Leaving Minas Tirith

Pippin sat there on the wall of the fountain. If it weren’t for the fact the parcel was gone, he might have thought it all a dream, though in an altogether different part of his mind he knew better. He startled, nearly falling into the fountain, when a heavy hand suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Whoa Pippin! Steady on! I didn’t mean to make you jump that badly.”

Merry sounded genuinely concerned as his other hand grabbed hold of Pippin’s flailing left arm to steady him.

“Merry!” Pippin panted. “What are you doing here?” He noticed his cousin’s face was flushed and he also seemed out of breath.

“I have been running about trying to find you, Pippin.” Merry’s eyes took on a stern parental glare. “Where have you been? Were you trying to give us all heart failure? You know you shouldn’t just run off on your own.”

Pippin glared back, shook free of his cousin’s grasp then began straightening out his tunic. “I did not just run off on my own,” he snarled.

Pippin closed his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up to face Merry. He continued in a calm but cold tone.

“I left a note. A large note, so it wouldn’t be overlooked, right in the middle of the kitchen table. And I am not alone.” He glanced and nodded down at the large dog sitting beside his legs. “Sunshine is with me and I dare say she keeps a good watch on me. I had to find Mallefinnros before I left.”

Pippin’s head drooped as reached over to rub Sunshine’s head. “I’m not a wee lad that needs to be watched over, even with the bloody falling sickness.”

Merry’s anger drained out of him leaving him feeling limp and rather foolish. He put his arm around Pippin’s shoulder, patting him as he did so.

“It really isn’t anything new is it; my chasing after you like some frightened mother hen? I did it long before your injuries. Old habits die hard, little cousin, and I’m certain I’ll be clucking about after you when we both are grey, wrinkled like raisins and have 20 grandchildren each.”

A long moment passed before Pippin raised his head to grin at his older cousin.

“Worry wart!” he said then clucked a few times.

“Rascal!” Merry retorted, shaking a finger in Pippin’s face. “Off we go. Mallefinnros isn’t the only person needing a proper goodbye.” Merry stopped short. He looked at Pippin, concern showing on his features. “Did you find her Pip? We can continue looking if you haven’t.”

Pippin waved his concern aside. “All taken care of, Merry. She found me. I’m ready to head back to the house.”

Arms about each others shoulders, they headed off toward the house. Merry noticed Pippin was limping slightly but decided not to mention it, he knew the lad would say something if it troubled him badly enough. Pippin said nothing about having a bad spell whilst asking after Mallefinnros at all the orphanages, but that was only because he didn’t know about it. If Sunshine were able to speak Merry would have known, however, Sunshine had made sure her dear master was not in any danger and she was good at keeping a confidence.

“Are you all packed, Pip?” Merry inquired.

Pippin sighed, rolling his eyes. He clucked again.

"Well . . . what? Are you?"

Pippin blushed. "Um . . . well . . . no. Not really."

Merry sighed.

"What?" Pippin asked grinning. “Old habits die hard. Didn’t you just say that Merry?"

Merry stared at Pippin for half a moment, and then they both started to laugh as they continued on their way.

Those residents of the White City who had come to know the Companions of the Ring personally were gathered in the garden to bid them a more private farewell. Ioreth clucked and fussed over the pheriannath like a mother hen, causing Merry and Pippin to have a fit of stifled giggles. The lasses who had kept house, the stable hands that had tended their horses and ponies, a few members of the royal household’s staff all were there, looking uncomfortable with being fussed over by the Companions.

Pippin hugged Bergil long and hard before letting him go.

“I do wish you were coming along with us to Rohan,” he said as he sniffed and dabbed at his eyes.

“I’m needed here, Pippin,” the lad said glancing over at Parsow. “Parsow has come to be quite lost without me to fetch things for him.”

Parsow turned his head at the mention of his name. He excused himself from his conversation with Lord Elrond to join his patient and his apprentice.

“What is this about my being lost?”

“Nothing of importance,” Pippin hastily said whilst grinning mischievously, but the grin quickly faded. “More to the point is that you and Bergil here aren’t coming along.”

Parsow bit at the inside of his lower lip. It had been a difficult decision to remain behind. But a final farewell would have been the outcome of either choice, and they did have other patients who needed them.

“There are those in the Houses in need of our care, Pippin. I am certain you really would not want us to leave them when you will have the best healers in Middle-earth in the entourage. And whether it is to be goodbye now or at the edge of the Horse lord’s country makes little difference. It shall hurt us all either way.”

The small knight’s head was down, but he nodded it slightly. Then he drew himself up, straightening his shoulders as he did so.

“True. I just will miss you both.” Pippin hugged Parsow and the young healer patted his back.

“You are wearing the Dwarf Stones?” Parsow whispered into Pippin’s ear.

“Aye.” He pulled back a little to look at his friend, blushing as he spoke. “Do they really help, Parsow?” he asked softly, though Gimli was not nearby. “I mean, sometimes I’m sure they do but I’ve had some rough times even with them on me.”

Parsow smiled. “I had doubts of my own, Pippin, but Lord Elrond assured me that you would fare much worse without them. He said he could sense the power present in the stones and he can see them gleaming when they rest upon your chest. If he senses such, then I am sure it is true.”

The hobbit smiled and relaxed. “That’s good then. I dearly love Gimli and hoped they were helping as he believed them to be.”

“Lord Elrond said if you cleanse them as you were shown and they will serve you all your days.”

Pippin nodded and the three friends stood a few moments longer in awkward silence.

“Take care of him,” Pippin said to Bergil, tipping his head at Parsow. “He gets busy and forgets to eat or sleep.”

“I will.”

“And Parsow, I’d best hear that you’ve taught Bergil so well that he becomes a full fledged healer even younger than you did.”

The man and boy blushed. “I will make sure of that,” Parsow assured Pippin.

“Farewell then,” Pippin said, his voice cracking as he turned and walked away.

Parsow and Bergil both sighed.

“Do you think we shall see him again, sir?” Bergil quietly asked.

“I’m certain we shall, Bergil. I don’t think he will be able to stay away. He gave a part of his heart to this city, its king and its steward, and I do not think hobbits forget those to whom they have given their hearts. The Ernil i Pheriannath will return.”

Soon the Companions arrived where those who were leaving were gathering for the procession out of the city. Merry mounted the wain which bore King Theoden’s body. He was the King’s esquire; his place was at his fallen lord’s side, keeping watch over his weapons.

The long cavalcade slowly descended along the winding road that led from the Citadel to the main gate of Minas Tirith.

Frodo and Sam rode beside each other, with Frodo riding next to Aragorn upon the King’s left; Queen Arwen rode at her husband’s right. Gimli had been incorrect in his thinking Frodo would never again wear any chain about his neck. Hidden from view and hanging from a silver chain, the gem gifted to him by Arwen rested against the skin of his chest.

Gandalf rode upon Shadowfax, moving here and there amongst the different companies that comprised the lengthy column.

Gimli and Legolas rode double upon Arod. They, like the wizard, would eventually move freely amongst the companies, but for now they rode just behind the King and Queen and the Ringbearers.

Pippin rode with his brethren in arms; the knights of Gondor. He rode on the outside of a row so Sunshine could walk along side his pony more easily.

It happened that Gandalf was riding beside the small knight when, upon the fourth level, they passed the orphanage that over looked the Great Gate. Pippin suddenly stared into the crowd and Gandalf followed his gaze. There at the edge of the throng of onlookers stood Mallefinnros. She was somehow managing to wave both dolls’ arms at the small knight as he rode past. Pippin smiled and waved back then his eyes widened in surprise. It was no surprise to him that Feva and Sister each wore their dress gowns of sable and silver, but he was surprised to see Mallefinnros in a matching gown. She bowed her head to him and he returned the gesture. He would never forget the magical being who had saved his life. Gandalf also regally bowed his head to the dainty child, but he saw something quite different; a tall female, robed and glowing with power and love, bearing the symbols of her calling as he, with his staff, bore his.

Soon the Great Gate was far behind them and the sounds of farewells stilled. Frodo finally voiced a concern to the king.

“Strider?”

“Yes Frodo.”

“Not to second guess your judgement, but, are you sure it is wise to let Pippin ride a pony and to be away from the rest of us?”

Aragorn smiled at Frodo, hoping to ease the worried creases between his friend’s brows. “An understandable concern, dear friend. The pony he rides upon is a calm and gentle mare. We shall be moving at a decorous pace out of respect for King Theoden.”

A quick look of embarrassment came to the hobbit’s face. “True. I had for the moment forgotten this is a funeral procession.”

Aragorn nodded in reply then continued speaking. “Would you have your cousin feel more singled out than is necessary? He is not the only one among the company of knights who has injuries that make riding a risky endeavour. There is another knight who has the falling sickness. Only the fits befall him and not often, so his case is not that like to Pippin’s, yet he rides. Another amongst them now has difficulty with his sense of balance, yet none would think to say he should not ride. Two there are who lost a leg below the knee, yet they ride.”

The Strider leaned down to speak more privately to Frodo. “You could fall from your mount, Frodo, as could I. Gimli rides behind Legolas who rides without a saddle; he could, and has, fallen from Arod’s back. Shall I tell you not to ride? Shall I insist that Gimli ride in a wain or walk?”

The king straightened up, taking a moment to look back at the company of knights. He could barely see Sir Peregrin Took, but see him he did and he smiled.

“Would you wrap the lad in blankets and have him always sit or lie, Frodo? For only so could you protect him from all chance of harm. Truly, not even then as he could fall from his seat and strike his head upon something. His bad spells are like to a sleep walker who somehow comes to no harm. Sunshine has shone herself to be sensitive to when one of Pippin’s fits is nigh upon him, so I think he could dismount, or nearly so, before one of those would o’er take him. That is part of why he rides upon the right outside edge of the column, so he can more easily dismount should he have the need.* All this was dealt with ahead of our leaving and with Pippin’s full involvement. No Frodo, my knight will ride and he will be the stronger of body and spirit for it.”

Frodo smiled up at his friend. “You are right, as you most often are Strider. Honestly, I feel better. The image of Pippin wrapped up tightly in blankets is humorous and terrible and I would not wish such a thing. You’re right. He needs to be free to be whole. You have eased my mind.”

Later, as they broke formation to make camp, Frodo caught sight of Pippin sitting his mount with an easy grace, smiling as he bid his friends farewell for the evening, and again Frodo’s heart was warmed. No. He would not ever take this away from his young cousin.

So the journey proceeded, drawing ever closer to Rohan. On the third night out from Minas Tirith, there was a raucous disturbance not far from the tent the hobbits shared. Merry and Pippin grabbed their swords and ran out to see what was happening and to assist the guards if they were needed. A small band of orcs and renegade men had attacked the camp. The orcs and three of the men were quickly dispatched and the remaining men made captive. In the morning they would be taken back to Minas Tirith under heavily armed guard.

“The men at least should have recognized this as a funeral procession and shown some honour by not attacking.” Merry spat out as he and Pippin walked back to their tent. “They knew better. I hope they are shown little mercy in the White City.”

Pippin stared at Merry trying to gage his expression as best he could in the dark. Merry was furious. For a moment, Pippin was shocked at his cousin’s words, then like a flood he could feel the sorrow Merry was bearing. He had stood guard by the bier in Minas Tirith, he rode the wain beside the fallen king as they moved slowly toward the time and place of Theoden’s burial. Merry had loved the King of Rohan as deeply as he himself loved Faramir. His cousin was in great pain.

Pippin silently chided himself. His own troubles made it all too easy for him to forget the needs of others, even those nearest and dearest to his heart. He made a promise to himself. He would pay closer attention to his kin and friends and comfort them in whatever way he could. There seemed to be many things he could no longer do, or no longer do with ease; this was not one of them. He could still care for others.

“I’m sure they will punish them as their laws allow, Merry, and we know the laws of Men are rather harsh by our standards. I’m sure they will pay a high price for their disrespect.” Pippin draped an affectionate arm about Merry’s shoulders. “But come now. We’re awake and I’m feeling a bit peckish. I’ll make us some tea and we can sit by the fire until we feel drowsy.”

Merry nodded. “Yes. Some tea and some time with you by the fire sounds good just now.” He turned a sad smile to his younger cousin. “It sounds very good indeed.”

The next day, Pippin had another matter he needed to attend to. He excused himself from the company of the Knights of Gondor and sought out Captain Beregond who rode with the White Company, guards to Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien.

“A moment of your time, if I may Captain,” Pippin called out motioning his friend to join him out a small distance from the entourage. When Beregond was beside him he began to speak.

“Were you there last night when the camp was attacked?”

“Yes, I was as was Merry. Why do you ask?”

Pippin sighed. He looked straight ahead between the ears of his pony. “I was there too,” he said quietly. He waited, but when Beregond did not say anything, he continued. “You didn’t see me because I did not press forward. I had trouble getting my sword out of its scabbard. Then, once it was out, I kept feeling as though I would drop it or . . . or cut one of our own men with it.”

There was another long pause.

“Because of your hand.” Beregond said plainly.

“Because of my left hand,” Pippin’s irritation began to creep into his voice. “Because I have not done much with my sword, other than saluting emissaries in the King’s throne room, and even then I often dropped it.” He finally looked at his friend, his embarrassment bringing a flush to his cheeks. “I dropped it, Beregond! And last night I was completely useless. What if one of them had broken through and made his way toward our tent? It appeared to be what they were seeking. I would have been completely useless, Beregond! They might have hurt Frodo. There is no excuse other than my own laziness. There is nothing wrong with my left arm or hand.”

The man nodded. “You are wishing to relearn your swordsmanship.”

Pippin smiled as he sighed. “Yes. That is it exactly. But I wish it done quietly. I don’t want everyone knowing. I was supposed to have been . . .”

Pippin paused. Beregond studied him as the spell took his mind from the here and now. His friend would never again be a competent soldier, for such lapses gave an enemy all the time needed to strike the hobbit down.

“I need to relearn how to handle my sword, Beregond,” Pippin said as he came to himself.

“It would be best I think,” Beregond nodded his head as he spoke. “To do so quietly. I think your cousins and perhaps others would not think it wise.” “As I do not.” Beregond added to himself. He would take on this task. Teaching the lad all he could handle, while trying to get him to see that he should not plan to use his skills unless their was no one else around who was capable. “I will assist you Pippin, but only if you do what I tell you and you listen well to my instructions as well as learning the movements of swordplay.”

“I will,” Pippin replied. “I’ll do my best. You should write things down for me as I have trouble remembering. If it is written down I can learn it more than once and that does help somewhat. But I will do my best to learn all that you teach me.”

They shook hands upon their arrangement then each returned to their place in the procession.

A/N:

*Normally a rider mounts and dismounts on the left side of the horse, called the near side, swinging the right leg up and over the horse’s back. This was necessitated by the (more common) right handed rider wearing his sword on his left hip. Pippin is now more left handed than right handed and wears his sword on his right hip, so he would need to mount and dismount from the right, or off side, of the horse.