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It was almost taunting, the way the pack fell, bouncing from rock to rock until it landed with a muddy plop at the bottom of the ravine.
The Fellowship stared at it. No one was moving. Especially not Pippin, the owner of aforementioned pack, who was frozen in a half-bent position, arms hanging mid-flail as he tried to balance himself on the log.
Yes, log. See, the Fellowship's journey from Rivendell had to be kept secret, just in case any of the Enemy's eyes fell upon them. This meant taking some lesser-traveled paths. Including through a series of gorges and ravines that were only able to be crossed by walking across a fallen tree as a bridge. They'd all had mixed reactions to this (Sam was stubbornly Not For It, and was only persuaded into crossing once Frodo said he'd do it, while Aragorn, for example, was the one who'd had the idea to use the log), but in the end, they'd all agreed to use the log as a bridge.
And it had gone well--until Pippin dropped his pack.
One might have expected Gandalf to be the first one to speak. That was usually his job, after all, to be the one to warn and scold and maybe threaten with his staff. Or Aragorn--he was sort of the one in charge here, wasn't he--or at the very least, the second-in-command? Maybe even Boromir--although not the leader by any stretch of the imagination, certainly one of the most likely to voice what the rest of them were all thinking.
But it was Merry Brandybuck who finally heaved a sigh, turned to his cousin, and said, "I told you, Pip."
"I didn't mean to!" Pippin immediately protested. "It's just that this bit of log here looked like it might chip off, so I had to get over to this part of the log, and then I slipped and it all happened at once."
"Well, now you don't have a pack."
Pippin stared mournfully down into the ravine. It was clear he was thinking about jumping down to retrieve it, but the small shred of self-preservation (or more likely, the threat of getting scolded by one of the others) overruled the impulse.
"All right, then." Aragorn took pity on Pippin. "There's nothing that can be done about it now, and we need to keep moving." He gave a little prod to Bill the pony, who had obediently stopped along with Sam, to get him to start plodding along again. Frodo, Sam, and Boromir--foolishly under the impression that the matter was settled--also continued shuffling along the log.
But Merry wasn't done. "And I'll just bet you had the last of the pipe-weed in there too."
That got the Fellowship's attention.
"Whoa, hold on for half a minute," Sam spoke up. "What are you two doing with the pipe-weed, when I'd have bet anything Master Gimli was carrying it last?"
All eyes fell on the dwarf, who unslung one of the packs from his shoulders, riffled through it, and came up empty. "I'd swear I was carrying it last as well," he said, narrowing his eyes at Merry and Pippin.
"Perhaps it is easy for things to slip from a dwarven mind," Legolas mused, although he did so with Boromir standing between him and Gimli.
"You'll discover the meaning of slip when you slip right into that pit, elf--"
"If I might interrupt." Gandalf glared from under the brim of his hat. Gimli and Legolas shrunk back reluctantly. "I would also like to know how all the pipe-weed ended up in Peregrin Took's pack."
Pippin shuffled awkwardly, glancing at Merry. "It was just for safe-keeping."
"I bet I know just how safe you meant to keep it," Frodo sighed. "But we can't do anything about it now, can we?" He looked around--and in many cases, up--at the others, some of whom were looking uncomfortably contemplative. "Can we?"
No one seemed keen to answer the Ring-bearer. Down in the ravine, the pack was slowly soaking through with muddy water.
Boromir coughed. "We do have an elf with us." Aragorn whipped his head toward him. "What? I'm sure we were all thinking it."
Legolas crossed his arms. "Is that so."
"Come on, you can get down the ravine the easiest."
"Well, has anyone considered that maybe I shouldn't be spending the entire quest as people's elven delivery service?"
"No," Gimli said. Legolas glared at him.
Aragorn leaned over the edge of the log bridge again. The sides of the ravine were steeper than he'd first thought, the terrain rougher and rockier. And very, very, far below. It wasn't an impossible hike, but it would be difficult, to say the least--even for an elf.
"I say Pippin gets it," Merry announced.
Pippin's eyes widened in betrayal. "That's just unfair. It was your idea to steal--er, put the pipe-weed in my pack to begin with!"
"Is that so?" Gandalf arched his eyebrows at the two hobbits. "Perhaps one of you should retrieve it after all."
"I am also in favor of this plan," Legolas said quickly.
"Well, I say that the ravine is much too dangerous to send the hobbits down," Gimli pointed out. "Legolas should do it."
"Hold on a second--" Aragorn tried.
"If you're so willing to pin this on me, why don't you go?" Legolas demanded. "Aren't dwarves best suited for rock travel anyways?"
"It would be quickest if--" Boromir started, but by then most of the Fellowship had already dissolved into arguing.
Frodo and Sam stood beside Bill, slightly isolated from the rest of the bickering.
"I'd go down there myself, if it'd stop them all from arguing, Mr Frodo," Sam remarked softly. "But it's terrible steep down there, and I'm not sure as I'd make it back up."
"No one's asking you to get the pack, Sam," Frodo reassured him, feeling a twinge of guilt. Not for a moment had anyone considered sending Frodo into the ravine--and for good reason--but it didn't sit quite right with him.
If only the Fellowship could resolve all their arguments like hobbit-children did in the Shire: by throwing dice for it, or promising to trade something, or even just a simple game of…
Hmm. Why couldn't the Fellowship solve arguments that way?
It might have been silly, but… it also just might work.
Everyone was still arguing--accompanied by the occasional spirited finger-jab into the ravine--when Frodo edged around the pony to the center of the bridge.
"All right," he said. Nobody heard. He tried again, louder: "All right!"
That quieted the group down. Everybody looked at Frodo.
"I've got a solution," Frodo said. "And I wasn't going to bring it up, except that no one around here seems to be able to solve arguments without me saying something."
"What's your solution, then, Frodo?" Aragorn asked. He must have been tired of the argument if he was jumping to hear Frodo's answer--or maybe someone had just suggested that he jump into the pit.
Frodo would bet Bilbo's mithril that it had been Pippin.
"My solution is rock, paper, scissors," he answered.
The reactions were predictable. Merry started laughing, Boromir nearly dropped his shield off the bridge, Gimli and Legolas just stared blankly, Gandalf gave no reaction one way or the other, Aragorn got that look in his eyes where he stared off into the distance--quite possibly in the direction of Rivendell or Bree--and Pippin nodded thoughtfully as though wondering why he hadn't thought of it.
"It's, ah… what, now?" Boromir asked.
"Rock, paper, scissors. I know what you're thinking, but sometimes desperate times call for desperate--"
"No, but… what, now?"
Oh. This, he hadn't thought of.
"Do they not have rock, paper, scissors in Gondor?" Frodo asked. Pippin and Merry also looked quizzically toward Boromir, who shifted his shield.
"I suppose not, since I've never heard of that in my life."
"You explain it then, Pip."
"All right!" Pippin bounded over to Boromir, who had the this-whole-quest-was-a-mistake look in his eyes. "You start by hitting your fist three times against your hand--" he demonstrated "--and then you pick rock, paper, or scissors to beat the other person. Rock crushes scissors, scissors cuts paper, and paper covers rock."
Boromir copied the hand movements dubiously. "And this is how you settle arguments in the Shire?"
"Oh, no, that's just the beginning. We haven't even gotten into how you earn ghost points, the safe base, or the no-tackling zones yet."
"Pippin!" Merry elbowed his cousin out of the way and addressed Boromir. "It's a children's game, but rock, paper, scissors actually solves--"
"Pardon me, Master Merry," Sam interrupted. Sam interrupting someone about a matter unrelated to the walking, supper, Bill, or Frodo, was such a rare occurrence in itself that everyone immediately turned to him. He continued unabashed. "But if I hear anyone else say the words 'rock, paper, scissors,' one more time, I might hit you over the head with this frying pan."
Merry frowned. "What am I supposed to call it, then?"
Sam gaped. "Paper, scissors, rock, for sure."
"Now see here a minute--"
"I just had to speak my mind." Finished, Sam stepped back, exchanging rueful smiles with Frodo as the rest of the Fellowship began clamoring again.
"And that's all well and good," Aragorn started. "But--if this is the same game we're talking about, and it seems like it is--the proper name is 'paper, scissors, stone.'"
Pippin took a giant step away from Aragorn like whatever he had might be catching.
"Where did you learn that?" Merry asked.
Aragorn was at a loss. "In--in Rivendell. I suppose that's just how the elves play it."
And Merry might have been willing to forgive that--even though Sam was shaking his head and Pippin was staring at the Ranger of the North in utmost betrayal--but Legolas wouldn't have it.
"That is not how the elves play it," he insisted. "I didn't realize it at first, but we have a similar game in Mirkwood--only we call it 'jewel, wolf, warrior.'"
Blank stares.
Legolas looked from hobbit to man to wizard, but found only blank stares. "Really? Jewel--" he made a fist with his hand "--wolf--" the other hand formed a mouth which 'ate' the jewel-hand "--warrior?" He pointed the fingers of the first hand like a sword and half-heartedly swatted them against the wolf mouth a couple times.
Sam cocked his head. "What does the jewel do to the warrior?"
"It burns him."
"Why?"
"Because… " Legolas dropped his hands to his sides. After a few moments of silence, it became evident that he was not planning on finishing the sentence.
Gimli furrowed his brow as he thought over what the elf and hobbits had said. "I don't suppose anyone here has ever heard of 'paper, stone, dragon,' then."
"Ew," Pippin proclaimed at once. Gimli leveled him with a hard gaze. The hobbit shrugged. "It just sounds unnatural, all right? Those words were not meant to be put in that order."
"But you see, there's the paper--" Gimli laid his hand flat in the air "--that the dragon burns--" a flapping motion that batted the other hand out of the way "--and the stone crushes the dragon--" he did so with a whump "--or the paper covers the stone."
Pippin thought it over for a minute. "Nope. Still wrong."
"Does any of this really matter?" Boromir burst out. He pointed over the side of the log. "The pack is still down there, and we aren't solving anything by arguing about children's games."
"Yes." Aragorn snagged onto his statement gratefully. "Let's just choose someone to go down there and get it, or we can just be on our way."
"At this point, I almost think we should leave the pack in the ravine," Frodo murmured to Sam.
"I don't know as to that, Mr Frodo, but I know we ought to be getting on, it's getting late."
Frodo nodded. The sun was lower in the sky, shining its yellow-gold light through the leaves. They'd been standing on this log bridge for too long. And though Pippin's pack might hold the remaining pipe-weed, it wasn't worth the extra time it would take to send someone down the cliff.
The rest of the Fellowship apparently agreed. Packs were hoisted onto shoulders, shields were adjusted, waterskins were checked, and slowly, they began to shuffle forward--
--hardly a step before Pippin spoke up.
"You know what I think? I think Boromir's just jealous that he doesn't have a cool game like the rest of us do."
"Pippin!" Merry groaned.
Boromir started forward, probably to protest, but then his boot became caught on a loose root sticking out of the log. He stumbled, throwing his arms out to regain his balance--arms that swung right where Legolas and Gimli were standing.
Gimli ducked--or maybe he just didn't need to--but Legolas was swiped right in the shoulder by a strong hand. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, except that everyone's position on the log was so precarious; the elf teetered, teetered--
--and fell off the log.
Not down into the ravine, however. No, that was below the superior reflexes of the elves, which allowed Legolas to grab a handhold on the underside of the log and hang there like a confused bat, which is naturally much more dignified than a simple tumble.
Up on the top of the log, none of the Fellowship could see him.
"Er--" Aragorn stopped. He tried again, shouting over the edge. "Are you all right down there?"
"All is well!" came a slightly out-of-breath voice--although it came from much nearer than the others would have thought. Why wasn't the elf at the bottom of the ravine, they were wondering. By all rights and reasons, he ought to be down there.
Instead, there was a scraping sound of shoes against bark, followed by a splash.
More splashes, and the not-dead elf came into view, traipsing along the muddy water that curdled at the bottom of the ravine--for he had dropped from his perch on the underside of the log and allowed himself to fall.
Why would he do that, they were now wondering. That seems misguided. That's kind of stupid, actually.
But his goal became clear as Legolas reached Pippin's sodden pack, nestled among rocks and soggy grass, scooped it up, and started the trek up the side of the cliff.
The Fellowship had nothing to do but watch. Watch in concern, as Frodo and Sam noted the low, low, sun and the limited amount of traveling time they had that day. Watch in annoyance, as Gimli grumbled about elvish show-offs and Merry didn't get to send his cousin down the cliff. Watch in resignation, as Aragorn again cast a glance toward the West. Watch in confusion, as Boromir considered each of the life choices that had led him to standing on this log. Or not watch at all, as Pippin wondered who would be the most likely to let him steal their apple when they stopped for dinner.
Gandalf simply stood back, speaking for the first time since Pippin admitted the pipe-weed theft. Heads swiveled toward him.
"You know," Gandalf said. "The other wizards and I used to have a game. Now, it had a boat, a staff, and a--"
The whole Fellowship groaned.
The End