Flames were all around him. No! Not flames! Keep them away! He knew what
flames meant. He must wake up, bring himself back into the land of the
living, back where sun shone and stars twinkled down. Where no flames leapt
around him devouring his mind, body and soul.
Pippin's eye slowly opened as he fought to keep himself awake. The call of sleep was near impossible to resist, but sleep meant only flames and pain. He rolled onto his side and crushed himself into the wall. Merry was only on the other side of this wall, the warm and comforting presence that would not fail him. He tried with all his might to push his way through the wall and out the other side so that he might climb into Merry's bed, or even just curl up on the rug next to it.
But Merry had his own troubles. Merry tossed and turned during the night. Sometimes he'd cry out and Pippin could do nothing about it. He could give no comfort while Merry was locked away in his own head and those nights always ended with Pippin silently crying into his sleeping cousin's body, while the thrashing slowly diminished. Pippin could never tell if he helped any as Merry said nothing of it in the morning, but he tried each and every time all the same.
Pippin dared not wake Merry from the precious hours of peaceful sleep he did get. He waited in his bed for the visions to fade back into memories. But sometimes they didn't.
He turned his mind away from such thoughts and brought them to rest on his family. How they had grown. He smiled slightly, Pippin now felt as though he were the oldest of all of them, as though he had experienced the most. The black towers standing out against a dark sky picked out by clear pricks of starlight. No no! His mind was wandering back and he steered it away. His new topic became the Shire. Its new-found strength and will, the greenness of the garden, the brightness of the sun, the birds flying high in the sky. Happy images slowly shifted themselves and turned to ones of horror. Nine bat-like creatures wheeled high in the sky around the dark tower. One turned away and flew towards him, it's gaping maw coming closer- but he did not want to think of such things.
How he turned all about in his bed, fighting the inevitable last image that was sure to come to him. He did not notice it but tears were pouring down his cheeks and his cries were muffled only by the duvet he was biting on.
"Who are you?" He heard faintly in his memory and he refused to let it get any louder.
"A hobbit." He moaned quietly to himself. Please let it stop, let the dark lord bother him no more. Pippin curled into a ball, wishing only that the nightmare stop, that he be no longer afraid to let his eyelids droop, that he could think of other things.
His mind changed tack quickly and came to rest upon the swift movements of a great white horse.
"You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you - or not." Came snippets from his conversation with Gandalf. He cried even more for his lost mentor and guardian, but didn't stay that way for long. He remembered a poem Gandalf had told him that night and he recited it to himself by way of calming his nerves.
"Tall ships and tall kings,
Three times three,
What brought they from the foundered land
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one." Pippin drifted off finally, utterly exhausted.
"And one white tree." Merry finished for him from his point in the doorway. He smiled down upon his younger cousin, at last he had managed to console himself. Perhaps this marked the end of the dreams and flashbacks. Perhaps that palantir would finally stop plaguing him.
"Seven stars and seven stones," He whispered to himself, "And one white tree."
Pippin's eye slowly opened as he fought to keep himself awake. The call of sleep was near impossible to resist, but sleep meant only flames and pain. He rolled onto his side and crushed himself into the wall. Merry was only on the other side of this wall, the warm and comforting presence that would not fail him. He tried with all his might to push his way through the wall and out the other side so that he might climb into Merry's bed, or even just curl up on the rug next to it.
But Merry had his own troubles. Merry tossed and turned during the night. Sometimes he'd cry out and Pippin could do nothing about it. He could give no comfort while Merry was locked away in his own head and those nights always ended with Pippin silently crying into his sleeping cousin's body, while the thrashing slowly diminished. Pippin could never tell if he helped any as Merry said nothing of it in the morning, but he tried each and every time all the same.
Pippin dared not wake Merry from the precious hours of peaceful sleep he did get. He waited in his bed for the visions to fade back into memories. But sometimes they didn't.
He turned his mind away from such thoughts and brought them to rest on his family. How they had grown. He smiled slightly, Pippin now felt as though he were the oldest of all of them, as though he had experienced the most. The black towers standing out against a dark sky picked out by clear pricks of starlight. No no! His mind was wandering back and he steered it away. His new topic became the Shire. Its new-found strength and will, the greenness of the garden, the brightness of the sun, the birds flying high in the sky. Happy images slowly shifted themselves and turned to ones of horror. Nine bat-like creatures wheeled high in the sky around the dark tower. One turned away and flew towards him, it's gaping maw coming closer- but he did not want to think of such things.
How he turned all about in his bed, fighting the inevitable last image that was sure to come to him. He did not notice it but tears were pouring down his cheeks and his cries were muffled only by the duvet he was biting on.
"Who are you?" He heard faintly in his memory and he refused to let it get any louder.
"A hobbit." He moaned quietly to himself. Please let it stop, let the dark lord bother him no more. Pippin curled into a ball, wishing only that the nightmare stop, that he be no longer afraid to let his eyelids droop, that he could think of other things.
His mind changed tack quickly and came to rest upon the swift movements of a great white horse.
"You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you - or not." Came snippets from his conversation with Gandalf. He cried even more for his lost mentor and guardian, but didn't stay that way for long. He remembered a poem Gandalf had told him that night and he recited it to himself by way of calming his nerves.
"Tall ships and tall kings,
Three times three,
What brought they from the foundered land
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one." Pippin drifted off finally, utterly exhausted.
"And one white tree." Merry finished for him from his point in the doorway. He smiled down upon his younger cousin, at last he had managed to console himself. Perhaps this marked the end of the dreams and flashbacks. Perhaps that palantir would finally stop plaguing him.
"Seven stars and seven stones," He whispered to himself, "And one white tree."