Work Text:
- Warnings: None
- Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the work of the Masterful Tolkien. Tolkien's the man! This story, however, is all mine. I make no money off of this and probably should be working on something where I might actually make some money...but here ya' go.
- Feedback: Feedback, baby! That's all I ask. TheArtofDodger@msn.com
- Author's Notes: It was my sister's birthday. She wanted me to draw her a picture, but I seem to have forgotten how to use a pencil. She once said her favorite thing about Pippin was his relationship with Gandalf. And I do love to write Pippin so...Jessie, this is for you. I love you with all my heart. Salina, thank you so, so much. I know I am a pain, and you are a blessing. Credit for the title goes to Salina.
- If The Valar -
*****
"For a while he lay and listened for sounds of Gandalf's return, and then he fell into an uneasy sleep." --The Return of the King, Minas Tirith
*****
Something poked him. He grunted and rolled over onto his side.
Something poked him again.
Gandalf opened one eye, trying to focus on the source of the rude awaking in the dim light of the bedchamber. Peregrin Took was staring down at him, wringing his little hands together in a sign of distress.
Gandalf sighed. "Go back to sleep, Master Took," he muttered and closed his eye again.
"I can't," came the small voice from beside the bed.
Gandalf opened both his eyes this time, and propped himself up on one elbow. He took in the sight before him. Pippin was wearing a Man's nightshirt that was so long on him only his toes were sticking out at the bottom. The lad's hair was disheveled and his mouth was set in a grim line on his already too-thin face.
Gandalf rubbed his eyes, wearily. "Why can't you sleep, Peregrin? Surely, you must be exhausted still?"
"I am," Pippin said, quietly. "But I just can't, is all."
Gandalf grunted. He was tired. He had much to do the next day. He did not have time to babysit this boy. "Perhaps if you tell me why you can't sleep, then I can find a solution and we can both be off to dreamland in no time at all."
He had meant to sound hopeful, but Gandalf was quite afraid he had sounded irritated instead.
Pippin dropped his gaze and shuffled his feet. The Hobbit muttered something under his breath that Gandalf could not quite catch.
"Pippin," he said softly. "Do not mutter. And look at me when you are addressing me."
Pippin looked up and met Gandalf's gaze. The Wizard could see the mist of unshed tears in the lad's eyes.
But Pippin did not cry. Instead he shuffled his feet again and said, "I cannot sleep alone. I need...I need..."
"Merry," The Wizard finished for him.
Pippin nodded. Gandalf could see the color come into the Hobbit's cheeks, but Pippin did not drop his gaze.
"It's just," Pippin went on, "Since we started this quest, Merry and I have always slept together at night. For warmth."
Pippin hesitated and began chewing on his lower lip.
Gandalf waited patiently while the Hobbit thought his next words out carefully.
"It feels safe," Pippin said at last. "It feels safe to have someone so close that you can feel them in your sleep. You just know that they are there." Pippin swallowed hard. "And I know I should be braver than that by now, but I need to know that someone is there."
Gandalf reached out and brushed a curl back behind Pippin's ear. "*I* am right here, Master Took."
Pippin nodded. "But it's not the same. I can't feel you."
Gandalf sighed and dropped back onto the pillows. Perhaps separating Pippin from Merry had not been such a good idea, after all. Perhaps they were only brave if they were together. Perhaps he had made a mistake.
He had stayed quiet too long. Gandalf heard Pippin take a deep breath and mutter, "I am sorry."
He turned to look at the Hobbit. And when he did so, Pippin straightened himself up to his full height and fixed his gaze on Gandalf. "I am sorry," he repeated. "I am a Guard of the Citadel now. I have sworn myself to the Steward of Gondor. And I am not a child. You need your rest. I will not bother you with such foolishness any longer." Pippin's voice cracked a bit at the end, but he kept his gaze locked firmly with Gandalf's.
*****
As he turned back to his own bed, Pippin felt a rough hand on his elbow.
"Peregrin."
It was just a name. Just the name his parents had given him at birth. Just the name his aunts had hollered whenever they found something broken. Just the name his sisters clucked under their tongues when they knew he was in for it.
Just a name.
Pippin felt his resolve crack, the tears he had been holding inside since they had arrived, came spilling forth. Huge sobs wracked his body, as strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him down onto the bed.
He wasn't sure how he got there, but Pippin soon found himself wrapped in Gandalf's arms, his head buried in the great Wizard's chest. He clutched at Gandalf's nightshirt, felt the Wizard soothing his hair down and whispering, "There, there lad, it's quite alright."
But Pippin wasn't sure that it was.
He felt ashamed. He had spent this entire quest trying to live up to the Wizard's expectations, trying to prove that he was not a small child and that Gandalf's words to Elrond had been correct, claiming that Pippin was as capable of this quest as an Elf-warrior would have been. And now, he had gone and ruined it all, just because he was afraid.
Afraid. Yes, he was. Afraid of what would happen to Merry if he wasn't there to hold him at night. Afraid that Frodo and Sam would fail. Or that if they succeeded, it would be at the loss of their own lives. Afraid that he would be the only Hobbit left to go back to the Shire. Afraid there would be no Shire to go back to.
And afraid that Gandalf would not be proud of him.
This thought made the tears stop. He had already been enough of a burden to this man. He would not be one now.
"I am sorry," he sniffled, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I did not mean..."
But Gandalf put a finger to his lips and shushed him.
*****
"You are afraid, Peregrin. Are you not?"
Pippin nodded against Gandalf's chest.
The Wizard sighed. "It is not a bad thing, fear. These are terrible times. Even the bravest of warriors feel fear in the shadow of this place, Pippin."
"You don't."
"But I do."
Knowing that the lad was watching his face now, Gandalf closed his eyes, afraid to give anything away.
"What could you possibly be afraid of?" Pippin asked. "Even in death, you cannot be stopped."
Gandalf opened his eyes to meet Pippin's questioning gaze. "It is not *my* death that I am afraid of, lad."
"Oh."
Pippin sank back down into the bed, and Gandalf gladly accepted him into his arms again. Pippin's curls smelled sweet where they brushed Gandalf's cheek. And the Wizard wondered when he had ever felt anything as soft as the skin at the nape of Pippin's neck.
"I am sorry about the seeing stone, Gandalf. I did not mean it," Pippin said, softly.
Gandalf ran his fingers through Pippin's curls. "I know, dear boy. I know."
Gandalf felt Pippin tense. Then the Hobbit said, so quietly Gandalf thought perhaps it was the wind playing tricks on him, "I just wanted you to be proud of me."
Gandalf felt tears sting his eyes. He grunted at his own weakness and blinked them away. Pippin flinched at the sound of his grunt, obviously mistaking it for disapproval.
"I shouldn't have come on this quest at all," the Hobbit said, pulling away from Gandalf's embrace.
Gandalf grabbed him about the shoulders and held him still. Then he placed one long finger under Pippin's chin, and tilted it upwards, until they were nose to nose.
"Do not ever say that in my presence again. Do you understand me?" It was not a question.
"Yes, sir," Pippin replied, swallowing hard.
"Pippin, lad," Gandalf softened. "You are..."
He stopped, wondering if this was something that should be said out loud. Pippin's pleading eyes and sorrowful face urged him to continue.
"You are as if the Valar had granted me a son. And I could not be more proud of you if that were true."
Pippin's eyes grew big. And for a moment, Gandalf thought he saw the old twinkle return to them, as if a million stars in the sky all found their way into one set of soulful eyes. Then the light was gone and Pippin was snuggling down into the bed.
"Don't die again, okay, Gandalf?"
It was not a question.
And before the Wizard could pull the bedcovers up over the tiny, warm body snuggled up next to him, Gandalf heard the steady breathing of Pippin's slumber.
*****
THE END