"Second Star on the Right"
by s1ncer1ty
Warnings: No slash intended this time around. Some minor angst.
Author's Notes: I don't know if I'm completely happy with this piece. It started off as a good premise, but I don't think it flows particularly well. Maybe it's just my imagination? Or maybe it's just because it's nearly all conversation, and that unnerves me a bit. Any suggestions, please feel free to mail me, and maybe I can manage to spiff this up a bit at a later date so it's not quite as choppy.
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are, how fragile we are
The stars are crying tonight, but only I can see it. From a perch within the arms of the Great Tree overlooking the Shire, I gaze up at an endless rain of falling stars speeding through the night's sky. They glimmer in infinite brightness at first, as if breathing the last of their radiant energy, before overflowing across the heavens in a brilliant spill of light. The streaks of stardust bring me back to a time when I would sit, fascinated, upon my Uncle Bilbo's knee as the starlight poured down and he would tell me tales of adventure, of dwarves and wizards, and of dragons. But the wide-eyed hobbit-child has since grown older and quietly still, and a heart that once beamed in fascination at the night's sky above can now only ache as heavens' tears roll relentlessly down.
Below me upon the ground, my cousins Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck have started up another round of infamous bickering, oblivious to the unceasing flow of tears from the stars. I am not completely certain how I allowed them to talk me into joining them -- after all, spying through a looking-glass upon a girls' sleepover party gathering in the bedroom of Fatty Bolger's sister is not my idea of a good time. But maybe it was something pleading in Merry's tone earlier in the evening that softened my heart just enough to want to leave the sweet security of Bag End for a while. Or perhaps it was the way Pippin physically manhandled me from my hole, arms looped about my shoulders as he insisted that it would be a magnificent evening that memories were made of.
"Hand the looking-glass over already! It's my turn!"
"You just had your turn! And besides, Estella Bolger is clad in naught but her petticoats!"
"Pippin! You give that glass here! You can't be looking at that!"
"What's the matter? I thought that's what you brought us up here for!"
"It's not proper to be peeking upon a girl in her undergarments!"
"But look at the colour your cheeks are turning! If I didn't know you better, Merry, I'd think you were sweet on Miss Stelly Bolger!"
"I'm not sweet on her!"
"Is it because you wish to see her in her undergarments? Wait your turn!"
I close my eyes and let their conversation -- and ensuing scuffle as Merry tries to wrest the looking-glass from Pippin's greedy hands -- drift to the back of my thoughts, and I return to my study of the overhead starshower. It's amazing how easily I can drown Pippin and Merry out these days. I do not have the heart to point out to them heaven's tears, such a good time they're having. At the same time, it seems almost unfair of me to hide within the branches of the Great Tree; however, neither of my cousins have yet commented upon my solitude, nor have sought to wrest me from the dizzying heights to join them.
How I have tried... Tried and tried to return to a normal life, and to be happy like you. But when that cursed Ring was destroyed, so too did something within my heart pass away. My friends, perhaps it would be only fair of me to leave.
"Frodo! Frodo Baggins!" Pippin's insistent cry breaks me from my thoughts. Tearing my gaze from the stars, I peer down through the branches to where he stands upon the ground, squinting up at me through the branches. There is grass in his hair and a bright glow in his cheeks, showing that even though he might not have won against Merry, he certainly put up a substantial fight. "Are you going to perch up in that tree all night like an owl looking for a rabbit supper?"
"And what if I shall?" I return, arching my brow curiously.
"So long as I'm not the rabbit," he responds, before adding impatiently, "Do come down, Frodo! If you don't, then I'll claim your turn at the looking-glass for my own!"
Having long since learned to compensate for the the missing finger upon my left hand and of the unhealing wraith-wound within my opposite shoulder, I swing nimbly from branch to branch on my way down. Pippin watches with an almost silent awe. "Where has Merry gone?" I ask upon hitting the ground, finding no trace of my other cousin nearby, never having heard him leave.
Pippin rolls his eyes and gives a quiet laugh. "Down the hill to the Bolgers' hole. He said something about an idea for a prank upon the party, but I think he's just trying to get close to Fatty's sister."
"Estella Bolger doesn't follow in Fatty's footsteps," I remark, noting the wrinkle of distaste in Pippin's nose. "I think she's a pretty girl."
"I'm not saying she isn't pretty," Pippin returns, laughing brightly. "I simply recall a time when Merry would dip the ends of her braids into the inkwell, or we'd scare her with frogs from the Brandywine River. Besides, Fatty's almost like family, which makes Stelly family by default."
"Hmph," I return, halfheartedly gazing down the hill towards the Bolger house and wishing I were anywhere but here. I do not think I have the strength to deal with my overzealous cousin alone, without Merry to reign him in. "I think you're jealous, Pippin."
"Perhaps I am," Pippin admits with a dismissive shrug. "But at any rate, I'm hoping you don't mind the company until Merry gets back."
"I don't," I state softly, if only out of politeness, sliding my back down the trunk of the Great Tree until I'm seated upon the ground.
"Are you sure?" he asks, glancing down at me with some degree of uncertainty.
"Do sit down, Pippin," I remark moodily. "You're making me nervous."
My younger cousin drops to the grass beside me, crossing his legs casually as he turns his slender face towards the stars. Although we sit with our shoulders nearly touching, I cannot help but feel that we're kilometres apart. Unspeaking for some extended moments, I wonder if he too sees the tears that overflow from the heavens, or if he's even aware of the immense distance between us.
Perhaps it is best that you remain oblivious, my young cousin. After Sam, I believe you would take it the worst if I were to disappear from the Shire for good.
It is Pippin that ultimately breaks the tense silence that hangs thickly in the air, remarking in an offhanded tone, "You're awfully quiet tonight."
"Yes, I do that sometimes," I return, my own voice again sounding slightly more snappish than I'd intended.
Pippin does not seem to notice the tone --or if he does instead chooses to ignore it -- and continues smoothly, "Something's on your mind."
"What brought about this revelation?" I ask dryly, neither confirming nor denying Pippin's suspicions.
"There's this look in your eyes, like you'd rather be someplace other than with your favorite cousin." He smiles, his voice sadly questioning, though far from bitter.
"Don't say that. Of course I want to be here with you," I return, even if it is but a half-truth. Despite my current reluctance, I would love nothing more than to be able to enjoy my time with Pippin and Merry. I would love for the darkness that has wormed its way into my heart with the touch of a wraith's blade to dissipate for good -- to once again be normal.
"Somehow I don't think that's completely true."
"Pippin, why don't you go down and join Merry? I'm sure you'll have a much better time with him than sitting up here doing nothing with me."
"I do admit that it would be a more enjoyable time," he returns. "But that's not where I want to be right now. So why don't you tell me what's bothering you before I find some other way to get it out of you?" Smirking slyly, he adds, "I have ways of making you talk that would make even the strongest-stomached hobbit cringe."
"I don't want to talk," I remark, feeling the impatience with my overexuberant cousin beginning to mount. "I don't have anything to say."
"Yes, you do," Pippin insists. "At any rate, I want you to talk."
"Stop it, Pippin. I seriously doubt that you would --"
"Understand?" he interjects, both brows raising. "For some reason, I believe there's nothing you want more than a sympathetic ear, one who will listen to your problems without being judgemental. Someone who understands and won't ridicule or belittle you.Well, you won't know whether or not I understand unless you try me, will you?"
"Pippin," I begin, feeling somewhat annoyed at his banter, and also flustered that my normally oblivious cousin can see so easily through my soul. The words do not come easily, but, knowing that to say at least something might silence his insatiably curious mind, I force out, "Do you ever think of what we've done? Doesn't it ever bother you?"
"Spying upon Fatty Bolger's sister? Why should that bother me?" he remarks innocently, a small frown creasing his brow.
"No, that's not what I meant," I return, impatiently frowning as I rest my hands upon my knees and curl them to my chest. Inwardly, I chide myself for believing that the normally oblivious Pippin might ever understand.
My cousin's everpresent grin slips very slightly, and he states in a much quieter tone, "You're talking about the Ring, aren't you? I figured you were, but had been hoping with all my heart that you weren't."
The weight of an almost ocnstant frown gathers at my temples in a heavy headache that lingers behind my eyes. "Sometimes it seems that it's all I can think about anymore, even though the Ring has been long since destroyed. Do thoughts of our journey continue to plague your very thoughts, Pippin?"
"Certainly they do, cousin Frodo, and certainly they continue to bother me," he returns, cerulean blues catching mine, unwavering in their intensity. I blink in startled silence at Pippin's unexpected seriousness as he continues. "There are mornings when I wake up and wonder why I bother to face the sun again. Some days all I wish to do is crawl back beneath the covers and weep over what's been lost, even though I know that tears will do no good. But I must wake up and face the sun, for what's past is past. And let me tell you, there's little in the present that I have desire to weep over." He pauses and adds in a much quieter tone, "Except, perhaps, you."
"Now why would you want to go and do a silly thing like that?" I whisper, feeling suddenly alarmed at Pippin's speech. "At least weep over something that is worth tears."
He ignores the self-directed barb and continues, "You've grown quiet, my friend. Too quiet." I see the light of a forced grin, his voice assuming a joking tone that does not fit the inexplicably solemn mood between us. "It's most unhobbitlike to brood."
"For those of us that are still looked upon as part of the Shire's populace, perhaps it is unhobbitlike, but for those of us who remain overlooked..." I trail off, briefly struggling to put my racing thoughts into words, and utter, "Look, Pippin, how do you go on, knowing what you have done?"
My young cousin is quiet for several moments, rubbing at his chin in contemplation. "Well," he returns thoughtfully, "I sit back and I think about what we've got now. Friends safe and sound within the Shire, families together, beautiful hobbit-girls in their knickers just over the hill..." With a mischievous grin, Pippin winks.
"Maybe for you, that is enough," I state, though not completely unkindly. "But it will never, ever be enough for me, no matter how much I yearn for it. It doesn't matter that peace has returned to the Shire or to Middle-earth when I cannot even find peace within myself."
After a moment of stunned silence, Pippin sighs and shakes his head, gazing at me with a pained expression in his eyes. "Oh, Frodo, I wish you would be happy. You're the saddest hobbit I've ever seen, and it hurts me terribly to see you always so down."
"I am wounded," I return through numb lips. "The darkness will never heal."
"I'm wounded too, Frodo. It might not be a physical wound like the one in your shoulder, but it too will never heal. I'm wounded here." Pippin's hand curls into a fist, which he then rests upon his heart.
I find myself unable to respond, any words of reproach against my cousin dying immediately upon my lips. Instead, I reach out with trembling fingers and place them atop the hand Pippin holds over his breast. His own fingers curl around mine, and he smiles.
"It's not such a bad thing, really," he states with a sad smile. "It reminds me always of what we fought for."
"You and Merry must talk about your adventures all the time."
"Mmh. Yes... and no," Pippin states pensively, releasing my hand and drawing his together in his lap. "We don't exactly talk about it, per se. Not with words. There really aren't words that can describe what we've gone through, so neither of us really bother trying. But the understanding is there. Much the same way, I would suspect, it is with you and Sam."
"Neither of you would ever know of what I put Sam through," I return, wishing I was again huddled within the safe branches of the great tree. Other hobbits would never willingly climb to such heights, not even Pippin or Merry; I know I would be untouched.
I feel a warm hand rest upon my arm as Pippin shifts his weight closer to me. And for those moments, I am accepting of the gesture. "You're right," he says quietly. "We wouldn't know. But remember this, Frodo, you did nothing to Samwise Gamgee that he did not bring upon himself. Sam made the decision on his own to follow you, as did Merry and myself, even knowing the risks. We were all enough grown to make up our own minds. Well," he admits, voice trailing off faintly, "Sam and Merry were, at any rate."
"The difference being, you and Merry seem none the worse for it all. Whereas Sam... There is a light missing from his eyes that I fear will never return. A heaviness in his step that I know I brought upon him."
"You can't expect any of us to be the same again after what we've been through," Pippin returns in the same soft, patient voice he's used all evening. "Sure, he's hurting now, but Sam is a strong hobbit. He will work through everything in his own time."
"And if he doesn't? I could never forgive myself..."
Pippin smiles and gives my shoulder a faint nudge. "You should try that every once in a while, although I must say you've done nothing that requires forgiveness. Sam will come around, you know. Have some faith! Rosie and Elanor have already started to bring out some of the old son of a Gaffer again."
"You make it all sound so easy, Pippin," I sigh, gazing far out among the heavens, past the stars and to the west. I feel my cousin's eyes upon me, scrutinizing, and I try not to appear too uncomfortable beneath his assessing stare. "Yes," I concede in a nearly inaudible tone. "Sam will survive. Quite well, in fact, I feel within my heart. I merely wish I could see the lightness return to his step sometime soon, before..." I trail off softly.
Pippin's eyebrows at first knot in a light frown, which quickly fades into a gentle smile. As if out of nowhere, he whispers to me, "Second star on the right," leaning close as he points towards the night's sky.
I follow his line of sight to where he indicates, easily distinguishing the brightest of three stars in a small cluster. "What about it?"
"That's your star," he returns, grinning impishly beneath the moonlight.
"My star?" Confused, I regard my cousin with a questioning look.
"Of course. It used to be my star, but I'm giving it to you now. It will bring you luck."
I am quiet for some moments, the silence hanging uncomfortably between us, before I murmur, "Has... it brought you luck?"
"Oh, plenty!" Pippin exclaims happily. "Every night while in Gondor that I found myself able, I looked up at the night's sky and made a wish on that very star. Most of them even came true, they did."
"Really?" I ask, my cousin's smile infectious despite my melancholy. Though I cannot find the strength to smile myself, my voice lightens in tone. "What is it you wished for?"
Pippin leans back on his hands, tilting his chin towards the sky. "Normally you're not supposed to tell someone else your wishes, but since most of them have already come true, I'm sure it's safe to tell now." He sighs at the memory, though still retains a wistfully cheerful grin as he continues, "I'd wish for the Ring to be destroyed, for hope to be restored, for the safety of our Shire. I'd wish that Merry were wishing upon the very same star, wherever he might have been."
"Those are very admirable wishes, Pippin," I state, perhaps a little awkwardly.
"Of course, one night I wished for scones and cream, but that wish never came true," he admits with a wry smirk. In an instant, he has become once again the childishly innocent Pippin that I'd grown up with instead of the wisely solemn Pippin that emerged after the war. "Which was too bad, because at the time I was quite hungry."
"My heart breaks for you, cousin," I state dryly, and Pippin throws his head back in a hearty laugh.
"As long as you don't wish for scones, dear Frodo, your star will bring you luck," he returns, still chuckling, giving my shoulder a playful nudge. "Follow it."
"Perhaps I shall, Pippin. Perhaps I shall."
Pippin smiles at me, as if he were blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts that have plagued me for weeks, seeking to tear me from this peaceful life within the Shire. When I offer a faint smile in return, he slings an arm across my back companionably, and I lean against the protective curl of his shoulder. We watch the stars in utter silence for quite some time, and perhaps both of us know that this will be the last time ever that we will sit this way.
"When did you grow so wise, Peregrin?" I finally ask, hoping the question is an easy break to the silence.
"The same time you grew apart from us, cousin Frodo," he returns softly, though not bitterly.
Frowning, I cast my gaze to the stars above. Yes, still crying... "I did not intend to," is all I can manage to say. "I am sorry."
Pippin's arm tightens across my shoulders, seeking to hold me close while he can. "Nobody holds it against you, not even Sam."
"And would you hold it against me if I were to --" The words spill uncontrollably from my lips before I manage to stop myself in a sudden gasp of breath.
I feel Pippin's hand on my cheek, turning me to face him. The stars' tears are mirrored in swimming cerulean eyes, and I hear the torn conflict within his voice. He knows... "You must do what you must do," he whispers. I know that look well -- the very same shocked, desperate expression that alighted upon his face when it dawned upon him that I would leave the Fellowship to destroy the Ring on my own. Only now, Pippin possesses enough wisdom to know not to stop me.
I place my hand atop his own and murmur, "Do not grieve. You and I both know it is for the best."
"Yes," he returns with a wry laugh, swiping at damp cheeks with the back of his free hand. "Yes, I know that it is. Which is why we must enjoy our time together while we can."
"If only I could," I murmur, quietly wishing I could once again feel the sting of tears in my own eyes. But as always, they do not come, leaving those around me -- the sky and my friends -- to weep in my stead.
Pippin loops his arm across my back once again and smiles gently. "Merry shall return soon. When he does, I'll leave you to your own devices. If you cannot enjoy our time together now, at least make certain you have fond memories of a time when you once could."
I nod and return to a peaceful silence, leaning gently against him. He's grown tall, even by hobbit standards, and finding solace in the arms of one twenty-two years my junior is mildly disconcerting. I desire so much to be able to take it back -- take it all back -- to never have brought upon my friends such horror and sadness, even if they were a vital component of our quest's success. But Pippin and I both know that we cannot return to a time when all would be completely well, although we can certainly pretend it may be so. And we can provide for each other one last round of comfort before the end.
As Pippin had anticipated, Merry returns soon -- perhaps too soon for our liking -- bounding up the gentle slope of the hill with great strides. And true to his name, the young Brandybuck sports a grin from ear-to-ear, as if he's nearly bursting with gleeful anticipation. His eyes, I notice with a small degree of envy, sport the impish glitter reflecting newly laid plans of evening mischief.
"There you are, Pip!" Merry gasps, skidding to a halt at the top of the hill. "I've got the perfect idea! You're to sneak into the Bolger hole and plant these in the girls' bedding!" As if from nowhere, he produces a jam jar filled with a multitude of crawling insects.
"Why do I have to do it? It's your idea!" protests Pippin, sliding his arm from my shoulders and vaulting immediately to his feet to face his cousin.
"Because," Merry explains, as if the answer is as plain as day, "you've not yet come of age! I'm a grown hobbit and have no excuse to be partaking in such childish behaviour." His hands upon his hips, he smirks knowingly.
"It's more like someone's been eating too many blackberry tarts and cannot fit through the window anymore," Pippin returns, winking as he gives Merry's solid belly a brisk pat.
Merry swats his cousin's hand away, mumbling, "Cheeky git," beneath his breath. Turning towards me, his eyes sparkle with a brilliant light. "Frodo! Are you coming?"
Wishing I could at least fake a grin, all I can do is shake my head. "No, I believe I shall stay here and watch the stars a little while longer."
A concerned frown knits Merry's brows together -- a brilliantly intelligent hobbit, he's known that something has been wrong for some time, but for some reason has never brought the matter to the surface. Anxiously, he states, "Are you certain?"
"Of course he's certain!" Pippin cheerfully interjects, perhaps too quickly. "Which is why it's only fair that he should keep this." Drawing a sharp protest from Merry, Pippin reaches a swift hand into his cousin's vest pocket, producing the coveted looking-glass and tossing it towards me. I snatch it easily from the air, wrapping the four fingers of my left hand around the glass.
"I hardly think this is necessary..." I begin, but Pippin will hear none of it.
"'Tis Frodo Baggins' turn at the looking-glass," he returns with a knowing smile directed to me. "And if he's a wise hobbit, he'll use that time well."
Turning the looking-glass over in my fingers, inwardly shuddering still at the deformed shape of the left hand, I state quietly, "Thank you, Peregrin."
Pippin spares one final impish grin behind him as he grabs Merry by the collar and drags him down the hill. Standing alone, I watch as they nearly tumble down the hill in their excitement until they are little more than mere specks against the darkened sky. Still fingering the looking-glass, I sink to the ground, no longer needing the protection of the Great Tree. I raise the glass to my eye and stare up at the sky, seeking the very star that will become the beacon of my future. I know what I must now do.
Yes, second star on the right, the one that still holds its light against a weeping sky. I will follow its glimmer to the Grey Havens, and perhaps, if the luck of which Pippin speaks holds true, it shall lead me to the ends of the earth and a new adventure tomorrow.
And as my final decision is made, twin cries in the darkness reach my ears from the bottom of the hill. The looking-glass swivels to the dirt road below where Pippin and Merry fly from the Bolger's hobbit-hole, a livid Odovocar Bolger still clad in his nightcap following fast upon their heels and brandishing a rather large stick. At the doorway, huddled behind the protective lantern-light of Mrs. Rosamunda Bolger, stands a throng of young hobbit-girls -- some giggling, some white-faced and horrified. Although it's difficult to tell in the dark, I believe I even note a blush within Estella Bolger's rosy cheeks.
Indeed, my friends, you've made it a magnificent night to remember. Even if I cannot bring myself to say it aloud.
Watching it all through the looking glass, the pain in my heart seems to lighten for but a few precious moments, and I manage to smile.
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are, how fragile we are
How fragile we are, how fragile we are