Chapter 1: An Unusual Introduction

The man awoke from a heavy doze and at first did not know where he was or what had woken him. He had been many weeks on the road, alone and in strange country, looking for a mysterious land that he had begun to fear did not exist. Though he had slept, he had not slumbered deeply, for one ear was ever tuned for the sound of pursuit or ambush. He was startled now to discover that he allowed himself to sleep so soundly, until the room came into focus and he remembered where he was.

Imladris. Rivendell.

He had arrived in the grey morning and had been instantly escorted to the private chamber of Elrond Halfelven, where he had spoken to the elf lord. The Council that followed was most revealing and gave him much to think about, but reflection on all that he had learned and seen could wait for a new day.

He stood and went to the balcony, reveling in the long, open-walled terrace and the panoramic view of the forest-covered dell. The waterfall was hidden from his view here, but it was no less part of the scenery, its presence felt through the faint sound of its spray and the sharp, crisp scent of the water. The moisture hung cool in the air, carrying the fragrance of the flowers and pine-wood into the room. The sun had set a half-hour before and twilight shadowed the curves of the room, the rising moon peeking through the sheltering trees, which whispered with the wind.

The man breathed deeply, feeling perhaps for the first time in his short but laborious life a sense of calm and peace. He felt almost as though he could remain in this tranquil haven forever, if the pull toward home and duty were not so strong. Still, he did not have to be rushing off now and he lingered on the balcony, feeling the smooth wooden beam of the rail under his hands and the soft licks of wind upon his face, and let the serenity wash over him, his face upturned to the silver moon.

A light knock sounded on the door. “Captain Boromir,” beckoned a muffled voice.

With reluctance, Boromir turned his back on the tranquility outside and crossed the room to answer the call. He found there Erestor, the elf who had greeted him when he arrived early in the morning. “Captain Boromir,” the elf repeated. “I see I have not woken you. Did you rest well?”

“I did,” Boromir said, “but I am not long from waking, in truth. I fear I fell into bed having removed only my travel gear.”

“No fear in that,” Erestor smiled kindly. “You have earned your rest from what you told us of your travels, and now it is time to dine. The pre-dinner bell has sounded. I have come to escort you to the dining hall.”

Pre-dinner bell. So that was what had awoken him, though he could not recall hearing it. The man stepped into the corridor and bowed shortly in his appreciation. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Erestor. I would not have known what to do otherwise.”

The man followed the elf through the corridors. Everywhere they went, the sound of the waterfall could be heard and the aroma of pine wafted after them, filling them with peace and harmony. Yes, Boromir thought to himself, he could stay here a while, perhaps even—

“MERRY!”

A sudden, frantic shout ripped through the calm of the house and the man tensed, instinctively prepared for whatever might come, his hand reaching for his sword only to find that he had left it in his room. He whirled around all the same and tried in vain to peer down the adjoining corridor from whence the child’s cry had come. Erestor merely laughed.

“Peace, Boromir,” said Erestor. “That is one of the hobbits, searching for his friend.”

“The child’s cry is urgent. Are you sure his friend is not injured or otherwise in danger?” said Boromir while his mind raced with what the elf had said. One of the hobbits. He had met three at the Council. Could this be one of them or yet another? Frodo and Bilbo the first two had been named. He did not catch the name of the third, who interrupted near the end, yet surely that could not be this ‘Mary’ for whom the child now called.

“From what I have come to know of them in the past four days, I am sure that all is well,” Erestor assured.

“How many are there?” Boromir asked, still poised for action should the need present itself.

“Four altogether, not counting Master Bilbo. I believe that call to be one of the two younger ones. I could not tell you which one exactly; they all are difficult to tell apart. Frodo is marked an Elf-friend and so his light shows him for who he is. Bilbo has lived here for a time and is well-loved, not to mention grey-haired. The other three all look the same to me, I fear,” said Erestor, as another call rent through the air.

“Merry!” said the voice, a note of desperation in it. The call was closer now and a moment later, the hobbit to whom it belonged came into the corridor. He peered first up one way then down toward them. When he saw the others, his face split into a dazzling grin and he dashed toward them.

Boromir couldn’t be sure, but he thought this was a different hobbit than the ones he had seen that morning. This creature’s curly hair was chestnut in color and when he came closer, the man could see that the eyes were bright green and full of sharp attention. His skin was not as pale as the Ring-bearer’s, nor was it as dark as the third’s.

The hobbit stopped just before them, craning his neck up to look at them beseechingly, smiling charmingly. He glanced at the man, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, before turning his full attention to the elf. “I’m sorry,” he began in a most unusual accent, “but which one are you again?”

“I am Erestor,” the elf said and Boromir grinned under his beard. So the hobbits could not tell the elves apart either.

“Oh. Very good. Have you seen Merry? He was supposed to meet with me back in our room so we could go down to dinner together, and the bell has sounded and he isn’t there,” the hobbit said, the desperation back in full force. He looked truly concerned. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked even more startled and worried than he had before.

“You are worried for your companion?” Boromir guessed, not missing that the hobbit had referred to this Mary as a ‘he’. Hobbits must reckon names differently than Men do. “We are in the House of Elrond. I am sure nothing ill has befallen him.”

This did little to assuage the hobbit and he continued to look up at them with distress. “That scamp!” he exclaimed, startling the man now. Erestor continued to smile gracefully.

“Pardon?” Boromir said. Had he heard correctly? Perhaps it was the accent.

“He snuck down there without me!” the hobbit exclaimed, working himself up into quite a state of panic. “He’s down there right now taking all the seedcake! There won’t be any left!”

“Um,” was all that Boromir could manage at this declaration. It was not what he had expected to hear. He had naturally assumed that some dire fear was plaguing the little one, but he was only worried about being late to dinner.

“Master Peregrin,” Erestor said now. After the hobbit’s outburst, he had finally been able to identify the one to whom they were speaking. The servant-hobbit would not be so crass. Erestor turned to the man and said, “This is Boromir, man of the South.”

The little one graced the man with a smile and bowed politely. “Peregrin Took at your service, but you may call me Pippin.”

“Boromir, son of Denethor, at the service of you and your family,” Boromir returned, bowing in turn.

“I’m sorry to rush off so quickly, Boromir,” Pippin said, “but I must find my cousin and stop him from hogging all the best food.” He bowed again and was about to dart around them when another call came from the corridor from whence the hobbit had first appeared.

“Pip! Where are you?”

Pippin’s shoulders sagged in relief at the voice. “I’m here Merry!” he called, his voice pitching up painfully as he yelled down the passageway, causing the man and elf to flinch. It was everything Erestor could do not to cover his ears. Sometimes, it really didn’t pay to have Elven hearing.

A few moments passed and another hobbit appeared. His brown hair was lighter in shade and his eyes were grey, but beyond that, Boromir could see no difference. “There you are,” he admonished. “I get to your room and you’re gone. I was beginning to think you’d gone ahead of me.”

Pippin looked insulted. “Well of course I didn’t. I said I’d meet you here and here I was and you weren’t. It’s very rude not to be somewhere when you say you’re going to be there, Merry.”

“Well if it’s so rude, why weren’t you there?”

“I was there, I just finished saying so. Do you ever listen to what others are saying or are you too busy listening to yourself to give others any mind?”

“I can’t help but to hear you, as you’ll prattle on tirelessly until I do.”

“I do not prattle on.”

“You do too.”

“I do not.”

“You do too. Just ask Sam. He’ll tell you and you’ll believe him, won’t you. You’ll believe anything he says, but you won’t believe me, your own cousin.”

“Sam doesn’t lie.”

“He lies plenty.”

“He refrains from mentioning. That’s hardly lying.”

“Really? Like how he refrained from mentioning that he found mushrooms for dinner tonight, so that Frodo would have a chance to get to them first?”

“There’s going to be mushrooms? And he didn’t tell me?”

Erestor cleared his throat and the hobbits turned to look at him. They had clearly forgotten that they had company and Merry had yet to notice the man at all. He did now and gave him the same curious look that Pippin had earlier.

“Hallo,” he said.

“Master Meriadoc, this is Boromir, son of Denethor, man of the South,” Erestor introduced.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck at your service,” Merry said with a bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you to be sure, but I’m afraid we must be going. I was just about to tell my cousin here, had he not interrupted me with his fanciful accusations, that Sam has just gone to round up Frodo to dinner. We’ll be allowed to eat together tonight and Sam said he’s advised the elves in the matter of hobbit food, including those most delectable mushrooms.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. He told me about the seedcakes,” Pippin intoned mournfully, then his features hardened with resolve. “Let’s go, before Frodo gets down there and takes it all for himself. He’s very greedy that way, as you know.”

They walked away, leaving an amused elf and dazed man behind. As they went, Pippin began their previous conversation, and the man marveled that the little one was even able to recall it. “So where were you, Merry? I waited and waited for ever so long.”

“One whole minute?”

“No, I waited longer than that. Three minutes at least and you were late. It’s quite rude to be late, you know. I know you know, since you’re the one who told me, and here you are, late!”

They turned the corner and disappeared from view. Boromir stared after them, not sure what to make of it all. Beside him Erestor said, “I anticipate the next few weeks to be quite lively. They are a merry folk.”

“Merry!” the man exclaimed, understanding the name at last. He then shrugged sheepishly at his outburst but the elf laughed.

“I had the same thought at first. Shall we go down to dinner?”

“We won’t be sitting anywhere near them will we?”

“Not if you want your food to remain on your plate long enough for you to actually eat it,” Erestor said with a laugh. His laughter deepened at the man’s puzzled look. “With time, you will understand that as well.”

Erestor led Boromir to the hall and sat them as far from the hobbits as he could.

To be continued…

GF 6/30/06