Moria's Revenge: Chapter 33 - Decided
Authors: Kookaburra & Llinos
Beta: Marigold
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any of the characters.
***
Melystra smiled as she entered the bedchamber where Aragorn and Boromir were taking their rest. Both men were sound asleep and she moved silently, as only an elf can, to lay the bundle of clothes for Peregrin on the foot of the ranger's bed.
As Melystra laid the neat bundle on the counterpane, the slight weight upon the man's foot had an alarming result. Aragorn turned abruptly, rolling from the bed and drawing his dagger in the same instant, until he was crouched alert and ready to kill, facing the startled elven healer. For a heartbeat his face was drawn into a snarl, but replaced almost immediately with a look of contrition as soon as he realised who the intruder was.
"My apologies, fair lady," Aragorn lowered the dagger and bowed his head. "Many years of sleeping in the wild have indoctrinated habits which are difficult to break."
"No, it is I who should apologise," Melystra had not thought for a moment that her light footfalls or discreet placing of the parcel would wake anyone. "I did not mean to disturb you."
Boromir too, was by now awake, although not as primed for attack as Aragorn, he was, like most soldiers, a light sleeper. "It is no matter," he stretched his arms, "I am sure it is time for us to rise, we must have slept long enough for the meal to be ready."
"What is in the parcel?" Aragorn fingered the neatly wrapped bundle. "Pippin's clothes?"
"Yes," Melystra confirmed, "not only his old things, washed and repaired, but also some clothing that should fit him should he not wish to wear the garments he had on when he was attacked."
"You are very wise," Aragorn smiled at the beautiful elven woman, "I had thought to offer him his old clothes, but he may well reject them."
"I have knitted him some new stockings as well," Melystra gave a small laugh, "I fear yours will be something of a handicap to the perian should he try to walk far."
Aragorn smiled in return at the thought; "Yes they are rather large for him. You are most kind."
-0****0-
Aragorn and Boromir entered the chamber where they had left Pippin, Merry, and Icicle. Merry was leaning against Icicle, while Pippin was leaning against Merry, the former's arms snugly around his waist. Pippin held a sheet of paper in his hands, following lines of script with his finger while Merry whispered into a little pointed ear. All three raised their heads at the intrusion.
"Hello Merry, Pippin," Aragorn gave an elegant bow to the warg, "Milady Icicle". He smiled at the hobbits, "How are you feeling, Pippin?" The ranger moved over to the bedside and took Pippin's wrist, checking his pulse.
Pippin glanced at Merry, still not always sure when he was allowed to talk, and when he was not. Merry gave him a nod and a nudge for reassurance. "I-I feel...um..." Pippin was unsure what to say. He did not feel 'good', as he still hurt badly in many places, and he did not feel 'bad' as he was with Merry and Umumum. "...better." He finally said. It was the truth. He felt better than he had when he was with the orcs, after all.
Aragorn realised that he would have to be more specific with Pippin. The ranger settled himself on the edge of the bed, brushing away the fringe of the canopy that drooped annoyingly into his eyes. "I'm going to have to look at your wounds Pippin. If you are well, and healed enough, you can go down to the ground, where Legolas, Gimli, and Sam have made you a picnic. Would you like that? You could see the green grass and flowers of Lothlórien. This is a beautiful place, Pippin."
Pippin's eyes widened. Stealing another glance at Merry for reassurance, he answered, "R-really, truly, Strider? C-could I get out of bed? B-but what if I'm bad, and n-n-not well enough?" Pippin cast his eyes down, and he swirled a finger on the coverlet's embroidery pattern. "Will I not be allowed to eat?"
Sighing, Aragorn reached out and tilted Pippin's fallen chin up, so the hobbit had to meet his eyes. "Pippin you are not bad - you never have been."
Merry added his voice to Aragorn's, "you've been ill Pippin, my love and you're still recovering."
If you are not well enough, Master Peregrin, then we will simply move the entire feast up here." Aragorn assured him. "Now, you must take off your nightshirt, Pippin. I need to see your injuries."
"Here, Pip" Merry murmured. "I'll help you. Just relax." Pippin indeed looked quite tense at the thought of taking off his nightshirt. He let his hands fall to the cover, while Merry's nimble fingers made short work of the small buttons. Aragorn let Merry carry on. He felt that it would be better mentally for the hurt hobbit if familiar hands did most of the care. When Merry was finished with the buttons, Boromir came to the other side of the bed, and lifted the cover, so that Pippin could climb under before he was completely undressed. Aragorn mentally cursed the vile orcs for the millionth time as he ran down the list of physical hurts.
"How much does the cut on your stomach hurt, Pippin? Think of it as from Bree to Hobbiton. Bree is when it first happened and Hobbiton is no pain at all." Aragorn smiled as he saw Pippin puzzling through the strange analogy he had given him.
Pippin thought for a moment. "Frogmorton normally, Brandywine Bridge when I move." "How are your burns feeling?" As Aragorn asked this, he pulled aside the sheet, and examined them for signs of infection.
"Th-they're a...bit sore, and very stiff when I move. But not as bad as before!" Pippin added hurriedly, desperate to be counted well enough to go and have a picnic.
"That's very good. It means they are healing up now. Try not to disturb them too much Pippin. Now, I need to see in your mouth." Aragorn opened Pippin's mouth gently with one finger and peered inside. Pippin's eyes rolled a bit in anxiety, his dreams reminded him all too well of what happened whenever his mouth was forced open. However, other than the healing abrasions, Aragorn found no new injuries, and his fingers felt no breakage as he gently and carefully probed Pippin's jaw. There was too much swelling before to be totally sure nothing was broken, although the ranger had worried at the damage that might have been caused by the terrible gag.
Aragorn nodded, and placed a hand on Pippin's shoulder, turning the halfling over, simultaneously putting a pillow under his stomach to ease the tension on the stitches. Then he carefully drew down the covers to reveal the whip marks. Pippin whimpered and Merry flinched. Meriadoc still got a bit light-headed at the sight of the horrid wounds that had been inflicted on his cousin.
Boromir patted Pippin's shoulder, the one spot that was relatively hurt free, except for a dark purple bite mark. "There, there, little one. You're doing fine, Pippin." Pippin twisted his head around to gaze up at the big man.
"Really, Boromir? Am I?" The Gondorian chuckled. At least one thing had not changed, Pippin's need for reassurance. Even at the beginning of the journey he had noticed it. The incorrigible little perian would pester him endlessly to repeat the good points of that day's sword fighting lesson.
"Yes, Pippin. You've done wonderfully. You are a fine and brave warrior and you would make a knight such as Gondor would be proud to own. You have a tenacity and courage such as I have rarely witnessed," answered Boromir. Pippin seemed a bit overwhelmed by such praise, he blushed and half-buried his face into the pillow again, peeping out with one eye.
"Thank you, Boromir." came the muffled reply from the pillow. Merry smiled up at the large warrior.
"Yes, especially for making Pippin feel special." At Merry's words Boromir looked a bit startled.
"I did not say those things merely to make Pippin feel special, Merry. I mean it." Boromir smiled back at Merry warmly, "Pippin is very brave. I do not know of any of my guard who could have faced what he has, and come through it with such courage."
"He is brave isn't he." Merry agreed. "Just because hobbits are small does not mean they are not capable of great things."
Though he hated to interrupt the touching exchange, there was one last thing that needed Aragorn's attention. "Everything is very good so far Pippin. But now I just need to look at your rear. Is that all right with you?" Aragorn had decided to ask Pippin for permission before doing anything major with his body, to give the hobbit a sense of control again.
Pippin paled visibly and bit his lip. He then appeared to have to swallow a few times before he could answer in a whisper, "Y-yes, it's all right, Strider." Pippin shoved his face farther into the pillow. He had been trying to ignore the shooting, fiery pains that still plagued him, and their cause.
Boromir's hand tightened on Pippin's shoulder, even as Merry squirmed around to hug Pippin closely and murmured into his ear. "Don't worry, Pip. I've got you...shhh..." Merry held his trembling cousin as tightly as he dared, and Pippin reached out an arm and gripped him right back. Strider drew out a small vial of oil, and a soft cloth he had had ready in his pocket. Boromir moved his hand to Pippin's head, stroking the soft, shortened curls in a soothing manner, as Aragorn removed the covers from Pippin's rear.
Merry had been doing his best to not look at this damaged area and concentrate on his cousin's upper body, but he couldn't miss Boromir's sharp intake of breath and the Gondorian's flinch.
Boromir had not seen the damage recently. His blood boiled in rage at what had been done to his little one. The dark bruising that had covered Pippin's buttocks was now mottled with sickly green and yellow splotches. A wide scrape that originated around Pippin's pelvis ran all the way into his cleft - Boromir could not think of how even orcs could have done something so heinous to such an innocent little creature as Pippin.
Pippin squeezed his eyes shut as the first draft of cold air hit his exposed posterior. This was the first time he was fully aware during an examination of this nature. Though he was trembling, Merry's hold on him and Boromir's comforting hand helped keep the memories at bay.
After ensuring that there was no more new bleeding or complications aside from a mild infection, Aragorn reached over to the vial of oil and cloth. Working as quickly as he could, the Ranger unstoppered the oil and soaked the gauze with the fragrant liquid. He then pressed the cloth against Pippin's sore opening. At the touch, Pippin convulsed and cried out softly. Aragorn steadied his hips with a gentle but firm hand.
"Hush, little one. This will make you feel better and help you heal, shush now..." Pippin stilled, but Merry could feel the vibrations from his soft keening.
Aragorn gently worked the oil soaked cloth further into the damaged area, making sure that he stopped each time Pippin winced too violently. Merry's eyes flitted anxiously from the ranger to his small cousin and Icicle growled softly each time her cub cried out, although she made no move to intervene.
When Aragorn had finished he gently replaced the cover over Pippin and examined the cloth. It was stained pink in several places, showing that there was still some mild bleeding in places, but not enough to be concerned about. The bleeding would help clean the anal wounds better than anything he could do. The ranger placed the used cloth in a laundry hamper, and washed his hands in a basin of water sitting on a sideboard. He looked back over at the hobbits and Boromir. Pippin still had his face pressed into the pillow, and Merry and Boromir seemed to be attempting to get him to emerge. Even Icicle was trying to help; she had squirmed around and was now licking Pippin's ear and neck. Sighing, Aragorn sat down on the edge of the bed once more, and rubbed the shoulder Boromir had earlier.
"You know, Pippin," Aragorn said softly, leaning close to the quivering curls sprouting from the cushion, "it's rather hard to eat a picnic with a pillow over one's mouth."
Pippin's head gradually turned out from the pillow. "D-d-does that mean I can go to the picnic, Strider? Am I good enough? Truly?"
Merry reached out and drew his now upright little cousin in for a squeeze. "You are always good enough for anything, Pip."
Now that the treatment was ended, Aragorn nodded to Merry to put the nightshirt back on. "Perhaps we should find you some better clothes to wear now that you are so much recovered." Aragorn told him, "Would you like that?"
Pippin nodded and, pulling himself up the bed as soon as Merry had put the nightshirt back on, drew his scarf from under his pillow. "I still got my scarf, Strider." He stroked the knitted fabric and held it to his face.
Boromir leaned over and taking one end of the muffler wrapped it playfully around Pippin's neck. One moment Pippin was smiling and then he suddenly froze, his happy face turning to ice in a second. His hands flew to his throat and he let out a scream as he tore at the scarf trying to pull it away from his neck, but his actions only tightened it more.
"Pippin! Stop!" Merry frantically pleaded as he too tried to unwrap the scarf in the right direction to remove it. Icicle snarled at Boromir and bared her fangs, making the man jump nervously back and away from the bed, while Aragorn struggled to catch hold of Pippin's arms and keep him still.
"It's all right Pippin," Aragorn managed to clamp down on the little hobbit's flailing arms while Merry untangled the scarf from around his neck. "You didn't actually wear it since you got it back, did you? Just held it. I know little one, it's all right." Aragorn let Merry take over holding Pippin, as he did not want to crowd him in this state and waited until his breathing began to calm down to a reasonable level.
"I'm so sorry," Boromir was mortified. "I did not realise that would cause so much distress."
"I don't think any of us did." Aragorn reassured him. He turned to Pippin and spoke very softly, hoping that perhaps it would help for the frightened hobbit to face his terror. "What did they do with the scarf Pippin? You don't have to say, but it might help."
"I'd for-for-forgotten!" Pippin finally managed to sob out. "P-p-pu-putted. put it rou-round my-my neck and did. did. things. no stop. can't say." Pippin buried his face in the pillow and sobbed. Very gently Merry eased his arms around the shaking shoulders and gradually moved the tear-covered face to rest upon his own chest, stroking Pippin's back and whispering soft nothings into his pointed ear.
Icicle suddenly whimpered a greeting and, turning towards the door, moved forward on her belly, her tail thumping hard on the floor. The men looked up, Merry was still too preoccupied with his distressed cousin. It was the Lady Galadriel.
The Lady smiled down at the warg and whispered a benediction in Quenyan. Icicle rose and pattered to stand behind Galadriel, as if waiting for a command. The two men turned to face the Elf Queen and bowed their heads in respect. "Estel," she addressed the ranger, "I would speak with you a moment." Aragorn stepped forward, nodding farewell to Boromir, that he should stay with the hobbits.
Galadriel paused for a moment, her head on one side as if listening, holding her hand up to delay the movement. "With both of you, if I may." She stepped forward and placed a hand on Pippin's head, stilling his crying almost instantly. Merry looked up in awe. "Meriadoc," she whispered, "stay and care for your little cousin, he loves and trusts you most of all." Galadriel gave a silvery little laugh. "yes, even more than me," She answered his unvoiced question, "I promise you."
Boromir and Aragorn followed the Lady from the chamber, Icicle too was at her heels, but she shook her head slightly and the white warg gave a small whine and trotted back to lie beside Pippin's bed. The two men descended the flet behind the Woodland Queen, who almost seemed to float down the long staircase, so graceful were her movements.
When they reached the ground they found Legolas, Gimli and Celeborn waiting for them, all had been summoned to a council. Galadriel was seated next to Celeborn and the two men, the elf and the dwarf sat either side of the rulers of the Golden Wood.
"My friends," Galadriel began, "Many have been your troubles and still they increase rather than abate. You have been dealing with these problems as they arise and, against all odds, you have managed well." Galadriel looked around at the four with a half smile. "But I believe the time has come for you to make some important decisions."
Gimli harrumphed a little indicating that he wished to ask a question. The Lady nodded to him. "What of the hobbits? Should not they be here to help make decisions? Their stature may be lacking, but they are not children."
"Indeed, Gimli," The Lady agreed, "They are not children and you should consult them in due course. But for now it would be better for you four to debate the issues before you. Also two of the periain are injured and the other two are caring for them."
Gimli nodded his agreement, while the others merely waited for the Lady to continue. "What I believe you should be considering is The Ring." Her voice was low as she spoke of the evil that was currently in Lothlórien. "Frodo lies grievously ill. It is possible that he may not be able to continue with the Quest at all. Have you considered what will be done if that should happen."
Before they could speak Celeborn elaborated further. "You may have thought on this matter individually, but you must be in agreement. The Ring cannot be allowed to be transferred into the possession of another without due consideration and forethought."
The four looked at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally Legolas broke the silence. "Do you suggest that one of us might consider taking the Ring?" He asked tentatively.
"This," said Galadriel, "is what you must decide. No other may do so - it is up to the Fellowship to make this decision."
"No!" Aragorn was adamant, "I do not believe man, elf or dwarf has the resistance to carry the One Ring. None of us should take it."
"Why not?" Boromir queried, "We could use the Ring in our endeavour to destroy it. Make it a tool in its own destruction."
"Boromir!" Legolas half rose, "You know that is not possible. Why do you persist in this line of argument? We discussed this at the Council of Elrond. We cannot wield the Ring, no one can!"
"How can you know?" Boromir stood and paced up and down. "Maybe if one had the will to contain its power. We could at the very least use its power to avenge ourselves on the orcs who tortured and almost killed Peregrin."
"Boromir," Galadriel spoke softly. "Even the most powerful among us know that the Ring would be the Master. Why do you think that Mithrandir did not bear the Ring? But rather entrusted it to Frodo? Can you guarantee to do what the wizard could not?"
Boromir glanced at his feet for a moment, drew a breath and then sat once again, saying nothing more.
"Do not be upset," Galadriel continued. "I know that the Ring calls to you, you cannot help the impulse that it draws from you. Just be aware of it."
"It must be one of the hobbits," Aragorn declared. "If Frodo cannot continue one of them must. I believe this is why Gandalf spoke in favour of them being part of the Fellowship. He knew that if something were to befall Frodo then another hobbit, a strong and trustworthy hobbit, should take his place.
"So you think there was more to Gandalf arguing in favour of Merry and Pippin, and Samwise for that matter, than just to keep Frodo company?" Gimli asked. "What do you suppose he had in mind exactly?"
"I am only guessing." Aragorn continued, "I think Sam was chosen because he would not forsake Frodo if his life depended on it and he would care for him better than any other being in Middle Earth. We have seen that in evidence ourselves." Aragorn considered for a moment, "Merry and Pippin are a little different. Yes, they are Frodo's cousins and that is important. But in the Shire it is not so unusual, most of them are related in some way. I think it is more significant that Pippin is heir to The Thain and Merry will one day be Master of Buckland."
"So you think he chose them for their status?" Legolas asked in surprise.
"Not just that, but their bloodlines alone mean they come from doughty and noble stock." Aragorn pointed out. "Also they will have been brought up to know that one day they will hold much responsibility and that they must be honourable and true - and so they are."
"But which of the hobbits, if Frodo cannot continue," Boromir cast a look at Aragorn, "which would you choose to bear the Ring?"
"We must decide," Aragorn pointed out, "it is not solely my say. I think we must consider each of them with care."
"Samwise would seem the obvious choice to me." Boromir stated. "He would be steadfast and dedicated to the end."
"But what end?" Legolas asked. "If Frodo were to die, I think he would continue with his master's task, but if Frodo were left incapacitated, I doubt anything would persuade him to leave his side."
"Even if Frodo were to die, I doubt that Samwise would feel it was appropriate for him to become the Ringbearer." Aragorn shook his head. "He would prefer I think to be in a more supportive role to one of the others."
"Which makes him more suitable." Boromir added. "Sam does not put himself forward and is self-effacing and modest - the qualities which enable him to not be drawn by the Ring."
"Aye but surely the Ring itself weaves a bewitchment to suit every purpose." Gimli said, "It would see a weakness in Sam, a lack of ambition, and that might be turned against him in some way."
"Then if not Sam, what of the other two?" Boromir suggested. "Merry would seem the obvious choice."
"Not so obvious," Aragorn contradicted, "Pippin too, has much to suggest that he could complete the Quest. He has shown remarkable resilience to all that has happened to him. I doubt that a man would have even survived. Also he, like Merry, has enough leadership qualities to help him through danger, but, like most hobbits, is lacking in avarice and lust for power."
"But surely he is too ill - too damaged - to even be considered." Legolas was surprised that the ranger should even suggest such a possibility.
"He is at present not capable," Aragorn agreed, "but he is making rapid progress."
"Physically perhaps," Boromir acknowledged, "but what of his mental state? How will you ever know if he has recovered his mind?"
"Then Merry, for sure," Gimli stated, "it must be Meriadoc."
"I do not disagree," Aragorn turned to face the dwarf, "but Pippin's recovery also affects Merry deeply too. Whilst Pippin remains damaged there is a likelihood that Merry will be reluctant to leave him and will not want to take him into further danger."
"Reluctant, yes," Gimli put in, "but he understands duty well and would see that it was for the greater good."
"I believe, based on their current condition," Boromir summed up, "That Merry should be the Ringbearer, Sam should continue with him, while Frodo and Pippin be left here to recuperate."
"That at the moment would seem like the only possible course of action." Aragorn sighed, "but it is not the best choice. I am sure that Merry and Sam would agree to do this, but both of them would be psychologically vulnerable."
"Aragorn is right." Legolas put in. "It cannot have escaped anyone's notice that Frodo completes Sam and Pippin is as the other half of Merry. I have never before observed such closeness in creatures, but hobbits, it appears, form very deep attachments and seem to need the nearness of a particular companion in the same way they need six meals a day."
"With the Fellowship they rarely managed six meals a day," Gimli grunted, "yet they survived."
"Their need for each other is greater than their need for food, I believe." Legolas added quietly.
"Then we should try to wait until either Frodo or Pippin is fully recovered." Aragorn looked at the other three, who all nodded in agreement. "Pippin's wounds are almost healed, but I am unsure of his mental state. As I said earlier, he may never fully recover."
"And if he does not - what then?" Gimli asked, "we should agree what will happen."
"I suggest that if Frodo does not recover, that Meriadoc should be asked to become the Ringbearer." Aragorn stated. "Pippin would naturally defer and follow Merry, just as Sam follows Frodo and if he is too ill to continue then I am sure Sam would agree to help Merry, for Frodo's sake and for the sake of Middle Earth." Aragorn paused to look at the assembled company. "In any event we shall still be with the little ones to guide and help them, right to the end, if fate so decrees." The other three all nodded their assent to this conclusion.
"I think you have reached a wise and good decision." Galadriel spoke after no one else seemed inclined to add more to the discussion. "However, there may still be something we can do to help with Peregrin's recovery. It is a drastic measure and not to be undertaken lightly." The Lady paused to look around at the wondering faces. "But do not think on it just yet. Take the little one to his repast and see how he fares. We will speak of these things again."
With that Galadriel and Celeborn rose and bowed to the four members of the Fellowship and departed to be about their own affairs.
"Well now that's decided, let us go and fetch the little one to his picnic." Boromir raised his eyebrows to Aragorn in question.
"Go and hurry," Legolas smiled. "The food is prepared and might spoil should it wait longer. Gimli and I will set all in readiness."
"You go first Boromir," Aragorn nodded, "I will fetch the clothes Melystra has furnished for Pippin and see if he will agree to be dressed. I shall meet you there."
Boromir hurried up to the healing chamber and found Merry and Pippin once again cuddled up against Icicle. Merry was wearing the scarf around his own neck and Pippin was holding one end of it, as if to prove there was no harm in the garment itself.
"Are you ready Pippin?" Boromir asked quietly so as not to startle the little one. His earlier mistake with the scarf had unnerved him greatly. "The picnic is just about ready. Gimli, Legolas and Sam have worked diligently to prepare a feast fit for a Thain."
"Or a Thain's son." Merry added with a laugh.
"Can I go, really?" Pippin asked Boromir nervously. Then looked to the door as Aragorn entered. "Can I Strider?" he asked. "I should like to."
"Of course you can, Pippin. Now, let's get started, it's quite a long way down." stated Aragorn. "Oh, but before we go, Melystra bade me give you these, Pippin." Aragorn unfolded the parcel he was carrying to reveal Pippin's old clothes, washed, repaired, and folded neatly. "Now you won't have to go about the Golden Wood in naught but a shirt. Here, let's get these on." He held out the small pair of breeches, now very clean, with the rips sewn up.
Pippin's breath began to come in slightly faster gasps as he looked at his breeches. Looked, and remembered. He thought about how hard he had fought in the rocks to keep his clothes and dignity, failing miserably. His clothes hadn't helped at all. They had come off so easily, when they were supposed to protect him! They had betrayed him, especially his breeches. They had come off and allowed the orcs to...to...
"Pippin!" cried Merry in alarm. Pippin was quivering more so now than he had been when the scarf was around his neck. His breathing was shallow and quick, his eyes were glassy, and his face was gaining an awful pallor.
Aragorn acted quickly. He grabbed Pippin from Merry and held his chin in one hand, forcing Pippin to look into his eyes. "Pippin! Come back to us. You're safe now, Pippin. Come back!" When Pippin's breathing didn't slow, Aragorn finally resorted to a few rather sharp pats to the hobbit's cheek. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Pippin's body untensed, and his eyes lost their far away look. "Shh, Pippin," Aragorn crooned, now rubbing his back. "What's the matter? Don't you want to get dressed?"
Pippin bowed his head, not meeting the Ranger's eyes, and nodded.
"You don't want to wear your own old clothes, do you Pippin?" This time Pippin shook his head. "I understand, little one, it's all right." Aragorn was trying to gently bring Pippin out of his private torture.
Pippin felt a tear squeeze out of his eye. Why couldn't he stop crying? It was one thing to cry with Merry, but he didn't want to cry in front of Boromir and Aragorn. He wanted so much for them to think well of him, and to think him worthy to be in the Fellowship. He drew a shuddering breath, and brought his hand up to surreptitiously wipe the tear away. To his dismay, he found that action only brought more tears than he could handle. However, he still kept his lips firmly sealed and attempted to stifle the noises welling up from his throat. Now more than ever, he wished for his longer hair back, it would have hidden his childish crying from the others. Now they must think him a whining baby. At these thoughts a new glut of misery welled up and lodged in his chest, forming a difficult lump in his throat.
Aragorn watched Pippin with pity. The poor little halfling's face had twisted oddly into the expression someone has when they are trying very hard not to weep. Aragorn hugged Pippin close. "You can cry, Pippin. Truly, it's all right to grieve." Pippin felt the floodgates open at Strider's words. He could not control the sobs that heaved through his tiny frame, echoing up from the depths of his broken little soul.
"Huh-uh-huh-h-ii-I'm so s-s-sorry Strider! So sorry, sorry, sorry..." Pippin babbled incoherently while the tall ranger rocked and soothed him. They remained like that for several minutes, with Merry rubbing Pippin's back, and Boromir looking on. When Pippin's weeping finally stilled, Aragorn looked over his head at Boromir.
"Boromir, would you be so kind as to bring the robe Melystra included with the garments for this eventuality?" Boromir nodded curtly and reached into the pack that had held the garments, and pulled out a long, silvery, embroidered robe, that fastened with a tie around the waist, and small pair of soft, grey under-breeches that had a tie string. He brought these to Aragorn.
"Here, Pippin. We were given these in the event you did not wish to wear your old clothes." Aragorn gently prised Pippin from his tunic and with Merry's help got the breeches on, and tied the elves' robe about his middle. Pippin examined the silvery-green fabric and patterns with great interest.
Aragorn drew another item from the package. "Here are some smaller stockings that were made for you too, they will keep your feet warm but shouldn't fall off so easily."
Merry looked Pippin up and down. "There now, Pip. Don't you look handsome! Why, I don't even think Sam will recognise you in that."
Pippin's eyes opened wide. "Am- am I really handsome, in this Merry? I- I thought with my hair." Pippin's voice cracked a bit as he struggled to get around the lump in his throat. "I c-couldn't possibly look nice. And after, aft-t-ter the orcs, I always feel so ugly..."
"Oh, Pip," Merry gave his cousin a reassuring hug. "You're never anything other than beautiful. Why, if you walked about the Shire like this, the lasses would be chasing you through all the four Farthings!"
"That's right, Pippin." Boromir added. "Now with your healer's approval, may I have the honour of carrying you to your repast?" Both Aragorn and Pippin nodded and Boromir leaned over and scooped up Pippin gently, cradling the hobbit carefully in his arms. Pippin reached up and linked his arms behind the strong man's neck. Boromir smiled down at his trusting little charge, and led the way out of the room, with the others following closely.
0-****-0
TBC
Reveiwer responses:
katakanadian: Hmm, I'll have to think about what Sam could be really good at...conkers? Heehee- read Llinos and Marigold's 'Hobbits Abroad' to get that joke. P'raps if we all pester them enough they'll write another chapter! URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1057933
shirebound: I'm so happy you've stuck with me through all these chapters. Well, think about it, Leggie and Gimli have had many more years than Sam to learn cooking, and they are both bachelors.
Mistofelees: Heehee, that was a funny image of Gimli. The only thing missing would be a mobcap.
Hel: Hertzliche Weinachten! (I do hope I did that right! I've forgotten most of my German holiday greetings, I'm afraid.)
Bella Monte: No, Icicle's not supposed to be that. She's just a regular white wolf, like the one's that invaded the Shire in the fell winter. I've always thought of wargs as any evil wolf. But obviously Icy's not evil, so we'll have to think of another species name for her!
Lily Baggins: Yay for Frodo angst! More coming, and I still haven't forgotten about your promised story, hon. No fear!
Authors: Kookaburra & Llinos
Beta: Marigold
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any of the characters.
***
Melystra smiled as she entered the bedchamber where Aragorn and Boromir were taking their rest. Both men were sound asleep and she moved silently, as only an elf can, to lay the bundle of clothes for Peregrin on the foot of the ranger's bed.
As Melystra laid the neat bundle on the counterpane, the slight weight upon the man's foot had an alarming result. Aragorn turned abruptly, rolling from the bed and drawing his dagger in the same instant, until he was crouched alert and ready to kill, facing the startled elven healer. For a heartbeat his face was drawn into a snarl, but replaced almost immediately with a look of contrition as soon as he realised who the intruder was.
"My apologies, fair lady," Aragorn lowered the dagger and bowed his head. "Many years of sleeping in the wild have indoctrinated habits which are difficult to break."
"No, it is I who should apologise," Melystra had not thought for a moment that her light footfalls or discreet placing of the parcel would wake anyone. "I did not mean to disturb you."
Boromir too, was by now awake, although not as primed for attack as Aragorn, he was, like most soldiers, a light sleeper. "It is no matter," he stretched his arms, "I am sure it is time for us to rise, we must have slept long enough for the meal to be ready."
"What is in the parcel?" Aragorn fingered the neatly wrapped bundle. "Pippin's clothes?"
"Yes," Melystra confirmed, "not only his old things, washed and repaired, but also some clothing that should fit him should he not wish to wear the garments he had on when he was attacked."
"You are very wise," Aragorn smiled at the beautiful elven woman, "I had thought to offer him his old clothes, but he may well reject them."
"I have knitted him some new stockings as well," Melystra gave a small laugh, "I fear yours will be something of a handicap to the perian should he try to walk far."
Aragorn smiled in return at the thought; "Yes they are rather large for him. You are most kind."
-0****0-
Aragorn and Boromir entered the chamber where they had left Pippin, Merry, and Icicle. Merry was leaning against Icicle, while Pippin was leaning against Merry, the former's arms snugly around his waist. Pippin held a sheet of paper in his hands, following lines of script with his finger while Merry whispered into a little pointed ear. All three raised their heads at the intrusion.
"Hello Merry, Pippin," Aragorn gave an elegant bow to the warg, "Milady Icicle". He smiled at the hobbits, "How are you feeling, Pippin?" The ranger moved over to the bedside and took Pippin's wrist, checking his pulse.
Pippin glanced at Merry, still not always sure when he was allowed to talk, and when he was not. Merry gave him a nod and a nudge for reassurance. "I-I feel...um..." Pippin was unsure what to say. He did not feel 'good', as he still hurt badly in many places, and he did not feel 'bad' as he was with Merry and Umumum. "...better." He finally said. It was the truth. He felt better than he had when he was with the orcs, after all.
Aragorn realised that he would have to be more specific with Pippin. The ranger settled himself on the edge of the bed, brushing away the fringe of the canopy that drooped annoyingly into his eyes. "I'm going to have to look at your wounds Pippin. If you are well, and healed enough, you can go down to the ground, where Legolas, Gimli, and Sam have made you a picnic. Would you like that? You could see the green grass and flowers of Lothlórien. This is a beautiful place, Pippin."
Pippin's eyes widened. Stealing another glance at Merry for reassurance, he answered, "R-really, truly, Strider? C-could I get out of bed? B-but what if I'm bad, and n-n-not well enough?" Pippin cast his eyes down, and he swirled a finger on the coverlet's embroidery pattern. "Will I not be allowed to eat?"
Sighing, Aragorn reached out and tilted Pippin's fallen chin up, so the hobbit had to meet his eyes. "Pippin you are not bad - you never have been."
Merry added his voice to Aragorn's, "you've been ill Pippin, my love and you're still recovering."
If you are not well enough, Master Peregrin, then we will simply move the entire feast up here." Aragorn assured him. "Now, you must take off your nightshirt, Pippin. I need to see your injuries."
"Here, Pip" Merry murmured. "I'll help you. Just relax." Pippin indeed looked quite tense at the thought of taking off his nightshirt. He let his hands fall to the cover, while Merry's nimble fingers made short work of the small buttons. Aragorn let Merry carry on. He felt that it would be better mentally for the hurt hobbit if familiar hands did most of the care. When Merry was finished with the buttons, Boromir came to the other side of the bed, and lifted the cover, so that Pippin could climb under before he was completely undressed. Aragorn mentally cursed the vile orcs for the millionth time as he ran down the list of physical hurts.
"How much does the cut on your stomach hurt, Pippin? Think of it as from Bree to Hobbiton. Bree is when it first happened and Hobbiton is no pain at all." Aragorn smiled as he saw Pippin puzzling through the strange analogy he had given him.
Pippin thought for a moment. "Frogmorton normally, Brandywine Bridge when I move." "How are your burns feeling?" As Aragorn asked this, he pulled aside the sheet, and examined them for signs of infection.
"Th-they're a...bit sore, and very stiff when I move. But not as bad as before!" Pippin added hurriedly, desperate to be counted well enough to go and have a picnic.
"That's very good. It means they are healing up now. Try not to disturb them too much Pippin. Now, I need to see in your mouth." Aragorn opened Pippin's mouth gently with one finger and peered inside. Pippin's eyes rolled a bit in anxiety, his dreams reminded him all too well of what happened whenever his mouth was forced open. However, other than the healing abrasions, Aragorn found no new injuries, and his fingers felt no breakage as he gently and carefully probed Pippin's jaw. There was too much swelling before to be totally sure nothing was broken, although the ranger had worried at the damage that might have been caused by the terrible gag.
Aragorn nodded, and placed a hand on Pippin's shoulder, turning the halfling over, simultaneously putting a pillow under his stomach to ease the tension on the stitches. Then he carefully drew down the covers to reveal the whip marks. Pippin whimpered and Merry flinched. Meriadoc still got a bit light-headed at the sight of the horrid wounds that had been inflicted on his cousin.
Boromir patted Pippin's shoulder, the one spot that was relatively hurt free, except for a dark purple bite mark. "There, there, little one. You're doing fine, Pippin." Pippin twisted his head around to gaze up at the big man.
"Really, Boromir? Am I?" The Gondorian chuckled. At least one thing had not changed, Pippin's need for reassurance. Even at the beginning of the journey he had noticed it. The incorrigible little perian would pester him endlessly to repeat the good points of that day's sword fighting lesson.
"Yes, Pippin. You've done wonderfully. You are a fine and brave warrior and you would make a knight such as Gondor would be proud to own. You have a tenacity and courage such as I have rarely witnessed," answered Boromir. Pippin seemed a bit overwhelmed by such praise, he blushed and half-buried his face into the pillow again, peeping out with one eye.
"Thank you, Boromir." came the muffled reply from the pillow. Merry smiled up at the large warrior.
"Yes, especially for making Pippin feel special." At Merry's words Boromir looked a bit startled.
"I did not say those things merely to make Pippin feel special, Merry. I mean it." Boromir smiled back at Merry warmly, "Pippin is very brave. I do not know of any of my guard who could have faced what he has, and come through it with such courage."
"He is brave isn't he." Merry agreed. "Just because hobbits are small does not mean they are not capable of great things."
Though he hated to interrupt the touching exchange, there was one last thing that needed Aragorn's attention. "Everything is very good so far Pippin. But now I just need to look at your rear. Is that all right with you?" Aragorn had decided to ask Pippin for permission before doing anything major with his body, to give the hobbit a sense of control again.
Pippin paled visibly and bit his lip. He then appeared to have to swallow a few times before he could answer in a whisper, "Y-yes, it's all right, Strider." Pippin shoved his face farther into the pillow. He had been trying to ignore the shooting, fiery pains that still plagued him, and their cause.
Boromir's hand tightened on Pippin's shoulder, even as Merry squirmed around to hug Pippin closely and murmured into his ear. "Don't worry, Pip. I've got you...shhh..." Merry held his trembling cousin as tightly as he dared, and Pippin reached out an arm and gripped him right back. Strider drew out a small vial of oil, and a soft cloth he had had ready in his pocket. Boromir moved his hand to Pippin's head, stroking the soft, shortened curls in a soothing manner, as Aragorn removed the covers from Pippin's rear.
Merry had been doing his best to not look at this damaged area and concentrate on his cousin's upper body, but he couldn't miss Boromir's sharp intake of breath and the Gondorian's flinch.
Boromir had not seen the damage recently. His blood boiled in rage at what had been done to his little one. The dark bruising that had covered Pippin's buttocks was now mottled with sickly green and yellow splotches. A wide scrape that originated around Pippin's pelvis ran all the way into his cleft - Boromir could not think of how even orcs could have done something so heinous to such an innocent little creature as Pippin.
Pippin squeezed his eyes shut as the first draft of cold air hit his exposed posterior. This was the first time he was fully aware during an examination of this nature. Though he was trembling, Merry's hold on him and Boromir's comforting hand helped keep the memories at bay.
After ensuring that there was no more new bleeding or complications aside from a mild infection, Aragorn reached over to the vial of oil and cloth. Working as quickly as he could, the Ranger unstoppered the oil and soaked the gauze with the fragrant liquid. He then pressed the cloth against Pippin's sore opening. At the touch, Pippin convulsed and cried out softly. Aragorn steadied his hips with a gentle but firm hand.
"Hush, little one. This will make you feel better and help you heal, shush now..." Pippin stilled, but Merry could feel the vibrations from his soft keening.
Aragorn gently worked the oil soaked cloth further into the damaged area, making sure that he stopped each time Pippin winced too violently. Merry's eyes flitted anxiously from the ranger to his small cousin and Icicle growled softly each time her cub cried out, although she made no move to intervene.
When Aragorn had finished he gently replaced the cover over Pippin and examined the cloth. It was stained pink in several places, showing that there was still some mild bleeding in places, but not enough to be concerned about. The bleeding would help clean the anal wounds better than anything he could do. The ranger placed the used cloth in a laundry hamper, and washed his hands in a basin of water sitting on a sideboard. He looked back over at the hobbits and Boromir. Pippin still had his face pressed into the pillow, and Merry and Boromir seemed to be attempting to get him to emerge. Even Icicle was trying to help; she had squirmed around and was now licking Pippin's ear and neck. Sighing, Aragorn sat down on the edge of the bed once more, and rubbed the shoulder Boromir had earlier.
"You know, Pippin," Aragorn said softly, leaning close to the quivering curls sprouting from the cushion, "it's rather hard to eat a picnic with a pillow over one's mouth."
Pippin's head gradually turned out from the pillow. "D-d-does that mean I can go to the picnic, Strider? Am I good enough? Truly?"
Merry reached out and drew his now upright little cousin in for a squeeze. "You are always good enough for anything, Pip."
Now that the treatment was ended, Aragorn nodded to Merry to put the nightshirt back on. "Perhaps we should find you some better clothes to wear now that you are so much recovered." Aragorn told him, "Would you like that?"
Pippin nodded and, pulling himself up the bed as soon as Merry had put the nightshirt back on, drew his scarf from under his pillow. "I still got my scarf, Strider." He stroked the knitted fabric and held it to his face.
Boromir leaned over and taking one end of the muffler wrapped it playfully around Pippin's neck. One moment Pippin was smiling and then he suddenly froze, his happy face turning to ice in a second. His hands flew to his throat and he let out a scream as he tore at the scarf trying to pull it away from his neck, but his actions only tightened it more.
"Pippin! Stop!" Merry frantically pleaded as he too tried to unwrap the scarf in the right direction to remove it. Icicle snarled at Boromir and bared her fangs, making the man jump nervously back and away from the bed, while Aragorn struggled to catch hold of Pippin's arms and keep him still.
"It's all right Pippin," Aragorn managed to clamp down on the little hobbit's flailing arms while Merry untangled the scarf from around his neck. "You didn't actually wear it since you got it back, did you? Just held it. I know little one, it's all right." Aragorn let Merry take over holding Pippin, as he did not want to crowd him in this state and waited until his breathing began to calm down to a reasonable level.
"I'm so sorry," Boromir was mortified. "I did not realise that would cause so much distress."
"I don't think any of us did." Aragorn reassured him. He turned to Pippin and spoke very softly, hoping that perhaps it would help for the frightened hobbit to face his terror. "What did they do with the scarf Pippin? You don't have to say, but it might help."
"I'd for-for-forgotten!" Pippin finally managed to sob out. "P-p-pu-putted. put it rou-round my-my neck and did. did. things. no stop. can't say." Pippin buried his face in the pillow and sobbed. Very gently Merry eased his arms around the shaking shoulders and gradually moved the tear-covered face to rest upon his own chest, stroking Pippin's back and whispering soft nothings into his pointed ear.
Icicle suddenly whimpered a greeting and, turning towards the door, moved forward on her belly, her tail thumping hard on the floor. The men looked up, Merry was still too preoccupied with his distressed cousin. It was the Lady Galadriel.
The Lady smiled down at the warg and whispered a benediction in Quenyan. Icicle rose and pattered to stand behind Galadriel, as if waiting for a command. The two men turned to face the Elf Queen and bowed their heads in respect. "Estel," she addressed the ranger, "I would speak with you a moment." Aragorn stepped forward, nodding farewell to Boromir, that he should stay with the hobbits.
Galadriel paused for a moment, her head on one side as if listening, holding her hand up to delay the movement. "With both of you, if I may." She stepped forward and placed a hand on Pippin's head, stilling his crying almost instantly. Merry looked up in awe. "Meriadoc," she whispered, "stay and care for your little cousin, he loves and trusts you most of all." Galadriel gave a silvery little laugh. "yes, even more than me," She answered his unvoiced question, "I promise you."
Boromir and Aragorn followed the Lady from the chamber, Icicle too was at her heels, but she shook her head slightly and the white warg gave a small whine and trotted back to lie beside Pippin's bed. The two men descended the flet behind the Woodland Queen, who almost seemed to float down the long staircase, so graceful were her movements.
When they reached the ground they found Legolas, Gimli and Celeborn waiting for them, all had been summoned to a council. Galadriel was seated next to Celeborn and the two men, the elf and the dwarf sat either side of the rulers of the Golden Wood.
"My friends," Galadriel began, "Many have been your troubles and still they increase rather than abate. You have been dealing with these problems as they arise and, against all odds, you have managed well." Galadriel looked around at the four with a half smile. "But I believe the time has come for you to make some important decisions."
Gimli harrumphed a little indicating that he wished to ask a question. The Lady nodded to him. "What of the hobbits? Should not they be here to help make decisions? Their stature may be lacking, but they are not children."
"Indeed, Gimli," The Lady agreed, "They are not children and you should consult them in due course. But for now it would be better for you four to debate the issues before you. Also two of the periain are injured and the other two are caring for them."
Gimli nodded his agreement, while the others merely waited for the Lady to continue. "What I believe you should be considering is The Ring." Her voice was low as she spoke of the evil that was currently in Lothlórien. "Frodo lies grievously ill. It is possible that he may not be able to continue with the Quest at all. Have you considered what will be done if that should happen."
Before they could speak Celeborn elaborated further. "You may have thought on this matter individually, but you must be in agreement. The Ring cannot be allowed to be transferred into the possession of another without due consideration and forethought."
The four looked at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally Legolas broke the silence. "Do you suggest that one of us might consider taking the Ring?" He asked tentatively.
"This," said Galadriel, "is what you must decide. No other may do so - it is up to the Fellowship to make this decision."
"No!" Aragorn was adamant, "I do not believe man, elf or dwarf has the resistance to carry the One Ring. None of us should take it."
"Why not?" Boromir queried, "We could use the Ring in our endeavour to destroy it. Make it a tool in its own destruction."
"Boromir!" Legolas half rose, "You know that is not possible. Why do you persist in this line of argument? We discussed this at the Council of Elrond. We cannot wield the Ring, no one can!"
"How can you know?" Boromir stood and paced up and down. "Maybe if one had the will to contain its power. We could at the very least use its power to avenge ourselves on the orcs who tortured and almost killed Peregrin."
"Boromir," Galadriel spoke softly. "Even the most powerful among us know that the Ring would be the Master. Why do you think that Mithrandir did not bear the Ring? But rather entrusted it to Frodo? Can you guarantee to do what the wizard could not?"
Boromir glanced at his feet for a moment, drew a breath and then sat once again, saying nothing more.
"Do not be upset," Galadriel continued. "I know that the Ring calls to you, you cannot help the impulse that it draws from you. Just be aware of it."
"It must be one of the hobbits," Aragorn declared. "If Frodo cannot continue one of them must. I believe this is why Gandalf spoke in favour of them being part of the Fellowship. He knew that if something were to befall Frodo then another hobbit, a strong and trustworthy hobbit, should take his place.
"So you think there was more to Gandalf arguing in favour of Merry and Pippin, and Samwise for that matter, than just to keep Frodo company?" Gimli asked. "What do you suppose he had in mind exactly?"
"I am only guessing." Aragorn continued, "I think Sam was chosen because he would not forsake Frodo if his life depended on it and he would care for him better than any other being in Middle Earth. We have seen that in evidence ourselves." Aragorn considered for a moment, "Merry and Pippin are a little different. Yes, they are Frodo's cousins and that is important. But in the Shire it is not so unusual, most of them are related in some way. I think it is more significant that Pippin is heir to The Thain and Merry will one day be Master of Buckland."
"So you think he chose them for their status?" Legolas asked in surprise.
"Not just that, but their bloodlines alone mean they come from doughty and noble stock." Aragorn pointed out. "Also they will have been brought up to know that one day they will hold much responsibility and that they must be honourable and true - and so they are."
"But which of the hobbits, if Frodo cannot continue," Boromir cast a look at Aragorn, "which would you choose to bear the Ring?"
"We must decide," Aragorn pointed out, "it is not solely my say. I think we must consider each of them with care."
"Samwise would seem the obvious choice to me." Boromir stated. "He would be steadfast and dedicated to the end."
"But what end?" Legolas asked. "If Frodo were to die, I think he would continue with his master's task, but if Frodo were left incapacitated, I doubt anything would persuade him to leave his side."
"Even if Frodo were to die, I doubt that Samwise would feel it was appropriate for him to become the Ringbearer." Aragorn shook his head. "He would prefer I think to be in a more supportive role to one of the others."
"Which makes him more suitable." Boromir added. "Sam does not put himself forward and is self-effacing and modest - the qualities which enable him to not be drawn by the Ring."
"Aye but surely the Ring itself weaves a bewitchment to suit every purpose." Gimli said, "It would see a weakness in Sam, a lack of ambition, and that might be turned against him in some way."
"Then if not Sam, what of the other two?" Boromir suggested. "Merry would seem the obvious choice."
"Not so obvious," Aragorn contradicted, "Pippin too, has much to suggest that he could complete the Quest. He has shown remarkable resilience to all that has happened to him. I doubt that a man would have even survived. Also he, like Merry, has enough leadership qualities to help him through danger, but, like most hobbits, is lacking in avarice and lust for power."
"But surely he is too ill - too damaged - to even be considered." Legolas was surprised that the ranger should even suggest such a possibility.
"He is at present not capable," Aragorn agreed, "but he is making rapid progress."
"Physically perhaps," Boromir acknowledged, "but what of his mental state? How will you ever know if he has recovered his mind?"
"Then Merry, for sure," Gimli stated, "it must be Meriadoc."
"I do not disagree," Aragorn turned to face the dwarf, "but Pippin's recovery also affects Merry deeply too. Whilst Pippin remains damaged there is a likelihood that Merry will be reluctant to leave him and will not want to take him into further danger."
"Reluctant, yes," Gimli put in, "but he understands duty well and would see that it was for the greater good."
"I believe, based on their current condition," Boromir summed up, "That Merry should be the Ringbearer, Sam should continue with him, while Frodo and Pippin be left here to recuperate."
"That at the moment would seem like the only possible course of action." Aragorn sighed, "but it is not the best choice. I am sure that Merry and Sam would agree to do this, but both of them would be psychologically vulnerable."
"Aragorn is right." Legolas put in. "It cannot have escaped anyone's notice that Frodo completes Sam and Pippin is as the other half of Merry. I have never before observed such closeness in creatures, but hobbits, it appears, form very deep attachments and seem to need the nearness of a particular companion in the same way they need six meals a day."
"With the Fellowship they rarely managed six meals a day," Gimli grunted, "yet they survived."
"Their need for each other is greater than their need for food, I believe." Legolas added quietly.
"Then we should try to wait until either Frodo or Pippin is fully recovered." Aragorn looked at the other three, who all nodded in agreement. "Pippin's wounds are almost healed, but I am unsure of his mental state. As I said earlier, he may never fully recover."
"And if he does not - what then?" Gimli asked, "we should agree what will happen."
"I suggest that if Frodo does not recover, that Meriadoc should be asked to become the Ringbearer." Aragorn stated. "Pippin would naturally defer and follow Merry, just as Sam follows Frodo and if he is too ill to continue then I am sure Sam would agree to help Merry, for Frodo's sake and for the sake of Middle Earth." Aragorn paused to look at the assembled company. "In any event we shall still be with the little ones to guide and help them, right to the end, if fate so decrees." The other three all nodded their assent to this conclusion.
"I think you have reached a wise and good decision." Galadriel spoke after no one else seemed inclined to add more to the discussion. "However, there may still be something we can do to help with Peregrin's recovery. It is a drastic measure and not to be undertaken lightly." The Lady paused to look around at the wondering faces. "But do not think on it just yet. Take the little one to his repast and see how he fares. We will speak of these things again."
With that Galadriel and Celeborn rose and bowed to the four members of the Fellowship and departed to be about their own affairs.
"Well now that's decided, let us go and fetch the little one to his picnic." Boromir raised his eyebrows to Aragorn in question.
"Go and hurry," Legolas smiled. "The food is prepared and might spoil should it wait longer. Gimli and I will set all in readiness."
"You go first Boromir," Aragorn nodded, "I will fetch the clothes Melystra has furnished for Pippin and see if he will agree to be dressed. I shall meet you there."
Boromir hurried up to the healing chamber and found Merry and Pippin once again cuddled up against Icicle. Merry was wearing the scarf around his own neck and Pippin was holding one end of it, as if to prove there was no harm in the garment itself.
"Are you ready Pippin?" Boromir asked quietly so as not to startle the little one. His earlier mistake with the scarf had unnerved him greatly. "The picnic is just about ready. Gimli, Legolas and Sam have worked diligently to prepare a feast fit for a Thain."
"Or a Thain's son." Merry added with a laugh.
"Can I go, really?" Pippin asked Boromir nervously. Then looked to the door as Aragorn entered. "Can I Strider?" he asked. "I should like to."
"Of course you can, Pippin. Now, let's get started, it's quite a long way down." stated Aragorn. "Oh, but before we go, Melystra bade me give you these, Pippin." Aragorn unfolded the parcel he was carrying to reveal Pippin's old clothes, washed, repaired, and folded neatly. "Now you won't have to go about the Golden Wood in naught but a shirt. Here, let's get these on." He held out the small pair of breeches, now very clean, with the rips sewn up.
Pippin's breath began to come in slightly faster gasps as he looked at his breeches. Looked, and remembered. He thought about how hard he had fought in the rocks to keep his clothes and dignity, failing miserably. His clothes hadn't helped at all. They had come off so easily, when they were supposed to protect him! They had betrayed him, especially his breeches. They had come off and allowed the orcs to...to...
"Pippin!" cried Merry in alarm. Pippin was quivering more so now than he had been when the scarf was around his neck. His breathing was shallow and quick, his eyes were glassy, and his face was gaining an awful pallor.
Aragorn acted quickly. He grabbed Pippin from Merry and held his chin in one hand, forcing Pippin to look into his eyes. "Pippin! Come back to us. You're safe now, Pippin. Come back!" When Pippin's breathing didn't slow, Aragorn finally resorted to a few rather sharp pats to the hobbit's cheek. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Pippin's body untensed, and his eyes lost their far away look. "Shh, Pippin," Aragorn crooned, now rubbing his back. "What's the matter? Don't you want to get dressed?"
Pippin bowed his head, not meeting the Ranger's eyes, and nodded.
"You don't want to wear your own old clothes, do you Pippin?" This time Pippin shook his head. "I understand, little one, it's all right." Aragorn was trying to gently bring Pippin out of his private torture.
Pippin felt a tear squeeze out of his eye. Why couldn't he stop crying? It was one thing to cry with Merry, but he didn't want to cry in front of Boromir and Aragorn. He wanted so much for them to think well of him, and to think him worthy to be in the Fellowship. He drew a shuddering breath, and brought his hand up to surreptitiously wipe the tear away. To his dismay, he found that action only brought more tears than he could handle. However, he still kept his lips firmly sealed and attempted to stifle the noises welling up from his throat. Now more than ever, he wished for his longer hair back, it would have hidden his childish crying from the others. Now they must think him a whining baby. At these thoughts a new glut of misery welled up and lodged in his chest, forming a difficult lump in his throat.
Aragorn watched Pippin with pity. The poor little halfling's face had twisted oddly into the expression someone has when they are trying very hard not to weep. Aragorn hugged Pippin close. "You can cry, Pippin. Truly, it's all right to grieve." Pippin felt the floodgates open at Strider's words. He could not control the sobs that heaved through his tiny frame, echoing up from the depths of his broken little soul.
"Huh-uh-huh-h-ii-I'm so s-s-sorry Strider! So sorry, sorry, sorry..." Pippin babbled incoherently while the tall ranger rocked and soothed him. They remained like that for several minutes, with Merry rubbing Pippin's back, and Boromir looking on. When Pippin's weeping finally stilled, Aragorn looked over his head at Boromir.
"Boromir, would you be so kind as to bring the robe Melystra included with the garments for this eventuality?" Boromir nodded curtly and reached into the pack that had held the garments, and pulled out a long, silvery, embroidered robe, that fastened with a tie around the waist, and small pair of soft, grey under-breeches that had a tie string. He brought these to Aragorn.
"Here, Pippin. We were given these in the event you did not wish to wear your old clothes." Aragorn gently prised Pippin from his tunic and with Merry's help got the breeches on, and tied the elves' robe about his middle. Pippin examined the silvery-green fabric and patterns with great interest.
Aragorn drew another item from the package. "Here are some smaller stockings that were made for you too, they will keep your feet warm but shouldn't fall off so easily."
Merry looked Pippin up and down. "There now, Pip. Don't you look handsome! Why, I don't even think Sam will recognise you in that."
Pippin's eyes opened wide. "Am- am I really handsome, in this Merry? I- I thought with my hair." Pippin's voice cracked a bit as he struggled to get around the lump in his throat. "I c-couldn't possibly look nice. And after, aft-t-ter the orcs, I always feel so ugly..."
"Oh, Pip," Merry gave his cousin a reassuring hug. "You're never anything other than beautiful. Why, if you walked about the Shire like this, the lasses would be chasing you through all the four Farthings!"
"That's right, Pippin." Boromir added. "Now with your healer's approval, may I have the honour of carrying you to your repast?" Both Aragorn and Pippin nodded and Boromir leaned over and scooped up Pippin gently, cradling the hobbit carefully in his arms. Pippin reached up and linked his arms behind the strong man's neck. Boromir smiled down at his trusting little charge, and led the way out of the room, with the others following closely.
0-****-0
TBC
Reveiwer responses:
katakanadian: Hmm, I'll have to think about what Sam could be really good at...conkers? Heehee- read Llinos and Marigold's 'Hobbits Abroad' to get that joke. P'raps if we all pester them enough they'll write another chapter! URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1057933
shirebound: I'm so happy you've stuck with me through all these chapters. Well, think about it, Leggie and Gimli have had many more years than Sam to learn cooking, and they are both bachelors.
Mistofelees: Heehee, that was a funny image of Gimli. The only thing missing would be a mobcap.
Hel: Hertzliche Weinachten! (I do hope I did that right! I've forgotten most of my German holiday greetings, I'm afraid.)
Bella Monte: No, Icicle's not supposed to be that. She's just a regular white wolf, like the one's that invaded the Shire in the fell winter. I've always thought of wargs as any evil wolf. But obviously Icy's not evil, so we'll have to think of another species name for her!
Lily Baggins: Yay for Frodo angst! More coming, and I still haven't forgotten about your promised story, hon. No fear!