A/N: Written for the Live Journal "20 Rings" challenge - Boromir, Merry, Pippin and music. 

Thank you so much to Marigold G for recommending this as one of her Best Bets!

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A Walking Song

"Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow; bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow…"

Boromir muttered darkly under his breath as the song met his ears for the hundredth time that evening, but the youngest halfling had just launched into the tune again with gusto, and showed no sign of stopping. His cousin Merry was encouraging him by prancing along at his side and adding ridiculous flourishes to the song, with a merry dol here and a ring a ding dillo there. It was utterly exasperating; even more so, because Boromir could not tell whether the other members of the company were finding the halflings' choice of walking song equally frustrating, or whether they were enjoying the diversion.

Gimli cast him a sideways glance but offered no comment as he trudged along, and between the helmet and beard it was impossible to tell whether the dwarf was sympathetic or not. Certainly the young hobbits had fair singing voices, and put to better use, Boromir had found the time passed much more pleasantly when he listened to them. But this… this nonsense was a torment, and despite his curiosity about that strange fellow who lived far away in the north, Boromir was now entirely glad he would never meet him. Only two days from Rivendell, and he was uncharitably wishing the same could be said of the high-spirited young folk marching along behind him.

Blessedly, the singing stopped as Merry and Pippin turned their attention towards their stomachs, and for a few minutes as they munched quietly on apples, Boromir heard nothing but the sound of heavy footfalls on rocky terrain.

"Ho! Tom Bombadil…"

This time a deep voice had broken the silence, and Boromir was dismayed to find that it had been his. He stopped abruptly, swallowing hard as his nearest companions turned and stared at him, expressions of delight, sympathy and wry amusement written clearly across their faces despite the gathering gloom.

After a small, awkward pause Boromir sighed, lifting his hands in a gesture of utter helplessness. "What is to be done?" he asked, pointing at the hobbits behind him, who were now bent double with laughter, though Merry at least was biting his hand in an attempt to stop. "This cursed song will be lodged in my mind for all eternity."

"Perhaps you were not aware of the Shirefolk’s love of music, Boromir," Gandalf said, following Boromir’s gaze with a fond smile at Merry and Pippin. "Whenever they go on walking parties, they like to sing."

Boromir stared at him, surprise mingling with dismay. The walking party would be a very long one, especially if the halflings persisted with this peculiar torture, and that Gandalf could compare their quest to save Middle-earth with a carefree stroll in the Shire was yet another reason to be concerned.

"I’m sorry Pippin’s singing isn’t to your taste, Boromir," Merry spoke up then. "Perhaps you could teach us one of your soldiering songs instead, if you would rather?" As Boromir glanced down at the hobbit, he caught the sly smile Merry gave him, just as Pippin nodded eagerly in response.

"Yes," the youngster exclaimed, "I’d like to hear some new ones. I think we must have sung almost all the songs we know already."

Boromir smirked, agreeing wholeheartedly with this, but the thought of teaching the lad any of his own songs was a little disturbing, especially now he felt the weight of the Ringbearer's gaze on him. "I certainly don’t think I will be teaching you any of those," he said, frowning at Pippin.

Pippin looked a little disappointed, and pouted at Frodo as the older hobbit moved off, but he brightened again quickly as the rest of the company started walking once more, and as if by some silent agreement the two hobbits did not resume singing. Instead, Boromir found the two lads keeping pace with him, looking up curiously from time to time.

"We don’t have any soldiers in the Shire," Pippin told him conversationally. "I can’t imagine what it must be like always fighting battles and such. Is it very grim?"

Boromir’s mouth fell open in surprise at Pippin’s boldness, and did not miss Gandalf’s chortle from up ahead. Tempted to offer the two rascals a lengthy and definitive reply about how grim life as a soldier of Gondor could be, he glanced down at them, but the words died on his lips at the sight of their open, cheerful faces, and a strange wave of protectiveness went through him.

"Boromir?" Merry persisted. This hobbit was very perceptive; there was a knowing gleam in his eye, and somehow he knew the man was weakening.

"Far too grim for your ears," Boromir said finally. It was better that the Shirefolk know as little of such things as need be, for now, and Boromir suspected a time would come all too soon when he would miss their merry voices. Accepting his fate with a small sigh, he added, "Come, Master Took, sing us another song… but a different one, if you please."

Pippin grinned and squeezed Boromir’s hand. "Only if you agree to join in, rather than glowering away to yourself like you usually do."

"I do not---" But Boromir gave in before he could finish his own sentence, and nodded with a smile, briefly tightening his fingers around Pippin’s small hand as the young one began to sing:

"The road goes ever on and on…"

Before long the rest of the Big Folk followed, and for a short while before Aragorn called for quiet, their deeper tones blended with light hobbit voices, and the wind carried their songs into the dark.