A/N Without intending to I have ended up with a series of stories which now numbers three and, who knows, may someday number a few more. Chronologically, it starts with “First Night”, then moves to “Pippin’s Crucible”. Now it also has this story. Those who haven’t read the other two stories, or haven’t read them in a while, may wish to read them - though they all can stand alone as well.
Also, I wish to thank SurgicalSteel for help with medical matters in this story. And my appologies to her as I'm late in adding this to my A/N.
****************************

Thoughts in the Night

I had been keeping an eye on him when I could, this perian who wears the livery of the Tower. Despite my numerous duties he continually attracted my notice.

Captain Faramir had been brought to the Houses of Healing at last. Rumors had been flying for the bulk of the preceding day that the Steward’s remaining son had looked to be dead when returned to the City in the arms of his cousin, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. In truth he lived. Only the Lord Denethor’s personal healer had been allowed into the chamber where he had been laid. He had been able to give only the minimum of care to the young man, cleaning him a bit and tending the wound from a Southron arrow, before being ordered by the Lord Denethor to leave. In the end the Captain, who now all were calling “The Steward”, was brought to the Houses in the dark of Minas Tirith’s darkest night, deep in a fever and drenched in oil.

I am an apprentice healer in these Houses. I was initially given the task of doing whatever my training allowed me to do for the master healer who was given charge over the young Steward. This entailed removing Lord Faramir’s clothes, cleaning the oil from him, settling him as comfortably as possible in bed, while noting his various injuries and general condition. I reported my observations to the master healer. After this, I was kept running with a great deal of going to fetch things and bringing them back to the healer in charge in the Steward’s chamber. Perhaps it was because of this I noticed the perian more than many of the other apprentices and aids running about the corridors that day. Perhaps, it is only because I am greatly curious by nature.

It had been soon after this that the White Lady of Rohan, the Lady Eowyn, was brought into that portion of the Houses where those of noble blood were housed. I was in the corridor when she was carried in, and at that time a soldier of the City was the only guard at the post by the door. The perian who wore my city’s colors entered somewhat later, running alongside Mithrandir. The wizard bore in his arms a second perian who was clad in the armor of the Riders of Rohan. Only after the Healer in charge of the nobles had entered the injured perian’s chamber did the other come out and take his place beside the doorway connecting to the main part of the Houses.

The regular Citadel Guard . . . no, the normal . . . no, better to say the Man, who was a Citadel Guard, stood on the right of the door. The Perian spoke a few words to the man before taking up his position as guard upon the left. They looked like mismatched door posts. It made me feel as though I needed to lean a bit to the left to walk properly through the door. Every time I was sent to get something, my eyes were drawn to this strange small person. There he stood throughout the long day of grief, as straight as the man, both with their faces set, as guards are wont to wear their expressions. But I am an apprentice healer and I noticed the exhaustion painting its traces upon them.

Bit by bit the story filtered through the ranks of the apprentice healers, gleaned from listening to our superiors as they consulted with the lords regarding the patients in the Royal Wing.

“Have you heard, Parsow?” a first year apprentice said to me as we hurried on an errand together. “There were grim deeds done in the hallows. Horrors witnessed by those two who stand their posts by the doors.”

He went on with the details. Despite what was said of the Man, my heart ached for these two who now stood guard so determinedly, who would not suffer being relieved of their duty. It was said they had each done much to save the Lord Faramir; that he was loved by them both. It was also said that the ailing perian was kin to the one standing guard at the door. They said he that wore the White Tree was known in the City as “The Ernil i Periannath”, though it seemed strange to me that a prince would be doing duty as a guard. I noticed that tears occasionally left shiny tracks down the two guards’ otherwise expressionless faces.

The long day dragged by. The weight of gloom that had so paralyzed the city in the days before had lifted. The sun ofttimes showed her face to the citizens and soldiers in the White City, but grief clouded the Royal Wing of the Houses of Healing. There seemed no hope for the three we housed. The Lady and the perian grew increasingly chill, their murmurs ceased, they seemed irrevocably near to leaving this life. The darkness of the Lord of Mordor lay on them, or so the master healers said, breathed upon them by the Nazgul. The young Steward’s fever yet raged as though the flames of the pyre had indeed caught hold in him.

We apprentices kept busy as well as we could, seeing as the master healers had done all their knowledge enabled them to do. They kept busy checking and rechecking their charges, hoping for any sign of change, whether for better or for worse. We hurried about at their bidding, running after old manuscripts and archaic medicaments, although we all knew it was for naught. Mithrandir came and went most frequently. Great sorrow etched itself upon his ancient features. He loved these three. And I had watched as he would pass by the stalwart liveried door posts, he loved these two as well. When he looked upon the perian in his sickbed, or at his kinsman at his post, his sorrow deepened.

I was there when Ioreth uttered the words, *“The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.”* I saw hope spring into the old wizard’s eyes, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he told her men would long remember her words.

The man came stealthily to the Houses. Cloaked and hooded he came into the Royal Wing. I saw him as he approached the door and I heard a glad cry of greeting from the liveried perian. It was clear these two were dear friends.

I heard Prince Imrahil say to a man clad in the armor of the Rohirrim, *“Is it thus that we speak to our kings?”*

Kings? Mithrandir had said something to old Ioreth that mayhap a king had come to Gondor. The lords made their way to the sick rooms. Mithrandir paused.

“Come along, Peregrin,” he said to the perian beside the door. “And you as well, Beregond. You both have earned the right to be present for this.”

The two Guards of the Citadel looked at each other, the light of hope in their eyes for the first time since they had taken their places at the door. They hurried off, the perian pattering along side the wizard on his strange, hair covered, bare feet, and I followed quietly after them. In spite of my worries for my patients I smiled. I now knew the small Guard’s name.

2

It was a wonder beyond believing! It seemed a king of old had indeed come to the City of Kings. His touch, his words, his very presence brought healing to those who had fallen beneath the Black Breath. And to think, he used athelas! Athelas, of all the herbs that serve any healing need at all, simple athelas bruised and cast into steaming hot water. We had been taught it was good for naught but curing headaches and a bit of a lifting of the spirits. It appears there will need to be some rethinking of the herb’s uses. Yet, perhaps kingsfoil is only at its most potent in the hands of the King, for so Lord Faramir named the stranger. Yes, perhaps that is how it earned it’s common name of kingsfoil; in the hands of the King only is it able to foil the soul darkening Black Breath.

I had followed the perian, Peregrin of the Citadel Guard, first to the reviving of the Steward, then to that of the Lady of Rohan and lastly to that of his kinsman. We arrived a bit behind time, the Lord Aragorn already knelt beside the large bed upon which lay the small perian. His kinsman looked near to death and Peregrin rushed to the bedside. Soon, the fragrance of athelas filled the room and the ill perian awoke. The joy with which Peregrin greeted his relation left no doubt of their closeness and I wondered if they were, perchance, brothers. I stayed in Meriadoc’s chamber only as long as the King, feeling I would be less obviously present where I had not been invited nor commanded to be if I assumed my role as an apprentice. I brought the King food, then went with him and the sons of Lord Elrond to bring healing to others in the City who had come under the shadow. At last, I returned to my own room and slept.

It was later in the day, near to the coming of dusk, that I saw Peregrin again. I had slept well, bathed and supped, so I felt ready to return to my duties. I could tell as soon as I spied him that the same could not be said of the perian. His complexion was pale with his eyes surrounded by smudgy shadows. He stumbled a bit as we drew abreast, and I reached out my hand to steady him. For the first time since I had begun to observe him, we spoke.

“There now,” I said, “have you your balance, Peregrin of the Tower Guard?”

“I do, and thank you . . .eh, my apologies, sir, I don’t know your name.”

“Parsow son of Thalmin, apprentice healer, at your service.”

“Peregrin son of Paladin at yours and your family’s,” he replied quite properly. “It seems to me I noticed you passing through the door a lot as I was standing guard, but . . .” He blinked and looked perplexed. “But . . . perhaps not. I seem to be a bit befuddled. My days and nights seem all run together.”

“It was as you said, Master Peregrin. My duties took me past you a good many times during that dire day and evening.”

“Dire indeed,” he muttered as a slight shiver passed through him. Yet, when he looked at me, he smiled. “Good then! I’m not as confused as I thought I was, though it seems as though time is as amuck here as it was in Lothlorien and what happened merely a day ago seems as though it were weeks ago.”

He sighed, rubbing at his weary eyes with the back of one hand.

“Perhaps you should take some rest, Master Peregrin. You seem weary, if I may say so.”

“No!” he said sharply. “No. I’m fine,” he continued more calmly. “Quite all right. Not tired at all. It’s best if I keep busy. Yes. Much better when I’m busy. In fact, I need to get back to my duties. I . . . I . . .”

He stopped, closing his eyes and swaying a bit as he obviously was trying to remember what it was he had been on his way to do. “Faramir,” he finally said, opening his eyes and giving me a nod of his head. “Lord Faramir, I should say. I - I was on my way to see whether he had any needs I could attend to. Yes. Yes, off to see to the Lord Steward as that is my duty. It has been my duty my whole time in Minas Tirith, to see to the needs of the Steward.”

His breath caught a bit as a look of pain crossed his countenance.

“I must be off. Must attend to my duties. Perhaps I shall look in on the Lady Eowyn as well. It is a pleasure to meet you . . .” He looked at me expectantly.

“Parsow,” I supplied my name to him.

“Yes, of course. Good day to you, Parsow”

With that he scurried off on somewhat unsteady feet. Feet that I noticed looked as though they had been badly scraped beneath the thatch of hair that covered the tops of them.

* * * * * * * * *

Night fell over the city. I cautiously edged one eye past the frame of the doorway I stood beside. I had heard correctly. Peregrin, the perian Guard of the Citadel, was easing himself down from the chair beside the bed of the Lady Eowyn.

I will admit to following him. I had spoken of him with young Bergil. I had watched the perian these past two days. Peregrin had impressed me with his love and care for the injured nobles, not only for his kinsman. I was deeply concerned for his well being; it was obvious he was exhausted and I was certain he had sustained damage of some sort to his feet.

He had gone first to the Steward, had fetched him his evening meal, tidied up afterwards then made sure the pillows and blankets were adjusted to the young Steward’s liking (though all this should have been done by a first-year apprentice or one of the women who assist with patient care). The perian had then gone to the Lady of Rohan’s chamber.

She was sulky and cross, though he bore her mood quite patiently. He fetched her meal as well, unaware that a sleeping powder had been mixed into her drink. The master healers had feared she would not rest, so they made certain that she would. Peregrin sat beside her as she fell asleep. Now he was leaving her room.

He went, as I expected he would, to the room of his kinsman; Meriadoc, Rider of Rohan and Esquire to their king.

There was a small lamp lit, sitting upon the table beside the recovering perian. Its light did not reach into the corners of the room. I am quite sure that I overstepped the bounds of my duties, as I moved silently into the room while Peregrin was disrobing. I felt the need to make sure the small soldier of Gondor finally took some rest. I stood in the shadows where I would be able to see him if he should lay facing his kinsman, yet certain that he would not see me.

He stripped to his short clothes, then noticeably shivering, eased himself up into the bed. It was more than big enough for both of them as they are no larger than our children. He moved awkwardly, and I noticed that he was trying to keep a sizable distance between his feet. When at one point they did touch each other he winced as though it pained him. Peregrin was careful to not jostle his kinsman, but after he was settled upon his left side, he did reach out, holding Meriadoc’s right hand for a moment. Then he tucked his arm beneath the blanket. The soft light of the lamp made the shadows around Peregrin’s eyes appear even darker.

“I’m cold, Merry,” he said through teeth that chattered slightly. “Not as cold as - as you were, but I’m colder than I ought to be. It really isn’t that cold here. But I’m cold anyway. Your hand is warmer.” He smiled a bit as he said this. “Nearly as warm as it usually is, though I perhaps can’t judge that too well as I’m cold.”

Peregrin blinked sleepily and I thought he might nod off, but no, he shook it off.

“I was hoping you would be awake, Merry.” He cast his eyes downward. “Although I shouldn’t, I suppose. You need your rest, after all you’ve been through. And I’ve the feeling we let you sit out in the garden for too long. It was good to hear what had happened with Strider, Legolas and Gimli though. But you need your rest. You . . . I . . .”

He seemed to lose the thread of his monologue for a moment. He again looked as though he might fall asleep but instead continued talking.

“I’m cold Merry. I oughtn’t be, but I am. I wanted to talk to you, but I don’t suppose I really should, or that you should as it might be too much for you right now and I wouldn’t want you ill again. Perhaps I should just get up. It really is better when I’m busy, and I’m sure there are things I can be doing. Maybe I won’t be cold if I get up and go on duty.”

The exhausted perian was repeating himself, to me yet another indication of his condition; that and his feeling cold. I’ve seen this in master healers and in other apprentices when battle or epidemic force us to work long hours. I have gone through it myself more than once.

“Best that you not think about it all,” Peregrin said, then his face brightened a bit. “But since you are asleep I don’t think it will do any harm for me to talk about it all, though I won’t get any answers from you. I just . . . I wanted to know . . . How did you do it, Merry? How did you get that close to . . . it?”

His voice was soft but filled with tension. I knew what he was asking. Everyone in the Houses knew of the great deed done by The White Lady of Rohan and the perian who had ridden to battle with her. Peregrin’s left hand had worked its way from under the bedclothes to fidget and tug at the edge of the blanket by his neck and right shoulder. This happened in a manner suggesting to me this was a common gesture, that he was accustomed to toying with some article of clothing in times of stress. I strained to listen as he continued.

“I - I didn’t get anywhere near that close, Merry. Nowhere near as close as you and Lady Eowyn did.” He no longer looked at his kinsman’s face but stared off into one of the dark corners of the room. Fortunately for me, not the corner in which I stood, or he might have seen me. “I covered my ears so tightly it hurt, then . . . then I . . .” Peregrin closed his eyes in a grimace of pain. His voice was filled with shame. “I cowered in the shadows. Down upon my knees with my ears covered and my eyes closed. I tried to hide myself while everything in me begged that the wraith wouldn’t see me.”

For a long moment, Peregrin lay silently until I thought perhaps sleep had overtaken him. And perhaps it had for he jerked as a sleeper does before his eyes opened wide and he spoke again.

“How did you do it, Merry? You got close enough to - to stab it . . . him. He would have killed the Lady if you hadn’t stabbed him. How, Merry? How did you . . . I’ve looked up to you and loved you my whole life, but I feel as though I don’t know you. Who is this hobbit that was able to do such a great deed? You’re like a brother to me, Merry. I’ve looked up to you, but I’ve never been in awe of you before. I am now.”

He looked long at his kinsman, as though doing so might elicit a response. Soon, his eyes lost their focus, and the lids slid down.

Peregrin slept at last.

I stood in the shadows, watching as his body slowly relaxed, listening to his even breathing. I told myself I should go. I had duties to see to and it was not my place to stand and stare as the two pheriannath slept. But, I seemed rooted to the floor, knowing I should leave yet unable to do so.

Time passed, a quarter hour perhaps though surely no more than that.

Peregrin jerked in his sleep. He began to moan and mutter, grimacing as he did so.

“A hobbit,” he said then his moans grew sharper and louder before suddenly cutting off. Softly, gradually, his muttering began anew. “No. You can’t . . . He isn’t dead. Why? . . . Why would a father? . . . Fools! They did as he asked . . . He has a Seeing Stone . . . No!”

The last ‘no’ was nearly a shout. Peregrin’s eyes flew open, his breath came in pants as he looked anxiously about the room. I drew back further into the shadows. I could tell from the drape of the blankets that his feet had come closer together, they touched, and he grimaced before setting them well apart as he had when he first got into the bed. His gaze finally fell upon his kinsman.

“Merry? Did I wake you, Merry?”

Peregrin gently touched Meriadoc’s hair and cheek then withdrew his hand. “No,” he sighed, “I didn’t wake you.”

Peregrin rubbed at his forehead. “It’s no good, Merry. I’m really not that tired. It isn’t that I can’t . . .” He shivered. “It isn’t that I can’t sleep or anything like that. I’m fine, truly. I should just get up. Everything is better when I’m busy. But I’m cold and tired, and I wanted to talk to you, though perhaps I shouldn’t.”

Again, he was repeating what he had already said. I understood better now. I remembered he had been ordered off duty. I was certain he had been ordered to take his rest, but it was obvious that he could not do so. I would see whether there was aught I could do if he again fell asleep. Until such time I could not move from my place in the shadows.

Peregrin stared off into a corner of the room once more; strain showed on his features.

“I was frightened. Frightened the whole time we rode to get here, or well, whenever I was awake I was frightened. I . . . I slept a lot I think.” He blinked a bit, his eyes looking sleep filled, but he continued on. “He made him - Gandalf made Lord Denethor that is - he made him sound frightening. *‘Be careful of your words.’* he said. *‘He’s proud and subtle. Do not tell him more than you need’* he said. *‘Leave quiet the matter of Frodo’s errand, say nothing about Aragorn either.’* he said. It made me anxious.”

“He insulted me, us . . . eh, Lord Denethor did that is. Made it seem as though you and I had done something devious so that we were not killed when Bor . . .”

He gasped in a short tight breath, as one might when taken by a sharp, sudden pain. The perian’s eyes closed as he struggled to master himself. Eventually, his face relaxed a bit, his eyes opened to stare up into the dark corner again.

“That was when I offered my service to him. I owed it to Boromir, to give myself to the land he loved so dearly.” The lad was quiet for a bit, but his eyes remained open.

“*’Though the Stones be lost’* Denethor said . . . the stones. Seven Stars and Seven Stones and one White Tree . . . He saw me, Merry, Lord Denethor saw me when . . .” A deep shudder ran through him from head to toe. “He has one, Merry. He had a Seeing Stone and - and he - he . . . he had been using it. Using the horrid thing, Merry. No wonder . . . no wonder he . . .” Peregrin’s voice became a whispered chant. “He was mad. He tried to kill his own son. He was going to burn himself to death. Burn Faramir to death. I know the voice he had been listening to. I know who spoke to him from the Stone. I know. He knew I knew. He knew . . . Merry. He . . . knew.”

His eyes glazed over, the lids slowly covered them and sleep took him. I cautiously moved to the doorway then looked up and down the corridor to try to find a fellow apprentice or one of the errand lads. I hesitated to leave the room. After a few moments Bergil came around the far corner down the hallway to the right.

“Bergil!” I called to him.

“Yes, Parsow?”

“I’ve an urgent errand for you. Unless wherever you were heading was already a matter of life or death, I would ask you do this for me first.”

“It wasn’t that urgent an errand. What would you have me do?”

“Do you know which tent beyond the City Walls is that of the lord who brought the Lord Faramir back to us?”

“I do. He had asked to be kept informed of the condition of all those he healed last night. I have been there several times today.”

“Go as quickly as you can. Tell the lord that the perian who wears the livery of the Tower Guard, Peregrin, is in dire need of his healing touch.”

Bergil paled. “Pippin! What troubles him? Is it . . . is it the same as what ailed his cousin and the others?”

I made note that Meriadoc and Peregrin are cousins and that Peregrin has a less formal name, ‘Pippin’, he has allowed others to use. “I don’t think so. He is exhausted and troubled in his mind to the point where he is unable to sleep. Go quickly.”

“Lord Aragorn will come. He and Pippin are friends,” Bergil called over his shoulder as he ran back the way he had come.

I moved from the corridor back into the room, though this time I stayed near the door; the better to watch over Pippin as I waited for the one Lord Faramir had named his King to arrive.

3

Peregrin slept quietly a bit longer this time. He had just begun to stir and mutter when the Lord Aragorn arrived. I heard his footsteps so moved out of the doorway into the light to greet him.

“My lord,” I said, bowing slightly as I did so. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“They are dear to me, these pheriannath. Thank you for sending for me. What seems to be amiss with Peregrin? Bergil said something about his being troubled and unable to rest.”

“I am only a third year apprentice my lord. I am able to assist a great deal in the suturing and tending of wounds as well as full treatment of some minor ailments, though I’m allowed to report only what I observe, I am not yet allowed to offer a diagnosis, my lord. I am currently assigned to the Royal Quarters of the Houses of Healing, although those housed here have been more in need either of the skills of the master healers or those of the aids and first year apprentices. I have mostly run errands or produced a few of the tonics, infusions, poultices and other such medicaments that were tried to ease our patients.”

“But what of Pippin . . . Peregrin, lad? If you will, what have you observed?”

I blush a bit, realizing I’ve been babbling. “I . . . He is . . . he appears to be, that is, exhausted, my lord. Exhausted and troubled in his heart and mind, sir. That and he appears to have somehow injured the tops of his feet, my lord.”

Just then, Pippin’s own dream induced mutterings grew loud enough to be heard.

The lord nodded to me. “I think, from what you have said that I did well sending Bergil after a few items. Come. I will see for myself what troubles my friend.”

A shout came from the bed as we entered the darkened room. Pippin once more was anxiously glancing about, though not truly seeing his surroundings as he did not notice Lord Aragorn and me coming into the room. He turned to his cousin.

“Merry! Are you . . . Merry? You’ve not moved. Not moved a bit since I’ve laid down.”

Peregrin fumbled about to free his right hand from the bedclothes. He touched Meriadoc’s cheek, then felt about at his throat.

“You’re - You - you aren’t . . . You aren’t d . . . ?” Peregrin froze as he apparently had found his loved one’s pulse. A few seconds passed before he let out his breath and sank back into the bedding. “You aren’t dead.” This time it was a statement, not a question.

The lord stepped up to the bed, placing a hand on Pippin’s shoulder as he said his name aloud.

Pippin screeched, snapping his head around to see who had touched him. Eyes wide with fear, he managed to whisper, “Strider?”

“I’m sorry to have startled you so badly, Pippin,” the lord replied. He seemed to have more than one name, and a rather curious one it was at that.

“You’re . . . ah . . . you . . .” Pippin turned his head to look back at his sleeping kinsman. “That should have wakened Merry. It . . .” He looked back to the lord. “Why didn’t that wake up Merry, Strider? He’s not moved at all the whole time I’ve been here. Is he all right?”

“He was given something to help him sleep.”

Peregrin turned back to his cousin then nodded. “It worked, whatever it was they gave him.” He was grinning as he looked up at Lord Aragorn. “Works really well, I’d say. He’s not moved a bit. Slept the whole time I’ve been here. If he’s just sleeping and all, then why are you here, Strider? I thought you were staying out of the City for now?” His grin grew broader. “Do you need me? Need me for duty? I’m happy to . . .”

He had started to sit up, but with a gentle hand, the lord pushed him back upon the bed. Pippin looked confusedly from the large hand upon his chest, to the eyes of its owner, then back at the hand.

“But why then? If not for duty. It must be Merry then. Something is wrong with Merry!”

“No, Pippin. Merry is fine. My concern this moment is for you, my friend.”

The small face turned upward once again and the lord, with his thumb, softly stroked Peregrin’s face beneath his eyes.

“When did you last sleep, Pippin?”

“Well, I was asleep just a wee bit ago.” He looked down and away from his friend’s gaze. “I don’t think that’s what you’re meaning, is it, Strider?”

“No, it isn’t. When did you last sleep well, Pippin. Sleep for several hours undisturbed?”

The perian looked at his cousin, closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them to look up into the darkness in a far corner of the room as though that would help him gather his thoughts.

“I . . . eh . . . It all seems so very long ago, Strider. Odd how time can do that. I think I slept the whole way here with Gandalf. I shouldn’t have needed any sleep for days. Yet . . .” He closed his eyes, sighing heavily before opening them again. “Yet as much as I can recall I’ve been weary the whole time I’ve been here. It all seems such a dreary long time, Strider. So long ago.”

“It is a trick of our minds, Pippin. It happens to us all when there are a great number of things happening all at once. This would be . . .” He paused to do the reckoning in his head. “This is your seventh night in the White City.”

“If you say so I’ll believe you, Strider.” Pippin gazed into the distance again. “I think I slept the first night, though not well as I remember having a bad dream. I don’t recall if I slept the second . . . Actually, I don’t remember much at all of that day or night except that the - the Nazgul appeared and - and Faramir - Faramir came to the city. I have no memory of that night nor of the next, for that matter. Everything is simply run together in gloom.”

The lad paused, closing his eyes, a pained look upon his face. Bergil had returned bearing a basin, a ewer that was steaming, some towels over one arm, and some bit of grey cloth draped over his other arm. We nodded to one another, then my attention was drawn back to Peregrin as he began to speak again.

“I - I didn’t sleep last night. I was on guard all that day and into the night,” he said. I noticed he had not spoken of the the dark day of Lord Faramir’s returning to the City wounded, nor of the day of the siege.

He turned to face Lord Aragorn. “You saw me. You saw Beregond and me at the doorway, guarding. You came and,” he turned to smile at his cousin, “you brought them all back.” He looked back at his friend, a smile brighter than any I had yet seen lighting his face. “You brought them all back to us, Strider.” The broad smile faded into a troubled frown. “I didn’t thank you. You saved Merry and I - I didn’t thank you. Forgive me, Strider.”

“I forgive you, my friend.” The lord smiled reassuringly while squeezing Peregrin’s shoulder. “What of the night before that, Pippin. Did you sleep the night before the night I helped Merry and the others?”

Peregrin closed his eyes tightly, turning his face away from us. I looked at the Lord Aragorn. Was he too befuddled in his thoughts? How could he not know of the events which occurred the night before that night he came to the Houses? But, as I looked at his face I realized that he asked purposefully of that night. He too had noted that the perian had passed over it earlier.

Pippin shivered. His eyes opened but seemed unfocused, nearly glassy in appearance. His voice was small and distant sounding.

“No. I didn’t sleep at all that night, nor the one before. No one slept that night. No one but . . . but the dead. I was in the Lord Steward’s chamber all that horrible day. He went away. He went and when he came back he had shrunk. He had grown old in an hour’s time. And I stood there as he aged before my eyes and his mind snapped and I could do nothing. People came and he sent them scurrying off. And still I . . . I couldn’t . . . there was nothing I could do. And he wept. He had belittled me, he had frightened me, he had ignored me completely, but I found I couldn’t bear to see him weep. So I spoke. I spoke the wrong words and brought no comfort.”

His eyes closed, tears leaking between the clenched lids. But they were few and short lived. Peregrin shook himself, once more stared off into the dark and continued his remembrances.

“Then he told those who came to go and burn. They ran from him. He told me to go and die in what way seemed best to me. I didn’t want to die. I went and fetched his servants. I didn’t know where we were going. I . . . I thought we were . . .” he turned his eyes to Lord Aragorn, yet I’m not sure he saw the lord as there was panic in his eyes and his voice. “I thought we were going to a place of healing not a place of . . . death. I ran. I had to find Gandalf as no one would listen to a halfling. I ran and . . . and . . .”

Suddenly Pippin’s voice changed. Small it sounded, as a little child’s who is terrified. His eyes were wide, seeing things other than the room around us.

“I can’t get my feet clean. I-I c-can’t get them c-clean. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. There were puddles, p-puddles everywh-where and I j-ust ran right through them. Through . . . it. And it’s still there.”

He blinked and grasped at the lord’s left arm.

“I can’t . . . they won’t feel clean. Th-th-they don’t feel . . . I’ve scrubbed them, I really have. I-I’ve tried and t-tried.”

“Pippin,” Lord Aragorn said firmly.

“They . . . I . . . not clean. N-not . . .”

“Pippin,” the lord said more firmly, “let me tend to your feet, my lad”

The stream of words from the perian stuttered to a stop. His expression changed from empty to startled to an angry glare. He jerked his feet up closer to his body.

“No! No, you c-can’t. No. No. They . . . they’re . . . no. You can’t t-touch th-them. No! I won’t let you! I . . .”

“Peregrin Took!” the lord said with a firmness that stopped short the panicked utterances. He grasped both sides of Peregrin’s head, holding it so the perian’s face looked directly at his own. But Peregrin’s eyes darted about.

“Peregrin Took, look at me!”

Panic filled eyes came to rest on the calm though stern eyes of Lord Aragorn, but the babbling began anew.

“You can’t, Str-Strider. You’ll be . . . They’re ruined. My feet are r-ruined . . . You’ll be r-ruined. No. No you . . No.”

The last word was whimpered.

“Pippin,” the lord said softly, with a great deal of care showing in his deep voice. “Don’t make me order you, Pippin.”

“Order?”

“What is over on that chair, Peregrin?”

The perian turned his head a bit to the right in order to look at the chair. “My livery,” he said softly.

“Your livery? Why do you have livery of the Tower Guard, Pippin?”

“I’m . . . I’m a soldier.”

“Yes, you are a soldier. What oath did you swear, Peregrin Took?”

Pippin began to mutter softly, under his breath while his eyes remained fixed upon his uniform. “ Here . . . I swear . . . service to Gondor . . .” His mind refreshed, he then spoke clearly, “I swore my service to Gondor and the L-Lord and Ste-Steward of the realm.”

“Good. Yes, Peregrin son of Paladin. And Denethor was that Steward. He was a steward only. He held the rule of Gondor for another.”

Peregrin turned his eyes to the Lord Aragorn, and so did Bergil and I. And it seemed the green gem upon his breast shone with a light of its own, and that a subtle gleam as of the precious metals of a crown glimmered upon the lord’s brow. I remembered Lord Faramir’s words upon his awakening.

*”My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?”*

“Forgive me,” Pippin’s voice came clearly to my ears, breaking the enchantment. He brought one of the Lord Aragorn’s hands to his lips and kissed it, as had his cousin when he was brought back from the darkness. “Forgive me, I . . . I forgot.” He closed his eyes as though a pain had come upon him. “All right. You can . . . you can . . . tend to my feet. You needn’t order me.”

Lord Aragorn turned to me. “Fetch that small table over there and set it at the foot of the bed.”

I did so and he motioned for Bergil to set the basin upon it. The lord then poured the steaming water into the basin. He began to raise the covers but hesitated a moment.

“Bergil, set the towels here on the bed,” he said. “Give the scarf to Parsow, please, then fetch the Warden here.”

The lad placed the towels on the bed, handed the length of grey fabric to me, bowed to Lord Aragorn, then left on his errand. I looked at the scarf, then looked up at the lord.

He smiled, then pulled the bedclothes back exposing Pippin’s scabbed and matted feet. The sight took his smile away, replacing it with a look of deep sorrow. “I’ve hardly ever seen Pippin without that scarf around his neck,” he said in a whisper. “It is most dear to him. I am certain he was told not to wear it while in uniform, but since he is out of his uniform,” he smiled and nodded at the clothing laying on the chair, “I think it would comfort him greatly to have it now. Just raise his head and place it about his neck.” Lord Aragorn placed a towel beneath Pippin’s left foot in readiness to begin washing it.

Peregrin had kept his eyes clenched closed, but they opened with surprise when I began to raise his head. I slipped the scarf over his curls, then moved my hand so as to be able to place it around the back of his neck and down over his shoulders. He smiled, mumbled his thanks, then closed his eyes. His hands crossed over his chest, each one feeling about for an end of the scarf, which when found was caressed and toyed with. I smiled. It was just the way he had toyed with the edge of his blanket earlier in the evening.

The now familiar fragrance of athelas wafted on the air.

“Athelas!” Pippin nearly shouted as he tried to sit up. At a nod from Lord Aragorn, I held him down. “No! I don’t need that. There isn’t enough. Strider, they said . . . last night they said that was all there was.” He looked up at me. “What if Merry and the others need it again?”

“More has been found, Pippin.” I placed his hands back upon his scarf patting them reassuringly. “We have had time to look in more areas of the City. More has been found.”

“But I don’t have The Black Breath. What good . . .” He lifted his head to look at Lord Aragorn at the foot of the bed. “What good will it do me?”

“Breathe Pippin,” was all he said.

Pippin took a deep breath then let it out. “But what good will . . .”

“Breathe Pippin.”

Pippin drew another deep breath. His head slowly lowered back onto his pillow. A smile grew on his lips.

“Green,” he sighed.

“Green?” I asked.

“Yes. If green were to have a smell of its own, it would be this. Green like new grass in the springtime. New leaves, new plants, new . . . new everything. Green like the Shire.” He once again breathed in as deeply as he could. “Green.”

Peregrin relaxed as he exhaled. His hands kept hold of his scarf but ceased their nervous grasping and toying with it.

A short time later Lord Aragorn spoke. “How does your left foot feel, Pippin?” he asked as he finished drying it with a soft towel.

“Hmm?” Pippin muttered as he stirred a bit. “What? Oh. My foot?” He wiggled his toes. “It feels better, Strider.” The small soldier smiled and kept wiggling his toes. “It feels much better! Thank you.”

Bergil arrived with the Warden of the Houses of Healing who went to stand beside the lord.

“You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes.” Lord Aragorn replied quietly. “As you can see this perian, Peregrin Took, Guard of the Citadel and cousin to Meriadoc, has done harm to his feet. He ran through puddles of blood whilst seeking Mithrandir in order to save the life of the Lord Faramir. As I’m sure you are aware, it is a well known phenomenon for someone to afterward feel they cannot remove the blood from their skin. Peregrin told me he had been trying to clean his feet but could not. In doing so he scrubbed so hard he has bloodied his feet anew. One of your apprentices, Parsow,” he nodded in my direction, “noticed this. Knowing the pheriannath are friends of mine, he sent for me.”

The Warden nodded. “Will you be wrapping them, my lord?”

“No. Hobbits, that is perian, are unaccustomed to wearing anything upon their feet. I fear that wrappings will continue the feeling of something being on his feet that should not be there. I am hoping that my cleansing them with athelas infused water, then drying them thoroughly, will keep the phantom feeling from returning.”

The Warden nodded.

“Peregrin was . . .” Lord Aragorn paused. He seemed unsure of what to say, but soon continued. “Peregrin was exposed to the evil of the Lord of Mordor in a particularly personal manner before he came to Minas Tirith. He came to a city within sight of the Black Land itself, a city which was soon darkened by a foul fume and besieged by Sauron’s armies. Though he has not been touched by The Black Breath, I fear his condition to be similar. He is exhausted in body and spirit.” The lord looked over at Bergil and me. “I would like Parsow and Bergil to remain here through the night, if you are able to spare them. Peregrin is not to be awakened but is to be allowed to sleep until such time as he awakens on his own. I wish to have someone here so that Meriadoc does not disturb Peregrin when he awakens.”

The Warden looked at me with one eyebrow raised. I’m certain he was curious as to why the lord would request a third year apprentice healer be given this task. “It shall be as you desire, Lord Aragorn. Parsow, you will remain with the pheriannath until both have awakened, as will you, Bergil. When they have awakened, Bergil, you will see to any needs they have.”

“Yes, sir,” Bergil and I replied each with a bow of our head. He nodded in return then left the room. Bergil and I watched as Lord Aragorn finished washing Peregrin’s right foot.

“Bergil,” the lord said as he was drying Pippin’s foot. “I have asked you to stay as I know you and your father have become friends with Pippin.” He looked at me. “Parsow, you have shown great concern for Pippin by your careful observation of his condition. I feel it is only proper that you should continue to care for this particular patient and his cousin. You may keep each other company and if you should happen to nod off, I’m certain at least one of you will awaken when either of the hobbits do.” He smiled knowingly at us. It was obvious to me that he had sat through many a vigil. “I’m quite sure that Merry will wake up first. I trust you both to explain Pippin’s condition to him and reassure him that his cousin will be fine.”

Lord Aragorn dried his hands, then gently drew the blankets back over Pippin’s feet. He came beside Bergil and me, draping an arm over each of our shoulders. “I thank you both for your care of my friends. I will not forget either of you.”

With those words, and a last glance at the pheriannath, rather I should say hobbits, sleeping in the bed, Lord Aragorn left the room.

Bergil pulled a chair up beside Pippin. I took mine to the opposite side of the bed to sit beside Merry. We settled down to begin our vigil.

“Tell me, Bergil,” I asked with a smile. “How did you come to meet Pippin?”