The Hobbit rubbed his hands together nervously. He stared up at the bright, evening sky as if waiting for something to happen.
“Peregrin Took!”
He looked toward the window where an old woman’s head was protruding from. She had a sour expression upon her face. “Yes, ma’am?” He smiled weakly, hoping to get out of whatever punishment he deserved.
“Dishes, Peregrin.” The old hobbit grinned maliciously, showing all five of her teeth. “Maybe next time you won’t cause such a commotion?” Her head disappeared back inside the hole.
Grumbling, Peregrin, or Pippin as his friends called him, got to his feet. “It was only a bit of fun,” he muttered to himself. He pulled open the circular door and stepped inside. He walked slowly, dragging his large, hair-covered feet across the smooth wooded floor. He entered the rather large kitchen. Dirty dishes littered the counter-tops and tables. He frowned and grabbed a rag from the soapy water, and a plate from the table. He dipped it into the water and scrubbed at it hard.
Then there was a rustling of leaves from the garden below the window. Pippin put down the plate and wiped his hands dry on his shirt. He moved slowly toward the window, peering out. And suddenly a figure popped up from the bushes. It was another Hobbit, with a mass of light brown curly hair. “Merry!” Pippin exclaimed.
Merry Brandybuck put a finger to his lips. “Shh!” He held up a few carrots in one hand, and some heads of cabbage were held with his other arm, pressed against his chest. “Hand me a sack, Pip.”
Pippin turned around and dashed to another room, returning with a dark bag. He held it out to the other hobbit, who dropped the vegetables into it.
Merry offered Pippin his hands. “C’mon.”
Pippin looked frantically around at the piles and piles of filthy dishes. “But I’ve got all of this to do!” he protested.
Merry shrugged. “Oh, just forget it!” He grabbed the younger hobbit’s hands and pulled him off his feet and out the window. There was a clatter of breaking dishes and a shrill cry filled the air. It was Pippin’s mother again, calling his name.
“Peregrin Took! You finish these dishes right now!” she shrieked.
“Get down!” Pippin whispered. He pulled Merry to the ground. There wasn’t any way she could see them now, hidden beneath the bushes. He listened for her retreating footsteps. “Follow me.” He crawled out of the bush, onto a cobblestone garden path. Merry tumbled out behind him, and once they were both on their feet, they ran down the path faster than they had ever run yet in their lives. Pippin stopped about half a mile from his home.
“Do you think we’re far enough?” Merry inquired impatiently, crossing his arms.
Pippin nodded, panting. “Of course we are. I wouldn’t have stopped otherwise.”
“Good. Let’s eat.” He thrust his entire arm into the bag, grabbing an apple. He passed the bag to his friend, who dug an apple out for himself.
“Where did you get all this, Merry?” he inquired, taking a bite out of his apple.
Merry stuck a finger in the young Took’s face. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Pippin shook his head, and Merry leaned back on the trunk of a tree. “Got them out of old Farmer Maggot’s crops. He’s got loads of things. Apples, tomatoes, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, even mushrooms.”
Pippin’s eyes widened. “Mushrooms?” He dove for the sack, searching frantically through it. “You didn’t get any, did you? Mushrooms, I mean.”
“Well, well, well, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. I wonder what you could be up to so soon after dinner?”
The hobbits looked up, started at the newcomer. They relaxed once they were able to make out who it was.
Pippin loosened the woolen scarf that was wrapped around his neck. “Frodo, you had us scared. I thought you were my father.”
Frodo narrowed his eyes and said sternly, “Why, what have you done now?” The elder hobbit pulled Pippin, then Merry to their feet. “Come on, now, out with it.”
The Brandybuck bit his lip. “Well, we were--” He would have finished his sentence hand an apple not landed on his head. He glanced up at the tree, but there was nothing there.
“You were what?” Frodo demanded. He crossed his arms across his chest. Just then there was a giggling sound from above, the voice high-pitched and squeaky. “What was that?” Frodo questioned. And just as the words had left his mouth, a figure jumped down from the tree.
A Hobbit. She wasn’t particularly skinny, but Hobbits weren’t known to be thin, She smiled widely, a glimmer in her hazel eyes. She pushed her dark, curly hair away from her eyes. “Hello, Meriadoc.”
“Eleanor!” Merry sputtered, wiping his dirty hands on the front of his yellow vest. He saw her eyes shift to the apple on the ground. “Oh!” Merry stooped down and picked it up. He brushed the dirt off with his sleeve and held it out to her. “Erm...you dropped this.”
Eleanor grinned. “Oh, thank you, Merry.”
Pippin stole a glance at Frodo, who, like himself, was trying terribly hard not to let Merry know he was laughing.
Merry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He looked at the sinking sun, then at Eleanor. “Em, Eleanor, could I walk you home? The sun is setting and it’s going to get dark awfully soon.”
“Oh, how sweet of you!” She took his arm and they strode off down the road.
Pippin couldn’t control himself any longer. He doubled over, and fell onto the ground, laughing hysterically. Frodo had apparently fallen beside him for the same reason. “I had no idea he was so taken with her,” Pippin said once he had calmed down.
“Nor her with him,” added Frodo. He stared up at the starry sky for a moment. “Well, I’d best be off,” he said finally. “I’ve got a lot of work to do before Bilbo returns.”
Pippin looked interested. “Oh, are you planning a party?” He could feel his stomach growling at the thought of a great Baggins feast. He remembered Bilbo’s last birthday party; tables of food, and barrel upon barrel of the finest ale in the Shire.
“Now, now, Master Took, don’t get too excited.” Pippins face fell, and Frodo continued, “It’s only going to be a small dinner -- you’ll be invited, of course, along with Sam and Merry. But just a small dinner party, nothing more.” Frodo handed Pippin the sack of food. “See you tomorrow, Pippin.” He disappeared into the darkness.

Pippin pulled his jacket, so as to cover his body more efficiently. He wasn’t going home tonight. Not that he really considered it much of a home. He never felt himself there. His parents hadn’t really shown him any real affection. Maybe by the time he came of age, in thirteen years, they would be pleased with him. But somehow he figured he’d have to come home with some kind of medal for them to respect him. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the cold that was beginning to consume him. And finally, after what seemed like hours, Pippin fell asleep.

Frodo Baggins awoke with a start in one of the early hours of the morning. Someone was knocking loudly of his front door and screaming his name. Frodo pushed away the blankets and made his way, groggily, to the door. “Samwise Gamgee, I could kill you!” he said once he had opened the door.
“I know, Mister Frodo, I’m s-sorry,” the hobbit stuttered. He was shorter and stockier than Frodo. Sam brushed his dripping wet hair out of his face. “Frodo, you’ve got to come with me!” His eyes shifted toward the stack of walking sticks leaning against the wall. “Take one of Bilbo’s,” he said, as Frodo was already heading for them. “A big one.”
Sam led his friend out into the rain, Frodo throwing a cloak over his shoulders. They ran north along the Brandywine River, through a small cluster of trees, and stopped once they were through.
“Where are we going, Sam?” Frodo had to shout because of the noise of the rain thundering to the ground.
“Look,” Sam said, pointing to the forest floor.
Frodo looked closer, squinting. It was a hideous sight. A creature with pointed ears and a disfigured face stared blankly up at him. An arrow was protruding from his neck, and deep red blood covered his front. “An Orc,” Frodo muttered. “How did it get here? Why is it here?”
Sam shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, but where there’s one, there has got to be more.”
Frodo pulled the arrow out and inspected it. “Sam, do you know where this came from?” He held it out to the other hobbit, who stared intently at the point. “Is it Orcish or Elvish? Can you tell?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it was from the Elves. The tip is very smooth and round, not jagged,” he explained. “We should go back to Bag-End. When Bilbo returns, we can ask him about it.”
Frodo shook his head. “That won’t be soon enough.” He examined the arrow once again. “What were Elves doing in the Shire? They usually stay in their own lands.”
Suddenly a cry broke out in the air. It seemed to bounce off of the trees, echoing loudly all around them. The hobbits looked up towards the sky, their eyes filled with fear. More cries followed soon after, as if answering the first.
“Let’s get out of here, Frodo!” Sam exclaimed. The hobbits rushed off south, toward Bag-End, the rain making it very difficult for them to see where they were going.

Frodo leaned against the door, breathing heavily. It had been a long time since he had run that fast. “Do you see anything?” he asked, watching as Sam peered out the window.
“No, nothing.” He pulled the shutters in. “And I can’t hear anything beside the rain.”
Frodo disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a plate of bread and cheese. “You’re welcome to stay here for the night. I wouldn't cast you out alone in this weather.”
Sam smiled. “Thank you, Frodo. You’re a good friend.”
“You are too, Sam.” Frodo grabbed a slice of bread and a piece of cheese. “Hungry?”

Pippin shivered violently and awoke from slumber. He sat up and wiped his face off. ‘How long have I been here?’ he thought. ‘When did it start raining?’ He used a tree for support and fought to stand up. He stumbled blindly in the rain, tripped and fell onto the muddy ground. He whipped his head around to see what it was he had fallen over. It was very big, at least twice his size. His eyes widened and he backed away. “Orc!” he screamed. “Orc in the Shire!”
Pippin got to his feet, about to run away, when he found himself face to face with an arrow. His face slowly rose up to look at the owner of the arrow. He had long, silvery blonde hair and was clad in a dark green color. His light blue eyes were sternly fixed on the hobbit. Pippin swallowed hard, unsure of what to do.
Then the stranger spoke, “Halfling, have any Orcs passed through this land? Have you seen any?” Pippin hesitated and he demanded more loudly, “Tell me at once! Have you seen any Orcs?”
“Just the once behind me,” Pippin managed to get out.
The Elf moved toward the dead Orc, examining it. He pulled the arrow out of its chest and put it back with his other arrows. “You may go now, Halfling. But beware, little one, more Orcs that my people did not manage to kill still roam free. You would do well to return to your home quickly.”
Pippin turned around only to find himself quite alone again. He looked around at the surroundings for a few moments, then ran off.

He came upon Bag-End quicker than he would have thought, and began pounding on the door. “Frodo! Frodo Baggins! Open this door immediately!” He heard soft footsteps coming and stepped away from the door.
Frodo looked rather surprised to see him. “Pippin, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” Sam appeared behind him.
“Orcs!” Pippin exclaimed. “Orcs and Elves! I’ve seen them in the Shire!”
“We’ve seen the Orcs. But did you say Elves?” Sam’s face lit up. “I’ve always wanted to see the Elves.”
Pippin stepped inside. By now the rain was letting up a bit, but he was very cold and needed the warmth of the fire. He sat down right in front of the fireplace. “When did you see any Orcs?”
Frodo glared at Sam a moment, but softened his expression after a while. “Sam came banging on my door a few hours ago--much like you’ve just done. He said he had something urgent to show me. What it was was a dead Orc.” He picked something up off of a table. “See? We think it belonged to an Elf.” Pippin stared at the arrow. “And your report just proved it.”
Sam sat down next to Pippin. “What did the Elf look like? Was it the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen?” His eyes were wide.
“I wouldn’t say that. He had long blonde hair and wore this dark--almost a forest green cloak. He had a great long bow, and a quiver of arrows was strapped to his back.” Pippin laughed a little. “He had an arrow pointed in my face. I thought he was going to shoot me!” He pushed some more wet hair out of his face. “The funny thing was, after he told me I could leave, he disappeared without a sound. I looked up and he was gone. Not a trace to be left of him!”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard they can run through whole forests silently.” A far-away look filled his eyes. “I wish I were an Elf. It would be wonderful. Wouldn’t it, Mr. Frodo?” He looked to the eldest hobbit.
Frodo shrugged. “I suppose but I rather like being a Hobbit.” He grabbed a pipe already filled with pipe-weed. He lit it and stuck it in his mouth. “It’s very relaxing.”
Pippin nodded in agreement. “Food, drink, and sleep is all I need.”
“You may have a relaxing lifestyle, Master Took, but some of us Hobbits have to work,” Sam scoffed.
“If you call gardening work,” Pippin muttered.
“Harder work than you’ll ever do!” Sam exclaimed angrily.
Frodo frowned at them both. “Enough! We shall never get through this night with all of your bickering!” He blew a ring of smoke and thought a moment. “It reminds me of Bilbo.” Frodo smiled. “Every time Gandalf visits, he and Bilbo sit out on the hilltop overlooking the Shire and smoke these.” He waved a hand at the few pipes laying on the table.
Sam looked towards Pippin and saw him reaching for a third piece of bread. To him, he said, “Haven’t you had enough already?”
“You want me to starve?” Pippin asked in mock sadness. “Your words hurt, Sam.”
He rolled his eyes and turned to Frodo. “If nobody objects, I’d like to get some sleep.”
Frodo nodded. “Go ahead, Sam.” Then he said to Pippin, “I couldn’t possibly get any sleep tonight.” He glanced out the window. “When I think what could be prowling around out there, it sends a chill up my spine.”
Sam pulled a wool blanket up to his chin and watched Frodo. For a young hobbit his face looked worried, somehow old. Pippin, too looked weary and disturbed. That was the most unusual. He and Merry were always getting into all sorts of trouble. Why would this sudden appearance worry him so? He continued to watch Frodo until he himself was overcome with sleep.

Pippin tossed and turned for more minute than he could count. He wondered how long he had been lying awake while his friends slept. He heard a scratching noise near the window and sat up, eyes wide. “It must be a branch raking against the shutters,” he muttered to himself. He laid his head back down on the cloak he had been using as a pillow. He heard the noise again several more times before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
He awoke a few hours later to the sounds of singing birds. The morning sun was shining through the windows. He looked around the room. Sam was still sound asleep; his mouth was hanging open and saliva was dribbling down his chin. Frodo was-- “Frodo?” he called. He got to his feet and ran around the house, searching every room. He paused at a window, seeing a tuft of hair sticking out from beneath the garden plants. He rushed over to Sam, shaking his shoulders frantically. “Sam! Sam, wake up!”
Sam stirred and opened his eyes. “What is it, you pest?” He swiped at his wet chin.
“He’s gone! Frodo’s gone!”
Sam nearly fell from the chair he’d been sleeping on. He stood up and stumbled to the door. Then he threw it open and ran outside. “Mr. Frodo!” he shouted many times.

Frodo’s head perked up. Someone was calling for him. He grabbed his sack of newly-picked vegetables and walked to the back entrance of the hole. He glanced down the hallway and saw Pippin covering his face with his hands. He appeared to be laughing. Frodo dropped the sack in the kitchen and went to greet him.
At that moment, Sam burst through the door. His face was stained red from weeping. “Pippin! Oh, I can’t find him! What if the Orcs got him?” He fell to the floor and a sob wracked through his body.
Frodo decided it was time to end this tom-foolery. “Peregrin Took, what is the meaning of this?”
Sam rose and scrambled over to the elder hobbit. “Oh, master, you’re safe! I thought the Orcs had got you!” He clung to Frodo’s legs, still kneeling on the ground.
“Sam,” Frodo began, pulling the hobbit to his feet, “You’ve been had. Pippin has played a nasty trick on you.”
The youngest smiled weakly. “If it’s any consent, it didn’t start out that way. I really thought you had disappeared. Then I saw your head form the window and formed a plan.” He glanced at Sam, who was glowering at him. “What easy prey he was, lying there, drooling like an animal! I couldn’t resist!”
Sam couldn’t take any more ridicule. He sprang onto Pippin, pinning him to the floor. Pippin struggled but Sam had an unfair advantage; he was substantially heavier than him.
“Get off me!” the Took shrieked. He kicked at his attacker as hard as he could. Finally, Sam weakened and rolled off. Pippin got to his feet, attempting to flee, but Sam grabbed his ankle. He cried out and fell to the ground.
“That’s enough!” Frodo shouted. His eyes flashed with anger as he glared at the two of them. “I’m disappointed in both of you.” Sam looked away toward the ground. Pippin hung his head. “You need to stop this constant bickering!” He sighed heavily, then grabbed his cloak, a pipe, and a walking stick. “I shan't be back for a few days. If Bilbo returns, tell him I’ll be back soon.” He disappeared through the doorway.
Sam thought for a moment, then got to his feet. But by the time he had gotten to the door, Frodo was already gone from sight. He bit his lip and then turned on Pippin who was now standing, staring at Sam with concern in his eyes. But Sam only stared more angrily back. “Look what you’ve done! Gone and upset Frodo! Who knows where he’s got to!”
Pippin stared at his feet sadly.
“Go on, get out of here!” Sam yelled. “I’ve got work to do and I don’t need you hanging about getting in my way!”
Pippin slowly walked towards the door. Once he’d reached it, Sam grabbed his shoulder and pushed him through. Pippin stumbled but was able to regain his balance. He looked back sadly at Sam and for the first time in his life, he felt his friends didn’t want him. He sighed deeply as he walked down the path. ‘Well, there’s always Merry,’ he thought, trying to cheer himself up. He slumped against a tree and closed his eyes, exhaling.
Suddenly someone cried out. Pippin opened his eyes and looked around. He heard a few sniffling noises, then peered around the great oak. There was a hobbit sitting there. He long, curly brown hair covered her entire face. Her green dress was stained with dirt and filth.
“Oh,” Pippin said uncertainly. “Hello.”
She turned around and fell backwards, letting out another cry.
“Here, let me help you up.” He offered her two hands. She hesitated, but took them and he lifted her to her feet. Her face was bright red and was glistening in the sunlight. “Are you all right?” he managed to ask.
She nodded and wiped her face on her sleeve.
He held out his hand to her. “I’m Pippin Took. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around Hobbiton.”
She stood, staring at him for many minutes. Finally, she answered, “Selvi.” However, she spoke so quietly, he couldn’t hear her. She cleared her throat and said again, “My name is Selvi.” She shook his hand.
He grinned at her. “Well, there we go! Now we’re getting somewhere!”
Selvi noticed how big a grin it was and couldn’t help but smile herself. She wasn’t any good at confrontations but this one was going fairly well. “Pippin Took,” she repeated softly. “Are you a friend of Frodo Baggins?”
He nodded in agreement. “Oh, yes. We’re cousins.” Pippin frowned. He had forgotten the argument that had happened back at Bag-End, until now.
“Then you must also know Meriadoc Brandybuck?” Selvi went on, not noticing his change of mood. Pippin nodded, as if automatically. She bit her lip, just now noticing his saddened expression. “Is something bothering you?”
Pippin shook his head. “I should be asking that of you! You seemed awfully upset when I found you.”
“Well...” She bit her lip again. “I don’t want to trouble you with my problems, Pippin. Besides, we’ve only just met.” She brushed some dirt off her dress.
He stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “Selvi, I want to help.”
She stared at it for several moments, until a voice broke through the air and she pulled away. He gave her a pleading look, but she shook her head and backed away.
“Pippin! Pippin!” Merry came bursting through the trees. “I’m being hunted!” he exclaimed, clutching his friend’s hands.
Pippin raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, you’re being hunted?” he questioned.
Just as the words had left his mouth, Selvi shouted, “Get down!” and sprang onto them, knocking them to the ground. There was a whistling sound and an arrow flew past them, striking a tree. Lisa got to her feet and pulled the others up as well. “You’ve got to go now!” she ordered.
“But--”
“Now!” She ran toward their attackers and was gone. They growled at her when she reached them. And the stench, though she had endured it for many weeks, was still overwhelming. “Please, leave the Hobbits alone!” she cried. “Do whatever you want with the Elves, but let the Hobbits be!”
One of the Orcs grunted. “We caught the little thief spying one us!” He came closer to her. “You can tell him not to go sneaking around where he doesn’t belong!”
Selvi twisted her face in disgust and distanced herself from the foul creature.
“Speaking of spies,” the other Orc said. “You haven’t been giving us much information on the whereabouts of that ring. For whatever purpose, our master wants it soon. He tires of waiting.”
“I’m doing the best I can!” she spat. “I don’t know why he wants a silly ring anyway.”
The first Orc growled. He pulled his whip from his belt and hit her across the face. She was thrown to the ground. “You would do well to hold your tongue, Halfling!”
Selvi clutched her cheek and felt warm tears slide past her hand. She bit back a cry and pushed herself to stand up. The Orc shoved her forward and she ran off.

Go to the second part.