Title: Hypothermia
Characters: The Fellowship of nine
Timeline: Caradhras, Pre-Moria
Summary: Boromir falls gravely ill at the base of Caradhras, leaving the Fellowship to reflect upon the Captain of Gondor as he fights delirium.
A/N: I love Boromir, but sadly killed him off in my other story- as is in canon- so have decided to write a story of the other Fellowship member's views on him. There will be eight chapters at most, though I may ignore one or two companions if I run out of ideas. Each chapter will be short, most likely less than 1000 words, and from the viewpoints of different companions. To be honest, I'm using it as something to do as I battle writer's block for my other story 'Starcrossed.' Hope you enjoy it though! Read on and review...
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all in it belong solely to Tolkein
Chapter POV: Pippin
Chapter Word Count: 422 (as counted by Microsoft Word)
Hypothermia
Pippin
Pippin's small and sweaty grip on Boromir's larger hand was firm and steadfast as he desperately pulled the stumbling Gondorian along, shrill voice shattering the cold morning air as he yelled for the others.
"GANDALF! STRIDER!"
He'd only wanted to go on a quick exploration of Caradhras' base, a little look-see of the white trees of the icy plains, and now the Hobbit was left in the snowy wilderness with a soaked and disorientated man, for whom he was fearful. Their roles should have been the reverse, with Pippin being the wet one and Boromir the one to help him. He may have even drowned in the depths of molten ice had the Gondorian not saved him, flinging the halfling to safety while he himself plunged down. Calling again into the trees, Pippin tugged harder on Boromir's arm, leading the shivering Gondorian in the vague direction of the cave, and inside of said cave, the Fellowship, camping and roasting mushrooms on a spit over a roaring fire. He longed to be there, for warmth for not only him but also the man in his grip; Boromir needed warmth. But, instead, Pippin's tug was met with sudden resistance and he spun to find Boromir on his knees, skin leeching slowly white and shoulders slumped in sheer exhaustion as he hung his head.
"Boromir!" Pippin cried as he rushed to his side, pleading with the man, "Please, Boromir, just a bit further!"
"C-c-cold." The soldier could only stutter, another shudder rippling through his powerful body.
"I know, I know!" Pippin began to cry, hysteria drowning him as he gripped Boromir's shoulders, shaking him into wakefulness, "Just a little bit further, Boromir, then you'll be warm, there'll a fire, blankets, Sam's broth! Just a little further, Boromir, just a little."
Eventually, he coaxed the man to shaking feet, Pippin's arms wrapped around the broad man's waist and Boromir's hand gripping his shoulder as they attempted a laborious step, but only for the man's strength to fail and send him once again to his knees. Shivers racked Boromir as he slumped tiredly, head resting on Pippin's shoulder with drooping eyelids.
"I'm sorry, Pippin…" He murmured softly.
But the hobbit was never one to give up; his stubbornness had him heaving off Boromir's shield and soaked fur cloak, again hollering into the harsh wind.
"GANDALF!"
They huddled in the snow, the man and the hobbit, the latter hugging the foremost in a crushing embrace, attempting to share his body warmth. And all the while, praying for help.