Please forgive the wait - this is the longest chapter to date. Warning: here be good old-fashioned hobbit torture followed by unashamed and blatantly mushy hobbit comfort. Though I haven't used up my quota just yet. As Mistoffelees noticed, this story is leading up to the feast on April 8.

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Day Five, March 29:

It was the coughing that got Merry's attention, a deep-chested cough that boded no good. Merry searched through the wounded frantically. At last he spotted Pippin and felt his heart freeze in horror. Pippin was covered in blood. His hair was matted with it and more poured from the gashes that mutilated his face. An ominous gurgle came whenever he breathed. At Merry's hesitant touch the eyes opened and that was more horrible than ever, to see his perfect eyes look out at Merry in such a ruined setting.

"Mer . . ."

"No, don't talk," Merry pleaded and gathered up the bloodied form of his cousin. Pippin's eyes never left his face.

"Too late," he breathed.

Merry shook his head. "No. Don't talk like that. Don't talk at all. I'm going to get you help. Just hold on, Pippin."

"Too late, Mer." Pippin's eyes remained open but changed, empty as a broken eggshell. Merry felt the body he held grow limper and heavier.

"No," he whispered. He shook Pippin to no avail. "No. No, this can't be happening. Not you. Pippin, no. No, you can't be dead! No!"

Merry gasped and the nightmare scene vanished like smoke in the wind. The cool air breezed by and nipped his face as Shadowfax ran ever on. Gandalf's arm held him around the middle even firmer than before. Merry took several deep breaths and tried to clear his mind.

"A nightmare about Pippin," Gandalf said matter-of-factly.

Merry did not try to deny it. "I was too late. He died."

Gandalf was silent for some moments. Merry thought he had decided to pretend the whole business had not happened so he was surprised when the wizard spoke again. "I will not try to comfort you by repeating what you already know, that Pippin lives and is in the best of care. The head cannot control the heart in such matters. I only say that we will be in outside the Black Gates soon, and you will not be too late. Now then. Would you prefer to hear of what befell Frodo and Sam after you parted company, or how Pippin fared in the service of Gondor?"

Merry blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Has worry so clouded your wits then?" asked Gandalf. "Perhaps you will attempt to sleep more tonight? No? Then I am attempting to distract you from your groundless concerns by giving you some much-needed information on what has happened to the rest of the Company."

"Well, then," Merry stammered, "I should prefer to hear about Frodo and Sam as I have already seen them."

"Very well. Frodo made for the river, followed by Sam." And the white horse with its two riders continued west as the night waned on.

*****

Pippin was surrounded by a dark rolling mist that soaked his hair and clothing and smelled of foulness. The other members of the Fellowship were somewhere in the mist. "Hullo?" he called. Only his voice echoed back to him.

Pippin tramped about, his feet squelching in the marsh mud. At times it seemed he heard footsteps belonging to others yet it was impossible to pick out from which direction they came, or if they were real at all. The longer he walked, though, the stronger the feeling became that he was watched by unfriendly eyes. Every hair from the top of his head down to his toes prickled unpleasantly.

"Oi, Pippin!" Merry's voice floated through the mist and made him jump. "Stay put and we'll find you. Trust a Took to lose his way in a mist such as this," Merry finished with a grumble.

"No!" Pippin was not certain how he knew such an action would bring disaster upon his friends but he knew it nonetheless. "No, Merry! Stay away!"

Black shapes appeared and disappeared around him. He could feel their evil anticipation grow. "Merry, please! It's death for you to come nearer."

"Don't be silly, foolish Took," Merry's voice said. "Keep calling. I'll follow your voice."

Pippin shut up his mouth tight, vowing not to speak another word that would bring Merry closer to his doom. Silent, as Gandalf had ordered him to be at the Black Gate. It mattered not. Merry came skipping out of the mist. "Ho, Pippin! You led us on quite the - "

Black forms came boiling out of the grayness surrounding the hobbits. Merry gave a cry and tried to draw his sword but his sword hand fumbled and fell to his side, useless. The shades fell upon him and dragged him away, his shrieks fading into the dampness.

Pippin lunged forward with a cry of his own but he was too late. The foe had taken Merry. He fell to his knees in bereavement, sobs building inside him. Then he heard it.

"A Elbereth, Gilthoniel silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-diriel O galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon Nef aear, si nef aearon!"*

The mist lightened and the gloom fell away at the fair tongue of the elves. Pippin was reminded of the soft glow he had seen in Lothlorien, the fresh scents of Rivendell blossoms, and the gentle rains that fell on the Shire in spring. His fright and sorrow melted and the nightmare bled into a peaceful slumber.

*****

Midmorning

Gimli found Aragorn crouched by Pippin's side, fingers tangled in the hobbit's curls, as the last notes of the elven song died away. "How does he fare?"

"Fast improving in body though still troubled in mind," said Aragorn. "He had a nightmare just now, in which Merry came to grief because of him, or so he believes. I fear he will keep silent about such worries though why and to what end I know not. If he speaks I will gladly listen and give counsel but I will not pry on his thoughts."

"Can you not help him another way?" Gimli demanded.

Aragorn spread his hands helplessly. "I may only help to heal. The healing itself cannot be forced upon the unwilling. I bring my charges to the point where they themselves take over or where one much loved can give aid. It was Eomer, remember, who called Eowyn to full waking. So in short, Master Dwarf, I have done what I can. The rest is up to Pippin."

"And Merry," the dwarf reminded him. "Ah! I have nearly forgotten. A splendid white horse with two riders has been seen approaching. They will arrive within the hour."

"Gandalf and Merry?"

"I can think of no others."

"Then we shall meet them." Aragorn rose and brushed at his knees. "They must have journeyed through the night to have arrived so quickly. I will see that two pallets are ready for the weary travelers if you will tend to their food and drink."

*****

The tale of the Ringbearers had finished long ago though Merry had not slept. Fear of another nightmare and the rising sun's light kept him awake. That, and the thought of seeing Pippin soon. Two threads of thought chased each other 'round his brain. Surely Pippin would not be in such bad a condition as Frodo and Sam. But Legolas said he had died and had not the strength to travel yet. But Merry had watched Pippin, perfectly healthy, march out to battle barely more than a week ago. But much could happen in a week or even a battle, as he knew all too well. But surely a week could not do to Pippin what months did to Frodo and Sam . . . It was a relief when the twisted wreck of the Black Gates, forever open now, appeared on the horizon.

"Is that the entrance to Mordor?" he asked.

"We have been in the land of Mordor since the dawn," Gandalf said. "That is the entrance to Barad-Dur, or what remains of it since Sauron was defeated. Soon will you see Mount Doom. It too is much changed. It spewed forth ash and poisonous gas when Frodo cast the Ring into it."

Merry noticed then the footfalls of Shadowfax had lightened in sound as the great horse ran over the white ash on the ground. "How far are the wounded from the Gates?"

"A goodly distance. It is not as far as could be hoped for, perhaps, but as far as they could manage in the chaos. We shall reach the encampment much sooner than we would reach the Gates."

Merry fell silent and wished with all his might that the great white horse would go faster yet. He knew this was unfair and yet he could not help his impatience. So he fretted a bit about their speed before his thoughts once again fell to the two threads. "What is Pippin like?"

Gandalf looked at him from amidst bushy eyebrows. "Pippin is your cousin, Meriadoc. If you do not know what he is like by now there is little hope that I will know."

Merry sighed. "I meant, how has he changed? That is to say, the injuries." He sighed again, frustrated at his inability to speak plainly. "What am I to expect?"

"Ah." Gandalf looked out at the land stretching out in front of them. "His appearance is not so changed as you fear. The most grievous of the injuries were internal. His face is marked with cuts and bruising though by now they will be healing. Mind his ribs and sword arm. The ribs were broken, the arm twisted. Also be wary of his hands. They were not broken but they will most likely be bruised and tender."

"Mercy!" cried the hobbit. "All this and yet you say he is little changed?"

"I said no such thing," Gandalf replied. "I said his appearance is not so bad as you may fear it to be after seeing how starvation and toil took their toll on the Ringbearers. Of course Pippin himself is changed. He will still be the cheerful young lad you remember but I should be very much surprised if he has not gained a little sobriety and wisdom through the ordeal."

Merry stared down at the bundle he carried. "Have any of us come out of it untouched, Gandalf?"

The wizard smiled gently. "I think not. But not all change is for the worst. Hitherto the council at Rivendell Gimli would not have suffered an elf's presence willingly nor Legolas the company of a dwarf. But now two closer friends you will never find, excepting perhaps hobbits."

Merry nodded and again lapsed into silence as they grew ever nearer to the encampment. The ash from Mount Doom covered the ground more deeply here but Shadowfax neatly picked his way through it. Before them, hastily constructed tents popped up here and there in white and brown and olive. On the far edge of the encampment it looked as though the ground had been disturbed in rows. The area stretched for an impossible length. Merry was about to ask why when he spotted bodies piled in heaps and men in their shirtsleeves moving about the rows with shovels. He understood, and shuddered.

Two figures appeared to be waiting for them, one little more than half the height of the other. Merry squinted at them through the dazzling sun in his eyes. "That is Strider and Gimli!"

"Indeed, though Strider goes by Aragorn now and you would do well to remember it."

Merry nodded but had no time to answer. Shadowfax slowed his pace as they approached but it took no more than the blink of an eye to bring the parties together. It seemed to Merry that they were tired and worn but not sorrowing.

Aragorn did not look surprised to see two riders rather than one. "Welcome back, Gandalf. And welcome to you also, Merry. You arrive sooner than expected."

"I did not know that I was expected," Merry replied, allowing Aragorn to help him to the ground.

Gimli chuckled. "Then you underestimate your predictability, young hobbit. We have bee waiting for you to arrive since the messenger left days ago. Come. Pippin sleeps but I think he will not mind you disturbing him."

Gandalf waved him on. "Go. I will tend Shadowfax and join you a little later."

Gimli pulled aside the flap for Merry and was about to enter as well when Aragorn caught his arm. "Give them some time alone," he whispered.

Merry approached slowly and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. His cousin did look better than he had feared. Indeed, he looked very much as he had back in the Shire, sleeping peacefully with his head turned to his left hand, which was resting on the pillow, and sword arm crooked over his chest. If only the outline of a Gondorian helm did not remain on his face, Merry would be hard pressed to say Pippin looked any different than he had in the Shire. Then, as he neared, he saw Pippin's sword arm was in a sling and there were bruises all over, fading blue with yellow and green. He dropped the parcel and sat on the pallet serving as a bed so that he could face Pippin. Merry ran his fingers over the half- healed cuts with a feather-light touch. The skin was warm, surely too warm to be healthy, but Pippin didn't seem to be bothered by it.

But soon it was not enough to simply look at his cousin. Merry had to hear his voice again, to see him open his eyes and know once and for all that Pippin was all right. Merry leaned forward and called his name.

"Pippin."

The voice was familiar, the pitch low and gentle. Pippin cracked his eyes open. Merry was sitting on the bed leaning over him. His mind, still muddled with sleep, thought this was not unusual. Pippin smiled at little, remembering how Merry would wake him in the morning whenever they had slept over at Bag End. Then his mind woke and everything came back to him in a rush.

"Merry!" Pippin cried and bolted upright to throw his arms about his cousin. A bolt of pain shot through his arm but it was forgotten in his joy. Merry returned the hug.

"Of course it is I, foolish Took," said Merry, laughing through his tears. "Who else would it be?"

"Oh, Merry, it is you," Pippin replied and tightened his embrace.

Merry shifted so that he was sitting next to Pippin near the head of the pallet. "Easy, Pip. You will hurt yourself."

Pippin snorted into Merry's shirt. "I am already hurt."

"Well, you will hurt yourself further then." Despite his words, Merry made no move to disentangle himself. Rather he reveled in the touch of Pippin's arms around him and the sound of his voice. Though to be sure, both were quivering at the moment.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently. "You are trembling."

Pippin nodded. "Don't worry about me. My emotions are all in a jumble right now. I've been dreadfully worried about you and Frodo and Sam. Are you sure you should be here?"

Merry pushed him back a little to peer into his face. "And just what do you mean by that, Peregrin Took?"

Pippin blushed slightly. "Your sword arm. When we marched out from Minas Tirith it was still troubling you. I was afraid the journey here would be too much."

"I would have walked with both legs broken if I had to," Merry said. "As it was, I kept Gandalf company on the way from Ithilien when he would have had no one to talk to but Shadowfax."

Pippin grinned and rested his head on Merry's shoulder while Merry put an arm around him. "I am very glad you're here then."

Merry smiled as Pippin's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. "So am I."

Then as he too drifted off to sleep, he heard movement in the room and Gandalf said, "No, leave him lest you disturb them both. He wants sleep, I daresay. He had precious little of it on the journey."

Merry awoke with dampness on his shoulder. He looked over at Pippin, whose curls clung wetly to his brow. Merry gave a start of alarm and pressed a hand to Pippin's cheek. It was damp with perspiration but a normal temperature. The fever had broken.

He sighed with relief but it was enough to make Pippin stir and yawn. "What hour is it, Merry?"

His cousin looked at the shadows creeping into the tent. "Early evening, I suppose, but we are late for supper if that is what you are thinking."

Pippin shook his head. "No, I was trying to judge how long we have slept." He sat up slowly as though in pain, and he winced and hugged his sword arm close. Merry watched him with concern.

"Be careful, Pip. You'll re-injure yourself."

Pippin looked exasperated. "I can hardly re-injure what is not yet healed, Master Brandybuck, and anyway, I am being careful. Stop worrying about me. You still have not gained full use of your arm either, or did you think I would not notice?"

Merry was still irritable from his fright upon awakening and having his advice thrown back at him did not improve his temper. "My arm has been healing longer than yours, and I was not the one crushed by a cave troll."

"I was not in the Black Sleep in Minas Tirith after smiting the Witch King," retorted Pippin. "I did not lay so close to death that it took all of Aragorn's skill to bring me back."

Merry sprung up in anger. "No, you were the one who outright died! You don't know what it did to me, Pippin, hearing that you had been dead, even so briefly. You don't know how it wrung my heart to finally see you bruised and in pain."

"You shouldn't worry about me!" Pippin finally shouted. "I'm recovering as quickly as I can, Merry; you needn't cast it up to me that I'm not in full health!"

Merry stepped away, eyes widening. Obviously this was a sore point with his cousin. He judged it best to let the matter drop and give them both a chance to cool off. "All right, then," he said softly and left the tent.

Pippin froze in horror. What had he done? That could not have been him hurling those hurtful words at Merry and driving him away. Fool of a Took indeed! *Silence* Gandalf had commanded just before the battle at the Black Gates. Why could he not learn that lesson? Why did he have to contribute to the evil so rampant in the world? Pippin let his head fall into his sore hands but did not weep.

*****

Gandalf was helping to break down one of the tents when Merry exited. The hobbit did not approach any of the fires over which simple stews were bubbling, nor did he seek out any company. Instead, he walked a little ways from the tent and sat with ankles crossed, staring at the setting sun.

"Is that Merry?" Gimli asked, noticing Gandalf's glance.

"It is."

"What the blazes is he doing, sitting there alone?"

Gandalf shook his head. "I know not but it cannot bode well." He and Gimli approached the hobbit but Aragorn, having noticed also and being closer, reached him first.

"Merry," he said, and sat next to him.

"Hullo, Strider," said Merry. "Or Aragorn, rather. I keep forgetting."

"It matters not. Strider I was when we met. I do not mind the name from your lips though I would like it not coming from the other soldiers." Aragorn allowed some time to silence before broaching the question. "What troubles you, Merry?"

"Oh, nothing much." Merry sighed and looked at the man next to him out of the corner of his eye. "We had a bit of a fight is all and I came out here to give us both time to regain our tempers."

"A fight?" Aragorn asked, taken aback. He knew the hobbits had squabbles and disagreements but he had never seen them argue in earnest.

"A little one," Merry hastened to assure him. "We had both just woken up and that is not the best time for either of us and I annoyed Pippin by reminding him to be careful as he is not fully healed. I didn't know he felt it so keenly or I might not have said it."

"I did not know he felt it keenly either," said Aragorn.

Merry looked at him in surprise. "Oh! Well, at any rate he snapped that I ought not worry about him and take care of myself instead and it built from there."

"That is when you left?"

Merry nodded. "It seemed for the best."

Aragorn nodded too and laid a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I think that is wise. I will go speak to him and see if I cannot clear this matter." He made to rise.

"Tell him I am sorry for my part of it," Merry added. Aragorn nodded again and left him there. Gandalf and Gimli were waiting.

"I will speak to Pippin," Gandalf said in a low voice, "and I will see if I cannot get to the bottom of this strangeness that has come over him."

"I wish you luck," replied Aragorn.

It was dark in the tent and Gandalf was obliged to ignite the tip of his staff for illumination. He found Pippin sitting with his bowed head in his hands. He was not aware of the wizard until Gandalf called his name. Then Pippin's head came up with a jerk. His face was pale and his eyes were like those of a hare when the hounds close in upon it.

"I have gotten a surprising report about you, Peregrin Took," Gandalf began. The hobbit made no sound but his breath came quicker.

"It is not like you to snap at Merry," Gandalf persisted.

At last Pippin stirred. "No," he agreed.

Gandalf sat on the edge of the pallet. "Do you know why you would say such things?" The hobbit made no answer and stared down at the coverlet. "Pippin?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I know he was only worried about me. But - I did not want him to worry about me when he is injured still. I will be fine even if I am not now."

Gandalf eyes narrowed with thought and he knew they were approaching the nub of the problem. "There is no shame in admitting need, Pippin. You have been gravely wounded in your valiant deed. It is to be expected."

"Well, I don't like it," Pippin said looking up, suddenly defiant.

"But as you say, you will be fully recovered in the future. Surely you can tolerate such worry for a little while yet," Gandalf pointed out.

Pippin looked down again and the wizard was left with the distinct feeling of having missed some vital point. Pippin had not referred to his injuries. "What is it, my lad?" Gandalf asked gently.

Pippin shook his head. "It is nothing," he tried to say but the words stuck in his throat and he made a sound that was more breath than anything, part moan and part whimper. Gandalf heard and gently laid on hand over the hobbit's while his other hand brushed the unruly curls from his pale face, leaving the staff propped against the pallet. "Pippin, why do you suffer so, all alone? There is no need for it."

A sigh he received in reply.

"Will you not speak to me? Shall I send word for Merry to come?"

Pippin gave his head an abrupt shake "no" and gritted his teeth against the tears pricking his eyes.

Gandalf tried another course of action. "Pippin, you must say what is wrong. You will cause further harm to yourself the longer you go without treatment."

Pippin clenched his eyes as tears welled up. He knew he was causing his friends grief with his behavior though that was the effect he had been striving to avert. Yet was not speaking out about the pain going to cause them grief as well? Was there no solution? He could not be more of a burden to them.

"I cannot," he whispered.

"You cannot what?" Gandalf prompted.

"I cannot - burden my friends. I failed. I died." Pippin at last opened his eyes and stared into Gandalf's wise face. "I could not match the rest of the Fellowship and I died but I came back. Why am I alive when so many people, good people, died? I do not understand why such evil is in the world." He was no longer able to fight off the sobs. He struggled against the inevitable and against the searing humiliation of showing such weakness before a wizard, but he could not keep silent any longer.

At last he went limp, spent from exhaustion, eyelids too heavy to part, cheeks burning from fever and shame. He was dimly aware of Gandalf giving him cooling sips of water and wiping his face with a damp cloth. From a far distance he heard Gandalf ask, "Now what is this about failing?"

"I despaired at the Gates when you rejected the terms," Pippin answered, too tired and sleepy to care what he said. "I lost hope in the Quest and did not seek it. I sought death instead and I failed. I could not bear to live in a world with such evil in it and now I cannot bear to live with myself if all I do is add to it." Hot tears stung his eyes again. The last thing he remembered before darkness took him was the moisture on his cheeks and the kindly presence stroking his hair.

*****

Gandalf left the tent and found Merry waiting, half asleep, near the entrance. "Go in," he murmured to the hobbit. "I will see you shortly." He then went to the tent where Aragorn and Gimli waited.

"He begins to understand," Gandalf said. "And in listening to him, I begin to understand as well."

"If you have managed to make him speak, all the better but I fear it is I who do not understand," Aragorn said. "Old friend, the Valar may have sent you back in new form but you retain your habit of speaking in riddles."

"I apologize for that but to explain I beg patience of you. I have told you of the lifestyle of hobbits, how they do not meddle in the affairs of the world outside of the Shire and thus are ignorant of much of it. Likewise they are also innocent of its many evils. This innocence protected the hobbits through the Quest. So long as they could not grasp what was happening, they were able to bear it. In Pippin, that innocence crumbles at last.

"He despaired in battle. He believed Frodo and Sam to be dead, and at last understood the full magnitude of the Quest, what rested upon the destruction of the Ring. He battled the troll while in despair and died in the same state. In his delirium and confusion he believes he failed."

"Failed what?" asked Gimli.

Gandalf spoke gravely. "To continue the Quest, which at its heart is the battle against evil itself to champion all that is good in Middle Earth. But the obstacle to overcome now is this dark mood that blackens his outlook."

"Merry," Gimli began but Gandalf cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Merry's presence will help but we cannot rely on him alone," he said sternly. He looked to Aragorn. "The night is clear?"

Aragorn nodded, perplexed. "It is."

"I saw something in the sky last night as we rode that surprised me, for I did not expect to see it this far south at this time of year," Gandalf said. "If it comes again I think I might put it to good use tonight."

Gimli was prickling with impatient confusion. "Riddles again, Gandalf! Of what do you speak?"

"Aragorn knows," replied Gandalf, unperturbed. "The name they give it in Rivendell is Ninniach Du."**

The former ranger nodded slowly. "I have caught glimpses of it even here. It is a wondrous sight indeed.

*****

Merry waited a while before rejoining Pippin. The talk with Gandalf may have done some good or it may have made him even surlier. At last Merry went in and found, to his surprise, Pippin asleep with tear tracks on his face.

"Pippin?" he called softly and lay down next to his cousin. He was unsure if Pippin heard him until he felt the warm body cuddle up to him.

"Oh, Merry, I'm so sorry," Pippin whispered hoarsely.

"It is I who should be sorry," Merry replied, embracing him. "I did not know it was such a sore spot with you, so to speak."

Pippin buried his face in Merry's shirt. "It's not just the fight. It is everything. I do not know how I can go back to the way I was. Hope has died for me."

Merry tightened his embrace, though still wary of the injured ribs. "You will find hope again. We have come through so much and still you kept your unquenchable cheerfulness. It has only dimmed. It will glow bright again." Merry looked up as Gandalf entered and stood silently. Pippin did not notice.

"But I did not understand before," Pippin whispered. "My eyes are open, Merry. There is evil in the world, such terrible evil, it chills me to think of it."

"The Enemy is destroyed, Pip," Merry said, stroking his cousin's curls gently. "His tower is fallen and the Ring is melted away."

Pippin shook his head. "The origin of evil was not Sauron. He only gathered the darkness around him as a cloak. There are others willing to take his place. I thought I could bear it." He drew a shaky breath. "But sometimes it pressed down on me as fiercely as that troll did and I feel as though I will shatter into a thousand fragments."

Merry helplessly cradled Pippin. He had not words with which he could combat this deep despair. He looked beseechingly toward Gandalf, who came forward.

"You are right in part, Peregrin Took. There *is* much evil in the world and there is no use in imagining it away. There is no use, either, in dwelling overly much on it as you have done. Only in darkness can we fully appreciate the light."

"There is no light for me, only endless night."

"But even in the night there is hope of the dawn. Come, Pippin. And you as well, Master Brandybuck, if you can hold your tongue. There is something I wish you to see." Gandalf secured the blankets around Pippin and made to lift him up.

"Gimli will have our heads if he learns Pippin has left his bed," Merry warned.

"Then we will hurry so that Gimli does not find out," said Gandalf and brought them to a low hill outside the little camp so that they looked down upon it. The wizard scanned the stars quickly, nodded once, and then spoke. "Look around you, Peregrin. What do you see?"

"Darkness," Pippin said flatly. "And in the shadows the graves of the newly dead. And some bodies not yet buried."

"You see this only because you look down. Now," said Gandalf, "look up, both of you."

Pippin obeyed. He heard Merry gasp and had little doubt as to why. At first only the great expanse of the sky met his sight, deep and dark and terrible. The very loneliness of it made him draw breath, but then he let it go in an exclamation of wonder and awe.

The sky was alive with a thousand lights streaking and dancing over their heads, fading out and reappearing over and anon. The whiteness of them was cool and pure. Every now and then there would be a flash of pink or a glimmer of blue among the white, or a hint of greenish gold. The sky itself seemed to shimmer with the flashes as far as his eye could see and the blackness behind it only enhanced the show. Never in his life had Pippin seen such splendor. It seemed to him that the lights had a song to them and if he only knew the words, he might join them. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the night wash over his being, cleansing and pure as a mountain spring. Then there came a tune he recognized, and he understood the words

"O Star-Queen, Star-Kindler white glittering slants down sparkling like jewels from firmament glory of the star-host! To remote distance after having gazed From treewoven middle-earth, Snow-white, to thee I will chant on this side of the ocean, here on this side of the ocean!"***

"Oh, Gandalf," breathed Pippin. "Even the Elves would be hard pressed to match such beauty. What is this?"

"Some say they are the Lights of the Valar. The elves call it Ninniach Du, the Rainbow of Night. They are most often seen in the cold of wintertime and in far more brilliance than what you see here. Even so, it is quite wonderful, is it not?"

"Wonderful!" Pippin laughed, then laughed from the very joy of being able to laugh again. "Wonderful does not begin to describe it! I feel as though my heart would burst from it."

"But wasn't this the night you so recently despised?" Gandalf pressed.

The hobbits fell silent for a moment. The Merry spoke. "But if it were not night the sun would blind us to these paler lights."

"Indeed, Master Merry, but that is only part of the lesson. Now tell me, Peregrin Took, do the Lights of the Valar lessen the reality of the graves of the fallen? Or do the graves dim the sky's beauty?"

Pippin shook his head and spoke slowly. "No. They both exist together, not overpowering the other but not quite canceling each other out either." He looked into the wizard's face. "Is that what I am to learn, then?"

Gandalf smiled gently. "There is evil in the world, Pippin. But you are for the Light. May this dimming of your spirits only serve to make you shine brighter in the years to come."

Pippin tilted his face back to the sky. "I think I could learn to hope again. Somehow it does not seem so far away anymore."

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* From FOTR ("Many Meetings")

** I don't know if the elves have a specific name for the aurora borealis so I cobbled together a name using "The Languages of Tolkien's Middle Earth" by Ruth S. Noel.

***Translation of the poem from FOTR as given by Ruth S. Noel.