On a Hobbit Holiday
Sam peered up at the darkening sky anxiously. "I don't like the look of those clouds. Come on, Merry and Pippin. We'd better try to find some shelter."
Pippin chuckled to himself. Sam was worse than an old mother hen. There they were, three middle-aged hobbits with more experience tramping about in the outdoors than all the other hobbits in the Shire combined, and Sam just had to draw attention to the weather.
"They are way off on the horizon, Sam." Pippin nudged Blaze into a trot for a few strides to bring him along side Sam's chestnut mare, Sunny. He reached over and lightly punched Sam's shoulder. "They've a long way to come yet if they are going to bother us."
"I don't know 'bout that, Pippin. They weren't there just a bit ago. They look to be moving fast."
Sam had dropped calling Merry and Pippin "Mister" quite awhile ago, though it would still slip into his speech on occasion. He was now held in more honor by the hobbits of the Shire than those two illustrious Travellers. Even though they were more titled, the hobbits gave more weight to Sam as the mayor that being an elected title not just one you got for being born to the right parents. The mayor, they felt, was more important because they all had a say in who got elected.
The three friends were on a holiday of sorts. King Elessar had sent word that, as he had come up to his home at Annuminas early in the year this year, and there not being much building nor planting being done yet, perhaps his dear friends would like to come for a visit. It was the last week of Rethe, and the weather was still unpredictable, so Rosie, Diamond and Estella had told their husbands to go on without them and their children. The wives made plans for socializing amongst themselves, making the rounds of one another's warm, dry, comfortable homes.
The three hobbits were heading north. They were taking their time enjoying the feeling of freedom from not having home, family or position to bother with. They had stayed at the Dove Tail Inn at the junction of the Great East Road and the Oatbarton-Greenfields Road their first evening. (Fair ale, better food, good company) Then it was a lazy day's travel to the Hoof and Horn Tavern at the meeting of the Oatbarton-Greenfields Road and the Scary Road. (Good ale, acceptable food, not much company.) A bit harder ride to Oatbarton itself and the Barley Reaper's Inn. (Great ale, marvelous food, too much good company, Pippin was quite entertaining.) Then it was up the road to the small Sit and Sup. (Good ale, good food, peace and quiet.) Finally to the End of The Road Tavern and Inn at Greenfields. (The best ale thus far, excellent food, wonderful company, Sam kept an eye on Pippin, Merry got a bit too silly.) There they stayed a few days. (Sam got much too jolly the second night.) They had truly enjoyed sampling each establishment's food and drink along the way, especially the ales. They shopped about in Greenfields to get supplies for the trip across open country to Annuminas, which they had left on this very morning.
A fine and jovial mood reigned. They talked and sang and talked some more, quite forgetting the clouds until Pippin found himself starting to shiver from a sudden gusty, cold breeze. He looked up. The clouds were not yet upon them but now towered close by.
"You should have had a wager with me about those clouds, Sam." Pippin nodded toward the dark, roiling mass bearing down on them from the north-northwest. "You would have won. I didn't think they would get here this fast."
Sam squinted at the clouds and silently nodded his head.
Pippin turned to Merry. "What do you say, cousin, rain or snow? I've five silver coins that say it will be snow."
Merry looked at the blue-black wall of clouds. He could feel the drop in the temperature. "No bet, Pip," he answered. "I agree with you. Those clouds don't look warm enough to have anything in them but snow."
"We ought to have stopped when I wanted to." Sam's voice was quiet. He was looking around at the countryside, not really too thrilled with what he was seeing. The land for miles was nothing but flat, empty grasslands. They had earlier in the day left the last of the hobbit farms behind them. He looked at the pack pony they had purchased in Greenfields, hoping they had enough wood, that the tent would be big enough, that the tent pegs would hold.
Sam's concerns ended up a moot point. For as he sat looking at the pack pony, a broken off piece of bush or brush came bouncing along on the gusty wind. It banged into the pack pony causing him to spook and run before the shrub bounced merrily on its way.
"There goes our wood," Sam moaned.
"There goes the tent," sighed Merry.
"But not all the Brandy and ale!" exclaimed Pippin as he uncovered a small cask of ale and a small cask of Brandy he had strapped to Blaze then hidden beneath his bedroll. "We might freeze to death, but we won't care."
Sam and Merry looked at each other then both turned to look at Pippin. They were wondering how Pippin would like sitting in the cold naked because they had stolen his clothing off of him to wrap around themselves. Each dismissed the thought as not really practical, they were each a bit rounder than Pippin, even though he had finally filled out a bit.
"There does seem to be a bit of a rise, yonder." Sam pointed to a bump nearly due north of them. "We might get some shelter from this wind."
They rode towards the rise, catching as many of the passing bits of blown shrubbery they could grab, tying them about themselves and their ponies. When they got to the few low hills, they found them to be taller than they had looked from a distance. The two hills would indeed block much of the direct blast of the wind.
It started to rain.
"I should have taken your bet, Pippin," Merry said as he pulled his hood up holding it in place with one hand. "Rain it is. I would have won."
They hurried to get a fire started. They cooked dinner quickly, figuring that the scrawny little pieces of brush would burn quickly. They did. But at least they got a warm meal inside themselves before all the fuel was gone. It wasn't too bad for awhile. Each one had his underclothes, clothes (including the extra layer of tabards for Merry and Pippin) their Elven cloaks and, for Pippin and Merry, their uniform cloaks. Sam had the dress cloak he had been presented with by King Elessar. But gradually each layer soaked through.
Merry would have won the bet with what came down first, but that changed. The rain turned to rain with ice mixed in. Then, about the time Pippin felt the wetness finally reaching his skin, it turned to freezing rain.
For a while, their spirits, due to the spirits in the casks, had been high. They had told bawdy stories, sang bawdy songs whilst laughing their heads off and thumbing their noses at the rain. But as the ice started to form on their cloaks, the chill snuck in around the false warmth of the liquor. Pippin's was the first voice to go silent. It was then Merry remembered if there was one thing his younger cousin could not tolerate well, it was the cold. He had distracted Merry with his earlier bright boldness. Pippin was bright and bold no longer. He sat huddled in his sodden, now becoming frozen, clothes shivering.
"Get over here Sam." Merry waved Sam over to Pippin's other side. "Come on. The more hobbits under the cloaks, the warmer the hobbits will be." They huddled tight around Pippin and worked their cloaks around until all three of them were under Merry and Sam's Elven cloaks and dress cloaks.
The fire was warm. Pippin could feel it on the right side of his face. He could feel it down the right side of his body. It felt so good to be warm. Sam smiled in his sleep. He could smell the smell of cedar logs burning on the hearth. Merry rolled over to face the comforting heat.
Sam startled. His eyes popped open. Logs on the hearth? What logs? What hearth? Last he knew . . . He turned his head to look around. They were in a room with no windows. The smoke from the fire was going up a hole in the ceiling. He put his hand out to help himself sit up, then turned his head to look at his hand. It had sunk into deep, thick fur. He sat up. He made sure he saw Merry and Pippin before he went back to looking around the room. They were in a cave; he could see the rough hewn stone walls. The thick furs where lying on a dry, sandy floor. Suddenly, a person bustled into the room. He was taller than a dwarf, shorter than a man, powerfully built with a dwarf's full head of hair that blended into a luxuriant, intricately braided beard. But the texture of his hair and beard seemed finer than that of any dwarves Sam had ever seen.
"It wouldn't do, you know. Simply wouldn't do." The strange person looked at Sam then appeared to check on Merry and Pippin. "I won't have none of you little hobbity folk dyin' on my doorstep. No, sir. It wouldn't do at all. Have folk thinkin' I'm rude and inhospitable. No. Couldn't have the lot o' you dyin' on the doorstep so I brought you in here to do your dying."
"Pardon?" was all Sam could say.
"Pardon? I can't grant you no pardon. If the lot o' you have done things amiss, you'll have to be a goin' to someone other than I for your pardonin'."
"No," Sam said, feeling very confused. "I didn't mean that. I don't understand what you're goin' on about."
"Clear as dew drops on flower petals. No explanation given as there ain't nothin' to explain. No, sir. Clear as the sky on a sunny day." With that the person bustled out of the room.
Sam's head felt dizzy. He suddenly realized that his clothes were all gone. He was covered by only a thin, incredibly soft blanket. Merry stirred a bit, mumbled a bit, and then opened his eyes.
"Hullo Sam. Where did you manage to get all of this?" Merry was blinking like an owl at the fire.
"I didn't do none of this, Mr. Merry. I . . . ah . . . it's just that . . ."
"And how do I find you?" The odd person had bustled back into the room. Merry's mouth fell open. "I find two of you tryin' to right squish the third one. All squooshed together. And him already the thinnest o' the lot. Was you tryin' to make him thinner yet? And covered in ice, the lot o' you, all crunchy like." He went to the fire and poked and prodded it until the flames roared up. He went to a large box in a far part of the room, pulled out three more logs which he cast in atop the burning ones. "I always thought little hobbity folk had more sense than that. But not you lot. Sittin' there crusted over. Not even the sense to come in out th' weather." He bustled away.
Merry turned his open-mouthed face to Sam, pointing in the direction the person had exited. He said nothing, making only a strange choking noise.
Sam slowly shook his head. "I've no idea."
Sam gathered his blanket about himself and stood up. He walked over to Pippin then sat down heavily beside him. He checked Pippin's forehead. The younger hobbit did not have a fever. Sam sighed with relief.
Merry got up to start nosing around the room. It didn't take long. There was little in the room. There was the large central fire pit, the large wood box as well as several thick-furred skins upon the sandy floor and three hobbits.
Their host, if that indeed was what he was, came hurriedly back into the room. He went straight to Pippin. Bent down, patted Pippin's cheeks a few times, sighed, then turned and hurried away. He returned moments later with Pippin's uniform, a large bottle and a mug in his arms. He stopped awkwardly in mid step when he almost ran into Merry and Sam who had placed themselves like a wall in front of Pippin.
"I'll be takin' care of the King's Knight." He looked the two blanket clad hobbits up and down. "Won't mind in the least stovin' your heads in to do it."
"Excuse me?" Merry said.
"Why? You do somethin' rude, little hobbity lad. I didn't hear you belch." He sniffed the air. "Don't smell nothin', so no, I won't excuse you. Step aside."
Merry and Sam pulled closer together, blocking the stranger's access to Pippin.
"Just how are you knowin' he's a Knight of King Estel?" said Sam.
This seemed to stop the odd person cold. "Hope? The King's name is Hope? Sounds a bit girlish, but I suppose it doesn't sound too badly in the Elf tongue. Step aside."
"Tell us how you know he is a Knight of Gondor and we might step aside." Merry drew himself up to his full height, but nearly dropped his blanket, rather ruining the effect.
The person huffed. He set the goods he carried down on one of the skins but picked Pippin's tabard back up. He stuck it up so close to Merry and Sam's faces that the emblems on it were blurry to them.
"Tree. Stars. Wee little image of the King's crown. I don't understand why there is a hobbity knight, didn't know hobbity lads went for knightin', but that is what these here symbols on this here black and grey bit o' shirt mean. It means this here wee little hobbity lad is a knight." He squinted down at Merry and Sam. He poked Merry. "Though seems to me you and the Knight be a bit tall for hobbity lads. Maybe you be half-breeds like me. But like as not you two aren't hobbity folk at all, but some kind o' little shrunk men folk. Hobbity folk don't come this far from the Shire but rarely. But then again, you have them furry hobbity feet on you. So, hobbity half-breeds one of which be in service to the King. So, I'll take care of him. Step aside."
"We are all hobbits and none of us half-breeds. I'm a Knight as well," Merry said as the self proclaimed half-breed moved to shove him and Sam aside.
The Half-Breed stopped again. "You did have fancy clothes on you, but nought that I know what their meanin' be."
"I am a Knight of Rohan in the service of King Eomer."
"Rohan? Rohan. Ro - han. Rohan! Yes! Horses. Lots o' pretty horses. Yes. There be horses all over your fancy clothes."
"Yes, horses. And we are allies of Gondor and give allegiance to King Elessar."
"Then you be someone I ought treat proper just like the sleepy hobbity Knight on the floor." The Half-Breed looked down at Pippin. "He be a cute wee thing, for a Knight." His voice had gone quite gentle, almost motherly. "The wee lad had a fever earlier, but my med'cine," he gestured to the bottle and mug sitting with Pippin's uniform, "set him to rights. Was just goin' to give him a wee dram more as a surety." He shook himself and looked up at Sam. "And what of you? You be anythin' I ought be respectin'?"
"I'm the Mayor of the Shire," Sam said with quiet dignity.
To Sam and Merry's surprise the Half-Breed stepped back, put Pippin's tabard down on the pile of his clothes, and then bowed deeply to them. "Smirnin Half-Dwarven, Son of Dmirnin, at your service." He remained bowed so Merry quickly replied.
"Sir Meriadoc Brandybuck, Knight of Rohan and Master of Buckland at your service." He bowed to their host.
"Samwise Gamgee, Mayor of the Shire, also at your service," added Sam, with a bow of his own.
Without yet looking up Smirnin asked, "And the wee hobbity Knight on the floor?"
"Peregrin Took," came a drowsy voice from the floor. "No, Sir Peregrin Took, Knight of Gondor, The Took and Thain of the Shire, at your service." The last was not really understandable as Pippin yawned in the middle of saying "at your service."
Smirnin looked at Pippin and smiled. "Awake at last, wee hobbity Sir Peregrin? Shall I be helpin' you into your clothes, Sir Knight?"
Pippin squeaked and grabbed at his blanket. "No! I can dress myself." He then noticed how hurt Smirnin looked. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to yell at you. Thank you but no, truly. I would rather dress myself."
"And could we have our clothes as well?" asked Sam.
"Of course, hobbity Mayor Samwise and Sir Meriadoc." Smirnin bowed again and left the room returning very quickly with the rest of the clothing. "I won't ask if you be hungry. Hobbity folk always be hungry. I'll just be a fetchin' some victuals and be back. You Sirs and Mayor just get youselves all dressed up proper while I'm busy in the kitchen." Smirnin bowed again and hurried out of the room.
"What did I miss?" Pippin asked as they were getting dressed.
"I'm not sure I can explain it to you, Pip. But I think we're alright now. Just get dressed, but stay alert." Merry replied.
The hobbits were dressed and seated together on one of the large skins when Smirnin returned. He carried a huge barrel in one arm, while balancing a huge tray of food on the other. Merry and Pippin jumped up to help Smirnin lower the tray to the floor.
Smirnin nodded Pippin aside. "No, Sir Peregrin. I'll be servin' you, not havin' you waitin' on me. Mr. hobbity Mayor Samwise and Sir Meriadoc o' the horse country can help me just fine."
Pippin sat down, feeling an odd mixture of self-satisfaction and awkwardness. He was enjoying feeling a bit above Merry especially, but, even with being The Took and Thain, he wasn't used to being treated quite this much like royalty. The meal was quickly laid out. The barrel, much to the hobbits' delight, contained Dwarvish Ale. Until the hobbits were beginning to feel full, there was little conversation apart from asking that items of food be passed. Smirnin seemed to understand that this was quite acceptable amongst hobbits and made no efforts at conversation until his guests did.
"Wonderful," Merry sighed as he patted his very full stomach. "But, now, Smirnin, if you don't mind, we would like some questions answered."
Their host looked bashfully at them. "Meanin' you be wantin' to know about me, if I'm understandin' you rightly."
The three hobbits nodded.
"Well, don't normally tell it but, well . . . does the King's Knight wish to hear it?"
Pippin, his mouth currently full of particularly good custard tart, nodded his head vigorously.
"Ages ago, longer than you hobbity folk have been around these parts, Dwarves came to the Blue Mountains, away over to the west o' here. Now the Elves, they were already there. Seems they have always been every where, but that is no-never-mind to this here tale. Well, how to say, this one Dwarf fella and this one beautiful Elf maiden . . . well . . . you see they took a likin' to each other, and . . . well . . . they . . . well . . . I'm their son."
Smirnin looked at the three hobbits as though he expected them to be outraged. Merry, Pippin and Sam just looked at him calmly. They had seen and heard enough on the Quest that few things really surprised them. After a few moments, he continued.
"Well, not much else to tell. I haven't died yet, so I figured out quite a bit ago that the Elf blood made me immortal like an Elf. My Father died. My Mother died a fair bit later, when I was all grown like and I was over my Father's passing. She held on for me, you see. Her kind, Elf kind, they can die, you know, from grievin'. When the King was here abouts, we did each other some good turns. So He gave me these hills to be my own. His city crumbled, but my hills and I are still here." Smirnin reached out his hand and gently brushed his finger tips across the embroidery on Pippin's tabard. "And I still honor the pledge I gave to always do right by Him and His."
Pippin clasped Smirnin's hand to his chest. "And you have. We most certainly would have died if you had not brought us in. I might be the only one among us who is a Knight of Gondor, but all three of us are close friends of King Elessar and Queen Arwen."
A look of wondrous joy came to Smirnin's face. "Arwen!? Arwen Undomiel!? This is nearly the best news I've ever had! Old Elrond's daughter married to my King." Suddenly his expression saddened. "Then she's made Luthien's choice." The hobbit's nodded. "Ah, well," Smirnin sighed. "That'll be hard on Old Elrond."
A few moments of silence passed, then Sam spoke. "Would you maybe be wantin' to meet them?"
"What?" Smirnin looked at Sam as though he wasn't quite sure if the hobbit was joking with him or was serious.
"Meet them. King Elessar and Queen Arwen. We was all on our way there for a bit of a visit when that storm got in our way."
"Yes!" put in Pippin. "That would be grand. Good thinking, Sam. Come along with us, Smirnin."
"The King is rebuilding the city on Lake Evendim. That is where we were heading," added Merry.
The hobbits were all nodding, broad smiles filling their faces.
"Me? Me go and meet a new King and His fair Elf Queen?"
More nods from the hobbits.
"He is most gracious," said Pippin. "I'm sure he would love to meet an old ally."
"He won't be thinkin' I'm a bit odd of a mix?"
The three hobbits laughed.
"No," said Merry. "Two of his best friends are nearly brothers to each other. Gimli, Son of Gloin of Durin's line, and Legolas Greenleaf, King Thranduil's son."
Smirnin was speechless for a moment. "An Elf Prince and one of Durin's Folk like brothers? As great a wonder as my dear parents. Nothin' will ever surprise me again!"
The plans were made and the packing done in the wink of an eye. The hobbits had slept for a whole day through and during that day, as is common in the spring of the year, the weather had warmed and the ice from the storm was gone. With no further troubles to slow them down the hobbits and Smirnin made a grand holiday of going to the King's new city and being with King Elessar and Queen Arwen.