WHISPERS OF THE RING
For the Love of a Story pt.1
Merry woke with a start. The earthy smell of their little den filled his nostrils and the chill of the morning air sent shivers dancing across his skin. He hadn't meant to nod off, but he wasn't a hobbit much accustomed to denying himself anything, even sleep on a dangerous night.
"Pip," he whispered and shook the young hobbit gently. "Get up." Pippin burrowed his face into Merry's side and curled up tighter beneath his blanket. Merry rolled his eyes. Why did he have to be the responsible one? "C'mon, Pip. It's morning." A good grip and a stern shake brought Pippin out of his sleep enough to stare blearily at Merry.
"Wussamatter," he mumbled. "'S breakfast ready?" He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and peered around in confusion. He had been having the loveliest dream about Frodo baking bread back in Bag End and had been quite looking forward to having a thick slice of it when it was ready.
A clink of metal above them and both of the hobbits had hands over each other's mouths. "Keep it moving, and quiet," they heard a voice grate in the common tongue. "We'll show Urkel's lot a thing or two about marching and beat that lazy lot to the bridge." A horrible smell suddenly filled the air and the hobbits could hear the sound of water splashing against the roots that made up the roof of their little den.
Pippin gagged and Merry scowled when he felt a bit of dampness on his hand. Whoever was out there had just relieved himself practically on the hobbits heads! Unknowing of their presence or not, Merry was not going to let this insult go unanswered! However, discretion was the better part of valor, and Merry always preferred to plan his rebuttals once he had gathered all the facts.
It certainly didn't sound like Farmer Ghead and the accent was like nothing they had heard in their travels. Merry bid Pippin to sit still with a look and began to think. They could now hear soft pounding of heavy feet and the sound did not fade for many minutes. Merry tried to count how many men passed them by the rhythms of their feet, but had to give up after a minute.
The hobbits waited until the men had passed them by, then counted to fifty before relaxing. "What do you suppose that was all about?" Pippin whispered in Merry's ear, staying close and quiet out of some inborn instinct."I'm not sure, but I think we should take a look. Those couldn't have been men from the village," he whispered softly back, trying not to sneeze as Pippin's curls tickled his nose.
"How do you know?" Pippin hissed. "Ghead could have lots of friends, although I rather doubt it myself."
Merry rapped Pippin's forehead with a knuckle, "Do you ever use this head of yours, Pip? Did it sound like men scattered about looking for two hobbits? They were walking in a straight line, that one fellow said they were marching to a bridge, and they mentioned someone named Urkel! Farmers don't march, guards or soldiers do, and Urkel don't sound like a Man's name to me." He popped his head out of their den and took a quick peek. A wide path was trampled and hacked through the green underbrush. Merry dropped down again and huddled next to Pippin. "Well, they shouldn't be hard to track anyways. They leave a trail like a Proudfoot at a picnic!"A gurgle followed by a growl rose above their whispers, reminding them they had not yet broken their night fast. Merry felt torn. Breakfast? Or follow the suspicious louts who thought hobbits needed watering? "Pick up your gear, Pip. We're eating on the run today! I want to teach these folks a lesson by sundown. Then we can meet up with Frodo and Sam and have a decent dinner! Look lively now!"
Pippin sputtered in protest. "Breakfast on the run? How's a hobbit supposed to digest his meal if you've got him running whilst eating? It isn't natural!" But despite his griping, he quickly packed their gear and kept and apple and chunk of bread with cheese out for the both of them.
By noon the hobbits had caught up to them.
"What do you suppose they are, Merry?"
"I'm not sure, Pip. They're neither Men nor Hobbits…and definitely not Elves; leastwise, not like any elf Bilbo's ever told us about."
"What else is there then?" Pippin had been wide-eyed since they had accidentally come a bit too close to one of them.
They had been following at a distance, wary but still a bit reckless with curiosity, and had nearly ran past one who had paused to relieve himself against a tree. Instinctively they had froze in their tracks and held their breath until with a sigh and a shake he had finished his business and took off at a jog to catch up to the main party. His features were twisted and vile to behold, his skin was a mottled gray-green with rough patches and he had cracked nails so thick they looked like black claws. Standing there waiting for him to leave, Merry had wondered how they couldn't have smelled him before they saw him as the stink was overwhelming!
"Those teeth and ugly mugs scare me, and I'm not afraid to say it. I don't think we should be following so close behind, Merry. Let's back off a bit, eh?"
The sound of underbrush being trampled drew nearer to their hiding spot. Merry was confidant they wouldn't be found, as hobbits intent on remaining unseen are nearly impossible to spot. Privately, Merry felt Pippin was erring too much on the side of caution, but he tugged the younger hobbit's jerkin and the two of them slipped further away from the band, their padded feet not disturbing a single branch or leaf. It wouldn't do for Pippin to work himself into a state from nervousness then give them away with a misplaced squeak.
Far from the strangers, but still within a quick jog to their trail, they stopped to plot.
"Now, this is adventure!" Merry said in an excited whisper. "It's like a great mystery, isn't it Pip, these strange folk and all! Having to live by your wits, just like in Mr. Bilbo's stories!"
Pippin looked nervous, and some small voice went off in Merry's head, urging caution. "Meriadoc Brandybuck," it said, sounding an awful lot like Sam, "You really ought to find Frodo, he'll know what to do, and he'd know what these folk are, and make sure we had nothing to do with them! Back to Bree is what we ought to do, no good getting young Pippin in such a mess."
But he swiftly dismissed the voice, his great curiosity drowning it out.
"I've a notion, Pip…" he whispered. "To take a closer look at these folk. Study them a bit. Find out why they're marching to this bridge. They may be up to no good!""Merry!" Pippin cried, his voice inching a bit above a whisper as it climbed an octave. "You can't be serious! Did you see the weapons they were carrying? Twice the size of a hobbit that one axe was!"
"Feh. Since when has Peregrine Took been afraid of a bit of danger? Farmer Maggot's scythe is about that big, and you don't seem to fear it much." Merry brushed a leaf off his shoulder. "But, fine by me. You can go back to Frodo and tell him my plans, for I'm not ready to go back yet. This is our chance for some adventure, Pip! Better than snitching a few mushrooms from Maggot's farm! Better than last night with Ghead! If we play our cards right, mind you you're too young to know much of gambling yet, we could walk away from this with a story to amaze! One that will get us all the free beer we could want for its telling! Why, it may even rival one of Bilbo's stories!"
Dropping heavily to the ground Pippin put his face in his hands and was silent for a long while. Merry let him be, knowing Pippin was struggling with a decision. "Hurry up, Pip, or we'll not catch them again as easy."
Counting off on his fingers, Pippin appeared to be doing some sort of calculation. For the life of him, Merry couldn't figure out what adding numbers had to do with deciding to follow adventure, but he said nothing. After another long minute passed Pippin stilled then looked up at Merry. His eyes were sparkling with excitement despite the somber set of his mouth.
"Raiding a garden's a lot different than peeping in on a group of dangerous… whatever they are, Merry."
At that moment Merry wondered if this wouldn't be the very first time Pippin actually wouldn't follow him into mischief.
"But I know the look you're wearing, and I know you're fevered to do mischief. If I don't go with you, you'll have no hobbit sense at all!" Pippin covered his face with his hands as if in grief. "My stomach is jittery but I am going to think of the story we'll have afterwards…" Pippin peered up at Merry between his fingers. "Alright. I'm in. You're more cat than hobbit, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and you're lucky I'm so fond of cats."
With a large grin Merry pulled Pippin to his feet and brushed him off. "Good lad, Pip! Just a quick peep, that's all. Just enough to give us an idea what's going on, then we'll pop back to the main road and meet with Frodo and Sam. That lot makes so much noise they'll never hear us sneaking behind them. Mark my words, my fine Took, we'll be in, out and propping our feet by a fire with a good mug of beer before the night falls."