Pippin lay in the pavilion the elves had set up for them, and tried not to
think of what had happened. He was surrounded by such beauty, and yet he
could not help remembering the same terrible event. Every time he closed
his eyes to sleep, he saw Gandalf falling into the abyss. And if it wasn't
enough that they had lost their friend and guide, Pippin couldn't help
wondering if he was to blame. His thoughts went back to the well, and the
stone he had thoughtlessly tossed down it. Had that alerted the orcs to
their presence?
He remembered how in Balin's tomb his arm and sword had fought as though under some other power, and he thought back to the night on the Weathertop. The voices had taken control of him so that he could defend himself. Pippin's thoughts went again to the well.
"Why didn't you stop me?" he whispered.
"Why didn't you stop yourself?" the voice replied.
"I didn't know what would happen."
"You knew it was foolish," the voice accused, "you knew of the danger the company faced, and still you acted. You must face the consequences of your actions." Tears filled his eyes at this condemnation by a man he had never seen.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You are not yet ready to know my name," the voice replied as always, "perhaps you never shall be." Pippin cried in the silence that followed. He was the one responsible for Gandalf's death. They had no hope of succeeding without their guide, and now he was lost because of him. He could try and blame the voices for not stopping him, but deep down he knew that it wasn't their fault. The only one to blame was himself.
As he cried he felt someone crept up to his side and lie down next to him. A hand lay across his own in a futile gesture of comfort. It seemed his friends were more willing to forgive him than he was. He open and his eyes and saw Merry lying beside him, his cheeks as tear-streaked as Pippin's own. Pippin didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself for being the cause of those tears.
"Be at peace, little prince," the voice whispered in his mind, "be at peace."
***
Merry heard his friend holding a whispered conversation with apparently no one, and listened, puzzled. This wasn't the first time he had heard him do this. He'd considered telling Gandalf, but decided not to, since Pippin obviously didn't want any of them to know. Merry was worried about Pippin, but respected his privacy, and now it was too late to tell Gandalf anything.
As Pippin's conversation dissolved into sobs, Merry quickly crossed to where he lay. Pippin seemed to be taking Gandalf's death harder than any of them, and Merry wanted him to know his friends were with him in this difficult time. As he placed his hand on Pippin's, Pippin opened his eyes.
Merry froze in shock for a moment, as the eyes which looked at him weren't Pippin's. They were mirror-like orbs which reflected Merry's face. They weren't eyes at all. Then an instant later Pippin's eyes were looking out at him, and Merry began to doubt what he had seen.
It was probably just the wind, but it seemed to Merry that a voice whispered something too faint to hear. But Pippin smiled when he heard it, and closed his eyes in sleep.
Merry would have dismissed the mirror-eyes, if it weren't for the fact he'd seen them before, or thought he had. When they'd fought the riders at the Weathertop, Merry had caught a glimpse of Pippin's eyes and thought there was something strange about them. But it had been dark, and in the confusion of the fight he had only had time for that one glimpse. Then he'd seen them again in Balin's tomb as they fought the orcs. Pippin's face had seemed stern and his eyes. Merry had only been able to see them for an instant before his attention was needed for the orcs, but he was sure that Pippin's eyes had gleamed.
Was it possible he was only imagining this? He guessed it was, but didn't believe it. Once might easily have been a mistake, a trick of the light. But to see the same thing three times suggested it was real. Merry thought of the evil powers they were up against and wondered if somehow those powers had affected Pippin. He would have expected Gandalf, or Elrond, or any of the wise people they had met to have noticed something. But they didn't know him like Merry did.
For the most part, Pippin had been acting the way he always did. Merry would never have suspected there was anything different about his friend, if it weren't for the eyes. Merry rolled over onto his back and looked up at the roof of the pavilion.
Galadrial had seemed to look inside his mind, he remembered. It had felt as though every thought he'd ever had was open to her. If she had been able to look inside his mind, surely she would have looked inside Pippin's. She would have seen if there was anything dangerous in him, any power that shouldn't be there.
Merry decided that for now he would just accept that it had been his imagination, since obviously no one else had seen the things he had seen. But he would watch Pippin, and be cautious in case. Merry didn't even finish that thought.
'There is nothing wrong with Pippin,' he told himself, 'Nothing!' He wished he could make his heart accept the decision made by his mind. Pippin was Pippin and no more. There were no evil powers at work, no plots of Sauron, there was just Pippin. Merry closed his eyes to sleep, but still the doubts remained.
He remembered how in Balin's tomb his arm and sword had fought as though under some other power, and he thought back to the night on the Weathertop. The voices had taken control of him so that he could defend himself. Pippin's thoughts went again to the well.
"Why didn't you stop me?" he whispered.
"Why didn't you stop yourself?" the voice replied.
"I didn't know what would happen."
"You knew it was foolish," the voice accused, "you knew of the danger the company faced, and still you acted. You must face the consequences of your actions." Tears filled his eyes at this condemnation by a man he had never seen.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You are not yet ready to know my name," the voice replied as always, "perhaps you never shall be." Pippin cried in the silence that followed. He was the one responsible for Gandalf's death. They had no hope of succeeding without their guide, and now he was lost because of him. He could try and blame the voices for not stopping him, but deep down he knew that it wasn't their fault. The only one to blame was himself.
As he cried he felt someone crept up to his side and lie down next to him. A hand lay across his own in a futile gesture of comfort. It seemed his friends were more willing to forgive him than he was. He open and his eyes and saw Merry lying beside him, his cheeks as tear-streaked as Pippin's own. Pippin didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself for being the cause of those tears.
"Be at peace, little prince," the voice whispered in his mind, "be at peace."
***
Merry heard his friend holding a whispered conversation with apparently no one, and listened, puzzled. This wasn't the first time he had heard him do this. He'd considered telling Gandalf, but decided not to, since Pippin obviously didn't want any of them to know. Merry was worried about Pippin, but respected his privacy, and now it was too late to tell Gandalf anything.
As Pippin's conversation dissolved into sobs, Merry quickly crossed to where he lay. Pippin seemed to be taking Gandalf's death harder than any of them, and Merry wanted him to know his friends were with him in this difficult time. As he placed his hand on Pippin's, Pippin opened his eyes.
Merry froze in shock for a moment, as the eyes which looked at him weren't Pippin's. They were mirror-like orbs which reflected Merry's face. They weren't eyes at all. Then an instant later Pippin's eyes were looking out at him, and Merry began to doubt what he had seen.
It was probably just the wind, but it seemed to Merry that a voice whispered something too faint to hear. But Pippin smiled when he heard it, and closed his eyes in sleep.
Merry would have dismissed the mirror-eyes, if it weren't for the fact he'd seen them before, or thought he had. When they'd fought the riders at the Weathertop, Merry had caught a glimpse of Pippin's eyes and thought there was something strange about them. But it had been dark, and in the confusion of the fight he had only had time for that one glimpse. Then he'd seen them again in Balin's tomb as they fought the orcs. Pippin's face had seemed stern and his eyes. Merry had only been able to see them for an instant before his attention was needed for the orcs, but he was sure that Pippin's eyes had gleamed.
Was it possible he was only imagining this? He guessed it was, but didn't believe it. Once might easily have been a mistake, a trick of the light. But to see the same thing three times suggested it was real. Merry thought of the evil powers they were up against and wondered if somehow those powers had affected Pippin. He would have expected Gandalf, or Elrond, or any of the wise people they had met to have noticed something. But they didn't know him like Merry did.
For the most part, Pippin had been acting the way he always did. Merry would never have suspected there was anything different about his friend, if it weren't for the eyes. Merry rolled over onto his back and looked up at the roof of the pavilion.
Galadrial had seemed to look inside his mind, he remembered. It had felt as though every thought he'd ever had was open to her. If she had been able to look inside his mind, surely she would have looked inside Pippin's. She would have seen if there was anything dangerous in him, any power that shouldn't be there.
Merry decided that for now he would just accept that it had been his imagination, since obviously no one else had seen the things he had seen. But he would watch Pippin, and be cautious in case. Merry didn't even finish that thought.
'There is nothing wrong with Pippin,' he told himself, 'Nothing!' He wished he could make his heart accept the decision made by his mind. Pippin was Pippin and no more. There were no evil powers at work, no plots of Sauron, there was just Pippin. Merry closed his eyes to sleep, but still the doubts remained.