Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, book or movie or anything else associated with the franchise. I'm making no money off this story-if I were, don't you think I'd be buying merchandise rather than writing fanfiction?

A/N: Since neither the movie nor the book seemed to devote adequate time to this aspect, I thought I'd try my hand. Read and review!

Joyous Reunion

The Hobbits sat smoking—yes, smoking their famed Old Toby through long pipes. They looked quite pleased with themselves. And the company below them on horseback had just made it through the battle of their lives, a battle that had shaped the fates of Men and changed the direction of Sauron's great war.

Three out of their group had journeyed across half of Middle Earth to find these exact little individuals. And the two Hobbits were brazenly sprawled at the top of the rise, loafing.

Aragorn wasn't about to let them get away with it.

He dismounted from his horse and landed hard, stamping his displeasure through his boots. Next to him, Legolas swung down, too. Like an afterthought, he reached up a hand to help his stature-challenged friend to the ground. The three of them stalked to the base of the precipice and beheld the two Hobbits. Gandalf the White watched the proceedings from behind them with a repressed smile. The men of Rohan waited curiously to see what would transpire.

"Come down here, Shire-folk!" barked Aragorn. Hearing the tone of his voice, the Halflings wasted no time in laying aside their pipes and flagons and scrambling down to stand before them. Gimli leaned grimly upon his sword, and the Elf's face was without expression. Aragorn's arms were folded. It was rather like a face-off.

"Have you no idea the price of your disappearance?" demanded Strider of them. "The cares it has cost us? How long we have searched for you? The effort we put into finding you?"

"Aye, running without sleep or rest for scores of leagues…" grumbled the Dwarf.

"And now our paths have been brought together again," noted Isildur's heir. "And you merely sit with neither thought nor care." His mouth tightened as he looked down at them. "Have you nothing to say?"

Merry spoke up, looking distressed. "We're sorry," he hastened to assure them. "Sorry for all the trouble we caused. And for all your work, and worryin', and time and…everythin'." He sighed and shrugged awkwardly, his head down. Words couldn't begin to pay the three back for all they'd done. "All of it," he finished softly. He was brave enough then to look each of them in the eye. "Never think we're not grateful," he finished in a low, intense voice.

Pippin bit his lower lip. "Aragorn, are you very angry?" he asked timidly, seeing the Man's furrowed brows.

The leader of the fractured Fellowship stared down at them and shook his head slowly, in a manner that implied he would never understand their ways. Then he dived at the two of them, picked Meriadoc up, and swung him wildly through the air.

"Put me down, you fool of a Ranger!" Merry howled.

Peregrin found himself quite literally ensnared in Gimli's arms. He was only slightly taller than Pippin himself was, and the Halfling's face was buried in his ruddy beard. "You little scalawag!" the Dwarf boomed. Pippin felt lightheaded as Gimli's hand crashed down upon his curly head. Was this the Dwarf's joy, or fury? Then Gimli's fearsome strength abated somewhat. "It's mighty good to see you again, young Hobbit," he declared, his voice thick. "Mighty good."

Pippin suppressed a sneeze and hugged Gimli back. "It's good to see you too, Master Dwarf." Then his stomach soared as Aragorn caught him up and lifted him high.

"Peregrin Took!" He held Pippin aloft at arm's length. His keen eyes studied the Hobbit's face for a long moment, as though to be sure he was real. "Yes," he sighed. "Indeed it is." He gave a chuckle of deep-rooted satisfaction and brought Pippin to his chest. The strength of his embrace outdid even Gimli's. Pippin found that he couldn't breathe for it, yet he didn't at all mind. Long had it been since he had felt this safe. Countless battles came alive in his memory. Lord Aragorn had always been, and would always remain, the Hobbits' defender.

"Thank you, Aragorn," he managed to choke out. "For…everything."

"No thanks are necessary," Strider assured him. He let the Hobbit slide down his long leg to the leaf-strewn earth. Into the palm of Pip's hand he pressed a small, cold object. "It served its purpose well. Now I return it to you." Pippin looked at it: one of the finely-crafted leaves of Lothlórien. How long ago it seemed that he had left it behind to mark their trail, exhausted with terror, longing for their rescuers to come. How much had happened since then. And now they were here. He clenched the jewelry in his hand and beamed at the errant king. Aragorn inclined his head and then looked over the Halfling's shoulder. There was still one of the three Pippin had yet to greet.

He trotted over to the elf just as Merry was leaving. Pippin's cousin was bowed very low, a gesture of high deference. "The honor is mine, Legolas Greenleaf," he said in a low voice. Then he backed away, and Pippin approached. The Fellowship's fairest member had halved his great height by kneeling down, so that now their faces were nearly level. Legolas placed his hands on either side of Pippin's head. He began to talk earnestly in Elvish. The Hobbit couldn't understand a word he said. Nevertheless, the expression on Legolas's face needed no translation. His eyes were radiant, exultant with joy. As he spoke in the tongue of the Elves, Pippin felt a warmth flowing into him. Peace settled heavily upon him, yet he felt as light as the wind. His body had never felt so relaxed and refreshed.

Leaning forward, Legolas kissed him softly on the head. He beheld the little Hobbit, his eyes bright with warmth. In a language that Pippin could understand, he murmured, "Surely you have gladdened my heart this day."

Suddenly Pippin threw himself at the Elf, forcing him to sit back upon his heels and almost knocking him over. He hugged Legolas tightly and shut his eyes against the swell of emotion that threatened to engulf him. Their friends were here at last; glad was their reunion, and they were all overjoyed to be together. Gandalf had come back as though from the dead…but Boromir could never return. The Halflings' fond companion was gone. And what of Frodo and Sam? There had been no news of them, and no one knew if they were all right.

His voice cracked as he murmured only, "I missed you, Master Legolas."

One of the Elf's cool hands rested on Pippin's head. The other moved rhythmically up and down his back. Legolas let out a thoughtful breath through his nose. "Peace, little one," he reassured the Shireling softly. "Be at rest in your spirit." His words strengthened Pippin again.

Eyes dry, the Halfling raised his head once more. He looked on his friends, his protectors. Destiny's hand had placed the unlikely companions together. Through journeys and battles, trials and losses, they had pressed onward. And somewhere along the way, Elf and Dwarf, Man and Hobbit, had become comrades.

Gandalf the White had his hands on the horses' bridles. He nodded slowly when Pippin met his eyes. Gimli son of Glóin cuffed Meriadoc on the shoulder and laughed in the Dwarf way, loud and spirited. Legolas Greenleaf saw through the haze in the sky to the sun above, and whispered an Elvish song. Elassar was smiling. The cares were gone from his face for the moment: he seemed much younger. The king and courtiers from Rohan looked privileged to have witnessed such a scene of joy in a world plagued by much darkness. And the tower of Isengaard smoked behind them.

It truly was a strange business, Pippin thought, this going out your door.

*~The End~*