Mean What You Say 6
Merry was back in normal hobbit clothes. He had washed the spattered blood out of the front of his Rohan gear, and the dirt off of the back, and hung the garments up to dry in the little stone porch these city Men called a garden. He had washed his face and hands before leaving the well by the abandoned house with Pippin this morning. He let out a sigh of relief as he finished buttoning the cuffs of his white shirt. He had not wanted to be covered in blood spray when Frodo and Sam came back to the hobbit guesthouse from wherever they had gone. They would have demanded explanations.
When he and Pippin had come back here, the first order of business, of course, had been lunch. But Merry had started the laundry as soon as Pippin went off to the palace. Now there was nothing to do but wait for the return of the other hobbits. Wait, and think. Merry did not really want to be alone with his thoughts. He kept thinking about his father, and the Show. So far he had come up with a dozen better ways he could have dealt with it, if he had known then what he knew now. If he had been as smart—and as courageous-- as everyone seemed to think he was.
Everyone around here, members of the Fellowship and strangers alike, gave him credit for helping to kill the Witch-King, the Lord of the Nazgul. Merry had actually heard himself mentioned in a song, and the brave warrior in the bard's rendition was a very different person indeed. All Merry had done was stab somebody from the back. In the back of the knee, in fact. He had never had to face his opponent. He had never really faced anybody, or anything.
Pippin, of all people, had turned out to be the brave one. Who would have guessed the lad who used to follow his older cousin around like a duckling, who would do anything Merry said, from 'go steal that pie' to 'strip and lie down for me', would grow up to lead a palace coup against the Lord of Minas Tirith. With Gandalf for his chief follower.
Merry shifted uncomfortably. He wondered how Pippin was doing, and if he had found out what Aragorn's orders this morning had been all about. He was just getting up to get some pipe-weed to keep him company, when Pippin returned. Merry bounced to his feet. "Pippin! Are you alright? What's the news? Are you hungry?"
Pippin grinned. "I'm always hungry."
Merry poured tea and arranged pastries on plates for the two of them. Merry sat down, but Pippin eyed the chair with distaste and remained standing. "So did you find out what that was about, then?"
"Some kind of complicated political thing," Pippin said, making a whooshing-over-my-head gesture. "I gather it was a miscommunication, although Aragorn was too polite to tell me so, after all the trouble you and I went to."
Merry's face drained. "You mean, he—"
"Had actually intended to fake up some imitation marks. Oh, but it was worth it, Merry! You should have seen Oortowe's face!" Pippin snickered.
"Who?"
"This was all about pulling a prank on this foreign fellow. He nearly tossed his cookies right there in Aragorn's study!"
"A prank?!"
"Oh Merry, it was the best prank I've helped pull all year. I wish you could have seen it! I nearly laughed out loud, but that would have spoiled the effect, and I managed to choke it off."
"Aragorn plays pranks?"
"Well, there was some kind of elaborate game going on, between Gondor and Harad I guess, and the prize is no doubt deadly serious, but basically, yes. This kind of prank scores points in the game."
Merry shook his head. "That sounds strange."
"Strange but fun." Then Pippin's smile faded. "But then Faramir stumbled into the middle of it. He took off like a greyhound, and I can't find him. I went to his apartments, but I don't know if he was in there and just not answering, or if he's off someplace where I didn't think to look, but in any case he'll go back there eventually. I want to be waiting for him when he does. But I need your help, Merry. All the ground floor windows face onto the drop over the city wall."
"Pip, I'm no second-story lad. You're by far the more accomplished thief."
"True, but I'd never get far without my lookout. This is not like breaking into Sandyman's Mill, Merry. If I get caught trying to sneak in the window of the city's Lord Steward, I'll need an official pardon from the King just to keep my life. And that won't help if somebody's already shot me."
"No way, Pippin. If it's that dangerous, you can just wait for Faramir outside like his own Men would. I've already let you talk me into one bad idea today, that proved completely unnecessary. I'm not going to let you risk your life."
"But Merry—"
"That's final. I'll tie you to a chair if I have to."
Pippin winced. "Oh, not sitting down, please."
"Alright then, I'll tie you to your bed, would that make you happy?"
Pippin giggled. "Very happy, if you're in it with me."
Merry closed his eyes for a moment and sighed in irritation. When he opened them again, he said, "That's NOT what I meant. And you know it."
Pippin winked. "Still, a pretty picture." Then his expression became serious again. "But Faramir. He doesn't know what's going on, and I have to find him and let him in on the joke before he does something rash."
"I'll come with you, but I'm not helping you burgle his house."
"You're no fun anymore, Merry." But Pippin said it with a smirk.
End of Part 6