Rating: G

Summary: Pippin endures the worst kind of torture – standing guard during a Council meeting in Gondor.

Written for the Tolkien Tango Prompt #36: Notion. And for Golden who issued the challenge: "What does a guard on duty do?"

"When You Gotta Go…."

By Nieriel Raina

Lake Evendim

Year 15, Fourth Age

Sticklebacks! Pippin fretted. This sort of thing would never happen in the Shire! He rocked back on his heels, caught himself and drew himself back to complete attention. Why did guards need to stand so straight anyway? He gritted his teeth, and kept his eyes straight forward, but within him, the battle had begun.

Whenever he visited Gondor, he was called to duty as Guard of the Citadel, and this visit was no different. Always proud to serve, he was, even if it meant standing guard during important meetings between the king and his council.

Except for today. Right here, right now, he could care less about formality or duty. Only honor held him in place. Well, to be truthful, his sense of dignity held him rooted to the stone floor. Leaving was out of the question. Guards did not abandon their posts!

He squirmed. He tried not to, but could no longer hold still. Biting his lip, Pippin tightened his fingers into tight fists, forcing himself to endure the worst sort of torture imaginable. It was worse than listening to the old Gaffers discussing lineage! His eyes began to water. If these diplomats did not hurry with their business...

He fought the urge to huff. They debated trivialities! He could tell them what was truly important – guards' schedules, that's what! Not these silly notions about treaties with Harad – HARAD! Those barbarians would never be peaceful! – or trade routes to someplace called Edhellond. Where was that? And how could they sit for so long without stepping out?

Oh why had he drunk a whole pot of tea before coming on duty? Granted, the biscuits served for breakfast had been dry, but the whole pot? And then he had been rushed and forgotten to visit the privy. Now he suffered, needing desperately to relieve himself when he very simply, could not.

Sighing, he shifted his weight on his feet, trying to remain inconspicuous in his slight movements. Across the room from him, Faramir poured a glass of water from a pitcher set on a tray for that purpose. Pippin nearly groaned. He pressed his knees as closely together as he could manage without being obvious. Not very practical, these Men of Gondor and their long meetings.

The last time he had needed to go so desperately had been when he and Merry had been taken captive by the Uruk-hai and carried across Rohan with few stops. And if this meeting did not end soon, he'd be standing in a puddle!

Pippin strengthened his resolve. He would not endure that humiliation again!

Another lord poured some water into a glass; the sound of it trickling causing Pippin to bite his lip…hard. How could they sit and drink and drink and not have to go!? Standing rigid, his eyes straight ahead, he was so intent on holding it that he almost failed to hear Strider call to him.

"Peregrin Took?"

Pippin's head snapped to the king. Strider smiled at him kindly. "I have just remembered I forgot a document on my desk. Retrieve it for me, if you please. The one right on top."

Pippin inclined his head as relief filled him. Finally! Just the excuse to leave the room he needed. He spun on his heel, grateful for the reprieve. Thankfully, the nearest privy lay on the route to Strider's office.

He took exactly five steps, his eyes widened, and then he ran.

Ten minutes later, he returned, empty handed to find the session had just dismissed. He approached Strider. Oh, but how he dreaded facing him! He glanced around at the lords, but none seemed to take note of his failure. Yet he felt it just the same. If he had not drank that tea, he would not have needed to stop by the privy, and he could have returned in time to let Strider know there were no documents at all on his desk!

With a heavy heart, he faced the king. Funny how he'd never really noticed how formidable Strider looked in those fancy robes of his. He swallowed heavily and bowed low.

"I-I…" he fidgeted, casting his eyes on his toes. "I'm sorry I took so long, but there was no paper there. I looked everywhere, even under the desk. I would have looked in the drawers, but you said it would be on top and it wasn’t on top. Nothing on top but an inkwell and a quill. Well, and that lacey doodad thing your lady wife makes you put under your drinks…"

A hand grasped his shoulder, and his eyes snapped up to meet laughing blue-grey eyes.  Strider leaned close and whispered, "There was no paper."

Pippin frowned. "But…"

Strider winked. "You looked rather pale there. Are you feeling better now?"

Warmth rushed to Pippin's face. "I-I…well, now that you mention it, yes, but…"

Strider grinned at him. "Do not worry, Master Took. I did not need the parchment. I just thought to give you reason to see to your needs. I have been in that position myself all too many times. These lords of Gondor talk way too much."

To that, Pippin wholeheartedly agreed.