Chapter 4; Weathering the Storm

“Peregrin,” Aragorn said softly , shaking the lad’s shoulder gently, “it is over now. I am finished.”

“Did I pass out then?” Pippin whispered. “I tried not to. Honestly. I tried very hard.” Pippin felt the tears well up in his eyes again and angrily wiped them away. He had more than enough of those blasted tears. What would the others think of him? Surely they were regretting allowing him on this Quest?

“Passing out is not a bad thing,” Aragorn tried to comfort Pippin. “It is your body’s way of coping.” But he could see his patient wouldn’t be so easily convinced.

“May I have some water, Strider?” Pippin asked, trying to steer the conversation in a direction he was more comfortable with.

“Of course you may,” Aragorn smiled, knowing full well what the hobbit was up to. “I shall bring you a cup. Why don’t you let Merry help you sit up?”

“Merry?” Pippin queried, “I didn’t realise you were still here.”

“Of course I’m here, Pip,” Merry answered, trying to swallow the immense lump that had settled in his throat. “Where else would I be?”

Merry helped Pippin sit up so he could drink his water and settle down somewhat. Aragorn kneeled in front of him.

“Listen, Pippin,” he said solemnly, too solemnly for Pippin’s comfort, “can you stand up for a moment?” At the hobbit’s questioning look he continued, “I need to make sure you will be able to defend yourself.”

Pippin carefully stood up and when that went fairly well, he drew his sword with a flourish. But that was a mistake. He swayed and Aragorn could barely catch him before he fell.

“I think it is best that you keep your sword unsheathed and ready at your feet,” Aragorn advised, “because this clearly won’t do.”

Pippin gave him a sheepish grin and carefully sat down again. Now his head was a little clearer, he started to look around a bit and saw that all his companions were staring at him. Peregrin felt a blush creep on his cheeks and he shyly looked down.

“Why don’t you try to sleep a little?” Aragorn suggested, lightly putting a hand on his shoulder before walking away and taking his place in the circle the fellowship had formed around the fire.

Pippin, who was excused from being on guard this night, tried to comply, because truth be told, he was too tired to stay awake. But at the same time he was too scared to fall asleep, which resulted in an uneasy dozing.

The howling came from all around now, sometimes close and sometimes further away. Oft-time Peregrin woke up from his dozing and scanned his surroundings, expecting to see large numbers of Wargs advance. After he made sure there wasn’t a thing to see, he fell back into his restless slumber.

*~*~*~*~*

Pippin must have fallen into a deeper sleep after all, because he suddenly woke up with the feeling of being watched. There were many shining eyes looking at the fellowship from the dark. One large wolf came really close and stood gazing at them. Suddenly a howl broke from him. Pippin shuddered. It was as if the wolf were a captain summoning his pack to assault. He tried to stand up, to defend himself. But he was caught in the blanket he wrapped around him. And with only one arm, it was difficult to free himself from this trap.

“Listen, Hound of Sauron!” Pippin heard Gandalf cry, “Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring.”

Pippin listened with open mouth. He had never seen Gandalf like this before. It was most impressive! Unfortunately, the Warg didn’t seem to think so; it sprang forward with a great leap. At the same time Peregrin heard a sharp twang, followed by a hideous yell: Legolas’ arrow had pierced the great wolf’s throat.

Gandalf and Aragorn strode forward, but their hill was deserted; all the watching eyes had gone.

Pippin finally managed to struggle out of his blanket. He wouldn’t use it any more this night. True, the wolves had fled, but he didn’t dare hope they were gone for good.

Real sleep wouldn’t come again for Peregrin, not even a restless slumber. The pain in his arm seemed to slowly spread through his whole body, until everything was aching. He tried to take his mind off the pain, convinced that it would lessen that way, but there was nothing else to concentrate on, really. One could only study the waning moon for so long. Besides, there was this zooming sound in his head, like all the midges of the Midgewater Marshes had decided to settle themselves there.

Pippin groaned. He was cold, but he didn’t dare wrap his blanket around him anymore. He probably wouldn’t be so lucky a second time. On his left he saw Frodo sleeping. How his cousin could sleep in that position was beyond him, but exhaustion could do strange things with you, Pippin decided.

On his right, Sam was nodding. He didn’t seem to be in such a deep sleep as Frodo was, but at least he wasn’t awake, Pippin thought wistfully. Next to Sam sat Merry, but it was hard to make out his features in the little light the fire was providing.

Suddenly Pippin’s mind was completely clear. Dim firelight! That couldn’t be good, they needed the fire for protection. He was about to mention this to whoever was on guard, but a storm of howls, from all around their little camp, made that unnecessary. It seemed it was too late.

“Fling fuel on the fire!” cried Gandalf to the hobbits. “Draw your blades, and stand back to back!”

Pippin picked his sword from the ground, remembered he could only use one hand, put his sword down again and started to make his way to the pile of firewood.

“Now, mister Pippin,” Sam stopped him. “Let us take care of that. You can’t do everything with just that one arm.”

Pippin tarried for a bit, indecisive, and then picked up his sword again. The bending made him quite dizzy, but he wouldn’t tell anybody that. They had worried about him enough! The fire blazed once more and showed many grey shapes, springing over the ring of stones. Peregrin felt another body press against his back. He didn’t have time to look who it was, but he was almost sure it was Sam, who had seemed intend on making him less nervous many times already.

Pippin heard swords being wielded, wolfs yelp and Legolas’ bow twang. Some of the Wargs were coming directly his way. Peregrin felt his body tremble. But he could do this, he had done it before and he could do it again. With that thought he trust his sword in a wolf’s belly before it could do any harm.

Even more Wargs were coming. Pippin was wondering how long they would be able to stand up to them, when Gandalf suddenly seemed to grow! Pippin watched, his mouth agape, how Gandalf rose up, picked up a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The Wargs gave back before him and with some kind of spell he set the tree tops aflame. One of Legolas arrows pierced the throat of a great big wolf, the a captain, Pippin thought, and all the others fled.

“What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin?” said Sam, sheathing his sword. “Wolves won’t get him. That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!”

Aragorn came over to where the hobbits were standing. “How are you doing, Pippin? How is your arm?”

“I’m all right, Strider,” Pippin answered. “A bit dizzy and my arm hurts, but that’s all.”

Aragorn took Pippin’s arm in his hand, to examine it. “You’re trembling!” he observed. “That might be caused by the blood you lost.”

“I think it’s just fear,” Pippin whispered, feeling small.

Aragorn picked up Pippin’s blanket and wrapped it around him and bent down. “You are made of sterner stuff than you look to be, Pippin,” he whispered.

“Truly, Strider?” Pippin asked, his face aglow.

“Yes,” Aragorn laughed. “Truly. And now you should lie down and try to sleep a bit before first light is hear. There won’t be much opportunities to rest tomorrow.”

Pippin complied and fell asleep immediately with a radiant smile still on his face.

THE END