Disclaimer:  All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (except for the minstrel Menelor, and the more fully realized Farohan who was nameless in the books). This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Author's note: I am sorry for the four month wait since the last chapter. Graduate studies have taken over my life. But I only have five-six weeks to go until it is all finished. Until then, this chapter, I hope, will help show that I have no intention of abandoning this story! I have loved writing this far too much to stop now, and I have detailed plans for each chapter right up to the end.

Chapter 6: The Crucible

Farohan opened his eyes. The sun shone full in his face, and the birds sang lustily about him in the trees.

He sat up and groaned, for he was stiff and sore. All night he had slept on the grassy slope under the stars, but the dew had settled on him and chilled him as he lay unawares.

Shading his eyes, he looked around him... and suddenly froze. And then he heard it: silvery laughter as Legolas stepped out from under the shadow of the trees.

"It is best," the Elf said, "to use a blanket if one wants to sleep upon the grass."

Chagrined, Farohan stood. "I hadn't planned to," he said ruefully, "but I had much to think about."

"Merry said that you and he had talked last night."

"Yes," said Farohan.

It seemed as if it had been a dream: sitting under the moonlight and talking with a halfling -- the first one to emerge from the tales: defensive, mercurial, yet loyal. And in truth, he had dreamed -- of the Ring-bearer, who protected a basket of mushrooms from Farohan only to share them liberally with all others.

"I dreamt of mushrooms," he said, and started down the slope.

"I think that Pippin would like to hear about that dream," said Legolas. And when Farohan looked at him quizzically, he went on. "He is fully awake now and is curious about the bard who sang to him during our travel."

"He... he wants to talk to me?" asked Farohan.

"He is waiting even now," the Elf said. "I said that I would bring you to him."

"Is... is Merry going to be there?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe so -- I think that he may be watching over Frodo and Sam."

Farohan relaxed a little.

~ * ~ * ~

"Come in, my friend, come in!" Beregond called out in a glad voice, and Farohan entered the tent. The guard was on his feet now, moving slowly and gingerly about the space between the beds. "I have missed your company these past few days, and have been telling Pippin about your efforts." He turned and, past him, Farohan could now see Pippin propped up with many pillows.

"Well, finally!" said Peregrin cheerfully. "I've heard so much about you and your plans. And I'm awfully sorry about falling asleep whilst you were singing in the wain. Lovely bit of music, that!"

Farohan came near Pippin's bed.

"Oh, do sit down and tell me what you've found out so far about Frodo. Have you finished the lay yet? Did I miss being able to help?"

"Oh no, not at all," Farohan said quickly. "I only talked to your cousin last night, and haven't had a chance to... sort it all out yet."

Pippin laughed then but halted as a look of pain crossed his face. "You'd think I'd have learned by now. That hurts." He pressed his hand to his side. "But never mind that. What do you think of our Frodo?"

"I... I'm not quite sure," said Farohan cautiously. "The things Merry said were... were quite different from what I'd heard."

"Well, yes, they would be," Pippin said and smiled. "Merry's bound and determined not to let you go on about this Elvish nonsense we're hearing now."

"Is it all nonsense?" Farohan asked.

Pippin looked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Slowly, Farohan said, "Many different people have told me about the Ring-bearer over the past few days. And each account has been different. Of course, I would expect the stories to vary somewhat depending on the character of the story teller. As a storyteller myself, and as a harper, I have seen this many a time. Yet I confess myself to be completely at a loss when I try to reconcile the different witnesses' descriptions of the Ring-bearer.

Pippin twitched at his blanket with his fingers. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Tell me what you've heard. I would dearly like to hear what people have said about my cousin."

Farohan told him -- from Gandalf's first account to Merry's last. All the while Pippin lay quietly, nodding, smiling, and occasionally frowning. As Farohan reached the end of Merry's last comments, Pippin chuckled.

"He told you about the mushrooms, did he," he said when the minstrel fell silent.

"He did," Farohan said wonderingly. "Is it true?"

"Is it true?" Pippin said. "Oh yes, I can assure you that it's true. In fact, it's all true. Well," he amended, "I don't know myself what happened after we all scattered at Parth Galen, but nothing sounds unlike what Frodo might have done."

"But that is what puzzles me," said Farohan. "He sounds like two very different people. And yet, I can see that Merry's accounts, which are the most unusual, are from earlier in the Ring-bearer's life."

"Do call him Frodo!" Pippin said. "It feels ever so odd to hear Ring-bearer this and Ring-bearer that."

Farohan hesitated.

"Don't worry--it's quite all right. He'd prefer it at any rate."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm his cousin! Quite sure."

Farohan settled back in his chair, cautiously elated.

"The Ring-b...Frodo... seems such a puzzle," he said. "Could his Quest have really changed him that much? From a... mushroom-stealer to such a.. an... elf-friend, and...and such a noble being?"

Pippin pondered this. At last he spoke.

"I wasn't even born when Frodo would make his raids on Maggot's farm. I only became old enough to know him after he had moved to Hobbiton. Living with Bilbo changed him, I think. From what I gather... from what Merry has said, actually, it was as if Frodo had found a kindred spirit within Bilbo--and perhaps the other way around, too. At least, he's been interested in Elves and tongues as long as I can remember. Certainly I've never heard that Frodo stole any mushrooms whilst he lived at Bag End!"

"So..." prompted Farohan, "he had already begun to walk down the path that would lead to his role as Ring-bearer before the Quest?"

"Perhaps!" Pippin looked a little startled. "I hadn't really thought of it that way before. But... not completely. Even while we were fleeing to Rivendell with the Black Riders behind us, he still managed to play the fool."

Farohan suddenly smiled. "The song at that inn!"

"Yes," said Pippin. "What a mess he made of it too! All to stop me from talking. I suppose he was worried that I'd mention the Ring! Silly old Frodo. But I wager that Merry didn't tell you what Frodo did in Bombadil's house."

"No, I... I don't think so." Farohan leaned forward.

"Bombadil put the Ring on his finger, but he didn't vanish! And then he made the Ring disappear. Dear old Frodo was quite put out at this, I can tell you! When he had the Ring back from Tom, he quietly popped it on his own finger and off he went! He wanted to play a trick on Tom--and perhaps on us--in the way of small revenge. It worked on Merry and me, but Bombadil wasn't fooled. Not in the slightest. He could see him, you see."

"Tom Bombadil could see Frodo... with the Ring on?"

"Oh yes. There isn't much that the Master misses. But Frodo looked (and probably felt!) foolish when he took it off. Caught in his own joke." Pippin chuckled, but then became somber. "But perhaps the point where he really changed was when he was struck down by the Witch King. From that point on, he made no more jests and became very quiet and thoughtful."

"He wasn't, before?" asked Farohan.

"Oh, he was! He wasn't always jesting--that wasn't his nature-- but he did occasionally have a sharp edge to his tongue. He used it on me often enough."

Pippin shifted gingerly against his pillows and frowned. "No. Cousin Frodo has always been... different. Imaginative, curious,... how can I describe him. Alert and quick of mind, but also full of high thoughts. He wasn't always accepted by other hobbits--with his desire to learn of all the goings on of the outside world, tramping about the Shire, speaking Elvish, being lettered... No... he did not behave as a gentlehobbit should."

"He sounded as if he had been a most unusual hobbit," Farohan said, "long before he went on the Quest."

"He was." At this, Pippin frowned. "Oh bother. Why I am saying 'was', I don't know! I... I suppose that I had thought him lost to us until just the other day. And all this talk of his changing... But I suppose he has. It's as if much of what he used to be has been burned away as if in a crucible. I felt some of that when I used to watch him in Rivendell... and after. Purer somehow. The Quest had become his only thought--his only task. There was almost no room within him for trivial things." Here Pippin's voice became thick and he stopped.

"Oh dash it," he said presently. "There you are. I love him dearly. He's... he's Frodo. I don't know what else I can say."

Farohan politely looked away as Pippin touched a handkerchief to his eyes. When he felt it safe to do so, he cautiously asked, "you said that he had had a sharp tongue..."

A new voice interrupted him. "He did indeed."

It was Merry and he was standing in the doorway to the tent.

Farohan stood up hastily.

"Oh good heavens--don't stand up for me!" Merry came to Pippin's bed and sat on the edge.

But as Farohan sat down, he could see the corners of Merry's eyes glisten.

"How is he," Pippin said to Merry in a quick, low voice.

"He is still sleeping, Pip," Merry answered just as quietly, and he touched Pippin's knee briefly. "They both are." He looked at Farohan. "The healers have asked me to tell you to come again at another time. I think they fear that Pippin will wear himself out talking, although I don't think they know Pip if they believe that!"

"Nevertheless," said Farohan, "I shall leave you to rest. But before I go, is there anything I might do for either of you? You have shown kindness towards me, and I would repay it if I could."

The two hobbits looked at each other and smiled. They looked back at him.

"Give us some time to think about it, would you?" said Merry.

"Certainly!" said Farohan. But as he passed under the tent-flap, he faltered, wondering about those quick, secretive smiles.

What had he got himself into?

To be continued