This is my first LotR story and was written on my birthday as a birthday present to Dreamflower, who was kind enough not only to let me borrow some elements from her own amazing stories, but to beta read it for me as well.

Author’s Notes: Pippin is age 5, Merry is age 13, Sam, Fatty, and Folco are all about age 15, and Frodo is age 27 (the equivalent of ages 3, 8, 9, and 17, respectively, in Man years).

Setting – Bag End on Frodo’s and Bilbo’s birthday.

Disclaimer: The characters all belong to the amazing world of Middle-earth created by the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien. I just borrowed them.

ALL IS WELL

The dining room at Bag End was crowded. If it hadn’t been for his stomach rumbling, Pippin would have left the room and gone exploring the mathom rooms to try once again to find what Bilbo and Frodo had got him for their birthdays. But lunch being served was enough to quell his curiosity – temporarily.

Although the rest of Bilbo’s and Frodo’s guests wouldn’t be arriving for the party until just before tea, cousin Bilbo had invited Pippin’s and Merry’s families to come a few days early and stay at Bag End since they were his “more tolerable relations.” Pippin giggled at the thought of that; he knew it was just Bilbo’s way of saying he really liked them.

But now, not only were Pippin’s and Merry’s families there for lunch, but so were Fatty Bolger and Folco Boffin, whose families would be arriving later with the rest of the guests.

For as long as Pippin could remember, Bilbo and Frodo had always given the best birthday parties in the whole Shire – even better than the Thain’s birthday party at the Great Smials. And this year, Merry had said that there was going to be a real wizard there!

“You should see the wizard’s fireworks, Pip!”

“Really, Mer?” asked Pippin, his green eyes growing wide.

Merry nodded enthusiastically. “Back when I was about your age, Gandalf brought some for Litheday. Some of the fireworks even looked like yellow butterflies.”

Pippin swallowed a mouthful of milk and stared down the table at an old man dressed in grey who was laughing with Bilbo as they ate lunch. This Gandalf didn’t look much like a wizard, but Merry and Frodo had said he was, so it must be so. Pippin shrugged his shoulders and focussed his attentions on the plate before him.

Lunch was one of Pippin’s favourite meals whenever he came to visit at Bag End and this one was no exception. Not only were there roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, sweet carrots, peas, fried onions and mushrooms, three cheeses, and pickles, but Bilbo had made his mushroom pie and Sam’s mother had brought over some strawberry tarts for dessert, “Seein’ as how Mr. Bilbo has so many fine relations over for company.” Pippin liked Sam’s mother a lot, although not as much as his own mother.

By the time Pippin had finished his third tart and some scones with honey, he was so full that he didn’t think he would be able to eat another bite for a couple of hours. Besides, it was time to try again to find out what Bilbo and Frodo had got him for their birthdays. Just as Pippin was starting to get out of his chair, he heard Bilbo’s voice.

“I think these fine young lads would enjoy hearing a nice adventure story, Frodo. I don’t think their mothers would appreciate their running around outside and getting dirty before the party folk all arrive. There’s that new book Gandalf brought from Lord Elrond you could read to them.” Bilbo winked at Fatty. “It’s got Elves in it.” Pippin didn’t know who “Lord Elrond” was, but Fatty must, the way he was beaming.

“I think Sam would enjoy it, too,” continued Bilbo in a bright voice. “Perhaps you should go to Bagshot Row and get him. Tell the Gaffer I asked for Sam especially.”

“Yes, Uncle Bilbo! Come on, sprout!” cried Frodo before he dashed out the door, Merry at his heels.

“No, Pippin-lad! Stay here,” cried his mother, grabbing the back of his breeches. “Merry and Frodo will be back before you could catch them up. There’s a good lad.” As she bent down to give Pippin a kiss, she got a better look at her son’s face and stopped short. “Pearl, please take Pippin and wash his face. He’s got honey and goodness knows what else all over it again.”

“Yes, Mother. Come along, Pip.”

By the time Pearl had finished washing Pippin’s face and drying him off, Frodo and Merry were back with a very excited Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Bilbo, sir. That was right nice of you to think of asking me,” Sam exclaimed, looking around at all the gentlehobbits in the smial. “Especially when you have such fine company. The Gaffer didn’t think it were proper, and I must say as how I agree with him, but Mr. Frodo here wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

With a laugh, Frodo shook his head and rolled his eyes. “My dear Sam,” he said, putting an arm around Sam and steering him toward Bilbo’s library, “proper or not, I wouldn’t dream of reading a story with Elves in it to the lads without you.”

Frodo sat down in Bilbo’s large reading chair and picked up a great, big book. Before opening it, Frodo turned his head toward Pippin and winked. He smiled one of his warm Frodo-smiles that made Pippin feel all tingly right down to the bottoms of his furry toes.

“Come on, dearest,” Frodo said invitingly, patting his lap.

Pippin didn’t need to wait for any more encouragement. It was his favourite reading-story spot in the whole Shire. He raced across the room and jumped onto Frodo’s lap, snuggling in until he had made himself quite comfortable.

“Did you find them yet?” Frodo whispered into Pippin’s ear knowingly, smoothing the chestnut curls on the lad's head.

Pippin cupped his little hand around his bow-shaped mouth and lifted his face up to Frodo’s ear. “No, but only two more mathom rooms left. Hurry up and read, Fro, so I can look some more!”

Frodo laughed so hard that Pippin felt his chest rumbling up and down underneath him. “My dear Peregrin, you are such a Took!” Frodo declared, giving his little cousin a kiss on the top of his head.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the lads were seated. Pippin was very happy when Merry sat right next to Frodo and him and leaned against Frodo’s leg. Sam and Fatty on Frodo’s other side were all eyes as they sat pitched forward expectantly. Folco sat patiently next to Fatty and admired his wooden flute.

“Do hold still, Pip!” cried Frodo, trying to open the book. “I won’t be able to read with you bouncing up and down like that.”

“Sorry, Fro,” Pippin replied sheepishly. It wasn’t easy to control his excitement when Frodo was going to read to him. Frodo could tell a story almost as well as Bilbo did.

At last, Frodo turned to the first page of the book and began to read about how Men and Elves had gathered together to fight against a dark lord many, many generations ago in a far away land, before hobbits were even in the Shire. Pippin couldn’t imagine a time when the hobbits would have lived anywhere else. How could there be a Shire with no hobbits in it?

Pippin snuggled his head back against Frodo’s shoulder and listened as his cousin continued the story. The Men and Elves were now all dressed in armour and gathering together in one place. They had bows and arrows and bright swords in the pictures in the book, as did the enemy. Pippin looked at the ugly, bad people and creatures that fought for the nasty lord named Sauron and shuddered. He was glad this was only a story and that he was in the Shire and would never meet one of them.

Usually, hobbits weren’t that interested in fighting, but a lad couldn’t help but be interested in this story. But Pippin noticed that even that wizard, Gandalf, couldn’t help peeking in and listening when he thought nobody saw him.

It was a very long story. Even though Frodo still had almost one half of the story to read, Pippin was already growing tired. He tried to concentrate as he listened to Frodo explain all about how the Men and Elves fought side by side to rid the world of the evil Sauron, whose large army surrounded the smaller army of Men and Elves. Pippin stretched his arms and yawned again as Frodo told how smart and brave King Elendil and Gil-galad were as they led the Men and the Elves in battle.

As Frodo continued to read, a big yawn escaped from Pippin’s mouth. It wasn’t long before Pippin felt his eyelids growing heavier. He rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists and fought to keep them open as Frodo continued to read in his nice, steady voice about how the brave king died in the battle and how his son, Isildur, was so sad that he took his father’s broken sword and chopped off the finger of the mean lord and killed him. At last, little Pippin lost the battle and closed his eyes …

When Pippin opened his eyes, tall soldiers in armour surrounded him, ready to do battle against an enemy that lay ahead. The soldiers were larger than any hobbit he had ever seen and reminded Pippin of the Men in that story Frodo was reading about the great battle, even though their armour was different. Pippin looked down at his own clothes and gasped. Not only was he strangely dressed in some black and decidedly un-hobbitlike clothing much like what the Men around him were wearing, but he had a sword in his hand as well.

He quickly looked around again; surely his parents or his cousins must be around here somewhere. His heart began to throb as he realised that he was wrong; there were no other hobbits anywhere around him. None of his sisters, or his parents, not even his beloved Merry or Frodo. He was all by himself with these big Men. Even though the Men around him spoke kindly to him, Pippin still was beginning to feel very frightened and wanted to go home.

But still, Pippin was curious. Why weren’t there any Elves around like in the book? He fancied he spotted a blond one fighting closer to a great, big scary black wall, but decided it must have been his imagination since the Elf was fighting next to a dwarf of all things and an old man who looked a lot like that wizard, Gandalf, except the man’s hair was whiter and he wore white instead of grey. Mayhap the man was another wizard, Gandalf’s uncle or older cousin.

Pippin’s ears rang with the sounds of the battle. Confusion ruled as everywhere around him, swords clanked and arrows ripped through the air. Pippin was staring at the Men fighting the enemy around them when suddenly, an enormous, dark creature much taller than any of the Men blotted out all of the light as it thundered over toward Pippin. He was so frightened that all he wanted to do was run away as fast as he could.

If only his father was here, he’d protect Pippin. Mostly, he wanted Frodo and Merry there with him. But that wouldn’t do at all either. If one of them died in the battle, it would all be Pippin’s fault for being selfish. Only a selfish lad would wish one of his favourite cousins were there because he wasn’t brave enough to fight the bad people himself. No, he had to fight to protect Frodo and Merry!

Pippin knew he could be brave. He knew he could. After all, he was a big lad of five years old now, not some little fauntling. Even though none of his kin were with him, he could still protect the Shire. They’d all be so proud of him, especially his Merry. As he stood in the shadow of the dark beast, Pippin felt his determination growing inside of him.

Gripping the hilt of his sword with all of his might, Pippin yelled through gritted teeth as he thrust his sword forward as hard as he could, stabbing the creature with a fatal blow. His entire world went dark as the foul beast crushed him…

Pippin opened his eyes in a panic. Sweat ran down the young hobbit’s face and drenched his shirt. The sound of his heart pounding filled his ears as he quickly looked all around him in confusion. It was gone. That huge dark creature was gone. So were the Men and the battlefield.

He was back in Bilbo’s reading chair in the library at Bag End, although he was no longer on Frodo’s lap. Someone else with a large calming hand on Pippin’s head was there instead. Someone who was frowning down at him with sad, blue eyes filled with concern.

“Gandalf?” Pippin whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes. So you’re awake now,” said Gandalf softly, removing his hand from Pippin’s brow. The concern etched in his eyes was instantly hidden behind a kind gentle smile which made Pippin feel only a little more at ease. His eyes wrinkled as he thought of all the questions he wanted to ask the wizard about what had happened.

“You fell asleep while Frodo was reading that story about Men and Elves and I told your mother I would stay and watch over you,” explained Gandalf gently as if in answer to Pippin’s unspoken questions. “I’m afraid you did not have a very restful sleep. The story of that battle found its way into your dreams, if I’m not mistaken,” he said pointedly. “But fear not, Peregrin Took. All is well. It was only a dream.”

Pippin sat up and glanced around the library again – Frodo, Merry, and the others were all gone. Through the window, he could see the lot of them outside along with Bilbo and his and Merry’s parents, laughing and greeting some of the guests who had just arrived for the party. Aunt Esme had her fiddle tucked under her chin and was playing a vibrant tune of welcome that seeped through the windows and warmed Pippin’s heart just like sunshine on a clear, cloudless day.

Without even realising it, Pippin began to tap his toes in time to the lively music. He took a deep breath and sighed with relief.

“Come now,” said Gandalf, reaching for Pippin’s hand with his own. “It’s high time we joined in the festivities.” And so the little hobbit and the wizard walked out the door into the crisp air and joined in the celebration.

All is well. It was only a dream.