Disclaimer: Don't own it.
AN: I have nearly no one to write this author's note to, but I do wish to thank my sole reviewer, yukinasan. I luv ya! Also, I made a mistake in earlier chapters that I can't be bothered to properly rectify. Tara is actually interrogated the day after Samia. Sorry.
And another thing *snatches Pippin away* MY PIPPIN!!
*coughs* Actually, about the screen name thing, you just log in, go to Settings and change your username. Or just reregister.
A long, slender hand reached out to take the roll of fine parchment, tied with a thin, black ribbon. The flaxen-haired elf belonging to the slim hand knew the letter would contain bad tidings, but precisely what they were he did not know. The Prince of Mirkwood (really, the Prince of nothing-in- particular, now that all but a small handful of elves had left) was hesitant in opening the letter, but he knew that he must, for the contents of the letter were of great importance.
Dear Legolas, (the letter began)
It has been a long time since we last spoke, and I regret not contacting you sooner. When I discovered that you had stayed behind as opposed to crossing The Sea, I should have contacted you immediately. If that had been the case, my first letter to you would not have held such grave tidings. It is regarding the Hobbits.
Meriadoc Brandybuck, or 'Merry', the second youngest Hobbit, was recently murdered in the Shire. It is still unknown whom committed this horrendous crime, and why. As you may have guessed, Peregrin Took, the young one, 'Pippin', is doing everything he can to find the murderer.
I know that it was many years since the Fellowship of the Ring were together on the Quest, but I received word from the Shire requesting the presence of the remaining six (Frodo went over The Sea, as I am sure you have been informed) at Merry's funeral. If you would be so kind as to attend, it would not only be much appreciated by Pippin, but it would provide us with a chance to catch up.
I hope you are well,
King Aragorn.
Legolas' perfect hand shook ever so slightly as he read and reread the letter. Surely it couldn't be possible. That young Hobbit could not possibly have been murdered, after all that he had been through. The poor Hobbit had been kidnapped by Orcs, had helped in the defeat of Isengard, and killed a Nazgul. He should have been able to defeat a Hobbit attacker. unless the murderer was not actually a Hobbit.
The thought of this, not to mention the deed itself, sent a shiver up Legolas' spine. The whole thing was rather sinister. Eerily so. Certainly, the fair elf would visit the Shire and pay respects to his deceased once fellow Fellowship member. Once there, perhaps he could even assist in the search for the assassin.
He left his room, and turned to a reasonably young, female (human) servant in the long corridor. "Would you prepare my things, as soon as possible?" He asked, perhaps a little less kindly than was possible. "I must go on a journey. To a place called the Shire. I have been requested to go there by King Aragorn of Gondor himself."
The elf then continued up the lengthy corridor without another word to the girl. She looked at him in amazement, before going into his room to. well, basically do as she was told.
At this moment, the murderer was also hurrying up a hallway, in a palace. He too, was on his way to the Shire. For the same purpose or not was unsure.
*
"I don't know what I am going to do, Sam!" Pippin cried as he turned to his Hobbit friend. "I really don't. I so very much wanted to find the murderer, and somehow get revenge on poor Merry's behalf - without actually killing anyone, of course. But no matter what I do, no matter which lead I follow, it all ends up in some dead end. Why can't I do this?"
The two were seated outside Sam and Rosie's Hobbit-hole, Pippin on the verge of tears for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Surely there weren't that many tears in the world, but somehow Pippin managed it. More was wrong with Pippin than just the tears. Merry's death had affected Pippin in a way Sam could not comprehend - a deeper effect than Frodo's leaving had on Sam, anyway. The evening was dragging on, and soon it would be too dark outside to see, but Pippin had not eaten all that day, or the day before. In fact, he had not eaten since breakfast on the day that Merry had been discovered, which is a long time for anyone, especially a Hobbit. Pippin had not slept the past two nights, either. He looked rather like he was about to collapse, running on his vengeance only.
Sam didn't say anything for a moment, unable to do anything except awkwardly pat Pippin's shoulder. "Perhaps," he began thoughtfully, "perhaps we've been going about it completely the wrong way."
The younger Hobbit looked up at Sam. "How do you mean?" He asked.
"I'm not entirely sure. I just have this feeling that we're going about this the wrong way." Sam paused briefly, thinking about this for a second. "After all, Merry was.. Well, he was a strong Hobbit. No one in the Shire could best him, except maybe you. And even then, only on your good day. No one here could have done that to him unless he either trusted them so fully that he was unable to respond out of shock - and only you he trusted that much."
Pippin looked up at Sam, eyes flashing murderously (bad choice of words.). "Are you saying I had something to do with his death?" He asked, moving away from Sam. "First you say I'm the only one in the Shire strong enough, now I'm the only one in the Shire he trusted enough not to respond immediately?"
"Not at all, Master Pippin!" Sam raised his hands, as though afraid that Pippin would strike. "That's not what I meant at all, not in the slightest. What I meant was, it could not have been anyone in the Shire!"
Indeed, Pippin had raised his hand to strike at Sam, but lowered it slowly. "What do you mean, Sam? Merry knew so few people outside the Shire, and he was well liked among all of them. Who could have held such a grudge against him?"
Sam shook his head. "That is where my theory goes wrong. There is simply no motive." Both of the Hobbits sat in silence for a while. Finally, Sam spoke again. "Well, who exactly did he know who is still alive and hasn't crossed the sea?"
Pippin shrugged slightly, tapping the names off on his fingers. "Prince Legolas, King Aragorn, Queen Arwen, Lady Eowyn, Lord Faramir, Gandalf the White. a lot of titled people, really. Oh, and Gimli." He paused. "Was there anyone else?"
"I don't know. I missed most of it." Sam replied, thinking hard. "You'll have to come up with your own opinions about Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir. But as for the ones I know. King Aragorn is far too noble to commit a deed such as this! As for Prince Legolas and Gimli, the Prince uses a bow and Gimli uses an axe. And Mister Gandalf, sir, he could not have done it either. Too noble, and he doesn't use a sword. The murderer used a sword."
Pippin sighed, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. "I don't know either. I feel so tired that I could fall asleep if there were thousands of people blowing horns in my ears and Middle-Earth was breaking apart. But I feel so troubled that I couldn't sleep if someone beat me around the head thousands of times with a stick to knock me unconscious, and played me lullabies all night."
"Sounds like your need to sleep overpowers your troubles."
"But it doesn't, somehow!" Pippin cried, sitting up again and looking at Sam. "I want to sleep, I need to sleep. But I can't. It's the same with eating. I'm so hungry I could EAT the thousands of people, and at the same time, food just doesn't appeal to me. And that would be the first time in my life."
Sam gently wrapped his arms around the shaking, young Hobbit. It seemed at once as though Little Pippin was an old Hobbit, carrying the weight of Middle-Earth on his shoulders. But it was unlike that, for Sam's master Frodo had once held the fate of the universe in the palm of his hand and had not reacted in such a way. Or he had, but at least he had reason to. All Pippin was carrying was the knowledge that someone had murdered his charismatic, friendly, well-liked cousin and best friend, and his undying vengeance. But nonetheless, perhaps Pippin was weaker than Frodo or perhaps events affected him differently, but Pippin was seeming less and less like Little Pippin as the days passed.
Rosie appeared at the door and looked down at the two Hobbits. "Sam," she whispered, "Pippin can't keep going on like this. He has to eat something, and he has to get some sleep. He simply won't be able to go on relying only on his undying sense of revenge on poor Merry's behalf."
Sam shook his head, trying to comfort Pippin and talk softly with Rosie at the same time. "He won't. He says he is too troubled to sleep, and food doesn't appeal to him. Yes," he beat Rosie to it, "Pippin 'Bottomless Pit' Took doesn't want food."
"Sam, this isn't a matter of what he feels like. He NEEDS to eat, and he NEEDS to sleep. At very least humour me and try to get him to eat something?"
Sam sighed, pulling Pippin to his feet. He didn't respond. Looks of worry passed over both Sam and Rosie's faces. Pippin had just finished saying that he couldn't sleep, so it was highly unlikely that he was sleeping. Sam gently lowered the still, silent Hobbit to the ground and studied him for a moment. "He passed out from hunger and lack of sleep."
AN: I have nearly no one to write this author's note to, but I do wish to thank my sole reviewer, yukinasan. I luv ya! Also, I made a mistake in earlier chapters that I can't be bothered to properly rectify. Tara is actually interrogated the day after Samia. Sorry.
And another thing *snatches Pippin away* MY PIPPIN!!
*coughs* Actually, about the screen name thing, you just log in, go to Settings and change your username. Or just reregister.
A long, slender hand reached out to take the roll of fine parchment, tied with a thin, black ribbon. The flaxen-haired elf belonging to the slim hand knew the letter would contain bad tidings, but precisely what they were he did not know. The Prince of Mirkwood (really, the Prince of nothing-in- particular, now that all but a small handful of elves had left) was hesitant in opening the letter, but he knew that he must, for the contents of the letter were of great importance.
Dear Legolas, (the letter began)
It has been a long time since we last spoke, and I regret not contacting you sooner. When I discovered that you had stayed behind as opposed to crossing The Sea, I should have contacted you immediately. If that had been the case, my first letter to you would not have held such grave tidings. It is regarding the Hobbits.
Meriadoc Brandybuck, or 'Merry', the second youngest Hobbit, was recently murdered in the Shire. It is still unknown whom committed this horrendous crime, and why. As you may have guessed, Peregrin Took, the young one, 'Pippin', is doing everything he can to find the murderer.
I know that it was many years since the Fellowship of the Ring were together on the Quest, but I received word from the Shire requesting the presence of the remaining six (Frodo went over The Sea, as I am sure you have been informed) at Merry's funeral. If you would be so kind as to attend, it would not only be much appreciated by Pippin, but it would provide us with a chance to catch up.
I hope you are well,
King Aragorn.
Legolas' perfect hand shook ever so slightly as he read and reread the letter. Surely it couldn't be possible. That young Hobbit could not possibly have been murdered, after all that he had been through. The poor Hobbit had been kidnapped by Orcs, had helped in the defeat of Isengard, and killed a Nazgul. He should have been able to defeat a Hobbit attacker. unless the murderer was not actually a Hobbit.
The thought of this, not to mention the deed itself, sent a shiver up Legolas' spine. The whole thing was rather sinister. Eerily so. Certainly, the fair elf would visit the Shire and pay respects to his deceased once fellow Fellowship member. Once there, perhaps he could even assist in the search for the assassin.
He left his room, and turned to a reasonably young, female (human) servant in the long corridor. "Would you prepare my things, as soon as possible?" He asked, perhaps a little less kindly than was possible. "I must go on a journey. To a place called the Shire. I have been requested to go there by King Aragorn of Gondor himself."
The elf then continued up the lengthy corridor without another word to the girl. She looked at him in amazement, before going into his room to. well, basically do as she was told.
At this moment, the murderer was also hurrying up a hallway, in a palace. He too, was on his way to the Shire. For the same purpose or not was unsure.
*
"I don't know what I am going to do, Sam!" Pippin cried as he turned to his Hobbit friend. "I really don't. I so very much wanted to find the murderer, and somehow get revenge on poor Merry's behalf - without actually killing anyone, of course. But no matter what I do, no matter which lead I follow, it all ends up in some dead end. Why can't I do this?"
The two were seated outside Sam and Rosie's Hobbit-hole, Pippin on the verge of tears for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Surely there weren't that many tears in the world, but somehow Pippin managed it. More was wrong with Pippin than just the tears. Merry's death had affected Pippin in a way Sam could not comprehend - a deeper effect than Frodo's leaving had on Sam, anyway. The evening was dragging on, and soon it would be too dark outside to see, but Pippin had not eaten all that day, or the day before. In fact, he had not eaten since breakfast on the day that Merry had been discovered, which is a long time for anyone, especially a Hobbit. Pippin had not slept the past two nights, either. He looked rather like he was about to collapse, running on his vengeance only.
Sam didn't say anything for a moment, unable to do anything except awkwardly pat Pippin's shoulder. "Perhaps," he began thoughtfully, "perhaps we've been going about it completely the wrong way."
The younger Hobbit looked up at Sam. "How do you mean?" He asked.
"I'm not entirely sure. I just have this feeling that we're going about this the wrong way." Sam paused briefly, thinking about this for a second. "After all, Merry was.. Well, he was a strong Hobbit. No one in the Shire could best him, except maybe you. And even then, only on your good day. No one here could have done that to him unless he either trusted them so fully that he was unable to respond out of shock - and only you he trusted that much."
Pippin looked up at Sam, eyes flashing murderously (bad choice of words.). "Are you saying I had something to do with his death?" He asked, moving away from Sam. "First you say I'm the only one in the Shire strong enough, now I'm the only one in the Shire he trusted enough not to respond immediately?"
"Not at all, Master Pippin!" Sam raised his hands, as though afraid that Pippin would strike. "That's not what I meant at all, not in the slightest. What I meant was, it could not have been anyone in the Shire!"
Indeed, Pippin had raised his hand to strike at Sam, but lowered it slowly. "What do you mean, Sam? Merry knew so few people outside the Shire, and he was well liked among all of them. Who could have held such a grudge against him?"
Sam shook his head. "That is where my theory goes wrong. There is simply no motive." Both of the Hobbits sat in silence for a while. Finally, Sam spoke again. "Well, who exactly did he know who is still alive and hasn't crossed the sea?"
Pippin shrugged slightly, tapping the names off on his fingers. "Prince Legolas, King Aragorn, Queen Arwen, Lady Eowyn, Lord Faramir, Gandalf the White. a lot of titled people, really. Oh, and Gimli." He paused. "Was there anyone else?"
"I don't know. I missed most of it." Sam replied, thinking hard. "You'll have to come up with your own opinions about Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir. But as for the ones I know. King Aragorn is far too noble to commit a deed such as this! As for Prince Legolas and Gimli, the Prince uses a bow and Gimli uses an axe. And Mister Gandalf, sir, he could not have done it either. Too noble, and he doesn't use a sword. The murderer used a sword."
Pippin sighed, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. "I don't know either. I feel so tired that I could fall asleep if there were thousands of people blowing horns in my ears and Middle-Earth was breaking apart. But I feel so troubled that I couldn't sleep if someone beat me around the head thousands of times with a stick to knock me unconscious, and played me lullabies all night."
"Sounds like your need to sleep overpowers your troubles."
"But it doesn't, somehow!" Pippin cried, sitting up again and looking at Sam. "I want to sleep, I need to sleep. But I can't. It's the same with eating. I'm so hungry I could EAT the thousands of people, and at the same time, food just doesn't appeal to me. And that would be the first time in my life."
Sam gently wrapped his arms around the shaking, young Hobbit. It seemed at once as though Little Pippin was an old Hobbit, carrying the weight of Middle-Earth on his shoulders. But it was unlike that, for Sam's master Frodo had once held the fate of the universe in the palm of his hand and had not reacted in such a way. Or he had, but at least he had reason to. All Pippin was carrying was the knowledge that someone had murdered his charismatic, friendly, well-liked cousin and best friend, and his undying vengeance. But nonetheless, perhaps Pippin was weaker than Frodo or perhaps events affected him differently, but Pippin was seeming less and less like Little Pippin as the days passed.
Rosie appeared at the door and looked down at the two Hobbits. "Sam," she whispered, "Pippin can't keep going on like this. He has to eat something, and he has to get some sleep. He simply won't be able to go on relying only on his undying sense of revenge on poor Merry's behalf."
Sam shook his head, trying to comfort Pippin and talk softly with Rosie at the same time. "He won't. He says he is too troubled to sleep, and food doesn't appeal to him. Yes," he beat Rosie to it, "Pippin 'Bottomless Pit' Took doesn't want food."
"Sam, this isn't a matter of what he feels like. He NEEDS to eat, and he NEEDS to sleep. At very least humour me and try to get him to eat something?"
Sam sighed, pulling Pippin to his feet. He didn't respond. Looks of worry passed over both Sam and Rosie's faces. Pippin had just finished saying that he couldn't sleep, so it was highly unlikely that he was sleeping. Sam gently lowered the still, silent Hobbit to the ground and studied him for a moment. "He passed out from hunger and lack of sleep."