Aragorn peered up at the darkening sky anxiously.  “I don’t like the look of those clouds.  Come on, everyone, we’d better try to find some shelter.  In these hills it does not take long for a storm to hit.”

The four hobbits exchanged miserable looks as they resolutely tightened their packs and set out, trying to keep up with Aragorn’s lengthened stride.  Legolas, bringing up the rear, made certain they did not fall behind.  None of them complained, however, being able to picture all too clearly the misery of having to trudge through the rain.

Aragorn led them on a twisting, winding course that only he could discern, and soon they were thoroughly deep within the woods that seemed to comprise the land about them. 

“At least if it rains these trees shall keep most of the water off of us,” Pippin sighed, bundling his cloak tighter about himself as the wind picked up, sending cold blasts of air into their faces.

“Don’t be too sure o’ that, Mr. Pippin,” Sam sighed, looking up through the gaps in the trees.  “There be plenty of spots for water to get through.”

“Would you please stop talking about rain?  You’re going to –” A flash of lightning, followed quickly by a blast of thunder that trembled the earth, interrupted Merry, followed by the unmistakable first drops of rain.  “…jinx us,” he finished in a weary voice.

“Quickly, all of you!” Aragorn shouted from ahead of them, and they could barely make out his form in the sudden downpour.  “Just a bit further, there looks to be a cave ahead!”

They needed no further encouragement and ran as best they could in the deepening mud.  Twice Pippin fell, the second time brought down by Frodo’s out flung hand as the eldest hobbit’s foot sank into a hidden puddle.  The two of them looked like walking mud-pies by the time they reached the cave Aragorn had located.

            Luckily there was wood to be found inside the cave, possibly brought in by spring flooding, and in a few short moments a small fire was warming their shivering forms.

           “Now can I say it, Merry?” Pippin asked pitifully from where he was stripping out of his muddy, dripping clothes.

           “Say what?” Frodo asked beside him, doing the same.  His teeth were chattering so hard he had trouble getting the words out, and smiled in grateful thanks as Sam wrapped a warm blanket around him. 

           “That I am miserable now,” Pippin answered, then sneezed so hard he rocked back on his heels.  He wiped his nose with a soggy handkerchief, glaring at his dirty hands. 

          “Yes, you can say it now,” Merry agreed, patting the ground beside him as he settled down next to Gimli.  He wrapped his cloak about his cousin as Frodo took the seat next to Pippin and did the same, Sam following suite, until they looked like nothing more than a bundle of soggy, steaming cloth. 

           “Say what?” Boromir asked, Aragorn, Legolas and Gandalf trailing after him from their brief exploration of the cave, the four of them taking up the remaining room around the fire.

           “That I am miserable.  I wasn’t allowed to say it earlier, but now I can,” Pippin replied. 

             Boromir exchanged a confused glance with Aragorn before asking what to him was an obvious question.  “Pippin, why weren’t you allowed to say you were miserable earlier?”

             “Because he was not,” Gandalf answered for him, wringing water from his beard.  He scowled darkly at the little puddle at his feet.  “One is not miserable unless one is four things: wet, cold, tired, and hungry.  If you are only three out of the four you are merely uncomfortable.  Be thankful you do not wear shoes, young Peregrin, as I can think of few things more unpleasant than wet socks on cold feet.”

           “Wet trouser legs,” all four replied, earning a startled chuckled from the group.

            “I think wet underthings are more unpleasant,” Boromir added, grinning at their fervent nods of understanding.

            Gimli snorted his agreement, shifting slightly as though the mention of wet undergarments had brought to his attention his own uncomfortable condition. 

             “Being wet is not so bad when it is fair outside, but this cold makes for nasty times, indeed,” Legolas sighed, pulling his clinging tunic away from his neck with a grimace. 

             “Aye,” Aragorn sighed, removing his boots to place them near the fire, wiggling his pruned toes near the flames.  Everyone else who wore footwear followed his example, and the sound of relieved sighing was echoed in the small cave. 

           The sound of the rain filled the small shelter as they fell silent, a soothing lullaby after that night’s travel, the warmth of their bodies and the fire making them sleepy.

            Legolas watched with a smile about his lips as Pippin slowly sank sideways onto Merry’s shoulder, his eyes drooping shut.  His cousins automatically shifted, Merry wrapping his arm tighter about him as Frodo moved closer, his own head drooping.  Sam and Merry shared a glance across their sleepy friends and smiled, gently guiding dozing bodies across their laps.

           “Go to sleep, Pip,” Merry whispered, bending down to place a gentle kiss on his cousin’s muddy brow.  He ran a hand through dripping, muddy locks and shook his head at the sight. 

            “A right mess,” he heard Sam mutter beside him. 

             He laughed to himself as he allowed his own eyes to close, and soon was drifting comfortably off to sleep.

         Pippin was standing at the mouth of the cave, watching the steady downpour that continued to keep them confined.

           “No, Pippin,” Merry and Frodo said at the same time, startling a chuckle out of a weary Boromir and Gimli sitting across the fire.

           “I didn’t say anything,” the youngest hobbit protested, albeit weakly.

            “You was thinking of running outside to get that mud off of you, and the answer is no,” Sam said firmly, coming up behind him to wrap him in a blanket.  “It’s too cold.”

            “But-“ Pippin began, only to be stopped by a snort from the direction of the dwarf.  He turned affronted eyes to his companion.  “You’re not helping, Gimli,” he hissed.

            “Sorry, Lad,” Gimli chuckled  “You do look a sight, though.”

            Pippin scowled, turning his glare to his cousins.  “I just want to get the worst of it off, it itches!” 

           “No, Pippin!” Frodo admonished even as he scratched his own filthy arms. 

            “Just a quick dive outside, it won’t take me but a moment!”  He was begging now, using every trick he knew, from puppy eyes to slightly pouty lip.  “Really, it’s very irritating and I can’t help but feel as though little bugs are crawling all over me!”

           “Pippin,” Merry sighed, eyeing his cousin for a moment.  He truly did seem to be in distress.  “Oh, all right.  But take off those clothes and make it quick, I don’t want you getting sick again!”

           “Well, if he’s going to, then so shall I!” Frodo said quickly, standing as he scratched at his head.  “Blast you, Pippin, now I’m starting to feel as though I have bugs all over me!”

            “I’m not sure this is such a wise –“ Boromir began, then sighed in resignation as Pippin and Frodo practically threw off their clothes, dashing out into the frigid rain, scrubbing as best they could with shaking and numbed hands.  In only a few minutes they were rushing back inside, sopping wet but surprisingly clean.

            “Oi, that’s much better,” Pippin sighed, shaking his head like a dog and spraying his companions. 

            “Pippin!”

            Frodo laughed, drying himself off with a blanket that Sam handed to him. 

            “I think you had better dress yourselves before Aragorn or Gandalf awakens to find out what you two have been up to,” Legolas suggested kindly, eyeing the sleeping companions with a grin.  “Valar forbid that Aragorn thinks you need a potion.”

             The companions had never seen hobbits dress so quickly.

They remained in the cave for another full night and day, and when they set out the following night it was with a slight air of regret.  Though not large, the cave had offered them a respite from the long journey before them, and their spirits had been refreshed by the break. 

          “Well, at least we are not miserable anymore,” Pippin sighed, trudging behind Merry as they tried to navigate the slippery, muddy slopes.

           “Pippin, stop that.  You’re going to –“

             “Ahhh!  Frodo, noooo!” 

            Squish!

            “…jinx us.”