Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Pippin

The Guard of the Citadel paused at the embrasure where he had supped the eve before and gazed in trepidation at the dark cloud hanging over the city. It seemed to him for a moment like the very fist of Sauron itself, readying to smite the city beneath with one swift blow.

His hand dropped unconsciously to the black sheath which housed his gleaming sword.

Battle was imminent, and he must be prepared to fight.

Or die.

Pippin swallowed. The time was fast approaching to prove he was more than a Fool of a Took.

And prove it he would.

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