Merry and Pippin had reached the eastern edge of Bindbole Wood the day before. They'd stopped at a tavern in a village beside a stream that led south from Oatbarton and powered a sawing mill. By buying ales and chatting up the mill-workers who stopped at the tavern at the end of the day, the pair learned that most of the hobbits who lived in and around the forest were woodcutters, and many of them had taken their last name from the Woods; there were Bindboles by the dozens.
The name Rolo meant nothing to the tavern-keeper nor his patrons, but they said that there were tiny villages and single cottages scattered throughout the Wood. With a map of the primary paths through the Wood drawn out for them, Merry and Pippin set out the next morning on their search.
"Wouldn't it be nice to escape to a place like this?" Merry gazed up as they passed under the tent of green leaves overhead; the trees crowded close on either side of the path, letting dappled patches of bright sunlight through. They had not reached the first woodland village yet. Except for the occasional trill of birdsong, all was still and quiet, and everything was green. "I can't blame Mrs. Stillwaters for coming to hide here. If you're going to live in disgrace, it's much better done far away from everyone who disapproves of you, and it might as well be someplace lovely. For us, it'd have to be Green Hill Wood. Perhaps we could have a little cottage in that culvert where your circus friends were hiding? We'd be left to ourselves there, but it's close enough to the inn at the crossroads that we could come out for a half-pint in the evenings. And you could ride over to visit your family whenever you liked."
"We couldn't really live that way, Merry," Pippin answered after a thoughtful silence. "Not for long."
"We did once, at Crickhollow. I think we could be happy, as we were there, if only we were left alone."
"That was a wonderful time," Pippin agreed wistfully. He stopped his pony and sidled it closer to Merry's to hold out a hand to him; when Merry took it, Pippin smiled. "We were happy then, weren't we? Just home after the war, having fun and minding our own business. Nobody talking about us. Nobody bothering us. It'd be nice if we could go back there again someday, or someplace like it."
"It'd be nice if we could go on riding on this path until we found the heart of the Wood, or the end of the Shire, and never came back again. Where do we come out, by the way?"
Pippin looked down the path ahead, winding between the trees, and let go of Merry's hand to consult their map. "If we go on long enough, we'll come out on the northern end of the Wood." He looked up at Merry. "We'll almost be at Long Cleeve, where the North-Tooks live. Maybe we could go by-"
"And have a look at that girl before she comes to Tuckborough?"
Pippin ducked his head. "I'm not suggesting we ought to go and introduce ourselves, or offer to accompany her and Aunt Di to the Thain's Hall. But, if we happen to find ourselves up that way, we might have a peek at her through the hedges, just to see what she looks like. I am a bit curious."
Merry laughed at this, but after they had gone on a little farther, he said, "I ought to tell you now: I won't be in Tuckborough when she's there. It's better all around."
"But I want you to be there," said Pippin. "I want her to meet you."
"I'm sorry, Pip, but I don't think I could abide it."
A hurt look crossed Pippin's face, but he said, "Don't you see? I want her know about you and me, to understand what's between us. It's the first thing I'll tell her. Girls aren't so innocent, Merry. You've seen how they are--you've heard my sisters talk!"
"Pimmy said she wouldn't dream of sharing a husband with anybody," Merry recalled.
"What about Rosie?" Pippin countered. "She knows all about Sam and Frodo, and she married him anyway. Why shouldn't this girl be like that? You said yourself that any girl you married would have to know what she had to look forward to."
"Then you are going to marry her?" Merry asked him.
"I don't know," Pippin answered shortly. "I haven't even seen her yet! I've told you before, it depends on a lot of things: Is she pretty? Is she nice? Does she like me? Will she understand how it'll be if she marries me, with you there? Anyway, even if I do agree to it, we won't be married for years and years."
"She'll be here next week."
"And I can't tell you more 'til then. Merry, please, I don't want another quarrel! Let's not talk about it anymore." Pippin nudged his pony on, and rode away at a trot.
Merry didn't want to quarrel either. They'd had some awful rows recently, and he didn't know how many more they could take. He nudged his pony to follow Pippin's, but neither said anything for awhile.
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