Hot Summer Night

By Garnet Took

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters belong to the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema. However, about 28 years ago I developed a fascination for a couple of very cute hobbits, and now I just have to write about them. This is not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or anything so please don’t sue. Turnips have more than I do.

It was high Summer in Gondor, and it was hot. If a person were to stand on the Pelennor Fields at noon and look back at Minas Tirith he could clearly see the heat haze rising off the white stone of the majestic city as it reflected back the light of the sun. Most people residing in the city were accustomed to the heat of Summer in the Southlands, but not all.

Peregrin Took once again wiped his face with the handkerchief that he had secreted in his uniform. Whoever thought black was a good color for the guards of the citadel to wear was a bigger fool than they say I am. It’s hot enough just wearing sensible breeches and a light tunic, but in black mail covered by a black surcoat, it’s unbearable. I’m starting to think hobbits were never meant to live this far south. The more he thought about his discomfort, the more miserable he became. He only hoped that the king wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want anyone thinking that he was unfit for duty. It had only been a week since he had been returned to full duty after his injuries at the Black Gate, and he wanted everyone to know he was fully recovered.

Pippin was released from his post at the ninth hour, and his first goal was to get back to the guesthouse he shared with the other members of the Fellowship and get out of his stifling uniform. After that, he planned to find the coolest place he could and stay there till supper. He wasn’t even that interested in taking tea. The only thing that sounded good in this weather was something cold to drink.

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At supper Pippin found that he still had almost no appetite. He spent most of the meal pushing the food around his plate and pretending to eat. Sam noticed what he was doing and asked, "What’s the matter Mr. Pippin? It’s not like you not to eat at least one helping of everything at a meal. Isn’t the food to your liking?"

"No, Sam. The food is fine. It’s just me. I think the heat is finally getting to me. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can’t sleep, I don’t want to eat, and I can’t find anyplace in the city where I’m comfortable."

"Have you tried a cool bath?" asked Frodo. "I agree that it is too hot here for my liking, too, but I’ve found that soaking in a tub of cool water helps somewhat."

"Yes," answered Pippin, pushing his plate away. "I’ve tried just about everything I can think of. I’m just about desperate enough to ask Aragorn to assign me night duty and give me a cell in the dungeon to sleep in. It may be dark, dank and dismal down there, not to mention full of all sorts of unsavory characters, but at least it’s cool."

Sam and Frodo were unable to totally suppress their giggles at the image of Gondor’s smallest knight willingly living in the dungeons and only coming out at night. "We can’t have you doing that now," said Frodo. "You might get a reputation you don’t want, and one that has nothing to do with your dislike for Minas Tirith’s weather. We’re just going to have to come up with a solution that works that doesn’t involve you becoming some sort of creature of the night."

"The best idea I have," said Sam, "is to go home. But I know that’s not going to happen for a few more weeks at least, and by then the weather will be starting to turn cooler."

"No," agreed Pippin, "going home’s not an option; not now at any rate. I’m just going to have make due, I guess."

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Late that night, Pippin lay in bed unable to sleep. He had turned his pillow over more times than he could count and he had kicked all the covers off the bed onto the floor, but he could not get comfortable. All he could do was toss and turn and listen to Merry’s deep breathing as the other hobbit slept peacefully despite the heat.

Finally, Pippin could stand it no more. He got up, put his breeches on under his nightshirt and slipped out of the guesthouse. First he went to the garden, but found it almost as oppressive as the house. Next he went and sat on the front steps in the hope that he could feel a bit of a cooling night breeze, but there was no wind stirring. Finally, in frustration, Pippin started walking up the climbing streets toward the citadel.

Once he reached the Court of the Fountain, he stood watching the water fall in droplets into the reflecting pool beside the newly-planted sapling of the White Tree. I wonder what the penalty for swimming in the fountain is. Probably something really serious, like death. That would be my luck he thought. Absently Pippin trailed his hand through the water.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Pippin sank to his knees beside the fountain. Absently he pressed his right cheek against the cool stone and closed his eyes.

Silently a figure approached the fountain. What have we here? Cautiously the figure knelt beside the now-sleeping hobbit. At the gentle touch of a large hand on his shoulder, Pippin jumped and awoke fully. He turned fright-filled but tired eyes on the tall stranger who had startled him.

"I did not mean to frighten you, Pippin." came a familiar voice.

"Oh, I’m sorry," answered Pippin, looking away. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep beside your fountain, Strider. I guess I was more tired than I realized."

"Yes, I have noticed that you have not been quite your usual energetic self the last several days. Is anything wrong?" The king’s concern was genuine and deep. There was no possible way that Pippin could answer him with anything but the truth.

"Well..." the young hobbit began. "Please, don’t take this wrong, Strider, but, you see, for some reason, I just cannot get used to the heat. I know it sounds silly, but I’m miserable; and it seems that I’m the only one." This last part was almost a wail of frustration.

"No, I am not offended by you confession at all." Strider laughed a little despite how seriously Pippin was taking all this. The sight of the youngest of the four hobbits sitting beside the Fountain of the Tree in the middle of the night, crying his irritation at the heat was an oddly humorous sight.

Pippin managed to calm himself a bit before continuing. "Why," he asked, "do I seem to be the only one who’s bothered by this? When I told Frodo and Sam, they seemed to find it amusing, and I haven’t even talked to Merry about it. I don’t think he’d understand, anyway, because he doesn’t seem to have any trouble. He’s sound asleep right now, while I’m out here looking for a cool breeze, or something...." He trailed off, feeling like he wasn’t making much sense, and was just sounding petulant.

Aragorn took a seat on the edge of the fountain and patted the stone next to him, indicating that Pippin should take a seat as well. The hobbit climbed up and sat beside the king. This was much easier for Pippin than it would have been a few months before, and Aragorn smiled at the obvious change in Pippin.

"Now," he said, "let’s look at this problem from all sides, for I do believe that you have made some errors in your thinking based on a lack of information, combined with just a bit of thoughtlessness."

Pippin hung his head. It figures, he thought. I’m not using my head again. I’m being childish and self-centered. Will I ever grow up enough to stop thinking of myself first?

Aragorn saw Pippin look down and realized that the hobbit was silently berating himself for not thinking. Poor Pippin had no way of knowing that, not only Aragorn, but Gandalf, as well, was pleased with how much he had matured. No, Aragorn did not think he was selfish, not this time. He was merely uninformed.

"I did not mean that the way it sounded," said the king. "I only meant that there are certain things you have either not thought about or that you have not been told."

This caused Pippin to look up.

"First," Aragorn continued, " have you thought about Frodo and Sam’s perspective on the subject of heat and discomfort?"

Pippin shook his head.

"Consider this. They went into the heart of Mordor, and they climbed an active volcano. Then they survived the eruption of that same volcano. They were nearly suffocated by ash and heat, and they were burned by flying cinders. After that, the heat of a Summer’s day would be a small thing, wouldn’t you agree?"

Pippin seemed deep in thought. At last he answered. "You’re right. I hadn’t thought about all that. Their perspective on the heat is probably even more off than my own on the subject of what it means to be squished." He giggled a little at this observation.

"Exactly. No one can understand why something like dropping a rock on your foot would seem so minor to you because they don’t know what you went through when that very large troll fell on you. It’s the same thing for them. They have a whole different view of things, on many subjects, than any of the rest of us can have."

"That explains them," said Pippin, "but what about Merry? He didn’t go through all that, and yet he can sleep through the most stifling night in absolute contentment."

"This one is a little harder for me to explain, I’m afraid."

"Why?" asked Pippin. "Is something wrong with Merry?" Fear, concern and near-panic were writ large on the hobbits expressive face.

"Calm yourself, Peregrin. Nothing serious is wrong with your cousin. Several days ago, Eomer came to me and said that he thought Merry was still having trouble using his right arm. I spoke to Gandalf about this, and we both agreed to observe Merry very closely. Eomer was correct, Merry was definitely favoring his injured arm. When I asked him about it, he gave me the usual answer I get from any of you hobbits when the question is about your health, ‘I’m fine. Nothing to worry yourself over.’ You know the routine; you’ve said similar things yourself on more than one occasion."

Pippin grinned at this. He knew how frustrating hobbits could be to healers. He had been just about the worst patient in the entire camp at Cormallen.

"Not to change the subject," asked Aragorn, "but have you noticed Merry having nightmares, or troubled sleep?"

Pippin thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure how Merry would react if he found out Pippin had told anyone about his dreams. "Well..., now that you mention it..., yes. But I haven’t noticed it the last few nights, so maybe they’re starting to go away."

"No, I don’t think that’s the case. Not totally, anyway. Hopefully, they will go away in time, but not yet. You see, Pippin, Gandalf and I have done something that Merry would be furious with us for, if he ever found out. You must swear never to tell him."

Pippin bit his lip. He was torn between loyalty to his cousin and his king. Finally he agreed to keep silent. He knew in his heart of hearts that Aragorn and Gandalf had Merry’s best interest at heart. "What have you done?"

"We’ve been giving him a sleeping draught each night for about the last week. Gandalf’s been slipping it into a mug of tea that he’s been giving Merry just before he goes to bed. So far it seems to be working. Merry seems to be feeling better, and using his arm more; and he seems totally unaware of what we have been doing. I know we can’t keep it up for ever, but, for now, it’s a help to him. In a few days, we’ll start to reduce the dose until we’re giving him nothing but tea, and, hopefully, by that time, the nightmare will have subsided."

"Oh," said Pippin. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was touched at the concern the Man and the Wizard had for Merry, but he wasn’t sure that the way they were going about things was right. He did, however, know his cousin well enough to know that he’d never agree to being given something just to avoid his fears, but maybe it was for the best, whether Merry liked it, or not.

"Now you know all this," said Aragorn, "but it still doesn’t solve your problem, does it?"

"No," answered Pippin, "but it does make me realize that in the big picture, my problem is really quite small. Maybe I should just be thankful that I’m not going through what the others are."

"I didn’t tell you all of this so that you would think less of yourself. I only did it to give you a new perspective on things. If you are having as much trouble as it appears that you are, we have to do something. There are several options. I could remove you from active duty so that you wouldn’t have to wear your uniform...."

"No!" exclaimed Pippin. "I don’t want you to do that. You’ve only just recently put me back on full duty. There has to be another solution."

"Let’s see." Aragorn seemed to ponder for a while. "How would this work?" he finally said. "You start taking the sleeping draught with Merry each night. That way, you get a good night’s rest and Merry will be made less suspicious that we’re up to something since he will no longer be the only one getting a cup of tea from Gandalf. Secondly, you no longer wear your uniform to and from the citadel. We’ll keep in a chamber behind the throne and you can change there. I know this will cause some people to have a negative opinion of you, or me, or both; but it will solve some of the problem. It won’t be a long-term thing, after all. You’re only going to be here a few more weeks, and by the time you’re ready to leave, high Summer will be behind us, and you can go back to being just like the rest of the guards."

Pippin nodded his agreement. It sounded like a small sacrifice to make to survive Summer in Minas Tirith.

"In that case," said Aragorn, with a grin, "why don’t we go have a cup of tea?"

The End