Author's Note: Thank yooou all for the kind reviews. It was wonderful recently to open my inbox after a rather disastrous day at school to find eight positive reviews! :) There's been a great response to this story and I am forever grateful.

(Hey, does anyone know if Lost will ever screen in Australia? Everyone is talking about this show, and anything with Dom in it has to be good. Lol)

I do not own Tolkien, or any of the following names or places.

Azla: You again! Lol, I never tire of reading your reviews. I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter. I'm afraid that I am much better at writing hobbits then men or elves, but hopefully it wasn't too bad. Thanks for reviewing!

Ice Ember: Thanks for the review, and don't worry: there will be more on the vocal exercises. I only realised recently that I was yet to write about one, and I am hurrying to correct that.

Sweethobbit: I'm glad you're enjoying this, and thanks for the kind words. :)

Gods-girl2004: Lol, thank you very much for the kind words. I've always wanted a Pippin plushie. hugs it contentedly

FrodoBaggins87: Thanks for the lovely review, and I'm very glad you're enjoying it.

Elvenranger13: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Thanks for the review, and you're welcome. Lol

Hai Took: I'm glad you enjoyed their chat. I had considered it, but to be honest, I don't think I could ever put Pippin in a situation like that. However it's always a possibility. Thanks for the kind words :)

Immortal Sorrow (Arrow): LOL, congratulations on your mum's wedding! :) Thank you sooo much for all your kind reviews, I will never tire of them. (also, big thanks for the exam well-wishing, lol) I promise to go and fix Little One for you. Lol

Arlewen: Yes, that's what I was trying to say. I didn't make it very clear, I don't think. LOL. Poor Pippin, I would hate to do that to him. It could happen though. Thanks for your kind review :)

Chapter Six: Caradhras

Pippin

As a child, I always enjoyed the snow. I could always beat Merry and Frodo at our snow-hobbit competitions, and always seemed to win when we had a snowball fight. Frodo and Merry both assured me that they would never let me win intentionally, but who could tell? At any rate, winter was a season that I looked forward to each year.

Out here, somehow, it does not seem as fun.

I don't have the energy to start pelting Merry with snowballs today. I made an attempt earlier this morning, but Gandalf soon put a halt to that, anyway. Muttered something about conserving energy. I'm starting to wish I had listened. Boromir has tried to entertain us, recalling stories of his youth where he spent weeks camping in the snow with his younger brother. Of course, a few hours ago, the mental image of Boromir pitching a snowball at his furious father's face seemed a whole lot funnier.

Now, I am just cold, in fact freezing, hungry, tired, dizzy... and hungry. I don't think a hot meal could even cheer me up, but it may come close.

Merry and Sam are almost out of sight, having wandered ahead by quite a few yards into the swirling snow. They are catching up to Frodo and Legolas, seemingly. For a few moments, I attempt to increase my own pace, but my legs are so numb, it is hard even to raise my foot above the snow. I sigh, and close my eyes briefly, hoping to quell the dizzy spell. All I want to do is stop, and rest...

Earlier today, Legolas walked at my side, and we discussed those lessons of his. When he first came to me with the idea, I didn't know what to think. Several times, over the past five years, healers have come to my family with a possible solution, but nothing has worked. Why dare to get excited once more, only to have the hope shattered again? I've become used to having no voice, and while I have never liked it, I can certainly live with it. I have my overall health, and Frodo and Merry. My family, Sam...

Since realising the elf's close friendship with Strider, I have had complete and utter faith in Legolas. Anyone who had earned Strider's trust deserved mine.

Somehow, I doubted that Legolas would tell me of this idea unless it had a real chance of success. Strider would not have allowed it anyway. I smile wearily, glancing back to catch a blurred glimpse of the man, ploughing through the snow not far behind me. He's become awfully protective of us hobbits. While Merry complains of feeling like a child, I know he secretly feels comforted by Strider's presence, and he isn't the only one.

So I agreed... I have to hand it to Legolas: he is the most patient teacher I have ever come across. As a lad, my tutors could not stand my restlessness. More often than not, I was either punished or sent to play in the fields for a time, to wear off some of my everlasting energy. Both ways meant that I learnt little. In the scheduled time, at least. I made up for it by spending many afternoons locked up inside with an irate teacher.

Legolas must have the patience of Frodo.

We've only recently begun the process, but already it is encouraging. Legolas has been explaining the possible causes of my illness, and how the vocal cords work. I've never really had a head for remembering these things, but it doesn't really matter. Everyday, he gives me a small dose out of a small crystal flask, which seems to make the excersises less painful. I don't know where he came upon it, or how it's presence has escaped Strider's or Gandalf's notice, but I am grateful none-the-less.

Whatever comes from these lessons, I want to surprise my cousins... as much as Legolas has warned me not to get to excited, it is hard not to imagine the look on Merry's face. Imagine... imagine walking up behind him and... and...

Abruptly I stop, staring fuzzily down at my feet. I cannot will them to move. All at once I am terribly dizzy... the ground won't stay still. Even as I fall, gentle hands take hold of my shoulders, and I am lifted upwards, to be cradled carefully in Aragorn's arms. Dimly, I look up to meet the concerned gaze of the ranger.

"Are you alright, my friend?" he asks quietly, brushing a hand softly across my forehead, frowning at what he finds. Shivering uncontrollably, I try to ignore it and nod, closing my eyes for a time to steady myself. Aragorn is moving again: I feel myself being rocked back and forth slightly as he walks.

You do not have to carry me, I sign wearily, twisting my head to look down at the deep snow. I suppose I could make it a little longer, At least until the next rise. If only the wind was not so icy cold... Aragorn is signing.

Of course not, Peregrin. He says with a smile, holding me awkwardly in order to use his hands. In fact, you look well enough to carry me. Would you mind catching us up to Gandalf?

I smile, already aware that there is no point in an argument: Aragorn will win. He already has. He mostly does, really.

I expect that shall take some time, Strider. I say sleepily. Perhaps I should enlist Merry and Sam to help me. Boromir too. Aragorn grins, but I do not fail to notice the worried looks in his eyes.

I did not think I was that heavy, Peregrin. Surely you could drag me?

Perhaps. I should only need Merry's help then. How far do we have to go? Aragorn begins to reply, but is losing his grip on me slightly. He sighs, and adjusts my weight to both his arms, rolling back his shoulders.

"Not far, Pippin. Sam and your kin are exhausted, as are the others. Gandalf will call a rest soon, surely." That is a faint relief. A fire would be mighty welcome right now.

I find myself nodding off, only to be woken by Strider.

"Do not fall asleep, Pippin," he warns. "Stay awake a while longer." I sigh. Sometimes, and only sometimes, I wish Aragorn would take his healing knowledge elsewhere. All I want to do is sleep!

"What did you and Legolas speak about earlier?" he asks quickly, in an attempt to keep me thinking. It worked: I wonder briefly how much Legolas has told him. Not that it really matters. I do not mind Strider knowing. Maybe he has some advice. I yawn.

The usual, Strider. The hygiene habits of dwarves... and men... My lessons... Aragorn stiffens a little, and I smile. Not that he has anything to feel guilty about, but it feels good to be one step ahead of the man for once. Coincidentally, what have you to say on the subject?

Aragorn chuckles.

"Sam was right: there's no fooling a Took."

Even if the Took is a fool?

"Even if the Took is a fool," He affirmates. "Legolas told me of his idea back in Rivendell. I hope you do not mind?" I shake my head, too drowsy to care about anything, really. "I do not want you to get-"

Excited by the idea, Pippin, because there is a large chance it will not pull off. I interrupt, and he smiles.

"At least Legolas has gotten through to you, then. I think it is a wonderful idea, but I don't have any clues about how to help you. I'll just have to leave it up in the capable hands of Legolas." I nod, closing my eyes to shield them against the stinging snow. "How do you feel about it?" he prods gently, and I sigh, reopening my eyes as slits.

Do you think it can work, Strider? A surprised pause, but at length he nods. Then I do too. This prompts a fond smile from the man, and he tousles my hair softly.

"I'm glad that you and the others trust me, now." I cannot hold back another yawn.

I think deep down we always trusted you, Strider. Except maybe Sam. But he saw you taking care of Frodo. That... that convinced him right quick... Suddenly, I do not feel like even moving my hands.

Strider seems concerned and doubles his pace, hurrying to meet up with Legolas. I feel the sigh of relief through his chest when we hear Gandalf announce a rest, and I turn my gaze upwards to frown at him.

You worry too much. He laughs wearily.

"How do you know I was not just eager to take a break myself? It is hard work carrying a hobbit, after all. Especially one of your size, master Took." I snort, glancing down at my rather small stomach. To think, after years of being told I am too thin for a hobbit, not to mention too short... too short! Strider seems amused by my expression, and I resolve to aim my next prank at him. I wonder what he would look like without that long dark hair?

I brighten suddenly, catching a blurry glimpse of Legolas not far ahead. What would an elf look like without his long golden hair? Or better yet, Gimli! I know Sam carries around in his pack an old pair of scissors. I wonder if they would believe that the snow caused it to fall out? I also wonder how angry Gimli would be if I was to cut off his beard. Surely he would forgive me in time? ... Perhaps I should wait until we are nowhere close by any cliffs or large bodies of water.

Soon we catch up with the others, and find them setting up camp in a small cave, sheltering us from the falling snow. Gimli looks a sight: snow is so closely stuck to his beard that it looks white. Almost like a short, sturdier Gandalf.

Aragorn does not bother to set me down, I notice groggily. He seats himself besides Frodo, and wraps a spare blanket about my trembling body, as he casts a critical eye over my cousin. Frodo doesn't look so well. Very pale. Glancing around, neither do Merry or Sam... or anyone, really. I am content to sink down into the man's arms, glad for the extra warmth of the blanket. It seems so quiet, suddenly. The big folk by the entrance, and Bill, seem to be blocking much of the howling wind and snow, and as yet, no one is talking much. The soft murmur of Gandalf's voice is enough to put me to sleep. Lulled by the quiet conversation by the pony, I start to drift off, nestled warmly in between Strider and my cousin.

Frodo suddenly speaks, startling me into waking a little more.

"I'm alright, Aragorn." He says, sounding a little indignant. "No more tired than yourself. You worry too much." I smile at that and poke Strider discreetly in the chest, but he ignores it. Somehow, I get the impression that I shall be ignored quite a bit on this journey.

TBC, please r&r