Post by Admin on Jan 1, 2021 19:00:23 GMT
Author: Mirach
Ranking:2nd place
Challenge: Memories
Summary: The Ring is destroyed and the Hobbits are resting by the field of Cormallen, smoking and remembering
Rating: K
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin
Warnings: none
It could be a picture from the Shire: four Hobbits sitting under a tree, resting after the heroic deeds at the lunch table. For that’s what they were indeed doing at the moment. Only their garb suggested they are not in Shire. One of them was clad in the livery of Rohan, and another one in the colours of Gondor, and the tree they were sitting under grew near the field of Cormallen.
“Strider’s table is quite fabulous!” said Sam, and it was a compliment not easily given by one who was a great cook himself.
“He is not Strider anymore,” Pippin reminded. “He is Aragorn, or king Elessar now.”
“Which explains the table,” added Merry. “He did not cook it himself, after all.”
Pippin smiled mysteriously. “These Gondorians have some tasty meals, that’s for sure. But still they are missing one thing.”
“Mushrooms?” guessed Sam.
“Well, that too. But I meant something else. Guess what I have here…” he smiled, and took out two pipes, and a bag of pipe-weed, handing them to Frodo and Sam like a squire hands a sword to a knight.
“Oh, bless my hairy feet!” exclaimed Sam. “Where did you get this? I haven’t had a smoke since…” his face darkened a bit. “Since…”
“It’s a long time…” Frodo agreed, helping Sam so he didn’t have to think back through all the darkness behind to get to the point when they had their last smoke. He accepted the pipe from Pippin, and lit it with a delighted expression.
Pippin and Sam did likewise, but Merry hesitated. He sighed when he finally lit his pipe, and closed his eyes with the first breath of smoke. There were tears in them, but he smiled in the same time just a little.
Pippin put a hand on his shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Merry?” asked Frodo gently. “Is something wrong?”
Merry opened his eyes and smiled sadly. “I’m thinking of Théoden.”
“The king of Rohan? Legolas told me about him when I asked what you have been all doing,” said Frodo. “He said you two were quite close…”
Merry nodded, looking at the smoke from his pipe. Apparently it was not easy for him to talk about it. “He died…” he said quietly. “His horse was shot under him, and crushed him in his fall. I was there. With his last words, he apologized to me… for… for not being able to sit with me in Meduseld, and listen to the herb-lore, like he promised. That was the first thing I started talking about when I met him, you see… We were smoking from this very stash – from Saruman’s supplies, to answer your question, Sam – and he wondered about it. So I started babbling about Old Toby Hornblower and Longbottom in Southfarthing, and so on. There was really no time for that, but he was very polite, and said he wished we could sit in his golden hall, and talk about the pipeweed and deeds of our people…”
“He was a fine old fellow,” Pippin nodded wistfully.
“He was like a father to me…” said Merry. “Just for a little while. Live now in blessedness; he said when he was dying, and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me!” He shook his head sadly. “I did not want to smoke anymore. I did not want to remember it. His death, I mean. But Strider… he said…” his voice broke.
Instead, Pippin spoke. “Smoke then, and think of him, he said”, he whispered gently, repeating Aragorn’s words. “For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honourable to the end of your days.”
Merry gulped, and nodded thankfully. “Farewell, Théoden King…” he whispered, and closed his eyes again, as he solemnly drew the smoke from his pipe, almost as if it would be some ceremony.
Frodo was quiet for a moment, giving Merry some time to deal with the memories. “He indeed must have been a great man…” he sighed then. “I regret I could not meet him myself. Would you tell me more about him, please? Only if it doesn’t bring you pain, though…”
Merry nodded. “It does. But I like to remember him nevertheless,” he said quietly. “The time when I knew him seems so short now. As I told you, I first met him in Isengard, after Treebeard and his Ents seized the place…”
So Merry told Frodo about all his travels from Isengard to Pelennor, and his short friendship with the king of Rohan, not omitting anything. It felt good to talk about it with friends. It felt as if the old king was sitting with them under the tree, politely listening and nodding to his talk. There was peace, and he was sitting with his pipe… and with fondness, he was thinking of Théoden.
Ranking:2nd place
Challenge: Memories
Summary: The Ring is destroyed and the Hobbits are resting by the field of Cormallen, smoking and remembering
Rating: K
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin
Warnings: none
It could be a picture from the Shire: four Hobbits sitting under a tree, resting after the heroic deeds at the lunch table. For that’s what they were indeed doing at the moment. Only their garb suggested they are not in Shire. One of them was clad in the livery of Rohan, and another one in the colours of Gondor, and the tree they were sitting under grew near the field of Cormallen.
“Strider’s table is quite fabulous!” said Sam, and it was a compliment not easily given by one who was a great cook himself.
“He is not Strider anymore,” Pippin reminded. “He is Aragorn, or king Elessar now.”
“Which explains the table,” added Merry. “He did not cook it himself, after all.”
Pippin smiled mysteriously. “These Gondorians have some tasty meals, that’s for sure. But still they are missing one thing.”
“Mushrooms?” guessed Sam.
“Well, that too. But I meant something else. Guess what I have here…” he smiled, and took out two pipes, and a bag of pipe-weed, handing them to Frodo and Sam like a squire hands a sword to a knight.
“Oh, bless my hairy feet!” exclaimed Sam. “Where did you get this? I haven’t had a smoke since…” his face darkened a bit. “Since…”
“It’s a long time…” Frodo agreed, helping Sam so he didn’t have to think back through all the darkness behind to get to the point when they had their last smoke. He accepted the pipe from Pippin, and lit it with a delighted expression.
Pippin and Sam did likewise, but Merry hesitated. He sighed when he finally lit his pipe, and closed his eyes with the first breath of smoke. There were tears in them, but he smiled in the same time just a little.
Pippin put a hand on his shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Merry?” asked Frodo gently. “Is something wrong?”
Merry opened his eyes and smiled sadly. “I’m thinking of Théoden.”
“The king of Rohan? Legolas told me about him when I asked what you have been all doing,” said Frodo. “He said you two were quite close…”
Merry nodded, looking at the smoke from his pipe. Apparently it was not easy for him to talk about it. “He died…” he said quietly. “His horse was shot under him, and crushed him in his fall. I was there. With his last words, he apologized to me… for… for not being able to sit with me in Meduseld, and listen to the herb-lore, like he promised. That was the first thing I started talking about when I met him, you see… We were smoking from this very stash – from Saruman’s supplies, to answer your question, Sam – and he wondered about it. So I started babbling about Old Toby Hornblower and Longbottom in Southfarthing, and so on. There was really no time for that, but he was very polite, and said he wished we could sit in his golden hall, and talk about the pipeweed and deeds of our people…”
“He was a fine old fellow,” Pippin nodded wistfully.
“He was like a father to me…” said Merry. “Just for a little while. Live now in blessedness; he said when he was dying, and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me!” He shook his head sadly. “I did not want to smoke anymore. I did not want to remember it. His death, I mean. But Strider… he said…” his voice broke.
Instead, Pippin spoke. “Smoke then, and think of him, he said”, he whispered gently, repeating Aragorn’s words. “For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honourable to the end of your days.”
Merry gulped, and nodded thankfully. “Farewell, Théoden King…” he whispered, and closed his eyes again, as he solemnly drew the smoke from his pipe, almost as if it would be some ceremony.
Frodo was quiet for a moment, giving Merry some time to deal with the memories. “He indeed must have been a great man…” he sighed then. “I regret I could not meet him myself. Would you tell me more about him, please? Only if it doesn’t bring you pain, though…”
Merry nodded. “It does. But I like to remember him nevertheless,” he said quietly. “The time when I knew him seems so short now. As I told you, I first met him in Isengard, after Treebeard and his Ents seized the place…”
So Merry told Frodo about all his travels from Isengard to Pelennor, and his short friendship with the king of Rohan, not omitting anything. It felt good to talk about it with friends. It felt as if the old king was sitting with them under the tree, politely listening and nodding to his talk. There was peace, and he was sitting with his pipe… and with fondness, he was thinking of Théoden.