Rating: G
Summary: Pippin makes good use of a gift from Legolas…

L: LIKE THE LEGACY OF LEGOLAS

Merry winced at the shrill notes coming from the front steps. Pippin’s voice, patient--though Merry thought he could detect the tiniest bit of weariness in it-- “All right, Ilberic, try again from the beginning. You have to relax your fingering…”

Merry sighed. Life at Crickhollow normally was nice and peaceful, except for those days when his younger cousin came down from Brandy Hall to take his lessons from Pippin. Pippin was so talented musically, he could not imagine that others would not have the same ease in learning to play that he did. When Ilberic had expressed interest in learning how to play the shepherd’s pipes, Pippin had generously offered lessons to the tween.

“Try again.”

The melody for “On the Banks of the Brandywine” floated out, surprisingly free of sour notes, though it sounded somewhat slow and dirge-like for such a jolly tune. Ilberic managed to get all the way through without hitting a wrong note.

“That’s great!” Pippin exclaimed. Merry could imagine the encouraging grin. “Now, try it this way.”

That’s more like, thought Merry, listening to Pippin play it. His toes started to tap as he sat at his desk. He’d been making notes about the properties of vervain. He could listen to *Pippin* play all day.

Pippin finished, and now Ilbie started again, hesitantly, then picking up speed and--there was the shriek of a bad note. Merry felt it go all through him. How on earth did Pippin stand it.

“I’m sorry, Pippin,” Ilbie said, “I don’t seem to be getting any better at all. I *do* practice--I really do! But Mum and Da won’t allow me to practice in the apartment anymore, and now Uncle Saradoc has asked me not to practice in the public parts of the Hall, and--” his voice trailed off miserably. “Maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead,” he added in a wistful tone.

Now Merry felt guilty; but not enough to keep from hoping Pippin would agree.

“It’s all right, Ilbie. All you need is--” Pippin’s voice trailed off, and Merry could almost see the wheels turning in his younger cousin’s head like a well-tuned pocket-watch.

“What you need is this!”

“*Your* pipes, Cousin Pippin?” Ilbie exclaimed in surprise. “But you told me that--that Legolas, the Elf, made those for you!”

“Exactly!” Pippin crowed. “It’s *exactly* what you need! After all, an *Elf* made it! And he made it in an Elven realm--in the Golden Wood of Lothlórien…”

Ilberic’s voice was awed. “Do you mean they are--magic?”

“Well, what do *you* think?” There was a brief silence, and then Pippin continued. “Now, you take *those* to practice with, and I will just make myself another set. If you practice enough, I am certain you’ll be able to play with us at Yule in a few weeks!”

“Thank you!”

Merry sat there shaking his head. Pippin *loved* those pipes! How could he just give them to Ilberic like that! Why, they were no more magic than Merry himself was!

A few moments later, Pippin came in. “You can unstuff your ears, now, Merry, he’s gone.”

“My ears are just fine, thank you. Why did you give him your own pipes? You know there’s no magic in them!”

Pippin blushed and shrugged. “It won’t hurt him to think so. He just needs a bit of confidence, that’s all. And it may help him.”

Merry rolled his eyes. Pippin was just too generous sometimes. There wasn’t much of anything, in his opinion, that could improve Ilberic’s playing.
________________________________________

Merry stared in astonishment at the dais, where the musicians, Pippin and Merry’s mother with their fiddles, Melilot with her harp, Mentha with her lute, Myrtle with her tambour--thank goodness *he* wasn’t up there with a tambour--and Ilberic with his pipes, were rehearsing. He’d not heard a wrong note yet. They finished playing “Candles” and Esmeralda signaled a break.

Pippin came down, and caught Merry’s eye with a grin. “I told you all he needed was a little confidence.”

Merry just stared after Ilberic. No, he thought, Legolas really *did* make magic pipes. That’s the only thing to account for it.