Who Is Killing the Brandybucks? by Kathryn Ramage

Everyone was eager to hear if Frodo's and Pippin's inquiries had turned up anything interesting, but both reported, "No, nothing." Pippin had little to tell, and Frodo couldn't tell them what he'd thinking since he'd spoken to Merimac, not even if his uncle weren't seated at the same table! They would call it madness. It was too terrible an idea to be true.

Could it be true?

Very little that Uncle Merry had said came as a surprise to Frodo, but the intensity of his feelings were disturbing. Uncle Merry had been in a dark gloom since Merimas's death; he'd never really recovered from the death of his own son. Had his mind turned with grief? His dislike of Merry had obviously increased since Berilac's death and, more than that, he seemed to resent not only Merry, but all the young males of the family for living while his son had died. Merimas and Ilberic had both been hit in the head much in the same way that Berilac had. And if anything happened to Merry, his uncle was next in line.

Or perhaps Uncle Merry didn't care about the Master-ship. He had no heir. Was it revenge alone he was after?

Could he have left the Hall unobserved on the night Merimas was killed? Frodo knew from his own childhood mischiefs how easy it was to climb out a bedroom window onto the slopes of Buck Hill; even a hobbit of Uncle Merry's age could manage it. Or Uncle Merry could simply have gone out the garden door after the rest of the household was asleep and his absence wouldn't be noticed.

But if Uncle Merry had gone out that night to murder Merimas, how had he known where to find him? Had they agreed to meet by the Hedge? How and when--and why?--had they made such arrangements? Even if he sought some sort of revenge, why kill Merimas first? Uncle Merry had always approved of him. Of all the Brandybuck youths, Merimas was the most like Berry had appeared to his father's eyes: a sober and respectable, no-nonsense hobbit-lad. If Uncle Merry wanted to strike down young Brandybucks, why not begin with Merry? He had reasons, however unjust, for despising his nephew. Did Merimac's rigid sense of duty keep him from harming his nephew in spite of his feelings?

Did Uncle Merry have some reason to blame Merimas for Berry's death? When investigating Berry's murder, Frodo had had a tenuous suspicion that Merimas was lying to protect his sisters, but this had never been confirmed. Had Uncle Merry held the same suspicions? Was that enough to draw his ire? Might he try to harm Melly next?

What about Ilbie? After Merimas's funeral, could Uncle Merry have gone to Ivysmial to spy out what the young hobbits were up to? Frodo knew that his uncle had gone to Brandy Hall to help receive guests, and had been with Emeliadoc and Gorbulac when they'd seen Marly escorting Celie home. It didn't seem as if there was enough time, but the Bucklebury road curved around behind the Hall grounds, and it would only require a short walk from the garden gate across the fields to Ivysmial once the others had gone away. Uncle Merry hadn't been cloaked or hatted at the funeral, but an old jacket, cloak, or hat might be picked up anywhere that working hobbits were about--a gardeners' shed, the boathouse, the stables, or even Uncle Dino's cottage--to be worn as a disguise. Frodo had seen that trick before.

As the family left the dining room, Frodo walked with Esmeralda and the other ladies. "I hope you don't think it's odd if I ask you, Aunt Esme. Uncles Em and Gorbulac were here after the funeral, weren't they? With Uncle Merry." It wasn't Emeliadoc's and Gorbulac's whereabouts that concerned him, but it was better the aunties think so.

"Yes, that's right," Esmeralda confirmed. "They didn't sit long with us, but availed themselves of Merry's study and the wine there. All three have been very distressed by Merimas's death, poor dears, and I think Merimac welcomed the company of gentlemen near his own age. He misses Saradoc so."

"Surely you don't suspect them?" asked Hilda.

"No, Aunt," Frodo answered, "but I must ask after everyone."

"It seems dreadfully unfair to me," said Beryl. "I don't see how a respectable hobbit could be concerned in these brutal attacks. You ought to be looking for strangers, Frodo, ruffians or mad-hobbits, and the sherriffs ought to lock them all up!"

"Uncle Merry saw them out by the garden gate," Frodo pursued. "Was he gone long?"

"I sure I couldn't say, dear." Esmeralda gave him a curious look, as if she guessed the real purpose behind his questions. "I didn't make note of when he returned, only that it was near dark, and before you children came in, bearing poor Ilbie."

It was a close scrape, but if Merimac had hastened there and back, it was just barely possible that he might have been at the empty cottage to strike Ilbie. He couldn't have been there long, and must have fled just afterwards--he couldn't therefore have been lurking long enough for Dioica Marishe to glimpse him during the party itself, for she and Dodi's other guests would be on their ways home. Her claims of sensing danger were most likely flights of over-active imagination.

Perhaps his imagination was flying as wildly. It might all be true, but there was still much that needed to be puzzled out before it all made sense.

After leaving the ladies in the drawing room, Frodo went to the Master's study to join the other hobbit-youths. Out of respect, Sam hadn't repeated the stories he'd heard in Newbury while the ladies were present, but once the young gentlemen had gathered for their post-prandial pipe-smoking, they'd prompted him to tell a few of the more salacious bits of gossip.

These scandalous pieces of family history were well known to the Brandybuck youths; the only thing that seemed relevant to Frodo in the present circumstances was Uncle Merimac being described as "cold." However, as Sam spoke, Frodo began to feel that his friend had something else that upset him on his mind. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts since he'd spoken to Uncle Merry that it was some time before he noticed how Sam avoided looking at him; when their eyes did inadvertently meet, Sam gave him a strange, pained and searching look.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Frodo asked after they'd left Brandy Hall and were walking up the lane toward Crickhollow. "Something is troubling you. Is it some story you heard today and didn't want the others to know about?"

"It's something I heard today, but I couldn't say in front of all them folk," Sam answered. "It wasn't for them to hear. It's between you 'n' me."

"Oh." Frodo understood. "You aren't still angry about that, are you? I wish you wouldn't be so jealous of Merry, Sam." As they went in through the gate and up to the cottage, he took Sam's arm, but had to let go again to unlock the front door. Once they were inside, he tried to give Sam a kiss, but Sam was unresponsive. "You are angry. It's ridiculous. I never reproached you about Rosie."

"That's different," answered Sam, "and you know it is."

"Different, how?" Frodo went into the kitchen. He didn't want to start an argument, but he was beginning to be angry himself with Sam's sullen attitude. They had hardly seen each other in a year; this reunion should be joyous for them both instead of filled with quarrels. "I don't see why you have to make such a fuss, and spoil the time we have together by going on about Merry," he said as he filled the tea kettle to make some chamomile tea before bed. "Why can't we be happy while you're here? You'll be staying to see me through my bad day. You said you would."

"I'll stay as long as you like," Sam said, "but no matter how long it is, 'tisn't enough."

"I know--you'd like me to come home." Frodo crouched down on the hearth to stir up the kitchen fire, which Milli had banked into embers before leaving that morning. "Very well. I'll come to Bag End. I'll stay a month or more, and you can help me with my book. I'll visit more often after that too."

"I don't want you to come for visits," Sam responded. "Bag End's your home. It's where you belong."

"It's your home now, Sam--yours and Rosie's and the children. Brandy Hall is as much my home as Bag End. I was born here. I spent all my childhood among the Brandybucks. This is my family-"

Sam snorted angrily. "You think I don't see what's keeping you here?"

Frodo sighed and sat back on his heels to look up at his friend, who stood over him. "I've tried to explain-"

"Oh, you've done some explaining, all right!" Sam exploded. "I expect you could get 'round anybody if you talked long enough--you're that clever. Talk all you like, but it don't change the fact: You won't come home because you don't want to. 'Tis plain enough to see. You'd rather stay here with him."

"Sam, please-"

But all the jealous and angry thoughts Sam had been nursing in his head throughout the afternoon were bursting forth. "You said you and Master Merry started off after you went away after 'm to Gondor."

"Yes, that's so," Frodo answered, not liking what Sam was driving at.

"Then you was already with him when you came home last autumn. Why didn't you tell me about it then, 'stead of saying you was going to stay with your family at the Hall awhile? You said you wanted to be by Master Merry while he was having a hard time after his father died--you never said a word about bedding with 'm!"

"I meant to Sam," Frodo confessed. "I did. All along the road home, I planned what I would say, but once I saw you, I couldn't do it. I couldn't bear to hurt you."

Sam looked doubtful about this. "You used to tell me there was never nothing between you 'n' him."

"There wasn't," Frodo insisted. "Not then."

"So you said, and I always used to believe you." Sam looked achingly sad at the thought. "I believed whatever you said. You tell me the truth of it, Frodo, and I'll believe you now. You've no reason to lie, as it's what I'm thinking anyway. Did you push me off to marry Rose so you could be rid of me 'n' be with Merry Brandybuck?"

"Sam! No!" Frodo had been able to laugh off Sam's jealousy earlier in the day, but this accusation was beyond a joke. He was appalled at how his motives had been misconstrued. Sam's trust in him must be deeply shaken even to imagine such a betrayal. "No, Sam--it wasn't like that at all. I would never have 'pushed you off'-"

"Then why did you?"

A sudden knock on the door cut off any reply; someone was banging frantically, as if they would break in the door rather than wait for it be opened. When he heard Pippin's voice shout, "Frodo! Let me in!" Frodo leapt up and dashed to answer it.

Pippin stood on the doorstep, flushed and breathless as if he'd run all the way from Brandy Hall, and he clutched the hilt of his dagger as if he expected to use it.

"What is it?" asked Frodo. A cold, sick feeling of dread coursed through him, wiping away all personal considerations. "What's happened? Who-?"

"It's Eliduc," Pippin announced, still short of breath. "He's been found, dead."

"Oh, Pippin, not another one," Frodo groaned. "Struck over the head?"

"No, he was stabbed in the throat. They found him near the Pogses Farm."

"Where I was walking yesterday..." Frodo felt another sickening chill run through him. Eliduc had been missing since the afternoon. It must have been broad daylight when he'd been killed. He thought he'd been safe in that same place, but no one was safe anywhere anymore.

"Merry's gone with Uncle Em and Marly to the shirriffs' hall, where they've taken Eli," said Pippin. "He wants you to join him there."

"Yes, right away." Frodo turned to get his coat, and found that Sam had come up behind him and was at his elbow; he had already had taken Frodo's coat down from its peg on the wall and was ready to help him put it on. In spite of their quarrel, Sam wasn't about to let Frodo go out on a chilly spring night without dressing warmly.
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