Chapter 3

The candlelight danced and flickered across the pallid hue of the walls, making the shadows seem almost comforting. Well, that was something out of the ordinary; or leastways out of the ordinary during such a time as this. These were soft and enveloping. However, shadows of a different sort plagued the edge of his mind: threatening, tormenting, and unable to be dispelled. A stifling and choking mass of darkness that seemed relentless in it’s iron grip on his mind. But shadows they were, consuming yet fragile, and even the lone candle seemed to engulf the darkness for the time being.

Pippin never quite grasped the concept of aloneness until now, it seemed. His whole life he had been surrounded by flighty sisters, over-endearing aunts and uncles, and of course his dear cousins. His heart ached just to see Frodo again, and even though his separation from Merry had happened not a week ago he missed him as though he hadn’t seen him in years. Aunt Esmie had always said him and his cousin were like food and drink; one did not feel quite right without the other. Now the weight of the reality of separation slammed heavily down upon him.

He shifted in his cot, trying to quell a rumble in his stomach that threatened to make itself heard. If loneliness was the worst feeling in the world, then hunger was a very close second. He was very thankful for the meager rations that the people of the city shared with him, but it was frightfully more scant than what he was used to, even through this whole journey. He knew he shouldn’t complain, but just thinking about a regular, no where near elaborate tea time sounded like a feast. Perhaps it was best to move on to another subject to think upon, or at least go to sleep. Gandalf would not be pleased if he heard Pippin still awake. Tomorrow would promise to be another long day, and he needed all the rest he could get.

Speaking of Gandalf, where was he? Near dusk he had left Pippin to his own devices, telling him that he had important matters to take care of and that he would be back shortly. "Shortly" turned into an hour, an hour to five, and Pippin finally decided to turn in, mostly because of a lack of anything better to do. Leaving his abode was something he dared not do; somehow in the back of his mind was a warning that said he’d be properly chastised if he left without the wizard’s consent. So he had gazed out of the windows that looked down upon the city (purposely avoiding the third, in which Mordor could be seen more clearly), watching the few people who were still about. He had fidgeted and felt anxious for reasons which he could not quite put his finger on. It was so quiet.

Fearing that he would wear a rut into the ground with his pacing, Pippin tried to settle himself by climbing into bed and attempting to sleep. Well, "bed" was a bit of a stretch; the cot was remarkably uncomfortable. All sheets and blankets were being used elsewhere for those in need, and since he was not necessarily in need, his cloak had sufficed. Perhaps the cot was uncomfortable because of his restlessness. Oh, if only Gandalf would come back!

Slowly but inevitably, time passed. The candles burned lower, and the shadows continued to dance across the walls, slightly soothing his troubled mind. His stomach, however, protested the silence by rumbling loudly in annoyance at the lack of food.

"Peregrin Took, if you do not quiet that stomach of yours, it will soon be the bane of your existence," muttered a stern voice. However when Gandalf came around the corner a smile played on the corners of his lips. "A wizard cannot concentrate with such a ruckus going on."

Pippin thought he must have nearly jumped to the ceiling when he heard Gandalf’s voice. Gathing his wits about him again, he sputtered, "Gandalf!" Unconsciously, he reached out for the wizard to take a seat next to him. Gandalf’s brows knit in concern.

"Is there something troubling you, my lad?" he asked as he took a seat next to the hobbit. Pippin did not readily answer him but fidgeted with the edge of his cloak.

"Peregrin?" Gandalf prompted.

"No. Well… at least nothing worth getting concerned over," Pippin said slowly. "It’s just… it’s dark. And so very quiet. And when I’m alone I can’t help but think…." He took a slow, deep breath. "That voice. It’s there, in the darkness, in the stillness. I didn’t know it could ever get so dark and so cold." His voice steadily dropped until it reached a whisper. Looking down, Gandalf saw that Pippin’s hand was clenched tight to his cloak, and his gaze seemed far and distant, eyes open but unseeing. It grieved Gandalf to see him in such a state, but such was the consequence of the young Took’s voracious curiosity. A stinging reminder that would not soon disappear.

"Oh, my dear Pippin," murmured Gandalf, gently laying a hand on the Pippin’s tense clenched fingers. "They are naught but whispers through the night and shadows that lurk when gloom is near. He is gone, and though remnants of shadow may remain for a time, I deem you will think twice before attempting such a foolish thing again."

Pippin’s head drooped and shoulders sagged in guilt. He felt slightly bad for himself, but much worse when he considered the full weight of his consequences. However he could think of nothing worse than if something had happened to Gandalf again. It was his foolishness and curiosity that had led to the incident at the bridge in Moria (so he brought upon himself) and here now again was almost the same matter. Had he learnt nothing?

"I didn’t mean to," he whispered. "Merry always said--" he choked a little but forced himself to go on. "Merry always said I say that every time I do something wrong, but I truly do mean it. Gandalf," Pippin looked up, his bottom lip quivering slightly. "I truly do." An overwhelming guilt took hold and he started to weep, for he felt he could do nothing else.

Gandalf put a comforting arm over Pippin and pulled him close, choosing to stay silent for the time being. He reckoned Pippin had never said anything more earnest, nor more pitiful.

Slowly the tears ebbed to hiccuping sobs, but Pippin felt no better than when he began. Merry was still not here, and Frodo and Sam were somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, carrying the sole purpose for all their anguish. And here he could do nothing but weep for what he could do nothing about. He felt like a nuisance and most utterly useless.

"You should get some rest," Gandalf said softly. Pippin sighed and frowned.

"I… I don’t think I can. At least, not yet, anyway." He knew Gandalf didn’t approve but the wizard said nothing. Pippin rubbed his sleeve over his eyes.

"What were you doing?" he asked, hoping he could find some distraction for the time being.

"Nothing that would interest you for long, I’m sure," Gandalf said,  standing. "There are many plans that still need to be drawn up." Pippin followed Gandalf into the next room and saw several maps, a quill, and some pieces of parchment scattered on the table. Pippin climbed up on a chair.

"The day is drawing nearer," Gandalf murmured. "We must be as prepared as we can be. I had hoped Faramir would be here by now. He will be needed."

"Is Faramir bringing many soldiers?" Pippin asked.

"Doubtful," Gandalf replied. "The news from Osgiliath is not necessarily the best. When Faramir returns what is left of his army will not have the strength to fight again so soon. But—" he sighed. "We must try." Pippin nodded absently. His eyes roamed to the crinkled maps, yellowed with age and worn with use. He put his finger lightly on a small drawing of city with the name "Gondor" beneath it in the loveliest of calligraphy. From there he traced his finger up the Cair Andros, into which the Entwash flowed, and then to Fangorn. From there his finger went to Emyn Muil, and then up the Anduin to Lórien. Moria. Rivendell. Weathertop. Bree. And then the finger abruptly stopped at the Shire. He said nothing for quite some time.

"It’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it," he said softly. "For everyone and everything there."

"It is indeed," replied Gandalf. "And I have never seen such a greater cause." This earned a tiny smile from Pippin.

"You are the only wizard I know that would put care into such a place. No one here really knows about the Shire," he said.

"I daresay that is because I am the only wizard you know, Peregrin. And I doubt rumors of the land of the Halflings will stay rumors for much longer. Too much is still yet to be done." Pippin took one last look at the map before Gandalf rolled the parchment up. "I have one last errand that must be completed before the night is out," he continued. "You, however, have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and I highly suggest you get some rest. I shall be back soon." And with that, he left, leaving Pippin feeling slightly alone yet again. As he climbed into his cot his stomach gave one last rumble, reminding him of his hunger. Whatever tomorrow brought, he thought with a sigh, he hoped there would be a decent breakfast to begin it.