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Fiondil's Tapestry  by Fiondil

FAULT: Pointing Fingers

SUMMARY: The Fellowship reflect on the question of blame while recovering in Lothlórien.

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"It’s my fault, you know," Pippin said to no one in particular as they sat on thick cushions around a low table in the pavilion that had been provided for them by the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.

Aragorn gave the youngest member of their Fellowship a wry grin. "Most likely, but would you care to be more specific so we know which punishment to administer? I would hate to punish you for the wrong crime."

Gimli snorted into his beard and Legolas hid a smile. Boromir continued sharpening his sword, with no indication that he even heard the conversation around him. The other three Hobbits glared at Aragorn and Pippin with equal disgust.

"What are you blathering on about, Pip?" Merry demanded with a roll of his eyes. "Did you do something that will get us thrown out of Lórien before we’ve even had dinner?"

Sam had a horrified look on his face as he glanced at Pippin, whose expression was quite glum. "Not before dinner!" he exclaimed. "I ain’t had no dessert yet!"

That caused Frodo to laugh and Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were secretly pleased to hear such a joyful sound coming from the Ringbearer. They’d been in Lórien for nearly three weeks and this was the first time Frodo had shown any emotion other than sadness and grief.

"Oh, Sam!" Frodo cried, falling on his back in paroxysms of laughter. "The Valar forbid we ever get kicked out of Lórien before we’ve had dessert. We would never be able to show our faces in the Shire again for the shame of it."

That set Merry and Sam off and even Pippin, in spite of his mood, was seen to snicker wickedly at his cousin’s words. Aragorn shared amused looks with Legolas and Gimli, though he frowned slightly when he noticed Boromir was not paying much attention to his companions. Then his attention was directed back towards Pippin. Something was bothering the tweenager. The Chieftain of the Dúnedain had a fairly good idea what it might be, but knew that Pippin needed to speak of it for himself.

"So, what are we to blame you for this time, young Peregrin Took?" Aragorn asked in a jocular tone as the laughter died down.

To the surprise of all, the tweenager burst into tears. "I killed him!" he wailed and would have risen and run off if Merry hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him down, wrapping himself around his younger cousin, hugging and rocking him in an attempt to comfort him.

"Killed who?" Frodo asked, looking perplexed. "Who did you kill, Cousin?"

"G-g-gandalf!" Pippin stammered between his sobs. "I k-killed him. It’s m-my fault he’s dead." He hid his face in the crook of Merry’s arm as the others all went still.

For a long uncomfortable moment there was silence, save for Pippin’s sobbing. None could look each other in the eyes. Finally, Aragorn cleared his throat. "Actually, if we’re going to blame anyone for this, my vote is Isildur."

Everyone looked up at the Ranger with varying degrees of surprise. "Isildur!" Frodo exclaimed. "Why would you blame him for Gandalf’s death?"

Aragorn shrugged, looking sad. "If he hadn’t succumbed to the lure of the Ring...."

"Nay, mellon nîn," Legolas interjected with his mellifluous voice. "Isildur is not to blame. He was but a victim of Sauron’s evil. I think if I were to lay the blame on anyone it would have to be the Dwarves."

"What!" Gimli shouted, jumping up in anger. "We had nothing to do with it."

Legolas gave the Dwarf a cool look. "Your ancestors accepted Rings of Power. If they had not done so they would not have been corrupted into digging further and further into the bowels of the Earth for more mithril. The Dwarves of Moria are to blame for Mithrandir dying."

"And I suppose you Elves were lily-white in innocence," Gimli sneered. "Who was it who made the rings in the first place, hmmm?"

"That Celebramble person," Sam answered for Legolas, looking rather pleased at himself for remembering something about the Elves.

Frodo, Aragorn, Legolas and even Gimli stared at the Hobbit in surprise and then when they happened to catch each other’s eyes, they all started laughing, much to the confusion of the other three Hobbits. Boromir, as usual, did not respond, seemingly more intent on cleaning his gear than joining in on the conversation.

"I think you meant Celebrimbor, Sam," Legolas finally said, looking on the Hobbit, now turning scarlet, with great fondness. He had had few dealings with Mortals before joining the Fellowship and found the Hobbits both amusing and perplexing. He had a feeling that if he survived the coming war he would have many long ages in which to contemplate the wondrous mystery of these Halfling Children. Whether they came from Hiril Ivon or from Eru Himself, it mattered little to the Elf; they were a delight and he thanked the Valar for having had the opportunity to know them better.

"Oh," Sam muttered, not looking at anyone. "Sorry."

"Do not apologize, Samwise," Legolas replied gently. "I am pleased that you even know something of Celebrimbor. Few Mortals bother with what they call ‘ancient history’."

"Mister Bilbo told me tales," Sam said in an apologetic tone. "I always wanted to hear tales about Elves."

"Hmph," Gimli muttered as he retook his seat. "Waste of time."

"Well, that’s neither here nor there, Gimli," Frodo said, speaking rather cooly to the Dwarf. "Why do you think Celebrimbor is to blame for Gandalf’s death?"

"He made the bloody rings, didn’t he, lad?" Gimli retorted, though much of his anger at Legolas’ insult was leached from his voice. Samwise Gamgee had the habit (unintentional to be sure, Gimli thought) of diffusing sticky situations with his guileless candor and ‘plain Hobbit sense’ as the gardener liked to put it. "If it weren’t for the rings...."

"None of us would be sitting here in Lórien trying to lay blame for the death of one who should never have died," Frodo interjected.

"Well, I still say it’s my fault," Pippin exclaimed. "If I hadn’t been so stupid as to drop that stone down the well...."

"Now Pip," Merry said soothingly, "you couldn’t have known and really I think just about anything could have set the goblins after us. Anything could have alerted them to our presence. Maybe they already knew about us and it was just coincidence that you dropped the stone and then they attacked."

Pippin looked at Merry doubtfully. "Do you really think so?"

"Anything is possible, young Peregrin," Aragorn answered for Merry. "I do not believe in coincidence, but many factors could have contributed to our being attacked when we were, not just your foolishness."

Pippin reddened at that but did not protest Aragorn’s words. "So we have Mr. Peregrin, Lord Isildur, the Dwarves and the Elves to blame for ol’ Gandalf dying," Sam said, ticking off each contestant with a finger. "Anyone else we can blame?"

"The Valar. I think I would blame the Valar."

Everyone stared at Frodo in shock. The Hobbit’s words had been spoken in a whisper and he would not look at anyone. Aragorn noted with sadness how Frodo absently held a hand near his chest where the Ring was hidden underneath his shirt.

"Why the Valar?" Merry asked for all of them.

For a moment, it did not look as if Frodo would respond. His gaze was distant and his expression was blank. Finally, though, he stirred himself from his reverie and gave Merry a glance. "They should have done something with Sauron. They should never have believed him when he said he wanted to reform. He should have been thrust into the Void along with his master." The tone was harsh and bitter.

Legolas moved from where he’d been sitting to kneel before Frodo. "Nay, Little One," he said with a gentle smile. "Do not think that. For better or for worse, Sauron is our responsibility. From what my adar has told me, Sauron debased himself before Eönwë but when he learned he would have to return to Aman to face the judgment of the Valar, he fled. Eönwë had not the authority to pursue him. All that has happened since has been not as the Valar decreed but as we ourselves willed through ignorance, fear, greed, or just plain arrogance. The Valar are not to blame."

"We could always blame Eru," Sam said suddenly, his eyes lit with mischief. Legolas glanced at the Hobbit in shock.

"Blame Eru! How can you say such a thing?" the Elf demanded. Everyone stared at Sam in consternation. Even Boromir stopped fiddling with his hauberk long enough to give Sam a surprised glare.

Sam started to blush, looking embarrassed. "Well... he st-started it, didn’t he, creatin’ Middle-earth and all?" he stammered. "So of course he’s to blame. That’s just plain Hobbit sense to me." The last was said with a sniff as he tried to look down his nose at the Elf, who, even while kneeling, was still taller than any of the Hobbits.

"He does have a point," Merry said reasonably. "If Eru hadn’t gotten it in his head to create Middle-earth, none of this would have happened."

"Including us!" Frodo said with a light chuckle at the absurdity of his cousin’s statement and the others smiled and nodded in agreement.

Pippin, however, brightened in mood. "Well, I think Sam’s right. We can blame Eru and then I’m off the hook." This last was said with such smugness it made everyone laugh, even Boromir.

"Nay, Little One," the heir to the Steward’s throne in Gondor said, "None of those whom you have all pointed fingers at are truly to blame for Mithrandir’s death."

Aragorn gave the Gondorian a shrewd look. "Who, then, do you blame, Boromir?"

Boromir stared steadily into Aragorn’s eyes. "The Balrog," he responded softly. "I blame the Balrog, for regardless of who started what, be it Eru or the Valar or Sauron himself, ultimately it was the Balrog who killed Gandalf, not Pippin and his stone, not Gimli’s people and their lust for mithril, not the Elves with their desire to create and hold onto beauty at all costs, not even your ancestor, Aragorn. They may have all contributed to that moment on the bridge in Khazad-dûm, but it was the Balrog who pulled Mithrandir off the bridge and to his doom." He paused, looking down at the hauberk lying in his lap, then looked back up at the others, his expression fierce. "I only pray to the Valar that before he died, Mithrandir was able to slay the Balrog as well."

"Ecthelion of the Fountain... Glorfindel of the Golden Flower... Mithrandir of the Ithryn," Legolas murmured. "If he did, mellon nìn, then he died in good company."

"Aye, that he did," Gimli averred, his expression sorrowful.

"Valar valuvar," whispered Aragorn, then translated his words into Westron for the benefit of the Hobbits and Gimli: "The will of the Valar be done."

"So we can’t blame Eru for it?" Pippin asked imploringly.

"Nay, we cannot," Boromir answered with a smile. "He gets blamed for most everything else, I think he’ll be relieved to know he doesn’t have to get blamed for this."

This was said with such studied facetiousness that they all broke out laughing. At Sam’s half-jesting suggestion they were soon making a list of all the absurd things they could think of to blame their Creator for, from Pippin’s unruly hair to Aragorn’s many names. The laughter was long and loud, ringing throughout Lórien.

High in the mallorn where their talan lay, Galadriel and Celeborn stopped their discussion long enough to listen to the faint echo of laughter coming from their guests and smiled at one another. Healing had begun, healing that was necessary before the Fellowship could continue the Quest with hope rather than with despair.

"I think they are ready to leave," Celeborn ventured to his spouse.

Galadriel nodded, her expression serene. "Soon, but not yet."

Celeborn gave his lady a searching look, then nodded. "Soon, then." They went back to their discussion of the defense of their land while their guests continued to laugh and joke far into the night.

****

Hiril Ivon: (Sindarin) Lady Yavanna.





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