With deep gratitude to both Golden and Cathleen. I have been struggling with this chapter and they rescued me. When you review, please remember them in your comments J I really don’t think this chapter would have happened without them.

Afternoon Delight

It had been Elrond and Gandalf’s intention that the remaining company of the four hobbits, the Elves of both Lorien and Rivendell, and the Dunedain who were returning to the north, would journey on into the early hours of the night. The moon would be up in the clear sky for several hours yet and they thought it best that they move well away from the place they had parted from King Elessar - the place near to where Pippin had looked into the Palantir of Orthanc.

Everyone was downhearted as they rode away from their place of parting with Aragorn. Elrond was unreadable, even by his own sons, but all the Elves and Dunedain knew it was a difficult time for him. Elrond was absorbed in his thoughts. “Why was so much in their long lives made difficult? Why did it seem that nearly every joy carried in it some taint of sorrow? Why did it have to be that by achieving what they all had hoped for he was losing his beloved daughter?” Yet he was grateful for their victory over Sauron and for Aragorn coming into his inheritance. Grateful that the First-Born could slowly leave Middle-earth knowing they left behind at least a semblance of peace.

The Hobbits, Pippin in particular, also had a variety of feelings in their hearts. They had no doubt they would see their friend again but they also knew their relationships to him would never again be as they had been while traveling the long road together. There was a closeness of heart, mind and purpose that would never be duplicated now that they were no longer in constant fear for their lives, or the lives of everyone and everything they loved. Yet they were grateful for the peace that was returning to their world and eager to come again to hearth and home.

When they finally made camp the talk around the fires, long into the night and early morning, was memories of times spent with the man who was now the king of Gondor and Arnor. The Elves of Rivendell shared about young Estel. The Rangers shared about Aragorn’s/Strider’s years as a young man and his growing into his middle-years. The Hobbits listened and shared stories of their time on the Quest.

Gandalf, Celeborn, Galadriel and Elrond sat apart from the rest. What they discussed that night none others knew.

**************************

It was a few days later, in the afternoon, that Pippin sat in some tussocky grass, staring at the ground, with his back leaned against the pale bark of a willow tree. He felt miserable. He had had a fit that morning and the company had not travelled that day because of it. Now, he was feeling depressed. Once again he was being a burden to others. He was scared and he missed Strider. The strength that his last talk with his king had brought into his heart had slowly faded away leaving emptiness in its place. He felt so cold and useless.

Gradually, he became aware of a soft melody flowing through the clear air of the early night. Pippin looked up, astonished. He had never heard such music before and, even though he felt so bad, the music went into him, warming his heart with every new tune.

A smile spread across his face and he looked around to find the source of the music.

Not far away from him sat one of Elrond’s sons, Elladan Pip thought, playing a beautiful small harp with a sound that was different from any harp Pippin had heard before. He got up slowly on unsteady legs as he still was very tired from the fit, and quietly approached the Elven prince.

Elladan looked up at Pippin and smiled as his fingers continued to play a tune. Then, he began to sing, his pure Elven voice blending with the sweet melody he played.

A melody so lovely sounds,

in Elven-song of old,

fills our hearts with warming light,

with shining sun of gold.

The stars in heaven softly sang,

in summers, that have past

and gave to earth their golden voice,

for everyone to last.

Strong as horses, wild and free,

but soft as spring bud, white,

the music still sings to our hearts,

to bring us hope and light.

When Elladan finished the song, he smiled up at Pippin. “Sit down my friend,” he said, and Pippin did so.

The Elf ran his long, white fingers softly over the smooth wooden surface of the harp, his deep eyes shining with memories.

“It is lovely, is it not?” he asked and Pippin nodded. “It is made from the wood of a mallorn tree. My Grandmother had it made for me many years ago.” Elladan paused, a twinkle brightened his eyes as a grin turned up the corners of his lips. “Would you like me to teach you how to play it?”

Pippin stared at the Elf. “Me? Playing this instrument? I don’t know if I can or should. I used to play fiddle and pipes, but now . . .” He made a small

disparaging gesture with his crippled right hand.

Elladan put one finger over Pippin’s lips. “If you will permit . . .” he said as he moved the harp and indicated that the lad should sit on his lap. Pippin hesitated a moment then sat down with his back against the Elf’s chest. Elladan placed the harp in front of Pippin, reached around him, then took the hobbit’s small hands in his big ones. He held them and closed his eyes.

“I can feel how your hand is impaired,” he softly said as the fingers of his right hand matched themselves to Pippin’s. “You have good strength in the thumb and first finger, less but usable strength in the second and none in the last two. This really will be no problem to work around. I think you shall miss few if any notes and the left hand can move in sooner for playing runs.”

Pippin felt his spirits rise at the words he heard. “Yes! Yes, I do believe you are right Elladan. Can you teach me? Well, will you teach me?”

“It will be my pleasure,” the Elf replied. “The golden strings mark where the pattern of the pitches begins again . . .”

Quietly, the lesson continued . . . but it didn’t go unnoticed.

Frodo looked over to where the Elf and the Hobbit were sitting, playing the instrument and smiled.

“Merry, look.” He said pointing out the scene to his younger cousin.

Merry turned around and also smiled, then he started to giggle. “Do you rememebr Frodo, when Pip learned his first instrument?”

Frodo got a pained expression on the face. “Oh my, don´t remind me. My ears still hurt from just remembering that experience.”

Merry agreed. “Oh yes, it was so dreadful. How old was he? Nine?”

Frodo nodded and laughed. “Yes, he was nine that summer. Bilbo was nearly at the end of his patience by the end of summer, wasn´t he?”

Merry also laughed as the picture of a very tired and annoyed loking Bilbo came into his head. Most of that summer Bilbo had tried to read his books in his study while the enthuistic little Took out in the rest of the hole made a noise that could sour milk. Then suddenly, about a week before he was due to go home, Pippin finally began to improve enough to be bearable.

“What are you laughing about?” a voice behind them suddenly asked.

Still giggling they turned around to look up at Elrohir who wore an inquisitive expression upon his face.

Merry pointed to the harp playing pair. “We were just remembering the first time Pip learned to play an instrument.”

Frodo chuckled. “You wouldn’t have believed the noise the child managed to produce.”

Elohir raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Fiddle.” was all Frodo needed to say to elicit a cringe and nod from the Elf.

“That was exactly how Bilbo reacted,” laughed Merry.

***********************************

“Mercy! What is that awful sound? Is someone killing a wild boar back there?”

Bilbo stopped to lean on his walking staff as he reached the entrance to Bag End. His face twisted itself into a most appalling grimace.

“No,” sighed Frodo. “No wild boars. Pippin has arrived.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows to encourage his nephew to continue. The arrival of the little Took usually increased the level of sound in the hole, but not to the current degree.

“Someone is torturing the lad?” Bilbo asked.

“No. Pippin is the one inflicting the torture. He’s begun taking fiddle lessons and he is most eager to demonstrate to everyone his newfound talent for playing it.”

Seated beside Frodo, Merry nodded in agreement. Both lads wore pained expressions upon their usually smiling faces. Bilbo nodded his understanding as an even higher pitched squealing came from behind the hole. All three hobbits cringed.

“He’s with Sam just now. He was tending to the dahlias when Pippin cornered him. Perhaps . . .” Merry paused as the screeching crescendoed, “we should rescue him now.”

“True,” Frodo sighed. “We did rather abandon him.”

“Oh my,” Bilbo shook his head as the three of them started toward the back garden. “It’s going to be a long visit.”

***********************************************

“They did abandon me!” Sam put in. The memory brought a chuckle now; he had not been chuckling then. “It was nearest I ever came to turnin’ my back on Bag End.” He sighed and shook his head. “Thing was, I usually liked the little fella, even when he was being a pest. The lad always could charm the hair off your feet.”

**********************************************

Bilbo and the older lads emerged in the garden to find Pippin holding his fiddle under one arm and taking an elaborate bow while Samwise Gamgee applauded him enthusiastically, if a bit stiffly; he had something pink tucked between his right elbow and his side. They turned as one when Bilbo called out, “Hoi there young Peregrin! Just when did you arrive?” Bilbo knelt and held out his arms and the eager lad sprinted into them, fiddle in one hand and bow in the other.

“Cousin Bilbo!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I play fiddle now, Cousin Bilbo!”

“I know lad, I heard you as we came around the hole.” Bilbo looked over the child’s shoulder. “Hullo Sam! And thank you for helping keep our Pippin out of mischief until I got home.”

Sam gave him a nod, an odd smile still plastered on his face. “I was glad to do whatever I could, Mr Bilbo,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Here’s Miss Tulip, Pippin,” he said quietly as he handed the toy to her owner.

“Thank you, Sam,” The child happily chirped, then he turned to Bilbo. “She does love to hear me play but I can’t have her on my left shoulder as that is where the fiddle needs to be, and she says it is hard to stay on my right shoulder with my having to bow, so I asked Sam to hold her for me. He really is so very nice, Cousin Bilbo. Cousin Bilbo?”

The old hobbit was distracted. He could have sworn that, as the lad was talking, Tulip’s embroidered eyes had grown larger, as though in fear, and that she had shaken her head “No!”. He shook his own head to clear it and the knitted piggy looked just as she always did.

“Yes, Pippin,” he replied while still looking at the toy in the child’s hand and absently patting Pippin’s head. “Yes. Sam is a good lad.”

Merry grinned wickedly as he leaned over and whispered “Sam, you can stop grinding your teeth now,” in Sam’s ear as he backed away from Pippin,

“I have to go home now. I think my mother is calling me.” Sam walked away, appearing a little unsteady.

“Almost as if he’d been into the Gaffer’s home-brew,” mused Frodo as they watched him leave. “We’ll see you later then, Sam,” he called.

Sam wearily waved a hand over his shoulder. “Not if I see him first,” he muttered under his breath.

“Good bye Sam!” the child with the fiddle called as he waved the bow in a farewell salute. “I’ll play some more for you when you come tomorrow.”

Merry, Frodo and Bilbo slowly exchanged looks of terror as they all, at that same moment, remembered the lad was to be with them for four whole weeks.

*********************************

“Four weeks of that horrible racket,” Sam sighed as Frodo and Merry mutely nodded their heads in agreement.

“At least you could get away from it more often than we could,” Merry huffed. “He would have played every minute of the day if we hadn’t put a stop to it, er well, Bilbo put a stop to it.”

“Remember that first night?” Frodo touched Merry’s arm as he closed his eyes in painful memory before continuing. “He got up in the middle of the night to practice because he had dreamed a song and he wanted to not forget it.”

“He even played in the night?” Elohir exclaimed in shock.

Merry nodded. “He would have, yes, but after that first night Bilbo always made him hand the thing over to him at bed time. He locked it in a cupboard in his study.”

“Did that help?” The Elf asked.

“Somewhat,” Frodo replied with a wry grin. “We all ended up dreaming about it. Usually plotting ways to destroy that poor instrument.”

“Having a goat eat it.” Merry said wistfully.

“Accidentally sitting on it,” Frodo sighed.

“Burying it in the garden.” Sam blissfully added.

The others nodded. “Bilbo kept hoping Pip would leave it outside and the dew would ruin it.” Frodo paused, then, with an evil sounding chuckle added, “Or that somehow it would find it’s way down the well.”

Unnoticed by the others Pippin and Elladan had neared them. Pip was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and staring at his elder cousins and Sam.

“You three are doing it again, aren’t you?” he asked. His voice sounded angry, but his eyes revealed the truth; they were sparkling with fun. “You’re telling Elohir all sorts of horrible things about when I learned to play fiddle, aren’t you?”

The other Hobbits turned around smiling and Merry patted Pippins shoulder. “Ah come now, Pip Squeak, you should be used to it by now! Let your elders have some fun.” He grinned, then added, “We had to put up with your playing, you should be willing to put up with the tale being told.”

“Without the proper ending as usual, I’m assuming,” Pippin grumbled good naturedly.

“Some things just never change.” Frodo said with a soft smile on his face. He put one arm around each of his younger cousins’ shoulders.

Pippin leaned into Frodo’s side, breathing in deeply his familiar scent and sighing contentedly.

“No they don’t,” he mumbled.

Merry reached over to ruffle Pippin’s hair and Frodo tightened his grip around their shoulders.

“One year later,” Merry said to the twins, “Pippin was the champion fiddler for his age group at the Lithe Day Fair.”

Pippin lifted his head off of Frodo’s shoulder to nod it firmly. “Yes, it is about time that you finally finished the story properly.”

“And,” Merry cut Pippin off short, “we were able to tolerate having him about again.”

“And I am glad of it.” Frodo whispered with a loving look at his favourite little cousins.

A tremor ran through Pippin as he yawned hugely. “I’m glad of it too, but now I need to go to bed. I hadn’t felt as tired while Elladan was teaching me. I think it has caught up with me again.”

“Then off to bed with you,” Sam said. “You three see to tucking him in and I will bring us some supper.”

Elladan and Elohir smiled after their small friends.

“We shall work upon your harp playing again on the morrow, Pippin.” Elladan called out.

PIppin waved his right arm in acknowledgement as Merry called back, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget. I want to hear how he sounds torturing an Elven harp!”

The cousins all roared with laughter as they walked away, their arms still around each other’s shoulders.