Yo! I hope you enjoy this chapter :D I stayed up far too late to finish it for someone who has to work on Christmas eve, so apologies for any pesky typos that escaped my grasp.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Revelations
Humming softly, Bilbo rocked his little nephew back and forth on his hip. It was just typical that Frodo would fall prey to a cold when the weather was turning towards spring. The boy had adapted incredibly well to life in Erebor – in fact he seemed to feel safer here than he had in the Shire – but ever since the coughing started he had whined for home, and for his mama.
The calls for Primula were rather upsetting, but Bilbo was not worried about Frodo's health. Hobbits rarely fell victim to serious diseases, while colds were not uncommon. Why, Bilbo himself had caught one in Lake-Town. And this was, after all, nothing more than a cold. The symptoms were mild enough to put Bilbo's heart at ease.
"Uncle Bilbo," Frodo whimpered. "Uncle Bilbo, it burns!"
"Burns?" Bilbo blinked and looked down, and his breath was crushed from his lungs.
A red ring was burnt into Frodo's little palm, and smoke was rising from the blistering wound. This was not a cold, it could not be.
Before Bilbo could scream for Óin, Frodo let out a scream of his own, and there was fire reflected in his eyes and bursting from his hand and –
Bilbo flew upright, choking on the gasp and scream that had collided in his throat. His sweaty hands gripped the sheets, and for a moment he did not know where he was.
Frodo, he had to get to –
"Bilbo? Bilbo, what's wrong?"
Dís.
They were in Rivendell. They were safe. A shuddering breath of relief drew into his lungs, and Bilbo dropped his head. Frodo was safe.
"Bilbo?" Dís asked again, less groggily, and she began to prop herself up on her elbows.
"I'm alright," he groaned, running his hands over his eyes. "Lay down, Dís, I'm fine. Just a nightmare."
"Again?" She sank back against the pillows, and took his hand. "What happened?"
He shuddered, and shook his head wearily. "I don't want to talk about it, Dís. Let's just go back to sleep."
Dís paused as if she wanted to press the matter, but then she sighed, and entwined her fingers with his. "Alright. Sleep well, Amrâlimê."
He laid down beside her, and her arms wrapped around him, and he slowly drifted back to sleep.
When he woke again, the memory of his nightmare was strong, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Dís did not bring it up either, and he was grateful for that. Frodo was fine, and Gimli would be back by now to tell him so, and to mock Bilbo for being a foolish old worrywart. There was no need to dwell on one strange dream.
He did not allow worry to seep in when he could not find Gimli at the breakfast table. Instead, he sat down opposite his sons and began to fill his stomach, tucking into his bacon and eggs with great gusto.
"So," he said eventually, setting his knife and fork down on his empty plate. "Have Gimli and Aragorn not returned yet? I thought they'd be back by last night?"
Across the table, Fíli and Kíli shrugged. They moved as one, their shoulders touching, and though they looked perfectly content, a little pain tweaked at Bilbo's heart. The thought of one without the other had not got any easier over the last few weeks.
"I expect they'll be back soon," sighed Dís. "After all, Aragorn was raised here, was he not? He will hardly get lost."
"Unless the young'uns have gone wandering," said Fíli, grinning. "Which is more than likely if you ask me."
"Aye, but Aragorn will find them," replied Kíli sagely, though he nodded back with a grin of own.
Fíli laughed. "I don't doubt it, even if they've run off to fight Sauron's Army themselves!"
Kíli snorted his apple juice all over the table, but Bilbo did not scold him. He did not hear Dís doing his job for him, or see Fíli swat his brother on the back of the head.
A sudden, horrible thought had knocked the puzzle pieces into place, the note, the nightmare, the nagging dread, and Bilbo could not breathe.
"Bilbo?" asked Kíli, his voice floating towards him from miles away. "What's wrong?"
I'm wrong, Bilbo thought desperately, oh by the Valar, oh let me be wrong, please, please, please!
He stood up quickly and stumbled back away from the table, feeling the blood leave his face, and his head spin, and he ran. Vaguely he heard shouts, and footsteps behind him, but it did not matter, and blood pounded through his ears, muffling all sound.
He had to be wrong, he had to prove himself wrong.
Please.
Feet smashing into the floor harder and faster than they had in years, Bilbo tore through Rivendell until he reached his room. He crashed through the door and fell to his knees, scrambling under the bed. His stomach was churning, threatening to expel his breakfast, but Bilbo ignored it, reaching for the wooden box beneath the bed.
"Bilbo?" cried Kíli, the fear in his voice breaking through to Bilbo. But Kíli was not hurt, he could not be hurt, and so he had to wait, to wait for a moment. Bilbo wrenched the box towards him and fumbled with the catch. When it gave way, he froze.
Prayed, with all his strength.
Closed his eyes.
Opened the box.
Then he opened his eyes, and groaned. Even as his body went cold, his fingers tore through the box, ripping apart the little bags of herbs he kept there, and searching its nooks and crannies for what he knew would not be there. And then he felt paper.
It took him five agonising seconds to open the folds, and when he did, he saw his own verse in Frodo's hand, and his world collapsed.
Some wretched mix of a sob and a cry broke from Bilbo's lips, and he covered his face with his hands, feeling the paper crease against his skin.
Frodo, what have you done?
"Bilbo, what's going on?" demanded Kíli, and Bilbo felt the dwarf shake his shoulder.
Wordlessly, Bilbo held up the letter and Kíli let him go, taking it gingerly. Bilbo stared at the ground, and tried to draw in breaths that would not come.
Sounding rather confused, Kíli read the note aloud. The altered answer to the verse that Bilbo had found the night before.
"'Dear Bilbo,' said he,
'I am sorry, but I know that I must go.
I love you more than my own life;
I'll do what must be done.
My strength is tenfold next to yours,
My senses sharper and mind less spent.
If I must my life I'll give to
Keep my family safe.' But, but that's just the 'Old Man' lullaby, with a couple of the lyrics altered… What does it mean? Bilbo?" When Bilbo did not reply, fear rose in Kíli's voice. "Bilbo, what's going on? What's happening?"
"Oh, Mahal," Dís whispered, and Bilbo knew from her tone she had worked it out. Surely nothing else could make her sound so broken, so shocked.
Bilbo could not look at her. He could not take his hands away from his eyes. "It's Frodo," he said to Kíli, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears. "Stupid, stupid-"
"What's Frodo?" pressed Kíli, pulling Bilbo's hands away from his eyes. Blinking through sunlight and tears, the hobbit winced at the fear in Kíli's wide eyes. "I don't understand, is he in trouble?"
"He's taken it," he whispered, and his head began to spin. "He's, he's taken the ring."
Across the room, there was a thud, and his head jerked up. Stars swam before his eyes at the sudden movement, but he blinked them away and saw his wife on her knees. Dís' legs had given out, and Fíli's attempt to catch her had ended with them both on the floor. But neither moved. They just stared at Bilbo with pale faces and horror-struck eyes.
This is all your fault, Bilbo thought, and he clamped his hand over his mouth. If you had thought less of yourself, if you had just worn the damn thing on its chain this never could have happened…
"Why would he do that?" Kíli said, his voice edging towards frantic. "Why would he, why would he do that, Bilbo?"
"You know the lullaby," Dís said bitterly. Her hand was clenched on Fíli's shoulder in a grip that must have been painful. The young prince did not move. "You know how it goes – the daughter takes her father's place. Takes his burden, to protect him."
"No." Kíli shook his head again, but the hand on Bilbo's shoulder was trembling. "No, he wouldn't, because, because he wouldn't take anyone else with him! Frodo wouldn't take anyone else into danger, he couldn't, it goes against his nature."
"But they would not let him go alone." Fíli sighed. "And you heard Nelly's logic. It was hard for even us to argue with."
Whether from shock or tears, Bilbo's vision was beginning to blur. It did not feel as though the air he dragged in with each hitched breath reached anywhere near his lungs. His hand found Kíli's wrist, and he grasped it like a life line.
This must be what it felt like to drown.
Like Drogo and Primula, thought Bilbo, with a more desperate gasp. He was not there to save his young cousins, but they had died for bearing his name, and now he would be the death of their son.
He would be the death of his little Frodo.
Why, Frodo? Why, why, why, no, no, no…
"No…" Kíli's voice cracked. "No? Bilbo?" No one answered him. All that Bilbo could hear was Dís hitched breathing. Kíli moaned, and dropped his face into his hands. Then, he took a deep breath, and immediately raised his head again. "Let's go. What are we waiting for, we must leave!"
"Follow them," Fíli agreed, almost before his brother had finished speaking. His voice was shaking, but there was a ferocity in it that brought Bilbo's gaze up. Fíli's eyes were blazing, and he looked positively lethal, but still his arms were wrapped around his mother. "We will follow them, and we will damn well bring them home."
"We've got company!" Nelly declared, jumping down over the rock that sheltered their little camp. By making as straight a line east as they could, the Conspiracy, as they had dubbed themselves, had quickly crossed the plains and made their way into the trees that grew near the base of the Misty Mountains. Now they were heading south, as straight and fast as they could. They had waited until dusk was falling to make camp, and now the light was fading, fast.
Initially, Bróin had suggested taking the High Pass, as Thorin's company had all those years ago, but with the news of sprawling goblin numbers, no one wanted to risk it. Also, as Frodo pointed out, they would emerge too close to the land of the Beornings to be safe. Pippin spouted off something about it being the most obvious choice and therefore the one they should take, but Nelly was not convinced of that. Not in this case, anyway. Nori, for one, would likely guess their logic.
A little guilt tugged at her heart at the thought of her friend, but she shook it off and addressed the serious facing now staring at her.
"Friend, foe or stranger?" asked Bróin. His sword was already drawn.
"Friend," said Nelly. The lads before her groaned, and she sighed, pushing up her sleeves.
"Who?" asked Merry.
"Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas," she replied grimly, looking around. "They'll be on us in five minutes, at the most, and I don't doubt Legolas saw me."
Bróin swore loudly, and Pippin stared at her incredulously. "You were seen? I thought you said you were sneaky."
Nelly's nostrils flared. "So help me, Pippin, I will tie you up and leave you here, you-"
"Not helping," Bróin interrupted, grabbing his bags off the floor. "We've got to hide."
"You think we can?" Frodo said, even as he gathered his own belongings in two swipes.
Nelly paused, glancing over her shoulder. "I doubt it. Aragorn's a tracker, isn't he? We don't have time to lay a false trail or anything."
"Well, that settles it," said Pippin, sitting back down on his blankets and pulling out an apple from his pack. "We'll just say we're lost."
Nelly snarled. Why the others had agreed to letting Pippin come, she would never know. She loved her brother, fiercely and deeply, but that was why he should have stayed. He was too young for this, too naïve, and at times like this it got on her nerves. "Yes, Pippin, let's do that. I see no way that could ever backfire, oh no."
"Stop panicking," Frodo said calmly, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Pack up, get ready to run if we have to. If we can't talk our way out of this, we go, alright? The wolves can run longer than even elvish horses."
In less than three minutes, their entire camp was dismantled. Bedrolls were lashed to wolves, their cooking gear was stowed, and their fire was nothing more than smouldering embers. They waited in a straight line, mounted on their wolves, watching. Waiting.
Scarce minutes later, three horses and a pony were upon them, the sound of hooves drowned out by Gimli's yells. "You damn hooligans! What do you think you're doing?"
Nelly raised her head, and painted an innocent, quizzical look onto her face. She knew that Gimli would be unlikely to buy it, but it may win her some points over the others. "What're you doing? I thought you were in important meetings?"
Gimli went bright red. So he had been worried, then. That was not ideal – worried dwarves meant protective dwarves, and protective dwarves were more stubborn than most.
"We were, until we realised that you'd buggered off!" he growled. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"
"Camping," Merry said, a perfect indignance in his tone. "Like we said we'd be."
"You think this is funny?" Gimli's nostril's flared. "You said you would not leave the valley?"
"We left the valley?" asked Pippin, blinking with a confused innocence that half-convinced Nelly.
"As amusing as this is," drawled Boromir, "we have just travelled at full haste from Rivendell, thinking you'd been abducted by orcs or some other devilry, and an explanation would be nice."
"Well, that was a rather stupid thing to do, wasn't it? How would orcs have taken us from Rivendell, really? It's not our fault you don't believe we can take care of ourselves," said Nelly calmly. Her heard was beginning to beat very fast.
"Not that we don't appreciate your concern," hastened Merry. "Just, it wasn't necessary. We're fine, just exploring."
"Exploring where?" pressed Gimli.
Bróin shrugged. "If we knew where, it wouldn't be exploring, would it?"
"You do yourself a disservice," said Aragorn, his voice oddly quiet. It gave Nelly the awful, creeping feeling that they might be about to be caught. She curled Kya's fur around her fingers and braced herself to run. "You are too intelligent to go 'exploring' at a time like this, and not nearly selfish enough. So what are you doing? You have a plan of some sort, I deem. What is it?"
Nelly glanced at Frodo, who nodded slowly. She nodded back, and turned to the men once more. "A decent plan, as far as we can make it. We will be fine, I am sure, but you have your own quest to take. You ought to get back to Rivendell, or you'll miss it."
"Not a chance," said Gimli, folding his arms. "You'll have to do better than that, Pimpernel Took."
He wielded her full name with the skill her mother did, and it hit its mark. Discomfort and guilt curled her toes. But resolution held her steady. They had their reasons. They were doing what was right. And Gimli, son of Glóin, would have to deal with that.
A prickly silence fell between them. The wolves jostled as if ready to run, and the horses stomped the floor, and even the wind seemed to fall still. A standoff had begun, and neither side would budge.
The darkness grew deeper. Shadows began to play over their faces.
Finally, Aragorn spoke. "Come. We will go back to Rivendell, and you can pitch your mission to your elders. If they give you permission, they will likely give you greater provisions as well."
"Not happening," said Nelly sharply, digging her heels into Kya to back away with the others. "You can try and take us, but we will scatter, you can't catch us all."
Gimli's eyes narrowed, and he flicked his reins. Odo strode forward like a war horse. "Just try us."
"Gimli, you don't know what you're doing," Pippin pleaded, and Nelly's heart sank. If Pippin started talking, they were all doomed. She shot him a look, but he ignored her. "You've got to let us go. It's important, not just for us."
"Important? And what do you think you could do that your elders cannot?" said Aragorn, but Gimli's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He stared at Pippin as though he had been struck dumb, and the colour seeped from his face.
"Oh, Mahal, tell me you didn't…" Something in Gimli's voice stole Nelly's breath for a moment. The anger and frustration was all gone, and in its place was disbelief – and fear. "Tell me you didn't do it."
"Didn't do what?" Nelly said, holding her head up high despite her shaking hands. Her mouth felt very dry. And she was going to murder her brother.
"Didn't do what?" Boromir repeated when no one spoke, staring at Gimli.
"We talked about it," said Gimli, and Nelly's stomach curled. His voice was cracked with heartbreak, and his face looked as though they had stabbed him in the back. "But I didn't think you were serious, I didn't think you'd be so stupid, so selfish. I didn't think you'd betray us like that."
Betrayal. The word hit her like a punch to the stomach.
But it was not true.
Stick to your gut, kid, came a voice much like Nori's. Her guilt grew, but her resolve tightened. She shot a glare at Pippin, who had the decency to look abashed.
"We're not being selfish!" argued Sam, though he looked on the verge of tears himself. "And we haven't betrayed anyone. We have to do this. It's the only way that makes sense."
With a soft gasp, Aragorn swore in elvish. "They took the ring."
"They what?" cried Boromir, staring from Aragorn to the Conspiracy with wide eyes. "No?"
"Get ready," Nelly murmured to Frodo, out of the corner of her mouth. He nodded, his lips pursed so tightly that the skin around them was white.
"Why?" demanded Gimli. "Why?"
"We told you," Bróin replied, all traces of calm conversation gone from his voice. Instead, his voice was stern as stone, and as unmoving as the mountains. "A thousand times, we told you. Erebor needs its politicians, its diplomats, its leaders. So do Gondor, and the Rangers, for that matter. And this task requires stealth, courage and friendship over strength in arms. Gandalf said so himself. We have that, and we're damn good with weapons as well. Bilbo cannot take the ring, Kíli cannot go to Mordor, and there's no way that Nori should be away from the mountain at its most vulnerable. Dís and Fíli need all the help they can get to make it to the mountain, and to get to Mordor you need to be sneaky."
"Which you have proven to be," sniffed Gimli, but there was something else in his eyes. A discomfort that looked an awful lot like agreement. She stared at him, pouring her determination and surety into her gaze. He was understanding. She knew that he was.
"Your intentions are noble, and your hearts true," said Aragorn, a look of deep sorrow on his face. "But this is a task too big for you, my friends. Bilbo was chosen for a reason –"
"Bilbo cannot take the ring," Frodo said. "Not now."
"Why?" frowned Boromir, urging his own horse a few steps forward. "Why not Bilbo?"
"He has to stay." Frodo's voice was sharp as his sword.
"I know you care for him," interjected Legolas, "but now is not the time to protect one at the expense of others."
"That's not what-"
"Then what?" pressed Boromir, and Nelly saw Frodo's composure crack further.
Aragorn spoke before Frodo could. "Your uncle is strong, Frodo, if anyone is capable of such a task-"
Frodo's fingers tightened around his wolf's fur. "I know-"
"Come back-"
"Bilbo should-"
"You can't-"
"Selfish fools-"
"He can't!" Frodo yelled, so loud that even Nelly jumped. Every voice was silenced but Frodo's, which broke free with a pained cry. "He cannot leave her, not now! It would kill her."
Nelly's heart stumbled. What was he talking about? Kill who?
"What?" Gimli stammered, as even the Conspiracy stared at Frodo in confusion.
Frodo's eyes widened and is he had only just realised what he said. Then, he hung his head. "Auntie Dís – she's, she's pregnant."
A fist of ice punched Nelly in the chest, and sorrow flooded her head to toe. As Merry and Sam gasped and Pippin moaned and Bróin swore, she understood why Frodo had been so very insistent.
"No," Gimli murmured, his voice wavering. "She – is she?"
"I don't understand," said Boromir, looking from Frodo to Gimli with a from. "I would point out that many leave for war or peril while their wives are with child, but I sense that you already know that?"
Nelly swallowed, and turned to her cousin. "Frodo, is she really?"
He nodded, his lower lip quavering.
"Oh, Mahal," she whispered, taking a deep breath. Then, she turned to Boromir. "Four, four babies, Dís has lost since she wed Bilbo. We, we don't know if it's even possible a child could survive…"
"Bilbo doesn't know," Frodo said, his large eyes fixed on the ground before Boromir's pony. "I found out only by accident, and guesswork. I, I swore not to tell. She thinks it is only a matter of time before, well…" Frodo hung his head, and continued. "She needs Bilbo. She could not join the fellowship because she was afraid of miscarrying on the road and bringing greater danger to the company. That's all she ever thinks about, other people. What they need, how to keep them safe. But she needs Bilbo now, he cannot go to Mordor. If, if he went, if he was not there when – they'd be crushed."
"Well," Gimli said gruffly, "that explains it. And settles it. I'm coming with you."
It took Nelly a moment to register what he said. When she did, she gasped. "What?"
"You make good points, and the last best of all. Not for you, perhaps," Gimli nodded at the Big Folk by his side. "Politics over people, and that. I understand. But this is my family, and these young idiots made the right choice. I'm coming with you."
"You cannot," said Legolas, frowning critically at Gimli. "There is no wisdom in this-"
"There is much wisdom in this," retorted Gimli, "And not simply for the sake of Dís. You do not like it because it was not the will of the council, but the council would not listen to them. Like it or not, children or not, I've seen them fighting, and hiking, and sneaking – I know what they are capable of. And, I think they can do this. Or at least that they've as much chance as Bilbo."
"And as much chance as Glorfindel of Rivendell?" argued Legolas.
Nelly would be the first to admit that she would have very much liked Glorfindel to be there. A warrior of such skill would never go amiss. But he would not join them like this, she was sure of it. As such, it was not an option.
"Perhaps not," said Gimli. "But Gandalf said that a hobbit would have as much chance as Glorfindel, alone in Mordor."
"I do not believe that."
"Gandalf said it," repeated Gimli.
Nelly glanced at the silent men. Boromir looked as though he had been smacked in the face by a wet fish. Aragorn's lips were white, and he stared at Frodo.
Then, finally, he spoke. "I understand what you have said, what Gimli has said. Would that Glorfindel had accompanied us, for he and Gandalf both have power beyond your understanding. But I believe that loyalty and love will serve us better than power. And it is not the fellowship I would have chosen, but I have no say here. I will help you, if I can. You have my sword."
Nelly felt her eyes bulge, but she made no effort to stop them. She had expected a chase, a fight, even, but to be joined? For the heir of Isildur to pledge his allegiance?
"People over politics," Boromir mused, drawing her eye. "My father would advise against it, and strongly. Were he here, he would advise us back to Rivendell." The man stared at Frodo for a long moment. "My father is a wise man. But politics would not stop me from keeping my brother from this journey, nor will it force me to stop yours. If this is indeed the path you will take, Gondor will see it done. I am with you."
Gimli turned to Legolas. "So? Will you try to stop us?"
The elf glared at those on wolves. "I do not see wisdom in putting the happiness, or even health, of two people before the safety of the world, no matter how worthy they may be."
"Come now, Legolas," said Boromir, puffing up his chest. "They have already explained – in no foolish terms, I might add – their motives and reasoning, and it seems most made the decision without the knowledge of Dís' pregnancy – may the Valar bless and protect her. But anyway, the elves' most famous love story is all about two people poking dark lords with big sticks for 'personal happiness.'"
"Yes, because the tale of Beren and Lúthien had a happy ending," muttered Aragorn.
"The ending is happy enough, by my reading," replied Boromir curtly, turning to the elf. "Legolas? All things considered, what do you think?"
The elf gazed over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. "I would see us all return to Rivendell. I do not think there is sense in this. But as I will not be able to return to ring to Imladris alone, I will do my best to protect it, and to protect you. You have my bow."
Nelly breathed out slowly, her own eyes narrowing a little as she studied Thranduil's son. To have one who did not agree with the quest accompany them was dangerous. Dissonance and discord were dangerous. But what were the alternatives? And an elf would be of great use, even if it were not Glorfindel.
On behalf of the company, she nodded.
"But I think that word should be sent to Rivendell," said Legolas. "And I think that Pippin ought to take the message."
"I beg your pardon?" Nelly's brother cried, even as she muttered, "My sentiments exactly."
"You are very young still, Pippin," said Legolas sombrely, and Boromir and Gimli both nodded. "You cannot guess the horrors that lie on the road, and unlike your cousins you are not even close to your majority."
Nelly nodded slightly, turning to look at her brother, but to her surprise he did not look indignant, or childish.
He looked furious.
"Don't you dare," he said softly, coldly. His eyes narrowed and hardened, and his voice was strengthened by an authority she had never heard before. Not from her little brother. "Don't you dare tell me I do not know the horrors that lie on the road. I know better than any of them. I remember."
An awful horror wrapped around Nelly's heart as she stared at Pippin. He could not be talking of Mirkwood, he could not remember that, of course he could not! He had only been a baby, surely he could not remember –
Or had she just hoped that he could not remember?
"What?" Gimli's hoarse whisper was half-stolen by the breeze.
"I remember everything," Pippin said, his voice beginning to shake. "I remember going to sleep in my Papa's arms, and waking up to an orc's hand clamped over my face. I remember running, as fast as I could, and the way the ropes tightened around my neck when I fell. I remember what they made us do to Fíli – I remember the knife, and pushing it – pushing it into his back. His blood, on my hands. I remember Estel carrying me away, I remember screaming for my papa until Gimli put his hand over my mouth. I remember being five years old, and certain that I was going to die. I remember everything. So don't you dare tell me I don't know what horrors there are on the road."
Nelly could not move. He remembered? Had it haunted him all these years? Or was it an awful memory that only appeared during nightmares and brief recollections, like the memory of finding Nori, all but dead? How could he be so carefree, so naïve, if he remembered all of that horror?
Was she a terrible sister?
She glanced at Merry. He looked as stricken as she was – and his tears were already halfway down his cheeks. His mouth was hanging open, but no sound came out of it.
No sound came from anyone. Not until Legolas bowed his head.
"Forgive me," he murmured. "I did not know. Yet I do not regret my wish for you to return – in fact I still wish it."
Pippin sighed, folding his arms across his chest. Already, anger was falling from him like raindrops off a metal shield. "Look, you can send me back if you can. But I'll follow you like a hound until I find you again, unless you chain me to a tree and leave me to starve."
"We left a note," said Frodo quietly, his eyes rather red. "One that Bilbo will understand. He will know what we have done"
"One that won't give him a heart attack and lead him to instantly follow you, I hope," said Gimli, though he only had eyes for Pippin.
"I hope so," Frodo agreed. "But better for him to follow than to lead. He won't catch us."
Nelly glanced around, and quickly patted a nearby branch. If there was ever a time to touch-wood, this was it.
Slowly, they all dismounted, and rekindled the campfire. Pippin's return to his usual self was quick, but Nelly made a note to check on him later. How, she was not sure yet, but she would figure something out. They set up a dual watch, so that no one from either the conspiracy or their hunters were watching alone.
"Just in case you try and spirit us away, or we run off into the night," joked Bróin jovially, laying out his bedroll between Gimli and Nelly's. He volunteered for the first watch, so when their conversations died away, Nelly laid down and gazed in the direction of her brother, letting weariness slowly close her eyes.
Distrust and dual watches, she mused. The perfect way to start a quest whose fortune depends on loyalty…
I hope you enjoyed that chapter, and thank you for reading! Until next time, take care!