I heard a soft "thump!" from behind me, and turned to see young Peregrin planted face first in the snow. Before I could turn to help him up, the other three hobbits had surrounded him, first steadying him as he regained his footing and then brushing off clumps of snow from his cloak. Pippin shooed their hands away, insisted that he was fine and trudged by me, continuing up the mountain. As he passed, I could see how trying a journey this was for the halflings, Pippin especially. His lips and nose were chapped raw from the icy winds and his ears, nose and cheeks were scarlet with the cold. He shivered miserably and, although half buried in the snow, I could see that his feet were covered in icy mud, leaving small patches of bloodied snow behind.
Gandalf, too, caught sight of the wretched shape Pippin was in, and although he never mentioned why, I could tell this was the reason for his suggested stop.
After he'd found a reasonably ice-free stone, Pippin collapsed upon it, exhausted. While Sam tended to Frodo, Merry began to climb after Pippin. I caught Merry's eye and he stopped while I continued toward Pippin's resting place. Merry's wary glance nearly burned a hole through by cloak, but he must've decided me trustworthy enough, as he did not follow after.
Pippin was wincing when I caught up with him, holding one foot on his knee and carefully pulling off caked dirt and ice with his hands.
"You are the most willful young lad I've ever met," I said, kneeling before the small hobbit.
Pippin did not look up, but when I reached for a closer look at his wounded feet, he struck my hand away. "I'm fine, Boromir," he snapped, voice was stretched and weary. Despite his stubbornness, I took it upon myself to melt a fistful of snow between my hands and rinse his maimed feet with the small amount of water I had created. Pippin grimaced at the sting and shot a glare so angered I did not doubt that it alone could have melted the snow on Caradhras. He did not move away, however, so I continued, melting clumps of snow and rinsing his feet until the wounds were fairly clean and the ice had melted away, then tore two pieces from my own frayed cloak and tied them around each of Pippin's feet in an attempt at a bandage.
I smiled. "Now then, that wasn't so terrible." Pippin shook his head, still shaking violently. I moved to sit next to him on his rock, and before he could protest, quickly put my arm around his shoulders and covered him with my cloak. He jumped slightly, surprised, decided against protest and leaned against me, completely drained of energy.
"I'm afraid Gandalf will send me home if I can't keep up," he said. "Elrond didn't want us to come, Merry and me, and I don't want to be sent away! I don't want to go!" His distraught, lilting voice grew higher in pitch.
"You're not going to be sent anywhere," I said, rubbing his back slightly. "Merry wouldn't have it, and even Gandalf is no match for that brother of yours."
"Cousin," Pippin corrected.
"Ah, yes, cousin," I repeated, trying to work the hobbits' familial relations out in my head. Pippin's breathing grew long and deep, and I knew he had fallen asleep against me. When Gandalf insisted we move on, I gathered the small form in my arms and wrapped my cloak around Pippin.
Gandalf glanced at me worriedly as they continued up the mountain, and I smiled and nodded my assurance that Pippin was on the mend. The three other hobbits, however, stopped in front of me and I felt as though I was about to be assailed by a small army.
"He'll be alright?" Merry questioned, his face wrought with concern.
"He will be, yes. Just a little tired, that's all." I said.
"And you'll keep him warm? And safe?" asked Frodo, still wary of leaving his cousin in the arms of a "Big Person," as I had heard the hobbits refer to Aragorn and I as.
"You needn't have a shred of doubt about the protection of your cousin," I smiled, "I will guard him with my life."
Merry gave Pippin's hand a swift squeeze and then joined the others, along with Frodo and Sam. I smiled down at the bundle in my arms. "With my life."