Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters or the world in which they live. Tolkien owns such.
A/N: The following tale sort of came out on its own, a manifestation of many things we deal with today. I realize that some of the story may be hard to follow or not make sense at some parts. You needn't comment on this (or you may if you like) but I wanted to point out that life is like that. Many things that happen make the least bit of sense and have nothing to offer us later, they just are.
A tale of friendship and dark paths.
Being the Fourth Part of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
Drunken Hobbits
"Is this to be a time we turn aside? Do we do nothing?"
Gandalf did not at first reply, nor did it seem to the Ranger that he intended to, but at length the wizard finally spoke. "I do not think it is our place to interfere, my friend . . . These Hobbits must fight their own battles and I fear young Peregrin must face his alone."
Aragorn frowned, unconvinced. "None should face a weakness alone, Gandalf, when they have friends to aid him and perhaps ease the way. Surely there is something we can do. Pippin . . . he is vulnerable to drink and therefore his cousins forbid it?" By the events of last night, that is what the Ranger had surmised.
"And the young Took's parents," Gandalf affirmed with a slight nod. He took a puff from his old, weathered pipe and watched in quiet fascination as the smoke rings disappeared on the afternoon breeze. "I dare say, he gave me quite a fright."
Aragorn peered at the wizard in mild surprise. "You, Gandalf?"
"Hm, yes . . ." Gandalf mused, tapping the stem of his pipe against pursed lips. "Ten years ago was it? Yes, for that was the last time I saw Frodo before last year and the young Hobbits--by which I mean Merry, Pippin, and old Fatty Bolger--threw their dear cousin a splendid birthday party." Gandalf's face crinkled into an uncommon smile as the events of his telling washed over him in delightful memory. He smiled impishly, not unlike Pippin when he is caught in the midst of mischief. "Things certainly became lively that night . . . one of Frodo's best . . ."
Beside him, Aragorn grinned. He could well imagine young Meriadoc and Peregrin with free-flowing ale. Indeed, it would have been a sight. Aragorn looked at the wizard curiously. "You were there, Gandalf?" the Ranger asked, slightly disbelieving.
Gandalf blinked, slipping back to the present to glare at in impertinence of the young Ranger. "And indeed, why not?" the wizard demanded. "These old bones have had a share of laughs this past Age . . . and to Eru I pray they haven't seen their last." This last was spoken with wistful longing and Gandalf sighed softly. "But I do believe He has little say at the moment in the affairs of mortals, preoccupied as he is with other matters."
Aragorn frowned curiously at this but decided to say naught regarding it. Instead, he pressed his earlier inquiry. "And young Peregrin? How does this pertain to him?"
"It was that night," the wizard said softly, "that my eyes fully opened to the foolishness of Tooks . . . ."
"One too many drinks, don't you think, Pippin my lad?" Frodo pinched his cousin's cheek and kissed his brow before being pulled away by a pretty Hobbit-lass who wished to dance. Had Frodo been any less drunk he probably would have refused, but as his mind floated upon the pleasant river of ale he felt no such compunctions and, smiling sheepishly at a winking Merry, left his cousins to their own blissful drunkenness.
Meriadoc Brandybuck turned to his nineteen-year-old cousin to watch in quiet amusement as the lad whispered conspiracingly to nobody and nothing.
"What are you cooking up over there?" Merry demanded, pulling himself up upon the bench to better study the truant face.
Pippin turned to Merry and with an expression holding naught save the utmost respect informed his inquisitive cousin "That it is none of your business, Meriadoc Brandybuck, what goes on in the minds of the intelligent. Am I to explain everything to you, for if I am I am afraid we shall be here all night."
Merry jerked back, feigning hurt, but a broad grin split his round face almost immediately after. "And the downside to that?" he wanted to know. "I don't mind spending the night here. Do you, Cousin? I dare say, Frodo's having a marvelous time of it," and privately the young Hobbit thought it good for their older cousin to get out and enjoy the company of females. Merry worried about Frodo sometimes.
Pippin peered blearily at their elder cousin and giggled in pleasure. "Look at him," he said, "He's taken all the lasses to himself and has not a clue as to what to do with them." And, indeed, little Peregrin was right, for near the hearth stood their dear cousin Frodo surrounded by every barmaid and lass in The Ivy Bush. Pippin turned accusingly at the grinning Merry. "You did that, didn't you?"
"Call it a birthday present," Merry said, quite pleased with himself.
Pippin laughed as he watched each of the Hobbit maidens kiss a blushing Frodo on the brow, on the nose, on the cheek . . . even upon the lips. "Poor Cousin Frodo!" he exclaimed, though his voice betrayed his words.
"Poor Frodo?" Merry echoed. "Indeed, not! I would give anything to be in his place."
"Well, wouldn't we all. But you know how he gets. You'll get quite the tongue-lashing on the morrow, Merry, when he learns of your scheme and is sober enough to remember it. He'll not leave Bag End for weeks! You know this." But for all his harsh words, Pippin was proud of Merry and glad that Frodo was 'mingling.' He could be such a hermit at times!
"Look, Merry," Pippin pointed out suddenly and Merry turned to spy Estella Bolger approach Frodo and kiss him on the cheek. She laughed lightly as Frodo blushed then hugged him tightly. Frodo whispered something in her ear and they both glanced at the table with the cousins. Estella smiled prettily at Merry.
Pippin nudged him. "That'd be your cue, Cousin." Merry grinned and bounded (not without a stumble) from the table. Pippin smiled cheekily after him and absently took a gulp of his ale.
"Mind your drink there, Master Peregrin." Pippin waved Old Noakes the barkeep away. "Alright, young master, but if you make a fool of yourself don't blame me, ya here?"
Pippin grinned. "Me, Old One? Have I ever made a fool of myself?"
Old Noakes laughed. "Aye, you have, lad, but 'tisn't my place to say so. But I suppose I ought, should you be callin' me 'Old One.' I ain't so much older than your father." Now this was a straight-up lie and both the old Hobbit and the young Hobbit knew it. "If you should name one such," and here he gestured toward the door, "Name that there wizard, for he, I dare say, has seen years beyond the reckoning of us poor Shire folk, Eru help the dear man."
Pippin glanced with little enthusiasm toward the door, having lost the train of the old Hobbit's words and, not fully comprehending what he spoke of, started in amazement at the sight of Gandalf the Grey. "Gandalf?" Pippin choked, nearly losing the hold on his mug of ale.
"Steady on, lad," Old Noakes caught the mug and saved himself a pretty mess. The young Hobbit did not notice.
Near the hearth and in the midst of a congregation of pretty lasses, there came a pleased gasp of "Gandalf!" and before the old wizard knew what was what Frodo ran across the way and launched himself into the arms of the old wizard, much to the amusement of the inn's occupants. Frodo, beyond the realm of cares, laughed gaily.
"It's so good to see you, my friend," Frodo cried, uncommonly loud with drunkenness. He grinned and pulled away from the wizard. "You have come just in time to celebrate my birthday."
Gandalf straightened, noting with pleasure that the inn was large enough to easily accommodate his tall frame, and peered down at the Hobbit with eyes that twinkled in pleasure. "As was my intention. Happy fortieth birthday, Frodo-lad." He peered around at the assembled Hobbits, finding most (as was only common at a well-respected gentlehobbit's birthday) well and drunk. "Indeed," he said with an amused smile, "It seems to be a merry one."
Frodo smiled at his friend and reached up to grasp his old weathered hand in his own soft, youthful on. "Come, my friend, let us talk. It's been awhile--a year-and-a-half? Not much has happened here in the Shire since you last left but certainly you have tales to tell. Come," he began dragging the wizard to a nearby table, "Tell me of your travels. The lands. The people. Have you seen dear old Bilbo, or at least heard word of him? I haven't received a single letter from him. But then, I had never really expected to. Probably off hunting treasure with his Dwarf-friends as he had always dreamed of doing again."
Gandalf chuckled. "Indeed, your not so far from the truth," the wizard said, resisting Frodo's pull.
Frodo turned, his eyes alighted with excitement. "So you have heard word of him! Tell me, Gandalf, oh, tell me! I must know. Is he well? Has he asked about me? Could you give him a letter for me if I wrote one up--"
Gandalf had come to a complete halt and refused to be dragged forward. His eyes crinkled in quiet laughter and a happiness that he had not felt since last he left the Shire sparked brightly in his dark eyes. "Calm yourself, my friend," he said fondly. "We have time aplenty to talk and then I will tell you all I know. But--" and here he held up a wizened finger and it seemed then Frodo realized his tuggings had ceased to be affective. He stopped pulling but did not release Gandalf's hand. "It is your birthday, Frodo, and I would see you enjoy it to the fullest. Do not let me infringe upon your merriment."
Frodo's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. "Indeed, no, Gandalf! You have made it all the merrier. Come, let you sit and rest and have some ale."
At that moment, Merry appeared from beneath Gandalf's left elbow, a mug of ale grasped in each fist. He held one up to Gandalf. "Here you are, sir," he said politely, slightly intimidated by the imposing figure of the wizard.
Gandalf reached down and took the mug, allowing the young Hobbit a kind smile. "My thanks, young Meriadoc. If you--"
Above the mild ruckus of conversation throughout the The Ivy Bush, a muffled crash! came to the sharp ears of the wizard and he looked curiously to the back of the inn.
"Mr. Frodo!" came a panicked voice and Gandalf saw it was Old Noakes of Bywater. "Mr. Frodo lad, come quick, 'tis Master Pippin!" Merry choked on the ale he had been sucking contently on and glanced up sharply. He dropped the mug and he and Frodo ran to the shadowed corner of the inn. Gandalf, being much larger than the slight Hobbits, came slower for all the tables and chairs he was forced to go around.
By the time he got there both of the cousins, the barkeeper, a barmaid, and several Hobbit lasses, crouched worriedly over a comatose Pippin.
"What's wrong with him," Merry asked, his voice laced with confusion and fear. He shook his younger cousin but there was no response.
"Pippin," Frodo tried. "Pippin-lad, can you hear me?"
"I told him, Mr. Frodo," Old Noakes said mournfully. "I did tell him."
Frodo looked at the old Hobbit sharply. "Told him what?"
"That he ought to ease up," he explained. "On the drink, that is. He's slight of frame and shouldn't consume so much ale, especially as young as he is. I did tell him."
Frodo turned back to Pippin, looking him over worriedly. 'Dotard,' he hissed to himself, 'I should have watched him more closely.' He hadn't thought Pippin was overdoing it, indeed he thought himself far more drunk than either his two cousins. 'I might well be,' he realized suddenly, 'but, too, am I older and been drinking longer.'
He turned to Gandalf. "Is he alright? I--I've never seen this. Have you?"
Gandalf bent to better examine young Peregrin and the other Hobbits stepped back a pace to give him room.
"I haven't," whispered Merry, horrified, not being able to take his eyes from his deathly still cousin.
Gandalf checked the Took's pulse and breathing.
"I have," said the barmaid and everyone save the wizard, who was intent upon examining Pippin, looked at her. "Once." She turned to Old Noakes. "Don't you remember? Three seasons ago, was it? Ol' Andwise Roper came over from Tighfield."
"Ah, yes," Old Noakes nodded. "I remember him. He lost his wife and came to visit his brother in Hobbiton. The same happened to him."
"And?" Merry demanded desperately of the old Hobbit.
Noakes smiled and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He was hail and fit the following morning, though I dare say he had quite the headache."
Merry looked down at his pale cousin and frowned. 'If he comes out of this hail and fit,' he thought angrily, desperately, 'I'll certainly give the lad a headache.'
Gandalf sighed quietly and looked around himself at all the worried Hobbits. "Well, our young Took shall not die, I am certain . . . but," he scooped the unconscious Hobbit in his arms and stood. "I do suggest we get him home. Your home, Frodo, for that is the closest, is it not?"
Frodo nodded. "Yes, Gandalf."
"Come, then," the wizard said. "Let us go." And he took the small Hobbit from the The Ivy Bush, Frodo and Merry following quickly after.
Those left at the inn, particularly Old Noakes and Estella Bolger and several others of close kin to the parted Hobbits, looked after their friends in mingled fear and apprehension. Not one had heart enough left in them to drink again that night.
~*~
A/N: I wanted to thank you all—Ish, Hai, Xena—for your reviews. It's most encouraging and makes my telling more enjoyable.