“Don’t you believe that Strider is king?”

Boromir looked with surprise at Pippin. “What… king of my land?” His mind whirled. They had just been speaking of ales and what Pip’s favorites were when suddenly, the Halfling had hit him with this question.

“Yes,” Pippin said with a grin. “Isn’t that what he is?”

“There are some who say he is.”

“But you don’t believe them?”

“We spoke before, Master Thain, of duties. Do you remember?”

“Of course,” Pippin laughed. “Especially jam judging.”

“There are other duties: to our people, to tradition, to the laws of our lands. Do you not believe that?”

“Of course I do. But what does that have to do with Strider being king?”

They had stopped walking and Boromir pulled his hand over his face trying to simplify something so complicated that blood had been shed over it. “We lived on an island, my people, a very long time ago. Something happened and the island sank. My people escaped and came to… well, came to this land. My ancestors were in separate boats; the father and one of his sons went north, while his other son landed in Gondor. There was a battle and everyone came together for it. Unfortunately, the father died in the battle, but the brother from the south also died in the battle. So the son from the north,” Boromir put his hand over his face and moaned. ‘this is most complicated.’ He continued on though, for Pippin looked very interested. ‘The brother from the north stayed in Gondor for some time and taught his brother’s son about being king and such. Then, he went back north but he was waylaid by Orcs and killed. Much happened to my people after that. Eventually, the line of kings suffered, but the long and the short of it, as you so aptly say Master Thain, is that we now have no king. My father cares for Gondor until the king returns.” He swore softly to himself; he was not even sure if he had told the tale correctly.

“But Strider is supposed to be that king’s heir. You know, the king who went north. Though it seems that was a long time ago.”

“Some do not believe that the king who left and went north is our king. They believe that the king must come from the line of our king and not the one who went north. In fact, it is now tradition and law”

“Oh!” Pippin’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “What do you believe Boromir?”

Boromir looked ahead to see Aragorn stopped and looking back at them, though he knew the Ranger could not possibly have heard their discussion. “I would have said nay, before I met Aragorn. Oh for the Valar’s sake, Master Thain, I do not know what to think.” He threw up his hands in confusion and strode purposefully forward, away from the young Halfling.

He stopped when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. “The Hobbit thinks he has offended you,” the calm, soft voice of the Elf brought Boromir up short. He looked back and saw Pippin standing with his head bowed. “I thank you, Master Elf.” He smiled to himself as he walked away. ‘Now I am calling everyone ‘master.’ This surely must stop!’ But the joy of the thought and the warm camaraderie that Pippin had shown him, made him continue to smile.

Pippin saw it as he raised his head to trudge forward and smiled back. “I’m so sorry, Boromir. I didn’t think. Of course, your laws are important. I’ve opened my mouth and put my foot into it again.” The Halfling sighed dejectedly.

“Do not speak further about your failings for it is mine that is to blame today. Mayhap,” and Boromir’s smile turned into full laughter, “tomorrow we can blame you for something.”

Pippin laughed so hard his eyes watered. Finally, after taking a breath or two, he asked, “Then we are still friends, Master Steward?”

“That we are, much to your sorrow, I’m afraid, Master Thain. Let us not discuss the king anymore. Though,” and Boromir looked at Pippin quizzically. "You are to be thain because of the king of the north, are you not?”

“I am. But only because the king died and left no one to rule the Shire.”

“But the same is true for me!” Boromir exclaimed with fervor. “As I told you.”

“Then we have something else in common.”

“That we have, Master Thain. That we have.”

“Perhaps now would be a good time to teach you how to smoke a pipe?”

Boromir looked at the Halfling as if at an Ent. “Why would I want to learn such an odious…? I am sorry. I do not think I would like that.”

“Oh but you would,” Pippin said enthusiastically. “I’ll bet you’d love it. Why, I have some of the best pipeweed in all Middle-earth in a pouch here at my belt.” The Halfling proceeded to pull the pouch off and show it to Boromir. “I’ll bet you’ve never smelt any better.” And with that he opened the pouch and shoved it into Boromir’s face.

The man started sneezing violently and pushed the pouch away. Gasping for breath, he sat on a rock nearby.

Pippin ran to him in fright. “I’m awfully sorry, Boromir! Truly I am. I only meant for you to take a little sniff.”

“’Twas my fault,” Boromir said for the second time this day. “I didn’t realize the odour was so strong. I took too large a sniff.” Tears were running from his eyes. Pippin sat down next to him, handed him a kerchief, and the man blew his nose and wiped his eyes. “Thank you.”

Aragorn had walked back to join them. “Is everything all right here?”

“It’s all my fault, Strider. “I opened my pouch to show him my pipeweed….”

“’Twas my fault, Aragorn,” Boromir interrupted. “I have not smelt the stuff before and took too big a whiff.”

Aragorn’s shoulders started to shake. His lips clenched tightly. Finally, he could hold it in no longer. He gave a great shout of laughter that echoed over the hills.

Boromir and Pippin looked at each other, stood, and left the man to his madness.

~*~

Days passed and their road was filled with terror many a time. They had tried to climb the mountain, but it fought back. After much struggle, they arrived safely at the bottom. Pippin turned to Boromir. “You saved us all, Master Steward.” His eyes were wide with fright and cold.

“Nay, Master Thain. ‘Twas only that I was first to note that Frodo slept. If not I, another would have realized the danger.”

“No, Boromir,” Pippin said seriously. “It was you saved us. I’ll always be grateful.”

The man blushed but kept still. If the Halfling wished him to be his rescuer, then he would leave it at that, though he was not comfortable with it. Gandalf, thankfully, called for rest and Boromir gratefully sank to the ground. His very bones ached from weariness. If the drift had been any higher, he doubted they could have passed.

Pippin’s hands found his shoulders and Boromir started in surprise. “I used to do this for my Granny for her bones would hurt in the winter. It seemed to help.” He massaged Boromir’s shoulders and neck.

“Thank you, Peregrin.” He was touched by the Halfling's concern. They all turned their attention to Gandalf who now spoke of Moria. After a few moments, Pippin moved to Merry’s side.

After much debate, Aragorn jumped up and shouted about wargs. Boromir had seen the beasts once, battled them once in the White Mountains. He shuddered and ran to the Halflings’ side. Shepherding them up a small hill while Aragorn covered their backs, he sat them around the fire that Gimli started. Boromir saw the fear in Pippin’s eyes, sat next to him, and started to speak. “Have you ever seen a warg, Pippin?”

“I’ve only heard of them in Bilbo’s stories. They sounded horrible then and now that I have heard their call, they sound even worse. Are we going to be all right?”

“If I have any say in the matter, we will all live to walk the halls of Moria.” His face took on a scowl.

Pippin bit his lip. “You don’t like wargs, do you?”

Boromir looked at the Halfling in amaze. “I do not think anyone likes wargs. Nay. That is not true. I am sure their Orc-riders appreciate them.”

“What do they look like, Boromir?”

The man of Gondor wondered how much he should tell, but common sense finally dictated truth. They would be face to face with the beasts soon enough. Better to be prepared for what they were about to see. “They are very large. Almost the size of small ponies. Their hair is long and very shaggy, which makes them look even larger. They have vicious, long snouts with teeth that protrude and their backs are arched. They are altogether nasty beasts. The only thing I fear more are mûmakil.”

“What are mûmakil?”

Boromir scratched his forehead. Did Pippin ever stop asking questions? The weariness of the day settled upon him again. Looking at the Halflings, he saw they all waited for his answer.

“The mûmak is a great beast, the size of a small house.”

Aragorn heard and walked over. “Not a Hobbit house, Pippin, but a big person’s house. Like those in Bree.”

The Halflings’ jaws dropped.

Boromir waited, but Aragorn did not continue. “They are grey and their call is raucous and frightens even horses. They have very long noses…”

Sam jumped up in surprise. “It’s not a mu… whatever word you used, Boromir, it is an oliphant! There are such things?”

Boromir nodded in surprise. “Oliphants you call them?”

“Yes,” said Sam and he stood as still as could be, his face alight with joy and began,

“Grey as a mouse,

Big as a house.

Nose like a snake”

“I am sorry to interrupt, Sam, but you must all sleep while you can,” Aragorn said quietly. “Mayhap tomorrow you can tell us the rest of the poem.”

Sam nodded in agreement. The Halflings laid down quietly, cozying up to each other.

“Should you have told them with such a vivid description?”

Boromir looked at the Ranger in surprise. “Would you want them to be frozen in their place as the wargs attack? They must needs know what their enemy will look like. If I was wrong in what I said, I apologize.”

Aragorn did not like this diffident Boromir and said so.

”I am not in charge of this company, Aragorn. I know that as well as you do, and I know how to take orders. If that is my place whilst we travel, then I will take orders.” He turned and walked to the Elf’s side.

“Might I keep watch with you?”

“I think, Boromir, that it would be best if you rested. Your feat on the mountain was impressive, but you must be exhausted. We will need your sword arm strong when we are attacked.”

Boromir shook his head ruefully. “I will do as you order, Master Elf.” He walked back towards the fire, lay down upon the cold ground, and instantly fell asleep.