“I think we’re lost.”

Merry rolled his eyes. “How can we be lost, Pippin? The kitchens were that way and our rooms are this way.”

“We’ve passed this statue twice already,” Pippin replied. He sifted through the contents of the tray and selected a large, red apple.

“No we haven’t.”

“Yes we have.” Apple in hand, Pippin gestured toward the statue in question. “This one, the Elf…see?”

“They’re all Elves. They just look alike to you. We’re going the right way,” Merry insisted. He reached over, removed the apple from Pippin’s hand and placed it back on the tray. “And stop eating! Save some for me.”

“But, Merry, I’m starving.”

“Pippin, we’ll eat once we-” Merry fell silent as he noticed a tall figure watching them from the shadows. Both hobbits halted and glanced at one other.

“W-we were just hungry, and there was no one to ask…We’ll put it all back if you want us to!” Pippin cried, flinching nervously. He tried to back away, but found it impossible with Merry, who suddenly seemed incapable of moving, holding the other end of the tray.

The shadowed figure stepped forward then and Merry exclaimed almost accusingly, “You’re not an Elf!”

The man looked at them oddly for a moment before smiling slowly. “Neither are you,” he pointed out.

“We’re hobbits,” Merry said proudly. “I’m Merry, and this is my cousin Pippin. Who are you?”

“Boromir,” the man replied, stepping closer.

Pippin noticed a small trickle of blood running down the man’s finger. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

The man glared at his finger and moved to wipe it on the inside of his sleeve.

“Wait, I have a handkerchief,” Pippin said, relinquishing his end of the tray to his cousin so he could reach into his pocket. He handed it to the man with a smile and said, “You can keep it.”

It seemed that Boromir hesitated for a moment, but he smiled again and accepted the small cloth. “Thank you,” he said quietly, pressing it to his wound.

Pippin continued smiling as he watched Boromir. “Merry and I were just-”

“Shh!” Merry hissed, nudging Pippin with his elbow. “I think someone’s coming!”

Pippin felt his heart beat wildly again, and quickly glanced around.

“What-” Boromir began.

“No time to explain!” Merry whispered, taking care not to spill anything from the cumbersome tray as he clambered behind the statue. “Come on, Pip!”

Pippin started to follow, but froze as he saw two Elves at the far end of the corridor. They were coming from the direction of the kitchens.

His eyes met Merry’s in shared panic, and Pippin had all but resigned himself to being locked in an Elvish prison just like the dwarves in Bilbo’s stories when Boromir suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close.

“Good evening,” Boromir called out.  

“Good evening, Boromir,” the Elf with the darker hair replied softly. He glared down at Pippin, who quickly averted his eyes. “I was not aware that you knew this hobbit.”

“Pippin? Oh, yes, we have become fast friends,” Boromir replied smoothly. Pippin stared up at him in confusion but nonetheless pasted a smile on his face and nodded enthusiastically.

The Elf delicately arched an eyebrow. “I see. Did you happen to see another hobbit? His accomplice?”

“Accomplice? I do not understand what you mean,” Boromir said.

The fair-haired Elf eagerly broke in, “This hobbit and his friend have plundered the kitchens since their arrival.” He frowned at Pippin before continuing, “Tonight they even managed to take a bottle of Lord Elrond’s wine.”

Boromir’s hand tightened on Pippin’s shoulder, and when Pippin glanced up it seemed that the man was finding it difficult to keep a straight face.

“This hobbit?” Boromir cried as if insulted. “You must be terribly mistaken. We have spent the entire evening in each other’s company, along with his cousin Merry – the other little one you are searching for, I believe.”

It was now the man’s turn to receive glares from the Elves.

“I assure you that we are not mistaken. These young hobbits are the little thieves. I saw them one evening leaving the kitchens with a tray of food and drink. I tried to chase them, but they vanished into the night.” The fair-haired Elf sighed heavily. “We never had such trouble in Imladris before.”

“I am sorry, but Pippin could not have been your thief tonight, and neither could Merry. Both were with me,” Boromir said. He glanced down at his bound finger and blurted, “I was teaching them swordplay.”

Aghast, Pippin stared at Boromir, while Elves looked both amused and doubtful. “Swordplay?” one of them asked in disbelief.

“We had to stop! Boromir hurt his hand!”  Pippin exclaimed, suddenly regaining both his voice and his wits. He pointed to the man’s finger, where a small trickle of blood was seeping through the handkerchief.

The Elves looked concerned. “Should we bring you to a healer?” one of them asked.

“No, no. It is only a scratch,” Boromir insisted.

Pippin was chattering away now. “Merry took our swords back to our rooms for us, and went to find something better to wrap poor Boromir’s finger in. But Boromir said he’ll give us another lesson soon, and turn us into regular warriors!” He laughed loudly, and looked up at the man for confirmation.

“I did indeed,” Boromir replied. Both man and hobbit turned to the Elves and smiled, waiting.

The Elves studied them warily and then glanced at each other.

“Please accept our deepest regrets for disturbing you, Boromir, Pippin,” the dark-haired one said after a long moment. “Good evening.”

The Elves headed back toward the kitchens, glancing a few times over their shoulders at the still-grinning man and hobbit behind them.

Merry waited a few moments, until he was certain that the Elves were long gone, before he emerged from behind the statue.

“Well, I’m glad we came across you tonight, Boromir,” he said with a smile.

“It really was very good of you,” Pippin remarked. “And how did you know we needed someone to teach us how to fight properly? Did Strider tell you?”

“I didn’t…I mean, I was just…who’s Strider?” Boromir asked finally.

“A friend of ours. You haven’t met him yet?” Pippin replied.

“No.”

“Never mind that! When will you show us how to fight?” Merry asked eagerly.

“To fight? Oh…well…,” Boromir stalled, trying to come up with an adequate response and found himself asking, “Tomorrow?”

The hobbits glanced at each other and nodded. “We’re available,” Merry announced. “Pippin and I were just going to have our snack. You must join us.”

“There’s plenty of food,” Pippin informed him, “and you can tell us about yourself, and why you are here, and we can tell you about ourselves and our cousin Frodo-”

“Who has been ill,” Merry broke in, giving Pippin a pointed glance. Pippin nodded and both hobbits smiled up at the man, awaiting his response.

“I would be honored to join you,” Boromir said after a moment, smiling in return. “Lead on, my friends.”