Written for Marigold's Challenge #4, which can be found here: www.livejournal.com/users/talechallenge04

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There had been many dark and stormy nights in Gandalf’s long history, but this was one of the most exceptional.  The sky had darkened quickly and Gandalf had been forced to dash in a most unwizardly manner to his final destination.  Bilbo had only just closed the door when the wind came to batter at the smial like a wild beast.  The rain lashed in anger as it tried to find cracks to seep through and thunder crashed above, making the windows rattle in their fastenings.

Now, one late dinner later, Gandalf was in the only place he would want to be in weather like this: safe and warm, tucked into the rocking chair at Bag End, watching Bilbo tend the fire and listening to the soft rustle of turning pages as Frodo read avidly from the book Gandalf had brought him.  It was a good thing the little Took lad had gone to bed already.  It would be difficult to fall asleep with all the noise from the storm.

A thump and the patter of little feet told Gandalf that it was equally difficult to stay asleep with the racket overhead.  Little Peregrin Took came running into the room, hair tousled, eyes full of sleep and fear and launched himself into the first available lap.  Since Bilbo was standing and Frodo’s lap was blocked by a book, that meant that Gandalf found himself with a handful of Took.  Pippin either didn’t notice or didn’t care that he was within the grasp of someone more than twice his size.  In fact, from the fierce attention that Pippin gave to attaining his chosen protector’s lap, Gandalf wondered briefly if he would have accepted anyone else.

He squeaked as thunder rang out again and grabbed at Gandalf’s beard.  When that didn’t seem to provide adequate protection, he dove within the great folds of Gandalf’s robe and pulled the beard firmly over him, hiding him from view.

Gandalf chuckled as he felt tiny fists tangle into his shirt.

“Easy now, lad.  It’s all right, it was only thunder.”  When Pippin’s grasp did not ease, Gandalf cradled the small, trembling body and began to rock slowly, hoping that he could calm the boy.

From the depths of his long memory, an ancient lullaby surfaced and Gandalf hummed it softly.  It rose up and enveloped the two and spoke to the frightened child.

Quiet now, it sang, it’s only thunder.  They say thunder is Manwe grumbling in his sleep.  Manwe would never hurt a child of Iluvatar.  Sleep now.  I am the sound of the waves on the shore.  I am the leaves rustling in the wind.  I am the ancient history of this world and you are safe with me.

Gandalf’s voice dropped to silence as he seemed to come to himself again.  Pippin’s grip was no longer terrified.  The song had eased his fears away.  When he peered under Pippin’s protective coverings, he saw that the boy’s head was soft and gentle against his arm and his breathing even with sleep.

“Do you want me to take him?” Bilbo whispered.  Gandalf looked at the little boy lying so trustingly against him and shook his head.

So as Frodo and Bilbo stumbled off to bed, Gandalf remained behind and sang ancient melodies while rocking the small hobbit child beside the dying fire.