Disclaimer: All rights for Lord of the Rings go to its rightful owner, who is, shockingly, not me.
The sun was setting, tinting the western sky orange as the Fellowship of the Ring searched for a suitable place to make camp for the night. "Here!" Aragorn called, and the rest turned to see him gesturing to a small clearing in the thin forest, ringed by a layer of sharp rosebushes. The Fellowship made quick work of setting up camp, and soon had a merry fire crackling in the center of the clearing, hemmed in at its base by rocks, deadfall cleared away from the flames.
The Nine were still in a good mood, considering they had only left Rivendell that morning, and were yet close enough to the Hidden Valley that the forest was still under the protection of the Lord Elrond.
While Aragorn crouched by the fire preparing their evening meal, the four Hobbits grouped together on one side of the camp, chattering happily about all they had seen in Rivendell. Sam took a large part in this conversation, still rather euphoric about seeing and meeting so many Elves. Perched comfortably in a tree on the other side of the clearing, Legolas listened to their conversation with amusement, smiling gently.
Boromoir sat with Gandalf and Gimli with a map spread out on the ground, rocks on its corners keeping it from rolling back up. The Gondorian was questioning the Istar on their route, occasionally suggesting a different path or a more obscure trail that was perhaps safer to take, although eventually Gandalf shoved the rocks off the map and told the Man that there was no use arguing, as they had to get out of the valley first before he would take further conference. The group dispersed around the campsite.
Soon the delicious smells that wafted over the camp from the cooking food drew the attention of four hungry, bright-eyed Hobbits. They hovered around Aragorn until the Man chased them off with a good-tempered scowl and a smoldering stick he had pulled from the fire, crying, "Be off, evil Wraiths! You shall have your meal when I say it is ready, and no sooner!"
Not long after, however, Aragorn declared the food prepared, and the Nine Walkers descended upon the meat and fresh greens, quickly devouring their portions. Aragorn went with the Hobbits to a nearby stream to wash up the dishes, Legolas returned to his tree, Gandalf settled himself next to the fire to smoke his pipe, Boromir rolled himself into his bedroll, and Gimli set about running a whetstone over his axe. The familiar, repetitive sound mixed with Boromir's rumbling snores and the soft puffs of Gandalf's pipe. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, setting them rustling and clattering lightly against each other.
Several minutes later, a sodden Aragorn plodded back into camp, four surprisingly quiet Hobbits trailing along behind. At first glance the Halflings looked subdued, but further inspection revealed that they were attempting – and failing – to conceal grins from the future King. Legolas leapt lightly from his tree and stood next to the Man as he sat and held his boots upside-down, water pouring out and soaking into the soft earth.
"What happened?" Legolas questioned, shooting a look at Merry and Pippin, the two who looked the most innocent and were therefore the most guilty. After draining his other boot, Aragorn settled both near the fire to dry and chuckled.
"They pushed me in," he answered softly in respect for the sleeping Boromir. Legolas peered down, astonished, at him.
"Estel, they are less than half your height! How, exactly, did they manage to push you in?"
"We are actually quite tall for our age," Pippin called, drawing himself up to all of his considerable four feet. "It really wasn't that difficult."
"Pip!" Merry hissed, and stepped in front of his cousin. "What he means to say, that is, is that we could push him in if we wanted to, quite easily. Not saying that we did, of course. We would never do that to Strider, ever."
"Right, we believe you," Aragorn said sarcastically, getting up. "I am going to change into dry clothes, because my current ones just suddenly decided to become soaked."
Legolas snorted softly as Merry turned conspiratorially to Pippin and said in a loud whisper, "See, Pip? That's how you lie."
"I don't think they believed us," his friend said uncertainly, peering around Merry at Legolas. "He doesn't look convinced."
"Oh, he's an Elf," Merry said dismissively. "They aren't supposed to be gullible." Suddenly he stiffened and turned to bow to the Prince. "Meaning no offence, Master Legolas."
The Elf inclined his head and laughed. The bright, musical sound reminded the Halflings of birdsong. "No offence taken, Master Hobbit."
When Aragorn returned, now in dry clothes, Legolas announced that he would take first watch and would wake the Ranger when it was his turn. At the announcement the remaining Walkers readied themselves for bed, and soon the only sounds in the clearing were slight pops as the dying fire found the last reserves of sap in the wood. Legolas settled himself back on his tree, his tunic of green and brown blending in to the tree and rendering him nearly invisible. Only his eyes, reflecting the fire and the bright moon, were visible, and then only because he allowed it.
When the moon was at its zenith, the Elvenprince slipped from his perch and landed lightly on the ground below, padding softly over to Aragorn. He shook the Man awake, then laid himself down and let his mind drift into the wonder of Elven dreams.
Like Legolas's shift, Aragorn's time on watch was quiet. Night animals rustled in the forest, brushing against leaves and scattering earth as they dug. Once he heard a muted squeak of a mouse, likely its last, surprised noise as an owl descended on it from above. When he judged that enough time had gone by, he decided to wake up one of the Hobbits and give them more practice at standing watch while they were in a relatively secure environment. At least, as secure as they were ever going to be for a long time to come.
The Ranger knelt by Pippin and gently shook his shoulder, jostling the Halfling awake. He sat up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Aragorn spoke softly so as to not disturb the others. "Your turn to stand watch, little one."
As expected, Pippin grumbled at the cordial name, but rolled out of his bedroll. "Why me?" he complained. "Why not Merry, or Sam?"
"You are going to stand watch because I chose you, and you are already awake," Aragorn told him, then gave him a gentle push in the direction of the trees. "Go on. You remember what I taught you?"
Pippin nodded and stifled another yawn and stumbled forward a few steps. "Move around if I get sleepy, don't just stare at one spot, look up and down. I remember."
"Good." Aragorn nodded. "If you sense anything don't hesitate to wake any of us. And don't fall asleep!"
"I won't," Pippin protested, but it seemed like a very real possibility to the little Hobbit. His bedroll was warm and looked so inviting… But then a chilled gust of wind hit him and he shivered, wrapping his cloak more securely around himself. It was tugged out of his grasp.
"The cold air will help to keep you awake," Aragorn said gently. "I know it isn't fun, but know that we are all trusting you to keep us safe. It is a very big responsibility; I hope I can trust giving it to you?"
Pippin straightened, his heart warm. "Of course!"
"Shh! Very well. Legolas will likely wake up before dawn, so once he does your watch is officially over. Remember, if anything – anything at all – seems off, wake someone up."
"I will."
Aragorn gave him one last nod and an encouraging pat on the shoulder before moving over to his own bedroll and lying down. Soon his soft breaths could be heard among the others', although it was difficult to hear anyone breathing over Boromir's ground-shaking snores. Strangely, though, despite the fact that the Gondorian seemed to vibrate with each breath he took, they weren't very loud at all. They sounded almost muted, as if the slumbering man was aware of the need for quiet, even while he was asleep.
Pippin blinked heavily and grasped the hilt of his sword, turning into the cold wind. He wondered briefly if any of his friends back in the Shire were awake, then dismissed the thought as foolish. No respectable Hobbit would be sleeping when there were pubs to visit and drinks to down and songs to sing.
A branch creaked, and he spun to face the noise. Was an Orc? Or a Goblin? Maybe a – oh. It was an owl. Feeling foolish, Pippin swung his arms and paced as quietly as he could around the clearing. Occasionally he glanced over at his companions, checking to make sure he hadn't woken any of them.
Gandalf was sleeping on his side, still clutching his staff. Pippin's mischievous mind wondered if he could somehow replace the staff with a branch without the Wizard noticing. Then he frowned. Gandalf would find out, as he always somehow did, and he would turn him into a toad. Better not to mess with him, then.
Merry, Sam, and Frodo were curled up asleep, as normal. Merry had a small smile on his face, while Sam was licking his lips. Frodo looked like he was frowning, and his hands were clenched. Hm, Pippin thought, better work out how to cheer him up.
Gimli the Dwarf was sleeping with his battle-axe lying across his chest. There was going to be trouble if he rolled over in his sleep, Pippin decided. The weapon was probably sharp enough to kill him by accident.
Aragorn and Boromir looked like they were deeply asleep. Perhaps there was something to that old saying about warriors being able to sleep no matter what conditions they were in. Finally the Hobbit looked at the Elf.
The golden-haired archer was lying on his back, hands clasped loosely on his stomach. Then Pippin saw something that made his heart freeze. The Elf's eyes – they were open!
Hurrying over to the Elf's side, Pippin knelt down and leaned over the warrior, peering down at Legolas's blue eyes. They were glazed, as if…as if…
The young Hobbit had only seen one person lying so still with her eyes open, glazed just like that, and that was his poor grandmother when he entered her room one morning to bring her the morning meal. She had quietly died during the night, and no one had noticed. Pippin's mind immediately made the connection.
Legolas – he was dead!
Pippin did the only thing he could do. He screamed.
"Aiiiiiieeeeee!"
Legolas jerked awake at the sudden shrieking and bolted upright, expecting a horde of Orcs, or a pack of Wargs, or perhaps a Balrog. Instead he saw the Fellowship scrambling to their feet, weapons in hand.
And then there was the Hobbit next to him, screaming bloody murder into his sensitive ears.
Legolas knelt beside the terrified Halfling who was staring at him with eyes bigger than he thought possible. "What is it?" he asked, relieved that he had at least stopped screaming. He had big lungs for such a little fellow. "What is wrong?"
The Fellowship gathered around the two, wondering blearily what was going on. Pippin raised a hand to point one trembling finger at Legolas. "You…" he whimpered. Legolas blinked. Him? "You're dead!"
"No I'm not," Legolas replied indignantly. Then Aragorn suddenly burst into laughter, making the still-tense group jump.
"What is funny about this?" Gimli demanded, fingering his axe. Aragorn took a minute to answer, and when he did he dashed tears from his eyes.
"Oh, I thought… I thought after Rivendell they would have seen… But apparently not. Oh, this is too sweet!"
"Spit it out, Estel!" Legolas ordered sharply. "What would they have seen?"
"Your eyes!" The human gestured helplessly. "When you sleep."
"They are open, yes. What does that have to do with…oh." His eyes widened with sudden realization, and he swiveled back around to face Pippin. "You saw that my eyes were open while I was asleep, and thought I had died, correct?"
Pippin nodded sheepishly. Meanwhile, Aragorn sniffed and moved over to the fire, stoking life back into the dying embers. "I see we are going to have to hold a biology lesson about Elves," he said. "Come. Sam, Frodo, Merry – you too."
The Hobbits gathered around the still-chuckling man, Pippin still eyeing Legolas nervously. "What are you going to tell them?" Legolas asked. Aragorn smirked.
"Everything."