Pippin's Tale - just a quick note - & new one at the bot

[agape4rivendell]

Hello all,

I've brought these over from the old boards. I am putting in one chapter at a time; all the ones that are completed are going in today.

The tale itself is still being written and is getting very long. Good grief - who would ever think such a little creature could talk for so very long!

Food is a necessary requisite for joining the group of readers. Bring anything you'd like; Bilbo's Old Winyard supply is holding up quite nicely, but others have brought punch and stuff. Oh, Ashlyn brought lemonade once, but it is long gone. She also keeps bringing kleenex, bless her heart. And Ladyhawk is always good for pastry.

Enjoy - both the food and the fellowship,

Agape

[agape4rivendell]

Home is behind, the world ahead,
and there are many paths to tread
through shadows to the edge of night,
until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
we'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
and then to bed! And then to bed. The Fellowship of the Ring.

'Why are some winters worse than others? Why does snow fall? Where does it come from?' These thoughts swirled through Peregrin Took's mind, as the snow outside swirled about the Shire. As Pippin looked out the kitchen window, questions filled his heart. His dearest friend, Meriadoc Brandybuck, always said he thought too much, asked too many questions, looked in places he shouldn't; but questions were as breathing to this Hobbit. He could not quell the questions that assailed him minute by minute, not even if he wanted too. The only thing that seemed to sway him from too much thinking was food. The pleasing aroma coming from behind him awoke that hunger in him again. Turning, he looked back to where Sam was puttering about the fireplace. A large black pot simmered slowly over the fire. Sam was stooped over it, wafting the smell from it towards his nose. Pip had to laugh. Well, at least this is the way Sam answered one question, 'Is the stew done yet?' Pippin sighed, wishing that all his questions could so easily be answered by the mere waving of a hand.

They had gathered together in Sam’s smial, those of the Nine Walkers left in Middle-earth and their friends. It was hard to think of it as Sam's smial. Too long had it been Bilbo's, but the old Hobbit had left it to his nephew… cousin… friend. Frodo, in turn, left it to Sam. It was a special day for Pippin, and his friends decided that he needed company, this day of all days. So they had conspired to meet under the pretext of the smial's roof leaking and Sam needing help to fix it. Only once arrived did Pippin discover their subterfuge. It was February 17, 3021.

"My friends," Pippin said after they had finished the stew, the cherry tarts, the apple dumplings and every last piece of bread in any cupboard within the smial. They had moved to the parlour and Sam had stoked the fire. "I would tell you a tale while the winds blow the snows about the Shire. Will you listen?" Upon seeing all those present nod, Pippin picked up his pipe, took one last puff, and began.

Elves are beautiful. Never have I seen any like them, especially at the Ford of Bruinen when Glorfindel….

Well, he tried to begin, but Fatty Bolger was trying to fluff the pillows on the chair he had chosen and making none too little noise about it; Jolly Cotton was trying to sit on his knees on the couch he shared with his brothers, Tom and Nick, but they whined that he was taking up much too much room; Robin Smallburrow was trying to sit on the stool near the fireplace which immediately collapsed under his weight; while Rosie, dear Rosie, who had been trying to finally make herself a cup of tea after having served the lot of them, came running out to see what was the matter. Pippin shook his head, thoroughly exasperated. He had never lost an audience quite this quickly, even when he tried to tell the history of pipeweed at the Green Dragon.

Sam stood up, looking quite furious. “Be still now, all of you, or I’ll toss you all into the storm!” His concern for Pippin outweighed his duties as host.

Merry stood up and walked towards him. “Sam, it’s all right.” He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “They’re just trying to get comfortable. Pippin,” he turned towards his friend, “would you start again? Please? You were telling us about Glorfindel?”

Sam and Merry sat and Pip – Pippin’s sighs were forgotten in the memory. “Yes, Merry. I’ll start again.”

Elves are beautiful. Never have I seen any like them, especially at the Ford of Bruinen when Glorfindel – how can I say what we saw? Flame? No. Not like the sun even. It was more silver and shiny and I wanted to cover my eyes, but I wanted to see too. It was more like mithril when a torch is held up to it. That’s what Glorfindel looked like as he charged the Nine. Merry and I were frozen stiff as we watched the change come over him. It was frightening and exciting all at the same time. I couldn’t believe he was going to fight them all by himself. And then suddenly he was changed.

“Was it like Gandalf’s fireworks?” Fatty asked.

“Yes,” Pip said. “Yes and no. It was even brighter. Gandalf told us later that’s what they look like on the other side. How beautiful – how frightful.”

But men, Merry’s eyes glassed over – now these here are totally different from the men of Bree. There are dwarves here and men who are guests of Elrond. One man in particular – so tall in a different way than elves, and fair. He never smiles though! I want very much to meet him. He has come alone and on foot from a very long distance away and I wonder how that was possible for a man. One of the elves told me he was a great warrior, named Boromir.

Merry stopped for a moment.

After Frodo had recovered…

“What do you mean, recovered?” Nick Cotton asked.

Sam drew in a quick breath.

“There was an accident on the way from Bree and Frodo had hurt himself,” Merry said.

“But the Elves fixed him up right proper,” Sam interjected.

Pippin rolled his eyes. “So,” he said loudly,

Elrond called a Council. We Hobbits were not invited. I heard there was no food being served, so I wasn’t too upset – but Merry was. He wanted to be a part of everything. He seemed to be changing. “I’m sorry, Merry, but really, you did.”

We heard loud shouting many times coming from the porch where they met. It was strange indeed to hear shouting in that peaceful place. I was very glad we hadn’t been invited. They had started early in the morning and were still at it when the lunch bell rang. Who would continue a meeting right through second breakfast, through elevenses? As much as I liked Elrond, I thought this was not courteous – for an elf or anyone.

Finally, the Council broke up and we all met for a late luncheon. All except Bilbo – he seemed to tire more quickly. After luncheon, where no one shared and no one answered poor Merry’s questions, he and I left and went off for a smoke by the waterfalls. We fell asleep on the bank of the river and awoke to a strange chill wind and wondered what had caused it. It was not quite autumn. We ran to Bilbo’s room and found our friends there. Much to Merry’s dismay, we discovered Sam had snuck into the Council meeting. He and Frodo were going to go off on an adventure and it seemed we would not be going. How could they not take me with them? I told them they needed someone with intelligence in their party.

It was with much difficulty that his friends worked to stop their hoots of laughter at this statement. Fatty in particular laughed quite loudly, till he noticed Sam’s scowl. Pippin shook his head and continued.

After the Council, Boromir went off with Aragorn on patrol. Many left Rivendell, elves and the two men, searching for something. When they’d come back, they would go to Elrond’s study and did not even come out for the singing or the telling of tales. If not for this, it would have been a happy time indeed. The four of us stayed together mostly, well fed with plenty of pipeweed and song. Frodo spent many hours with Bilbo – sometimes Sam was with them, and sometimes not. When he wasn’t with Frodo, Sam seemed lost. So Merry and I took up the slack, so to speak, and we made him sit and drink with us. I never felt any worry in that place; at least once Frodo was healed. I think there must have been a spell on it.

“I wish you all could have visited Rivendell," Merry said. "It is so lovely. And they laugh and sing all the time, even more than Pippin and I. At least they did while we were there. I understand our visit may have changed things.” Pippin had stopped for a moment and tried to take another puff, but the pipe had gone out. Merry quickly lit the errant pipe and sat back down.

The next two months Merry and I spent mainly in the Hall of Fire, but now and again, when he was back from patrol, Boromir would seek us out. I don’t know why. He wouldn’t smoke with us and he ate very little. He always seemed amused to see Merry and me eat. Sometimes, he would shake his head. And once, I heard him whisper, “Where does it all go?” But he would share ale with us and he would listen to my stories of the Shire. He was quite attentive and would even ask questions. Polite questions – enough to let me know that he was listening, enough to let me know that he didn’t think I was just making noises, the way Gandalf often makes me feel.

Ever and anon the scouting parties would come back and ever and anon I would hear Boromir’s voice. It seemed to call to me. I counted upon hearing it to tell me when they returned. At last, the news was encouraging. There didn’t seem to be any more of those Black Riders around and this, apparently, was what Gandalf and Elrond wanted to hear.

Master Elrond finally chose those who would go on the quest… mission…. thing… with Frodo and Sam. I was grateful to hear that Boromir would go with him, along with Strider and Gandalf.

Pippin paused. His eyes narrowed.

I like this man. He is very kind to me. I think Aragorn likes him too for I heard him tell Gandalf that he is a valiant man.

Pippin shook his head.

Imagine my surprise when Elrond didn’t pick Merry or me to go with them! What must he have been thinking? Hobbits have to stick together! Gandalf wanted Merry to go too and I told both of them, in no uncertain terms, that they would have to tie me in chains to stop me, for I was going to go! The two of them talked about me as if I weren’t even there, but finally, Master Elrond yielded to Gandalf’s wishes.

Again, Pippin’s eyes clouded over.

Seven days later we are saying good-bye to Rivendell. It seems as though we have just arrived. I am so very surprised – an elf and a dwarf are going with us. Boromir puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me how glad he is that I am going with them – but I feel a sadness in his touch. “I know now that he was afraid for me.”

He carried that great horn with him always, and just before we left Rivendell, he blew a great cry on it. It gave me chills to hear it.

“The memory even now sends shivers down my back and tears to my eyes. Such a great man! I will tell you more about the horn another time, my friends. It is too deep a wound.” Merry looks at Sam. Sam shrugs.

Elves, dwarves, everyone anywhere near us seemed to start violently at its call. That horn was so very loud and there seemed to be some kind of magic about it. Elrond told Boromir that it would be better not to wind it except in need. I certainly hoped he would not have to blow it again anytime soon! But Boromir said that ever he let the horn cry as he started on a journey and this was a time the like of which he had not known before. I didn’t feel afraid as I stood next to him. He had a smile on his face and his hand rested lightly on his sword. I wanted to take his hand as we started out, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know how to tell you, my friends, how much he filled me with a sense of peace and joy. He loved life… as much as any Hobbit I have ever known."

It seemed so sad to leave Rivendell. We really had a lovely stay and the elves treated us so well. We were told we were going to travel by night and I suppose that was wise, but I like to travel in the sunshine, with a song on my lips and a pipe in my mouth. Gandalf told us quite firmly that we were not allowed to smoke. I didn’t know how I would survive this and I quite wondered if I had made a mistake, going on this adventure. I had put some of my dinner in my pockets and contented myself with that as we started out. Better food in the pocket than trust to Strider to stop for a proper meal! This was going to be a weary trip, I could tell that already.

The smoke from Pippin’s pipe wafted towards the ceiling. He looked up at it, surprised. “Hmmm,” he said quietly. “Reminds me of Gandalf’s smoke rings.” He sighed. "Seems strange to think that Gandalf is gone."

Strider and Gandalf walk ahead and always their heads are close together, yet they never tell us what they speak of. I can’t understand why they don’t include Boromir in their talks. Poor old Boromir, I feel very badly for him. When we first started out, almost ten days ago, he seemed very happy. When I asked him why, he said because we were now headed towards his home and that thought filled him with joy. He told me a little of his city; the love he has for it just bleeds from him. I also asked him why, in the Hall of Fire when the elves sang their songs of Elbereth and Luthien and other Elvish tales, he would grow quiet. He said it was because of his brother, Faramir. He remembered all the times Faramir had tried to teach him Elvish tales and songs and how he would laugh at his brother and cause a ruckus so that poor Faramir couldn’t finish them. He told me how sorry he was to have not listened, how sorry he was to have teased Faramir about them being of no import. He said he would do better when he returned. He planned on returning. He really did! Pippin blinked tears away.

We were so bitterly cold, even with the heavy clothes that Elrond had given us. I asked Gandalf a few times, only a few times, how much farther. He very nicely reminded me that I was the one who wanted to go on this quest and that I should have spent more time looking at Master Elrond’s maps. Unfortunately, this is not the last time I wished I had looked more closely at those maps.

Well, as always, I was right – we did not stop for second breakfast or anything but a little meal as dawn broke, and then we camped for the day. We hid in shrubbery or in cold cracks in the rocks. I was getting very weary and I had decided to tell Gandalf that we definitely needed to stop soon for a nice long rest with a few proper meals. I was so hungry. I could have eaten three breakfasts on end. Merry told me to tell Gandalf after he himself had left the area!

“Well, you did Merry,” Pippin laughed as he saw Merry’s expression.

“I did not,” Merry stated flatly. “I just could not bear hearing you called ‘fool of a Took’ one more time.” He ducked as the pillow sailed harmlessly over his head.

“I think tis time for a snack,” Sam said, and had to quickly move out of the way as the Cotton brothers leapt from the couch and ran into the kitchen.

[agape4rivendell]

"Can we have a little quiet in here?” Sam growled.

“I don’t remember him growling before he went on that adventure, do you, Tom?”

“No, Nick. I was just thinking the same thing.” They stopped talking though, as soon as Sam turned towards them. A wicked smile played on his lips.

“We are listening to Pippin now, not you two hooligans.”

“Go ahead now, Pippin. Our stomachs are full from first and second breakfast and we are waiting for you.”

The snack had lasted long past elevenses and Pippin was ready.

The wind had finally changed direction and it was getting warmer. I was so very glad. I don't like the cold, especially without a nice warm fire and a good pipe. My feet hurt and I was so tired. I definitely thought I had made a mistake coming on this quest. Merry wouldn't even talk to me.

Pippin paused in his retelling as many nasty glances were sent Merry’s way. The latter was forced to apologize profusely to his young cousin before the others would allow Pip to continue.

He was always off with that Dwarf, Gimli. They seemed to be enjoying themselves something awful. Every time I looked at them, they were laughing. Gimli was telling him about the mountains. ‘Who wants to talk about mountains anyhow when one's stomach is rumbling?’ I thought. And speaking of food, have you ever seen a Dwarf eat? Almost every crumb fell onto his beard and he just let them lie there. Pretty soon, the whole meal ended up caught in the beard. Then he would drink and spill his ale and that went all over the beard as well. I can't continue – it was not a pretty picture, let me tell you.

"I remember the Gaffer telling me about Dwarves when they first visited Bag End," Sam said suddenly, his eyes lighting with the memory.

"I remember Aragorn telling Gimli to be more courteous when we met Haldir," Merry said. "Pippin, do you remember that time?"

"Yes," Pippin snapped, "but I am now talking about Dwarves and food, not Dwarves and courtesy. Besides, that is much later in the tale. You must be patient."

Merry almost giggled out loud, but covered his mouth. 'Look who's talking about patience,' he thought.

Every time I looked back at the Elf, Legolas, he seemed to be in another world. He was always gazing ahead humming a strange tune. I couldn’t even understand the words; Frodo said it was something Elvish. When I tried to talk to him, he just smiled down at me and went on with his quiet song. It was disturbing. So I guessed I must content myself with Boromir for company. Oh, I did so very much like him, but I wanted to spend some time playing with Merry, just some little Shire game to remind me of home. It had been a long time since we'd been home. Perhaps if I could have smoked, the longing in my heart would have gone away. Frodo and Sam just plodded. Yes, that’s it; they just plodded along. They didn't even seem like Hobbits anymore. No singing, no laughing. I was ready to just turn around and go home by myself. But I changed my mind when Gandalf said we would stay in a place called Hollin for the entire day and night, and the next night also. That was a good piece of news, for we would have a real fire and hot food - a proper meal. I was very excited indeed.

"Well, did you?"

"Did I what?" Pippin asked, perturbed at being interrupted again.

"Did you have a proper meal and smoking and singing and laughing?" It was Fatty who asked.

Pip smiled. Fatty's name just didn't describe him anymore, not since the doings in the Shire while they were away on the Quest. It near broke his heart when he and Merry had to carry Fatty from the Lockholes at Michel Delving, too weak to walk. Still, his mind seemed to be focused on food again, and Pippin felt that was a good thing.

"Yes, Fatty, we did," he said kindly. Just listen."

Breakfast/supper was splendid and the fire felt wonderful. Afterwards, Merry and I pitched stones into a nearby creek. It felt so good, like being home and we sang the Skipping Song loudly. Then, we fought over who had won, landed on the ground in a tumble of giggles and faked punches, dirt flung every which way. Boromir came over and separated us. “You two make enough noise to wake a cave troll,” he laughed. “What’s a cave troll?” I asked, but Boromir shook his head. “You do not want to know, little one.” And walked away. Later, we sat with our pipes and had a good smoke. Even Gandalf joined us. Strider said Elves used to live in Hollin a long time ago and you could still feel them if you tried really hard. Perhaps that's why Legolas looked so content. Those Elves had all left though and gone to the Grey Havens, past the Shire. Sam looked so sad. Well, I at least I knew I would sleep well there, guarded by an Elf, a Dwarf and men - oh, and Gandalf.

The sounds of someone quietly humming stopped Pippin's tale.

"Oh, I remember that song," young Jolly said. "It's the Skipping Song."

With that he started to sing and was quickly joined in harmony by his brothers.

Seven times my stone did hop
Almost to the other side
When it last it finally plopped
You in shame were forced to hide.

My stone hopped longer
My stone hopped longer
My stone hopped longer
And I will win this game.

Now your stone did seven hops
But my own did further go
You might win and think your tops
If the hops alone you know.

But …

My stone went further
My stone went further
My stone went further
And I will win this game.

Laughter filled the smial and all decided it was time to break for luncheon.

"Sticklebats!" as old Bilbo used to say, Pippin continued. No, even stronger words were needed - a plague and a nuisance! That was what it was. Strider said we must move as quickly as possible, that he had seen spies. It was only a pack of old crows. How could he be so afraid of birds after those horrible Black Riders! Bitter news too - no fire, no hot supper and no pipe! And no sleep that night. "As soon as the sun goes down," Gandalf had told us, "we must pull everything together and head up the mountains." Those mountains looked very cold and the fur cloaks Elrond gave us did not seem to be enough to keep us warm on those heights, I figured.

Let me tell you something else that I’ve been trying to figure out. Boromir was supposed to be a great warrior and leader, yet I was continually surprised by how he treated Strider. He offered advice to him, humbly, like Sam did with Frodo. I remember exactly what he said because I found it so very strange. "I will add a word of advice, if I may?" Now why would he say it like that? He asked Strider if we might bring wood and kindling for this part of our journey. He said he was used to traveling in mountains and we might very much need it. Strider agreed, but I don't think Gandalf was at all happy with this decision. Boromir said that if it came down to being seen by spies of the enemy and being dead, that death might be the greater evil. I agreed whole-heartedly, but no one seemed to notice or to care.

Strider pushed us at a fast pace; we went further and further up the mountain. We came upon very deep snow, the like of which I'd never seen. It was wet and cold. I could hardly see Gandalf or Strider for the fat flakes that were falling, almost the size of my hand. I would have liked to just sit there for a moment and rest, but Gandalf was not happy with my speed, so up I got again and on I went.

The smoke lazed around Pippin’s pipe.

Boromir was laughing at me. I was sure of it. He had this grin on his face and, though he would turn his face from me, I truly believed he was laughing at me. Suddenly, he put his hand on my shoulder and offered to carry me. I was so angry I didn't notice that the laughter had left his eyes and concern filled them. "I don't need to be carried nor laughed at," I shouted over the wind. But then he started to truly laugh out loud and...

At this Pippin stopped, Merry walked over to Pippin and sat at his feet. "I do remember his laughter, Pip. I do remember it." Tears started down Pippin's face and he choked the words out. "It was a wonderful sound, so joyous and full and free." Pip's chin started to shake. He took three deep breaths and gripped Merry's shoulder tight.

So I joined him in laughter and Gandalf scowled at the noise we made, but it felt so good to laugh again! And the strength of Boromir was rousing. It gave me courage to keep going.

Pippin lowered his head, realizing that he had been someplace else for a moment, caught up in the past. Sam cleared his throat.

Rocks were falling all around us! I was frightened. The big folk argued about what was causing this. Gimli scared me even more. He said the mountain was angry with us and it was trying to kill us. With all the strange things we had been through these past few months, I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised, but Gimli's talk did nothing to make me feel better. The snow was up past my knees. They were all talking at once, yelling over the wind and frightening the wits out of me. Then, Boromir added his voice. He said it might be the enemy causing this. "We have seen many strange things in my country," he said, "for Gondor is close to Mordor." Gimli didn't think so, but Gandalf said, "His arm has grown long." I wondered whom he meant.

Soon even Boromir was struggling against the snow, trying to go on. I couldn’t keep up, and I couldn’t stop shaking; the cold was so bitter, the snow melting down my neck. I didn't care why it was happening; I just wanted it to stop. I yelled at them, "What can we do?" Strider finally decided that we would stop where we were, under an overhanging ledge that he said would protect us; but if it were not for Bill, the pony, we would have frozen to death that day. He stood in front of us, blocking some of the wind and snow.

"Harrumph," Sam said. "And some of you have wondered why I have taken such good care of that pony, haven't you? I've heard your snickering. But that pony saved our lives that day. Mark my word, he did."

Well, I felt sorry for him and would, if I could have, gone up to him, made him lie down, and then snuggled up next to him. I thought this was a good idea and I thought about telling Gandalf. No, he would probably say something I wasn’t ready to hear. And I’m sure Sam didn’t like the idea at all. He loved that pony. I was so very tired though and just wanted to sleep.

Suddenly, Pippin’s eyes were quite wide.

Boromir is shouting. He has pulled Frodo up into his arms, uncovering him from the snow. Frodo was asleep and this has upset Boromir very much. There is a look of fear on his face. He says something about how this will be the death of the Hobbits, but I am too tired to understand. I just want to sleep. He says we must light the fire quickly. Strider agrees, but try as they might they cannot start it. I am so bitterly cold; I can't seem to move my feet. Gimli keeps saying Dwarves can light any fire anywhere, but I don't see any flames yet. Gandalf is muttering strange words under his breath and suddenly a bright light shoots from his staff, and the fire is lit. Boromir helps me up and together we stand by the fire, our hands held out to that blessed flame.

Merry gently shook Pip's knee and called his name. Pippin looked down at him and blinked. Then he looked about the room, blushing slightly, in embarrassment.

My back was very cold, but I was content - at last a little warmth was upon me. Gandalf gave us a tiny drink of some Elven stuff from Lord Elrond. It warmed me all over, even better than Bilbo's Old Winyard. Boromir stood next to me like an immovable rock, and I was at peace. If not for him, we would all be dead. I even told one of the soldiers, at the stonewall when Gandalf and I first reached Gondor, that Boromir had saved me from death in the snow.... and that I would be forever grateful to Boromir the Brave.

Finally, the morning came and none too soon. Strider said the snow was slowing and I would have it so, as Boromir was so fond of saying. I was beyond tired, but there was no hope of rest, for the snow still lay well above my head. We had stood the entire night; Boromir would not let us sit or sleep. I know now the fear that I saw on him. He told me that if we had fallen asleep, we would have died. My shivering was not from the cold alone. He saw it and smiled; told me he would let no harm come to me.

"Where did such a friend come from?" Pippin whispered softly. "Is that what Strider meant, Merry, when he said Boromir was valiant?” Merry just rested his head on Pip's knee; he had no answer.

The big people decided that we would go back. I didn't care where we went as long as it was to somewhere warm where we could eat and sleep. I looked to my left where the path should have been. I couldn't see it. Huge drifts of snow covered everything. The snow looked higher than Strider in places. There was no way we could go that way, but the only other way was further up the mountain. I didn't want to go that way, either. "Well," said Boromir, "when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way." He pointed out the path to Strider and they started off. They used their bodies and flailed their arms about with Boromir in the forefront, moving the snow as they progressed. I found there were tears in my eyes. If we Hobbits had not been with them, it would have been so much easier. We were a nuisance. But neither man ever spoke a word against us.

The fire was long gone. It was over an hour since they had left us, and I was growing colder and more worried by the minute. We hadn't seen snow in the Shire like that in a very long time. The heaviness and depth of it surprised me. Gandalf was muttering to himself, and Legolas had gone off to find the sun... or so he said. Gandalf laughed at that. I didn't know what they were talking about, but I certainly hoped that Legolas could find the sun and bring some back to us. I was cold! Meanwhile, I wondered where Boromir and Strider could be.

At last they came back, smiling. That was a good thing. They had battled the snow and won. Legolas was back also. The path they had made was still too high; I couldn’t walk it. "What are we to do," I cried. Boromir just smiled, the weariness leaving his eyes. He picked me up and off we went. I felt like a sack of the Gaffer's potatoes, clinging to his back like that, but I held on tight. The top of his sword touched my feet, stinging it with cold, but I was very happy. We were still treading through deep snow; he kept pushing it aside as we went, but there was a joy about him that made me laugh. He had so much strength and courage.

Strider followed behind us with Merry; I could hear him giggling - Merry that is. There was a huge drift ahead that jutted out into the path, and I could not understand how they were able to get through it. Boromir told me that Strider had saved his life there. The path they had made suddenly fell back upon them; Boromir trapped underneath. My heart froze and would have broken in half at the thought of the bravery of these two. "That drift would have stopped a Hobbit cold," I said aloud, but Gimli said that I am small. ‘Has he looked at himself lately?’ I wondered. Oh, I was so sorry I thought that. It was unkind. But I was tired, hungry, and I desperately wanted to go home. One thought only kept me going - how could I ever leave Frodo.

At that thought, a silence fell upon them - one held so dear among those who had been part of the Fellowship and those who had helped in the Battle of Bywater. Sam’s head snapped up; he looked about to cry. Merry stood up and stretched, pretending not to notice.

“I refuse to miss supper,” Merry said. With that, he had to battle his way towards the kitchen.

Pippin giggled. It almost seemed that life was as it had been before. Startled, he stopped. Merry turned as he heard the giggle turn to a gasp.

“Come on, Pippin. This crowd will eat everything in all the pantries if we let them.”


* Author's note - the reference to the snow slide that almost killed Boromir was lifted (with love) from a tale of Linaewen's - it is, in my mind, now fanon (fiction that has become canon). LOL

[agape4rivendell]

”’Tis so quiet outside. I do love snow; it falls so rarely here. But the quiet… it reminds me of evil times,” Merry said. He blushed. He usually kept such thoughts to himself.

“That’s because we were listening to Pip’s tale about the snow on that horrid mountain,” Robin said.

Sam sat down, quietly nestling Rosie on one knee. “It is not a tale, Robin, no more than the stories of the Battle of Bywater. It was real, and it happened to us.”

“I know that, Sam, but it seems so unbelievable. Like the stories of Mister Bilbo disappearing at his party. Now we all know that was not true!”

The members of the Fellowship smiled at each other.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” Tom said. “I’d dearly like to play a game of Alqueque. Can we use the pieces that King Aragorn gave you, Sam? Besides, my legs are cramped from sitting all this long day,”.

“Yes, let’s,” said Sam. “You two, pull out the pieces and the board. They are in the cupboard by the fire. Pippin, would you make us some coffee?” He helped Rosie up, then stood himself. Putting a finger over his lips, he motioned for her to leave the room. She smiled, took off her apron, put it on their chair and quietly slipped out. He followed.

Pippin and Merry smiled at each other. It was good to be home. Good to be in the Shire. Good to have family about.

They all ooh’d and aah’d as only Hobbits can at the sight of the beautifully carved circles, black and white pieces with the Tree of Gondor carved into each one. It had been a long time since any had seen them. Sam had kept them in his own home until he moved in to Bag End to live with Frodo. Many a long night he and Frodo had played the game. Merry now wondered if that was why he had left the room. ‘Poor Sam,’ Merry thought. And then he had to smile, for he knew that Rosie was taking good care of him at that very moment.

The sun had long gone down, but the group had slept in that morning, till almost past second breakfast, but not quite. None were very tired this night. After Jolly beat everyone by ‘huffing’ negligent player’s pieces, they put the game away. Out of boredom, someone started tossing a cushion around the room. The fire dwindled to red-hot ashes, while shadows grew on the walls and up the ceiling. A feeling of dread entered the room and, sensing the change, Nick shivered, sliding closer to his brother on the couch.

“I think it’s time for another part of the story,” Pippin announced. “If you thought the part about the mountain was chilling (and Merry laughed at the choice of words), then you might wish to hide somewhere as I tell you this next part.”

Jolly sat very close to Nick and Tom. Sam and Rosie had returned to the room.

We never rested after we passed the snowdrift on our way off Caradhras. Gandalf led us southwards. At last, he let us rest. After a very small meal, he started to speak of where we would go next. Strider was upset that Gandalf had led us up the mountain in the first place, but we were alive, and that was a good thing. Gandalf called a council – which seemed a little silly – we were all there anyway. But it was also nice. It almost seemed as if Gandalf wanted to hear our thoughts, too, not that I had much to say. I didn’t even know which way was which, except that west was home.

Rivendell – Gandalf said we might have to return there. Ah, that would be so good. I could tell Sam and Merry liked that idea, too. All the food we could want, and warmth, and songs, and pipeweed. But something was wrong with Frodo? I didn’t understand. Wouldn’t he like to see Bilbo again? But Gandalf said that evil would come to Rivendell soon if we didn’t press on and Rivendell itself might fall. That would be terrible, such a beautiful place and such wonderful songs. No, we could never let anything happen to Rivendell.

”Will I ever get to see Rivendell?” Robin asked. “I would most like to see it.”

Sam’s eyes turned watery. “Rivendell has changed, Robin. The Elves have gone West with Frodo (his voice caught at the beloved name). It would not be the same. I had even thought of taking Rosie there someday, but I don’t think so.”

The Mines of Moria – my skin crawled as Gandalf spoke of that place. I didn’t rightly know why, but I had vague memories of being told it was a bad place. ‘Why would Gandalf lead us there?’ I wondered. If the looks of the others told their thoughts, they didn’t want to go there either. ‘There must be some other way,’ I thought. I turned towards Boromir – he looked at me and smiled - but he was troubled too, I could tell. I remember he said he would protect me. He wanted to go south to the Fords of Isen or even further south than that. He said that way was clear on his journey from Gondor to Rivendell, but Gandalf was uneasy. He chided Boromir for not listening at Elrond’s council. Of course, I don’t know what went on there, only the little that Frodo told us, but I guessed another wizard had been turned by the Enemy, and he lived too close for us to go that way. I felt sorry for Boromir. Gandalf spoke harshly to him, and it hurt me.

Boromir feared Moria was a trap. I think that what happened on Caradhras had made him angry for his words to Gandalf were also harsh to my ears. He had been very much afraid that we would all die. I wondered if that was why he was angry or was he angry that no one asked his opinion before we almost all got killed there? And Gandalf snapped back at him. No one but Gimli wanted to follow Gandalf to Moria, and poor Frodo just wanted to rest. “Tomorrow will be the better time for a decision – in the light of day,” Frodo said, “and away from this howling wind.”

At these words, Strider jumped to his feet. “The wargs have come west of the mountains,” he screamed. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I was frightened. It was not the wind as Frodo thought - it was wargs! I remember Bilbo’s story of the wargs driving them up the trees, howling and waiting for Bilbo and the Dwarves to fall down to eat them. I thought they were just legends as Moria was or Bilbo’s trolls turned to stone at Trollshaws. But I had seen the stone trolls and I now heard the wargs. They were not legends. I moved closer to Boromir.

Jolly tried to scrunch further down between Tom and Nick.

We climbed a short hill, lit a fire and were told to sleep. How could I sleep? I moved near where Boromir sat. He smiled at me and tossed his sword around and around in his hand. His face was set, and I was a little less afraid. I wished now that I had listened to Lord Elrond and returned to the Shire. I felt so useless. Where was the courageous Took blood? Sam seemed to think we would be all right, and he definitely thought that no warg could ever harm Gandalf. I wasn’t so sure. I finally fell asleep despite my fear, but was awakened shortly after by a shout.

Pip’s eyes glazed over again and Merry quickly moved to sit at his feet. But Pippin did not see nor feel his friend.

What is that horrible noise? Boromir jumps to his feet. There is a huge animal standing there, looking at us. I have never seen anything so big. Its eyes glow and its teeth - it has horrible fangs hanging down - and the sounds coming from its throat are hideous. I run to Boromir's side. He tells me quietly to draw my sword, but not to fear. My heart is racing and I can do naught but fear. This is a servant of the Enemy - my first look at such a one. As terrifying to me as one of the Black Riders, it is. But there is only one - and Gandalf is not afraid. He looks so tall and fierce. He shouts a command at it, but it only howls in defiance and springs forward. “Look out Gandalf!” An arrow flies into its throat and it is dead. Legolas never seems to miss what he marks. Then the eyes in the dark all seem to vanish. I find myself shaking and move even closer to Boromir. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says I did well. I didn't do well. I was terrified, but he tells me I did not get in the way, kept my head, and did not panic. There is more to courage than wielding a sword. I do not believe him. I cannot go back to sleep now. The night seems to last forever; I want to see the morning come and quickly!

More wargs suddenly come forward - there seems to be no end to them. All those dreadful eyes staring at us, sizing us up. The screams and howls are all around us. More wood is thrown on the fire - but this will not stop them. I move towards Boromir and so does Merry. Our swords are drawn - how I wish we had spent more time practicing with Boromir instead of playing. All is lost. We won't survive this night. They come. Strider and Boromir hack with their swords and Legolas sets loose arrow after arrow. Gimli swings his arms back and forth, splitting wargs in two with his mighty axe. Gandalf wields his staff, and it shines brightly as it destroys warg after warg. One has gotten past Boromir - I close my eyes and strike out. Boromir shouts, “Good work,” and I open my eyes to find one of the dreadful beasts dead at my feet. I know I did nothing to harm this beast – Boromir has saved me again. Another comes towards us and Merry and I both try to defend ourselves, but it is useless. Again, Gimli steps in and makes short work of that one. Now Gandalf strikes forward, and as he moves he appears to be growing larger. I rub my eyes and yes, it is true, he is growing larger. He grabs a large burning branch from the fire and wields it about his head, yelling something in Elvish, I think, as he throws the branch into the air. Sparks fly all over – I hide under my cloak. The trees have caught on fire. Everything is white and brilliant – I can hardly see. The wargs turn and run. At last, they are all dead or fleeing.

I fall to the ground. My arms shake and I can't see for the tears in my eyes. My throat is dry and sore. I must have been screaming, but I don't remember it.

Pippin’s head was under the quilt that covered his chair, and he was screaming through it. Merry had been trying to hold him, shush him, but terror filled the room. Robin had run next to Sam’s chair and was holding tight to the arm of it as if it would protect him. Sam stood up. He walked to Pippin’s chair, knelt next to it, and pulled the quilt off Pippin’s head. “Pippin,” he calls.

Boromir comes to my side, Pippin continued, his voice still screaming the words. He looks with fear and sorrow at me. “Ah, my little one, you have been hurt,” he says. I laugh in spite of my tears, but his concern for me brings more tears to my eyes. I quickly tell him I'm not hurt, just stunned and frightened and very glad it is all over with. “It is all over with, right?”

“Pippin,” Sam said again, “ It is not real any more. It is over and done with. You are safe.” He put his hands on Pippin’s face. “You are safe and so are all your friends. Open your eyes now.”

Pippin obeyed and Merry’s heart broke to see the tear tracks running down that beloved face.

“I… I’m sorry,” Pippin blurted out, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I am so sorry. I was so scared, Sam. I was so scared.”

Sam’s tears fell. “I know, Pip. So was I. But really, Boromir was quite right. You did really well. I was proud of you. And so was he.”

“Do you think so, Sam? Do you really think so?”

“Oh, Pippin,” his voice caught. “Never once did I ever hear Boromir say one word against you, not one word. He loved you, Pippin. With all his heart. He trusted you.” Sam’s sobs mixed with Pippin’s – the two heads bent together.

Merry motioned for the others to leave the room. Rosie put on the kettle and her brothers joined her in the kitchen. Robin hid behind Sam’s chair. Sobs shook his frame as Fatty patted his back. Terror was not new to these Hobbits. Dear Gandalf would have been sad indeed to see this sight, Merry thought, but it had to be done. Terror had to be faced to be free from it.

Merry walked into the kitchen. “I think it’s time we all tried to get some sleep,” he said. “The snow is still coming down heavily; we will likely not be able to leave tomorrow anyway.”

The others agreed, and in true Hobbit fashion, started to tease each other about their responses to Pip’s tale. The tension in the air slowly dissolved away as they went to various bedrooms and sitting rooms, trying to find good places to sleep for the night. With nowhere left to go, Fatty propped himself on the windowsill in the kitchen... though Merry thought he took that particular spot so he might have food near at hand for a mid night’s snack.

At last, they had all retired. Merry walked into the parlour. Robin was fast asleep on the couch. “Come Pippin,” Merry said. “Let’s go into Bilbo’s study.”

“How are you?” he said, once their pipes were lit and their feet were up on Bilbo’s desk.

“I… had not thought it would be this difficult. Must I tell of Amon Hen?”

“You can tell whatever you like, Pippin. It’s your tale.”

“Yes, it is,” he said as the smoke rose languidly towards the ceiling. “I would like to go back to Minas Tirith. No, to Ithilien. To visit Faramir. Do you think we might?”

“I too would like to see Dernhelm again.” Merry said. “It has been fun to ride around the Shire with our livery on, but it seems to no purpose.”

They were silent for awhile.

“I wish I had that quilt in Hollin,” Pippin laughed. “I would have preferred not seeing the wargs. Didn’t it seem scarier to just wait for them, than it did when they finally attacked us? As soon as they started towards us, I forgot everything else and just swung my sword, hoping it would do some good.”

Merry laughed quietly. “We were not very good with our swards at that time. I wish we had been better further along our adventure.” He sighed wistfully.

“Yes, at Amon Hen.” Pippin wiped the tears away and got up. “Time for bed, dear cousin. And…. Thank you!”

[agape4rivendell]

The Hobbits woke to a world covered in white. Oohs and aahs filled the smial.

"Hmmm," Merry said, "I do not much like the look of that. Too much like Caradhras. I think I will stay inside and have a nice first breakfast, and perhaps a pipe."

Pippin came into the room, noticed Merry was talking to an empty room and laughed. "Who ya talking to, Merry?"

"Why…" Merry looked around in consternation. "Fatty was here just a moment ago." A sudden clanking of pots and pans told them where Fatty had disappeared to.

They smiled at each other and joined him in the kitchen. "What are you up to, Fatty?" Merry asked politely.

"I was going to make some biscuits, but I can't find the flour. Though I did put on the kettle."

"Couldn't wait for Rosie?"

"'Course I could. I thought it would be nice to let her sleep in, seeing as she was cooking all day yesterday."

Pippin stifled a chuckle. "Dear Fatty," he said. "We will help you."

The rest of the morning was spent on the hill, sliding down on great boxes that Bilbo must have stored for packing and never used. Those who didn't want to slide sat in front of the fire, which Nick had made on the road just outside Bilbo's gate. They sipped Rosie's special cider and wrapped themselves tightly in Elven cloaks, donated by Merry and Pippin. Frodo's cloak, as always, hung on the wall. He had left it for Sam to give to his 'Frodo' – they had all wondered, for Sam had only Elanor – but instead, it was hung with care on the hook in the entrance hall. Not one even asked to touch it.

Merry had teased Pippin, and they finally went outside and joined their friends. The two cousins were not so foolish as to slide down the hill, but occupied themselves by making snowballs. After sledding became boring, the others joined together and built a huge wall, long and low. Then another was built opposite. They called off partners and proceeded into battle. Merry and Pippin's longer reach, due to the Ent draught, helped their side win.

By now tummies were rumbling, but there was no need for worry, for Rosie, ever-wonderful Rosie, had already started the fire in the kitchen and was busily preparing elevenses. She had been surprised that they had played right through second breakfast, and knew they would be as hungry as Hobbits can be.

As they tumbled through the door, she had to laugh out loud. They looked so much like the description that Bilbo had used of the Dwarves so long ago, as they poured into the smial on their way to the great adventure. She had to wipe tears from her eyes for the merriment they all caused her heart.

It was too soon after elevenses to go out for more fun before luncheon, so they each went to their own rooms and took a quick nap - all except Rosie, who replenished the fire and started baking for the afternoon. Little Elanor was napping between Merry and Pippin in Sam's old room. Rosie could not help humming. It was so good to have the smial full. Hearing Hobbits giggle and scream, watching them try to outdo each other, brought her such joy. Frodo would have been delighted. Tears came to her eyes as she thought of him. It had been so very hard to let him go, to help Sam let him go. Her motherly instincts cried out to relieve Frodo's distress, but he was beyond all aid that could be offered in Middle-earth. When Merry and Pippin had told her they believed Frodo was planning on leaving the Shire, she wrote to Aragorn, hoping he could persuade him to stay. But Aragorn wrote that he had done everything in his power to heal Frodo and yet, he could not. He thought it best that Frodo leave. She had stamped her foot when she read the letter. 'Men!' she wanted to scream at Aragorn. 'Do they not know they are needed? Do they not know how empty a smial can be at night, when the wind blows, or when the sun is shining and there is no hand to hold, when there are memories and no one to share them with?' She was so grateful that Sam had arranged this time for Pippin. At least one heart would be healed.

The Hobbits profusely thanked Rosie for luncheon, once they had filled their bellies. Then, one by one, they walked into the parlour, carrying pipes, some with pillows, and all ready for a quiet time. Pippin looked around. They were looking back at him, expectantly. He was not sure if he was ready for this next part, but a Hobbit cannot disappoint friends who are waiting for a tale. So he pulled his chair closer to the fire and began.

We were facing the mountains again, but this time we were going south of them. Breakfast was hurried and very small. I was starting to feel hungry all the time, especially with no second breakfasts, no elevenses. I wondered how a Hobbit was to survive! Gandalf was pushing us very quickly; he wanted us to be at the gates before nightfall. I didn't much like the look on his face. 'There is something amiss here,' I thought. I was not sure what it was, but he was definitely troubled. He would look to the left and to the right, muttering to himself something awful. If he was trying to make me feel better, he was not doing a very good job of it, I can tell you that.

We came to a stagnant river. 'How can a river be stagnant at this time of year?' I wondered. I remembered the cool, clear Brandybuck, the snow runoff causing the river to swell, and wished heartily that I was there. This water felt cold and slimy to my feet. Frodo shivered as he passed through it. I feared for him. He was changing, and not for the better. Was it the wound from the Morgul-knife? Was it the Ring? He clutched at his breast now and again. He seemed to have lost all happiness. Sam watched him constantly, his brow creased in worry. I didn't remember Bilbo changing when he had the ring. In fact, Bilbo seemed to remain the same. His hair had not even turned white, well, not until he gave It to Frodo.

Finally, we reached a cliff and Gandalf started running his hands over the wall of rock as we walked along, murmuring Elvish words, like Bilbo would speak now and again. Gimli was like Gandalf's shadow, following close by and muttering to himself. If it weren't getting dark, I would have laughed, but the mood was not for laughter. Gandalf would have definitely snapped at me. We soon came to a large, dead-looking lake. And we stopped - somewhere here was the entrance, according to Gandalf. I didn't see anything but more cliff. I had not understood anything that had been happening on this adventure. Now, more than ever, I wished I did. Gandalf and Boromir seemed to be in a battle – one that started after we escaped Caradhras. I didn't understand it at all. Gandalf was upset about Boromir's questioning. Boromir didn't want to go through the Mines of Moria and Gandalf snapped at him. Then, Boromir was upset that Gandalf didn't seem to know the way in, or even the password, and Gandalf accused him of being witless. Witless - this was a term he usually reserved for me. I didn't like it at all. Why were they fighting?

Fatty raised his hand. Pippin had to laugh. "What is it, Fatty?"

"People in the Shire were fighting, too, Pippin. It was horrible. People would join the Shirriffs and they would fight each other. Do you think it was the Ring?"

"What do you mean 'the Ring,' Fatty?" Merry asked.

"Well, Gandalf said it was evil. There were evil times here in the Shire and I know it was not… normal. So I suspected it had something to do with the Ring. You know, 'cause Frodo had had the Ring here. Maybe that's why Gandalf and Boromir fought. It was the Ring made them. Sort of."

Merry quickly drew in his breath. Dear Fatty, he was very close to the truth. "Yes, Fatty, I believe you are right. The Ring probably caused a lot of pain."

Fatty sat back in his chair,his fingers drumming on the arm. His mouth was taut.

'Perhaps healing is needed by more than one Hobbit,' Merry thought. "Why don't you continue, Pippin?" he said out loud.

There were two trees; they were holly trees - never had I seen such large ones. Gandalf stopped, muttered and murmured some more, and, suddenly, I could see the tracing of some letters on the rock. They looked to be Elvish. I wondered out loud what Elvish writing was doing on a Dwarven door. Gandalf said the door was made long ago, in the times when Elves and Dwarves traded freely. Legolas and Gimli, in the midst of Gandalf's tale, were bickering over who caused the rift between Dwarves and Elves. Gandalf told them to stop. This was turning into a very long day.

Sam, too, had stopped talking to Gandalf altogether. Gandalf had told him we must leave Bill the Pony behind. Poor Sam! After having argued quite a bit with Gandalf, he burst into tears, turned towards the pony, and petted him sadly. I didn't blame him. Bill would be food for the wolves before we'd been gone very long. How could Gandalf let this happen? Why didn't we leave Bill in Rivendell? I knew Sam was very upset.

Boromir was angry, too. He scowled at that horrible lake, saying how much he hated it, and threw a stone into it! Frodo was terribly upset at him for throwing it. He was more afraid of the pool than of the wolves or of Moria, it seemed. Why did he feel that way? I was so very glad I hadn't thrown a stone myself. I was definitely planning on doing it. Boromir looked at me, and I could see the laughter in his eyes. I was glad I could lighten his mood a little. He knew I was going to join him in this. It looked like a stone would jump at least five or six times, maybe even seven on such a smooth surface. The lake continued to ripple and spread. That was strange. I moved closer to the wall. Gandalf snapped at me. I was just wondering what he was going to do. Nothing he said or did opened the door. I was getting tired of just sitting there. I wished I could smoke. Or toss stones. Or have a little snack. By the look of it, supper would be very late. Merry said something about the door, and Gandalf laughed and said he was a fool (Gandalf not Merry) or something like that. Then he spoke one word and the door swung towards us - open at last.

As we walked into the mine, I noticed the air was warm and close; it didn't smell good at all. I was thinking I didn't want to go in there, that I wanted to go back to the Shire. I didn't like any of what had happened to us, and I liked Moria even less. I felt we would never find our way out once we entered that dark place.

The ripples on the lake continued and were now lapping at our feet. Chills ran up my legs as the water touched them, but it was not from the cold. I could hear wolves calling to each other in the distance. Sam looked miserable; he knew what fate held for Bill. Suddenly there was a shout from Frodo. I looked back and saw him being dragged towards the lake by a snake-like thing! It was horrible. Bill reared up in fright and bolted away with Sam running after him. I was frozen solid; I couldn't move for the fear in me. At least a dozen, mayhap, two dozen of these arms broke through the water and started towards us, trying to snag us and drag us away. No, it wasn't after us, it was after Frodo! Gandalf's yells woke me up, freeing me from my horror. I ran into Moria as fast as my legs would carry me. So did Merry, but Sam, bless him, pulled out his sword and bravely hacked away at what held Frodo's leg. They both ran through the gate. The creature's feelers followed, but they did not attack us. Instead, they attached themselves to the doors and pulled them shut.

We were prisoners of Moria.

Pippin paused. The sudden silence that engulfed the room hurt. He took a deep breath and continued.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped, the breath stolen from me, but then I heard the voice of Boromir, telling me not to fear, he was near, he had his sword unsheathed and ready, and he would let nothing harm me. Tears came, unbidden, to my eyes and I felt myself shaking. Poor Frodo, if this was how I felt, how must he have felt, having been the one attacked? I could hear Sam crying quietly and muttering about Bill. Poor old Sam. What a hard choice to make between Bill and Frodo.

"What choice?" asked Jolly. "Did I miss something? Bill is here with us now. How did he survive?"

"Gandalf put some kind of a protection spell on him," Sam said. "Boromir told me so and that Bill would make it home all right. Otherwise, I don't think I could have gone on. Yet, I couldn't leave Frodo, could I? Of course not. Oh, I'm sorry, Pippin. Go on."

I was so sorry to hear Boromir's next words. He whispered his doubts, but the whisper echoed throughout the cavern and, suddenly, all knew of his distrust of Gandalf. In measure, he was right. Gandalf told us he had not been in this part of Moria before, neither had Gimli or Strider – so who would lead us? If there had been light, I knew I would have seen the glint in Gandalf's eye as he snapped back, "I will lead us." It was very dark and we had no torches to light the way. How would we even see? Then, Gandalf did something with his staff, and suddenly there was light; not very much, but light nonetheless. I did feel better with the light. We could not have passed this way without it – but I would not say anything. Gandalf was not very happy at the moment with Boromir. And he had already growled at me once. I didn't need that to happen again.

When we reached the top of the steps, Frodo asked if we could stop and eat. I was surprised at myself – I had forgotten about food. When I told Merry, he touched my forehead, saying I must be ill. Food, even cold, was such a pleasure at that moment. My heart had returned to its proper place, I could breathe again… and think about food once more.

'I don't know how you did it,' Fatty wanted to say, but he himself had been touched by hunger and had survived.

Merry saw the struggle on Fatty's face. "I believe it is time for supper," he said. "I know Pippin, long ago, got his appetite back."

They all laughed at that and moved towards the kitchen.

Fatty, surprisingly, stayed back and touched Pippin's arm as he passed him.

"What is it, Fatty?"

"Did Boromir and Gandalf ever become friends?"

"I've thought about that long and hard, Fatty. While we were on the Quest, I didn't think they were, but now - I think they were friends all along, they just thought differently about things. In fact, Boromir very much reminded me of Gandalf. Always ready for whatever came his way, always watchful for others' well being, stubborn, thinking everyone should agree with his course of action. They were very much the same. I know Gandalf liked Boromir, even though he would become impatient with him. It was much like what he would do with me! But that didn't mean that Gandalf did not like him, and the other way around. I learned, much later, that his father was not very cordial to Gandalf when he would visit Minas Tirith. In fact, some would say they were enemies, but I never heard Gandalf speak one word against the Steward. Not one." Pippin sighed heavily. "Come, let us to our meal ere I lose my appetite again."

We were going forward quickly and I was glad. So was everyone else, except perhaps Gimli. I wanted out of there as soon as possible. Gandalf had his sword drawn as did Frodo, but there was no hint of light or color coming from Sting. I felt better because of that. We walked forever, it seemed, with Boromir right behind me, and Strider behind him.Strider had not said a word since we had come to the gate. 'Maybe if I do that too,' I thought, 'keep my mouth closed, Gandalf would stop glaring at me.'

"I would like to see that day myself," laughed Tom, but quickly apologized as the others glowered at him.

"Who is Queen Beruthiel?" I wondered aloud. Gandalf and Gimli had stopped - for a very long time - and we gathered together in fear. Strider said there was no need to fear – that Gandalf could find his way home better than her cats. But I had never heard of her. We moved forward again, without anyone bothering to answer my question.

There were rifts in our path now. Great rifts and we were told we must jump some of them! They were so large and deep! The men did it with ease. And, of course, Legolas floated over them. But we Hobbits had to jump. We couldn't even see the bottom. "Why did I come?" I moaned, "Why did I ever come?" There was one, particularly large – at least twice my height. I couldn't cross it. 'I will be left behind,' I thought.Gandalf's voice was harsh as he told me to jump. I could not. My feet stuck to the ground as though a barrow-wight was holding them down. 'I will be left alone,' I thought again, standing there frozen. Suddenly, Boromir jumped back and stood next to me. He said nothing, just stood there. I could hardly see his face in the dim light of Gandalf's staff. I knew what he was thinking. He knew I could do this. My face flushed red. Boromir trusted me and, suddenly, I knew I could do it, too. I took a deep breath and jumped. Much to my amaze, Strider caught me. Boromir followed close behind and laid his hand upon my shoulder. I knew he was smiling. So was I.

Gandalf had reached a place where he murmured that he didn't know the way. I was surprised when I heard no grunt or harsh word from Boromir. He seemed to be following more willingly now, and I was glad for it. I couldn't stand it when these two fought. I loved Gandalf so much – many times, when he came to the Shire, I was there, visiting with my father. He would go to town, leaving me in Bilbo's care, and I would sit with Frodo and watch as Gandalf and Bilbo made the most wonderful smoke rings. Gandalf's would fly to the top of the kitchen ceiling, just floating around. It was wonderful fun. 'Ah, to be back in that kitchen now,' my heart cried. He loved Hobbits, you know. And no matter that he growled at me – most of the time I deserved it. And now Boromir had entered my life and I found I loved him too. I heartily wished they would be friends.

Finally, Gandalf said we might stop and rest. Merry and I ran into the side room where he had gestured for us to go. He shouted at us to stop, the tone in his voice just frightening enough to make us pull up short. He brought the light with him as he entered the room, and only then did I see that, just steps in front of us, a large, well-like hole gaped – we would have certainly fallen into it, if not for his shout. I let my breath out slowly.

The others all started getting themselves ready for sleep with blankets and such, but that dark hole – it looked too inviting. It called to me – well, not really, but I knew I must look into it – see where it went. I couldn't see anything. There were small stones about its mouth. I kept wondering and wondering how far down it went. Curiousity finally got the better of me, I'm sorry to say.

Pippin blushed at the memory of that moment.

I quietly picked up one of the pebbles and let it drop. I did not hear it land. It fell and fell. I shivered – it still had not stopped. What if I had fallen in? At last, I heard a watery plunk and breathed a sigh of relief, but the sound kept echoing and echoing. It wouldn't stop. Gandalf swung around with fear in his eyes. Oh dear. I'd made another mistake. I had to tell him what I did. I couldn't leave him with that fear in his eyes. He called me his favorite term, 'Fool of a Took!' What could I say? He was right. 'I've got to stop doing these things. It will be the death of us all!' I thought.

For my punishment, I was to stand first watch by the door. The rest of the Fellowship settled. Gandalf's staff lost its glow and I found myself alone in the dark. It was so very, very dark. The hair on the back of my neck was standing straight up. I just knew something was crawling out of that pit. I could hear noises coming from that direction. 'What am I to do?' I thought. 'Maybe I can put my cloak down over it and put a few stones on the edges. That way, if anything comes out, I will hear it and I can yell for help. No, I don't dare do anything. I don't even know how far the well is from me. I would probably fall down it and that would definitely make Gandalf angry! Besides, I need my cloak – I am shivering so. No, there is a sound and it is headed my way!'

"Help!" A hand covered my mouth and Boromir whispered, "Be still, little one. I've come to keep you company." He sat down next to me and we were silent for a time. At last I could feel him turn towards me. "Were you going to throw stones in the pool outside?" he asked. I told him, "Yes, I was all ready – I had some in my hand." He laughed quietly and told me about how he and Faramir went fishing one time and he told his little brother to be very still and not to frighten the fish. He chuckled as he told me of the hours they waited for the fish to bite, and how he had just felt a gentle tap and was waiting one more instant before setting the hook, when Faramir threw a stone into the pond and he lost the fish. How angry he was with him 'till he saw poor Faramir's face. He chuckled again and said, "That is what your face looked like when Frodo yelled at me outside Moria." He squeezed my arm and said he would sleep now, he had the next watch, but if I needed him, to call and he would come.

Hours passed. It must have been hours. Something stirred. It was Gandalf. He came towards me – the light was most welcome. I told him how sorry I was and that I would never look at another thing! I truly meant it. He laughed and told me to rest. I knew I would. All the noises seemed to have stopped. I was surrounded by friends.

[agape4rivendell]

Breakfast or dinner or supper, who knows what it was as we had no idea if it was day or night, was hurried and cold. I needed real food, perhaps a little stew or one of Sam’s sausage pies.

“I’m hungry!” Tom said suddenly. “Isn’t it time for supper?”

“Why, so it is!” said Sam, “and almost past time, too.” He shook his head, amazed.

Rosie’s gentle laughter could be heard from the kitchen. “All is ready. I was just waiting on the lot of you. Come in and sit.”

And sit they did and ate all kinds of wondrous things: sausage pie, beef stew, potatoes mixed with cabbage, and all sorts of breads. Dessert was splendid; Rosie had outdone herself with apple, blueberry and pear tarts all smothered in the sweetest syrup. The Hobbits were beginning to think that being locked inside Bilbo’s smial during a snowstorm was not so bad a thing. They were most thankful that Sam followed Bilbo’s tradition of keeping the larders full.

Afterwards, they broke into little groups. Some took their pipes back to the parlour. Sam, Merry and Pippin went into Bilbo’s study, and the Cotton brothers sat with Rosie in the kitchen, while Fatty, who had not left the kitchen, was licking some of the pots.

“What do you suppose Frodo is doing right now?” Pippin wondered aloud.

“Sitting in a garden, I’ll wager. Just enjoying the sunshine – they do have sunshine in the Undying Lands, don’t they?” Sam’s note of hysteria was quickly quelled by Merry’s nod of affirmation. “Yes, sitting in a garden. I’ll bet the Elves have beautiful gardens,” he sighed. “Must be even better than those in Rivendell and Lothlorien, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Sam. They must be beautiful,” Merry turned the talk from Frodo. “But what you have done here, in the Shire, is beautiful too. The Mallorn tree has grown so large already, and all the other trees that you’ve planted, and the bushes, and flowers. Never has the Shire been so beautiful. You have much to be proud of.”

Sam’s face turned scarlet. “Weren’t me so much as the dirt from the Lady Galadriel. ‘Twould not be near as grown without that special soil. Never have I seen plants grow so quickly, nor so blight-free as the plants I used her dirt on.”

“Well, whatever you did, Sam, it was worth it. The Shire is beautiful.” Pippin added.

“Thank you,” Sam finally accepted his friend’s compliments. “I would like to see the gardens with Frodo.” His eyes took on a dreamy look, with no sadness in them, a point that both Merry and Pippin were glad to see. “I’d like to go walking with Frodo in those gardens. I’d like to see what new flowers and such are growing there. I’ve been thinking they probably have flowers I’ve never seen before!” His eyes had widened.

Pippin giggled. “I’d like to see any flower right about now. I’m afraid I’m tired of snow already.”

“Well,” Merry laughed with Pippin, “it certainly isn’t the normal Shire winter. Sam, did you have anything to do with this weather?”

“Why, of course not,” Sam had failed to notice the laughter in Merry’s eyes. “Unless it be the dirt.” He paused. “Do you think it’s the dirt caused so much snow?”

Pippin laughed loudly. Merry hit his arm hard. “No, Sam,” Merry said, “I’m sure it’s not the dirt – it’s just a hard winter.”

“Well, hard winter or no, the melting snow will help the flowers. My Gaffer always said, ‘A little rain each day will fill the garden to overflowing.’ I suppose the same is true of snow, though we don’t often get it here. Least not often enough for him to have a saying.”

“Then that must be the only thing your Gaffer doesn’t have a saying for!” Pippin laughed. “Let’s go see if there are any of Rosie’s tarts left.”

They walked through the parlour on their way to the kitchen. Robin Smallburrow stopped them. “I’m ready for more, Mr. Pippin,” he said politely. “Might you be telling us more?”

“Why, of course, Robin, if that’s what you’d like. Just let me get another tart or two, and then we’ll start. All right?”

“I’ll sit here, if that’s all right?”

“Of course, Robin.” Pippin walked towards the kitchen. “He’s been awfully quiet today, Merry, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he has. But he was always quiet, Pip. Don’t you remember? Most of the time, in his Shirriff’s days, he’d just walk around the Shire from pub to pub, just tasting the beer and listening to folks’ tales. He hasn’t changed much, and for that, I’m grateful.”

“Well, he’s been getting his fill of tales these past few days now, hasn’t he?” And Pippin finished four of the plateful of tarts that Rosie had given him. He licked his fingers and walked back into the parlour. They were all there waiting for him, and he felt fairly flummoxed. He took a deep breath and continued.

We walked again for ages with only two short breaks. The passage finally opened wide. Gandalf muttered again and the light of his staff became brilliant. We found ourselves in a large hall with great, tall pillars that reached beyond my sight with beautiful black walls that shone in the light of his staff. He said we were nearing where the Dwarves lived. He sounded very pleased with himself. "We will sleep the night here,” he said, “for it is truly night outside.” I fell on my blanket; my feet were sore, though not too sore to notice that the terror of the place seemed worse, now that we were in the open. We Hobbits huddled close together in a corner, away from the cold wind that rushed over us. Gimli suddenly stood up and sang, scaring the life out of me! Once I realized nothing was wrong, I listened. I think it was about how the Dwarves began, but it ended very sadly. Sam was delighted with the song and begged Gimli to teach it to him. Boromir strode over to Gandalf. They put their heads together and whispered. I wished I could hear. Gandalf put his hand on Boromir's arm. It was done in friendship. Now I could sleep.

When we awoke there was light. I didn't know if it was sunlight or what, but I was very glad to have more than the little from Gandalf's staff. ‘Ack, so this is breakfast,’ I thought. My stomach growled and remembered Mum's cooking. The sausages, eggs, fresh bread, jams, tarts, apples, juice, cakes – Merry hit my arm and I realized I had been talking out loud. “Better to think about good Hobbit food than this everlasting darkness,” I told him. They weren't mines – they were whole countries that we had been walking through! When did they end?

The night before, Gandalf was talking about the Dwarves and what they were about in Moria. He spoke of silver and mithril and jewels, but the only things I wanted to see were the Shire and my family and the Prancing Pony. A heavy sigh escaped my lips; Boromir looked over at me and smiled. I think he could read my mind. Oh, Gandalf also told us about Bilbo and his adventures with the Dwarves and something about a mithril shirt. Gimli's eyes were the size of troll's eyes. 'Well,' I thought, 'I haven't actually seen a live troll's eyes, thankfully, but I have seen Bilbo's stone ones at Trollshaws.' Boromir was wondering aloud as to which way we would go. I was concerned. I thought he and Gandalf might start scowling at each other again, but the moment passed. Gandalf finally decided and we were off. Only a short distance away was a smaller room. There was a beautiful beam of light shining into it and I had to blink from the darkness we had just passed out of. The dust was very thick and I tried not to disturb it. I remembered my promise to Gandalf. There was a large box in the room with writing on it. Gandalf said it was not a box; it was Balin's tomb. How horrible. All alone and covered in dust. Gimli hid his face. I wished I knew what to say to him. Boromir touched his arm. I hoped that touch was as comforting to Gimli as it had been to me. My eyes filled with tears and my heart ached for him. He had been so kind during this adventure. I remembered the stories Bilbo told of the Dwarves and their courage and the fun they had and I wished I had known him. I think Frodo knew him. I'm sure he must have – the Dwarves came to Bag End many times. It was the talk of the Shire, every time one came.

“Indeed. Frodo did know him, for every few years he would come back from the Lonely Mountains,” Sam’s whisper had them all riveted to his voice, “and bring toys and other things. Chests full of stuff for Mr. Bilbo. He was a strange creature, but he was always laughing and talking a blue streak. Maybe that’s why they named them the Blue Mountains.” Pippin had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud. “He never came alone; there would be at least ten or twelve of them. They would take over the smial as they had long ago and fill the air with their laughter, their music and their smoke. Now, I’m one who loves my pipe, but I have never seen such smoke as would come out of the pipes of those Dwarves! Circling up to the ceiling and wrapping around each other’s heads. ‘Twas a peculiar sight to behold.” Sam suddenly looked up and realized he had been talking aloud. “Beg your pardon, Pippin.”

Pip smiled and continued

There was a book and Gandalf read it. It reminded me of Bilbo's book – a history of the Dwarves in Moria, but as he read, I looked around the room. My eyes had become accustomed to the light and I now saw that there were skeletons all over the floor. We had been walking on them unawares. I wanted to retch. To think my toes had disturbed those poor Dwarves, friends and family of Gimli. I moved closer to Merry who looked at me strangely. He hadn't seen and I pointed down. He grabbed my arm; his eyes opened wide. We both moved closer to Boromir. What had happened to them? I saw swords and helms on the ground. Some were like the Orc weapons at Michel Delving – the ones brought there by Bandobras Took after he defeated the Orc army in the North Farthing. My thoughts were pulled back by Gandalf's voice. He was saying, “We cannot get out. They are coming.” ‘Who is coming?’ I wondered, ‘What have I missed?’

Suddenly, there was a deep booming noise – like a great drum. I couldn't decide where it was coming from. Gandalf looked up in surprise and said he had been a fool – that we couldn't get out. Legolas said, “They are coming,” and he was not reading from the book. Boromir went to one of the doors, the western one, and started to close it, but Gandalf ran over shouting, “Wait!” He put his staff through the crack in the door and it shone brightly as he yelled something. There were footsteps and horrid laughter outside and arrows flew into the door, right near his head. Frodo had Sting out and it was shining – it was Orcs. Boromir pushed the door closed and shoved wood and broken sword blades into it to keep it shut. Strider said there was no one outside his door, the eastern door.

A horrible scaly-looking arm pushed its way against the western door. Boromir hacked at it with his sword, but the creature flung the sword to the ground. It had a notch where it hit this thing – it was a troll. Frodo yelled and stabbed Sting into its foot. It screamed and pulled back. “One for the Shire,” shouted Strider. The western door was now being pushed open from the outside. It sounded like hammers were beating on it. Finally, there was a huge opening and Orcs were pouring through. Merry yelled and started forward with his sword flying and so did the rest of the Company. “Sam has killed an Orc!” I cried. We had only been able to slow them down, but Sam had actually killed one. ‘Ted Sandyman,’ I thought, ‘you better watch out now! You are no match for Samwise the Brave!’

A gasp, no several gasps filled the room. Tom looked at Sam. “You killed an Orc?” The rest of the company sat in silence, stunned by the knowledge of what Samwise Gamgee, the gardener, had done. Sam’s face turned various shades of red and sweat started beading up on his forehead.

“Of course he killed an Orc. In fact, that was not the only Orc he killed during our travels. In truth, we all, at one time or another, did. We had to. To save our lives. Just as you killed men, Jolly, and all the rest of you during the Battle of Bywater. There are some things that must be done, however horrible or fearful they seem. Now, enough of that!”

Sam gave him a grateful look and he smiled back at him.

The Orcs were surprised by us and pulled back after many of their number were killed. We were about to fly out of the eastern door, when, suddenly, another band of Orcs entered the room. Their leader charged towards us. It was huge and pushed Boromir with its shield and threw him to the ground. As Strider charged it, the Orc took his spear and thrust it towards our little band. He shoved the spear into Frodo and pushed him against the wall. Sam hacked at the blade and it broke in two, but he was no match for that horror. As it raised its sword, Strider clove its head in two. The other Orcs ran away.

You could hear a pin drop in the little parlour.

Sam was yelling Frodo's name but Gandalf was pushing us all out the door. Strider stooped, picked up Frodo's body and ran. Legolas was shouting at Gimli to follow us and I was crying. ‘Frodo is dead’ I thought. Boromir was slamming the great door shut and we flew towards the stairs. ‘Frodo is not dead!’ I had heard his voice; he told Strider to put him down. Strider looked at him as if he was a ghost and Sam jumped on him and hugged him. Gandalf yelled at us to run but stayed behind himself. Strider and Boromir wanted to stay with him, but he pushed them through the door. We stopped part way down the steps. Merry and I were in tears. Frodo was leaning heavily against Sam and Sam was trying to hold him up all the while sobbing. It was so dark. All I could see was a faint light above us. ‘It must be Gandalf's staff,’ I thought. ‘How will we ever be able to go on?’ There was a bright light and a thud from above. Gandalf was thrown down the stairs and landed right in front of us. He looked so old, so very tired. Boromir rushed to help him stand. He said we must continue in the dark – that he had no strength left for light. What did he mean? Where did the light come from? We ran down flight after flight of very narrow stairs. I was most afraid. What if we fell off? Gandalf was using his staff to feel where we should go. The end of the stairs came up quickly. I knew we were going to fall.

We'd been traveling at least an hour and all I could hear was the quick breath of our Company. Frodo was near as we ran and I was concerned. He moaned softly and seemed to be having trouble breathing. ‘Do I tell Gandalf?’ I wondered. There was no sound of anything following us. 'Can we be free? Might we be able to escape?' Gandalf stopped and started to sit down. Gimli helped him to the step and asked what happened above. I was learning so much more about Gandalf. At one time, I thought he was only good for fireworks, smoke rings and jokes, but there was more to him than met the eye, as he would say. He said he put a spell on the door, but that something much more powerful than anything he had ever felt before opposed him. The thud we heard was the collapse of the ceiling over the hall as they fought. Chills ran up my arms. What were we fighting against? It was definitely more than Orcs. Gandalf turned towards Frodo and asked him how he was. I was so grateful. I didn't know what to do about him. But Frodo said he was all right. Strider was funny. I'm surprised. He said he would have spoken softer in Bree if he knew Hobbits were so tough.

It was getting hotter as we went further down and Gimli said he thought he could see a light, but it was red. Oh dear, Gandalf thought the lower hall might be on fire! Where could we go – we couldn't go back up? We couldn't go to the Hollin Gate; it was destroyed by that horrible creature. And now, it seemed, we couldn't get to the Great Gates either. What were we going to do? We came to a great hall, so very much larger than the one where we had camped. 'Was that only last night?' I thought. Gandalf said the Gate was near. We had only to run a short way through the hall, then over a bridge, then up some stairs, along a wide road, through another hall and then to the Gate. That didn't sound much like a short way to me! I hoped he was all right. The further we went, the more tired he seemed, and, almost afraid. I had been good that day, hadn't made any mistakes or said anything to disturb him. I hoped it had helped.

We ran into the hall and the heat struck our faces; it was very hot. Boromir laughed and that lifted my spirits. Maybe we would escape. He loved adventure, I think. The Orcs were trapped on the other side of a rift in the floor. I could see the bridge to our left. It was very narrow. There was a horrible, black chasm that it crossed over. I would not throw a stone down this one! Gimli led the way to the bridge, but I stopped. Arrows were flying all around us. One just missed Frodo and another stuck in Gandalf's hat. I would have laughed at the sight, but for the terror all around us. The Orcs were bringing large stone slabs to put over the rift. They would be upon us shortly. Legolas, as always, had his bow out and ready to shoot at them, when suddenly he cried out in fear and dropped the arrow. His cry was the most frightening sound I have ever heard. When had anyone ever heard an elf cry out in fear? Something very large and black and very frightening was coming up from between the Orcs. They fell away in front of it. This was what made Legolas cry out in fear. I could hardly move. A terror flowed from it, whatever it was. Legolas gave it a name. It was a Balrog. 'Durin's Bane,' Gimli whispered. My mind could not understand this. Wasn't a Balrog from long ages past? How could one be here – now? It leapt across the rift and was coming right for us. The Orcs were coming over the rift too. There was no hope. Gandalf said he was weary. What were we to do?

Boromir winded his great horn. I was so very glad to hear that noise echoing through this great hall. The Orcs and the Balrog stopped. Were we to be saved? No, the echoes of the great horn stopped and the enemy started forward again. “Over the bridge,” Gandalf yelled, “Fly, Fly,” but Strider and Boromir stood side by side at the far end of the bridge. They would not leave him. We were across the bridge and at the hall. There we stopped. We couldn't leave Gandalf alone. What were we to do? The Balrog had reached the bridge! Gandalf stopped his flight in the middle of the great span. Strider and Boromir waited at this end. Everything seemed to still for one moment. Then, the crackle of fire seared through the air. I could faintly hear Gandalf. He was yelling that the Balrog could not pass. What could he do to stop him? He looked so small and alone against that great and horrible creature. Everything was suddenly silent, even the Orcs had stopped their screaming. Again, Gandalf yelled that the Balrog could not pass and some other words that I couldn't understand.

The Balrog moved onto the bridge. “Someone help him,” I cried out, but no one heard me in their terror. The creature held out a great red sword and Gandalf's sword gleamed white. It struck Gandalf, but no, Gandalf's sword repelled it, gleaming white and beautiful. The Balrog was falling backwards and its sword had melted. I couldn't believe my eyes. What magic was this that Gandalf had done? “You cannot pass,” he yelled again. And I felt hope. He had stopped this creature; perhaps he could do it again. Perhaps we would make it outside. Gandalf had said the Gate was very close. The Balrog leapt forward. It had a whip in its hand. Strider screamed, “He cannot stand alone,” and rushed onto the bridge. He shouted other things, but I could not hear his last line, “I am with you, Gandalf! Gondor!” cried Boromir and leapt after him. My heart was in my throat but I was so proud, so grateful to have these two men with us. Such courage in the face of certain death. I don't remember ever hearing tales of Balrog's being killed. In fact, I thought they were just tales mums and dads made up to keep their children from misbehaving. Gandalf lifted his staff and hit it against the bridge. The staff broke and fell from his hand. A bright light nearly blinded me, but the bridge collapsed in front of him and the Balrog fell! We were saved…. ‘No!’ my heart screamed, ‘This can not be happening….’ Its whip circled about Gandalf's knees and dragged him along the bridge. Gandalf tried to hold on, but he could not. As he fell, I heard him cry, “Fly, you fools!”

Pippin stopped, breath coursing through his clenched teeth. The others sat stunned. Robin said, in a wee small voice, “But Gandalf was alive. I remember Sam saying something about him riding home with you. Isn’t he alive, Sam?”

“’Course he is,” Sam said through the tears that streaked his cheeks. “But it didn’t seem so at the time. He was dead and gone, for all that we knew.”

“Yes,” Pippin said.

He was gone. He was gone. We all stood in silence. Then Strider and Boromir flew back across the part of the bridge left standing, which crumbled as they reached our side. Strider cried for us to follow him. I tried to run, but could hardly see for the tears in my eyes. Gandalf had fallen. Boromir followed us as he cried for us to run. The drums had started up again. What would we find in the Hall, at the Gates? Orcs – they were waiting for us as we passed through the Hall, but Strider slayed their captain and the rest of the Orcs ran in fear. Finally, we passed through the Gate without any further harm… but the harm to our hearts. We continued to run past the Gate and into the open air. I wanted to shout, to breath the fresh air, but my throat was closed for the tears welling up into it…

We had reached the Dimrill Dale. The sun was shining and there were brilliant clouds in the sky, but I only saw darkness and despair. I could still hear the drums and it seemed as though they were crying, 'Doom, doom.' Yes, that was how I felt. Doom was upon us and Gandalf was lost. I fell to the ground and sobbed bitter tears. A horrible thought came to me. ‘Is it my fault? Did the stone I dropped in that well cause of all this? Did it wake the Orcs and the Balrog? Is it my fault that Gandalf is dead?’ My crying turned into loud wails and Merry knelt by my side, holding me close, and his tears joined mine. I had never felt so alone, my heart had never felt a wound like this before, never had such shame and guilt flooded my mind.

The room was deathly silent. Pippin sat, tears clouding his eyes. Merry, sometime during the telling of the tale, sat at his feet. Rosie had scrunched next to Sam, her apron covering her mouth. Slowly, one at a time, each Hobbit left the room. Pippin sat for hours, with Merry at his feet.

[agape4rivendell]

It was still day – how could this be?

Pippin continued his tale after they had helped Rosie clean up the breakfast dishes.

I felt so drained, as if I had wept for a hundred years. I would have wept longer but Strider pushed us onward – away from that hated place – a place of doom. Never, ever will I go willingly under a mountain, even though Gimli would say it is the most beautiful in all of Middle-earth. Somehow I stumbled along and, even though we were walking, the tears continued to flow; I couldn’t stop them. The guilt grew larger and larger. I hung my head in shame.

Suddenly, Boromir was beside me. There was nothing spoken between us. I felt as if he was listening to my mind as it berated me of my folly. ‘Can he hear it in the silence of the Dale around us?’ I wondered. My mind was screaming at me, ‘Why did you throw that stone?’ He stood in front of me and I couldn’t go on without pushing him aside.

"What is it, little one?” he asked quietly. “What has your heart so broken? It seems more than the loss of our friend." I tried to speak, to tell him that I caused Gandalf’s death, but I couldn’t. Always, words came easily to me, but not then. He frowned and I realized I missed his smile. "Pippin, you are burdened. Please, tell me what hurts your heart so?" I flung myself into his arms and he held me; the torrent of words let loose in his kindness. I told him of my failure, of my part in Gandalf’s death. He didn’t push me away. He held me tighter and I was able to cry freely – for everything – Weathertop, Caradhras, Hollin, Moria. I’d got the hiccups and he laughed. It was a gentle laugh and there was no scorn or condemnation in it. He offered me water and I realized I was very thirsty. After I finished, he took my face in his great hands. He looked into my eyes and I saw love there – the same love I had for him. "You did not cause Gandalf’s death, little one. How many times had he told us we have choices? On the bridge at Khazed-Dum, Gandalf had a choice. And he took the one that would cause the greater good. It was his choice, Pippin, just as it was your choice to leave the Shire and support your friends. You fought well in the great hall and you obeyed Gandalf in all that he asked of you. I was very proud of you. Yes, you caused him to snarl and growl at times, but you also caused him to smile and laugh. You showed him courage, too, and perhaps that is what helped him to make the choice to sacrifice himself for Frodo and the Quest. Do you trust me, little one?" I nodded through my tears. "Then trust me in this. There is no cause for you to burden yourself with this guilt. What you are listening to are whispers of lies. Don’t listen, my friend. Listen instead to me. You are a very important part of this Fellowship and you are destined to do great things. I feel it. You have courage. Now is the time to pull it out and use it. Your friends, and this Fellowship, need you strong. Shake off this guilt and help us continue on our path. Can you do this?" I nodded my head again and fell back into his arms. He ruffled my hair and stood me up straight. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, took a deep breath, and looked around. I suddenly felt good.

Sam and Frodo had gone off with Gimli. Merry and Legolas were chatting and Strider – Strider was standing close by. I know he heard, but there was a smile upon his lips. His eyes were kind. ‘Come Pippin, Frodo, Sam,’ was all he said, ‘time to be on our way.’ I felt foolish but I held Boromir’s hand and the earth felt good under my feet. And I was hungry.

We had walked only a short way when, there was a beautiful spring in front of us. I wanted to drench my feet in its luxury, but Gimli stopped me. “It is icy cold,” he said. So we went on. The spring ran into a stream and as we looked, Legolas jumped up on a rock and started telling us all about trees and golden leaves, and a place called Lothlórien. His face was beautiful in the telling and I knew I wanted to be there as fast as possible.

But something was wrong with Frodo and Sam. They had fallen far behind us. Legolas shouted for Strider who ran back to them, calling Boromir to follow. I was so addled with my own self – ‘What kind of Hobbit am I that forgets his friends?’ I remembered that poor Sam and Frodo were hurt during the battle by Balin’s tomb. And I remembered how Frodo seemed to struggle for breath on the steps. I grew very afraid; Boromir and Strider were carrying Sam and Frodo. We finally reached a little sheltered dell and Strider stopped. He was tending Frodo and Sam; Gimli had lit a fire. Merry and I waited, hoping all would be well. The pure sweet smell of athelas filled the air. They were not seriously hurt, Strider said, and then something to Frodo about Bilbo’s mithril shirt. I started to laugh, for a tune entered my head from what he said. I started to hum. Gimli wondered what I was singing. “Well, I will share it,” said I.

‘Here’s a pretty Hobbit skin
To wrap an elven princeling in
In Moria did save his life
For Mithril ‘twas the fine device

The dwarf was shocked
The elf was mocked
And Hobbits to the sight did flock

A grander thing ‘twas never seen
By this young Took just past his tween – ses!’

I giggled. The others looked at me as if I had suffered some fever. But Frodo, dear Frodo, clapped his hands in delight. Not as good as one of Bilbo’s, but it was fun making it up!

We were off again – with nary a thought of food. Didn’t Strider know a growing Hobbit needed food? ‘What was this?’ I wondered. ‘Where does Boromir keep finding apples?’ It was as if he had an unlimited pantry stuck under his cloak. His smile was very bright and I walked along a little lighter for it.

We had been walking forever it seemed, and it was very dark; the wind was cold. I was beginning to miss my nice little Hobbit hole when I heard in the distance a lovely remembered sound. It is the sighing of the wind in the trees and it reminded me of warmth and safety and quiet Shire nights. Legolas was very happy and so was Strider. Boromir was anxious. He didn’t want to go into the woods. He spoke of this to Strider and asked if there might be another way. But Strider wouldn’t listen to him and said something about bringing evil there. Boromir was right though. He didn’t want us to go up Caradhras and we were almost all killed there. Then he questioned going into Moria and there we lost Gandalf. Now he was concerned about Lothlórien and suddenly, so was I. What doom awaited us there? But we pressed on.

Boromir was definitely not happy, and I twisted my mind trying to think of something to say or do that would make him laugh. I’d just used my best song so far - perhaps I would tell him about the time I fell into the Brandywine three times in one day. Oh, he would have thought me a fool. No, I knew I could share it with him. ‘He never thinks I’m foolish,’ I hoped.

"Boromir," I said to him, "did you know that one day I fell into the Brandywine three times? Yes, I did. Well, there was this day. It started out being a really beautiful day with the sun shining and everything. Oh, did I tell you I broke a rock with my head that day too? I’m getting ahead of myself. We went fishing. Well, of course it was with Merry – who else? We had made dough balls and cleaned our hooks and were really excited about spending the whole day fishing. As soon as we got there, I tripped on the root of a tree; it was my favorite sitting-against-letting-the-day-go tree. You’d think I’d remember it was there. I guess I was so excited that I just was going too fast. So that was the first time. Of course, Merry was... hmmm... concerned…. and didn’t quite laugh out loud. We weren’t there another hour when I got a little discouraged… the fish just were not biting much (not at all really – and this was our honey hole) - so I started to go down by a little clumpy area in the water near the edge – just to see what it might be, when a creature jumped up snarling and ran past me. I was so startled I fell back into the water. Merry came running. It was a fox. I hadn’t seen one that close in a long time with a beautiful nose and a great furry tale. And Merry just stood there and laughed at me. It’s a good thing it was a warm day; I still hadn’t dried out from the first time. Well, it was now time for elevenses and we still hadn’t gotten even a nibble on our lines, so we stopped and pulled out our foodstuff - good stuff, Boromir, cheese and nice brown bread and some grapes. It was perfectly delicious. I wish we could have some grapes now. Oh well, on with the story. So after food, we decided to kind of lie down for a bit, just to fool the fish into thinking we were napping or something. The next thing I knew, there was a great tug on my line – I must have fallen asleep. I jumped up quickly trying to pull it in and the line got stuck on a log in the river. So I was whipping it around, trying frantically to get it unstuck and I wasn’t watching where my feet were going and suddenly - slam – right into the side of the riverbed. There was a great stone lying there and my head hit it as I fell and then I tumbled into the water and there I was. Merry came up to me laughing as if he would burst and I was looking at him as if he was daft and he said that I’d broken the stone with my head. I really thought he was fooling me but he held it up and it was definitely in half and it was definitely a new break. I won’t say I did it though. I don’t remember doing it and my head certainly didn’t hurt – much. And I lost the fish. At least I didn’t lose my pole. I lost my dough ball too. I had had it for the day. I was done. Merry and I pulled up our lines and we off we went to Farmer Maggott’s. Well that’s a tale for another day." Boromir had forgotten all about his upsetness over Lothlórien as we laughed together and continued on our way.

We reached the river, Silverlode, and Legolas was even happier. We crossed it quickly as it was cold, but I loved the feeling of its cleanness on my feet. I shuddered as I remembered the last water my feet touched – the water by the Hollin Gate – the place where Frodo was almost taken by the Watcher in the Water. But there seemed to be a healing in these waters, for the memory of that horror seemed dimmed. And at last - Strider said we will stop and eat! I was faint with hunger, let me tell you. A fire even! What a wonderful night. After we finished supper, Legolas told us some more stories of Elves and such and it was quite exciting; however, Gimli was growling through most of it. Slowly Gimli settled down and I lay back. I could hear a waterfall flowing near me. Legolas started to sing. It was a sad song of lovers parted. He couldn’t finish it. It was strange.

“What was strange, Pippin?” Robin asked.

“Well, he battles so readily and I would not want to be on the other end of his arrows and yet – he is so gentle.”

“Are all Elves like that?” Fatty asked.

“I don’t think so, Fatty.”

“The Lady Galadriel was,” Sam whispered. “She was most beautiful. Yet she frightened the bejeebies out of me sometimes. She had this pool of water she called a mirror. She told me to look in it. She didn’t make me, but I was curious. I saw things in it. Horrible things!” He turned his head away from the group.

“What kinds of things?” Jolly asked, fear showing in his eyes.

“Now that I think on it, she showed me the Shire and what was happening to it. I don’t rightly know how she could show me something that was happening so far away, but she did. And when we came back home, I saw some of the same things that I saw in the mirror. Like the Gaffer’s gardens being destroyed and such. I wanted to leave right then and there and run home and do something to stop it. But – I couldn’t leave Frodo, now could I?”

Jolly turned to Pippin, “Did you look into it?”

“No, I didn’t even know about it till now. Why didn’t you tell us, Sam?” Merry looked at Sam quizzically too.

“I don’t rightly remember. Soon after that we were up and leaving and I forgot about it, what with the gifts and stuff.”

“Gifts!” shouted Fatty. “Did you get gifts? You didn’t tell us you got gifts from Elves!”

“Well, yes we did.” Sam smiled. “Why, Fatty Bolger! You remember the dirt I’ve been using this whole past summer. How did you think the trees grew so big and the hedges and roses and such grew so well?”

“You’ve always had luck growing things, Sam. I just never gave it a thought.”

“What did you get, Merry?” Robin asked shyly.

“The Lady gave Pippin and me those nice shiny daggers. You remember me showing them to you. Ours are in the hallway. Doesn’t do to bring weapons to the parlour. I learned that from King…” Merry stopped for a moment. “King Theoden. Aside from the sword, which Boromir taught me to wield, I learned most about weapons from my liege Lord.” Tears formed in Merry’s eyes. Pippin walked over and hugged him. Then he turned to his friends, gave them a glaring stare, sat back down, and continued.

It was time to find shelter for the night. Gimli suggested sleeping in the trees. I was stunned, ‘What a horrible thought! How can a Hobbit sleep in a tree?’ Legolas started to climb one when a voice from above us spoke. I tried looking up but could see nothing. Legolas told us to be very still. Sam said that they were Elves; Legolas turned towards Sam and said that the Elves said, ‘You breath so loud they could shoot you in the dark.’ Poor Sam – he covered his mouth but it was too late. I was glad it wasn’t me.

The Elves spoke quite a long time with Legolas and then with Strider. They took Frodo and Sam and Legolas up into the tree. We sat at the bottom, like useless baggage, waiting to see what would happen. I was tired and I just wanted to go to bed. I was sure Frodo and Sam would be all right. After all, Legolas was with them. Finally, one of the Elves came down and said we could stay. We would spend the night in the flet (whatever that was) and in the morning we would go meet someone. This Elf wanted me to climb the tree – “Yes,” I said, “it is a very nice rope ladder, but Hobbits do not climb trees. At least not very often.” Well, there was no discussing it so up we went. I didn’t like it at all. Boromir and Strider had to go to another flet with Gimli and Legolas. The Elves didn’t seem to trust Gimli. I wished I were with Boromir. Before the Elves had come, he had started to tell me a story about his brother, Faramir, and himself and a fishing trip they had, and I wanted to hear the end of it.

At last they were bringing food - and there were grapes. It was a better dinner than we had had before. And some delicious drink. Well, I guess that wasn’t too bad. But now it was time to sleep and I told myself I would not sleep here. Frodo told me this was where the Elves said we were sleeping and to make the best of it. Sam was asleep already. It felt strange, not all of us together. It had been months now and this was the first time that we had been separated. I felt a little cold and a little afraid. And I was sure I was going to fall off!

”I believe I am losing weight,” said Fatty, very sadly.

“Why do you say that?” asked Sam.

“Well, we’ve gone and missed elevenses again. It is high time for luncheon. That is the second elevenses we’ve missed since Pippin started telling the tale.

“But I like to hear this story,” Robin moaned. “Please don’t stop, Pippin. Did you fall off the flet?”

Pip laughed. “No, Robin. I did not fall off the flet and neither did any of us. But Fatty’s right. It’s time for nuncheon. (He had forgotten and used the Gondorian word for lunch.) It is a mighty good thing that Rosie’s first and second breakfast were so big today. And Fatty – you cannot complain. I saw you sneaking out to the kitchen while I was singing my song!”

Sam shivered. The others walked towards the kitchen, but Merry stopped at Sam’s chair. “Anything wrong, Sam?”

“No,” Sam said but another shiver went through his body.

“Sam?” Merry asked gently.

“I’ve not heard the word sneaking since… since. Oh Pippin. I accused Gollum of sneaking when we were climbing the stairs towards Cirith Ungol. I… I can’t forget that time. I have tried. When the memories flood my mind, I run and plant something, but there’s no planting with this snow about. I need to feel soil under my fingernails.” He fairly sobbed.

“Oh, Sam!”

“No, no. Don’t say it like that. That’s the way Mister Frodo used to say it. I can’t hear it now. I can’t.”

Merry was startled by the vehemence of Sam’s cry. “Let’s go into Bilbo’s study, Sam, for just a minute. What do you think?”

Pippin had walked back, noticing the two heads bent together. “What’s up, Merry? Aren’t you going to eat?” He saw the tears streaming down Sam’s face. “I could use a pipe right about now. What about you, Sam? Want to come to the study with me and have a pipe?”

[agape4rivendell]

The melancholy mood that began at luncheon hung over the smial the rest of the afternoon. Rosie was a little concerned. She walked into the study, placed Elanor in Sam’s lap, and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a scad of washing to do, Samwise Gamgee, and all of it from your friends. I’d be mighty pleased if you would watch ‘your’ daughter till I’ve at least got some of the bedclothes done.”

Sam looked up in chagrin while Merry and Pippin broke out in peals of laughter. Robin came in to see what the commotion was about; Rosie quickly took him into her service. “I’ll be asking each of you to strip your beds now and bring the dirty linens to the laundry room.” She turned and walked out of the room, head held high.

“Well, there’s nothing to be done but obey the lass,” Sam laughed. He stood up, shifted Elanor to his right hip, put his pipe down and walked towards the kitchen. Merry and Pippin followed, then turned at the hall and went to their own rooms. Shortly, a troop of Hobbits could hardly be seen around the white linen sheets they carried to the laundry room.

“How on earth I’m ever to get all this done,” they heard Rosie muttering, “is beyond me.”

“May I help?” Fatty asked politely, hoping that she would decline his offer.

“Why Fatty Bolger, you sweetie, of course you may help.” The others started to walk away when they were stopped short by her cough. “And I’ll be needing water, lots of hot water. So if one of you would start the pot boiling, and another can bring the soap from the cupboard. I’ll be needing some strong hands to do the washing. I’ll not be doing it all myself, not if you want to have supper tonight.”

With that, Hobbit feet started running in all directions.

Once supper was over, Elanor put to bed, and the smell of pipeweed filled the smial, Merry and Pippin decided to arm wrestle. There had always been a loving rivalry between the lads; it had become more pronounced once they returned from Fangorn Forest. Sometimes they measured themselves twice a day, just to make certain that one had not grown taller than the other during the night or something. So their friends cleared the kitchen table as soon as talk of a battle began. Merry and Pippin sat at the old table, placed their elbows on it, and then grasped hands. Naturally, it took forever before Merry won.

“Two out of three,” Pippin squealed.

“Of course,” Merry said obligingly, but soon rued that choice when Pippin won. The last set, however, did go to Merry. Fatty claimed next and was thoroughly trounced by Merry, but Jolly Cotton, from his long years of working the farm, crushed Merry. Pippin giggled, but immediately stopped when he saw the scowl on Merry’s face. They laboured long into the night. At the end, Merry turned out the winner, having beaten more than all the others. They had a quick snack of elderberry tarts, blueberry scones, apple dumplings, cherry popovers, and a dusting of cheeses and breads. Sighs of contentment followed each to their beds.

Rosie sighed in delight. How she loved these Hobbits. ‘And,’ she thought to herself, ‘worth every bit of washing and baking and fussing. Bless their hearts.’ Sam roundly kissed her and fell into a deep sleep before she had a moment to even say, ‘good night!’

In the morning, all thoughts were turned towards the tale. Robin must have asked twenty times, before second breakfast, when Pippin would begin again. So they drifted towards the parlour and made themselves comfortable.

Merry looked at Pippin. “I really don’t…” Pippin started, but Merry squeezed his hand and sat at his feet. “Times a’ wasting, Pip.”

My body felt so tired that night and even though my stomach was full, my mind kept telling me it was hungry. Too long had my poor stomach been empty or near to empty. My own Mum won’t have recognized me. I wondered how much longer we had to go?

Another river to cross, the Elf said, but this one was different. The Elves had thrown ropes across it; they told us we must walk them. ‘Such fun,’ I thought, ‘It will be like the games during the Free Fare on the White Downs.’ Yes! I was across, but then I looked at poor Sam, clutching the ropes, his face full of fear. He started forward. “Hooray!” I cried. He was across too. ‘Maybe next year,’ I thought, ‘I can talk him into joining me in the games.’ Next year – that sounded so strange. Where would we be next year? ‘Well,’ I told myself, ‘that’s a thought for another time.’

Gimli was extremely upset. The Elves wanted to blindfold him. Why? What had he done? I turned to Strider to ask him to do something but he shook his head and would do nothing. He seemed to be part of the agreement. Gimli was our friend. Why were they doing this to him? Who had lit all our fires? Who had been steadfast during all the bad times? Who gave council and direction and support to Gandalf while we were in Moria? Who did Gandalf turn to while we were in that dark place? It was Gimli – our friend.

He raised his axe and the Elves drew their bows. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Legolas was saying Gimli was stiff necked. How could he say that? I thought they were starting to be friends.

At last, Strider spoke. “We will all be blindfolded.” Poor Legolas, he so wanted to see the place, every moment of it, but Strider called him stiff necked! What a horrible day this was turning into. Boromir was right. There must have been evil in that place if it was turning us against each other. The Elf, I think his name was Haldir, was so sad. He said it was the evil of Sauron that had turned brother against brother, but he must obey the law of his land and so Gimli must be blindfolded. So, as Strider said, we all were blindfolded and I was glad. I would do this thing for Gimli. I did happen to hope I wouldn’t stub my toe.

As we walked, Merry and Haldir were talking about the Shire and the places beyond and the sea. Haldir was surprised we hadn’t seen the sea. Who would want to see the sea? I think Bilbo saw it once; I'm not sure. If not for my love for Frodo, I wouldn’t have left the Shire at all. Merry was telling Haldir the same thing and the Elf was shocked, I think. I suppose Elves don’t know much about Hobbits.

My feet loved walking on that forest floor. It was spongy in places, soft and cool and somehow, healing. I almost felt as if I was in the Shire again. I could hear the birds singing and felt Boromir close behind. There was a safety in that man. I could walk along knowing, even blindfolded, he was aware of me and ever vigilant. What an odd feeling. I hadn’t needed vigilance in a long time - after all, I was well past my tweens, almost full grown. Yet – there was a joy in my heart for his presence. ‘I must be more tired than I know,’ I thought, for I wished I could take his hand.

At last we stopped and this time, we would sleep on the ground. My mind went back to the song Merry and I made up for our 'starting from Crickhollow' and I began to hum. Merry picked up the tune and started to sing…

‘Farewell we call to heart and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall
We must away ere break of day
Far over wood and mountain tall.’

We two thought we were only going to Rivendell and look where that road had taken us. And we thought we would sleep under the stars; instead we have slept in Elven halls, dark mines, tree flets and finally, peacefully, thankfully, on the ground under the stars.

“I remember that song,” Fatty laughed. “You near drowned me what with the four of you in the four tubs at Crickhollow. And all that splashing and stuff. Nigh unto drowned me.”

Merry was grateful the memory of the Black Riders was not brought up. He shivered slightly.

We walked again all morning. There were other voices around us; I could hear them. Elves were on their way somewhere. Haldir said we could remove our blindfolds. Oh, that felt so good – to see again. Yes, Merry was there and Sam and Frodo, and Gimli, even Gimli had his blindfold taken off, and Strider and Legolas and Boromir – the Fellowship was still together. We were at the bottom of some hill and had decided to rest there. Frodo and Sam went off with Haldir. Boromir lay on the grass and Merry and I joined him to look up at the sky. It was so blue. It felt good to see again – to be free. I didn’t realize I had felt like I was a prisoner. Haldir had tried to be kind, but I did feel like a prisoner. What must Boromir have felt having that blindfold put on his face? There he was – a captain of men, son of the Steward of Gondor and yet – not one word did he say when they blindfolded him. He was a riddle to me. It seemed he told his concerns, and when nothing could be done about them, he put them aside as if they didn’t matter any longer. ‘How does he do this?’ I wondered. ‘When I am upset about something or curious about something, like that dark well in Moria, I can’t seem to let it go until I do something about it. I wish I could do as Boromir and just let it go. I think he must be a great captain. If I were from Gondor, I should surely want to be a soldier under his command.’

I turned towards him and saw tears falling, wetting in his hair. "My friend," I cried. "What is the matter, Boromir?" My own throat choked with tears. He turned towards me and smiled. "I’m sorry, little one. I have been caught up in the beauty of the day and my mind turns towards my city and my people. They are dying as we lie here in peace. Perhaps my own brother is dying, as I lie here, bound in a place I do not want to be. I must be off and soon. My heart grows heavy and a worry is upon me. I am sorry. I did not mean to burden you with my sorrow."

How could I comfort my friend? Merry turned towards us and said that we are getting close to the Anduin. He remembered it from the maps we were supposed to study in Rivendell. This made Boromir smile again. He told us of the White City and the White Mountains that ring it and the Great River that flows by it. His smile was so wide that it broke my heart. His face shone and his voice lifted me up and filled me with joy. Never have I heard anyone with such love in his voice for a place. It put my love for the Shire to shame. His city was his life. ‘We must go soon,’ I wanted to cry. I could feel his excitement; his need to go and it filled me too. To see Minas Tirith! He made it feel like home. Bless dear Merry for remembering the maps.

~*~

It was getting dark as we came to a clearing in the trees. Haldir stepped forward and pointed ahead. It was breath taking. "Caras Galadhon," Haldir said, "the home of Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien." I can see it in my mind’s eye even now. A grassy land lay before it that still seemed touched by the sun, though it had already set. A great green hill surrounded a great green wall. Never had I seen so many shades of green. The Mallorn trees were so beautiful. I couldn’t even describe them. Legolas said they are more beautiful in the summer, but they were beautiful when we were there. I heard the same love in Haldir’s voice as there was in Boromir’s and I was surprised. My love for the Shire runs deep, but men and Elves have a different love. I don’t know how or why. Perhaps it’s because I know the Shire will always be there – forever. Perhaps these two don’t believe that of their cities. Gondor was under attack and the Elves constantly talked about leaving Middle Earth. I was very glad I had the Shire.

The trees seemed to climb up beyond the sky even. Their tops got lost in the stars. And there were lights – different colored lights – all through the trees, sparkling, like stars that had lost their way and had fallen into the trees, there to live forever. It was most beautiful.

We were all so excited that we fairly ran to the gate though it was a long way from where we first caught sight of it. We entered and started climbing the hill. The grass under our feet seemed to lift me up as I walked. We finally came to a very great tree in the middle of them all and here, Haldir told us, was the home of his Lord and Lady. There was a long flight of stairs – I couldn’t see where it ended. A lovely, clear horn sounded near us; it was answered by three calls from above. I wondered if Boromir was tempted to pull out his horn and answer the call. But he was unsure of himself, I could tell, and held back. Haldir, Frodo, then Legolas and the rest of us started to climb the stairs with Boromir bringing up the rear.

Silence had filled the air for quite some time and the Hobbits started to fidget. Pippin’s eyes were glazed and unseeing.

“Time for luncheon,” Sam said as he stood and stretched. “My goodness. I’m as hungry as a bear. Oh! Do you remember Bilbo’s tale about that bear-man?” he asked as they all walked towards the kitchen. Voices raised in shouted matches of who could remember the most. Pippin still sat.

“Is there something I can do for you, Pippin?” Merry asked. Silence. Merry put his hand on Pippin’s knee. “Pippin, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Two large tears fell on his hand. “Oh, Pippin. It’s done with.” He had no words. How could he help Pippin? What could he say? “Pip, I’m sorry.” Another long silence passed. “I wish I could do something to help.”

Pippin looked into his cousin’s eyes. “You have,” he whispered quietly, “You have. I wouldn’t have made it at all if you weren’t with me. I think the worst day of all was when Gandalf carried me off to Minas Tirith. I thought my heart hurt when Boromir died, but it was as nothing to when I left you. I never have thanked you, have I Merry?” Merry sat quietly. “Well, as Sam’s gaffer would say, “it’s never too late. Thank you, Merry, for being more to me than friend and cousin. For giving me courage during all those long days. Thank you.”

Merry shifted uncomfortably. “We’re missing luncheon and I would not forgive you for that Peregrin Took!”

[Linaewen]

It's good to see a new chapter up, as well as seeing all the chapters here! Loved the new one; it is very observant of Pip to see that Boromir is ill at ease in this place, and tired of hanging about and delaying his journey home. His fears for Gondor are valid, and I bet they're an eye opener for the hobbits! Bless Boromir for still thinking of them and trying to leaven his melancholy so as not to burden them.

My favorite passage was this:

There he was – a captain of men, son of the Steward of Gondor and yet – not one word did he say when they blindfolded him. He was a riddle to me. It seemed he told his concerns, and when nothing could be done about them, he put them aside as if they didn’t matter any longer. ‘How does he do this?’ I wondered. ‘When I am upset about something or curious about something, like that dark well in Moria, I can’t seem to let it go until I do something about it. I wish I could do as Boromir and just let it go. I think he must be a great captain. If I were from Gondor, I should surely want to be a soldier under his command.

Being able to let go -- or at least put on a face of letting go so as not to trouble others -- is a special quality. Pip's right, he IS a great captain.

Thanks so much!

[Ladyhawk Baggins]

Well done!! I found myself wishing I could walk barefoot along that path and how heart warming his memory of Boromir is, and wonderful. And the food positively made me drool!! Smart lass Rosie to enlist everyones help.

And here's a basket of chocolate, dear Agape, choose what you'd like.

[Silivren Ithildin]

As always, the story continues to hold me spellbound!!!! And in the corner crying! *I brought along a quantity of Kleenex for everyone!*

I have a couple of XL pans of fudge brownies with vanilla ice cream with chocolate fudge ice cream topping for anyone to indulge in while we are listening to Pippin! Dig in!

I am waiting in the corner eagerly for the next installment!

Sil

[agape4rivendell]

Thanks Lin for pointing that passage out....

I often wondered - Boromir seemed so proud sometimes and huffy almost - especially in some fan fiction I've read, but here - here he just kept his mouth shut - and in a few other places too.... I wondered what was going through his mind....

I'd like to delve deeper someday.

Agape

[faramirgirl]

It was wonderful seeing the tale through the eyes of Pippin, But who is Robin? I don't remember that name being in the books. Wonderful job.

[agape4rivendell]

Robin Smallburrow was in the Scouring of the Shire chapter. He was one of the Shirriffs who greeted our returning heroes as they tried to enter the Shire near the village of Frogmorton. He played a fairly large part in that part of the chapter. A hideous time for the Shire and poor Robin seemed to have gotten stuck in the middle of it. See some of the dialogue between Sam and him below.... tells a little about this little-known character. But I liked him....

Sam had been looking the Shirriffs up and down and had spotted one that he knew. "Hey, come here Robin Smallburrow!" he called. "I want a word with you."
With a sheepish glance at his leader, who looked wrathful but did not dare to interfere, Shirriff Smallburrow fell back and walked beside Sam, who got down off his pony.
"Look here, Cock-robin!" said Sam. "You're Hobbiton-bred and ought to have more sense, coming a-waylaying Mr. Frodo and all. And what's all this about the inn being closed?"
"They're all closed," said Robin. "The Chief doesn't hold with beer. Leastways that is how it started. But now I reckon it's his Men that has it all. And he doesn't hold with folk moving about; so if they will or they must, then they has to go to the Shirriff-house and explain their business."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself having anything to do with such nonsense," said Sam. "You used to like the inside of an inn better than the outside yourself. You were always popping in, on duty or off."
"And so I would be still, Sam, if I could. But don't be hard on me. What can I do? You know how I went for a Shirriff seven years ago, before any of this began. Gave me a chance of walking round the country and seeing folk, and hearing the news, and knowing where the good beer was. But now it's different."
"But you can give it up, stop Shirriffing, if it has stopped being a respectable job," said Sam.
"We're not allowed to," said Robin.
"If I hear not allowed much oftener," said Sam, "I'm going to get angry."
"Can't say as I'd be sorry to see it," said Robin lowering his voice. "If we all got angry together something might be done. But it's these Men, Sam, the Chief's Men. He sends them round everywhere, and if any of us small folk stand up for our rights, they drag him off to the Lockholes. They took old Flourdumpling, old Will Whitfoot the Mayor, first, and they've taken a lot more. Lately it's been getting worse. Often they beat "em now."

[Ashlyn]

And I brought some sandwiches, a fruit and cheese tray, and some more lemonade!

Oh, and another industrial sized box of kleenex (for I fear we will truly need it very, very soon)!


(((Agape)))