A/N: Sorry for the extended hiatus! It wasn't planned. ::rolls eyes:: But without further extending the hiatus, and no ado whatsoever, here's the next chapter of the story. R&R!!

FOOL OF A TOOK

Chapter Eleven: Pippin at Amon Hen

Pippin rowed for some time, without paying attention to where he was going. He had been lost in his own thoughts for hours, which for him was highly unusual. Poor Pippin couldn't get the horrible images of his home burning, and his family and friends dying or enslaved by monsters, out of his head. He quickened his pace, almost unconsciously.

But soon, the weight of the paddles grew to be too much for his small arms; they were, after all, made for beings twice his size. He noticed that the pace of the river had quickened somewhat, while he had been lost in his reverie. There must be falls ahead. He would have to find someplace to put to shore soon.

Pippin pulled his oars in for the time being, before his weary arms dropped them into the river and they were lost. The canoe was moving fairly straight, caught in the fast-moving current in the center of the river. He took note of his surroundings, and found that the sheltering rocks he had beached against earlier had turned into bluffs, and were now towering high above the waterway. It looked, to the small Hobbit, as though the river had carved its own path through a mountain.

Pippin sat still in his canoe for a long time, just looking at the cliffs and the water, and noticing for the first time how beautiful this place was. He was saddened by the fact that the fate of all of Middle Earth now rested upon his shoulders, and that if he didn't destroy the evil burden he carried, there would be no more beautiful places like this one.

These thoughts were abruptly terminated, when Pippin rounded a bend in the river. He had to use his oars briefly, to keep from smashing into a high wall of rock, and when he got himself straightened back out, he was amazed at what he saw.

There were great statues carved into the rock, one on each side of the river, as tall as the bluffs themselves, and intricately designed. They must be very old, Pippin thought to himself. They look like Kings. Kings of Men. They each had a hand raised, and stern, proud expressions, as though they were warning travelers on the river Anduin to turn back. Pippin nearly did, but found that it was much too hard to work the heavy oars in this water. It was rushing past the statues very rapidly. As he passed, he marveled at the craftsmanship of the statues; even their toenails had been perfectly carved out of the rock.

Someone went to great trouble to create those. I am certainly lucky to have seen something so great. I would never have seen the like of it in the Shire, certainly.

Pippin's stomach began to growl, and he realized that he had not partaken of the lembas bread all day. He laughed aloud. "It's funny, me forgetting to eat. A lot has changed on this journey, that's for sure." He sighed, and looked for a place to beach his canoe for the night. The bluffs had given way to forest once again, the shoreline peppered with the variety of large rock he had camped against the previous night. He began to row to shore.

The water was a little calmer downstream of the great Kings, and he found it easier to steer out of the current. The roaring ahead of him indicated that there were indeed falls ahead, and he was very glad he had turned out of the current while he still had the chance to.

He pulled the canoe onto the shore, as far as he could. His arms were very tired, so it was still hard work, but he managed to get it a little farther ashore than he had the previous time. Pippin grabbed his pack out of his canoe and all but fell to the ground by a large rock. He opened another packet of the lembas bread and nibbled at it distractedly.

His Hobbit ears picked up the sound of shouting. He jumped to his feet, tiredly, and listened; it was coming from the river. Someone must have followed him downstream! He yanked at his canoe, and found it would not budge any farther. Pippin considered getting back in and rowing across to the other side of the river. The heavy foliage there would certainly be better cover than the rocks here. But what if he got caught in the current again? His arms were tired and heavy, and he might not be able to maneuver the canoe away from the falls. So he was stuck on this side of the river.

Pippin stood paralyzed with fear for a moment, then remembered his dagger. "It's not much," he thought, "but I might be able to hold them off." He felt around his waist and gasped. "Gone!" He hurriedly looked through his pack, and in the bottom of the canoe, under the seats. Nothing.

"Peregrin Took, you idiot! You have gone off and forgotten your dagger!" Pippin scolded himself harshly. "Gandalf was right, you are a fool!" He heard the voices again, much closer this time. It was Aragorn and Legolas!

Pippin groaned. "Oh no! They have come to find me and make me give the Ring back to Frodo! Well, they shan't have it! It's mine, it belongs to me!"

He stopped, surprised at his words. He looked down at the Ring, dangling from its chain on his neck, shiny and golden and perfect. Begging to be put on again. Pippin thought for a second. "If I do put it on, I'll be invisible, and they might think I've been here and gone again! Yes…and then maybe the search party will move on!"

Pippin brightened a little, and took the chain from around his neck again. He pocketed the chain and held the Ring out before him. He hesitated briefly, remembering the last time he had given in to the temptation of the Ring. He'd had visions, frightening ones, of the great fiery Eye of Sauron. Then he heard the voices of his friends, who were now past the statues, and hurriedly slid the Ring on his finger.

As before, he disappeared from his own sight immediately. The forest and rocks were again replaced by a white haze, and he navigated it as best he could, rushing uphill, until he came to a great rock platform. He climbed on top and sat there to rest, still wearing the Ring.

Suddenly, from behind him, to the Southeast, came a great thundering laugh. An evil laugh. Pippin didn't want to turn around, for he knew whose laugh it was. Almost as though he were in a dream, he slowly turned to face what he knew was coming.

There it was, the great Eye of fire. Peeking at him from behind the trees by the river. That evil Eye with its horrid laughter, drowning out the shouts of his friends, coming ever closer. Pippin shuddered as the Eye of Sauron drew nearer to him, encompassing all the landscape until it seemed as though Pippin were standing right in front of it.

Sauron's low, monstrous voice spoke this time. "I…See…You!"

Pippin gave a last cry of panic and tugged at the Ring as hard as he could. He could take no more. The Ring came off of his finger, and the Eye disappeared. Pippin, however, fell off the edge of the great rock platform he had climbed upon.

Fell straight into the arms of Aragorn.