Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit off of this piece.
Starring: Pippin
Author's Note: It is hard to find a dark Pippin piece.
Summary: He is a talented, if completely unintentional, murderer.
_o0
Patricide: n, the act of killing one's father.
They would never forgive him, Pippin knew. Gandalf was the leader, the wise man, the wandering show man with endless stories and his stupidity had killed him. Dead, gone, bound to that fire and shadow creature all because he couldn't keep his fingers in his pockets. Now they were short one person, a person who was he and his cousins knew, a person that knew the way.
Fratricide: n, the act of killing one's brother.
He felt nauseous. The contents of his stomach, squished hard against his spine and jumping high into his throat were considering spilling down out of his lips and onto the back of the orc that was carrying him. With a will not previously known to him, he willed the contents back into his stomach knowing that these large orcs would not take kindly to vomit all over their backs.
Beside him, Merry lays quiet and still, the large gash on his forehead sticky with the redness that should stay beneath his skin. He looks the opposite of Boromir, all loud and inraged and filled with black feathers that pierced his skin. Pippin feels his stomach rising against him and he glues his lips shut. His thoughtless words have caused enough tragedy.
Regicide: n, the killing of a monarch.
He should have been louder. More insistent in his observations, instead of fleeing down to Gandalf when things went wrong. The air reeks of burnt flesh and madness and he wonders bitterly if the uniform was a joke – he cannot defend a king, much less a steward. He wanders down to the lower rings of the city to help find survivor's and clear out rubble to avoid looking at Faramir and telling him who killed his beloved brother and estranged father.