Buckland

Pippin stirred a bit but didn’t fully awaken. He felt oddly fat to himself. His arms were wrapped loosely about his chest and stomach and his body felt big and mushy. No. He moved his hands a bit, enough to find edges. No, he wasn’t suddenly much pudgier than he recalled, he was holding onto something soft and squishy. It was soft and squishy behind him as well. Bed. A bed. But he felt as though he was sitting up a bit too much, his hazy brain decided. Pippin squirmed until he was laying more levelly, rolled onto his side, then he and his thoughts faded away once again.

The next time he returned to the realm of wakefulness it was with a higher degree of awareness. Light was putting a glow on his eyelids, the sounds of falling water and birds teased at his hearing. Pippin felt warm and cozy yet with a feeling that there was something . . . important . . .

The feeling passed. Lazily, Pip opened his eyes.

This wasn’t his room.

His eyes opened wider as Pippin started to look around. No, not the room he shared with the other hobbits. Not a room he recognized. He sat up, realizing as he did so that he was holding onto a pillow. As he started to set it aside, he became aware of someone staring at him. Slowly he looked to his left to see who was there.

"Lord Elrond," Pippin managed to whisper.

The High Elf nodded.

"Have I been ill?"

"Do you feel ill?"

Pippin sighed, wondering to himself why he couldn’t have received a simple "yes" or "no". "Well," Pippin said, scooting himself back up against the pillows before leaning into them. Without realizing it, he once again held the pillow to his chest."I’ve woke up enough times in my life with a healer at my bedside to know that is usually what it means."

Elrond grinned. "No, Peregrin Took, you have not been ill."

Pippin leaned his head back and sighed. He was just about to say that was good news when Elrond spoke again.

"What did you see?"

The youngest hobbit twitched before turning his head to the right, away from the inquisitive Elf. "I . . . That is an odd question, my lord. I saw my dreams, I suppose."

There was a long silence during which Pippin grew increasingly uncomfortable. He knew Lord Elrond was sitting there, looking at him, expecting a better answer than the one he had given. Pippin began to feel a somewhat familiar sensation in his mind. He had felt it before, somewhat like what happened with his aunt, more like his first meeting with the Lady Galadriel. His head jerked around, green eyes flashing, he looked straight into Elrond’s eyes.

Time was meaningless.

With a sharp gasp Pippin closed his eyes and turned away. "I’m sorry," were his soft, strained words.

"Sorry?"

"You had to have, you must have . . . felt . . ." the lad let out a breath while clenching his teeth. "I haven’t done that in a long time. I’m sorry."

"Haven’t done what, young Peregrin?"

Pippin wondered why Elves had to be so difficult. "You had to have felt it. I . . . I tried to change your thoughts." Pippin had been amazed when he had felt the Elf Lord’s thought’s begin to soften, this was, after all, one of the High Elves not some unsuspecting hobbit.

Elrond chuckled softly. "I goaded you into it, Peregrin, though I will admit, you surprised me."

"I haven’t done it, well . . ." Pippin opened his eyes, "since I was around twelve years old." He was looking away from the Elf Lord beside his bed, staring out beyond the balcony at the sun-lit valley where Imladris lay in seclusion from the rest of the world. He sighed then turned to look at Elrond. "That is, at least, I’ve not done it to someone who is my elder. My father had caught me in some mischief and was telling me why it was a bad thing to have done and was about to dole out my punishment. I caught his eyes because I knew . . . well, I knew I could have a lighter punishment than I would otherwise. I had done it before, you see." Pippin blushed. "This time as I felt my father’s thoughts start to bend, or whatever it is that happens, and I suddenly knew it was a wrong thing to do." An earnest expression filled the lad’s eyes. "I love my father. I love him and respect him. It wasn’t right to play with his thoughts, so I closed my eyes taking the punishment he intended for me. But, I didn’t think it would, that I could, well . . . You’re an Elf. I’m just a Hobbit."

"Just a Hobbit?" Elrond gently touched Pippin’s arm. "You know differently."

Pippin lowered his eyes while nodding his head. "I didn’t though. I didn’t know until just a bit ago, on the trip here from Minas Tirith."

"It is the reason I did not wish you to be a part of the Fellowship."

"What!" Green eyes were again flashing with anger. This was a hurtful issue standing between them that had not yet been dealt with. Pippin sat up, the small pillow he had been clutching dropped onto the bed. "You were going to do that because of something I couldn’t help? Something I was born with? This . . . thing I didn’t even know what it was? For this you wanted to keep me from my cousins?" Pippin snorted out his breath. "Oh! I’m impressed! The wisdom of the Elves, eh! Didn’t you realize I didn’t even know about it?"

Elrond sat unruffled by the Hobbit’s fury. He spoke calmly. "Nearly revealing Frodo’s identity at Barliman’s inn. Not bothering to prepare well for the journey even after you were given leave to be part of the Company. Driving your betters to distraction with endless questions and leaving the group when something along the way would catch your curious eyes. A stone down a well. The palantir. My fear this blood ran in you strongly enough that every member of the Fellowship could fall victim to your eyes. Yes, even Legolas."

Pippin was seething and smarting under this barrage but a feeling like a cooling breeze touched him, catching at his mind.

"Stay your wrath, my Falcon. The High Lord, The Half Elven, Son of Earendil the Blessed, speaks the truth"

"As does the one whose gift you carry within you, Peregrin, Child of the Tooks of the Shire."

Pippin blinked owlishly at Elrond who smiled at him in a fatherly manner.

"Yes, I am aware of her. I feel her presence and hear her thoughts as do you. I speak truthfully," he paused a moment to ensure he had the lad’s full attention, "but incompletely. I feared your curiosity, your mischievous nature, the lack of controlling one’s self that is inherent in the fey folk. I feared you using your faerie’s eyes. But . . ." With this the Lord Elrond, to Pippin’s amazement, went down on his knees before him. "I need entreat your pardon, for I forgot something most important."

"You . . . you forgot?" the hobbit whispered. "You forgot something?" The look of wide-eyed innocence and youth had returned to Pippin’s face.

"Yes, I am not perfect young hobbit. There is only one in all of creation who is. I am definitely not he. I forgot what your kind calls good fortune or good luck. I forgot that the fey folk rarely bring evil upon anything, that their curiosity and mischievousness most usually ends for the good." He gently put his hand to Pippin’s cheek. "Gandalf remembered this and so spoke in your defense. It ended well that you went on the Quest. You were needed there. I was wrong in my wish to have you remain behind or return to your homeland."

Pippin’s first impulse was to hug the Elf but quickly decided that may not be best. He reached up and took Elrond’s hand from his cheek, holding it between his own small hands. "You have my pardon and more. Most of the Shire is leery of the Tooks, why oughtn’t you be." Pippin smiled.

"Then all is well between us, my young friend." Elrond returned to his chair then looked solemnly at Pippin. "What did you see?"

Pippin gasped. He had hoped he would not need to relate the tale, but quickly knew in his heart this was what needed to be. He closed his eyes, the better to bring the images to mind, steeled his heart, then began.

"I couldn’t enjoy the party very much as I kept feeling all on edge. I couldn’t settle down inside, I kept fading out, seeing short glimpses of Buckland. Foreboding. A chill." He took a shallow breath. "I finally decided to go to bed, well, to try going to bed. At least getting away from everyone else. But I couldn’t get comfortable. I felt jittery, fidgety. Distracted. I barely remember getting back up and wandering off down the corridor. I only really remember making the decision to turn away from the Hall of Fire." Pippin swallowed, coughed a bit then swallowed again. His hands fumbled about until they came upon the pillow, which was quickly snatched up to once again be held to Pippin’s chest. "The stars were falling on me. I cowered. The stars . . . the air changed. There was smoke in the air. Oil. Wood. Straw. Manure. Hair. Flesh. All smoking . . . burning. Sparks drifted on the wind, falling all around. I . . . I wasn’t me. I mean, I was but . . ."

Pippin felt a tender touch. "I understand. Just speak what happened," said a firm, deep voice.

"We were with a crowd of hobbits lined up along a fence. The fence around Marrodoc Brandybuck’s farm. I know that family, they live very near the Hall. She had her shawl around her but we were still chilled. There were Men there, lots of Men, Men like at Isengard. And Sherriffs. Lots of Hobbit Sherriffs. Too many. So many. She was frightened but I had to see what was happening. We moved forward. They had set fire to the barn. The Men and the Sherriffs. Marrodoc, his wife and children were on the inside of the fence. Tied. They were tied together." Pippin clutched the pillow tightly and began to rock back and forth. "Sparks. Flames tearing into the black sky, hiding the stars. They had laid trails . . . laid trails for the flames to follow. When the fire got to the front of the barn, it spread along the ground to all the other buildings. It spread to the house. The Men laughed and made jokes. They wouldn’t let the family turn their heads away from the sight of their burning home, and the Men smacked the tops of their heads if they shut their eyes for more than a blink. All the live stock was in the barn and the stench was horrible. The children were crying. The Men laughed."

Pippin’s eyes opened wide, glazed as they had been the night before. For a few moments he was silent, listening to the sounds in his memory.

"Fire. Flame. Smoke. I . . . I’ve seen too . . . too much of them." Tears began to slip down his face. "We turned on the man next to us. She screamed and screamed and screamed as though she were mad. We were mad. We pounded her fists against him. He laughed. She . . . she is old and . . . and small and she couldn’t hurt him. ‘Look lads!’ he said. ‘I’ve a bug crawlin’ on me.’ He hit us. With the back of his hand he knocked her to the ground. We lay there. I heard my uncle’s voice. I heard a blow land and something fell against her legs. Then all was quiet for a few moments. ‘Off wi’ all ya! Remember, this be what happens to little furry footed rats what try ‘n hide food from Gatherin’. Move ‘em along, little Sherriffs, and right smartly! Nobody touch these two.’ We were nudged hard in the stomach. ‘If they get up ‘n get home on their own, so be it. Else-wise, they can lie here in the mud and die as they be deservin.’ Get Farmer Mud Rat and his micelings in the wagon, so they can go visit the Lockholes.’ There was the sound of feet, hobbit feet, passing by us. Gentle touches and whispers of, ‘Be strong, Master. We’ll come back, Mistress,’ or just the sound of sobbing. Then no sound. Cold. Wet. Smoke."

Pippin had fallen to his side. He curled up, gently rocking himself. " ‘I’m here, Aunt Esme. With you. Won’t leave you.’ I had to help her. Had to. We all lay there. Cold seeped into us. She ached all over. I struggled and we got up. Fell down. Uncle Saradoc, he helped . . . helped us up. We all stumbled. Stumbled to the Hall. Slowly to the Hall. To the door. There was light and blankets and warmth. Safe. Safe now."

Gradually Pippin’s rocking ceased. He opened red swollen eyes and looked at Elrond. "We need to go home. We need to leave at once. He’s there. She saw him but didn’t recognize him." Panic brightened Pippin’s eyes.

"Who is there, Peregrin?"

A shiver shook Pippin violently from head to toe. Elrond, with his keen Elven hearing, barely heard the name, "Saruman."

Neither spoke. The Elf Lord knew of the struggle going on within the hobbit. Minutes ticked by.

"No," at last was heard from Pippin’s lips. "I can’t tell the others. I can’t. And . . . and, things happen in their own times and ways." Pippin looked up into Elrond’s eyes. "That is the truth of it all, isn’t it, Lord Elrond? Frodo was supposed to leave sooner, but the word didn’t get through. If he had, Merry and I might not have gone and so much may have changed. Faramir and Boromir had their dreams at just the right time to allow Boromir time to travel here for the Council." The young hobbit sat up. "Bilbo could have said no to the dwarves and Gandalf and not found the Ring at all, and then things may have all turned to darkness. And . . . and perhaps there is a reason that we shouldn’t change our plans, that I should keep my knowledge to myself. Could that be the right of it, my lord?"

"Peregrin Took, Knight of Gondor, you have grown in more than stature. That is indeed the right of it, as you say." Elrond stood and gently lay Pippin back against the soft bed. He pulled the bedclothes up around him, tucking him in. "I too feel there is no reason to change your plans. Perhaps, though they may not be pleasant things, there are events which need to occur to ready the Shire for your arrival."

Pippin yawned. "I really rather doubt we’ll even be noticed." His eyes slowly closed.

"There, young Peregrin, I think you will find you are mistaken." Elrond laid his hand upon Pippin’s head, softly spoke a blessing over him, then left him to rest. He would send Merry in to watch over him.