These characters are not my own. They belong to JRR Tolkien.
Elrond named the Fellowship of the Ring on a cold December morning. Before the company set on their journey a grand breakfast was laid out in the dining hall. By third servings only the Hobbits remained, storing as much food their bodies could stomach. Meals like this will be rare on the road of their taking.
"I had a dream about the Shire," said Frodo, "Rosie was in it, too."
Sam fumbled his fork clanging it on the plate.
"Rosie Cotton?" asked Pippin. "There ain't a prettier lass than she. Would you agree, Sam?" Embarrassed, Sam didn't bother to answer. "I would say Sam has Rosie on his mind more than he would like us to think." Pippin continued to press poor blushing Sam. Frodo and Merry chuckled in agreement.
"I do not." Sam replied looking down at his breakfast pretending not to care.
Pippin laughed aloud and said "That's right, Sam Gamgee, I forgot your love for Bill the pony blinds you!"
"The Gaffer will have something to say about that," Merry continued, in his best rendition of Sam's father, Hamfast Gamgee, "I reckon Bill wouldn't make a good wife, but he sure makes good pulling the plow!"
Both Merry and Frodo pounded the table, spilling the tea out of their mugs. Pippin held his stomach; it would burst if he did not wrap his arms around himself.
Uproarious laughter at Sam's expense could be heard throughout the halls in Rivendell. Though the breakfast room could not be seen where Elrond stood, their voices rang clearly in his perfect elven ears. "Remarkable, Hobbits are." Said Elrond to Gandalf. "They leave this day at dusk for Mordor, the Black Land, and their hearts are light, filled with laughter. I see now, by the by, Meriadoc and Peregrin are best suited in the completion of the Nine Walkers. Your road is dark, darker than I can foretell. Take comfort in this, Gandalf, for as noble, brave and loyal are the warriors that I bestow to the Company, it will be in the bleakest hour the strength of our Hobbits grow twice their height. May these remarkable creatures keep your hearts light as well."
"Welcome is any good news from your foresight, Lord Elrond." Gandalf said. Together they walked outside in the chilling December air sullen yet determined the long treacherous journey ends in favor of Middle Earth. Gandalf continued, "Collectively, it seems many years have I spent in Hobbiton in my comings and goings and I grow in desire of their simple way of life. It is for that reason I am in awe of Frodo's courage, Sam's devotion and the rambunctious flair Merry and Pippin take entering in to our endeavor. Young hobbits, they are, curious, adventurous, traits unlike their fellow hobbit folk. Their bloodline is rich with all of it."
Nigh the hour of departure, Pippin looked around this glorious place unknowing if he would ever see the beauty of Rivendell. His soul feared the worst and compelled all his senses to stare long without a blink and inhale a deeper breath. He stepped out of the Hall of Fire where the farewells were taken and given and fell in to single file line behind Gandalf sided with Aragorn. The next step Pippin took meant never turning back, before making that step he turned around and wondered if Elrond was right. By Elrond's council Peregrin Took should remain in Rivendell to return home to the Shire as a messenger of the Elves. Were it not for Gandalf's persistence Glorfindel, the Golden Haired, might have totaled the Nine. Pippin faced the way to Mordor, put down his foot to cross the imaginary boundary and left behind all doubt that he belonged with the Company.
Near the front of line Pippin walked a stride or two behind the guides, Gandalf and Aragorn, no doubt planning the ideal route through the mountains. He might have misheard their exchanges but it seemed they were debating on the paths to take. Sam strolled behind speaking to Bill as if to have a conversation, answering questions that no one else heard the beast of burden ask. Then there was Boromir and then Gimli.
Steps further in back of the dwarf, Frodo and Merry spoke fondly of Bilbo, piecing together songs of their childhood in hopes to share them during supper that night. The eyes and ears of Legolas were last with good reason. Connected to all that surrounded them, discerning the natural restlessness of the woods from the intentional sounds of danger, the elf marched in steady alert.
Slowing his pace, Pippin let by Sam, rolling his eyes as Sam continued his ridiculous conversation with Bill. " 'No sense in doing anything if you got no sense at all' my old Gaffer would say." His stride quickened in the opposite direction of their march as he passed stout Gimli, proud Boromir and the other two hobbits to finally match the footsteps of the elf.
"Hullo!" Pippin said to Legolas, but he did not reply. "I am Peregrin son of Paladin, commonly called Pippin. I come from a long line of Tooks of the Shire." Little discouraged Pippin in continuing, slighting the elf's apparent disinterest, so on he conveyed, in great detail, the crossing bloodlines of Bagginses, Brandybucks and Tooks. "Closer in relation are Meriadoc Brandybuck and Frodo Baggins, first cousins, once removed. Myself and Merry are even closer, first cousins straight away." Hobbit lineage was somewhat of a bragging right and Pippin had just claim to family pride. His father, Paladin II was Thain of the Shire and older brother to Esmeralda, Merry's mother. Their father, Rorimac, or Old Rory as Pippin referred to him, was the Master of Buckland.
The woods were thickening, once again he was reminded how their purpose traveled them far from the Shire. The chill of the cold and unknown swirled around his head, he pulled his hood up for comfort. "I am as out of place as troll in Hobbiton." At length Pippin waited, but again no response from Legolas. Pippin became irritated, "You do not acknowledge me and that is very rude."
"Mister Peregrin," he finally spoke, "there are as many differences between you and I as there are stars that light the sky." Pippin agreed. " I hear all things around me and my concentration to listen for those that will do us harm prevents me from speaking. I mean no ill-respect." Legolas spoke truthfully, confidently looking in to Pippin's gaze.
"I have spoken much too long for the keen ears of elves. Tell me about yourself." Pippin looked up at Legolas.
"Ask me what you wish to know."
"The eyesight of the elves is famous for accuracy even in the greatest distance. I am small and so is my vision. What do you see that I cannot?" Pippin asked.
Legolas stopped and turned the Hobbit about-face back to Rivendell. He held his hand to shield the cloudy sun from his eyes and peered in to the city, with the other hand leaned his fist on his hip. Pippin looked at him and copied his stance.
"What can you see, little one?" Hobbit eyes saw the graceful skyline of Rivendell's structures, magnificent against the lush wood and cascading waters. There was a bridge adjoining two houses. One had a tall, white pointy spire and at the very tip shone a finial as bright as gold.
"Your eyes are stronger than I presumed." Legolas said much to Pippin's delight. "On that very bridge are two elven maids. One has long hair, like the color of yours, and white flowers are interlaced between her locks. The other has her hair braided and tied up with binds of silver. They are singing of our journey, wishing us well."
Pippin exclaimed, "Your ears serve you well!" But Legolas omitted the last verse that the maidens sang,
Shall we never lay eyes on the Fellowship of the Ring again?