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"This way, you said." Sam grumbled under his breath. "We'll be safe there, you said." He crossed his arms across his chest, and Pippin rolled his eyes. "Well. Look where that got us! We're lost," he finished sadly, looking around desperately for some kind of trace as to where they were.
"He's right, you know," Merry chimed in. "Any other bright ideas you'd like to share?" Now that was just unfair, Pippin thought to himself.
"At least we're not dead," he snapped. "Killed by that - that thing."
Sam glared at him, and Pippin glared right back in return, both of them looking ready to take the other's eye out. That was when Frodo stepped in.
He placed a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey," he murmured. "We'll be alright. Pippin knows what he's doing, don't you, Pip?"
Uh. "Yeah, definitely," he reassured the group. "It's, erm. Just a little further in..." he pointed randomly. "This direction."
"...Right." Sam looked sceptical, but with a meaningful glance from the Ringbearer, he fell into step behind Pippin and Merry, muttering something like "never trust a Took,"
The four continued through what seemed a reasonable path to Pippin's ideals of staying alive, which, as it transpired, were not to be trusted.
They'd been walking - or rather, trudging - through the thick undergrowth for what seemed like half an eternity now. It would have taken long enough for a human to walk, but a Hobbit? It took about double the length of time. Frodo turned his head at what Pippin judged to be, quite frankly, an alarmingly fast rate.
He looked almost like an owl, Pippin thought, not really paying much mind to the words coming out of Frodo's mouth. "Do you hear that?"
"Huh?" Pippin responded.
"Quiet," Sam told them. "Do you hear it?"
Merry looked at him in confusion. "I don't hear anything,"
"Exactly," Frodo whispered. "The birds have all gone quiet,"
"And?"
"Something's scared them."
With that, Frodo turned his head again. Honestly, Pippin thought. It was unnatural - scary, if he was being entirely truthful. Looked like he was going to rip his own head off. And then a twig snapped, and all the thoughts in his head (not that there were many to begin with) dissipated into the cold air.
He turned his head slightly toward the sound, and let out a squeak of terror as a stiff leg came into view. He followed the leg with his eyes and trembled when he saw the creature it belonged to.
It was a spider. A spider that must have been twice the size of a horse, with far too many legs - oh, never mind, it only had eight. Although as he looked on in fear, more seemed to grow from the darkness pressing in on them. He backed away slowly - careful not to make any sudden movements lest the spider attack - and he crashed smack-bang into Frodo, who was stood frozen in fear.
"Move, you fucking idiot!" He yelled.
"I - really don't like spiders," Frodo whimpered helplessly, still frozen in place.
More spiders - mostly smaller, about the size of a dog - appeared from the onyx night, closing in on the four. Frodo shuddered again, and Sam grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's going to be fine, Mr. Frodo," Pippin heard him whisper. "We'll be fine." There was definitely something going on there, Pippin decided, but all thoughts of childish gossip were soon chased away by the encroaching walls of jittery, gangly legs, moving in patterns that should have defied all natural laws. And yet. Still, they moved ever forward.
"Hey!" shouted an oddly musical voice from beyond the ever-tightening wall of spider legs. "Over here! Ugly eight-legses!"
"Who... is that?" Merry wondered out loud.
"I'm your assigned satyr!"
"Our saviour?"
"Satyr!" The voice corrected angrily, and then it disappeared into the storm of spiders, playing some kind of folklore-sounding music instead of taunting the creatures.
A hideous screech sounded out among the beasts, and they scattered, leaving a gap in their wake which revealed where a young man, taller than the Hobbits but (thankfully) shorter than the spiders stood.
"You're a horse!" Pippin exclaimed. "Or... a donkey?"
The horse-possibly-donkey crossed his arms and stared at Pippin, obviously unimpressed. "No."
"Then what are you?" questioned Sam. "Because so far, you haven't given us any explanation."
"Like I said before, I'm a satyr," the satyr replied as if that explained everything.
"And like we said before," Merry groaned. "We have no idea what that is."
"Or what just happened," Pippin chimed in.
The satyr looked at them all in exasperation. "I keep forgetting that none of you know the least bit about the Greeks," he sighed, stepping closer to them, making his wooden pipes more visible along with his legs. "Just come with me, and all shall be explained in due course."
"I mean," Pippin began. "I suppose we go with him?"
"Wait," Frodo piped up. "What about Gandalf?"
The satyr looked confused. "Who?" He paused. "And what about him?"
"Long story," Merry made a gesture as if to dismiss the notion. "But we were meant to meet him at a bar. What'll he think if we don't show up?" Merry looked back to the other three, scanning their expressions for support.
"Oh. That does complicate matters slightly," the satyr admitted. "But I'm sure our camp leader can explain everything in time for you to get back to your journey. Quest. Whatever it is," he finished.
The group stared at him in confusion for a moment before he rolled his eyes and trotted off.
"Come if you like, stay if you want. It doesn't make a difference to me, and it's your lives on the line."
Pippin shrugged at the group, and followed the satyr through the murky forest, briefly checking to see if the others were behind him.
They were. Thankfully.
After a while - Pippin had lost track of the concept of time - the trees started to shimmer slightly, and the ground rippled underfoot.
"Erm." Merry stared around what looked like a settlement in awe. "What is this place?"
"Chiron will explain everything," the satyr explained in a bored tone, saying something about how much he hated newbies, probably cursing them in... what was it he'd said earlier? Greek?
"Chiron? Who's that?" Asked Sam, still holding Frodo's hand, tighter and closer than before, "And please don't say 'All will be explained soon' again."
The satyr just trotted on, leading them through a field of strawberries, growing fuller and brighter than any they'd seen before. In the distance - accounting for the satyr's silence - music played, similar in melody to the one which had disposed of the spiders. The satyr pulled Merry and Pippin away from the plants in an attempt to preserve whatever strawberries were left from the wrath of the hungry pair.
"That's Chiron," the satyr pointed toward -
"Are you a horse?" Pippin blurted. "Because I thought he was," here he gestured towards the satyr. "But apparently he isn't. Although, I'm still not convinced that a 'satyr' is a real thing."
Chiron chuckled lightly, "Kingsley, I keep telling you that you need to inform our guests before they arrive. You know how they can be when they come here." He turned to Pippin and corrected him gently. "I'm a centaur. So, part horse."
"I told them about satyrs and you. Is that not enough information to fill the mind of a Hobbit?" Kingsley retorted. What was it with this man? wondered Pippin. So much attitude.
"Hey!" he cried, offended. "That was not necessary."
Chiron gave Kingsley a look. "Be nice. Now," he turned to the four. "You may want to sit down for this."
_*_*_*_
Pippin's head was still reeling from that explanation. It had taken a whole night for Chiron to get him and the group to understand what they'd dragged themselves into. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around the idea of a 'religion' to start with, and Chiron was telling him that one of his parents was a 'god'?
It just seemed a bit... sudden, was all.
"So, how do we get claimed?" Pippin questioned, confused at the resounding silence. He noticed everyone apart from Merry, who was sat next to him, had their eyes fixed on a spot slightly above his mess of curls.
"That's how," Kingsley butted in, passing them on his way to the stables with two Pegasi.
"Kingsley, finish your chores," Chiron reprimanded him. "But you might want to take a look above Merry's head."
Pippin drew his eyes away from the centaur towering in front of him, and looked above his head, then across to Merry's. His mouth fell to the floor along with the rest of the group. Above their heads, a staff, just shorter than Gandalf's, floated with two wings sprouting from the top, flapping elegantly. Two serpents entwined the staff, matching its feathery colour - it was beautiful, but Pippin had the feeling that if he reached out for it, it would dissolve into smoke that would drift away on a leather-scented breeze.
"Hermes," Chiron mused. "God of thieves and trickery." Merry high-fived Pippin. "And messages," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"Well, that makes sense," Sam muttered, and Frodo flicked him gently in the side.
"So..." Merry began. "I heard you mention... abilities that come with being claimed?"
Chiron laughed. "They don't just come, you have to learn them. Like a true warrior."
"Hobbits are not warriors," Merry retorted.
"You're telling me," Kingsley muttered, walking past again, this time carrying a sack of - actually, Pippin decided some things were better kept unknown. "Fred - or whatever his name is - didn't do a thing when the spiders were surrounding them. He had to get his little boyfriend to hold his hand."
"Kingsley!" Chiron snapped. "Chores. Now. Don't make me tell you twice, or you'll be cleaning the Pegasi stables for the next two months."
Kingsley was obviously being sarcastic, but Pippin had to admit, it was a little funny watching Frodo blush profusely and look to the side. "I just really don't like spiders, okay?"
"You still haven't let go of him yet, and, if I'm right, you're holding his hand tighter now." Kingsley stated, raising his brow.
"Kingsley! Enough." Chiron gave him, yet again, the look. In return, Kingsley rolled his eyes - Pippin was surprised they hadn't fallen out of their sockets by now, to be frank.
"Yeah, yeah," he turned to go.
Chiron's irritated look quickly dispersed into a pensive expression, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. "You say you don't like spiders?"
Frodo shivered visibly at the thought. "I hate them. I had so many nightmares about them when I was younger."
"Interesting," the Centaur mused. "You might be in Athena's cabin,"
"Glad to see I'm not the only one who noticed," Kingsley chipped in.
"That's it!" Chiron raised his voice. "No dessert for a week. But you may as well stay here for a moment." He turned to Merry and Pippin. "Kingsley will escort you to your cabin to meet your brothers and sisters. Won't you, Kingsley?"
"Don't have much choice, do I?"