One of the Fellowship's smallest in for a big surprise after being lead on a curious chase by a mysterious black bird. This Hobbit will have some explaining to do when his friends see just what it was his curiosity has found.
Set shortly before the Mines of Moria (so everyone is alive ;u;), but after it was already suggested by Gimli. Mostly movie-verse, with some lore from the books. Contains an OMC, violence/gore, torture/abuse. Rated M for obvious reasons.
Gimli's passive aggressive grumbles, coupled with the talkative Took and the equally bothersome Brandybuck, were almost enough for Gandalf to give in to the earlier made request of going through the Mines of Moria, if only to shut them up.
But in his many years, the great grey wizard had somehow managed to keep patience strong. And the time for rest swiftly arrives as the sun fell below the trees that surrounded the Fellowship, unveiling the sparkling stars and blanketing them in darkness. And the Hobbits were more than eager to eat.
With happy chatter among them, the cook fire was set up and the aroma of stew made their hungry bellies growl.
"Pippin!" Merry barked, playfully shoving his cousin as the smaller Hobbit snuck a spoonful of his stew. Pippin whined in protest, as though he hadn't had any stew of his own. "Merry, I'm still hungry..." He turned his faux-sad eyes on Frodo and Sam, who had been chuckling at the pair. Sam rolled his eyes as his answer, Frodo feigning innocence and turned his attention back to his own bowl. "Can't always get what ya' want by beggin', Pip." Merry said through a mouthful of spoon, which received a dejected huff from the younger Hobbit.
Boromir, sitting across from the scene, laughed and turned to Aragorn. "For creatures half the size of men, they've twice the appetite."
"Thrice, in Pippin's case!" Merry teased, bringing a good laugh from the others. "It's alright, they're only joking." Frodo said with a smile as Pippin sulked at the jokes at his expense. Sam gave him a firm pat on the back as he walked by to help clean up.
The night became colder by the minute it seemed, the small fire suddenly not enough to keep the group warm. Gandalf thought to himself if he were any other man his old bones would be aching right about now. Aragorn announced they should search the area for any kindling, but to stay within earshot and shouting distance. Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf stayed in the camp.
Pippin and Merry went one way, Boromir and Aragorn another, and Legolas and Gimli the other. At first Boromir suggested going with the Hobbits, but Aragorn replied that they were not in immediate danger so close to the camp.
It was not long before fat snowflakes began to fell around them, melting under their feet as they stepped over branches and rocks. Merry and Pippin were heading slightly uphill of camp, in the direction their journey had been going. Up the mountain Caradhras, to the path. That's what Gandalf had said. Pippin was not looking forward to the snow...
Wrapping his cloak around himself tighter, Pippin followed Merry into the woods, keeping close with his eyes on the ground. The duo were surprisingly silent, unnerved by the darkness and silence of the surrounding woods.
Crouching down to gather a rather large log in his arms, Pippin heaved it up, grunting as he did. "Hey Merry, look at this one!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper, turning to show it off. He expected to see the fire's glow though the trees, to see his cousin right there with his own armful of firewood. But in the darkness, Pippin found himself utterly alone.
"Merry?!" Pippin hissed, standing frozen in shock. He was alone in the darkness after somehow losing his cousin. His voice rose slightly in a high pitched panic. "Merry?"
Turning around a few times, Pippin raised his voice. "Merry!" He was quiet, hoping for a response. When none answered, his fear created terrible thoughts in his mind. Had Merry been hurt? Would it be his fault? Was he as lost as Pippin was?
Pippin shifted his feet nervously, realizing he had turned himself around to where he didn't know the right from wrong direction. "Oh Pippin you fool..." he said to himself as he took a hopeful step. Away from camp.
Merry hadn't realized he'd wandered from his cousin, distracted by a very nice collection of firewood that seemed to lead off in a trail. He was so proud of his find of this dry wood that he hadn't actually looked up for a good many minutes. When he did, it was at the sound of a somewhat distant voice, almost too quiet to hear. "Pippin, did you hear-" he began to ask, looking around, before realization struck. "Pip!" He called into the air, breath melting the snowflakes that fell in front of his face.
At first Merry was mad at his foolish little cousin, always having to mess things up or wander off. But the thought of him hurt sent a pang of guilt through his mind. Turning around, he followed his own trail back, which was almost covered by snow now.
'Pippin wouldn't wait around for someone to find him.' Merry thought. 'He might have wandered back to camp.' He dashed back to camp, dreading and hoping.
As Pippin walked the opposite direction. His toes were cold, cheeks and ears red, and he sniffled every few steps. But he was still holding on to that log, hoping dumb luck would be on his side that night. Something was on his side at that moment, but it wasn't luck, and it certainly wasn't dumb.
Pippin nearly dropped the branch in his arms as the caw of a raven above him ripped through the silent snowy air. Looking up, he blinked rapidly as the snow landed on his face and in his eyelashes. But he could see it- the big black bird that perched in a tree directly above him. It took a moment of staring to realize that the bird was staring right back at him. Nervously, Pippin took a few steps away, to be under a different tree.
With a loud flap of its wings, the raven glided from one branch to the next, taking the same position as before, only on a lower branch now. Pippin shivered and picked up the pace.
The snow was deep enough to crunch beneath his feet now, so now all Pippin heard was his own footsteps and the flap of the ever nearing black bird. His pace quickened to a sprint, but the bird kept pace. Without looking up, he knew it was directly above him. His blood rushed in his ears, almost deafening out the faint sound of rushing water.
Suddenly the raven was beside him, so Pippin veered away. Then the bird rose and came down on his other side. Pippin changed course again. Suddenly it didn't feel like a chase. The thought that he was being herded crossed the Hobbits terrified mind just before the trees broke in front of him.
"The snow has fallen thick, but there are still tracks here." Aragorn spoke to his companions. Boromir held a burning torch beside him, with Merry on the other side. "...You think he's alright?" the Hobbit asked.
Boromir offered a smile. "He probably just got turned around. Woods can be a dangerous place for one so small." Merry twisted his mouth in an uneasy smile. Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and with a nod, lead the way.
Merry had insisted on coming along to find his cousin, though the men were more than capable. The others had offered as well, but Gandalf had proclaimed they would not need the entire Fellowship to find one Hobbit. So they stayed behind to warm by the fire ad take watch for the night.
The snow had made the tracks hard to find at first, nearly covered by the steady snowfall. But the tracker had lived up to his title and the trio was quickly advancing.
"Here... His pace quickened. He began to run, as if chased." Aragorn announced as the tracks lengthened in stride. He stepped around them, looking for what could be the cause of the chase. "What was chasin' him?" Merry asked, terrified that Pippin may have been captured by some horrible beast. "...there are no other tracks. No creature on foot gave chase to our young Hobbit friend."
"Somethin' must have given him a fright, though." Merry exclaimed, shivering and shifting. Boromir stood next to him and offered him the torch for warmth. He accepted it, holding it close enough to warm his freezing fingers. "That, my friend, I cannot give the answer to."
"When we find him, we'll ask him." Boromir said, in an attempt at reassuring his worried friend, who gave him a sad look in return.
Pippin had been right in his last thought. This raven had led him towards a river, wide and frozen over. It took the Halfling a moment to realize just why. His ears, still burning, picked up the sound of rushing water. A break in the ice, revealing the black, swirling water beneath as it roared by with a vicious current. And clinging to the edge of that hole in the ice was a man.
Or at least it appeared to be a man. His waist and legs were submerged in the icy water, with just his arms, shoulders, and head sticking out and clinging on to the jagged ice.
At first glance he didn't appear to be moving, but as Pippin took a nervous step towards the bank, the man lifted his head.
Getting a closer look didn't reveal much. This mysterious man was dressed in blacks and blues, with a hood and mask covering most of his face. The only skin he could see was tan around pale grey eyes that stared up at the small Hobbit. This man almost looked like the raven that had led him here.
Pippin looked around, spotting said raven perched very nearby. It cawed, flapping its wings desperately. The man in the water spoke, quiet and horse, but obviously in Elvish. The bird sounded sad in its chirping response before it flew the short distance to land on Pippin's shoulder. The beast of a bird was almost half the size of the Hobbit, throwing him off balance with a startled cry. Landing on his backside, Pippin clenched his eyes shut.
The voice spoke again, in an accent that reminded Pippin of his own, unsual for an elf... "P-please..." His teeth could be heard chattering from where the Hobbit sat. "Young sir... Get help..." He realized his man saw him as a child, and the Hobbit had had many people make that mistake before.
With the bird hopping beside him now, Pippin stood, unconsciously trying to stand taller. "I can help." he spoke in a nervous voice.
"N-No, child. Please...!" the man began to say more, but the strength in his arms gave a little, dunking more of his body into the water that was trying to drag him in. He sputtered as a wave of the frigid waster splashed over his head and arms.
Pippin shuffled on to the ice across from the man, who struggled nearly 8 feet out. Near the shore the ice was thick, by the damage from the hole had begun to crack the ice around the man.
Pippin froze as the ice creaked beneath his feet, hollow and menacing. With his eyes locked on his feet, he saw the bird hovering over its master out of the corner of his eyes. With a deep breath, he shifted another few feet out, arms shaking. Now he was close enough to see the man was bleeding from his arms and who knows where else. The ice was red beneath his limbs.
Suddenly the Hobbit was glad he was as small as he was. Crouching down, he inched across the ice to be directly in front of the man. He reached down and touched his arms. The cloth was damp and nearly frozen, sticking to the skin underneath. Pippin looked up, in to his piercing eyes, as pale as the moon. Strands of wet, black hair stuck to his forehead. "I'm not a child." Pippin said suddenly. "I'm a Hobbit." With that, he grabbed both arms and, struggling to lift them far enough, wrapped both around his shoulders. Standing and pulling on the waterlogged burden nearly toppled the Hobbit. He put his entire weight in to leaning, eyes squeezing shut, before the icy trap released its hold.
Falling to his backside, Pippin gasped in shock, eyes popping open. He had done it! The man had apparently fainted during the ordeal, as he did not move his legs that still dangled in the water.
Standing with the intention of getting back to shore, Pippin had just got his footing when he felt like he was not alone. The crow had gone quiet, he noticed with an uneasy feeling as he slowly turned around.