Chapter Two: Tookland

The inns in Tookland had fared far better than those in Bywater, for the Thain had seen the Ruffians steered clear of his precious homeland. Still, the Tooks were as glad as any to see the Shire regain its former peace and they celebrated daily: or, more accurately, nightly. On this particular night, the Cat and Copper Inn was roaring with lively hobbits. Chief among them was the Thain's son, Peregrin Took.

"That's when Merry and I charged in," he was saying as a group of enthralled hobbits leaned forward eagerly. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, that is. Those Ruffians just about had Poor Farmer Cotton and his lads cornered, but we charged in and saved them in the knick of time."

The hobbits cheered. Pippin couldn't help but grin. While the unusual was still frowned upon in the Shire, word of Merry and Pippin's noble deeds was traveling around fast and they were earning a great deal of respect in all three Farthings. Already, his audience had heard of all his adventures in distant lands and his tale now neared an end with the Battle of Bywater that took place in the very Shire a mere month ago. He'd hurried through the first part too quickly, he decided, and now he had to be careful or he'd run out of stories before the night ended! He made up his mind to draw the rest out as slow as possible, blow by blow, savoring every second of it. "We came from the East and cut off any chance of escape. They charged us, those Ruffians, with their orc-blades and rusty axes. I nearly got nicked in the eye, but I rolled away just in time. This great big half orc came up to me with a nasty looking spear. I tell you, I'd have probably died of fright if I wasn't a Knight."

"What did you do?" asked a dreamy-eyed maiden.

"I slashed out with my sword and nicked his arm enough he dropped his weapon. We were refrained from killing them, remember, unless absolutely necessary. Those were Frodo's orders. Which was awfully kind of him, but surprisingly harder to accomplish than you'd think."

"Didn't Meridoc slay the leader?" asked another lass.

"He did indeed! An ugly old brute. If you ask me, Merry did him a favor putting him in the ground."

"He certainly did us a favor removing him from our sight," and old hobbit chimed in with a chuckle.

"What about the others?" A dark-haired hobbit called from the end of the bar. He stood away from the others, leaning against the counter in an old faded and stained jacket. His eyes were a muddied brown, with the left significantly larger than the right, making him look like he was constantly raising an eyebrow. "There were some awfully mean Ruffians about. Threw my poor Ma out and sampled all our gardens. What happened to them?"

"I'm sorry to hear that!" said Pippin. "But you needn't worry about them anymore. When my cousins and I returned, most of them fled. A great deal died at the Battle of Bywater and the rest were exiled under threat of death. Merry's been tracking down any stragglers."

"You wouldn't happen to remember a big burly chap?" the wonky-eyed hobbit asked. "Man with read hair and a scruffy beard? Walked with a bit of a limp. He caused me such trouble, I can't rest until I know he's dead."

"Red-haired, you say?" Pippin searched his memory. The description seemed vaguely familiar, though it all happened so quickly it was hard to say for certain. "That was likely Farmer Cotton," he ventured. "He killed half a dozen Ruffian's single handedly, you know. I tell you, he's tougher than he looks. His cousin, Barley, fought just as nobly. Barley was one of the first to die in battle. Shot with an arrow." His voice grew distant. He'd never met Barley, but the lad was barely older than he was, only recently come of age. It was a shame to see such a spirited young hobbit killed, especially here in the Shire!

He realized he'd fallen silent for the first time that night and cleared his throat. "Well now. Where was I? Ah, yes, so Merry and I rode up from the East—"

A gust of wind charged in. Startled, several of the guests jumped or gasped. The wonky-eyed hobbit stood at the door, wrapping his scarf around his neck, before plunging into the cold. The door slammed shut behind him.

A look of disgust crossed Pippin's face. It wasn't the sound or the jarring wind that brought it on, but the sight of the darkening sky. He hopped off the bar stool and stretched. "Sorry, friends, the best part will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. I must run off."

"Now?" The dreamy-eyed maiden asked. "But it's hardly nightfall."

"Do you think the Ruffians care what time it is? As much as I'd love to stay and chat, our boarders need protecting. Now, unless you'd rather ride about looking for orcs and half-orcs and what have you, then I suggest you let me be on my way. Good night!"

Pippin hurried out the door and onto his pony. The air was much cooler than he'd expected and he pulled his cloak tight around his mail shirt. Of course, he didn't actually plan on going in to battle, but he'd become accustomed to the garments. Besides, he wanted to keep up the pretense as long as possible. He couldn't let the others know the real reason he had to leave early. Really, the notion was ridiculous! Peregrin Took, Knight of Gondor, son of Thain Paladin II, was far too old to have a curfew.

He slouched as his pony carried him uphill. As glad as he was to be back in the Shire, he had his fair share of complaints. Having to rise for family breakfasts each morning, doing chores around the house, assisting his father with his affairs, and attending family gatherings was far more work than he'd anticipated. The fact that he had to be home before dark made it even more taxing. It was as if his parents were trying to make his life miserable. Usually, when he felt this way, he'd run off to visit Merry or Frodo, but he knew there would be no more running off. Not unless he really wanted to give his mother a heart attack.

In an attempt to delay his arrival home as long as possible, he slowed the pony to the slowest gait he could muster. From atop the hill, he could barely see the outline of his Great Smial twinkling in the distance. The servants would be lighting the lanterns now and his family would be preparing for supper. He imagined them sitting around the table in their fancy vests and velvet breeches talking about the price of pipe weed, the new trend in garden hedges, or some other trivial topic he couldn't care less about. He was just wondering whether or not he could fake an illness again (for the third time this week) when he caught a movement in the corner of his eyes. Someone was snaking their way through a field, heading towards Farmer Maggot's.

That's odd. He thought with a frown. Who'd be out wandering through a dead field at this time of night? Another figure approached the first from the opposite end of the field. The tall grasses parted as it moved between their blades, leaving a bent and darkened trail behind. Pippin pulled his pony to a halt behind an overgrown bush and leapt quietly from its back. He whispered for it to stay before hurrying off towards the figures.

Best be prepared for the worst, he thought, unsheathing his sword as he slunk towards the point where the two figures exchanged some secret lost in the wind. But what if they're just hobbits up to some harmless mischief? It wasn't long ago that Merry and I might have been out here with a sack full of stolen crops. Pippin sighed. Whoever they are, they're up to trouble, be it big or small. I'll either give them a fright or a fight, depending on the size.

He was just waiting to catch a bit of their conversation before charging in, when he heard a rustling come from yet another direction of the field. The two figures looked up, startled. One of them, the taller skinnier one who had crept from the opposite side of the field, caught sight of him and fled. The other, a short stout figure, spun around wildly before he too saw Pippin and fell to his knees with fright. "Oh, Mister Took!" he cried. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean any trouble, I swear!"

Pippin lowered his sword but did not sheath it. "Why, dear hobbit, should I think that you, alone in a field in the middle of the night, are up to trouble?"

The hobbit looked at him in confusion. He scratched his head, squinting as he thought for an answer. Pippin frowned, recognizing the hobbit as the wonky-eyed fellow from the bar. He was still trying to recall his name when the brush rustled at his side. He spun around and prepared to strike, but before he could raise his sword, Merry stepped out. "Pippin! What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Merry!" Pippin cried in delight. "Shouldn't you be catching Ruffians?"

"I am chasing Ruffians. I was trailing someone from Farmer Maggot's farm. He's been having trouble with his crops going missing and reckoned there were Ruffians to blame. You know how he is, always over reacting when it comes to his crops. I didn't give it much thought until I saw the thief tonight. It was a boy. A human boy. I didn't get a good look at him, but I saw him well enough to know he wasn't a hobbit. I was about to corner him, but I thought I'd follow him instead. See if he led me to any lingering Ruffians that might be hiding out. Only, he led me here and then you came and scared him away."

"Sorry, Merry. But we caught his companion, at least." Pippin sheathed his sword and turned to the cowering hobbit, placing a hand on his jacket. "Come along now, wonky-eyes. Tell us what this meeting was about and we might spare you some trouble."

The hobbit's eyes widened until they seemed to take up nearly half his face. With an unexpected surge of strength, he broke Pippin's grasp, turned and fled. He'd barely gone two feet before Merry slammed an elbow into the back of his head. The hobbit fell to the ground, unconscious.

Pippin frowned. His mind was racing. "Why did he do that? Why did he run, Merry?"

"Maybe because you had your sword out and pointed at him."

"But he's not a Ruffian. And he's not working with them. At least, I could swear this is the same hobbit I saw half an hour ago complaining about how much he hated the Ruffians."

"Perhaps that was a lie, a trick to throw you off track. Why else would he run?"

"I don't know. That's just what's bothering me! He ought to know we wouldn't send him to the lockholes for stealing a few crops."

Merry put a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Don't fret, Pip. We'll get this lad talking soon enough and the truth will fall into place. If he's tight lipped, we'll tell him we'll spare his life for his secrets."

"Spare him? But we don't kill hobbits, Merry. Not even if they're working with the Ruffians."

"I know." Merry picked up the limp hobbit. "But he doesn't, does he? Help me get him to the road."

"What'll happen then?"

"Then—" Merry groaned as he brushed against a thicket of briars. Adjusting his grip on the hobbit, he continued with more attention to where he was walking, "—You have a curfew to keep."

Pippin arrived home after dark. He hurried to the dinning room, trailing mud, and scrambled into a seat between his mother and youngest sister. Forcing a smile, he said as cheerfully as he could muster, "Ah, this looks lovely!" and reached for a sausage.

Paladin snatched the plate of meat before his son reached it. "It tastes even better. You'd know, if you'd been here half an hour ago like we asked."

Pippin groaned. "Sorry, Da. But I caught someone sneaking about. Merry suspects he's working with the Ruffians."

"Merry? That lad can do his job without you trailing around behind him. I thought I told you to be home by dark, no exceptions."

"Yes, but I didn't know Merry was there! I just saw this fellow being suspicious and I thought I best check it out, in case it did turn out to be something, which it did. Then, once I turned him over to Merry, I found my pony had run off and—"

"Peregrin Took, I'm starting to think you don't understand the meaning of the phrase 'no exceptions'."

Pippin fell silent. "Sorry, Da."

"Well now, since you apologized, I'm willing to overlook it this once. But the next time this happens, you're going to bed with out supper, is that clear?"

"If it happens again," his mother corrected.

"When." Paladin leaned back in his chair, returning the plate of sausages within his son's reach. "The lad's a Took. Trust me, it will happen again."

Pippin looked up and caught the faintest hints of a smile on his father's face. Surely he wasn't enjoying punishing him? He turned his gaze to the table and began stacking his plate with as much cheese and meat as it would hold. He then made a feeble attempt at conversation with his sisters over the best ales from each Farthing, but his words were brief and limited and he was far more silent than usual. To the others, it seemed he was stuck in a gloomy sulk, but they could not see his mind was racing. What side was the wonky-eyed hobbit on and who was he meeting? What were they discussing? Better yet, what were they planning? Oh, how he wished he'd overheard something before he ruined Merry's plan. Pippin searched and searched for answers, but he simply had nothing to go on.

He slumped back in his chair with a heavy frown. Perhaps his father was right. Merry didn't need him around. All he did was slow things down and get in the way. With a deep breath, he excused himself, kissed his mother good night, and went to his bedroom. There he sat by candlelight, staring out the window for a good long while, turning things over in his mind. When the candle had all but burnt out, he crawled into bed and decided that tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, he would make up for his folly by figuring out the secrets of the wonky-eyed hobbit and his strange conspirator. But tonight, he would sleep.