Disclaimer - Not mine. Never has been. Never will be.

A/N - As you can see, we are winding down for the final chapter or two now. This chapter is dedicated to Xena for leaving me an absolutely beautiful review, but I hope you all enjoy - more thanks will come at the end.

Chapter 8 - Darkness ever changing

The arrival of the Eagles sparked a great, unknown excitement amongst the soldiers who still lived. Excitement because the Eagles had such a presence that radiated majesty and significance, and unknown because no one could explain why they had come. Yet the enemy seemed to quail at their sight as the golden birds flew high below the ever increasing shadow, before disappearing into the clouds.

The time that seemed to have frozen at Gandalf's call resumed again and the battle continued mercilessly. Few noticed as the largest and most grand Eagle swooped low and took up Mithrandir in his great claws.

Seconds later, a great roar filled the stifling air and all went black. Frantic screeching sounds could be heard, wailing and spiralling as if they were being sucked into the very night. Those who had been fighting as the darkness hit suddenly found themselves facing no resistance, and they longed to see what it was that had swiftly disposed of the enemy in this manner. Only three fully understood the significance.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the darkness fled and the grey shades of the shadow returned again. Or perhaps it wasn't the shadow; it seemed to be moving quickly, swirling above their heads, containing fragments of rock and other elements. It looked almost as smoke did.

As the soldiers' eyes adjusted to the changing levels of light, Aragorn called them into action.

"Hurry," he shouted, "We must leave this place else the mountain will be brought down upon our heads! Carry the wounded.... we will have to return for the dead."

Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn spread the message quickly, and the dazed but largely uninjured soldiers were able to aid and escort the ailed to a place further away from the Black Gates of Morannon. It would not be safe to remain too close, although there was to be little safety anywhere around Mordor. The smoke was ever thickening, yet the three hunters were able to see that few of the enemy remained alive. Those who had died in the battle seemed to be almost disintegrating into the dust that circled the sky, and those who had fallen since the blackness were fast gaining an odd grey pallor. Yet there were still some ready to fight, and Legolas recognised these as Southrons, and the remainders of the Uruk Hai that Saruman had brought into being. They survived independent of the power of Sauron and so could face his destruction unscathed.

The call of the Eagles could once again be heard, and the three hunters set themselves on the task of getting the soldiers out alive. Many now had been accounted for, but there were some still who had not been seen. Pippin was one of these, as he lay, crushed: blocked from view by the great mass of the troll.

Gimli toiled for what seemed like hours trying to find the halfling. After all, they had been through a lot together and, loath as he was to admit it, he held a great affection and admiration for the youngest of his companions. It would not bode well to discover his death, and it would surely break Meriadoc's heart to hear of it when they carried the small body back to the White City. The dwarf rubbed his eyes to clear the smoke and continued on his search.

Legolas also searched long for the halfling, sensing that he lay alive, but injured, yet struggling to discover him as thickening smoke affects Elven eyes as much as it affects those of a man or a dwarf. Or a hobbit, he thought sadly.

A harsh cry suddenly rang out behind Legolas, and he turned to the source of it, eager to see its owner. But faster than even his senses could react, an arrow was nocked and flying towards him. Unable to move quickly enough, it grazed the skin on his forearm and the elf cried out in the only too familiar sensation of pain.

Gimli was instantly alerted to his friend's plight, and he ambled over the bodies, looking much like a dog in a field full of coney holes, in order to reach Legolas, who grasped his injured arm tightly. The man who had made the shot died instantaneously at the dwarf's axe.

"Master Legolas," Gimli shouted as he surveyed the area where the man lay for more signs of life, "Quick."

Legolas walked as lightly as if on snow across to where Gimli stood. He looked where his friend was pointing.

A single large and dirty foot stuck out from underneath the body of a troll that was easily the size of an ancient tree.

Legolas bowed his head in respect. It seemed they had found their hobbit.

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

"Aragorn..... Lord Aragorn.... I think he's waking once again...."

The soft voice of Éomer registered in Pippin's sleepy mind, and he slowly inched the woollen blankets that covered him up over his head to block out the sound. He was enjoying his rest, and waking again would just remind him that his thoughts of the Shire had been only dreams, and not the reality he had hoped. Although, thought Pippin, the smell of mushrooms still remained, lingering about where he lay. Perhaps he had not been dreaming.

Pippin gently cracked open his eyes and, removing the cover from his face, looked up at his surroundings. An olive green canvas ceiling faced him. Strange, he didn't remember this in the Great Smials. Still..... he had been away for the best part of a year; much could have changed.

Pippin sighed, taking in the smell with his deep breath and then gasping in pain as he exhaled. His ribs felt as though a tree had fallen through the roof and onto him. Yet there were no trees near enough to his room in the Great Smials for this to have happened. Pippin groaned as the realisation that he was not at home hit him, and then promptly shrieked with agony at the disturbance of his bruised body.

"Pippin.... Pippin, calm down, you have to stay still....."

The hobbit squirmed under the cold touch of the man's large hands, yet he felt them relieve some of the fire in his chest. What had he done that could possibly have hurt him this much? Pippin closed is eyes once again and tried to remember..... The pained separation from Merry.... The long march from Minas Tirith..... His injury sustained at the hands of an orc.... The Nazgul..... The Mouth of Sauron..... The troll.....

Ah, thought Pippin. That was it - he had had a bad encounter with a troll. He remembered now; the crushing fire as the troll stumbled and fell, shot down by an arrow true to its mark; the darkness that had hit him; the dreams.....

Pippin opened his eyes wide in alarm. Frodo and Sam were dead: his dream had told him so. The quest had failed.

Then why was he lying in comfort and peace?

Pippin turned his head and focused his eyes on the kindly face of Éomer.

"I, I saw him... Frodo.... and Sam was with him.... at the end of all things....." How could he possibly explain what he had seen so that he would be understood? He was not exactly known for his foresight.

Éomer smiled, soothingly. "Frodo and Sam are safe now, Peregrin...."

"They succeeded? The Ring has been destroyed?"

"Yes, Pippin... they are resting now, recuperating from the great hurts they have received. You will see them in a few days."

"Then it was wrong," frowned Pippin, "It showed me them on the side of the crumbling column of fire, too exhausted to proceed. It showed me the world collapsing...." Pippin trailed off into nothingness.

"What did?"

"The dream I had."

"I think that what you saw was indeed true, but you did not see it in the right way. You saw Frodo and Sam after they had destroyed the Ring, before they were saved by the Eagles."

An understanding filled his mind and he sighed, glad now that he had ignored his instinct, and brought himself out of the darkness. Now he had other questions that needed answering.

"H-how long?"

"Since you were injured?" asked Éomer.

Pippin nodded. It was an important thing to know, after all.

"A week now. You are lucky to be alive, and you have master Gimli to thank for your life."

An utterance came from a corner of the spacious tent.

"What was that, master dwarf?"

"I would recognise a pair of hobbit feet a mile off, whether they are under a troll the size of a small mountain or not. Although I feared you were dead. Let me tell you, I was never so overjoyed as when you kicked me in the face as I tried to remove you from under that great monstrosity."

Pippin smiled with joy as he noticed the scene under the canvas roof for the first time. It seemed that he was in a tent reserved specifically, but not exclusively, for the ailing or injured, as Beregond lay sleeping in the makeshift cot next to him. Across the room sat Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf, watchful of their smallest companion and waiting patiently until his awakening. They were all alive then.

Pippin sighed, ignoring the pain it caused him. It would seem that everything had worked out for the best after all.

He had only to wait for Merry's arrival, which he had been assured would come soon.

Looking once again at the plate of mushrooms that had been placed in front of him, Pippin picked up his fork and ate a meal such as he had not eaten since happier times.

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

 A/N - Coming next chapter.... Pippin and Merry are reunited and there are hobbit cuddles all round!

To my absolutely wonderful reviewers:

Please continue to read and review - pressing that little button and writing a few words makes on little girl very happy indeed :)

Rachel xxx