Mean What You Say 8

"This is the same street we walked down this morning," Pippin commented quietly.

"Pippin, are you alright, really?"

"I'm fine, Merry. Aragorn gave me the athelas treatment. It barely twinges when I move, now, that's it."

"And, are you alright, in, um… I don't know about you, Pippin, but I can't stop thinking about the Show. I ignored it for so long. We didn't speak of it, it was almost like a bad dream, that fades when we've awoken. I literally hadn't thought of it in years."

"Neither had I."

There was a lull in the conversation, as they passed a group of Men clattering up the stone street with a handcart.

"When we go home, I'm going to wring my father's neck."

"Oh, now, Merry, no hobbit has ever killed another on purpose. We've gotten used to the ways of war out here on our journey, and I do hope we'll both keep the courage we've found, but—"

"Sure they have."

"Sure who have what?" Pippin asked.

"A hobbit has so strangled another hobbit."

"You mean Gollum?! Merry, you don't want to be like him, surely!"

Merry sighed. "I guess not." They turned the corner under the gate. "I was older, I should have protected you."

"You did. Mostly."

"Why didn't we tell anyone? Not many people in the Shire could gainsay the will of the Master of Buckland, but the Thain is one of them. We should have gone to your father. Why didn't we ever think of it?"

"I did think of it, Merry. And you know what I thought of, when I thought of it? The Sackville-Bagginses."

"What? What do they have to do with this?"

"I knew what feud meant, Merry."

"Oh. Alright, so it might have started a feud, if your father had tried to shield me from mine, but it would have been better for us, anyway."

"No, Merry. I didn't think my father would start one over you. He would have protected me, certainly. But I was afraid he'd protect me by not letting me see you anymore."

Merry stood still, and stopped Pippin with a hand on his arm. "Pippin."

"No, it wasn't all just for you," Pippin said. "I was afraid he'd think the only way to keep me from sneaking off to Buckland to play with you would be to lock me in the Great Smials and not let me outside 'til my coming of age. In which case, I'd still be there right now."

Merry grinned. "Think of that. All the things you'd have missed out on: being pursued by black horsemen, sleeping in the same clothes for a year, wolves, snow, mosquitoes, getting a guided tour of an orc battalion, not to mention lifting your very rarest steal, only seven ever made, wasn't it?"

"Merry." Pippin shoved him, and not playfully. The palantir was not a subject about which Pippin could jest. Even hobbit good humor had its limits.

"Sorry."

Pippin started off down the street again, and Merry caught up and walked alongside him. "There's Faramir's townhouse. There aren't any lights in the windows. Maybe he's not home yet." Pippin knocked on the door and shouted, but no one answered. Pippin looked up at the second floor window. "Bet I could scale that wall."

Merry grabbed the tail of Pippin's uniform tunic and held on with both hands. "You try it, and I'll rip your favorite shirt."

Pippin laughed. "Oi! What a terrible threat! I surrender."

"Shall we smoke while we wait?" Merry asked, letting Pippin go.

"A most excellent idea. What better way for knights of Gondor and Rohan to pass the time, than to enjoy the spoils of our most peculiar victory. No one at home will believe it, the woods coming to battle."

Merry's expression turned serious as he packed his pipe and handed the weed to Pippin. "I expect no one at home will believe most of what we could tell them, or understand it even if they did believe it. It'll be just another shivery tale, like Bilbo and the dragon. I wonder now, just how funny that really was at the time."

"We'll have to ask him," said Pippin. "And now that I've fought a few trolls myself, that story of his about the trolls doesn't seem such a charming adventure, either."

"Adventure," snorted Merry. "Adventure is mostly being cold and hungry a lot."

"In between the parts where I just try not to wet myself," said Pippin. "Ah! There's Faramir!" Pippin ran to him and took his hand. "Faramir, thank goodness I found you! Let us in, I have to tell you about this morning, it wasn't what it looked like."

"I have heard that already," replied Faramir, pulling his hand out of Pippin's so he could unlock his door. "But I would very much like to hear your version, to see how significantly it differs from his majesty's perspective." Faramir gestured the hobbits inside. "Please, sit."

Merry flopped into an overstuffed chair much too big for a hobbit, but Pippin gingerly lay on his side across an ottoman, propping his head up on his hand. "Have you got anything to eat in here?" Pippin asked.

"I do indeed, and to drink also." In a minute Faramir returned with food for his guests, built up the fire against the chill of the spring evening, and sat on a divan. "Now, let us have the round tale."

Pippin began…

The End.