Chapter 16: Piplover
'Oi, Pippin, what do you think you’re doing? Get back in - don’t give me that look, you know it doesn’t work on me. Oh, that’s mature…'
Merry’s voice, floated easily to Frodo and Sam’s ears as they paused outside the partially opened door to Pippin’s bedroom. The two hobbits shared a grin at the exasperation in Merry’s voice, knowing it for a good sign.
'Is the patient up for a bit of soup?' Frodo called as he pushed the door open completely, grinning at the sight before him as Sam placed the tray onto the table nearest Pippin’s bed, where the young hobbit was propped up with several pillows, a fierce scowl on his still too pale face. Beside him, Merry stood with arms crossed, a dark bottle in one hand and spoon in the other.
'Oh, Frodo, good! Maybe you can talk some sense into his thick head!' Merry sighed, casting Pippin an annoyed frown. 'Our young lad here refuses to take his medicine!'
Pippin shrank slightly at the glare all three graced him with, though his chin remained stubbornly set.
'It tastes like wet laundry smells!' he complained weakly, pulling his blanket tighter about his chest as he cast a pleading look to Frodo.
'And how would you be knowing what laundry smells like, Master Pippin?' Sam asked, lips twitching as he tried not to smile.
'I’ve been around when you’ve done the washing,' Pippin grumbled, ignoring Merry’s snicker and Frodo’s cough into his hand. 'But that is beside the point. That medicine smells horrible, and I feel much, much better, so I really think -'
'That you should follow your King’s order and take it until the bottle is done,' Frodo interrupted in his best older cousin voice. 'Besides, Sam and I stumbled upon some lovely mushroom soup that is growing cold even as we discuss this. The sooner you take your medicine, the sooner you can have a bowl.'
Pippin’s whole body perked up at the mention of mushrooms, and Sam wafted the scent of the still steaming bowl his way.
'Mushrooms?' Pippin asked, leaning forward slightly even as Merry echoed his move, his arms uncrossing without his notice as he closed his eyes and inhaled the delicate scent.
'Mushrooms. The last in the Kingdom, apparently,' Sam agreed, crossing his arms as he looked sternly at Pippin. 'Now take your medicine so we can all have a taste!'
Obviously torn, it took several moments longer than the others had expected before Pippin finally growled and nodded his head sharply, clearly unhappy. Apparently, Aragorn’s medicine was truly vile.
'That’s what I thought,' Sam murmured, his mouth watering in eager anticipation.
'Now then, Pippin, just open up,' Merry cooed, smirking at his cousin’s scowl.
As Pippin’s mouth closed around the spoon, eyes screwed shut against the taste, a loud crash from the stairs leading up to the chamber startled all the hobbits, only Sam’s quick reflexes saving the soup from where his startled jump had sent it dangerously close to tipping over.
'What is going on out there?' Frodo murmured even as Merry and Sam quickly drew up next to him, Merry’s hand automatically going for a sword he no longer wore.
'Stop him!' a voice shouted from somewhere down the stairs, followed by another loud crash and a scream that sent shivers up the backs of those who heard.
Ignored by his cousins, who were focused on the doorway, Pippin spat the fowl medicine into his chamber pot and threw off his blankets, standing on shaky legs even as he looked about for his sword, which rested on the windowsill clear across the room.
'Get him! Stop him! He must not reach the pheriannath!'
The voices were getting closer, as was the sound of booted steps running and many voices cursing. Unconsciously the hobbits took several steps back, quickly glancing around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Merry’s eyes fell on Pippin, making his slow way to the windowsill, moving determinedly enough that the older knew he would not be stopped.
Just as Merry opened his mouth, either to shout at him or to encourage him even Merry did not know, the door to the chamber burst open, banging against the wall with enough force that it splintered.
'Nooo!'
The man who stood in the doorway was dressed in the garb of a soldier, his sword drawn and dripping blood as he gazed around the room with crazed, red rimmed eyes. As soon as he spotted the table beside Sam he darted forward, sword raised. For a moment all four hobbits stood rooted to the spot, too unnerved to do more than watch the horrible scene unfold before them.
'Forgive me!' the man sobbed as he moved, his steps stumbling as he made his way further into the room.
'My lord Pherian!'
Three Knights crashed into the room, swords drawn, eyes set on the crazed man before them. The white trees emblazoned on their tunics seemed to glow in the dim candlelight, as though a forest moved once more.
'You shall not harm them!' one of the men shouted, lunging forward so he stood between the helpless hobbits and the danger.
'No, I shall not!' the man shouted, swiping his sword across the table even as the three Knights moved at once, running him through with their swords. The bowls of soup crashed to the ground, shattering and leaving grey puddles to pool on the polished wood.
Frothy red bubbled out of the man’s mouth as he slid to the floor, sliding off the swords which had impaled him. A gurgled laugh escaped his lips as he grinned up at the hobbits, staring at him in horror even as they stumbled away from him. Pippin, his legs suddenly weak and aching, carried him over to where the others stood, men and hobbits unable to tear their eyes away from the horrific vision. The man slowly ran his hand through the congealing soup by his head and brought it to his lips, sucking on his fingers even as blood seeped down his chin.
'Forgive me,' he whispered harshly.
'Ingold?' Pippin whispered softly, brokenly, as the man before him turned glazed eyes on him. 'What - why did you -'
'Forgive me!' Ingold begged, coughing harshly and spewing blood across the floor and onto Pippin’s feet.
The young Knight stumbled back even as the three men clutched their swords tightly, seeming to be waiting for the order to finish the guard off.
'Please…' Ingold implored, his fingers twitching as though in entreaty to those around him. His breath rattled in his lungs even as blood continued to gurgle from his mouth. 'I did… not mean… No harm… I never…'
The man’s eyes rolled back into his head, body jerking and shuddering before letting out one final horrible, gurgled breath. His body stilled as suddenly as it had begun to spasm, a harsh silence broken only by the panting of the Knights filling the room.
Pippin, his right hand rising to clutch at his suddenly tight chest, brought in a shuddering breath that did little to fill his lungs. The sightless eyes of the guard he had once dinned with stared up at him, begging forgiveness. The young hobbit’s world seemed to shudder, a grey haze filling the room even as it tilted about him. Distantly he heard voices beside him, though they sounded muffled and far away. Something clutched at his arm but he could not tear his eyes away from the pleading gaze.
Closing his eyes, pressing the words out around the lump in his throat, Pippin whispered, 'I forgive you.'
As his heartbeat reverberated through his head, drowning out the sound of his own harsh breathing, the last thing Pippin heard was the sound of a thousand feet running through a forest and the cry of a friend who had also begged forgiveness.