Disclaimer: As usual I do not own from The Lord of the Rings anything, the characters, setting, location, etc.; I am simply barrowing them. The only thing which is mine is basically the plot, a possible thing which could have happened during the hobbits' stay in Rivendell.
Author's Note: Another hobbit story starring Pippin at last! This story is based on the book. The rating is just to be safe. Reviews are welcomed.
Cousins Together
Pippin's blue eyes fly open. Breathing heavily, he jerks his body into an upright position. He wipes the forming moisture off his forehead. He looks about, taking in his surroundings. His breathing evens out, and his heart slows its wild racing as he recognizes where he is. The cheery fire in the fireplace flickers, trying to warm the hobbit who starts to shake greatly as he stares, hypnotized, into the orange flames. Fire... Fire...!
"Frodo!"
Pippin could barely hear himself call out for his cousin in the thick darkness which surrounded him. How he even had the strength to say that single word he did not know. Everything seemed to be in a haze. When one of the tall dark figures seemed to fix its unseen gaze upon him, he had been stricken weak; he could not attempt to pull forth his sword nor try to stand in front of his cousin to try to protect him. Instead, he had simply fallen heavily to the ground. A great terror fell upon him. Never had he experienced anything so terrifying before. A dark chilling presence seemed to brush his heart and mind and soul and body. He desired to do nothing more than to run and hide from it, but he could not. He could only lie there helplessly as the chill spread through him, probing, looking… Suddenly it turned away, and Pippin felt his tense body loosen and relax. He gulped air into his lungs desperately. The chill slowly disappeared.
"Frodo."
Frodo! Pippin slowly opened his eyes and struggled to lift up his head. Where was Frodo? Pippin's heart pounded in his chest. He looked about, and he gasped. The four dark figures were charging toward something, exactly what he could not see. They rushed past Sam, who was stumbling to his feet and also looking about wildly.
Pippin stiffened as he heard Frodo's voice. It seemed to come from a long distance off and was saying words that were strange to Pippin's ears – he did not understand them. Then, after this followed a shrilling scream that rose into the night. Pippin fell facedown again and covered his ears. It was the scream of a Nazgul.
It was all just a terrible dream! It had to be! Soon he would wake up back home in the Shire. Certainly nothing like this could possibly exist outside his safe haven. Surely he could have never had an experience such as this even in his darkest nightmares.
But then he knew that it wasn't a dream. For somewhere came the pained cry of Frodo. Frodo!
Pippin scrambled to his feet, and there came Strider, two flamed branches in his hands forcing the Black Riders to retreat.
"Mister Frodo!"
Pippin turned towards Sam's voice and gasped at the sight of him kneeling over an unconscious Frodo. Pippin reached them a second or two after Merry. Pippin stared in horror at his oldest cousin. His face was as white as the moon, and there was a gash in the clothing of his left shoulder – and probably deep in the flesh as well.
Pippin felt tears sting his eyes. He wanted to hug Frodo, discover what condition he was in. But Sam looked as pale as his master; he held Frodo's left hand firmly in his own.
"Sam?" Merry asked.
"It is so cold, like ice," he answered in a deep, worried tone.
Pippin could only look over the two hobbits' shoulders. Suddenly Frodo stirred and opened his eyes to gaze upon his three companions. He looked about, wildness in his eyes now.
"Where is he? The king?" he asked in a hysterical voice.
None of the others answered. They only stared at him with great joy and love and distress. But they did not know of what he spoke of anyway. Sam started sobbing and seemed to be murmuring something to himself. He squeezed Frodo's hand, causing him to hiss in pain.
"What is the matter?" Sam asked, beside himself with gladness and fear.
"My arm…" Frodo whispered weakly.
Immediately Sam carefully let go of Frodo's hand and reached for his other. Frodo sighed and then looked to his cousins, both of whom were still silent up to now. Merry was gazing about the dell, as though to make certain that the shadows were gone. Pippin met Frodo's gaze, his chin trembling, tears on the verge of falling. Frodo opened his mouth as though to say something, but his eyes rolled back into his head.
The logs in the fireplace shift, giving off a loud crack, and send sparks flying up the chimney. Pippin jumps, coming out of his memory. He looks around and this time discovers that he is the only one in the large bed that he and the other hobbits share. In reality, it is he and Merry that sleep here in the hobbits' room; Sam has refused to leave Frodo's side except for only a few times – which Pippin can count on one hand – and insists on watching his master through the night.
Pippin feels the empty sheets next to him – they are cold. How long has he been gone and where is he now? Pippin wonders. He hugs himself, feeling terribly alone and small. He needs to find somebody.
Quickly he untangles himself from the sheets twisted around his body, carefully slides his body over the edge of the bed and lowers himself to the floor. He then leaves the room and maneuvers his way through several hallways, silent and fleeting as a ghost. Lighted candles fill the empty hallways with a soft glowing light. At last Pippin halts before a doorway. Many times over the last few days he has peeked into this room. Slowly he turns the knob and pushes it open a couple of inches. He does not enter but only pokes his head through the doorway.
The unconscious hobbit seems small in the rather large bed. Against the white bed sheets, Frodo now appears to have more color in his cheeks. His breathing seems to have evened out as Pippin strains to see the rise and falling of his cousin's chest. Dear Frodo… Pippin's chin trembles then steadies as he gazes with love and wondering at Frodo.
The Lord Elrond said that the last of the blade had finally been found and removed from Frodo's shoulder. He is now out of danger. It is only a matter of waiting for him to awake, the elf had told the three worrisome hobbits.
Pippin does not doubt the Lord elf's words, but he is anxious to see Frodo awake – to see his cousin's blue eyes and smile again. The young hobbit wraps his arms around himself, feeling cold and lonely once again. When you awake and are well again, dear cousin, I promise to look after you better, he vows to himself (a vow similar to what Merry and Sam also decided soon after Weathertop).
Pippin looks about the room and discovers that Sam is not sitting in the chair by Frodo's bedside. The tweenager is surprised, but also hopeful that Sam has allowed himself to get some real rest. It would not do to have Sam become ill when Frodo is on the mend. And Frodo would want Sam not to be too hard on himself. Pippin smiles to himself as he returns his attention to his cousin. He is in slight awe of the deep friendship between Sam and Frodo; even though their positions in society are very different, Pippin believes that the bond between the two is almost that of brotherhood. Yes, he is very glad Sam is with him, Frodo, and Merry.
"Good night, Frodo," he breathes, blows a kiss to his cousin, and silently closes the door.
He releases the knob just as he hears a light footstep drawing near. Pippin jumps slightly and hurries quietly down the hall, not wishing to encounter anyone. He aimlessly walks through several corridors. When he at last pauses and waits for his racing heart to calm, he is dismayed, for he does not recognize where he is. How shall I return to my room? he wonders, biting his lower lip in worry. He tries retracing his steps, but he had been so deep in thought that he has no remembrance of which way he came and which way he did not. He succeeds only in becoming more lost as he tries to backtrack. He wonders what to do when he notices at the end of the hall a large set of doors which are partly open.
He makes his way to the door. Slowly though, for he takes time to admire and observe the paintings on the walls. Perhaps of the history of Middle Earth, he silently guesses. Upon reaching his destination, he pauses for a moment before peering inside the room. There is a roaring fire in a huge fireplace. Pippin shivers as a faint memory of his dream brushes lightly across his mind but fades away just as quickly as it came. In front of the fire sits a figure on a large cushion, leaning against a leg of a chair. The shoulders are hunched and the head lowered. Silently Pippin creeps through the opening and approaches the person. Stopping a few feet away, Pippin debates with himself for a second before making his presence known.
"Cousin Bilbo?" Pippin calls softly.
The hobbit jerks his head and quickly turns to identify the soft voice. Pippin steps closer, coming out of the shadows, his face lighted by the dancing flames. He holds his hands slightly in front of him as though showing he means no harm. The old hobbit sighs and places a wrinkled hand over his chest.
"Dear me. Hello, Pippin-lad. What are you doing up at this late hour?" Bilbo asks, recovering from his surprise and now looking at his young cousin with a tad of concern in his gray eyes.
The tweenager does not answer; instead, he takes a good long look on his cousin as he walks forward so he can see Bilbo's face in the light. The last time he had seen Bilbo was the night he disappeared in a puff of smoke and a bang from his 111th birthday party. Pippin had only been around eleven at the time. An old faded memory creeps over him. He vaguely recalls spending a few minutes during the party sitting on Cousin Bilbo's knee and excitedly showing him how his present worked. They both laughed and smiled in amusement watching the amazing creature glow many colors. Before hurrying off to get more food, Pippin had given his cousin a loving hug. That was the last they had seen and spoken to each other. Until now.
Pippin had just caught a fleeting glimpse of Bilbo soon after the hobbits' arrival. Both were hustled in different directions. Pippin had not ventured much through Rivendell, preferring to stay close by Frodo, inquiring of regular check-ups several times a day from Sam on Frodo's condition. He and Merry had not felt up to exploring their new surroundings until yesterday when the dark cloud of fear of Frodo's survival lifted. Now it is only light rain clouds which block out the sun.
Now as they face each other, Pippin takes a good look at his cousin. Bilbo's appearance of long-lasting "youth" was just one of the things which labeled him as "cracked" by many of the hobbits and of discussion among them. But Bilbo seems to have at last lost his "youth." Pippin remembers how even at 111 years, Bilbo's hair was silvery-gray. Now it is the shade of newly fallen snow. Bilbo's face had been as smooth as that of a young hobbit. Now it is lined with many wrinkles. His gray eyes usually were filled with the sparkle of joy and merriment – though before he left, he had the same look about him which Frodo had the year before he left. Now as Pippin looks into the eyes of his older cousin – of a hundred years – he sees sadness and worry swimming there, the same emotions Pippin feels, toward the object foremost in both hobbits' thoughts: Frodo. As he gazes deeper still, Pippin sees what looks to be relief or freedom – as though a burden is off Bilbo's shoulders – and contentment.
Suddenly feeling shy and a little embarrassed, Pippin gazes at the floor. He has not seen his cousin in so long a time that he does not know what to say or do. And to stare so hard and long at him is also quite impolite of him. The lad slightly lifts first one foot, then the other, feeling uncomfortable.
"Pippin?"
Pippin nervously looks at Bilbo.
"What are you doing up?" the hobbit repeats his question.
"Oh, nothing really," Pippin says lamely.
"Ah," Bilbo says simply, and raises an eyebrow.
Pippin blushes. "I was lonely," he admits shyly.
"Aha, now we come to the heart of the matter," Bilbo says as though he had guessed Pippin's answer before he spoke. Pippin gives a small smile. "I would welcome your company, that is, if you do not mind staying with an old hobbit like me," Bilbo says, trying to keep from his face his hopefulness that Pippin will indeed stay.
"You are not that old, Bilbo!" Pippin protests, his eyes widening, surprised by the description Bilbo picks for himself.
The other hobbit's eyes twinkle. "Now, now, my boy, I am 128, after all."
"But surely you have not lost your great spirit, cousin," Pippin calls him, starting to feel at ease and laughing lightly.
"I hope you are right, my boy," Bilbo says, chuckling. He then moves over and pats the area of the unoccupied cushion next to him in an imploring matter.
Pippin does not need a second invitation. He sits down on the cushion and sighs in pure contentment as he sinks into the soft fabric, so close to another hobbit. Bilbo gives his cousin a smile, which Pippin returns. For a bit there is a silence between them, each being content with the other's company. Slowly the peaceful smile slips away from Pippin's face. He frowns sadly. Frodo should be in his place. It was Bilbo Frodo hoped to see again when he left Hobbiton. At that time Frodo still had not completely understood what he was to do, except to make for Rivendell, where Bilbo was. It was Frodo who wanted to follow his cousin who had been like a parent to him. Pippin knew how deeply Frodo had missed Bilbo. He saw past his cousin's agreeing with how good a joke Bilbo had performed. He and Merry and Sam had been there, but there was an emptiness in part of Frodo's heart. Frodo had told him one night not long before they left how he looked forward to seeing Bilbo again. To talk with him, laugh with him, and just be with him. But instead Frodo is unconscious, unaware of how close by Bilbo is. Instead, it is he, Pippin, who is in Bilbo's company, has talked with him, and is sitting with him. Perhaps Bilbo is also disappointed, Pippin thinks, feeling sorry for both hobbits.
"Pippin, what is it?" Bilbo asks, noticing the frown on the younger one's face.
The tweenager blinks and looks at Bilbo's concern-filled face. He does not realize he is starting to cry until Bilbo stops with his thumb a trail of a tear which starts to roll down his left cheek. Pippin then rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Hm?" Bilbo gently probes.
Pippin tries to speak and chokes on a sob he tries to keep back. He clasps his hand over his mouth, his body shaking with his silent weeping.
"Oh, there now," Bilbo's voice is filled with deep compassion as he wraps his arms around his cousin and draws him to his chest.
Pippin gives in and for the second time this evening cries. He turns his face into Bilbo's shirt to muffle his weeping. Bilbo runs his hand up and down Pippin's back in a comforting gesture.
"Shhh. It is all right, Pippin. Shhh."
When he stops sobbing, Pippin pulls his face out of Bilbo's shirt. "I'm sorry," he says brokenly.
"Whatever for, Pip?" Bilbo asks, drying his cousin's cheeks with his handkerchief.
"For…for…well, everything! For not taking more care of Frodo and that he nearly…left us. And he does not even know he is finally here in Rivendell. And that you are nearby. He had so looked forward to seeing you again and spending time with you. You are his favorite cousin, just as he is yours. But it is I who has the privilege – which should have been Frodo's – of spending time with you! And I am sorry, for I am not him."
"Is this what this is truly all about, my lad?" Bilbo speaks in a quiet, sad tone.
Pippin merely nods, looking down at his hands.
"Pippin, I am glad you wish for Frodo to see me, which I have faith will happen in time. Please, however, do not think that I long for only Frodo's company. I will not deny that Frodo is like a son to me. But that does not mean I am not concerned regarding the well-being of my other much-loved cousins and those who are dear to me," the hobbit says in a firm, sincere tone. He waits until Pippin meets his gaze before continuing. "I have really enjoyed having you here with me this night. I do not feel as alone or sad. Besides, I also see you have grown quite a bit since when you were eleven. And you were so excited when I asked how you liked your present."
Pippin's eyes shine softly at the memory. "Yes, you dropped everything: the other hobbits who wished to see you, and a question over the food. You plucked me down on your knee and showed me how I could even make the toy flap its wings!" he exclaims.
"And the expression on your face at the many colors it made was unforgettable. So much awe and wonder and excitement sparkled in your eyes," Bilbo says.
"Did I give you a little bit of joy before you left?" Pippin asks curiously.
"Yes, my lad, you did." Bilbo smiles.
Pippin returns the grin and tries to keep back a yawn. Bilbo's expression grows broader. He brings Pippin's head so it is tucked into his shoulder.
"Stay. Sleep," He commands softly.
Pippin obeys both orders almost promptly.
Bilbo gazes into the fire before his attention is drawn by the soft sound of feet. He turns his head and sees Merry standing a little ways back, looking as nervous and uncertain as Pippin when Bilbo first became aware of their cousin.
He smiles a smile which says many things to his cousin. Encouraged, Merry comes closer and blinks in surprise when he can see Pippin asleep on Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo beckons for Merry to sit on the other side of him. Merry does so with a happy look.
"Thank you," Bilbo whispers into his ear.
Merry's confused expression washes away with understanding, and love shines in his eyes – the same love Pippin and Frodo harbor in their hearts – for Bilbo. The old hobbit feels overwhelmed. What have I done deserve this devotion from these dear ones? he wonders. You just loved them in return.
"Come."
Bilbo directs Merry's head to his lap and run his fingers through the gold curls until the other's eyes close in peaceful sleep. Content, Bilbo rests his head against the chair leg and closes his eyes. A small smile lights up his face as he feels two pairs of arms wrap around him. In turn, he wraps his arms around the younger hobbits.
It is a never-seen-before and touching sight which meets the Lord Elrond's and his sons' eyes when they peek in the Hall of Fire in the morning. For there in front of the fire, with one leaning against the leg of a chair, and with arms wrapped around each other and asleep with smiles on all faces are three cousins – a Brandybuck, a Baggins, and a Took. After over seventeen years, the cousins are together again.
THE END