A/N: Thank you to Pipwise for betaing this chapter.

“Wonder what, Gandalf? Wonder what?”

The wizard reached for Pippin’s other hand without answering, and inspected that one as well.

“What, Gandalf? What?” Pippin asked, coughing again.

“Steady, now,” Gandalf said, waiting for Pippin’s coughing fit to pass. He leaned back and studied the hobbit with narrowed eyes. “You are still quite ill. I do not know if it would be wise to tell you.”

Sighing softly, Pippin let his head flop against the wizard’s shoulder. Gandalf frowned; he had expected the young hobbit to claim he was feeling better, whine and wheedle perhaps, and above all, to ask a flurry of questions. He certainly did not anticipate acceptance.

“You surprise me, my lad,” he said quietly, after several long moments had passed. “What has happened to the fabled curiosity of the Tooks?”

Raising his head slowly, Pippin faced the wizard with a smile. “It’s still here, Gandalf, but it is always very difficult to get anything out of you. I was trying to decide what to ask first.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Pippin said, clearing his throat. “First, I want to know if you will ever tell me what you were wondering about before.”

“I should think so.”

“Oh,” Pippin said, surprised at his early success. “Is it a big secret?”

“It is not a secret of any sort,” Gandalf replied.

“Are you going to turn me into a toad?” Pippin asked eagerly.

Gandalf chuckled. “Perhaps another time, when you are feeling better. I make it a rule to turn only healthy hobbits into toads.”  

“You know, I am feeling a bit better. I haven’t coughed in a few minutes.” Pippin smiled. “I think you should tell me now,” he persisted.

Putting on his sternest expression, Gandalf made no response other than to fold Pippin’s hands together.

“What are you doing?” Pippin asked. His question remained unanswered and he watched in fascination as Gandalf closed his eyes and murmured some strange words.  Immediately, Pippin’s hands felt much warmer than before, even warmer than they had been when his fever was at its worst.

“What’s happening, Gandalf?” Pippin whispered.

“Open your hands slowly,” the wizard answered.

When Pippin unclasped his hands he found two miniature spheres of light in his palms. They were very warm, but not enough to burn him, and they illuminated the entire room.

His mouth dropped open in awe. “These are stars, Gandalf! You gave me stars! How ever did you do it?”

Gandalf harrumphed. “Now that is a secret, Peregrin Took,” he said with a smile.

Pippin stared at the stars for a while. They were neither hard nor soft, and seemed content enough to stay in his hands, much to his delight. He wondered if they would still shine if he tucked them under the blankets, but thought better of it, too afraid that he might hurt them.

The wizard let the hobbit enjoy looking at the stars for some time before he said, “I am afraid they will stay only a short while longer, Peregrin, before they must leave.”

“Leave?” Pippin looked up sadly. “But where do they go?”

“Back to the sky, of course! We are only borrowing them,” Gandalf replied.

“Oh,” Pippin smiled again. “Will you help them find their way back, Gandalf? I don’t want them to get lost.”

The wizard rested a hand on Pippin’s forehead before answering. “I believe you may handle that task yourself, my lad,” he replied with a smile.

Gandalf stood, the hobbit still wrapped up in blankets in his arms, and walked to the window. Pippin marveled at being so high from the ground, and clasped his hands tightly, both from his initial burst of fear and to prevent the stars from trying to leave before it was time.

“I think we may risk opening the window for a moment, now that the rain has ended and your fever is nearly gone,” Gandalf said.  He balanced Pippin carefully in one arm and unlatched the window.

“Send them on their way, Peregrin,” he said gently.

“Goodnight, and thank you for visiting,” Pippin whispered to them, in the proper way his parents had taught him, before opening his hands and letting the two stars soar away.

Gandalf latched the window quickly, but lingered beside it so that Pippin could watch as the stars escaped into the night.

“Oh,” Pippin murmured, his eyes wide. He leaned forward as far as the wizard would allow and searched the sky.

“There they are, Gandalf. I see them!” he cried after a moment, coughing in his excitement.

“Where?” Gandalf asked, peering through the window as well.

“There!” Pippin repeated, pointing at a pair of stars that, to his eyes, seemed to shine brighter than the rest. “Those are mine, I just know it.”

They remained by the window for a few long moments, until Pippin coughed again, and rubbed at his eyes sleepily.

“Rest awhile now,” Gandalf said, as he tucked Pippin back into bed. “Soon it will be morning - and time for more tonic.”

Pippin made a face, but was already falling asleep. “Thank you, Gandalf,” he mumbled, burrowing deeper into the pillow.

“You are most welcome, my dear young hobbit,” Gandalf replied softly as he settled back into his chair for the remainder of his watch.