A/N. Hey everyone! I very much appreciate all the reviews I'm getting.
Unlike my Legolas story and Gimli story, I have really been looking forward
to writing this one. While the last two were long labors for me which I
eventually ended up disliking, I wrote this over two days and it just kind
of flowed for me. I think it's at least as good as my Frodo and Aragorn
stories. I hope everyone enjoys this.
Since Boromir is human, 5 = 5. *********************************************************
"Does NO ONE yet tire of this storytelling?"
"NO!"
Boromir sighed, another battle lost. He was not used to this, this * loosing * all the time. He gave a last glance over his shoulder into the darkness, wondering how bad it would be to leave the fire and brave the cold.
"Honestly Boromir, what do you have against these stories anyway?" Pippin asked him. "They're all in good fun."
Before he could answer, Gandalf interrupted their conversation. "I know what troubles him so much about it--- he knows what embarrassing stories I might tell about him."
"And what stories might those be?" Frodo asked curiously.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Boromir protested.
"Oh, have a sense of humor," Gandalf laughed. "I promise I wont tell any tales that are * too * humiliating. In fact, I have the perfect one. When Boromir was a lad of about five--"
"Gandalf!" the soldier broke in. "Do you remember what I told you I would do if you ever told that story again?"
"Hmmm now, let's see---- ah yes, you told me that you would cleave my old, gray head in two with your sword." The wizard grasped the staff at his side and looked Boromir in the eye. "Would you like to try it, O great Captain of Gondor?"
For a moment, Boromir's eyes shot to the sword at his side as if he were actually considering it. Then, with a great sigh he gave in and sat down between Merry and Pippin who each took a corner of his cozy blanket and snuggle in beside him. "Go on, Gandalf," Pippin said. "When Boromir was five---"
"Traitor," Boromir growled.
"Well," Gandalf began again. "When Boromir was five, he lived in the palace in Minas Tirith."
************************************************************
The maid had lived in the castle a long, long time. She was well accustomed to the sound of the soldiers and guards, the heavy fall of their boots on the hard floor as they changed their post. Today, however, the footfalls approaching behind her were not heavy enough to belong to a soldier, nor did they sound like the hurried patter of the other servants. A smile of recognition played across her lips as she placed the familiar noise, and she greeted the child before she even turned around.
"Hello, Master Boromir."
Boromir marched over to face the woman, clad in clothes that made him look like a miniature soldier of Gondor, save for the sword at his side that was made of wood. He pivoted on his left foot, his soft, reddish- brown hair swinging about his shoulders, and placed his hand on his heart in salute.
"Hello, ma'am," he said.
Hardly able to contain the laughter bubbling up in her chest, the maid humored the boy and saluted him back, shifting the basket of laundry onto her hip. "And what are you up to today, young master?" she asked.
Boromir beamed with pride. "The Captain of the Guard is off fighting a battle far away, beyond the Pelennor fields, so I will fill in for him today."
The maid nodded, giving in to her amusement and indulging his childish fantasy. "I see. And what is the Captain of the Guard doing off his post?"
Boromir glanced around the hall as if to be certain that they were really alone before he gestured for her to bend down so that he could whisper in her ear. With a deadpan expression, he said to her, "I'm searching the castle for orc spies."
"Is that so?" she played along. "Well then, I most certainly should let you be on your way. Why don't you go check in your room? I think I may have seen an orc hiding under your bed."
Boromir nodded, his expression as serious and grim as the face of an experienced soldier about to go into battle. And why shouldn't it be? The child had spent many nights dealing with the foes that dwelt under his bed. Raising his hand in salute once more, he said, "Yes ma'am," and turned to march down the hallway in the direction of his room. As soon as he was out of earshot, the amused maid buried her mouth in her hand and gave into her laughter.
The woman smiled down so lovingly at the yawning baby in her arms, it was almost as if he were her own. True, she had been a nurse for some years now and had watched over many children, but few were so dear to her as the sons of the Steward. She had lived in the castle since the day of Boromir's birth and knew the boy as well as his own mother.
A soft creaking noise drew her attention from the baby, and she glanced up at the door. It had been open a bit, and a green eye was peering at her through the crack.
"Hello Boromir," she said.
"Hello Lady Eleyna," the child answered. "Are there any orcs in here?"
"Orcs? Why no, certainly not in the nursery. Why?"
Feeling much braver now that the coast was clear, Boromir slipped into the room and went to stand beside his nurse and baby brother. "I'm searching the castle for orcs spies. I think there was one under my bed, but he must have escaped because I looked everywhere for him, behind my dresser, in the closet, behind the drapes---"
"Wait a moment," Eleyna hushed him. She knew Boromir well, and she was quite certain that if she didn't stop him now, he would likely tell her every place he looked as well as every place he * intended * to look. "Boromir, I don't think that there are any orcs in the castle. The guards wouldn't let them pass the gate."
"Yes, but today * I * am Captain of the Guard and it is my responsibility to make sure that no orcs get to Faramir."
Eleyna smiled at him. "That is very sweet, little one, but I can watch over Faramir just fine. I wont let any orcs get him."
Boromir made a face. Little one indeed. What kind of name was that for one who watched over Minas Tirith? He vowed to himself that even if he grew to be as big as father and lived for a hundred years, he would * Never * call anybody 'little one' "Father says that I have to protect Faramir since I'm his big brother, even if I don't want to."
"Why would you not want to?"
Boromir looked at the baby with distaste. "Because he's * boring *" the five year old proclaimed. "All he ever does is eat and sleep, and besides he smells funny."
"One day I'm sure you will like him," she said.
Boromir honestly didn't think so, but he dropped it. "Lady Eleyna, will you play soldiers with me?" he asked hopefully, knowing that playing soldiers with a girl was still better than playing soldiers alone. His face fell as she shook her head.
"I wish I could, little one, but I have to bathe Faramir. Maybe later."
Boromir sighed. "Lady Eleyna, why do you always call me 'little one'?" he asked.
Eleyna looked surprised at the question. "Because you are my little one, Boromir."
"But I'm somebody's big brother!"
She laughed at the important tone in his voice, as if he were announcing a respected title. "That you are. But to me, you are still very little." She turned her attention back to the baby resting in her arms and watched him gurgle and blow a bubble. A sharp giggle startled her and she looked up to see Boromir laughing at the baby.
"He blew a spit bubble!" the boy cried with glee. "He's not as good as me, though." Boromir then began to blow his own bubbles, proving his superiority over the infant.
"Boromir, please don't do that, it's rude," Eleyna chided him. "Why don't you go outside and play with the other boys?"
"I can't," he answered. "Father told me that if I stayed inside and kept clean all day, he would let me ride out with him to greet the King of Rohan and Mithrandir."
"Truly, little one? That is a special honor."
Boromir nodded and Eleyna could clearly see in his eyes that he regarded this new privilege with the utmost importance. "Anyway," she continued, "You could play with your friends inside."
"I don't want to. I don't like playing with Beregond. He never lets me be the captain when we play soldiers. He says I'm too dumb to be captain."
"Now that's just not true, Boromir. You are very smart."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Of course. Your father said so himself. He thinks you're quite precocious for a five year old."
Boromir smiled. He had no clue what 'precocious' meant, but it sounded nice.
"Now run along so that I might give your brother a bath," Eleyna added.
Boromir nodded and started out the door. "Good bye, Lady Eleyna," he said, and trotted out into the hall. Just outside the nursery, he noticed a maid, one that he had never seen before. Deciding to introduce himself, he marched up to the woman. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Boromir," he said, his had on his heart in a Gondorian salute. The maid stared down at this tiny soldier, not quite sure what to say. Boromir continued to wait for his return salute, proudly adding, "Father thinks that I'm pre-soakous." Seeing that no return salute was forthcoming, Boromir bid goodbye, then turned on his heal and continued his orc hunt, leaving behind one very confused maid.
The afternoon sun shone down harshly on the backs of the small group of guards who accompanied the Steward to greet the King. In front of one of the guards sat Boromir, his hands gripping to the mane of the stallion on which he rode to the outer circle of Minas Tirith.
****************************************************
"Gandalf, please don't tell this," Boromir pleaded. "No one wants to hear it. I'm sure they'd much rather hear a story about---"
"Boromir, be quiet, and if you interrupt me again, I'll tell them all about the time you thought you could fly." The man shut his mouth.
******************************************************
Boromir had never been this far from the castle before; indeed, it was rare that he ever ventured a journey further than the third circle of the city, even with father. There was much to see, and he daydreamed about how nice it would be when he was old enough to leave the palace alone and explore the fields beyond the White City.
They continued down the path, past some farmland and rolling green fields before coming to a stop on the road. Boromir tried to glance passed the horse's head to see if he could spot the King approaching, but he dared not even shift in the saddle. To be honest, horses frightened him terribly, and he hated having to ride on one so tall, especially now that he wasn't wearing his soldier clothes. Father had chosen some garment that he deemed more suitable for King greeting, although Boromir could not understand how anyone could think that * any * clothes conveyed the same pride as his beloved soldier uniform.
Finally, the King and his guards came into Boromir's view. He quickly recognized the wizard, who was hard to miss with his big, pointed hat and his long, gray beard, and beside him rode the King of Rohan. Boromir didn't have to be told which rider the King was, for this man was set apart by his regal clothes and all around kingly appearance. He sat high in his saddle and halted his horse before the Steward.
"Greetings, King of Rohan and Gandalf Greyham," Boromir heard his father say. Gandalf Greyham? Who is that? Boromir wondered to himself. He must be speaking of Mithrandir, for he always wears gray, but why doesn't he just call him Mithrandir? That is his name, isn't it?
"And this is my oldest son, Boromir,"
Boromir's eyes shot to his father and he quickly remembered what he was to do. Bowing as best he could on horseback, Boromir said, "I am honored to meet you, Thengel, King of Rohan." He glanced at his father who was beaming with pride. Boromir smiled. He had done well.
Now that his part in this was over, he found himself quite bored as his father finished speaking all the courtesies of the house of Gondor. He had never thought that greeting a king might prove to be such a tedious and dull job. He gazed about at his surroundings and noticed for the first time that they had halted near a farmer's pasture. What looked like a hundred sheep grazed lazily, and Boromir decided to count them to alleviate his boredom while the Steward droned on.
"We have much business to discus on---"
14, 15, 16 ---
"I've had the servants prepare your quarters---"
22, 23, 24---
"So I'm sure you'd like to---"
"WHAT ARE THEY * DOING *?!"
All eyes were suddenly on the Stewards young son, whose voice had rang out and interrupted his father. Gandalf followed the boy's shocked stare toward the field and quickly realized what the boy had seen. He raised an eyebrow.
*****************************************************************
Gandalf paused his story here, obviously enjoying the look of suspense that the band of travelers wore.
"Well?" Merry asked. "What did he see?"
Gandalf smiled. "You have to understand, Merry. Boromir had lived his whole life up to that point in the city, and had never ventured beyond its walls. He had no knowledge of the ways of farm animals and their behavior. What he saw," the wizard glanced over at Boromir, who was cringing. "What he saw were some sheep who happened to be mating. Something he pointed out rather loudly to the King."
Pippin watched Boromir buried his face in his hands as the group burst into laughter. He was blushing so brightly that, with his beard, Pippin thought he looked rather like a fuzzy tomato.
"It wasn't so funny at the time!" the man cried out. "You should have seen Denethor's face."
"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I don't think I've ever seen him turn quite that color, before or since."
"Did you get punished?" Frodo asked. "Did Gandalf force caster oil down your throat?"
Boromir thought for a moment. "No, I think I had to sit in my room for the day, though. And I got an endless lecture from my father."
"* Two * lectures, I believe," Gandalf broke in. "One on knowing when to keep your mouth shut, and the other to answer your earlier question: what exactly those sheep were doing." The old wizard laughed in remembrance. "I'll never forget the look on your little face when I saw you at dinner. It was the first time in your life you had ever been stunned to silence."
Boromir flushed red once more as the laughter rang out again. "That's enough! I think I've had more than my share of humiliation this evening." He turned to Gandalf. "You wont tell any more stories about me?" he said, half in question and half in command. "It's someone else's turn tomorrow?"
The wizard chuckled. "No, no more stories about you. Though it's a bit of a shame, seeing as how I have * so * many tales, like the time---"
"Stop!" Boromir cried. The Gondorian grabbed the sword at his side by the hilt. "Gandalf," he began, "I think that if you ever try to tell that story again, I * will * have to make an attempt on your life, staff or no staff."
Gandalf smiled at him. "We'll see."
*****************************************************************
I hope you all enjoyed this. I need a little break from these stories, mostly so I can decide what will happen to Sam and Pippin, but don't worry, I'll be back in a little while. Less than a month, I'm pretty sure.
Since Boromir is human, 5 = 5. *********************************************************
"Does NO ONE yet tire of this storytelling?"
"NO!"
Boromir sighed, another battle lost. He was not used to this, this * loosing * all the time. He gave a last glance over his shoulder into the darkness, wondering how bad it would be to leave the fire and brave the cold.
"Honestly Boromir, what do you have against these stories anyway?" Pippin asked him. "They're all in good fun."
Before he could answer, Gandalf interrupted their conversation. "I know what troubles him so much about it--- he knows what embarrassing stories I might tell about him."
"And what stories might those be?" Frodo asked curiously.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Boromir protested.
"Oh, have a sense of humor," Gandalf laughed. "I promise I wont tell any tales that are * too * humiliating. In fact, I have the perfect one. When Boromir was a lad of about five--"
"Gandalf!" the soldier broke in. "Do you remember what I told you I would do if you ever told that story again?"
"Hmmm now, let's see---- ah yes, you told me that you would cleave my old, gray head in two with your sword." The wizard grasped the staff at his side and looked Boromir in the eye. "Would you like to try it, O great Captain of Gondor?"
For a moment, Boromir's eyes shot to the sword at his side as if he were actually considering it. Then, with a great sigh he gave in and sat down between Merry and Pippin who each took a corner of his cozy blanket and snuggle in beside him. "Go on, Gandalf," Pippin said. "When Boromir was five---"
"Traitor," Boromir growled.
"Well," Gandalf began again. "When Boromir was five, he lived in the palace in Minas Tirith."
************************************************************
The maid had lived in the castle a long, long time. She was well accustomed to the sound of the soldiers and guards, the heavy fall of their boots on the hard floor as they changed their post. Today, however, the footfalls approaching behind her were not heavy enough to belong to a soldier, nor did they sound like the hurried patter of the other servants. A smile of recognition played across her lips as she placed the familiar noise, and she greeted the child before she even turned around.
"Hello, Master Boromir."
Boromir marched over to face the woman, clad in clothes that made him look like a miniature soldier of Gondor, save for the sword at his side that was made of wood. He pivoted on his left foot, his soft, reddish- brown hair swinging about his shoulders, and placed his hand on his heart in salute.
"Hello, ma'am," he said.
Hardly able to contain the laughter bubbling up in her chest, the maid humored the boy and saluted him back, shifting the basket of laundry onto her hip. "And what are you up to today, young master?" she asked.
Boromir beamed with pride. "The Captain of the Guard is off fighting a battle far away, beyond the Pelennor fields, so I will fill in for him today."
The maid nodded, giving in to her amusement and indulging his childish fantasy. "I see. And what is the Captain of the Guard doing off his post?"
Boromir glanced around the hall as if to be certain that they were really alone before he gestured for her to bend down so that he could whisper in her ear. With a deadpan expression, he said to her, "I'm searching the castle for orc spies."
"Is that so?" she played along. "Well then, I most certainly should let you be on your way. Why don't you go check in your room? I think I may have seen an orc hiding under your bed."
Boromir nodded, his expression as serious and grim as the face of an experienced soldier about to go into battle. And why shouldn't it be? The child had spent many nights dealing with the foes that dwelt under his bed. Raising his hand in salute once more, he said, "Yes ma'am," and turned to march down the hallway in the direction of his room. As soon as he was out of earshot, the amused maid buried her mouth in her hand and gave into her laughter.
The woman smiled down so lovingly at the yawning baby in her arms, it was almost as if he were her own. True, she had been a nurse for some years now and had watched over many children, but few were so dear to her as the sons of the Steward. She had lived in the castle since the day of Boromir's birth and knew the boy as well as his own mother.
A soft creaking noise drew her attention from the baby, and she glanced up at the door. It had been open a bit, and a green eye was peering at her through the crack.
"Hello Boromir," she said.
"Hello Lady Eleyna," the child answered. "Are there any orcs in here?"
"Orcs? Why no, certainly not in the nursery. Why?"
Feeling much braver now that the coast was clear, Boromir slipped into the room and went to stand beside his nurse and baby brother. "I'm searching the castle for orcs spies. I think there was one under my bed, but he must have escaped because I looked everywhere for him, behind my dresser, in the closet, behind the drapes---"
"Wait a moment," Eleyna hushed him. She knew Boromir well, and she was quite certain that if she didn't stop him now, he would likely tell her every place he looked as well as every place he * intended * to look. "Boromir, I don't think that there are any orcs in the castle. The guards wouldn't let them pass the gate."
"Yes, but today * I * am Captain of the Guard and it is my responsibility to make sure that no orcs get to Faramir."
Eleyna smiled at him. "That is very sweet, little one, but I can watch over Faramir just fine. I wont let any orcs get him."
Boromir made a face. Little one indeed. What kind of name was that for one who watched over Minas Tirith? He vowed to himself that even if he grew to be as big as father and lived for a hundred years, he would * Never * call anybody 'little one' "Father says that I have to protect Faramir since I'm his big brother, even if I don't want to."
"Why would you not want to?"
Boromir looked at the baby with distaste. "Because he's * boring *" the five year old proclaimed. "All he ever does is eat and sleep, and besides he smells funny."
"One day I'm sure you will like him," she said.
Boromir honestly didn't think so, but he dropped it. "Lady Eleyna, will you play soldiers with me?" he asked hopefully, knowing that playing soldiers with a girl was still better than playing soldiers alone. His face fell as she shook her head.
"I wish I could, little one, but I have to bathe Faramir. Maybe later."
Boromir sighed. "Lady Eleyna, why do you always call me 'little one'?" he asked.
Eleyna looked surprised at the question. "Because you are my little one, Boromir."
"But I'm somebody's big brother!"
She laughed at the important tone in his voice, as if he were announcing a respected title. "That you are. But to me, you are still very little." She turned her attention back to the baby resting in her arms and watched him gurgle and blow a bubble. A sharp giggle startled her and she looked up to see Boromir laughing at the baby.
"He blew a spit bubble!" the boy cried with glee. "He's not as good as me, though." Boromir then began to blow his own bubbles, proving his superiority over the infant.
"Boromir, please don't do that, it's rude," Eleyna chided him. "Why don't you go outside and play with the other boys?"
"I can't," he answered. "Father told me that if I stayed inside and kept clean all day, he would let me ride out with him to greet the King of Rohan and Mithrandir."
"Truly, little one? That is a special honor."
Boromir nodded and Eleyna could clearly see in his eyes that he regarded this new privilege with the utmost importance. "Anyway," she continued, "You could play with your friends inside."
"I don't want to. I don't like playing with Beregond. He never lets me be the captain when we play soldiers. He says I'm too dumb to be captain."
"Now that's just not true, Boromir. You are very smart."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Of course. Your father said so himself. He thinks you're quite precocious for a five year old."
Boromir smiled. He had no clue what 'precocious' meant, but it sounded nice.
"Now run along so that I might give your brother a bath," Eleyna added.
Boromir nodded and started out the door. "Good bye, Lady Eleyna," he said, and trotted out into the hall. Just outside the nursery, he noticed a maid, one that he had never seen before. Deciding to introduce himself, he marched up to the woman. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Boromir," he said, his had on his heart in a Gondorian salute. The maid stared down at this tiny soldier, not quite sure what to say. Boromir continued to wait for his return salute, proudly adding, "Father thinks that I'm pre-soakous." Seeing that no return salute was forthcoming, Boromir bid goodbye, then turned on his heal and continued his orc hunt, leaving behind one very confused maid.
The afternoon sun shone down harshly on the backs of the small group of guards who accompanied the Steward to greet the King. In front of one of the guards sat Boromir, his hands gripping to the mane of the stallion on which he rode to the outer circle of Minas Tirith.
****************************************************
"Gandalf, please don't tell this," Boromir pleaded. "No one wants to hear it. I'm sure they'd much rather hear a story about---"
"Boromir, be quiet, and if you interrupt me again, I'll tell them all about the time you thought you could fly." The man shut his mouth.
******************************************************
Boromir had never been this far from the castle before; indeed, it was rare that he ever ventured a journey further than the third circle of the city, even with father. There was much to see, and he daydreamed about how nice it would be when he was old enough to leave the palace alone and explore the fields beyond the White City.
They continued down the path, past some farmland and rolling green fields before coming to a stop on the road. Boromir tried to glance passed the horse's head to see if he could spot the King approaching, but he dared not even shift in the saddle. To be honest, horses frightened him terribly, and he hated having to ride on one so tall, especially now that he wasn't wearing his soldier clothes. Father had chosen some garment that he deemed more suitable for King greeting, although Boromir could not understand how anyone could think that * any * clothes conveyed the same pride as his beloved soldier uniform.
Finally, the King and his guards came into Boromir's view. He quickly recognized the wizard, who was hard to miss with his big, pointed hat and his long, gray beard, and beside him rode the King of Rohan. Boromir didn't have to be told which rider the King was, for this man was set apart by his regal clothes and all around kingly appearance. He sat high in his saddle and halted his horse before the Steward.
"Greetings, King of Rohan and Gandalf Greyham," Boromir heard his father say. Gandalf Greyham? Who is that? Boromir wondered to himself. He must be speaking of Mithrandir, for he always wears gray, but why doesn't he just call him Mithrandir? That is his name, isn't it?
"And this is my oldest son, Boromir,"
Boromir's eyes shot to his father and he quickly remembered what he was to do. Bowing as best he could on horseback, Boromir said, "I am honored to meet you, Thengel, King of Rohan." He glanced at his father who was beaming with pride. Boromir smiled. He had done well.
Now that his part in this was over, he found himself quite bored as his father finished speaking all the courtesies of the house of Gondor. He had never thought that greeting a king might prove to be such a tedious and dull job. He gazed about at his surroundings and noticed for the first time that they had halted near a farmer's pasture. What looked like a hundred sheep grazed lazily, and Boromir decided to count them to alleviate his boredom while the Steward droned on.
"We have much business to discus on---"
14, 15, 16 ---
"I've had the servants prepare your quarters---"
22, 23, 24---
"So I'm sure you'd like to---"
"WHAT ARE THEY * DOING *?!"
All eyes were suddenly on the Stewards young son, whose voice had rang out and interrupted his father. Gandalf followed the boy's shocked stare toward the field and quickly realized what the boy had seen. He raised an eyebrow.
*****************************************************************
Gandalf paused his story here, obviously enjoying the look of suspense that the band of travelers wore.
"Well?" Merry asked. "What did he see?"
Gandalf smiled. "You have to understand, Merry. Boromir had lived his whole life up to that point in the city, and had never ventured beyond its walls. He had no knowledge of the ways of farm animals and their behavior. What he saw," the wizard glanced over at Boromir, who was cringing. "What he saw were some sheep who happened to be mating. Something he pointed out rather loudly to the King."
Pippin watched Boromir buried his face in his hands as the group burst into laughter. He was blushing so brightly that, with his beard, Pippin thought he looked rather like a fuzzy tomato.
"It wasn't so funny at the time!" the man cried out. "You should have seen Denethor's face."
"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I don't think I've ever seen him turn quite that color, before or since."
"Did you get punished?" Frodo asked. "Did Gandalf force caster oil down your throat?"
Boromir thought for a moment. "No, I think I had to sit in my room for the day, though. And I got an endless lecture from my father."
"* Two * lectures, I believe," Gandalf broke in. "One on knowing when to keep your mouth shut, and the other to answer your earlier question: what exactly those sheep were doing." The old wizard laughed in remembrance. "I'll never forget the look on your little face when I saw you at dinner. It was the first time in your life you had ever been stunned to silence."
Boromir flushed red once more as the laughter rang out again. "That's enough! I think I've had more than my share of humiliation this evening." He turned to Gandalf. "You wont tell any more stories about me?" he said, half in question and half in command. "It's someone else's turn tomorrow?"
The wizard chuckled. "No, no more stories about you. Though it's a bit of a shame, seeing as how I have * so * many tales, like the time---"
"Stop!" Boromir cried. The Gondorian grabbed the sword at his side by the hilt. "Gandalf," he began, "I think that if you ever try to tell that story again, I * will * have to make an attempt on your life, staff or no staff."
Gandalf smiled at him. "We'll see."
*****************************************************************
I hope you all enjoyed this. I need a little break from these stories, mostly so I can decide what will happen to Sam and Pippin, but don't worry, I'll be back in a little while. Less than a month, I'm pretty sure.