~

Merry clutched at his breast, gasping for air. Pippin knelt beside him, coughing. He wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “Pippin, we’re not supposed to run like this! We’re supposed to have care-free, relaxing lives, not be chased and shot at by Orcs!”

Pippin crawled to the edge of the Brandywine River and plunged his head into the cool water, then pulled it out again. He looked at Merry and smiled, relieved. “It feels nice,” he said. “That water’s really cool.”

Merry glanced back at where they had come from. He saw no Orcs or anything of any kind coming. Hesitantly, he approached the water and knelt down.

Pippin watched him lean toward the rippling water and slide his hands in. He waited for just the right moment and pushed Merry forward.

Screaming, the hobbit plunged head first into the river. He flailed his arms about for a few seconds and finally resurfaced, gasping for breath. “Pippin!” he wheezed, splashing water at him. “You snipe!” Then Merry saw the other hobbit’s scarf, dangling innocently from his neck. After a sudden impulse, he pulled.

Pippin barely had time to cry out before his head smacked the surface of the water. His head appeared soon, followed by his shoulders, and he inhaled deeply. He made a choking, gagging sound and began to cough.

Merry watched him with a smile of satisfaction on his face. When Pippin’s horrible coughing had ceased, he said, “So, Peregrin Took, maybe you’ll think twice about pulling a joke on me the next time you feel the urge?”

Pippin coughed weakly, shaking his head. “I’ll just think twice about doing it around water.”

Then Merry did something completely unexpected: he laughed. And his laughter rang out in the forest like one hundred bells. Pippin couldn’t help himself--he and Merry, splashing around in the Brandywine trying to stay afloat--he began to laugh.

And as quickly as it had begun, it ended, and a shadow fell over the gleeful hobbits.

Merry stared, his mouth open wide. “You’re, you’re--”

“Elves, yes, we are.” Three stood there, graceful and tall. They each bore a longbow and a quiver of arrows; and they were clad all in grey. The first Elf spoke again, “We have pressing matters to discuss with you, Halflings.”

“Yes, that’s all well and good, but we have pressing matters as well,” said Pippin.

“Right, like getting out of this river,” Merry added.

The Elves said nothing, but two stepped forward and pulled the hobbits from the water. The only one with long, blonde hair asked, “Is that better?”

“Much,” said Pippin. “Now, what is it you would like to discuss with us?”

“There is a spy amongst you, did you know?” questioned the second Elf. The hobbits shook their heads and he continued, “I’m not surprised you knew nothing of it. She is a Hobbit of Bree, though that is only where she was born. We have heard she was raised by dwarves deep within the mountains.”

“Em, excuse me, Mr. Elf,” Pippin began, “but what does all of this have to do with us?”

The Elf said something to his companions in his own language and the left. He turned to Merry and Pippin once more. “She has been passing important Elven information to Orcs--information we cannot afford to lose. She is searching for something; of what, we do not know.” He looked across the river, then back at them. “We want you to help us find her.”

Merry looked at him questioningly. “How are we supposed to do that? You didn’t even give us a name.”

The Elf laughed softly. “So many questions for such a small man!” His face turned solemn again. “We know not of her name. She is unusually tall for a hobbit; they say living with Dwarves made her grow.” He looked them both in the eye. “If you find anything, come to this spot again. Thank you.” With that, he ran off again.

“Well,” said Pippin, turning to Merry, “that was rather odd.”

Merry nodded. “Certainly was.”

~

Sam sat on the hillside, a pipe dangling from his mouth. Frodo had been gone for many days now and he was beginning to think something had happened, something terrible. He heard the sound of pebbles scraping together and looked to the road. An old hobbit was coming with a small pack slung over his shoulders. Bilbo had returned.

Bilbo Baggins reached the gate and swung it open. He smiled at Sam as he approached. “Well, Samwise Gamgee. Not in the garden today?”

“No, sir,” said Sam, as the entered the house. Once inside, Sam boiled a pot of tea and they ate, exchanging stories of what had happened while Bilbo was away and what Bilbo had done while he was away.

When the conversation had died down and there were many moments of silence, Bilbo asked, “Tell me, Mr. Gamgee, where is my nephew?”

Sam winced at the hobbit’s words. He had wanted to avoid this topic as long as possible, but now it was on the table. He cleared his throat. “Well, Mr Bilbo...Frodo has, well, he’s left.”

Bilbo eyed him. “Left, you say? Well, where has he gone?”

Sam laughed nervously. “Er, you see, that’s the funny part. We’re not exactly sure where he went. See, Frodo got angry with us and just walked out without saying where he was going. He did say he wouldn’t be gone too long, so I expect he’ll be back soon.” He stole a glance out the window and made a fake-sounding gasp. “Bless me! Is it that late already? Well, I must be off. Lots of chores to do, you know. Good-bye, Bilbo!” He practically ran out the door and onto the road, eager to get out of sight of Bag-End.

~

Frodo yawned and put his hands behind his head, and laid back onto the soft, green grass. He looked up at the sky, full of deep reds and oranges, and watched the clouds float slowly by. He felt calmer now, glad to have a break from all of the commotion at home. He had been gone for five days and had planned to set out from home on the morning of the sixth.

As the sky began to darken, he made a small dinner and laid down to sleep. The morning came soon and he set off again. He stopped often, every mile or so, to rest and have a drink of water, though the journey was only nine miles.

Finally, he spotted Hobbiton from the hilltop on which he stood. He sighed. ‘Maybe Bilbo has arrived,’ he thought hopefully. Then he slowly descended down the hill to Bag-End.

Sam smiled as Frodo approached. “Welcome back, Mr. Frodo! A surprise for you is waiting in your living room!” He grinned ever wider seeing Frodo’s face light up.

Frodo threw open the gate and ran into the house. “Bilbo!” he cried, his arms tightly wrapped around the hobbit. “I’m so glad to see you! Tell me everything!”

Bilbo chuckled and immediately launched into the tale. He told Frodo of deep, dark caves in the mountains, and the dragons that dwelled within them. He also spoke in length of the fair Elven folk of Rivendell. Frodo listened intently, for he loved Bilbo’s stories more than anything, except for Bilbo himself.

Sam munched quietly on some cake, listening as well, though he’d already heard the tales. He was glad to have things back to normal once again. He only hoped they would have no more trouble with Orcs. Their last visit contained too much excitement for Sam Gamgee. He was plenty happy taking care of his master’s garden in peace and serenity.

“Sam,” Frodo said. “I need your help.” He glanced sideways at the room his uncle had gone into. “Bilbo’s just gone to write down some notes, so we don’t have much time. I need you to start cooking a meal for Bilbo’s birthday dinner. You know of all his favorites, I’m sure.”

Sam nodded. “Of course I will, Frodo.”

Frodo’s expression became warmer. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He sighed. “As for me, I’ve got to find Merry and Pippin. You haven’t seen them, have you?” Sam shook his head and Frodo said, “I didn’t think so.” He looked toward the door. “Well, I’ve got to hurry. I’ll return soon!”

Sam watched him go, then got to work. All the way to the kitchen, he mumbled, “Bilbo’s favorites...hmm... What are they again? Oh, yes!”

~

Selvi dropped a few raspberries into her mouth, savoring the sweet taste. She was tired of searching for that meaningless ring. She had heard tales of rings of power, but those were only fables. These silly Shire Hobbits certainly knew nothing of it, nor the Elves. She was sick of doing the Orcs’ bidding as well. Selvi put her face in her hands and muttered sadly, “When will it all end?”

Pippin was thinking the same thing. He had been walking for days and his feet were sore. He felt couldn’t take another step.

It was the morning of Bilbo’s long-awaited part. Frodo hadn’t even arrived at Bag-End yet.

Pippin groaned as he and Merry trudged on, not even aware of where they were going. They came to a clearing, and he noticed Selvi sitting there, rummaging through the raspberry bushes. “Selvi!” he exclaimed. “I was beginning to wonder if you were all right. I haven’t seen you for days.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “I can’t stay and talk long, though.” She stood up. Pippin hadn’t realized how much taller she was than he and Merry. He stared at her, eyes narrowed. He had never seen her in the Shire before this week. And her name, Selvi, it was not a proper name for a Hobbit.

“Pippin!” Merry had to shout.

The hobbit’s concentration was broken and he turned to Merry. “What is it now? I was trying to think.”

“Something I’m sure takes a lot of effort,” Merry muttered. “You wouldn’t stop staring. And your friend--Selvi, was it? Well, she’s left. Ran off. Looked like she was headed for Tookborough.” He scratched his head. “We’d best be heading home now, shouldn’t we?”

Pippin shrugged. His mind wasn’t on home, it was on Selvi. What was she hiding? And why was she going to the Great Smials? He soon tired of thinking and they set off once again. Late into the afternoon, they walked, until they came across Frodo, who had been looking for them. Excited about the meal Sam was preparing, the hobbits moved at a faster pace. By the time they arrived at Bag-End, the dinner was nearly finished. Sam had set the table with the finest dishes he could find, and the cups were already filled with ale.

Bilbo emerged from his room not fifteen minutes later. He was pleasantly surprised to see many platters of various fruits, meats, cheeses and vegetables laid out before him.

The night was a joyous one, filled with many songs from Bilbo, and even one or two of Frodo’s. They ate until their stomachs could hold no more and drank until they could no longer stand.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam wished Bilbo a happy birthday one more time and went on their own ways.

Frodo offered to clean up and sent Bilbo off to bed. After all, he had had a long journey and needed his rest. Frodo’s journey had not been nearly as tiring, nor as exciting. He hadn’t even left the Shire.

Frodo scrubbed at the plate a few more times and dried it off. He picked up the candle and walked slowly to his room. He blew out the light and collapsed on to his bed, immediately drifting off to sleep.

~

The morning came sooner than Pippin would have liked. He managed to sit up, but could hardly see straight. The pain in his head was overwhelming. “Oh, he groaned. “Too much ale...” He heard a noise coming from another room, and struggled to stand. Pippin stumbled down the dark hallway and entered the empty guestroom, where the noise had seemed to come from. The window was wide open, he noticed, and a cold breeze was blowing in. The bed was upturned and all of the drawers were pulled from the hutch. Papers were flying about, seeming never to land. It suddenly dawned on Pippin that it wasn’t morning. Someone had broken in and made such a racket that he was roused from slumber. And then it came to him.

Pippin grabbed a waistcoat and the largest knife he could find. As quietly as was possible, he slipped out the door, stopping only to listen for the sound of another pair of footsteps. He heard them, padding along the dirt road, and saw a dark shape going with them. He followed the shape, and ever so slowly began to gain on it.

The figure seemed to turn its head back several times; in those moments Pippin dropped to the ground or ran from the path completely. The hours dragged on and on and Pippin began to weaken and lag behind. But he forced his legs to go on along the dark, stony path.

The hobbit was hungry. It had been several hours now since he’d last ate. He wiped his damp brow on his sleeve. It was unusually warm for an autumn night, normally they were quite cool. Unaware of its presence, Pippin stumbled over a large, jagged-feeling rock. He fell to the ground, trying not to make a noise that would give away his position. He shut his eyes tightly and held his breath. He could no longer hear the soft padding footsteps ahead of him. They had subsided. Pippin was itching to know what had happened to the figure but was too frightened to look.

All too quickly, the padding started up again and seemed to be nearing him. That was it. Pippin couldn’t stand it any longer: he opened his eyes. Then he gasped. A spearhead was no more than an inch from the tip of his nose. A dark shape loomed over Pippin, and was the owner of the weapon.

“Who are you, stranger? And why are you following me?” the shadow demanded.

Pippin recognized the voice at once, and it was just what he had expected. “Selvi! Ha! I knew it was you! We Tooks aren’t all as queer and foolish as you might think.”

“Pippin, what are you doing here?” He voice had changed, but she did not lower her weapon.

“You broke into my home!” he exclaimed. “Or have you forgotten already?” He searched her expression as best he could in the dim light, but it had not changed. “I know your secrets, Hobbit of Bree.” He got to his feet and drew out his knife. “What were you looking for?” he demanded.

Selvi raised the spear higher. Her eyes were hard and cold. “It is none of your concern,” she replied sternly. “Leave at once!” She watched the stubborn hobbit as he stood his ground, waiting for him to move. “I save your life once, but if you follow me, I cannot guarantee your safety again.” She turned around and walked on, toward a small camp with blazing fires, whose flames rose high into the sky.

Pippin heard cruel, vulgar voices coming from the site, and he dared not go any farther. He threw his knife to the ground, wishing he had the courage to do something, anything.

Selvi turned around angrily and spat on the ground. Pippin had finally left (she was worried he wouldn’t). Who did he think he was? Her business was her own, and he didn’t have any right to meddle. Pippin did not understand the circumstances: the Orcs had spared her life in the mountains in exchange for this little favor. Of course, she hadn’t known then that the deed would become her life, nor that it meant travelling with Orcs as well.

She entered the camp and sat down, leaning against a large stone. Soon an Orc passed by, handing her a cup of water and a few pieces of stale bread. Selvi finished the first piece quickly and gulped down half of her water. She wondered what Pippin had meant. What secrets could he possibly know about? And how did he know she was a hobbit of Bree? Even the Orcs didn’t know that much.

She looked toward the eastern sky, now changing from dark blue to a bright, warm pink, and yawned. She hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, and the Orcs would be moving out soon. To where, she wasn’t sure. Selvi gulped down the rest of her water and looked around at the sleeping bodies of Orcs. No matter how hard it was, she was going to escape. Selvi stuffed the last piece of bread into her pocket and crept out of the campsite.

She sat on the hillside overlooking Hobbiton. There were two hobbits sitting near her, unaware of her presence. They were smoking pipes and talking of merry things, it seemed, for they laughed quite often. She made eye contact with the larger of the two and he alerted his companion.

“Hello, there!” called the smaller hobbit. “What can we do for you?” He approached her, smiling.

The other came up behind him and asked, “Are you lost?”

Selvi shook her head. “No, I’m just resting. Am I bothering you?”

The smaller hobbit smiled. “Of course not. My friend, Sam and I were only having a smoke.”

“Frodo, wasn’t it?” she said.

“Pardon? Oh, oh, yes. I am Frodo,” he replied. “You aren’t of this land, are you?” Selvi shook her head no. “Do you need a place to stay? I have many guestrooms, and my uncle wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”

Selvi smiled. “Thank you, that would be wonderful. I’m Selvi, by the way.”

Sam Gamgee didn’t like this at all. He didn’t trust this hobbit, if she indeed was a hobbit, she certainly didn’t look it. He followed his master and Selvi back to Bag-End. Before Frodo entered, Sam pulled him aside and whispered, “I don’t trust this Selvi, Frodo. Keep your eyes open.”

Frodo rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. She’s harmless. Good-night!” He closed the door behind him.

Sam shook his head sadly and went home.

~

Pippin awoke the next morning, feeling a great weight had been lifted from his heart. Selvi must have left the Shire by now. He knew Orcs did not stay in one place for too long, and by the look of their camp, they had chosen that might to move out. He hopped out of bed and threw on some clothes. He ate a quick but filling breakfast with his family, grabbed his pipe and a pouch of tobacco, and exited the hole. Now that he no longer had to worry about Selvi, he could relax and jest with his friends.

As he approached Bag-End, he saw Sam sitting by the gate, blowing rings of smoke and watching them float off on the wind. Pippin stopped, remembering their tiff once again. He sighed. They would have to speak at some point. He took many more steps, until he stood over the gardener.

Sam looked up, removing the pipe from his mouth. “Well, Pippin, I see you’ve come crawling back to me.”

“I couldn’t stay away long,” said Pippin, smirking. He looked toward the house. “Where is Frodo? Is he at home?” He stood on his toes to see into the window.

Sam arose, blocking his view. “Oh, he’s at home,” he said, glowering. “Just sat down to tea with some other hobbit. Didn’t catch her name, though. I remember it not being a respectable name for a hobbit. Taking advantage of Mr. Frodo, if you ask me,” he muttered.

It seemed Sam could have gone on talking for hours, so Pippin interjected, “Did you say ‘her’?” At Sam’s nod, Pippin threw open the gate and stormed inside. He burst into the dining room. Frodo, Bilbo, and the other hobbit had indeed just sat down to tea--they were only on their first seedcake.

“Pippin Took!” exclaimed Frodo. “Does our door not have a bell?” He had risen from his chair, a sheer sign of anger.

“Come now, Frodo,” said Bilbo calmly. “The boy is hungry. Sit down, lad.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baggins, but I only came in to warn you. A thief and spy sits at this very table!” He stamped his foot meaningfully.

Frodo was angrier now, which was odd, because he wasn’t normally so easy to annoy. ‘First, Pippin interrupts our meal, then he accuses one of us of being a spy!’ he thought to himself. “Stop being ridiculous! None of us are spies!”

“Wait,” Selvi spoke at last. “Pippin is right. That’s exactly what I am--or was. I have distanced myself as best I could from the Orcs, but...” Selvi continued to tell them everything: her capture, the deed she was burdened with (Bilbo seemed rather fascinated at the mention of it), and all of the spying and sneaking around she was forced to do. Once she had finished, she thanked Frodo and left.

Pippin apologized to the hobbits for his rude entry and followed Selvi out. “You know I could turn you in,” he said once he had caught up with her.

“Turn me in to who?” she demanded, not believing a word.

“A group of Elves told Merry and I to find you,” he said. “They told us to go to them if we found you.” He paused, hearing a sharp intake of breath from Selvi. “But I won’t. If you leave the Shire, I will speak nothing of you, or what you seek.”

She turned to face him. “Yes, I will leave.” She smiled weakly. “You Shire Hobbits are merciful creatures.” She exhaled and looked toward the Misty Mountains. “Thank you, Pippin Took. You shall be remembered for your mercy.” She tousled his hair once, repeating softly, “You shall be remembered.”

He did not smile, but watched her set off into the valley, until he could see her no more. She was gone and he needn’t worry longer. But something inside was telling him something was wrong.

The End.

I lied. Sorry.

Go back to Hobbiton.