Disclaimer: Don't own LOTR

Yay reviews! Thank you all! We're back to the darker themes in this one, though it may not seem like it at first. It's a hobbit story, so it had to be just a little bit cute. There are a lot of minor references to the book in this one, but I hope they won't confuse anyone. Enjoy!

Sugarcoat – Pippin comes to term with the fact that happy endings aren't guaranteed.

Rating: K+

Characters: Pippin, Boromir


Pippin had always been the youngest member of their little band – he, Merry, Frodo, Fatty, and Sam. As much as he complained about it, he secretly enjoyed the way the others doted on him. Sure, they got him into a great deal of trouble, but they always made sure he came off with the lightest sentence from their elders. Pippin, after all, was adorable. Everyone loved him, and all he had to do was smile. His aunts were always slipping him an extra sweet, his uncles offering their spare change; even the most curmudgeonly elder would soften in his presence. Pippin's cousins might have hated him for this, but he made sure to use his charms to their benefit, as well, so they ended up indulging him as much as everyone else.

Perhaps Pippin was spoiled, but he was never rotten. His mother taught him to be grateful, and so he was. He apologized for every mischief, thanked every gift-giver, and slept soundly at night with dreams that were as beautiful as his reality. His childhood was a golden one.

Even when bad things happened, they were never quite so bad for Pippin. When he broke his arm climbing a tree, the splint came with his first taste of brandy and so many well-wishers that they couldn't all fit in the living room. When Frodo's parents died, he was told they had gone on an extended visit to see their ancestors, and that Frodo would be quite well living with his rich – if a little eccentric – uncle in Hobbiton. Frodo was smiling the next time Pippin saw him, so that was that. When Merry disappeared while they were playing in the river, Pippin ran for help. Everyone told Pippin that it would be okay, although they would not let him watch the rescuers pull Merry from the river, blue and cold. Pippin never was told how near a thing it had been. Merry was alright, and Pippin grew up believing that there was nothing in the world that could really hurt him.

Then Frodo began acting strange, and Pippin found out about his cousin's little secret. Despite Frodo's obvious fear of whatever was after his uncle's ring (and really, what a silly thing it was to get so upset over), the thought of going on a quest for the wizard Gandalf excited him. It was an adventure, a real one, and Pippin was determined to be a part of it.

Things really started to go wrong, he supposed, when he was swallowed by a tree. Of course Tom Bombadil came along soon enough to save them, so that was alright. It was just more mischief, as easily righted as it was committed. They were always rescued, and Pippin was never hurting for very long. The Barrow-wights, the trouble in Bree, even on Weathertop when he was so afraid that his blood was freezing inside him and poor Frodo was stabbed, even then the fear was tempered when Glorfindel appeared on his magnificent horse and performed the elf-magic that sent the Black Riders away.

And wasn't Rivendell wonderful? Pippin became the darling of the elves there. They would laugh at all his jokes, listen to every story, answer every question. They even asked him to sing with them. As for Frodo…Frodo was alright. Master Elrond fixed him, and Strider promised that Frodo would live and all would be well. Right?

Except Frodo was not alright, and deep down Pippin knew it. That's why he had to go with his cousins again when the council decided to destroy the ring. That, and to see the end of their marvelous adventure. He wasn't going to be left behind simply because he was the youngest! It took all of his charms, but things worked out. Pippin was allowed to remain with his friends and their new companions: the dwarf, such a strong and wonderfully humorous fellow, the elf, strange and beautiful and powerful all at once, and the Gondorian man.

Pippin did not like Boromir at first. He was shadowed and bent under a weight that Pippin had seen in Strider, however Boromir bore it with a kind of pride. He seemed cruel, because he enjoyed war as much as the hobbits enjoyed smoking. He never swore that their quest would succeed. He never told Pippin to imagine he was in a soft feather bed when they were lying on rocks, or to think of fresh bread when all they had was stale. On the other hand, he did not talk down to Pippin, either. He spoke to the youngest hobbit the same way he spoke to Merry or Gimli, though perhaps not quite the same way he spoke to Strider.

The Fellowship trudged on, and most of the time it was not nearly so exciting as Pippin had hoped. When it was exciting…well, Pippin was learning to be truly afraid. Sparring with Merry was just a game, until they were attacked and he actually had to use the sword. Racing Gimli (who always lost) was fun, too, until they were running for their lives.

Caradhras was cold and unforgiving. Pippin felt sick most of the time, and when he wasn't in pain he wasn't feeling anything. Miserably he asked if they were going to have to cut off his foot, as he had heard sometimes happened to hobbits in the very worst Shire winters. Gimli laughed: "Of course not!" Strider and Legolas smiled benignly, as though Pippin had meant to be amusing. Gandalf rolled his eyes: "Of all the ridiculous things to say!" Boromir alone took a serious look at Pippin's ailing toes. "Not yet," he said quietly. Then he forced each hobbit to borrow a pair or two of socks, offering his own to Pippin.

Pippin had hoped his time on top of the mountain was the most miserable he would ever feel in his life. Then they entered Moria. In the darkness all the nightmares he had ever dreamed seemed to jump out at him, then shrink back whenever anyone else asked him what the matter was. All of them were on edge; even the elf, who was never bothered by anything. Still they told him that he was being irrational, that there was nothing in dark even though he heard them talk among themselves about the goblins and the Gollum.

One afternoon (at least it was when they were having lunch, none of them could actually say what time it was) Boromir sat by Pippin, put a hand on his shoulder, and pointed into the blackness. "Tell me what you see. Your sight is better than mine, but my eyes are better trained. Together we can pierce this void just as well as any elf – better, even, since elves are afraid of the dark." Pippin looked over his shoulder to see if Legolas had heard. If he had the elf was not offended. After all, Boromir did not mean to insult their friend. He said it because it was true.

"Very well," said Pippin. He squinted and strained his eyes until they hurt. Still he only saw shadows, but he pointed out every demon he could find to Boromir.

When he finished Boromir nodded. "Let us consider the parts of each monster separately," said the man. He contemplated Pippin's demons for a moment, and then pointed to one. It was a fearsome thing in Pippin's mind, all claws and teeth. "That one, for instance, you say is a beast. I say it is stone. Look how his upper jaw and lower do not match, and if you move just a little, those eyes become skewed. It is stalactites and stalagmites; you may ask Gimli which is which."

Pippin smiled, and most of his companions would have stopped there, having successfully coaxed the youngest hobbit into believing his monsters were not real. Boromir, however, pointed to another creature. It was smaller, but it seemed hairy and it had a sword. "That is a dead goblin. If we separate the parts, we still see an arm, legs, and everything else. Also, you can smell it from here." He ruffled Pippin's hair in a manner that was too rough, but somehow comforting. "You are not imagining everything, little one, and you are right to be afraid. Trust that fear as a guide, but do not let it push you into the wrong conclusions." So Pippin survived when goblin scouts came out of the dark corners, and Legolas or Strider did not always shoot them.

No one dared to tell him everything would be alright when the Balrog came. Perhaps they would have tried if they had not been busy running, but the fear was written on their faces, too strong to be denied. Pippin was fairly certain that there wasn't a dry pair of breeches among the nine of them. While that might have been funny not so long ago when the air was clear and the grass of the Shire was beneath his feet, it was not at all funny when he was so scared that his entire body wrenched free of his control and did things he was not proud of. His bladder was a minor detail, compared to the way he ran, simply ran when it all began to come crashing down around them. The desire to get away from the hell-spawned creature was so great, he did not look back, did not care what was happening to his friends.

Then his body froze, and he watched Gandalf face the Balrog alone. He thought he heard Sam whisper that they were saved, that of course Gandalf could do anything. He would have agreed if his voice had been working. Then the wizard fell, and Pippin was still frozen while Frodo was screaming, screaming. His legs wouldn't work until Gimli pushed him, forced his body to start running again. But they would not hold him for long; Pippin collapsed feet from the gate, and Merry with him. Then the tears came rolling down his face. He barely felt Merry rubbing his arm while he, too, sobbed. They had never seen anyone die before. Not really; orcs never seemed to count. But Gandalf…Gandalf was their friend.

It was not alright. No matter how many times they told him, it was not. Only Boromir said nothing at all. He squeezed Pippin's shoulder, then Merry's, and left them to grieve safely within the borders of the forest.

And Lothlorien was beautiful, wasn't it? The Lady smiled at him, and his spirit lifted. He believed her when she said they would be safe, he believed that they could indeed go on. He did not see much of Boromir – nor most of the other members of the Fellowship, save the hobbits, for that matter. It felt a bit like the Shire again. He laughed with Merry and they tried to lift Frodo's heart. They were with the elves again. Perhaps it was their incredible age that brought Pippin back to his childhood, where all the world was good and nothing could hurt him. There was no pain for him here, and there never would be again.

No; that was not true. He could have turned back then, he knew. If he wanted the world could go on being splendid. But Pippin thought of Gandalf's sacrifice, and of poor Frodo, and that perhaps if the quest went wrong things in the Shire would not be wonderful, either. There were monsters out there, horrible things (Pippin would not think of the Balrog, he could not) that were not shadows, not just his imagination.

He shared a boat on the great big river with Merry and Boromir, and almost enjoyed it. Monsters could not reach them while they were floating so swiftly downstream! Do not be so certain, said a voice in the back of his head, one which sounded suspiciously like Boromir. It struck him as odd that his internal voice, his conscience, so to speak, had taken on the persona of the Gondorian.

Then the Nazgul cried out above them, and the memories of any other sound were erased. The river was not safe, it was utterly vulnerable! Still, they were rescued. How could anything go wrong when they had an elf who could shoot down a Nazgul in the middle of the night? Gandalf is dead, and he was a wizard, said the voice. Elves can die, and so can hobbits.

It was a strange moment to consider dying. After everything they had already been through, even when they were facing down the – no, he would not think of it – he had not considered his own demise. But it was a distinct possibility, truly. He was not skilled or brave, and if wizards and elves could die, why not a hobbit?

"Merry," he whispered when they were back in the boat, "are we going to die?"

"What a question!" Merry exclaimed. "No, Pip, of course we aren't going to die. Everything will be fine, and before you know it we'll be back in the Shire having a half-pint while Sam moons over Rosie. You'll see, Pip. We'll be alright."

Pippin bit his bottom lip. He turned carefully, so that he could face Boromir without tipping the boat. "Boromir?"

The man shook himself out of some deep thought. By the look on his face, it had not been a pleasant one. "Yes?"

"Are we going to die?"

Boromir was silent for a moment. He considered most of Pippin's questions very seriously, even when they were very foolish. "Everyone dies," he said at last, "even elves, sometimes. We mortals can be sure that eventually our days will come to an end; that is encouraging for some, disheartening for others. But it will happen to us all."

It was not exactly the answer Pippin wanted, but it was an honest one. "Thank you," Pippin found himself saying. And he meant it, because Pippin found that it was not so scary to face the things that could kill him when he knew that eventually he would die, whether he faced them or not. He knew it wouldn't make much sense if he tried to explain it to anyone else, but he liked to believe that Boromir felt the same.

Pippin was an innocent child. Almost everyone loved him, and almost everyone wanted to protect him. His world was coated over with sugar, and every hard edge was wrapped in foam just for him, so that he would never, ever get hurt. But when Pippin sought adventure outside the womb of the Shire, he surely would have cracked his head if Boromir had not told him about the edges, and all the other bad things that did exist. The real world was not sweet, the real world hurt, and all of that was so much easier to face simply knowing that pain was as inevitable as joy.

So when he was jostled about on the back of an orc and Merry was telling him, "Don't worry, it will be alright," Pippin looked back where they had come from. He could still see Boromir dying, even though they were miles and miles away from the place now. Boromir (his hero, if only because the Gondorian was the only person who had never once lied to Pippin) was dead, and they were captured, and Frodo was running away to his doom, and Pippin had no idea what had happened to the others. "No," he said. "It won't be."