Author's note:

Of course the few lines of the song are not mine, but Tolkien's. I should be so talented. Again, the characters and the lines of the song are not, repeat, not mine. I get nothing from this but the pleasure of visiting with old friends in Middle Earth, and I humbly beg for reviews. It fuels the muse.

The Dance part two

When Boromir and Pippin first knocked, then walked into the room where Merry was waiting, they couldn't help but be chagrined. There sat Merry, cool, calm and collected and looking absolutely perfect. Not only absolutely perfect, but perfectly content. Merry knew he looked perfect. No fussing and worrying for him.

"By the Light!" Boromir muttered under his breath.

"You would know it, wouldn't you?" Pippin agreed.

Merry laughed at them. "Well, it's not my fault I'm so handsome! You needn't disapprove so."

"How?" Pippin asked, "How do you do it? I've never understood."

"Simple, my dear ass. I have confidence. You have always worried overmuch, Pippin, though you try not to show it." replied Merry. "And you, Boromir! You look as though you are about to bolt. One would think a Man such as yourself wouldn't suffer such restlessness. Get a hold of yourself, my dear fellow!"

Boromir sighed. "You, too? Pippin only just said the same. Am I so awful, then?"

"You are, you are." Merry nodded his head, smiling. "What you need is a little wine."

"Yes, some wine!" The big man rubbed his hands together.

Merry stuck his head out of the door, captured a cousin by the elbow, and asked for wine to be brought to the room. Soon enough, the three were sipping their wine, and this companionable act seemed to calm Boromir a bit, but not enough to suit Merry. He'd had enough experience looking out for Pippin to know what to do; he found Men and hobbits were not so different, no more than lads and adults, really.

A story, then. Stories had always calmed Pippin, provided they weren't too exciting or frightening. It always worked for Pippin, even to this day, and it worked just as well on Borry and Faro. He'd even used this little trick once or twice with Estella. She'd caught on soon enough, but found she liked it when Merry would ease her mind with a story of some pleasant memory. A story, then, it was, something nice, some nice memory. Something they had in common, something that would make the big southerner forget to be worried for a while.

Storytelling for adults, however, was not quite as it was for young ones. You couldn't just say once upon a time, after all. One must make the listener a part of the tale. This was otherwise known as "drawing someone into a conversation" but it worked out the same, in the end.

"This is very good wine," Merry began, "Not exactly miruvor, but nonetheless, very, very good!"

"Miruvor," Boromir said, "It's been a while since I thought of that, I can tell you! What a miserable reason to drink such a fine cordial, but what good it did! That was a night to remember, now."

Merry inwardly congratulated himself. He like to make his listeners think they had thought of the story, themselves. Somehow, the listener seemed to enjoy a tale more when they thought they had called up the memory themselves.

"What a miserable night that was," Pippin said. He had curled up on the bed, since there was only one chair in the room. Boromir took a seat on the edge of the bed. He was beginning to relax, but Merry noted he seemed to be more perching than sitting. Right. Time to get the story going.

"Do you remember the fire? How happy we were to have had it? I dare say it definitely saved our lives." Merry prodded.

"Do I ever remember it!" Pippin said. He raised his glass to Boromir. "To good old Boromir! If he had not insisted we take as much wood as we could carry…"

"You praise me overmuch," Boromir said. "I only tried to show a little common sense."

"Well, it was uncommon sense if you ask me," said Merry. "Do you remember, Boromir, when we were standing around the fire…"

Boromir chuckled, and now Merry could see him loosen up. He stopped perching and settled back comfortably. "Do I remember?" Boromir said, and took a sip of wine. He rolled the wine around in his mouth and savored the taste, and Merry was quite sure he was also savoring the memory now…

The fire had begun to crackle merrily, though they were all quite miserable and huddled about the fire trying to drive away the painful cold that seemed to worm its way through every stitch and hem in their garments. Of all the Fellowship, Boromir seemed best equipped to deal with the cold, perhaps because of his fur-lined cape. He had herded his hobbits ahead and now had them standing just in front of him, right by the fire. He used his big body as a screen to shield them from the blast of freezing wind. A piece of wood cracked and crackled, and sent large sparks out as it was fully consumed by the flames. It settled, and as it did, a few bits of burning charcoal rolled out of the fire pit. They were caught by a gust and blown right under his hobbits. Merry nimbly stepped aside, but Pippin had backed up and tripped on Boromir's feet, falling on his rear end in the snow.

"Hoy, Master Took!" Boromir said, hauling Pippin up. He trod on the charcoal, then put Pippin back on his feet before the fire. "You are not so nimble on your feet as your cousin, I see."

Pippin scowled at him. Merry laughed. Pippin scowled at Merry. "I am so nimble on my feet, and that fool of a Brandybuck knows it." Pippin said.

"Actually, Pippin is a rather good dancer," Merry conceded. "The lasses back home all fan their dance cards for him. Mind, I'm not lacking myself in the matter, but yes; I have to defend my cousin. He is very nimble on his feet."

Pippin grinned at Merry and broke into an impromptu jig for a few moments. Merry laughed heartily; this was his cousin he loved so dearly, full of irrepressible cheerfulness even in terrible circumstances. Boromir watched the youngster do his brief dance, and laughingly agreed. Yes, Pippin could dance.

"Well, you aren't the only one that can dance!" Boromir said. "I've been known to take a turn on the dance floor once or twice, myself."

Pippin regarded Boromir with a decidedly skeptical eye.

"What?" Boromir exclaimed, "You think because I'm big, I can't dance? I assure you, Pippin, just because I'm big does not mean I am a clumsy oaf!"

Pippin didn't look convinced. Merry laughed loudly. Now the others were being drawn into the conversation. Aragorn especially seemed both interested and amused.

"What are you all staring at?" asked Boromir. "Do you all now expect a demonstration?"

A slow smile had begun to spread across Aragorn's face. He raised an eyebrow. Legolas, too, was now paying attention. Soon Gimli and Gandalf, Sam and Frodo, each and every one of the other eight of the Nine Walkers were all looking at him.

"What? What?" Boromir said with an exasperated air. "It isn't as though we have a band to play for us, not so much as a flute or fife, in fact. Besides, this is hardly the time or place." It was then that he noticed the hobbits all exchanging glances. First one, then another began to clap a steady beat.

Frodo stood forth and began to sing.

"There is an inn, a merry old inn,

Beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man in the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill…"

"So then, this is a challenge?" Boromir laughed. The clapping and singing continued. "You!" he said to Pippin, "This is all your fault, scamp! You, at least, shan't go unpunished!" He lifted Pippin, who gave a laughing yelp, and Boromir began to dance to the tune. He lifted Pippin to his shoulders where he had to hold on for dear life, for now his dance increased in speed and vigor. Boromir was indeed light on his feet, his size giving the lie to any doubt. He was, indeed, quite good! The clapping and singing increased in tempo. The faster the song, the faster the dance, and the warrior never missed a beat. Pippin looked more like he was riding a bucking pony than anything else, and Frodo's song was accompanied by delighted laughter from everyone, even Gandalf, but none laughed more heartily than Pippin and Merry.

Boromir noticed Frodo had a good voice. The song tickled his fancy, and he was grinning as broadly as his halflings were. At last the song was finished and applause broke out along with shouts of "well done, well done!" Boromir put Pippin back on his feet, then he, Frodo and Pippin all bowed like mummers after a successful play had been finished and the curtain rung down.

Laughter pealed throughout the room. They were now on a second glass of wine. All three were now relaxed, though Pippin was more rumpled than he liked. He'd been so caught up in the memory he had forgotten to mind how he sat, but he wasn't too bad off.

But the real reward for Merry was Boromir, smiling now, at ease and confidant once again. Merry was quite pleased with himself. Sometimes, he was very glad to have learned so many skills in looking after Pippin. Yes, at times it had been difficult, but in the end it was always more than worth the effort.

A tap on the door silenced their merry noise. Diamond popped her head in, regarded the three friends, and smiled to herself. How it warmed her heart to see the three so happy together.

"It's time, now, dear Boromir." She said. "Pippin, darling, brush your breeches before you go so you don't look so rumpled."

Boromir, Merry and Pippin rose. Saro would be waiting.