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

Chapter One: Accursed Livery

The King Elessar had set aside the first days of his reign to allow the peoples of his realm to come before him. Many came begging a boon: a squadron of able bodied men to help rebuild a village, fresh supplies to feed a group of refugees, criminals to be sentenced or pardoned…the list went on. None, however, had such a memorable boon to beg as a certain young knight from the Shire.

    “My lord, Pippin Took is here to see you,” a courtier said, sticking his head into the audience hall. “Shall I send him in?”

   Aragorn waved his hand, and sat back in his seat as he waited for the hobbit. In the steward’s chair below him, Faramir gave a soft laugh.

   “What is it?” Aragorn asked, curious at what could possibly amuse the steward in such an empty hall.

  Faramir twisted in his seat and looked up at the King. “Pippin has been having some…troubles…with his uniform. I tried to help him out once before I was wounded, but I guess that he did not take my lessons to heart. It was mine as a child. That was a bloody ridiculous uniform to get into and out of,” he added nostalgically.

    Aragorn frowned, but then the doors opened and Pippin strode right up to them.

   “Really, Strider, this is most embarrassing,” he began. “I think that you ought to have the seamstresses come up with a better uniform.”

   Aragorn choked back a laugh at the sight before him. Pippin’s tunic was askew over his chain mail, and his undershirt was peeping out of his trousers. The chain mail was incorrectly fastened, creating several large bumps, and the hobbit’s trousers seemed to have become caught in them, resulting in a highly amusing but terribly embarrassing rise in the hobbit’s behind. Pippin folded his arms and glared at them.

   “Since the Enemy is destroyed, I rather think that I shall perform my next guard duty naked,” he declared.

   “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Aragorn choked out, and came down from his throne.

   If Faramir had thought that he loved and respected the King before, his love and respect were heightened that day, as he watched the King Elessar abandon all dignity and go down on his knees to help a hobbit arrange his armour. This, he thought, would be a monarch like no other.

   “Thank you, Strider,” Pippin said at last, restored to dignity with his livery properly adjusted.

   “You are most welcome, Pippin. And next time, please ask Merry or someone to help you with the chain mail,” Aragorn replied.

  Pippin gave him a rakish grin. “Alright. Have fun here. Goodbye! And goodbye to Faramir, too!”

   The two leaders of Gondor watched as Pippin sped out of the hall, and once the doors had shut, let out twin bellows of laughter.

   “Only a hobbit,” Aragorn said. “Only a hobbit.”