6. Give My Regards to Rivendell
Merry had informed Frodo that nearly being devoured by Gollum was no match for what dire act Pippin might come up with, and that he certainly deserved a nice vacation after all he had done, and now might be a good time to plan one. Sam had even begun to detail elaborate plans for a trip back to Mordor to retrieve his lost cooking gear.
“Surely he won’t follow us there, sir,” he chuckled, as he and Frodo walked through one of the corridors.
“Wouldn’t he?” muttered Frodo. “Good heavens, Sam, it was just a joke. He wouldn’t contemplate revenge on his frail, wounded, elderly cousin, would he?”
“Since you insist on looking like a tweenager newly restored to the bloom of health, he just might,” said Sam. “But personally, I think this *is* his revenge. You’re so edgy, one would think Gollum was about.”
Frodo froze at the sound of Pippin’s cheerful voice behind him. He turned slowly, carefully.
“Frodo, I just found out they’re having those honey cakes you love so much at luncheon today. Isn’t that great?”
“It sure is, Pip. Thanks so much for telling me.”
Pippin grabbed Frodo in a big hug, grinned at him, and ran off.
“I’m dead,” moaned Frodo, sagging against the wall. “He probably poisoned them. When you get back to Rivendell, would you tell Bilbo I really wanted to see him again? Don’t tell him I sold Bag End, though, I seem to have neglected to tell him about that when we were there.” He looked down the corridor. “Where was he off to in such a hurry, anyway?”
“Sword practice, I think,” said Sam. “With Captain Faramir.”
“Swords,” sighed Frodo. “I’d rather not have another one pointed at me, ever.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” said Sam. “If Mr. Pippin does something dreadful to you, I’d be obligated to do something dreadful to him. Of course, then the King will probably lock me up in that dungeon we forced Captain Faramir to start thinking about. I’m sure it’s a crime of some sort to assault a Knight of Gondor, or whatever Mr. Pippin is.” They started to walk off. “I’m sure Mr. Merry will give your regards to everyone in Rivendell for you.”
“All right, good,” mumbled Frodo, no longer listening. “That’s good, let’s do that.”
“Peregrin, what have you done to Frodo?”
Pippin looked up, startled. Faramir took the opportunity to expertly disarm Pippin and back the astonished hobbit up against the wall at swordpoint. Pippin gulped, looking down at the sword pointed at his heart, then back up again.
“You let your guard drop, Peregrin. You’re a better swordsman…….. er, hobbit than that!” Faramir chuckled and lowered his sword, to Pippin’s relief. “Now then. What have you done to Frodo?”
“Faramir, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Indeed?” Faramir sheathed his sword and Pippin picked his up off the floor. They walked over to a nearby bench and sat down.
“I overheard that Frodo believes you might be a bit…….. put out……… by something or other he wrote about you.”
“Something he…….” Pippin looked confused for a moment. “You mean that Elvish phrase? Strider said it had so many meanings he couldn’t begin to translate it for me, but that nobody would have taught Frodo the bad ones. He said it was very sweet of him to have……….” Pippin abruptly stood up, looking shocked. “Frodo thinks I’m mad at him?” He hurriedly sheathed his sword and turned to go.
“Where are you going?”
Pippin turned around. “I need to see Frodo right away. I couldn’t bear it if he was mad at me, Faramir. Especially over a silly misunderstanding!”
Pippin looked so sincere and distressed that Faramir was sorry he had brought the subject up. But Frodo *had* been acting a bit skittish for a few days. “Perhaps someone *else* should explain this misunderstanding to Frodo. He might be a bit nervous about----”
“Faramir,” Pippin burst out laughing. “The only times I ever saw my cousin ‘nervous’ were when he was screwing himself up to dash off alone into peril and spare his friends the danger. I don’t know where you heard all this nonsense, but you have a lot yet to learn about hobbits!” Still chuckling, he dashed off.
Faramir watched him go. Peregrin was no doubt correct; not even Mithrandir claimed to know everything about hobbits. Still, something about all this was making him vaguely uneasy.
Out of Faramir’s sight, Pippin strode calmly along the corridor wearing a satisifed smile. Luncheon would be nice just about now, and he deserved an extra honey cake or two for such a superb performance. He shook his head in amazement; Frodo was already nervous as a cat and he hadn’t had to do a thing. Pippin loved his cousin and would lay down his life for him a dozen times over; but Frodo Baggins was going to rue the day he had ever learned Elvish.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.