Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not make any money off of any of this; I'm just having a bit of fun.

Posted in honor of the Gondorian New Year.

Pippin couldn’t breathe. He was slowly being pressed to death; a crushing blackness enveloped him. He knew he must be in terrible pain, but could not feel more than a tingling. Even that grew less and less as time passed, although he didn’t know how long he’d been like this. He had the oddest sense of detachment from the entire world- events he couldn’t quite recall spun around him while he remained still, trapped in the darkness that was his prison. Though he could tell that there was a great roar of noise outside, all sounds were muffled, and he could not tell what was happening.

I’m back in Old Man Willow, Pippin thought blearily. A strange blend of fear and relief flooded his consciousness. There was no way out this time. It was still winter, that he was sure of, and Tom Bombadil would not be bounding along the path to the Withywindle to gather lilies for Lady Goldberry until the spring. He was certain that Merry, Frodo, and Sam weren’t there this time, either, although he couldn’t remember why.

He was rather unnerved to find that he was relieved about his predicament. He remembered the awful, creaking voice of Old Man Willow in his ear, and how he had wished to block the words out, but what the Willow had said had implanted itself in his mind. The Willow’s words had been full of malice and hate, but there was one thing that he had said that Pippin recalled now- that Pippin would remain trapped forever, and would eventually forget everything and become as a tree himself. The very idea had terrified Pippin then, but now, to his vague horror, it didn’t seem so bad. A forever full of forgetting all the terrible things that had happened and slowly becoming like a tree didn’t seem so bad to him now.

Why was he thinking that? There was nothing terrible to forget. Pippin struggled with his mind, fighting against the black curtain that had been thrown across his memory. Where had he been before this darkness? The lack of air was making it harder and harder to think, as was that loud unidentifiable cacophony. There was a battle… in a white city… Minas Tirith! And then… then he had come with the soldiers to… the Black Gate! And a messenger had come out bearing Frodo and Sam’s belongings! A wave of despair crashed over him. Frodo and Sam were taken, along with the Ring. Merry would be dead soon. Perhaps it was better that he would forget- Middle-earth was doomed, and there was no point in fighting Old Man Willow this time.

It seemed that Old Man Willow sensed that Pippin was not putting up a fight, for the sounds outside suddenly lessened, and a dead silence fell. Relieved, Pippin allowed the darkness to gain the upper hand. Perhaps dying was like going to sleep, he thought, and black thoughts settled in his mind.

Pippin had no sense of time in his prison, but it seemed that hours and hours were passing, his consciousness flickering from awareness and back throughout that time. He had lost all feeling in his body, and felt more detached than ever. He was certain that he was ready to die. Suddenly, a cry from the outside world rent the air, so loud that it even penetrated through Old Man Willow clearly.

“Pippin!”

It was a deep, gruff voice calling his name. It sounded so familiar, yet he could not place it.

“Pippin!”

The voice was closer now.

“Peregrin Took, where are you?” The speaker sounded desperate. Pippin wanted to call back, but there was barely enough air left in his lungs to keep him alive. He lay still as the voice called again and again, and soon felt vibrations- footsteps. Somebody was coming, standing right next to Old Man Willow. Pippin wished he could warn the person about the danger of the Willow, but he could do nothing. Through the side of the Willow, he heard a strangled gasp.

“No!” the voice cried.

Pippin felt somebody place hands on the side of Old Man Willow- and suddenly, a crack opened. It grew wider and wider, until he felt the crushing pressure upon him lessen little by little. He found that he could take deeper breaths and did so; a surge of unexpected pain clawed at his chest and he nearly cried out. The feeling was returning, and with it came a terrible pain.

He was lifted up by strong arms and carried for a short distance before being set down. “Oh no,” the same voice said. “No, no, this isn’t right!” Pippin cracked his eyes open and saw a choked, brown sky above him; he had been rescued from his prison. Who had saved him?

As he breathed, the pain mounted, and his vision began to blur. Unconsciousness was beginning to claim him as he saw someone standing over him. He was taller than a hobbit, but shorter than a Man. He had a long brown beard. Could it really be who he thought it was?

“Tom?” Pippin whispered. As he lost consciousness completely, the person standing by him began to shout.

“Aragorn! Legolas! I’ve found him!”