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