Ch. 22

"Aargh!" Pippin yelled, grabbing at the wrist of his murderous friend. Staring around, he noticed that he was in Bag-End, still. Bilbo was sitting there, and Merry stood over him, but the circumstances were very different.

Gandalf was in the corner speaking to a distraught Rosie. He was clearly crying. Merry was teary, not looking at Pippin. Frodo was in a corner weeping. Elrond stood in the doorway, his back to the room. He was shaking, ever so slightly.

Pippin all at once remembered himself and what recent events had taken place. Playing the scene prior to his siesta back in his mind, he recalled Sam's condition.

Rosie. Pippin realized what all the sadness was for. "No," he whispered.

"Pippin," Merry croaked, turning to look at him. "Sam." He broke off, unable to say any more.

"Pippin, a word?" Gandalf requested, very somber.

"No." Pippin whispered yet again.

"Come, Pippin."

In the kitchen, Gandalf took a deep breath. Whether to steady or compose himself, Pippin knew not. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and started again.

"Pippin, I must first impress upon you that you are not to blame for this. Understand me, Pippin. You are not at fault."

Pippin began to weep silently. "No." He'd gone from a whisper to a small whimper.

"Yes, Pippin. I am afraid so." Tears ran into Gandalf's beard. "Samwise Gamgee has passed into the realm of the not living. He is dead."

Pippin's ears were ringing. Sam. Dead. it was all too much to take in. "But, Gandalf.he can't die. He can't. He."

"He has passed on. We must." His voice broke for a moment. Clearing his throat, he continued. "We must accept that now."

He stretched out his arm, placing it behind Pippin's head. Moving his hand down to the middle of his back, he pulled the hobbit into a tight embrace, two friends mourning the loss of a great hero.