note - most conversational text is taken from the book. the other is mine.

Times of doubt

It was there even before the slip, Pippin is sure. The incident served as a trigger of sorts, the palantir started it all, yet Pippin is sure it was inside of him long before that day. The doubt.

"I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more orcs."

Denethor watched him with keen, calculating eyes, and Pippin felt he had made a mistake, somehow, in opening up to this man, this, something.

Yet the need to show, to tell someone the tale which he has been keeping for far too long urged him on and on. He was aware of the fact that everyone knew what had happened, but nobody saw, nobody felt, nobody really knew, like he did.

It was him who witnessed Boromir's death, ad he was sure it did something inside of him, something he was afraid of. If only Gandalf would listen, if only he would understand.

Help.

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor..." he recited after the steward, knowing his fate could be sealed with the few words, yet his mind still wandered and he was all too aware of the fact that his fate had been sealed a long time ago.

I'm only just a hobbit, what could I simply do?

"He is not as other man of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his intentions, the blood runs cold in him. Remember that!" The words echoed in his mind numbly, and he felt that that he understood Gandelf perfectly, but all felt just too meaningless, too jumbled.

What matter does it have?

"For you are sworn to his service." the wizard continued, not aware of the turmoil inside of his charge's head. He was too busy, too deep into the city's matters, Pippin knew, yet he could not help but feel it as another proof.

I am but a hobbit.

He heard the horns blowing all over the stony city, and felt it vibrating with fear.

War was coming.

"What was that?" asked Beregond. "You also felt something?"

"It is the sign of our fall."

The quiet around them closed his throat then, and squeezed his heart. He had never felt this kind of horror, not in the Shire, not in Moria, not even in Isengard. It was unknown to him, he was a stranger to all of this.

What am I doing here?

The anxiety he felt lurking ever since coming to the stony prison grew, and it took all of Pippin not to run in search of Gandalf, and spill all of his troubles. Something is wrong with me, inside me, he would tell Gandalf, and then he would feel relief in spite of Gandalf's sure answer;

"Sauron planted this fear inside of you, when you touched his black magic, it is the punishment for your foolishness, and a curse for you to bear."

And Pippin would nod, and laugh, because it is alright if this horror is only in his heart. The more fearful answer he could recieve would shake his world; "It is the world changing, a great darkness coming, and you are finally starting to realise it."

I don't know this world anymore.

And he would smile foolishly at Gandalf, and be the creature he was supposed to be all along, before thi journey, before the world stopped making sense. He would be the worryless, little hobbit, he will never again have the chance to be.

There is no turning back.

The Nazgul are coming, and he is standing here, on the edge of the city, on the edge of an era he has no hopes of living through. And maybe for the better, he thinks, maybe this is the last day the world has been bathed in light, and his existance will have ended in the last traces of happiness.

In a twisted, and frightening way, the realisation makes him feel better, makes him want to fight. He sheaths his sword.

I am but a hobbit. And I will fight for the change which is sure to come. And I'm not afraid I won't be a part of it.

He is not afraid anymore.

He faces the Nazgul.