Disclaimer: Don't own LOTR.

Thanks for your reviews! Here's the next story. It's something of a dark comedy rather than horror, but I had a lot of fun with it! Enjoy.

Feed – It could not have been easy to keep four hobbits satiated during the journey, but at least the other members of the Fellowship are willing to donate a pint or two every once and a while.

Rating: K+

Characters: Hobbits, Fellowship

"Merry," Pippin whispered.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

All but the hobbits shared a look. It seemed these creatures were always hungry. "Can you hold on a bit longer Pippin?" Aragorn called back, attempting to keep the distaste from his voice.

"Actually, I'm hungry too," said Frodo. "Will we be stopping soon?"

Gandalf cast a subtle eye on the ring-bearer. Hobbits. Why did it always have to be hobbits? The lad did look a bit too pale, however, and they needed this one to be kept strong. Even as he wondered to himself why Eru couldn't have created some gentler creature to call hobbit, he looked ahead for a decent position to make camp. The sky was beginning to turn rosy, so it was indeed around time for dinner. "If I recall correctly, we are but an hour's distance from a stream. Let us get within a fair distance of water, and then you may eat. Legolas, perhaps you could scout ahead some and find a rabbit or two for our supper?"

The elf nodded and disappeared into the trees, well aware that the camp needed to be very secure if Gandalf intended to allow the hobbits a full meal. The others continued on at a slower pace, Gandalf and Aragorn quietly discussing who should be on guard in the night. Boromir flinched when Merry tugged on his cloak. "Ah, yes?"

"Will you teach us more swordplay?" he asked, eyes widening in that manner which had so attracted him to the hobbits at first. These creatures were more treacherous than orcs; with orcs there was no question. They would kill you, they expected you to kill them, and each side thought the other hideous. With hobbits, you never could tell.

"I hardly think you need it," he mumbled, but finished with a slight smile. "You pick it up so quickly, I mean." Personally he thought it unwise to train hobbits in any sort of weaponry. They were enough of a danger as it was.

"Oh, but it is such fun! Won't you please spar with us?"

Gandalf coughed ahead of them. "Not tonight, Merry," he called over his shoulder. Boromir swallowed and felt his blood run cold. He was not to be the one on guard, then. He wondered which other member of their Fellowship would share his misfortune, for they always worked in pairs.

"Oh. Some other time, then," Merry declared. Boromir nodded, and the hobbit scampered back to Pippin, who gazed at Boromir with a look that was decidedly not cute. He turned away and could not find the stomach to engage in Gimli's tirade on the finer points of roasting a boar. He felt rather like avoiding food altogether.

Soon enough they could hear the stream Gandalf had spoken of, and once it could be glimpsed through the trees Gandalf declared that the spot would be their camp. The hobbits put down their packs and stretched with relief, while the others took this news with some trepidation. Frodo and Sam set out the bedrolls while Pippin and Merry collected wood. Gandalf dug a pit for the fire, and Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir set out their own belongings.

All paused at the rustling of branches close by, reaching for their weapons. But it was only Legolas, returning with four fat rabbits in his hand. All of them got jumpy on nights like this, when they were certain to have two of their warriors out of commission. Aragorn took the rabbits from Legolas and gestured in Boromir's direction. "I'll take care of them."

Legolas nodded, his face betraying nothing of what he might think about the situation. The elf put out his sleeping roll next to Boromir's, leaving enough room between them for another body. The hobbits licked their lips and crawled over, dividing themselves between the two.

Gandalf nodded to Gimli, who took up his ax and kept watch on their surroundings. Aragorn bent over the fire and carved up the rabbit meat into a broth; no need to waste energy on chewing. Legolas and Boromir sat on their bedrolls and stripped to the waist. The hobbits nearly salivated once their skin was revealed. Both man and elf bore the deeply bruised remains of puncture marks at their wrists, elbows, and necks.

Boromir looked over at the wizard, who had settled himself close by to keep an eye on the proceedings. With a deep breath, he lay back and made himself as comfortable as he could. Pippin shifted closer to the Gondorian, gently picking up his left wrist and caressing the bruises. Sam glared from over the body of the elf. "Don't you be impolite."

Pippin turned his sweetest face to Boromir. "May we eat now?"

"Yes." Boromir shut his eyes so that he could not see the little face contort as the jaw stretched wide and the sharp incisors dug once more into his flesh, while Merry's lips met with the skin of his inner elbow.

"Go on, Frodo," Legolas said to the hobbit who knelt by his neck. "Other side, Sam, if you wouldn't mind. I need to draw with that arm."

"Beggin' your pardon," said Sam as he moved next to Merry, between the bedrolls, and took up the elf's other wrist. Legolas barely heard, for the ringbearer already had his teeth buried in Legolas' jugular.

The hobbits drank greedily, allowing not a drop of the sweet sustenance to dribble down their chins. It has often and truly been said that hobbits' only real passion is for food; to them feeding was ecstasy. To their hosts it was agony; a bright, burning pain was left at the sight of the wounds, and blood was drawn from them faster than their bodies could supply.

After six minutes, a pale Boromir used his free arm to tap gently on his diners' heads. "I'm finished, little ones." They ignored him, and Boromir began to weakly pull his left arm away. "Stop! I cannot give you more!"

Gandalf gripped the hobbits' ears and pulled at the curly heads, his voice echoing dangerously. "That is enough!"

Merry and Pippin released Boromir, wincing as Gandalf let go of their ears. Frodo lifted his head, staring down at Legolas with bright blue eyes. "Should we finish too, Legolas?"

"Soon, yes. But I can last a little longer," said the elf.

Sam released Legolas' arm. "You have more then, Mister Frodo. I'm full, honest, and you need to keep up your strength."

"Oh, Sam." Frodo smiled, and then went back to his meal. He did not drink much more before he sat up, licked his lips, and joined the other hobbits by their packs, where they were happily settling down with full bellies and savoring the last drops that had gotten on their fingers.

Gandalf gently helped to tie a tourniquet around the bleeding arms, and held a cloth tight against Legolas' neck. Aragorn brought over their soup and water, helping first Boromir, than Legolas, to eat. Feedings left all of them weak, and barely able to lift whichever limb they had offered. Once Boromir had settled into sleep and Legolas' blank eyes assured Aragorn that he walked the elvenpaths, the man drew thick blankets over them. The hobbits, their eyes bright and their energy high, instinctually let their gazes wander to their sleeping companions. Even though they were full the temptation to drain the injured was strong. Hobbits were not hunters, after all, but scavengers.

Aragorn cleared his throat. "Come here now, and I'll tell you more about my first journey into the wild as a ranger."

"Oh yes!" declared Sam. "You were just telling us how you met the wandering elves. I remember them; they were good folk."

"Good folk indeed," Merry agreed. "Very sweet. You really must taste it sometime Aragorn; you've a similar flavor."

Gimli coughed, and Aragorn tried very hard to keep his face neutral. Gandalf shook his head. Hobbits. Why was it always hobbits?