As the door opened slightly, a young hobbit looked to the left, then the right before staggering out into the thickly carpeted hallway towards the kitchen. He hoped no one would see him in that condition, but he was so desperate for something to eat he felt he had to risk it.

Being hungry was nothing new, but Pippin had never experienced this before. His head hurt and his heart was beating so wildly he thought it would jump out of his chest. He could smell the food cooking, and the thought of reaching the kitchen motivated him to go on, but his whole body shook and was losing strength with every second. His mind wasn't focused very clearly either, or he would have known he was going in the wrong direction. The kitchen was the other way.

Pippin was about half way down the hall when he stopped suddenly, thinking he heard voices. He did and to his horror, they were about to come into the hall where he was standing, or rather trying to stand.

If they see me, they'll think I'm drunk! he thought, frantically looking around for a place to hide.

There was no hiding place and at that moment, the last of his strength failed and everything went dark.

The next thing he remembered, he was laying on his back with his feet elevated. There was something sweet in his mouth, but he didn't know what it was or where it came from. His clothing had obviously been loosened and he felt fingers on his wrist, as if someone was taking his pulse.

"How is he, sir?" asked a concerned voice that Pippin recognized immediately, despite his disorientation. It was the Tower Guard Beregond, one of the few friends Pippin had in Minas Tirith.

"He should be all right when he gets some food," replied the man who was tending him. Pippin almost thought recognized that voice too. It sounded just like......but no. That was impossible.

"Master Peregrin?" the voice asked, "Can you hear me?"

Pippin opened his eyes and stared in astonishment at the man who sat next to him.

"Boromir?" he gasped in his confusion.

"No, I'm not Boromir," the man gently corrected him. "I was his brother. My name is Faramir."

Faramir! Pippin recognized that name. Of course, Faramir was the captain of the soldiers of Gondor. Beregond spoke about him often, always with great love and respect. Pippin had hoped to meet Boromir's brother in Minas Tirith, but he never expected it to be this way. He would have been embarrassed if his mind were functioning more clearly.

Beregond brought an earthware cup over to the couch where Pippin was laying and, giving Pippin a wink and a reassuring smile, he handed it to Captain Faramir.

"This should make you feel a bit better," Faramir said as he helped Pippin sit up and steadied his hand while he drank from the cup.

Pippin had a few sips and smiled. It was orange juice, one of his favourite things. As he finished it, his mind grew clearer and his body, while still weak, started to relax a bit.

"Did it help, Peregrin?" asked Faramir.

"Yes it did sir, thank you," said Pippin apprehensively, "but Captain?" He hesitated for a minute.

"Yes?" asked Faramir with some concern.

"Please call me Pippin. Boromir always did. Will you?"

"Yes, of course, if you want me too," replied Faramir, sounding relieved. "Now, you should lie down again. You still haven't fully recovered." Pippin lay back and smiled again as Faramir made him comfortable.

"What did you eat today, Pippin?" asked Captain Faramir, still sitting on the floor next to where the young hobbit lay.

"Not much Captain, I haven't had time," Pippin admitted. "I snacked on desserts when I got a chance and I also a few cups of wine during the day."

Then he noticed that Faramir and Beregond seemed be looking at each other knowingly.

"It wasn't much wine", he added anxiously, remembering what they must have been thinking when they found him in the hall. "I only drank enough to take the edge off my hunger and thirst and that was about four hours ago."

Strangely, they didn't question him about it or seem to be judging him. In fact, they looked more looked concerned about his well-being than they had before. Pippin felt he was safe with these men. He had no reason to doubt it and the room felt warm and comfortable. Why was he still trembling? Looking down at his body, he noticed too that he was sweating profusely, even though his vest and jacket had been removed. Greatly upset, he started to apologize for his dishevelled appearance, but Faramir cut him off reassuringly.

"That's to be expected with this condition," he said gently. "No need to be troubled by it."

"What exactly is this condition, sir?" Beregond asked, for Pippin's benefit.

"Hypoglycemia, or low blood sugar," the captain replied. He started to explain in medical terms, but Pippin clearly didn't understand so he said, "Have you ever seen a candle burn right to the bottom?" Pippin nodded, his strength was starting to fail again.

"With no more wax to burn, the flame starts to flicker and quickly burns out, doesn't it?" When Pippin nodded again, Faramir explained, "Your body has been burning energy quickly and you haven't been eating properly to make up for that. The sugar in the desserts you've been snacking on gave you energy quickly, but that energy source wears off quickly and the wine no doubt added to that. So basically, you burned out."

When Pippin heard that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry but he felt greatly relieved. What had happened to him was a physical reaction and there was a word for it. He wasn't losing his sanity as he feared.

"You were completely unresponsive in the hall," Faramir went on, "so we had to slip a lump of sugar inside your cheek which caused your blood to raise enough for you to regain consciousness." Pippin's eyes grew wider when he heard that. His condition sounded serious.

"We knew the orange juice would help too," added Beregond, "but you really need something to eat."

"And speaking of something to eat," said Faramir rising to his feet for the first time,"where..." There was a knock on the door. "About time!" he said, speaking to himself. Then he turned to Pippin and said, "Excuse me."

Pippin could hear some activity on the other side of the room but didn't know exactly what it was because the open door was blocking his view. He lifted his head and tried to prop himself up so he see what was happening, but quickly fell back down. The benefit of the sugar and the juice had worn off.

Pippin wondered if he had blacked out again. It had happened too quickly for him to be absolutely sure, but then he realized he must have. The last thing he remembered was trying to sit up, now he was lying on his back again and Faramir was at his side to check his condition.

Then he noticed a table had been brought over to the couch. The table was piled high with bread and juice, hard cheeses and brightly coloured raw vegetables. Was this for him? Probably, but Pippin felt it was best not to assume anything. He glanced questioning at Faramir and then at Beregond, hoping he didn't look as hungry as he felt.

"Yes, Pippin, this is for you," Faramir patiently assured him. "Beregond and I have already eaten and in any case, you need this more than we do." It frustrated him slightly that Pippin was so timid, but he certainly wasn't blaming him. Nervousness was common with hypoglycemia, and from what Beregond had told him, Pippin had been having a stressful time recently.

Pippin's eyes light up like fireworks. He blurted out a litany of thanks for both of them, bowed his head and said a prayer of thanksgiving, then started to eat using as much delicacy as he could manage. Faramir had to smile; amused by Pippin's reaction to what seemed like such a small thing. As Pippin ate, he began to relax, to Faramir's relief. Maybe now he could get to know him better.

"So, you knew my brother, Pippin?" he asked. His tone was conservational, but Pippin stopped suddenly stopped eating and looked panic stricken, not just uncomfortable. Faramir glanced at Beregond, shocked by this unexpected reaction.

"If I may say so, sir," Beregond offered, "Lord Denethor has questioned him about your brother quite intensively."

"True?" Faramir asked kindly. Pippin nodded. "Then I can wait and talk to my father about it, Pippin." The young hobbit audibly sighed with relief.

Small wonder he looked panic strickened, Faramir thought, knowing only too well how disconcerting his father could be. I can just imagine what Father must have put him through.

"Captain Faramir?" Beregond's voice cut into his reflections. "It's time for me to go on duty, sir."

"Very well, you're dismissed, Beregond and thank you," said Faramir.

"Yes, thank you, Beregond. I won't forget this!" Pippin exclaimed, starting to feel like himself again.

"We'll see each other again soon," Beregond promised, giving Pippin a smile as he left.

"Beregond is a good man, captain," Pippin told Faramir enthusiastically. "He and his son Bergil have been wonderful. They reached out to me and made me feel accepted here, and I really needed that because...." Pippin's voice caught in his throat and he had to blink wildly to keep his eyes from watering. He had keep himself from crying in front of Faramir. What would this noble warrior think of him if he failed to? Hopefully Faramir hadn't noticed how close he was to breaking down.

Faramir however, did notice and removed his mail armour. Pippin obviously had to get something out if he was going to be healed fully, and Faramir intended for him to be healed fully that afternoon. "It was good that you found a friend," he told Pippin sitting next to him. "It seems that you really needed a one."

Pippin nodded. "Boromir was my friend, too," he added quickly, feeling more at ease now that he knew Faramir wasn't going to interrogate him as his father had done. He also knew that talking about Boromir would help get the focus off himself and his painful memory. "Merry, my cousin Meriadoc Brandybuck, and I were feeling pretty vulnerable when we left on our... ah... journey. We felt out of place too, surrounded by seasoned warriors. They all treated us well and took good care of us, but it was Boromir who really made us feel loved and accepted. He made sure we ate and slept enough and he always took the time to talk to us when we were afraid or upset, for whatever reason. He even taught us how to sword fight so we wouldn't be completely helpless."

"Yes, that does sound like Boromir. It was just like that with us when we were growing up." Faramir could feel his eyes misting up, but in a good way. It was heartening to know that his brother's last days made a difference in another life. "Please tell me more", he invited.

Pippin felt touched by Faramir's genuine interest, and the smell of the slowing burning logs and the crackling of the fire added to feeling of warmth and communication in the room. So he eagerly told him all about the journey, remembering that he was to avoid any mention of Frodo and the Ring.

"Boromir saved our lives on Caradhas. We hobbits would have been buried alive without him and Ara.." Faramir's eyes widened slightly at this, but Pippin caught himself just in time and continued, "Without him and another man in our group clearing a path through the snow for us. Boromir even gave Merry and me his blanket that first night. We objected of course, but he insisted he was too warm anyway. I was a bit concerned about him, but he did seem to manage. In fact, we thought he could manage anything up until.Amon Hen. " Pippin looked down, almost whispering those last words.

"What happened at Amon Hen?" Faramir asked quietly, even though he knew.

"Merry and I were captured by orcs. Boromir made the ultimate sacrifice trying to save us," Pippin spoke quietly, but his voice was calm and steady. "We'll always be grateful for that even though he wasn't successful. At least not directly."

"Not directly?" Faramir raised his eyebrow slightly. This was something he hadn't heard before.

"Well, sir, as I mentioned, Boromir had taught us to sword fight. When he fell, Merry and I started to fight back and apply everything he taught us. We couldn't save Boromir or ourselves, but just the fact that we had done something kept us from panicking or letting our fear paralyze us as it might have otherwise. When I was a captive, of course I felt terribly frightened, but that didn't keep me from taking advantage of every opportunity I got. I was able to throw down my broach to let Ara. to let the rest of our company we had been there. The Riders of Rohan, who were hunting orcs at that time, finally saved our lives. When the orcs were falling around us, I managed to crawl over to a sword one of them had dropped and cut the ropes around my wrists. Then Merry and I were able to convince an orc named Grishnakh that we had the.ah... that we had something he wanted, and he dragged us away from the other orcs. That was how we were able to avoid being killed by the Riders. I'm sure Boromir would have done that too. What Boromir taught us saved our lives."

Faramir listened with fascination as Pippin talked animatedly about their time with the Ents and how they had witnessed the destruction of Isengard before being found by their friends. By now his polite interest in the young halfling had turned to admiration. He had forgotten about his own pain by that time. Having someone else to care about, and someone with whom he shared a common bond had completed his healing.

Then he remembered that Pippin still needed a healing of his own. Moving the table out of the way to get rid of any distractions he gave Pippin some napkins to hold, sensing he was about to put his finger on a sore spot. Pippin squirmed slightly, as if he knew what was coming, but he couldn't leave because he knew Faramir wasn't going to dismiss him.

" Isengard is quite a distance from Minas Tirith," Faramir commented, watching his reaction closely. "How did you come to be here?"

"I... I... made a mistake," Pippin stammered, as he felt his blood rush to his cheeks and wished with all his heart he could put the Ring on and disappear. "I took something and...I." He felt could almost hear his heart pounding and hoped it wasn't showing through his clothes.

Faramir put his arm around the young hobbit's shoulder as he started to shake with repressed emotions. The next minute Pippin was crying against Faramir's chest, no longer even trying to control himself. When he finally caught his breath, he looked up at Faramir as if seeking assurance that what he did was all right.

"It's very important to let your feelings out, Pippin," Faramir assured him. "I always remind my men of that after a battle, or a particularly stressful experience. This is part of the healing process. Now, can you tell me what happened? Take all the time you need."

When Pippin was finally able to share with him about the terrible incident with Palantir and what happened after it, Faramir was so shocked he almost fell off the couch. This young hobbit had encountered Sauron himself and barely recovered from the horror of the experience when he was abruptly separated from his best friend, indeed the only hobbit friend he had and suddenly found himself alone in a city that even humans found overwhelming. And he was still just a boy.

"Still, things haven't been all bad," Pippin concluded, more cheerfully. "I have friends here like Beregond and Bergil and you, I hope?" he added giving Faramir a shy smile.

"Yes, of course, Pippin. I was just thinking about brave you were, probably braver than I would have been in your situation."

"Me?" Pippin gasped in astonishment, "No sir, you're really brave, everyone thinks so. In fact, they think that you're amazing and rightly so. I just do what I have to day by day."

"So do I, Pippin," Faramir admitted. "I get as lonely and as frightened as the next person. Everyone does what they have to do, but some people get noticed more than others. I have to remind myself of that all the time in order to keep the right perspective."

Pippin said nothing for next few minutes. He needed time to process this information that seemed so surprising to him. Finally he ventured, "Sir, I know this sounds really inadequate, but I'm not sure what else to say. Thank you for everything; you really did a lot for me."

Faramir smiled and laid his hand on Pippin's shoulder. "It was good I could help, Pippin," he told him, "and you did a lot for me too. I have a sense of emotional closure that I was lacking before. I know now that Boromir's last days were well spent and that he kept his honour right up until the end. This time has been therapeutic for me."

So it was true, Pippin realized. Faramir with his aristocratic background and deserved reputation as a valiant warrior was a mortal just like Pippin, with the same emotions and frailties. Finally Pippin understood that on an emotional level as well as a rational one.

"Well, I'm glad, sir and if I can ever do anything more for you..."

The door opened at that moment. Pippin and Faramir looked up and saw Gandalf standing in the doorway. Both stood up as he entered and Faramir bowed his head respectfully.

"Good afternoon, Captain Faramir," Gandalf said politely, "It's good to see you again, although a bit surprising to find you here. And Pippin, I was looking all over for you. Have you been here all this time?"

"I was sick, Gandalf," Pippin replied. "I didn't plan on this, but it happened which is why I'm here now."

"Master Peregrin's problem needed to be attended to rather urgently, Mithrandir," Faramir added, "And it was best that he not be alone for some time after that."

Gandalf looked with concern at Pippin, who happily told him everything that happened and how wonderful Faramir had been and how he would do anything for Faramir if there was ever a need to. Faramir listened politely and smiled, but he had the strangest feeling that Pippin was going to get that opportunity before too long.