Chapter One

“Out of the Shadows”

A/N: An adolescent Pippin is experiencing visions, odd dreams, and precognition, and recalls his father talking about something called the “Tookish Sight”. Unsure of what is happening to him, and fearing it, he begins a journey of self-exploration seeking answers to his questions. He is also entering puberty and encountering a myriad of mixed emotions, erratic moods, and confusion over the numerous changes in his body and his thoughts. The journey promises to reveal a portion of his future as well as an understanding of his past. The idea for this tale is Golden's, and so this is dedicated to her with much gratitude.

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Smoke…there was smoke. And fire. He struggled to escape but couldn’t make his feet move. Indeed, he felt as rooted to the ground upon which he stood as the great old oak tree in the back pasture. And in a strange way, just as ancient. Ahead, eerie shadows danced barely within his field of vision, painting a picture of dark horror and deceit. He knew someone was there, hidden in the darkness. Waiting. He was utterly helpless, and exposed. He was a captive with no hope of breaking free. A scream rang out, long and terrifying, as a huge burst of flame flashed in front of his eyes...

Pippin jerked awake, scrambling upright in his bed as a great clap of thunder resounded and a piercing arrow of light split the night sky. The sweat, moist upon his body, chilled him as he felt it trail down his back. Raising one shaking hand to wipe his brow he cringed as another bolt fled across the inky horizon. Heart pounding in his chest, he tried to calm himself by drawing several deep breaths and releasing them slowly. The night grew eerily still.

Struggling with his shattered nerves he peered into the darkness, listening…waiting. He cringed and yanked the blanket up over his head as a sudden, brilliant flare danced across the sky, accompanied by another explosion of thunder. He huddled beneath the covers quaking, feeling as if the melee was forcing its way directly through him, piercing him with a surreal, yet physical pain. Disdainful of her young master’s thrashing about, Lily gracefully leaped off the foot of the bed. Tossing a look over her shoulder, the pure white cat padded soundlessly to the door that had been left ajar and used her paw to open it wider. She slithered through the crack and was gone.

He had always hated thunderstorms, but for some reason he was more frightened than usual tonight. He briefly considered creeping into bed with his parents, but dismissed the thought immediately. After all, he was now a lad of almost twenty-four years. If his sisters found out they would tease him unmercifully.

Gradually, the night grew still as the storm moved away at last, its deep rumbling fainter as the minutes passed. Pippin breathed out his relief as he listened in the darkness, willing the storm to pass completely. The hammering of his heart slowed, and he pressed his hand against his chest, closing his eyes. His fear of the storm subsided finally, but his thoughts then turned unbidden to his dream. Pippin shuddered. He didn’t want to think about it, but the memory clung to him like the musty odour of moss on a damp tree. He frowned at his own analogy. He thought he could actually smell the earthy scent. Sighing in defeat, he sat up and threw the blankets off. There would be no more sleep this night.

******

The Harvest Festival was always great fun. It was filled with food and laughter, music and dancing, and deliciously frightening story telling. Pippin chuckled in the warmth of the sunshine while he watched his cousins and other family members preparing for the party. Tonight the farmhouse would be filled with merry-making guests, both young and old, as they celebrated both the Harvest and an important Turning Point that marked the beginning of a new season. He looked up when he heard his name.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Come and help me, Pip.” Merry gestured impatiently in his young cousin’s direction before turning back to the ladder and scurrying up. “Hand me those one by one,” he directed. Pippin hurried over and snatched up an armful of the colourful decorations and stood on the bottom rung handing them up as they were called for. Merry continued stringing them onto the rope attached to the low hanging tree branches.

After they were finished they stood back to admire their handiwork. “I like the paper lanterns,” Pippin exclaimed. “Did you make those?”

Merry nodded. “My mother helped me with them last night.” He pointed at the farmyard and grinned. “They’ll make everything appear suitably eerie tonight. Perfect for the story telling.” Merry winked at him conspiratorially. “And I’ve the perfect frightening tale.”

Pippin chuckled and nodded, but a chill went through him. The mood of last night’s dream persisted like the last stubborn cloud on a sunny day and he mentally pushed the thoughts away. He was determined to have a good time tonight.

“Hullo, Merry, Pippin!” Frodo called and waved as he pulled a waggon load of partygoers up near them. Pippin’s eyes lit up with excitement and he ran over to join them, Merry at his heels. Sam and his young sister Marigold sat next to Frodo. Sam had been pleased beyond words to be included and equally surprised that his father had agreed they could go. He smiled shyly at them.

“Hullo Sam! Hullo Marigold!” Pippin bounced up and down on his toes as he greeted them. “We’re going to have dancing in the barn tonight! And a treasure hunt!”

Sam smiled at the youngster’s enthusiasm as he helped his sister down. Pippin fell quiet for a few moments and his head drooped while he eyed Marigold bashfully from beneath his long lashes. He recovered quickly and started chattering on about everything from the plans for the party games to the food on the menu. Sam listened politely while his sister’s face lit up with delight.

Frodo observed the scene feeling somewhat bemused. Pippin’s chatter was quick; his mood was cheerful as always and his eyes were bright and eager. And yet…something nudged at the back of the elder hobbit’s mind as his young cousin scampered around asking them questions and tugging on Frodo’s shirtsleeve, while offering an opinion about everything. Something felt just a bit off, but Frodo couldn’t quite put a finger on the source of his disquiet. Before he could query Pippin about anything Freddie Bolger arrived behind him bringing his sister and more guests to the celebration. “We’ll talk more later, yes?” Frodo patted his young cousin on the shoulder.

Pippin nodded vigorously in agreement. He ran back to where Merry was now having a rousing discussion with one of the other lads about his superior ability to dunk for apples. Pippin snorted, his dark mood lifting at last and offered his own view on that.

******

Laughter erupted from some of the adults gathered by the huge bonfire as another humorous story came to a conclusion. This one involved a very young Paladin, Milo Chubb, and several Brandybuck cousins. Instead of going fishing, as they had told their parents, they had stolen a rowboat from the riverbank and the lot of them had gone for a dangerous joyride on the Brandywine River. Later, Paladin had tried to soften the reasoning for his mischievous adventure by telling his father the others had insisted he accompany them. And since he’d suffered the humiliation of getting seasick and vomiting over the side of the boat, then having to endure the jeers from his cousins at his lack of tolerance for the swaying boat, he should be excluded from any punishment the rest of them would face.

“Right, Pad!” Milo Chubb raised his drink to his cousin and winked at the others. “And of course, old Adalgrim was in a great hurry to believe that bit of reasoning, eh?” Paladin joined in the laughter as Milo clapped him on the back.

A short distance from the storytelling adults a group of children congregated under the decorative lanterns to start their treasure hunt. Frodo and Freddy were in charge of this activity and were busy passing out the lists to the younger ones, who were pairing up to begin. Frodo handed the last one to Sam, who raised his brow quizzically.

“Now Sam,” Frodo held up a hand to stop the protest before it started. “You must join in the fun too.”

“I’d be more comfortable in helping you to oversee it, Mr Frodo,” Sam mumbled. “Let the little ones have the fun of finding the treasures.”

“Well, I’m not a little one and I intend to play.” Merry drew himself up to his full height, grinning at Estella Bolger. “And I already have a partner.”

Pippin’s face fell at his cousin’s words. He hadn’t thought Merry would choose a lass over him as a partner for the game. Now he didn’t have anyone to play with because he’d assumed he would go with Merry.

Frodo noticed the situation and thought quickly. “Who doesn’t have a partner yet?” Marigold stepped forward. Pippin stared at her, tongue-tied. Sam frowned. Frodo chuckled underneath his breath. What was that old saying about getting two birds with one stone? He smiled at them and gestured. “All right, we’ll have one set of three then. Sam, you’ll help these two find their way, won’t you?”

Sam darted a glance at Rosie Cotton where she stood talking with her brothers underneath the crab apple tree, and sighed softly. Bobbing his head up and down he forced a smile and replied, “Aye, Mr Frodo, I reckon I can do just that.” He gestured at Marigold and Pippin. “Why don’t we be off then?” He pointed towards the barn where the treasure hunt was already beginning.

Pippin refused to allow the change in plans to make him feel bad. After all, treasure hunting with Marigold might be very nice. He liked the way she always wore the scent of roses. He grinned at his two friends. “Let’s go then!” He trotted away with purpose and Marigold followed suit. Sam rolled his eyes skyward and trailed after his charges, leaving Frodo smiling at his back as the group departed.

******

The merrymakers settled in a circle beneath the paper lanterns in the farmyard to await the beginning of the storytelling. Several of the adults were busy making sure the youngest children were kept together, just in case anything was to frighten them. Auntie Pringle busied herself nearby, chattering away with Pepper, her pet raven that perched upon her shoulder. Frodo took a seat on a barrel that he’d placed near the circle, while the others searched for just the right place to sit and be suitably terrified.

Merry plunked down cross-legged next to Estella, wiggling slightly closer and working up the courage to actually place his arm around her shoulders. Fredegar Bolger sat across from them, keeping one eye on Merry’s hands, the other on his sister. Sam escorted Marigold and Pippin to their spot in the circle and then sat between them, causing Pippin to frown and Frodo to chuckle. Marigold was oblivious to the byplay and watched eagerly for some sign the storytelling was about to begin. Sancho Proudfoot sauntered over to them and plopped down next to his friend. He rolled his eyes at Merry’s shameless flirting and nudged Pippin with his elbow, grinning. Pippin chose to ignore him.

A nearly full moon peeked out of the half-clouded sky completing the picture of a perfect setting for telling scary stories. Pippin shivered. As much as he liked to be intentionally frightened by a good spooky tale, the cloud of last night’s dream continued to cast a pall over his enjoyment. He’d very nearly put the nightmare aside when a glimpse into the cloudy sky reminded him of last night’s thunderstorm and brought the memory crashing back to him.

Across the circle, Frodo looked up when his little cousin shuddered. A chill ran through him. He watched as Pippin drew his legs up and hugged himself tightly, and then began to rock back and forth a little. Frodo again pondered the meaning behind Pippin’s obvious unease. He resolved to keep a close eye on the little lad and to pull him aside and speak to him privately just as soon as he had the opportunity.

“Well now!” Paladin clapped his hands together for attention. He smiled at the wide-eyed, smallest children in the group. “And who would like to begin this evening’s telling of spooky tales?”

Several hands waved wildly about in the air. Paladin pointed at Folco Boffin. “All right lad, we’ll start with you.” Paladin took a seat next to his wife while Folco got to his feet and settled in front of the crowd.

Several stories later feeling the gathering was suitably primed for his tale, Merry finally took his turn. He smiled secretively as he turned in a circle to take in each of their faces. Pippin shivered again and moved closer to Sam. “Long ago, a legend was handed down from generation to generation of Hobbits just like ourselves, around a fire much like this. I am going to tell you the story again, only I’m going to tell you what really happened on that night so many years ago, when the ancient trees of the Old Forest rose up during the night and conspired to invade Buckland.”

Chuckles could be heard from the adults and Merry’s parents traded knowing looks. Merry frowned in their direction before turning back to the young ones. “They say it happened on the eve of another Harvest Festival, much like this one. There is much that is unknown about what actually occurred that night,” he told them in a low voice. “But there is also much that is indeed known, although it’s not talked about because it’s so horrible no one wants to think about it.”

The children shivered, each of them enjoying the delicious feeling of being deliberately scared, while still knowing they were safe within their circle of friends and family. Pippin’s shudder of anticipation lasted longer than the others’ and he began to wonder if he really did want to hear this story.

Merry settled on the ground in front of them, enjoying the attention. His voice dropped down low as he began. “Many, many years ago, back when the Shire was young, back before the land that the Brandybucks call home was cleared and settled, before smials were dug or barns built, there lived an old Hobbit named Foster.” Merry paused for effect before continuing. “He was a very lonesome person and kept himself isolated from everyone, living amongst the trees of the forest all alone. No one seems to remember just how he came to be there in the first place.” Merry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s said that he consorted with evil spirits and often wandered the woods all night long, looking for any poor, unsuspecting soul who may have become lost along his way. Then old Foster would capture the Hobbit with the help of the spirit world and haul him back into the Old Forest. According to the legend, this happened to many an unsuspecting lad who was never to be seen or heard from again.”

“What was his last name? Whose family was he related to?” Merimas Brandybuck frowned at his cousin. “I don’t remember ever hearing this part of the tale.”

“We don’t know his last name, Merimas! And that’s really not important to the story anyway.” Merry appeared annoyed.

“Well, if we’re talking about kin and everything, it seems pretty important to me,” Berilac agreed.

Merry scowled at his cousins. “Well, I do know that ‘Foster’ is an old name that means ‘forest guardian’ but I don’t know what this old Hobbit’s last name was! Maybe he was a Brandybuck. Who knows?”

“Well, if he was a Brandybuck then it seems like someone we wouldn’t want to be talking about. I mean, if anyone has a relative like that in their family tree, then…”

“Never mind, all right? Just pretend he wasn’t a Brandybuck then.” Merry sighed in exasperation and tried to continue. “Anyway, old Foster  …”

“But then, maybe he was a Took,” Merimas mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps he…” Merimas fell silent when Merry turned a withering look in his direction.

“Ahem,” Merry cleared his throat and leaned towards his audience. “As I was saying. As Buckland began to grow, with more and more families settling there, it was soon learned that whenever anyone walked near the Old Forest at night he would hear the faint, tortured screams of the lost ones, begging for mercy, or see their shadowy shapes as they too walked just inside the woods, unable to leave there ever again.” Merry sat back and folded his arms, looking around at his listeners. The youngest ones were already scrunching up against the older children and Merry smiled in satisfaction.

“What happened, Merry?” gasped little Gingerblossom Took, clutching her sister Goldenrod’s hand.

Saradoc leaned over to Paladin and whispered, “I’ll wager those Hobbits were simply getting away from the smial after a hard day to toss back a nip or two of good Brandybuck whisky!”

Paladin snickered and nodded. “Aye, no telling just what a lad might see or hear after a good, stiff drink o’ that stuff!”

“Well,” Merry sat back against the barrel that Frodo had been seated on earlier and shook his head. He winked at Frodo, who was now sitting cross-legged not far from his right. “Over the years more Hobbits began to disappear as the area around the Old Forest grew. And of course, as more people moved in, more trees were cut to clear the land for homes. They say this angered the trees. It was already widely rumoured that some folks had seen the trees come alive and move about on their own. They said they even wandered outof the forest at times and took Hobbits captive, carrying them back into the woods for some terrible, unknown purpose.”

“So, how did they know it was the trees that did it?” A sceptical Tom Cotton wanted to know. “Maybe ‘twas an outlaw, or per’aps a big person or two was hiding out in the woods after they’d been up to no good!”

“Because whenever anyone was near the forest they could always make out the dim, shadowy shapes of the great trees, carrying struggling young Hobbit lads away to their doom,” Merry glanced at Tom with a look of consternation before turning back to the others and dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. “And then, the screaming would start. And sometimes there were great flashes of lightning that lit up the sky, and ear shattering claps of thunder, just like what we heard last night! Folks said they could see what was happening in there. But no one wanted to tell what he’d seen because it was just too awful.” Merry leaned forward again. “Folks say it was something in the water that did it. That the old Hobbit loner had learned magic from a wizard and cast a spell upon the waters in the Old Forest. It was said he wanted to get back at his kin for abandoning him.”

“Brandybuck kin?” whispered little Teriadoc Brandybuck as he reached up and clutched at his older sister’s hand in fright.

Merry nodded solemnly. “Or maybe Took kin. Someone must have done something terrible to that old Hobbit to have him take up with so much wrath against his own.”

Pippin listened with rapt attention to Merry’s story. It wasn’t that he found the tale all that frightening thus far. What bothered him was the fact there seemed to be so many elements in the story that reminded him of last night’s dream.

“But then, one night later on, after much of the land had been stripped of the trees to make way for the growing population, something dreadful happened!” Merry stood and his voice dropped to a chilling whisper as he turned in a circle, eyeing them all solemnly. “The trees rose up and marched upon Buckland in the dead of night! Our relatives had to rush out and take up torches to try and drive them back into the woodland before the maddened trees killed everyone in their path!”

Gasps of dismay burst from some of the smallest children. Sancho rolled his eyes again and shook his head, grinning at Pippin. Pippin ignored him and trained all his attention on Merry. His breathing was harsh and his heart raced.

Several of the adults chuckled at Merry’s dramatics as he continued. “Everyone rushed about and the night was filled with the sound of the elder Hobbits giving orders as they all worked hard and fast to drive out the intruders with their great flaming torches! The Hobbits thought they had finally accomplished their task at long last when…” Merry stopped.

A collective hush fell over the group of young Hobbits until someone called out at last, “Finish the story Merry!”

Merry glanced around at them again and raised an eyebrow. He deliberately drew out the silence and spoke slowly at last. “Everyone was not accounted for.” Several of the children drew their breath in quickly and stared at him. Merry nodded. “Yes. It seemed the youngest Brandybuck in the family had gone missing. He was a very small lad, just barely older than a faunt! The family was frantic, naturally! They all ran about madly looking for the young lad when all of a sudden a horrible scream pierced the night and they all looked up as one to see…” Merry’s voice rose along with his enthusiasm, “The hugest tree in the bunch carrying the tiny, struggling lad away into the Old Forest!”

Pippin began to shake and his tremors grew worse as his cousin’s story built to a peak. “The family took up their fire and chased after the great tree that was heading further into the forest by now. A moment later they discovered they had accidentally set the whole forest on fire!” Merry waved his arms about to emphasise his point. “Oh, the woods erupted then in one great hot blaze of fire! Trees became engulfed in flames one by one and the heat was becoming unbearable for the rescuers! But they couldn’t give up because the littlest lad was still held captive so they rushed the tree that held him fast and tried to use the fire to make it release him. The big tree caught fire then and a mournful screech…”

Merry’s voice faded away into the distance, sounding hollow in his ears as Pippin stared into the darkness. His trembling limbs shook harder as he beheld first, a pair of flaming hands, and then a person engulfed in fire, writhing in agony before his horrified gaze. The shrieking reached an unbearable level. He scrambled to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his hands over both ears to mute the horrific shrieks. Even so, he was unable to tear his attention away from the powerful stare of the pair of burning eyes that held his own captive. Pippin opened his mouth and released a wail, his hands pressing ever tighter against his head, then collapsed to the ground as family members dashed to his side…