A Lot to Learn

Merry lay in his folding bed which was, as was the usual arrangement of their tent, beside Pippin’s mattress which was on the floor of the tent. They weren’t sitting vigil, there really was no need. None of them slept as soundly as they used to and Pippin was usually quite himself when he would awaken after one of his fits.

Although, this had hardly been one of his normal fits.

“Humph!” Merry whispered through his slightly open mouth. “Normal fits! Now I’m thinking of them as normal; as though there is anything normal about having spells and fits.”

He sighed. “Usual,” he thought sternly to himself. “One of his usual fits.” Then Merry sighed again. And now, now there was something else that would be different about his young cousin. “What will happen when we get home?” he thought for what he was certain must be the millionth time. “What will they say to him? Do to him? What will they say and do behind his back?” He sighed again.

“Hobbits!” he muttered sounding for all the world like Gandalf. “If there is a hobbit in the Shire with a heart nearly as tender as Frodo’s it is Pippin. What if this . . . this . . . Quest we’ve been through hasn’t toughened the lad up as much as it seems to have? They’ll crush him with their looks, comments, and jests at his expense.”

As Merry dozed off his thoughts were of how he would do all in his power to defend Pippin against the close-minded, obstinate, uneducated, superstitious hobbits of the Shire, forgetting that at one time he had been nearly as close-minded, obstinate and superstitious as the rest of them.

Frodo was dreaming. The fiery mountain was in the Shire. Hobbits were acting like Orcs. But no. Not all of them were. Some were just acting as though nothing at all was amiss. They gossiped over hedges and worked in their gardens as Hobbit-Orcs walked by cursing and pulling up flowers. In the distance, just on the edge of his sight, a steady stream of what he knew to be barrels of Longbottom Leaf were being hauled away to the south. In the back of his thoughts, like a sound in distance carried on a breeze, He could hear Pippin crying out his words of warning.

Frodo snorted in his sleep, muttered incoherently, rolled over and slipped back into a shallow sleep; his dreams soon turning to dear old Bilbo waiting for them to return to Rivendell.

Sam dreamed of walking into a dank, dark room and finding his Gaffer huddled beside a puny fire in a puny hearth. He looked thin and ever so old and when he turned toward Sam, the eyes that looked at him were sunk with hunger and haunted by fear.

Sam sat up with a start. It took him a few moments to realize where he was, then he looked at Mr. Frodo, and Merry. He leaned over to look under Frodo’s bed to check on Pippin who’s pallet was on the floor between his cousins. When he felt certain the others were resting peacefully, he lay back down and slowly fell asleep. “Must be what Pippin was goin’ on about, causin’ me to have such an awful dream,” Sam thought as he drifted off.

Pippin slowly became aware that he was lying down, all tucked in, with Sunshine’s head just under his chin. Then he noticed that his left side was sore. He must have had a fit and fallen from Blaze, it was the only thing that would explain both his sore side and Sunshine lying with her back tucked up against his chest and stomach and her head nestled below his chin. She only slept that way after he had had a fit, otherwise she would sleep curled at his feet.

Pippin frowned and, without realizing it squeezed Sunshine more tightly. He had had such queer dreams about home. He had heard the Horn-call of Buckland and seen the ominous shapes of the Black Riders as the Call rang out, but he knew that hadn’t actually happened. There had been black smoke hanging in the air rising from burning fields and ugly grey buildings, hobbits who looked haggard and hungry, and people who looked like Men; not just any Men, but Men who looked like ones he had seen with Bill Ferny in Bree and fleeing from the ruin of Isengard. All this he had seen in strangely disjointed swirling images while a strange voice he could barely hear sounded like the voice of doom in the background. Pippin squirmed, hugged his dog a little tighter and sighed heavily; such queer dreams.

“Are you all right, Pip?”

Pippin jumped at bit at Merry’s voice. He nodded, then realizing that Merry most likely couldn’t see the nod, answered, “Yes, Merry,” he said quietly. “I’m all right. I just was remembering some strange dreams I had.” He paused a moment then asked, “I had a fit, didn’t I. Was it a bad one, Merry?”

“Ah . . . well . . .” Merry stammered.

“It was a different sort of one.”

Pippin craned his head around to look towards Frodo’s bed, which was behind him. “Different?” he asked, a touch of fear darkening his voice.

“Different,” Frodo repeated with a sigh. He got up and lit a taper from the small lamp that hung from the center of the tent’s roof and used it to light the lamp on the small table that stood between his bed and Sam’s. He then handed the taper to Pippin who handed it to Merry to light the small lamp on his nightstand. There was no nightstand near Pippin’s mattress, with sleeping on the floor, he had no need of one.

“Sam,” Frodo firmly shook his friend’s shoulder. “Sam, wake up. Pippin’s awake and asking about his fit. I think we should just get up and talk about it all now.”

Sam mumbled a reply, slowly sat up, got up, muttered, “Privy” then stumbled out of the tent. The other three looked at each other then followed him out. When they returned, Sam put the small logs he had grabbed on his way back to the tent onto the embers in the brazier, then used the small bellows to get a small fire going. The four hobbits took up blankets to wrap about their shoulders then sat down around the cozy little fire. Several long minutes passed in silence.

“What did you mean when you said the fit was different, Frodo?” Pippin’s quiet question finally broke the awkward silence.

The lad was looking down at the floor so he didn’t see his oldest cousin squirm a little in his chair as though unable to sit comfortably. Frodo said nothing.

Without looking up Pippin spoke. “Did it seem different to you, Merry, or did it only seem different to Frodo?”

“It was different, Pip,” Merry said softly as he too shifted in his chair.

Sunshine came over to sit beside her master, resting her head upon Pippin’s thigh. He absentmindedly reached out to let the good fingers of his right hand play with the golden, wavy fur on the back of her neck. Pippin looked up at his friends, took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as he sat up straighter. He always felt better, stronger somehow, when the large gentle dog was under his hand.

“Well, then. Different. It was different. I’m gathering by your eager replies that it wasn’t a good different. What did I do, shout Dwarvish obscenities at Lord Elrond? Gimli taught me some very fine ones while we were in Minas Tirith. He said they might come in handy whenever I felt angry about anything.”

Despite himself, Merry started to grin. He shook his head and huffed a small chuckle. Looking up, his eyes met Pippin’s. They were sparkling with mischief while a bit of fear showed itself in the small creases between the lad’s brows. Pippin’s lips were pulled narrow and firm, ready to face whatever he was about to hear and Merry proudly thought what an interesting young hobbit his former shadow had become.

Merry smiled as he spoke. “No, you didn’t curse at Lord Elrond in Dwarvish, although that would have been interesting to see. Would he have been more shocked at what you were saying than he would be proud that you remembered how to pronounce it all?”

They all relaxed a little, as though they had all let out a unison sigh.

“You did speak, Pippin, but it was all in perfectly understandable Westron. It was what you said that was a bit . . . ah . . . shall we say, disconcerting.” Frodo said.

“Hmm,” Pippin murmured, his expession turning thoughtfully curious. “Disconcerting, eh? What did I say?”

The mood in the tent returned to being serious.

“You recited the Horn-call of Buckland.” Merry offered. “Sort of spoke it in rhythm.”

“Then you said, ‘Death. Disease. Famine. Destruction.” Frodo added. Then Sam finished by adding. “Along with Smoke. Pain. Sorrow an’ Sufferin.’”

“And you didn’t just say all of it,” Merry continued. “You said it like . . . like . . .”

“You were Gandalf making a pronouncement before a large gathering of people,” Frodo finished.

Pippin’s eyes met Sam’s, who nodded his affirmation, adding, “It gave me shivers down my back, it did.” The two friends looked at each other. Sam’s look grew supportive, more than frightened or worried, and he gave the younger hobbit a small nod of his head, which Pippin returned before turning his attention to Frodo.

“Lovely sentiments.” Pippin tried to sound flippant, but failed. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Was that all I said?”

“No,” Frodo replied with a slight raising of his eyebrows and tilt of his head. “You also told Saruman that what he had brought upon other’s had fallen upon him.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, M . . . Frodo, but that isn’t quite what he said,” Sam cut in. “You said what he brought upon “them” Pippin. That what he’d done to “them” had happened to him.” The gardener blushed as he added, “I said it wrong myself when I told Lord Elrond about it after him and the other Great Folk came riddin’ up. But I’ve been thinkin’ about it whilst I was tryin’ to get to sleep and I suddenly remembered you said “them”.”

The four hobbits once more fell silent.

Pippin’s calm exterior belied the thoughts that were roiling around in his mind. Maybe what he thought had been dreams hadn’t been. Perhaps it was . . . Slowly he realized that he had not dreamed at all, that what he had thought were the dreams of sleep had been the visions brought on by this different fit. A small tremor ran through him and he knew he had somehow seen The Shire, that what he had seen was real. Fear tightened his chest. What should he say to the others?

Then, softly sneaking into his thoughts, he remembered moments on the Quest when he had thought his Aunt Esmeralda had somehow been near him. He thought about the brief visions he had had of Strider tracking the Uruk Hai over the plains when he and Merry had been captives. If it had not been for those visions, he would not have made his dash from the long queue of Orcs to leave his own unsullied tracks and drop his brooch in desperate hope that it would be found. He had even had a few such visions or strong feelings about The Shire while they were still in the White City.

Pippin swallowed at the lump suddenly sitting in his throat.

What should he say to the others?

Merry watched Pippin closely. Slight movements of his eyebrows, small twitchings of his lips were all he needed to see to know that Pippin was working hard to reason things out. Frodo could see the same play of emotions on Pippin’s face, but there was something else. Somehow he knew there were deeper things happening here, that there was something the lad felt a need to keep to himself. Sam’s heart went out to the youngster. It was obvious that he had a great deal going on in his head, Sam could nearly read Pippin as well as he could read his dear master.

“I . . .” Pippin started then stopped. He bent low to hide his face in the back of Sunshine’s neck for a few moments, then he gave her a hug before straightening up, but the fingers of his right hand remained buried her hair. “I don’t really remember . . . all that much.”

He paused again and the others waited patiently. The pause was a small spell and it soon passed.

“I don’t remember all that much,” he repeated. “I don’t remember talking, yet I seem to remember hearing a voice, so I reckon it was my own. I . . . I know I saw things, that’s why when I woke up I thought I had had strange dreams. But . . .” Pippin looked up at the small lamp hanging from the center pole of the tent and let his thoughts be distracted for a moment by its soft, comforting light. He sighed. “I don’t really recall them now, those visions I thought were dreams. I only have a feeling of not liking what I was seeing.” He looked around at his dearest friends before letting his head droop down toward his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, then added, “I’m feeling quite weary.”

They all agreed; they were all feeling weary. Quietly, without further conversation, they went back to their beds, each one knowing full well there was much that had been left unsaid.

When the sounds of the others getting comfortable had faded away, Merry whispered, “Pip? Are you still awake, Pip?” He waited a few seconds then spoke again. “Pippin? You don’t seem as though you are asleep. Are you awake?”

Pippin, his back to Merry, his eyes wide open, did not respond. With a deep sigh, Merry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the company was on their way. Elrond occasionally dropped back in the long line ostensibly to talk with the Dunedin although it was noticed by a few of them that the Elf lord glanced often at Pippin. Not that there seemed to be much to observe. Pippin appeared to be his usual self this day. He laughed and jested with his fellow hobbits, as well as any others who cared to join in, but, he did not entirely fool his friends nor Elrond. There were moments when he seemed distracted which their now accustomed eyes could discern were not blank spells.

When the entourage halted for the noon meal, Pippin made immediately for Elladan.

“Elladan?”

His friend had begun to turn toward him even before Pippin had addressed him. “Yes, Pippin?” he replied with a smile.

“Might we have a harp lesson, if there is time?”

“Of course, my friend! That would be a pleasurable way to spend part of our midday rest.”

Pippin smiled brightly. “Wonderful, Elladan. I will seek you out as soon as I am done eating.”

The young hobbit returned much sooner than the Elf expected.

“Did you not eat?” Elladan asked with a chuckle in his voice.

Pippin raised his left eyebrow and looked at his friend as though he questioned his sanity. “Of course I ate, I’m a hobbit, we do not not eat when it is meal time.” Pippin’s questioning look melted into a smile. “I merely ate quickly which, I will say, is somewhat unusual for a hobbit as we place a great deal of importance on properly enjoying a meal. But, I also place a great deal of importance upon music and I wish to have enough time for a proper lesson.”

“Then a proper lesson you shall have!” Elladan replied heartily as he stood, picking up the covered harp that he had brought out from the wagon before he had sat down to eat. The two friends walked off to a nearby small stand of trees.

Pippin had quickly graduated from need to have the Elf sit behind him and guide his fingers. His right thumb and first two fingers had gained new strength and he found that his ability to concentrate was better with learning music than it was with retaining the everyday information of life. The melodies seemed to become a part of him and he could remember and play them with unexpected, and pleasurable, ease. In truth, these were no longer so much lessons as times when two friends shared a gift they loved with Elladan singing as Pippin played.

At first, Pippin didn’t notice that Elrond had at some point joined them, so intent he had been on his playing. When he did notice, he gave a start and blushed.

“You are playing very well, Peregrin,” Elrond gently complimented the youngster. “I hope you do not mind that I came over to listen for a while. The tune you are playing is most restful.”

“I . . . well, no, I suppose it is alright.” Pippin said, some reluctance coloring the response. Then, his attitude changed. Shyly, yet eagerly he asked, “Do you really think I play well, Lord Elrond?”

“It is one amongst many things which you do well, Peregrin Took. I enjoy a goodly number of your jests and I look forward to when you feel comfortable enough with your harp playing to sing as you play. And, although most of your kind have an appreciation for the beauty of nature, you seem to have keen hearing and sight even for a hobbit, noticing many small details which you share with great delight.”

“Thank you!” Pippin replied, beaming with pride as he blushed.

Elrond nodded to his son and the youngling. “I will leave you to your entertainment,” he said, then turned and walked back toward where the bulk of the company were stretching out to enjoy the pleasant afternoon before they would need to pack up and continue on their way.

“I didn’t think he liked anything I did,” Pippin mused aloud without realizing he had done so. As soon as the words left his mouth, however, he was aware they had been said aloud and he looked embarrassedly at Elladan. “Oh my! I’m . . . I’m sorry, Elladan. I meant no offense. I mean, your Father has been most kind to me and my kin and . . . and I, well, I . . .”

Elladan laughed lightly. “Do you think I have not felt the same? As soon as my brother and I were old enough to realize that our Father is a great and highly respected leader of our people, we often felt the same way; wondering if we truly were able to please him.”

Pippin grinned. “Much as my Father is very loving, I’ve ofttimes wondered the same thing about him. I have always seemed to have a penchant for getting into mischief.”

“You will find, if you give him the chance Pippin, that my Father is a caring and kindly person.” Elladan fixed the hobbit with an oddly knowing look. “You would find he is a good person to confide in as well as to seek out for wisdom and insight when life becomes confusing.”

Pippin turned his gaze downward, looking at his fingers as they randomly brushed the strings of the mallorn harp. For a while he said nothing, then, looking up with a sly grin he said, “But I thought Elves were not the best to go to for seeking advice. That they will tell you both yes and no.”

Elladan laughed. “True! That is most accurate. It is a way to maintain our air of mystery. If we say neither yea nor nay, then we cannot be held responsible for the outcome.” His laughter subsided. “That said, the giving of insight and wise perspective is not the same as giving advice. He is more a friend to you than you think, Peregrin.”

“Perhaps he is,” Pippin mused as he looked over to where Elrond sat with Galadriel, Celeborn and Gandalf. Then he shook off his reverie. “Shall we play “The Sun Upon the Meadow Fair?” he asked and the conversation was over as their music floated pleasantly upon the air.

Over the next few days Pippin opened himself to seeing Lord Elrond in a new way. After all, wasn’t he, Pippin Took, friends with a Wizard? Was he not friends with a king? Why should he continue to feel so intimidated by an Elf Lord? So he watched as Elrond spoke with his sons, as he talked to the Dunedin, as he relaxed with Galadriel, Celeborn and Gandalf. Yet still, he kept his distance, speaking himself to the Elf only when the two of them were part of a larger group.

What he saw was someone a great deal like Gandalf, his own father and Merry’s father all rolled into one. Elrond gracefully accepted the homage given to him by the Elves, Men and Hobbits, not puffing himself up over it, as it was his due. Just like Uncle Saradoc and his father did in their positions as Master of Buckland and The Took and Thain of The Shire. Elrond had time for his people, whether great or common. He laughed, he mourned, he comforted. And always his deep love for his sons shone deeply in his eyes. He was a father, a friend and a leader. Pippin could see that Elladan might be right, his father might be more of a friend to him than he had thought.

Elrond began to join Elladan and Pippin more often when the harp was brought out and Pippin found himself minding it less and less.

Finally, near to the Gates of Moria, they took leave of travelling for a week, setting up a more permanent camp. The days were long and easy, the nights all indigo velvet skies dusted with millions of stars. For this was another parting the High Folk were loath to hurry and deep into the early morning hours Galadriel and Celeborn would sit with Elrond and Gandalf sharing the feelings of their hearts and the thoughts of their minds. And sometimes the youngest hobbit would awaken and peer at them from behind a tent drawing a feeling of comfort and contentment just from looking at them.

It was near the end of that restful week and the sun was not yet risen, when Pippin awoke from a restless sleep with a start. Pippin lay awake for a while, then finally threw back his blanket and tiptoed from the tent, that he was sharing with the other Hobbits, who all were sound asleep. Sunshine however followed her Master outside.

The night was clear and warm. Thousands of glittering stars decorated the black mantle that the sky had wrapped about itself. Pippin was still feeling the restlessness that had awakened him. There was something niggling at the back of his thoughts. He knew what it was, he simply was wanting to avoid dealing with it, which of course made it all the more insistent on getting his attention. He and Sunshine wandered around aimlessly for some time when suddenly Sunshine halted and stared ahead of them, her tail wagging. Pippin, who had till then been lost in his thoughts, ran into Sunshine and looked at her startled.

“What´s the matter, lass?” he asked following the dog’s gaze.

Not far off a figure was standing motionless, eyes lifted to the stars and moonlight reflecting from his long, silvery mantle.

Pippin stood still for a moment and just stared at the Elf Lord in wonder.
Elladan´s words came into his head. “You would find he is a good person to confide in as well as to seek out for wisdom and insight when life becomes confusing.” the Elf Lord’s son had said.

Pippin thought about this. Maybe Elladan was right? Maybe his father really could help him to understand what had happened; what had caused that strange, disturbing fit he had had. Pippin had been feeling less nervous and shy around Lord Elrond since that talk with Elladan.

Pippin and Sunshine gradually stepped closer to the mighty elf, but with every step the hobbit felt shyer and more afraid. He knew the high folk were aware of his queer fit, he and his cousins, and Sam, had spoken a little more about it all, although they had not really said all that much. They had related the whole event to him in proper order. He knew Elrond and the others had all ridden up after he had fallen. Pippin also knew all that had been said to the other hobbits while he had still been asleep.

Lord Elrond knew what he had cried out, Pippin suspected that from examining him the Elf knew that Pippin had seen other visions while on the Quest, and Pippin knew he had placed the blame for the strange fit on the Ent Draught he and Merry had shared as a farewell with Treebeard.

But that didn’t account for the earlier visions and the feeling that his Aunt was somehow aware of what was happening. Much of that happened before he and Merry had even met Treebeard, let alone drank any Ent Draughts. It was even before they had taken drinks from the Entwash.

Did Lord Elrond suspect anything further . . . as Pippin himself did?

Pippin stopped and slowly started to back away. Perhaps it was still best not to talk about it.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not, Peregrin?” Elrond suddenly said, causing Pippin to jump.

“Uh-uh . . . y-yes . . . it is,” Pippin stuttered.

Elrond turned around to face him. He was smiling.

“Would you like to join me in my star gazing? I would welcome your company.”

Pippin, still feeling shy and ill at ease, moved to stand next to Elrond. Sunshine laid down at her Hobbit´s feet.

“Do you see those five stars sitting low on the horizon, to the south and west?” Elrond asked, pointing towards the sky.

Pippin nodded.

“The elves call them “The Jewels of the West.” They stand for the beauty of the spring that follows in their wake after they first appear in the skies of late winter. Then they stay to give their blessing to the summer, to the season of growing. They soon will be gone until their time to dance in the night sky comes again.”

Pippin looked at the constellation then after a few moments pointed at another one that was also low in the southern sky, but to the east.

“What is that one called?”

“The Whispering Eagle,” Elrond said with a smile. “The Eagle is the bird of the soul. He flies in the winter months when ofttimes the soul needs strengthening through the gloomy months while Arda can appear to be dead and barren. It is said that sometimes those born during the months when he flies the night skies can hear him whisper the ancient secrets of Arda deep inside their soul.”

Pippin felt his hands start to sweat while his heart began to pound strongly.

“I was born during those months,” he whispered aloud without realizing he had done so. A little louder he asked, “Do you believe in this, Lord Elrond? The whispering I mean? Or is it . . .” Pippin paused. His thoughts were trying to wander, as they did so easily now. With effort, he kept his mind on the subject at hand. “Is it just some old legend, that some madman thought of?”

Elrond’s brow lifted in surprise at the lad’s choice of words; at his use of the term madman. The Hobbit did not see the look of concern come over the ageless face.

“I believe that most old legends have at least a seed of truth in them,” Elrond answered. “And yes, I also believe that some people can hear and see more than others can.”

“Is that . . .” Pippin hesitated. Nervously he played with a button on his nightshirt.
“. . . a bad thing?”

“It is a gift,” Elrond stated simply.

Pippin looked at him with big eyes. “It is?”

Elrond sat down on the grass and motioned for Pippin to sit across from him.

“You have heard, I’ve been told, about an old legend that tells about your own kin. That once there was one of your clan who took a fairy as his wife?”

Pippin looked at the ground, he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“That’s nonsense,” he mumbled. “Fairies are only in stories for children.”

Elrond chuckled softly. “The same is often said of dragons. And oliphaunts.” He paused and, even in the starlight, Pippin could see the twinkle in his eyes. “Indeed, it is said by some to be the truth concerning Ents and the strange little people known as ‘halflings’.

The halfling lad and the elven lord both smiled a knowing smile, acknowledging the truth of the statement.

“Yes,” Pippin added, humour adding more lilt to his voice, “and many of the strange hafling folk even say that of elves.”

The two chuckled together.

“True, young halfling, quite true,” Elrond conceded. “There are even some among the youngest elves who doubt the existence of many of these, fairies among the rest, since they themselves have never seen them. They question whether there are Ents, oliphants, dragons or Hobbits. Yet, the truth is that, like these others, fairies are not merely beings in stories told to children, Peregrin. The fey folk are as real as you and I are. They avoid being seen, as Hobbits themselves avoid those you call Big Folk. But just because something is not readily seen does not mean it is not there.”

Despite the lightness the conversation had had moments before, it was now feeling weighty once again. Pippin kept his eyes averted. “So you are saying the legend is true? The one saying a Took once married a fairy?” he asked after a moment of silence.

The Elf Lord looked down at the Hobbit with warm, caring eyes.

“What do you believe, Peregrin Took, deep inside your own heart?” he asked in return.

Pippin lowered his face into his good hand while his other hand slipped around his dog’s shoulders. He started to rock slightly as tears welled up in his eyes. Sunshine made a soft, comforting noise in her throat and snuggled up closer to him.

“I-I . . . I don´t want to be a-any more d-different, then I already am.” He stumbled over the words. He was tired of differences and his frustration made his voice sound angry “I’m crippled. I-I have the f-falling sickness. And n-now you are telling m-me I have this . . . this . . .”

Gently, Elrond drew the young Hobbit’s hands away from his eyes and dried some of his tears. He had expected fear from Pippin. This frustrated tone pleased him. Frustration showed the lad was ready to be strong; to not cower and hide but to take charge of himself.

“This fairy blood you have in your veins. Yes, Peregrin, and the different sight that it brings. It is a rare gift; a treasure.”

The eyes of the elf lord looked seriously into the hobbit’s green eyes. In them he saw some fear mixed in with determination.

“But . . . the things I see, the visions, they scare me.”

“Yes, I can understand that. It is not always easy to be able to see things.”

“Will it always be that way?”

“Visions can be many things. They can show you bad, as well as good, things that may happen. Frightening one time, comforting another, while other times you will see things that you will not know if they bode ill or fair. But, whatever they show you . . . they are always an opportunity. An opportunity to change what is going to be or an opportunity to warn.”

“Have you ever had …” Pippin started asking, but trailed off into silence, not knowing if this question might be too personal and maybe offend the Elf.

“Oh yes,” Elrond said. “I have had visions . . . and I still have them.”

“How did you learn to live with your visions?” Hope and the glint of determination flared up in Pippin’s eyes.

Elrond held Pippin’s gaze a few moments, then he looked away, into the distance as though he might, at that moment, be having a vision. It was the gaze of far seeing memory.

“The first time I experienced a vision, I was young by the measure of Elves, and frightened just as you are now. But in time, and with guidance from a mentor, I learned how to read them. I learned to use my gift for the benefit of those I love and those I care for. I will not lie to you Peregrin. It was not always easy and it needs time to learn how to live with them without fear. However you, Peregrin of the Tooks, have courage and strengh in your heart, that is of an infinite value. I feel you will learn quickly.”

“You truly believe that?” Pippin asked in wonder. “Even with the troubles I have because of the falling sickness?”

“I do.” Elrond gently answered. “And if you wish it, I will be your mentor in learning how to bear and use your gift.”

Pippin nodded. “I would like that,” he said, his gratitude showing in his voice.

For some time there was a silence between them. Pippin was pondering about what he had just heard and Elrond knew the Hobbit needed some time to think through all the information he had just received.

“Is the Shire in danger?” Pippin asked suddenly. “I have had a few dreams since that fit . . . dreams of the Shire in which everything is so dark there, painful and burning. Yet, it is also much like the siege of Minas Tirith and I’m never too certain which place I’m seeing.”

“I cannot tell for sure Peregrin. It is the way of the gift to sometimes show things that have gone before as well as things that are to come and it is not always easy to tell the differences. Nor is it always clear if you are seeing what will be or what might be.” Elrond sighed and looked up at the stars in the sky to the north and west where the Shire lay. “But I too feel that there still is a ways to go in ending the effects of Sauron’s evil; that there is still a battle to fight for you and your kin.”

Again, there was silence between them. Pippin’s eyes were dark and he stared at the ground, not knowing what to think of this.

Sunshine licked his hand and yapped softly. Pippin looked her in the eyes and suddenly knew that whatever awaited them in the Shire, they could . . . he, could and would manage it. They had gone through so much already to save Middle-earth and the Shire…and it would all be saved.

He looked up at Elrond with determined eyes and the wise eyes of the elf lord smiled at him knowingly.

“The sun will start to rise in just a few hours,” Elrond said. “I think you and I should get some rest.”

Pippin nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Both, the Elf and the Hobbit stood up, but before Elrond could turn to go, Pippin grabbed his sleeve.

“Thank you,” he said. “I feel much better now, and . . . well, I was scared at first, but I am glad I took Elladan’s advice. It was the right thing to do, to trust in you. Thank you for that.”

“You are very welcome, my friend,” Elrond said. “And, he added with mischievous smile. “I hope you will no longer feel so shy around me.”

Pippin gave him a big grin. “I can assure you of that.”

“Good night then, Peregrin,” Elrond said and still smiling he turned around, going off in the direction of his tent.

Pippin stood for a moment longer, then made his way back to his sleeping quarters, silently crept into his bed, and fell into a deep slumber within seconds of his head resting upon his pillow. Sunshine curled at his feet and if someone would have looked closely, he would have seen a smile on her doggy features.

Two days later the parting of the company who were heading for the north and those heading for Lothlorien came. The Elves of the Golden Wood left from the place of the week long encampment, and the Hobbits, Dunedin and the Elves of Rivendell watched until they could no longer be seen; their grey cloaks melting them into the scenery. The hobbits all sat watching, wanting home while wishing for one more look upon the land of the Golden Wood and its fair Lady.

They rode along the edge of the Misty Mountains until, in the evening of eighth day after the parting, they were upon a high moorland. Merry and Pippin were riding at Gandalf’s right hand, the three friends all chatting happily when Gandalf looked more carefully about himself.

“I think we shall soon see our destination, my lads. It should, if memory serves, be just over that bit of a rise that you can see about half a mile ahead of us. Just beyond are the cliffs of the deep valley where lies Rivendell.”

“Did you hear that, Merry?” Pippin turned to face his cousin.

“Yes, we’re nearly there.”

“That must be a lovely view, wouldn’t you think? Looking out from the edge of the moor, seeing the Last Homely Home nestled down in the valley . . .”

Merry gave Pippin a sidelong look. He knew the tone in his cousin’s voice and it didn’t bode well.

“Pi . . .” was all the protest the elder hobbit got out of his mouth.

“Race you, Merry!” the younger gleefully cried and, putting his heels to Blaze’s side, was off in a flash; Sunshine in full pursuit, barking furiously.

“Peregrin Took! Stop at once!” Merry screamed as loud as he could. “You could have a spell or a . . .” His shoulders sagged and a sigh escaped him. He turned to the wizard with a shrug. “I may as well have a good gallop. He can’t hear me now anyway.” Merry set his heels to Stybba. “Let’s get them!” Gandalf heard him cry out as the pony sprang away.

In a short span of minutes Merry was reining his mount to a sliding stop beside Pippin, Blaze and Sunshine, both he and Stybba breathing heavily.

“Admit it Merry, it was fun.” Pippin said without looking at his cousin.

“I . . . yelled at . . . you to stop.”

“I didn’t hear you, though I wouldn’t have stopped even if I had.”

“I thought as much.” Merry paused to take another deep breath. “Yes, it was fun.”

“And fun, my dear Meriadoc, is important. It lightens the spirit and improves the circulation. Quit staring at me and look at the view.”

Merry had been staring at Pippin, hating to admit to himself that the hard gallop had brought a lovely glow to the lad’s face. He finally looked at the view. It was awe inspiring to see as the setting sun already threw the far side of the deep cleft into darkness.

“You will need to move closer if you wish to see my home.”

Both hobbits turned to see Elrond and his horse coming up beside Pippin. The three of them walked their horses forward until their forefeet were a mere three feet back from the precipice. Down below, the warm lights of the Last Homely House twinkled in the gloaming near the valley’s floor. Lights glimmered in the trees as well.

“Did you ever think we would see it again, Pippin?” Merry whispered.

“I admit, Merry, I had my doubts.” Pippin sighed in response.

Elrond gestured downward although the movement was lost to the hobbits as their eyes were fixed on the welcoming dwelling.

“Yonder come some of my household to welcome us and light our way, as soon this side of the dell will also be in darkness.” He looked over at Pippin and Merry. “Come, my friends. Tonight we will eat a proper supper and we all shall sleep upon comfortable beds.”

The hobbits looked up into the Elf’s smiling face with smiles of their own.

“Only after we see Bilbo.” they said in unison.

“Yes!” came the voices of Frodo and Sam.

“Can we please move along, Lord Elrond?” Frodo asked, his tone a bit beseeching.

“Of course, my friends. Follow me.”

With that, Elrond turned his horse to the trail and the long line of weary travelers followed him as he gradually disappeared below the edge of the cliff.