A/N: Many thanks to Tancred for his invaluable information on swordsmanship and to Dreamflower for finding me some very useful websites to use as research.  

For Periantari, who wanted to ask the hobbits: Does your bare hairy feet bother you in snow? Do you have to brush your foot hair?

“…but they seldom wore shoes, since their feet had tough leathery soles and were clad in a thick curling hair, much like the hair of their heads, which was commonly brown. Thus, the only craft little practiced among them was shoe-making…” ~ FOTR, The Prologue

Chapter 3: Foot Notes

The days passed at a leisurely pace, one blending into the next with an almost indiscernible flow of time. Elrond, Erestor and Gandalf watched from afar as the hobbits interacted with the residents and guests of the Last Homely House. There was no doubt that the hobbits brought much cheer and mirth wherever they went. The elves who worked in the kitchens soon began to look forward to the hobbits’ visits, for they preferred to fetch their food themselves rather than have it brought to them, and in this manner they both learned and shared many cooking tips and practices. The gardeners found they had an attentive audience whenever they ventured into the gardens, and the artists, musicians, and crafts-makers soon realized that they had four new pupils eager to learn the secrets of their craft.

Perhaps the biggest surprise for everyone was how quickly and readily Boromir became acquainted with the hobbits. When the man first arrived, he had been stern and formal in his bearing. While he still carried himself with the stately air born of a lifetime of noble grooming, he allowed that formality to melt almost instantly when in the hobbits’ company, preferring to follow their example of laughter and jesting in casual settings. The formality returned only when he was training the hobbits in swordsmanship, or swordshobbitship as they called it.

After offering to train them, he realized he needed to learn much more about their natural physical abilities than he had learned thus far. He found a perfect opportunity to do so while they played a game later that afternoon. They called the game dodge ball, and it consisted of throwing a ball (a canvas sack stuffed with hay) at each other and trying to dodge it. The hobbits played the first few rounds together until Frodo and Sam opted to sit out. Then Merry and Pippin went about, conning everyone they could find into joining in a ‘friendly game of aim.’

Boromir watched from a second-floor balcony, taking mental notes on all he saw. He was immensely impressed with their aim, which was deadly accurate, as those who were conned into playing soon found out. They were lithe, nimble, and quick on their feet. When their volunteer victims tired of the game, the hobbits then switched to hide-and-go-seek. During that game, Boromir learned that the hobbits were as silent as elves in their passing and they could disappear within seconds at need. When he went down to join in a game, it took him nearly a half-hour just to find one hobbit, Pippin, who admitted to cheating once by moving when he heard the man approaching.

After dinner and the now necessary afters, Boromir went to his room and began devising training sessions for the hobbits. By the time they joined him after first breakfast the following morning, he had the first two weeks of training planned out and had even gone to the swordsmaker to request to have wooden swords made for the hobbits, modeled after their barrow blades in design.

They met in the training room on the first floor. The room opened on one side to the courtyard garden, on the other side to a small, shaded sitting area with a fountain and many seats placed around it. He greeted the hobbits kindly and then swiftly ordered them to line up. He knew he could not drill them as tirelessly and stringently as he would a company of soldiers, but he demanded their attention and obedience every bit as much as he did his troops. When they were standing attentively, if not at attention, Boromir began his speech.

“We are going to train based on your strengths, speed and cunning, but we are also going to train based on your enemy’s strengths, size and power. You will be much shorter and smaller than most of the opponents you will come up against. That can be an advantage or a disadvantage based on how you use it. I think that because of your size, you will be better able to make your way in and around the enemy during the chaos of battle without much notice. They will be looking upward, toward any of us Big Folk who are with you, assuming us to be the real threat. As such, I think a more aggressive fighting style would be to your advantage. You could cut through an enemy line before they even realize that you are there.”

The hobbits shared hesitant glances at this last comment but remained quiet.

“However, you will learn first a defensive fighting style. You never know in what kind of situation you will find yourself, and being familiar with both fighting styles will be an asset. It never hurts to know how to parry with the enemy. The downfall of defense, for you, is that your opponent can quickly overpower you. As such, you will be learning how to turn a defensive stance into an aggressive one as quickly as possible.

“Any fighter can be good with his weapon. To truly master your weapon takes years of dedicated practice. We only have weeks, if that. We will practice every morning here and I expect you each to put in at least an extra hour in the afternoons with anything you feel you need more practice. I will not brook insolence, tardiness or lack of dedication. While you are here, you will do what I say when I say it if you are to become good with your swords. Any questions?”

Pippin nodded. “When do we eat?” he asked.

Boromir smiled. “If I understand everything Merry said yesterday, we’ll be eating at nine and eleven. However, you will only be allowed fifteen minutes for each meal, so I suggest you eat quickly.”

“No need to be making that suggestion to Mr. Pippin,” Sam said with a grin, to which Pippin readily agreed.

“Very well. Let’s get started,” Boromir said.

Since the wooden swords were not finished yet, Boromir spent the first morning going over basic military commands, such as attention, at ease, about face, forward march and dress down. The about face gave them the most problems. They could turn without a hitch, but bringing their feet back together so that the toes were in line was hit and miss. Once they were familiar with the commands, he drilled them until second breakfast, correcting their footwork when necessary.

“Why do we have to learn this?” Pippin asked while they ate. “We’re not going to be marching with an army.”

“It’s to get you used to listening to commands,” Boromir said. “It’s also for coordination. It will help you when we begin swordplay.”

After the meal, which the hobbits privately thought was rather sparse, Boromir spent the rest of the morning giving the hobbits general information on the importance of breathing during sword movements. “Inhale during recovery, when you’re retreating or resting, or when you are setting up your next movement. Exhale when you strike or are actively defending yourself. For example, when you lift your sword to parry, breathe out. When you draw your sword back, breathe in. If you breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, it will help to keep you cool in the heat of battle.”

Footwork was also crucial at all times, both to increase power and speed in the strike and to maintain balance. “Are all of you right-handed?”

“I’m left-handed sir,” Sam said.

“That can be a disadvantage. When you lead with your left, you leave your heart exposed to an enemy strike. However, it can be an advantage as well. Fighters are used to strikes coming at them to their left side, or from their opponent’s right. They will have to adjust quickly to a strike coming from the opposite side, or it will be their folly. When we practice later, you will find that you are often turning out of your opponent’s strike, while the rest of us are turning into it. As such, we will need to train you a bit differently and we’ll want to pair you with one of the others at all times, to better protect your left side.

“Now, as I was saying, your power is with your strong hand, which means you must lead with your weak side. You always want to step first with your left foot – Sam, that will be your right foot – so that when you step forward on your opposite foot, the power and speed will be in your strong arm. The drills we learned today, and will continue to practice every day that we are here—”

“Every day?” Pippin asked.

“Yes, every day.”

“Even Highday?” Sam asked.

“What is Highday?” Boromir asked.

“It’s our traditional day off,” Frodo explained. “Hobbits don’t work on Highdays, or most of them don’t. If they do, they stop at noon. Only the proprietors of the inns continue to work; it’s their most profitable business day. Instead, most of them will then close early on Sunday, which is their slowest day.”

“Interesting,” Boromir said. “In that case, we will train on Highday since we end at noon anyhow. Now, as I was saying… What was I saying?”

“‘The drills we learned today, and will continue to practice every day that we are here,’” Merry quoted.

“Thank you Merry. You will understand how important the drills we learned today are when we begin to practice with the wooden swords—”

“Wooden swords?” Pippin interrupted. “But we have real swords.”

“We will train with wooden swords until you know what you’re doing. You may have real swords, but you have yet to use them,” Boromir said.

“Strider gave us a bit of training a few nights on our travels, when he thought it was safe enough,” Sam said. “He said we should always hold the blades in front of our faces, being as that’d be the most vulnerable to attack, due to our height and all. Poor Mr. Pippin couldn’t sleep at all the night he told us that.”

“There was a rock poking me in the back,” Pippin defended.

“Then why didn’t you just move?” Merry teased.

“Because I knew how scared you were and I couldn’t leave my Mer-Bear to himself,” Pippin said.

“So I’m Mer-Bear again?” Merry asked. He hadn’t heard that nickname in many a year.

“As I was saying,” Boromir said, raising his voice above the cousins’ banter. “We will be practicing with wooden swords. Your hand-eye coordination is not in question, nor is your sure-footedness. However, you must still learn how to combine the two so that you use minimum movement and energy during an engagement while maximizing your strength and speed. After all, speed and power won’t get you very far if you cannot stay on your feet or if you tire yourself out with unnecessary movements,” Boromir pointed out.

They paused again for elevenses, after which Boromir tested them on what he had taught them so far, setting them another half-hour of drills, followed by an oral examination of all he had told them. The oral examination soon became a question-and-answer session, as the hobbits began asking their own questions, and they did not end the session that day until luncheon.

Boromir had spent as much time observing the hobbits as teaching them that first day, and he learned that barking orders at them was not the way to go if he wanted results. When he shouted a command, the hobbits withdrew, becoming timid and hesitant. By watching the way the hobbits interacted with each other, he discovered that offering words of encouragement when a drill was completed incorrectly or praise when it was performed accurately worked far better than hollering.

Boromir knew that the servings at the meals were most likely not to the hobbits’ usual standards, but he did not want them indulging their appetites and becoming too full or lazy to train the rest of the morning. By the end of the first day he was glad for this decision, for the hobbits insisted, no matter how much he attempted to politely refuse, that the man eat with them at every meal. At Frodo’s suggestion, they let the man set his own plate and they were satisfied to do so as long as he took at least one of each item on the table. At elevenses, he discovered that as long as he nibbled at his food to make it last the entire meal, the hobbits were less likely to worry that he wasn’t getting enough to eat.

The wooden swords were ready for their second session. After a half-hour of drills, he launched directly into the basics of swordplay, reminding the hobbits continually about the importance of proper footwork and breathing. They spent that day working on balance, breathing exercises, and such elementary things as sword grip and how to draw and sheath the sword without looking at the scabbard; Sam and Pippin especially were prone to do this.

The hardest thing to try to get across to the hobbits was teaching them to relax while maintaining a fighting stance. “If you remain tense at all times, you risk injury to yourself. Not only that, you will waste energy, you will be slower in your movements, and you will not have the flexibility needed to engage your enemy successfully. You must remain relaxed at all times.”

“You expect us to stay relaxed when orcs are flying at us at full charge?” Frodo asked dubiously. It seemed an impossible request.

“Especially then,” Boromir said. “Think about it. If they are flying at you at full charge, then they are most likely not relaxed. Let that work to your advantage.”

On the third day, he began to teach them how to parry. He demonstrated the various parry positions after their drills while they sat and watched. “Always parry with the flat of your sword, not the edge. To parry with the edge risks damage to the blade. It can even be broken, which is the last thing you want to happen in battle.”

Again he stressed the importance of proper footing and when the hobbits began to practice the first series of parries, they learned why. Boromir watched them intently, correcting or adjusting their footing between each position and letting them practice both with the incorrect and correct footing to learn the difference. Once the hobbits could parry efficiently, which he estimated would take about four training sessions, he would begin teaching them how to advance and engage an enemy using dummies that Glóin and Gimli had kindly volunteered to build.

Frodo and Merry were the quickest studies, attentive and fast to pick up on the subtleties of the hand movements and foot stances. Frodo possessed a surprisingly natural grace with a blade, and Merry took the extra time to get the movements right. Sam was hesitant, not at all certain that he really wanted to know how to slay another living creature no matter how foul, yet at the same time he was determined to learn all that he could, his master’s safety ever foremost on his mind. He cast his timidness aside and followed Boromir’s instructions to perfection.

Pippin, however, had suddenly become easily distractible and he was prone to asking questions that would then distract the other hobbits from their practice. Even Merry likening the parries to an odd sort of dance did little to make Pippin pay more attention. Now that they had their swords in hand, even if they were only wooden ones, he found the repetition of the various drills to be tedious and dreary, not at all as exciting as he had been imaging swordplay to be. He wanted to start off learning how to battle Ringwraiths, like Strider had done at Weathertop, and was impatient with the more rudimentary skills required to become that proficient.

Boromir did his best not to lose patience with the lad. After the glares he received after his first scolding, delivered after the third time Pippin had parried with his sword edge, he was none to eager to repeat the experience. Frodo’s glare in particular could pierce through the toughest hide with just an angry glint of his blue eyes. Boromir returned to offering encouragement and he had to admit that Pippin was at least more eager to do what he asked, if not more attentive. Yet despite all that, Pippin was learning at a steady pace, practicing with Merry in the afternoons when he wasn’t off filling his corners in the kitchen.

Boromir bit back his rebukes and his crossness at the lad’s behavior, but he was not certain how much longer he could continue to do so. He was not used to having to repeat himself, often more than once, or stopping to answer queries that could easily wait until after the session to be asked. Worse of all, it was slowing their sessions considerably, and his lesson plan was being delayed.

On the fourth morning of their lessons, Boromir decided to begin the session differently. He waited until the hobbits were lined up in their usual order, Sam at the left with Frodo next to him, then Merry, and lastly Pippin at the right end. He called them to attention and walked down the line, checking their form. He stopped in front of Pippin, who was fidgeting ever so slightly. “We’re going to do things differently from here on out,” Boromir began. “During the lessons, none of you are to talk. You will watch and you will listen, and you will follow your commands as they’re given without hesitation.”

He did a left-face and marched down the line. His boots clinked against the marble floor sending up soft, reverberating echoes to bounce off the walls. Clink. Clunk. Clink. Clunk. He reached the end of the line, did an about-face and returned to stand in front of Pippin, who was trying desperately not to move, his lips clamped tight against the questions Boromir could see swimming behind his busy eyes.

“All questions will be held until the end of the session,” Boromir said and was surprised when it was Sam who broke attention first. He turned his head sharply to find that Sam’s shoulders were shaking with barely contained laughter, his lips pulled back in a smirk despite his efforts to hide it. “Do you have something to say, Sam?”

Sam flushed at being caught and told out. He regained his composure with some effort and returned to attention, then cautioned a meek, “Begging your pardon, Master Boromir, but are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

Boromir considered the question, puzzling it over. He saw no reason why it wouldn’t be a good idea. The end of the session was traditionally the time for questions.

“I think,” Merry said, hesitant at first to speak until Boromir lifted an encouraging eyebrow, “that what Sam is trying to say is that it might be best to allow questions during the sessions, rather than waiting until afterwards to get them all at once.”

“I agree,” Frodo said. “I know that our asking questions can be distracting for you, but it would be prudent to allow us to continue to do so. If we can ask the questions as we think of them, it will prevent us from performing the movements incorrectly.”

“I will be watching you all closely,” Boromir assured, “checking your form and footwork.”

“Yes, as you always do,” Merry said, with a sideways glance at Pippin. “It’s just, sometimes, it’s better to let us ask questions as our concerns come up, rather than letting them build up over an extended period of time. After all, a dam can only withstand so much pressure before it bursts.”

“Aye, and when the dam does burst, there’s no stopping the water nohow,” Sam put in. “Anything lying in its wake will be laid waste.”

“Our sessions are not progressing as quickly as I would hope,” Boromir said. “If we can prevent distractions and interruptions, we can get through the next two sets of the parries today, which will get us back on track with the lesson plan. We are a half-day behind.”

“I understand that, and we wish to learn just as much as you wish to teach us,” Frodo said, sharing a wary glance with Merry, “but we also wish to remain dry.”

“I don’t follow,” Boromir said.

Merry sighed and dropped all pretense, speaking plainly. “Just ask Gandalf or Strider what it’s like to be bombarded by an endless stream of questions spoken in rapid Pippish. You might actually find that you prefer drowning.”

“And he won’t forget a one, if that’s your hope,” Sam said. “He’ll remember them all and keep them in his head, and gather up more as the morning passes most like.”

“Not to mention that not being able to ask the questions as he thinks of them will distract him far more than anything else,” Frodo said. “It’ll only slow us down more.”

“Really?” Boromir asked, his plan shattering before he even had a chance to implement it. “You think so?”

“We know so,” Merry assured and tilted his head toward his younger cousin. “If you need proof, just look at him right now. Do you think he’s heard a single word of what we just said?”

They all looked at Pippin and found the lad still attempting to stand at attention, his feet moving restlessly and his fingers grabbing and releasing the seams of his breeches. His eyes were looking intensely at Boromir’s boots, and Boromir imagined that he could see the questions piling up behind those active green orbs. Out of curiosity, Boromir marched up the line and back down, observing the Took the whole while. Pippin’s eyes followed his boots with such intensity that Boromir suddenly wondered if the lad wasn’t feeling well. Only his friends’ nonchalant observation kept him from entertaining that thought for long. This was clearly something they were used to seeing.

To prove his point, Merry fell out of line and stood in front of his cousin. “Pip?” he said, waving his hand through Pippin’s vision. “Where did you go, Pigeon?”

“I am not a pigeon,” Pippin said irritably, the much-loathed nickname calling him back to the present instantly. For a moment, he forgot where he was and half-expected to look up to find Pervinca standing there, smirking down at him. Instead, he found Boromir, Sam and Frodo watching him intently. “What?”

“That’s what we were wanting to know,” Frodo said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Are we allowed to ask questions then?” he asked, glancing up at the man hopefully.

Knowing he would soon regret this, Boromir nodded. “You may ask your questions.”

“Well, it’s just, I was thinking,” Pippin began.

Merry grinned impishly. “Were you now? That is never a good sign and only ever leads to disaster.”

“It does not,” Pippin retorted indignantly. “Besides, if I’m thinking, it’s your fault.”

“Way to go, Mer-Bear,” Frodo said, grinning now also. He could never resist an opportunity to rib his cousins a little, particularly his Merry.

“My fault?” Merry said to Pippin, wisely choosing to ignore Frodo. The only way to get out of Frodo’s cajoling unscathed was to pretend that he had never spoken. “Why is everyone trying to blame me for everything?”

“But it is your fault,” Pippin insisted. “Remember last night after our baths? You said, ‘isn’t it odd how all these Big Folk walk about in boots all day?’ and then you said that Frodo once wondered how Gandalf’s feet never suffocated from being bound up all day and night.” He peered up at Boromir, biting uncertainly at his lower lip. “Well? Do they?” he asked.

“Do they what?” Boromir asked.

“Do your feet suffocate in your boots? Why do you wear boots? Is something wrong with your feet? Is that why they don’t suffocate, because they don’t work right to begin with? Does it hurt to walk on them? Do the boots help to make it not hurt so much? Is that why you make so much noise when you walk, because your feet don’t work right, or is it the boots, or both, and if it is the boots, do you wear them in combat? How can you sneak up on someone making such a racket?” Pippin shot off the questions in such quick succession that Boromir only understood every other word.

“Well,” Boromir said, trying to sort out everything he just heard. Something about boots and feet, of that much he was certain.

“See what we mean now?” Merry said, with no small amount of smugness.

Boromir nodded. He most certainly did understand their words of caution now. He shuddered to think what the barrage would have been like had he made Pippin wait until the end of the lesson.

“Perhaps if you asked each question individually,” Boromir suggested, making the other hobbits grin while Pippin continued to regard him with intent.

“Why do you wear boots?” Pippin asked first, figuring the response might well answer the rest of the questions he had.

“Why do I wear boots?” Boromir repeated, regarding the hobbits’ bare, hairy feet. “Why don’t you?” he returned.

“Why would we?” Merry asked, answering the question fully as far as he was concerned. “We’re not trudging through mud or snow, or trying to make our way over ice.”

“What does that have to do with boots?” Boromir asked.

“That’s the only reason a hobbit would need for wearing footwear,” Frodo explained. “Mud boots have a wide sole, nearly four times the surface of a hobbit foot, and it’s not really a boot so much as something you strap onto your feet. It’s to keep you from sinking into the mud, and it’s only something the hobbits along the Brandywine have use for, especially those as live in the Marish. The spring rains make the land there incredibly muddy and difficult to walk through. They can also be used for walking on snow, on the rare occasion that snow piles up high enough to make walking through it impossible.

“Ice shoes also aren’t what you would consider shoes. Again, you just strap them onto your feet. They’re more foot-sized and have cleats on the underside to dig into the ice so you can cross it. Most hobbits, though, find no need to walk across ice. Besides, if the river or stream is small enough to freeze, then it’s also usually small enough to jump over, or you could always go to the nearest bridge like you would at any other time of the year.

“There’s also gliding shoes that are particularly popular in Buckland. The River is too wide to freeze over completely, but the inlets and wading pools aren’t. The teens and tweens like to play games on it, usually some version of kick ball; but again, such hobbits are rare.”

“You’ve never played kick ball until you’ve played it on ice,” Merry added with a gleam in his eyes.

“So you never wear shoes?” Boromir asked. “Not even during your journey here?”

The hobbits shook their heads. “No sir,” Sam said. “I can only imagine they’d be rather awkward.”

“So why do you wear boots?” Pippin asked again, not about to be deterred. “Don’t the boots mess up your foot hair?”

“I don’t have foot hair,” Boromir answered.

The hobbits positively gaped at him, then Sam’s face melted into compassion. “You lost your foot hair so you wear boots to hide your feet,” he guessed sadly. “It’s not something as you should be ashamed of, Master Boromir.”

The others readily agreed and Boromir could only stare at them, flabbergasted. Could this conversation get more bizarre? “I’ve never had foot hair,” he said. “Men-folk do not have foot hair. Neither do elves, dwarves or even wizards.”

“None at all?” Pippin asked in disbelief, as though he found the concept too foreign to entertain.

“Well, most of us do have a little bit of hair on our toes, but otherwise our feet are bare,” Boromir informed.

“Is that why you have a beard then?” Pippin asked.

“Yes,” Boromir said, even though he did not know what exactly the hobbit was asking or what beards had to do with a lack of foot hair. He figured it was safer not to ask; he could handle only one strange topic at a time.

“And that’s why you wear boots?” Merry asked.

“No,” Boromir said. “We wear boots, shoes or other forms of footwear to protect our feet from the elements or from injuries such as you would get from stepping on sharp objects.”

“Why would you be stepping on sharp objects?” Sam asked.

“We don’t do it on purpose,” Boromir said. “Sometimes we can do so by accident, if we are not paying attention.”

“Why wouldn’t you be paying attention?” Merry queried.

“If we are occupied with something else, or carrying things, or rushing through the streets,” Boromir gave examples.

“You shouldn’t go rushing through streets if your feet are so sensitive to hurt and folk leave sharp things for you to be stepping on,” Sam advised. “They should be more mindful to sweep up such objects.”

“Those are good points,” Boromir conceded, unable to think of any other response.

“It doesn’t sound like something that happens very often,” Frodo said, coming to Boromir’s rescue. “I suspect such accidents are rather rare and the boots are more to protect the feet from everyday wear.”

“Yes, thank you, Frodo,” Boromir said with relief.

“You mean, those boots are made just for walking?” Merry said, leaning down to get a better look at the footwear.

“So then there is something wrong with your feet,” Pippin said, glad to at least have that matter settled. “You wear boots to make your feet hurt less.”

“There is nothing wrong with my feet,” Boromir insisted. “They are perfectly functional on their own, but the feet of Men are not so tough as those of hobbits. If we walk too long on a hard surface, they are prone to blistering.”

“Your entire race has this ailment?” Sam asked, and Frodo hid a laughing smile behind a hand. A light dawned behind Merry’s eyes, but the understanding quickly turned to a mischievous glint. Pippin had returned to observing the man’s boots.

Boromir closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, where he was developing a small headache. He really needed to end this conversation and begin the lesson. “It is not an ailment,” Boromir explained. “Our feet serve us exactly as they should, and I’m sure if we spent a lifetime walking about barefoot, they too would become as tough and impervious to the elements as your own.”

“And then your foot hair would grow in?” Merry asked with a grin. “Perhaps wearing the boots rubs it off before it can grow.”

“Do you really think so, Merry?” Pippin said, too intent on the boots to notice Merry’s too-innocent expression. “Maybe that’s why they don’t suffocate either.”

“My feet do not suffocate,” Boromir said. “They are perfectly happy inside my boots.”

“They never get hot or itchy?” Frodo queried.

“They do get hot and sweaty sometimes,” Boromir had to admit. “Usually when I’m training or after a battle.”

“Your poor feet,” Pippin said.

“It’s no different than sweating anywhere else,” Boromir pointed out. “Now, if we’re done with this line of questioning…”

“How do you know that elves, dwarves and wizards don’t have foot hair?” Pippin asked next. “Have you seen their feet? Do you ever not wear boots? I’ve never seen a foot that doesn’t have hair on it before.”

“That would look odd,” Merry confirmed. “Why don’t you take off your boots, Boromir? Then we can see for ourselves if they’re deficient or not.”

“My feet are not deficient, and I am not taking off my boots. We are supposed to be training,” Boromir said. “Now, we ended on the fourth parry position yesterday. Let’s go over the first four again for a few times and then we’ll move onto the next set.”

“Do your boots even come off, begging your pardon,” Sam put in now. “We’ve never seen you out of them. If they do get sweaty during training and such, wouldn’t you be wanting to take them off afterwards?”

“He probably can’t take them off,” Pippin figured.

“Of course he can,” Merry said. “It’s just another article of clothing after all. They’re not glued to his feet. Are they?”

“No,” Boromir answered. “Now, the first four positions.”

“Well, if you can take them off, why don’t you?” Pippin asked.

Boromir took a deep breath and began to answer, but before he could speak, Frodo stepped forward. Boromir let his breath out in a sigh of relief. Finally, this whole foolish business will be put behind them.

Frodo placed a hand on Pippin’s shoulder and gave his cousin a consoling look. “Now Pippin, don’t be rude. Clearly, Boromir feels inadequate about his feet and doesn’t want us to see them. Let’s show some respect.”

Merry widened his eyes at the man and gave a small, nearly indiscernible shake of his head, attempting to warn him off. ‘Don’t react. Ignore him,’ his eyes said, but the man had yet to learn the meaning of hobbit-eye communications.

“I do not feel inadequate about my feet,” Boromir insisted.

Frodo turned to him next, continuing to give that same sad, soothing, understanding expression. “It’s all right Boromir. You don’t have to explain. We understand if you’re embarrassed. What with your feet being hairless and weak-soled, it’s no wonder you don’t want to show them off.”

“I don’t care if anyone sees them,” Boromir persisted. “They don’t embarrass me in the slightest.”

“You don’t have to do this, Boromir,” Frodo continued and patted the man’s arm. “Like I said, we understand. We won’t pry anymore.”

“There is nothing wrong with my feet,” Boromir said. “Look, I’ll show you.”

“Not here,” Sam cut in, hurrying to stop the man as he bent down to remove his footwear. “In the garden. We don’t want your feet to blister.”

“They won’t blister by me just standing here.”

“Still, it never hurts to take precautions,” Merry said and grabbed one of the man’s hands, while Pippin took the other. They commenced to pull him out of the training room and into the courtyard garden. When they were in a sufficiently grassy area, they let his hands go and all four of them looked up at him expectantly.

“Well?” Frodo said with a wicked little grin. “Are you going to go back on your word?”

“The Men of Gondor never break their oaths,” Boromir informed and sat upon the grass. Far too conscious of the four sets of eyes watching his every move, he wondered just how he had so blindly and willingly stepped into this trap. He unlaced the bindings of his boots and slid them off.

“What are those?” Pippin asked, pointing at the odd white material that covered the man’s feet.

“Those are socks,” Boromir informed.

“You wears boots and socks?” Pippin asked, disbelieving. “No wonder your feet suffocate.”

Boromir did not bother to correct this perception and slid the socks from his feet. The resounding ‘ooh’ that met his naked feet was enough to make him blush, and when the hobbits leaned over for a closer look, he blushed as red as a strawberry. Apparently, this conversation could get more bizarre.

“So that’s what a foot looks like with no hair,” Merry intoned. “It looks awful bony and pale, meaning no disrespect of course.”

“Look,” Frodo said, pointing. “He does have little tiny hairs on his toes.”

“That is so odd,” Merry said with what sounded like awe.

“No wonder they would get cold,” Pippin said. “And look at his soles. They’re so soft-looking. No wonder they blister.”

“Still, it would have its advantages,” Frodo mused. “It’s a bit of a chore sometimes to have to brush the tangles and dirt from your foot hair. It does tend to get quite knotty and full of grime after a long day,” he informed Boromir. “When it snows, the snow can accumulate and form icicles on top. You have to put a bucket of warm water and a pile of towels by the doors in cold weather. The water melts the ice, and the towels, obviously, are needed to dry the feet. Even in the spring, during the raining season, you have to keep towels at the door. You never go through as many towels as you do in the winter and spring.”

“Is that so?” Boromir asked, still trying to move past how awkward this was.

“It is,” Sam agreed. “My sisters used to do a fair bit of business during the wet months. Kept us in coin while I wasn’t so busy with the garden.”

“Have you ever walked barefoot in the grass, Boromir?” Pippin asked now.

“I can’t say as I have,” Boromir said. “There are no grassy knolls in my city.”

“Everyone should walk barefoot in the grass,” Merry informed. “It’s quite invigorating. Stand up and take a few strides.”

Merry and Pippin again grabbed his hands and tugged on them, prompting more than helping the man to stand. With the hobbits still watching closely, Boromir walked up the lawn to the tree about ten yards away, turned and walked back. The grass blades prickled his feet, sending odd sensations up his legs and lower back, but overall he found the grass smooth and soft and very invigorating indeed. He stopped in front of the hobbits and wriggled his toes in the turf.

“This is quite nice,” he said, smiling now despite himself.

From the other end of the courtyard, Gimli stepped into the garden from a corridor and walked toward them. He had noticed the hobbits standing about and wondered why they weren’t in their training. Then Boromir came into view and he noticed that none of them had any weapons. For the second time, his curiosity got the better of him. “This doesn’t look like a training session to me,” he said.

“Oh but it is,” Frodo assured. “We’re teaching Boromir the meaning of Highday and conducting a little experiment at the same time.”

“An experiment?” Gimli said. “What sort of experiment?”

Pippin leaned toward Merry and whispered in his ear, “With that long beard of his, I bet he doesn’t have any hair on his feet or his legs.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Merry accepted. “If I win, I get your dessert at dinner tonight.”

“And if I win, you have to get the dwarves to make more rum cake,” Pippin said.

“Don’t you just want my afters?” Merry asked hopefully. He didn’t particularly want Pippin to consume any more of that rum cake if it could be helped. “What if they can’t make any more cake?” he pointed out.

“Well, if they can’t, then I’ll have your afters,” Pippin amended.

“Deal,” Merry said, silently hoping that either he would win or the dwarves had run out of rum. Then he turned to Gimli, who was just now noticing that Boromir was not wearing his boots. “The experiment is simple. We are determining who has the strongest feet. You will need to remove your boots to participate.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Gimli asked, looking at them each as though they had lost all sense.

“Because,” Frodo said, “we don’t think Dwarf feet are as sturdy as the feet of Men.”

Gimli snorted righteously at this. “They are much sturdier, I can guarantee you of that,” he said. “We spend our days hauling rock and carving stone.”

“Well, that would give you stronger backs and hands,” Merry conceded. “Not necessarily stronger feet though.”

“Is that what you think, lad?” Gimli said. “I’ll show you who has the stronger foot.” He sat on the ground and promptly removed his footwear as the hobbits leaned over to observe their new subject. A musky, pungent odor wafted up toward them, and they had to step back a pace to protect their noses.

“Well, we know who has the stronger smelling feet,” Sam whispered sideways to Frodo so only his master could hear.

The dwarf’s feet were much meatier than the man’s, wider along the arches. They were even, to Pippin’s surprise and Merry’s relief, much hairier than Boromir’s, though still nowhere near as hairy as the hobbits’. The soles were tougher in look, with the scars of many healed calluses showing through under rough skin.

“I think the win goes to the dwarves,” Merry said as the hobbits stood from their inspection.

“Now wait a minute,” Boromir said, feeling insulted. “His feet have been scarred and mine haven’t. How does that make his feet stronger?”

“No use arguing the facts, lad,” Gimli said. “Our feet are accustomed to hard labor, and yours are not.”

“Marching forty miles a day isn’t hard labor?” Boromir challenged.

“It is when you’re carrying a hundred pounds of stone up steep and narrow passages,” Gimli shot back. “Besides, those scars are older than you are. I haven’t had calluses for years now.”

“And you did just say as your feet blister if you walk on them too much,” Sam pointed out, looking down worriedly at the man’s bare feet. “Mayhap you should put your boots back on.”

“My feet are fine,” Boromir said, feeling both indignant and silly for having this conversation in the first place. If his father ever heard about this…

Gimli wasn’t the only one to have noticed this odd gathering in the courtyard, and now Elrond, Erestor and Gandalf came out to join them. “Are you enjoying yourselves this fine morning?” Elrond asked his guests, not missing the way the hobbits’ lowered their gaze to watch his feet as he approached.

Pippin beamed up at them shamelessly, and Gandalf could all but smell the mischief pouring off of him and his cohorts. “Tell me, Lord Elrond, if elves are so light and swift of foot as you all claim to be, what’s the need for you to wear boots? Do you have mangled toes or something of the sort?”

“That must be it,” Merry said. “They have mangled toes. They’ve spent ages of the world leading everyone else to believe that they’re the most graceful and beautiful race on this earth, the Firstborn and all that, and they did it by hiding their one ugly feature.”

Sam’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at this. Were Merry and Pippin seriously going to attempt to con the Lord of Rivendell into removing his boots? It was bad enough when they conned the other elves to play dodge ball, but this was nearly unfathomable. Surely, Frodo wouldn’t let this continue. He looked to his master, the pleading question in his eyes. Frodo nodded.

“All right lads, we’ve had our fun,” Frodo said. “We do need to get some training in this morning and that won’t happen while we remain out here. Besides, I doubt very much that the elves’ feet can be any uglier than Gandalf’s. He is ancient after all. I suppose it goes without debate that the dwarves have the strongest and prettiest feet, after hobbits of course.”

A minute later, Gandalf, Elrond and Erestor were sitting on the grass, fervently removing their footwear. After much observation and debate, in which more of the residents and guests of the House gradually joined in, it was decided that Gandalf’s feet had the knurliest toes, the elves' were the fairest, the dwarf’s were the most fragrant (to put it kindly), and the man’s were the softest. The hobbits’ feet, of course, were declared the best all around.

To be continued…

GF 7/10/06