They stopped with the stars still overhead, dawn only a glimmer on the horizon.  The trek that night had been mostly silent, the members of the Fellowship withdrawn into their own thoughts, with no distracting Tookish giggle to lighten the black mood. 

In fact, the smallest hobbit made no sound as they settled about making camp and laying out sleeping rolls, resting as Aragorn instructed and drinking what was given him without complaint.  But he did not touch the dinner that was given him, and this in itself was the companions’ greatest worry. 

Frodo cast Gandalf a frightened look from across the clearing, absently running a hand through his cousin’s hair as he pleaded with him to eat just a few bites.  Pippin shook his head crossly, saying something nasty that the wizard could not catch but made Frodo close his eyes in pain for a moment.

“Pippin,” Merry snapped, though it was apparent by the worry in his eyes that his frustration was caused more by concern than by anger.  “There is no call to talk to Frodo like that!”

Pippin muttered something under his breath, shook Frodo’s hand off his head and stood as though to leave the three of them sitting there, mouths open.  He swayed a moment, all color draining from his face, and Merry was on his feet and putting a steadying arm around him before the others could think to move. 

“I’m fine!” Pippin growled, though there was a suspicious glint in his eyes as he tried to shake his cousin off.

“Here, now, Master Pippin, none of that!” Sam finally put in, standing as well and putting a hand on Pippin’s.  “You’re going to make yourself sick, and there’s no call to be acting this way to your relations!”

The tweenager looked on the verge of saying something that they would all regret when a form suddenly loomed before them, casting them all into silence.

“I believe that a good pipe is in order,” Gandalf said matter-of-factly, his eyes boring into the young hobbit.  “Perhaps you should join me, Peregrin.”

The others hid their relief as Pippin meekly allowed the wizard to lead him a little ways off from the small gathering with one firm hand between his shoulders.  

Frodo, Merry and Sam all exchanged a glance composed of worry, fear and dawning hope before setting about finishing off their own suppers, purposefully leaving Pippin’s plate untouched.

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a similar look as they watched the whole proceeding, long association allowing whole conversations to pass between them unspoken. 

“He will be well,” Legolas assured his friend softly. 

Aragorn did not answer, but went to the other hobbits, offering them the only comfort he could as he handed them each a small, brilliantly red apple he had been saving.  Their smiles were thankful as they accepted, but it was with little enthusiasm that they ate the treat. 

Gandalf sat down upon a bare patch of ground, sighing as he shifted to get comfortable and motioning Pippin to do the same.  Silently they packed and lit their pipes, inhaling the sweet fragrance of Old Toby and allowing the weariness of the road to recede with the smoke.

When Gandalf did speak, it was with far more gentleness than Pippin had heard in a long time. 

“Tell me, young Peregrin, what has you so bothered that you try to start a fight with your cousins, hmmm?”

“I didn’t  -!” Pippin began, then stopped, realizing that the wizard was correct in his observations.  “I don’t know, “ he finally whispered, taking another long pull on the pipe as he gazed out into the darkness.  They were far enough away from the others that they could still be seen but not heard.  For some reason Pippin was infinitely grateful for that. 

Gandalf kept quiet for a moment, seeming to enjoy the silence and his pipe.  Pippin began to relax as he realized he wasn’t going to be lectured or punished for his behavior, and instead started to feel guilty for the way he had been acting. 

“Did you know that Gerontius was afraid of the dark well after coming into his majority?”

The question caught Pippin completely off guard.

“N-No, I didn’t,” he answered, slightly confused.

“Oh, yes.  It used to be such a bother to get him to come out with me for a good smoke.”  Pippin stared at the wizard for a moment, unsure what to say to this astonishing fact.  “One night, though, when his firstborn had wandered off and gotten quite lost, he spent the whole of the night searching for him, looking into dark holes and up every tree.  Amazing, actually.”  He gave Pippin a sidelong stare, making sure he was paying attention.  “When I asked him about it later, how he managed to overcome his fear, he told me it was quite simple.”

“What else did he say?” Pippin finally prompted after a moment of silence. 

“That when it came down to it, the only thing that had frightened him about the dark was that he couldn’t see what dangers lurked and so couldn’t prepare for them.  But not knowing the fate of his son was even more frightening, and made him realize that danger or no, he would simply have to face what came, as it came.”

Gandalf met Pippin’s wide eyes with his own, and the hobbit’s breath caught in his throat.  There was so much wisdom in that glance, so much love and understanding that he found himself fighting back tears he did not know the cause of. 

The Wizard seemed to, though, and gently pulled the tween to his side, smiling tenderly as Pippin brought in a shaking breath and let it out with a small, strangled sob, pipe laying forgotten next to him as he buried his face in the Wizard’s robes.

“It is all right to be frightened, Pip-Lad.  But to let it eat at you, that is a shame.  Do not be like Gerontius, afraid to go out your door simply because you do not know what awaits you.  Realize, as he did, that what is going to happen shall happen regardless of how well prepared you are, and simply do the best you can.”

“I –I –” He tried to get the words out, but the sobs were making it impossible to speak, and so he merely cried, allowing the tears to wash away something inside of him that he had not realized was there.  Finally, after what seemed a very long time with nothing but the sound of his heartbroken crying and Gandalf’s gentle murmurs, he managed to say around hiccupping breaths, “I fe-feel br-broken, Gandalf.”

His face was still buried in the other’s robes, so he did not see his friend close his eyes against his own tears. 

“It fe-feels as though I am sinking in qu-quicksand, and there is no-nothing to grab onto.  Like a part of me is all slimy and horrible, while the other is fading.”  He had regained his breath, and only the occasional hiccup interrupted him, though still he did not raise his head.  “I am so afraid, Gandalf!  I do not know what to do, and, and, and having the others be nice to me makes me feel even worse, because I don’t deserve it!”  This last was said in a strangled cry, and then he was sobbing again, his small body shuddering with the force of his pain.

“Now, now, Lad, enough of that, you’ll make yourself sick, and then what shall I tell Aragorn, hmmm?” Gandalf admonished, and the gentle rebuke brought about the desired choked laugh as Pippin struggled to gain control. “That’s better.”

He gently sat the youngster up, wiping away the tears with a wrinkled and wizened hand that had done so for many of Pippin’s childhood hurts. 

“Now, listen to me for a moment,” he said firmly, lifting the tweenager’s head with a firm finger, looking into those red and swollen green eyes.  “In all my years, I have met a great many warriors, some of whom were brave, and some who were cowards.  And there is only one thing that ever separated the two of them.”  He paused for a moment in which Pippin sniffed but said nothing, nodding his head to show that he was paying attention. 

“A brave man realizes that the only man who does not feel fear is a dead man, and thus they are not ashamed of their fear, but use it to do what they must.  A coward thinks that he is the only one who feels afraid, and because of this, acts accordingly, and shrivels up into himself.”

Gandalf’s gaze was piercing, but Pippin did not flinch from it. 

“And you, Peregrin Took, are not a coward.  So stop shriveling.”

Pippin swallowed hard, taking in the words as he nodded. 

“Good.”  The Wizard nodded, patting him on the shoulder as he turned back to his pipe.  “Now, let us finish our smoke and get some rest, shall we?”

Pippin nodded again, still not able to speak, and retrieved his own forgotten pipe, allowing the companionable silence to settle around him like a warm and comforting blanket. 

When he returned to the others some time later, much subdued, he apologized to all of them with head bowed.  Merry was the first to encircle him in his arms, followed swiftly by Frodo, then Sam.  For a long time they stood thus, a foundation for Pippin to grab onto and finally stop his sinking.

Then they released their hold and told him quite firmly that if he did not eat every bit of his dinner they would pour another of Aragorn’s potions down his throat. 

He smiled as he did so, and as he lay down to rest, Merry’s arms clasped firmly around him, head nuzzled into his shoulder, the dawn finally came.