Title: How the Wind Howls
Author: Melilot Hill
Summary: After being defeated by Caradhras the Fellowship runs into more trouble. There are wolf-voices in the air and Pippin wanders too far from the camp when looking for firewood.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien
Note 1: This story was first published in small parts in my lifejournal
Note 2:  I want to thank Anso the Hobbit, Auntiemeesh, Birch Tree, Dreamflower, Elanor1013, Grey Wonderer, Mysterious Jedi, Olivia Ramirez, Pippinheart, Pipwise, Rabidsamfan and Shirebound for their suggestions, corrections and support when I was struggling with this story. :-D

How the Wind Howls

Chapter 1; The Wind Has Many Faces

As a lad, Peregrin Took had always loved to sleep with the window slightly open. He liked how a sudden gust of wind would make the curtains billow and how he could feel the wind touch his face; the gentle caress of a warm summer breeze or the cold touch of winter air.

Sometimes, a storm would suddenly rise up, strange sounds could be heard from outside. Awakened by these sounds, Pippin often felt a little scared when he couldn’t immediately recognise the sounds for what they were; a creaking branch, a falling bucket. But he never felt so scared that he had to get up to block out nightly terrors.

But now the wind wasn’t a gentle caress or even a cold touch. No, the wind was slapping his face, biting into his very skin. And the sounds he heard were recognisable, but that certainly didn’t make Peregrin less afraid. On the contrary, they made him feel very small and very scared.

Strider, Gandalf and Boromir were discussing what course to take next. Pippin tried to listen to their conversation, but it was very hard. The only thing he was really hearing were the sounds the wind was carrying and Strider’s frightened cry from moments before. “How the wind howls! It’s howling with wolf-voices.”

Pippin was torn away from his thoughts when he felt something touch his shoulder. He jumped to his feet and, almost automatically, reached for his sword.

“It’s just me, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said softly, laying a calming hand on Pippin’s, which was still on the hilt of his sword.

Peregrin slowly lifted up his head, giving Sam a wan smile, the fright and misery apparent in his eyes.

While following the other members of the Fellowship to the top of a hill, which Pippin understood would be the best place to defend themselves, he heard the howls of the Wargs getting louder. Pippin was so fixed on the sounds the wind was carrying that he didn’t hear Gandalf’s repeated request for firewood. Only when Frodo shook him lightly was he able to once again focus on the here and now.

He quickly scrambled down the hill again, not wanting to be alone any longer than was necessary. In his haste he tripped over a stone and scraped his knee. Biting back any noise that might escape his lips, he stood up again and resumed his task. Now was not the time to lose his head.

There was more than enough dead wood to be found, so very soon Pippin had almost more than he could carry. He was relieved that he wasn’t paralysed with fear anymore, like he had been moments before. The fact that they were working on their defence had a calming effect on Pippin. But still, he wanted to be close to the others as soon as possible.
On his way back up the hill he saw another suitable branch and he stooped to pick it up. At that moment he heard some twigs snap. Pippin hadn’t heard any footsteps, so he knew it couldn’t be one of the big folk.

“Merry?” he called out tentatively. “Frodo? Sam?”

But no answer came. Yet Pippin was sure he’d heard something. He very slowly lifted his head and looked directly into a pair of very vicious eyes.

Pippin stared back. It was too dark to see to what animal the eyes belonged to. Besides, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. He dropped the wood and filled his lungs, ready to call out for help.

He quickly closed his mouth again when he saw that the eyes had come closer, in spite of the racket the falling wood had made. Most wild animals in the Shire would have retreated under these circumstances. Pippin frantically looked around, trying to locate the others, but no one was close enough to help him out of his predicament.

Peregrin bit his lip. It looked like he had to handle this situation on his own.

He took a small step back, to which the animal reacted by taking several strides forward. At least now it was close enough for Peregrin to determine what kind of animal it was. He swallowed hard when he realised he was facing an enormous wolf. Or could this be one of the Wargs they were trying to protect themselves against? But no, Strider had said those beasts were still at least an hour away. But what if it was some sort of scout? Could there be such a thing as Warg scouts? And if so, would it kill him outright or would it only report back to the others?

A nervous giggle escaped Pippin’s lips when he heard his mother’s voice in his head, saying: “Peregrin, you’re rambling again, dear”.

“I know,” he said softly to himself while unsheathing his sword. “But I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do and I doubt if I’m brave enough.”

But Peregrin knew he had no choice, that it was all up to him. There was no one around to guide him or protect him. And what if the wolf would harm one of the others? However, he found out what to do very soon. The waxing moon shimmered on his sword and had somehow alerted the wolf.

The enormous beast leapt towards him, its sharp, white teeth exposed. Pippin resolutely gripped his sword with both hands, but the wolf was faster. The sharp teeth sank in Pippin’s left arm. Without further thought he thrust his sword into the wolf’s body.

He felt that his legs could no longer support him and he fell hard on the ground, the wolf falling partially on top of him. He felt its warm blood soak his clothes.

Now there was no longer any more need for bravery or silence, he began to sob uncontrollably.

*~*~*~*~*

“Where’s Pippin?” Frodo asked worriedly when he saw Boromir approach with an armload of firewood. “Everybody is back except Pip.”

“Well he was mightily distraught,” Sam added. “It looked like his mind was somewhere else, if you know what I mean.”

Sam had barely finished his sentence when an equally worried Merry joined them. “What if he’s lost or hurt? It’s dark and he’s all alone. We have to search for him!”

“I agree,” Gandalf put in. “But please try to stay calm. It will do none of us any good if you just start off in random directions. Something or someone might be out there.”

“How can you expect us to stay calm? Pippin might be in danger!” Merry said incredulously.

Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli would search for Pippin, while Gandalf, Frodo, Merry and Sam would stay on the top of the hill. The three hobbits had agreed to this, albeit reluctantly. Merry especially wasn’t at all pleased with these arrangements. He argued that the searching would go much quicker if they all helped and only one of them stayed in case Pippin came back on his own.

But Gandalf didn’t relent, he didn’t want to jeopardise the hobbits' safety. In fact, he had the suspicion that the Wargs were very close. He hadn’t mentioned this to the hobbits, however. He didn’t want them to worry about Pippin even more than they already did as long as he wasn’t completely sure about this.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Pippin tried to get up from under the wolf, but the beast was too heavy. He couldn’t even move it an inch. Breathing heavily he gave up his fruitless attempts, cradling his injured arm against his chest. He didn’t dare call out for help, afraid that he would alert foes instead of friends.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gimli walked heavily down the hill, muttering something under his breath about hobbits and troubles. When he reached the bottom his eyes, used to darkness better then any of his companions, spotted something that didn’t seem quite right. He started to run, his heavy mail alerting the others of his movement.