Setting the Captives Free Chapter One by Pippinfan
After the Battle of Bywater the Travellers and their friends hurry to Michel Delving on an urgent mission of mercy...
`“In the exultant crowd were still to be seen haggard faces, men with bandaged limbs and heads or hobbling on sticks and crutches. The richly coloured native costumes were most of them worn to rags. But their wearers had the faces of creatures plucked from despair to be lifted to heaven.” From “The Lost Prince” by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Disclaimer: All hobbits and Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien, but in my dreams, they belong to me.
Summary: Pippin, Merry, Frodo, and Sam lead a party of hobbits to free the prisoners in the Lockholes.
Beta: Marigold and Llinos, betas extraordinaire. Thank you!
Setting the Captives Free
4 Blotmath, 1419, S.R.
The day after the battle Frodo rode to Michel Delving and released the prisoners from the Lockholes. One of the first that they found was poor Fredegar Bolger. Fatty no longer. He had been taken when the ruffians smoked out a band of rebels that he led from their hidings up in the Brockenbores by the hills of Scary. - The Return of the King, Chapter IX, The Grey Havens
With much waving and fond farewells from friends and neighbours in Bywater, Pippin mounted his pony, as did Frodo, Merry, and Sam, and then all set out on their errand to the Shire’s chief town. The Travellers headed a score of lads that had family or close friends held against their will in Michel Delving. Most of these accompanying lads had fought in the Battle of Bywater the day before, and a small number of them had sustained minor injuries but were able enough to accompany the procession.
Pippin surveyed the well-wishers standing along the road, observing the various arms in a sling or a few young lads leaning on sticks or rude crutches, yet their faces bore proud smiles as if they were boldly following the young captains into yet another victory. Pippin heard the whistles and cheers grow louder from the crowd of hobbits lining the road as the group headed towards the East Road. Once upon a time, Pippin would have revelled in the attention. Now, however, his thoughts were elsewhere.
The tweenager’s mind had wandered on to other things nearer to his heart. Pippin had been to Michel Delving countless times on business as the Thain’s Heir prior to leaving the Shire, thus Pippin wondered how those who dwelt there had fared this past year. Pippin, his cousins and Sam had been told that Michel Delving had been one of the principal locations the Ruffians used as a hub to do their ‘gathering’ and bullying. Sadly, it was also where a makeshift prison had been made from the old storage tunnels to confine hobbits that didn‘t cave in to the whims of their tormentors. This was the Traveller’s errand: to set the prisoners free.
“Then, Master Elrond, you will have to lock me up in prison or send me home tied up in a sack...” It saddened Pippin to know that his impulsive remark to Lord Elrond at the start of the Quest had actually happened to hobbits in the Shire.
The sky was overcast all morning and a gentle breeze came from the south when the group stopped for a late lunch. They were about halfway to Waymeet when they found a clearing off of the north-side of the road where they could comfortably eat their meagre provisions. Pippin could tell by the many roughly hewn stumps strewn about the area that this hadn’t always been a ‘clearing’. There were one or two trees that had not been cut down by the Ruffians that still remained and had colourful leaves growing. And as he half-expected, Pippin heard Sam venting his anger over the plight of the trees as he organised lunch. For their meal, each hobbit had brought a little of something that they could share, and with Sam as the chief cook, there was soon ample hot stew of sausage bits, potatoes, and carrots put together that would assuage everyone’s hunger.
Once served, Pippin took his bowl and sat upon a large log that had been chopped down not long ago, as the wood still appeared green. He settled beside Merry yet neither cousin spoke; both were quietly engaged in their meal. When he finished, Pippin became aware of a lad nearby about his own age although not nearly as robust as he remembered him. Looking intently, Pippin saw that the lad had a bloodstained bandage clumsily wrapped round his right hand and wrist. As the poor unfortunate was right-handed, he was having difficulties managing his bowl and spoon simultaneously.
In previous years, Pippin had scrapped with this lad about everything from missing marbles to defending Pervinca’s honour. Before the Quest, Pippin imagined nothing could ever bring them together as acquaintances, much less friends, however, there was now something about Sancho‘s demeanour that told Pippin there had been a change in this young hobbit.
In the midst of his contemplation, Pippin noticed that Sancho’s shirt was discoloured and tattered at the cuffs; the buttons on his knee-breeches were gone. Pippin understood that the lad had obviously done without certain things in recent months, however, Pippin mused on exactly what sacrifices the lad had truly made, for no Proudfoot had ever ‘done without’ in Pippin’s memory.
“I can’t be thinking like this!” Pippin chided himself, “We’ve all been touched by the evil spread by Sauron in one fashion or another.” Pippin set aside his own empty plate and his feud with Sancho, then walked over to the lad.
“Here Sancho,” Pippin kindly offered, “I’ll hold your bowl while you eat.”
Sancho hesitated only for a moment then slowly lifted his eyes to the kind hobbit, contrite and filled with profound sorrow. “They’ve got Marcho and Blancho,” Sancho whispered to his old nemesis, his statement referring to his two eldest brothers. “And I know they beat Marcho senseless before hauling him off the Lockholes.”
Pippin laid a sympathetic arm around Sancho’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your brothers, Sancho. I don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there,” he replied, “but I promise I will help you search for them nevertheless.”
Slowly, a smile crept across Sancho‘s face. “Thank you, Pippin,” he said, “I mean, Captain Peregrin.”
Pippin was still uncomfortable with this new title the hobbits in Bywater shouted at him, however, he returned Sancho’s smile just the same. “Just Pippin is fine. I‘ll help you clean your wound before we leave.”
When Pippin returned to his position on the log beside Merry, out of the corner of his eye he saw his cousin looking at him. “Is something the matter?” Pippin asked with feigned indifference.
Merry leant forward, a grin on his face and both arms comfortably resting across his drawn up knees. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes as he spoke. “Nothing...I suppose,” he said. “That is, if you consider that two life-long sworn archenemies just had a decent conversation without a scuffle in its wake.”
“Sancho is all right, I guess,” Pippin answered while putting away his own eating utensils. “He’s not the same person he used to be.”
Merry place a gentle hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “I gathered that. And neither are you.”
Continued...