The East Gate

Authors The Eastgaters

Cast list
Frodo – Baylor
Samwise – Budgielover
Pippin – Marigold
Merry – Llinos
Legolas – Mainframe
Aragorn – Nilramiel
Boromir – Rachel Stonebreaker
Gimli – Q
The Wicked Elves – Baylor & Mainframe
The Not So Wicked Elves - Llinos

Story Editor Llinos
Beta Marigold

Chapter 15 – The Borders of Sanctuary

It took them less time than Haldir had predicted for them to reach the outer flets. Merry had once again fallen asleep, and was borne in Haldir's arms, but Legolas' strength had held and he even felt a little revived. They were not visible from the ground at all but, as the group moved deeper into the oldest part of the forest where the Mallorn grew more freely, Haldir whistled several times and was answered from above in kind. As Legolas strained his eyes to see into the tall tree, searching for the familiar shape of a flet and failing to detect one, he frowned. Haldir smiled and whispered that they were designed to be hidden from all travellers, even elves, and they moved on, secure in the knowledge that word would be sent on ahead of their arrival.

Over the next hours they fell into an easy pace and Legolas was surprised when Haldir initiated conversation with him and engaged in his brother's banter, it was like watching a completely different elf. But even he had to admit that as their journey's end neared he felt more energised than his poor abused body had any right to.

The woods were painted with a permanent ethereal glow that washed over Legolas' skin and left a tingling sensation in its wake. He realised that this must be the work of the Lady Galadriel and that the stories that he had heard in his father's court were true, Lothlórien felt like no other elven realm he had ever visited before. There was power here and the very leaves on the trees thrummed with it, everything was alive and in complete harmony with the tree elves. The warrior in him acknowledged the high level of skill of the Galadhrim in the trees above them, for he had yet to catch a glimpse or hear a whisper of cloak against leaf, yet he knew they were there.

As a curious sapling reached for the prince and missed, the prince stopped and turned back to caress the bold little birch. Its thin spindly branches shook with excitement as the prince softly spoke, asking it what had excited it so much and laughing as the tree answered that it had never felt a wood elf before and was pleased that the prince was speaking with him. It grumbled that the other trees did not speak to him as much as he would like and considered him much too hasty.

"Legolas! Come along, that one will keep you talking all day!" Orophin called as he doubled back and realised which tree had waylaid the prince.

The sapling shook with annoyance and then whispered its concern, which touched Legolas deeply. It felt the elf was mourning and knew that he had lost not only several dear friends but also part of himself as well. Careful not to jostle Merry, Legolas assured the tree he was in no immediate danger and before he bade the sapling farewell promised that, if his stay allowed it, he would return for a longer visit. He implored the sapling's elder, which stood tall and proud several yards away, covered in lichens and radiating health, to try to find a little more time for the young one. The elder's long suffering sigh caused its branches to sway and snag at Legolas' hair and told the prince that he asked much of the old one but the great tree also sensed the elf's hollowness and was moved in his pity to agree.

"Well what was all that about?" Rúmil asked as Legolas and Orophin caught up to where he and Haldir stood waiting with Merry, who was still fast asleep.

"The young birch was bending our friend's ear," Orophin stated with amusement.

Haldir grinned. "That one is truly the liveliest of the whole forest, I have my suspicions that he's Entish, it's the only explanation for it!"

"He's not that bad, Haldir, just a little garrulous. Some of the trees near my own dwelling are the same, though I'll admit to a lesser extent." Legolas smiled as he remembered the tree that his father and mother had planted on the occasion of his birth. It was an old Greenwood tradition and even after two thousand years the Oak who had grown alongside him was as talkative as the day it realised its voice.

"I still maintain it is part Ent," Haldir grumbled good-naturedly, "In its short life it has held me prisoner with its incessant chatter no less than seven times!"

"Brother! Are we to believe that a mere sapling held the Marchwarden of Lórien captive? I think Rúmil is right, you are losing your touch," Orophin joked, missing Rúmil wince as Haldir levelled him with a glare.

Legolas barely noticed how much time had passed as they climbed higher, Haldir leading them up a steep hill strewn with protruding tree roots, some as thick as he was tall. Haldir beamed as his brothers joined him and as Legolas reached the peak his breath was stolen by his first sight of the elven city.

The city glowed and sparkled a faint blue, and the ancient Mallorn trees were breathtaking in their beauty, majesty and sheer girth, for they were wider than any tree the wood elf had laid eyes on and, as he craned his neck to see their height, he found that even his elven eyes were not keen enough to find their crown's through the pale silver branches which completely eclipsed the sky though, strangely enough, they did not darken the forest. They were huge with intricate archways that grew over countless steps leading up into their loftiness, and everywhere he looked he felt as if his eyes could not take in the beauty fast enough.

Little did he know that the three brothers were watching his reaction with no small measure of amusement and pride. They lived in the Golden Wood and every time they came home the vision of their great timeless city filled them with joy.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon" Haldir intoned, "Home of the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light," he finished proudly.

"Merry!" Legolas whispered, his eyes unwilling to leave the tree city before them. He reached out to Haldir, and took Merry into his own embrace. "Merry! Wake up little one, you must see this!"

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With an audible sigh, relief mixed with exasperation, Boromir let his shoulders relax as he watched his little friend make short work of one of the Elven biscuits. He was still staring at Peregrin, who was starting on the second biscuit, when Draenog's voice made him jump. What was it about Elves always popping up at your shoulder before they decided to talk? He needed some sleep. Just a four hour break of worry-free sleep. Was it so much to ask for?

But they needed help. He hated to admit it, but he could not carry Gimli any further at the pace they were making, not without more assistance, yet he hated to ask strangers and not just any strangers, but Strange Elves. He wasn't sure why, but he felt extraordinarily concerned that he try to preserve what little dignity the dwarf had, for he suspected it grieved his friend immensely to be assisted by a clan enemy. Boromir hoped Gimli's recent association with Legolas had smoothed over some of the inbred hatred of Elves enough that they would be able to take advantage of this unlooked for aid. He, himself, was not too keen on taking aid from these three. They were not like Legolas. They had a different feel. Far more removed, if that were possible, from the here and now.

Gimli allowed an elf to assist him to be seated, and in a few moments the dwarf had recovered from his foolish attempt to sit down on his own and was at last fairly comfortable. It was a relief to relax his guard at last. He quickly realised though that there seemed to be a problem and that it involved Pippin.

When Draenog invited him to sit, Boromir sat. With a sigh of relief mixed with exasperation, Boromir let his shoulders relax as he watched his little friend pop the last morsel of the Elven biscuits into his mouth. The elves suddenly seemed worried about the amount that Pippin had eaten, not necessarily because they were short of food, but for some other reason. Obviously they knew absolutely nothing about hobbits. Boromir tried very hard not to laugh.

Now that his leg had eased Gimli paid heed to the conversation. It seemed the lad had eaten something he should not have. Or too much of something. Or all of something. The elves were worriedly conferring with each other in a huddle, glancing occasionally at Pippin, who sat reclining upon the grass with a most satisfied look upon his face. Well whatever it was, Gimli thought it could hardly kill the lad, hobbits could eat amazing quantities of food. Despite his pain he found himself laughing and felt Boromir next to him struggling to contain his own amusement.

Gimli's chuckle drew a glance from the conferring elves. He was remembering a time when the four hobbits, but especially Merry and Pippin, had truly outdone themselves.

It was the day before they were due to leave Imladris. The hobbits had spent the afternoon discussing the impending farewell feast with great enthusiasm and Gimli had been privy to the whole excited discussion as he lay dozing in the sun. The consensus among the hobbits was that they had had a taste of what it was like to be on the march with short commons and the memory was not pleasant. The Quest was likely to be even more of a trial when it came to tightening their belts and Gimli got the impression that the thought of Sauron, evil wizards, orcs and other mortal dangers paled beside the grim thought of only three meals a day.

The cooks had announced their intention to prepare their guests' favourite foods for the feast and the hobbits discussed with great enthusiasm, as well as anticipation, possible menus, the likely number of courses, and accompanying wines, ales and cordials. It was their intention to eat so much that the memory of this feast would last them until they had finished the Quest and could go back to a civilised six meals a day.

The tables that night had groaned with food, and the cooks had truly outdone themselves, even for elvish cooks. Gimli, privy to the hobbits' determination to enjoy this feast to the fullest, kept a curious eye on them in between his own feasting and several times found that he had stopped eating in sheer amazement. He had seen the hobbits at meals before but this was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. Each of them had easily tripled the hearty meal Gimli had eaten, and then started "filling up the corners", a process that had taken the better part of an hour. Gimli was not the only one astonished and he regretted not arranging a few wagers beforehand, he would know better in future.

The only hiccough had come, well several hiccoughs and more besides, when the abundance of alcohol accompanying the feast had failed to abate, even as the courses had grown sweeter and more delicate. Merry and Pippin, in particular, had regarded this onslaught as more of a challenge than a courtesy and had set to with a vengeance.

Frodo had wisely retired early and Sam had withdrawn gracefully when the port had been passed to the left, a custom the gardener observed, "for them as knows their wines and spirits and not for the likes o' Samwise Gamgee!" Meriadoc and Peregrin were, however, in their element. Quips and ribald comments flew back and forth and the more inebriated they became, the more the elves were amused by their clowning around and ready wit – and drunken hobbits love nothing better than an audience!

They had finally staggered off to bed, leaning one against the other, an obviously timeworn and practised ability, apparently none the worse for their night of indulgence.

Gimli however had been accommodated in the room next door to the hobbits and the following morning he had been more than a little amused at the retribution they faced from their own bodies. Merry had obviously been sick for a long time, whilst Pippin's groans and piteous crying indicated an aching belly as well as a sore head.

These noises were followed by the sound of much splashing water, gargling, gulping, burping and thumping, then water once more. Gimli, curiosity getting the better of his manners, was eventually driven to spy on the little ones to see what the strange noises might be. He bent down and put his eye to the keyhole in their door but, no sooner had he positioned himself, than the door opened and Merry and Pippin, both dressed and looking chipper and rosy stood there looking down at him in amazement.

"What are you doing Gimli?" Pippin had asked in surprise and crouched down next to him to gaze at the keyhole himself. "Is there something interesting here?"

"Hrrm… no, not at all," Gimli stood up, flustered and embarrassed. "I was just checking your door… for erumm… woodworm… you can't be too careful."

"No of course not," Merry agreed with a smile, "Now, where's breakfast?"

Gimli had kicked himself several times since then. Why did he not ask the hobbits to reveal their magical cure for overindulgence? There were times when he could use such information. Eventually he had asked Gandalf.

"Hobbits? Hangovers?" The Wizard had laughed long and loud. "Oh there's no miracle cure, don't let their size fool you Gimli, they have stomachs like cast iron cauldrons. They get sick and all is mended, then they start again."

"Hmmp!" Gimli was more than a little surprised, "Rascals! At least when I overfill my cup I suffer for it – there's no justice."

"Very true my friend," Gandalf laughed, "Very true."

Gimli shook his head as the thought of Gandalf wafted hazily through his pain, a greater pain and one not to dwell upon at the moment.

One of the Lothlórien elves knelt beside Gimli, what was his name? Ah, yes, Llygodyn. "May we, Master Dwarf, re-dress your leg? We have salves that may ease the pain temporarily."

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Merry blearily opened his eyes as Legolas whispered to him to awaken. Drowsily he remembered the kind words with which the elf had lulled him to sleep and then he recalled that Legolas had done something – what he was not sure – but it seemed as if he had given a part of his own being to Merry to let him live.

Merry was not sure how he knew this, but felt as if someone he trusted had told him so. His Grandmamma Gilda! That's who it was. As he fell into wakefulness he heard her words echo in his memory, "Mark the elf well, Merry my lamb, my sweeting. He gives you part of himself and now you owe him much – your life."

"I will Grandmamma, I promise." Merry mouthed the words as he looked up at Legolas, his eyes now shining and filled with love for his friend. "Legolas? …for wh-what you d-did. I will rep-pay you w-when I a-am b-better."

As the words left Merry's lips he realised that he was far from completely recovered. The horrendous pain in his chest had returned with a throbbing vengeance and his whole body felt aching and sick. He could feel his body temperature was much too high and his lips and mouth were painfully dry.

But Legolas was urging him to look at something, so he turned his head in the direction of the elf's gaze and beheld a sight more wondrous than any he had yet seen in his whole life. The golden trees that lay before them were beyond beautiful, they glimmered and sparkled in the morning light, almost as if they would outdo the Sun herself. Although the leaves shimmered with pure radiance, the colours danced and changed, leaping from excited reds and yellows to tumble into peaceful greens and blues but still emanated exotic indigo or violet. All these colours then fused into a royal shade of purple and gold which lingered long on the mind, entwining itself into the memory of the beholder – a delightful and precious thought, that would stay forever.

Merry gasped in wonder, his thirst forgotten for a moment as his soul was captured by the sheer splendour of the sight. He gazed and gazed until at last a living voice fell into his consciousness.

"Do you thirst still little perian?" Haldir looked down at the hobbit still wrapped in Legolas's arms. The creature, without realising it, worked his parched tongue around his mouth and lips obviously searching for moisture.

"Yes pl-please, S-sir," Merry stuttered the words, spitting them out with effort as his body and voice betrayed him once more.

Haldir rationed him this time by pouring a little water into his hand and, lifting Merry's head from behind, fed him the liquid very slowly.

Merry drank frantically, although Haldir had tried to slow him and was forced to fill his hand again to let the hobbit have more.

"You may have all you want little perian – Merry," Haldir managed a smile as he suddenly recalled the hobbit's name, "Just drink slowly or you will be sick and since Legolas is carrying you, he will probably receive full benefit of that."

"I- I'm sorry Sir," Merry trembled with pain. The act of swallowing, although necessary, had aggravated his wound once more. "I… I'm very thirsty, hurting and… and…" Merry fell silent once more. His whole body was betraying him, and in such fine company too. But he just wanted to be rid of the persistent pain, to lie down and be still and, more than anything, to find Pippin.

Two large tears ran from his eyes as he thought of his little cousin again and knew that he needed him now more than he had ever needed him in his whole life before. Merry sniffed a little as a sob caught in his throat, "Pippin?" he asked, looking hopefully up at Legolas.

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Vanaloth and Gayadur confidently led the three remaining members of the Company into the Golden Wood. Over the Nimrodel and further into the forest they went. As the golden roof closed over their heads, the three travellers felt their breathing ease and their muscles relax. Weary and heartbroken though they were, they could not help but feel great relief and joy at finally coming to a safe haven and to Aragorn it was even more than that, though he said nothing.

Nearly forty years ago he had been on his way back to Rivendell for a much-needed rest and on his journey had come to the borders of Lórien. Galadriel had clothed him in fine garments, and he had taken his ease for a time, walking through the clearings and among the great trees. He did not know it, but Arwen was there also, visiting the Lord and Lady, her mother's parents, and when she had seen him walking towards her, grown into a man that looked more a Lord of the Elves, she had made her choice. Long had they been parted, but they spent a season together and, if possible, their love grew. Before Aragorn departed he and Arwen went together to Cerin Amroth and there they plighted their troth. Arwen's love had kept hope alive in his heart for many years and, even now, in the midst of sorrow and grief, he felt delight that he was once again come to this place.

For Frodo, his joy was shot through with piercings of slicing pain. If only he could have come here with Gandalf and his cousins at his side! This land was different from Rivendell in so many ways, yet it had the unmistakable feeling of a land inhabited by elves, and it made him remember Imladris with longing.

He recalled an afternoon spent on the terrace outside Bilbo's rooms. Frodo had woken from a nap and walked to the doorway and looking out at the porch, the sound of waterfalls in his ears. Bilbo was smoking a pipe with Merry and absorbing every bit of information about the happenings in the Shire that Merry could relate, which was a lot – Merry noticed nearly everything and forgot almost nothing.

Sam was near at hand, listening and providing a small detail every now and then as he idly whittled on a piece of wood. Pippin was just off the porch, foraging about on the ground near a grove of trees. Frodo spied several horse chestnuts in one grubby hand and surmised that the tweenager was looking for ammunition to play conkers with. Gandalf was seated farther down on the terrace, smoking his own pipe. He was pointing out likely rummaging spots for Pippin and providing a series of dry responses to the tweenager's constant chatter. Frodo had watched them all, unobserved in the doorway, and had felt a contentment that could only come from being surrounded by those he loved most dearly.

Frodo had recovered from deep grief before in his life. He had thought for many years that the wound left by his parents' deaths would hurt and bleed for all his days, but it had healed, though it left a harsh scar. He had fallen in love as a tweenager, and then lost that love; he had thought that wound would fester and turn bitter, but it too had healed, in time. Bilbo's leaving had brought on a new kind of grief, more like an ache in his chest that would come and go at will, but that pain was tempered by love, good memories and hope.

The pain he felt now at Gandalf's loss he thought might in time turn to this last type of grief, and be able to be borne. But the pain from losing Merry and Pippin was more akin to what he had felt when his parents had died, cutting deep, to the marrow, and nearly crippling in its agony. Perhaps, he thought as he walked under leaves of gold, this was a shade of what losing a child felt like.

He had held Merry in the first hour of his life and, when the baby had smiled at him, he had asked Cousin Esmie, not knowing the infant's name, if this would be a merry baby. Merry had taken his first steps into Frodo's arms. He had taught the lad to climb trees, to swim, to pilfer from the pantry. He had watched as this smart, curious, insightful lad had grown into a generous, compassionate, determined hobbit. They had lived the first years of Merry's life as brothers and later had also become the dearest of friends.

When Pippin had been the tiniest of babies, he had slept curled up on Frodo's chest, secure in the knowledge that he had already succeeded in wrapping his elder cousin around his little finger. Frodo had taught Pippin to read in the long months following a winter illness and had woven a hundred tales of adventure and bravery to amuse the lad. He had stood over Pippin's bed when they had feared all was lost for the lad and seen that bright spirit fight its way back to life. He had soothed dozens of tweenaged growing pains, and discreetly set right more than one mishap that would have turned the Thain's hair even greyer had he learned of them.

Yet even through Frodo's grief, a small nugget of hope was growing. He dared not yet nurture it, but he could not banish it, either. Perhaps, it whispered. Perhaps, even yet.

Frodo took a deep breath and looked around, realizing they had stopped. Before them was another stream, and no visible way to cross it. On the other side, elves were emerging as if they had stepped from the trees themselves. They secured three ropes to trees, then tossed them across to Vanaloth and Gayadur, who tied them to trees on the opposite side of the stream, thus creating what the elves seemed to believe was a passable bridge, one rope for the feet, one at hobbit waist-level and one at hobbit shoulder-level. Gayadur stepped lightly, easily across and was greeted by the elves on the far side.

Vanaloth turned to Frodo with shining eyes, love for his homeland apparent in his face. "Come, Master Baggins," he said. "Enter Lórien."

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Legolas's earlier joy and peace instilled by the magical splendour of Caras Galadhon vanished under the weight of Merry's tears of pain, his lower lip wobbling as he stoically tried to retain some semblance of control.

"Soon, Merry. It is said that the Lord and Lady of this realm know many things, we will ask them when we meet, but for my part I believe you will be reunited with Pippin soon." Legolas unconsciously began to comb through Merry slightly dampened curls as he spoke and was pleased when the hobbit's brow smoothed and he blinked heavily, though the elf noted with a frown that Merry's small hands fisted tightly in his tunic and clenched at every movement that Legolas made. But the little one made no complaint or mention of his pain though it was clear for all to see his wound was grieving him again.

"The Lady more than likely already knows of your need, Merry," Haldir said whilst encouraging them all to continue. The perian had suffered much, and Haldir was anxious to bring Merry to be healed.

At Merry's puzzled expression he simply smiled mysteriously and began to lead them toward the largest of the Mallorn trees. At its base sparkled a beautifully crafted open spiral stairway and it was to this that Haldir led them.

Legolas was silent as he ascended the great stair but as the steps narrowed and grew steeper in places Legolas heard someone breathing heavily and was shocked to realise that the terrible gasping sounds of laboured breathing were coming from himself. To a mortal they would barely be noticed but to an elf they were as a wave dashing rock against a cliff face. He felt cool fingers press soothingly against his heated brow and offer strength, and dimly he registered that Rúmil had moved up behind him. He shook his head lightly, silently dislodging the Lórien elf's offer and threw him a smile before readjusting Merry and quickening his pace.

Haldir's own pace was conspicuously slow but Legolas was grateful, though he begrudged its necessity, his body's betrayal forced his thoughts inward and he felt a cold sweat break out as he mulled over the possibility that he might now be mortal. He knew nothing of how mortals lived, save his friend Estel, he had mainly spent his life surrounded by his own kind, and the prospect that he may now wither and die frightened him more than he thought it would. Mortals burned so brightly for the handful of years that they were gifted, they achieved much, raising families, building realms yet it seemed to the young prince that just as they began to understand what it was to truly live they were gone, burnt out by their fast pace and time's cruel hand, leaving nothing but a handful of memories in a few of their friends whose lives they had touched and their children, as evidence that they had ever existed at all.

His step faltered as he realised that he may not have a home and family to return to should he survive this Quest. Mirkwood's King, his beloved father, might now have no son and heir and it grieved him to think of his father left alone to rule. Would he feel out of place among his friends and family if he were mortal? He decided that if it were so, he would not remain in Mirkwood, he would not allow his father to watch him slowly rot: his golden locks turn to winter grey, his skin wrinkle, his muscles loosen and sag, eyes, that once reflected a thousand bright summer days, fade as sight dimmed and his body piece by piece fail him.

No! For that would take them both to the Halls of Mandos.

At that moment Merry felt very heavy in his arms, they were almost at the top platform now and none too soon for Legolas as he was forced to shift Merry's weight again. It was not that the hobbit grew heavier but as Legolas' thoughts turned to the grief that he may have inadvertently brought to his father and people, it sapped the last of his so recently restored strength. He felt so much older than his two and a half thousand years.

"We are here," Orophin whispered into his ear as he placed a steadying hand on the small of Legolas' back, steering him away from the rail-less edge of the stairs that he had unconsciously wandered too near for Orophin's peace of mind, and back towards the sturdy trunk.

Haldir led them into a huge open flet, the like of which he could never have imagined. It seemed steeped in perpetual night and the stars flickered through the branches to his right, a circular section in the centre of the floor was missing and through it, though by right he should have seen the smooth silver trunk of the tree and the seemingly endless stairway they had just climbed, all he saw were more stars set against a deep tranquil night sky.

All of this he observed in seconds as Haldir led them up a few more steps and bowed low from the waist while his hand moved to touch his brow and heart before he straightened and took a place to one side of yet another stairway that disappeared into a fog of pale blue light. Rúmil and Orophin stepped away from the prince and perian to repeat their brother's actions and took their place at his side leaving Legolas standing at the foot of the stairway, trembling from fatigue and nervousness.

Slowly he became aware that the light from the top of the stairway was growing stronger and as he squinted, instinctively hugging Merry closer to him, he could just make out two figures descending. The light seemed a part of them for it clung to their bodies longer than it should have and it was not until the two had come to rest three steps up from the awestruck Legolas did the light dissipate enough for him to make out the features for the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.

The Lord Celeborn stood only two inches taller than his wife, his face lit with piercing dark blue eyes that seemed black as they stared intently back at him. Thick dark brows, soft cheek bones and a strong jaw line were framed by silver-blond hair that fell past his broad shoulders and was complimented well by the high, open-necked silken blue tunic he wore. Slender hips were belted with a thick darker toned sash overlaid with mithril cord.

Legolas' own father was considered intimidating so the full impact was somewhat lessened on Mirkwood's prince but the power that rolled off the Doriath elf was somehow different. Celeborn was old – very old and Legolas bowed low before him, unable to offer him a proper greeting with Merry huddled in his arms. When he rose he was relieved to note a small smile pulled at Celeborn's lips as he inclined his head in turn.

Galadriel was like no elf he had ever seen before. Again he felt the unearthly power that only the Eldar could exude, but unlike Celeborn's, Galadriel's power was almost smothering and he gasped in surprise as he was struck, his breath stolen in that unguarded moment. Her face was very fair and delicately shaped, arched pale brows framed ocean deep eyes that swept through his very soul in the first split second they locked with his own, a small nose led to generous lips and a cascade of hip length wavy golden hair, that was rare in the first born. Narrow shoulders tapered to a slim, belted waist. She wore a shoulder hugging gown that seemed to possess a light of its very own, for even when completely still its many intricate weavings winked and sparkled at him and made it hard to concentrate.

"Now do I understand why they name you Lady of Light," Legolas silently mused, then flushed as her tinkling laughter filled the room telling him that his unguarded thoughts had easily been received.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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Notes

Hi Everyone – It's me Meriadoc the Magnificent (sic) back in the Chairman's Chair. I'm still a little woozy, from my appalling wound, but I'm being splendidly brave and I'll do my best to answer your comments and queries, with a little help from my friends, as appropriate.

moi: Are you ever going to update? Please do sometime soon!
Merry: No – not ever, never, nohow! Oh all right then.

who knows: This is a great story! PLEASE update soon!
Merry: Thank you – see above

Analey: This story is incredible! Aw, Pippin, you deserve that food! Poor Merry...Can't wait for more!
Merry: You mean it's incredible how much Pippin can eat? Well I'd agree with you there.

domstygerr: Once again hats off to Llinos and Marigold for their fantastic work on the greatest story on the net! Love to all the writers :)
Merry: Steady on! Don't go telling the writers things to make them think they are more magnificent than I! (Which of course they are not!)

Latanya Kassidy: lol! Pip ate all the food!
Merry: So what's new?

Hyperactive Forever: YAY FOR HELPFUL ELFSES OF LOTHLORIEN! they deserve lots of cookies, yes they do!
Merry: Yes they do, but sadly, Pippin seems to have eaten them all.

my-fool-of-a-took: ah I'm exceptionally proud of all hobbits this chapter.
Merry: Well at least our endeavours have not been in vain.

Aranna Undomiel: Oh and me being as curious as I am, I did some research about the pillow-shaking-snow-making-granny and I found it is a fairy tale from the Grimm-brothers, called Mother Holle. And there the pillow-shaking-snow-making-granny is described. Don't know if Llinos granny got it from them, but just felt the need to share it, so relieved at finding it...LOL
Merry: I think many of your fairy tales have been echoed in our hobbit culture, whether via Llinos's Granny or old tales that are general folklore. I suspect this one may be a little of each – it's very sweet though. Llinos also has a Yuletide dragon called Thluggul, who brings presents to the hobbit children at Yule. When he leaves the mountain on his journey to the Shire, he flaps his wings and sometimes it blows the snow right off the mountain top to cover the Shire in a white blanket.

lindahoyland: I loved the way Sam thinks he is not good enough to have his pack carried, he is so wrong!
Sam: Um begging your pardon Mr Merry, but I'll field this one if I may? It is not proper and fitting for a humble gardener to have his work done by the Gentry, and thass what I reckons the elves to be, just as sure as if they'd been related to the Thain or the Mayor theirselves! I'm good at what I does right enough, but I still knows my place.

storyfish: dare I believe that the Fellowship's finally safe, or do you have yet another hair-curling plot twist in store for us? As much as I enjoy seeing our beloved characters safe, I'm enjoying this story too much for it to end. So bring on the orcs! evil grin
Merry: Well that would be telling, but perhaps if I say there are still several chapters to go that won't spoil the surprises too much. (and yes – there will be orcs!)

Lord of Warriors: C'mon! A little more answers from Aragorn plz! The only time he answers questions is in ch. 7! Then again, he is a little busy, NOT! Man! He barley is used in the story! Too much Merry and Pippin (Pippin is my cat's name also). By the way, tell the authors to put more Aragorn in the story!
Aragorn: If I may answer Meriadoc. I'm terribly sorry if I have been neglecting my celebrity duties as the main star of this epic, but I'm afraid I got called away to another story in a galaxy far… Oh no sorry, not that one. But I (or at least my writer) was a little tied up with affairs in the real world. I will however be available again in the next chapter – look forward to seeing you then.
Merry: I'm sorry,but what you are saying makes no sense at all. How could there possibly be too much Merry and Pippin in a story?

dreamflower: I especially love Pippin's encounter with the elves!
Merry: I'm not so sure that the elves enjoyed Pip's encounter with them – or their lembas.

FrodoBaggins87: my apologies, Legolas, for forgetting to mention your graciousness and nobility in saving Merry's life. and i just read a fic where legolas cut off locks of his own hair to braid into charmed braclets for three hobbits gasp.
Legolas: If I may just take the chair – Madam FB87, I have to say that giving up my immortality is one thing and I was happy to make the offer, but I think cutting my hair off is taking self-sacrifice a little too far!

Ica: To the Authours: could we PLEASE get some reuniting happening here? Having to watch all the members of the fellowship go through so much angst and worry is just killing me!
Merry: Yes, they are most inconsiderate with their lethargy – a hobbit could die out here before they update!

smalldiver: But does this mean that Boromir and Gimli don't get anything to eat? And I noticed that there were 'wicked elves' mentioned at the top of the page. Does this mean that they a group will meet up with wicked elves? Or have they already? Or am I just being paranoid?
Legolas: Once again we characters have to apologise to an innocent reader for the behaviour of the authors – sigh! I regret the "wicked elves" epithet was an in-joke on their part and bears no relation to the story at all. There are, of course, no wicked elves – unless you mean in the sense – that we're so cool we're "wicked"!

Lanncera: You made me smile, just then! It's funny that even in the midst of all this angst hobbits will be hobbits. But I do hope that Legolas and Merry will be well soon-perhaps courtesy of the 'arrogant' elves?
Legolas: Ah me! I am discovered! Apparently we do have arrogant elves, but then, we have much to be arrogant about!

Earelwen: Oh thank you Legolas for saving my Merry! I will never forget it and my esteem for you has risen a million times over so I am seriously running out of room to store it in.
Legolas: Do not fret dear lady! I shall hire a Self-Storage Unit in which you may keep your esteem for me, so that none may be lost or wasted.
Earelwen: I love Pippin feeling Merry telling him to eat.
Merry: Yes, normally I would not have to do that – Pippin + food: result - full Pippin.

TXMedic: Whe! A new chapter! Ah, life is good. Let's hope Pippin doesn't explode from eating too much lembas. lol
Merry: Hmm… It's not looking good at the moment – I'd be ready to take cover if I were you.

Alis world: On a day like today(basically wet and cold and generally miserable) your story and question and answer session at the end are just what the doctor ordered or should I say elf? I cannot wait for the next chapter. Hope all get well again soon(but not too soon)and can not wait to find out if Legolas has given up his immortality, I do get a little fed up with the smug look on Arwen's face as she thinks only she can. More soon please
Legolas: Perhaps if Aragorn had asked me to give up my immortality for him instead of expecting Arwen to do it, we could have killed two birds with one stone – but no one asked me!

pipinheart: Merry seems better, but Legolas seems as though his strength is fading.
Pippin thinks Merry is dead, and they have encountered elves that intentions may or may not be good... Frodo and Sam, are giving up their packs to elves, Sam is so reluctant...
Merry: If it's not us hobbits causing trouble, it's the flipping elves! Sometimes I feel sorry for you poor readers.

auntiemeesh: So now it's time to start worrying about Legolas. I do hope he hasn't permanently diminished himself in his efforts to save Merry. And I hope that somewhere along the line Haldir settles down enough to understand why Legolas did what he did.
Legolas: Poor dear Haldir, making all this fuss about mortality – little does he know what awaits him if he should step into the filmverse! Take my advice Haldir, stay in the book!

Mae Ari: I cannot fathom how hobbits manage to eat so much lembas... surely their stomachs can't have that much room in their bellies?
Merry: Actually, we have hollow legs and feet – that's why our footsies are insulated so well – to keep our dinners warm!

LOTRFaith: Please post soon! I hope to find out just what happened to Legolas. And hopefully a few of the fellowship will be rejoined in Lothlórien. Erm.. Right?
Merry: Well we have to keep you in suspenders a little longer (I like suspenders you see) and I'm hoping all the remaining Fellowship will be together in Lothlórien soon – after all, we have to get back to the original storyline, or the Professor will never forgive us.

That's it for this time – see you all again really soon!

Yours truly,

Meriadoc the Magnificent