Title: All Shall Fade
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Movieverse- Pippin's thoughts as he sings for Denethor in Return of the King.
Home is behind…
His voice rang in the empty hall
The World ahead…
No longer ahead. He stood in the middle of it now; one small, useless soldier obedient to the whims of a Lord numbed by grief. Any day now he might be sent out into that world, never to come back
And there are many paths to tread…
Why had he chosen this one? Surely this was not his intended road. By rights, he ought to be with Merry; with Frodo and Sam and Fatty, back in the Shire.
Through shadows…
He had come through shadows- through many. Through the shadows of Moria, where Gandalf had fallen; the shadows of Fangorn, where the whisper of ancient, angry trees filled the darkness; the shadows of that terrible night on Weathertop; the shadow of the Black Riders.
To the edge of night…
And he was- teetering on the brink, waiting for the storm to break loose.
Until the stars are all alight…
There cannot be light without darkness, they say, but where was his light, where were his stars? Gandalf, perhaps? The White Rider; a shining white beacon against the terrible red Eye of Mordor. Or Merry- off in Rohan somewhere. The thought of seeing his Merry again… that was his light. As far off as a star, yes, but just as bright.
Mist and shadow…
The shadow of madness in Denethor's eye, the shadows lining the great hall- shadows about and behind and beneath grim statues of tall, lordly men looking out at the hobbit with melancholy stone eyes.
Cloud and shade…
A great cloud there was now; glowering over the land, darkening even the brightest star. Thick fumes belched from the Fiery Mountain, weighing heavy on mind and heart and body alike. Lightnings flashed amid the vaporous exhalation in the blood red gloom.
All shall fade…
But who? That shadow over Mordor, the Ring; or… them? It seemed more likely to Pippin now that that Darkness would envelop them, leave all the lands of the West dark and cold- slaves under that greatest of Evils. The thought of the Shire dead, rotted; the mallyrn of Lorien withered, browned leaves clinging to dead branches like the memory of autumns past; the lush, green, rolling fields of Rohan turned to a vast, dead waste which housed only the burnt remnants of hamlets and the bodies of warriors who had fallen defending them… the thoughts rankled in his heart. Even now, the lord to whom he sang for seemed to be resigned to this fate. At this thought, Pippin's eyes stung and he choked on his words.
All shall fade.
