October 3
Several times during the night, Frodo thought he felt gentle fingers resting for a moment at his throat or wrist, and he tried to rouse himself, but before he could wake fully, he always sank back into a deep, heavy sleep. The one time he struggled against the grogginess and started to get up, he heard a soft voice, Merry’s, he thought, telling him that everything was all right and urging him to go back to sleep. After that, he knew no more for many hours.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when Frodo opened his eyes at last, and the first thing he saw was Pippin, lying just inches away and wrapped in blankets, blinking sleepily at him.
Sam, keeping watch nearby, his ears attuned to every sound, was alerted by a rustling of blankets, and soft whispering just yards away.
“Silly Took.”
Pippin smiled; he could read Frodo’s emotions as well as anyone, even in the shrouded half-light of a misty dawn, and the look in his cousin’s eyes conveyed to him every thought behind Frodo’s light words: Thank you… I’m proud of you…I’m glad you’re here… Please don’t risk yourself for me, I can’t bear it.
And Pippin answered, in his own way, that Frodo would be watched out for by people who loved him, whether he liked it or not.
“Stubborn Baggins.”
As the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, Sam watched with a smile as Frodo reached out an arm from his blankets and drew Pippin closer. The young hobbit tucked his curly head under Frodo’s chin and nestled contently into his cousin’s embrace, before sleep claimed them both once again.
~*~
“These are dreadful, Strider! How long will we be in this infernal place?” Sam swatted a mass of midges away from his face.
“We should reach the eastern edge tomorrow,” Aragorn replied. A scant hour’s walk from their campsite, the hobbits were finally comprehending just how the Midgewater Marshes got their name. The biting creatures with their high-pitched whine had appeared from everywhere; even Bill was being tormented by them, much to Sam’s dismay.
“Will they go away when the sun goes down?” asked Pippin.
“I’m afraid not,” Aragorn sighed.
“I think you rescued Pip and me too soon,” Frodo groaned, trying to swat and scratch his arm at the same time. “Just a little more of those fumes, and we might still be sleeping.”
“Maybe there’s more fumes out here somewhere,” said Pippin hopefully.
“And miss all this?” Merry gestured around them. “I could hardly enjoy the wettest, most foul-smelling, midge-infested place in all of Middle-earth without my two favorite cousins by my side, could I?”
“At least you just have midges to contend with,” Pippin murmured.
“I know,” Merry said gently. He put an arm around his young cousin. “Is your headache any better?”
“Yes,” Pippin admitted, “finally. How about yours, Frodo?”
“It isn’t nearly as bad,” Frodo sighed, “but I still feel like I could fall asleep again at any moment.” He looked around. “This is a dreadful place, but at least no one knows where we are.”
“That is so,” Aragorn agreed. The Ranger, with his trousers and high boots, was faring better than the hobbits, but he had to admit that the Midgewater Marshes were avoided for a reason. “We’ll only have one more night here. And in a few days…”
“What?” Sam asked.
“…we’ll be close to the Road again,” Aragorn reminded them. “We must--”
“…be vigilant,” chorused the hobbits.
Aragorn chuckled, his small companions swatted, and the long day progressed.
~*~
“Naturally, I couldn’t imagine what danger was lurking, but my cousin’s life was at stake! I drew my sword, rushed forward, and demanded that the enemy show himself!”
“And then what?” Merry asked with a grin. Pippin had been encouraged to tell them what had happened the previous evening, and the young hobbit was attacking the story with gusto, his sword in one hand and a piece of cheese in the other. It was a welcome distraction from their damp, insect-infested campsite. Aragorn had been correct in saying that the pestilential midges took no heed of day or night; the sun was now low on the horizon, and there was no change in their numbers -- or their enthusiasm for either hobbits or Ranger.
“I knew there had to be something lurking in that bog,” Pippin continued, his eyes sparkling, “so, with no thought to my own safety, I grabbed Frodo and pulled him away before the hungry, mindless ooze creature could devour him.” He strode back and forth, acting out the little drama.
“My goodness,” Frodo said in admiration for a story well told, “I had no idea I was in such peril, Pip! Did you see the hungry, mindless ooze creature?”
“No,” admitted Pippin, nibbling at the cheese, “but I have no doubt that, as I fell, it was rising up without a sound, claws snatching and fangs gleaming…” He looked up hopefully. “Did you see it, Strider?”
The Ranger shook his head, enjoying the story as much the hobbits. “Apparently, by the time I found you, the mindless creature had oozed back into the bog.”
“I knew something was down there,” said Frodo with a grin.
Merry stood up and drew his sword. “I would have stood by you, Pip,” he declared.
“And I,” said Sam. “That was an amazin’ tale, Mr. Pippin -- it would make a good song, it would.”
“Well, er…” Pippin looked uncomfortable. “There’s no need for that, Sam. All in a day’s work. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Frodo, you know.”
“In that case,” said Frodo with a grin, “you can take turns with me on guard tonight, Pip. I don’t know about you, but no one woke me last night for my watch.”
“Or me,” Pippin frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me, Merry?”
“Did I forget to wake you?” Merry looked puzzled. “And Frodo, as well? It certainly won’t happen again.”
“Mr. Frodo, you’ve practically been asleep on your feet all day,” said Sam.
“I know,” Frodo sighed, “but I’ll never truly fall asleep with all this screeching and whining. What do these creatures live on, when they can’t get hobbit?”
“Rabbits, rodents… whatever is unfortunate enough to call this marsh home,” answered Aragorn. He suddenly noticed, as if for the first time, the glittering swords Pippin and Merry were still holding. “Where did those weapons come from? They’re quite beautiful and, I suspect, very old.”
“They came from a barrow near the Old Forest,” answered Merry.
“Frodo mentioned barrow wights last night, but I thought he was jesting; were you near a barrow?” frowned Aragorn. “That was quite foolish.”
“We were in a barrow,” said Frodo, “and it was terrifying.”
“It was even more terrible than being swallowed by that tree,” Merry agreed.
“Swallowed by… a tree?” Aragorn looked from one hobbit to the other, wondering if this was the beginning of another story.
“They were both dreadful,” Pippin said with a shudder.
“But it’s not been all dreadful,” Sam reminded them. “We did get to meet Elves, and that magical Mr. Bombadil and his beautiful Lady…”
“All that happened since…” Aragorn stared at them in amazement. “Didn’t you say you left Hobbiton a little over a week ago?”
“That’s right,” said Merry, sheathing his sword.
“Amazing.”
“Frodo?” Pippin asked absently, scratching his leg vigorously.
“Yes, Pip?”
“When you put on the Ring… when you turn invisible… what do you see?”
“Pip!” Merry gasped. “We’re not supposed to talk about that!”
“What do you mean?” Frodo asked with a frown. He saw Pippin exchange one quick, apologetic look with Aragorn. “I see,” he continued quietly. “You’ve all decided not to talk about certain things.”
“Just the Ring,” Pippin whispered. “I’m sorry, Strider -- I forgot.”
“It’s all right, Pip,” said Frodo. “It’s talking about it in front of other people that might not be a good idea.” He thought about what had happened at the Prancing Pony. “This last time, at the Inn…” He looked grim. “I saw fire… fire and… something looking right at me.” Frodo sighed. “I don’t… I don’t think Bilbo ever saw anything like that.”
“That is no doubt true,” said Aragorn slowly. “As long as Sauron believed the Ring to be lost, he did not bend his will toward seeking it. But now…”
The hobbits looked about them uneasily. Biting midges suddenly seemed a very minor problem.
“Come,” said Aragorn quietly, “take what rest you can; with luck, we will all be able to sleep a bit despite the insects.”
~*~
Sam didn’t remember falling asleep, but he came to wakefulness, sometime after midnight, to murmured voices and an uneasy feeling. He cast off his blankets and walked over to join Aragorn and Frodo, who were standing side by side, gazing east.
“What is it, Strider?” Sam whispered. “Lightning?”
“No,” Aragorn said. “These lights shoot up from the hilltops; I have never seen their like.”
“Maybe it’s Gandalf,” Frodo whispered. “Who else can make such a display of light?”
“Whatever it is,” said Aragorn thoughtfully, “we are headed in that exact direction.” He looked down at the two hobbits and smiled. “Get some sleep, now, if you can. I will not rest again this night.”
“It’s Pippin’s turn at watch,” said Frodo with a yawn.
“I will wake him, should I grow weary,” Aragorn assured him.
“You won’t have to,” said a voice behind him.
“It’s all right, Pippin -- you can go back to sleep,” said Aragorn.
“It’s my turn,” said Pippin firmly. He came to join them, a blanket wrapped around him. “What’s that?” he gasped, seeing the strange lights.
“A good question,” the Ranger answered. As Frodo and Sam went to their bedrolls, he sat down and Pippin sat next to him. “A very good question indeed.”
“Strider?” Pippin whispered.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I forgot we weren’t supposed to talk about the… you know.”
“Don’t worry about it. Perhaps I’m the one who forgot… that Frodo is an adult, and can tell us if there’s something he’d rather we not discuss.” Aragorn looked down at the young hobbit. “Some very frightening things have happened since you left home, haven’t they?”
“Yes,” said Pippin softly, “but it’s all right. At least Frodo isn’t out here alone.”
Pippin was uncharacteristically quiet for awhile, then… “Strider?”
“Yes, Pippin?”
“I know there really wasn’t any hungry, mindless creature in the ooze.”
“I believe you’re correct. However, if there had been, I have no doubt you would have given it a valiant fight.”
“You really think that?”
Aragorn smiled. “I really do.”
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