Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-08-08 08:23 pm
sophinisba) wrote2006-08-08 08:23 pm
Entry tags:
Fic repost: Lost in Translation
Title: Lost in Translation
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sophinisba
Challenge:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
waymeet "Summer Blockbuster" Challenge
Characters: Pippin, the hobbits
Rating: G
Word Count: ~4500
Summary: At Rivendell, Pippin wishes he could understand the Elvish language.
Author's notes: Written for thewaymeet "Summer Blockbuster" Challenge. Mix of book and movie elements, with blatant acceptance of the movie's Flight to the Ford (sorry, Glorfindel fans!). Thanks to danachan and claudia603 for beta and encouragement.
Strider and Gandalf were among the tall people who went in and out of Frodo's chamber, looking rushed and troubled. They had little time to spare for Merry and Pippin and their questions, and the hobbits were frequently told to retire to their own room to rest after their hard journey. They were not told that they were making a nuisance of themselves by hanging around Frodo's door and asking questions, but that was the meaning that Pippin took from the Elves' words, whether they were spoken in a language he understood or not.
The common tongue was used only when someone was speaking directly to the hobbits. For the rest, the Elves spoke amongst themselves in their own language. This was reasonable enough, Pippin thought, if not particularly polite, but it annoyed him that Strider and Gandalf too would use Elf-tongue even in the presence of hobbits who had never learnt it, and who were so very anxious to hear any news at all that they listened hard, constantly. They would watch long, tense conversations between Strider and their host, for instance, and Pippin would stare at each speaker's mouth, thinking that perhaps, if only he could concentrate a little harder, he could make out some clue as to what was going on.
"What did he say, Strider?" Pippin asked after one such exchange, which had taken several minutes.
"That he is doing all he can for Frodo."
This could not possibly be all that was said, but it was the only translation they would be given.
In truth, Pippin had taken a strong dislike for the Elvish language from the moment Strider's breathtakingly beautiful lady friend had appeared out of nowhere, said some things he couldn't understand, and ridden away with his dear ailing cousin in her arms.
"What are they saying?" he'd asked Merry then. Not for the last time.
No one said why Gandalf had failed to meet them in Bree, or how he'd arrived here safe, if rather harried-looking, before the rest of them. No one said exactly what was wrong with Frodo, or what was being done to help him, or whether it was working. All of which Pippin considered decidedly rude, although he had to admit that the place (rather like the Elf-maiden on the white horse) was quite lovely. And at night, when he heard the Elves singing, the sound of it did lighten his heart, and brought him close to forgetting how lost and alone he felt.
"What are they saying, Merry? What does it mean?"
"How do you expect me to know that?"
And Pippin frowned, surprised, because all his life, if Merry hadn't known quite everything, at least he'd made an effort to pretend he did. He'd always had an answer, whether it was the right one or not.
"I expect you to know because you know things," said Pippin, not knowing how to explain it any better than that. And Merry said nothing.
Merry and Pippin were given a room to share with a bed for each, and since the beds were large and the hobbits were lonely, of course they snuggled together in one. Pippin was grateful for Merry's arms around him, but he wished he could have Merry's words as well. The kind of simple, comforting words that Merry had always known how to give him, from the time he was a child waking up with nightmares up through those first nights after Bree, camping out in the wild with Frodo and Sam and Strider. But since Weathertop Merry was silent with his own fears. His arms were still strong, and Pippin felt safe enough within them, but he had no assurance that Frodo too would be safe. There was nothing Merry or Pippin could do to help him now, it seemed.
"Why do they let Sam stay with him?" Pippin asked. "Won't they even let us see him?" Merry only held him and hushed him until he quieted. They waited, and slept very little.
A few times they saw Sam coming or going from the room with cloths or water or messages. On the second day they managed to speak to him.
"When will he wake up, Sam?" said Merry. "Do they know? Have they said anything?"
"They haven't, Mr. Merry. Not to me, leastways. Not to worry though. I'm sure they're taking all the care he deserves, and he'll be awake and healthy soon enough.”
Pippin didn't see how Sam could put so much trust in people he knew not at all, and who willfully kept themselves so mysterious, speaking in a strange, slippery sort of language that no normal person could possibly understand.
Still, he thought, if Sam was this confident, it must mean that Frodo was all right, even if he wasn't awake. It must mean (mustn't it?) that Frodo was not in pain, as he had been when last Merry and Pippin had seen him.
"What have you been doing for him, Sam?" said Pippin. "Why do they not send you away?"
And Merry glared at him, and Pippin supposed he had been rude, but he wasn't about to take back the question.
"Can't say that I've done much of use," Sam said with a shrug. "I've held his hand and spoken to him. I don't think he understands a word I say, but they..." He looked up at them, wrung his hands.
"Yes, Sam, what is it?" Merry said gently.
"Well, Mr. Gandalf said that... he thinks it does Mr. Frodo good, you know, to hear a familiar voice. Someone who cares about him, like."
Someone who loves him, Pippin thought, and made a conscious decision not to become jealous. "I'm glad you're there to speak to him," Pippin said truthfully. And he added, mainly for himself, "It would be confusing, I suppose, if all three of us were there, crowding in around him."
"And Mr. Elrond and the others trying to see to him at the same time," Sam agreed. "It wouldn't do at all."
"Go back then" said Merry, "if they'll not take us. Go back and hold his hand and tell him we're all waiting for him out here. Say that we'd like for him to wake up, for it's a wondrous place here and we'd like for him to see it with his own eyes."
"I'll do that, sir. I'll tell him."
Sam disappeared behind the door again, and Pippin thought about the comfort in a loved one's voice and in his touch. He took Merry's hand and squeezed, hoping the returning pressure would feel like reassurance, but it only felt like fear to answer his own.
On the third day an Elf they hadn't seen before came to their room and told them to follow him, which of course they did.
"Where are we going?" said Pippin, not recognizing this part of the house.
"There is another guest here whom you will be glad to meet."
"Would it be so very difficult for them to give us names?" Pippin muttered. If their guide heard him he gave no reaction.
A name might not do them much good anyway. From his intense observations of the conversations that excluded him, Pippin had come to realize that the Elves had different names even for individual people. Gandalf, for instance, was not called Gandalf here. He had another name, which was not particularly difficult to pronounce but was less, well, simple and straightforward than Gandalf, which was the only name the hobbits of the Shire had ever needed for him.
Strider was not called Strider or even Aragorn (which Gandalf's letter had said was his true name) but had several other names here that were in no way similar to the ones Pippin knew.
The Elves said "Meriadoc" and "Peregrin", and Pippin did not bother to say, "My friends always call me Pippin," because he did not think these people particularly wanted to be his friends. He was glad at least that they did not seem to have trouble telling which one was which.
"Makes no sense at all. And Rivendell!" he grumbled to Merry as they walked. "You would think if there were one place on earth where Rivendell would be called Rivendell, it would be at Rivendell."
The Elf opened a door for them, and they were both left more or less speechless when they looked upon the wizened old hobbit who was rising, with a little effort, to meet them.
As they embraced him, gently, Pippin tried to reach back his childhood's memory of Frodo's guardian. He realized his idea of Bilbo had more to do with Frodo's and Merry's recollections than with his own. And none of those had much to do with the hobbit that stood before them.
Frodo would smile fondly whenever he said the name, though sometimes he would get that faraway look that Pippin hated to see, and that he'd seen more and more often as the years went by. Trying to understand Frodo's sadness, Pippin had tried to imagine how he himself would feel if he were to lose Frodo. This past year, for the first time Pippin could remember, that very thing had come to seem a very real possibility. And these past few days, of course, it had become much more real and much more frightening indeed.
"Frodo will be so very pleased to see you as soon as he is well," was the first thing Pippin could think to say.
And Merry nodded fervently in agreement. And Bilbo said, "That will be a wonderful thing indeed, and I'm sure it happen be very soon."
"Have they said that to you?" said Merry. "The Elves? Do they tell you how he fares?"
Bilbo smiled and shook his head. "I cannot tell you when it will happen, but Elrond will bring Frodo back to us, you'll see."
And Pippin blushed, as if he had been rebuked, for not having the same trust in Elrond and the others that Bilbo -- and Sam -- clearly did.
"But have a seat, lads. Let's have a smoke and you can tell me all about the adventures you've had up till now, together with my dear Frodo."
They did sit down, and Pippin was pleased to notice that Bilbo's room, unlike the one where he and Merry were sleeping, had proper hobbit-sized chairs and other furniture. It was made in the Elvish fashion and all of it a good deal more elaborate than anything one would see in the Shire (even in a fine home like Bag End or Great Smials), and yet the good proportions here did make him feel a little bit more at home.
And so it was that they spoke no more of the current danger or of their worries, but told instead of all they had done and all that had changed in the Shire these last seventeen years.
And Pippin thought of all the times, through all those years, ever since he was a child, that he'd heard Merry say, "If I ever meet him again in this lifetime, I'll have a word or two for him" about leaving Frodo alone. Merry seemed to blame Bilbo for every single time Frodo suffered, any time he looked sad, though he seldom said so in Frodo's presence. He'd said it to Pippin often, and so many more times since they'd found out about the Ring, and what Frodo planned to do about it.
But if these thoughts were in Merry's mind at all today, he must have banished them as soon as he had held the somewhat frail old hobbit in his arms. And soon after they began their conversation, Pippin too discarded his plan of pressing Bilbo into service as an interpreter. It wouldn't do at all, considering how easily his stories wandered of into tangents, or how easily his mind wandered in and out of sleep.
"Do you suppose he really is happy here?" Pippin wondered allowed as Bilbo snored. "Do you think a hobbit really could feel at home in a place like this?"
Merry didn't answer. And Pippin realized he was getting used to that silence now. Which meant, really, that a hobbit could probably get used to just about anything.
On the morning of the fifth day they were told Frodo was awake, but still they weren't allowed to see him.
But in the afternoon he was not only awake but walking outside and greeting his friends.
Gandalf scolded Pippin for making fun, but Frodo seemed to enjoy his jokes, so Pippin kept up with them. It was such a joy to see Frodo smiling and laughing that Pippin thought he could forget that he had been terrified and was still rather lost. The four of them laughed as they hugged each other, and Pippin hadn't felt this close to his cousins since Crickhollow, and hadn't felt this close to Sam in all their lives.
That evening, after the feast, there was much singing and reciting of poetry in Elvish, and it all meant very little to Pippin, but the way Frodo's eyes shone as he listened was perhaps the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The joy was short-lived though, for the very next day, back in Bilbo's room, Merry and Pippin found out what had happened at the Council (to which they hadn't been invited), and what Frodo had decided to do. Merry did not seem at all shocked by the news that Frodo would be continuing his dangerous mission, and Pippin did his best to follow Merry's lead. Of course going back to the Shire without Frodo was out of the question. Of course Merry and Pippin would follow him as far as they could. There was no need to dissemble on that question.
Still, Pippin felt he was being somewhat dishonest, and that he had to be, because he really couldn't afford to admit how nervous he felt. He wanted to be cheerful and confident so that Frodo, who had enough burdens already, wouldn't have any more worries on Pippin's account. And he wanted to seem brave and resolute so that no one else would try to send him home. Sam stayed by Frodo's side, and Merry stayed quiet, and for as many days again (Pippin guessed, though they'd ceased to count them by then), no one asked Pippin just how he was feeling about the journey ahead, or how he had felt during those days when he wasn't able to see Frodo. And Pippin was just as glad, for he didn't particularly care to discuss it.
He saw Frodo often now, but they were seldom alone together. And Frodo must have realized there was something wrong, for he was the one who insisted that Pippin stay with him in his room one afternoon, while Strider took Merry and Sam to check on Bill at the stables. Frodo looked rather grave, and Pippin dearly hoped that this was not the Serious Talk he had been dreading, the one in which Frodo would tell him he really must go home.
"Yesterday I had to get Merry alone," Frodo said casually, "and it was several hours with the thumbscrews before I could get him to confess that he blamed Gandalf and Bilbo for putting the cursed thing in my hands. We had a good talk in the end. You probably noticed he's been breathing easier since then."
"Yes," said Pippin, containing his surprise in a wry smile. "We saw Bilbo at breakfast and Merry didn't even glare at him.
Frodo smiled, nodded, sad down in the armchair (made to fit one Elf) and gestured for Pippin to sit next to him, which he did. Frodo put an arm around his shoulders and held Pippin's hands in one of his own, and Pippin settled happily into the embrace, for all that he still felt uneasy. "You, on the other hand, continue to cut your eyes at Elrond, and at every other Elf you see."
"I don't."
"You do, cousin. Have they really been such horrible hosts as that?"
"Of course not, Frodo," Pippin grumbled.
"I'm not... I'm not scolding you, Pippin. I want to know -- It's not like you to be as quiet and withdrawn as you've been. Merry said that before I woke up you were asking a lot of questions..."
"Well, I always do ask questions. That wasn't anything unusual. If I've asked less lately it's only because no one was giving me any answers. Not Merry, not Bilbo, and certainly not any of the Elves." He paused. "They're not very much like hobbits, are they?"
It was a rather foolish thing to say, and Pippin was surprised when Frodo took his time to think before speaking again. "It's not their way to answer with a yes or a no, or a name or a number or anything so simple. I wonder, perhaps it comes from living for so long, seeing so much. They know things aren't as straightforward as we see them in the Shire."
"Hmph," said Pippin.
"Would you mind translating that noise for me, dear?" Frodo said sweetly.
"Oh, all right, Frodo!" Pippin squirmed around a bit in order to look him in the eyes, and the fact that Frodo was completely unruffled only added to Pippin's exasperation. "It's fine for you to joke about it."
"To joke about what?"
"About translation! Of course it wouldn't bother you! But it's not just the talking in riddles, is it? They won't even speak our language most of the time, even though they know how to. It doesn't bother you because Bilbo taught you Elvish when you were young. You must understand everything they say."
"Is that what you're so upset about?"
"I'm not upset!"
Frodo shook his head. "Well, that's good, because you've no reason to be. And no reason to be jealous of me either. Bilbo tried to teach me Elvish, but I wasn't so interested."
"Frodo!"
"It's true."
"It's not. We all know you've been fascinated by the Elves since you were a child. That was part of why you and Bilbo always got on so well."
"Of course, that much is true. I always loved his stories about the Elves, and at first I thought I'd like to learn their language. But Bilbo, well, you know I love him dearly, but his Elvish lessons weren't, shall we say, suited to my temperament."
"But they were about Elves, Frodo," said Pippin, marveling that the cousin he'd always looked up to could be so dense about such a simple thing.
"Ah, but they weren't, really, if you'd been there. They were mainly about grammar -- tenses and aspects and... cases, especially." Frodo shuddered a little.
"Cases?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
"But I do, Frodo. I'd have given anything to understand what they were saying during those few days. Merry and I were lost, not knowing what's going on."
"I know, Pippin," Frodo said seriously, "and I am sorry. But believe me, Bilbo's declension exercises wouldn't have helped you any more than a teaspoon in a flood.
Pippin frowned. "The exercises perhaps not, but they were a means to an end. He used them to teach you how -- "
"You'll have noticed that I barely speak it myself," Frodo interrupted, sounding amused now.
Pippin was certain this was not true, and he spoke up quickly, eagerly, "When we met Gildor on the road -- "
"I said a síla lúmenn and it made him happy. That's a gesture, Pippin; it's like bowing when you meet a dwarf. It's to show you're friendly, that you respect his ways and you want to learn more."
"He said you were a scholar," Pippin protested.
Frodo shook his head, smiling. "He was teasing, Pip. Bilbo's the scholar; he's put decades of study into it and still they laugh at him -- that's their way as well. I know the letters, I can sound out words in the script, but they don't mean anything to me when I speak them -- I need to hear it from the mouth of someone who knows what he's saying. Then, Pippin, it's as if..." Frodo paused to search for the right words, and even in his frustration Pippin loved the way his cousin's face looked. "It doesn't go through my conscious mind at all. I hear the music of the words but not the meaning of them. But the ideas and the emotions find a place inside me all the same. Haven't you felt that, in the days you've been here?"
Pippin thought about this for a little while, and Frodo waited patiently for him to answer. "I think I have," he said finally, "but only since you've been with us. When I see you and I can tell that you understand it, then it makes me happy. Like it makes me happy now to see you talking about it. But before, when you were... when you were still sleeping, I was so confused." He could say it, he reminded himself; there was no harm in telling Frodo. "And I can't help thinking it'll just go on like that. That these Big Men and Elves will be making all the decisions amongst themselves and we'll just be standing there, waiting for someone to tell us what to do."
"My dear Pippin."
And Frodo, who had never let go of him, hugged him tight for a few moments without saying anything, and Pippin couldn't hold on to too much resentment when he was being held like that.
"You know it's not like that."
"I know. You volunteered to go."
"And you've volunteered to come with me, and against Elrond's wishes, at that."
"Please don't say I can't come, Frodo."
"I wasn't going to suggest such a thing. I worry for you, of course, and I don't want you to commit to this unless you really understand what we're trying to do, but I'd never send you away. You believe me, don't you?"
Pippin pulled away to look at him again. "Of course I do."
"Well, there you are, that's half the battle. You trust me, I think, and you know I trust Gandalf. And after what's happened since we came here I've come to trust Elrond as well. They're not going to make all the decisions for us, but we need to listen to what they have to say. Otherwise we're no better than those Shire-hobbits who don't want to hear about anything that goes on outside their borders."
"But I've been listening, Frodo. That's just the thing. I've been listening and I don't understand a word of it."
"You don't need to try to understand the words though. You need to trust them the way you trust me. You have to stop trying to decode the meaning of every little syllable. You have to want to know what someone is saying to you. You have to be... open to them. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yes," said Pippin, although he still wasn't quite sure, "I think so. I will try to do that."
And Frodo laughed. "There you are, you've already caught the spirit of it at least. You don't understand everything I say, but you're willing to trust, me, yes?"
"Yes," Pippin answered, laughing a little despite himself, "I suppose it's something like that."
"Elrond intends to send at least one Elf with us on the journey," said Frodo. "We'll have a lot of Elves and Men and Dwarves and I can't say what other kinds of creatures to deal with before the end of this. And it'll do us no good at all to go along the way wishing everyone else would act more like hobbits."
"But if they would act more like hobbits -- " Pippin said began before he could stop himself, but Frodo stopped him.
"But they're not going to, don't you see? They've all got their own ways of acting and thinking and speaking. If we're not willing to turn around and go home to the Shire then we've got to get used to the fact that we will be the foreigners, and we'll be the ones who need to listen and to learn from the people we meet."
Pippin nodded. "I understand," he said. "And I will do my best, to... to listen, in that way. I'll try."
"Then I see no reason why anyone should think of sending you home," said Frodo. "You'll not have to be tied up in a sack after all."
"That's good. I wasn't much looking forward to that."
"I shall be glad to have you with me because I care for you, and because you always know how make me laugh. But also because you're curious about strangers, and because you're open and kind, and you care so deeply for others. I think all of this will matter as much to us as your bravery."
Pippin did not feel very brave, and for the first time in a long time it felt all right to say so.
"Nothing is certain," said Frodo. "It's all right to admit that. You needn't close yourself off as you've been doing. You can always come to me."
"It didn't mean to shut you out," Pippin murmured. "I do trust you Frodo, I always do."
And Frodo hugged tight. "I know," he said.
More days passed, Pippin had no idea how many. But they were better days than any since they'd left the Shire. Frodo's health continued to improve, till Pippin could almost forget how frightened they had all been of losing him. Sam never ceased to be enchanted by the Elves and by their songs and tales, and now Pippin's mood had improved enough that he too could sit and listen to them, for hours even, though did always like it better if he could watch Frodo's face while he listened. Merry, as Frodo had said, breathed easier. And it became easy again for Pippin to tell his friends everything he was feeling, just as he had always done.
So when the time came for Elrond to name the nine members of the Fellowship, Elrond was against Pippin's going, but Gandalf told him to trust to the hobbits' friendship. And to Pippin's great surprise, Elrond agreed.
They became aware of the days again once they left the shelter of Elrond's house, for it was dreary and dark December. Pippin shivered with cold and with apprehension, but he was grateful for all the friends he had with him, and he was grateful to be with them.
On their third night out, Pippin heard Strider and Legolas singing softly together in Elvish, and he found that he had no desire to ask either of them what the words meant. He walked with Merry and held his hand, and exchanged a glance and a smile with Frodo. And when the song ended Pippin simply said, "Thank you," and the Company walked on.
"Summer Blockbuster" challenge | my fic index
Author:
sophinisbaChallenge:
waymeet "Summer Blockbuster" Challenge Characters: Pippin, the hobbits
Rating: G
Word Count: ~4500
Summary: At Rivendell, Pippin wishes he could understand the Elvish language.
Author's notes: Written for the
waymeet "Summer Blockbuster" Challenge. Mix of book and movie elements, with blatant acceptance of the movie's Flight to the Ford (sorry, Glorfindel fans!). Thanks to danachan and claudia603 for beta and encouragement.Strider and Gandalf were among the tall people who went in and out of Frodo's chamber, looking rushed and troubled. They had little time to spare for Merry and Pippin and their questions, and the hobbits were frequently told to retire to their own room to rest after their hard journey. They were not told that they were making a nuisance of themselves by hanging around Frodo's door and asking questions, but that was the meaning that Pippin took from the Elves' words, whether they were spoken in a language he understood or not.
The common tongue was used only when someone was speaking directly to the hobbits. For the rest, the Elves spoke amongst themselves in their own language. This was reasonable enough, Pippin thought, if not particularly polite, but it annoyed him that Strider and Gandalf too would use Elf-tongue even in the presence of hobbits who had never learnt it, and who were so very anxious to hear any news at all that they listened hard, constantly. They would watch long, tense conversations between Strider and their host, for instance, and Pippin would stare at each speaker's mouth, thinking that perhaps, if only he could concentrate a little harder, he could make out some clue as to what was going on.
"What did he say, Strider?" Pippin asked after one such exchange, which had taken several minutes.
"That he is doing all he can for Frodo."
This could not possibly be all that was said, but it was the only translation they would be given.
In truth, Pippin had taken a strong dislike for the Elvish language from the moment Strider's breathtakingly beautiful lady friend had appeared out of nowhere, said some things he couldn't understand, and ridden away with his dear ailing cousin in her arms.
"What are they saying?" he'd asked Merry then. Not for the last time.
No one said why Gandalf had failed to meet them in Bree, or how he'd arrived here safe, if rather harried-looking, before the rest of them. No one said exactly what was wrong with Frodo, or what was being done to help him, or whether it was working. All of which Pippin considered decidedly rude, although he had to admit that the place (rather like the Elf-maiden on the white horse) was quite lovely. And at night, when he heard the Elves singing, the sound of it did lighten his heart, and brought him close to forgetting how lost and alone he felt.
"What are they saying, Merry? What does it mean?"
"How do you expect me to know that?"
And Pippin frowned, surprised, because all his life, if Merry hadn't known quite everything, at least he'd made an effort to pretend he did. He'd always had an answer, whether it was the right one or not.
"I expect you to know because you know things," said Pippin, not knowing how to explain it any better than that. And Merry said nothing.
Merry and Pippin were given a room to share with a bed for each, and since the beds were large and the hobbits were lonely, of course they snuggled together in one. Pippin was grateful for Merry's arms around him, but he wished he could have Merry's words as well. The kind of simple, comforting words that Merry had always known how to give him, from the time he was a child waking up with nightmares up through those first nights after Bree, camping out in the wild with Frodo and Sam and Strider. But since Weathertop Merry was silent with his own fears. His arms were still strong, and Pippin felt safe enough within them, but he had no assurance that Frodo too would be safe. There was nothing Merry or Pippin could do to help him now, it seemed.
"Why do they let Sam stay with him?" Pippin asked. "Won't they even let us see him?" Merry only held him and hushed him until he quieted. They waited, and slept very little.
A few times they saw Sam coming or going from the room with cloths or water or messages. On the second day they managed to speak to him.
"When will he wake up, Sam?" said Merry. "Do they know? Have they said anything?"
"They haven't, Mr. Merry. Not to me, leastways. Not to worry though. I'm sure they're taking all the care he deserves, and he'll be awake and healthy soon enough.”
Pippin didn't see how Sam could put so much trust in people he knew not at all, and who willfully kept themselves so mysterious, speaking in a strange, slippery sort of language that no normal person could possibly understand.
Still, he thought, if Sam was this confident, it must mean that Frodo was all right, even if he wasn't awake. It must mean (mustn't it?) that Frodo was not in pain, as he had been when last Merry and Pippin had seen him.
"What have you been doing for him, Sam?" said Pippin. "Why do they not send you away?"
And Merry glared at him, and Pippin supposed he had been rude, but he wasn't about to take back the question.
"Can't say that I've done much of use," Sam said with a shrug. "I've held his hand and spoken to him. I don't think he understands a word I say, but they..." He looked up at them, wrung his hands.
"Yes, Sam, what is it?" Merry said gently.
"Well, Mr. Gandalf said that... he thinks it does Mr. Frodo good, you know, to hear a familiar voice. Someone who cares about him, like."
Someone who loves him, Pippin thought, and made a conscious decision not to become jealous. "I'm glad you're there to speak to him," Pippin said truthfully. And he added, mainly for himself, "It would be confusing, I suppose, if all three of us were there, crowding in around him."
"And Mr. Elrond and the others trying to see to him at the same time," Sam agreed. "It wouldn't do at all."
"Go back then" said Merry, "if they'll not take us. Go back and hold his hand and tell him we're all waiting for him out here. Say that we'd like for him to wake up, for it's a wondrous place here and we'd like for him to see it with his own eyes."
"I'll do that, sir. I'll tell him."
Sam disappeared behind the door again, and Pippin thought about the comfort in a loved one's voice and in his touch. He took Merry's hand and squeezed, hoping the returning pressure would feel like reassurance, but it only felt like fear to answer his own.
On the third day an Elf they hadn't seen before came to their room and told them to follow him, which of course they did.
"Where are we going?" said Pippin, not recognizing this part of the house.
"There is another guest here whom you will be glad to meet."
"Would it be so very difficult for them to give us names?" Pippin muttered. If their guide heard him he gave no reaction.
A name might not do them much good anyway. From his intense observations of the conversations that excluded him, Pippin had come to realize that the Elves had different names even for individual people. Gandalf, for instance, was not called Gandalf here. He had another name, which was not particularly difficult to pronounce but was less, well, simple and straightforward than Gandalf, which was the only name the hobbits of the Shire had ever needed for him.
Strider was not called Strider or even Aragorn (which Gandalf's letter had said was his true name) but had several other names here that were in no way similar to the ones Pippin knew.
The Elves said "Meriadoc" and "Peregrin", and Pippin did not bother to say, "My friends always call me Pippin," because he did not think these people particularly wanted to be his friends. He was glad at least that they did not seem to have trouble telling which one was which.
"Makes no sense at all. And Rivendell!" he grumbled to Merry as they walked. "You would think if there were one place on earth where Rivendell would be called Rivendell, it would be at Rivendell."
The Elf opened a door for them, and they were both left more or less speechless when they looked upon the wizened old hobbit who was rising, with a little effort, to meet them.
As they embraced him, gently, Pippin tried to reach back his childhood's memory of Frodo's guardian. He realized his idea of Bilbo had more to do with Frodo's and Merry's recollections than with his own. And none of those had much to do with the hobbit that stood before them.
Frodo would smile fondly whenever he said the name, though sometimes he would get that faraway look that Pippin hated to see, and that he'd seen more and more often as the years went by. Trying to understand Frodo's sadness, Pippin had tried to imagine how he himself would feel if he were to lose Frodo. This past year, for the first time Pippin could remember, that very thing had come to seem a very real possibility. And these past few days, of course, it had become much more real and much more frightening indeed.
"Frodo will be so very pleased to see you as soon as he is well," was the first thing Pippin could think to say.
And Merry nodded fervently in agreement. And Bilbo said, "That will be a wonderful thing indeed, and I'm sure it happen be very soon."
"Have they said that to you?" said Merry. "The Elves? Do they tell you how he fares?"
Bilbo smiled and shook his head. "I cannot tell you when it will happen, but Elrond will bring Frodo back to us, you'll see."
And Pippin blushed, as if he had been rebuked, for not having the same trust in Elrond and the others that Bilbo -- and Sam -- clearly did.
"But have a seat, lads. Let's have a smoke and you can tell me all about the adventures you've had up till now, together with my dear Frodo."
They did sit down, and Pippin was pleased to notice that Bilbo's room, unlike the one where he and Merry were sleeping, had proper hobbit-sized chairs and other furniture. It was made in the Elvish fashion and all of it a good deal more elaborate than anything one would see in the Shire (even in a fine home like Bag End or Great Smials), and yet the good proportions here did make him feel a little bit more at home.
And so it was that they spoke no more of the current danger or of their worries, but told instead of all they had done and all that had changed in the Shire these last seventeen years.
And Pippin thought of all the times, through all those years, ever since he was a child, that he'd heard Merry say, "If I ever meet him again in this lifetime, I'll have a word or two for him" about leaving Frodo alone. Merry seemed to blame Bilbo for every single time Frodo suffered, any time he looked sad, though he seldom said so in Frodo's presence. He'd said it to Pippin often, and so many more times since they'd found out about the Ring, and what Frodo planned to do about it.
But if these thoughts were in Merry's mind at all today, he must have banished them as soon as he had held the somewhat frail old hobbit in his arms. And soon after they began their conversation, Pippin too discarded his plan of pressing Bilbo into service as an interpreter. It wouldn't do at all, considering how easily his stories wandered of into tangents, or how easily his mind wandered in and out of sleep.
"Do you suppose he really is happy here?" Pippin wondered allowed as Bilbo snored. "Do you think a hobbit really could feel at home in a place like this?"
Merry didn't answer. And Pippin realized he was getting used to that silence now. Which meant, really, that a hobbit could probably get used to just about anything.
On the morning of the fifth day they were told Frodo was awake, but still they weren't allowed to see him.
But in the afternoon he was not only awake but walking outside and greeting his friends.
Gandalf scolded Pippin for making fun, but Frodo seemed to enjoy his jokes, so Pippin kept up with them. It was such a joy to see Frodo smiling and laughing that Pippin thought he could forget that he had been terrified and was still rather lost. The four of them laughed as they hugged each other, and Pippin hadn't felt this close to his cousins since Crickhollow, and hadn't felt this close to Sam in all their lives.
That evening, after the feast, there was much singing and reciting of poetry in Elvish, and it all meant very little to Pippin, but the way Frodo's eyes shone as he listened was perhaps the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The joy was short-lived though, for the very next day, back in Bilbo's room, Merry and Pippin found out what had happened at the Council (to which they hadn't been invited), and what Frodo had decided to do. Merry did not seem at all shocked by the news that Frodo would be continuing his dangerous mission, and Pippin did his best to follow Merry's lead. Of course going back to the Shire without Frodo was out of the question. Of course Merry and Pippin would follow him as far as they could. There was no need to dissemble on that question.
Still, Pippin felt he was being somewhat dishonest, and that he had to be, because he really couldn't afford to admit how nervous he felt. He wanted to be cheerful and confident so that Frodo, who had enough burdens already, wouldn't have any more worries on Pippin's account. And he wanted to seem brave and resolute so that no one else would try to send him home. Sam stayed by Frodo's side, and Merry stayed quiet, and for as many days again (Pippin guessed, though they'd ceased to count them by then), no one asked Pippin just how he was feeling about the journey ahead, or how he had felt during those days when he wasn't able to see Frodo. And Pippin was just as glad, for he didn't particularly care to discuss it.
He saw Frodo often now, but they were seldom alone together. And Frodo must have realized there was something wrong, for he was the one who insisted that Pippin stay with him in his room one afternoon, while Strider took Merry and Sam to check on Bill at the stables. Frodo looked rather grave, and Pippin dearly hoped that this was not the Serious Talk he had been dreading, the one in which Frodo would tell him he really must go home.
"Yesterday I had to get Merry alone," Frodo said casually, "and it was several hours with the thumbscrews before I could get him to confess that he blamed Gandalf and Bilbo for putting the cursed thing in my hands. We had a good talk in the end. You probably noticed he's been breathing easier since then."
"Yes," said Pippin, containing his surprise in a wry smile. "We saw Bilbo at breakfast and Merry didn't even glare at him.
Frodo smiled, nodded, sad down in the armchair (made to fit one Elf) and gestured for Pippin to sit next to him, which he did. Frodo put an arm around his shoulders and held Pippin's hands in one of his own, and Pippin settled happily into the embrace, for all that he still felt uneasy. "You, on the other hand, continue to cut your eyes at Elrond, and at every other Elf you see."
"I don't."
"You do, cousin. Have they really been such horrible hosts as that?"
"Of course not, Frodo," Pippin grumbled.
"I'm not... I'm not scolding you, Pippin. I want to know -- It's not like you to be as quiet and withdrawn as you've been. Merry said that before I woke up you were asking a lot of questions..."
"Well, I always do ask questions. That wasn't anything unusual. If I've asked less lately it's only because no one was giving me any answers. Not Merry, not Bilbo, and certainly not any of the Elves." He paused. "They're not very much like hobbits, are they?"
It was a rather foolish thing to say, and Pippin was surprised when Frodo took his time to think before speaking again. "It's not their way to answer with a yes or a no, or a name or a number or anything so simple. I wonder, perhaps it comes from living for so long, seeing so much. They know things aren't as straightforward as we see them in the Shire."
"Hmph," said Pippin.
"Would you mind translating that noise for me, dear?" Frodo said sweetly.
"Oh, all right, Frodo!" Pippin squirmed around a bit in order to look him in the eyes, and the fact that Frodo was completely unruffled only added to Pippin's exasperation. "It's fine for you to joke about it."
"To joke about what?"
"About translation! Of course it wouldn't bother you! But it's not just the talking in riddles, is it? They won't even speak our language most of the time, even though they know how to. It doesn't bother you because Bilbo taught you Elvish when you were young. You must understand everything they say."
"Is that what you're so upset about?"
"I'm not upset!"
Frodo shook his head. "Well, that's good, because you've no reason to be. And no reason to be jealous of me either. Bilbo tried to teach me Elvish, but I wasn't so interested."
"Frodo!"
"It's true."
"It's not. We all know you've been fascinated by the Elves since you were a child. That was part of why you and Bilbo always got on so well."
"Of course, that much is true. I always loved his stories about the Elves, and at first I thought I'd like to learn their language. But Bilbo, well, you know I love him dearly, but his Elvish lessons weren't, shall we say, suited to my temperament."
"But they were about Elves, Frodo," said Pippin, marveling that the cousin he'd always looked up to could be so dense about such a simple thing.
"Ah, but they weren't, really, if you'd been there. They were mainly about grammar -- tenses and aspects and... cases, especially." Frodo shuddered a little.
"Cases?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
"But I do, Frodo. I'd have given anything to understand what they were saying during those few days. Merry and I were lost, not knowing what's going on."
"I know, Pippin," Frodo said seriously, "and I am sorry. But believe me, Bilbo's declension exercises wouldn't have helped you any more than a teaspoon in a flood.
Pippin frowned. "The exercises perhaps not, but they were a means to an end. He used them to teach you how -- "
"You'll have noticed that I barely speak it myself," Frodo interrupted, sounding amused now.
Pippin was certain this was not true, and he spoke up quickly, eagerly, "When we met Gildor on the road -- "
"I said a síla lúmenn and it made him happy. That's a gesture, Pippin; it's like bowing when you meet a dwarf. It's to show you're friendly, that you respect his ways and you want to learn more."
"He said you were a scholar," Pippin protested.
Frodo shook his head, smiling. "He was teasing, Pip. Bilbo's the scholar; he's put decades of study into it and still they laugh at him -- that's their way as well. I know the letters, I can sound out words in the script, but they don't mean anything to me when I speak them -- I need to hear it from the mouth of someone who knows what he's saying. Then, Pippin, it's as if..." Frodo paused to search for the right words, and even in his frustration Pippin loved the way his cousin's face looked. "It doesn't go through my conscious mind at all. I hear the music of the words but not the meaning of them. But the ideas and the emotions find a place inside me all the same. Haven't you felt that, in the days you've been here?"
Pippin thought about this for a little while, and Frodo waited patiently for him to answer. "I think I have," he said finally, "but only since you've been with us. When I see you and I can tell that you understand it, then it makes me happy. Like it makes me happy now to see you talking about it. But before, when you were... when you were still sleeping, I was so confused." He could say it, he reminded himself; there was no harm in telling Frodo. "And I can't help thinking it'll just go on like that. That these Big Men and Elves will be making all the decisions amongst themselves and we'll just be standing there, waiting for someone to tell us what to do."
"My dear Pippin."
And Frodo, who had never let go of him, hugged him tight for a few moments without saying anything, and Pippin couldn't hold on to too much resentment when he was being held like that.
"You know it's not like that."
"I know. You volunteered to go."
"And you've volunteered to come with me, and against Elrond's wishes, at that."
"Please don't say I can't come, Frodo."
"I wasn't going to suggest such a thing. I worry for you, of course, and I don't want you to commit to this unless you really understand what we're trying to do, but I'd never send you away. You believe me, don't you?"
Pippin pulled away to look at him again. "Of course I do."
"Well, there you are, that's half the battle. You trust me, I think, and you know I trust Gandalf. And after what's happened since we came here I've come to trust Elrond as well. They're not going to make all the decisions for us, but we need to listen to what they have to say. Otherwise we're no better than those Shire-hobbits who don't want to hear about anything that goes on outside their borders."
"But I've been listening, Frodo. That's just the thing. I've been listening and I don't understand a word of it."
"You don't need to try to understand the words though. You need to trust them the way you trust me. You have to stop trying to decode the meaning of every little syllable. You have to want to know what someone is saying to you. You have to be... open to them. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yes," said Pippin, although he still wasn't quite sure, "I think so. I will try to do that."
And Frodo laughed. "There you are, you've already caught the spirit of it at least. You don't understand everything I say, but you're willing to trust, me, yes?"
"Yes," Pippin answered, laughing a little despite himself, "I suppose it's something like that."
"Elrond intends to send at least one Elf with us on the journey," said Frodo. "We'll have a lot of Elves and Men and Dwarves and I can't say what other kinds of creatures to deal with before the end of this. And it'll do us no good at all to go along the way wishing everyone else would act more like hobbits."
"But if they would act more like hobbits -- " Pippin said began before he could stop himself, but Frodo stopped him.
"But they're not going to, don't you see? They've all got their own ways of acting and thinking and speaking. If we're not willing to turn around and go home to the Shire then we've got to get used to the fact that we will be the foreigners, and we'll be the ones who need to listen and to learn from the people we meet."
Pippin nodded. "I understand," he said. "And I will do my best, to... to listen, in that way. I'll try."
"Then I see no reason why anyone should think of sending you home," said Frodo. "You'll not have to be tied up in a sack after all."
"That's good. I wasn't much looking forward to that."
"I shall be glad to have you with me because I care for you, and because you always know how make me laugh. But also because you're curious about strangers, and because you're open and kind, and you care so deeply for others. I think all of this will matter as much to us as your bravery."
Pippin did not feel very brave, and for the first time in a long time it felt all right to say so.
"Nothing is certain," said Frodo. "It's all right to admit that. You needn't close yourself off as you've been doing. You can always come to me."
"It didn't mean to shut you out," Pippin murmured. "I do trust you Frodo, I always do."
And Frodo hugged tight. "I know," he said.
More days passed, Pippin had no idea how many. But they were better days than any since they'd left the Shire. Frodo's health continued to improve, till Pippin could almost forget how frightened they had all been of losing him. Sam never ceased to be enchanted by the Elves and by their songs and tales, and now Pippin's mood had improved enough that he too could sit and listen to them, for hours even, though did always like it better if he could watch Frodo's face while he listened. Merry, as Frodo had said, breathed easier. And it became easy again for Pippin to tell his friends everything he was feeling, just as he had always done.
So when the time came for Elrond to name the nine members of the Fellowship, Elrond was against Pippin's going, but Gandalf told him to trust to the hobbits' friendship. And to Pippin's great surprise, Elrond agreed.
They became aware of the days again once they left the shelter of Elrond's house, for it was dreary and dark December. Pippin shivered with cold and with apprehension, but he was grateful for all the friends he had with him, and he was grateful to be with them.
On their third night out, Pippin heard Strider and Legolas singing softly together in Elvish, and he found that he had no desire to ask either of them what the words meant. He walked with Merry and held his hand, and exchanged a glance and a smile with Frodo. And when the song ended Pippin simply said, "Thank you," and the Company walked on.
"Summer Blockbuster" challenge | my fic index
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