Ch. 7

"Gandalf?" he echoed, in a state of shock. Now that this was reality and not a dream, he couldn't believe it. Gandalf had sailed into Valinor, into the undying lands. Why would he forfeit a blissful eternity to return to the Shire in the midst of war?

Pippin looked down at Merry after what only felt like a moment, but must have been several, because Merry was in a deep sleep. Pippin stood quietly, not wanting to wake the others. He made his way into the dining room, weaving his way in an out of beds and moaning hobbits.

When he looked at the table, he saw not Rosie sitting with a tall figure, but Rosie sitting with a small figure and two tall ones. Confused, he approached.

"Rosie?"

All but one of the beings at the table jumped, one of the tall ones, with long deep brown hair down his back. Rosie hadn't seen him, and the others had their backs turned.

All three mysterious people rose and turned. The one who hadn't flinched, Pippin had guessed, was an elf: Elrond, who had never looked very highly upon him, save for when he'd insisted on joining the Fellowship, now looked at him with respect you'd expect one to show a king.

The second large figure, of course, was unmistakably Gandalf. Not only would Merry and Sam not lie to him, especially about that, but the white cloak, staff, and long white hair were a dead giveaway. Gandalf had never taken a great liking to Pippin, always shouting at him, but he now looked upon the hobbit with appraisal fit for a war hero.

The small figure now caught his gaze by taking a step forward before checking itself. The small person stood enveloped in shadow, out of Pippin's sight. Gandalf leaned down to tell it something, and Pippin heard Go on.

Pippin said, "Please, come out." He was eager and a bit worried about who was so hidden. The small figure shook its shoulders as if preparing itself and stepped forward.