This sort of follows on from "At the Black Gate". Shirebound gave me the idea for a second part about what Pippin was thinking when Beregond was about to be killed by the troll. Thanks, Shirebound! This is a triple drabble, by the way, if there is such a thing ;) 

A Heavy Hand

Tall and proud and noble, Pippin had thought admiringly of him that first day they met, when Beregond had a glitter in his eye as he looked ahead to battle.

With battle upon him and the glitter all but gone, still he had stood unbowed and defiant, even as the enemy charged. Clasping his sword with both hands, Beregond had turned to him and slapped the hilt of his blade with a grim smile and a wink before leaping into the first wave of orcs that broke upon them.

We cannot strike till some foe comes within our reach. Then our hand must be heavy.

Alas! My own hand feels as light as a feather.*

But now, falling boneless to the bloodied earth, he is certainly lost, and Pippin watches, frozen in horror as the troll-chief bends down to finish him, and his friend has lost the sword he once held so firmly in his grasp.

What can he do now to stop this; when he knows this is the end of the story, and there is nothing one small soldier in this great battle can do to change anything? They will never leave this place, for the world will be covered in darkness, and the small, brave hope they stood for will be forgotten.

There is really no time for thoughts, yet one persists still, slicing fierce and keen through suffocating despair.

No-one else will stop this.

It is not much, but it is enough for this hobbit in a soldier’s uniform, and his friend will not be taken this way. A great claw reaches out to deal the last blow and Pippin takes a short, shallow breath; and clenching his own blade firmly now, knowing he will never let go, he stabs upwards to meet his final doom.

***

*Beregond's words (slightly adapted), and Pippin's thoughts in response are taken from "Minas Tirith", ROTK.