Disclaimer:  I own nothing Tolkien. I promise to put the characters back safely.

To Tell a Tale

By Elendiari

           “Merry, when are we going to stop?”

           “Whenever Gandalf decides to, Pip.”

            Pippin huddled into his cloak miserably and sighed. They had been walking all night, and were nearing the bleak, empty countryside that had once been an Elvish region: Hollin, he remembered Gandalf had said. He was cold and tired, and more than ready to drop to the ground and eat a decent supper-breakfast with the rest of them. If only they would stop. The leaders seemed oblivious to the hints that he and Merry had been throwing out. Well, they were Big Folk, after all, most of them. He knew that they didn’t look on meal times like hobbits did. Pity.

       Finally, they stopped, and the hobbits, all of who were still unused to walking this much, sank to the ground.  Gimli got the fire going, and soon they were all contentedly eating the bread and dried meat that had become a daily staple.

      As he ate, Merry turned to Pippin and said, “You’re lucky we stopped before you had to resort to your Tragic Elven Prince of Mirkwood trick.” Then Merry’s face turned white, as he realized what he had said.

     The company grew very quiet.  “What?” said Legolas, from across the campfire.

     Merry and Pippin turned extremely guilty looks across the fire, Pippin blushing from head to furry feet with embarrassment. However, there was no way to recover from this predicament, and so, looking at the ground, Pippin mumbled, “I was ten and pretended I was…you, I guess, Legolas…and that I was starving because I’d been attacked by dragons, and I got Merry’s mum to give me cake.”

      Silence. Pippin looked up from the ground, straight at Legolas. The Elf’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline, and a rather surprised look graced his lovely features. The rest of the company was looking at him, as well. Pippin felt terrified that he had made a mortal enemy. He was trying to swallow the lump in his throat, to apologize, when, suddenly, an amazing thing happened.

      Legolas laughed. His pure, tinkling silver laugh filled the morning air, and he had to set his plate down so that he wouldn’t drop it. Boromir began to chuckle, as well, and then Aragorn joined in with a hearty laugh. Pippin felt the tension drain out of him as the Fellowship, Ringbearer, Wizard and all, collapsed from laughter. 

     “Ah, Master Pippin, that certainly sounds like an interesting tale. Were you really that hungry?” Legolas asked when his laughter had subsided.  Pippin blushed again and nodded. Legolas stood and bowed low. “Than I am glad that I was unwittingly of service to you. Long may you live without hunger.”

        They all laughed again-after a fortnight, the rest had realized that Pippin was rarely ever fed as often as he wished.

      Later, as the hobbits rolled themselves into their blankets, Merry apologized for putting Pippin on the spot like he had.

        “Don’t be silly, Merry,” Pippin replied, smiling. “Legolas seemed quite pleased. And in case you didn’t notice, I succeeded in making Gimli and Boromir laugh. I must say that is quite a feat.”

        The other hobbits snickered. Pippin was right, after all. The stoic dwarf and the Man of Gondor were not known for their ready laughter. Settling down, the hobbits fell asleep.

*****

        From across the campsite, where he was keeping watch, Legolas thought to himself that it was, perhaps, a wise thing after all that the young hobbits had come along on the Quest. If nothing else, they would keep the Company in good spirits. And the Valar knew, they would need good spirits before the end.

The End