The new Guard of the Citadel contemplates the coming war as he examines his new uniform. A drabble and a half (is that the right term? lol) from Pippin’s POV.

The blade is sharp, glinting somewhat ominously in the dim evening light. The fine livery arranged on the bed is strange attire such as I’ve never seen before. The short sword, a coat of mail, a helmet. I pick this up now, examining the strange beauty of a thing built for war. It was made for one who knows how to fight.

I glance at my reflection in the helmet. Somber green eyes stare back at me, large and frightened as I think of what is to come. I cannot fight.

Overcome by a sudden fear, I drop the helmet back onto the bed and join Gandalf on the balcony. Though he puts his arm around me, I am not comforted as I watch the gathering darkness. There will come a day without dawn. The war will begin on that day, Gandalf says. I think about this and I am afraid.

 This hobbit was not built for war.