The Grey Pilgrim
by Angie the Flying Dork
I think we all know I don't own anything Tolkien related. Moving on, I would like to say that this is my first serious attempt at Lord of the Rings fan fiction. Usually, when an author says that, they ask you to go nice on them. I am not. For purposes of staying close to canon and in character, I would like you to be honest if anything seems wrong with this fic. Thank you. I would also like to thank Singe Aliene, my close friend and a very talented writer, for giving me the plot bunny to write this. She has probably written a cuter and better fic with the same idea in mind. Now go read.. love it. Hate it. Just tell me what you think.
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Pippin had never felt so miserable or ashamed with himself. Of all of the mind-numbingly stupid and foolish things to do ... how could anyone have been so daft? He wished he had tumbled down that well along with blasted stone he had cast into it. Now everyone in the fellowship seemed irked with him. Certainly, if making any more noise were an option, all sounds would be unpleasant ones directed towards him.
'Perfect', Pippin thought morosely, rubbing the material of his cloak to comfort him. 'I've endangered everyone else...' He looked askance to his companions, some of whom seemed to barely be in the realm of slumber. He then carefully glanced at Gandalf, whose sharp eyes and mind seemed to be elsewhere at the moment. 'And, what's more, I've angered Gandalf.'
Pippin, as inconspicuous as he could be, eyed the wizard as he kept watch while the others slept. Gandalf was aimlessly letting small, but magnificent, nonetheless, curls of smoke rise up from his pipe while he smoked, looking rather pensive and worried at the same time. Pippin, who was supposed to be sleeping anyway, was too intimidated at the moment to even contemplate asking what was wrong. Instead, he was thinking of how Gandalf, who could be doing something as commonplace as smoking a pipe, always managed to exude a force of power beyond anything Pippin could comprehend. It had always been that way… Pippin began thinking back to first time he could recall ever seeing Gandalf.
September 22nd. The date was easy enough to remember, it being Bilbo and Frodo's birthday. Of what year precisely, he could not recall. Perhaps Pippin had been around six or seven at the time. He remembered how warm it had felt at Bag End, the air still bearing strong chases of summer heat and the strong scent of Longbottom Leaf thickening the air. The windows had been left open, letting moths fly in and out of the large hobbit hole idly.
Pippin had been hunched in the corner of the sitting room, amusing himself by rolling a cork back and forth on the wooden floor. It had been a frightfully dull party, in his opinion. There were few guests attending, and rest assured that no one was anywhere near his age. His cousin Merry, as he had been told, had been feeling violently sick and was unable to come, leaving Pippin alone to his boredom. His cousin Frodo had unintentionally abandoned him to go and sit among the grown hobbits, seemingly more interested in what the older folk talked about, now that he was inching closer to adulthood.
From where he sat, Pippin tried hard to become interested in what his elders were discussing at their chairs, but none of it seemed particularly fascinating. News. News from outside of the Shire. It was never fascinating stories, but just tidings and the like. At least the adults seemed to be enjoying it. However, Pippin would have much preferred it if everyone else quieted down and just let his 'Uncle' Bilbo speak. In Pippin's eyes, he could make anything interesting. Unfortunately, the talk carried on for quite sometime, and Pippin wished he could go explore outside in the cooler night.
As the chatter seemed to be dwindling down, and everyone felt full and ready for their beds or the journey home, a loud knock came from Bilbo's door. Pippin watched as Bilbo pardoned himself and answered it, only to hear small, but incredibly elated exclamations from the hall.
'Gandalf! You've made it! …'
Gandalf! Pippin could feel himself quivering slightly. The wizard made famous to the younger hobbits from Bilbo's tales? Oh, how positively exciting… seeing something from a story you cherish walking and moving about everything that had always seemed commonplace before! Gandalf! Pippin stood up awkwardly on his large feet, unable to wait from getting a good look.
"Let me get your cloak for you… oh, Gandalf! I didn't expect that you'd be able to come," gushed Bilbo, who scampered quickly past the sitting room with a weathered cloak and staff in hand.
"I can always make time for a friend, Bilbo," answered a voice that seemed befitting, at least to Pippin, for the person Bilbo had described. It was a deep voice, rough yet smooth at the same time. Although Pippin couldn't quite put his finger on it, it seemed to be an embodiment of wisdom. A tall figure walked into the room, and Pippin's eyes widened. The wizard stood there, dressed in a worn gray robe that, contrary to how it would appear on most people, made him look all the more important and majestic. Hair and a beard of the same coloring tumbled down at a length that probably exceeded Pippin's height. Amidst the masses of hair and wrinkles were set two pale eyes that seemed to have held knowledge unlike that of any other person Pippin had met. It was astounding, especially to such a young hobbit, to see an actual wizard and legend word-for-word as he had imagined.
All of the hobbits in the room stood up to greet Gandalf, even though earlier some had been grumbling about their disapproval of people from outside of The Shire. Pippin felt too small to even approach someone like Gandalf, at least by himself. He had wished his cousin Merry hadn't felt too sick to come… surely he would have appreciated seeing Gandalf the Grey. Pippin then thought of his older sister Pervinca, who had come along to Bag End for the day as well. He hurried back into one of the bedrooms she had fallen asleep in.
"Pervinca," he whispered shrilly, standing on his toes so his arms were at the height to shake her from sleep. "Per-vin-ca, wake up!"
"What?" she mumbled, yawning and turning over on her other side. "I'm tired, Pip, so be quick about it."
"Gandalf is here! Bilbo's Gandalf is here," Pippin said, trying to contain his excitement. Pervinca merely started stroking a lock of her curly auburn hair and shut her eyelids. She then pulled a quilt over her head, frustrating Pippin even more. "I… I said that Gandalf is here," he repeated, trying to emphasize his words.
"You're not fooling me, Pip," she replied, sounding highly irritated. "Besides, I want to go to sleep! Try your foolery on someone else! Go away!"
"But Pervinca…" Pippin sighed. She was normally a very good and agreeable companion. Unexpectedly, she turned over to face her younger brother and grabbed him by the lapels of his vest, pulling him closer. Pippin wriggled and tried to pull himself free of her grasp, but being five years his senior, Pervinca was considerably stronger than him. Her round hands held tight.
"Listen, Pip. I am tired from the cart ride. I am tired of having to listen to the adults' talk about boring things. I am tired of the heat, and right now, I am tired of you. Now let me sleep," Pervinca boomed. She let go of Pippin and rubbed her hands. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Pippin muttered. "Fine." He headed towards the door and turned around. "You'll be sorry that you missed out on the chance to meet Gandalf." He then blew out the candle on the table by the door and scuffled out, slamming the door behind him. Pervinca hated being in complete darkness, and sure enough, she could be heard squealing a second later, fumbling to get out of the tangled bed sheets.
"Peregrin Took!" she shouted as the sound of her feet hit the floor. Pippin darted off towards a safe-haven, the sitting room full of protecting adults. He slid behind the chair his father sat in, gasping and panting, not even noticing he had interrupted the adults.
"Hey, now," said Paladin Took, turning around in his chair and looking down at his son. "What's all of the fuss about, lad?" Pippin started to stammer out an explanation, but Pervinca stomped in, dress rumpled and hair flying about in every which way. When her eyes landed upon Pippin, she stepped towards him with great haste. "What are you two doing?" Neither of them answered, and when it looked like Pervinca was about to get her hands on Pippin, they were interrupted.
"Pervinca and Peregrin Took, your father has asked you a question," the deep voice said in a tone that seemed half amused and half stern. In all of their own commotion, the two had ignored everyone else in the room. However, the turned and stared dumbfounded at Gandalf. He sat beside Bilbo, lighting his pipe and settling himself in a chair. "Well? Why don't you answer him?"
"We… we were doing nothing, Da'.. nothing at all," answered Pervinca quickly, though she was looking at Gandalf while she spoke. "Sorry," she mumbled, barely audible. Pervinca then speedily backed out of the room and headed off towards the bedroom. Pippin, however, remained seated, his legs splayed out. He was still enchanted and stupefied by the notion of Gandalf actually speaking… to him. Gawking at the wizard, Pippin had failed to notice that he had gone cross-eyed while doing so. All of the adults in the room did, however, and were tittering and cracking small jokes.
"You must be very talented, little Peregrin, to be able to look in two directions at the same time," remarked Gandalf with a warm smile. At this Pippin shook himself and corrected his sight. Once again, the adults chortled.
"That's a wee Took for you," said Bilbo kindly, patting Pippin on the head. Pippin, however, felt he couldn't leave the room without getting one thing off of his little chest.
"Uncle Bilbo… do you know any more stories… does the Grey Pilgrim have any?" Gandalf laughed openly at being addressed as this by such a young hobbit. Pippin immediately decided he liked Gandalf's laughter… it sounded like it appreciated being amused and not the like the kind of laugh that only serves to humor someone when they are being stupid.
"Not only do I have many stories, Pippin, but I can blow smoke rings that rival Bilbo's," Gandalf responded. He glanced towards the opening to the hallway, where Pervinca had crept back to and was peeking in the room. "And if you and your sister agree to sit quietly, then I suppose your father will let you stay up to witness a few of them."
"Mhmm," Paladin murmured in agreement, taking a puff on his pipe. "Just a few, and then it's off to bed with you." He set down his pipe and scooped up little Pervinca in his arms. Frodo lifted up Pippin and sat him in his lap as well, letting Pippin sip from his cup of lukewarm tea.
There was a pleasant, content feeling floating around the air that night, or so Pippin remembered. Truthfully, some of the stories that Bilbo and Gandalf told had been passed down to him many times before. However, they were tales that certainly never got dull and were definately interesting to hear from someone with the grandeur of a wizard. And, indeed, there were smoke rings, as promised. Most of the adults tried their hand at blowing some, but none matched the ones that Gandalf had turned out. Afterwards, Pippin and Pervinca had been sent back to bed. While he was pulling his nightshirt over his head, Pippin still felt too giddy to possibly sleep, especially since he could still hear voices coming from the sitting room. As he climbed into bed, Pippin heard something that seemed unimportant at the time, but somewhat cryptic upon later thought.
"Ah, he's always been better than me at smoke rings," commented Bilbo from the other, whose own were quite impressive. "I've practiced for years ever since meeting him and still have yet to come close." He chuckled a little at the thought, perhaps a memory of the beginnings of his friendship with the wizard.
"I've had much time to practice," Gandalf countered, and Pippin detected a small note of something that was slightly… wistful.
'Slightly wistful… and worried' thought Pippin, as he tried to warm himself in the chilling air of Moria. He snuggled deeper into his cloak. 'I always wish I could understand Gandalf better. I wish I never had to anger him, either.' He looked back at Gandalf, who had stopped smoking and was now just standing silently. Pippin sighed and proceeded to squirm to find more comfortable position on the stony floor.
"Keep still, Peregrin," said the wizard quietly and suddenly. "I have known you've been awake all of this time from the noise you have been making… now quiet. I am trying to think…"
"Think about what,' Pippin whispered, surprised at his nerve. He immediately wished he hadn't said anything, bracing himself for a harsh reply.
"I am thinking," said Gandalf, clearing his throat, "about how your mistake might cost us later." Pippin's heart sank. He wished he had the right words to express how incredibly troubled and sorry he was. "Don't bother apologizing, either. I'm afraid that there are no words that can make up for your blundering. However, Pippin, I do think that you are a good hobbit, despite an incredibly foolish one. Someday you may prove to be otherwise and surprise me. Now go to sleep."
Pippin felt guilty and comforted by those words at the same time. Always a fool… he wished he could amount to more then that in everyone's eyes. However, Gandalf did say he was a worthy hobbit… surely that had to count for something.
'Who knows,' Pippin thought again, repressing the urge to fidget with his cloak. 'Perhaps one day I will prove myself... to Gandalf and everyone. Perhaps.' He felt his eyelids become heavy and the need for rest sunk in. Pippin's final thoughts as he drifted off were of someday showing the Grey Pilgrim how much he had always respected him. Fool or not.
by Angie the Flying Dork
I think we all know I don't own anything Tolkien related. Moving on, I would like to say that this is my first serious attempt at Lord of the Rings fan fiction. Usually, when an author says that, they ask you to go nice on them. I am not. For purposes of staying close to canon and in character, I would like you to be honest if anything seems wrong with this fic. Thank you. I would also like to thank Singe Aliene, my close friend and a very talented writer, for giving me the plot bunny to write this. She has probably written a cuter and better fic with the same idea in mind. Now go read.. love it. Hate it. Just tell me what you think.
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Pippin had never felt so miserable or ashamed with himself. Of all of the mind-numbingly stupid and foolish things to do ... how could anyone have been so daft? He wished he had tumbled down that well along with blasted stone he had cast into it. Now everyone in the fellowship seemed irked with him. Certainly, if making any more noise were an option, all sounds would be unpleasant ones directed towards him.
'Perfect', Pippin thought morosely, rubbing the material of his cloak to comfort him. 'I've endangered everyone else...' He looked askance to his companions, some of whom seemed to barely be in the realm of slumber. He then carefully glanced at Gandalf, whose sharp eyes and mind seemed to be elsewhere at the moment. 'And, what's more, I've angered Gandalf.'
Pippin, as inconspicuous as he could be, eyed the wizard as he kept watch while the others slept. Gandalf was aimlessly letting small, but magnificent, nonetheless, curls of smoke rise up from his pipe while he smoked, looking rather pensive and worried at the same time. Pippin, who was supposed to be sleeping anyway, was too intimidated at the moment to even contemplate asking what was wrong. Instead, he was thinking of how Gandalf, who could be doing something as commonplace as smoking a pipe, always managed to exude a force of power beyond anything Pippin could comprehend. It had always been that way… Pippin began thinking back to first time he could recall ever seeing Gandalf.
September 22nd. The date was easy enough to remember, it being Bilbo and Frodo's birthday. Of what year precisely, he could not recall. Perhaps Pippin had been around six or seven at the time. He remembered how warm it had felt at Bag End, the air still bearing strong chases of summer heat and the strong scent of Longbottom Leaf thickening the air. The windows had been left open, letting moths fly in and out of the large hobbit hole idly.
Pippin had been hunched in the corner of the sitting room, amusing himself by rolling a cork back and forth on the wooden floor. It had been a frightfully dull party, in his opinion. There were few guests attending, and rest assured that no one was anywhere near his age. His cousin Merry, as he had been told, had been feeling violently sick and was unable to come, leaving Pippin alone to his boredom. His cousin Frodo had unintentionally abandoned him to go and sit among the grown hobbits, seemingly more interested in what the older folk talked about, now that he was inching closer to adulthood.
From where he sat, Pippin tried hard to become interested in what his elders were discussing at their chairs, but none of it seemed particularly fascinating. News. News from outside of the Shire. It was never fascinating stories, but just tidings and the like. At least the adults seemed to be enjoying it. However, Pippin would have much preferred it if everyone else quieted down and just let his 'Uncle' Bilbo speak. In Pippin's eyes, he could make anything interesting. Unfortunately, the talk carried on for quite sometime, and Pippin wished he could go explore outside in the cooler night.
As the chatter seemed to be dwindling down, and everyone felt full and ready for their beds or the journey home, a loud knock came from Bilbo's door. Pippin watched as Bilbo pardoned himself and answered it, only to hear small, but incredibly elated exclamations from the hall.
'Gandalf! You've made it! …'
Gandalf! Pippin could feel himself quivering slightly. The wizard made famous to the younger hobbits from Bilbo's tales? Oh, how positively exciting… seeing something from a story you cherish walking and moving about everything that had always seemed commonplace before! Gandalf! Pippin stood up awkwardly on his large feet, unable to wait from getting a good look.
"Let me get your cloak for you… oh, Gandalf! I didn't expect that you'd be able to come," gushed Bilbo, who scampered quickly past the sitting room with a weathered cloak and staff in hand.
"I can always make time for a friend, Bilbo," answered a voice that seemed befitting, at least to Pippin, for the person Bilbo had described. It was a deep voice, rough yet smooth at the same time. Although Pippin couldn't quite put his finger on it, it seemed to be an embodiment of wisdom. A tall figure walked into the room, and Pippin's eyes widened. The wizard stood there, dressed in a worn gray robe that, contrary to how it would appear on most people, made him look all the more important and majestic. Hair and a beard of the same coloring tumbled down at a length that probably exceeded Pippin's height. Amidst the masses of hair and wrinkles were set two pale eyes that seemed to have held knowledge unlike that of any other person Pippin had met. It was astounding, especially to such a young hobbit, to see an actual wizard and legend word-for-word as he had imagined.
All of the hobbits in the room stood up to greet Gandalf, even though earlier some had been grumbling about their disapproval of people from outside of The Shire. Pippin felt too small to even approach someone like Gandalf, at least by himself. He had wished his cousin Merry hadn't felt too sick to come… surely he would have appreciated seeing Gandalf the Grey. Pippin then thought of his older sister Pervinca, who had come along to Bag End for the day as well. He hurried back into one of the bedrooms she had fallen asleep in.
"Pervinca," he whispered shrilly, standing on his toes so his arms were at the height to shake her from sleep. "Per-vin-ca, wake up!"
"What?" she mumbled, yawning and turning over on her other side. "I'm tired, Pip, so be quick about it."
"Gandalf is here! Bilbo's Gandalf is here," Pippin said, trying to contain his excitement. Pervinca merely started stroking a lock of her curly auburn hair and shut her eyelids. She then pulled a quilt over her head, frustrating Pippin even more. "I… I said that Gandalf is here," he repeated, trying to emphasize his words.
"You're not fooling me, Pip," she replied, sounding highly irritated. "Besides, I want to go to sleep! Try your foolery on someone else! Go away!"
"But Pervinca…" Pippin sighed. She was normally a very good and agreeable companion. Unexpectedly, she turned over to face her younger brother and grabbed him by the lapels of his vest, pulling him closer. Pippin wriggled and tried to pull himself free of her grasp, but being five years his senior, Pervinca was considerably stronger than him. Her round hands held tight.
"Listen, Pip. I am tired from the cart ride. I am tired of having to listen to the adults' talk about boring things. I am tired of the heat, and right now, I am tired of you. Now let me sleep," Pervinca boomed. She let go of Pippin and rubbed her hands. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Pippin muttered. "Fine." He headed towards the door and turned around. "You'll be sorry that you missed out on the chance to meet Gandalf." He then blew out the candle on the table by the door and scuffled out, slamming the door behind him. Pervinca hated being in complete darkness, and sure enough, she could be heard squealing a second later, fumbling to get out of the tangled bed sheets.
"Peregrin Took!" she shouted as the sound of her feet hit the floor. Pippin darted off towards a safe-haven, the sitting room full of protecting adults. He slid behind the chair his father sat in, gasping and panting, not even noticing he had interrupted the adults.
"Hey, now," said Paladin Took, turning around in his chair and looking down at his son. "What's all of the fuss about, lad?" Pippin started to stammer out an explanation, but Pervinca stomped in, dress rumpled and hair flying about in every which way. When her eyes landed upon Pippin, she stepped towards him with great haste. "What are you two doing?" Neither of them answered, and when it looked like Pervinca was about to get her hands on Pippin, they were interrupted.
"Pervinca and Peregrin Took, your father has asked you a question," the deep voice said in a tone that seemed half amused and half stern. In all of their own commotion, the two had ignored everyone else in the room. However, the turned and stared dumbfounded at Gandalf. He sat beside Bilbo, lighting his pipe and settling himself in a chair. "Well? Why don't you answer him?"
"We… we were doing nothing, Da'.. nothing at all," answered Pervinca quickly, though she was looking at Gandalf while she spoke. "Sorry," she mumbled, barely audible. Pervinca then speedily backed out of the room and headed off towards the bedroom. Pippin, however, remained seated, his legs splayed out. He was still enchanted and stupefied by the notion of Gandalf actually speaking… to him. Gawking at the wizard, Pippin had failed to notice that he had gone cross-eyed while doing so. All of the adults in the room did, however, and were tittering and cracking small jokes.
"You must be very talented, little Peregrin, to be able to look in two directions at the same time," remarked Gandalf with a warm smile. At this Pippin shook himself and corrected his sight. Once again, the adults chortled.
"That's a wee Took for you," said Bilbo kindly, patting Pippin on the head. Pippin, however, felt he couldn't leave the room without getting one thing off of his little chest.
"Uncle Bilbo… do you know any more stories… does the Grey Pilgrim have any?" Gandalf laughed openly at being addressed as this by such a young hobbit. Pippin immediately decided he liked Gandalf's laughter… it sounded like it appreciated being amused and not the like the kind of laugh that only serves to humor someone when they are being stupid.
"Not only do I have many stories, Pippin, but I can blow smoke rings that rival Bilbo's," Gandalf responded. He glanced towards the opening to the hallway, where Pervinca had crept back to and was peeking in the room. "And if you and your sister agree to sit quietly, then I suppose your father will let you stay up to witness a few of them."
"Mhmm," Paladin murmured in agreement, taking a puff on his pipe. "Just a few, and then it's off to bed with you." He set down his pipe and scooped up little Pervinca in his arms. Frodo lifted up Pippin and sat him in his lap as well, letting Pippin sip from his cup of lukewarm tea.
There was a pleasant, content feeling floating around the air that night, or so Pippin remembered. Truthfully, some of the stories that Bilbo and Gandalf told had been passed down to him many times before. However, they were tales that certainly never got dull and were definately interesting to hear from someone with the grandeur of a wizard. And, indeed, there were smoke rings, as promised. Most of the adults tried their hand at blowing some, but none matched the ones that Gandalf had turned out. Afterwards, Pippin and Pervinca had been sent back to bed. While he was pulling his nightshirt over his head, Pippin still felt too giddy to possibly sleep, especially since he could still hear voices coming from the sitting room. As he climbed into bed, Pippin heard something that seemed unimportant at the time, but somewhat cryptic upon later thought.
"Ah, he's always been better than me at smoke rings," commented Bilbo from the other, whose own were quite impressive. "I've practiced for years ever since meeting him and still have yet to come close." He chuckled a little at the thought, perhaps a memory of the beginnings of his friendship with the wizard.
"I've had much time to practice," Gandalf countered, and Pippin detected a small note of something that was slightly… wistful.
'Slightly wistful… and worried' thought Pippin, as he tried to warm himself in the chilling air of Moria. He snuggled deeper into his cloak. 'I always wish I could understand Gandalf better. I wish I never had to anger him, either.' He looked back at Gandalf, who had stopped smoking and was now just standing silently. Pippin sighed and proceeded to squirm to find more comfortable position on the stony floor.
"Keep still, Peregrin," said the wizard quietly and suddenly. "I have known you've been awake all of this time from the noise you have been making… now quiet. I am trying to think…"
"Think about what,' Pippin whispered, surprised at his nerve. He immediately wished he hadn't said anything, bracing himself for a harsh reply.
"I am thinking," said Gandalf, clearing his throat, "about how your mistake might cost us later." Pippin's heart sank. He wished he had the right words to express how incredibly troubled and sorry he was. "Don't bother apologizing, either. I'm afraid that there are no words that can make up for your blundering. However, Pippin, I do think that you are a good hobbit, despite an incredibly foolish one. Someday you may prove to be otherwise and surprise me. Now go to sleep."
Pippin felt guilty and comforted by those words at the same time. Always a fool… he wished he could amount to more then that in everyone's eyes. However, Gandalf did say he was a worthy hobbit… surely that had to count for something.
'Who knows,' Pippin thought again, repressing the urge to fidget with his cloak. 'Perhaps one day I will prove myself... to Gandalf and everyone. Perhaps.' He felt his eyelids become heavy and the need for rest sunk in. Pippin's final thoughts as he drifted off were of someday showing the Grey Pilgrim how much he had always respected him. Fool or not.