Title: Wizard's Watch
Author: Pipspebble
Rating: G, of course
Setting: Combination of BookVerse and MovieVerse, TTT/ROTK
Written for: Marigold's Challenge #5
Theme: A Lesson Learned
Big Hugs to: Marigold for the first-rate beta
Note: Noted references (*) are taken directly from The Palantir, Chapter XI of Book Three of Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers. We all know Tolkien wrote the words; I just borrowed them because I love them so much.

"But … we'll see each other soon? Won't we?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen."

"Merry!"

"Run, Shadowfax! Show us the meaning of haste!"

"MERRY!" I scream his name as we fly across the plain, over grassland and rocky terrain, through woodlands and over hill and dell. When my throat becomes raw from calling and choked with the tears that I cannot seem to stop shedding I finally dissolve into shameful whimpers, lost in the folds of Gandalf's cloak. Sleep claims me and even there I call him, over and over and over again, until I have no voice and can only mouth his name into the black void of my longing for him.

I wake and still we are riding. I do not even try to call him now, for I know that my voice is gone anyway. Gandalf tries hard to draw me into conversation, but I am too heartsick to be ensnared. I am overwhelmed with the enormity of the loss of my cousin, the rock I have leaned upon all of my life, my sustenance, my water, the air that I breathe. And now he is gone. I am alone.

"Not alone, Peregrin," a deep voice rumbles above my head, startling me out of my self-pity. I had, after all, brought it all upon myself.

I do not wonder how Gandalf knows what I am thinking, for always has he done thus. From my earliest memories Gandalf has been around and about at various times in my life, and always he seemed to know exactly what went on in my head. Which is probably the reason he so often foiled our tricks, mine and Merry's, when we were younger and into much more mischief.

Although I had certainly outdone myself with this last bit of mischief. I do not know what possessed me to do it. I knew I ought not to but I ignored my common sense and did it anyway, berating myself the whole time, until the moment when the globe shone with an unearthly glow as I put my hands upon it, staring, transfixed. Darkness reached out and grabbed me and an agony I never dreamed existed tore through every part of my being. The Dark One held me, and He hurt me, and He would have broken me, had He the time. So Gandalf said. Oh, Frodo, what would I have done to you? To all that is still good in the world?

A sob escapes my throat as my guilt strikes like a knife in my vitals. Gandalf's arm tightens about me and he makes soothing sounds deep in his throat, but he lets me cry until I am spent, and can only lie back against him, worn out and miserable.

"You are not alone, Peregrin," he says again, his words low but clear to my ears. "All your young life I have watched over you, as I shall ever watch over you, and Frodo and Meriadoc and Bilbo and Sam. You are my family, young hobbit, and I would see all of you happy and without pain. The Valar willing, we shall see the day when that is a reality. For now, we must all do what we must to make that happen."

I look up at him and his face looking down at me is kind, his eyes gentle, not at all like the angry wizard who glared at me when he discovered it was I who had stolen the palantir.

"I am sorry, Gandalf," I manage to rasp through my ruined throat. "I will never again touch anything I know I am not to go near."

"There, there, Pippin," he chuckles, patting my head gently. "To be fair, I did not say 'do not touch' when I took it from you. All I did was wrap it up and hope that you would forget about it. More the fool, I, for not remembering the primary trait of your lineage. I should have known better myself."

I do not know what to say to this, so I rest my throat and wait for him to speak again.

"The burned hand teaches best*, I always say. It seems that we have both of us learned much from this experience, young hobbit."

I look up at him again, confused. I know what I have learned and I swear that if I came upon all of the seven stones lined up together I would shut my eyes and put my hands in my pockets.* But Gandalf? What could he have possibly learned from my misdeeds?

"Not to underestimate the inquisitiveness of a Took," he supplies the answer almost before I finish the thought.

Is that all? I might have known it was something of the sort. I do not know why I thought that it could be anything but. It is a trait for which we are well known, after all.

"I have been reminded of yet another lesson, Peregrin," he says, a twinkle in his eye, reminding me of earlier times, when our hearts were light and darkness was so very far away.

"What is that, Gandalf?"

"That no matter how you may vex me, that does not diminish the love I have for you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. And return you to your Merry as soon as we might right the condition of Middle-earth."

I can find no words to follow such a declaration, so smile at him instead, and relax back into the crook of his arm. For a while I watch the landscape go by in blurs of shapes and colors and half-formed images, then my eyes fall shut and I let sleep claim me.

And this time in my dreams Gandalf has fulfilled his promise. Merry and I are together again, in the Shire, at The Green Dragon, happily singing and drinking in best hobbit fashion. And I know deep inside that it will come to pass.

For the White Wizard watches over me, as has he ever, as will he forever more.