The Fool by Jayzee
Tom-tap,
tap-tap, tom.
There it was again. Pippin hated the sound of it. "Fool of a Took"
Gandalf had called him. Rightly so, he thought miserably as he huddled
under his cloak. What use have I been on this trip? I should never
have come, burdening my friends like this. Light glowed in the cavern
for a moment, and he stole a look out from beneath his cloak to see
Gandalf hunched by the side of the well-hole. The wizard"s craggy
features were red-lit from the glowing chip that he held cupped between
his hands and Pippin smelled the sweet musty fragrance of Longbottom
leaf before the dark of Moria returned.
The smoke-scent called images before his eyes, he could see the Shire,
and heard again the voices of his friends as they talked of small
matters in the taverns at the end of the day. He remembered the Riders,
and the Ring, and what would happen to the Shire if the quest should
fail, say because one inquisitive hobbit awoke what was better left
undisturbed. "Fool of a Took," he whispered to himself, swallowing
thickly.
He felt a movement in the darkness to his side.
"Chide yourself not too harshly, friend." The elf's voice was less
than a whisper, a mere thread of sound. Pippin's heart swelled at
the kindness in the voice, and he pressed his lips together, swallowing
rapidly, glad of the sheltering dark. He was sure that he made no
sound, yet suddenly he felt the warmth of the elf's body close by,
a strong archer's arm sliding beneath his shoulders, rolling him easily
so that his face pressed against herbal scented wool and soft leather,
soaking up his tears.
"I swore to aid the Fellowship," Pippin whispered. "Is the best aid
I can offer to leave it? Now I know why Elrond didn't ask an oath
of me."
"No, never so." Legolas gently stroked his hair. "All have their place
within this quest. If you turn aside now, what tasks might be left
undone?"
"Or done better? I wish that I was like you, Legolas. When the Watcher
came out of the water, I was paralyzed, I didn't know what to do.
Not you, you did something. I wish I was like you."
Pippin felt a light breath of laughter in his ear. "Don't wish away
your gift of years. You've done much good already on this quest, not
by knowing what to do, but by being who you are. Light of years, your
heart steps quickly, and your whole self moves with that. Some of
us," he whispered "envy that speed. My memory reaches not back to
the Elder days like some of my kin, yet you would say it reaches very
far. When I see the light on a leaf, or hear the purling of water
over stone I hear not just the now, but also the kin of all the other
leaves and stones that I have seen, and remember friends and places
long gone. Yet you move fleetly through the moment; following you,
I can step lightly in the world and not live half in dreams and memories
as my kind is wont to do."
Pippin listened to the strong regular heartbeat beneath his ear, wondering
how often it had sounded, suddenly aware that unlike his own it would
continue to sound without cease. He lay in this ancient creature's
arms and, his understanding awakening, now understood the elvish need
for gaiety, for quick and subtle wit, for laughter and distraction.
He smoothed his cheek against soft leather, then leaning up on one
elbow sought for the cool lips that met his own soundlessly in the
dark. He was aware of the elf with his whole body, which tingled like
quick-brushed cat's fur. He felt small jolts of pleasure through his
skin as delicate fingers traced the muscles of his neck, and soft
lips moved against his own. A last kiss, just the brush of lips against
lips, jaw and neck, and Pippin laid his head down again upon the other's
chest, feeling Legolas' arms tighten briefly in acknowlegement that
there could be nothing further, here. Presently he slept.
Legolas lay awake longer, holding the young hobbit against himself;
now was not the time to waste in sleep. Like flowers, mortals were
so beautiful and delicate, fascinating with their constant changes,
quickening and growth. A glorious time of beauty and companionship
beckoned, the life that comes through friends. Later would come, for
him, the long wait of ages. Only a fool would give his love to mortals;
had he sense he would confine his heart to his own kind. The thought
made him smile, that for all his years, he could still be prey to
the folly that love could be controlled so.
"Fool," he whispered, smiling into the dark.
