I posted this ‘shirebunny’ on Livejournal, and then couldn’t stop thinking about it:  Frodo, Sam, and Pippin recovered at Cormallen from late March to early April; surely the springtime weather in Ithilien wasn't blissfully perfect every day. Perhaps there was a day or two of rain, wind, colder-than-usual air... what was done to ensure that the hobbit heroes were kept warm, dry, and comfortable?

DISCLAIMER:  Professor Tolkien’s wonderful characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_____________________________________

SHELTER -- Prologue

“Look who Lord Aragorn is carrying!”

“Are those the Ring-bearers?”

“Éomer King approaches.”

“Sit up straight, you dolt.”

The wooden shelter echoed with hushed voices and whispers as Aragorn entered carrying a small, blanket-wrapped form. Legolas and King Éomer followed him, carrying two others. Frodo and Sam slept unawares, their dreams peaceful and calm. Pippin drowsed, having been given a draught to help him bear the pain of being moved.

As the storm approached, Aragorn had called to the nearest people – Legolas and Éomer – to help him move the hobbits from their beds in the open-air pavilion to the more substantial shelter that Gimli had erected to house many of the wounded.

“My lord.” A young soldier from Gondor fairly leaped from his pallet, the pain of his fractured arm suddenly of little consequence. “Please, my lord King, I would be honored if you would allow one of the small folk to rest here.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said gravely, setting Frodo down gently. Two others hastily rose and offered their beds as well, and soon the three hobbits were settled comfortably. The shelter fell silent, all eyes on the Ring-bearers about whom everyone had heard so much.

“This is Frodo,” Aragorn said quietly. The Men gazed at the pale, delicately-featured face.

“And Sam,” Legolas gestured.

It was a moment the Men would never forget. The Ring-bearers, here amongst us. It is said that they brought down the Dark Lord in his very tower. They nearly perished in the Black Land, but the new king called them back from death. When will they wake?

Beregond knelt by Pippin’s side. “And this is Peregrin, or ‘Pippin’, as he wishes to be known. Not all of you have met him. Pippin stood firm at the Black Gate and saved my life – as well as the life of Captain Faramir, in Minas Tirith. He and his kin are worthy of all honor.”

One at a time, in utter silence, all who could walk passed by the three sleeping hobbits, bowing in respect. Those who were bedridden just looked, unable to believe their good fortune.

Éomer drew Aragorn aside. “I do not think we will hear any grumbling or complaining today,” he said.

“I agree,” Aragorn smiled. “Perhaps we should have thought of this sooner.”

** TBC **

SHELTER - Chapter 1

Pippin remembered a loud clap of thunder, and the trees bending in a sudden, cold wind. Strider had hurried into the pavilion and urged him to drink some of that bitter stuff, then... He opened his eyes with an effort, feeling slightly dizzy. Above him was a roof hewn of freshly-cut wood. There was a murmur of many voices, and Gimli’s beard…

“Easy lad,” Gimli said quietly. “Take your time waking, no need to hurry.” They had discovered that Pippin was extremely sensitive to the sleep draught; a diluted amount affected him as a strong sedative would for a Man, and he was usually a bit disoriented when it wore off.

“I’m... awake,” Pippin said groggily. “Is it still today?”

“Aye.” Gimli very gently slid a hand beneath Pippin’s shoulders, and lifted him slightly. Sliding a cloth-stuffed bag behind the young hobbit to support him, he helped him sit up a bit. Pippin realized that he was in a shelter with dozens of soldiers, many of whom seemed to be wounded – and all of whom were smiling at him. He smiled back, which made the Men beam with delight.  The entrance to the shelter was a bustle of activity, as fresh blankets and cots were carried in.

“More supplies have arrived, haven’t they?” Pippin asked.

“Indeed, a caravan arrived from the River less than an hour ago.”

Pippin gazed anxiously at Frodo and Sam, lying next to him. Both hobbits were warmly wrapped, and slept peacefully.

“They heal, as you do,” Gimli assured him. “They are being well looked after. Indeed, such constant fuss and attention would embarrass them both, I suspect!”

“They deserve it,” Pippin said firmly. He took a deep breath as the dizziness passed. “That’s better. Is the storm over?”

“For now,” Gimli said. “You’ve slept nearly the entire day. Has the rest eased you?”

Pippin nodded. He rubbed his right arm, which was in a sling. Looking around at the injured Men, he counted himself fortunate to have come out from under that troll with only cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, concussion, and severe bruising over the whole right side of his body.

“It’s been a whole week,” Pippin fretted, impatient to be up and about. “In another few days I’ll be able to do for myself, and help out a little.”

“You may run about camp when Aragorn says it is time, and not before,” Gimli reminded Pippin. He handed the young hobbit a cup. “Start with that, and I’ll bring you a plate of that meat you smell roasting. Legolas and his hunters have brought back enough game to feed everyone in camp – perhaps even enough to fill the belly of a hobbit.”

“Thank you; but how did you know I was waking up?” Pippin asked curiously. “This milk is cold; someone must have just fetched it."  He knew they kept the milk and other perishable foods in the stream that flowed past the camp.

“That is no mystery,” Gimli chuckled. “When a hobbit’s nose begins to twitch at the smell of food cooking, I know enough to suspect he is waking, and will be asking for his supper.”

Pippin dutifully sipped. Aragorn and Gandalf had urged him to drink all the milk he could hold – they said it would assist his bones in mending. The first boatload of supplies had included goats for the milking, as well as egg-laying chickens. Suddenly he wondered if his friends had been saving all the milk for him, and denying the Men. He looked quickly around the shelter to see if anyone else had any.

“Drink up, lad,” Gimli said softly. “There is no lack.”

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?” Pippin asked.

Gimli chuckled. “Peregrin Took, I doubt there is a person in all of Middle-earth who could claim to know everything you are thinking!”

“Except for me,” came a quiet voice from the entrance.

“Merry!”

“Did I forget to mention what else that caravan brought to camp?” Gimli chuckled, getting to his feet. “I will return shortly with supper for you both.”

** TBC **

SHELTER - Chapter 2

Merry made his way carefully around the many cots and pallets, exchanging greetings with the soldiers of Rohan who knew him. Finally reaching Pippin’s side, Merry fell to his knees, his eyes darting from Pippin’s face to Frodo’s, to Sam’s, and back to Pippin’s. Aragorn entered the shelter behind him, smiling broadly.

“Took you long enough to amble in here,” Pippin said, wriggling with delight to see Merry again.

“What?” Merry asked, dazed. They’re all alive. All three. I still can’t believe it. He shook himself out of his tumbling thoughts. “I just arrived, you crazy Took.”

“No you didn’t,” Pippin insisted. “I know you. First you had to pay your respects to Éomer. Then Gimli hugged the stuffing out of you. Then you hunted up Strider and asked him dozens of questions. Am I right?” He looked up. “Hullo, Strider. I’m feeling much better this evening, truly.”

Aragorn shook a finger at the young hobbit.

“You may not get up yet, Peregrin. I said another week, and I meant it.” Ruffling Pippin’s curls, he knelt to check on Frodo and Sam.

Pippin grinned resignedly; it had been worth trying. He turned back to Merry.

“Am I right?”

“Of course you are,” Merry admitted. He watched carefully as Aragorn pulled back Frodo’s blankets a bit. Merry turned pale at the sight of the fading bruises and cuts on his cousin’s throat, arms, and torso. Pippin shuddered slightly, remembering how Frodo and Sam had looked a week ago. At least Merry wasn’t seeing them like that.

“Have they been conscious at all?” Merry asked, concerned.

“They’re not exactly unconscious. Strider says they’re just in a very deep sleep.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Unconscious is when you can’t wake,” Pippin explained. “Sleeping is when you don’t wake.”

Merry looked at his young cousin blankly.

“They dream, and turn over, and mumble things, and...” Pippin stared at Merry in exasperation. “Unconscious is when... I mean, sleep is...”

“Strider, are you sure that’s just milk he’s drinking? Tooks get a bit incoherent when they hit the pubs, you know.”

Pippin began to splutter indignantly. Merry laughed, and suddenly Pippin was enveloped in his cousin’s gentle arms.

“You’re all right,” Merry whispered. “My brave, brave Pippin.” He sat back, beaming. “I hear you knocked down the Black Gate all by yourself.”

“Of course he did,” Beregond laughed, coming to greet Merry. “How is my son?”

“Bergil is fine, sir,” Merry told him. “He sends his greetings... and love.” His eyes strayed back to Frodo. “The Eagles came to the City,” he murmured. “They told us... they said that the Ring-bearers had fulfilled their...” Merry’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of Frodo’s bandaged hand.

“What happened to him?” he burst out. “Is Sam hurt, too? How long have they been unconscious?”

“I told you,” Pippin said patiently, “they’re not--”

“Merry, I will tell you and Pippin what transpired at the Mountain – at least, as much as I know – another time,” Aragorn said quietly. “This is not the place for such a tale. Suffice it to say that Frodo and Sam endured a journey beyond hope, and the Ring went into the Fire.” He look up as Legolas entered the shelter, bearing two mugs.

Legolas sat gracefully, put down the mugs, and propped Sam up against his chest. Aragorn did the same with Frodo, and Pippin and Merry watched in silence as they were fed a thick broth, one spoonful at a time. It was obvious now to Merry that his cousin and Sam were not unconscious, as both swallowed easily, and seemed responsive to being held.

The wounded Men, mindful of the privacy of the small folk, tried to look elsewhere, but the sight of their new healer-King tending to the Ring-bearers’ needs was impossible to ignore. The courageous little ones, swathed in blankets and being lovingly tended, brought smiles to the lips of the most battle-hardened soldier.

Aragorn pressed a gentle hand to Frodo’s brow and murmured something in Elvish, whereupon Frodo sighed, obviously relaxed and peacefully dreaming.

“He’s so thin,” Merry said, tears filling his eyes. "No, give him to me."

Aragorn had been about to lay Frodo back down, but very gently transferred his small burden to Merry before taking Sam from Legolas, and murmuring the same soft words to to him.

Merry wrapped his arms around Frodo, closed his eyes, and contentedly felt his cousin’s deep, regular breathing, and the steady heartbeat.

Alive. All of us.

Pippin smiled happily at the sight, but soon he needed to disturb Merry for something very important.

“Gimli’s back. It's time for supper!”

** TBC **

SHELTER - Chapter 3

Dark clouds began massing again while everyone was eating supper. Although Aragorn believed that sleeping outside in the clean, fresh air had thus far been very beneficial for Frodo and Sam, becoming chilled would not be good for them. The hobbits would spend at least one more night indoors. No one would mind, far from it. He suspected that it would take a very long time – if ever – for the soldiers to weary of having the hobbits close by.

The shelter quieted as everyone not on watch found a place to sleep. Aragorn walked slowly past the pallets and cots, seeing to those who might be restless and in pain. Gandalf was doing the same on the other side of the shelter. Aragorn realized that he was desperately tired, and wondered if he dared catch a few hours’ sleep himself.

Pippin lay with his eyes open. Merry, tired out by the trip by horse, boat, and cart, lay sound asleep between Pippin and Frodo. One hand rested lightly on Frodo’s chest, and the other was being held by Pippin.

“Are you warm enough?” Aragorn asked, coming to kneel next to Pippin.

Pippin nodded. “I was just thinking about things.”

“Such as?”

“Merry’s worried.”

“I know,” Aragorn said softly. “Frodo and Sam will wake, I promise you.”

“But when?”

“I believe they might need another week. You may walk about when they do, Pippin.”

Pippin looked up at his friend.

“Can Merry stay?”

Aragorn grinned. “Do you think he would allow anyone to send him away?”

“No,” Pippin smiled. “Can you stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Here, tonight -- beside us. Unless you need to be somewhere else.” Pippin felt uneasy. With his cousins and Sam asleep, he wanted company. “It seems like a long time since I slept under a roof. It’s… a little strange.”

“I feel the same,” Aragorn said. He smiled at the young hobbit.

“Let me just check a few things outside; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Pippin beamed at him.

“I’ll wait up for you. Did I ever tell you about great-great-grandfather Gerontius and his magical diamond studs?”

“Actually, you didn't.” Aragorn got to his feet even as Pippin yawned hugely. He doubted the youngster would be awake for long.

“It is a true story, I assure you,” came a warm, amused voice from behind him. “Although what embellishments Peregrin might add I cannot say.”

As Aragorn turned to face Gandalf, he found himself yawning as well.

“I will have Éomer oversee the setting of watches,” Gandalf told him. “Take some rest; no one will disturb you.”

At that moment it began to rain again, the gentle thud of each drop slightly muffled by the wooden roof.

“Mmm,” Frodo murmured. He smiled and turned over, his hand seeking out Sam’s. “Rain, Sam…”

“They draw comfort from one another even in sleep,” Gandalf observed, as Sam’s fingers curled gently around Frodo’s.

“And they are healing very quickly,” Aragorn agreed quietly. “It is quite remarkable. Perhaps they will not need another full week, at that; a few more days and...”

“That’s good,” Pippin yawned again. “You said I could get up when they do.”

“Rascal.” Gandalf chuckled quietly and walked off.

“Strider," Pippin murmured drowsily, "did you know that Faramir and the Lady Éowyn are in love? Merry told me. He says they don’t know it yet, but... they are.”

“Who are in love?” Aragorn asked in surprise. “Pippin, what did you say?”

There was no answer. The young hobbit had fallen sound asleep.

Shaking his head in wonder, Aragorn pulled over some spare bedding, and lay down with a sigh. Listening to the rhythmic pattering of raindrops, he, too, slowly drifted into sleep.

** TBC **

The End!  (A full tale about Frodo’s awakening at Cormallen, and his reunion with Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, can be found in this archive in a story I wrote several years ago -- "In the Keeping of the King".)

SHELTER - Chapter 4

April 8

The glad shouting and applause coming from the other side of camp were so loud, Aragorn wondered if the sound could be heard from Osgiliath. Making his way to the shelter, he stopped short just inside the entrance. Pippin was standing amongst the Men for the first time, looking very proud. Legolas stood just behind him to lend a supporting hand, if needed. Pippin looked up as Aragorn arrived.

“I didn’t disobey you, Strider.” Pippin’s voice was confident, but his eyes betrayed a mixture of hope and excitement. “You said Frodo and Sam would wake today. And you said I could get up when--”

“Yes, I did,” Aragorn agreed. “Legolas, please do not let our young friend collapse from overexertion. He may be nearly healed, but a fall would be--”

“He is proceeding in easy stages,” Legolas assured Aragorn. “We are walking slowly about the camp. Perhaps the kitchens first, then Pippin wishes to see Shadowfax. After the morning meal, we might do a bit of fishing before returning to the pavilion.”

“I’ll be careful.” Pippin promised.

“My lord,” Beregond said, “perhaps Pippin might take his morning meal with us?”

Aragorn looked around at all the smiling faces. Pippin’s presence was – as always – a welcome diversion for the Men, who found the presence of any of the hobbits inspiring and delightful.

“Is that what you wish, Sir Peregrin?” Aragorn asked gravely.

Pippin gasped and stood up straighter. He and Merry had been honored in a private ceremony the previous day, but he had not realized that anyone – let alone the King – would call him “Sir” in public. He nodded.

“Very well.” Aragorn smiled, and Pippin beamed at him.

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn was engaged for several hours that morning with preparations for the Ring-bearers’ awakening; however, he began to feel a sense of urgency to return to the pavilion. As soon he did so, he understood that something momentous had indeed occurred. Sam was still peacefully sleeping, and Merry – curled up next to Frodo – had not yet awakened from another restless night’s vigil. But Frodo lay with his eyes open, looking about in wonder.

“Welcome back, my friend,” Aragorn said gently.

Frodo’s face was wet with tears, but he was smiling so radiantly, Aragorn knew they were tears of joy.

“I remember the Eagle,” Frodo whispered. “Did we... is Sam...”

“You succeeded beyond hope, Frodo,” Aragorn said, coming quickly to the small bed and kneeling beside it. “Sam is well, and should wake soon.”

“What is this?” Frodo asked, touching Merry’s tunic emblazoned in bold white on green.

“Your cousin is now a Knight of the Riddermark,” Aragorn explained. “He proudly bears the garb of Rohan, which he served with distinction and honor.”

“And what is that?” Frodo smiled broadly, pointing past Aragorn’s shoulder. Pippin and Legolas had arrived just after Aragorn, and stood in the entrance. Pippin stared at his cousin in shock.

“That,” Aragorn told him, “is an Elf of Mirkwood, and a young Knight of Gondor.”

“Hullo, Pip,” Frodo grinned. “Did we miss anything?”

Pippin ran to Frodo’s bed and hugged his cousin fiercely.

“Hullo, Frodo,” Pippin grinned through his tears. He shook Merry’s shoulder. “Wake up, Merry, you sleepyhead!”

“Mmmf,” Merry murmured, not quite awake. “Is it time for breakfast?”

“You see, Frodo?” Pippin laughed. "You didn't miss a thing! Nothing at all has changed.”

“Frodo!” Merry gasped, his eyes flying open.

Legolas, who had disappeared briefly, returned with Gandalf and Gimli in tow. As the seven Companions rejoiced, this time it was the Men in the shelter, far across camp, who heard the whoops and glad shouts. And they knew that one of the Ring-bearers had awakened at last.

** END **