Revelations, Celebrations and Visions

in Rivendell

Frodo strolled in the fading light amongst the trees and plants in one of the many gardens of Rivendell. They had arrived late that morning to a good deal of pomp and ceremony that the hobbits could really have done without, especially he and Sam. Frodo’s main comfort lay in the fact that the bulk of the celebrating was to happen on the morrow, 22 Halimath, or September as it was outside the Shire. Frodo sighed as he smiled. He and the others had returned in time to celebrate his and Bilbo’s birthday which was to be a grand occasion indeed. Bilbo would be one-hundred-twenty-nine years old and Frodo himself . . . he chuckled a bit . . . yes he would be fifty-one. How odd it seemed that only one year had passed while everything had so drastically changed. He shivered. For a moment, just the slightest bit of time, he wanted to touch the Ring, then it was gone and he didn’t even remember having the thought.

Frodo walked further until, down below him, after a couple of zigs and zags of the path, he saw a figure standing in the middle of a small bridge gazing down into the clear water of a bubbling stream. He decided to go talk to Merry.

"Where’s Pippin?"

Merry jumped at the unexpected voice while Frodo quickly grabbed his left arm to save him a tumble into the cold water a few feet below the bridge.

"Make some noise, would you? You nearly sent me for a swim, Frodo."

"At least you know how, cheeky Brandybuck!" Frodo chided his cousin as Merry straightened out his shirt sleeve and tunic. "And we hobbits are supposed to have rather good hearing so I had no idea I would startle you."

"I do have rather good hearing, thank you very much Mr. Baggins, but I was deep in thought."

"Well, I could say that’s a surprise but I’m talking to you, not Pippin. Which amazingly enough brings me back to my original question. Where is our young cousin?"

Merry nodded toward a bench a short way back up the path, he and Frodo headed for it as Merry answered. "Said he was feeling ‘peckish’. Not that I’ve known that to be a common complaint of his but I didn’t press the point. I’m assuming it means he has gone to his bed as our dear eldest cousin, Bilbo, has."

They sat down on the bench. For a while neither spoke. They listened to the song of the stream and the chatter of some birds. They each thought their own thoughts.

"He went quite pale when we came across Saruman," Frodo said without looking at Merry. "In spite of Pippin’s indignant words, which as I recall, were not said to the old wizard himself, he seemed quite shaken by it all." Frodo looked to his right and studied his cousin’s profile for a few minutes. "I’ve been keeping an eye on him since then and he doesn’t quite seem himself. Oh, on the surface Pip is his usual chipper sunny self, but I would swear that something is troubling the lad." Merry said nothing, only stared at the ground between his dangling feet. "Merry?" Frodo waited. "Am I right?"

"He doesn’t want to trouble you," Merry finally said, speaking softly. "It’s nothing really. He’s just tired. Keeps having nightmares and such so he isn’t getting much rest at night. You . . ." Merry finally looked at Frodo, who now noticed that Merry didn’t look all that well rested either. "You have been in good spirits, for the most part, Frodo. We didn’t want to pull you down by telling you about something that would worry you, especially seeing as there isn’t a thing you can do about it except worry. Don’t say anything. Don’t let on that I’ve told you, it will just upset him, make things worse."

"But, it’s all . . ."

"Frodo Baggins, if you say it’s all your fault, I’ll thrash you good. And you know I can do it."

"But . . ."

"No. We made our own choices, Frodo. Fatty stayed behind because he chose to. Pippin went because he chose to. He insisted. Like when we were here at the start of the Fellowship, he wasn’t going to be left behind and I figured best he come along openly than his trailing us the whole way." Merry looked off into the distance across the valley. "We all . . . we all got hurt, Frodo. We all were hurt and did some hurting to others. We all saw horrors and terrors worse than any fireside stories of our childhood." He looked at Frodo while laying a firm hand to his shoulder. "We neither of us regret it, Frodo. He and I have talked about it, talked about it a lot, we don’t regret that we went with you. We don’t regret the things we did after we were parted from Sam and you." Merry took hold of Frodo’s other shoulder and gazed steadily into his elder cousin’s wide blue eyes. "I’m to be Master of Buckland some day and Pip’s to be The Took and Thain of the Shire, for goodness sake. Do you think we were ready for that before all of this? I could no more imagine myself able to be in charge of so much than I could imagine riding into a battle. And Pippin! He used to turn pale and tremble at any little mention of him becoming Thain, and not just because it would mean his father had passed on. We know we can do it now. We know we can do what we were born to, because of the Quest. So don’t try to take false blame, Frodo."

Frodo brought his hands up to grasp Merry’s arms. He smiled at his familiar, yet new, cousin. "I’ll do my best. I make you no promises as it still hurts me that you have all taken such hurts. But I won’t forget this talk, Merry." He looked over to where the sun was soon to drop behind the mountains. "We’d best head back before it gets too dark to see the path." Frodo looked once more into Merry’s eyes. "I won’t forget." The two old friends and cousins stood, embraced, then headed up the path to the Last Homely House.

The next day was one of high festivity. The Lord Elrond was in a jovial mood the likes of which the hobbits had never seen. The whole day, whether Bilbo was awake or not, was given over to music, food, story telling, food, games and more food. The Last Homely House rang with laughter and song.

Only the high folk seemed unaware of any troubles the youngest of the Little Folk was having. He suddenly faded off in the middle of some of the songs he sang. Though quickly recovering his smile and excusing himself by reason of a poor memory or too much fine food and wine, but the other hobbits knew something wasn’t quite right with Pippin.

The closer they had come to Rivendell, the worse the dreams and daydreams became. Though much of the time he felt fine, other times it became difficult and tedious to maintain his facade of being "the cheerful, silly hobbit". He was tired, he was frustrated, he was scared. Too many thoughts circled in his head. Too many glimpses of far away things. The closer they came to Rivendell, the closer to the Shire, the worse things became. And now he was having trouble enjoying the day long party. He couldn’t keep his mind on things. Something was wrong. No. Many things were wrong. Finally, in a well-done charade of being drunk, Peregrin Took staggered off to the room he shared with his cousins and Sam. He changed into his nightshirt, carefully folding his livery, placing it on a shelf in his wardrobe then gently closing the door. He padded softly over to his bed, burrowing under the blankets till not even his curls could be seen.

The sky grew dark. Stars shown fiercely in the endless reaches of blackness, though the hour was early. There was no comfortable possition. There were no cheerful thoughts he could stay focused upon. It was as though he could hear the whole of the Shire and Buckland weeping. He could not get warm, his bones began to ache.

Pippin sat up. Without thought, he picked up one of the small pillows on the bed and clutched it to himself. He swung his legs out from under the covers, put his feet to the stone floor and walked out of the bedroom.

He walked away from the sounds of people. He came to a balcony. The stars seemed to be falling on him. They weren’t stars.

They were sparks.

The celebration had drawn to a pleasant end. The rather tipsy hobbits helped each other, as best they could, to their sleeping quarters. Sam barely made it to his bed and flopped upon it, fully clothed, snoring softly within moments. Frodo and Merry, with a goodly amount of boyish shoving and jesting, stripped off then put on their night shirts. Merry mumbled good night and fumbled into his bed, covering his head with his blankets. Frodo began to doze off when something nudged his mind. He tried to go to sleep anyway, but something was wrong. Finally, he raised his head and squinted through the dim light in the room.

At first he thought it a trick of the poor lighting. Then just his imagination. Then he was wide awake.

"Pippin!"

Frodo had run over to what was now obviously, to his wide-awake brain, an empty bed. Merry had sat straight up, Sam had jerked awake and fallen out of bed.

"Where’s Pippin?" Frodo loudly asked no one in particular. Merry was next to him, throwing the bedclothes to the floor then lying on them to look under the bed. Merry turned wide terrified eyes to Frodo and Sam.

"He’s not here! We have to find him." Merry was already up, heading for the door.

"Merry! Wait!" He paused to let the others join him.

"We don’t know this house that well in the dark, for all us bein’ here for a month or so. I’ve forgot quite a bit of the lay of it, that bein’ a whole year ago." Sam took Merry by the arm and started to steer him out the door and to the left down the corridor. "We’ll wake the Lord Elrond and old Gandalf first, Mr. Merry," he said, reverting for the moment to the old formality. "They’ll get the household up and they’ll know a good sight better how to search." Merry nodded mutely as he was led by Sam. Frodo followed behind.

Lanterns in hand Elves, the young hobbits, and Gandalf began to search the large sprawling house. It was Sam and Elladan who found Pippin, still on the balcony of what had been Arwen’s chambers. He was on his side on the stone floor, still clutching the pillow while muttering. Sam made to run to the lad but the Elf held him back.

"Hold, Samwise. Go slowly. Something is strange here, I feel it." Slowly Elladan moved toward the small body on the floor. "Come with me, Sam. Hold the lantern and make no move to touch him."

They circled around until they were in front of Pippin. Elladan went down on his knees motioning as he did so for Sam to move closer with the light. Pippin’s eyes were open. The Elf sat quietly a few moments before whispering, "Get my father. Get Gandalf. Go quickly. Do not yell for them until you are out of this room and into the corridor." Sam turned and ran. In a few moments, Elladan could hear his yells for help.

When Sam returned to the balcony with Gandalf, Lord Elrond was already there, next to his son, kneeling beside Pippin. Gandalf held Merry back when he finally arrived, Frodo came to stand silently beside Sam. Elrond gave heed to no one but Pippin.

" ‘S alright. Alright. I’m here. ‘Tis alright," the youngest hobbit whispered over and over as he rocked back and forth. There was a strange depth to his eyes which was occasionally hidden behind a slow, long blink. Elrond reached out and tugged at the pillow, as though to remove it from Pippin’s grasp.

"No!" The exclamation was emphatic though only slightly louder than Pippin’s previous muttering. Quicker than most could see Pippin tightened his hold and curled himself around the pillow. "Won’t leave. Don’t fear. I won’t . . . leave. You’re alright. ‘Tis alright. Alright." He returned to his cadence and his rocking, while gently caressing the pillow as one might when soothing a hurting friend.

Elrond looked to the wizard. "Gandalf, you will take the other hobbits to their quarters, please."

"No!" Merry burst out as he struggled to get free of Gandalf’s hold on him. "No, I won’t leave him like this. I . . . He . . . I know how to comfort him. He needs me."

With a glance between them Frodo and Sam moved one to each side of the distraught Brandybuck, taking him into a strong, loving hug.

"Come along, Merry. We know we can trust them. Remember, Elrond saved me before, he can help Pip better than we can this time." Frodo leaned in closer to his cousin’s ear and whispered, "This may have to do with the nightmares you told me about. I think we need to do as Lord Elrond wishes."

Merry eventually nodded his head in agreement and the hobbits, along with Gandalf and the Elves, left the room. Merry kept looking back at his dear cousin until they turned the corner into the corridor and Pippin was gone from his sight.

Elladan spoke softly to his father. "He is seeing things afar. I fear I have been too charmed by his usual hobbitish good nature, both at the time they were here at the start of things as well as now, I had not noticed the signs before. This one has the blood of the fey folk in him."

"Yes." Elrond lay a hand upon the hobbit’s head. Pippin shivered then continued his rocking chant. "We may move him now. Turn back the bedclothes on the bed in here, and pile together the pillows as I want him partially sitting up. I wish to keep him separate from the others until this time has passed, for I wish to speak with him alone."

Elladan did as his father bid him while Elrond lifted Pippin from the floor and bore him to the bed. Nearly an hour later, the young hobbit’s whispered words changed.

"Yes. Yes, Aunt Esme. You can do this. Both can . . . do it. I’m here. Won’t leave. Together. Strong enough all together. You can make it." This continued for half of another hour, the strain of exertion showing on Pippin’s face. Then, "Safe now. Be cared for. Safe now." The lad’s eyes closed and remained so, his body relaxed into the soft pillows, he slept at last. Elrond again laid a hand to Pippin’s head. Pippin drew a long, slow, deep breath then relaxed even more.

"You have endured enough for this night, small Knight of the High King. You have earned restorative sleep with pleasant dreams." Elrond removed his hand and sat back in the chair to begin his vigil until Pippin awoke on his own.