Renewal

The sky was dark over Isengard. The hobbits sat near the gate, watching Treebeard idly tear down more of the walls. At last Merry turned to Pippin.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “And Treebeard may not be tired yet but I am. Let’s go find somewhere safe to sleep, away from this gate and the tunnel.”

Pippin nodded but made no attempt to move. “Merry,” he began. “Where do you think the others are right now? I was so certain we would see Strider and Legolas and Gimli by now. You don’t think anything happened to them, do you? Like Boromir, and Gandalf,” he added quietly.

Merry frowned and slipped an arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we’ll see them again someday, perhaps sooner than we think.”

“Frodo and Sam, too,” Pippin said, nodding firmly. “We would know it somehow, if something happened to our friends.” He smiled wistfully. “I just wish we could see everyone again.”

Hooves clattered loudly on the road, and the hobbits glanced up in time to see a rider clad in white approach.