DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.
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“There remain two more to be found,” said Elrond. “These I will consider. Of my household I may find some that it seems good to me to send.” -- The Fellowship of the Ring

A MATTER OF TIME

Chapter 1

It had been six weeks since the Council, and very soon the Ring of Power would go south toward its fate. Elrond stood on one of the balconies overlooking the valley of Imladris, protected and preserved for so long by the power of the ring on his finger and the Elves who stood in defense of its borders. How long this beloved corner of Middle-earth would endure as it now stood had become just a matter of time -- time as was now counted in mortal years, not in the long ages of which the Elves were accustomed. For surely it was the Secondborn who now determined the fate of them all. That fact, more than any other, told Elrond that the time for his people was passing indeed.

The Company of the Ring will be nine, he mused, although he had at first thought that even that many would be too large and obvious a group. What would keep the Ring and its bearer the safest was surely speed and stealth, but since Frodo and Samwise would be the least swift of the group, the Company’s speed would be tempered to them -- and stealth would depend mostly on luck in avoiding detection. What the hobbits needed most was defense; navigation; skills in hunting and foraging; and companions who gave them no cause for doubt or mistrust.

The scouts were reporting no activity of the Enemy in any direction for many leagues, and winter was fast approaching. This was the time to set out, if ever the Ring was to leave here.

The companions would represent the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. Hobbits, Men, Elves, Dwarves… and Wizards, Elrond smiled to himself, although the five Istari could certainly not be called a “people” or a “race”. The Istari just were, and luck or fate determined that Frodo already trusted and loved one of them. Mithrandir would join them. Aragorn as well, for this was his fated quest. He and Boromir would represent Men. It would be good for the son of the Steward of Gondor to journey far with Aragorn, Elrond knew, for if by chance the Dúnadan should come into his inheritance and lead mortal Men into a new age he would need stout supporters.

Frodo and Samwise for the hobbits, indeed. Surely a hobbit had to be the Ringbearer, in this Elrond agreed with Mithrandir; Frodo’s resistance for so many weeks to the Morgul wounding, and Bilbo’s ability to leave the Ring behind when he left the Shire, left no doubt. More hobbits in the Company would have been preferable, if only to take on the burden of Ringbearer should something happen to Frodo and Samwise. Elrond regretted that the Shire was not closer and that representatives from that land could not have been summoned to take part in the Council -- if indeed any would have come.

If something should happen to Frodo and Samwise… Elrond knew that Mithrandir would not take the Ring, and he would never countenance giving it to a Man, even to keep it safe and unused, not even to one such as Aragorn. Elves and Dwarves held not enough trust in the other to let one of them carry it. A hobbit it had to be, and here were Peregrin and Meriadoc at hand… But no, not them. Elrond could not have explained the unease that gripped him every time he decided that of course Peregrin and Meriadoc had to go, they were the only other hobbits in Imladris (save Bilbo). And Frodo already trusted them. Even though Elrond was aware that Meriadoc spent much of his time in Imladris studying maps of the southern lands and no doubt making plans to accompany Frodo, Elrond knew he would not go without Peregrin. And Peregrin must not go.

Four remained to be chosen -- from among the Elves and Dwarves, then. Elrond knew the number of Elves and Dwarves in the Company should be even, two of each, or the others would think themselves outnumbered. But Gimli was the only Dwarf to volunteer, indeed one of only two Dwarves in Imladris at all. Glóin was hale, but not young. Elrond suspected that Gimli had grown up hearing his father’s stories of Bilbo’s adventure, as surely as Frodo and Samwise had listened to the same tales at Bilbo’s fireside. Intriguing, Elrond thought, that they should meet in this way. Surely there was more at work here than one might think.

One Dwarf, then, and three Elves. As to whom would be chosen… Elrond had already been approached by a good number of his household, as well as the young son of Thranduil. All clamored for the honor of accompanying Frodo Baggins on his journey. Elrond doubted that Frodo was at all aware of the respect and honor in which he was regarded.

Elrond’s thoughts returned to the son of Thranduil. Elrond saw him, now and again, walking through the gardens and talking with Mithrandir. There was already a bond between them. More importantly, Elrond thought, the Prince of Mirkwood had a youthful vitality about him, an eagerness for new things, a light presence and spirit. In him there was as yet only a trace of the melancholy and wistful longing many in Imladris already felt. Legolas’ love of Middle-earth was evidenced in his eager stride, the songs of praise and wonder that poured from him as easily as spoken words. And that, Elrond realized, was something else Frodo would need as surely as he would need defense and strength -- a companion who brought lightness, joy. Samwise would remind him of the Shire, and stand with him unto death, of that Elrond had no doubt. But music, poetry, the heart of an Elf in its youthful glory -- such was Legolas. The young prince had delayed returning home until the Company was chosen, in hopes he would be among them. Such a one should not be denied.

But in the end, whatever the worth and skill of his companions, how could Frodo possibly accomplish this? How could the Ring cross unnoticed through Mordor? What of provisions and water in that barren and guarded land? The quest must succeed, but it was beyond Elrond’s sight to see everything or everyone Frodo might need on that dark road.

Youth and strength would be necessary on such a journey. But whomever was chosen, Frodo should meet them soon, Elrond realized; the young hobbit could not be asked to set out surrounded by strangers. The road would be difficult enough for him. Spies of the enemy would soon be hunting him, if they had not already begun, and in the Fellowship he would find his only safety and defense -- and trust, for as long as it lasted. For the Ring would go with them, and in the presence of the One there would be no lasting trust. Even Saruman had succumbed to the Ring without once setting eyes upon it. The thought of it alone had corrupted his mind and heart. What they were expecting of Frodo was almost beyond imagining.

Seven chosen; two more, then. But Elrond could decide nothing further tonight. He would tell Frodo tomorrow about the Company as it currently stood, and encourage him to begin to spend some of what time remained getting to know Boromir and Legolas and Gimli. And they needed to get to know him. The Company of Nine must soon set out, and there was much to prepare.

** TBC **

“In any case, I judge that the younger of these two, Peregrin Took, should remain. My heart is against his going.” -- Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

A MATTER OF TIME

Chapter 2 -- Questions

Merry walked down the corridor toward the Hall of Fire, leaving Pippin and Sam behind in the room they shared. His colleagues were knee-deep in supplies, amazed at everything the Elves had given them for the journey. Pippin was especially delighted at the thick, warm cloaks, of a beautiful weave and design, although Merry and Sam had exchanged a look and said nothing. Weren’t they heading south? Where it would be warmer?

Tomorrow, then, the Company would set out. Frodo was rarely to be seen these days except at meals and bedtime, spending as much time with Bilbo as he could. Frodo didn’t say so, but Merry knew his cousin doubted he would ever see Bilbo again; Bilbo had grown weak and frail, but insisted he was the only one to write down their story “when they all returned.” It was an optimistic view Merry hoped Frodo would take to heart.

Merry drew near the huge hall, from which spilled the never-ending music and song woven, it seemed, from the very air around them. Spotting Aragorn just inside talking with Legolas, Merry approached them.

Aragorn smiled at him, then grew concerned at the hobbit’s serious look. “Hello, Merry. Is everything all right?”

“Strider…” Merry almost lost his nerve, but tried again. “Strider, could you ask Lord Elrond if I may speak to him? Alone?”

“Of course. Come with me and—”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.”

Aragorn said nothing, just nodded and walked across the hall to where Elrond and Arwen sat together, listening to the singing. After a moment Elrond looked up and met Merry’s eye, then nodded and rose.

Merry felt a thrill of fear at being alone with the Lord of Imladris, but it was too late to back out now. Elrond reached him where he was standing with Legolas and beckoned Merry to accompany him out of the hall and into the corridor. When they were alone he bent down (Merry wished the Big Folk didn’t have to do that all the time, but it did make conversing easier) and asked, “How may I assist you, Meriadoc?”

Merry clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. “Lord Elrond, could you… I mean, would you tell me why you didn’t want Pippin to go with us? Is he in some kind of danger? Please, I really need to know.”

Elrond gazed into Merry’s eyes and started to say something, then stopped. For a long moment he was silent, then he rose and took one of Merry’s cold hands. “Let’s walk together, you and I, shall we?”

Elrond led Merry outside to one of the many gardens. Merry breathed deeply of the flowers and fragrance of Rivendell, trying to imprint it on his memory. Time had seemed to pass rather strangely during their stay, and Merry could not to save his life piece together two whole months here. An odd place, altogether. But wonderful, too.

They stopped at a low bench and sat together. Elrond was silent for awhile, but Merry finally could stand it no longer. Perhaps Elves had countless years in which to speak and act, but hobbits did not.

“Was it because he’s so young, sir?”

Elrond gave a rare smile. “No, my friend, his youth is not an issue. All of you are as young as the new dawn to someone who has seen as many ages of this world as I. Peregrin’s youth and enthusiasm I now count as an asset. Frodo will need the cheer of a light heart as much as the defense of a stout sword.”

“Do you think, then, he won’t stand fast in the face of danger or peril? I vow to you, sir, he will. Although we are not warriors, we will stand with Frodo against anyth—”

“Meriadoc, there is no question as to the valor and strength of each of you. And that of which you are each capable is, I believe, even greater than you now know. No, I felt Peregrin should not join the Company because of something else, something… quite unusual. I have not discussed this with anyone save Mithrandir, who had already guessed, but perhaps it is something you should know, after all.” He paused. “It is to be kept to yourself, Meriadoc. Forever secret.”

Merry frowned and said nothing for some time. Keep a secret from Pip? Forever? Finally he looked up at Elrond. “I promise.”

Elrond nodded. “I know the value your folk place on a promise once made, Meriadoc. Very well then, I will tell you.”

** TBC **
 

“But at this time we have been strangely fortunate. Maybe, I have been saved by this hobbit from a grave blunder.” -- Gandalf, The Two Towers

A MATTER OF TIME

Chapter 3 -- Answers

Elrond spoke slowly, desiring that Merry understand. “Meriadoc, there is occasionally one born who, through no plan or design of his own, strangely affects the outcome of things. We call this a nexus, someone who connects things that would have otherwise gone unconnected. The most innocent action or word of such a one can cause events, people, destiny itself to go spinning and tumbling in completely unexpected directions. All of us influence things by our smallest decision and action, like a pebble causing ripples in a pond; but there is no doubt that the presence of someone like Peregrin on your journey would be much more than a pebble, causing much more than ripples. I regret my inability to explain it more fully, but this is something that cannot be mistaken. I recognized Peregrin immediately and so, I suspect, did Mithrandir. It is a very rare thing.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Merry. “Couldn’t such ripples lead to good results, to a successful end to our quest?”

“At first I did not think so. A venture such as this is of such fragile balance, the least of things can bring all to ruin. I had at first thought that speed and stealth would be the Company’s greatest weapons. A journey including one such as Peregrin could not possibly hope to venture far without drawing attention, without his unknowingly setting off some new or unimagined occurrence.”

Merry was confused. “But you now seem positively delighted with the prospect of Pippin accompanying us.”

“I have changed my mind, Meriadoc,” Elrond chuckled. “A rare thing indeed!”

“I am glad,” said Merry, “but why?”

Elrond’s gaze grew distant. “For many weeks I have sought to determine in what way Frodo can accomplish this quest, and the answer has eluded me. It is a dark and dangerous road, with very little hope for success. The Fellowship may get him far, in safety and concealment, perhaps even to the Black Gate itself. But then? I have been forced to conclude that only by the strangest of chances, the most unlikely and unlooked-for of events, can the Ring be unmade and Sauron defeated. And so…”

“…Pippin,” whispered Merry. ‘You believe Pippin to will somehow cause that unlikely and unlooked-for event.”

“Yes, perhaps. There may be one action, one word, one step to the left instead of to the right, that may determine the fate of many. Who can say? He is curious and impulsive; perhaps in that alone will the connections be made between whatever can best turn the tide. In my haste to prevent Peregrin from going, I was blind to the obvious. All four of you here at this place, at this time, and Peregrin so eager to join the Company the only things that would stop him were, what was it?” Elrond thought back. “Ah yes, being put in prison or sent home tied in a sack. When such strong forces are at work, I must bow before them.” The Elf lord turned to Merry, suddenly concerned.

“I hope this conversation will not place a great burden on you, my friend.”

Merry smiled. “No sir, you comfort me greatly. I feared you foresaw some dire peril in wait for my cousin.” He paused and continued, “But it’s odd, though. I have known Pippin all his life. He seems a perfectly ordinary hobbit, to me!”

Elrond laughed softly. “I have known only five hobbits in my lifetime, Meriadoc, and all of you seem quite extra-ordinary in your own way. Perhaps there is something deep within each of you, needing only time or circumstance to reveal it. I believe this quest will awaken Peregrin’s true nature, and possibly it will do the same for all of you.”

Merry was quiet, trying to absorb all this. Elrond stirred, as if to leave, but Merry realized this would be his last chance to ask any questions.

“Lord Elrond,” he said softly, “why did you agree to tell me about Pippin?”

Elrond turned to look at the serious young hobbit. “Tell me, Meriadoc, what river runs from the Anduin west through Rohan?”

Merry was so startled at this unlikely turn of conversation that he blurted out the answer without thinking. “The Entwash.”

Elrond nodded. “You have spent much time with the maps, learning about the lands you may see. You have tried to prepare yourself for the journey to come. I have opened my House to the outfitting of your Company, trying to anticipate what might be needed by any of you in order to prepare. Samwise has needed time in the kitchens, trying to assemble everything Frodo may desire to eat for the next several months that will keep on the back of a pony!”

Merry grinned at the truth in this.

“You, Meriadoc, have sought information -- knowledge that might be useful. I do not know how this information about Peregrin may serve you, but I sensed it would not be unwise to tell you.” Elrond paused, then rose to his feet. “Come now, you should get some sleep. The Company leaves tomorrow. Shall we go back?”

Merry got up and bowed low before Elrond. “Thank you, sir.”

Elrond rested his hand gently on Merry’s curls. “May the stars shine upon you, Meriadoc.”

When Merry approached the room he shared with the other hobbits he heard Frodo’s ringing laugh. This was such a wonderfully rare thing that Merry hurried into the room to see what was going on, and found his three colleagues deep in a hilarious debate as to why Sam had named the pony Bill. Pippin was saying that Sam couldn’t possibly have named him after that pestiferous and skulking Bill Ferny, so he must have had his mother Bell’s name in mind. Frodo would not budge from the notion that Sam had named the pony in honor of Bilbo. Sam caught Merry’s eye and smiled delightedly. Merry suspected that Sam was so happy to have Frodo laughing and smiling again he would let the debate rage on unending, although he seemed aghast at the notion that Pippin would think he would name a pony after his mother.

Pippin turned to Merry with a grin. “C’mon, Mer, you know I’m right.” He grabbed his cousin and hurled him onto the bed. “Not that anything I do or say ever makes any difference around here!”

But it does, Pip, it does. Merry gazed deeply into Pippin’s laughing eyes and smiled, before being buried by Sam and Frodo leaping on top of both of them.

** TBC **

Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree. -- The Two Towers

A MATTER OF TIME

Chapter 4

July 2, S.R. 1419

Merry stood looking at the White Tree, just a sapling really, that bloomed so beautifully next to the fountain. The courtyard in Minas Tirith had become a place to which many came to gaze in wonder, and to listen to the waters of the fountain tinkling into the pool and bathing the young tree in sunlit sparkles. Merry chuckled to himself at the thought that someone must be watering the tree with Entwater, as it seemed to have grown a full foot since its planting just weeks before.

King Elessar had caused new benches to be set about the courtyard, several, Merry had noticed, set lower to the ground to accommodate hobbits or Dwarves. Or children.

The little tree was so lovely. Merry thought it more beautiful even than the Mallorn of Lórien, an opinion with which Sam disagreed altogether. He looked at the deeply green leaves with a hint of silver underneath each, barely to be seen now that the Tree was blossoming so swiftly. He longed to reach out and feel the flowers, but it didn’t seem right. Not with Strider sitting just a few yards away with Arwen.

“Go ahead, Merry,” said a warm, familiar voice from behind him. “You won’t hurt it.”

Gandalf had entered the courtyard and came to stand next to the hobbit. He smiled down at him. “Go ahead.”

Merry took a deep breath and reached out his right hand. He just brushed his fingers across the nearest cluster of snowy white blossoms. They were soft, and damp from the misting waters of the fountain. Between the moist drops of water and the sunlight falling just so, the blossoms and leaves seemed to give off a light of their own.

“I love this little tree, Gandalf. It just seems so… so…” Merry sighed, unable to verbalize.

“It is a sign of peace, Merry, of a new age. Of things preserved that should not be lost, and things yet to be that can now bear fruit. A large burden for such a small tree!” Gandalf chuckled and looked fondly at his friend. “But large burdens fall on many small shoulders, do they not?”

Merry let his hand drop and turned to the wizard. Gandalf led him to a nearby bench, where they sat together in silence for awhile.

“How are you, Merry? Elrond told me he had told you about Pippin. How do you feel about things now?”

Merry thought for awhile, but didn’t answer directly.

“Well I know how everyone else feels! Sam feels that Frodo doesn’t get enough rest. Frodo feels that Sam hasn’t been honored nearly enough, although Sam seems dismayed at the thought of more attention!” Merry grinned. “And Pippin… Pippin has been through so much, Gandalf. That whole long journey south… Moria… the Orcs, the Palantir, becoming a soldier of Gondor, losing Denethor, saving Faramir, being so very badly hurt… and yet—”  Merry shook his head in awe and love. “He’s still Pippin. After all that, he’s still Pippin.”

“When you rode off with him to Gondor, and again when he joined the Company riding to the Black Gate, and I felt so alone, I tried to keep my spirits up by remembering what Elrond said -- about how important Pip was, and that the least word or action of his might win the whole war.” Merry sighed. “I wish I could tell him, Gandalf. I wish he knew that it might all have turned out differently, except for him.” Merry paused. “Pip feels… grown up. But still Pip. I’m glad.”

Gandalf waited, but Merry said no more. “And how do you feel, my friend?”

Merry looked up at Gandalf, tears threatening to fall that he had held back for so long, so very long.

“I’m proud, Gandalf,” he whispered, his eyes shining with joy, “so very proud.” He looked back at the Tree, seemingly a symbol for everything they had achieved. “Look what we did.”

Gandalf looked around the courtyard. King Elessar and Queen Arwen sat near them, talking quietly to each other. Elsewhere Faramir walked, daydreaming it seemed, with a gentle smile on his face. Leaning against the stone wall at the rear of the courtyard Sam and Frodo and Pippin stood together, deep in conversation. All were at peace.

“Yes, Merry,” Gandalf spoke quietly, thinking of many things. “Look what we did.”

** END **