Disclaimer: All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (except for the minstrel Menelor, and the more fully realised Farohan who was nameless in the books). This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Chapter 4: Of Hobbits and Oliphaunts

The host of the Captains of the West slowly wended its way through the trees of Ithilien. It was the third day of the removal from Dagorlad, the battle plain before the crumbled Gate of the Morannon.

During the second day of the march, Farohan and Beregond talked at great length. Pippin meanwhile slept soundly, thereby saved from having to endure the jolts and bumps of the uneven path.

On the morning of the third day, however, Farohan chose to walk and so stretch his legs. Menelor found him alone, humming snatches of a melody that the older harper did not recognize.

"Ah!" he said, pleased. "You have begun the lay."

"Yes," Farohan answered. "Legolas and Gimli have helped me a great deal. They have given me a glimpse of the character of the Ring-bearer as well as more of the story of his journey."

"Good! We don't know when we will be called upon to sing, and it is better to be ready."

Farohan looked at Menelor. "You were worried because I hadn't started, weren't you."

"I was," Menelor answered. "It had been a week since we were appointed our tasks, and these two lays will speak of events the like of which have not happened for an age or more. We must not fail in our duty."

"I know," said Farohan. "And I would not fail in the trust that you have placed in me. Only... I wish for this lay to be the best that I can make it. I still need more. I need to speak to the halfling Peregrin."

Menelor frowned. "What have you been doing for the past three days? You have been with him all this time."

"But he has slept through most of it. Instead, I have spoken at length with Beregond of the Guard who knows Peregrin well. He has told me much about halflings."

"Much about halflings?" said Menelor sceptically. "Peregrin is only one of their kind. How can Beregond know "much about them"?

"That is true," admitted Farohan. "And the Ring-bearer seems to be very different. Yet it seems that Peregrin may be the more "hobbit-like" of the two."

"Hobbit-like?" Menelor raised his eyebrows.

"It is a word Beregond used," said Farohan hastily. "And Gimli and Legolas. It is how the halflings refer to themselves."

"I see." The eyebrows settled back into place.

"But the Ring-bearer seems to be quite different. To listen to Gimli and Legolas, one would think that he were an Elf."

"An Elf? I find that difficult to believe."

"Elf-like," Farohan amended. "He speaks the Elvish tongue and he is spoken of as being fair. I wish I could see him! It is difficult to write this lay when I know so little. I know of most of his journey now, and I know of how two people view him, but he himself remains a mystery to me. Is he like Pippin, or is he of a different quality? A lay fit for a hero that looks and acts like Pippin would be different from one who seems to be Elf-like!"

Menelor laughed. "Yet you will often write lays with less than that in the future! Be content with what you have. You can change words later if need be, but you must not dither any longer."

Farohan nodded, a little distractedly. "There is another thing I regret," he said softly.

"What might that be?"

"I am unable to fetch my good harp from the City. The more I learn about the Ring-bearer, the more I wish to have a purer, sweeter sound than that of the travel harps."

Menelor chuckled. "A little foresight is what you need. You need not fret. While you will not be able to send for your own harp, I have already arranged for mine. Before the company set out, I left orders that, should we achieve victory against the Dark Lord, my court harp was to be sent to wherever we made our encampment before arriving at the city. Dargild will, no doubt, have kept abreast of all such news and movements. He will have sent the harp. It will be waiting for us."

"Your... court harp?" asked Farohan, a little stunned. "The lebethron and mithril? You will let me play it?"

"I will. Play well! If I am to allow you to play that harp, it would not do for you to sing poorly."

"No... no, it wouldn't." But Farohan looked ahead of him in a daze.

~*~*~

Later in the afternoon, the company left the main road that led south and instead took a path that ran westward towards the Anduin. They were nearing their goal: the banks of the great river, in the midst of which lay the isle of Cair Andros. Farohan once more was riding with Beregond and Pippin. Privy to all rumours, Beregond told Farohan the little he had learned about the Ring-bearer and Samwise.

"They are expected to live," he said softly, mindful of the sleeping hobbit beside him.

Farohan closed his eyes. "Thank you," he said. But he had little time to think about this news for at that moment shouts came down the line from the company on horseback further ahead.

"What is happening?" asked Beregond.

"I'm not sure," said Farohan. He stood up cautiously and shaded his eyes against the sun that shone onto the roadway between the trees. "I think they've found something ahead. There looks to be a clearing, but with many fallen... no, broken trees."

"That is odd," Beregond mused. "Yet we do not stop."

~*~*~

Soon the wain reached the break in the trees. Farohan did as Beregond bid and lifted the injured guard half into sitting so that he could see what had taken place.

"Look!" said Farohan. "A great woven cage lies in the shadows."

"I can see it," answered Beregond. "It seems to me as if it is verily a war-tower that has crashed down from the back of a mûmak: one such as those that rode upon the beasts at the Pelennor."

"Such rich trappings," said Farohan. "It is a wonder that it has not yet been despoiled by foul creatures."

"Ah, but there would be few orcs to see this now. Most were destroyed."

Farohan peered at the snapped trunks and trodden earth. "I wonder how long it has lain here."

"It may have been for quite some time," said Beregond. "We did not take this path as we marched north."

"No," agreed Farohan. "We passed Henneth Annûn by altogether."

As the two men gazed raptly at the cage, Gandalf drew alongside the wain on his great white horse. He leaned slightly towards the men. "You may wish to know, Farohan, that that was left by the very same oliphaunt that Sam and Frodo saw."

"Oliphaunt?" asked Farohan and just as quickly added, "Mûmak!"

"Yes," Gandalf smiled. "Sam was thrilled. It was a wonder to them both."

"What happened to it?"

The wizard's smile lessened. "The Rangers of Ithilien do not know. The beast did not know where it was going, maddened in its rage."

Mithrandir rode onward then, and Farohan silently watched him go. The idea of a mûmak trampling all that went before it did not stay in the minstrel's mind. He had seen enough of the beasts during the war. He turned back and helped Beregond settle back onto the pallet.

"Mûmakil are rarely seen here," Beregond said and, as if reading Farohan's thoughts, added, "But, for the hobbits, to see one must have been a wondrous thing."

Farohan nodded vigorously. "How much rarer they must be in the hobbits' own land." His voice then grew quiet. "And how much bigger the mumak must have seemed to them. What else, I wonder, have we known of that has been strange to them. Many things, I should imagine!"

And with that, he fell silent and did not speak again for the remainder of the journey.

~*~*~

The Company made their camp by the great river of the Anduin. Ships lay docked near Cair Andros and men came to greet the travellers. It was the end of the first day of April, and evening birds sang in the trees.

The following day, one more ship came, carrying food and supplies along with the harp of the minstrel Menelor. Joyfully, Farohan took the harp and held it close to him as he walked back down the planking.

Legolas joined him as he made his way towards the tents. "That must be something dear to you," the Elf said.

"Very dear," Farohan replied, but, before he could say any more, Legolas stopped him.

"Look," he said. "There is the fourth hobbit, Meriadoc."

Farohan turned just in time to see a small figure jump down onto the shore. After a moment of inquiry, the halfling rushed towards the tent where the Ring-bearers lay.

"I would have thought that he would have wanted to see Peregrin first," Farohan said. "Were they not very close?"

Legolas smiled. "Circumstances have made it so, yet Merry and Frodo are more alike in age and have had, I understand, a much longer friendship. Nevertheless, once Merry has seen Frodo and Sam, and has assured himself of their safety, no doubt he will visit Pippin."

Without thinking, Farohan took a step towards Pippin's tent.

"It is best to leave them be," Legolas said mildly. "Perhaps on the morrow, when the first emotions of reunion have passed, I might introduce you to them both."

"Of course," said Farohan, abashed. "And... and thank you!" And without further ado, he bore his delicate burden to his tent.

To be continued