They passed through the Southfarthing in a dash, and crossed the unfamiliar lands beyond the Shire's southernmost borders with amazing speed. As they traveled southward, the weather improved and the world around them grew more green with every mile, as if they were riding into spring. On the third day, Frodo was warm enough to take off his winter coat and tuck it into his pack.
When they reached Isengard, Gandalf stopped "to let Shadowfax catch his breath." The horse was fine, and hardly out of breath, but Frodo was weary at the long and astonishingly swift journey; he was grateful for a few hours' rest and the chance to stretch his legs and look around.
He had only seen Isengard once before, briefly, when he'd traveled to the Gap of Rohan on his way home after the quest. Then, the black tower had risen in the midst of a wasteland of muddy and torn earth, with filthy water filling the vast pits. Since the Men of the Riddermark had taken charge of it, the water had been drained off and the pits filled with earth. Grass was growing again and young trees had been planted around the tower.
"It will take a hundred years for this place to be what it was before Saruman made it into a pit for his machines and tools of war," said Gandalf as he walked beside Frodo, exploring the new parkland, "but it will recover from the evil that has touched it. This Middle-earth of ours always does. Mortal beings are not so fortunate." He regarded Frodo with some concern as the hobbit sank down onto the grass. "Are you well, Frodo? Sam makes much of your health, but I've wondered if he is prone to exaggeration."
"He does fuss, a bit," Frodo said with a wistful pang of yearning; already, Sam was hundreds of miles away, "but he means well. He worries for me. I do tend to tire easily." He glanced up at the wizard. "You're right, Gandalf: I never fully recovered after I returned from Mordor and the Ring was destroyed. The quest took all my strength, and I'll never get it back. If I rest, I'm well... most of the time. I have nightmares if I am distressed, and I have my bad spells, you know. Dark days, as if I'm lost in one of my nightmares and can't get out. The next is expected at the end of March. You were here last year when I was still abed after the last one."
"I remember that you'd been ill, but I didn't realize the cause of it. These dark spells recur every year-?"
"Yes. On the- ah- day," Frodo confirmed, and tried not to glance down at his hand with the missing finger. "And in October too, on the anniversary of the day I took my wound at Weathertop, although those aren't as bad, and pass more quickly. The day in March is the worst."
Gandalf's concern grew deeper at this information. "I wouldn't have insisted you come if I'd known of this, Frodo. Are you quite sure you're well enough to undertake this journey?"
"I wouldn't have agreed to come if I didn't! Gandalf, I'm fine." When he saw that the wizard still looked doubtful, Frodo added, "I will be abed on that day, and some days afterwards, but that time is weeks away. I may have your poisoner in hand before then, and it will only be a matter of resting until I feel well enough for the journey home."
They spent the afternoon at Isengard and took dinner with the garrison guard. At nightfall, they rode on again. After four more days of swift riding, with only a few brief stops, the towers of the white city rose before them.
They passed through the great gates, which were open, and rode up the winding streets between the close-set and overhanging houses, through the tunnels cut into the outcropping rock. Up and up, level upon level, until they came to the very top and at last, Shadowfax stood in the vast courtyard before the White Tower of Ecthelion and the great hall of the citadel.
A watch must have been kept for their arrival, for several people were coming out of the great hall to meet them--Big Folk all, and many were old friends. And there was one smaller figure, breaking away from the others and running down the steps toward them as Gandalf lifted him down from Shadowfax's back. Frodo was hugged hard as soon as his feet touched the courtyard's paving stones, and he clung to Merry in return.
"How wonderful to see you, Frodo!" his cousin said near his ear. "I knew you'd come."
They were immediately surrounded by others. When Merry let go of Frodo, King Aragorn knelt to take him by the shoulders and say ceremonially, "We welcome you to Minas Tirith, Frodo." And before Frodo could make a polite and formal reply, Aragorn hugged him too.
Queen Arwen bent to kiss his brow and offer her welcome as well, and then Faramir and his lady Eowyn had their greetings. It soon seemed to Frodo as if everyone was talking at once and making an enormous fuss over him. It was all rather overwhelming, and some of his bewilderment must have shown in his face, for Gandalf spoke a soft word to Aragorn and the King said, "You must be weary after such a long and swift journey, Frodo, and would no doubt like to rest."
"Well... yes," Frodo admitted.
"We can discuss these murders this evening. Will you come to dine with us at the citadel tonight?"
"Yes, of course! I would honored."
Merry took his hand. "You're staying with us at Gandalf's house." A few more brief words were exchanged, and Gandalf took Frodo's bag down from the horse's back; the hobbits went together to the sixth level of the city. "You'll have the same room you stayed in before," Merry said as they walked down through the street. "I've had it made ready for you. I'll be right next door, in the same room I shared with Pippin. It's almost like old times." He turned to Frodo. "I wish it were under better circumstances, but it is good to have you here, Frodo."
"It's good to see you too," said Frodo. "Everyone's been worried for you--we didn't know if you'd made your way here. Gandalf told me you arrived with Mr. Grimmold's troupe." He smiled. "You always predicted that one of the Tooks would run off to join the circus, Merry. I was surprised to hear that you'd done it."
Merry laughed. "I didn't join them, exactly. I met them on this side of the Misty Mountains. They were planning to return to Bree for the winter, and I told them I knew of a better place. They gave me companions to travel with, and I gave them a new audience in the city. I expect they'll come back again next winter."
They reached the house, and Frodo was shown to the room he'd never thought to see again when he'd left Minas Tirith three years ago. He felt a small shiver run down his spine when he looked out the windows to see the dark line of mountains to the east; Mordor lay beyond.
As Merry helped him unpack, Frodo reported all the news of their family, mostly births and marriages. Sam's and Rosie's baby was not the only one about to be born; Melilot and Everard were expecting their first child in the autumn, and Celie and Merimas had had a second little boy in December. After Merry had left the Shire, Saradoc had relented and let Ilberic and Estella marry, and Dodi and Isalda Took were married now as well. Isalda's eldest sister Ada had given up on Ferdi Took and married one of her sturdy and reliable Banks cousins. Fatty Bolger had felt lonely living alone in his home at Budgeford after his sister Estella had gone away to Brandy Hall and Aunt Beryl had gone with her, and he considered getting married himself; he was tentatively courting Ada's and Isalda's sister Flora. Ferdi seemed to be deciding between Pippin's sisters Pim and Peri, and it was up to the girls to make up his mind for him now.
"They'll all be paired off in another year or two," said Merry. "What about Pippin? Has he married that North-Took girl?"
"They weren't meant to marry for years yet," answered Frodo, "and the marriage arranged probably won't come off at all now."
"Really?" Merry's expression brightened at this news. "What happened? She came down to Tuckborough last summer, didn't she? Did you meet her, Frodo?"
Frodo nodded. "She came with Aunt Di, just as planned. She seems sweet and shy, and very young. Her name's Di too--Diamond, not Diamanta."
"And didn't she like Pip? Or didn't he like her?"
"They didn't really have anything to say to each other. But there was another girl, another Di..." He told Merry the story of the mischievous Diantha Took.
"I wouldn't mind meeting this Di myself!" Merry said, laughing once Frodo had finished. "She sounds like a perfect wife for our Pippin. They ought to get on very well."
"She's like us, Merry. She says she won't marry anyone. Besides, Pippin's never loved anyone but you."
"I know." Merry sombered. "I was half hoping that he'd come with you."
"There wasn't time to ask him," said Frodo. "Gandalf arrived and carried me off so quickly. But he knows where you are by now--I asked Sam to tell him."
"I cried every night after I first left the Shire," Merry told him. "I almost turned back a dozen times, but I knew I was doing what was right for me and for Pippin too, if he wants children. Perhaps it's best that I stay away long enough for him to sort things out one way or the other and marry somebody--one Di or the other, or anybody else who'll put up with him."
"That may be years. Will you stay away as long as that?"
"Oh, I suppose I'll come home eventually."
"Are you happy here, Merry?" Frodo asked; he could see that his cousin was not as restless and discontented as he'd been when he'd left the Shire, and was more like his old, cheerful self.
"Happy enough," said Merry. "I have a place here, and friends, but I miss being home all the same. The green hills and fields, wildflowers and trees that nobody planted. I miss the company of other hobbits--not just you and Pip and Sam, or my family, but people like us. There's no one here who looks at things the way hobbits do. It's odd being half the size of everyone around me, and living with furniture that I have to climb up to sit on! I miss round doors and windows, and curved walls. I miss the taverns."
"They have taverns here."
"Yes, but the ale doesn't taste quite the same as our good old Shire brews, and it's different sitting among the Big Folk to drink it."
"What about pipeweed?" Frodo teased. "Do you miss that too?"
"We have pipeweed. Strider's introduced it. Since he smokes a pipe, and so does Gandalf, half the court's taken up the habit. It's not bad here, Frodo. I get homesick, but I know that if I went home again, I'd only be back in the middle of all the things that made me want to leave. No one here disapproves of me, but without Pippin, I'm not doing anything for them to disapprove of. And I'm doing more good for the Shire here than I ever did while I was in it. Strider wants to do something for hobbits, and I talk to him about the things he might do. We talk about opening up more land for hobbits to use in the west, and making better roads between here and there, and mail routes with way-stations. Think of that, Frodo: letters carried from here to the Shire as easily as they are from one end of the Shire to the other! We could travel the distance in weeks rather than months."
Frodo had to smile at Merry's enthusiasm; it was remarkable to hear his reckless and wayward cousin, the famous bad-boy of the Brandybucks, speaking so keenly about improvements to the Shire. Merry must be growing up. "I traveled here quickly enough, thank you," he said. "I was at home barely a week ago." He and Gandalf had left Bag End on the morning of February 23 by the Shire calendar, and today was March 3.
Merry grinned. "Not everyone has the service of the fastest horse in all Middle-earth. It must have been wearisome to travel at such a pace." He looked over Frodo's pale face. "You will be able take up Strider's invitation to dine tonight, won't you? You're not too tired?"
"I won't be," said Frodo. "I only need to lie down for awhile."
Merry took the hint and left him to rest. Once his cousin had gone, Frodo lay down on the bed and was asleep within minutes.
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