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for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am
not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!’ Pippin pulled
such a grim face that the boy stepped back a pace, but at
once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in
his eye.
‘No!’ Pippin laughed. ‘Don’t believe what strangers say of
themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer
in any case for the challenger to say who he is.’
The boy drew himself up proudly. ‘I am Bergil son of
Beregond of the Guards,’ he said.
‘So I thought,’ said Pippin, ‘for you look like your father.
I know him and he sent me to find you.’
‘Then why did you not say so at once?’ said Bergil, and
suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. ‘Do not tell
me that he has changed his mind, and will send me away
with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.’
‘His message is less bad than that, if not good,’ said Pippin.
‘He says that if you would prefer it to standing me on my
head, you might show me round the City for a while and
cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far countries
in return.’
Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief. ‘All is
well,’ he cried. ‘Come then! We were soon going to the Gate
to look on. We will go now.’
‘What is happening there?’
‘The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South
Road ere sundown. Come with us and you will see.’
Bergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin
had had since he parted from Merry, and soon they were
laughing and talking gaily as they went about the streets,
heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before
long they found themselves in a throng going towards the
Great Gate. There Pippin went up much in the esteem of
Bergil, for when he spoke his name and the pass-word the
guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was
more, he allowed him to take his companion with him.