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The Long and the Short of It  by Gryffinjack

A/N – For Dreamflower, who wanted some fluff.

The Long and the Short of It

“I do not know the answer, Boromir.  You should ask the hobbits.”

“Ask the hobbits what?” asked Frodo.  He and his cousins had just finished filling out the corners and had come over to where Strider and Boromir were, having finished their meals long ago.  Sam was not with them, having insisted on washing the dishes because he would not let such fine folks as the Elves do what was his to do.  Fortunately, there were not as many dishes for Sam to wash since there had only been the five of them at dinner, with Legolas and Gimli having chosen to eat their evening meal with some of the other Elves here in Lothlorien. 

“Boromir had a question about your name, Frodo.”  Aragorn grinned at the Man of Gondor.

“Oh?” Frodo arched one of his eyebrows and tilted his head at Boromir in expectation.

Boromir glared back at Aragorn.  That was the last thing he had wanted, the Ringbearer to know that he had been asking questions about him.  As many battles as he had been in, and here he found himself unable to speak. 

Ever since they had left Imladris, the Fellowship had been concerned with the dangers of the deep snow and freezing temperatures, the creature guarding the mines of Moria and the goblins inside it, and other ills.  The thing that plagued their minds the most was the heaviness in their hearts since Mithrandir fell.  But now, here in Lothlorien where time is not measured in a natural way, there had been time for Boromir to ponder a question that had first entered his mind on their second night out of Imladris.   

“What is it you wish to know about Frodo?” Merry asked, moving to stand closer to Frodo.  Had the Ringbearer spoken to his cousin about his concerns?

“Steady on, Merry! We are all here to protect Frodo!” chuckled Pippin. He turned to face the Man and spoke kindly.  “What is it you wished to know, Boromir?”

“Ask them,” Aragorn encouraged.

At last, Boromir recovered himself enough to speak.  He looked at all three hobbits before settling on Frodo and cleared his throat.

“Why is it that Merry and Pippin are known by nicknames and you are not?” he asked.

Frodo, Merry, and Pippin stared at him for a moment before turning to look at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces.  Then, they all broke out in hearty laughter. 

“Now that is not a question I anticipated,” replied Merry, grinning widely.

Boromir felt his face redden, but did not turn away.  Now that he had voiced his question, he was determined to get an answer.

“I’m sorry, Boromir.  We should not have laughed; you are not used to our customs,” began Frodo.  “Not all hobbits have nicknames.  In our society, nicknames are usually only given to those with three or more syllables in their names.  Mine has two.”

“Mine has three,” volunteered Pippin with a smile.

“My name has four,” boasted Merry proudly.

“My parents thought that ‘Peregrin’ was too large a name for such a small hobbit, and so they gave me the nickname of  ‘Pippin’ when I was but a faunt, that is, once I was out of nappies but too young to begin my education,” explained Pippin.

“I got my nickname when my parents saw how much I cheered Frodo after…” Merry trailed off in his explanation. Pippin glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes and frowned.

Frodo put a hand on Merry and smiled gently at him.  There apparently was some untold story here that the hobbits did not wish to share.

“If a hobbit’s name has one or two syllables, a nickname is usually not used, Boromir,” began Frodo.  “But if a name has three syllables such as Peregrin’s, then the nickname is usually not related to the name, but one that is earned by a characteristic of the individual hobbit.”

“And what was this characteristic, Master Pippin?” Boromir asked, filled with curiosity. 

“After three lasses, I was the first lad in my family and am destined to become Thain one day.  All of my kin has doted on me since the day I was born, especially Father.   Mother started teasing him, saying that I was the apple of his eye, so naturally, they nicknamed me ‘Pippin,’” he grinned broadly.

“A rotten apple at that, Pip,” Merry commented glibly, which made Frodo snigger.  Instead of getting upset at the insult, Boromir noted that Pippin laughed at his cousin.

“At least I earned my nickname!” retorted Pippin.

“But I thought Merry earned his for cheering Frodo?” questioned Boromir.  He gave a puzzled look of inquiry toward the three cousins, but settled on Merry.

“He’d like you to believe that,” volunteered Pippin cheekily.  “But ‘Merry’ is merely a shortened version of his full name, ‘Meriadoc,’ of course.”

Merry glared at his cousin and was about to comment when his older cousin cut him off.

“He’s got the right of it, Merry, though it is true that you cheered me greatly when nobody else could.”

Boromir was now even more confused and looked to Aragorn to see if he understood.  Judging by the look on his face, Boromir’s future king shared in his confusion.

“You see, Boromir, if a hobbit’s name has four or more syllables in it, then if a nickname is to be given, it is but an abbreviated form of the full name rather than one earned by a characteristic of the hobbit,” explained Frodo.

“So Merry’s name really is just a shortened form of ‘Meriadoc’”?

“Yes, Strider,” said Merry lamely.  “Although I am told that it does suit me well.”

“That it does, Cousin,” Pippin commented.  And then, with a glint in his green eyes, he added, “Though not so cheery as me.” Everyone laughed at Pippin’s comment, including Merry.  Those two were always teasing one another.   

“So then, … Bilbo …” began Boromir.

“Also has no nickname.”  Frodo completed the sentence for him. “Because his name has but two syllables.” 

“Yes, but Fatty Bolger … who we told you helped us to escape the Black Riders back in the Shire … his full name is 'Fredegar,' but since it has three syllables, his nickname is based on one of his characteristics,” added Pippin.

It was beginning to become clear to Boromir and Aragorn.

“Then since my name, Aragorn, has three syllables, my nicknames should be based on my characteristics?”

“Now you have the gist of it!” exclaimed Merry happily.

“Like ‘Strider’ … one who has long legs and walks a lot!” Pippin grinned.  “And Boromir’s name would also be based on one of his characteristics.”

“I think not,” replied the Soldier of Gondor stiffly.  “We do not use relaxed forms of names in the White City.”  Then his countenance softened.  “At least, not except for the very young.  I’ve not had a nickname since I was but a boy.”

“Do tell us!  What was it?” enthused Pippin.

The ends of the smile on Boromir’s face turned down until there was no expression left on his face as he tried to keep his thoughts closed.  He had said too much.  If he was not careful, this conversation was about to become more enlightening than he had anticipated.  His dear departed mother had given to him the only nickname he had ever been called, and he did not feel like sharing his memories of her with anyone, save his brother.

“Boromir?” Aragorn put a questioning hand on Boromir’s arm.  “Are you well?”

Frodo studied Boromir for a moment with a solemn expression on his face.  “Perhaps the memory of that name is best left in the past.”

Boromir nodded at him, grateful that Frodo had perceived his discomfort. 

There was a moment of silence before Merry spoke uneasily, looking at the Men and hobbits gathered around.  “Mum has a nickname.  Her name is ‘Esmeralda,’” he explained for the benefit of the two Men.  “But everyone calls her ‘Esme.’  Much shorter that way.”

“Are all hobbits with names of three or more syllables given nicknames?” asked Aragorn.

“Oh, no!” replied Frodo.  “It is up to the individual hobbit, or the hobbit’s family.”

“My father’s name is ‘Paladin,’ three syllables, yet he is called naught but by his full name by those who do not call him ‘Thain.’”

“And my father’s name is ‘Saradoc,’ also three syllables, and I have not heard him called by anything else, save by my mother.”

“I see,” Boromir nodded his head in understanding.  “But if a name is two syllables or less, like Frodo’s, then hobbits do not use a nickname. Do I have the right of it?”

“Precisely!” exclaimed Pippin.

“Well then, gentlemen, I thank you for teaching Boromir and me a thing or two about hobbit names.  Henceforth, we will know whether or not a hobbit has a nickname,” Aragorn confidently.

"Gentlehobbits," Merry corrected them.

Aragorn nodded at Merry, grinning slightly.  "I stand corrected.  Gentlehobbits."

They all smiled, happy that the lesson had been well taught and well learnt.  But their smiles turned to wide-eyed looks of surprise as they all stared open-mouthed at the hobbit who now came to join them with a backpack full of clean dishes.  More than one of those gathered had a crinkle between their brows as they stared at him. The hobbit looked at the rest of them, filled with a sudden sense of discomfort as he saw them all staring at him.

“What?  Why's everyone looking at me?” asked Samwise.





        

        

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