A/N: Thank you to Pipwise for the beta :)

*

“Beggin’ your pardon, but what I want to know most is how Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin grew so tall.”

Pippin’s laugh reverberated against the trees in the quiet glade where the four hobbits had gathered. “Well, that’s nice. After all that Merry and I have seen and done, all Sam wants to hear about is our growth spurts!”

“Now, Mr. Pippin,” Sam protested, blushing. “I want to hear everything, of course, but I’m just curious, is all. It’s a mite strange to see hobbits of your age grow so fast.”

“Besides, we’ve heard about your daring feats a dozen times tonight already,” Frodo added. Merry and Pippin had rather dominated the conversation with their accounts of various battles and sieges. “Take pity on your poor old cousin and give us a different tale for a change.”

“Yes, Frodo, but only because I like my poor old cousin so much,” Pippin replied, grinning as he leaned against the small mountain of pillows and blankets that they had arranged in a circle near several mossy trees. “And you know that I was just teasing you, Sam. It’s as good a tale as any to begin with, and we must begin somewhere. You see, it was the Ent-draught that–”

“If we must begin somewhere, then it should be at the beginning,” Merry interrupted, shaking his head in exasperation.

“All right,” Pippin replied amiably. “One day, a hobbit named Frodo Baggins left the Shire, accompanied by – oi!” He dodged a cushion and feebly flung it back at Merry. “You said to start at the beginning.”

Smiling, Frodo watched the small pillow fight erupt between his cousins before good hobbit-sense prevailed and Merry remembered that it probably was not the best idea for Pippin to over-exert himself right now, and dutifully set about fixing the cushions. Frodo had missed this – his cousins, the simple joy of an evening spent sitting beneath a tree and having a smoke with friends. “Well, lads, Sam wants to hear your tale, and so do I. What is this Ent-draught?”

“My dear Frodo, you’re nearly as bad as Pippin,” Merry replied with a laugh. “We must start at the beginning or else nothing will make any sense – rather, it will make less sense.”

“Talking in riddles, he is,” Sam muttered.

“Not riddles, just facts,” Merry insisted. He took a puff of his pipe before continuing.  “I suppose we should begin with when we got separated at Parth Galen.” He seemed reluctant to go on, however, and searched Frodo with anxious eyes.

“Perhaps I should first explain why I left you that day,” Frodo said gently.

“You don’t need to, Frodo,” Merry said, shaking his head. “We understand. You know we would have gone with you to the end,” he added earnestly. “You must know that.” Pippin nodded fervently in agreement.

“I never doubted it,” Frodo replied with a smile that quickly faded. “I hated to leave you both without any warning, but in my heart I knew that I had to complete my task alone. I did not want to lead any of my friends into peril.” He frowned at the memory. “And it was made very clear to me that day that I could not trust all of our Company.”

“You mean Boromir, don’t you?” Pippin asked hesitantly, breaking the silence that followed. “That day you went missing, and so did Boromir, for a little while. When he came back to the camp he said that he had been angry with you. What happened, Frodo?”

Sam shook his head, and looked ready to speak, but Frodo stayed him. “It’s all right, Sam. I want to tell them.”

Pale but resolute, Frodo began. “Boromir approached me and tried to convince me to come to Minas Tirith instead of going east. When he saw that I did not agree, he was livid.” Frodo sighed; time had not lessened the pain of that day. “He tried to take the Ring from me.”

Neither Merry nor Pippin looked as surprised as Frodo had expected. Rather, their tear-filled eyes revealed acceptance and sorrow.

“Pippin and I have discussed this many times over,” Merry said quietly, after another long silence. “We feared the Ring had something to do with it. Boromir seemed different after Lothlorien…unsettled. We noticed it as we traveled along the river. And you never seemed entirely comfortable around Boromir, Frodo. Not like Pip and I were with him.”

“That is true,” Frodo admitted. They never shared the easy camaraderie that his cousins had with the man.

“Do you know how Boromir died?” Pippin asked, his voice wavering a little. Merry frowned and quickly drew Pippin as close to him as the young hobbit’s still heavily bandaged injuries would allow, reminding Frodo once more that his cousins had experienced their own share of horrors.

“I should like to hear about it,” Frodo said softly, “Despite what passed between us I still considered Boromir a friend and I grieved to hear of his passing from Faramir.”

Merry took a deep breath and nodded. “Everyone fell into a panic when we discovered that you had been missing for some time, Frodo. No one kept his head; there was no course of action – we ran off in separate directions, calling after you. Pippin and I were together, and we ran right into a group of orcs.”

“Merry cut off their hands,” Pippin broke in. “He was very brave.” He laughed a little as Merry turned red. “Well you were.”

“The orcs didn’t want to fight us,” Merry continued. “Later we learned why – Saruman knew a hobbit had the Ring, and so he sent the orcs to bring us to Isengard.”

Frodo’s eyes widened, and he realized with a surge of guilt the likelihood that as he and Sam made their way across the river, Merry and Pippin had been surrounded by orcs.

“Then Boromir appeared and fought off the orcs. We nearly escaped, but then we were attacked by at least a hundred more, and these had arrows.” Merry shook his head and Frodo shivered, an all too vivid picture of the scene playing in his mind. “They shot Boromir; they killed him, as he tried to protect us. He died defending us, and the orcs took us captive.”

The hobbits were silent for a long while, thinking over all that they had learned this evening, all the gaps in knowledge and memories that had been filled. Frodo could not help but feel grateful that he managed to escape capture by the orcs and prevent the Ring from falling into Saruman’s hands. However, his worst fears had come true – his cousins, in their selfless desire to help him, had suffered on his behalf, held captive by orcs that had been sent to find him. Frodo knew that Merry and Pippin were not telling him the entire story, and that the orcs certainly had not been gentle with them. It did not lessen his guilt, but he was thankful that Boromir, who surely had known how orcs treated their prisoners, fought and died in an attempt to spare Merry and Pippin from this fate.

“Boromir did a noble thing,” Frodo said finally. “I wish there were a way to thank him, and to let him know how grateful I am.”

“So do I,” Merry said heavily. “So do I.”

“You may do that by honoring his memory,” came a voice from the side; it was Gandalf, and he seated himself next to Frodo. “Boromir was a valiant man, and though he was tempted by the Ring he did not forget his friends when they were in need. It is always better to remember one for his good deeds rather than his faults.” At this he winked at Pippin, and was rewarded by a grin in return.

“‘If you don’t have something nice to say, then you’d best keep your mouth shut, Samwise,’ as my Gaffer likes to say,” Sam said softly.

“We would all do well to listen to the Gaffer’s wisdom,” Gandalf replied, and they all laughed little as Sam flushed in embarrassment.

“If only Boromir had succeeded, and Merry and Pippin had not been captured by the orcs…” Frodo sighed heavily, after a moment.

“Some things are just meant to be,” Gandalf said, and he suddenly seemed weary and more troubled than he had looked all day. “You know that better than anyone, Frodo. If Boromir had lived, perhaps your cousins never would have had the opportunity to prove themselves.”

Merry and Pippin hardly needed any encouragement to compare tales of battle, and the conversation turned then to another topic. Frodo stayed quiet, content to ponder all that he had learned.

“Frodo,” Pippin whispered some time later, “did you really mean what you said before – that you still considered Boromir a friend, even after what he did to you?”

“Yes,” Frodo replied without hesitation. “Even then I saw that he was not himself, and that it was the Ring that caused the change in him. Now, after hearing how he tried to defend you, I would rather remember Boromir as you do – as a good man, who died to save his friends.”

Pippin smiled, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m glad. I think Boromir would have liked that.”

“I think so, too,” Frodo agreed, and he smiled as well.

“Hoy, Pippin!” Merry called. “Sam is asking about the Ents again.”

“Yes, well, we were getting to that,” Pippin replied with a laugh. “Sam, I think you would have liked the Ents…”

Frodo and Sam sat under the whispering trees amid the fragrance of fair Ithilien; and they talked deep into the night with Merry and Pippin and Gandalf, and after awhile Legolas and Gimli joined them. Then Frodo and Sam learned much of all that had happened to the Company after the fellowship was broken on that evil day at Parth Galen by RaurosFalls; and still there was always more to tell.

– The Return of the King , Book Six, “The Field of Cormallen”