Still on the Quest

And for shirebound, who asked for this one.

Caring

Glorfindel found Bilbo and the Ring-bearer in the kitchens, concocting treats for Sam, who sat at the table with his feet dangling below one of Bilbo’s nightshirts and his hair still damp from a bath. His young friend looked a little baffled at sitting by while others worked, but he smiled sleepily when Glorfindel joined him. “How are they?” he asked, pushing over a plate of pastries.

“Mending, Elrond says,” Glorfindel replied.

“I should fetch them something to eat,” Sam said, but Frodo caught his arm before he could climb down.

“You’ve done enough for one day, Sam,” he said.

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Riding

There were lights beyond the trees, so many that Pippin wondered if his eyes were doubling them. “Is that where we’re going?” he asked. “It looks so big.”

“It is my father’s house,” Elladan said. “And there are many rooms in it. You will find some that fit you. I doubt the same would be true if I visited your home.”

“Oh, we’d see you right,” Pippin told him. “The Old Took had all sorts of queer guests.”

Elladan chuckled, “And all sorts of queer guestrooms to suit them?”

“Yes,” said Pippin unabashed, “so you’ve no excuse not to come.”


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Reassurance

By the time they found their way to the bottom of the stairs, Sam was surrounded by Elves, gesturing back the way he had come and asking where he might find water to heat for baths. He looked distinctly scruffy in that company, his sturdy homespun stained and rough amid the silks and linens of the Elves. But by the light in his eyes he was not grieving, as he would have been if the news were bad.

Frodo sighed and leaned for a moment against the carved banister. “They’re all right,” he said.

“I told you so,” said Gandalf.

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Yeah, yeah, no one's even noticed the last drabble yet, but the bunnies keep biting...
( follows Almost There )

(Did I mention that mariole wrote this really really good story and… oh, I did? Well, here’s another drabble…)

Almost There

The seventh time Sam nearly toppled off his horse trying to see past the trees to the house in the valley, Elrohir asked him to run ahead, to ask for baths and beds to be prepared while the horses plodded along the narrow switchbacks.

“And try not to break your neck!” he called, when Sam took off headlong, cutting corners with scant regard for the steep hillside.

Sam caught himself on a birch sapling far below and waved up to them, his face a bright blur in the twilight. “I’ll send back word of Frodo!” he promised, and ran on.

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Home is the Hunter

When they reached the rim of the dell, Aragorn said that they would be safer riding upright than lying on litters while the horses negotiated the steep narrow path, and that it would be safer for the horses too. He was feeling much better by then, and it was almost a disappointment when Glorfindel nodded agreement and rendered all the careful arguments he had mustered useless.

His dignity solaced, he allowed the twins to boost him to the saddle, and let the horse find its own way down as he breathed deep of the welcoming scent of pine and spruce.

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I told you that story made my pen itch!


In Rivendell

“Where’s Sam?” he asked sleepily, “And are the others all right?” Then memory returned, and he flung off the blanket, looking for his clothes, ready to go and fetch his cousins and the Ranger to safety.

News of the rescue party reassured him somewhat, but he refused to go back to sleep until Gandalf thought to bring him to a balcony that overlooked the path from the Ford. There, wrapped against the autumn chill, he chatted absently with the wizard, dozing now and then when his eyes closed without his consent and then startling awake at the sound of voices.

( author note )

Leave Only Footprints

“This is well made,” Glorfindel told Sam when they came to the first snare.

“My Gaffer taught me how. Still, I didn’t catch no rabbits,” Sam admitted, working to free the knot and save the string for later.

“It could have been better placed,” Glorfindel said. “See there, where the small animals have worn a path to the stream? Did your Gaffer not teach you that too?”

Sam grinned, in spite of the rebuke. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Glorfindel, but my Gaffer’s notion of where to put a rabbit snare is by the hole in the fence round the cabbages.“



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Souvenir

Elladan went to sit by the youngest of the hobbits. The little one noticed his presence, and nodded warily.

“I have something for you,” Elladan said.

“More medicine?” Pippin grimaced. “Already?”

Elladan laughed. “Not till morning.” He held out his gift and the hobbit regarded the fresh troll-tooth with alarm. It was nearly the size of the hand Elladan dropped it into. “We troll fighters need reminders,” the elf explained, drawing out the old polished tooth he’d brought for comparison’s sake.

“Reminders of what?” Pippin asked,

“That the best way to defeat a troll,” Elladan winked, “is to run away.”

( author's note )

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