A Rainy Day Walking in Eregion
Note: had this sitting in my stories folder for a good while, then suddenly decided to finish it today. Silly little story, but kind of nice in its own way I thought…
It was a miserably rainy day, Aragorn decided. As a ranger he was used to days like these, but that did not make it any less depressing and miserable. The fellowship was soaked and sopping, trudging along in gloomy silence.
(hic)
(hic)
"Merry, are you having hiccoughs?"
Merry shrugged, the motion elevated by another hiccough. Pippin giggled.
"I can't (hic) help it, I must (hic) have eaten (hic) too fast," he brought out. Pippin abandoned the giggles and proceeded to have a fit of laughter.
(hic)
"Stop making fun of (hic) me!" Merry grabbed Pippins' arm and tried to wrestle the younger hobbit to the ground, but the hiccoughs hindered his movements enough for Pippin to escape. He went to walk on the other side of Sam, keeping Bills' broad back between him and his cousin.
Gandalf shot Aragorn a look, the corners of his lips twitching. The ranger shook his head with a smile.
(hic)
The fellowship trudged on through the rain, hoods covering their bowed heads. They were still in Eregion, and there was little shelter against the relentless rains.
"Bah, the water is running down my nose," Pippin muttered. Sam shushed him, getting tired of the others' attempts to 'liven up the day' as they called it. He held a hand on Bill's neck, savouring the comfort of walking with the pony, and letting himself lift along in the steady rhythm of the animals' hooves.
(hic)
"Are you still having hiccoughs?"
"Shut up!"
(hic)
Gimli resettled the weight of his axe in his hand. He could do, he decided, without the rain. Certainly it would not pain him at all if it stopped. It made his chin itch as the water ran through his beard, and it dripped from his helmet into his neck.
Worst of all, it didn't seem to bother that damned elf at all. His feet didn't squelch in the mud, no water dripped of his nose, and now Gimli looked a little closer, he found that Legolas didn't seem as wet as the others were, either.
The subject of these dark thoughts moved his head to shake the droplets off his cloak. The elves of Mirkwood were no stranger to rain, and though they were used to having more shelter, their cloaks were woven tightly enough to keep the wearer mostly dry.
(hic)
Legolas smiled inwardly, secretly amused by the antics of the two young hobbit. To them this fellowship must seem so grim, so forbidding – a world of difference with their lives in the Shire.
(hic)
The elf turned his attention back to his surroundings when Pippin spoke up again. The hobbit had turned around to look to Boromir, who walked alone in the rear. Merry tried to pull him along, hissing something, but Pippin asked the man cheerfully:
"Boromir, how do the men of Gondor cure themselves from hiccoughs?"
The warrior looked up in surprise, having been sunken in thoughts. Why was the hobbit asking him this? Was it a way to make him look foolish? Was he trying to use him, Boromir, to entertain himself?
(hic)
But Pippin looked to him with outright curiosity, seeming interested and yet a little wary. Boromir settled the strap of his shield more comfortably.
"We hold our breath for fourteen seconds, and then slowly let it out," he finally answered.
"(hic) Why fourteen?" Merry wondered. "Why not thirteen, or fifteen?"
"I would not know," Boromir admitted, amused. "I do not have hiccoughs often enough to try if another number of seconds is equally effective."
(hic)
Merry made a show of taking a deep breath and holding it while he counted to fourteen on his fingers and toes. Then he released his breath.
"It's gone! It's—(hic)—oh bloody hell," his shoulders shook with the force of the spasms, and his companions hid their smiles.
"Well that didn't work," concluded Pippin cheerfully.
"Perhaps it is forty seconds for hobbits," Sam suggested. Merry shook his head.
"Not while I'm walking, that will never work."
"And we were so looking forward to seeing you blue in the face," Frodo deadpanned.
Pippin, entertained by his own private quest, turned to Gimli.
"Say Gimli, how do the dwarves cure hiccoughs?"
"With beer, young hobbit, with beer," Gimli answered him easily. Merry looked cheered, then disappointed as he realised that there was not, in fact, any beer available.
"I like that cure," Sam said. "I'll remember that. My gaffer used to say to eat a spoonful of sugar, but we haven't got that either."
Not the hobbit to be defeated by mere details, Pippin moved on to Gandalf. "Do you know a cure? Or do wizards not get hiccoughs?"
"Indeed we do, Pippin," Gandalf answered. "When we do, smoking pipeweed cures mine."
"(hic) AhA! (hic)" Merry grinned. Aragorn looked from Gandalf to his pipe and then back to the hobbits.
"I do apologise then, Merry, because this must the last of the pipeweed I am smoking," he spoke, showing the hobbit an empty leather pouch.
"WHAT! You (hic) didn't actually… (hic)"
The rest of the fellowship watched with amusement as Merry and Pippin rifled through the packs on Bills' back to assure themselves there was more pipeweed.
Aragorn looked at Gandalf again.
"A shame, not even the shock-approach worked. It must be a steadfast hiccough, if even that fright could not alleviate it," he said. Gandalf nodded solemnly, meanwhile preparing his own long-stemmed pipe.
(hic)
For a while the fellowship walked in silence again, with no other sound than the occasional hiccough, the squelching of the wet ground and the soft sounds of rain on armour. Clouds of smoke were left behind in the still air where Gandalf and Aragorn walked, and both Legolas and Boromir turned their heads in disgust when they encountered them.
Soon Merry and Pippin also left behind clouds of smoke.
"See? It works!" Merry enthused, inhaling deeply. "Terrific!"
The he burst into painful coughing, and the fellowship halted to watch what happened. The hobbit waved away Sam, who tried to take away the pipe.
"No no no no no…" he reassured them all, hiccoughing and coughing. "I'm—I'm—I'm all right…(hic)"
"Wow, your face looks a bit purple, Merry," Pippin observed. "Sam will take that pipe off your hands, eh?"
Before Merry could protest, Sam was smoking the remains of his pipe. The others still stood around him as he tried to regain his breath, not helped by the fact that he was still having hiccoughs.
When finally he could walk again, the fellowship fell in around him as if nothing happened. Bill swished his tail, making muddy drops fly.
(hic)
"Legolas?"
The elf looked aside to find the troubled hobbit walking next to him.
"Yes, Merry?"
"Do elves ever get the hiccoughs?"
That brought up a memory of Thranduil king, who once held court one notoriously long and problem-filled day, without allowing the assembled court to see even once that he was suffering from a particularly stubborn case of elven hiccoughs. The memory made Legolas smile.
"We do, and they are renowned for their reluctance to leave us! However I am afraid I know of no cure that would serve a hobbit. We either endure them with patience, or will them to stop."
Pippin giggled. "Forget it Merry! You don't have Elven willpower, and you certainly don't have Elven patience!"
Merry sulked for a moment, and said then with a determined light in his eyes: "I shall try anyway. Maybe Hobbit hiccoughs don't require Elven willpower!"
The fellowship watched in amused silence as Merry concentrated. His forehead wrinkled. His hands came up to support his chin while he walked. He caught himself from tripping over a bump in the grass.
The silence stretched. Aragorn and Gandalf traded a fond glance.
(HIC!)
Gimli and Boromir almost simultaneously clapped their hand in front of their mouths to stifle a burst of laughter. Legolas' eyes gleamed with mirth. Gandalf and Aragorn chuckled quietly.
Sam and Pippin were not so gracious. Bill startled as the two hobbits howled with laughter, slapping one another on the back and wiping tears from their eyes.
"Tha-hat was—" Pippin gasped for air, wiping a grubby hand over his rain- and tear soaked face, "absolutely brill—(HIC)"
No one held back their laughter now, especially not Merry.
Aragorn assumed the rearguard as they walked on through the rain, water sopping in shoes, boots and outer gear. Mud squiggled between the toes of the hobbits and rain dripped off the rim of Gandalf's hat. The ranger looked on fondly as the two most buoyant hobbits ribbed each other goodnaturedly and the rest of the fellowship tried to contain their laughter.
Perhaps it wasn't such a miserable day after all.
Feedback always welcome!