Plus: thought Pippin, as he blurted the “Don’t you dare ask me what I’m doing” password to the guards.  There are far more places to hide in the Citadel.

Minus: he added after making a hard right.  There aren’t many ways out.  Skidding to a halt, he asked another one of the guards—he recognized this one from Beregond’s company—if he had seen Meriadoc lately.  “Sir Meriadoc is in the Council Room with the Lord Faramir.”

Pippin bowed his thanks before dashing off in the direction he thought the Council Room was in—he would not waste time by thinking, and he could always double back later.  He thought—he thought—the Council Room was to the right of the throne room, which meant that if he could pass through one of the side hallways usually meant for servants—or pages, he thought with a wry smile—he might be able to find them.  Finding a door to his left that looked discreet enough, he opened it and slipped inside.

Drat—broom closet!

A few more steps brought him to another door, though, and this one proved more fruitful.  He followed it down a narrow hallway until he came to another door—and from this one he could hear Faramir and Merry talking.  They were talking about—inns?  Carefully he opened the door and stepped in.

“Merry!” he said.  “You’re just the fellow I’m looking for.”

“Still on the run, Peregrin?” Faramir said coolly.

“What?” said Pippin.  “No!  Strider already caught me and now I want to talk to Merry.”  He gave Merry what was supposed to be a disarming smile.

“What is it?”  Merry did not look particularly disarmed.

“Sam’s concerned that Cousin Frodo is over-working himself,” he said.  “He wanted one of us to check in on him, only I’m expected to help with the feast tonight.”

“When?” said Merry.  “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Not right now,” said Pippin, “but soon.  I’ll see you soon, I’m sure!” and he darted out and into the throne room.