More of Bergil
Dec. 27th, 2004 10:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanpart one (There are links at the end of each section.)
By the time he got back, Pippin was seated at the table, smearing butter across a slice of bread as he talked softly to the king, who had closed the curtains again on Sam’s bed and gone over to the last bed, which had to belong to Master Meriadoc. “I don’t think any of them slept all that well, Strider. I didn’t hear Frodo come in to go to bed until awfully late, and Sam and Merry both kept finding reasons to get up.”
“And what about you?” the King asked, over his shoulder.
“Well, I heard them didn’t I?” Pippin said. “But after all those ceremonies yesterday I thought I’d better at least pretend to sleep. I’m surprised you’re awake so early, with all that fuss and folderol. Couldn’t they let you sleep until breakfast time? I‘ll come up and guard your door tonight, if you like, and then they‘ll leave you alone in the morning.”
Bergil, who was being very careful how he poured the buckets this time, bit his lip and wondered if he’d get a chance to talk to Pippin after all. But the king said, “No need. I rose early of my own choice. There will be many consultations and ceremonies this day, and for many days yet, I’m afraid. And Imrahil thinks -- and I agree -- that all the Free Peoples should be represented in my meetings with the Easterlings and Southrons.” He stood and closed the curtains on Meriadoc’s bed before coming to the table and appropriating Pippin’s slice of buttered bread. Pippin squeaked a protest, and then sighed and reached for another piece. “Frodo would be the most appropriate of you to stand for the Shire,” the King said, around a mouthful of bread and butter. “But I am not entirely happy with the look of him this morning. Elladan has gone to fetch athelas, if the Herbmaster has found any by now. Would that I had thought to bring more of the leaves which we found in Ithilien.”
“There’s athelas in the kitchen,” Bergil said, and blushed and made a hasty bow because he’d interrupted again. “I mean… I beg your pardon, sir, but Mardil sent some down with Master Sam and me. I saw it when I put it away. Athelas is kingsfoil, isn’t it?”
The King swallowed his mouthful, and exchanged a glance with Pippin before he answered. “Yes. Yes, it is. Run and fetch it, please.”
Bergil ran. The packet was just where he remembered it, with Mardil’s crabbed handwriting identifying the contents. He opened it and looked, just to be sure, and then remembered that the king had used hot water with the athelas before and grabbed up the pot he’d washed. When he was coming back to the bedroom he heard Pippin saying, “…don’t see how he could know with everyone who actually saw what happened standing with us at the…” but when he turned into the room the halfling broke off his sentence and said “There you are, Bergil. Tell me, does everyone in this city rise before cockcrow?”
But the answer would have to wait. Bergil knelt quickly and offered the packet of athelas and the cookpot to the King, sure this time that he was doing it right. Master Tollovand had made them all practice until they’d bruised their knees. “May I be of further service, sir?” he asked, as he’d been taught.
“When did you get this?” King Elessar asked.
Bergil thought a moment. “It was halfway between four and five by the Herbmaster’s water clock when we got there,” he said. “Maybe… fifteen minutes later?”
“And Sam was with you?”
“Yes,” Bergil looked up at the king. “He wanted to know the way.”
The king shook his head. “Small wonder he’s tired again,” he said, as much to himself as to anyone else.
“I slowed down for him,” Bergil offered, “and he liked the garden.”
“The garden!” Pippin said. “That’s an idea, Strider. You could tell Sam and Frodo to go spend the day in the garden. No one’s going to expect them to be at councils and meetings if you say they’ve gone to the Houses of Healing, and it’s not like I haven’t stood for the Shire before.”
part nineteen
By the time he got back, Pippin was seated at the table, smearing butter across a slice of bread as he talked softly to the king, who had closed the curtains again on Sam’s bed and gone over to the last bed, which had to belong to Master Meriadoc. “I don’t think any of them slept all that well, Strider. I didn’t hear Frodo come in to go to bed until awfully late, and Sam and Merry both kept finding reasons to get up.”
“And what about you?” the King asked, over his shoulder.
“Well, I heard them didn’t I?” Pippin said. “But after all those ceremonies yesterday I thought I’d better at least pretend to sleep. I’m surprised you’re awake so early, with all that fuss and folderol. Couldn’t they let you sleep until breakfast time? I‘ll come up and guard your door tonight, if you like, and then they‘ll leave you alone in the morning.”
Bergil, who was being very careful how he poured the buckets this time, bit his lip and wondered if he’d get a chance to talk to Pippin after all. But the king said, “No need. I rose early of my own choice. There will be many consultations and ceremonies this day, and for many days yet, I’m afraid. And Imrahil thinks -- and I agree -- that all the Free Peoples should be represented in my meetings with the Easterlings and Southrons.” He stood and closed the curtains on Meriadoc’s bed before coming to the table and appropriating Pippin’s slice of buttered bread. Pippin squeaked a protest, and then sighed and reached for another piece. “Frodo would be the most appropriate of you to stand for the Shire,” the King said, around a mouthful of bread and butter. “But I am not entirely happy with the look of him this morning. Elladan has gone to fetch athelas, if the Herbmaster has found any by now. Would that I had thought to bring more of the leaves which we found in Ithilien.”
“There’s athelas in the kitchen,” Bergil said, and blushed and made a hasty bow because he’d interrupted again. “I mean… I beg your pardon, sir, but Mardil sent some down with Master Sam and me. I saw it when I put it away. Athelas is kingsfoil, isn’t it?”
The King swallowed his mouthful, and exchanged a glance with Pippin before he answered. “Yes. Yes, it is. Run and fetch it, please.”
Bergil ran. The packet was just where he remembered it, with Mardil’s crabbed handwriting identifying the contents. He opened it and looked, just to be sure, and then remembered that the king had used hot water with the athelas before and grabbed up the pot he’d washed. When he was coming back to the bedroom he heard Pippin saying, “…don’t see how he could know with everyone who actually saw what happened standing with us at the…” but when he turned into the room the halfling broke off his sentence and said “There you are, Bergil. Tell me, does everyone in this city rise before cockcrow?”
But the answer would have to wait. Bergil knelt quickly and offered the packet of athelas and the cookpot to the King, sure this time that he was doing it right. Master Tollovand had made them all practice until they’d bruised their knees. “May I be of further service, sir?” he asked, as he’d been taught.
“When did you get this?” King Elessar asked.
Bergil thought a moment. “It was halfway between four and five by the Herbmaster’s water clock when we got there,” he said. “Maybe… fifteen minutes later?”
“And Sam was with you?”
“Yes,” Bergil looked up at the king. “He wanted to know the way.”
The king shook his head. “Small wonder he’s tired again,” he said, as much to himself as to anyone else.
“I slowed down for him,” Bergil offered, “and he liked the garden.”
“The garden!” Pippin said. “That’s an idea, Strider. You could tell Sam and Frodo to go spend the day in the garden. No one’s going to expect them to be at councils and meetings if you say they’ve gone to the Houses of Healing, and it’s not like I haven’t stood for the Shire before.”
part nineteen
