There are hobbits in the apple trees again. I couldn’t imagine what they were doing there, until I saw Aragorn sitting nearby. I sat in a patch of late autumn sunshine, and I debated with myself as to whether I should warn my love or not. Certainly it would be the right and noble thing to do. And yet, Merry and Pippin are so quiet in that tree, that I am loath to spoil their fun. And so I watch. After a few moments, they drop a woven crown of leave onto Estel’s head, and drop out of the tree after it.
“All hail the King!” they screech, then tear away laughing as he leaps up and runs for them.
We ought to have more hobbits in Rivendell.