Story: A Blessing in Disguise (Previously titled Bully Girls)
Rating: G (I know! Shocking, isn't it?)




There was a frantic pounding on the kitchen door and Merry-lad nearly choked on his chicken sandwich as he bolted out of his chair to answer it. He swung the door wide, revealing three little girls standing on the top step. Their dresses were neat and trim, but they were red-faced, panting and utterly terrified. Their blonde leader raised her head and Merry looked down on her splotchy, wet face in amazement. “Hello?” he ventured.

“H…Hello,” she answered. “M…may we see Master Baggins, please?”

“Usually children hide in the bushes if they want a glimpse of Mad Baggins howling at the moon.” Merry smirked down at her. She burst into tears and he took a horrified step back.

“IZZAN ‘MERGENCY!” she shrieked.

“SORRY! Sorry, don’t cry. I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry, come in.” They crept into Bag End as if entering a troll’s cave, the blonde wringing her hands and sobbing, the other two clearly wishing they were dead. Astonished, Merry beckoned to them. “Uncle Frodo’s study is this way. Come on.” They left the kitchen, passed through the ornate dining room, and headed down the paneled hallway.

“This place is enormous,” one of the girls sniffled and was immediately shushed.

Merry, practically walking backwards the entire way, was beyond intrigued and he knocked hard on his Uncle’s door. “Uncle Frodo?”

“Come in,” Mayor Samwise answered and the girls went into a new flurry of panic.

“Shhh, lovies, it’s all right,” Merry tried very hard not to laugh as he opened the door. “Dad won’t cook you over an open flame. Mum would but not Dad, I swear.” They all slowly stepped inside. Abandoning a card game, his dad and uncle looked at him questioningly but he could only grin and shrug. The blonde child drew in a great, bracing breath of air, squared her shoulders, and approached Frodo.

He gave her his best smile. “Hello. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” He leaned towards her and, such was his unexpected, non-howling, charm, she came even closer and put her hand on the arm of his chair.

“Gus Goodchilde.” She indicated the other two with her thumb. “M…my sisters May and June.”

“Gus?!”

“Short for August.” Merry laughed at that but she ignored him. She looked pleadingly into Frodo’s face and her eyes filled with tears again.

“My Mum was a Goodchilde…” Sam began but Gus interrupted.

“We didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. We were just picking on him a little!”

The good humor in the room chilled as Frodo’s smile faded. “Picking on who?”

“Samlad.”

Frodo went pale and Merry-lad shared a worried, and angry, look with his father. “What happened? Is he hurt?” Frodo asked.

“Unghh,” Gus sobbed and nearly shredded her dress with despair. “We chased him down as he was cutting across the Far Field an’ grabbed him an’ we had an old well rope that we found an’ we tied him to a tree,” she drew in another great, ragged breath “And it walked off with him.”

“What did?”

“The TREE!”

Merry jumped. “The tree what?!””

“We ran here straight away. You have to do something.” She was grasping at Frodo’s arm and Merry saw her knuckles turn white. “Really! It walked off! It walked right off!”

“You tied my son to an Ent?!” the Mayor asked in a very small, very calm sort of voice.

“No, we tied him to a walllkiiiing treeeee. You have to believe me!”

“They don’t believe you, Gus!” June hissed. “We have to go after it!”

“What’ll we DO with it?!” Gus answered, facing her sister. “Bite it into firewood?!” May began to cry with great enthusiasm as Gus and June sniped at each other.

Frodo raised his hand. “Wait, wait, wait, please,” he soothed and the babble stopped. “I believe you. I honestly do. Can you tell me…?”

“HOOM HOM!”

The girls shrieked and jumped at, of all people, Merry-lad for protection and clung to him as the echo of that great horn call of a shout echoed over the Hill. Sam shot to the window and looked out. Frodo crowded him and stared. “What is it?!” Merry gasped. “Dad? Uncle Frodo?”

Frodo turned back and grinned at Merry with delight and sheer relief. “Here’s a treat. It’s Quickbeam!”

Sam made a loose fist as if he were hiding a treat in his palm. “And he’s carrying Samlad in his hand. I can see the boy’s grin from here.”

“Quick…really? What…wait!” Entirely abandoning their dignity, the adults bolted out of the study. Merry badly wanted to follow them but he had three problems to contend with first. “All right, puke-maggots.” He shook them off and they looked up at him in shock. What happened to ‘lovies?’ “You’ve been…uh… naughty! And you’re damn lucky Sammie is all right.” If his friends could see Merry Gardner’s gall in lecturing others for naughtiness they’d fall about in a giggle-fit. The irony was hilarious but Merry had had a fright and he wasn’t going to give in easily to a smile now. He coughed, and became properly grim again. “Come on. You can explain to one of the Lords of Fangorn Forest just why you had to tie a hobbit to him.” He could hear doors opening all through the smial as his family rushed to the spectacle of an ent in the garden. An ent! A real live ent!

“Merry! Come on!” his brother, Pip, shouted from the garden amidst the delighted exclamations of his brothers and sisters.

“Coming!” He opened the door and pointed out. “Let’s go.”

Gus clasped her hands behind her back. “Oh, no. Really. No. We’ll be going home now,” she said with the slightest quaver in her voice as if she was refusing poisoned tea, thanks ever so very much anyway. Not being one for the niceties of society, Merry-lad yanked her out of the study by her ear. “OOHWW! NO!” May and June gasped, horrified.

“Don’t you ‘no’ me, brat.” He caught June, too, before she could edge completely out of his reach and, as he didn’t have three arms, managed to stop May with a glare. “We’re going to the garden.”

“We said we were sorry!” Gus wailed.

“No, you didn’t,” Merry corrected. She slapped his hand away and would have run for it but she was no older than Sammie’s own nine years and Merry was a tall and fast fifteen year old. He easily caught her by the arm again. June didn’t even try to pull away and May, too, just stood there and gawped at the shocking violence of it all.

“Let us GO! You can’t DO this!” Gus tried kicking but a good, brief shake from Merry put a fast stop to that.

“I can do anything I want. Three good bullies deserve another, right?” He dragged them down the hall. “Isn’t this fun?”

“No!”

“Well, I’m having fun anyway. Too bad I don’t have a well-rope.” The front door was wide open and Merry hurried out as fast as the cringing girls would allow. From the sound of it, the entire Hill was turning out. Yes, there was the Widow Rumble from #3, New Row, and there were all seven of the Goodbodies from #2 and all four of the Boffins from #1, Folco Boffin having just moved in that Spring with his wife and two sons.

Everyone and the Gardners had formed quite an excited crowd before the ent who was blocking the road as bold as you please. Merry’s mother, the Mistress Rose, was there and was speaking to the tree-herder, clothespins still in her hand and a brilliant glow in her eyes. When Quickbeam saw Frodo and Samwise approach he bowed as deeply as his stiff body would allow and the two Ringbearers respectfully returned the courtesy. Then they straightened and waved up at Sammie who enthusiastically waved back. Travelers on the lane, loaded down with goods from the market or just out for a stroll, were all frozen where they stood, mesmerized and more than a little frightened. Wilfred Noake’s cart pony was stamping belligerently in its harness. Wilfred was nowhere to be seen.

An ent. An ent here. Here in boring old Hobbiton.

“Bregalad,” Merry whispered and stopped just outside the door, awed.

“Huh?” June whispered.

“That’s his elvish name. In our language it’s ‘Quickbeam.’” Merry explained, quite forgetting to be horrible to the girls in the excitement of the moment. “Quickbeam the Hasty Ent.”

“What does he do?”

“He…hastes.” Merry answered offhandedly as he stared his fill. Quickbeam was tall, almost as tall as Sandyman’s mill, and slender. His fingers were long and he shook his mossy hair as the sun shone on his smooth grey skin. Sammie was on one great shoulder and clinging for dear life as Quickbeam swayed gently back and forth looking down at one hobbit and then another. With all his graceful movement, Merry wondered how anyone could mistake him for a tree. But if he held very still, then, yes, it was possible. Huh! Then Merry’s dad was gesturing at Wilfred’s pony, and something he said must have amused the ancient creature greatly. His laugh rang over the hill in such a jolly wave of sound that Merry felt he could swim in the warmth of it. The crowd suddenly broke and moved out of Quickbeam’s way as he began to walk.

With just a few great strides he reached and passed (his shadow and Sammie’s shadow falling onto their upturned faces) Merry and the girls. Merry wanted to call out to the strange being or at least to his brother but he simply couldn’t. Neither Sammie nor Quickbeam noticed them standing there, small and open-mouthed like baby birds. The ent was humming happily to himself in a clear voice and Merry was thrilled to hear it. “Boom dahrar ranna aroom. Boraroom boom!” The ent stepped up onto Bag End and unhurriedly walked over it, being sure not to tread in the Mistress Rose’s abandoned laundry. He was heading for the Party Field and all the hobbits of the Hill followed eagerly behind. The hobbits from the lane approached much more cautiously.

“Mer, can you believe it?! Can you believe it?!” Pip asked, rushing up. “He came from the Buckland and spent a week in the orchards of Brandy Hall. Well, it’s not like they could put him up in a guest bedroom, eh? Uncle Merry deliberately didn’t send us word he was coming! Wanted it to be a surprise! Who are these girls?”

“Filthy brats. Bring that one and hurry up!” Merry pulled Gus and June into a run. Pip caught May around the waist and followed, jogging the hapless Goodchilde up and down. “What is he doing here? Visiting?”

“Yep! Says it’s a bounteous, loving country.”

“What, Hobbiton?!” Merry asked and Pip just shook his head.

Quickbeam had stopped in front of the Mallorn that crowned the Party Field. It was a graceful young tree and the wonder and hub of the entire Shire. Quickbeam very gently set Sammie on the ground and, straightening, spread wide his arms as if he would embrace it and laughed again in happy greeting. Surely it was a trick of the sunlight but Merry could have sworn the tree was answering the Tree-herder. Stretching its every silver-barked twig and branch the Mallorn seemed to tremble its golden leaves with sheer joy. Quickbeam laughed again and the hobbits joined in. Even the shocked passersby from the road that were keeping a very safe distance found it in themselves to smile.

Quickbeam turned back to Frodo and Merry-lad realized that proper introductions of all the Gardners were being made. “Come see his eyes, Mer.” Pip said, “They’re just like Uncle Pippin described in the Red Book. But more!” Dazed, Pip abandoned May and wandered in close again. Merry lagged behind and waited until his thirteen brothers and sisters, his mother, the Widow Rumble and the chief representatives of the Boffins and the Goodbodies all took their bows before coming forward himself. He wanted to stand out. More importantly (he firmly tugged on his captives) he wanted to see justice done. Sammie spotted them approaching and his eyes became huge and alarmed.

His dad smiled. “Ah, this here’s my second oldest boy. Named Merry after Master Meriadoc.”

Merry looked up into the green and gold shot wells of time that looked kindly down on, and directly through, him. Pip had been right and he suddenly felt himself to be a tiny, insignificant speck staining the long and brilliantly rich tapestry of life that was shining through Quickbeam’s bottomless eyes. It was a wonder that the ancient ent deigned to acknowledge him much less, as evidenced by his friendly smile, delight in him. Merry smiled back and bowed as best he could with his heart threatening to stop completely from the wonder of it all. “Master Bregalad,” he murmured. Gus whimpered in the back of her throat. May and June, slack-jawed, simply stared and stared and stared, utterly lost in that endless, wise gaze.

“Hoom, now, another Master Merry. Hm, most wonderful.” Quickbeam bowed back. “The world is not yet so safe that it wouldn’t welcome as many Merrys as it can hold. And you are a blessing indeed.” Merry-lad blinked in pleased surprise.

“And he’s got Sammie’s, er, little friends with him. I believe you met May, June and August Goodchilde.” Sam choked back a chuckle.

Frodo looked down his nose at the girls. “Goodchilde in name if not in fact, anyway.”

Gus’s face blazed red. “We didn’t know. We didn’t know it could walk.” Frodo pointed up at the ent with a stern expression. Gus took the hint and she reluctantly faced Quickbeam. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry. We won’t do it again.”

“Well, I should hope not,” Sam said and earned a laugh from everyone. Everyone, oddly enough, except Sammie who stared at the girls with what looked like a rising panic. Merry was angry again. What had the nasty little weasels DONE to his brother that would make him fear them even now?!

He poked Gus in the shoulder, hard. “Apologize to my brother, too, snake.” Sammie’s mouth was working but no sound came out.

“I’m sorry, Sammie,” Gus whispered, her shoulders hunched. May and June came out of their fascinated stupor long enough to make apologetic whimpers, too.

“It’s all right! It’s all right, really,” the boy gasped out.

“Now, get out of here and don’t let me catch you near him again!” Merry ordered. Crying again, Gus grabbed her nearest sister and turned to run but an enormous grey hand blocked her way. She stopped and the girls huddled together.

“Hoom, now, let’s not be hasty.” Quickbeam shook his mossy head at Merry. “Bless my branches, never thought I’d say that but we mustn’t get too hot about this, Master Merry.”

“Sir?”

“Hm, it would hardly do for you to send the Good Children away after your brother worked hard all morning long to attain them.”

“What?!” Merry exclaimed, forgetting his manners. There was a small stir from the Gardners. What was this, now? Sammie was chewing on a thumbnail.

“He must have crossed that field a dozen times before they finally broke and ran after him. You can’t punish the little ones for being fairly captured, can you?”

“But we thought,” Frodo began and guilt was in his face. “We thought, you see, Sammie is often harassed for…”

“Uncle Frodo,” Sammie interrupted miserably. “Please!”

“We’re going home, now,” Gus proclaimed and her voice was definite. She had obviously had more than enough.

Quickbeam leaned towards her and his ruddy red mouth twitched up at the corners. “Apologies, little one, for ruining your game.”

She studied the ent with great intensity for a long time. Then she slowly reached out and patted his hand that still hovered near her, seemingly more out of curiosity for the feel of it than to reassure its owner. An ent is nothing if not patient but it really wasn’t long at all before Gus’s face calmed. “I was just scared when you moved. I thought you were going to eat him. We ran to get help.” She let out a deep, relieved breath.

“It would seem we owe you an apology also.” Frodo began.

“Hmp,” Gus dismissed, still lost in ancient eyes. The Ringbearer backed away with a rueful smile and the Mistress Rose laughed at him. “How come you can walk? Is it magic?” she asked. Quickbeam shook with laughter again.

“Gus, I wanna go home.” May whimpered, clutching tight to June’s dress-sash.

Sammie came near and laid a hand on Gus’s arm. She jumped. “He’s an ent. I can tell you all about ents,” he assured her earnestly.

But her face had become closed again and she backed away from Sammie and Quickbeam both. “We have to leave.” Sammie’s face fell and Merry wanted to jump in a ditch and kill himself. Poor Sammie had been reeling in a rare fish, a friend, three friends actually, but now they were spooked. Gus sighed, not untouched by wide, pleading eyes, but she was horribly firm still. “No, I really mean we have to leave. Hobbiton. We’re from Oatbarten and we were here for just a little while visiting kin on our way to the Tooklands. The Farfield Browns? We’re leaving tomorrow an’ we’re taking the Brownses with us. They already sold their house and everything.”

“I was wondering why I’d never seen you before,” the Mayor said.

Gus nodded, dragged an arm across her face, and turned back to Sammie. “A new family’s moving in there soon. The mother grew up around here and she’s always been wanting to come back. Lila. The Digg-Tooters. They’ve got kids. Maybe one of ‘em’ll be good for you,” she said in placating sort of way. Sammie stared at the ground. Gus looked like she might start crying again. “Well, g’bye.”

“Goodbye.” Sammie sounded hopeless and Merry-lad sighed. So wrong. He had been…he was so wrong.

Why Quickbeam thought he was a blessing to anything was beyond him. “I’ll walk you back to the Farfield, lovies,” he said in his best, most sincerely repentant voice. Gus slowly cocked her head towards him. Then she whirled and kicked him in the shin. Kicked him as fast and hard as her strong little leg could manage and Merry collapsed in pain. “OHWWW!!”

“HA!” She waved her sisters ahead of her, “GO! GO!” They took off and all three disappeared, faster than Merry had ever seen anyone run before, over the horizon. The crowd cheered them as they went and there was laughter, too, very much at Merry-lad’s expense. He waved a lazy hand in the air and smiled, acknowledging the chucklings and the catcalls, but the usual spark was missing from his eyes. He rubbed his leg and avoided glancing at his little brother.

The Mistress Rose stopped giggling long enough to declare that, since everyone was here, there might as well be a celebration to honor their guest. She called for food and kegs of beer and her children scattered to arrange things. The crowd exclaimed their approval and scattered, too, to summon friends and relatives, and to collect whatever treat or musical instrument would be perfect for a proper Party Field party. Quickbeam clapped his hands in anticipation and chortled at the little hobbits scurrying about like brightly colored bunny rabbits.

Under cover of the ruckus Samlad crawled in close to Merry and the older boy sighed. “Just let me eat worms, Sammie…”

“Not everybody in the world treats me bad, y’know.” His voice was sad and irritated.

Merry reluctantly raised his head. “Sometimes it seems that way. Sometimes I just…I…I’m sorry. It’s all my fault your girls ran away.”

Sammie sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around his skinny knees. “Oh, s’all right. Quickbeam didn’t help matters none, either. And they were gonna leave town anyway.” Merry shook his head. There was nothing so painful in the world as the ready forgiveness of a child that loves you. But he was grateful. Sammie slid close and rested his head on Merry’s arm. Merry lifted it, draped it around Sammie’s shoulders and hugged him tight to his side. “And we’ll see Gus again.”

Merry lifted his leg. The red welt Gus left was shaped like a gopher with a hat on and his bruise was going to be huge. “I certainly hope not.”

“You’ll make it up to her, Merry.” Sammie’s voice became distant and dreamy. “You are a blessing. You’ll see.” Yeh, right. Merry rubbed Sammie’s curly hair and didn’t answer.

They were somewhat startled when two enormous grey hands picked them up and set them on their feet again. Merry-lad looked into Quickbeam’s friendly face and, despite everything, smiled. The ent was very kindly trying not to laugh this time.

The party was quickly underway and everyone joined in on the fun, though Merry-lad had to take quite a bit of teasing for his shameful defeat at the hands, or rather foot, of a nine-year-old girl. Merry just laughed, as he felt he deserved everything that anyone wanted to dish out, and danced with as many people as his sore leg would allow. Quickbeam laughed loud and often and told mesmerizing tales of his people and, even more fascinating, tales of how Hobbits from the Shire heroically assisted the ents in the Great War. Bregalad didn’t dance, of course not, but he sang to the elven gift, the Mallorn, in his ancient rolling speech and swayed under the rising moon. Sammie and the other little ones imitated him with their arms waving gracefully in the air, the wind blowing through their curls. There were those who swore that the Mallorn swayed in time with them all, back and forth and back and forth in the starlight, but surely that was the ale talking.





End