He stared out into the darkness, over the quietly still bodies of the sleeping fellowship. There was nothing stirring, nothing causing noise or distraction.

The world seemed so silent on this watch that he could hear the sound of the others' breaths as they slept. Gimli's low, rumbling snores, Sam's snuffling and restless sleep.

And so, when a fresh noise started, when breathing changed, he was instantly aware.

The new sounds came from the single spot marking Merry and Pippin's bedrolls.

Boromir squinted through the darkness and saw movement, a shuffling of the cloaks that served as blankets. And he heard the stronger breathing, the barest whisper of voices.

There was more of a rhythm to it than was normal, and as he watched the moving blanket he realized what it looked like.

He studied the movements, though he felt blood rising to color his cheeks, until they ceased and the blankets grew still again.

He then turned his eyes back out to nothing, and wondered.

He was not the type to let mysteries go by without addressing them. If he wanted to know something, he asked. Men bred in times of war knew better than to waste time around civility and propriety, especially when what they wanted to know could have bearing on the men he served with and how they fought.

So when the hand-holding and the close sleeping and the strange nighttime movements of the two hobbits in his care became curious to him, he simply waited until they were stopped and the others not paying attention, and he asked the nearest one.

His chance came the next night, when it was young Pippin who awoke him for his stint at guard duty.

He was quick to wake up, clearheaded from the moment he opened his eyes. War had trained that into him. And so he smiled at the young hobbit and thanked him quietly. "I take it things have been uneventful so far?"

"Dull and quiet, like all the other nights." Pippin sighed as if it was a burden.

Boromir sat up. "Soon enough you'll be wishing for dull and quiet again, Master Pippin."

Pippin made a face, but didn't argue. He held out a hand and gave a token assistance to Boromir as he stood, then rested his hands on his hips and regarded the bigger Man with feigned dubiousness. "You're awake now? You're not going to fall asleep in some horrible hobbit-eating monster's shadow, are you?"

Boromir chuckled softly. "I shall do my best."

Pippin nodded once and turned, immediately heading towards where Merry lay sleeping.

"A word or two before you retire, Pippin?"

Pippin turned in his tracks and headed back over. "I knew it. You need entertainment to keep from sliding back into sleep. Well, once again it's up to me to save the fellowship from danger."

Boromir sat down close to the slab of rock he had been sleeping against. "Keep this up and you might make it into the songs after all."

Pippin smiled and sat down cross-legged beside Boromir. "What is your word or two, Master Boromir?"

"I'm curious about you hobbits."

"We're curious creatures, from what we've been told recently."

Boromir smiled. "Aye. But something in particular. You and young Merry. I've noticed that the two of you have taken to lying together."

Pippin cocked his head a little, waiting.

Boromir realized the question could be awkward, but, again, he wasn't the kind to stay silent because his words may bother others. "I was curious if you simply stay together for warmth: at times on this journey you have seemed closer to each other than most friends."

Pippin smiled. "You wish to know if Merry and I lie together for more than just sleep? Like hobbit and wife would."

Boromir shrugged. "I suppose. I'm finding the customs of hobbits rather interesting. Is it one of your customs to lie with people of the same gender?" He felt awkward asking it, given how little he knew about any of the races around him. The mysteries about elf origins were unfathomable to him, and God knew he had never seen a female dwarf in his dealings with them. Perhaps there were no female hobbits either.

But Pippin shook his head with a smile, calming some of Boromir's uncertainty. "I certainly wouldn't call it a custom. It's not a practice handed down through generations, though I expect it's done by more than Merry and I."

So, that answered that. They did lie together. His instincts had been right. Boromir studied the youngest hobbit. "Why do it? Do you care that deeply for Merry?"

Pippin laughed quietly. "Well. That's a hard question to answer. I should say yes, because I care for Merry more than anyone else in the world. But that wouldn't be the right answer to what you want to know. I don't look at Merry like any hobbit lass. It's.I suppose the same as any other of the games Merry and I play."

Boromir frowned at that, his brow furrowed. "You look at it as a game?"

Pippin shrugged. "I've got four more years until I come of age. I look at everything as a game." He grinned, as careless as ever.

"And what of four years from now, when you do come of age? What must you do then?"

Pippin made one of his expressive faces. "Once I come of age it is time to become a good, responsible hobbit and find a lass to start a family with."

Boromir glanced over at the still figure of Merry. "You wouldn't wish to go on lying with Merry? Even though you care for him so much?"

Pippin laughed at that. "Why should I do something like that?" His words split with a yawn, and he blinked heavier eyes out at Boromir, still shining their amusement.

Boromir turned back to him, frowning. This would perhaps be one of those things he would have to accept as hobbit custom even if he did not like it himself. Yes, lying with another was done mostly to start a family, to preserve a man's family line. In these times, to make sure there was a new generation to fight when his generation became too old to be of use.

Still. Boromir couldn't imagine lying with someone without love. Doing it to pass the time, to wait until he was old enough to start a family. Maybe it was simply a hobbit behavior, though.

Pippin took his silence as confusion, and so explained further. "You lie with a lass to make a family, but I'm not old enough quite yet to start one of my own. Yet there's no denying that at times the urge is there. Young hobbits who are not of age will look to each other at times like those. It's nothing too complicated, Boromir."

"And what of Frodo? He is the oldest of all of you, I've been told. He has no family, does he? I've heard no mention of a wife or children. He is of age, certainly."

Pippin grinned sleepily. "He's different. He's a Baggins. They are known to be eccentric. Frodo doesn't have to worry about tradition as much as the rest of us."

"Is that what you would start a family for? Tradition?"

Pippin shrugged. "The master of the Tooks has a lofty position in the whole of the Shire. It's important to have a family to pass it down to."

Boromir smiled at that. "You are to become a leader in your Shire, eh? I suppose you should enjoy the few years left to you after all."

"I'm afraid so." Pippin yawned again suddenly. "I hope your curiosity is satisfied for the time being, because I'm afraid I won't be awake very much longer."

Boromir waved him off. "Go to sleep. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Pippin, to Boromir's surprise, didn't go to search out Merry the way he'd started out doing before their talk. Instead he simply moved the few feet to Boromir's abandoned bedroll and dropped himself down onto it, sighing.

Boromir watched him with a smile. The talk had left him with mixed feelings - was it all hobbits who were so careless with their bodies, and their emotions, or was young Pippin an exception? The hobbits had to be capable of loyalty and love - Merry and Pippin being on this journey spoke of that. It was the one reason for their being on the journey that they gave with absolute conviction - they couldn't leave Frodo to do it himself.

That was loyalty. And loyalty spoke of the ability to love. Pippin admitted to caring deeply for Merry.

It was strange, though, to Boromir. Certainly he had had comrades in arms that he felt great affection for. Some of the men he had gone into battles with had been as close to him as his own brother.

But never would it have occurred to him to lie with one of them as those two hobbits lie together. Despite the urges that all men got at one time or another, he had never turned to one of his comrades. It never even occurred to him.

He sighed to himself quietly, looking over the site where the fellowship lie sleeping.

His eyes stopped on the bedroll where Merry had been lying.

It was empty.

He frowned, looking around instantly. He had neither seen nor heard the young hobbit get up or leave the site. He wasn't in his own bed, though, and not with any of the others.

He sat back against the wall and waited. Hobbits could be quiet creatures when they wanted to, and Merry would no doubt return from a call of nature at any moment.

Silence surrounded him.

Guard duty was a hard thing in the quiet of the land they were marching through.

In Gondor, in the forests surrounding, there was always something to be heard, something to look out for. It wasn't a matter of checking for the presence of the enemy, since at all times the enemy was out there. It was the job of the night guards to make sure the enemy didn't start moving in the night, coming any closer to the sleeping camp.

There were always noises and shadows to be watchful of.

Here, there was nothing. There was dark and silence and the sounds of his companions breathing in their sleep, but that was it.

He knew what he had told Pippin was true - the time would come he would long for this uneventful quiet. But until then there was no arguing that the hobbit was right. It was dull and long.

The minutes ticked by, and still no silent, small body appeared to slide onto the abandoned bedroll.

Boromir let enough time pass for anyone to have answered nature's call and found their way back, and then he stood.

Legolas was to take up the shift after him, but if Boromir understood the habits of elves he could be almost certain that Legolas had not even gone to sleep.

Sure enough, the elf lay there with eyes open, looking up into the trees. Unfocused, but aware.

Boromir crouched beside him. "Legolas."

Legolas' eyes blinked once and met his. "Do you tire early?" the soft voice asked.

Boromir nodded towards the empty bedroll. "I think I need to go in search of lost hobbit. I don't want to leave the camp unprotected."

Legolas sat up, nodding. "Would you like me to search for Merry? I can find him easier in the darkness than a man."

It was true, Boromir knew, so he stifled the urge to snap back. "No. I'd like to find him myself."

Legolas nodded without further argument.

Boromir glanced at where Pippin lay. Pippin must have gone to sleep fast, because he was unaware of anything going on around him. Boromir had no doubt Pippin would have been the first out into the trees if he thought Merry was in the slightest danger of getting lost.

Legolas' quiet voice sang out before Boromir could stand up. "I didn't think it was quite your nature to get involved in other people's lives."

Boromir turned back to him, brow furrowed.

Legolas regarded him, looking innocent.

"I'd like to have a few words with him, yes. I'm not getting involved in anything."

But he was lying, and probably both of them knew it.

Because for Merry to have gotten up and left the site without Boromir seeing, it would have had to be when Boromir and Pippin were still talking. That meant Merry must have heard the matter they were talking about, and maybe his long absence was related.

No, it wasn't in Boromir's nature to get involved, especially in personal situations between almost strangers. But he had a desire to know what Merry had heard, and what he might have gotten upset at.

Strange, flighty, careless creatures, yes, but Boromir would be damned if he wasn't starting to get attached to the two of them.

He rose and went into the trees by Merry's bedroll.

It took him less time than he thought to track down the wayward hobbit. He found Merry not very far away at all, sitting amid rock and roots and looking down at the flow of a tiny, almost dried-up creek.

Boromir approached him. He cleared his throat slightly, smiling. "Ho there, children."

The greeting had become something of a joke between them going back to their first meeting. It was especially useful in getting the two of them to stop joking and take his sword-play lessons seriously.

Merry glanced back, unsurprised to see him.

Boromir slowed down, his smile vanishing when he saw Merry's face.

He was as serious as Boromir had ever seen either of his two hobbits. There was nothing of a smile or a joke on him anywhere.

Boromir reached his side and crouched down, glancing at the creek. He wasn't quite sure how to ask what he wanted.

Merry was the one to break the brief silence. "We're not children, you know." He spoke quietly.

Boromir turned back to him, unsmiling. He could detect that Merry wasn't trying to joke. "I know," he said simply.

Merry looked past him back at the feeble stream of water in the darkness. "I've been of age for almost four years now," he said, even quieter.

Boromir frowned at him, furrowing his brow. "What-"

Merry got to his feet suddenly. "Good night, Boromir." He shot the man a brief look, round-eyed and.almost sad.

Boromir watched him go, and frowned at the creek for a moment before straightening up.

Something significant had just been said to him. He had that feeling. Merry's words were more than just an attempt at correcting Boromir's view of his age. There was something more meaningful there.

And Boromir had missed it.

Worse, he had seen sadness in the eyes of one of his hobbits. He had been right to think he wouldn't like the sight at all.