(Barrels) On the Doorstep
Still recovering from the thought of Gandalf's most likely uncloaking-related 'solution' to their problem, Frodo sat with the other hobbits to consider their options. At long last he stood and turned to his friends.
"I suppose there's nothing for it but to send word to the Elvenking's halls, asking for aid," he said. "A single arrow let loose from Legolas's bow would speed us on our way."
"But Frodo," said Merry doubtfully, "Who can we send with the message? We need all the mechanics we've got to keep the fireworks under control. Sam's needed to keep watch, should Mount Zoom approach, and I still haven't planned as much of our journey as I should like to have done. That's every-"
"Ahem," Pippin interrupted. "I think, Merry, that you've forgotten the important contributions of a
certain member of this team."
"Are you volunteering, then, Pip?" asked Merry of a rather chagrinned Pippin.
"Of course he's not!" Sam broke in quickly. "Mister Frodo, you can't send
him."
Pippin looked about indignantly. "And why not?" he demanded. "I can manage it. I did fetch Gandalf, you know, when Denethor wanted to set Farimir and himself on fire!"
"Besides, Sam, he's the only one who could go," said Frodo. "Very well, Pippin. You must make haste, though! We don't want to lose our lead - Gandalf might feel the need to uncloak again!"
It was settled, and Pippin embarked on his journey after packing "a few necessities," as he called the basket of mushrooms, tarts, jams, and pies that was now strapped to his back. It wasn't long before the mushrooms were gone, and then the tarts and jams, and at last the pies. As he made his way towards Thranduil's kingdom, he likewise ate his way through the basket, and by the time he was nearing the Elvenking's halls, he realized he was quite thirsty.
At last he could see ahead of him the great stone gates that marked the entrance to Thranduil's halls. And standing before them was the most welcome sight he could have seen - an elf sitting atop a barrel, and drinking the contents of another. Pippin ran up eagerly.
*******
"So, you say Galion's your name?" asked the Took some time later, contentedly slumping back against the barrel his newfound friend was sitting upon.
"Yes," hiccupped the butler. "And your name is Pele-, Pere-, Peregli-"
"You can call me Pippin," the hobbit interjected. "And, I've come
all this way to plead with your king to" (here he paused to hiccup) "to help my kinsfolk. We're friends of Legolas, you see, and there's this troll..."
"Well," replied Galion, animatedly moving his arms as he spoke. "Legolas is away at the moment, and you'll not find Lord Thranduil in good spirits. This wine, you see, was to have been brought here yesterday for a great feast, but due to delays... Well, the king blames me, and said the wine is worthless now, and told me to get rid of it." He took another swig of the stuff, clearly trying his best to obey his master's orders.
"Oh, I've a grand idea!" cried Pippin, eyeing the crates of mead.
*******
Several hours later, back at the Bag-Endless-Fuel, Sam waited impatiently in his perch for Pippin's return. When he finally did see the hobbit, he jumped up and stared unbelievingly. "Master Frodo..." he called down the chimney.
Frodo emerged from the door of Bag End to see Pippin sitting on the shoulders of a Mirkwood elf, who was rolling a barrel ahead of him. Both were singing:
Roll--roll--roll--roll,
roll-roll-rolling to the troll,
Heave ho! Heavy load!
Down it rolls, down the road!
As the song ended, the pair reached the base of Bag-Endless-Fuel. Pippin lurched off his companion's shoulders when he saw Frodo, and made an exaggerated bow.
Frodo took a moment to try to contain himself. "Pippin," he said through clenched teeth. "Where... are... the elves?"