Title:  For Though the Stones be Lost

Summary:  The palantir affected Pippin more than he realized, and gave him something in common with the Steward of Gondor.

Disclaimer:  They aren't mine, they're Tolkien's.

Archive:  not without permission, thank you

A/N:

This first chapter is a series of vignettes that deal with Pippin, Denethor and the Seeing Stones.  I started out by trying to show a connection between Pip and Denethor, but the story became mostly about Pippin.  I will be posting a second chapter later with a conversation between Pippin and Frodo.

Please review!  I thrive on it! 

Shirebound—thank you very much for your formatting help.  You are a treasure!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pippin cried out in anguish, or so he thought.  He couldn't breathe, the pain was so intense.  Horrible images filled his mind—thoughts of a volcano erupting and the Shire burning, constantly burning!  Hobbiton was in flames and the Brandywine was filled with blood—hobbits' blood!  Pippin didn't question how he came by those images, or if they were even true.  It didn't seem to matter.  What mattered only was Sauron's will.  Pippin could feel it pressing in on him, pushing him, forcing him to surrender, to give in to the dominant will surrounding him.  He wanted desperately to run, to where he did not know, just away from that suffocating pressure!  He wept for his home and wished desperately for Merry.  Merry would make it go away.  Then He spoke, and all thoughts were driven from his mind and replaced with absolute terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Seven stars and seven stones

     And one white tree."

Pippin wondered at the poem, and what it could mean.  He had meant it earlier when he said he wished someone had explained the Stones to him before, but he also knew that Gandalf was right—it really wouldn't have mattered.  Pippin was quite grateful that Gandalf had whisked him away from the palantir.  He did not desire to feel that itch again.  And yet…  He sighed.  He missed Merry.  Why couldn't he have been allowed to come as well?  Pippin frowned.  He knew why.  This was his punishment, to be away from Merry and Strider and all the rest.  But it was also his reward, for he was so near to Gandalf.  He wondered what Minas Tirith was like.  He had heard so much about it from Strider and Boromir.  Pippin shifted a bit as he thought about Boromir.  He had been such a noble man.  He should have lived.  Pippin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sank further down into the comfort of Gandalf's robes, staring in awe at the scenery around him.  He felt as if they were barely moving, and the world itself was simply stepping aside to let them pass, understanding their need for great haste.       

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yea", he said; "for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the lords of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them."  

Pippin lifted his head sharply at Denethor's statement.  What did he mean by that?  he wondered.  He stared intently at Denethor's face and wondered what bothered him so about that look.  His eyes widened as it suddenly occurred to him.  That was the same look he himself had after he gazed into the palantir!  The strain in his face, the pinched lips, the haunted expression in his eyes.  Or perhaps hunted was the right word.  Pippin shook himself.  No, it couldn't be.  Denethor was a strong ruler, a King…not a king, Pippin reminded himself, a Steward.  But still wise and powerful!  He wouldn't succumb to a palantir like a…a foolish Took!  Yet, he had seen something in the Steward's eyes when Denethor glanced over at him.  Pippin couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps he and the Steward had something in common besides their relationship with Boromir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pippin raced through the streets of Minas Tirith.  He had to reach Gandalf as quickly as possible!  Denethor must be stopped—he was completely mad!  Pippin gasped for breath as he ran around corners and dodged between soldiers.  He can't be too late!  He knewthat Faramir might have a chance, if he could only get to Gandalf in time!  Pippin could not understand Denethor's reasoning…he had seemed so strong and stern before, now he just acted utterly lost.  Pippin wondered at the change.  What could have possibly happened to make him give up all hope?  Pippin pushed on faster.  He mustn't give up hope!  Gandalf would know what to do!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pippin stared in horror as Denethor clasped the palantir to his chest.  Flames rose high against the walls of the House of Stewards and threatened to overwhelm the small hobbit with its heat.  The palantir remained impassive and untouched by the fire.  Gandalf shoved Pippin outside and they raced through the doors with Beregond and the servants at their heels.  Pippin couldn't speak.  In his mind he kept seeing the Steward and the orb surrounded by fire, and an answering light flickering deep within the Stone.  Then memories started to collide and instead of Denethor, he saw Merry and Frodo and Sam in the Shire, and smoke and flames threatening to overcome them.  He remembered the images he saw in the palantir of Orthanc, and could not hold back a terrified sob.  Oh, how he wished Merry was here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pippin stumbled on his way down the hall.  He had tried so hard to be brave and loyal to his new lord, and now that lord was gone, and his son was lying in a near coma in the House of Healing.  And Merry!  Merry too was in a coma, lost and out of Pippin's reach.  Pippin sank against the corridor wall and sobbed.  How many times had he wished Merry was here with him!  And now he was, yet he wasn't.  Pippin kept crying.  He could not bear it if Merry was taken from him.  Pippin hiccoughed and clenched his fists.  No!  No, it would not happen!  Pippin would not bury his cousin, his best friend!  Pippin finally managed to stop his tears.  It was not helping anyone, least of all Merry.  He sat there quietly in the hall for several minutes, then slowly stood up.  He shuddered.  He could not keep the image of Denethor's suicide from his mind.  And that Stone!  Pippin felt it had been mocking him, laughing at the Steward's demise.  Pippin felt drained, as though someone had tipped him sideways and poured out his entire spirit.  And the worst of it wasn't even over.  The War still raged on, and soon Pippin would once again be separated from Merry.  It seemed the end was nowhere in sight.

TBC

Title:  For Though the Stones Be Lost

Summary:  Pippin and Frodo discuss the effects of the Ring and the Palantir.

Disclaimer:  They aren't mine, they're Tolkien's.

Archive:  not without permission, thank you

A/N:

This second chapter is a continuation of Pippin's experience with the palantir.

This story is complete.  I haven't quite figured out how to change the In Progress to Completed yet.  Heh.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Frodo?"  Pippin stood hesitantly in the doorway.  "How is he?  Is he…"

Frodo beckoned his cousin inside.  "Aragorn said that he will recover, Pip," he said.  "Do not worry, he is only in a deep sleep."

Pippin sighed and sat down next to Frodo.  "That's a relief," he said.  "I don't think I could bear it otherwise."

Frodo sat quietly by the bed.  "Neither could I," he said softly.

Pippin looked at Sam lying peacefully in the bed.  "He's been through a lot, hasn't he?  Strider said he went without water or food for far too long."

Frodo said softly again, "Yes, he did.  But he has a stout heart."  Frodo rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed.

Pippin looked keenly at Frodo.  "And what of you cousin?" he asked.  "How are you faring?"

Frodo sat still and kept his eyes on Sam.  "I don't really know how to answer that, Pippin," he said slowly.  "I don't remember much, it seems.  I suppose I am fine."

Pippin wasn't convinced.  "You don't look it," he said.  "Oh, I mean you look fine physically, except for your hand of course, but there's something about you that seems…lost."

Frodo said nothing for a long time.  "Yes," he finally answered.  "I do feel lost.  Bereft, almost.  The Ring haunts me…even though it is destroyed."  Frodo looked over at Pippin sadly.  "I still want it," he whispered. 

Pippin said gently to Frodo, "I think I know."  He gazed across the room, thoughtful.

"No, you don't," Frodo said sharply.  Pippin looked back at him, surprised.  Immediately Frodo was remorseful and grabbed Pippin's hands.  "I'm sorry," he said, looking at him.  "It seems the Ring isn't done with me yet.  I do not mean to speak that way to you."  Frodo looked back at Sam.  "But you really don't know, Pip.  You don't know what it is like to be so dependent on such an object, one that doesn't even offer you comfort or peace.  Instead it turns you into a monster…someone who cannot recognize friend from foe.  And yet," he said sadly, "I still desire it, above all things." 

Pippin felt tears gather in his eyes and tightly gripped Frodo's hands.  "But," he said, "I do know."  He looked away.  "You know I looked in a palantir, Frodo.  I wanted to see a pretty thing, and instead, He saw me.  I had only wanted one look.  Gandalf had been so close, and I was so scared, and I thought that perhaps the palantir could show me what was happening.  But there was more to it than that.  It drew me, somehow.  Please understand," he said, suddenly looking back at Frodo, "Gandalf was right.  I knew what I was doing, and I even told myself it was wrong, and I didn't listen.  But there was also something else that was drawing me to it…beckoning me, almost.  Oh, I can't explain it."  Pippin looked down at his feet.

Frodo smiled, tears in his eyes.  "You silly Took," he said fondly.  "Do you really think it's the same?  You could escape from the palantir—indeed you did, with Gandalf's help.  I could not escape the Ring, even at the last.  It had too firm a hold on me."

"It's your turn to not understand, Frodo," Pippin said hotly, wiping his eyes.  "I didn't say I knew all that you went through, only that I understood the desire.  When Lord Denethor revealed his palantir in the House of the Stewards, I caught a glimpse of it in his hands.  It glowed a deep red, and I saw myself sitting in the dark, hunched over like a miscreant child, hoping and wishing to see some grand wonder."  Pippin gave a sort of half-laugh.  "That desire took me by complete surprise.  I thought I was over that silliness.  But apparently not…even now I want another glimpse at one."

Frodo was silent.  Perhaps the young hobbit did understand, somewhat.  "I think I see your point, Pippin," Frodo said at last.  "We have both been touched by something we wish had never come to us.  But I'm still not sure that you really understand my thoughts."

Pippin suddenly laughed, the sound of it ringing through the clear air like a bell. "When did I ever, cousin?  You always were so far above me!"  He gave Frodo a cheeky grin.

Frodo started to laugh along with his cousin.  It felt good.  It had been so long.

As Pippin looked at Frodo a realization dawned upon him.  Merry had been hurt badly by the Nazgul, Pippin had been touched by a malevolent will, and Sam had been scarred by the fire and smoke of Mount Doom.  But Frodo…Frodo had all these things happen to him.  Pippin felt tears gather in his eyes again.  To have gone through so much…

"You know Frodo," he said, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes, "I don't think we've sung a hobbit drinking song in many an age.  What do you say we sing one now, for Sam?"

"Do you think he would hear it?" Frodo asked, a little bemused.

"Well," Pippin faltered, "Perhaps."  He looked at Sam.  "We should at least try, at any rate."

Frodo gazed fondly at his cousin.  "Then I believe that is an excellent idea, Pippin.  You begin."

Everyone who walked by the room that night felt their spirits lifted as the sweet sound of hobbit singing and laughter echoed in the air.