SHELTER - Chapter 3

Dark clouds began massing again while everyone was eating supper. Although Aragorn believed that sleeping outside in the clean, fresh air had thus far been very beneficial for Frodo and Sam, becoming chilled would not be good for them. The hobbits would spend at least one more night indoors. No one would mind, far from it. He suspected that it would take a very long time – if ever – for the soldiers to weary of having the hobbits close by.

The shelter quieted as everyone not on watch found a place to sleep. Aragorn walked slowly past the pallets and cots, seeing to those who might be restless and in pain. Gandalf was doing the same on the other side of the shelter. Aragorn realized that he was desperately tired, and wondered if he dared catch a few hours’ sleep himself.

Pippin lay with his eyes open. Merry, tired out by the trip by horse, boat, and cart, lay sound asleep between Pippin and Frodo. One hand rested lightly on Frodo’s chest, and the other was being held by Pippin.

“Are you warm enough?” Aragorn asked, coming to kneel next to Pippin.

Pippin nodded. “I was just thinking about things.”

“Such as?”

“Merry’s worried.”

“I know,” Aragorn said softly. “Frodo and Sam will wake, I promise you.”

“But when?”

“I believe they might need another week. You may walk about when they do, Pippin.”

Pippin looked up at his friend.

“Can Merry stay?”

Aragorn grinned. “Do you think he would allow anyone to send him away?”

“No,” Pippin smiled. “Can you stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Here, tonight -- beside us. Unless you need to be somewhere else.” Pippin felt uneasy. With his cousins and Sam asleep, he wanted company. “It seems like a long time since I slept under a roof. It’s… a little strange.”

“I feel the same,” Aragorn said. He smiled at the young hobbit.

“Let me just check a few things outside; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Pippin beamed at him.

“I’ll wait up for you. Did I ever tell you about great-great-grandfather Gerontius and his magical diamond studs?”

“Actually, you didn't.” Aragorn got to his feet even as Pippin yawned hugely. He doubted the youngster would be awake for long.

“It is a true story, I assure you,” came a warm, amused voice from behind him. “Although what embellishments Peregrin might add I cannot say.”

As Aragorn turned to face Gandalf, he found himself yawning as well.

“I will have Éomer oversee the setting of watches,” Gandalf told him. “Take some rest; no one will disturb you.”

At that moment it began to rain again, the gentle thud of each drop slightly muffled by the wooden roof.

“Mmm,” Frodo murmured. He smiled and turned over, his hand seeking out Sam’s. “Rain, Sam…”

“They draw comfort from one another even in sleep,” Gandalf observed, as Sam’s fingers curled gently around Frodo’s.

“And they are healing very quickly,” Aragorn agreed quietly. “It is quite remarkable. Perhaps they will not need another full week, at that; a few more days and...”

“That’s good,” Pippin yawned again. “You said I could get up when they do.”

“Rascal.” Gandalf chuckled quietly and walked off.

“Strider," Pippin murmured drowsily, "did you know that Faramir and the Lady Éowyn are in love? Merry told me. He says they don’t know it yet, but... they are.”

“Who are in love?” Aragorn asked in surprise. “Pippin, what did you say?”

There was no answer. The young hobbit had fallen sound asleep.

Shaking his head in wonder, Aragorn pulled over some spare bedding, and lay down with a sigh. Listening to the rhythmic pattering of raindrops, he, too, slowly drifted into sleep.

** TBC **