Title: Frodo’s Bane and Pippin’s Stomach

Author Pen Name: Arwen Baggins

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything in this story, it all belongs to Tolkien, brilliant man.  Really, I mean, who else do you know who can create different languages, cultures and thousands of years of history with them? 

Setting: The Middle of Nowhere. October 4, 1418 (Shire- Reckoning), five days after leaving Bree.

Chapter Two: Which Will It Be, Cousin?

            *Good grief!  How can anything possibly live here!* Pippin thought, and would have said these very words out loud, but he didn’t dare.  No doubt the others were getting tired of his complaints and besides, he knew that if he even opened his mouth he would more than likely start coughing again.  The midge-water marshes had been a bad enough nuisance, but this was downright sickening!  The cold wet ground of the marshes and the Hobbit-eating midges were behind them, and in their place was a desolate wasteland, which was covered with a thick coat of inhospitable vapors, which refused to dissipate during the course of their short stay.  Not that Pippin was allowed the pleasure of actually seeing them right now.  He knew that they were there from the damp chill that clung to his hands and feet, and the fell fumes that occasionally found their way into his mouth when it was uncovered, and sometimes even when it wasn’t.  But he hadn’t actually seen the vapors – or any of their surroundings - for the past several hour.

            There were several lessons that Pippin was learning on this expedition, and one of them was that no matter how foul a place may be, there was always something, or someone, that found it to be a suitable, if not hospitable home.  Then again, maybe not, for to his limited knowledge, the only animals that resided in these parts were birds, who were able to fly and sing far above the vaporous fumes.  Under other circumstances, Pippin may have enjoyed their singing, but not now.  Now any bird-song that the sang, however melancholy, was a mockery – because it was a reminder that they weren’t suffering in the same way that the Hobbits were.  At least they were able to open their beaks without choking on what was, in Pippin’s mind, akin to poison.  Then again neither was Strider.  The head of the six-foot tall Ranger extended far above the low-lying fumes, and he was therefore the only one that was able to see a few feet ahead, which was a good thing.  After all, no one wanted to follow a blind guide.

            “Of all the confounded nuisances!  Pippin!  Watch where you’re going!” the muffled and irritated voice of Merry snapped as Pippin walked right into him AGAIN!  Upon bumping into Merry, he miss-stepped backwards and knocked into Sam, which sent them both falling onto the cold, though not so hard, ground.

            “I can’t!”  Pippin snapped back, picking himself up.  “And neither can you.  Unless you’ve got super-eyes!”

            “I don’t, but I can still see.  These blankets aren’t that thick, you know.”

            “Well mine is!”

            Behind him, Sam muttered something, but it could not be heard beneath the thick wool blanket, and for that Pippin was grateful.  Merry, being the older cousin had no problem reprimanding Pippin for his childish clumsiness.  Sam, on the other end of the political spectrum, thought it a bit below his station to scold the Thain’s son and therefore left that task to his relations.  However, when it came to his master’s well-being Pippin had often found himself the target of Sam’s wrath.  But such was not the case now, since Frodo was walking in front of Merry and was rarely ever knocked over, and for that Pippin was grateful.  Incurring Merry’s frustration was an unfortunate occurrence.  Sam’s inevitable wrath – should any harm come to his master – would be a deadly force to be reckoned with, and Pippin had no desire to meet it.

            This unfortunate string of accidents, though, was not entirely Pippin’s fault.  It was mostly due to Strider’s ingenuity, though Pippin didn’t dare mention this, as he would likely incur the Ranger’s wrath as well.  More than likely that would simply result in an extra five miles of walking before a break, which Pippin just couldn’t afford.  The point in question was that Strider, who had known what was to come, had warned the Hobbits in advance and had instructed them to take out their blankets and wrap them around their heads so that they wouldn’t breathe in the fumes and so that their eyes wouldn’t be stung.  As far as their safety was concerned it was a good effort, but in the matter of comfort, it was a lost cause.  Due to their temporary and self-inflicted blindness, the foursome had created a Hobbit-chain, starting with Frodo, who held onto the Ranger’s belt and ending with Sam who held onto Bill’s reigns.  They were forever bumping into and tripping over one another.  And in all cases, like the unfortunate one that had just taken place, whenever Pippin happened to bump into Merry, he ended up dragging Sam down with him.  It was bad enough being a nuisance to Merry, and testing Sam’s patience wasn’t exactly helping the situation.  But even worse yet was the inability to reach into his jacket pocket for an apple, as that meant that he and Sam could very easily become separated from the group.  Pippin could scarcely believe it: he was so hungry that Tea in Lobelia’s parlour sounded like a good idea!  *Oh, no, Pippin, don’t go there.  You’re not that desperate!  Not yet anyway!* So on and on they trudged, through the chilly wasteland with their heads double-wrapped in wool blankets, until at last the vapors were behind them. 

            “You may remove the blankets now,” Strider said after what seemed like an eternity.  And to Pippin it very nearly was, for it was past Dinner time and his head had been wrapped since before Elevenses.

            A few seconds later, Strider was looking on with amusement as the four child-sized adults collapsed on to the floor, gasping for fresh air.  The first real words were Pippin’s question of, “When do we eat?”  Upon asking this question, the Tween’s bottomless – pit of a stomach was prepared for the worst, but it never came. 

            The normally consistent Ranger suddenly broke his well – earned reputation with six simple words.  “How about now, even I’m starved.”  He turned around to find four dropped jaws and eight bulging eyes.  “Well, Rangers get hungry too you know.”

            “Really, I would never have known,” Pippin remarked.  He dug into his pocket and pulled out his emergency apple and half of a carrot that were left over from a pre-First Breakfast meal that they had partaken of before leaving around dawn.  The older and ‘more patient’ Hobbits made a be-line for Bill and quickly relieved him of their packs.

            During their short meal, Pippin found himself gazing at his eldest cousin in amazement again.  Though now the attention was not given out of amazement, but concern.  Frodo’s eating habits hadn’t always been to his satisfaction, but as he’d never had a say in it, he’d kept his mouth shut.  But now they were in entirely different circumstances.  Not only was he encouraged to aid his cousin in whatever way possible, it was also his obligation as a fellow conspirator.  Normally the task of getting Frodo to eat a proper serving of food would be left to his over-protective servant.  But Sam’s attempts were proving to be quite futile as Frodo was being stubborn, insisting that they save their rations for when they would be more needed.  So Pippin, for once having an excuse to reprimand and advise his elder cousin – without the chance being reprimanded himself— took it without hesitation.  He handed Frodo some pieces of dried fruit.  But instead of taking the food, Frodo raised his eyebrows in question.

            “This walk is certainly doing you some good, cousin,” Pippin explained before Frodo could ask.  “You look twice the Hobbit you were before.  But such energy requires an equal amount of food.  You don’t want to over-compensate food for exercise, now do you?”  In other words, the walking may have been good for you, and you may be in better physical shape, but loosing too much more weight can’t be good.

            “Twice the Hobbit?”  Frodo remarked curiously.  “Very odd.  Considering there is actually a good deal less off me.  I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.”

            Pippin was about to say that was exactly what he had meant, but Strider opened his mouth first.

            “Do not speak of such things!” he said with an urgency that surprised his companions, but Pippin just shrugged off their leader’s paranoia.  Their leader might know a great-deal about the ancient beings, but the idea of becoming one was just ludicrous.  It simply wasn’t possible. 

            “So cousin, what do you say?  You can either eat my fruit or be a wraith,” he whispered once Strider was no longer paying attention to their conversation.  “Which will it be?”

            Frodo was about to politely refuse the offer, but then thought twice.  It would be akin to slapping Pippin’s face if he refused, however politely it may be done.  One just didn’t refuse food offered by Peregrin Took because it was never given out on a whim.  It was Pippin’s way of saying that he loved you, and was deeply concerned.  Such an act would also only spread the sediment of concern around the circle, so Frodo was trapped.  If he refused and claimed to be fine, he would be offending his dear cousin horribly.  But if he accepted, he would be admitting that he was moving towards the dangerous side of ‘thin.’  Oh why did things have to be so complicated?  Reluctantly, Frodo accepted the fruit and took a few bites, and the others sighed with relief.

            Pippin smiled.  “Well, cousin, welcome back to the land of the living.”

            Frodo just rolled his eyes.  *Why is Pippin being so lame?  He’s Pippin, does that answer your question?* “Pippin, will you please stop it!  It’s not like I’m actually in danger of becoming one of those –THINGS!”

            “Of course, not cousin.  You’re eating.  And as long as you eat, you’ll be fine!”