Chapter 2; The Wind Picks Up

Pippin felt the wolf move a bit and heard it make a low growling noise. He frantically felt around for his sword, but he wasn’t able to locate it. However, he did find one of the branches he had collected earlier. Hoping it was sturdy enough, he lifted the branch and awkwardly let it land on the wolf’s head.

Gimli rushed to Pippin’s side, but the hobbit had taken care of the situation very well by himself; the wolf wasn’t moving anymore.

“Do you think I killed it?” Pippin asked in a small voice.

I don’t feel his heartbeat, so I think you did,” Gimli answered while he was lifting the heavy body from Pippin’s legs. “Is that your blood or the wolf’s on your clothes?” he continued, sounding worried.

“Most of it is from the wolf,” Pippin said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve,” but I am bitten in my arm."

The arm was inspected by Gimli. The wolf’s teeth had made deep wounds into Peregrin’s arm, tearing the flesh as the beast fell wounded to the ground.

“That looks nasty, we’d better go back and have that wound dressed,” he commented.

“Gimli? Do you know whether this animal is one of those Wargs or just a regular wolf? It looks so big.”

“It’s a Warg.”

Both Pippin and Gimli started when they heard the reply. Neither had heard Aragorn approach.

“How can you tell?” Gimli asked.

“They are larger than ordinary wolves for one thing,” Aragorn explained. “And they are also more intelligent.”

“You can’t say that about this creature,” Gimli harrumphed. “It got itself killed.” If his companions had been more attentive, they could’ve seen a rare smile behind the dwarf’s big bushy beard.

Aragorn had gone to Pippin in the meantime and was looking at his arm. “These wounds look nasty. They might need suturing, but I won’t know until I had a closer look, near the fire.”

Pippin swallowed at that, but decided that he could be brave a little longer. He tried to stand up, but it made him quite dizzy and he sat down again.

“You must take it very slowly,” Aragorn advised, helping him up again. “Do you think you can walk? If not, I can carry you.”

Pippin didn’t really know if he could walk the whole way back up the hill, to be honest, but he didn’t want to tell that to Strider. He still felt he had to prove himself. “I think I can manage, Strider,” he said out loud. But after several wobbly steps he had to admit defeat.

*~*~*~*~*

Merry sprang to his feet when he saw a figure approaching the fire. “Boromir, is that you? Did you find Pippin?”

“No, I did not, and I am getting worried.”

“No need for that,” Legolas added, joining the others. “I just saw Aragorn and Gimli walking in this direction and Peregrin is with them.”

Legolas listened to the various sighs of relief with mixed feelings. He had seen that Aragorn was carrying Pippin, but whether the hobbit was seriously wounded or just badly shaken he did not know. Should he tell his companions Pippin might be hurt, so they would be prepared for the sight that would soon greet them or should he keep silent and spare the hobbits unnecessary anxiety?

“There is one thing you must know,” Legolas said, having made up his mind. “Pippin is being carried by Aragorn, but that does not necessarily means he is hurt.”

He regretted his decision almost as soon as he finished speaking, when he saw the dread on the hobbits’ faces.

None of the hobbits said a word. Instead they were staring aghast at Legolas. I didn’t take long though, before Merry stood up, followed by Frodo and Sam. He all but ran towards Legolas and would’ve proceeded down the hill if Legolas hadn’t stopped him.

“You had best stay here,” he gently told Merry. “As long as we don’t know what happened, we should remain where we can defend ourselves if need be.”

Merry thought about pushing the matter, but knew better. “All right, Legolas,” he said resigned. “It’s just that I need to be with Pippin if he’s hurt.”

Frodo had walked over to Legolas too and gently lay his hand on Merry’s arm. “Look, there they come! It seems our dear cousin is at least conscious, I think he’s nattering Aragorn’s ears right off his head.”

Pippin was indeed talking a mile a minute. He was describing to Aragorn and Gimli where he had found the best wood, alternated with snippets of previous, more friendly, encounters he had had with various wild animals, anything that would prevent him from thinking too much about what just happened.

But it wasn’t helping any. Pippin had already been trembling slightly when Aragorn had picked him up, but now he was shaking violently and uncontrollably. He killed an animal! Granted, he had helped slaughter animals before, but somehow it felt different. His clothes were soaked with the Warg’s blood and he still could feel its heavy weight on his legs and could still hear the pain-filled growls that came from the Warg’s throat when it came round.

But the worst thing was that this horrible night was far from over. Pippin was reminded by the howls that were brought to him by the wind that there were more Wargs to come. A lot more, judging by what he heard. He firmly pressed his fist to his mouth, trying not to scream. What if they couldn’t defend themselves? What…

“Pippin,” Aragorn said softly, “It is all right to feel afraid and upset about what has happened. There is no reason to pretend that you are fine. You are among friends.”

Pippin looked into Aragorn’s gentle eyes, as if he could see there that it was really all right to give into his feelings of dread and grief. He felt the tears well up in his eyes again. Pippin blinked and bit down hard on his fist, but he wasn’t able to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh Strider!” Pippin said amidst his shuddering sobs. “I was so scared. I still am. How can we ever protect ourselves against those Wargs?”

“Don’t forget, Pippin,” Aragorn reassured, “that we have several warriors amongst us and not to mention a wizard!”

If he hadn’t felt so wretched, Pippin would have smiled at that. The fact that he didn’t worried Aragorn mightily.

“Look,” he told Pippin, “we’re very close to our companions now. Soon your cousins can comfort you.”

“Pippin glanced into the direction of the hill. He saw his cousins and the others outlined by the bright fire. After just a few moments he turned his head and hid his face in Aragorn’s jacket. He didn’t want the others to see him crying. He knew he was being silly because they would find out soon enough, but he felt embarrassed all the same.

“Pippin?’ Merry asked urgently, when Aragorn and Gimli reached the top of the hill. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Pip answered, his voice thick with tears and muffled by Aragorn’s clothes.

“No you’re not!” Frodo stated matter-of-factly. “Now if you let go of Strider’s coat we can have a better look at you.”

“I can’t,” Pippin sobbed.

“Why not?”

“Then everybody will know I’m crying.”

“We already know, you silly Took,” Frodo gently teased. “Besides, there’s no need to feel ashamed. I think you went through a great ordeal.”

Sam, ever practical, had unrolled Pippin’s bedroll in the meantime, so Aragorn could lay him down.

Merry and Frodo sat down on either side of Pippin. Frodo softly stroked his young cousin’s hair. Merry stared at Pippin open mouthed.

“Pip. what happened to your arm?” He all but shouted when he regained his voice.

When Merry mentioned his wound Pippin sat up and looked at it for the first time. He expected the worst. After all, Strider had mentioned sutures. There was a dark stain on his jacket-sleeve where the Warg had so violently planted its teeth.

“And your legs!” Merry interrupted his thought. “Your breeches are soaked with blood too!”

Pippin’s gaze shifted from his arm to his legs. There was indeed a lot of blood there. But none of it was his, it all belonged to the Warg he had had to kill. It was the first time he really had to use his sword. His sword. Where was it? He frantically looked around for it.

When he felt Frodo’s hands grip his face and turn his head so he could look nowhere else than into his cousin’s worried eyes he realised he hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings.

“Pip, are you all right?” Frodo asked, the worry Pippin had seen in his eyes was also to be heard in his voice.

Pippin thought about saying yes for the briefest of moments, but he realised nobody was going to believe that. He opened his mouth to answer truthfully, but no sounds came out. In the end he just shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes once more. Feeling completely lost he laid his head on Frodo’s shoulder.