Author’s Note: Slightly AU, as I seriously doubt that the Tooks had kilts. In fact, I highly doubt that hobbits would do this sort of thing. What can I say, I’m twisted.

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

The Brilliance of the Tooks

“And that is why the Tooks are brilliant.”

Aragorn turned around speedily and began to march in the other direction. There were things that he could pass off to his steward, and wayward hobbits who had decided to educate the tower guards about the brilliance of the Took clan were one of them. He had no desire to discover why Pippin needed to explain why hobbits did not to wear shoes, the memories of his knight’s threat to go naked, and the tavern debacle that had followed still fresh in his mind. Better to let Faramir deal with this. The poor man still needed to learn that not all hobbits were as polite and deferential as Frodo and Sam. It was then that Pippin struck.

*****

Faramir was in his office when the king burst in and shut the door quickly behind him. He stood quickly, startled, papers flying everywhere.

“What is it, my lord?” he asked. “Is something the matter?”

“Do you have ale?” Aragorn rasped. “I need a drink.”

Faramir frowned, but stuck his head out of his door and sent a page to fetch a mug of ale from the kitchens. Aragorn sank down into an armchair and buried his face in his hands.

“Are you ill, my lord?” Faramir tried again, still standing uncertainly by the door.

Aragorn growled at him. “For the last time, call me Aragorn, or I’ll throw you into the dungeons and let Pippin eat the key. No, I am not ill.”

Faramir nodded uncertainly and moved back to his own seat. Aragorn raised his face from his hands and gave him a bleak look.

“Do you think that anyone would notice if Merry and Pippin were to disappear? I have the strange desire to send them home tied up in a sack.”

“May I ask why?” Faramir queried.

A knock sounded at the door and the page came in with the ale. Aragorn seized it with a muttered “Thanks”, and proceeded to down it in one long gulp. Faramir and the page stared at him, the page with a slight grin on his face, Faramir utterly bemused. As soon as he was finished, Aragorn handed the mug back to the boy, who departed with a bow.

“I needed that,” Aragorn said. “Alright, I can tell you now. Faramir, how well acquainted are you with Tooks?”

Faramir gave him a lopsided smile. “Not well at all, your-Aragorn. Just Pippin.”

“Ah. Well, I’ve been a Ranger for decades, guarding the Shire and its inhabitants. Let me tell you, Faramir, that the Tooks are something else entirely. They rival the Brandybucks for wit and audacity, and between them, they practically own the whole Shire.

“Now, the Tooks are a strange clan. They have many oddities, but the one that the rest of the Dunedain rangers have never been able to figure out is their love of wearing skirts. Even the men.”

Here, Faramir threw his head back and laughed. The idea was so ludicrous that he couldn’t even picture it. “Skirts? Are you serious? Male hobbits wearing skirts?”

Aragorn nodded earnestly. “Yes! You don’t believe me, do you?” Faramir shook his head. “Alright then, young man. You follow me and learn.”

*****

“They are called kilts. We ought to make them a new part of Gondor’s livery,” Pippin was saying when the King and the Steward arrived. “Hobbits have never had to fight many battles, but the ones we have fought have always been very intimidating, as enemies have been frightened by the sight of hundreds of Tooks in kilts rushing at them.”

Aragorn glanced over at his steward in amusement. Faramir looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or pass out. It was a common reaction to seeing a Took in his Tookish livery, although where Pippin had gotten it was beyond him. Aragorn remembered his cousins Halbarad and Ecthelion’s reaction to seeing it. They had sat on the forest floor and laughed themselves silly for roughly half an hour, during which time Aragorn had kept the watch. Faramir was heading in the same direction.

“Kilts are very durable, and they keep you warm in the winter and nice and cool in the summer. The best part is, there is no chafing, as there is with trousers,” Pippin continued.

The young Took was standing on a table in the mess hall, a large group of tower guards gathered around him. He was dressed in his usual white shirt, and a knee-length pleated skirt of a strange red and black weave, that he knew the Tooks called tartan. It was possible, Aragorn mused, that Pippin had used some of the allowance that he had been given to get a seamstress to weave and sew the kilt for him. Knowing Pippin, it was all too likely. The odd thing was, the men of Gondor seemed to like the young Took’s behavior and strange outfit.

“Where can we buy it, Master Perian?” one soldier called out.

“Someone proposition the King to let a company of us use these as our uniform!” another cried.

“They can’t be serious!” Faramir croaked, his face red from repressed snickers. “Do you think they would actually wear them?”

Aragorn shrugged. “Knowing the Gondorians, Faramir, probably. I think that we may have a slight problem on our hands.”