The Journey Home
"I've never seen a hobbit such as you", Faramir whispered softly, cupping Pippin's chin gently in his hand as he gazed into his eyes. "Frodo", Pippin replied quietly, "you knew him."
"No, little friend, Frodo was Sam's alone."
"But I thought, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that, oh!" Pippin murmured miserably. "I'm so confused."
"It is almost time for me to leave", Faramir declared. "I have been most honored to meet you, Pippin of the Shire. Clasping the hobbit's hands together, he bent to kiss them. His lips were soft against Pippin's skin. Brushing a stray hair from Pippin's face he looked once more into his eyes before beginning to rise. "Don't go yet." Pippin said quietly. His small hands brushed Faramir's rough face as he brought his lips to his. His small tongue played quickly across the inside of his mouth before withdrawing.
Shocked, Faramir rocked back on his heels and quickly stood. Pippin saw his expression and said: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, you just looked, I didn't mean...sorry." he finished miserably, eyes downcast. "Pippin" Faramir said softly, "nothing you could do would make me think less of you.", his thumb traced to hollow of Pippin's neck.
Suddenly the captain started. "Footsteps" he whispered. He walked quickly to the window and stared out as Pippin looked at him dumbfounded. "As I was saying, halfling, you'll need your short sword sharpened for the ceremony today. The smithy is busy with the warriors, but I'll find you a whetstone for you to hone the blade yourself. You'll want to see to it immediat-"Faramir broke off speaking and turned around. "I thought I heard someone come in," He said. Pippin turned around as well. Across the room, standing behind him was a middle aged man in the livery of Gondor.
Pippin had not heard him enter. Still confused, the hobbit tried to keep his face impassive under the man's scrutiny. He wanted to ask Faramir about the sudden change in conversation but decided no to. The hobbit's judgment was not always the best but he knew well enough when to shut up. The man finally spoke, addressing Faramir. "Your father, the steward, wishes to see you, and the halfling as well."
As the man turned, apparently expecting them to follow him out, Faramir put a finger to his lips, beckoning Pippin to be silent. They walked across the massive stone courtyard. As they traveled to their audience with the steward, Pippin thought back on Faramir's words to him earlier that day.
"Do not seek to serve Gondor by going with my father, stay with Gandalf, he will care for you."
Pippin thought of Gandalf and his gentle caring touch, never harsh, always patient. Then the image of the Steward of Gondor flashed before him. The hobbit thought upon his cold visage and shuddered. Then Faramir sprang unbidden to mind, his lips against his, his warm eyes. He had not drawn away from the hobbit's kiss. Too late. He served his father now, and Faramir thought of the hobbit only as a friend.
Faramir stood to the side of the hall while Pippin recited the oath of fealty to Denethor. He could barely contain his rage as his father presented his ring to Pippin to kiss. He did not have to do that! His father looked straight at Faramir as Pippin kneeled before him. He leered at his son. The horrible realization came to mind as his father looked at him. The last part had been for his benefit! His father thought he cared for Pippin. Perhaps he did. He couldn't now; if his father thought he cared for Pippin he would ill-use him to hurt his son.
It was over. He still stared at his father's ring from across the hall. As if in a daze he heard words directed at him from a distance. He was being sent to his death. He did not care. He had begun to care about Pippin, and now he was gone forever. He finally asked his father the question he already knew the answer to. "Do you now wish that our places had been exchanged? That I had died and Boromir had lived?" "Yes", he answered coldly. It was said. There was no reason for him to stay and live.
Later, as he gazed as the faces of his men, men he had fought and laughed with and was now sending to their deaths along with him, he could have wept. Instead he merely said, "We ride." Fear flickered momentarily on their faces, then cool resolve. They would follow him through the gates of the underworld if he asked, and so they did. They rode for their captain; they rode for the glory of Gondor, and for the lives of their people. They rode knowingly to their doom.