Divided we fall - by Cunien

If you read chapter 5 for the hour or so it was up last night, then I apologise, but it just wasn't making me happy and I couldn't sleep, so I had to get up and remove it! It hasn't been changed, just split up into 3 smaller chapters, with the flashback beginning at the beginning of 5 and closing at the end of chapter 7.

So if you read it last night you may want to skip chapters 6,7 and 8 until I catch up!
Thankyou, and sorry for any inconvenience!


Usual disclaimer - I don't own it.

Mid-day.

The sun rose and shone down, cruel and cold. It rose, and still the figure lying in the snow did not stir.

By mid day, the first flakes of snow began to fall, and it was these that woke Pippin.

He stirred a little, shaking up a hideous ache in his head, which made him sob a pathetic little bleat. His throat was terribly sore, and his lungs felt raw and red.

Pippin tried to sit up, clutching his head, but this attempt only loosed the snow beneath him, and sent him rolling sideways down the slope a little.

I remember how I used to love rolling down hills as a child thought Pippin. He was frankly too tired to be angry, but he wondered for a while if this quest would rob him, one way or another, of everything that he enjoyed in life.

Summing up the strength, Pippin held his breath and pushed himself up again, this time digging his elbows into the snow so that he wouldn't begin rolling again. He managed to sit upright, but he had to clutch his head and breathe deeply for a few minutes, until he felt the pressure ease itself from his temples, and the nausea subsided a little.

I wonder how long I have been lying here? he thought. There was absolutely no way of telling the time on the mountain, as a snowstorm in the morning looked exactly the same as a snowstorm in the afternoon. Often, the blizzards would turn the sky so dark it was hard to guess whether it was night or day.

Come on Pip, you know the best way to tell the time when you have no clock!
Pippin listened intently to his stomach.
He was hungry.
But what did that tell him? Pippin had eaten so little in so long, that the intensity of his hunger told him nothing of any use except that it was round about a meal time of some sort.

I wonder what meal is being served up at the Great Smials right now? Pippin sighed sadly. But the thought of home suddenly sent him reeling - where was Merry? And Frodo, and Sam?

And everyone else for that matter?

Standing up in shock, Pippin angrily pushed away the ache that sprang alive in his head once more.

he called desperately.



Up the hill, was all he could think. The snow had pushed them down, so Merry
must be up somewhere above. Pippin scrambled up the slope, slipping and sliding and falling back down a few times. When he was roughly at the top, or as far as he could go, he realised there was no sign of his cousin anywhere.

His breath was coming in desperate little pants now, and he tugged frantically at his little curls.

But through tear-blurred vision, he could make out a dark shape. A small smudge against the snow, bright even in the snow storm that was rapidly descending.

he gasped.

But as he neared the shape, he knew that it could not possibly be Merry. It was too big, and through the snow he could see a boot.

The man was face down and half concealed in a drift blown up against a rocky out-crop. Pippin threw himself down beside the man, and began digging as fast as he could. Once most of the man was uncovered from the drift, Pippin took a deep breath, and pushed as hard as he could. After a few attempts, he managed to turn the man over, and gave a gasp at seeing Aragorn. Blood has stained the snow underneath him a nauseating pink, and Pippin heaved at the sight of the large wound on Aragorn's brow.

The little hobbit scrabbled for the ranger's wrist, and desperately sought a pulse.

Please please please..

TBC...

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!