Disclaimer: Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, and Men of Middle Earth, all belong to JRR Tolkien. They are not mine; I only borrow them once in a while.

Characters: Early summer, S.R. 1404. Pippin-14, Merry-21, Frodo-35.

We Will Follow You

Chapter One: Midnight Marauder

The crescent moon shone bright this summer evening in the Shire, and the stars glittered like tiny diamonds scattered across a sable canvass. The tall Elms, Oaks, and Chestnuts swayed in the summer breeze that brought the only comfort this muggy night in the Shire. It was Forelithe, and slightly warmer than usual. It was the warm temperature that lured many folks outside on this fair evening to enjoy the company of their neighbours and relations alike.

Paladin Took was rather enjoying this particularly splendid evening outdoors while sitting next to his wife Eglantine on a bench. It was a private veranda located just outside his apartments of his ancestral home of Great Smials. Paladin vigorously polished an apple on his shirt before sinking his teeth into it as he put his other arm around his bride of Thirty-four years, relaxing as she nestled up to him. Life is good!, he thought as he munched the sweet dainty of his orchards. My lovely wife is at my side, we have three lovely daughters, a healthy, albeit precocious, son....and a very close nephew that still comes around once in a while just to let his old uncle know he still considers himself to be part of the family.

Last year’s harvest was abundant and plentiful to the point that the larders were overflowing into the cellars--and the cellars had plenty of food stores to boot. And this year’s crops were already beginning to yield what promised to be yet another bountiful year. Yes, he thought, life is good, and I am truly blessed!

The tranquil moment was shattered by a commotion coming from far down the hillside. It was too long of a way down the hill to make out who or what the commotion was all about. In the moonlight, the couple could barely make out the figure of a young lass running up in their direction.

“Mr. Paladin! Mr. Paladin! The Shirrifs got him!” It was Estella, one of Paladin’s young and somewhat distant cousins who was visiting in another part of Smials. “The Shirrifs got him!” She ran until her heart threatened to pound outside of her chest. She stopped only when she nearly fell winded into Eglantine’s lap.

“Who’s got whom, lass?” Asked Paladin. He heard the pandemonium coming closer up the hill with every moment that passed, keeping his keen eyes focused on the ruckus at his hand.

Estella took her breath in huge gulps, “It’s Pippin! The Shirrifs got Pippin!”

Paladin threw his wife a sharp look and stood up as if to better see whatever was to come his way.

Presently, the image came to his view of an indignant young hobbit lad walking alongside two older male hobbits, both wearing a feather in their cap. There was no more guessing; Paladin knew the gait of the stride and soon enough saw the glare in his son’s face as two shirrifs escorted their charge up to him and none too gently forced the lad onto his knees. “On yer knees, knave!” Said the Shirrif. “And while yer there don’t forget to beg for pardon!”

“Here’s yer midnight marauder, Mr. Paladin!” Said the First Shirrif. “Wasn’t a stray beast as ye thought.”

“We caught him runnin’ off with a sack of yer very own taters!” added the second, tossing the sack containing the evidence next to the thief. Obviously, neither Shirrif recognized the truant they had recently arrested. “I’d swear on my mother’s grave that I saw others with him, Mr. Paladin, but the lit’l knave insists that’ee was alone.”

“Mr. Paladin?” The voice of the First Shirrif broke the elder hobbit’s attention.

Paladin was unable to tear his eyes away from the teenager still kneeling at his feet with his face downcast. He noticed his hair was unkempt, and his clothes tattered and filthy. Paladin was barely able to find his tongue to thank the Shirrifs for their trouble. He cleared his throat and looked at the Shirrif, “Yes, thank you, Hal. Would you or Toby care for a cup of tea?”

The First Shirrif kindly begged out of Paladin’s offer. “Well, Mr. Took, I have to tell ye, my Ivy has tea and sweet cakes waitin’ for me back home!” Then nodding to the second, “And Toby here already had a mind to join us. Beggin’ yer pardon, Mr. Paladin.”

“How is Ivy doing these days?” Paladin pulled the first Shirrif closer so as to speak privately.

Hal eyed the arm that wrapped around his shoulder. This part of the shirrif business Hal was used to; the rich families taking him aside to pay him off for not wagging his tongue. “She’s fine, Mr. Paladin.”

Paladin quietly murmured so that only Hal could hear, “I, um...will take care of the little knave, if you understand me. Would you agree to this?”

Hal was suspicious; not one “token” or gesture from this hobbit that indicated such nonsense of buying him off. He didn‘t know if he should be happy or be insulted. “Aye, Mr. Paladin. I could...”

Paladin handed the Shirrif the sack of potatoes, “I will take care of this lad as if he were my own son!”

“All right, sir.” He eyed the elder hobbit. “I suppose ye know yer own business best.”

Soon, the two Shirrifs were marching down the hill with a small but generous payment for their duties.

Paladin waited until they were out of hearing range and put his attention back to the ‘thief’ at his feet. “Stand up.” Paladin watched as the lad slowly stood up, eyes unwilling to look his father in the face.

Paladin plucked a few twigs and leaves from his son’s unruly curls, “Just look at you. What have you to say for yourself?”

No answer. Pippin remained standing with his eyes downward.

Paladin peered down into the valley, half-expecting his nephew and cousin to come striding up any minute. “And where are your cousins? I don’t suppose they were anywhere to be seen, were they?”

Once again, no answer.

“Very well, Peregrin. Until your tongue can find your answer and give me an explanation of what has happened here, you will be confined to your room. No messages, no letters, and certainly none of your friends will be allowed to visit. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paladin continued to watch as his grimy son turned to go inside, “And take a bath, for heaven’s sake, before you start fermenting!”

Pippin felt the smouldering glare of his mother upon his face as he walked into the Smial. It made him want to run, knowing that he probably fulfilled her worse nightmare in watching the Shirrifs bring him home. Most inhabitants of Great Smials already described Paladin and Eglantine’s children as ‘wilful and cheeky’; now his mother would have to listen to the chatter about her brood all over again from all the neighbours.

Inside their quarters, Pippin avoided his mother’s burning gaze, continuing on towards his room. All three of his sisters stood in the hallway and stared at him as he walked by. Just as he passed them, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He paused, turning his head back, and saw Pimpernel looking at him with mournful eyes. She whispered, “Pip! I didn’t know it was you. What were you doing in the fields?”

“Pimpernel! Leave your brother be. Go on to your room, Pippin.” He heard his mother tell him.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, but stole a glance towards Pervinca, who quietly returned his gaze with a slight nod.

Pippin dolefully turned around and made his way to his room. As he entered, he noted his room had been cleaned up; the scattered clothes had been picked up and taken to the laundry room, books that lay open on his desk were closed and neatly piled together, and the bed was made. Probably by the servants, he thought to himself. He remembered in his haste the other day he had left his room quite dishevelled. Merry had arrived from Bag End and was waiting on him to drive them both back to Bywater. He recalled that he barely finished eating breakfast, taking a bath, throwing his clothes on, and shoving a few things into his pack before taking off with his cousin. The only person he trusted to leave delayed word with was his sister Pervinca. “Delayed” meaning that Pervinca would keep his whereabouts to herself unless their mother or father became worried. And before that happened, he and his friends would already be close to their destination.

Pippin stretched his aching muscles as he lay upon his bed, mulling over events from the past few days in his mind. He tried to pinpoint exactly when things went awry.....

Here is where the story actually begins…