Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters or the world in which they live. Tolkien owns such.
A/N: Hai—Most of my stories have nothing to do with any of my other stories. I like doing it this way because it gives me a lot of leeway to do what I want when I want. Say, if you read "And There Were Four" Pippin is not a drunk in that tale. Therefore, anything I write in this story will be explained later on…I hope. If there is something you don't understand, feel free to ask. And you may read my other fics, too, if you want…I don't mind.^^
A tale of friendship and dark paths.
Being the Third Part of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
To Hurt is to Help
Peregrin walked dejectedly in the fore of the Hobbits, hunched so far down in his cloak that one might have wondered if he wished to disappear. They would have been correct in the assumption for that was exactly what Pippin was trying to accomplish. It wasn't working too well.
He knew that he had caused a scene last night and the whole Fellowship had heard Frodo and their argument. No one would look at him, each individual smoothly looking this way or that whenever his eyes fell upon them. Frodo was the only one that did not shy away from his gaze, but this didn't comfort the young hobbit; indeed, he was forced to look away himself. He was ashamed of his hot temper and though his cousins' over protectiveness nearly made him scream sometimes, he could not begrudge them it. They had been watching after him since before he could remember and if Pippin one day found that he could take care of himself it wasn't their fault. Unfortunately, he did not know how to tell them this so that they'd listen. He was still their "Little Pip."
"We will rest," Gandalf's gruff voice came from somewhere up ahead.
Packs were thrown gratefully from sore shoulders as each individual began preparations for a quick meal. Pippin cast his own bag aside and without a look at his kin, raced off to gather sticks and branches for a fire. He meandered around for a time, discarding this piece, picking up that piece until his legs bowed from the load. Still, he was in no hurry to return to the Fellowship. He attempting to pick up several others and at the last spilled the entire armload. With a sigh--one that wasn't too heart wrenching--he began to pile the wood once again in his arms.
A large hand reached down and picked up three that otherwise would have been too thick for the halfling to grasp at once. Pippin blinked, then peered up into the hard face of Gimli the Dwarf. The Hobbit's face flushed slightly and he mumbled something, stooped low to allow his curls to hide his features and began picking up the branches with rekindled enthusiasm.
"Easy there, my young friend," Gimli grunted, placing a heavy hand on thin shoulder. "I just wanted to . . ." Gimli mumbled something, coughed and tried again. "What I mean is--"
"You did it on purpose," Pippin said softly, his grip on the wood tightening.
Gimli's hand slipped off the halfling in startlement. Pippin gazed up at the Dwarf. "You offered me the drink so that Frodo would see, didn't you?"
Held at bay by the Hobbit's piercing gaze, Gimli sighed deeply and nodded. "Aye, Master Peregrin, that I did."
"Why?" Pippin demanded. "I was doing just fine. Merry and Frodo were oblivious . . . or, at least, they weren't saying anything. Both of them were unconcerned and everything was finally going back to the way it use to be."
"Use to be?" Gimli pressed gently. Now, here was the key. Here was what the Dwarf had seen in the young Hobbit's gaze when he had inquired about the drink the first time and Pippin had glanced at his cousins nervously.
"Before," Pippin said sharply, as if that explained it.
Gimli tried again. "Before what?"
Pippin glared up at the Dwarf, chewing his bottom lip irritably. They were such odd beings, these Dwarves. So large and hulking and yet at the same time so soft and gentle. Pippin didn't trust him.
"Before I screwed everything over," he said and with his meager armload of sticks raced off to join the rest of the Fellowship. If the Dwarf was so eager to involve himself in affairs not his own, let him then bring the rest of the wood.
It wasn't until after the meal, did Pippin recall that Gimli had not answered his question. Why had the Dwarf gotten him purposefully in trouble?
~*~