One Night in Minas Tirith
By Frodolives14
Disclaimer: Nope, none of them are mine.
Summary: One night early on in his stay in Minas Tirith, Pippin finds himself pondering the future of Middle-Earth.and being comforted by one very wise wizard.
AN: I am, as always, trying to stick as much to the books as possible. If I am incorrect in any details, please feel free to correct me. Enjoy!
Pippin awoke with a start. He didn't know quite what had awoken him - perhaps a dream - but he found himself involuntarily sitting bolt-upright in his bed, panting and clutching his blankets with a white-knuckled grip. After a moment, his breathing calmed, and he began to look around the room. He quickly remembered where he was: a small room on one of the middle levels of the great city of Minas Tirith. Looking across the room, he could see Gandalf asleep. He couldn't help noticing that while he was dwarfed by the Gondorian bed (his feet only reached about ¾ of the way down when he was fully stretched out) Gandalf's long legs were hanging off the edge. It made him feel, as he had since the beginning of his journey with the Fellowship, small and insignificant.
Swinging his legs over the side, Pippin hopped off his bed and walked across the room. In the moonlight that was filtering through the small window high on the wall, the old wizard looked peaceful as he slept, snoring softly. Pippin could only remember one other time that he had seen Gandalf sleep so deeply, and he shuddered; the memory of looking into the Palantir was one that he would sooner forget. Not wanting to wake him, Pippin walked as quietly as he could to the door, slipping through it into the night outside and closing it silently behind him.
Because he hadn't been in Minas Tirith long, he was still uncertain of his bearing and directions, and he didn't want to get lost, especially at night. He decided not to go far, but walked down the path along the wall to a small lookout post. He stood for a few moments, looking up at the stars. From the time he was very young, Pippin had believed that looking at the stars was a way to connect to something larger and greater than himself. Throughout most of his journey, looking at the stars had provided him with a small sense of comfort. But he didn't recognize any of the stars or constellations here in Gondor; they were all different from those he had become familiar with in the North, and this made him feel even more displaced. From where he stood, Pippin could look down over the wall and see the lower levels below him. He noticed many fires and torches still burning, and Men of the city hard at work preparing for battle. He sighed. What if Sauron's army does come here? He thought. What if they attack and the city falls? What will become of Gondor then? What will become of Middle-Earth? He thought about poor Frodo and Sam, struggling through Mordor toward Mount Doom. What if they don't make it? And he thought about Merry, out there somewhere with Theoden's army. What if I never see him again? Tears began to flow silently from his eyes. Never had he felt so alone. Never had he felt so cut off from those he loved. While, through most of this journey, he had considered each step away from his home a step towards adventure, the thought of how far he was from the Shire now began to weigh heavily on him. What if I never see the Shire again?
"It's not safe for you to be out here alone at night," a voice behind him said gently. Startled, Pippin spun around. "Oh, Gandalf," he said, sighing with recognition. "I'm sorry, you startled me. I tried not to wake you." "You did not wake me, Pippin; it was my own mind. I have found it hard to sleep lately." Pippin nodded in understanding. Gandalf stepped forward, to stand next to Pippin looking down at the lower levels of the city. "They are preparing to defend the city against the armies of Sauron," the wizard said softly. "A dark time for the gem of Gondor. We can only hope that the strength of the hearts of these men will be enough." Pippin stood quietly for a few moments, listening to the wind whistling up through the city's many levels. Finally, he spoke. "Gandalf." the hobbit all but whispered, "do.do you think we can still win?" Turning to face him, Gandalf gave him an appraising look, and answered slowly, "I cannot tell the future, Pippin, only what I already know. And I know that there is still hope. Sauron still hasn't gotten the Ring. Whether or not he is aware of Frodo's presence, and whether or not he and Sam made it into Mordor, I do not know; but as long as our friends keep going and trust to each other, there is still a chance. None of you were idly selected for this quest, my dear Took. You have all played your parts so far in this tale; but the end is not yet written." Pippin nodded, a few more tears falling. Gandalf knelt down and took one of the hobbit's hands in his own. "I know that your heart is heavy with fear and loneliness. I know that you are concerned for your friends. But be comforted; there is great power in friendship, even between those separated." Sniffing, Pippin sobbed softly, "Do you think we'll ever see the Shire again?" "I sincerely hope so, my young friend. I sincerely hope so." Gandalf patted Pippin's hand, and stood up. "And now, I must try and get more sleep, while I may; I feel I may get very little in the days ahead." "Thank you, Gandalf, and good night," Pippin called to him as he walked back down the path to their room. Turning again to peer over the lookout, he stared at the fields and forests out past the city's walls, which were bathed in silvery moonlight. Somewhere out past those fields, all his friends were on their own journeys. And far away to the Northwest, the Shire lay, waiting for them all to come home.
Disclaimer: Nope, none of them are mine.
Summary: One night early on in his stay in Minas Tirith, Pippin finds himself pondering the future of Middle-Earth.and being comforted by one very wise wizard.
AN: I am, as always, trying to stick as much to the books as possible. If I am incorrect in any details, please feel free to correct me. Enjoy!
Pippin awoke with a start. He didn't know quite what had awoken him - perhaps a dream - but he found himself involuntarily sitting bolt-upright in his bed, panting and clutching his blankets with a white-knuckled grip. After a moment, his breathing calmed, and he began to look around the room. He quickly remembered where he was: a small room on one of the middle levels of the great city of Minas Tirith. Looking across the room, he could see Gandalf asleep. He couldn't help noticing that while he was dwarfed by the Gondorian bed (his feet only reached about ¾ of the way down when he was fully stretched out) Gandalf's long legs were hanging off the edge. It made him feel, as he had since the beginning of his journey with the Fellowship, small and insignificant.
Swinging his legs over the side, Pippin hopped off his bed and walked across the room. In the moonlight that was filtering through the small window high on the wall, the old wizard looked peaceful as he slept, snoring softly. Pippin could only remember one other time that he had seen Gandalf sleep so deeply, and he shuddered; the memory of looking into the Palantir was one that he would sooner forget. Not wanting to wake him, Pippin walked as quietly as he could to the door, slipping through it into the night outside and closing it silently behind him.
Because he hadn't been in Minas Tirith long, he was still uncertain of his bearing and directions, and he didn't want to get lost, especially at night. He decided not to go far, but walked down the path along the wall to a small lookout post. He stood for a few moments, looking up at the stars. From the time he was very young, Pippin had believed that looking at the stars was a way to connect to something larger and greater than himself. Throughout most of his journey, looking at the stars had provided him with a small sense of comfort. But he didn't recognize any of the stars or constellations here in Gondor; they were all different from those he had become familiar with in the North, and this made him feel even more displaced. From where he stood, Pippin could look down over the wall and see the lower levels below him. He noticed many fires and torches still burning, and Men of the city hard at work preparing for battle. He sighed. What if Sauron's army does come here? He thought. What if they attack and the city falls? What will become of Gondor then? What will become of Middle-Earth? He thought about poor Frodo and Sam, struggling through Mordor toward Mount Doom. What if they don't make it? And he thought about Merry, out there somewhere with Theoden's army. What if I never see him again? Tears began to flow silently from his eyes. Never had he felt so alone. Never had he felt so cut off from those he loved. While, through most of this journey, he had considered each step away from his home a step towards adventure, the thought of how far he was from the Shire now began to weigh heavily on him. What if I never see the Shire again?
"It's not safe for you to be out here alone at night," a voice behind him said gently. Startled, Pippin spun around. "Oh, Gandalf," he said, sighing with recognition. "I'm sorry, you startled me. I tried not to wake you." "You did not wake me, Pippin; it was my own mind. I have found it hard to sleep lately." Pippin nodded in understanding. Gandalf stepped forward, to stand next to Pippin looking down at the lower levels of the city. "They are preparing to defend the city against the armies of Sauron," the wizard said softly. "A dark time for the gem of Gondor. We can only hope that the strength of the hearts of these men will be enough." Pippin stood quietly for a few moments, listening to the wind whistling up through the city's many levels. Finally, he spoke. "Gandalf." the hobbit all but whispered, "do.do you think we can still win?" Turning to face him, Gandalf gave him an appraising look, and answered slowly, "I cannot tell the future, Pippin, only what I already know. And I know that there is still hope. Sauron still hasn't gotten the Ring. Whether or not he is aware of Frodo's presence, and whether or not he and Sam made it into Mordor, I do not know; but as long as our friends keep going and trust to each other, there is still a chance. None of you were idly selected for this quest, my dear Took. You have all played your parts so far in this tale; but the end is not yet written." Pippin nodded, a few more tears falling. Gandalf knelt down and took one of the hobbit's hands in his own. "I know that your heart is heavy with fear and loneliness. I know that you are concerned for your friends. But be comforted; there is great power in friendship, even between those separated." Sniffing, Pippin sobbed softly, "Do you think we'll ever see the Shire again?" "I sincerely hope so, my young friend. I sincerely hope so." Gandalf patted Pippin's hand, and stood up. "And now, I must try and get more sleep, while I may; I feel I may get very little in the days ahead." "Thank you, Gandalf, and good night," Pippin called to him as he walked back down the path to their room. Turning again to peer over the lookout, he stared at the fields and forests out past the city's walls, which were bathed in silvery moonlight. Somewhere out past those fields, all his friends were on their own journeys. And far away to the Northwest, the Shire lay, waiting for them all to come home.