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Leaving The Shire
Pippin turned in the saddle, watching Merry’s pony catch up with his. “Come
along, Merry,” he chided him impatiently. “One would almost think that you
were some old gaffer, wishing he could roast his toes by a snug fireside.”
“So kind of you to add the ‘almost‘,” Merry grumbled, but he gave a quick
dig of his heel into the plump pony’s side. The pony twitched an ear at this
indignity, but otherwise continued on, placid and absolutely undisturbed.
“But you might want to consider that we actually are old gaffers, as you so
eloquently put it, and this jolting of the spine can really get rather
tiresome.”
“I suppose you are, then,” Pippin grinned impudently, as he halted his pony
to let his companion catch up. “But I refuse to be included. How long has it
been since you’ve gone riding, anyway?”
“Walking makes more sense for a hobbit, rather than sitting on some beast
with a mind of its own,” Merry responded somewhat testily, prudently
avoiding answering Pippin’s question.
“Your bad knee,” was the merciless reply. “You’re just lucky that was all
that troll left you with.”
Merry grunted in defeat, and soon had his pony drawn up along side of
Pippin’s. They rode for awhile in comfortable silence until Pippin murmured,
“Odd, isn’t it? That of the four of us who saved the Shire, not a one of us
is likely to end his days there?”
“Oho, saved the Shire, did we?” Merry cocked an eyebrow with amusement. “I
rather always thought that was Frodo and Sam. Anyway, Sam is still back in
the Shire.”
“Don’t be modest, Merry,” Pippin gave a snort. “You took down the Witch King
himself, I know you remember that. And I did something equally as heroic,
I’m sure. Anyhow, you know Sam won’t be around the Shire that much longer,
he’s getting more and more fidgety every year. Waiting for some sort of
sign, I think, and one of these days he’s going to see it, whether it’s
really there or not.”
“Do you suppose that he really will see Frodo again, some day?” Merry asked,
a little hesitantly. “It seems so impossible, but Sam really appears to
believe that he will.”
Pippin sighed, and fell silent, staring sightlessly into the peaceful forest
that lay beyond the dusty road. “We’ve seen so many things that are
impossible, haven’t we, my dear?” he replied at last. “It’s hard not to
believe in one more impossible thing. Sam truly trusts that it will happen,
and it’s out of the question imagining that Frodo would ever have given him
false hopes. Perhaps what we need, to get us through sometimes, is that one
impossible hope.”
“And what has your impossible hope been, Pip?” Merry could not help but ask,
fascinated as always by the play of thought across those mobile features.
“For this,” Pippin’s face lit up as he glanced fondly back at Merry. “To be
here with you.”
Merry blinked back sudden tears. “Looks like a good spot to camp, right over
there,” he muttered, clearing his throat impatiently and pulling his pony on
ahead. His most cherished wish had also proved not impossible, after all,
but it would not be words with which he would explain that to Pip.
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