But it wasn't to be. Hardly had they ridden away from Orthanc and left the staffless, powerless wreck of Saruman behind then Pippin was caught by the grip of the palantir, and Gandalf came to them in urgency.
"We must ride to Gondor. I must speak with Denethor, and Pippin must come with me. Boromir, your choice is your own, but I think your father would be more inclined to listen to me if I bring also his son safe home."
Boromir frowned at that. "And the rest of the fellowship?"
"They will remain with Theoden. They must ride to Edoras, and assemble an army to march to Gondor after us. War is coming, and I fear it is coming directly to Minis Tirith."
Boromir looked across the way at where Merry stood in laughing talk with Gimli and Legolas. "We will come, then."
Gandalf shook his head. "We must travel as fast as lightning. Shadowfax can bear a hobbit and me without slowing, but your horse will need to be pushed further than even the horses of Rohan are accustomed. You must leave your pack, and no other passenger can be bourn. Come, Boromir. War doesn't give time for rest and talk, not to those of us who must ride with the news of it to unsuspecting lands."
Boromir mounted his horse, and the eyes of the others fell on him. "We will see you in Gondor, in time," he called to his companions. But his eyes were on Merry.
Merry frowned instantly, shocked. "Where are--"
Aragorn took his arm to hold him back, and he nodded at Boromir gravely. "In time," he said with a hand raised in farewell.
Boromir's horse reared as he turned in.
"Boromir! Pippin!"
He spurred into a gallop and raced to meet Gandalf and his white horse. He didn't look back.