A/N: Where we left off:

Since it’s been so long since I’ve updated this story, I thought a brief recap would be helpful to help refresh everyone’s memories. So here goes!

Gandalf, it was decided, has knurly toes, though that didn’t prevent him from teaching Lindir a lesson about hobbit prank wars. Gimli, while mostly keeping to his father’s advice to leave one well enough alone, has still become entangled with the hobbits all the same and has offered aid and comfort when needed. Glorfindel and Legolas have returned from their scouting trips; only Aragorn and Elrohir and Elladan remain to return. Boromir is training the hobbits in the art of swordsmanship… er, swordshobbitship… and has been learning quite a few things about those deceptively-innocent hobbit skills himself. He’s been kind enough to impart this wisdom to Legolas, who finds the hobbits all to be rather baffling; Erestor’s news of pipeweed withdrawal did nothing to assuage his concerns. Meanwhile, the hobbits discovered a golf course built for Bilbo by the Elves in the valley at the bottom of the ravine, and Boromir and Legolas, with the help of a certain spy, went to great lengths to prevent any further golfing adventures by hiding the clubs in a tree. Frodo found them out, but was kind enough not to rat on them.

And now, on with the tale…
 
 

Rabid Sam Fan suggested a chapter discussing the differences between the three main sorts of hobbits.
 
 
 
 
 

“Before the crossing of the mountains the Hobbits had already become divided into three somewhat different breeds: Harfoots, Stoors and Fallohides.” ~ FOTR: The Prologue
 

Chapter 12: Breed All About It

The Lord of the Last Homely House sat in his private study in quiet reflection. The noon sun was mild and fey, for autumn was quickly fading into winter and the breeze carried a chill upon its gusty ebbs. The cascades of the waterfall and the singing of the birds blended together into a melodious tune that vibrated throughout the house. The trees beyond the balcony of the study seemed as though to dance with the harmony. The calm tranquility filled the house with peace and lifted the hearts of all within its walls, including the Lord himself. He was so relaxed, indeed, that he nearly missed the light tapping on the study door.

“Enter,” Elrond allowed.

The door opened, and in stepped Aragorn. He had returned two mornings prior, bringing with him a few other scouting parties he had met upon the road. The scouting parties had little information to report; as with all the other parties, no sign nor hint of the Nazgûl had been found. Only one party remained to return, Elrond’s sons Elrohir and Elladan, and Elrond determined they too would return within the week; the day of the Ring-bearer’s departure drew near and it was of this that he wished to speak with his foster son.

Since Aragorn’s return, the hobbits have been much cheered, eager to inform their friend of all their adventures since his departure. Neither he, nor Elrond, missed that they simultaneously attempted to learn of his own adventures while scouting. Aragorn gave them just enough details to quench their curiosity and was careful never to mention the Ringwraiths, for the hobbits too sensed their reverie was coming to its end and preferred to think of more cheerful things while they could. Yet the Big Folk had no such luxury.

“You wished to speak with me, my Lord?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes, have a seat,” Elrond said, motioning to the bench upon the balcony. They sat beside each other, turning slightly to face the other, the crisp scent of pine a calming presence.

“You sat in on the hobbits’ training sessions with Boromir these last two mornings,” Elrond began. “You have known them longer than the rest of us, with the exception of Bilbo and Gandalf. More importantly, you were with them for the first leg of their dark road. Tell me, my son, what do you think of their readiness?”

“They are as ready as they can possibly be, Father,” Aragorn replied. “They do not know what lies ahead of them, no better than they did upon leaving the Shire. The mere fact that they left the borders of their quiet land is testament enough to their courage, and that they faced the perils that pursued them so valiantly shows the true mettle of their hearts. They are willing to continue, and for these hearty folk, that is all the readiness they require.”

Elrond considered this information gravely before continuing. “The Fellowship is nearly formed. The Ring-bearer and his servant Samwise, Gandalf and yourself take the first four positions,” he recited, as though he had gone over this list many times over the last seven weeks. “Boromir has agreed to stay and travel with you, as his way is much the same as yours for many leagues. He has grown fond of the hobbits and will protect them well.”

“He is a proud man,” said Aragorn. His expression was neutral, but his tone belied his reservations.

“He is a captain-general of his people, as accustomed to giving commands as he is to following them. His leadership and experience will be of service,” Elrond corrected gently.

“Yes Father,” Aragorn accepted. “As he said at the Council, his people have long fought the Enemy. He will know something of their ways.”

“Four sharp eyes are better than two,” Elrond continued, “and six are better than four. Prince Legolas also has offered his assistance, as has Gimli. Legolas feels it is his duty to help the Ring-bearer for his part in allowing Gollum’s escape. Gimli is fond of Bilbo; the elder hobbit saved his father’s life many times upon the quest for Erebor and Gimli now wishes to repay that debt by helping Frodo. I have accepted. They will tolerate each other for the sake of the hobbits, and perchance they may yet come to a new understanding of each other along the way. The feud between the Woodland Elves and the Dwarves of Erebor has lasted long enough.”

“That leaves two, if you still desire to send nine,” Aragorn summarized.

“I do but the last two are not so clear,” Elrond said.

“Meriadoc and Peregrin risked much to follow their cousin across the Wilds,” Aragorn said, now keeping his tone purposefully neutral. He knew already what his foster father would say.

“They are loyal and eager,” Elrond acknowledged, a small frown forming to show the trace lines upon his brow. Nearly two Ages of the world has passed in his lifetime and the years showed even upon his ageless face. “They are also young. Peregrin is still a child among his people, and my heart tells me not all is well in the Shire. The Hobbits need to be warned.”

“The journey back to the Shire will be no safer than the road to Mordor,” Aragorn countered. “The Shadow lengthens. The Wraiths may have returned to their master, but other dark creatures still prowl, and dark men with dark hearts hide in the hills and in the valleys. They will not get far.”

“They will be escorted, my son,” Elrond said. “If they refuse to return, then they shall stay here with Bilbo.”

For a time neither of them spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. Aragorn gazed out at the trees, letting their gentle swaying clear his mind and chase away the shadows of doubt. He searched the boughs for bird nests, a favorite pastime since he was little and he would stand on a similar balcony with his mother at his side. Yet what he saw now was neither a bird’s nest nor a squirrel’s hovel. The shape was large and lumpy, its coverings blending so well with the foliage it would be impossible to see from the ground. What was it? Aragorn leaned closer and squinted to better see the indistinct object hiding in the shadows. Was it… a golf bag?

“Father?” Aragorn asked, bewildered.

“I see it,” Elrond said, not looking himself. A small smile formed on his lips, erasing the sternness of his features. “Do not say anything to the hobbits, most especially Merry and Pippin.”

“I have missed much,” Aragorn said. He would not mention seeing the golf bag, but certainly no harm would come of asking Bilbo what ever became of his set of clubs.

“Indeed you have,” Elrond replied, laughing silently now. “But you will have time enough to reacquaint yourself with the hobbits over the next couple of weeks. During that time, I want you to be on the lookout for those who may be willing to join the Fellowship, preferably warriors, but more important will be their bond with the Ring-bearer. Frodo must trust all his companions; there can be no room for doubt.”

“As you wish,” Aragorn agreed. He stood and dismissed himself. He had an elderly hobbit to find.  

The next few days presented Aragorn with many opportunities to observe the hobbits and their interactions with the Elves of Rivendell. He observed from afar when he could, from atop balconies or across rooms or hallways, taking great care to ensure that he was not seen himself. When he was in the hobbits’ company, he watched closely, without seeming that he noticed at all, the ways the hobbits reacted to certain elves: more carefree, more respectful, less inhibited. He observed also the way the hobbits spoke of the elves and the regard in which they held each one. He even watched, along with half the household, when the hobbits were first introduced to Elrohir and Elladan upon their return. They had been astonished by the twins and spent a full hour at least analyzing nearly every aspect of their appearance looking for a difference, all the while chatting with them about the rarity of identical twins in the Shire. In this way, Aragorn soon discovered the reason for Elrond’s indecision. The hobbits respected and trusted all the members of Elrond’s household, and they in turn would all gladly care for or protect the hobbits to the fullest of their capacity.

Aragorn puzzled over this discovery and could come to only one conclusion: it was not enough to observe the way the elves interacted with Frodo and Sam, but with the Fellowship together as it was formed thus far. How to arrange this was a different matter. Gandalf was often shut away in meetings with Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel. On the other hand, Boromir and Legolas had formed a fast friendship and the young Silvan clearly looked to the tall Gondorian for instruction on understanding the ways of hobbits. Aragorn was still uncertain of Boromir; he could not erase from his mind the soldier’s insistence that the Ring could be used to their own ends against the Enemy. Yet Frodo trusted the man entirely and Boromir clearly held great affection for each of the hobbits. The man might be proud, but he was loyal and Aragorn would trust to that.

No, the foremost problem was Legolas and Gimli. The elf and dwarf might have made good friends with the hobbits, but Aragorn noticed that they rarely remained in the same place together. If Gimli was speaking with the hobbits and Legolas arrived, the elf would either turn and leave, or he would stay and Gimli would take his leave instead, or vice versa. The hobbits too noticed this trend and Aragorn could see that it troubled them greatly. They were not comfortable with dissension and while they always made light of it, the Ring-bearer especially could sometimes be found brooding over the matter at nights in the Hall of Fire. Frodo even asked Aragorn once why Legolas and Gimli held such ill blood between them.

“After all, it wasn’t Legolas who locked up Gimli in that cave,” Frodo said. “King Thranduil had his reasons, even Glóin grudgingly admits that – when no elves are around to hear him.”

“Do you not have feuds in the Shire?” Aragorn asked. “What of the Sackville-Bagginses?”

“Yes, well, them I can do something about, if only put up with them over tea from time to time,” Frodo replied. “I can’t very well demand that Legolas and Gimli sit down and talk things out, now can I?”

“You could, if you wished to. They would listen,” Aragorn ventured.

“I do not wish for such responsibility; it would no good anyway,” Frodo said, and Aragorn understood. It was enough to bear the burden of the Ring without having to bear the burden of a feud he had nothing to do with, and feuds were not so easily put aside. Frodo would leave Legolas and Gimli to work it out on their own, if indeed they could. Besides, as far as Frodo knew, he would soon be saying farewell to them both anyway.

Aragorn also did not wish to bear such a responsibility and decided to leave the elf and dwarf to themselves. He wondered though if a gentle note of concern to both about the effect their feud was having upon the Ring-bearer might at least bring them to a sort of truce. So he sought one day to search each out and speak with them. He knew the easiest way to find Legolas was to wait for morning, when the elf usually sat in on Boromir’s sessions with the hobbits, offering his own advice whenever he felt the need. Gimli often took tea with Bilbo and Glóin in the older hobbit’s rooms and so Aragorn hoped to find the dwarf there later that afternoon.

What occurred instead was an eye opener and no mistake, as Sam Gamgee would say.

Aragorn rose early the next morning and took his customary hike over the dell and through the ravine. He trapped a few rabbits along the way and returned to the Last Homely House with his catch slung over his shoulder. He deposited his prey in the kitchen and returned to his room briefly to stow his hunting gear and wash his face and hands. He joined everyone in the dining hall for breakfast, then met with his father and told him of his observations thus far. He was not yet finished looking for the eighth and ninth members of the Fellowship, but he would need to become more creative in how he went about finding them.

He left Elrond’s study and made his way down the passages to the training room. The usual sounds of grunts and feints and swords clashing were now silent; even Boromir’s booming voice was absent. No commands were being issued or questions asked and the whole passageway outside the training room door seemed to be holding its breath. Aragorn paused, wondering at it, then went inside and quickly found his answer. No one was in the training room.

He looked across the room and outside to the courtyard. There the hobbits were, sitting on the grass with their legs crossed tailor-fashioned, looking up and listening to… Gimli and Legolas… but, were they arguing or merely talking? That they were even standing beside each other was a minor miracle.

Aragorn made his way across the room and into the courtyard. He looked to his right and saw Boromir leaning against the wall, an expression of amusement and bewilderment on his face. Boromir nodded at Aragorn, who nodded in return. He too paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt if there was no call for it. The hobbits at least did not appear upset.

“No, you are not listening,” Legolas was saying, trying to remain patient. The elf shook his head and crossed his arms in irritation. “It is not all that complicated.”

“It sounds rather complicated to me,” Pippin chirped in cheerfully, and the other hobbits nodded their agreement.

“Well it isn’t,” Legolas said.

“If even the hobbits cannot understand it, then perhaps it is,” Gimli countered.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Merry asked, not sure if he should feel offended or flattered.

“Hobbits don’t be complicating such things as don’t be needing no complicating,” Sam put in, giving everyone there pause as they tried to sort out what exactly he now meant. Frodo gave Sam a wry look and the gardener just shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s right,” Pippin said first, though he still looked confused. He turned to Frodo. “Right?”

Frodo nodded. “Right.” He considered the dwarf and elf for a moment, then ventured, “I think it’s all the different names you use, all for the same thing really.”

“Yes,” Pippin agreed. “What’s with all the names?”

“There are not that many names,” Legolas said.

“Well so far, you’ve mentioned Eldar, Teleri, Atari…”

“Avari,” Legolas corrected.

“Alquendi, Calquendi, Morkenmindi,” Pippin continued without pause, butchering each progressing name worse than the last. “It’s hard to keep straight.”

“I don’t think it’s that hard,” Merry attempted bravely. “You’ve got your Eldar, then your Sindar, then your Teleri, then your Man-years, then… no wait… First it’s the Firstborn, then the Eldar, then the Avari… Or is it Avari first since they were ‘Unwilling’ and didn’t pass over the mountains? But not all of the Eldar are Teleri, but all the Teleri are Eldar, but not all them went to Aman… Or was it not all the Moriquendi went to Aman? Where is Aman and why didn’t they want to go there? And how do the Noldor and Sindar fit into all this?”

“The Noldor are the Teleri,” Sam said.

“No, the Teleri are the Nandor,” Merry said, though he wasn’t very sure of himself.

“No, the Nandor are of the Teleri,” Frodo corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Sam asked.

“Well, it’s like apples,” Frodo said. “Green apples are all apples, but not all apples are green.”

“So now we’re comparing Elves to apples?” Merry shook his head.

“It’s better than comparing them to trees,” Sam put in.

“Apples grow on trees,” Frodo returned happily.

“So he’s an apple tree then?” Merry asked, grinning impishly.

“I don’t know,” Pippin said, ignoring his friends as he tried to sort out the various Elven races. “Why can’t you just make it more simple? You’re an Elf, Gimli is a Dwarf, we’re all Hobbits, Boromir is a… oh, hullo Strider!”

Finally spotted, Aragorn stepped out of the doorway and joined the others on the lawn. He noticed that Boromir didn’t budge from his perch against the wall. The Gondorian had learned when to the leave one well enough alone, especially when the hobbits were involved.

“Are we not training this morning?” Aragorn asked, indirectly requesting to know what was going on.

“It’s Highday,” Boromir answered from against the wall and the hobbits nodded.

“We were taking a walk in the grass,” Sam explained unhelpfully.

“Can you believe we’ve never inducted Legolas properly?” Merry asked and only then did Aragorn notice that the elf was barefoot. Boromir was still in his boots, as was Gimli though one boot was partly unbuckled.

“Strider…” Pippin began, eyeing the ranger’s footwear.

“Don’t,” Frodo and Merry warned at the same time. “Strider’s already an honorary hobbit,” Merry continued. “He’s earned it twice over, I’d say.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said with a small bow to Merry. He had heard about the impromptu foot contest. He still could not believe that his foster father had been conned into losing his footwear and allowing the hobbits to judge the merit of his feet. “So, as it is Highday, there will be no training this morning?” he attempted again.

“No, we’re training,” Merry says. “Boromir just allows us a longer break on Highdays. While we were eating, we realized that we haven’t yet made Legolas an honorary hobbit, so we came out here and finally managed to talk him out of his footwear…”

“That would be Pippin’s doing,” Frodo said proudly.

“Mr. Pippin can talk near anyone into, or out of, near anything,” Sam confirmed.

“People only agree mostly so he’ll stop talking, not that it actually works,” Merry continued with a grin.

“I’m not talking right now, I am?” Pippin asked.

“Well, yes, you are actually. You had to talk to ask that question,” Merry said.

“I only asked that question because you said I never stopped talking and I clearly had not been talking, so I had to point out that I wasn’t talking somehow, and so I asked the question,” Pippin said. “I can’t help it if I can’t ask a question without talking.”

“Anyway,” Frodo said before Merry could reply. “That’s when Gimli came along and asked if we were having another competition. He thought he’d be able to win against Legolas, who’s only a Silvan elf. Then Legolas said that even a Laiquendi elf could best a dwarf.”

“And that’s when Mr. Pippin asked what the difference was between those two elves and so Legolas started explaining all the different types of Elves,” Sam continued. “It’s a bit confusing.”

“Why do you have so many names?” Pippin asked.

“They are the Firstborn,” Aragorn said. “After so many ages, any race could be quite divided from how they began originally. Even Men have different races, though they are not so varied as the Elves, or even the Dwarves.”

“There are different races of Dwarves?” Sam asked.

“Are there not different races of Hobbits?” Gimli asked.

“Oh, aye, we’ve three different types,” Sam answered. “There’s not much to it, to be honest. You’ve your Harfoots, such as me and my kin. Most of the hobbits in the Shire are Harfoots actually. We’re mostly working class, though a few families over the years have worked their way up to being gentry. Then you’ve your Stoors, and they’re a strange breed to be sure, fussing about with boats and all.”

“Hey now!” Merry protested.

“You’re a Stoor?” Legolas guessed.

“No, I’m a Fallohide, but there are Stoor branches in the Brandybuck tree,” Merry said.

“Stoors mostly live along the Brandywine, down in the Marshes and thereabouts,” Sam continued, ignoring Merry’s outburst. No matter what the others may say, it’s just unnatural to mess about with boats and any hobbit with decent sense would know it. “And then you’ve got your Fallohides, as Mr. Merry just said. They’re named for their fair skin, you see. Mr. Pippin, Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo are all Fallohides too. There’s not so many of them, ‘cepting your Tooks and some of your larger, wealthier families. They’re all gentry just about; some of your Stoors are gentry also but all the Stoors like to work anyhow.”

“Fallohides don’t work?” Gimli asked.

“It’s just a different sort of work, I suppose,” Frodo said. “We all do our part for the Shire, but when one of us decides to work, it’s usually for enjoyment rather than necessity, and it shows. Most would rather read a book, draw a landscape or weave a rug than shear wool off a sheep or till a field.”

There were a few moments of quiet, during which the hobbits appeared to have no inclination to continue. “That’s it?” Boromir asked after a time, sounding incredulous.

“Just about,” Sam said. “There’s some physical differences too; Harfoots are more brown-skinned and shorter, Stoors are broader and stronger, Fallohides are slimmer. That sort of thing.”

“There’s nothing else to it?” Boromir asked, almost suspicious at the simplicity of it all.

“Like I said, we don’t be complicating things as ain’t complicated,” Sam answered.

“There’s no other differences?” Gimli asked, as though he too suspected a more intricate answer than the one he had just heard. His mind still hurt whenever he attempted to sort out the Rules of Address – what rules he could remember, anyway.

“Well, Fallohides do prefer to live in the woodlands,” Pippin said. “That’s why we Tooks are so happy nestled in the Green Hill Country. There’s even rumors, if you listen to such tales, that Tooks have Elf blood, what with our ancestors long ago once being friendly to the Elves, but that’s just utter nonsense.”

“Though it would explain quite a lot about Tooks,” Merry said with a grin.

“Your mother’s a Took,” Pippin replied smoothly, then continued with his answer. “Stoors tend to prefer riversides, as Sam mentioned earlier. You also find a lot of them where the land is flat and smooth, probably since they came up to the Shire from the Wilds to the South. There were Men there at one time; that’s probably why they’re more apt to wear boots than other hobbits.” He looked up at Boromir and Aragorn. “And grow beards.”

“So hobbits do wear boots?” Legolas asked.

“Please, let’s not get into that again,” Boromir pleaded quickly and Gimli nodded vigorously.

“Even I wouldn’t allow you to go through that,” Gimli said gruffly.

“What of Harfoots?” Aragorn asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. “We live wherever we can, though we do prefer proper hobbit-holes to houses above ground, which means as you can find most living where it’s hilly and suitable for delving. So, see, it’s all really quite simple.” And for once, it actually was.

“Now, getting back to Elves,” Merry said. “Let me see if I got this right. You’re all the Firstborn, even those that were just born, say, a couple of hundred years ago. From there, you have the Eldar, the Avari and the Man-year?”

“Umanyar,” Legolas corrected. “But the Avari are of the Umanyar.”

“And the Eldar are the oldest?” Pippin asked.

Legolas sighed and began all over again. “You have the Firstborn, the Quendi, who are the Elves. All were awakened at the same time, so none are older or younger than the others as far as race goes. The Quendi are divided into two groups, the Eldar and the Moriquendi. Moriquendi are those that never went to Aman and so never saw the Light of the Trees. They are the Elves of Darkness. Of the Moriquendi, you have the Avari, those who refused the great journey, and the Sindar and Nandor, who are the Umanyar. They went on the journey but did not go to Aman. Of the Eldar, you have the Vanyar, the Noldor and the Teleri. All the Vanyar and Noldor went to Aman, but of the Teleri only the Calaquendi made the full journey. The Sindar and Nandor, as already mentioned did not continue to the end. The Sindar remained in Beleriand, while the Nandor remained east of the Misty Mountains. Some of the Nandor later made the journey to Beleriand; they are the Laiquendi.”

“But you’re all Firstborn?” Merry asked.

“Weren’t the Dwarves actually awakened first?” Frodo asked. “That’s what the tome that Bilbo is translating says. The Dwarves were awakened first, but Illúvatar, I think is the name, didn’t want them to be wakened before the Elves, so he had them put back to sleep somehow.”

“The Dwarves were not in Illúvatar’s plan,” Legolas said, his expression unreadable. Gimli’s however was not.

“And the Avari are known as ‘The Unwilling’,” he said. “Seems that means for more than merely taking a wee hike.”

“We are not afraid of physical confrontation, if that is what you are implying,” Legolas said, finally looking Gimli in the eye for the first time, their unexpected truce now broken.

“And we are not some discarded intruders, if that is what you are implying,” Gimli replied hotly, glaring up at the elf.

“Wait!” Pippin shouted, jumping up and startling everyone. He looked between the elf and dwarf as everyone waited for him to continue. “Who’s Illúvatar? Is he an Elf too? Is he part of the Eldar or the Nandor and the Atari?”

“He is not an Elf. He is the Creator of all things,” Aragorn answered.

“Even himself?” Merry asked. “How can he do that? I would think it’d be hard to create yourself before you’re even here.”

“Think of him as the Mayor of Middle-earth,” Frodo suggested.

“That’s a lot of mayor-ing,” Sam commented with a low whistle.

“Where does he live?” Pippin asked.

“He doesn’t live here,” Legolas answered.

“Then how can he be the Mayor if he doesn’t live here?” Merry asked and the hobbits looked up at Legolas as though they expected the elf to have a ready answer.

Legolas looked thoroughly perplexed, but Aragorn grinned. Pippin and Merry, with their incessant questions, had managed to end an argument between the unwilling comrades before it could even begin.

“Well, lad,” Gimli jumped in, rescuing Legolas from an awkward position to the astonishment of all, “he’s not exactly the sort of Mayor who goes to banquets and sees over the Post. He’s got others to do that for him. He’s more like a Master-Mayor to all the other Mayors.”

“Well, I suppose Middle-earth is large enough, you would need more than one Mayor,” Pippin allowed. “Do you think old Flourdumpling knows him then?”

“I don’t think so, Pip,” Merry answered. “He doesn’t sound like the sort of chap that gets around very much.”

“So he created all this and then doesn’t even live here and never visits?” Pippin asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. I think you’re making this all up.”

“Not everyone can be as practical and sensible as Hobbits, Pip,” Frodo said, with a wink at the others.

Pippin sighed and shrugged. “I suppose not,” he agreed.

“And I suppose we should be getting back to our training,” Boromir said. He shepherded the hobbits into the training room, Legolas following close behind.

Gimli watched them go, a thoughtful expression on his face. Aragorn put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.

“It was kind of you to help Legolas,” Aragorn said.

“The lad’s still a bit green where the hobbits are concerned,” Gimli said, shrugging off the compliment. “Elf he may be, but he doesn’t deserve such a bombardment.” Then the dwarf stooped down to buckle his boot. He straightened and walked off, kicking one of Legolas’s discarded boots as he went.

Aragorn retrieved the elf’s boots and took them to Legolas, then he promptly searched out his foster father to seek an audience with him. He found Elrond in the library, reading a dusty tome, and told him of what he just saw.

“You are mistaken, Father,” Aragorn said gently. “Meriadoc and Peregrin are the ones Frodo trusts above all others. They have a strong bond with the other members of the Fellowship, and they have a way of easing tension and seeking peace. They should be permitted to go.”

“That is your decision?” Elrond asked.

“It is my advice,” Aragorn answered.

“I still feel they are too young,” Elrond said. “I would spare them such a dark journey so early in their years.”

“And I would spare them all,” Aragorn replied. “Alas that war knows nothing of such desires.”

Elrond nodded, though he still looked unhappy about his foster son’s advice. “I will consider it, but I would still rather send one of my household over the hobbits.”

“It is your choice, my Lord.” Aragorn bowed, turned and left.

He passed Gandalf in the doorway but did not notice as the wizard turned to watch the ranger’s progress down the hall.
 
 

To be continued…

GF 7/14/08