EPILOGUE: AT ISENGARD

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli followed Merry and Pippin into a large chamber, with other smaller doors at the far end, and a hearth and chimney at one end…On the hearth wood was burning.

“I lit a bit of a fire,” said Pippin, “It cheered us up in the fogs. There were a few faggots about, and most of the wood we could find was wet. But there is a great draught in the chimney: it seems to wind away up through the rocks, and fortunately it has not been blocked. A fire is handy. I will make you some toast. The bread is three or four days old, I am afraid.”

Aragorn and his companions sat themselves down at one end of a long table, and the hobbits disappeared through one of the inner doors.*

They could hear Pippin’s voice, as he continued talking, even though the hobbits had moved out of earshot. Gimli chuckled.

“Well, it seems our truants are none the worse for wear, after all. I do not suppose that I should have wasted my time in worrying. Hobbits seem to land upon their feet much like cats.”

Aragorn shook his head. “I would not say ‘none the worse for wear’, Gimli. I noticed rope burns on their wrists and whip welts on the backs of their legs. And Merry is sporting a scar on his brow which was not there when we parted.' He stretched out his long legs under the table with a sigh. Toasted bread, of a wonder, in the midst of all this destruction. Somehow it reminded him of Bilbo. Stout hearts, these hobbits, and they never seemed to lose sight of what was most important.

Legolas nodded. “The Orcs were not gentle with them. Yet I noted as well that their hurts seem to be far more healed than I would have expected, given that they only escaped a few days ago. But they have been among the Onodrim, and I’ve no doubt their injuries were tended to in some fashion or other.” The Elf leaned back in his seat, and tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table; his curiosity about the Ents had been piqued.

Aragorn nodded. “I have to say, in spite of Gandalf’s reassurances, that at times I despaired of seeing them again. I was very glad to see them.” He glanced from Wood Elf to Dwarf. Legolas seemed as fresh as if he'd just come from bed and breakfast, but Gimli was looking a little worn around the edges, his brow furrowed as if in deep thought. But Legolas spoke again, drawing the Ranger's attention once more.

“As was I,” said Legolas. “I know they are a hardy pair, and hobbits have a good deal more endurance than one would think to look upon them. But to have been among the Orcs for so long--well, hobbits also seem to be blessed with a fair amount of luck.”

“I would agree,” said Aragorn, “they were uncommonly lucky. But it’s clear they showed enough presence of mind to get themselves away,” he said proudly. “I look forward to hearing their tale.” He paused a moment. “Master Dwarf, you are being rather quiet. Is something wrong?”

Gimli leaned forward in his seat, and rubbed the beard on his chin. “It is just--do they look *taller* to you?"

Just then Pippin’s voice was heard, still talking, as though he had never ceased, “Store room in the back, and above the floods luckily…”*

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*From The Two Towers Chapter IX, “Flotsam and Jetsam”