The hobbit and the girl looked at each other shyly, honey-brown eyes gazing steadily into sable. At last Merry smiled easily, and brought his pipe to his lips.
"Well," he said brightly, blowing a stream of smoke towards the pale sky, "I hadn't thought to find anyone this close to my size around here, but there have been bigger surprises on this journey. How on earth did you end up looking like that?"
The two of them were seated in a small green garden by a low wall overlooking the Fields, with the Halfling swinging his short legs on a stone bench, and Hathel reclining comfortably on a plush, wheeled chair. Now as Merry grinned good-naturedly at her and eyed her heavy bandages and the little cuts on her face, she found her lips twitch into a shy smile.
"I fell off my horse," she told him, somewhat truthfully.
"And the horse then ripped you open and sat on your leg?" asked Merry skeptically, eyebrows quirked. "Must have been a vicious beast," he continued when she did not reply. "I hadn't thought the Rohirrim allowed such behavior from their steeds, but there's a bad egg in every stable, I suppose. " He gave her a shrewd look, and she found her smile growing until it was wide and genuine, and the shadows of old dimples appeared in her cheeks.
"No, he was a good horse, he did not mean for me to fall," she conceded. "But I broke my leg on the way down, I think, and the rest came soon after."
Merry blew a smoke ring and stared at her more avidly than ever, his amber eyes raking her face and short curls, taking in her thin fingers and bony wrists and the hollowness of her once-round cheeks. Then he said, humor gone and pity apparent in his voice, "How did you get here?"
Hathel felt heat rise in her pale cheeks, and she cast her eyes away from him, feeling suddenly ashamed of her ill-kept appearance for the first time since she had set eyes on Legolas.
"It was an accident," she said evasively, "I never really thought I'd make it. You rode with the Lady Eowyn?" she added quickly, looking back at him. He nodded, though her short answer had clearly not abated his curiosity.
"Only I didn't know it was her until the end," he said matter-of-factly, "Though I daresay it was for the best. I don't know what I would have done if I had known. Would've been a strain on the nerves, if nothing else." He chuckled to himself, and then looked at her appraisingly again, and grew serious. " Now let me propose an arrangement, because I haven't got anything to do, and it doesn't seem like you do either, and we're fit company for each other at least in the aspect of height."
Hathel smiled again. Merry continued, "Tell me how you ended up here, and all cut up like that, because it looks like a good story, if nothing else, and I'm fairly sure that it isn't normal for young girls to go to war, even in Rohan. And then I'll tell you how I got here, and I know for certain that's a tale to be proud of."
Hathel was silent. There were memories lurking in her head that she did not think about, that she did not want to think about, and she felt it would be a great and terrible effort to drag them up out of the depths of her thoughts to put them into words for a stranger, and through him be forced to relive them. There were things she had done that she had barred from her mind, because she knew that when looked at in the light of day, such things were beyond horrible. She considered, and her dark eyes went hollow, and she stared past Merry's waiting face into memories that she kept under lock and key.
But then the Halfling spoke, and it was with gentleness and understanding that he said, startling her from her internal struggle, "War leaves marks on everyone, and rarely the good kind, I think. I left home without knowing the greatness and grandeur and terror into which I was heading, and I have been changed forever by it, though I can't say whether or not for the better. But it was a long road from that to this, and I've seen some things I'd rather forget, and I can tell you have too – you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But for my part I've told my tale already, to friends after a parting, and I found it helped to talk of it. And now it has advanced a bit and there's more to say, and not all good, and I think it might help me again, so even if you'd rather keep silent, then I want to tell you how Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire, only a hobbit, ended up here in the City of Kings. You might find a bigger picture, as Bilbo sometimes says, and that can be comforting."
Hathel listened, and felt her heart stir and go out to this little strange creature, so candid and kind. He looked at her frankly, awaiting an answer, and in his plain hobbit face she thought, for an instant, she saw something very beautiful. So she sighed, and smiled, and said, "Merry Brandybuck of the Shire: only a hobbit, and so very wise. I'd love to hear your tale, and I will try to tell you mine."
Merry beamed at her, and puffed on his pipe, and then as an act of goodwill, began his story first, speaking of a sunny day in the Shire when he spotted old Bilbo Baggins suddenly disappear into thin air.
He spoke for hours, of screams in the night and Riders in black, of Rangers who were Kings and Elf-lords in hidden green valleys, of councils and valiant men, and of three whom he loved very dearly, Frodo and Pippin and Sam; and of great Wizards who battled Balrogs only to return unlooked for in the woods. He told her of silver trees with golden leaves, and Elves that lived high above the ground in their branches, and of Elf-Ladies so old that their eyes were terrible and bottomless as the reeling night sky but whose faces were beyond the beauty of this world.
Then his voice became low and sad, and he spoke of temptation and the fall of the great, and men who were slain by many arrows as they fought to protect those who could not help themselves, and he told of a terrible run through the plains, spurred on by Orcs and threatened by torment and death. But he emerged from that into a happier tone, and laughed as he told her of Ents and Entwives and the reason he was so very tall (for a hobbit, that is) and of the fall of Isenguard and the reunion of old friends, and of King Theoden, whom he had loved very much.
Then his story began to draw to a close as the day cooled and the sun moved towards the west, and he spoke dully of a terrible battle, in which he was bewildered and lost and afraid. But Hathel listened in amazement and heart-wrenching sorrow, for she learned that the little creature before her, smoking his pipe and swinging his feet, had wrought the downfall of the Witch King with a single stab from his blade, and then she learned that the King of the Mark, whom she had met only briefly but loved a great deal for his kindness, was dead, and tears trickled down her face. And Merry fell silent, into thought.
Hathel was too awed to speak. She sniffled and dabbed at her face, and stared in blatant amazement at Merry, who looked like the last person in the world to have been involved in such doings. And she thought of another hobbit, who must look very like this one, winding his way through Mordor with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Merry, I think hobbits must be the most valiant of all people," she said at last. "You've moved me to tears, but I can't tell you how much I admire you and your kinsmen and all you've done. I never even knew hobbits existed, and here you are bearing all the hopes of Middle-earth in your hands."
Merry jolted out of his reverie, and shrugged. "Well, thank you very much, but I wouldn't go that far. It's just one hobbit, really, and it could've been anyone, but old Bilbo just happened to be the one to find the Ring. And anyways, it might not come to anything now." He looked to the east sadly. "Poor Frodo, and dear old Sam," he said softly.
They sat together in companionable silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts, but the shadows were growing long and Merry at last turned back to Hathel.
"Now it's your turn," he said cheerfully. "Goodness, I don't know when the last time was I went so long willingly without a meal. Next time you see one of those healers, give a shout. It's high time they brought us something to snack on."
Hathel's grin was faint. Now that it came to it, she wasn't sure she wanted to begin her story. But Merry was right, and she realized now, more than ever before, that she was just one person affected by this sweeping tide of War, and her tale was just one of very, very many. She leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply, and cast her thoughts far back to before she understood what death meant. Then she forced the words from her lips, and began.
"I was born in a village in the far East of Rohan," she said quietly. "And nothing ever happened out of the ordinary, or if it did I was too young to notice. I never saw the evil coming, until it did. I didn't know that War was brewing. I didn't know anything outside of my daily life. But one day I was out with the sheep, far out on the plains, with five other children. We were playing as we watched the herds, and paying little mind to anything else. But then we saw smoke in the distance, rising from our home, which we could not see, but which we knew must be burning…"
She told him hollowly of returning to find the village burnt to the ground, all those within dead or missing, and the horses fled. She recalled the nausea swamping her senses as she looked at the bodies strewn about the wreckage, and told him how she had vomited, unable to contain her horror.
"But I knew we couldn't stay," she said. "The others were looking for their parents, but I didn't want to find mine, to see them dead. I found some weapons and took them, just in case, though to this day I do not know how to use them, and then took the clothes off a young boy. I had heard what wild-men and Orcs did to young girls if they caught them, and I was afraid. I cut off my hair. I decided I would no longer be Hathel, but Hathas. Like my brother, whom I never found. And I would survive if I could."
Merry's face was drawn and grim, and he looked like he might halt her in her tale, but now she had begun she couldn't stop. She told him of how the surviving children had wandered for weeks on the plain, surviving on roots and rabbits and always moving, always heading for where they knew there was a town, but always finding it too late and receiving a graveyard instead of a warm welcome. Then she gathered all her will and told him of the evening she went out alone away from their camp to find medicinal herbs for one of the boys who had cut himself on his father's dagger, which he did not know how to wield.
"I heard them before they saw me, but I wasn't fast enough to run away, and not strong enough to fight, nor clever enough to hide where there was no shelter but grass. They caught me. A band of huge black Orcs, and I was too afraid to breathe. Worse than death, I thought of what they'd do if they discovered I was not a boy… And there were so many of them…"
She told the hobbit, in the barest of terms and with the littlest detail possible, how she had led the Orcs to her camp for them to feast on her companions, and promised to get them more, if they just let her live.
Speaking of the past dulled Hathel to the present, and soon words were falling from her lips without her hearing them, and her eyes grew blank and withdrawn, and she spoke dully, for in her head she was far away. Weeks passed in her memory, and she lived them, remembering every minute and every sensation.
"After a while I stopped fearing they'd kill me. I had gotten too skinny and tough and dirty for them to want, and I did well for them… I had to, I was so afraid. I did very well for them… I don't know how many towns I led them to, and let them into. I just wanted to live. All I wanted was to live.
"And one day they told me they were not interested in plundering anymore, and I thought they would at last let me go, but they brought me to Isengard, and handed me over to the Wizard. He saw I was weak and terrified and far from noble. He made me believe Rohan was going to fall, fast and soon and terribly, but told me I could escape its ruin if I did this one favor for him, and went with the King to Helm's Deep. He wanted me to send him messages, through his crows – I hate crows, they're vicious birds – of what people were saying and doing. And if I could he wanted me to poison them. The King and Aragorn, I mean. His voice… I could not refuse. I thought it was all true, and it was my only way to survive, and maybe be happy afterwards, if I pleased him. I see now he didn't care if I succeeded or failed or lived or died, he only wanted to use me for as long as he could, for whatever little use I could be to him. I would never have gotten any reward.
"But then," she breathed, and a small hazy smile graced her lips, "I saw an Elf. I hadn't known they were real… and he was beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen…"
Merry was now smiling as well, and nodding as if he understood, as she spoke of Legolas and his kindness to the little boy who began to follow him, awed, and of her adoration for him because of it.
"I started ignoring the crows. I did not want any harm to come to him. At Helm's Deep I kept myself from running."
At last she finished her tale, telling in a rush her despair after Legolas left her for the Paths of the Dead and of her desire to go to battle and see him a last time, or die in the attempt. She described her sudden horror at her decision when she beheld the besieged city of Minas Tirith, and finally told of her wild fall from her horse as it was driven mad with fear at the sight of the mumakil, and how she played dead on the ground after an Orc tore open her side with his blade as she tried to flee.
"I thought I had died when Legolas found me. But somehow I'm still here, after all of it. I don't know what happens next. But I know my name is Hathel, not Hathas, and I am only a peasant girl and I do not belong here, where the world's fate will be decided. I should have died months ago, but I was too foolish to see it."
A breeze swept the courtyard, and Hathel found her cheeks were cold and wet. She had not known she was crying. But she was, and the tears were falling hot and thick down from her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, and then found with no small amount of surprise that she felt lighter and calmer than she had in months. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her stooped shoulders, made less horrible by the act of sharing it, and now she looked about her at the rustling leaves of the trees in the gloaming, and at the lights of the Houses through the shadows, and she felt she could sleep easily, without the aid of drugs for dreamless sleep, for the first time in nigh on a year.
She turned to Merry and smiled. He was looking at her intently, though not with pity.
"I believe I've seen the bigger picture, Merry," she said. The hobbit took her hand in his little warm ones.
"We're the same height, or just about, you and I," he said. "But you're ever so much younger. Just a child still, I deem. We both never expected anything like this to happen, and I'm sure nobody who could've guessed would've thought we'd survive. A hobbit and a young girl. Unlikeliest of adventurers! But here we are, against all odds, and that is a comforting thought." He patted her hand gently and sighed. "Gandalf once said there are greater forces in this world than evil. Maybe that's why we're here, you and I."
And to herself, deep within in the warmest of her thoughts, she added another name to the list of people she loved with all the strength in her weary little heart: the hobbit of the Shire, little Merry Brandybuck.
Aw. I love Merry. Please review! I know this was a bit long and didn't really say anything new... but it was very fun to write, and fleshed out the story a bit, I think, and gave Hathel a brighter perspective on things. Legolas, Aragorn, and the rest should return next chapter.
Immense thanks to all those who left such kind reviews of the last chapter. I hope the story continues to please you all.
Oh, and note on heights. Haleth is actually taller than Merry, being fourteen, even if she is small for her age and malnourished. But she's the closest to his height that he's seen in a long while, so he keeps returning to it.
