"A Thoroughly Wretched Experience"
Author's notes:
First, since most of you won't know me, a word or two of introduction. I'm not new to fanfic, just to this very comprehensive website and its review system. I've been writing fanfic since 1999 for various fandoms. While this is my first actual put-down-on-paper story for LoTR, I've been generating them in my head since I was a child. Probably it's just as well that I never really wrote down any of those early efforts, as they would have been rife with Mary Sues and illogical plot twists. Most of the material worth resurrecting out of my brain revolved around Pippin, and his touching little human (hobbit, that is) frailties.
Like many fans of the dashing but headstrong Peregrin Took, I've always been drawn to the incident with the palantir in the Two Towers (moved to Return of the King for the movie, but essentially the same occurrence). I've read some great fics based on those few pages of original Tolkien, but haven't really found any that quite answer the questions that have haunted me since I first read the books. What was Pippin feeling immediately after his gentle-but-firm interrogation by Gandalf? What was going through Merry's head? What drove Pippin to steal the dratted thing in the first place? And finally, what did the two hobbits have to say to one another in those few minutes that they had together before Pippin was scooped up and sent away on Shadowfax? Pippin seems to be asleep again by the time Gandalf drags him off, so maybe they had more time than it appears.
This little fic is mainly an attempt to answer the last question. We'll see whether it manages to answer any of the others. I am trying to stick to book-canon here, and I am also trying to write the hobbits as Tolkien would have done had he written this scene and then decided to toss it to make room for something else. When reviewing, please let me know if you think that I am achieving that effect.
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([Gandalf] lifted Pippin gently, and carried him back to his bed. Merry followed, and sat down beside him... "Now, I will leave you two together for a while." The Two Towers)
Merry crept a little closer, and looked at his kinsman in some concern. The horrible blank stare had left Pippin's face, and a little color was starting to return to replace the pallor of a few minutes ago, yet the younger hobbit had his eyes shut tightly and did not open them as his friend touched him tentatively on the shoulder. Merry wondered for a moment if the ordeal with the Palantir and the painful confession to Gandalf had simply exhausted his companion and sent him into a much-needed slumber... then he saw the fine tremor of Pippin's chin and noted the tears coursing sluggishly down the dirt-smudged cheeks.
"Pippin, my lad," he said softly. "I've brought you a clean pocket- handkerchief. You look as though you could use it." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small square of rumpled linen that he had found in Saruman's storeroom and appropriated for his own use. "You were probably too busy filling your pockets with Saruman's ill-gotten pipe-weed to worry about taking anything more practical."
As Merry had hoped, his cousin opened his eyes at this and even managed a weak smile. "Ah," whispered Pippin, taking the proffered handkerchief and scrubbing it across his tear-stained face, "that's why I always bring you along on my adventures, Master Meriadoc." He took a deep shaky breath, and struggled to sit up. Merry quickly made shift to help him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
"Are you hurt, Pip?" he asked quietly. "You let out such a frightful scream... I was certain that you were dying."
Pippin was silent for a few minutes. He still clutched the crumpled handkerchief, and Merry watched him turn it over and over in his hands. "No," he said at last, "at least, I don't feel as if I am injured, if that is what you mean. But I feel sick, and weary, and... and I am afraid that I have ruined everything, Merry." He gulped. "He spoke with me. He knows that I am a hobbit, and who knows what else? Perhaps... perhaps he could pull everything right out of my mind, without my even knowing it had happened?"
Merry sighed. "Gandalf doesn't seem to think so. And really, my dear Pippin, you must learn to trust him." He pointed at the wizard, who was conversing with Aragorn and the other members of the company, out of earshot. "He's much wiser than... than anyone else, in such matters." He looked carefully at the face now so close to his own, still tear-streaked and dirty and looking thoroughly wretched, and felt a pang of sympathy and tenderness.
"Come now, Pip," he said lightly, punctuating his words with a small shake of the arm that was encircling his friend's shoulders, "it's not like you to lose hope. You have had an awful fright, and you're not feeling yourself. Come... lay down again for a little while, and let's see if you can get a little sleep while the Great Leaders are having their conference." Removing his arm, he took Pippin's shoulders and guided him back onto the bed of bracken and blankets.
"You will be here, won't you? Merry, don't leave!" There was a slight note of panic in the younger hobbit's voice.
"I will be right here, with you." Merry re-arranged the blankets that had become disarrayed earlier, and settled down next to his kinsman. Once again, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Pippin, pulling him closer and throwing his own blanket on top of both of them. "Now," he said playfully, "you won't be able to go off wandering and getting into trouble without waking me up."
They lay silently for a while. Merry tried to catch snatches of the conversation between Gandalf and Aragorn but could not hear anything useful. He heard Pippin's breathing grow irregular, with an occasional sniff, and suspected that his companion was weeping again. This time, he did not interrupt but only listened to the soft sounds until they faded off into a deep and healing sleep.
Author's notes:
First, since most of you won't know me, a word or two of introduction. I'm not new to fanfic, just to this very comprehensive website and its review system. I've been writing fanfic since 1999 for various fandoms. While this is my first actual put-down-on-paper story for LoTR, I've been generating them in my head since I was a child. Probably it's just as well that I never really wrote down any of those early efforts, as they would have been rife with Mary Sues and illogical plot twists. Most of the material worth resurrecting out of my brain revolved around Pippin, and his touching little human (hobbit, that is) frailties.
Like many fans of the dashing but headstrong Peregrin Took, I've always been drawn to the incident with the palantir in the Two Towers (moved to Return of the King for the movie, but essentially the same occurrence). I've read some great fics based on those few pages of original Tolkien, but haven't really found any that quite answer the questions that have haunted me since I first read the books. What was Pippin feeling immediately after his gentle-but-firm interrogation by Gandalf? What was going through Merry's head? What drove Pippin to steal the dratted thing in the first place? And finally, what did the two hobbits have to say to one another in those few minutes that they had together before Pippin was scooped up and sent away on Shadowfax? Pippin seems to be asleep again by the time Gandalf drags him off, so maybe they had more time than it appears.
This little fic is mainly an attempt to answer the last question. We'll see whether it manages to answer any of the others. I am trying to stick to book-canon here, and I am also trying to write the hobbits as Tolkien would have done had he written this scene and then decided to toss it to make room for something else. When reviewing, please let me know if you think that I am achieving that effect.
**********
([Gandalf] lifted Pippin gently, and carried him back to his bed. Merry followed, and sat down beside him... "Now, I will leave you two together for a while." The Two Towers)
Merry crept a little closer, and looked at his kinsman in some concern. The horrible blank stare had left Pippin's face, and a little color was starting to return to replace the pallor of a few minutes ago, yet the younger hobbit had his eyes shut tightly and did not open them as his friend touched him tentatively on the shoulder. Merry wondered for a moment if the ordeal with the Palantir and the painful confession to Gandalf had simply exhausted his companion and sent him into a much-needed slumber... then he saw the fine tremor of Pippin's chin and noted the tears coursing sluggishly down the dirt-smudged cheeks.
"Pippin, my lad," he said softly. "I've brought you a clean pocket- handkerchief. You look as though you could use it." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small square of rumpled linen that he had found in Saruman's storeroom and appropriated for his own use. "You were probably too busy filling your pockets with Saruman's ill-gotten pipe-weed to worry about taking anything more practical."
As Merry had hoped, his cousin opened his eyes at this and even managed a weak smile. "Ah," whispered Pippin, taking the proffered handkerchief and scrubbing it across his tear-stained face, "that's why I always bring you along on my adventures, Master Meriadoc." He took a deep shaky breath, and struggled to sit up. Merry quickly made shift to help him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
"Are you hurt, Pip?" he asked quietly. "You let out such a frightful scream... I was certain that you were dying."
Pippin was silent for a few minutes. He still clutched the crumpled handkerchief, and Merry watched him turn it over and over in his hands. "No," he said at last, "at least, I don't feel as if I am injured, if that is what you mean. But I feel sick, and weary, and... and I am afraid that I have ruined everything, Merry." He gulped. "He spoke with me. He knows that I am a hobbit, and who knows what else? Perhaps... perhaps he could pull everything right out of my mind, without my even knowing it had happened?"
Merry sighed. "Gandalf doesn't seem to think so. And really, my dear Pippin, you must learn to trust him." He pointed at the wizard, who was conversing with Aragorn and the other members of the company, out of earshot. "He's much wiser than... than anyone else, in such matters." He looked carefully at the face now so close to his own, still tear-streaked and dirty and looking thoroughly wretched, and felt a pang of sympathy and tenderness.
"Come now, Pip," he said lightly, punctuating his words with a small shake of the arm that was encircling his friend's shoulders, "it's not like you to lose hope. You have had an awful fright, and you're not feeling yourself. Come... lay down again for a little while, and let's see if you can get a little sleep while the Great Leaders are having their conference." Removing his arm, he took Pippin's shoulders and guided him back onto the bed of bracken and blankets.
"You will be here, won't you? Merry, don't leave!" There was a slight note of panic in the younger hobbit's voice.
"I will be right here, with you." Merry re-arranged the blankets that had become disarrayed earlier, and settled down next to his kinsman. Once again, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Pippin, pulling him closer and throwing his own blanket on top of both of them. "Now," he said playfully, "you won't be able to go off wandering and getting into trouble without waking me up."
They lay silently for a while. Merry tried to catch snatches of the conversation between Gandalf and Aragorn but could not hear anything useful. He heard Pippin's breathing grow irregular, with an occasional sniff, and suspected that his companion was weeping again. This time, he did not interrupt but only listened to the soft sounds until they faded off into a deep and healing sleep.