Eleven Pipers #11

Title:  A Brief History of Smoking 
Fandom:  LOTR
Characters:  Legolas, Aragorn, Merry, Gimli, Frodo, Pippin, Gandalf, and a few others
Rating: G
Brief Summary:  Legolas tries to understand the attraction of smoking.

The room was almost completely filled with smoke.  It wafted in the air like a thick cover of fog.  Legolas wrinkled his nose in distaste and continued to the far table where his friends were seated.

The elf looked very out of place in the dark, smoky pub and he could feel the eyes of those that were still sober watching him make his way to the table.  Before he could actually see him, he could hear Gimli.

“Legolas!  Join us,” Gimli greeted him.  “We were just havin’ a mug of ale and a pipe.  It’s been a long day for all.  Take a seat, laddie!”

Legolas seated himself and wondered, not for the first time, what his companions found so delightful about smoking.  He much preferred fresh air and the scent of growing things on the wind to this foul smelling substance.  He schooled his face so as not to let his displeasure show.

Aragorn smiled knowingly at him and said, “I know you must find this a strange habit, but it helps me to relax and to think.”  Aragorn tapped his pipe with a finger.

“It’s Old Toby,” Merry said, brightly.

“Finest pipe weed in the whole of Middle Earth,” Pippin sighed, and drew a long puff on his own pipe.

“Are hobbits born smoking?” Legolas asked with a faint smile of his own.

“Nearly,” Sam said and everyone laughed.

“It depends upon your family’s inclinations,” Frodo said.  “Some hobbits start smoking when the mood strikes them and others are required to wait for a proper age.  I suppose it is much the same with all races.  Each family is of a different mind.”  He began refilling his own pipe from a pouch that Merry extended to him as he spoke.  “I was quite young when I began to smoke.  My parents died when I was very young and so at certain points in my youth, rules were a bit unclear,” Frodo continued and grinned a bit.

“How young?” Aragorn asked.

“I was fourteen,” Frodo admitted, lighting his pipe. 

“I was twelve,” Sam said shyly.

“Twelve!” Pippin fairly shouted, and looked amazed.  “You weren’t really.”

“I was,” Sam grinned.  “I got one of my older brothers to let me have a try.  I reckon he thought I’d not be able to stomach it, but I did.”

“What did your father say?” Pippin asked, sending a ring of smoke into the air that seemed for a moment to wreath his head.

“Well, he said if I was goin’ to smoke that I’d be paying for my own pipe weed,” Sam said.  “So I had to earn my own coin for it, but as long as I didn’t smoke in my mum’s smial, then I was allowed.”

“I was eighteen,” Merry grinned.  “Frodo let me try a puff or two on his pipe and after that, I would sneak a pipe every chance I got.  I wasn’t supposed to smoke until I turned twenty, but I suspect that my father knew full well what I was doing.  It was my mum that I had to worry about if she caught me.”

“I had never tried it before, but I am enjoying it,” Faramir said, holding his pipe out and looking at it as if he’d never seen it before.  “It is soothing in a way that I had not expected it to be.”

“It has its charms,” Gandalf said, blowing a chain of smoke rings that seemed to be intertwined links like in a real chain.

“How do you do that?” Pippin asked, leaning over and looking at the wizard in appreciation.

“I doubt that I would be able to teach you,” Gandalf smiled.

“Yes, he is only a beginner,” Merry grinned.

“I am not,” Pippin objected.  “I have been smoking long enough now.”

“How old were you, lad?” Gimli asked and the three older hobbits laughed while Pippin blushed.

“Well, I didn’t have any older brothers, only sisters and they don’t smoke,” Pippin said.  “And these two never let me try.”  He pointed the stem of his pipe at Frodo and Merry.

“How old?” Aragorn asked, grinning.

“I was twenty-two,’ Pippin mumbled.  “But that’s long enough.”

Merry snorted.  “I remember the first time you-“

Pippin silenced his older cousin with a pleading look and a swift kick to the shin underneath the table.  Realizing that they were smoking with several of Pippin’s friends from the guard including Faramir and Beregond, Merry thought better of tormenting his young cousin and changed the subject.  “How long have you been smoking, Gimli?”

“Oh, we dwarves start smoking early on like Sam, there,” Gimli said amid his own private cloud of smoke.  “Dwarves are truly naturals with pipes.  The one that I had when I left Rivendell was hand-carved for me by my grandfather when I was a lad of ten.”

Beregond smiled.  “I’d love to see that.”

“Ah, the shame of it is that I seem to have lost it somewhere on the way,” Gimli said, with genuine regret in his voice.  “Young Peregrin there loaned me the one that I have now when we caught up to him and Meriadoc in Isengard.  He’s been kind enough to let me have loan of it until I can get a new one.”

“I try to keep a spare with me,” Pippin smiled.

“Seems a sound idea,” Faramir said.

“You should give it a try, Legolas,” Gimli said, with a wink at Aragorn.

All four hobbits leaned in and looked at the elf with anticipation.  “Here, sir, you may borrow mine if you are in the mind to give it a go,” Eomer said, extending his own pipe toward the elf.

“I would not want to take yours,” Legolas said.  “You seem to be enjoying it very much.”

“Master Holdwine introduced me to it,” Eomer said with a wave of his arm in Merry’s direction.  “He and my uncle had planned to discuss the virtues of pipe weed, but sadly did not get the chance.”  Eomer and Merry both became very quite suddenly at the mention of King Theoden. 

“I am very sure that the King would have enjoyed it very much,” Aragorn said, putting a firm hand on Merry’s and smiling reassuringly at the hobbit.  He then looked over at Legolas and smiled.  “I have an extra pipe right here if you would like to join us, Legolas.”

“It would seem that Pippin isn’t the only one who carries a spare,” Gandalf chuckled eyeing Legolas with mirth.

Legolas realized that there could be no escaping this in a graceful manner.  It was often so when dealing with mortals.  “I will try this for the experience,” he said, extending a hand to accept the pipe from Aragorn as all four hobbits grinned and leaned in closer still while the wizard chuckled a bit more.

“Here, Legolas, let me put some Old Toby in it for you,” Merry offered producing the small leather pouch again and reaching for the pipe.

Legolas steeled himself as he watched Merry skillfully fill the pipe and light it for him.  Merry then extended the pipe to him with barely controlled excitement.  Pippin had moved from his seat and was now standing right beside of Legolas and fidgeting. 

“Go slow at first, or you’ll likely be a bit sick, “ Sam said, helpfully.

“And don’t inhale too deeply,” Frodo advised.

Legolas looked over at Pippin who was practically in his lap and asked, “Do you also have advice for me?”

“Try very hard not to set anything on fire,” Pippin said, softly. 

“Sound advice,” Legolas said, wondering what was behind that bit of information.  He then brought the pipe to his lips and took a rather careful puff thinking that he’d actually been smoking from the time he’d entered the room.  The smoke burned the back of his throat and as he blew it out he was relieved to see it go.  He felt as if he were exhaling some dreadful gas.  It was like having a campfire set ablaze in one’s mouth. 

Gimli squinted at him and asked, “Well, how do you like it?”

Legolas let out a small cough and frowned, “I think I prefer the outdoors and the clear night air to all of this smoke.  Would that these pipes of yours were the musical kind.  Now that would be very enjoyable.  I would welcome the sound of eleven well-played pipes just now rather than eleven well-smoked pipes.”

“We get as much pleasure from this as you do from music, my friend,” Aragorn smiled, taking the pipe back.

“Then you are all very happy indeed,” Legolas said, and stood to go.  Fresh air was needed and he would leave these particular pipes to those that enjoyed them. 

The End

G.W.     01/05/2005