A/N:
First of all, I think it's time I thanked my reviewers, especially shirebound, who reviews *every* chapter: thank you muchly. And your last review gave me an idea, which you'll recognize in the first paragraph of the story.
10 reviews for 3 chapters is not much, so I have to hope that lots of people are reading and just not reviewing. I don't have a huge problem with this; I do it too. But I'm going to ask you to review anyway, because when authors don't get a lot of reviews, they tend to assume nobody likes their stories and they stop writing them, and you wouldn't want that, now would you?
Anyway, this chapter is to clear up some questions and to generally spread sweetness and light :)
As soon as the hobbit was asleep, Gandalf allowed himself a small smile at his own expense. If Pippin hadn't been so groggy, he would have seen through the wizard in a second. The necessity of keeping watch now was at its lowest possible ebb. Ten dead Orcs were a no-entry sign to any living thing with any sense. Or any sense of smell. Gandalf simply had not been able to invent a better excuse at the time for staying by the hobbit's side throughout the night until he awakened. He had acted as quickly as he could to treat the wounds, but the poison from the Orc-blade that was rushing through Pippin's veins had not yet run its course, and if the hobbit so much as coughed, Gandalf wanted to know about it. After what had just happened... this one had to live.
It was not so much a matter of gratitude or the necessity of repaying a debt. A life for a life... No. Gandalf was not even extremely surprised at what Pippin had done. But there had never been a hobbit like this before. He did not doubt that Frodo, Merry, Sam, or even Bilbo in his better days, would have done the same, but the difference lay beneath the action, even beneath the intention. It lay in what had happened after Pippin had jumped on the Orc's back and stabbed him.
Having dispatched what remained of the enemy, the wizard had whirled around just in time to catch the look of unbridled fury in the small one's eyes, the spark of danger ignited in the depths of Pippin's being. The hobbit had not even seen the Orc's free arm flying up to draw a dagger across his forehead. Aragorn himself would not have lost control in that manner. His first concern would still have been for himself, even in the midst of the most generous action. Gandalf had not seen Pippin act like this in any peril before. Not even when he had attacked in Moria, thinking Frodo dead, had he been so fell. That Orc had never had a chance. This little one was special. He had always known it, just as he had known it of Frodo and of Bilbo before him, but he had never *seen* it before. "A blessing on all hobbits," he muttered to himself.
"What a nice thing to say," said a small, choked-sounding voice from the ground. "I hope you meant it."
"Well, I might exclude certain parties," said Gandalf cheerfully, relieved that Pippin was awake, even though he had urged him to sleep. "For instance, mischievous hobbits who go around getting wounded in battle and frightening tired old wizards to death. Of course," he added hurriedly as Pippin's face fell, "these hobbits pay attention much more often than I give them credit for, remembering that Shadowfax was plentifully watered only minutes before we lay down to rest. That was an excellent bit of battle strategy, my lad. I might let you direct the assault on the forces of Mordor."
"Oh, what a picture," laughed Pippin. "Can't you just see it, Gandalf? A host of armored men, grim-faced and armed, waiting on the command of a little runt on a pony. How Sauron would laugh."
"Even he could not presume to laugh at you this night, Peregrin Took," said Gandalf softly.
Pippin was startled at this and blushed. "I am a soldier now whether I like or no," he said bashfully. "You pushed me behind..."
"A protective impulse that was clearly unnecessary," said Gandalf frankly. "Do not think I judged you incapable of defending yourself. A hobbit may conquer where a wizard loses his footing."
Pippin's eyes widened, and he looked quickly down at his injured arm. "Am I dying, Gandalf?"
The wizard frowned in confusion. "Not that I can see. Why do you ask?"
"Because of all your complimentary talk. I get 'fool of a Took' when I am in the best of health. I can only assume now that I am at death's door."
Gandalf laughed. "No, Pippin, you are all right. You must forgive a cranky old man if he is unkind in moments of urgency. You are no fool, unless the measure of intelligence is a concern for one's own hide above all else." He looked piercingly into the hobbit's wide eyes that had been so full of youth and innocence only months before, but were now filled with fear and pain. "Some say this is truth, but I must disagree. By that reckoning, an intelligent hobbit would have stayed where I had put him, and let me perish as I saw fit."
"I know nothing of the measure of intelligence or wisdom or courage," said Pippin quietly. "But I know that I could not have let him kill you." The wizard's hand on his shoulder prompted him to continue, and he took a deep breath, coughing a little at the sharp pain, that was yet duller than before. "I could never have decided or thought it over, Gandalf, but I just *knew*, somehow, that I didn't matter, and you did. I can see why now, now that I've recovered my senses..." Pippin cursed and quickly bit his lip, looking fearfully up at the wizard. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. That didn't come out properly."
"On the contrary," said the wizard, smiling. "You *were* in a kind of madness. I saw you," he added under his breath. "Please, continue," he said aloud.
"You're so important to so many people, to this war... and I... what am I? A tag-along that might come in handy once in a while. I can see now, I just knew... in a second."
"I think you deceive even yourself, Pippin," said Gandalf gently. "You cannot truly doubt yourself. You *knew*, as you put it, that you saved me before, perhaps even all of our efforts. If Sauron had seen me, the result would have been a crushing end to all our hopes. There must be another reason."
Pippin went violently red and closed his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he whispered. "You know the answer. Why do you ask?"
"If it were as simple as concern for me, Pippin, I would not ask. Frodo or Aragorn would have done as much. Tell me."
Pippin swallowed and clenched the fist of his uninjured arm, but did not open his eyes. "When we left Moria... Aragorn told us to get up. That Orcs would soon be there, that we needed to move. He said that we must do without hope. I couldn't see how. I couldn't see anything ahead. All I knew was that I'd killed you." He hesitantly opened his eyes and found the wizard staring at him, but he could read nothing in the steadfast gaze. "Then you returned, and I felt as if the past were cleansed, as if hope had sprung new out of the ground, so to speak. I swore I'd never be so stupid again, that I'd..." He blushed again and averted his eyes. "I'd protect you."
He looked back at Gandalf, bracing himself for the inevitable laughter that would follow his absurd remark, but it did not come. The wizard was speechless for a long while, and when he spoke again, it was in a tone so tender that Pippin could have sworn it had come from someone else: "I can only say, Pippin, that you have given me a gift so precious that I could never ask it of you any more than I can repay it."
"You can," said Pippin, trying to secretly wipe his eyes while pretending to cough into his sleeve. "You can tell me what is wrong with my head. It's going in circles."
Gandalf did laugh at this, not least at Pippin's desperate but vain efforts to hide his tears. "It's poison, Pippin-- no, don't worry, it's all right now..." Pippin had started at the word 'poison' and had almost leapt to his feet, Gandalf's restraining grasp notwithstanding. "The Orc's dagger came up and cut your forehead, adding to the wound in your arm that you received earlier from an axe. Luckily the blow fell short as you rolled away, otherwise you might not have an arm for us to worry about. I have bandaged and treated the wounds as best I could; we must wait for the poison to drain away. It was a weak poison at best and no longer has the power to take your life. Do not be concerned. You require more sleep. I am afraid I have kept you awake longer than was wise under the circumstances."
"Under the circumstances," repeated Pippin. "What an interesting phrase. People use it to excuse all kinds of things that are either inexcusable or that don't need excusing. I don't want to sleep, Gandalf. Tell me a story. Tell me about the time you saved Bilbo and the dwarves from the three trolls."
"Bilbo needed saving often when we first set out," said Gandalf musingly. "But once I left, he developed an uncanny aptitude for doing the saving himself."
Pippin looked up in alarm. "If throwing yourself off a bridge was your idea of letting us fend for ourselves, Gandalf, I won't follow your advice again as long as I live."
Gandalf smiled. "As long as that? Is that necessary?"
Pippin heaved a dramatic sigh. "You're teasing me now. I do think a wounded soldier might deserve more respect."
"Forgive me, Captain," said Gandalf merrily. "My humblest apologies. But, my lord, I see you are yet recovered enough to make light of your injury. In which case, I think we should both retire for the night." He tucked Pippin into his bedroll and took up his own, preparing to stand, but something caught his arm, and he looked down to find the hobbit's eyes wide with terror. "What is it?"
"Don't leave," said Pippin in a small, wobbly voice. "I don't want to lie here alone."
"But Shadowfax is right here. You will not be alone," said Gandalf, beginning to see what the matter was but anxious to make Pippin say it plainly.
Pippin made no sign that he had heard, but simply repeated, "don't leave."
"I am not leaving," said Gandalf meaningfully, looking straight into Pippin's eyes. "I am not going anywhere. Go to sleep."
"I can't sleep unless you stay right here," Pippin stammered, trembling with the force of his fear and desperation. "I just... can't."
"Very well," said the wizard softly, spreading out his bedroll next to Pippin's and lowering himself to the ground. "I am here, my lad," he said, reaching out a hand to touch Pippin's cheek softly, "thanks to you. Rest easy."
First of all, I think it's time I thanked my reviewers, especially shirebound, who reviews *every* chapter: thank you muchly. And your last review gave me an idea, which you'll recognize in the first paragraph of the story.
10 reviews for 3 chapters is not much, so I have to hope that lots of people are reading and just not reviewing. I don't have a huge problem with this; I do it too. But I'm going to ask you to review anyway, because when authors don't get a lot of reviews, they tend to assume nobody likes their stories and they stop writing them, and you wouldn't want that, now would you?
Anyway, this chapter is to clear up some questions and to generally spread sweetness and light :)
As soon as the hobbit was asleep, Gandalf allowed himself a small smile at his own expense. If Pippin hadn't been so groggy, he would have seen through the wizard in a second. The necessity of keeping watch now was at its lowest possible ebb. Ten dead Orcs were a no-entry sign to any living thing with any sense. Or any sense of smell. Gandalf simply had not been able to invent a better excuse at the time for staying by the hobbit's side throughout the night until he awakened. He had acted as quickly as he could to treat the wounds, but the poison from the Orc-blade that was rushing through Pippin's veins had not yet run its course, and if the hobbit so much as coughed, Gandalf wanted to know about it. After what had just happened... this one had to live.
It was not so much a matter of gratitude or the necessity of repaying a debt. A life for a life... No. Gandalf was not even extremely surprised at what Pippin had done. But there had never been a hobbit like this before. He did not doubt that Frodo, Merry, Sam, or even Bilbo in his better days, would have done the same, but the difference lay beneath the action, even beneath the intention. It lay in what had happened after Pippin had jumped on the Orc's back and stabbed him.
Having dispatched what remained of the enemy, the wizard had whirled around just in time to catch the look of unbridled fury in the small one's eyes, the spark of danger ignited in the depths of Pippin's being. The hobbit had not even seen the Orc's free arm flying up to draw a dagger across his forehead. Aragorn himself would not have lost control in that manner. His first concern would still have been for himself, even in the midst of the most generous action. Gandalf had not seen Pippin act like this in any peril before. Not even when he had attacked in Moria, thinking Frodo dead, had he been so fell. That Orc had never had a chance. This little one was special. He had always known it, just as he had known it of Frodo and of Bilbo before him, but he had never *seen* it before. "A blessing on all hobbits," he muttered to himself.
"What a nice thing to say," said a small, choked-sounding voice from the ground. "I hope you meant it."
"Well, I might exclude certain parties," said Gandalf cheerfully, relieved that Pippin was awake, even though he had urged him to sleep. "For instance, mischievous hobbits who go around getting wounded in battle and frightening tired old wizards to death. Of course," he added hurriedly as Pippin's face fell, "these hobbits pay attention much more often than I give them credit for, remembering that Shadowfax was plentifully watered only minutes before we lay down to rest. That was an excellent bit of battle strategy, my lad. I might let you direct the assault on the forces of Mordor."
"Oh, what a picture," laughed Pippin. "Can't you just see it, Gandalf? A host of armored men, grim-faced and armed, waiting on the command of a little runt on a pony. How Sauron would laugh."
"Even he could not presume to laugh at you this night, Peregrin Took," said Gandalf softly.
Pippin was startled at this and blushed. "I am a soldier now whether I like or no," he said bashfully. "You pushed me behind..."
"A protective impulse that was clearly unnecessary," said Gandalf frankly. "Do not think I judged you incapable of defending yourself. A hobbit may conquer where a wizard loses his footing."
Pippin's eyes widened, and he looked quickly down at his injured arm. "Am I dying, Gandalf?"
The wizard frowned in confusion. "Not that I can see. Why do you ask?"
"Because of all your complimentary talk. I get 'fool of a Took' when I am in the best of health. I can only assume now that I am at death's door."
Gandalf laughed. "No, Pippin, you are all right. You must forgive a cranky old man if he is unkind in moments of urgency. You are no fool, unless the measure of intelligence is a concern for one's own hide above all else." He looked piercingly into the hobbit's wide eyes that had been so full of youth and innocence only months before, but were now filled with fear and pain. "Some say this is truth, but I must disagree. By that reckoning, an intelligent hobbit would have stayed where I had put him, and let me perish as I saw fit."
"I know nothing of the measure of intelligence or wisdom or courage," said Pippin quietly. "But I know that I could not have let him kill you." The wizard's hand on his shoulder prompted him to continue, and he took a deep breath, coughing a little at the sharp pain, that was yet duller than before. "I could never have decided or thought it over, Gandalf, but I just *knew*, somehow, that I didn't matter, and you did. I can see why now, now that I've recovered my senses..." Pippin cursed and quickly bit his lip, looking fearfully up at the wizard. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. That didn't come out properly."
"On the contrary," said the wizard, smiling. "You *were* in a kind of madness. I saw you," he added under his breath. "Please, continue," he said aloud.
"You're so important to so many people, to this war... and I... what am I? A tag-along that might come in handy once in a while. I can see now, I just knew... in a second."
"I think you deceive even yourself, Pippin," said Gandalf gently. "You cannot truly doubt yourself. You *knew*, as you put it, that you saved me before, perhaps even all of our efforts. If Sauron had seen me, the result would have been a crushing end to all our hopes. There must be another reason."
Pippin went violently red and closed his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he whispered. "You know the answer. Why do you ask?"
"If it were as simple as concern for me, Pippin, I would not ask. Frodo or Aragorn would have done as much. Tell me."
Pippin swallowed and clenched the fist of his uninjured arm, but did not open his eyes. "When we left Moria... Aragorn told us to get up. That Orcs would soon be there, that we needed to move. He said that we must do without hope. I couldn't see how. I couldn't see anything ahead. All I knew was that I'd killed you." He hesitantly opened his eyes and found the wizard staring at him, but he could read nothing in the steadfast gaze. "Then you returned, and I felt as if the past were cleansed, as if hope had sprung new out of the ground, so to speak. I swore I'd never be so stupid again, that I'd..." He blushed again and averted his eyes. "I'd protect you."
He looked back at Gandalf, bracing himself for the inevitable laughter that would follow his absurd remark, but it did not come. The wizard was speechless for a long while, and when he spoke again, it was in a tone so tender that Pippin could have sworn it had come from someone else: "I can only say, Pippin, that you have given me a gift so precious that I could never ask it of you any more than I can repay it."
"You can," said Pippin, trying to secretly wipe his eyes while pretending to cough into his sleeve. "You can tell me what is wrong with my head. It's going in circles."
Gandalf did laugh at this, not least at Pippin's desperate but vain efforts to hide his tears. "It's poison, Pippin-- no, don't worry, it's all right now..." Pippin had started at the word 'poison' and had almost leapt to his feet, Gandalf's restraining grasp notwithstanding. "The Orc's dagger came up and cut your forehead, adding to the wound in your arm that you received earlier from an axe. Luckily the blow fell short as you rolled away, otherwise you might not have an arm for us to worry about. I have bandaged and treated the wounds as best I could; we must wait for the poison to drain away. It was a weak poison at best and no longer has the power to take your life. Do not be concerned. You require more sleep. I am afraid I have kept you awake longer than was wise under the circumstances."
"Under the circumstances," repeated Pippin. "What an interesting phrase. People use it to excuse all kinds of things that are either inexcusable or that don't need excusing. I don't want to sleep, Gandalf. Tell me a story. Tell me about the time you saved Bilbo and the dwarves from the three trolls."
"Bilbo needed saving often when we first set out," said Gandalf musingly. "But once I left, he developed an uncanny aptitude for doing the saving himself."
Pippin looked up in alarm. "If throwing yourself off a bridge was your idea of letting us fend for ourselves, Gandalf, I won't follow your advice again as long as I live."
Gandalf smiled. "As long as that? Is that necessary?"
Pippin heaved a dramatic sigh. "You're teasing me now. I do think a wounded soldier might deserve more respect."
"Forgive me, Captain," said Gandalf merrily. "My humblest apologies. But, my lord, I see you are yet recovered enough to make light of your injury. In which case, I think we should both retire for the night." He tucked Pippin into his bedroll and took up his own, preparing to stand, but something caught his arm, and he looked down to find the hobbit's eyes wide with terror. "What is it?"
"Don't leave," said Pippin in a small, wobbly voice. "I don't want to lie here alone."
"But Shadowfax is right here. You will not be alone," said Gandalf, beginning to see what the matter was but anxious to make Pippin say it plainly.
Pippin made no sign that he had heard, but simply repeated, "don't leave."
"I am not leaving," said Gandalf meaningfully, looking straight into Pippin's eyes. "I am not going anywhere. Go to sleep."
"I can't sleep unless you stay right here," Pippin stammered, trembling with the force of his fear and desperation. "I just... can't."
"Very well," said the wizard softly, spreading out his bedroll next to Pippin's and lowering himself to the ground. "I am here, my lad," he said, reaching out a hand to touch Pippin's cheek softly, "thanks to you. Rest easy."