Title: Glimpses of a Fading Crown

Author: BookHobbit

Rating: G

Category: General/Angst

Notes/Disclaimer: The characters, setting, etc., are not mine, they are Professor Tolkien's; I'm merely playing with them for a while and will put them back when I am done. This story is book verse, and therefore at least a little knowledge of the book would be beneficial to understand it fully. Enjoy, and remember that all feedback is greatly appreciated! :-) This was written as part of Marigold's Challenge 3, in which I was instructed to expand the scene in the book in Lothlórien.

"[Galadriel said to the Fellowship,] 'But even now there is hope left. I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail; but only in knowing what was and is, and in part also what shall be. But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true.'

And with that word she held them with her eyes, and in silence looked searchingly at each of them in turn. None save Legolas and Aragorn could long endure her gaze."

-From The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 7: The Mirror of Galadriel

Pippin gazed at the Elves, the magnificently tall trees, and even the strange platform they stood on in wonder. He had slept on a talan, of course, but they were still strange and foreign to him. How odd, to have spent the night quite comfortably in a tree!

The Elves were of special fascination. The Lord and the Lady especially seemed to glow, and he had the curious feeling of being a small lad, dirtied from playing outside, interrupting a fine party.

Pippin looked down at his toes for a moment. He glanced quickly back up, and the Lady caught his eyes and held them fast. He blinked, and was suddenly not standing on the great talan but floating in the middle of a black mass. Strangely, he did not feel scared by this new setting. He turned and saw the Lady, and she smiled at him.

Welcome to Lothlórien, Peregrin Took.

It did not seem odd, either, that she spoke without moving her lips, nor that he knew he could reply in the same manner. He made a clumsy bow, but was not embarrassed by it, for the Lady smiled still.

You are troubled.

He hesitated, but knew he could not lie to her, anymore than he could to Merry.

Yes.

What troubles you so? she asked, though Pippin sensed she knew the answer better than he.

Gandalf ... he is lost, and it is my fault. Only mine. And Frodo was hurt, and Sam was too, and we could have all been killed, and it would have been my fault. The Ring could have been taken to the Enemy, and that would have been my fault.

You are not a worthy member of the Company.

No, he replied sadly. I should have listened to Lord Elrond. I should have stayed in the Shire.

Do you wish, then, to go back?

C-could I?

Yes, if you say you do wish it.

Y--. He stopped. Go back? Go home? How he missed the Shire, missed it with all his heart. He missed the rolling green hills of Tuckborough, and his bed that was warm and soft, and his family, oh, how he missed them.

Pearl, and her husband, and their wee babes. Had Reed Boffin asked Pimpernel to marry him? She had thought he would, when Pippin left. Was Pervinca - his favorite sister, the one closest to him in age and personality - still courting Bolo Goodbody? She never could stay with one hobbit for any length of time, much to their parents' despair. His parents. His throat tightened at the thought of his mother. Did she think him dead? Had she given up hope, yet? What of his father? If he thought Pippin had run away, he would be so disappointed. Paladin had begun teaching him some of the duties he would have as Thain, and now what if he thought Pippin had fled his responsibility?

Pippin started to say yes again, then halted. His family - but Merry and Frodo, they were his family, too. And they needed him. Sam needed him. The Fellowship needed him. And would his parents be pleased that he had shirked his duty to go home, like a scared child? He was scared, from his curly head to his furry toes, but he could not. He could not abandon them.

He faced her again and realized she knew his answer already.

You will stay.

I will.

And what if they come to harm, these ones you love so desperately? What if you bring them to harm?

I will not.

How can you be sure of that? You did not know dropping the stone would summon the goblins of Moria.

They would have come anyway, he responded, a little shakily but growing steadier as he continued. They would have found us somehow. And it was not my choice to go through Moria. Strider told Gandalf not to go, but Gandalf was the leader. He chose to go. No one else blames me...

Besides yourself?

A breath, enough time for him to feel the pain of the error that he would never forget. Yes.

Neither should you blame yourself, Peregrin, for you are correct, and Gandalf would not have blamed you for it.

He would not?

No. It was his choice - as giving up his life for you and the Company was his choice. There was a short pause while Pippin digested this information. The Lady smiled again, and this time he smiled back, heartened. You have decided, then?

Yes. I must stay with Frodo, and Merry and Sam and all of them. Gandalf would want me to. He tore his eyes from hers, blinked, and was back in the talan, and the Lady was smiling at him. Then she moved her gaze to Merry at his side. Pippin rubbed his eyes quickly, not surprised that his hand came back wet, and looked at Frodo to his right. His older cousin was staring intently into the distance, obviously deep in thought. Sam, on Frodo's other side, was blushing and pointedly gazing at the floor of the talan. He heard Merry sigh, long and ruefully, and Pippin fumbled for Merry's reassuring hand. They smiled nervously at each other, glad they were both there, and waited for the Lord and Lady to speak again.

##

"It smells like spring when it rains here," came Pippin's voice from behind him, and Frodo started, for he had thought himself alone in this small clearing.

"Does it?" He breathed deeply of the gentle, moist air, and smiled. "How odd. It can't be more than the middle of Afteryule."

"Can't it?" Pippin inquired, flopping down on his stomach next to his sitting cousin. He rolled over, enjoying the feeling of soft drops of water hitting his face, and added, "Maybe the Elves have different seasons than we do."

"Silly," Frodo replied, reaching over to tickle him. Pippin squealed and wiggled to get out of his reach, and Frodo was reminded of years ago at Bag End, when his younger cousins would come over for extended visits. He also remembered Bilbo being required to have long solitary walks around the countryside during those times. Ah, Bilbo, what are you doing now? he wondered. Having long talks with the Elves? Composing poetry or writing in your book? How I wish I was with you, there, instead of on this Quest, here.

"Why am I silly?" Pippin interrupted his thoughts. Frodo realized he had drifted back into the brown study he had been engrossed in before the young Took had come upon him.

"Because the Elves can't change the seasons, silly," Frodo teased.

Pippin giggled a bit. Frodo noticed the rain was falling more mildly now, and became aware of the wetness of his clothes with a remorseful grin. How Sam would fret, admonishing his master that one could easily catch cold in such a state! "I don't mean that, I suppose. I mean, well, Elvish places seem to have a different way of seasons. In Rivendell, for instance, when it looked like early autumn and it was the beginning of winter."

"Maybe the seasons don't touch the Elvish places so much as the rest of Middle-earth, like the years don't touch the Elves so much as they do Hobbits and Big People."

"And Dwarves!" Pippin added with excitement. "Speaking of, where is Gimli? I wanted - er, Sam wanted - him to tell us his poem again - In Moria, in Khazad-dûm! - but we couldn't find him anywhere, and Merry's gone off wandering, and Sam wanted to learn it."

"Did Sam say so, or would you just like to explore and find where Gimli and Legolas have been going?" Frodo asked shrewdly.

Pippin looked indignant for a full ten seconds, then admitted, "Both. Sam did say he'd like to learn it, though."

"Yes, away back in Moria, you goose!" Frodo exclaimed, tickling him again.

Pippin laughed, unsuccessfully trying to evade his nimble fingers, and Frodo felt the rain halt and the sun shine down to warm them, but the smell that was like spring remained.

##

Sam was not certain why Mr. Frodo burst into hearty laughter when Sam exclaimed, "Mr. Frodo, sir, what 'ave you been about? You're soaked through!" But it filled Sam's heart, Mr. Frodo's laughter, and he smiled to hear it - it had been long since his master had found something so joy-inducing. And Sam was pleased that his master did not object when Sam dug through their packs and found dry clothes for him to change into.

"Really, Sam, it's not cold. Just - refreshing." Frodo chuckled a little at a jest Sam had not heard.

"Now, then, sir, you know 'ow easy it is to catch colds in Afteryule," Sam clicked his tongue in disapproval of such foolhardiness and added softly, "Whether 'tis unnaturally warm here or no."

Frodo emerged a few minutes later, dry and buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, and pondered aloud, "I wonder if one can catch a cold here."

"Well, Elves are Elves," Sam allowed, "and they can do a sight more'n I would've thought possible a year ago. But no need to be testin' nature." He smiled shyly and said, "An' now you're sounding like Master Pippin, if you don't mind me sayin' so, sir."

Frodo laughed again, and Sam could not help but join him, so sunny was the sound. "Dear me, Sam, but you're quite right! This adventure of ours must be waking up as much Took blood in me as Bilbo's did for him." Sam's breath caught and he looked swiftly at Frodo in trepidation. Lately, the mere mention of his cousin's name had been a cause of distress and worry in his master; now, however, the blue eyes were clear and shining without a sign of anxiety. "Dear old Bilbo," Frodo said, though his voice, Sam was glad to note, was fond in memory, not wistful in regretful longing.

"He'd like this place, I think," Sam remarked after a short pause. "It's so much like Rivendell, yet so much unlike it. That probably doesn't make much sense, sir." He blushed and hung his head.

"It makes perfect sense, Samwise!" Frodo declared. He suddenly stifled a large yawn and grinned cheekily at Sam's suspicious look. "No, dear Sam, I'm afraid I haven't been sleeping well lately. Not since..." he trailed off, for a moment lost in remembered sorrow. With a visible effort, he pulled himself from the depression he had been sliding into and continued before Sam could say a word. "Hmmm, I think it's an excellent time for a nap." He turned to walk to the hobbits' sleeping quarters.

"You do that, sir," Sam murmured in satisfaction. He picked back up the needle and thread he had been using to mend his torn jacket-sleeve and spoke quietly to himself. "An' today or tomorrow I must have that talk with Mr. Merry..."

##

Merry took the last apple from the bowl and polished it carefully on his shirt. He scrutinized the empty dish with regret; even the fruits in Lórien seemed Elvish somehow, and better than the fruits to which he was accustomed. Ah, well, the Elves were nothing if not quick learners - the fruits would be replaced by a smiling Elf within the hour (at least, what felt an hour anyway; Merry wasn't sure but that time itself was changed in Lothlórien). He closed his eyes to savor the first, juiciest bite ...

And felt the apple snatched out of his hand. "Oy!"

Pippin smiled and crunched into the apple with obvious delight. "Mmm, these are good, oh greedy cousin mine."

"Pippin! I was eating that!"

"Uh-uh-uh, Merry. A promise made is a promise kept, you know that as well as I."

"What promise?" Merry retorted. He was still hungry, after all - had plenty more corners to be filled up - and in no mood to be reasonable.

His cousin took another bite with relish. "Frodo laughed, dearest cousin - a genuine laugh, not merely forced or sorrowful like he has been. And Sam did, too - you're in my debt, you see."

Thoughts of his purloined meal fled from Merry's mind and he grinned in relief. "Good work, Pip! That was much faster than I expected - only a day or two." Or was it, really? Time in Lothlórien seeming strange and all that.

Pippin cocked his head while chewing on another bit of apple. He looked so comical in this position Merry laughed, himself. "Merry, don't interrupt when I'm trying to think."

"Whatever do you mean? All you're doing is watching me like a curious puppy."

Pippin awarded Merry with an elegant "Humph" and continued obstinately. "I was attempting to say ... erm ... well ..." He gazed at the apple as if it would help his memory.

"My thoughts exactly." Merry sat down with his back to a tree and shut his eyes with a peaceful sigh.

"I was going to talk about ... something about Elvish places ... oh, I cannot recall it anymore."

Merry heard a soft plop next to him and felt a warm weight on his stomach. He opened his eyes the smallest amount he could see out of and watched Pippin finish his apple and toss the core into the basket that had held it before dropping his head onto his makeshift pillow with an echo of Merry's sigh. Merry closed his eyes again and began running his fingers gently through Pippin's soft curls, pulling apart every tangle with great care. Pippin squirmed suddenly and just as quickly settled back down. "Be still, little ragamuffin."

The Took elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt. "I'm hardly six years old, Merry."

"Ah, but six or twenty-eight you act the same."

Pippin sniffed again, but Merry could sense the unvoiced giggle. He chuckled low in his throat himself at the memories that flooded him with the familiar words.

"Be still, little ragamuffin," Merry said in exasperation.

"I don't want to get my hair cut, Merry!" the little hobbit said plaintively.

"Whether you'd like one or not you are going to get one," Merry replied with conviction. He combed Pippin's curls and said, "I don't know how you can even see with it in your eyes so."

"I like it that way," Pippin muttered. He pulled his knees to his chest, folded his arms, and dropped his head onto them to evade the scissors in Merry's hand.

"You have two choices, Pip," Merry said as an idea struck him. "You can go around with your long hair in your eyes and not get any pudding today" - Pippin raised his head to stare, aghast, at him - "or you can let me cut your hair and hear a story."

"A story? What about?" Pippin asked, failing to hide the excitement in his voice.

"A story about a little hobbit who went on an adventure." Merry closed the scissors with a snap and turned to leave. "You probably don't want to listen to it, though..."

"No, Merry! Wait! I'll sit still, I promise," Pippin said quickly.

Merry smiled triumphantly. "Good." He finished unraveling the knots in his cousin's hair and began to cut and narrate. "Now. Once upon a time, there was a young hobbit that everyone called Rags. They called him this because he was the squirmingest hobbit that ever was and his mum was forever saying, 'Be still, little ragamuffin!' " Snip! Snip! A pair of bronze locks fell to the floor.

"One day Rags and his cousin (who was also his very best friend)" - Pippin smiled up at Merry, who was now trimming his bangs, and Merry smiled back despite himself - "went on a walking trip. It was very hot and so they decided to eat their lunch beside a cave. A cold wind blew out of the cave, but it was refreshing to the hobbits in the dreadful heat. Suddenly, just as they finished their second pieces of pie, a band of goblins rushed out of the cave and took them prisoner." Pippin gasped, his eyes wide, and didn't move a muscle, so intent was he on the tale.

"Rags and his cousin were being taken to a great goblin city underground. They were both very scared, but Rags still wiggled around. He fidgeted so much, in fact, that he was able to slip off the ropes that bound him and escape. He freed his cousin while the goblins were trying to figure out where he had gone and they both ran back up to the cave's entrance. The goblins chased them, but Rags and his cousin were too fast.

"When they came back outside, they saw the wizard, Gandalf. He looked at them and asked what they were running from. 'Goblins!' Rags answered. 'They're following us!' When Gandalf heard that, he raised his staff high and a bright flash of light came from it. 'There,' he said, 'now they won't eat hobbits anymore.' Rags and his cousin peered into the cave and found that the goblins had all disappeared. They went back home and everyone was so eager to see them and listen to what had happened to them that it was very late by the time Rags went to bed. As his mum kissed him on the forehead, she said, 'I'm glad you weren't still, my little ragamuffin.' The end."

Pippin laughed and made as if to stand. Merry pushed him back into the chair firmly. "The story's over, Pip, but I'm not done with your hair. Just a moment, if you please." He shook out the curls with his hands. Clipped hair drifted out beneath his searching fingers and descended to the ground in short showers of bronze until Merry pronounced himself satisfied.

Pippin took his hand and beamed at him. "Will you take me on an adventure someday, Merry? Like Rags and his cousin?"

"If you wish, Pip," Merry responded. "Come on, I bet Cook is just completing her pastry making for the day." They both ran to the kitchens of Brandy Hall, chortling quietly.

Merry slowly brushed Pippin's hair and spoke softly to his sleeping cousin. "I promised, didn't I Pip? I wish I hadn't, though. I wish we were all still in the Shire with no worries besides when our next meal was. Ah, but I can't change what is going on anymore than I can what has already occurred. Good night, cousin." With that, he surrendered to his fatigue and drifted into a tranquil slumber.

##

"Good morning, Sam!" Merry called as cheerfully as his name implied. "What are you looking for?" he asked, though he wagered himself that he could guess.

Sam turned, momentarily amazed at the younger hobbit's sudden appearance, then answered, "I was just wonderin' where Mr. Frodo had gone off to, sir. I thought he might be with you and Master Pippin, but it seems as I was wrong."

Merry mentally congratulated himself on his correct bet and amended Sam's statement aloud, "Only half wrong. Frodo and Pip left with Gimli earlier, after second breakfast. He's showing them around a bit," he continued with a grin for that thought - a Dwarf accompanying two hobbits around a great Elvish city!

Sam's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "Legolas did not go with them?"

Merry shook his head. "No, but I think he's talking with some of the other Elves."

There was a short silence; Merry looked at the talan in the trees above them, his face thoughtful, while Sam worked up what he had been wanting to speak to Merry about for several days now. He was just opening his mouth when Merry said vaguely, "It's funny, don't you think?"

When he apparently was not inclined to clarify his words, Sam (with only a slight tinge of impatience) replied, "What's that, Mr. Merry?"

"Oh, Elves," Merry said as if that explained it all. Sam frowned and realized abruptly how alike Mr. Merry and Master Pippin could be at times. Merry shifted his gaze back to Sam and smiled in understanding. "I meant how different Elves can be. Legolas is not very much like the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, or Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, or even Lord Elrond in Rivendell. Yet they all have a feeling of ... Elvishness is the only way I can think of to describe it."

"You're right, Mr. Merry," Sam said, finding himself interested in this topic after all. "But then hobbits are unlike one another, even those that are closely related - Mr. Frodo and those Sackville-Bagginses, for one, or Mr. Frodo and Master Pippin."

"Yes, but Pip and Frodo are alike - much more than Frodo and the S.-B.s. Why, the only thing they have in common is the fact that they are hobbits!"

"An' maybe that's the only thing all these Elves have in common, sir," Sam said, nodding in conviction.

Merry clapped him heartily on the back. "Frodo was correct when he said you were a very wise hobbit, Samwise Gamgee. I concede the point."

Pink filled Sam's cheeks at the praise, and he quickly found the leaves of the ground of Lothlórien to be very engrossing. Merry smiled a little, sensing Sam's discomfort, and started to walk away, until Sam's voice hailed him.

"Mr. Merry?"

Merry peered over his shoulder. "Yes?" Sam's eyebrows drew down together and his toes dug into the soft dirt beneath them. Merry frowned, puzzled at this behavior, and sensed something was troubling the gardener. He moved to sit under one of the shorter (and, therefore, shadier) trees and patted the ground. "Come on, Sam - I know you've something to say. What's wrong?"

Sam took a seat with a sigh. He pursed his lips in contemplation for a moment; Merry waited patiently. Finally, Sam blurted, "Has Mr. Frodo talked to you about - well - about what happened in Moria?"

Merry unconsciously imitated Sam's earlier actions by narrowing his eyes. "He hasn't discussed it with you?" he asked, voice laced with concern. Frodo had not conversed with either of his younger cousins about Gandalf, though they had both talked - and grieved - often with each other. Even Sam had had a cathartic discourse with Pippin a few days ago that had ended in a mixture of tears and laughter that raised both hobbits' spirits. But Merry had assumed Frodo was finding his way through the tragic loss with Sam - if that wasn't so ...

"No, Mr. Merry." Sam sighed deeply. "I thought as much. Mr. Frodo's never been a one to force what he feels are 'is own troubles on other people."

"Stubborn Baggins blood!" Merry muttered. "The ridiculous hobbit will make himself sick with such nonsense, you know he will. We have to draw it out of him some way."

"You'll pardon my sayin' so, Mr. Merry, but I don't know as there is anything either of us can do." Merry started to protest, but Sam doggedly continued, "I said us, Mr. Merry, and I meant it. We can't get Mr. Frodo to say what he feels - Master Pippin, however, is completely different, as you should know yourself, sir."

Merry thought for a moment, then cried, "Wise is an understatement for such knowledge as you have, Sam. You know my cousins better than I - lawks! You probably know myself better than I do! This outing is a perfect opportunity for Frodo to get rid of some of those guilty feelings we both know he has - for no reason, of course - and once he breaks out of his shell, maybe we two can do something to aid him." He paused. "That is if Pippin can get him to start."

"I'm sure he will, Mr. Merry. That lad is smarter than he acts, and he has wisdom of his own, if you take my meanin'."

"Yes, you're right; no need for me to worry and ruin elevenses and luncheon too, likely." Merry leapt to his feet, relief filling him with newfound excitement. "Come, Sam, what say we have a picnic in a beautiful Elven land for elevenses today?"

Sam stood with a good deal more composure than Merry had shown. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, sir."

Seconds later, Boromir unwittingly stepped within sound, if not sight, range of the hobbits and found himself listening curiously to a most unusual conversation:

"Now, Sam, we really must talk about all this 'sir' business..."

Finis