FIC: Meetings on the Road (General) for 50passages, B2MEM
And now for a nice gen ficlet!
Title: Meetings on the Road
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Merry, Pippin, guest appearance by Elrohir
Prompt: 039 (“The fool’s hope has failed.”)
Word Count: 1, 691
Rating: PG (for slight violence)
Summary: A group of robbers attack a pair of travelers on the road, and things don’t turn out quite how they expected it to.
Author's Notes: Did a bit of cheating here *sheepish grin* This is actually a major re-working of a scene from my story Mirrors in the Mind with ending and many details changed. Also altered the prompting passage a bit. Anyway, I hope y’all like it!
“Now, lads, what have we here?”
The two diminutive figures on the empty road halted their ponies and turned their heads to look at the knot of gangly men that had materialized along either side of them. One man raised a short sword threateningly. All ten of them were grinning in a most unpleasant, anticipatory way, and their dark eyes glinted full of menace and greed as they gazed down at their seemingly vulnerable victims. They had robbed Little Folk before, and were spoken of in fear especially by the Halflings who lived around the outskirts of Bree. From their experience, the mere sight of a naked blade was enough to frighten these folk into handing over all of their possessions. These two had a slightly different look to them- had they come from the fabled ‘Shire’? The quicker thinkers grinned wider. The Bree Halflings at least knew how to deal with men. If these were Shire-folk, knowing even less of Men than their Outside kindred, then it would be like pinching gold from toddlers!
Unfortunately for our rugged roadside robbers, their prospective victims were not what one would consider ordinary hobbits. Before any of the Men could take a step, there came the sound of metal being unsheathed, and suddenly the pair stood with their backs to each other, having swiftly dismounted, and with long knives in hand, held as if they were swords. Their faces were wary, but not openly hostile, despite being the ones threatened.
This most unexpected response and the commanding look on the two Halflings’ faces caused a few of the Men to sub-consciously step backwards. One who seemed to be their leader glared at those who did, but it was clear that he, too, was suddenly feeling off-balance. For years it had never taken more than a show of their numbers and weaponry, perhaps a bit of roughening up, to reduce their unlucky targets to quivering, highly cooperative bodies of fear. But before his confounded mind could formulate a feasible alternative plan, one of the Halflings spoke.
“Good evening, gents,” said the one with lighter-coloured hair, his voice as unflustered as if he were greeting a passing stranger. “It seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here. If you put down your weapons and leave quickly, none of you shall come to harm.”
It was certainly something none of them had ever expected to hear from a Halfling. Surely they were being mocked? Shock turned to anger, and the intoxication wrought by the surging of their blood reminded them that, armed or not, these were only two Halflings, wielding knives, and there were ten of them, with at least one sword and one dagger apiece…
The youngest of the band reached the Halflings first, clumsily slashing at the dark-haired one with his short sword, only to feel his blade hit mail hidden underneath the cloak and outer garments. The two travelers glanced at each other, sighed, and let out fierce cries in strange tongues as they met the disordered attack of the men.
As it was, such men had taken up their profession due to an ingrained cowardice, and these in particular were not very skilled with the weapons they bore. The Halflings, on the other hand, fought with the deadly efficiency of those trained to war, and seemed to hold little fear of their attackers. Thus the end result could have been predicted from the outset: men groaning pitifully on the road, and their not-so-vulnerable victims sighing distastefully as they re-sheathed their blades. Later, the men would marvel at how, though it would have been easier for them to do so, the Halflings had taken special care to avoid actually killing any of them.
“Pitiful bunch, aren’t they, Merry?” said the one with darker hair as he gave his companion a cursory examination for wounds.
The other nodded, looking a bit smug whilst he looked over his cousin as well. “And they call themselves highway robbers. Well, now they know that us hobbits aren’t as soft as we may look to be.”
They picked up their packs and remounted their ponies. Unfortunately, one of the men found a bit more life in himself when it sunk in that he had been beaten by a pair of Halflings. In any case, his hand crept quickly down to his boot dagger, and things might not have turned out so well for the valiant Knights of Gondor and Rohan, had they not had a hidden guardian.
“Touch it, and this breath will be your last.” Our vengeful bandit suddenly found that he had a boot pressing down hard between his shoulder blades, and a long white knife pressed against the side of his throat.
He froze. Holding up empty hands, he slowly turned his head.
Behind him stood a tall, lithe figure clad in dark blue, his hood pulled back to reveal an overwhelmingly fair ageless face, and the men who were still conscious gasped upon noticing the pointed ears that marked him out as one of the legendary Fair Folk.
“Were these men bothering you, Master Hobbits?” the newcomer asked casually, looking not the least bit worried. The unlucky man noticed with some surprise that there was an air of familiarity between the two Halflings and the Elf.
One of the hobbits grinned. “Why, I believe they were, Master Elrohir.”
Overlapping his cousin, Merry said, “We were just disposing of them when you came along. Hobbits can take care of themselves, you know,” he added with a mock scowl.
“I never doubted that, Master Meriadoc,” the son of Elrond replied with a smile. “But the question still remains of what to do with them. And as they are your rabble, I leave their fate in your most capable hands.”
Pippin turned to Merry excitedly, nudging him with an elbow and wincing when he hit the mail. “Can I? Please?”
“Oh, very well, if you want it so much.” Merry made an exasperated face to Elrohir. “I think he forgets that he’s of age now, sometimes. Though I guess by Took standards he isn’t yet. My father says that a Took male shouldn’t be counted of age until he is married.”
Pippin pointedly ignored the words and Elrohir’s laugh, turning his attention to the men strewn along the road. “All of you, out of my sight in five heartbeats, or you’ll wish that Elrohir here cut out your innards first and fed them to you,” he barked in a booming voice that seemed louder than his small stature should have been capable of producing.
All the conscious men jerked, wasting one of those heartbeats to blink, then scrambled to their feet and, pulling their unconscious fellows along none too gently, disappeared back into the wood as if whips drove them. Grinning like a pleased cat, Pippin returned to his friends, and blushed faintly when he saw them both gazing at him with admiration, though Merry also seemed a bit taken aback by his choice of language.
“Erm, thank you for coming to our aid,” the younger hobbit quickly said to Elrohir.
“You are welcome, Master Peregrin, though as Meriadoc said, my help was barely needed. It is better this way, I think, for those men will think twice now about attacking hobbits.”
“I guess they were hoping that our blades were just for show.”
“A fool’s hope, after seeing how well you held them, and rightly failed. But if I may ask, where could two such esteemed and infamous hobbits be journeying to on their own?”
The two hobbits glanced at each other uncomfortably. “We were hoping to visit Rivendell. It won’t be the same without Master Elrond and dear Bilbo there, but I am sure it’s still as beautiful as before.”
Elrohir smiled wistfully. “Yes, it is still beautiful.” His expression grew serious. and he looked at both of them closely. Mounted, they were nearly eye-level to him. “But why alone, as if in secrecy? If you had but sent word, I would have gladly sent someone to accompany you, or had come myself.”
Pippin blushed deeper, but it was Merry who said, “We- we weren’t really thinking all that far ahead, I’m afraid. And I just now realized that we have no idea how to find the Hidden Valley ourselves, as before we always had with us someone who knew the way.”
“I don’t know what came over us,” said Pippin quietly. “But one evening I suddenly felt like our hole was too small, too stuffy, too full of things, and I looked outside and saw the open sky and the shining stars, and I couldn’t wait to be away.”
“We left messages behind for our families this time, though, so they won’t think we’d gone off on another quest. Told them we were going to spend a few days in Bree, as we’ve done such before. But once we were on the road, we just had to keep going.”
Elrohir’s eyes saddened, and he lightly touched a finger to each of their brows. “I know of what you speak. This restlessness comes of having seen the wider world, yet being forced to live amongst others who do not care for much beyond its borders/”
Merry sighed. “I fear you have the right of it, Elrohir. It seems we are fated to never feel entirely at home again.”
“Do you regret it?”
“A little. But even with everything, I would not have traded it for a peaceful but ignorant life in the quiet of the Shire.”
“I feel the same.” Pippin piped in with a nod. “And I suppose it is only fair that, to see such great and wonderful things as we have, we needed to see the bad things, too.”
To the hobbits’ surprise, Elrohir stepped between their ponies, and throwing one arm on either shoulder, drew them both into a loose embrace. “I feel such sorrow for the innocence that you have lost,” the Half-Elf murmured against their curly hair. “But gladness, too, for the wisdom that has grown in its wake.” He smiled at their astonished faces.
“And you have not lost your home,” he gently added. “You have simply found your home to be bigger than what you thought at first, and every now and then you feel the need to visit the other parts of it.”
“You know, Elrohir, that must be the most understandable thing I have ever heard come from an Elf. Except for Legolas, who doesn’t count.”
“Well, Master Took, I am not wholly an Elf, you know.”
In case you haven't guessed after reading that, I'm going through a post-ROTK hobbit!fic phase again. Though I've probably read most of them by now, could those of you on my flist who read/write hobbit kindly list your top four favourite post-ROTK hobbit stories? Just in case there's a wonderful fic out there that I've somehow managed to live without. I've read most of dreamflower02 and lindelea1's amazing stories. ^_^
anorielle dear, my computer's having problems with Gmail right now, so I doubt I'll be able to reply to your e-mail tonight *pokes silly comp* I'm really sorry about this :-(
Edit: Gah, it seems that there was a bit of traffic somewhere between my mind and my fingers, the words that were typed were not the words that were meant. Have changed the last misleading line to “Well, Master Took, I am not wholly an Elf, you know.” *blushes in embarassement* Thanks to jay_of_lasgalen for pointing it out!
Title: Meetings on the Road
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Merry, Pippin, guest appearance by Elrohir
Prompt: 039 (“The fool’s hope has failed.”)
Word Count: 1, 691
Rating: PG (for slight violence)
Summary: A group of robbers attack a pair of travelers on the road, and things don’t turn out quite how they expected it to.
Author's Notes: Did a bit of cheating here *sheepish grin* This is actually a major re-working of a scene from my story Mirrors in the Mind with ending and many details changed. Also altered the prompting passage a bit. Anyway, I hope y’all like it!
“Now, lads, what have we here?”
The two diminutive figures on the empty road halted their ponies and turned their heads to look at the knot of gangly men that had materialized along either side of them. One man raised a short sword threateningly. All ten of them were grinning in a most unpleasant, anticipatory way, and their dark eyes glinted full of menace and greed as they gazed down at their seemingly vulnerable victims. They had robbed Little Folk before, and were spoken of in fear especially by the Halflings who lived around the outskirts of Bree. From their experience, the mere sight of a naked blade was enough to frighten these folk into handing over all of their possessions. These two had a slightly different look to them- had they come from the fabled ‘Shire’? The quicker thinkers grinned wider. The Bree Halflings at least knew how to deal with men. If these were Shire-folk, knowing even less of Men than their Outside kindred, then it would be like pinching gold from toddlers!
Unfortunately for our rugged roadside robbers, their prospective victims were not what one would consider ordinary hobbits. Before any of the Men could take a step, there came the sound of metal being unsheathed, and suddenly the pair stood with their backs to each other, having swiftly dismounted, and with long knives in hand, held as if they were swords. Their faces were wary, but not openly hostile, despite being the ones threatened.
This most unexpected response and the commanding look on the two Halflings’ faces caused a few of the Men to sub-consciously step backwards. One who seemed to be their leader glared at those who did, but it was clear that he, too, was suddenly feeling off-balance. For years it had never taken more than a show of their numbers and weaponry, perhaps a bit of roughening up, to reduce their unlucky targets to quivering, highly cooperative bodies of fear. But before his confounded mind could formulate a feasible alternative plan, one of the Halflings spoke.
“Good evening, gents,” said the one with lighter-coloured hair, his voice as unflustered as if he were greeting a passing stranger. “It seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here. If you put down your weapons and leave quickly, none of you shall come to harm.”
It was certainly something none of them had ever expected to hear from a Halfling. Surely they were being mocked? Shock turned to anger, and the intoxication wrought by the surging of their blood reminded them that, armed or not, these were only two Halflings, wielding knives, and there were ten of them, with at least one sword and one dagger apiece…
The youngest of the band reached the Halflings first, clumsily slashing at the dark-haired one with his short sword, only to feel his blade hit mail hidden underneath the cloak and outer garments. The two travelers glanced at each other, sighed, and let out fierce cries in strange tongues as they met the disordered attack of the men.
As it was, such men had taken up their profession due to an ingrained cowardice, and these in particular were not very skilled with the weapons they bore. The Halflings, on the other hand, fought with the deadly efficiency of those trained to war, and seemed to hold little fear of their attackers. Thus the end result could have been predicted from the outset: men groaning pitifully on the road, and their not-so-vulnerable victims sighing distastefully as they re-sheathed their blades. Later, the men would marvel at how, though it would have been easier for them to do so, the Halflings had taken special care to avoid actually killing any of them.
“Pitiful bunch, aren’t they, Merry?” said the one with darker hair as he gave his companion a cursory examination for wounds.
The other nodded, looking a bit smug whilst he looked over his cousin as well. “And they call themselves highway robbers. Well, now they know that us hobbits aren’t as soft as we may look to be.”
They picked up their packs and remounted their ponies. Unfortunately, one of the men found a bit more life in himself when it sunk in that he had been beaten by a pair of Halflings. In any case, his hand crept quickly down to his boot dagger, and things might not have turned out so well for the valiant Knights of Gondor and Rohan, had they not had a hidden guardian.
“Touch it, and this breath will be your last.” Our vengeful bandit suddenly found that he had a boot pressing down hard between his shoulder blades, and a long white knife pressed against the side of his throat.
He froze. Holding up empty hands, he slowly turned his head.
Behind him stood a tall, lithe figure clad in dark blue, his hood pulled back to reveal an overwhelmingly fair ageless face, and the men who were still conscious gasped upon noticing the pointed ears that marked him out as one of the legendary Fair Folk.
“Were these men bothering you, Master Hobbits?” the newcomer asked casually, looking not the least bit worried. The unlucky man noticed with some surprise that there was an air of familiarity between the two Halflings and the Elf.
One of the hobbits grinned. “Why, I believe they were, Master Elrohir.”
Overlapping his cousin, Merry said, “We were just disposing of them when you came along. Hobbits can take care of themselves, you know,” he added with a mock scowl.
“I never doubted that, Master Meriadoc,” the son of Elrond replied with a smile. “But the question still remains of what to do with them. And as they are your rabble, I leave their fate in your most capable hands.”
Pippin turned to Merry excitedly, nudging him with an elbow and wincing when he hit the mail. “Can I? Please?”
“Oh, very well, if you want it so much.” Merry made an exasperated face to Elrohir. “I think he forgets that he’s of age now, sometimes. Though I guess by Took standards he isn’t yet. My father says that a Took male shouldn’t be counted of age until he is married.”
Pippin pointedly ignored the words and Elrohir’s laugh, turning his attention to the men strewn along the road. “All of you, out of my sight in five heartbeats, or you’ll wish that Elrohir here cut out your innards first and fed them to you,” he barked in a booming voice that seemed louder than his small stature should have been capable of producing.
All the conscious men jerked, wasting one of those heartbeats to blink, then scrambled to their feet and, pulling their unconscious fellows along none too gently, disappeared back into the wood as if whips drove them. Grinning like a pleased cat, Pippin returned to his friends, and blushed faintly when he saw them both gazing at him with admiration, though Merry also seemed a bit taken aback by his choice of language.
“Erm, thank you for coming to our aid,” the younger hobbit quickly said to Elrohir.
“You are welcome, Master Peregrin, though as Meriadoc said, my help was barely needed. It is better this way, I think, for those men will think twice now about attacking hobbits.”
“I guess they were hoping that our blades were just for show.”
“A fool’s hope, after seeing how well you held them, and rightly failed. But if I may ask, where could two such esteemed and infamous hobbits be journeying to on their own?”
The two hobbits glanced at each other uncomfortably. “We were hoping to visit Rivendell. It won’t be the same without Master Elrond and dear Bilbo there, but I am sure it’s still as beautiful as before.”
Elrohir smiled wistfully. “Yes, it is still beautiful.” His expression grew serious. and he looked at both of them closely. Mounted, they were nearly eye-level to him. “But why alone, as if in secrecy? If you had but sent word, I would have gladly sent someone to accompany you, or had come myself.”
Pippin blushed deeper, but it was Merry who said, “We- we weren’t really thinking all that far ahead, I’m afraid. And I just now realized that we have no idea how to find the Hidden Valley ourselves, as before we always had with us someone who knew the way.”
“I don’t know what came over us,” said Pippin quietly. “But one evening I suddenly felt like our hole was too small, too stuffy, too full of things, and I looked outside and saw the open sky and the shining stars, and I couldn’t wait to be away.”
“We left messages behind for our families this time, though, so they won’t think we’d gone off on another quest. Told them we were going to spend a few days in Bree, as we’ve done such before. But once we were on the road, we just had to keep going.”
Elrohir’s eyes saddened, and he lightly touched a finger to each of their brows. “I know of what you speak. This restlessness comes of having seen the wider world, yet being forced to live amongst others who do not care for much beyond its borders/”
Merry sighed. “I fear you have the right of it, Elrohir. It seems we are fated to never feel entirely at home again.”
“Do you regret it?”
“A little. But even with everything, I would not have traded it for a peaceful but ignorant life in the quiet of the Shire.”
“I feel the same.” Pippin piped in with a nod. “And I suppose it is only fair that, to see such great and wonderful things as we have, we needed to see the bad things, too.”
To the hobbits’ surprise, Elrohir stepped between their ponies, and throwing one arm on either shoulder, drew them both into a loose embrace. “I feel such sorrow for the innocence that you have lost,” the Half-Elf murmured against their curly hair. “But gladness, too, for the wisdom that has grown in its wake.” He smiled at their astonished faces.
“And you have not lost your home,” he gently added. “You have simply found your home to be bigger than what you thought at first, and every now and then you feel the need to visit the other parts of it.”
“You know, Elrohir, that must be the most understandable thing I have ever heard come from an Elf. Except for Legolas, who doesn’t count.”
“Well, Master Took, I am not wholly an Elf, you know.”
In case you haven't guessed after reading that, I'm going through a post-ROTK hobbit!fic phase again. Though I've probably read most of them by now, could those of you on my flist who read/write hobbit kindly list your top four favourite post-ROTK hobbit stories? Just in case there's a wonderful fic out there that I've somehow managed to live without. I've read most of dreamflower02 and lindelea1's amazing stories. ^_^
anorielle dear, my computer's having problems with Gmail right now, so I doubt I'll be able to reply to your e-mail tonight *pokes silly comp* I'm really sorry about this :-(
Edit: Gah, it seems that there was a bit of traffic somewhere between my mind and my fingers, the words that were typed were not the words that were meant. Have changed the last misleading line to “Well, Master Took, I am not wholly an Elf, you know.” *blushes in embarassement* Thanks to jay_of_lasgalen for pointing it out!