In a clearing of the dense woods of Tuckborough, a wiry, middle-aged hobbit walked through. She was clad in brown thigh-length pants and a green button-down shirt. Around her waist was a sturdy, leather belt. Stuck inside was her short sword – dirtied from the day’s use. Over her strong shoulders were two young hares the woman had caught. Her merry, green eyes sparkled as she glanced up at the sky. Dark, menacing clouds quickly formed as a strong breeze began to blow. Strands of golden red hair slipped from her braid because of the strong gusts. Splattering down, it began to rain. The big drops hit her freckled face as she ran hastily into the protection of the woods.

Peregrin Took was not having his best day. How did he get himself stuck in the mud puddle? He thought he had grown out of this type of foolish situation. However, apparently, fate still had a surprise for him. So here he was, the great Pippin Took, one of the nine members of the fellowship, stuck in a mud puddle.

The honey-haired hobbit considered calling for help, but then shook his head. It would not do for people to see him like this. Therefore, he tried to haul himself out of the mud puddle. This, of course, did not work. He sunk in deeper. The mud came to his waist. Pippin tried again, now with more force. He sunk in until his chest was covered in the sticky mire. He attempted again, now with even more force and he tried to ‘surprise’ the mud by doing it unexpectedly. He submerged until his shoulders were coated in the sludge.

Pippin was beginning to feel desperate. He reconsidered calling for help, and this time he gave in to his mind’s rational thinking. “Help,” he screamed. “Somebody, please help!” Pippin stretched his neck and tried to look around for someone. Pippin was continuing to go under. Mud was touching his neck and he strained his neck higher.

The soaked woman stopped. Her head cocked as she listened. She had heard a scream. Perking her ears, she listened to the hobbit’s surroundings. Through the rain and wind, she perceived desperate pleas of help. At first, she did not know where they came from. Then Bralyan figured out which way the person was screaming from. Dashing off as fast as her legs would carry her, the middle-aged woman was soon at the edge of an old lake. It had dried up years ago, however, with all the rain Tuckborough had received this spring the lake had turned into a large mud pile. She peered down the cavernous space and saw a hobbit stuck in part of the mud. Bralyan put her hands up and made a gesture that meant stop squirming. Hastily, she crawled down into the once lake. Walking spryly, she reached the poor creature with ease.

When Bralyan neared, her mouth opened in a silent gasp. It was Pippin. Her ears went a little pink as she jammed her hands under the mud and found Peregrin’s arms. She slowly walked backwards and unstuck the hobbit. When he was freed of the mud, she shoved him up onto the non-muddy ground and clambered up beside him. Perching on her feet and hands in a crouch she looked at Pippin, but did not say a word.

Pippin tried to jump when he suddenly heard someone approaching but seeing as he was stuck twas only his heart that did the jumping. “Ah! Oh, I am very glad to see ye, m’lady. Can you help me out here?” Pippin asked hopefully and he sighed in relief when the hobbit lass pulled him out of the mud pool. “Ah thank you so much. I already started to panic at the possibility of no one finding me here.” He rambled as a blush came into his fair cheeks. As Pippin felt the non-muddy ground beneath his feet again, his muscles started to relax and he felt his heart calm down a bit. Pippin swept his muddy hair out of his face, unsubsequently making them even muddier, and looked over at his ‘savior’ again. This time, he got a better look at her. She felt familiar. Pippin must have seen her somewhere. But then again, it would not be a surprise to know the hobbit lass, seeing as Peregrin almost knew everyone in Tuckborough, if not by acquaintance, then by their looks. Feeling that he should properly introduce himself, Pippin stretched out a muddy hand. “Thank you for saving my life. I am Peregrin Took. Who may I pay my thanks to?” he asked politely. However, when the hobbit lass did not say a word, he frowned. Pippin was slightly offended that she was not answering him. Thinking back, Pippin realized that she had not spoken at all, since she had come into view. His frown got deeper as he still felt affronted, but he then realized something. “Are you mute?” he inquired, his tone neutral, but curious.

Bralyan looked at the sodden ground. She chewed nervously on her lip as she listened to Pippin speak. She wished she could answer him. The hobbit knew he was offended. His voice said so. Wearily, Bralyan looked up. Her bright green eyes shined with sadness from the offence she had caused. Slowly, Bralyan nodded her head. Looking around, the red haired hobbit saw a stick. Taking it into her hand, she began to write. “Bralyan Pickthorn is my name. I have been mute from birth.” The woman looked up at Pippin and smiled. Glancing down again she wrote, “I know you. I’ve seen you in the market while I sell my father’s leather works and mother’s yarns and fabrics.” Bralyan looked back at Pippin and waited for him to respond.

Pippin smiled brightly. So that’s where he knew her from! Pippin did not feel offended anymore because he understood. “Oh,” he said nodding, meaning that he understood. Peregrin wanted to smack himself the moment he said it. ‘Oh’? Was ‘Oh’ all he could think of saying? The green-eyed male hobbit mentally shook his head. “Well, I thought you looked familiar already.” Pippin gave her a lopsided grin. “Anyways, thank you for saving my life. It is not everyday that a pretty lass like you would risk the mud to save me. Thank you,” he said sincerely, though with a hint of teasing. Taking in their muddy clothes and appearances, he grimaced. “Come on; let us go home to clean up. Though I have nothing against mud, I do not feel like being coated in it the whole day, especially after being trapped in a mud pool! What do you think?”

Silently Bralyan laughed. Her green eyes crinkled up and sparkled merrily and radiantly. Nodding her head, she stood. The rest of her red locks tumbled from the messy braid. He thinks I am pretty, she thought as Bralyan offered a strong hand to the hobbit on the ground.

Her ears suddenly perked. There was thrashing. She drew her blade just as massive, ugly beasts barreled through the woods. “Revenge for Saruman,” one of them roared. Bralyan ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She slashed through the first fiend. Black, nasty blood oozed from the wound, down the blade and onto her hands. The hobbit pulled back. It sent her flying backwards into another evil beast. Her sword went back as she did and it punctured its eye.

Pippin quickly drew his short sword out of its holster as he stood. Running as hastily as he could, the hobbit joined in the fight. An Uruk-Hai was heading straight for him. However, he did not run away from the Uruk. He ran straight at the beast and bolted through his legs. Pippin stuck his sword upwards and it hit the foul creature at a very sensitive spot, making him double over in pain. Peregrin did not stop. He ran for another ugly beast. He slashed the leg of one and pierced the stomach of another. Suddenly, Pippin felt himself being lifted up and off his feet. Instead of panicking, he slashed his blade through the neck of one of the Uruks, now that he was on the same height as the evil beast. Black blood sprayed the poor hobbit, but he did not care. The Thain was filthy with mud anyway. The blade still had speed after slashing through the now dead Uruk and Pippin used that speed. Flinging the blade up the arm of the Uruk that was holding him; he kicked the foul creature at the same time – freeing himself. Pippin dropped to the ground and lashed out his sword at the Uruk’s knee.

For a moment Bralyan could not move. She was petrified by the fear she felt of the fierce beasts that surrounded her and Peregrin. However, primal instincts took over and she dashed onward. One of the evil creatures grabbed her with his claw-like hands. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and she plunged the sword into its neck. Suddenly, Bralyan was dropped and she landed in a heap. Jumping up, she rushed to the last Uruk. He was near Pippin and was about ready to kill the hobbit. She sprinted fast and slashed through the belly of the orc. Her blade stuck in and the orc fell sideways. Bralyan stood there, staring at her hands. Black blood dripped from her sword. Her green eyes were round with fear and horror. Tears trailed down her muddy and wet face.

With a gasp, Pippin turned around. Peregrin saw the shadow behind him and the hobbit knew he could not turn around fast enough to save himself and slay the evil fiend. However, there she was – Bralyan – saving his life for the second time that day. Pippin came out of his shock and looked at the girl. She looked terrified. Doing the first thing that came to his mind, he embraced her, mud, blood and all. They rocked back and forth for a few moments while Pippin whispered soothing words in her ears.

“It’s gonna be alright. They are dead now. It is over. Do not be afraid. I am here. I am here. Calm down. They are gone now. They cannot hurt us anymore. Calm down.” Pippin felt himself begin calm down too. The adrenaline rush that had come at the first sight of the Uruks ebbed away and it left him feeling exhausted. He sagged to the ground slightly, but the male hobbit never let go of Bralyan as he continued rocking her gently and whispering nonsensical words of comfort in her ear.

The poor woman hobbit wept into the muddy and bloody shoulder of the male hobbit that held her. Bralyan did not let go of him. Her embrace was tight and desperate. Never before had she seen such evil creatures before, but she remembered Saruman. Bralyan remembered what he had done. She had lived through the horrors that the evil wizard had caused and seeing the beasts brought back the horrific memories of the experiences she had suffered. Her breath came out in gasps as the tears slowly dried up. Gulping, she slowly eased from Peregrin’s embrace. With weary green eyes, she gulped and made a gesture. The red headed woman hoped Pippin knew she wished to leave the Uruk graveyard.

Pippin nodded, showing Bralyan that he understood her gesture. Avoiding the foul creatures the best they could the two hobbits made their way out of the evil place. He wanted to run away from it, but knew better. They were too tired to run and even if they could, running might alert any other Uruks that might be lurking around the place. Together, they slowly made their way out of the forest, hoping to get home as soon as possible. Bralyan and Pippin were tired, shaky and in need of a bath and so, they kept walking.

Bralyan looked at her feet as she walked next to Pippin in silence. The two rabbits she had caught still were on both of her shoulders, but how that happened, Bralyan did not know. She stopped when they reached a huge hobbit mansion. She looked at it. The round door was as blue as a summer’s sky and the round stained glass windows shown brilliantly even in the ran. Not knowing what to do, she just stood there feeling very stupid and awkward. Taking the two hares off her shoulders, she held them limply in her hands. Shifting the pack higher, she glanced at Peregrin.

The hobbit lad saw her look and smiled.

“You probably want to know why I got stuck in the mud, eh?” Pippin blushed a bit before speaking again. “Well, it was actually kind of foolish. I was out in the woods, looking for herbs and when I crossed that place near the old river, I fell through the hole and slipped into the mud. I was not in it deep at first, but when I tried to get myself out, I sank in deeper. It was not scary at first, because I thought it would not be hard to get out. But when the mud started to creep up my neck, I couldn’t help but to start panicking.” Pippin rambled on for a good while on their trip back home. It got rid of the eerie silence they had before and created a nice atmosphere between them.

She shook her head. Bralyan did not really care why he was stuck in the mud. It was not her business, if she could, to question the Thain of Tuckborough. She looked back up at the mansion. Taking the stick she had found, she crouched and scrawled in the mud.

“Do we go in? Is this your home?” Bralyan stood and wiped the stick off. The hobbit twirled the twig gracefully in between her long, delicate fingers.

“Yes, this is my home,” Pippin said as he smiled at her with nervous feelings scourging through his veins. “Come on in. We need to get ourselves cleaned up. Can I offer you a nice meal for saving my life? Twice I might add.” He winked at the hobbit lass.

Pippin did not know why, but deep in his heart, he strongly wished the girl to say yes, or in this case, nod. Opening the door invitingly, the Thain gestured for the girl to go inside first. His home was warm, but dark inside, though that could be fixed easily by lighting a few candles and a fire in the kitchens’ fireplace. Pippin took a deep breath and sighed contently. It was home – his home. He was home. Now if only he could get to his bath and have dinner with Bralyan, everything would be perfect.

As Bralyan stood in the rain next to Peregrin, a strand of curly red hair fell into her spring green eyes. With a gentle movement, she brushed the hair away as the hobbit listened with keen ears to what Pippin said to her. The middle-aged hobbit was scared. What of, besides a second attack by those hideous, clawed fiends, she did not know. The coiffure away of her hair was a way to stall as she pondered the hobbits words. When she thought of the food offer, she felt her stomach growl. It was a silent grumble, just as her voice was silent. The fight with the evil beasts had taken up much of her energy. She had also had not eaten that day – she was starved. Gently, Bralyan nodded her head ‘Yes’. It sent splatters of rain and blood everywhere, but she did not notice. Bralyan was going to dine with the Thain of Tuckborough and she felt quite happy. Only in her dreams had she ever imagined supping with him. Attentively, she walked towards the door. As she walked through the mud, they made a pitter-pat as the mire stuck to her feet. As she walked through the round entranceway, she wiped her dirty feet on the long rug that lined the hall of the hobbit’s mansion.

Once inside, Pippin quickly walked over to some candles and lit them up, lighting the room with a nice atmosphere. Pippin was proud of his home. It was nicely decorated and did not feel woody at all. It was a place where one could easily feel at home. Pippin continued to walk to the sitting room and lit the candles there as well. The room was soon covered in light. Pippin then headed for the laundry cubboard for some towels. After a few moments, he came back holding two big fluffy orange/brown towels. He held out one to Bralyan.

“Here you go,” he said.

As they walked the halls of the Took manor, Bralyan, who trotted two paces behind the Thain, as she was taught was proper, watched Peregrin intently as she dried herself off with the towel. The red haired hobbit was trying to take in every detail of the tall hobbit-man. A smile played at the corner of her lush lips as Bralyan looked him over. When she felt the piercing eyes of Peregrin gaze softly at her, the mute hobbit glanced away and looked to the walls, where many artifacts were hung. One in particular caught her eye. It sat upon a shelf along with a small beaded basket and two portraits of apparently Pippin’s parents. There, sitting on the little wooden shelf was a silver pin with green inlay. It looked like an ivy leaf. Her red lips parted in a small ‘o’ as she looked upon the lovely brooch. Never before had Bralyan seen such a beautiful piece. When she realized that she had stopped following Peregrin, Bralyan, who turned quite pink in the ears, hurried up so she could stay near Pippin.

Pippin looked around. “Well, I guess my family isn’t home yet. They might be visiting friends. Come on follow me. I’ll direct you to the bathing room. You can go first. I’ll go find something to eat.” Pippin led Bralyan to a big room with three bathtubs. “Well, here it is. Just call… eh, well, I mean, I’ll be in the kitchen. Go there when you are ready.” Pippin informed her with a slight blush. He hurried off to the kitchen.

Bralyan was glad that his family was not home. Deep down, the hobbit knew that she should not be here, even though the woman had always longed to be. He is probably arranged to someone, she thought with a small, soundless sigh. Backing up, there was a startled look in her green eyes. Bralyan had been so involved with her thoughts that Peregrin’s voice had startled him. She nodded slighly to the Thain and entered. Slowly, she stripped out of her mud and blood caked clothes and laid the two rabbits to the side. She stepped into the warm water and washed off as fast as she could. Taking a second towel, Bral dried off her body and hair, which turned into a mass of flowing red locks. Going over to her leather bad, she opened it and got a simple blue dress and green vest. She slipped the blue dress over her head and then slid the vest on and tied it tightly. Taking out her pad and quill, Bral placed her dirty clothes in the bag. Before leaving the bathing room, Bralyan straightened and cleaned it up so that it looked as if no one had been in there. Pulling the door open, she left. Her feet were silent as she wandered the halls of the Took mansion. She finally found the kitchen where Peregrin was busy finding things to eat. Awkwardly, Bralyan stood in the doorframe. Her red hair glinted and shimmered in the firelight and her eyes were bright, inquisitive and fearful. She could not move, even though she wished to.

Pippin rummaged through the kitchen, ‘hunting’ for food. Putting pots and pans on the stove, he pulled out some vegetables and started to chop. Suddenly, Pippin felt a presence behind him and he turned around, only to be stunned into imitating a fish on dry land. Pippin’s cheeks started to turn a deep color of red and his heart fluttered in his chest. His stomach started doing somersaults and the hobbit suddenly felt grateful for not having anything in it that might accidentally come out again. After a few moments, Pippin surreptitiously recollected his jaw and coughed a few time, hiding his burning cheeks behind his hands. “Ahh, eh, well, em, why don’t you go sit in the sitting room for a while as I go clean myself up a bit. Then we can do something on dinner. I won’t be long, I promise.” With that, he went to the bathing room and shut the door behind him. Pippin leaned against the wall and tried to control his acrobatic stomach. Pippin thought that Bralyan looked beautiful. When he looked at her, his stomach felt the need to impress and now he thought of her, he got a warm feeling inside. Pippin was confused. He shook his head. Better not dawdle, let’s get cleaned up. With that thought, he started to strip off his clothes and went to one of the tubs, ignoring the sight of the two rabbits Bralyan forgot.

Bralyan stood at the door, watching Peregrin do his work. She felt her body tense. Longing to be near him, she stepped into the kitchen. He seemed so nervous and she wanted to ease his nervousness. When he told her to go sit, she shook her head. Bralyan could never do such a thing. Turning her head, she watched him leave and then went into the kitchen. Taking the potatoes, carrots, onions and beans, she chopped them up and placed them in a kettle that was setting there. She went to his cupboard and found bacon, apples, cinnamon, cream, sugar and bread. She took the ingredients back and put the bacon in the soup pot. Setting the soup to the fire, she began to make an apple bread pudding with the bread, apples, cinnamon, sugar and cream. When it was smooth, she carefully put it in a frying pan and placed that too on the fire. Bralyan stood and watched the food cooking. Every once in a while, she stirred the soup and added some salt and pepper.

Pippin, cleaned up and dressed in his own comfortable home clothes, walked out of the bathing room and was surprised to find Bralyan in the kitchen, cooking. The hobbit lass did not seem to have noticed his presence, so Pippin settled for leaning against the kitchen entrance and silently watch her cook. That warm cozy feeling and the acrobatic stomach came back on full force and Pippin suddenly had the thought that it would not be that bad at all if he could see this scenario of Bralyan cooking in his kitchen every day. Pippin shook his head. Now don’t get ideas in your head, Peregrin Took, he admonished himself. Coughing a bit, he stepped into the kitchen.

“Ahh, smells great. Eh, you don’t have to do that, ye know? I mean, not that I mind. It smells delicious. I mean, eh… what are you making?” he asked curiously while stepping up next to her to peek into the pan.

Bralyan moved from the skillet to the pot with careful and precise movements. Sweat beaded up on her forehead as she cooked, but she paid it no heed. She was not aware of anything else except the cooking she did. She was surprised when Peregrin spoke to her. Holding the wooden spoon in her hand, she wore a comical expression of fear. Calming down, Bralyan went to the table and took up her pad, quill and ink.

“Thank-you,” she wrote, “Yes, I do. I am a servant. It is not in my cards to be waited upon.” Bralyan paused for a moment and then continued to write in her small and delicate script. “Bacon, vegetable and potato stew is for sup and for desert apple bread pudding – my ma’s recipe.” Bralyan tore the paper out of her book and closed it. She handed the note to Peregrin as she placed the book on the kitchen table. After finishing that, she went back to her stew.

Pippin read it and his mouth watered at the description of what Bralyan was cooking. As if wanting to agree with him, his stomach growled at that precise same moment – very loudly. The hobbit lad blushed. Even though Pippin had grown up in many ways, his enthusiasm for food would always remain the same, though mayhap more subdued.

“It looks delicious. I can’t wait to taste some of it,” he smiled at her. “What can I do to help?” Pippin asked while handling the pad back to it’s rightful owner. As an afterthought he said, “Don’t worry, I am pretty good in the kitchen. I won’t cause a disaster.” Pippin blinked and scratched his neck. “Most of the time anyways,” he muttered.

Bralyan smiled slightly. She was glad her back was towards the Thain, because it was impolite to smile over such matters. When he said it looked good, she nodded. It was very good. Her mum made it often. Slowly, she shook her head. “Nothing,” she wrote in the air with her fingers, “about done.” Bralyan tasted the soup and took the pot off the fire. It was done. Placing the heavy kettle on the table, she retrieved two bowls and spoons and poured soup in the bowls – more food for the Thain than herself. She made sure of that. Bralyan took away the kettle and then went and got some sun tea she had seen while getting food. Finding two mugs, Bralyan poured them each a mug and she sat down. However, the young woman waited to begin eating.

Pippin sat himself comfortably on a chair on the opposite site of Bralyan and picked up his spoon. “Well, let us eat, shall we?” he smiled at the hobbit lass and dug in. His brains melted – figuratively speaking of course. The soup was delicious. After a few moments of floating in a haze, salivating the great taste of Bralyan’s soup, Pippin finally came back to himself and snapped out of his daze. He grinned sheepishly at Bralyan. “It is really good, your soup,” he praised and took another spoonful. Soon, the whole contents of the bowl had disappeared into Pippin’s stomach. He sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Bralyan, did you know that you are a very good cook?” Pippin asked innocently, unconsciously flirting with the hobbit lass.

Silently Bralyan sat there and ate the soup she had made. Peasants’ food was what it was called many times. To make this soup meant that one did not have enough to make a ‘proper’ soup and that what was in the pantry had to suffice. She took her quill and paper and wrote, “It was nothing. This meal is a poor man’s meal.” The red haired woman smiled shyly at the man that was sitting across from her. She then took up her quill again and scrawled under what she had written, “But thank-you for sayin’ so Mr. Pippin.” Her ears turned pink slightly at the compliment she was given. Abruptly, she straightened. Something was wrong.