Curiosity and Packs
No one stirred in the sleeping camp where the Fellowship lay. Gandalf who was on watch had decided to circle the perimeter of the camp. Aragorn lay asleep beside the fire totally unaware of the small dark shadow sneaking ever closer. Aragorn mumbled in his sleep causing the small being who was sneaking toward him to duck down. When the ranger didn't move again the silhouette snuck even closer. Coming within a foot of the man, the small figure stuck out a hand snagging the ranger's pack and pulled it back toward him.
Pippin, pleased with himself, quickly made his way to the other side of the camp were he promptly upended the contents of the sack. He sat down amidst the scattered belongings.
His curiosity about this man had been driving him wild. He had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to know the man better, what way than to browse through his personal belongings. A person's things told a great deal about them, his mother had once said. Of course, she probably didn't mean for her son to search through someone else's belongings either, especially without that persons knowledge of it.
Aragorn had been a walking secret to Pippin and the youth had decided it was high time to unravel the mystery surrounding the man. Strider seemed to know all there was to know about everything. Pippin couldn't imagine living alone out in the wild like this man had done, nor becoming such a swordsman either. The ranger was the kind of man you heard about in Bilbo's stories.
When Pippin emptied the pack he found that the ranger carried another set of pants and two extra shirts in his pack, which to Pippin's mind was strange. The man didn't seemed inclined to change his clothes. Other toiletries graced the pack also. Maybe Aragorn needed someone to show him how to use the objects. Of course that didn't make much sense as in Rivendell he looked like a Prince among the elves. Maybe the elves had dressed him.
Odd. There were two rocks in the man's belongings. After a moment of scrutiny Pippin decided that one was flint. The other one he thought might be for sharpening the sword.
A small leather bound book was also there. It was written in elvish so he had no idea what it was about. That was rather disappointing as he had high hopes for some good stories. There were various other objects pressed between the pages; a small yellow flower, a drawing of a man and woman, the man resembling Aragorn, another drawing of Lord Elrond and his sons, a silk ribbon of lavender, and yet another drawing this time of Arwen.
Wrapped in a piece of silk he found a star shaped broach of incredible beauty. It seemed to shine with an inner light, like a star. He hastily wrapped it back up again afraid someone would awaken noticing the glitter.
Pippin sucked his finger sulkily. He had pricked his finger on an arrowhead. It was a strange design. Nothing like what Aragorn or Legolas carried on their arrows. It was a rough made one and had no style to it. Why would Strider be carrying this thing around?
The last thing Pippin found was a small pack made of leather and wood. He recognized it immediately. It was Strider's medicinal pack. He had seen it before when they had traveled to Rivendell. He eagerly opened it finding small jars and packets arrayed neatly on one side and bandages, needles, and threads on the other.
He opened a jar of oil with almost a purplish tint. He sniffed at it carefully and was pleased to find the smell of lavender. That was nice. It reminded him of home.
The next one he opened had the scent of thyme.
Eagerly he smelled the next one and had to stop himself from gagging. That one was nasty. Yuck.
He opened one of the packets sniffing tentatively. It didn't really have any smell that he could tell.
He opened a jar of powder next. He sniffed at it only to end up sneezing. Some of the powder spilled onto his hands. He wiped it off on his shirt before rubbing his nose. Eww.
"Peregrin Took!"
At the angry voice, Pippin nearly leaped out of his skin with a startled squeak. He hastily turned around trying to hide the pack and it's belongings behind his back. "Yes Gandalf?" He said with an air of innocence.
"What are you doing with Aragorn's pack?"
"Ah, nothing."
"Then why are the contents of his pack scattered all over the ground?"
"I was just curious!" Pippin exclaimed.
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "I suggest you put everything away and return it to Aragorn, understood?"
Pippin nodded eagerly. As he packed the items back in the bag, a little less neatly then they had been, he began to notice a burning sensation on his hands. At first he rubbed them trying to dismiss it but the irritation persisted. Finally with a feeling of dread he turned to Gandalf. "Gandalf?"
"Yes Pippin?"
"Umm," Pippin stalled rubbing at his hands.
"Is something wrong?"
"My hands hurt." Pippin shook his hands. "Oww. They really hurt."
"Well don't rub at them! Let me see." Gandalf admonished him, moving closer the fire. In the fire's glow Pippin's hands were red and beginning to swell. Pippin's eyes grew wide and he whimpered unhappily. "Fool of a Took! Your curiosity is going to get the better of you one of these days. Don't rub them! Aragorn!"
The ranger started at the commanding voice but so did half the camp. Aragorn climbed to his feet all traces of sleep gone. "Gandalf? What's wrong?"
Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas had also woken and moved towards the pair.
"What's going on?" asked Boromir.
"I think Pippin is having an allergic reaction to something in Aragorn's pack." Gandalf replied calmly.
Aragorn knelt in front of Pippin taking the swollen hands into his own. "My pack?"
"I was just curious!" Pippin wailed.
The warriors shared a look, a hint of a smile on their faces.
"Pippin don't rub them!" Aragorn commanded gently. "You're only going to make them worse."
"They're burning!" Pippin began to cry.
"I know, I know, you have to tell me which stuff you got on your hands." Aragorn soothed. "Pippin I can't do anything until you tell me. Now calm down."
Pippin sniffed large tears rolling down his cheeks. "It was a jar...there was some kind of powder in it."
Aragorn quickly rummaged through his pack pulling out the jar. "This one Pippin?"
Pippin nodded.
Aragorn sighed. "Keep still. I am going to look for the plant we need."
"Can't you rinse his hands with water?" Boromir asked unable to stand the younger hobbit in tears.
"No, it reacts to water and will make it worse." Aragorn replied. "Legolas come with me I'll tell you what we're looking for as we search. Gimli, can you get some water boiling? And for Valar's sake don't let him rub his hands."
"Pippin stop." Boromir charged. He sat down and pulled the young hobbit into his lap and trapped the wrists in his hands.
"But it hurts!" Pippin wailed even louder.
"Pip?"
"Merry! It hurts!" Pippin cried seeing his cousin stirring.
That woke the other three hobbits up. In no time the elder of Pippin's cousins converged on him. They began speaking at once, demanding Boromir to let Pippin go, and wanting to know what was wrong. Gandalf waded in saving Boromir from a tongue-lashing.
"Enough!" Gandalf said sternly. "Pippin spilled a powder on his hands. He is having an allergic reaction and that is why Boromir is holding him. Aragorn and Legolas are searching for the cure. In the mean time everyone calm down!"
Frodo cocked his head as he stared at the wizard. "You don't seem quite so calm yourself."
There was dead silence in the camp. Everyone looked from Frodo to Gandalf warily. The two stared at each other a long time before they started to shake, laughter boiling up between them.
~*~*~*~
Aragorn and Legolas made their way back to camp to find a much lighter atmosphere then when they left. Sam had started to cook a small meal while Frodo and Merry shared stories of their misadventures. Pippin seemed suitably distracted from where he was perched on Boromir's lap. The young lad was no longer in tears and made sure to add his own two cents in on the tales being told.
Aragorn quickly ground the plant onto a paste before applying it to Pippin's itching hands. Pip also lost his shirt, which was thoroughly washed in the nearby stream when Aragorn discovered traces of the powder on it.
All in all it took quite a while for the camp to settle down for the evening. The hobbits bundled Pippin off to the middle of their hobbit pile as they settled down to sleep. The only other sounds of the camp were the crackling of the fire and Aragorn mumbling as he rearranged the contents of his pack.
One thought was foremost in Pippin's mind as he drifted off to sleep. 'I wonder what Legolas has in his pack?'
No one stirred in the sleeping camp where the Fellowship lay. Gandalf who was on watch had decided to circle the perimeter of the camp. Aragorn lay asleep beside the fire totally unaware of the small dark shadow sneaking ever closer. Aragorn mumbled in his sleep causing the small being who was sneaking toward him to duck down. When the ranger didn't move again the silhouette snuck even closer. Coming within a foot of the man, the small figure stuck out a hand snagging the ranger's pack and pulled it back toward him.
Pippin, pleased with himself, quickly made his way to the other side of the camp were he promptly upended the contents of the sack. He sat down amidst the scattered belongings.
His curiosity about this man had been driving him wild. He had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to know the man better, what way than to browse through his personal belongings. A person's things told a great deal about them, his mother had once said. Of course, she probably didn't mean for her son to search through someone else's belongings either, especially without that persons knowledge of it.
Aragorn had been a walking secret to Pippin and the youth had decided it was high time to unravel the mystery surrounding the man. Strider seemed to know all there was to know about everything. Pippin couldn't imagine living alone out in the wild like this man had done, nor becoming such a swordsman either. The ranger was the kind of man you heard about in Bilbo's stories.
When Pippin emptied the pack he found that the ranger carried another set of pants and two extra shirts in his pack, which to Pippin's mind was strange. The man didn't seemed inclined to change his clothes. Other toiletries graced the pack also. Maybe Aragorn needed someone to show him how to use the objects. Of course that didn't make much sense as in Rivendell he looked like a Prince among the elves. Maybe the elves had dressed him.
Odd. There were two rocks in the man's belongings. After a moment of scrutiny Pippin decided that one was flint. The other one he thought might be for sharpening the sword.
A small leather bound book was also there. It was written in elvish so he had no idea what it was about. That was rather disappointing as he had high hopes for some good stories. There were various other objects pressed between the pages; a small yellow flower, a drawing of a man and woman, the man resembling Aragorn, another drawing of Lord Elrond and his sons, a silk ribbon of lavender, and yet another drawing this time of Arwen.
Wrapped in a piece of silk he found a star shaped broach of incredible beauty. It seemed to shine with an inner light, like a star. He hastily wrapped it back up again afraid someone would awaken noticing the glitter.
Pippin sucked his finger sulkily. He had pricked his finger on an arrowhead. It was a strange design. Nothing like what Aragorn or Legolas carried on their arrows. It was a rough made one and had no style to it. Why would Strider be carrying this thing around?
The last thing Pippin found was a small pack made of leather and wood. He recognized it immediately. It was Strider's medicinal pack. He had seen it before when they had traveled to Rivendell. He eagerly opened it finding small jars and packets arrayed neatly on one side and bandages, needles, and threads on the other.
He opened a jar of oil with almost a purplish tint. He sniffed at it carefully and was pleased to find the smell of lavender. That was nice. It reminded him of home.
The next one he opened had the scent of thyme.
Eagerly he smelled the next one and had to stop himself from gagging. That one was nasty. Yuck.
He opened one of the packets sniffing tentatively. It didn't really have any smell that he could tell.
He opened a jar of powder next. He sniffed at it only to end up sneezing. Some of the powder spilled onto his hands. He wiped it off on his shirt before rubbing his nose. Eww.
"Peregrin Took!"
At the angry voice, Pippin nearly leaped out of his skin with a startled squeak. He hastily turned around trying to hide the pack and it's belongings behind his back. "Yes Gandalf?" He said with an air of innocence.
"What are you doing with Aragorn's pack?"
"Ah, nothing."
"Then why are the contents of his pack scattered all over the ground?"
"I was just curious!" Pippin exclaimed.
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "I suggest you put everything away and return it to Aragorn, understood?"
Pippin nodded eagerly. As he packed the items back in the bag, a little less neatly then they had been, he began to notice a burning sensation on his hands. At first he rubbed them trying to dismiss it but the irritation persisted. Finally with a feeling of dread he turned to Gandalf. "Gandalf?"
"Yes Pippin?"
"Umm," Pippin stalled rubbing at his hands.
"Is something wrong?"
"My hands hurt." Pippin shook his hands. "Oww. They really hurt."
"Well don't rub at them! Let me see." Gandalf admonished him, moving closer the fire. In the fire's glow Pippin's hands were red and beginning to swell. Pippin's eyes grew wide and he whimpered unhappily. "Fool of a Took! Your curiosity is going to get the better of you one of these days. Don't rub them! Aragorn!"
The ranger started at the commanding voice but so did half the camp. Aragorn climbed to his feet all traces of sleep gone. "Gandalf? What's wrong?"
Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas had also woken and moved towards the pair.
"What's going on?" asked Boromir.
"I think Pippin is having an allergic reaction to something in Aragorn's pack." Gandalf replied calmly.
Aragorn knelt in front of Pippin taking the swollen hands into his own. "My pack?"
"I was just curious!" Pippin wailed.
The warriors shared a look, a hint of a smile on their faces.
"Pippin don't rub them!" Aragorn commanded gently. "You're only going to make them worse."
"They're burning!" Pippin began to cry.
"I know, I know, you have to tell me which stuff you got on your hands." Aragorn soothed. "Pippin I can't do anything until you tell me. Now calm down."
Pippin sniffed large tears rolling down his cheeks. "It was a jar...there was some kind of powder in it."
Aragorn quickly rummaged through his pack pulling out the jar. "This one Pippin?"
Pippin nodded.
Aragorn sighed. "Keep still. I am going to look for the plant we need."
"Can't you rinse his hands with water?" Boromir asked unable to stand the younger hobbit in tears.
"No, it reacts to water and will make it worse." Aragorn replied. "Legolas come with me I'll tell you what we're looking for as we search. Gimli, can you get some water boiling? And for Valar's sake don't let him rub his hands."
"Pippin stop." Boromir charged. He sat down and pulled the young hobbit into his lap and trapped the wrists in his hands.
"But it hurts!" Pippin wailed even louder.
"Pip?"
"Merry! It hurts!" Pippin cried seeing his cousin stirring.
That woke the other three hobbits up. In no time the elder of Pippin's cousins converged on him. They began speaking at once, demanding Boromir to let Pippin go, and wanting to know what was wrong. Gandalf waded in saving Boromir from a tongue-lashing.
"Enough!" Gandalf said sternly. "Pippin spilled a powder on his hands. He is having an allergic reaction and that is why Boromir is holding him. Aragorn and Legolas are searching for the cure. In the mean time everyone calm down!"
Frodo cocked his head as he stared at the wizard. "You don't seem quite so calm yourself."
There was dead silence in the camp. Everyone looked from Frodo to Gandalf warily. The two stared at each other a long time before they started to shake, laughter boiling up between them.
~*~*~*~
Aragorn and Legolas made their way back to camp to find a much lighter atmosphere then when they left. Sam had started to cook a small meal while Frodo and Merry shared stories of their misadventures. Pippin seemed suitably distracted from where he was perched on Boromir's lap. The young lad was no longer in tears and made sure to add his own two cents in on the tales being told.
Aragorn quickly ground the plant onto a paste before applying it to Pippin's itching hands. Pip also lost his shirt, which was thoroughly washed in the nearby stream when Aragorn discovered traces of the powder on it.
All in all it took quite a while for the camp to settle down for the evening. The hobbits bundled Pippin off to the middle of their hobbit pile as they settled down to sleep. The only other sounds of the camp were the crackling of the fire and Aragorn mumbling as he rearranged the contents of his pack.
One thought was foremost in Pippin's mind as he drifted off to sleep. 'I wonder what Legolas has in his pack?'