Note: All names are taken from Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers in ROTK.

Deor, of Rohan

(Movie verse)

There is a tenseness in the air.  Around me, the horses are stamping their hooves and snorting air through their nostrils, trying to blow the offensive anxiety away.  Even my Gram, who would only flick his ears if a child ran under him, is shaking his head nervously.  We men are nearly crazy with waiting; waiting for a decision to be reached, waiting to march, waiting to fight.  There is a whisper among the soldiers that the Dark Lord came for the Holbytlan Peregrin last night.  It has the riders glancing sidelong at each other, wondering who will be next.  I reserve my thoughts to myself, but I cannot deny that evil was felt last night, nor can I deny the heavy silence. 

The silence is broken suddenly as Gandalf bursts into the stables.  The hobbits that he had in tow do not appear just yet and I catch a glimpse of a hesitant, sad look he casts over his shoulder.  As he hurries to Shadowfax, the two hobbits make their entrance.

There is a shadow over them that worries me; some storm cloud has broken over them.  Merry is already in the storm’s grips and every line of his body speaks of anger; anger at himself, anger at Gandalf, anger at Pippin for not understanding.  The howling winds are around him, the thunder is roaring about his head and his anger is adding fuel to the fire.  With every step his anger shatters the silence into a thousand pieces of glass. 

Pippin is riding the beginning of the storm.  He has a look on his face of sudden, devastating knowledge.  He now understands what Merry has known from the beginning; this may be a final parting and it may break them both.

Merry’s anger carries them to Shadowfax and Gandalf sweeps Pippin onto the horse.  Pippin’s piping voice asks a question that I cannot hear over Gram’s stamping and Gandalf grumbles a reply.  He sounds irritated and hasty, but I can tell that he would take a moment to comfort his charge, if he could spare the time.  Merry comes forward, as if he is afraid that Gandalf would leave without letting him say goodbye if he did not intervene.  A package exchanges hands and Pippin’s face changes from surprised to gratified to suddenly fearful.  He looks at Merry with eyes so full of need that I nearly turn away with embarrassment at his vulnerability. 

Merry’s eyes hold equal devastation as he looks to Gandalf, hoping the wizard will hold the answers for both of them.  Gandalf’s eyes flick from one hobbit to the other and he does not answer, knowing that any intervention on his part could bring the hobbits’ world crashing down around them.  Merry looks back to Pippin, for once without answers.  In face of this new, uncharted territory, his anger has melted away from him.  Already, he cannot even remember why he was angry with his kinsman.  And the younger one, he is so torn, I think he will split apart.  Gandalf mounts and moves to give Shadowfax the word to fly. 

Suddenly the full force of the storm is released on Pippin’s head and he is lost within it.  He lurches and moves to grab at his cousin.

“Merry!”  I can hear that anguished cry, even above the sounds of the horses.  Merry stands with his hands limp at his sides and tears in his eyes as Gandalf speaks word to Shadowfax and the horse springs forward, taking his Pippin away.

“Merry!”  Even as he is swept away, Pippin reaches back for Merry.  Only Gandalf’s steady hands keep the hobbit on the horse.  As if Pippin’s last cry jolted him into action, Merry darts after them and out of the stables.  If he could, he would fly and pluck Pippin from Gandalf’s grasp and hold him forever.

I can only hope that, one day, he will have the chance to.