What’s in a Name?

Faramir, Steward of Gondor, finally found that which he had sought. He had asked the King where he could find the halflings, for he felt that he had not nearly thanked any of them enough. He owed his life to all of them. If not for Peregrin, he would have burnt alive with his father. If not for Meriadoc and his strange, in the eyes of men, cheerfulness, Faramir felt that both he and his bride would have sunk into a well of despair that neither of them would have escaped from. And, of course, the entire world owed Frodo and Sam an immeasurable debt. It no longer seemed strange to Faramir that they had all been saved by the smallest of people.

The door of the house where the Companions of the Ring dwelt was ajar. After getting lost three times, Faramir had found it. He slipped in silently. Gandalf was not there – no doubt he was conferring with the King. Legolas and Gimli sat at one window – that which faced to the sea. They were talking quietly to one another. Samwise seemed to be fussing over Frodo once more, as the Ringbearer sat upon his bed. Their voices were also quiet, but even if they had been speaking loudly, Faramir doubted that they would be heard above the other noise from the room.

Merry and Pippin were arguing, though what about, Faramir could not guess.

“You’re just jealous, Merry, because Gandalf let me ride on Shadowfax and not you.”

“He only let you because you are an irresponsible brat.”

Faramir did not speak, for fear that the anger of the two cousins should be directed at him. Frodo and Sam noticed him and smiled knowingly. At last the argument seemed to have been resolved, or perhaps won would be a better term. From the smug look on Pippin’s face and the scowl on Merry’s, Faramir guessed that Pippin had been the victor.

“Well, hullo there, Faramir!” Pippin greeted, cheerily. There was a deliberate cough from one of the other hobbits – Faramir did not know which – and Pippin corrected himself, though not without a roll of his eyes. “Greetings, Lord Faramir, sir.”

Faramir bowed. “There is no need for such formalities, Peregrin.”

At this comment, Pippin stuck his tongue out at Frodo, who had obviously been the one who coughed.

“What brings you here, Lord?” Frodo asked, ignoring Faramir’s words about formality.

“I came simply to extend my thanks to you for saving my life, and…” He looked at Merry, “…that of my bride.”

Sam scratched his head. “I never thought I’d hear myself say I was tired of being thanked. Especially when I hardly deserve it…”

“There you go again, Sam,” laughed Frodo. This had been a more and more common sound of late, much to the joy of his companions. “You deserve just as much thanks as the rest of us, if not more.”

“Well, Mister Frodo, if you say so…”

“I do say so. And Faramir, you are quite welcome, though it was hardly necessary for you to express it.” Frodo looked at Faramir. “Was that the only reason you came here?”

It was Faramir’s turn to laugh. “There is little that can be hidden from you, is there, Frodo? Well, since you seem to have guessed there is more meaning to my visit, I will tell you, shameful as it is. With all the preparations being made for the King, there is actually little that I am needed for. On several occasions he has told me to rest, but my excitement will not allow it. So, to come straight to my point, I suppose you could say that I was lonely, and desired companionship.”

“Well, that is splendid!” Pippin cried. “You have certainly come to the right place. We shall have a wonderful time here!”

Merry was the only one to have noticed that Faramir’s eyes had often glanced to the northwest as he spoke. In fact, they had been doing so for many a day. “It has only been a few days since she rode. Fear not, she will return.”

Faramir smiled warmly at Merry. It seemed that little could be hidden from any of the hobbits. He accepted the chair that Legolas had brought for him.

“It is very good that you came,” Pippin said, after some length of time. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I did not know when I would have the chance to do so.”

“Then ask away now, Master Peregrin,” Faramir replied.

“Well, I was wondering if you would mind me naming my son after you. I did think of Boromir, but I don’t think that would rightly suit a hobbit lad. Faramir, on the other hand, would not be so bad.”

“I would be honoured, Peregrin, for you to name your son and heir after myself.” Faramir was not lying, though he was not sure if he should be insulted that his name would suit a hobbit lad, while his brother’s would not. “I had no idea you were to go home to an expecting wife…”

Frodo and Sam smiled at each other, but Merry gave a loud snort. “Peregrin? A wife? I can hardly wait to see the day.”

Pippin scowled at his cousin. Faramir was left in a state of confusion, and waited for someone to explain.

“Pippin is not expecting that son he spoke of any time soon,” said Frodo. “I suppose he was just being polite by asking your permission, since it may be that he does not see you before that time actually comes.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Pippin doesn’t even have a sweetheart waiting for him,” Merry added, in a scoff.

“But when we return to the Shire, no doubt every lass will be lining up to see us!” Pippin declared in his defence. “We are heroes, Meriadoc. It’s such a pity that Estella is waiting for you, and Rosie for Sam. I suppose Frodo and I will have to choose from the hoards by ourselves.”

This was the first that Faramir had heard about any of the hobbits having “sweethearts” back in the Shire. A glance at Frodo, who seemed sad, but content, told Faramir that the “hoards” would belong to Peregrin alone.

“What lass in her right mind would want to marry you?” Merry snorted again.

“If you’re not careful, it’ll be yours,” Pippin returned. Merry’s face became very red. “I mean, honestly, when she sees what this adventure has done to you – you look like you washed your face in the Cracks of Doom!”

Merry, in a lightening fast movement, tackled Pippin to the ground, and the cousins started wrestling. From between the grunts and screams, vicious insults could be heard. Faramir assumed that Meriadoc was quite proud of his looks, and Pippin’s comments and dealt his pride a painful blow.

“Who would think that these would be the same two hobbits who cried for two straight days when they were finally reunited?” Gimli murmured. No one made any attempt to separate the bickering cousins.

“They’re making up for lost time, no doubt,” said Sam. “When they’re not fighting, they’re still crying.”

Faramir smiled, but said nothing. He was wondering if Peregrin and Meriadoc would be suitable names for young men of Gondor and the Princes of Ithilien.

* * * * * *

A/N: This story was inspired, to an extent, by “Capturing a White Queen” by Regina L. I really suggest you check out any of her stories. (And I hope she doesn’t mind me giving her free advertising!)