finished with a final clear chord, and looked up expectantly. The crowd stamped their feet and whistled, throwing coins of copper and silver.
"Hurrah for Faramir!" Pippin cried. He seized two coins from Merry's purse and tossed them onto the growing pile. Merry took the purse back firmly.
Pippin grinned, unrepentant, eyes sparkling. "Merry, it was worth it! And nearly all of it was true"
The minstrel was taking bows and gathering his wages. A faint unease awoke in Frodo. What was the next song to be? "The Market of Gondor!" a hearty man cried. The crowd took up the chant. "The Market of Gondor!" The minstrel sipped some wine and began a rollicking tune about the wares to be found in the Market like no other. Frodo was soon lost in the long lists of wares, but some of them appeared to have some additional meaning to the crowd, who laughed and cheered. "And take a slice from that cut loaf, for it will not be missed!"
Pippin grew impatient, so the hobbits began threading through the press of people until they were free.
They turned into a long causeway of booths and stalls, and passed a booth selling ribbons and other lovers' tokens. "Pretties for your lady-love, will soften the hardest heart" called the stall-keeper. He pointed to Sam. "You there, boy! Get a ribbon for your mother or your girl! Show how much you love her"
Sam cast a longing look at the wares, and then dropped his eyes and shook his head.
Frodo and the others stopped. "Go on, Sam" Frodo urged. "Have a look if you like." He picked up a dark blue ribbon adorned with glass beads. "This is lovely." Sam spared barely a glance for the ribbon in Frodo's hand. He reached out one finger to gently stroke a silver pin, cunningly shaped into a small rose.
Merry grinned and nudged Frodo. "I think me Sam has found what he wants, Frodo."
Frodo was surprised, and looked more closely at the small pin. That was no token to be given casually. Was there some girl Sam fancied? He remembered that the Cotton family was close to the Gamgees and they had several daughters. Odd that he had never even considered that before, but of course, Sam must marry, nearly all hobbits married. I will not, though, as changed and damaged by the Quest as I am. He felt inexplicably saddened. And Sam may not find that it is not as easy to go back as he believes; we are all much changed. But no matter whether or not Sam marries, he shall never lack for a home at Bag End.
The merchant started up, and slapped Sam's hand smartly. "Ho, boy, hands off! That is too rich for the likes of you" Sam jerked his hand back, a shamed flush staining his cheeks.
Pippin flung back his cloak, and addressed the man. "We are not boys, good sir, but Halflings, the companions of the King."
The merchant gaped at the tree of Gondor, the silver threads glinting in the sunlight. Merry bowed. "We are pleased to make your acquaintance, merchant."
The man stared hard at each of them, lastly at Frodo with the ribbon still in his outstretched hand. The merchant's small deep-set eyes widened. "Is it Nine-Fingered Frodo then" he exclaimed. Frodo said nothing, but laid the ribbon down and tucked his hand beneath his cloak, stepped away from the table.
The man's eyes gleamed. "Forgive my rude speech, young sirs. I meant no offense. Here, look at the rose, master." Sam nodded shortly, and the merchant boldly took his arm, pressing the trinket into the his hand. "Feel the quality, sir, the weight! It is of dwarf make. Flawless, is it not? Only ten silvers."
"Ten!" Merry's sense of offense was renewed. "Outrageous! One would be more than fair."
"Master Halfling, I pray you have pity on a poor man with a family to support. Eight silvers, but no less"
Sam backed away from the table so hastily he stumbled. He grabbed Frodo's arm, and hissed urgently"Mr. Frodo, stop him! I don't have any silvers"
"My dear Sam, I would pour silvers into your hands, if you would but accept it."
"Two silvers, but only because it is of dwarf make, and we are dear friends with a dwarf" Merry continued briskly with the haggling.
The merchant seemed extraordinarily nonplussed by this statement, and ostentatiously examined the pin again. "My aged eyes fail! Woe is me" he cried. "This is not the pin of dwarf make. This pin is of elven make, thus even more valuable than ten silvers. But as started, so done; seven silvers for the companions of our good King."
"I couldn't take that, Mr. Frodo" Sam said. "I was just doin' my job. It wouldn't be right to expect more than the satisfaction of giving good service with a fair wage. Why, my old gaffer'd box my ears for it."
Merry turned innocently to Pippin. "Pip, have you seen our companion, the elf-Prince of Mirkwood? I believe he planned to meet us."
The merchant paled under his tan.
Frodo chuckled softly. "Wait, until you see the results of Merry's bargaining. That pin is of neither dwarf nor elven make." It seemed to Frodo as he watched the pin moving through the air in the merchant's hand, that a picture came to him of an old man, smiling with pride as he removed the rose from a basin.
Sam looked shocked. "It's not"
"It is well-made, nonetheless, Sam," Frodo murmured. His eyes were tired suddenly, as he had just awoken. "Well-made, and beautiful."
"Three silvers for the Halfling prince!" The merchant blurted. "Now that I think on it, I would be honored beyond my due that my wares should travel to so far and exotic a land."
"Done!" Merry said, and paid him.
He picked it up and handed it to Sam. Sam looked from the pin to the others' smiling faces. "I can't—"
Frodo clapped his shoulder. "I absolutely insist, my dear Sam, and I will have no argument. Do I make myself plain"
"Don't you owe Sam a year's back wages anyway, Frodo?" Merry asked innocently.
Frodo poked Merry in the shoulder. "No interference in my affairs, thank you, Master Brandybuck." Sam heard none of the banter, staring with shining eyes at the small pin in his calloused hand.
They continued on their way in good cheer, but soon noted a change in the people around them. Where before persons had looked at them and then quickly away, as men will at sight of a cripple or other misfortunate soul, now they stared freely, pointing and whispering. Pippin and Merry took no notice, but Frodo pulled his cloak forward until it shrouded him from shoulders to knees. Sam, watching his master anxiously, noted the care with which he kept his bandaged hand hidden. Despite this precaution, soon the bolder merchants were calling out to them.
"Here, ernil a perianntha"
"Nine-fingered one"
"A special price for the companions of King Elessar"
"Try me ale, little masters, one free mug for you"
Everywhere Frodo looked, smiling faces were beaming at him, mugs were raised, and goods pressed forward. He lowered his head, and hunched his shoulders, to escape the weight of their collective gazes. The air grew warm as the sun sailed higher, and the noise and the smells of the Market pressed upon him uncomfortably.
"Just how far are you planning on walking, Mr. Merry?" Sam complained, in a good-natured tone of voice. "Not all o' us has legs as long as yours. And it's fair warmed up, too."
Merry turned and took in Sam and Frodo's demeanor in a glance, reading, as well, the unspoken appeal in Sam's look. "Sam is right, Pippin" he said. "This is almost too much to take in. Let's don't go further in, but skirt around the edges and back to the gate."
They did so, and found relief from the crowds of people on the outskirts of the great Market, where the stalls were placed farther apart, some looking toward the Road and some to the Market's center. In these quiet spaces, people who had traveled far to the market had room to rest and take refreshment, and children ran about under their mothers' watchful eyes. These Big People paid scant attention to four small hobbits.
Frodo put his hood back from his face, and joined in the talk, merry again. The hobbits bought a joint of roast mutton, and mugs of fine nut-brown ale, and fell to with appetite, sitting in the shade of a great wagon. When they finished, and began walking again to the gate, they stopped for new-baked crusty bread, paired with slices of sharp yellow cheese, and cider. A few stalls on, and they sampled apples, painted with honey and roasted on a stick, and a style of drink made from a tart yellow fruit none of them had ever seen before. In this manner, they passed slowly back toward the City, arriving later than expected, but quite full and contented.
At the house of white stone were Legolas and Gimli, preparing to leave. "There you are!" Gimli cried. "We wondered where you were. You are off the mark ahead of us once again, it seems: eating your way through Gondor's famous Market."
Legolas laughed. "Join us on another foray, friends. The City celebrates today; the return of those who fled, and the re-opening of the Market produce hope and joy in all hearts."
"Even in that of a grim dwarf" Gimli said.
Merry and Pippin were much enamored of the idea and begged Frodo and Sam to join them, but Frodo refused, and Sam echoed him.
Merry hesitated at the door, and Frodo pushed him out, laughing. "Your appetite has grown to match your height, I see! But I could not eat another bite, and my room calls sweeter than any ale. Sam and I will rest, and be all the fresher for supper."
TBC
/Author's Note: "To take a slice off a cut loaf"
From the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue: to intrigue, especially with a married woman, for a slice from a cut loaf is not missed.