Usual disclaimers apply - characters still don't belong to me, though I belong to Faramir.

A MOTHER'S LOVE

His room is just as he left it. Untidy of course, although I did remove all the dirty dishes and plates – not that they were that dirty, for he never left too much trace of food upon them.

We all miss him, his dad especially. He doesn't say too much now, because it just upsets him, although in the beginning, he was more angry than anything. "Just wait till he comes in," he'd say. "I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget – he won't sit down for a fortnight!"

But of course, he would never have touched him, less it was an embrace, for our son would only have to smile to make both his father and I melt with love. It was impossible to be angry with Pippin for long. Yes, he was all too often careless and irresponsible, but his cheerful love of life endeared him to all – and everyone knew that there wasn't a bad or malicious bone in his body.

I speak now in the past tense because it has been so many months since he just disappeared, and yet I refuse to believe that he's come to harm. It gives me hope that he isn't alone, for there's no question that Merry is with him – and almost certainly, Frodo and Samwise Gamgee also. The disappearance of the four of them at the same time cannot be coincidence, and I know that the older three will look after my son .

People stop talking when they see me appear, but I know what they're saying – that my boy must be dead. Most of them think that all four are dead, even their fathers who appear to have lost all hope. But mothers are different – we have bonds with our children that go beyond thought and supposition. I feel in my heart that my son is alive, although we've heard nothing now for so long. Our last – and only – news was from Bree where four hobbits were seen at the local inn. Apparently they were seen leaving with a "ranger" called Strider, after an attack on one of the hobbit guest- rooms by strange hooded creatures, that may or may not have been men. It seems as though they were under the protection of this Ranger, but the worry is why they were in need of it. The thought that someone tried to kill my son fills me with dread – there can be no more harmless soul in Middle Earth. Indeed, none of them could ever be considered a threat to anyone. All four are just sweet natured, gentle youngsters.

His sisters of course feel guilty, for they were always admonishing him for something or other. They didn't always show it, but they adored their baby brother despite his constant cheeky ways, his merciless teasing about their clothes, their hair, their weight – especially their weight, for Pippin was blessed in that whatever he ate, all he retained was energy in abundance.

Sometimes I go into his room at night and close my eyes, imagining that he is in bed, a tangled mass of brown curls on the pillow, his little body curled into a tight ball, for although he tried so hard to be grown up, in sleep he was but a child. I even convince myself that when I open my eyes, he will be there – that he will have sneaked in when I wasn't looking, and in his innocence and naivete which I loved so much, he will hope I haven't noticed his absence.

It's Bilbo I blame for filling their heads with stories of dragons and treasure, but that Tookish part of him lies in Pippin also, and Bilbo returned just as suddenly as he left, so no day passes when I don't hope to see my youngest child walk in the door, and head straight for the pantry.

All I know of what lies beyond the Shire is from stories, and how much of the stories grew in the telling I don't know, but as well as dragons, Bilbo talked of goblins and necromancy. I know the world beyond our borders is a dangerous place....my hope is that my son, wherever he is, is safe and well, and if needed, will find his courage.

A/N: I was soooooo tempted to finish with the line "I wish we'd never moved from Glasgow. ;)