Chapter 3. Very Muddled, Indeed

Dawn was streaking the sky as Frodo lost the last of his dinner. Because they'd stopped early, the hobbits had actually been able to do some of their sleeping in the dark, but now they settled back into their blankets as the light slowly increased, blinking with weariness.

'Strider,' Frodo murmured, thinking Pippin had fallen back to sleep. The Ranger bent to him. 'What did you mean when you said "deadly", before?'

'Just what I said, Frodo,' Aragorn answered, crouching by the Ring-bearer and keeping his voice low. 'Muddlewort is a deadly poison. If you take but a little, it will muddy your thinking and confuse your speech. But too much leads to violent behaviour, convulsions... and death.'

Frodo looked anxiously to Merry, who had stopped struggling and now lay ominously still. 'He was kicking up a storm, earlier,' he said worriedly.

The Ranger nodded, self-blame all too evident. 'I should have treated all of you at the same time I treated Samwise,' he repeated.

The Ring-bearer put a small but comforting hand on his arm. 'You didn't know, Strider. Ignorance is bliss.'

Pippin called softly in his sleep. 'Mommy...'

Frodo rolled over to enfold his young cousin in a hug. 'It's okay, Pippin.'

'I want my teddy bear,' the young hobbit moaned. 'Mom?'

Frodo stroked his forehead soothingly. 'Shhhhh,' he whispered. 'Time to get some shut-eye now, Pipster.'

Pippin's eyes popped open. 'Was I dreaming?' he said sleepily.

Frodo nodded with a smile. 'I think so.'

'What's a teddy bear?' the younger cousin asked, confused.

'I have no idea,' Frodo answered fondly, 'so I don't think your wish is going to come true, at least not this day.'

Their eyes were drawn by movement above as Legolas swung down out of a tree.

Pippin greeted him cheerily. 'Hey, dude, s'happening?'

The startled elf sought Aragorn's gaze. 'The little one is affected as well?' he asked soberly.

'Hey! Who you calling a shrimp?' Pippin demanded. 'Them's fighting words.'

'He didn't mean nothing by it,' Frodo soothed. 'Besides, you are a shrimp,' he chuckled. 'Now go back to sleep, youngster.'

'I don't think anyone will get much sleep for the moment,' the Elf said soberly. 'There's something out there.'

The Ranger was instantly on the alert. 'What is it, Legolas?'

The Elf only shook his head. 'Whatever it is, it is clever at concealment. I have seen only the movement of the underbrush, when there was no wind.'

'I wish Gandalf were here,' Aragorn muttered under his breath. 'Have you seen any sign of his return?'

'None, yet. But he is also clever at concealment. He can move unseen when he wishes,' Legolas answered.

'Waken Gimli,' the Ranger said. 'Tell him to be ready with his axe.' He turned to Frodo. 'Can you stand?'

Frodo rose, swung his arms, stamped his feet. 'I'm a little shaky,' he said, 'but it's nothing to write home about.'

'Good. Waken Sam. You two gather all the good throwing rocks you can; pile them near Merry. Pippin, you watch over Merry. If he begins to thrash or jerk, call me at once.'

'You got that right,' Pippin nodded.

Sam and Frodo found quite a few stones that fit nicely in the hand and had a satisfying heft. They made piles all around Merry, and at a word from Aragorn settled beside him again to wait and watch.

Gimli built up the fire and set some meat roasting on sticks. The mouthwatering smell wafted to them on the breeze, bringing the hungry hobbits more completely awake, and when the dwarf brought the meat to them, they ate eagerly, careless of burnt fingers.

'Whew, that hit the spot,' Sam said, licking his fingers. 'All it needs is a little brewsky to wash it down.'

'Did you have to mention beer?' Frodo said. 'I was doing okay until you brought it up.'

'A little hair of the dog would be swell right about now,' Pippin sighed in agreement. 'Any time's the right time for a beer, though.'

'Shut up, Pipsqueak, I can't hear myself think. Keep it down to a dull roar, will you?' Sam said, then stood completely still, eyes wide with shock and horror. He extended a trembling hand to Pippin. 'O Mr Pippin,' he gasped. 'Please, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean...'

'Don't sweat it, Sam, it's no skin off my teeth,' Pippin said comfortingly. 'If you piss me off too much, I'll just tell you to take a long walk off a short pier, you know that, Sam.'

'Thanks, Mr Pippin,' Sam said, reassured. He looked up; Legolas had climbed back into his tree and was now urgently signalling those on the ground. 'Heads up!' the gardener added. 'I think we're about to see some action.' The three hobbits made a protective fence around Merry, stones in hand.

They waited. Finally, Pippin breathed, 'Why doesn't something happen? I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.'

'Take it easy, Pippi Longstockings,' Frodo said. 'Don't borrow trouble.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boromir and Aragorn, swords already drawn, reach down to take up some of the branches that had been thrust into the fire, while Gimli silently raised his axe. 'Don't look now...' he added.

The glade erupted in wild shrieks and yells, and suddenly wild men came out of the underbrush, flying at them with upraised clubs and stone axes. The hobbits threw their rocks with devastating accuracy, Boromir and Aragorn swung their swords and torches, and Gimli's axe found its mark more than once.

A club connected with Sam's abdomen and he folded with a soft "Oof"; Frodo and Pippin were swept from their places by another attacker. One of the wild men paused above unconscious Merry, raising his club menacingly, only to fall with one of Legolas' arrows in his throat. The other hobbits dodged the wild man who'd dislodged them from their posts and returned to pick up more rocks, now standing over Merry's blanket-wrapped form and Sam's crumpled body.

As another of the wild men pushed Frodo out of the way and bent to swing his club at the helpless hobbits on the ground, Frodo picked up a handful of the sandy dirt and dashed it in the Man's eyes, then grabbed his own club away from him and smashed it into a tender area. 'I'm really starting to get ticked,' he said menacingly. Blinded and in pain, the wild man stumbled away. Frodo hefted the club, ready for more.

Pippin stared in astonishment at his usually mild cousin, then began to grin. 'Way to go, Frodo!' he cheered. 'Ree-ree-ree, hit 'em in the knee! Rass-rass-rass, hit 'em in the other knee!'

'That doesn't make sense,' Gimli grunted, shifting his hold on his axe as he awaited the next onslaught.

'It's not supposed to,' Boromir muttered, whirling his torch to light the smouldering flames anew.