September 30
Pippin shrieked in glee, and was hastily shushed by Merry. After some animated discussion, Sam detached himself from where he, Merry, and Pippin had been huddling together on a patch of grassy turf, the scant remains of their brief 'luncheon' already packed in one of Bill's saddlebags.
"Mr. Pippin won the toss," Sam announced, walking over to where Aragorn and Frodo sat.
"What shall it be, then?" asked Aragorn, steeling himself for the worst.
"Strider."
"It could be worse," said Frodo quietly. "Pippin could have picked anything, you know."
All morning, Pippin had been complaining that the Ranger had so many names he was getting dizzy thinking about them, and had insisted that they all pick just one name and stick to it. Aragorn had watched, amused, as, without consulting him, Pippin chose their brief rest stop as the time to wheedle Merry out of one of his coins to toss, and let the triumphant winner decide on his name.
"Is that all right, Frodo?" asked Pippin, coming over to sit next to Frodo. Something in Pippin's anxious face made Aragorn suddenly begin to wonder if the young hobbit’s grumbling, and the whole 'contest', had all been a ruse to try to distract his cousin, who had hardly said a word since they left Bree.
"Fine," said Frodo. He looked at Pippin, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "However, as agreed, I reserve the right to call Strider anything I want, since I've known him the longest."
"Agreed," Pippin grinned. His smile slowly faded, and he lay his hand on his cousin’s knee. “Frodo, can you tell us what’s wrong?”
“Are you thinking about those Black Riders?” asked Merry, coming to join them. “Last night was a close one, to be sure, but I think Strider might have lost them for awhile.”
Aragorn looked at Merry, who returned his gaze unflinchingly. It was obvious to everyone that, to Merry, this Ranger was still on probation.
"Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, sitting down with them. "Those Black Riders won't find us anytime soon. Strider's looped us around and doubled back so many times, I couldn't find us out here. Now, where has north got to?"
Without a word, Merry pointed one finger in the precise direction, and Aragorn nodded approvingly.
"That's not the problem," said Frodo. He fidgeted a little, then looked up at Aragorn. "Aren’t you upset?" he burst out suddenly.
"Upset?"
"All those names they called you as we left town…" Frodo leaped to his feet and began to pace around. "…'Stick-at-naught Strider', and 'Longshanks', and those other dreadful things." He stopped pacing and stood still, his small fists clenching angrily. "Don't they know how lucky they are that Rangers are looking out for them? Don't they have any idea that--"
"No," said Aragorn mildly. "They have no idea, Frodo. And that's fine."
"But..." Frodo looked at him helplessly. "How can you bear it?"
Aragorn was amazed, and quite moved, to realize that all morning, Frodo had been brooding not about the Ring, or the Nazgûl which were surely searching for them, or any other danger to himself, but about a perceived insult to a friend.
“You were called names as a child, weren’t you?” asked Aragorn perceptively. “In Buckland. Bilbo told me you weren’t very happy there.”
“Oh,” gasped Merry. “Frodo, you never told me about that.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Merry.” Frodo sighed and sat back down.
“I think it does,” continued Aragorn. “You remember how it felt -- you were angry, and you wonder why I’m not angry now.”
Frodo nodded.
“Frodo,” Aragorn said quietly, “There will always be those who make no effort to get to know someone, and they may think or say unkind things. However, some very special people know about and appreciate what the Rangers are doing -- you, Bilbo, Gandalf, many others you have not yet met--”
“And me,” said Sam.
“And Sam.” Aragorn smiled at Sam. “It is enough.” He regarded Frodo seriously. “The people of Bree, and nearly everywhere else, do not pay heed to the dangers scarcely beyond the borders of their homes; thus, they do not know of, or care about, the pains taken to safeguard them from those dangers -- brigands, beasts, rumor of war… It is enough, to the Rangers, to know that folk are safe, and unaware of that which would disturb them. We labor, for the most part, unknown and unthanked, Frodo; there is no need to claim honors for that which we do freely.”
Frodo looked unconvinced.
Aragorn placed a finger under Frodo’s chin and raised the hobbit’s eyes up to meet his. “Do you not also labor, unknown and unthanked,” he asked softly, “fleeing your home and family to keep danger from them?”
“I suppose,” Frodo murmured.
“He hasn’t fled all of his family,” declared Pippin.
“Even though he tried,” added Merry.
“I may not be family,” said Sam firmly, “but Mr. Frodo knows I’ll not leave him ’til the job’s done.”
“If these very special people appreciate what you are doing, is that not enough?” asked Aragorn.
“Yes,” whispered Frodo, a smile slowly transforming his face.
Aragorn tousled the hobbit’s dark curls. “Feeling better about things?”
“I’m feeling much better now, Strider,” Frodo chuckled.
“Shouldn’t we be on our way, Strider?” asked Merry with a grin.
“Come on, Strider,” said Pippin, holding out his hand to the Ranger. “I’ll walk with you.”
Aragorn groaned and got to his feet. Sam had wisely walked over to Bill, and was trying not to laugh as he pretended to find something needing fastening on one of the saddle bags.
As they set out again, Aragorn remembered what Bilbo had confided to him about Frodo, long ago.
“That lot in Buckland never knew what they had. They looked right at him, and never really saw him.”
~*~
Aragorn found Pippin walking at his side.
"I salute you for a noble attempt, Peregrin," Aragorn said quietly. "Deciding on a name for me was a perfect distraction.”
Pippin immediately attempted his most innocent and confused look, then he slowly nodded. This Ranger would be hard to fool.
"It's just..." Pippin sighed, looking ahead to where Frodo was walking with Sam. "He needs someone to cheer him up sometimes..."
"I heartily approve," said Aragorn. “Frodo bears a heavy burden, and I fear it will grow even heavier; if anyone can keep a smile on his face, I believe it is you. I am certain your next idea will prove to be just as distracting.”
Pippin was silent for a moment, then looked up at the Ranger.
"You can call me Pippin, you know."
Aragorn smiled at the young hobbit. "I was just awaiting permission to do so, Master Took."
"You were?" Pippin looked astonished that anyone, especially a Big Person, would accord him such respect. He grinned happily, and they walked a bit further. ‘Is it all right, then?”
“What?”
“May we call you Strider?”
“You may,” said Aragorn with a smile, “Pippin.”
~*~
Although the weather was clear and crisp, the group’s first day in the Wild was difficult for all of them (save Bill). Aragorn realized that the steady, unyielding pace he was setting, although maddeningly slow for him, was too fast for the hobbits, who, by the end of the day, were stumbling with exhaustion. Pippin was having the most difficulty keeping up -- he was determined to prove his worth to the group by spending each rest stop helping prepare food, or fill water bottles, thus rarely resting. As a result, by the time Aragorn announced that they could stop for the day, the young hobbit was almost too tired to eat. After nearly falling asleep at dinner, he was led, protesting, to his bedroll by Merry and Frodo, where he sank quickly into a deep sleep. As the evening stars began to glitter, the other three hobbits sat grouped around Aragorn, wrapped in blankets and talking quietly.
“Pip will only complain about little things,” Merry explained, “not big ones. He knows how important this is, Strider, and he’ll walk until he drops.”
“He’s tryin’ to prove himself,” added Sam. “He wants you to think well of him.”
“I do think well of him,” said Aragorn. “All of you are quite remarkable -- with the exception of this lazy, incorrigible hobbit,” he continued, putting an arm around Frodo. “Whatever were we thinking, bringing this one along with us?”
Aragorn’s gentle teasing, like Bilbo’s, had always made Frodo feel warm and safe -- it was always an attempt to get him to smile, or to feel loved. He realized that Aragorn was correct -- that other kind of teasing just didn’t matter.
Frodo turned to the Man with a scowl. “You,” he declared, massaging his aching legs, “are a scruffy, slave-driving Ranger. Imagine forcing us to march at this pace.”
“We can slow down a bit,” conceded Aragorn with a barely-concealed yawn. “The important thing is to stay hidden.”
Merry caught Frodo’s eye. “Strider, when did you sleep last?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Aragorn.
“It matters to us,” said Frodo. “You said we should start setting watches, and you don’t have one tonight. Sam, Merry, and I will take turns.”
“Frodo, I have to--”
“No, you don’t,” chimed in Merry, “not tonight. We need you, Strider; you have to get some sleep.”
“Good night, sir,” Sam grinned. “We’ll wake you in the morning.”
Aragorn looked around at the three determined hobbits. “Very well, but after tonight, I will set the watches.”
”Agreed,” said Frodo, waving him off. “Sweet dreams.”
“You have become quite impertinent, Frodo Baggins,” said Aragorn with a sigh, getting to his feet. “I will have to have a few words with Bilbo, when I see him.” He left the campsite to take a last look around.
As soon as Aragorn was out of earshot, Frodo turned to Merry. “Well?”
“I like him,” admitted Merry. “We’re lucky he’s here.”
“They don’t come any better, Mr. Merry,” said Sam firmly.
“I think you’re right,” said Merry thoughtfully. He turned to Frodo. “Do you want to take the first watch, you impertinent hobbit?”
“All right,” Frodo agreed with a smile. “I’ll wake Sam in a few hours, and then he can wake you.” He looked over to where Pippin lay. “Let Pip sleep. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“And lots o’ tomorrows after that,” sighed Sam.
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