Pippin sat dejectedly by Merry's bedside, holding his cousin's icy hand in
his own warm one. Pippin understood that Aragorn was treating the three
wounded in order of the severity of their condition, but he wished that the
dirty scoundrel would hurry up already and fix Merry. The pallor of his
cousin's skin and the permeating chill throughout his small frame was
making Pippin's heart hammer in his chest. He refused to think about what
Merry had done or what it might lead to. Merry was simply Merry, no hero
and no martyr. Merry would wake up, be cheerful and all would be well
again. Or so it would have seemed to him...if none of this had happened.
Pippin almost heard the wizard's voice in his head that very moment: 'Have
you learned nothing from all of this, Pippin? Evil leaves its mark on
every soul it touches.' A shadow did indeed sit heavily on Pippin's heart,
and it was not only that of Merry's ill-health.
A soft step behind him did not go unnoticed by the grieving hobbit, but he made no move to acknowledge it, either. He knew that it was not Aragorn - the man had a distinctive presence, as if his noble lineage flowed from him in waves - and so he was not interested.
"He does not wake?" Gandalf asked softly. Pippin mutely shook his head, eyes still fixed on Merry's worn, damp features. Gandalf moved to a spot near the bed where Pippin could see him if he chose. He tilted his head slightly, studying the hobbit's face. "Aragorn will come soon. He is having slight difficulty in reaching the White Lady, but I do not think that Merry will have long to wait."
Pippin frowned scornfully but did not remove his eyes from Merry's face. "He does not wait," he said in a voice of stone that sank heavily into the air. "He goes on ahead, and I cannot follow. But I will not allow it. And so I ask you," he continued in a cold ring that was not his own, raising his eyes at last to meet the wizard's, "whether your plans are satisfied. The Witch King perished; you may count this a resounding victory."
Gandalf frowned heavily. He was not used to this sort of talk, especially not from a hobbit like Pippin who rarely spoke with such bitter hate. "Do you wish, then, that I had ridden to his rescue, leaving Faramir to burn in the fever of his father's illusions?"
"You do not understand," snapped Pippin. "You cannot. Denethor was no madman. He loved his son, as I love Merry - as no one else can love him. What would I not give for his health and happiness, even the lives of a thousand others?"
"Then it is a very good thing that I have the direction of this campaign and not you," growled the wizard fiercely, and as it had in Bag End so many months before, the menace of his shadow filled the little sick-room and made Pippin quake. "You are a selfish being. Brave deeds cannot be accomplished without sacrifice. Merry was willing to give his life for that of Eowyn and for the destruction of the chief of the Nazgul, a terror that inspired the need to eliminate it in even such a small body. If you think his sacrifice meaningless, if you think any of the efforts these mortals have mounted to rid their lands of the shadow foolish, not to mention the protection of your own, then you had best have stayed in the Shire and reveled in food and drink until the Dark Lord razed all the lands to the ground and ended your small existence."
Pippin seemed not much affected by this speech, and Gandalf gave a great huff of anger and began to stride briskly in the direction of the door. He had barely reached it when a small sniffle issued from the foot of the bed. He turned in time to see Pippin launch himself, weeping, on Merry's legs and sob desperately: "I wish it had been me. That's all. Give him back, take me instead, please..." The wizard seemed to calm, and he approached Pippin carefully, his brows still furrowed threateningly, but a new spark of concern had ignited in the wise depths of his eyes. He rested a hand softly on Pippin's quivering shoulder, and this seemed to distress Pippin even more. "I'm sorry, Gandalf, I am. I didn't mean any of what I said. It was brave of him. And so stupid... I don't know what I would do if... and that's the bit I hate," he whispered pitifully. "I can't get past my own pain. What I would do, what I would feel... it's just the same, the same as it was the times before..." He trailed off here, reluctant to continue, but the wizard's compassionate and silent presence gave him no choice but to explain. "When you fell from the bridge, I wasn't thinking of you - not really. I was drowning in my own thoughts and feelings; I was only thinking of how lost I was without you and how it was my fault that you met the Balrog at all." Gandalf gave an involuntary shiver at the mention of the demon, but Pippin didn't notice. "And then later, at Parth Galen... oh, Gandalf, I couldn't believe it. Boromir died for us... and all I could think was: 'Why? How could he believe our lives to be worth the gift of his own?' I was *angry* at him, Gandalf. I was furious. Oh, I can't bear it. Why hasn't someone drowned me in the Anduin? Stop this, Merry!" he shrieked suddenly. "Wake up. No more of this! If one more person dies for me, because of me or instead of me, I swear on the Old Took that I will walk straight to Mordor and let some Orc have me for breakfast."
Gandalf saw that the time to intervene had most definitely arrived. "Pippin, don't be absurd," he said gently. "You are no more or less important than anyone else here. One life is worth one life, no matter to whom it belongs, and as such it is worth a great deal. Your foolish self- absorption makes you no less deserving of survival than Merry or Boromir... or even me," he admitted with a small smile. "Your supposed lack of personal sacrifice only means that you have not yet been given the opportunity to prove yourself. It does not mean that you are incapable of it, or that you are unworthy of the sacrifices of others, for I know both of these suppositions to be false. As painful as they might be, such sacrifices are gifts, Pippin, and they flow naturally out of love. I feel very sure that Boromir did not judge his life to be worth less than yours or Merry's; he only felt, like you, that he would rather die than leave someone to perish for whom he cared deeply." Gandalf sighed. He normally disdained such candid speech, as it was usually unnecessary at best and painful and embarrassing at worst, but he knew that Pippin would waste away upon these mistaken feelings of guilt and unworthiness, and the thought chilled his heart. There was only one thing left to say, and it had to be said, for Pippin's sake as well as his own. "Is it so hard to believe, my dear Pippin, that anyone could hold you in such regard that he would gladly give his help, his thoughts, even his life to the cause of protecting you from all ills?"
Pippin looked doubtfully up at Gandalf, frowning through the tear-trails on his flushed cheeks. A swift search of the wizard's eyes followed, and suddenly Pippin smiled. "Yes," he said laughing, "but I shall try. I have not much faith left, but I give it you," he said earnestly, shooting out a small hand and wrapping it around the wizard's callused fingers. "Do what you will with it."
"And I have not much patience left," continued the wizard jovially, "but I spend it on you, in the hope that you may profit by it. At any rate, let Merry profit from yours and leave off your shouting at him to wake up. He will do so when called by the king, for he is deep in the shadow at present and cannot be commanded by any other. He will not stray long, I think, for despite what you may think he carries your love with him into the darkness as he did into battle, with hope and courage. And so you aid him even when you cannot walk beside him. Keep that thought uppermost in your mind, Pippin, for it may give you strength you had not thought to expect."
"Your specialty, Gandalf," said Pippin, much cheered although not quite convinced. "Like the pilgrim who comes unlooked-for, it may come and go at will and be expected when it is least likely to be called upon. It is always present when the need is greatest," he continued soberly, turning his face up to the wizard's with great emphasis, "and teaches humility and courage together. It lies far beyond the reach of my understanding" - he paused to twist his grip so that his fingers laced through the larger ones - "but well within the realm of my heart."
Imperceptibly, the large hand tightened on the smaller one and gave a short tug, just enough for Pippin to follow through the movement and scoot over to lean comfortably into the voluminous robes. He let his mind drift and take comfort from the warmth, the elusive shine of white light and the ever- present linger of tobacco smoke. He felt safe for the first time in ever so long, and when he and Gandalf separated he pulled away reluctantly. "Call when you are in need of me," Gandalf whispered; "I am here." Pippin turned to check on Merry, and when he looked around again, the wizard had gone. Pippin moved back to Merry, settling himself on the edge of his cousin's bed. "What do you think? You were right after all, Merry," said Pippin affectionately. "He is changed. And so am I. But I rather think it is for the best."
A soft step behind him did not go unnoticed by the grieving hobbit, but he made no move to acknowledge it, either. He knew that it was not Aragorn - the man had a distinctive presence, as if his noble lineage flowed from him in waves - and so he was not interested.
"He does not wake?" Gandalf asked softly. Pippin mutely shook his head, eyes still fixed on Merry's worn, damp features. Gandalf moved to a spot near the bed where Pippin could see him if he chose. He tilted his head slightly, studying the hobbit's face. "Aragorn will come soon. He is having slight difficulty in reaching the White Lady, but I do not think that Merry will have long to wait."
Pippin frowned scornfully but did not remove his eyes from Merry's face. "He does not wait," he said in a voice of stone that sank heavily into the air. "He goes on ahead, and I cannot follow. But I will not allow it. And so I ask you," he continued in a cold ring that was not his own, raising his eyes at last to meet the wizard's, "whether your plans are satisfied. The Witch King perished; you may count this a resounding victory."
Gandalf frowned heavily. He was not used to this sort of talk, especially not from a hobbit like Pippin who rarely spoke with such bitter hate. "Do you wish, then, that I had ridden to his rescue, leaving Faramir to burn in the fever of his father's illusions?"
"You do not understand," snapped Pippin. "You cannot. Denethor was no madman. He loved his son, as I love Merry - as no one else can love him. What would I not give for his health and happiness, even the lives of a thousand others?"
"Then it is a very good thing that I have the direction of this campaign and not you," growled the wizard fiercely, and as it had in Bag End so many months before, the menace of his shadow filled the little sick-room and made Pippin quake. "You are a selfish being. Brave deeds cannot be accomplished without sacrifice. Merry was willing to give his life for that of Eowyn and for the destruction of the chief of the Nazgul, a terror that inspired the need to eliminate it in even such a small body. If you think his sacrifice meaningless, if you think any of the efforts these mortals have mounted to rid their lands of the shadow foolish, not to mention the protection of your own, then you had best have stayed in the Shire and reveled in food and drink until the Dark Lord razed all the lands to the ground and ended your small existence."
Pippin seemed not much affected by this speech, and Gandalf gave a great huff of anger and began to stride briskly in the direction of the door. He had barely reached it when a small sniffle issued from the foot of the bed. He turned in time to see Pippin launch himself, weeping, on Merry's legs and sob desperately: "I wish it had been me. That's all. Give him back, take me instead, please..." The wizard seemed to calm, and he approached Pippin carefully, his brows still furrowed threateningly, but a new spark of concern had ignited in the wise depths of his eyes. He rested a hand softly on Pippin's quivering shoulder, and this seemed to distress Pippin even more. "I'm sorry, Gandalf, I am. I didn't mean any of what I said. It was brave of him. And so stupid... I don't know what I would do if... and that's the bit I hate," he whispered pitifully. "I can't get past my own pain. What I would do, what I would feel... it's just the same, the same as it was the times before..." He trailed off here, reluctant to continue, but the wizard's compassionate and silent presence gave him no choice but to explain. "When you fell from the bridge, I wasn't thinking of you - not really. I was drowning in my own thoughts and feelings; I was only thinking of how lost I was without you and how it was my fault that you met the Balrog at all." Gandalf gave an involuntary shiver at the mention of the demon, but Pippin didn't notice. "And then later, at Parth Galen... oh, Gandalf, I couldn't believe it. Boromir died for us... and all I could think was: 'Why? How could he believe our lives to be worth the gift of his own?' I was *angry* at him, Gandalf. I was furious. Oh, I can't bear it. Why hasn't someone drowned me in the Anduin? Stop this, Merry!" he shrieked suddenly. "Wake up. No more of this! If one more person dies for me, because of me or instead of me, I swear on the Old Took that I will walk straight to Mordor and let some Orc have me for breakfast."
Gandalf saw that the time to intervene had most definitely arrived. "Pippin, don't be absurd," he said gently. "You are no more or less important than anyone else here. One life is worth one life, no matter to whom it belongs, and as such it is worth a great deal. Your foolish self- absorption makes you no less deserving of survival than Merry or Boromir... or even me," he admitted with a small smile. "Your supposed lack of personal sacrifice only means that you have not yet been given the opportunity to prove yourself. It does not mean that you are incapable of it, or that you are unworthy of the sacrifices of others, for I know both of these suppositions to be false. As painful as they might be, such sacrifices are gifts, Pippin, and they flow naturally out of love. I feel very sure that Boromir did not judge his life to be worth less than yours or Merry's; he only felt, like you, that he would rather die than leave someone to perish for whom he cared deeply." Gandalf sighed. He normally disdained such candid speech, as it was usually unnecessary at best and painful and embarrassing at worst, but he knew that Pippin would waste away upon these mistaken feelings of guilt and unworthiness, and the thought chilled his heart. There was only one thing left to say, and it had to be said, for Pippin's sake as well as his own. "Is it so hard to believe, my dear Pippin, that anyone could hold you in such regard that he would gladly give his help, his thoughts, even his life to the cause of protecting you from all ills?"
Pippin looked doubtfully up at Gandalf, frowning through the tear-trails on his flushed cheeks. A swift search of the wizard's eyes followed, and suddenly Pippin smiled. "Yes," he said laughing, "but I shall try. I have not much faith left, but I give it you," he said earnestly, shooting out a small hand and wrapping it around the wizard's callused fingers. "Do what you will with it."
"And I have not much patience left," continued the wizard jovially, "but I spend it on you, in the hope that you may profit by it. At any rate, let Merry profit from yours and leave off your shouting at him to wake up. He will do so when called by the king, for he is deep in the shadow at present and cannot be commanded by any other. He will not stray long, I think, for despite what you may think he carries your love with him into the darkness as he did into battle, with hope and courage. And so you aid him even when you cannot walk beside him. Keep that thought uppermost in your mind, Pippin, for it may give you strength you had not thought to expect."
"Your specialty, Gandalf," said Pippin, much cheered although not quite convinced. "Like the pilgrim who comes unlooked-for, it may come and go at will and be expected when it is least likely to be called upon. It is always present when the need is greatest," he continued soberly, turning his face up to the wizard's with great emphasis, "and teaches humility and courage together. It lies far beyond the reach of my understanding" - he paused to twist his grip so that his fingers laced through the larger ones - "but well within the realm of my heart."
Imperceptibly, the large hand tightened on the smaller one and gave a short tug, just enough for Pippin to follow through the movement and scoot over to lean comfortably into the voluminous robes. He let his mind drift and take comfort from the warmth, the elusive shine of white light and the ever- present linger of tobacco smoke. He felt safe for the first time in ever so long, and when he and Gandalf separated he pulled away reluctantly. "Call when you are in need of me," Gandalf whispered; "I am here." Pippin turned to check on Merry, and when he looked around again, the wizard had gone. Pippin moved back to Merry, settling himself on the edge of his cousin's bed. "What do you think? You were right after all, Merry," said Pippin affectionately. "He is changed. And so am I. But I rather think it is for the best."