Author notes:
The italic parts of the story are quotes from my other stories The Bond Between Us and A Stormy Night. Even though this story was in my mind for years it was written in memory of my grandfather who died 04. June 2007.

This story includes character-death (perfectly book-true).

Thank you, Dreamflower for betaing.

In Passing

The banner of the King floated in the cool spring air; a white tree on a field of sable, circled by seven stars, and atop it a crown The same emblem was embroidered on the surcoats of the Guards of the Citadel many feet below. They stood tall and proud in front of the gate overlooking the white-paved court and the tree, whose image adorned their chests. It stood in full bloom, and birds played in its strong branches as droplets of water sparkled in all colours of the rainbow between the white blossoms.

Pippin, sitting by the fountain next to the tree, with his toes brushing over the blades of bright green grass which surrounded this symbol of peace, felt a great calm as he listened to the splattering and tinkling of the water and the twitter of the birds. Cool droplets sprayed his sun-warmed cheeks while others landed on his hair. The once thick, auburn curls were silver now, and the once youthful face, which had looked upon this city for the first time so many years ago, was now wrinkled. There were lines of mirth around his eyes and the dimples of his cheeks, but also some born from worry and care during a life as husband, father, and Thain. His eyes were thoughtful these days, full of silent longing, the spark in them only recently diminished.

He had known. Of that Pippin was now convinced. Merry had known that his time had come. There was something in his voice when he spoke, something thick and heavy. It was not grief, for Merry was laughing as oft as ever; it was the knowledge that each word, each moment, could be his last, and he was living them to the fullest.

There had also been an unusually bright light in his eyes whenever they shared memories of the Shire. The thought of Estella and their children always made his eyes sparkle with love and Pippin would acknowledge the same light in his own eyes whenever their conversation included Faramir and Diamond as well.

Numerous times Merry would go even further back in time and talk about his childhood. Frodo, whom they had always honoured and remembered with fondness over a glass of wine with Sam, would then be the main topic of their conversation. They would talk about his reputation as Buckland's worst rascal, Merry's wish to be like him, and Saradoc and Esmeralda's vain efforts to soothe his rebellious nature. Merry wept silent tears whenever he talked about the time Frodo had first gone to live with Bilbo, something he had not done in years, and Pippin would usually steer the conversation into happier directions recalling stories of Frodo either getting them in trouble, or them causing Frodo some embarrassment.

Pippin enjoyed those conversations most, no matter how often they had told and retold their stories during long evenings in Bag End when they drank to Frodo's honour and his memory, or when, in the past years, the King and his son had kept them company on Frodo's birthday which they never failed to celebrate, just as their cousin had never failed to give a private party for Bilbo after the old hobbit had left the Shire forever.

Pippin was now the only one left to share the memories of Shire-life. Sam had joined Frodo long ago and Merry, too, was gone. Nowadays, Pippin had only the King and Queen for company. And sometimes, in these evening hours, when he would doze off in the midst of recounting a fond memory, he began to feel it as well.

He was old and tired, and with Merry gone there was nothing left that held him in this world. The Gift of Ilùvatar was beckoning. If Pippin didn't feel it he could See.

He saw Faramir and Goldilocks, respected Thain and Mistress of Great Smials, watching their children on the banks of a brook. There was Paladin, a tween now, and Pippin was struck at how much he looked like the grandfather Faramir had named him for. The faunt Pippin had last kissed goodbye had grown into a sweet maid-child. Aster, Goldilocks had named her, and when Pippin saw her these days he still wondered how she could have given that special a child such a common name. Her hair was fair as her mother's, golden ringlets falling well over her shoulders. Her eyes were like the blue of the sea she might never behold. She even reminded him a little of the Elves of Lothlòrien if that people's natural grace had not been replaced by childish clumsiness and a decidedly Tookish attitude.

What disturbed Pippin though, were the visions of his father that came to him while he was sleeping. Every time Paladin stood on a green hill, the sun casting a red and golden light over his form as it sank low behind him. Paladin never spoke to him, but offered him his outstretched hand, and his eyes seemed to ask what he was waiting for, what he was still expecting from a life in solitude. Pippin never knew the answer but whenever the vision faded he felt a great emptiness and a distinct longing in his heart for he was, indeed, lonely. Friends among Men and the respect he had as the legendary Ernil i Pheriannath were not enough to give him what the company of a single hobbit could have.

Pippin started awake from a doze. He blinked sleepily into the sky where a few fluffy clouds moved slowly to the West. With a faint smile at this new habit of drifting off, Pippin shook his head and curled up on the bench, only dimly aware that his eyelids were already drooping again. A soft breeze tickled his nape as he made himself comfortable, one hand resting beneath his cheek, the other hanging limply from his side. His breathing slowed and a smile appeared on his face as gentle hands, as that of a dream, lifted him far above the sunlit sky. The drizzle against his cheek turned into the soft caress of rain. A sweet fragrance filled the air and a song gently vibrated towards him.

Pippin opened his eyes in spite of his drowsiness and was surprised to see water float past some feet below him. He smiled a little for this, too, was a reoccurring dream; only this time the grey rain-curtain suddenly turned to silver and glass. Pippin held his breath as it was slowly rolled back to reveal white shores and a far green country.

His heart was so full of wonder, there was no room to feel any unease, Pippin's gaze wandered across the shore where his eyes came to rest on a figure clad entirely in light. He frowned at its familiarity and involuntarily closed his eyes as he allowed himself to be touched by the warm shimmer. The radiance vibrated from the figure like the beating of a drum, and it seemed to Pippin that it was beckoning him. He followed it without knowing. His feet touched the soft, heated sand and Pippin, unable to open his eyes, felt warmth embrace him. It was the light of love, compassion, mercy, goodwill, curiosity and understanding, and as it flung itself around Pippin, it seemed to him that he heard his own voice echoing from the past.

"Will you always watch over me? Like the light does over you?"

And a voice answered the memory. "Yes, cousin, I will watch over you."

"Frodo." Pippin opened his eyes to find himself in his cousin's embrace. A flood of emotions and memories ran through him and for a moment he was unable to move. He remembered how Frodo had hugged him at the Grey Havens, remembered his confidence that he would be all right, but also the sadness and sorrow he had seen in the unfathomable depth of Frodo's eyes.

"Love my home as I have done, cousin, and live a life worthy the sacrifices that were made to preserve it. Don't ever forget the tale we have been in so that folk would never forget the darkness they had only just escaped. But most of all take good care of the Shire and its inhabitants, especially Sam. They all have been very dear to me. I only ask this much from you because I know you already love what once has been my home and family.

I will be at peace and so will you. Do not trouble your heart, cousin. Keep your spirit and do not worry about me. I will be just fine."

Pippin had never forgotten these words. He had treasured them like nothing else, and every so often, when he was in doubt about his decisions, he would remember Frodo and somehow the Thain had never failed to care for his land and people.

"Frodo," he whispered again and inhaled deeply the musk of pipe-weed, old parchment, leather, and ale, a smell he had always associated with his cousin, no matter how little he had smoked after he had returned from Mordor. "I never thought I would see you again."

"You didn't See this, then?" Frodo asked in surprise as he let go of him to look him over from head to toe, a fond smile on his lips.

Pippin was stunned. Frodo looked the same as he had when he had last seen him at the Grey Havens so many years ago. His hair was ebony still, though streaked with many strands of silver, and the only signs of age, apart from a few thin lines around his eyes and lips, were seen in his eyes. They were like the Elves': full of knowledge, love, joy, and the memories of a life without time. The sorrow and grief Pippin had once seen in them, as Frodo had allowed him a glimpse at the tortures of Mordor and the Ring, were still there, but they were no longer distinct and it did not pain his heart to perceive them.

"You have not changed a bit," Pippin said at length, struggling to keep his emotions at bay.

"Unlike you, my aged cousin," Frodo replied with a teasing smile and Pippin broke into laughter and tears of joy at the twinkle in Frodo's eyes. His cousin might not have changed physically but the healing he had so longed for, was obvious. His smile reached his eyes and his expression was not marked with a secret sorrow as it had been in his last years in the Shire. Even the sadness of a home lost he had perceived at the Havens, was no longer there. Frodo might be marked by his quest, but it no longer tore him to pieces. He was whole again.

"Will you come with me?" Frodo asked eventually and at Pippin's nod they set out over the green hills, the brooks and the forests they housed.

It seemed to Pippin as if no time at all had passed. He and Frodo were as connected as ever and he would not have been surprised if Merry and Sam, too, had jumped from behind a tree to make their small group of friends complete. There was a silent understanding between them and some questions neither needed answering nor asking. Pippin soon learned why Frodo no longer missed his former home. His cousin seemed to know all that had come to pass in his life. He had always watched over him, as he had once promised, and Pippin had never lost the cousin he loved and looked up to. Not even now, for Pippin slowly realised that this was not another dream.

It was evening when they reached the Western shore of the island and as Pippin glanced over the murmuring sea, shimmering golden in the light of the setting sun, he perceived another shining country in the distance. "This is Valinor," Frodo told him. "Your way will lead you beyond there."

Pippin did not take his eyes from the high mountains in the distance. Fear awoke in his heart and he suddenly dreaded the path he was walking on. "Is this the end?" he asked quietly.

Frodo shook his head and placed a hand on his shoulder as Pippin turned to him with a frown. "This is a new beginning. Do not be afraid."

Pippin lowered his head, his throat thick with emotion as he asked one last question although he already knew he was facing another farewell. "You can't come?"

"I will follow you, cousin," Frodo assured him and a strange expression Pippin could not quite understand, was on his features as he gazed towards the West. "I will follow you very soon now."

Pippin nodded, but his heart was filled with grief. Frodo smiled at him compassionately and drew him into another embrace. As before, Pippin felt the soft light radiating from him. He closed his eyes, remembering how he had taken strength in it when he had last perceived it at the shores of the sea. This time, however, Pippin's heart would not lighten and he clang to his cousin like he had done on that stormy night long ago when he had first noticed the light that surrounded his cousin.

"Somebody is waiting for you," Frodo said after a while and though Pippin was still unwilling he finally broke the embrace and followed Frodo's gaze.

There, on a hill to their left, stood his father. The sun sank low behind him, casting him into a red glow as it had always done in his dream. Paladin nodded a greeting at Frodo before stretching out his right hand, silently beckoning Pippin to come with him.

Pippin smiled at his cousin, relieved that he did not have to go alone. "I shall wait for you, Frodo, like you have waited for me."

And the last Pippin saw as he hastened to greet his father, was Frodo who smiled at him in the light of the sinking sun as he had done countless years ago in the Shire, when no sorrows had troubled him and the burden of the Ring had not yet weighed on his heart.

~*~*~

King Elessar smiled as he passed the gate into the High Court. He had been on his way to dinner, when he saw the sleeping form of a hobbit on a bench beside the fountain. It was not uncommon that Pippin slept through the afternoons and sometimes even the evenings, but the King knew that Peregrin Took would never forgive him, if he allowed him to sleep through dinner. He enjoyed the company in the great dinning hall now that Merry was gone even more than before.

As the King stepped on the sward a sense of unease overcame him and he frowned, slowing his pace. Almost hesitatingly he moved closer to the Halfling to brush a gentle hand against his cheek. It was cold and as he placed his hand on his neck to feel the pulse he realised that the hobbit would never again dine in his halls.

Tears gathered in the King's eyes as he stroked the grey curls back from his young friend's face. His expression was peaceful and King Elessar felt relieved to discover that Pippin was smiling. "You are happy where you are now, my friend, that I can see."

It seemed to him that time stood still while he sat with the hobbit, his tears dampening the pale cheek. So, the last of his former companions had left the boundaries of this world and it seemed to him that each one of them had taken a piece of his heart with him.

The evening darkened, when at last, King Elessar bent down to place a kiss onto Pippin's forehead. "Rest in peace, Peregrin Took, Guard of the Citadel, and Knight of Gondor."

Gently the King gathered the lifeless form in his arms and carried him back into the citadel where the last respects should be paid to this jewel among hobbits.

~THE END~