Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m finished. Hanghobbit is the M.E. equivilent to hangman. I didn’t write the song, I’m just doomed to a life of Renaissance Faires, although I changed two words.

For the Love of Hobbits

By Elendiari

Aragorn, the King Elessar, was beginning to wonder about the strength of his personal guard. How was it that one tiny hobbit lad, scarcely a foot and a half high, could infiltrate the heavily guarded personal study of the High King? Still, he had, and he was sitting under said High King’s desk. On his feet. Aragorn set aside his pen and sighed.

"Faramir Took," he said. "How did you get in here?"

The tiny lad grinned up at him. "A wizard has many secrets," he replied with typical eight year old sauce.

Aragorn rolled his eyes and hauled the youngster up onto his lap. Merry and Pippin, along with their young families, had travelled to Gondor one month ago, and were set to stay for some time. Faramir had taken a great interest in the King, often dogging him as he walked down a hall, and telling him of his grand adventures in the evenings as their families sat together. Aragorn, soon to have his own children with Arwen, could only laugh about it.

"What are you about, Master Took?" he queried, sternly. "You do realize that the King is very busy."

Faramir leaned comfortably into the King’s soft velvet tunic and shook his head. "No, you’re not. You’re playing hanghobbit. See? And the word you’re trying to spell is Eriador. You’re bored, aren’t you?"

The king did not deign a response, but crumpled the paper up and tossed it into the fire. It was quite true, he had finished his work for the evening, and had been amusing himself with the old word game, though he was loath to admit it. He yearned for the quiet freedom of the hills, and the life of a ranger, again.

"Would you like to hear a song that I learned in Rohan? Mamma says it’s horrid, but I can’t figure out why," Faramir said.

"Aye," said Aragorn, knowing he would get a full recital whether he said yes or not.

Faramir grinned up at him and climbed up onto the desk. Putting his hands behind his back, he began to sing in a loud voice, "Where are me jewels, me precious family jewels? They’ve all gone for ale and pipeweed! I keep ‘em in a sack that I throw across my back, and you’ve all got dirty minds for what you’re thinking!"

Aragorn bit back a squawk of totally inappropriate laughter and buried his face in his hands. "Where did you learn that?" he demanded.

"In Rohan, like I said before," the young Took replied. "Some guards were singing it in the barns when Father and I went to see the horses."

"Well, your mother is right, it is quite horrid," Aragorn said, and stood up. "Come on, I believe that it is time for dinner. We musn’t keep your parents and the Queen waiting."

"Yes, that would be bad," agreed Faramir, allowing himself to be lifted up and carried out of the study. "King Elessar, I think you’re a grand king!"

"Thank you," replied Aragorn, remembering why he loved these hobbits as his own family. They were too incorrigible not to be somehow related.

The End