This story was written for Pipkin Sweetgrass, who recently had surgery, and needed a bit of cheering up.  My thanks to Mums the Word for the lovely title! 

Rating:G
Summary: It's the day before the Fellowship leaves, and Pippin needs a bit of cheering up...

RIPPLES OF FEAR

Pippin tossed another small pebble into the still pool before him, and watched as the ripples reached his toes. He sighed deeply, and then tossed another, and listened to the sound of the "plunk" it made, as it sank, spiralling, to the bottom. The water was so clear, he could easily see where it stopped, a tiny, slow explosion of sand marking its resting place. The sand slowly settled, and it seemed as though nothing had disturbed the placid surface of the pool--that's Rivendell for you, Pippin thought.

"Pippin?"

Pippin hunched up his shoulders, and did not look up. "Hullo, Boromir," he said in a listless tone. He felt the Man sit down on the bank of the pool next to him, but he still did not look at his new companion.

"Your cousins and Sam were worried when you left the meal so quickly."

Pippin shrugged. "I wanted to be by myself for a little while, that's all," he muttered.

"Do you wish me to leave then?" Boromir asked.

He shook his head. "No, you can stay." He picked up another tiny pebble from the ground by his side, and tossed it in.

"What is the matter, then, Pippin?"

"I was getting rather tired of the conversation. Merry and Sam just yammering on and on about supplies and maps and gear and so on, and poor old Frodo just sitting there between them looking more and more miserable--and then Merry wanting to know had I packed yet. I just didn't want to hear anymore about it right then."

"Ah."

"I mean, I do know that all the preparations are important. But most of them are *done* with now! And Merry and Sam know that--they're just talking to hear themselves talk. And I've never properly *un*packed yet--why does Merry think I'm not packed?"

"Merry and Sam are the sorts of persons who like to be sure of things, Pippin, that is all."

"Oh, I know that. Merry's always been a fussbudget, and Sam's the same, really, though most of the time you wouldn't think it of him--but he worries every bit as much as Merry does, especially on Frodo's account." Pippin tossed another pebble. "And Frodo--I hate to see him looking so dreadfully miserable, and not know what to say that will cheer him up. I usually do know how to do that--but I couldn't think of a thing…"

Boromir picked up a pebble and tossed it in himself. "And why is that, do you suppose?"

"It's just--well, we leave tomorrow, don't we? It's on us now." Pippin drew his feet up, and wrapped his arms around his knees, looking miserable.

"Yes, we leave tomorrow. We will set forth into the Wild, on our journey."

"Boromir? If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"My word, Pippin, as a Man of Gondor."

"I'm frightened. But I don't dare talk to Merry or Frodo about it. I defied Lord Elrond, but if the two of them decided to not let me go after all, I'm not sure I could get round them. If they knew how scared I was, they'd pack me back home before I could blink." He took a deep breath and threw his head back, and blinked away the sting of threatening tears. "I know you've worked hard with me and Merry and our swords, but I'm still not very good yet--why the only time I've ever beaten Merry was that time he held his breath and passed out, silly ass. What if I can't pull my weight? What if I let everyone down, just when it's most important? What if--what if I'm a coward?"

"Peregrin Took," Boromir said softly, "you--and the other hobbits--are the bravest beings I have ever met."

Pippin felt his jaw drop in shock. "We--we *can't* be, Boromir! Why, you are a great warrior! You've been in battles! I'm sure you've met many braver than us hobbits! Especially me--I'm scared spitless, I really am!"

"But, you see, Pippin, that is exactly why I tell you that." He reached one long arm out, and squeezed Pippin's shoulders affectionately. "I have been in battles. I know many warriors, and know what they feel before going into battles. And yet, to a Man, they've had years of training in what to expect, even before their first real battle." He looked up, and seemed to see some vision or memory in his mind's eye briefly, and then he looked back down and caught Pippin's eye.

"But you hobbits--you have always lived peaceful lives. You have never expected to have to fight danger. Yet here you are, my young friend, and the thing which frightens you most is *not* your own peril, but that of the ones you love. You have only what little preparation I have been able to give, and your experiences before you arrived here. Aragorn has told me that you, Sam and Merry helped wield the flaming brands at the Ringwraiths--do you know, I have known many warriors of long years' standing who could not have done such a thing against such as those!"

Pippin's eyes grew wide as he took in what the Man had said. "I don't like being scared, Boromir."

"No one does, Pippin. Yet it would be a fool indeed who was *not* frightened, under such circumstances. Anyone intelligent enough to realize what we are doing would be frightened."

"Well, I must be pretty intelligent then, for I'm terrified."

"And yet you resist any thought of going home--you will not be parted from Frodo, even though you have had--and still until we actually leave--do have--the chance to go home."

"Because that frightens me even more, Boromir. I can't go home without them."

Boromir gave his shoulders another squeeze. "I do not doubt you for a moment, Pippin. Your friends are very fortunate in your love."

Pippin looked up at him. "Thank you, Boromir," he finally said, after a moment of silently studying his friend's grey eyes. He gave the Man a lopsided smile.

"You are welcome. Shall we return? Though luncheon may be over, I would not be surprised if the others had saved you one of those cherry tarts."

Pippin grinned and bounced up. "Well--what are we waiting for then?"