The Autumn air was laden with the sweet smell of new mown hay and Gandalf sat contentedly puffing on his Old Toby as he watched the sun turn the sky a blazing red, promising fine weather on the morrow, warm and calm, as this departing day had been.

In the distance, the green hills of Whitwell were dotted with sheep, but in the valley the fields were golden with wheat and barley.

In the meadows before him the reapers were finishing their long day's labour, many of them now leaning on their scythes to have a well earned draught of cider or a puff on a clay pipe. The children, who had for the most part worked industriously all day, picking up the loose stalks of hay and making little piles for the stook-makers to bind into their sheaves, were now running around, still filled with boundless energy, in an impromptu game of tig called, "feet off ground". The rules were that all the little stacks of hay were "home" and any hobbit child "tigged away from home" could be made "It".

Gandalf chuckled at the delighted screams and calls of the tiny hobbits, "You're It – yes you are! I tigged you!"

"No! Because I had a toe on the hay-patch!"

"Yieee! Quick! Run, run!"

"Slowbones! No groans! Can't tig me!"

"C'mon Pip! Run! To me! To me!"

The last call the wizard recognised as young Meriadoc Brandybuck, grandson to Old Rory, Master of Buckland. And who was that he was encouraging to run to him? Ah must be young Peregrin Took! "Well, well," Gandalf muttered to himself, "the long awaited heir to the throne of the Shire!" He chortled into his beard, "so they're calling him Pip are they? Hmm, he's a wee thing and no mistake. Still I daresay he'll grow, hopefully into something worthy of the title 'Thain'."

As Gandalf watched, he saw the little one finally summon up his courage and race, from the clump of hay he had been sticking to like glue, to the nearest 'home' he could find, a good 20 feet away. His little legs pumped up and down in time with his tiny clenched fists, the 'tigger' only inches away from him as he ran. He had only another foot to go and, with a last massive effort, jumped onto the hay patch.

But as he landed, a bolt of brown and white shot out from under his feet and tore across the field in a blur of panic and fur. "Aiiiiiieee!" The little hobbit let out a shocked scream and fell to the ground overcome with fright.

Merry was by his side in a moment, "Pip? Pip, it's all right, don't be scared. It was just a bunny rabbit."

"It wewr a monstew Mewwy! A biggest scawry monstew!"

"No, Pip," Merry put his arms around the startled youngster, "it was a rabbit, and you scared it away."

"I scared it? And it wewr a bunny wabbit?" Pippin's frightened little sobs turned to sniffs as he realised there was no danger.

"Yes, you silly-billy." Merry patted him on the shoulder and brought a big white hankie out of his pocket. "Come on now – blow. Big blow!"

"Oh what's wrong with cry baby now?" Everard Took had been 'tigging' for most of the game and was now taking a breather, his fingers crossed in faynights, "he's always bawling about something!"

"He's only little," Merry protested, "don't be unkind."

Gandalf smiled at the scene. He was pleased to see young Meriadoc protecting the tiny hobbit's honour. Peregrin could only have been, what? Three years old at the most, really too young to be playing with such big boys and girls and certainly the youngest there. That he had kept up at all was a worthy achievement at his tender years.

Before he could make any further scathing comments, Everard's attention was pulled away by the arrival of the haywain. The reapers and winnowers and balers alike, all hurried over to help load the great waggon with the stooks of hay that had already dried in the warm Shire sun.

Gandalf wandered over, unusually for him, not particularly busy with anything and happy to pass the time of day with the hobbit labourers. A few of the older hobbits regarded the wizard with suspicion, but none dared be impolite – a wizard is a wizard, after all!

"Now then Master Gandalf," Jeb Fullbush touched his cap and nodded. "A fine evening for a fine day and no mistake."

"Indeed it is, my friend!" Gandalf nodded sagely and puffed contentedly on his pipe, "indeed it is, and long may it remain so."

The activity swelled to a lively pace as the hobbits handed the stooks up onto the haywain, the load growing higher and higher until a ladder had to be placed against the stack in order to pile yet more on top.

This was to be the final and biggest load of the harvest, the remaining drying out stooks would be collected in smaller dogcarts and, after this trip, the great haywain, would be carefully oiled and polished and stored away until next autumn.

"Aye now children!" The waggoner stood up on the back of the load and held the ladder steady, "up ye all come."

It was a traditional annual treat, that the hobbit children were allowed to ride home on top of the haywain for the last trip of the season. It was a much talked about and highly anticipated adventure for those lucky enough to be working on the field that day.

"Come on Pip," Merry held the three year old's hand and urged him forward. They were the last children left on the ground now and it was obvious that young Peregrin was reluctant.

"Come on laddie," the waggoner held out a helpful hand. "Ye can ride too! Ye'll be fine and welcome."

Pippin shook his head and pulled back against Merry's hand. "No, I not go."

"What's up Pip?" Merry leant in close, "are you scared because it's high? Or what?"

Pippin shook his head again and whispered back, "I dun't want to Mewwy – pwease dun't make me."

"But why Pip?" Merry looked perplexed, "I'll hold on tightly to you, you won't fall, promsis!"

Pippin looked fearfully up at the 50 foot stack. All the children were now cajoling him to climb up.

"It's all right Pip, it's nice once you're up here."

"Please come up, you'll be all right!"

"C'mon baby, you can do it!" Everard Took actually meant this to be encouraging, although it did not help Pippin's confidence much.

"Never mind," Merry sighed resignedly, "you go on and I'll walk home with Pip."

Gandalf had watched the little drama with interest. The disappointment in Merry's voice could not be missed, but he obviously had no intention of leaving Peregrin, even though there were plenty of adults to take care of him. He would sooner miss the precious hayride than do that.

Gandalf smiled inside his beard and, stooping to pick up an ear of wheat that had somehow been missed, walked over to the worried little hobbit. "Peregrin Took!" He said it kindly but still the little one, already fraught, jumped with fright.

"Yes Sir," Merry stepped in quickly, "Mr Gandalf Sir, this is my cousin Peregrin Took, but he's only three."

"I know Meriadoc," Gandalf climbed down onto one knee but still had to bend to reach Pippin's eye level. "You're not afraid of that big old pile of hay, are you?"

Pippin shook his head, then looked fearfully up at the towering haywain again and nodded vigorously.

"Well now," Gandalf's voice lowered so that only the trembling baby hobbit could hear him, "do you know who I am and what I do?"

Pippin nodded shyly, but spoke up bravely, "You're the magickal wizwad! Mewwy telled me! You can do magicks!"

"Indeed!" Gandalf feigned surprise at the answer but his eyes twinkled mischievously, banishing any wariness Pippin might have felt. "Well do you know what! I have here a very special piece of magic! Just for you, would you like it?"

"Yes pwease!" Pippin looked up at the wizard with a mixture of wonder and suspicion, although there was no fear in his eyes now.

"Watch!" Gandalf took the ear of wheat and laid it flat on his palm. He covered it over with his other hand and then blew gently into the hollow of his fists. The other children were craning forward to try and see and hear, but even Merry could not quite make out what was going on. Only Pippin saw, as the ear of wheat began to glow with a soft blue light as the wheat gradually turned hard and metallic.

"Now then Peregrin Took," Gandalf carefully placed the silver ear of wheat in the little one's hand and folded his fingers over it. "You hold on to that and you will never feel afraid again."

Pippin let his fingers open a gap so that he could peep in wonder at his present.

"Remember," Gandalf whispered, gently lifting the little one's chin up with one long bony finger so that he could look straight into his eyes. " it's magic – so keep it secret and keep it safe! Now pop it in your pocket and up you go on to that haywain."

Pippin nodded solemnly as he pocketed the gift. Then, clutching Merry's hand tightly, Pippin marched over to the great waggon and allowed himself to be lifted up onto the foot of the ladder and slowly, carefully, but with great determination, and Merry close behind him, he climbed to the very top and sat triumphantly down as close to the centre as he could get.

TBC

The dark clouds that loomed over Minas Tirith were full of gloom and despair and Pippin could not mistake the catch of worry in Gandalf's voice as he hurried after the wizard through the alleyway littered with boxes and barrels.

Peregrin Took, my lad, there is a task now to be done. Another opportunity for one of the Shire Folk to prove their great worth. Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "You must not fail me!"

Pippin nodded his head, his own eyes now echoing Gandalf's anxiety. Much as he would have liked to ask a million questions, especially as he was not too sure why he must climb the sheer rock-face of the City to light the beacon, Pippin understood there was no time for such luxuries. All he knew was that if Gandalf asked it of him, it must be important.

Pippin climbed steadily, never looking down, never stopping. He knew that if he paused to think about what he was doing, or to consider the consequences of falling… "No, don't think – just climb. Gandalf knows you can do it, so it must be safe!"

Above all else, Pippin knew that in his pocket was the silver ear of wheat that the great wizard had given to him as a child. A tiny piece of magic that would vanquish his fears as he alone might never have managed to do.

Pippin had carried the little silver token ever since that day when Gandalf spoke to him in the wheatfield and it had been especially important as he and Merry journeyed with Frodo and Sam on the Quest. That night in Bree, when the Black Riders had come, in his heart Pippin knew he was safe, because the silver wheat was in his pocket. And if he was safe, the others were too.

That night on Weathertop, Pippin had clutched his magick silver charm tightly in his hand. That had made him brave enough to jump before Frodo, to even offer his life in his cousin's place.

In Moria, Pippin had finally made his great leap across a massive fissure, just as Gandalf had known he would. The wizard had called to him, "Jump Peregrin Took. It is not so far, trust your ear! You can do it." The veiled message had reassured him and he had touched the silver ear of wheat, then jumped with a strength he had not known he possessed.

When he and Merry had been stolen away by the Uruk hai, Pippin was relieved that they had not searched them, for then, surely the shiny ear of wheat would have been plundered and would he then have dared to leave his elven brooch for Aragorn to find, or plot their escape with such daring?"

The night he had disobeyed Gandalf and stolen and gazed into the palantír, it was afterwards that Pippin realised, the ear of wheat had been in his britches' pocket and he was wearing just a nightshirt. A lesson indeed not to abandon your magick when you need it the most. Pippin had resolved after that happened that, at the earliest opportunity, he would have the ear of wheat made into a pendant to wear about his neck.

At last he was at the top! He reached forward and tried to grab the oil vessel to ease the ignition, as he could see the hay was damp and might not catch that easily. It was just out of reach! Pippin stretched again and with one mighty effort managed to grab it and tip the contents over the beacon. It was a simple matter to then drop the lit torch into the hay.

Pippin smiled as the straw quickly caught light. For a second his mind wandered back in time, as the smell of the warm hay and breeze blowing through his curls in that high exposed place, made him think of that first haywain ride so many years ago. He drew the silver ear of wheat from his pocket and held it in his hand, drawing comfort from its magickal presence.

Just then, as if the thought had summoned some evil conspiracy to punish him for his illegal actions, as if the enemy had read his mind and was at work to foil him, the token slipped from his hand and fell into the hay beneath his feet.

Pippin gasped and made as if to pick it up, but the little fire had already grown to a small but contained inferno. The hobbit realised that, not only could he not retrieve his precious ear of wheat, but he needed to remove himself – and quickly.

The climb back down would be a perilous one, more challenging than climbing up, "But," Pippin thought stoically, "better than going down the fast way!"  

Taking his time and trying to ignore the shouts of the guards as they realised their beacon had been lit prematurely, Pippin worked his way, hand over hand, foot by foot, inch by inch, down the face of the great edifice.

Gandalf was waiting for him as he neared the end of his climb, the wizard grinning in a way Pippin had not seen for a long time. "Well done, lad! Well done!" He reached up and caught Pippin under the arms, lifting him the last few feet and standing him dizzily on the ground. "That was quite a climb for a small hobbit!"

"I-I know… o-only… I…" Pippin was out of breath and puffing made him stutter.

"Take your time," Gandalf patted him kindly on the shoulder, "what's wrong?"

"I lo-lost it!" Pippin looked down at his feet, the fur there slightly singed by the fire above. "I-I dropped it!"

"What?" Gandalf glanced quickly over the hobbit; everything seemed to be there. "What did you drop?"

"My silver ear of wheat!" Pippin let fall a slight hitch of a sob, "The magickal one you gave me. It's gone! I dropped it up there in the fire. Now I won't be able to do anything brave any more!"

"Goodness me!" Gandalf stooped down to look Pippin in the eye, the way he had all those years ago in a wheatfield in Whitwell. "It was just an ear of wheat, Peregrin! Any bravery you show is all your own – I promise you!"

"No!" Pippin protested, "it really did work – truly! I would never have dared climb up there without it!"

"And did you dare climb back down without it?" Gandalf raised his eyebrows to emphasis the ironic question.

"B-but, you said…" Pippin began. Then stopped as he suddenly realised the truth of the words. "So, you mean it wasn't really magick? You told me a story all those years ago?"

"Well, you were only three!" Gandalf laughed affectionately, "I thought you would have worked it out by now, my lad!"

"I never really thought," Pippin admitted, "if I hadn't have lost it, I probably would have kept on believing in it forever."

"Well, I had planned to tell you the truth once you came of age," Gandalf straightened up again. "Once you're 33 you need to stand on your own two hairy feet."

"But, I'm only 29 now," Pippin pointed out, "I've still got four years to go before I come of age."

"Pippin, my lad," Gandalf placed a comradely hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "Coming of age is not just a question of years you know! Your deed today, was a more worthy rite of passage than simply having a few birthdays."

"It was?" Pippin's eyes grew round as he looked up at the wizard who had often bereted him and called him 'fool'; realising in that moment that it was only because of the Grandfatherly love that Gandalf bore him.

"Yes," Gandalf assured him, "You may now consider yourself a fully grown up hobbit! Peregrin Took – Guard of the Citadel of Minas Tirith! Ernil i Pheriannath and heir apparent of The Shire!"

Pippin grinned up at the wizard.

"Come along now," Gandalf gave him a gentle poke in the back with his staff." We've much work still to do."

The End