Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Several months ago I received an email from Marigold that had a few excellent Plot Bunnies in it. She told me that the plot bunnies were from Pansy_Chubb and that if possible, Pansy would enjoy it if I were able to write a story based on one or two of them. This story is the result of that request. Pansy graciously gave me this wonderful plot bunny to write. It has taken longer than I first had hoped to get this posted because real life has dealt those of us involved many a delay. I would like to thank Marigold who sent Pansy's request to me and who also took the time to Beta this story. She has done her usual amazing job on it and I am grateful to her. Pansy, I hope you enjoy this one and I thank you for the Bunny.

Now, the disclaimer! The characters and places in this story are not mine. They are the creations of JRR Tolkien. No money has been or will be made from this story.

The sun was high in the sky and it was a lovely spring day. Children were running in all directions, laughing and playing amongst the ruins of the White City as if all things were as they should be. Gimli had been surveying the damage with a critical eye and making plans for repairs while Legolas and Sam searched for locations to plant flowers and trees. Legolas said that he wanted to bring the beauty of living things back to Minas Tirith and Sam was eager to help the elf with this project. Merry was fascinated by the architectural plans of the City that Faramir had given to Gimli at Aragorn’s request. He had been delighted to find that the plans were like maps in many respects. He liked the ordered look of them and was now carrying them about for Gimli as the company proceeded through the streets of Minas Tirith. There was much to be done.

Pippin followed behind them at a distance. He was beginning to wish that he had stayed behind with Frodo. Frodo was probably sitting happily in the great library of Minas Tirith pouring over old family histories and the lore of the people of Gondor. Gandalf and Faramir were with Aragorn discussing important matters. Pippin tried to be interested in all of this business of rock and stone and blossom and bloom but it was simply no use. None of it held his attention. The others were very involved in their plans and so when Pippin stopped to watch a group of lads having a discussion, they didn’t notice that he was no longer trailing behind them.

The lads were far enough away from Pippin so that he could watch them and hear their voices but could not make out what they were saying. The youngsters were standing in a circle around something and talking. Pippin knew one of the lads, Bergil, the son of Beregond of the Guard. Bergil had shown Pippin around the White City of Minas Tirith when he had arrived here with Gandalf upon Shadowfax. That had been before the Battle of the Pelennor and most of the children of Minas Tirith had already been sent away to safety. Bergil had remained behind, not wanting to be sent off like a child. He and his friends had been a large part of Pippin’s introduction to Gondor. Pippin smiled as he watched the lads. He wondered what they were doing. This was the first time all day that Pippin had been interested in anything.

Just at the point at which Pippin had made up his mind to approach the lads, they all ran off, well, nearly all of them. Now Pippin could see what it was that the lads had been standing around in their circle. It was a small lad and for some reason, the little one had been left behind. Bergil and the others were already out of sight. Curious, Pippin walked over to where the child stood, looking after Bergil and the others, and said, “Hullo.”

The little lad looked over at Pippin and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “They’ve gone off and left me,” he said with a sniffle.

“Why?” Pippin asked, pulling a handkerchief from his own pocket and handing it to the child.

“They say I’m too little to play with them,” the child said, looking angry. “They say I can’t play with them until I grow three whole inches.”

Pippin frowned in sympathy as the child reached out to give the handkerchief back. “You can keep that,” Pippin said. “I have others somewhere. My older cousin keeps a stack of them about all of the time.”

“You,” the child stared in wonder now, as if seeing Pippin for the first time. “Are you the Ernil i Pheriannath?”

Pippin sighed, “Some people of Minas Tirith insist on calling me that, but I prefer to be called by my name. I am Pippin.”

“You are Bergil’s friend,” the child grinned. “He talks about you all the time. He and some of the other lads say that you went with them to the Gate to watch for the armies.” He stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket and smiled broadly. “I haven’t ever met a Perian before.”

“Well, you have now,” Pippin said, with a bow that made the child laugh. “What’s your name?”

“I am Tyberian, son of Terendore,” the child replied. “You can call me Ty. Everyone does.”

“I wish I could have been here before when you were here with Bergil and the others, but my folks made me go away while the battles were going on,” Ty sighed. “I wanted to stay with the others, but they wouldn’t let me. No one lets me do anything.”

“How old are you?” Pippin asked. He found it difficult to tell the ages of the children of Big Folk. He was sure that this lad was not as old as Bergil, but he wasn’t sure how much younger the child was.

“I am seven,” Ty said, standing straight. “I’m a bit short for seven but my father says that I‘ll catch up. How old are you?”

Pippin smiled, remembering himself at that age. “I am twenty-eight,” Pippin said.

“That is very old,” Ty said, looking impressed. “But you aren’t very tall, are you?”

“I am tall for my folk,” Pippin said, smiling. “I am not very tall compared to the men of Gondor, but in my home when I return there, I shall be thought very tall.”

“It is,” Pippin said looking sad and trying not to think too much about the distance. “But let us speak of happy things now. The sun is out and it is a wonderful day. What have you planned to do for fun?”

Now, it was Ty’s turn to look sad. “I was going to play with the older boys, but they have gone off and left me again.”

“Well, why don’t you and I walk in their direction and maybe we shall meet up with them,” Pippin said. “If we do then they might let us join them, but if not, then we may find a bit of fun on our own.” He reached out and took the child’s hand in his and they set off together.

Merry looked up from the plans and frowned. “Where has Pippin got to? He’s been falling behind all morning.”

“Pippin stopped a while back and was talking to a young child,” Legolas said. “I thought that he would come along after us once he was finished, but now, I suspect that he has stayed behind.”

Merry sighed. “I should have thought that he would want to help. There is much to be done and he is, after all, a Knight of Gondor. I would think that he would take an interest in the City and its repair.”

“I suppose,” Merry agreed, but he seemed no less annoyed by his cousin’s absence.

“That’d be a fine spot for some trees,” Sam said, pointing to a small, barren patch of earth just ahead of them and drawing Legolas’s attention.

“It would,” Legolas said with a smile. “I long to see this City filled with the beauty of growing things.”

“It’d be a fine place for some shade and maybe a nice bench or two for sittin’ and smokin’” Sam said. “Where is Mister Pippin?” Sam asked, just noticing that their youngest companion was no longer with them.

“Pippin!” Bergil shouted, running back to meet his friend. “I am so glad to see you again!”

“And I am glad to see you,” Pippin said as he and Ty caught up to the older lads. The other boys followed Bergil over to greet Pippin also. Pippin knew some of them, but not all. Ty stood quietly at Pippin’s side, feeling small and anxious. If the older lads took Pippin off with them, Ty would be on his own again. He knew that this was likely to happen and he was dreading it.

“I guess I should call you Sir Peregrin now that you are a Knight,” Bergil said trying to sound formal.

“Please don’t,” Pippin winced. “Today I should like to be only Pippin. I am a bit weary of being Sir Peregrin. Besides, I am not in uniform nor am I on duty.”

Bergil grinned. “Then I shall call you Pippin and we shall all just go about together as friends.”

Ty looked at Pippin hopefully while Bergil frowned. “But I thought that you wanted to go about as friends today. Do you have something else to do?” Bergil asked sounding disappointed.

“Not really, but I fear that I am not tall enough to come with you,” Pippin said.

“Ty has told me the rules on it,” Pippin said. “And as I am the same height as Ty is, then I shall need to grow two whole inches before I can play with you and your friends.”

“Three,” Pippin said. “And I am not likely to grow any taller at my age so I suspect that I shall have to say good-bye to you, Bergil.”

Ty tightened his grip on Pippin’s hand and waited to see what Bergil might say. It was very nice to have someone around that was just his size. He didn’t feel so alone with Pippin here.

“I was only teasing Ty a bit,” Bergil said, quickly. “Didn’t you know that we were teasing, Ty?”

“Well, we were,” Bergil said, reaching over and running his hand through Ty’s hair. “Weren’t we just teasing?” Bergil asked, turning to his friends for support.

Pippin pretended to consider this and then said, “I suspect that we should go with them. They won’t have nearly as much fun or adventure without us along.”

“Splendid!” Bergil said. “We were just on our way to get some rolls from the bakers.”

Pippin’s stomach growled loudly and all of the boys laughed. “My stomach thinks that is a very good plan,” Pippin said. “Lead on, Bergil!”

“I doubt that it is anything serious, my Lord,” Faramir said, trying to lessen the matter.

“Still, we can’t have the lads disrupting things,” Aragorn said. “The shopkeeper who said that the boys were making too much noise outside of his market must have had a reason to report it.”

“You’ve found me out,” Faramir grinned. “That same shopkeeper used to report to the City patrols that my friends and I were making too much noise near his shop. He once dragged me all the way to the Citadel and presented me to my father.”

“It was hardly amusing at the time,” Faramir said. “My father did not suffer nonsense even then. Unfortunately, I am less than sympathetic to this particular shopkeeper’s reporting.”

“I shall bear that in mind,” Aragorn said. “I do guess that I’ll have to deal with the matter at some point or have my Steward to do so.” He smiled at Faramir.

“Well, one matter in the report might need tending to,” Faramir said a bit reluctantly.

“The matter of the Perian that was with the children at the time,” Faramir said.

“The shopkeeper reported the Ernil i Pheriannath was with the children and encouraging their mischief,” Faramir said, trying to hide a smile behind his hand. “I believe that his exact words were, “The Perian was right in the thick of things when I ran them off from in front of my place of business. I should think that the King wouldn’t allow his own Knights to act so.” That was what the shopkeeper said.”

“So I am to be held responsible for Pippin’s mischief, then?” Aragorn asked.

“So it would seem,” Faramir said, sounding less than pleased. “But just now, there is the matter of public opinion of our new King.”

“Public opinion?” Aragorn frowned. “I have never been fond of catering to the whims of others in order to curry favor.”

“Perhaps not, but you might do well to attempt this for a while if you hope to unite Gondor,” Faramir said.

“It seems that both Pippin and I need to brush up on our social bowing and scraping,” Aragorn sighed.

The bread was warm from the baker’s ovens and he refused to allow the boys or the Ernil i Pheriannath to pay for any of it. He was a bit less welcoming to the boys until he realized that the lads were in the company of the Prince of the Halflings. It was then that his manner toward them changed. The baker greeted them all and invited them to sit inside of the shop and rest while he brought their bread to them. The boys agreed to this at once, as they were a bit tired. They had run afoul of one of the local shopkeepers just minutes before and had been run off after a bit of rough play in front of the man’s business.

Ty seated himself between Pippin and Bergil and munched happily on his bread while the older lads talked. Pippin was busy listening to a conversation that the baker was having with a couple of men near the counter.

“I fear the worst and I’m not ashamed to say so,” one of the men was saying. “We don’t know anything about this new King of ours. Minas Tirith was of no interest to him before the war so it is likely that he will leave again now that there is no war to bring him glory.”

“We always did well under the rule of the Stewards,” the baker agreed. “But if what you suspect comes to be, then I guess we will be under the rule of the Lord Faramir rather than this new King who comes from the North.”

“I don’t like the idea that Gondor’s armies are being led by an outsider,” a second man said. “I fear that we shall miss Lord Denethor and his ways. He knew our people and he knew what was wanted. This new King has not grown up among us. In fact, I hear that he was raised up by elves. How can he know the ways of men?”

“He has saved this City and its people from the rule of the Dark Lord. Is that not enough proof of his worth?” Pippin said, unable to sit by quietly any longer.

The men looked at him and Pippin left the lads at the table and walked over toward the men, standing straight and proud as he would were he in his uniform. His face had become serious and his eyes flashed with a trace of anger. “If any among you doubt the bravery and the skill of the Lord Aragorn, you need only ask your questions of me and I will be honored to tell you all that I know of him,” Pippin said. “His deeds are great and he deserves your thanks and loyalty, not your doubts.”

“I am not a lad,” Pippin said, though this was a bit less than the truth. “I am a Guard of the Citadel and a hobbit of the Shire. I have travelled long at Lord Aragorn’s side and am proud to count him as my friend.”

“I beg your pardon,” the man said, nervously, now realizing his error. “I did not realize that I was speaking to the Ernil i Pheriannath. I meant no offence.”

“None is taken for my part,” Pippin said. “But I would have you speak better of our King and my friend.”

The boys sat at the table and watched in awe as Pippin began to speak with the men.

“Honestly, Frodo,” Merry said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know where he has gone just now. He wandered off while the rest of us were hard at work. He just slipped off without a word to any of us.”

“Are you sure that he didn’t speak to one of the others before leaving?” Frodo asked as he took a sip of his tea.

“I am quite sure,” Merry said, reaching for another custard slice. “Legolas saw him talking to a young child and that is the last that anyone has seen of him.” The three hobbits were seated around a table in the rooms that they shared filling up the corners after their luncheon and talking. Merry was extremely out of sorts over Pippin’s disappearance and had spoken of little else throughout the meal.

Sam, who had said nothing on the subject up this point frowned and spoke. “Mister Pippin don’t seem to understand how important it is to have everyone doin’ their part just now, don’t you see? He seems to want to be off on his own much like he was in the Shire.”

Frodo put the remainder of his ginger biscuit down on his plate and looked at his two companions. Both seemed of the same mind on Pippin’s recent behavior, which made it very hard to dispute. Sam and Merry saw things differently when it came to Pippin. Sam was much sterner with the youngest of their group while Merry tended to allow more room for foolishness. Now, both of them were rather critical of Pippin’s behavior. “What would you have me do?” Frodo asked. “Pippin has the leave of Aragorn to come and go as he will within the City walls just as we all do. It was not one of Pippin’s days to serve the King and so he has broken no law or rule with his actions.”

“I realize that,” Merry said, standing from the low table and lighting his pipe. Lord Faramir had instructed that this table be brought to the hobbit’s house after he had arrived while they were eating one evening and had seen what a struggle it had been for them to sit around the larger table of men that had been in the room. Faramir had seen the problem and had replaced the grand table with this low-legged table that the men of Gondor referred to as a coffee table. Merry leaned a hand on the table now, pipe between his teeth, and spoke around the pipe-stem. “Pippin has a responsibility to his King even if he is not on duty,” Merry said. “As have I to mine. Were we in Edoras now and it were in need of repairs, I should want to be about the King’s work even as I am here.”

“No rest?” Frodo asked, with a slight smile. “I spent the morning in the library. Do you think less of me also?”

Sam nearly choked on the last bite of his gooseberry tart, but Merry quickly continued, pulling the pipe from his mouth. “You were not with us to began with, Cousin. It was not you who wandered off without a word. You were working on research for your journal so that you might make a proper account of events to Bilbo when we return to Rivendell. What do you suppose Pippin’s errand might have been?”

Merry snorted and returned his pipe to his mouth. “It isn’t proper,” he muttered while Frodo sipped his tea.

“How do you play?” Pippin asked, as one of the lads tossed the ball into the air and then caught it. They had left the baker’s behind and were now standing near the base of one of the large, undamaged walls of stone at the end of a winding street. This street wound away from the main roads of the City and had no exit at its farthest end. It came out into a wide space at the base of the wall. There were empty shops on either side and a small clothing shop just before that. It was quiet and away from most other businesses.

“You throw the ball so that it bounces once on the pavement and then hits the wall and bounces back toward someone else,” the tall lad said. “You try to surprise the others with your choice so as to throw them off their guard and catch them unawares. Any who miss the ball when it comes their way are out of the game until the winner is declared and the next round begins.” To demonstrate, the lad tossed the ball hard against the road and then it hit the wall and bounced off in Bergil’s direction.

Bergil was expecting the ball to come toward Pippin because the demonstration was meant for Pippin and so was caught off guard. The other lads laughed as the ball shot past Bergil and rolled next to a curb. “It you miss it and the one next to you can move over and catch it, then you start the next round further back from the wall than the others,” Bergil sighed, as he ran to retrieve the ball.

“We don’t play this one at home, but then, we have few places with enough stone where we could play this,” Pippin said, as Bergil returned and handed him the ball.

“Here then,” Bergil said with a grin. “You should practice throwing it a time or two so that you won’t be first out.”

Pippin shrugged and took the ball, turning to face the wall for a moment; he then turned to look at Bergil as if to say more and quickly threw the ball behind him toward the wall. The ball bounced hard against the paved street and hit the wall at an angle and came back toward one of the lads standing near the end of the line. Everyone was caught off guard and as Evan, who had been supposed to catch the ball chased after it, the others laughed.

“I suspect that we better not let you practice or you’ll make fools of us all,” Bergil laughed.

“Hobbits are bold when it comes to games,” Pippin said. “We are also skilled at throwing stones which helps with this.”

Evan returned with the ball and eyed Pippin intently. “Are you sure you’ve not played this before?”

“I am, on my honor as a Guard of the Citadel and a hobbit of the Shire,” Pippin said, drawing an x over his heart with his forefinger as he had seen the lads do when making a promise of importance.

“Then let us see how long you shall last against us in a match,” Andore said grinning down at Pippin. “For I fear your height will go against you in a game.”

“Then I shall have to play all the harder to keep up,” Pippin said, undaunted. “Find a place, Ty.”

Bergil frowned a bit and one of the other lads said, “He’s too little to play.”

“He is as tall as I am,” Pippin objected. “Do you think me too short for your game as well?”

“But you’re old,” Evan said, smiling. “That evens up your situation. Ty might get hurt.”

“He might but then he might also best you or is that what you older lads of Gondor fear?” Pippin said, looking at them all critically.

“I’m not afraid of losing to the likes of him,” Evan said, sounding insulted.

The little lad’s eyes shone with gratitude as he took his place next to Pippin and made ready to play the game with the older lads and his new friend.

“So you believe that I shall have trouble with some of the people?” Aragorn asked, looking up at Faramir who stood before the large desk in Aragorn’s rooms.

“Some of the people of Minas Tirith do not suffer change easily,” Faramir said, trying to be diplomatic. It was a skill that he had long cultivated and at which he excelled most of the time. Somehow, it seemed more difficult to use this skill with his new King. Aragorn was so direct and his eyes were so piercing that Faramir found himself speaking plainer than he might do with others, thus putting diplomacy at risk. “It isn’t that they do not realize what you have done for the White City. It is merely that they are a proud people and, well, they do not easily welcome those that are come from outside of Gondor into their midst.”

“They are?” Faramir looked surprised. He had found the one elf that he had met to be very open and fair of mind. Legolas seemed to give all around him respect, never questioning their right to speak or talking unkindly to them. He had never felt any disapproval from Legolas. Faramir would have to admit that he had often felt inadequate in the present of this representative of the ‘Firstborn”, but it was never due to the actions of the elf. It was due to his knowledge of elves and of their great ages and their wisdom.

“They are indeed, my friend,” Aragorn smiled. “For elves will trouble themselves very little with the affairs of those outside of their own borders. In fair times they are about their own business and they do not seek out others nor do they care to do so. Should a stranger wander into their lands; they are quick to send him on his way. Elves have no need of the company or council of the other races.”

“But Legolas seems to be different,” Faramir objected. “I have found him to be very social in the time that I have known him.”

“So he is and so can all elves be if they wish it,” Aragorn said. “But you must remember that Legolas is a Prince among his people and he stands now, as a representative of his father, King Thranduil, and also of the Lord Elrond. He has stood with us in dark times of need. Through our deeds, the men of Gondor and Rohan have proved themselves to him and so have his respect, but had you entered his land in a time of peace, things might have gone differently.”

“Surely the elves are a peaceful folk,” Faramir said, still finding Aragorn’s words beyond belief.

“They are, my friend,” Aragorn said. “But they are also little involved with the lives of men in times of peace. You would have been fed and treated of your injuries if you had been harmed on your journey, but you do not see or hold council with the elves unless they wish it.” Aragorn smiled. “I suspect that the men of this City are much like the elves. They would keep to Gondor and to the affairs of Gondor. You are right that they may not welcome me with outstretched arms in the beginning.”

Pippin found that his height did work against him in this game. He had to run backwards a great deal to keep from missing the ball whereas the lads around him, save for Ty, had only to jump up on their long legs and stretch out a long arm to catch a high bounce. Pippin found that his lower shots to the wall were more difficult for his companions. He quickly learned to throw at an angle and down. The lads were not used to stooping and diving for their catches. Pippin soon found out why this was so. A few times of diving to the ground taught him that this was no Shire meadow of high, sweet, green grass. This was a stone pavement upon which the dives were more painful.

Ty was the first one out of all but the second round. In that round, Bergil had thrown a hard shot against the wall catching Evan off his guard and sending him sprawling on the stone. Evan had been first out that time. Pippin had managed to win that round, but Bergil had won all of the other matches thus far. Bergil was the strongest player among them. He was both quick of foot and strong. His advantages were many, but Bergil was not a poor sport and won graciously. Pippin, the others noticed, cared little for winning and more for the game itself. The hobbit laughed and enjoyed himself no matter if he did well in the round or not. It seemed that Pippin got joy from the playing and not from besting the others. Ty liked this most about Pippin.

Andore was chasing down a ball that had shot past him when an old woman came out of a shop and scooped up the ball as it rolled near her feet. Andore came to a stop next to her and looked at her. “May I please have my ball back, Mistress?” he asked politely.

“You may not!” she said, glaring at him as the other lads looked on. “You and your number are makin’ a dreadful racket out here and it drives away my customers. I will just keep this ball and solve my own problems.”

Bergil sighed and looked down at Pippin. “I guess we are run off again,” he whispered gloomily.

Pippin frowned and walked over toward the woman. “Please, Mistress. We meant no harm to you,” Pippin said, with a polite bow.

“No harm?” she frowned at him. “You lot of wild street runners are causing more trouble than your parents know. The lot of you should be hauled before the Steward and made to explain your actions.”

Pippin smiled at the lad and then looked back at the woman. “We truly meant no harm and we are sorry if we have disturbed you,” he said.

“You have all disturbed me more than once,” she complained. “This is hardly the first ball that I have taken charge of in this street.” She eyed Pippin intently. “Who are your parents? I’ve not seen you here before.”

“This is the Ernil i Pheriannath, Mistress,” Bergil ventured, coming up behind Ty to stand in support of his friends against this old woman who had, indeed disrupted many of their games over the years.

The woman looked quickly down at Pippin’s furry feet and then back at his face. “I beg your pardon, my Lord,” she said, with a bow. “For the folk of your race appear as children to us on first look. I meant no disrespect to you, sir.”

Pippin blushed and around him, all of the lads stood straighter. They were in the company of one whom the adults respected. They were the companions of the Ernil i Pheriannath, Guard of the Citadel, and Knight of Gondor, one of the heroes of the war. This old woman of Gondor would trouble them no more now that she knew who Pippin was. That seemed sure to them. “I am not offended,” Pippin smiled at her. “I am Peregrin Took, at your service and that of your family’s, Mistress. I, also, meant no disrespect by my actions and neither did my friends.”

She looked at Pippin and then at the boys who were standing around him like some sort of small honor guard. “This lot have troubled me long and sorely,” she said.

“They play their games in my street and drive off business with their noise,” she said.

“We’ve nowhere else to play,” Andore objected. “And this is not her street. It is a street of the White City and we’ve as much right to be here as any.”

“Rude insolent little street urchins,” the woman said, looking up at Andore who was tall at thirteen and an inch or two in height above the woman.

Seeing trouble about to begin, Pippin quickly spoke. “They truly meant no harm. We will take our leave of this place at once and we apologize for any trouble that we may have caused you.”

“Well, it is only that I have to work hard in my shop to earn the bread for my table,” she said. “I am on my own. My dear husband died in the service of Gondor some ten years past and I have been left to make my own way.”

“Really?” Andore said, his respect overcoming his dislike of this crotchety old woman.

“He was indeed,” she said. “And tis fine payment for his services that his own widow can’t do an honest days business because of the children who run wild in the streets of this City. I suspect that more things will go ill for us all now that Lord Denethor is gone.”

She sighed and pressed the ball into his hand. “He comes from outside of our folk. I have heard the tales of his bravery in battle but that is not all that a ruler must see to. There are things to be dealt with in times of peace also. Lord Denethor knew the minds of his people and he served the City well for many a year as did his father before him.”

“The King will keep the people safe and see to what is needed,” Pippin said, taking the ball and handing it to Ty to hold.

“How do you, a stranger in our land also, know what this King will do?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and looking intently at Pippin.

“He is my friend and I know his heart lies here with his own people,” Pippin said. “He is a fair man and a great leader. The men followed him into battle and I believe that the people will follow his rule gladly, for it will be a just and fair rule.” The lads around Pippin all murmured their agreement and nodded.

They had heard him defend his King earlier in the Baker’s shop and Bergil knew that the King was a fair man for his own father had said as much. His father, along with Evan’s, Gradian’s, Micah’s and Andore’s fathers, had fought in the Battle of the Black Gate at the King’s side. Ty’s father was a shop owner and unable to serve in the army for he had but one leg.

Seth spoke now. “My own father died in the service of Gondor when I was but a year old, Mistress and my own mother says that he would have been proud to serve such a King as we now have.”

Pippin smiled at Seth who was usually rather quiet. Pippin had met him along with Bergil on his first visit to Minas Tirith and had liked the lad very much. Seth reminded him a bit of Sam. He was quiet, but when he did dare to speak it was of important, sensible things. “I would tell you of the King if you would give me leave to do so,” Pippin said.

“I think that it would be well to set aside a day for visits from the merchants and the people in general,” Faramir suggested.

“I think this might be wise,” Aragorn agreed. “I should like to know the concerns of the people of Minas Tirith. I do not want to remove myself to the Citadel and not know what is going on in the City. I need to know what the people expect of me.”

“They will expect much,” Faramir sighed. “And not all things will be possible for you to give. My father often said that the needs of the people were few but that their wants were many.” He smiled at this memory of his father in a time before Denethor had changed and had withdrawn from his sons. That had been in a time, Faramir now suspected, before his father had begun to make use of the Seeing Stone. A sad, introspective look came into Faramir’s eyes as he thought of the father that he had lost long ago.

“In the days before he encountered Sauron in the palantir, your father was known to all as a wise ruler and a noble Steward,” Aragorn said, gently, seeing a trace of hurt in Faramir’s face. “It is partly his reputation that I shall have to live up to in Minas Tirith.”

The older lads had walked ahead leaving Pippin and Ty to follow. Ty usually minded being left so far behind the others but on this occasion with Pippin for company, he was enjoying it. They had remained for a long time with the old woman upon the road that led nowhere, but now they were following Bergil off to more adventure. When Ty had fallen a bit behind the others, Pippin had dropped back with him asking him questions about the City and making Ty feel important. “Where are the grassy fields that you and your friends play in?” Pippin asked, while ahead of them, the others laughed and shoved one another about in jest.

“We don’t have any grassy fields,” Ty said. “This is not farm land, but a City.”

“We have always played in the streets of the City,” Ty said. “There are fields outside of the walls, but it isn’t safe to be there on your own and so we aren’t allowed out of the Great Gate. It is safe inside because the army keeps it safe. My papa says that outside there are many who would harm children.”

“That is true, though not so much now as before,” Pippin agreed. “But still, lads ought to have some place to play.” He was lost in thought for a moment until he heard Ty sighing deeply. He looked over at the child and asked. “What is it?”

“I just wish that you were staying here in Minas Tirith forever,” Ty said, softly.

“I will be here for some time, but I will return to my own home before the summer ends I suspect,” Pippin said. He loved Minas Tirith but he did hope that this was so. He missed the Shire and today, among the children, he missed it all the more. He missed the green fields near Tuckborough and the banks of soft grass by the Brandywine. He missed the garden at Bag End and the trees. The stone felt hard underneath his feet and he longed to feel the soft mud by the river between his toes or smell the summer grass in the farmlands of Whitwell near his childhood home.

“When you are here it is easier for me to get the older lads to let me come with them,” Ty said, looking down at his own feet which were clad in soft leather boots that stopped above his ankles. His legs were bare for he was wearing short trousers and both knees were scraped and scabbed from the stone streets.

“You want to keep up with them, don’t you?” Pippin smiled, looking at the older lads just ahead of them.

Ty nodded. “I wish I was older. I want them to like me,” he said and Pippin heard the echoes of his own childhood wishes in the boy’s voice.

“They like you,” Pippin smiled. “They are just doing what older lads do. Sometimes they are a bit rough on the younger ones, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t like you.”

“They don’t think that I can keep up, but I can,” Ty declared with a fierce light in his dark brown eyes that reminded Pippin of Merry.

“It is a hard job keeping up with the older ones,” Pippin said. “Sometimes it can be very hard and you always have to work twice as much to do as they do.”

“Because I was the youngest of my group and still am,” Pippin said smiling ruefully. “It isn’t always easy to follow along. Sometimes they will ignore you and some things that they do will be too dangerous for you or too difficult.”

“Then you are as stubborn as any Took that walks the Shire,” Pippin grinned. “But if you’ve made your mind up to it, then you should steel yourself for the harsh words and the disappointments that may come at times.”

Pippin grinned. “I didn’t say it wasn’t any fun. I said that sometimes it was hard. It is fun most of the time and far more interesting than going with the lads of your own age, but you do let yourself in for some disappointments like the one you had earlier today when I found you on your own.”

“Many times,” Pippin said. “But I was a crafty little pest and very persistent so they didn’t leave me nearly as often as they tried to.” Pippin smiled and thought of how Lord Elrond had wanted to send him, the youngest among the hobbits, home when the Fellowship was formed in Rivendell. He thought of all the times he had run hard after Merry and the others or had pleaded with Frodo to take him along, promising not to be any trouble and to keep up.

Ty looked at his new friend who seemed lost in thought again and asked, “Was it worth it?”

Ty looked at Pippin and they both laughed and broke into a run, Pippin keeping pace with Ty easily but not passing the boy so that they caught up to the others at the same time.

It was nearing dinner and Merry was pacing. He kept pulling his pocket watch out and inspecting it and then looking at the door. Frodo sighed and said, “He’ll be back, Merry. He always comes home for dinner.”

“You are worried,” Frodo smiled. “Pippin is fine. He is within the walls of the City.”

“How do you know that Pippin hasn’t strayed outside of the City?” Merry asked. “If anyone would, Pippin would and he’d not think anything of it.”

“You misjudge him, Merry, if you believe that,” Frodo said, gently. “Pippin knows well that dangers still lie outside of the protection of Minas Tirith. He is a Knight of Gondor and has grown up a great deal on our adventures.”

“This explains why he disappeared today without a word to any of us,” Merry said, sarcastically. “It is because he has grown up.”

Sam snickered, but he wisely decided not to say anything at this moment. Mister Merry was best left alone when he was in a foul humor. Most, save Mister Frodo or Mister Pippin, would not approach him when the Brandybuck was out of sorts. Sam was not about to test the waters. He would leave that to Mister Frodo, who, for all of his injuries and his current ill health, was still a match for Mister Merry.

“You have to let him have some freedom, Merry,” Frodo said. “You can’t keep him at your side and under your eyes at all times.”

“I have always managed to do so before now,” Merry growled. He felt a bit of a tremor as he thought of the two times that he had failed to keep Pippin at his side and he quickly looked away from Frodo so that his older cousin would not see the pain in his eyes.

He had not been quick enough or else, some power of sight, which seemed to be one of Frodo’s many gifts, had come upon his older cousin. When Frodo spoke again, it was plain that he knew what Merry was thinking about. “None of what happened was your fault, Merry,” Frodo said, gently. “Things went ill at times for all of us and it was the work of the Dark Lord of Mordor in most cases, not the imagined failings of Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire.”

“If I had kept him close at hand then he would not have been crushed by the troll,” Merry said. “I should have made him stay behind with me. He may seem recovered, but he is still not completely healed, and who knows if he ever will be. He still limps and sometimes his right side still aches. I should have been more insistent that Pippin stay behind with me.”

“To what end?” Frodo asked. “Bergil would be without a father if you had done so and Pippin would have been embarrassed to have been treated like a mere child by you. He looks up to you and he always will, even when he has taken his rightful place as the Took and the Thain of the Shire one day. It would have hurt him deeply if you had shown no more faith in him than that, Merry. Sadly, I have learned this lesson the hard way myself.”

“I would have spared you and Pippin and Sam this journey if I had been able to do so,” Frodo said. “I now know that this might have hurt each of you more than coming, and if you three had not been able to play your parts the Quest would have failed and all of Middle-earth would be covered in Darkness. Pippin survived the battle and he is a hero for his deeds. He has been honored with the title of Knight of Gondor. Would you take that from him?”

“Then put your watch away and relax,” Frodo smiled. “Peregrin Took can take care of himself and it is time that you and I accepted that fact. Aragorn trusts him and so should we.”

Merry looked at Frodo and smiled broadly. “Aragorn doesn’t know him like we do.”

“You taught Pippin how to look out for himself, Merry, now let him do it,” Frodo said.

“I may have taught him to look out for himself but I am having trouble teaching myself to allow him to do that,” Merry said. “How do you let go?”

“I am still trying to let go of you, Merry-lad,” Frodo laughed. “You best ask someone wiser than myself for that knowledge.

Frodo smiled and gave Merry a hug. “You certainly do have the gift of a silver tongue, Meriadoc,” Frodo teased. “One might think that you were interested in a career as a diplomat.”

“And you have a gift for ducking the praise that you rightly deserve, Frodo Baggins,” Merry laughed. “Just know that your efforts will not lessen your stature in my eyes.”

“Don’t be askin’ for my thoughts on this unless you want to hear me side with Mister Merry,” Sam said.

They had been tossing the ball back and forth between them as they walked through the town’s center on the fourth circle of the City. They had come to a large, wide spot in the street where a fountain stood. The road encircled the fountain. The fountain had stone benches about it and some folks were resting on the benches while others walked on with their packages. No one had taken much notice of the boys and Pippin as they had made their way past the fountain. Bergil tossed the ball to Ty who managed to catch it and grinned over at the older boy. It was plain to Pippin that Bergil was Ty’s hero. The small lad was most pleased when Bergil spoke to him or paid attention to him. Ty looked at the ball as if it were a rare prize and then Micah shouted, “Throw it, Ty” and raised his hands.

Ty turned and threw the ball toward Micah but his aim was off and the ball shot past Micah and a soft splash could be heard. Several of the boys groaned and Pippin turned to see the ball floating near the center of the fountain. He smiled. “I’ll get it,” Pippin offered.

Pippin climbed up on one of the empty benches and looked over into the fountain. An older man on the next bench looked down at Pippin’s furry feet and grinned. “If you’re going wading in the King’s Fountain you’ll get those furry feet of yours wet,” he said.

Pippin smiled at him as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. “These feet have carried me across half of Middle-earth recently and so I suspect a bit of water won’t hurt them,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.

“I know and I’ll tell him,” Bergil said. The older lad moved over toward Pippin and said, “Pippin, I think we should leave the ball where it is.

Pippin grinned at him. “Don’t tell me that you are worried about my feet also, Bergil,” Pippin said, stepping into the fountain’s cold water with his hands on his hips.

“Too late,” Andore said, with a sigh. The other boys had moved up next to Bergil and Ty to watch.

Pippin looked down at the water, which was just above his knees, and frowned. The fountain had a high center column with a large statue of some Gondorian warrior standing upon it. The water for the fountain shot out of small openings in the base of the statue. Unfortunately, the ball was bobbing near the center just under the statue and so Pippin was going to have to bend down and reach underneath the little spouts of water in order to get the ball. He was going to be completely soaked to the skin. “Oh, well,” Pippin muttered to himself. “You did volunteer, Pippin.” As he waded to the middle of the fountain he didn’t notice that he had drawn a rather large crowd of onlookers. He also didn’t notice that several of them were members of the City Guard.

“I’m getting it,” Pippin said, over his shoulder, and stealing himself for the icy cold that was to follow, Pippin plunged underneath the stream of water from the base of the fountain and reached for the ball.

“Oh, I suspect that he’ll be getting it all right,” a large Guard said, just behind him and all of the color drained from Evan’s face. The Guard laid a hand on Evan’s shoulder and one on Bergil’s. “You lads just behave yourselves and it will go easier on the lot of you.” Bergil groaned softly. His father was going to be very displeased by this. Bergil was barely over the trouble that he had got himself into last week. Now, Bergil had stood by while Pippin defiled the “King’s Fountain”. The fact that it was Bergil’s ball was not going to help at all.

Ty stood with his lips trembling, trying not to cry. He had never been this frightened before. There was a soldier behind him holding fast to him as if he expected Ty to run off and leave or something. Ty was frightened, but he wouldn’t run off and leave his friends to face this. He straightened his shoulders and watched as Pippin came out from under the fountain’s spray, soaking wet and holding the ball aloft.

“I’ve got it!” Pippin crowed, shaking water from his curls and smiling at Bergil and the others, all of whom were now in the company of City Guardsmen. When no one responded, Pippin surveyed the situation and then looked to one of the Guards and asked, “Is there a problem?”

“You are standing in the “King’s Fountain” so, yes, I should say that there is a problem,” one of the Guards said, gruffly as he approached the edge of the fountain.

There was a slight murmur from the crowd and Pippin frowned. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the problem is,” he said, turning his head to one side and looking over at Bergil.

“It’s forbidden,” Bergil said, nervously. “I was going to tell you, but I didn’t think you’d actually go in after the ball.”

Pippin swallowed hard and his arms dropped to his sides. “So, standing about in the “King’s Fountain” is against the laws?” he asked, thinly.

“Yes, it is,” one of the City Guards said. “Now, climb out of there and tell me your father’s name, lad. You are in more trouble than you know.”

“My father is Paladin Took the second, Thain of the Shire of the Hobbits,” Pippin said as he waded to the edge of the fountain. “He’s a bit far from here at present, so I suspect you shall be wanting the name of my oldest relation within a proper distance. That would be Frodo Baggins. He’s my cousin.”

The Guard realized his mistake as Pippin’s furry foot came out of the water and onto one of the empty benches next to the fountain. Several in the crowd chuckled and a man announced, “That’s the Ernil i Pheriannath!” Pippin put both feet on the bench and then bowed to the Guard, dripping water all over the bench.

The Guards were taken aback for a moment. Here, before them, stood one of the Perian, the Ernil i Pheriannath, and one of their new King’s company. Yet, this Perian had just broken a City law in front of more witnesses than it would be possible to count. What was he supposed to do? As the senior Guard, it would come to him to decide what would be done. He cleared his throat but before he could speak, Pippin said, “What is the punishment for splashing about in the “King’s Fountain”?”

“One may get up to a month in the gaol as punishment if it is found that the law-breaker is of age and had ill intent,” the Guard said.

“What if the law-breaker was unaware of the law and was merely retrieving a lost ball?” Pippin asked, holding up Bergil’s ball and feeling a bit queasy upon hearing this news.

“I don’t know,” the Guard said. “I suspect that decision would be the King’s to make.”

Pippin nodded and someone from the crowd spoke, “The Steward Denethor would have had your hide.”

“I am,” Pippin said, quietly. “I am a Guard of the Citadel. The Lord Denethor himself appointed me.” Pippin thought it best not to mention that he was a Knight at this moment though he was sure most of the assembled crowd knew this. “I should have known better than to wade in the “King’s Fountain” but I confess that I had no knowledge of that law. I didn’t even know that the King had a fountain.”

Several people chuckled and the Guard who had addressed Pippin earlier said, “This is the fountain of the last King of Gondor. It is held in high honor among our people. It was built long years ago to honor the line of Kings of Gondor. The man’s image that you see is that of King Eärnur who ruled but seven years and then rode off to face a challenge of combat with the King of Minas Morgul.”

“What happened to him?” Pippin asked, forgetting his troubles and wanting to know more of the last King.

“None know,” the Guard said, looking at the statue. “He and some of his Guards rode to Minas Morgul against the wishes and advice of Steward Mardil and they never returned. That ended the line of Kings in Gondor until now.”

Pippin looked up at the statue of the noble King Eärnur and then looked back at the Captain of the City Guard. “He had no wife nor child?”

“He had never taken a wife,” the Captain said. “The fountain is in tribute to his memory here in Minas Tirith and that is why it is held to be sacred and said that no one shall defile it by setting foot or hand into its water.”

“Then I have surely broken the laws of the City as I have put not only foot and hand in the fountain of the King but every part of me,” Pippin said, climbing down from the bench. “You shall take me to the King and he shall judge me as he must.”

“You don’t know the new King’s justice,” someone called out. “Things may go ill for you.”

“The new King is a fair and honorable man and I will be treated according to the law,” Pippin said, holding his head up. “I do not fear to stand before him.”

A murmur ran through the crowd and Evan whispered to Bergil, “I would rather stand before the King than face my father at this moment.”

Bergil nodded. Then Pippin spoke again. “Please allow the boys to return to their homes and go about their business,” he said with a smile. “None among them set foot in the fountain. I am the only guilty party.”

“Very well,” the Captain of the City Guard said. “It is true that they did no harm and so they shall be free to go.”

Gratefully, the lads all backed away from the Guards except for Ty and Bergil who both came quickly over and stood on either side of Pippin. Startled, Pippin looked at them and frowned. “Go on, both of you,” he said. “I’ll be fine. You two go home now.”

“I will be fine, Ty,” Pippin assured the young boy. “I will explain things to Stri-the King and he will deal fairly with me. You go home. It must be near to supper time.” He patted his own growling stomach and smiled at the boy.

“I’ll go with Pippin, Ty,” Bergil said. “You are very brave to offer but you have no part in this.”

Bergil reached over and took the ball out of Pippin’s hand and held it up. He looked at the Captain of the City Guard and said, “It was my ball that went into the fountain.”

Pippin groaned but before he could recover from this, Ty said, “And I threw it!”

The Captain sighed and looked at the three of them. “Very well, we shall let the King of Gondor decide,” he said. “The three of you shall come with me.”

Aragorn had arranged to have the Fellowship eat with him in his apartments that evening. He had also invited Faramir, Éowyn, and Éomer to join them. He had a lovely meal spread out for his guests and plenty of drink at the ready. He was dressed casually and was enjoying a before dinner pipe with Gimli and Gandalf when the others began to arrive. He noticed that the hobbits seemed a bit nervous. One of their number was missing. Pippin.

Everyone had arrived and no explanation for Pippin’s absence had been offered so Aragorn looked over at Frodo and asked, “Is Pippin ill?”

“No,” Frodo said, quietly. “He went out earlier with Merry, Sam, Legolas, and Gimli and he left them at some point. He has not yet returned.”

“He stopped to speak with a young boy and then went off with some of the local children,” Legolas said, walking over toward them.

“He did?” Frodo asked, looking up at the elf and smiling. He was sure that he had spoken low enough so that no one else had heard him. He had forgotten about Legolas. Elves have excellent hearing.

“Yes,” Legolas smiled. “I believe that one was his friend, Bergil. I noticed them leaving, but did not mention it as I mistakenly assumed that Pippin had told Merry that he was going.”

“Which he did not,” Merry said. He had joined them now and was frowning again. “He just took it into his own head and wandered off without a word to me.”

“Well, I am sure that he will return unharmed,” Legolas smiled. “I am told that hobbits rarely miss meals so I am guessing that he will soon join us.”

Aragorn and Frodo both grinned at the elf. Merry tried not to but finally smiled at his friend. “Well, when he gets here, he shall have to catch up because we aren’t waiting dinner for him,” Merry said.

“No indeed,” Aragorn laughed. “I have quite a few guests ready to eat a meal and three are hobbits. I suspect that we should start on time.”

Just then, there came a sharp knock on the door and Aragorn smiled. “Just like a hobbit to arrive in time for the meal,” he said, winking at Merry. “Come in,” Aragorn said, loudly and the door opened to reveal a young page. Aragorn looked at the young boy and spoke, “What is your business here?”

“If you please, sir,” the boy said, in a high voice. “The Captain of the City Guard is here and seeks a word with you and the Steward.”

Aragorn looked over at Faramir and shrugged. “Very well,” he said. “Send him in.”

The boy looked about the room, and then nodded. “Yes, my Lord,” he said, and then quickly backed out of the room.

The door opened again and the Captain of the City Guard came in looking rather nervous. “If you please, my Lord, I did not mean to trouble you at the hour of your meal, but I have a small matter to discuss with you,” he said. “Perhaps the Lord Faramir might deal with it so that you might not miss your evening meal nor have to leave your guests.”

“It is no trouble,” Aragorn said. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, Captain, but you may speak to me if there is a need.”

Everyone in the room waited now, listening to hear what might come next. The Captain’s eyes fell on the other hobbits for an instant and then he looked nervously over at his new King. This fact was lost on no one present and Aragorn said, “What is troubling you, Captain? Have we an emergency or a crisis of some sort?”

Merry and Frodo exchanged looks and Merry opened his mouth. Frodo quickly covered Merry’s mouth with his hand and gave him a stern look. “Don’t you dare,” he whispered. Merry subsided and Sam moved over to Merry’s other side, abandoning his place next to Frodo. The three of them stood waiting, their eyes on the Captain.

“My Lord,” the Captain said. “There has been an incident involving the “King’s Fountain”.”

“I see,” Aragorn said. “Has it been damaged?” He looked at Faramir now. Faramir moved next to him and they waited.

This sounded serious. Aragorn frowned. “Do we know who has done this damage?”

“I have the ones responsible for it just outside of the door, my Lord,” the Captain said. “They came willingly of their own accord.”

“Yes, sir,” the Captain said. He turned and opened the door. He spoke a few whispered words and then he held the door open so that his prisoners might enter.

Pippin came in first followed by Bergil who was holding Ty’s hand in his own. The sun had dried Pippin’s clothing and hair somewhat, but he was still damp from his time in the “King’s Fountain”. He looked rather messy, his damp curls going in all directions. The knee of his trousers was torn from a fall during the game of ball in the street and his shirt was untucked. He made his way over to Aragon and stopped in front of him, hands behind his back and feet slightly apart. Bergil and Ty walked over and stood beside Pippin. Ty was in the middle still holding fast to Bergil’s hand.

Merry groaned and he and Frodo exchanged looks. Behind them, Gandalf hid a smile and beside him Éowyn smiled openly. Sam folded his arms over his chest and looked disapproving. Gimli made the only noise, a soft ‘hurumph.’ Legolas, Éomer, and Faramir were wide-eyed with surprise. Aragorn looked down at Pippin. “What have you to say for yourself, Peregrin Took?” he asked.

“I have broken a law of the City of Minas Tirith,” Pippin said. “I waded in the “King’s Fountain”.”

“But he didn’t know it wasn’t allowed, sir,” Ty said, in a hoarse whisper, and Bergil tightened his grip on the child’s hand and looked sternly at him.

“I was walking in the streets in the fourth circle with several lads of Gondor,” Pippin said, looking at Aragorn. “We were tossing a ball about and it accidentally went into the fountain. I went in to retrieve it. I didn’t know that it was forbidden.”

Bergil removed it from his pocket and handed it to Aragorn. “It is my ball, sir,” Bergil said, nervously.

Aragorn took the ball and looked at Bergil “Were you also in the fountain?” he asked.

Aragorn let his gaze fall on Ty now and he spoke gently. “What is your name?”

“He didn’t mean to,” Bergil said, quickly. “He was throwing it to Micah and he over-shot him. Ty isn’t very good at aiming yet.”

Aragorn smiled at the child and said, “If you were not in the fountain then why are you and Bergil being brought before me?”

Aragorn looked at Pippin his eyes revealing nothing and then over at Faramir. “I would like a moment with my Steward. Wait here, Peregrin.” Aragorn then turned and walked away from Pippin with Faramir close behind him. The two men did not leave the room, but merely went over to the far corner and out of the hearing of the rest.

Pippin watched them and then looked reassuringly over at Ty and Bergil. He didn’t want the lads to be frightened. In fact, he had not wanted either of them involved in this, but he had not been able to keep the lads from taking a measure of the responsibility. Pippin smiled at the boys and then turned his eyes forward. Somewhere just to his right, Pippin knew that Merry, Frodo and Sam were watching him. He would not have had it known, but he feared their anger far more than he feared Strider’s. He could only imagine what Merry would have to say about all of this.

Across the room, Faramir stood and listened to his new King. “It would seem that I may be about to send Pippin to the gaol. This is hardly the evening’s entertainment that I had planned when I assembled everyone here for a meal. ” Faramir caught the hint of a twinkle in his King’s eye. It would seem that even under unusual circumstances Minas Tirith’s new ruler could still see the amusing side of things. Perhaps Aragorn’s time among hobbits was partly responsible for this.

“Well,” Faramir said, trying not to smile. “It is a difficult business, but do you really think that Pippin’s actions merit that strict a punishment?”

“No, though it might spare us all a great deal of mischief,” Aragorn smiled. His back was to Pippin and so Faramir knew that the hobbit would not notice this. “I believe that he acted without benefit of knowledge in this matter,” Aragorn paused as if thinking the matter through. “On the other hand, I will have to take some sort of action in this matter. I cannot allow Pippin’s ignorance of the laws to relieve him of all responsibility. He is a Knight of the City and as such, he should be aware of the City’s laws. A portion of that oversight is mine for not seeing to his education on our laws. Once this matter is resolved, I shall have to see to it that he receives instruction or this will not be the last such incident. Pippin has a way of finding trouble with very little effort.”

“I suspect that you have not had the time to see to his education in such matters, my Lord,” Faramir said, softly. “There are many laws and I should doubt that our laws are in any way like unto the laws of The Shire. I do suspect that the children were aware of the law.” Faramir raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the boys.

“Yes, and it is a very good thing that children are never put into the gaol in Minas Tirith and so I need not worry about Bergil and Tyberian. I do have to decide what’s to be done with Pippin,” Aragorn sighed. “The fountain is held in high honor and so I cannot permit his actions to go unpunished.”

“Because Pippin’s actions were without malicious intent, then the punishment need not be too stern,” Faramir said.

“Finds ways to get into trouble that are unknown to others,” Aragorn sighed, quietly.

“Let us hope that I may invent a way for my small, rather troublesome, young Knight to pay for his crime, shall we?” Aragorn sighed, softly.

“With your permission, I think I have a suggestion that might help,” Faramir whispered. “Having grown up in the City, I have seen punishment handed down on other occasions for this crime.” He leaned forward and spoke softly for a few minutes. He then looked over at Pippin out of the corner of his eye and then back at Aragorn. “The decision is, of course, yours to make as you see fit. The punishments that I speak of are well within our laws, but you must determine how best to deal with Pippin.”

Aragorn stood for a minute or two more and considered the matter fully. The room had become strangely quiet as everyone present awaited Aragorn’s decision.

“I shall now pronounce sentence,” Aragorn said and he turned and walked back over to where Pippin and the boys waited. Faramir walked over and stood next to Éowyn who looked at him curiously. Faramir took her hand in his and gave a small shrug. He truly did not know what Aragorn might decide. He would have to wait for the answer just as everyone else would.

//////////////////////////////////////

The sun was hot and Pippin wished that the fountain was still filled with cold water, but at the moment it was completely dry. The water had been blocked off for the present and Pippin was on his knees in the fountain scrubbing the bottom of it with a soft brush. There was a bucket of soapy water at his elbow. Bergil and Ty, both of whom had insisted on being punished as well, were also scrubbing the inside of the fountain. Aragorn had not wanted to include the boys in the punishment, but Bergil and Ty had made it clear that they expected to be punished also. Now, both of them were helping Pippin to clean the “King’s Fountain”. It was going to be a very long day. No one had done this job in a very long time. The fountain had stood, revered, but unattended, for quite a few years. Pippin wondered if it was cool inside the gaol of Minas Tirith. Perhaps this had not been the best option.

Bergil wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over at Pippin. “At least my father was proud of me for taking my part of the blame in this,” he said.

“That should be a comfort to you when we perish from the heat in this sun,” Pippin sighed, dipping his brush into the soapy water and then looking amused. “It would be an ironic death to die for lack of water in the middle of a fountain.”

“It is a sort of perverse fate that is unexpected and odd,” Bergil answered.

Scrubbing a rather nasty bit of slime off of the bottom of the fountain’s bowl, Pippin said, “Rather like most things that seem to happen to me.”

Bergil and Ty laughed and at that moment several more boys climbed over the side of the fountain and joined them. Each of them had a bucket of their own and all of them wore old clothing. Evan grinned at the surprised Pippin and said, “We thought it was only fair that we come by and help. We all should have come along to be brought before the King with you, but we were a bit afraid.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of the King,” Pippin smiled. “You also do not have to suffer in this heat.”

“We are helping and that’s that,” Micah said. “After all, if I had jumped a bit higher, none of us would be in trouble. It was I who missed Ty’s throw.”

“Then we shall have to work on your skills later,” Bergil said, and was rewarded with the sight of pure joy in Ty’s eyes.

“I will if we ever finish scrubbing out the King’s Fountain,” Bergil grinned.

“There is no law of which I am aware that is against it,” Bergil said. With that settled, Pippin began to sing while he scrubbed and the boys soon learned the words and joined him. People passing by them smiled and stopped to listen to a chorus or two before moving on with their own day’s labor.

////////////////////////////////////////////

Aragorn sat in the vast throne room and dreaded his own day. Faramir had set up meetings with many of the town’s shopkeepers and business owners. Aragorn’s Steward seemed to think that it was a good idea to allow the people of Gondor to come and meet with their new King and air their concerns. “It will help your acceptance among the populace if people have met you and have seen that you are interested in their affairs,” Faramir had said. “It will go a long way toward making them see you as belonging to Gondor and not merely a stranger among us who will now rule them.”

Aragorn knew that Faramir was right, but he dreaded the day all the same. He would have to spend the entire day indoors in meetings with people who were likely to be uncomfortable with him and even a bit unfriendly. He would be forced to win them over and he did not enjoy that sort of thing. He had hoped that his deeds as the heir of Isildur might be enough, but Faramir assured him that a bit of politics would be needed. So, here he sat, half wishing that he were helping Pippin clean out the fountain instead of spending the day inside.

Soon he was welcoming his first visitor, an older woman who owned a small shop. He smiled and said, “I am happy to listen to all that you might have to say. I am told that your husband died in the service of Gondor.”

“He did,” she said. “He loved the people of Gondor and he was always proud to serve. I miss him still, but I do not begrudge his death. He died proudly doing what he felt he must. I have gone on about my life without him as I have had to, but though I miss him, I have managed to make do.”

“I hear that you have a very successful business in the city,” Aragorn said.

“I have,” she smiled. “I won’t take much of your time, my Lord. I just wanted to meet you after talking to that nice young Perian the other day.”

Aragorn wondered which hobbit had spoken to this woman. From her smile, he guessed that perhaps Sam or Frodo had been in her shop for some reason. “Oh, you have met one of the Perian?”

“I have indeed and he is a very loyal subject to you, my Lord,” she said. “He stayed a while and visited with me and told me that I had no reason to worry for the future of Minas Tirith now that you are our King.”

“That was very kind of him,” Aragorn said. “I shall try to be worthy of his respect and of yours as well.”

She smiled. “He was right about you,” she said. “I realize that now. I’m glad that I came if only to see for myself. I’m a stubborn old woman and I was worried now that Lord Denethor has passed, but seeing you makes me know that the Ernil i Pheriannath spoke the truth.”

“He was by my shop with some of the local lads yesterday,” she said. “He’s a charmer, that one. Insisted that I call him Pippin. The very name made me smile. I’d never heard anything like it. He couldn’t say enough good things about you, my Lord.”

The afternoon went on much like that. Many that came to see the new King of Gondor did so because the Ernil i Pheriannath had spoken highly of him. One old gentleman admitted that he’d come to prove Pippin wrong and had even told the Perian that. “I told him that I was sure I’d not like the new King,” the old gentleman said, gruffly with downcast eyes. “But I was wrong about that, and I was wrong to say it. When next I come across the Ernil i Pheriannath, I shall owe him an ale.”

It was just past four when Aragorn received some surprise visitors. Faramir came in bearing a tea tray followed by Frodo, Merry and Sam. “I have not heard any gnashing of teeth or rending of clothing and so I am in hopes that it is safe to enter,” Faramir said, setting the tray on a small table that was kept at the ready for the use of the King. “I thought that you might have earned a respite and the sight of a few familiar friendly faces after your labors.”

Aragorn smiled. “Your visit is most welcome, though I fear that I have done little today.”

“We’ve come about Pippin,” Frodo said. “We’ve come to apologize for his behavior and to let you know that we plan to speak to him.”

“Yes,” Merry said, quickly. “He just doesn’t understand how different things are here. He can’t be charging about like he does at home in the Shire, even in times of peace. There is work to be done and I am very glad that you have set him straight.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm, but he still should know better,” Frodo said with a frown. “We had no idea what he was up to yesterday or we would have put a stop to it.”

“Then I, for one, am very glad that you did not know what he was up to,” Aragorn laughed, taking a cup of tea from Faramir. “I should have had a far worse day today if you had stopped Pippin from what he did yesterday.”

Merry and Frodo exchanged puzzled looks and Sam said, “You mean that you’re glad that Mister Pippin went wadin’ in the fountain?”

“Are you planning to explain that at all?” Merry asked. “Or will you be doing what Gandalf usually does and leaving us to guess what you mean?”

“I had a meeting with a man who was near the fountain sitting on a bench when Pippin decided to go in after Bergil’s ball,” Aragorn said, extending a plate of biscuits to Merry. Merry took three of them and continued to stare curiously at Aragorn. “The man said that he felt that he could come here today and meet with me because even though the Ernil i Pheriannath had been in trouble, he hadn’t been afraid to be brought before me. That man came here today to ask me about getting some walls in his shop repaired. The shop is in the second circle of the City and it was badly damaged. The man told me that he would not have come it he had not seen the incident at the fountain yesterday.”

“You mean that he would have let his shop fall to ruin rather than speak to someone about it?” Frodo asked.

“He was ready to do exactly that,” Aragorn said. “He suspected that ‘an outsider’ would care little for the troubles of one rather poor shopkeeper. He only took a chance in coming because Pippin seemed unafraid to be brought in for his transgression.”

Frodo and Merry looked at one another. “So, by breaking a law of Minas Tirith, Pippin somehow managed to do something good?” Merry asked looking chagrined.

“It was well indeed for me that Peregrin Took became bored with the business of City repairs and went off to seek adventure with Bergil,” Aragorn said. “I have seen more than a few people today and most had spoken with Pippin at some point yesterday. All say that the Ernil i Pheriannath holds Gondor’s new King in high regard and so they came by to see for themselves. Instead of spending a long day trying to convince my people that I want to help them and intend to rebuild our City, or convincing people that I belong upon the throne, I spent the day hearing that the Ernil i Pheriannath thinks very highly of me and so I must be all right.” Aragorn laughed at Merry’s expression. “The people of Minas Tirith are very fond of your cousin, Merry. They also seem to value his opinion which is very fortunate for me.”

There was a knock on the door and Legolas entered. “You should come to the square in the fourth circle if you desire contact with the people of Minas Tirith,” Legolas said.

“Because Pippin and the boys of Gondor that are cleaning the fountain have drawn quite a crowd,” Legolas said. The elf removed a biscuit from one of Merry’s hands and said, “The singing is lovely and very entertaining. Did you tell them that they had to sing while they worked?”

“No,” Aragorn said. “Though I do not doubt that they are doing so. I merely told Pippin that he was to make the “King’s Fountain” gleam in the sunlight before the day’s end if he hoped to stay out of the gaol of Minas Tirith. Bergil and young Tyberian insisted on being allowed to help him and as I suspected that their own fathers would punish them if I didn’t allow it, I set them to work also.”

“They have been joined by several other boys, and the work proceeds quickly, as well as tunefully. The people of Minas Tirith are speaking of the songs everywhere I journey today,” Legolas smiled. “I went and listened for a while and in honor of my visit, Pippin sang an Elvish song that he had learned while in Lothlórien.” Legolas’s expression now seemed slightly pained.

Legolas smiled, weakly. “I nearly recognized some of the words. It is most interesting to hear Elvish spoken in Pippin’s accent.”

“I am sorry that I missed that,” Aragorn said with a smirk. “And how did you respond?”

“Thank the Valar,” Aragorn laughed. “I know how difficult it is for the Firstborn to hear their own tongue mutilated.”

“It was strangely lyrical though completely incorrect,” Legolas said. “Pippin’s accent does have a musical quality to it and it was not altogether unappealing. The people of Minas Tirith enjoyed it so much that they requested it be sung a second time. Pippin, also being gracious, insisted that I perform it for them. I did so, but I do believe that the people preferred his version.”

Aragorn laughed. “Are you saying that an Elf of Mirkwood has been bested in song by a Hobbit of the Shire?”

“I am saying that the people of Minas Tirith, endearing though they may be, are not terribly gifted when it comes to discerning pleasing music,” Legolas smiled, taking a bite of his stolen biscuit.

“I have heard it,” Frodo sighed. “And it is not exactly Elvish. It is more like Pippish.”

“The Tooks always have talked funny,” Merry grinned. “I’m sure since he is a learned expert on Elvish, that Frodo will prefer your version, Legolas.”

Frodo blushed and glared at Merry. “I am hardly an expert, Cousin. I do know how it is supposed to sound however.” Frodo then reached over and took one of Merry’s remaining biscuits in payment for his cousin’s cheek.

“Do I have any more appointments after tea, my good Steward?” Aragorn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Then perhaps we shall all make our way to the “King’s Fountain” to hear the music,” Aragorn smiled, reaching over and taking the last of Merry’s biscuits out of the startled hobbit’s hand and popping it into his mouth.

“We might as well,” Merry said, tartly. “A hobbit can’t get anything at all to eat around here. Maybe there is a bakery or grocer near the fountain.”

“I am grateful to you for your council, Faramir,” Aragon said, as they stood some distance from the fountain listening to the lads singing Bilbo’s bath song with Pippin’s voice ringing out among them. “I should not have wanted to be too harsh with Pippin in this matter and your suggestion seems to have worked out quite well. Pippin is learning a lesson and we are getting a much cleaner fountain all at the same time. I am aware of the laws of the City but I am grateful to have access to your knowledge of past decisions.”

“I am glad to have you by my side,” Aragorn said. “A King needs wise council at times.”

“Pippin may be less than grateful for your wise council,” Merry laughed with a glance over at his younger cousin who was scrubbing the side of the fountain now.

“I suppose it is better than the punishments that his own father would set for him at home,” Frodo reminded Merry.

“Yes, it must be better than mucking out the pony stalls,” Merry agreed. “My own father was fond of that same sort of punishment and in Buckland we have a great many ponies.”

“Those ponies used to think of me as their personal stable maid,” Merry grinned.

“Well, Pippin is not the first to be punished for defiling the fountain,” Faramir said, as the boys launched into a Gondorian marching song which Pippin seemed to know quite well. “Some years ago, one of the Steward Denethor’s own sons had to do the very job which Pippin is now doing,” Faramir said.

“Yes, the very same,” Faramir smiled. “There is a pub not too far from where we now stand. It is called “The White Tower Pub” and it was a favorite of Boromir’s as well as many of the City’s young soldiers. Boromir was in training for his service in the Army at the time. He was barely seventeen, which is what saved him from the gaol of Minas Tirith. His actions shocked and angered many. In fact, if Boromir had not been the son of the Steward, I do believe that he might have been hanged for his crime.”

“Yes, what did Boromir do?” Aragorn asked. “Don’t tell me that he was retrieving a lost ball for a young child.”

“No,” Faramir said. “Boromir and several of his mates had been drinking and they were all more than a bit drunk. They came weaving past the fountain in the dark of night. The evening lanterns were lit and the Guardsman that was watching the square on that night knew Boromir and the others. It was he that told me the full tale one evening over drinks at the same pub. Everyone in the City knew Boromir and so naturally it was impossible for my older brother to do anything without gaining notice,” Faramir smiled, proudly. “Anyway, one of Boromir’s friends turned to him and said, ‘Look, there’s the “King’s Fountain”.’ Boromir looked over and said, in a rather drunken slur, ‘Gondor has no King’ and then he pulled down his trousers and relieved himself in the fountain.”

It was after sunset. Pippin had bathed and dressed and was now standing outside Aragorn’s chambers waiting. The boys had been sent home by Faramir and Pippin was waiting to hear if he would be working on something else tomorrow. His arms ached from scrubbing and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. He had been given dinner at the buttery before coming here. He only hoped that he didn’t get another lecture from Merry or worse, one from Frodo when he returned to the house. He was too tired to hear how disappointed they were in his behavior just now. He was sure that whatever Aragorn had to say about it all would be lecture enough though he would never convince Merry of that.

Merry had said plenty last night about responsibility and mature behavior. Pippin’s ears had rung with it all, but he had been unable to argue the point. After all, Merry had been right. He had gone off without a word and had got himself into trouble. In fact, it had been trouble that could have reflected badly upon Strider. That was something Pippin had never wanted to do. He was planning to ask Strider for a list of the City’s laws so that this sort of thing would not happen to him again. He was, unless Strider was thinking of releasing him from his service, a Knight of Gondor, and he should know the laws of the City. What would Boromir have thought of it all? Pippin shuddered to consider that. He yawned deeply as the door opened and Aragorn peeked out at him. “Come in before you fall asleep in my hall,” Aragorn said.

Pippin started to ask if sleeping in the hall was illegal, but thought better of it and silently followed Aragorn into the room, limping slightly. To Pippin’s surprise, the room was not empty. Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Sam and Faramir were all present. Pippin gulped. Maybe Aragorn wanted to release him from his service to Gondor and had asked the others here so that they might bear witness to it.

“Do not bow,” Aragorn said. “But listen carefully to what I am about to say before this company.”

“I would like to thank you for your service to your King,” Aragorn said. “Your deeds are known to me and I am grateful to you.”

Pippin looked at Aragorn in sleepy confusion for a minute and then said, “I don’t think I am hearing well this evening. Did you just say that you were grateful to me?”

“Tooks!” Gandalf muttered. “You have to repeat everything that you say to them.”

Pippin glared over at the wizard, forgetting his place for a second, but he quickly remembered and straightened to face Aragorn.

Aragorn knelt down in front of Pippin and put a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. He smiled at him and said, “I saw a great many people today and almost all of them told me that the Ernil i Pheriannath had spoken words of high praise for the new King of Gondor.”

Pippin shifted uncomfortably on his tired feet and said, “I may have mentioned you to a few of the folk that I spoke with.”

“I thank you, my friend,” Aragorn said. “It would seem that you have served me well on your day of leisure by giving fair tidings of the new King to my people.”

“I just told them about my friend, Strider, the Ranger from the North,” Pippin smiled and Aragorn drew him into a hug.

“Even better,” Aragorn said. “I won’t make you clean any more of Minas Tirith’s fountains.”

“That is a reward beyond any that I have ever received,” Pippin said unable to stifle a yawn.

“Now, get some rest for tomorrow you are afforded another day off from your service,” Aragorn said.

“I am off duty again tomorrow?” Pippin asked, yawning again. “I’ve not been released from your service have I?” He looked worried.

“No,” Aragorn said, standing. “That shall never happen Peregrin Took. Though if I catch you wading in any of the fountains you will stand behind my chair during all of my long meetings and all of my meals for a week, do you understand?”

Suddenly Merry was beside him and putting an arm around him to support him. “Lean on me and take the weight off of that leg, Pip,” Merry said.

“You aren’t going to keep me up again lecturing me are you?” Pippin asked, glancing at his older cousin as he leaned against him.

“No,” Merry said. “But after a night’s sleep, I wonder if you might take me about the City. I should like a proper tour.”

“You mean, that you should like a way to keep an eye on me,” Pippin laughed.

“That wouldn’t go amiss either,” Merry grinned as he and Pippin, followed by Sam and Frodo started toward the door. “Oh, and maybe you could teach me that lovely Elvish song that Legolas told us of earlier in the day. I know Legolas would love to hear it again and I am sure, since he enjoys Elvish, that Frodo would like to hear it as well.” Merry’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

Frodo looked over his shoulder at Legolas and the two exchanged pained grimaces.

“Really?” Pippin said, brightening. “I only know two Elvish songs. Haldir taught them to me. He said that I learned very quickly for someone that had never spoken any Elvish before.”

“Well, I would love to hear them,” Merry said, opening the door to leave. “And so would Frodo. Wouldn’t you, Frodo?”

As they left, Legolas looked over at Aragorn and sighed. “Haldir told me that he would get even with me for bringing a Dwarf into the Golden Wood, but I had not expected such cruelty.”

Before Aragorn could respond, the door opened again and Pippin came back in, followed by Sam, Merry and Frodo. “Was there something else?” Aragorn asked, smiling at Pippin.

“Yes, if you have a wee bit of time tomorrow I should like to speak to you about something that has been on my mind,” Pippin said.

“I can make some time for you,” Aragorn said. “Though I should have thought that you would be busy enjoying your time off duty.”

“I only need a few minutes,” Pippin smiled. Behind him, Merry, Frodo and Sam were looking rather puzzled.

Pippin frowned a bit and then said, “Well, it is rather in the way of official business so perhaps I should have an official appointment.”

“Very well,” Aragorn said, feeling curious. “I will hear your business at eight in the morning. You now have an official appointment. Now, get some rest or you shall sleep through it.”

“Thank you, Strider,” Pippin grinned and turned back to Merry, Frodo and Sam.

When the door had closed behind the hobbits, Faramir turned to Aragorn and frowned. “What do you suppose that is about?”

“Maybe Pippin would like to sing something in Elvish for you too,” Gimli grunted. He then looked over at Legolas. “Punishment for bringing a Dwarf into the Golden Wood, was it?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you up to now?” Merry demanded as the four hobbits made their way back to their little house.

“It’s nothing, Merry,” Pippin said, tiredly. “Just official business.”

“Peregrin Took if you are planning to get yourself into more trouble then you had better rethink your plan,” Frodo said sternly.

“Honestly, Frodo,” Pippin sighed, exasperated. “I never plan to get myself into trouble. It just seems to come out that way.”

“Well kindly inform me what sort of official business you might have with Aragorn so that I might be prepared for any trouble that might result from this meeting of yours,” Frodo said.

“What about the children?” Merry asked as he put an arm around Pippin to support his younger cousin. Pippin was limping. It was plain that his injured knee had not taken kindly to the hours spent kneeling in the fountain today. The damage was from Pippin’s battle with the troll at the Black Gate. It bothered him from time to time and was still healing. Pippin rarely mentioned it, but the others could always tell when the knee was bothering him by the severity of his limp.

Pippin leaned gratefully against Merry and replied, “I think that the new King of Gondor should be aware that there are no places set aside for the City’s children to play in. They play in the streets and most of the time they are run off for causing a disruption of some sort. They need somewhere that they can play.”

“Not that I saw,” Pippin said. “Ty told me that there weren’t any fields or any grassy places inside of the walls of the City. They just play where they may. The shop owners don’t like for the lads to play near their businesses but it seems that everywhere that the lads go is near someone’s business.”

“So you want to speak to Aragorn about finding a place for the children to play?” Frodo asked.

“I think,” Pippin yawned again. “That we were far luckier than we knew. The Shire is filled with green meadows and fields. We had places to run and play where we were of no bother to anyone. The children of the White City don’t have that. I spent all day yesterday listening to folks run the lads off just for playing. It shouldn’t be like that.”

“So you plan to ask Aragorn to find a place for the children like the places that we have in the Shire?” Merry asked as they reached their little house.

“There are no places anywhere in Middle-earth like the places that we have in the Shire,” Pippin said, sounding both proud and homesick. “Still, I think that Aragorn will be able to find someplace for the children.”

“I think he will too once he is informed of the situation,” Frodo smiled, thinking of his garden at Bag End.

“Maybe Mister Legolas will know of somewhere that we could plant some trees and a bit of grass,” Sam said, also thinking of Bag End. The flowers would be in bloom there now.

The four hobbits entered the little house, each thinking of the Shire’s fields and rivers that lay so far away from Minas Tirith and its proud stone walls and great towers. Somewhere in the Shire a group of hobbit children were probably running across a meadow in search of fun and adventure with the smell of lush green grass all about them. Frodo sighed deeply. Pippin was right. Children needed someplace to run and play. “I think that it is a splendid idea, Pippin,” Frodo said, closing the door behind them.

“It may not be anything so important as restoring the foundations of the buildings or repairing the walls, but it is something that needs doing,” Pippin said, his voice heavy with sleep.

“It is every bit as important as those things,” Merry smiled. “And tomorrow after you’ve had a night’s rest, I suspect that you will be able to convince Aragorn of its importance.”

“I mean to try,” Pippin said and he left the others and went off to his room.

Merry smiled after him and said, “I was complaining that Pippin wasn’t interested in repairs to the City when all of the time, he knew more about what the City needed than any of us.”

Merry slipped an arm over Frodo’s shoulders and grinned. “Maybe after Pip meets with Strider tomorrow, we can talk him into singing those Elvish songs for you.”

“Right now,” Frodo smiled. “I would be quite happy to hear anything that Pippin would like to sing. He has managed to remind me of home and I was having a bit of trouble remembering exactly why we went through all of this. Pippin’s words about the Shire have brought it all back to me.”

Merry gave his older cousin a quick hug. “Sometimes, we all need a reminder,” Merry said, thinking of days spent fishing on the Brandywine. “Lucky for us, we have Pippin along to put things into perspective.”

In The Service of The King by Grey Wonderer