Disclaimer: All hobbits and Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien, but in my dreams, they belong to me.

Chapter 1, Hopelessly Adrift

March 26

Pippin lay in a dark dream; images of dark, hideous shapes and enormous flying beasts filled his mind’s eye. Their incessant screeches pierced his senses until he thought he would go mad with it all. Darkness…utter darkness surrounded his being like a heavy, unwanted cloak. However, this sense of darkness felt familiar…as if he had been here before. Then he saw him. The Questioner. Sauron.

Pippin flinched; he instantly felt weak…his ‘body’ quivered. He wanted to run, but his feet were unyielding, as if they were seized by an iron grip. Unable to run, Pippin screamed in his dream-terror, then instantly felt horrendous pain emitting from his chest…he struggled to breathe.  

I don't have it…I don’t have it. No more questions, Pippin whimpered with arms over his head, as if shielding himself from some unseen foe.  Instead of torturing him with an inquisition, the vision of the Eye of Sauron sailed over Pippin’s hunched form, laughing cruelly as It disappeared into the void behind.

After the Eye left him alone, Pippin wandered about aimlessly in the shadowy cavern of his mind’s dream until he found himself standing amid the plains before the Black Gate. A swift breeze swept against his face and through his curls as the strange, dark clouds of Mordor rent apart in the darkened sky. At once Pippin’s keen, green eyes fixed upon a wondrous sight that appeared through the fissure in the heavens.

“Eagles! The Eagles are coming!” he shouted to no one, for the plains were emptied of any living thing. The bodies of the slain lay in heaps, ready to be burned. Then the gruesome apparition of Denethor burning like a heathen king of old appeared before Pippin. The young hobbit quickly turned away from the grisly sight looking to the Eagles for any hope, but they had disappeared. He sighed miserably.

Deep in his subconscious, Pippin wondered if this was all just a dream. The lad considered his predicament; hobbits just didn’t hover from place to place, drifting from pleasant images, to evil, and then back to things hoped for again. In an earlier vision, Pippin had already imagined seeing a grey curtain and a tall being who seemed to guard it, and then the scene vanished…or so Pippin thought*. The mere thought of that vision rekindled a flicker of hope in Pippin’s heart.

Nevertheless, nothing seemed altogether certain to Pippin anymore. Yet, if there was indeed hope, Pippin knew he had to find it from within. He decided to fight the darkness that threatened to overwhelm his mind.

I feel so weary. Everything seems so dark. Pippin decided to search for light--after all, where there is light, there is hope. In his mind Pippin called out for his cousins and Sam. Thoughts of his beloved Merry came to mind. Dear, dear Merry...I hope you found an easier end. Regardless of how their lives ended, Pippin shouted his friends’ names until he became thoroughly exhausted. Somehow, he felt that they could hear him.

Suddenly, Pippin had the sensation that he was awake...somewhere, lying upon his bedroll. He felt a warm, gentle breeze blow through his curls when he made the attempt to open his eyes. Light! Pippin had found the light, but the light was very blinding--it stabbed his eyes, boring deep into the tween’s eyes making him feel nauseated. Pippin instantly shut his eyes against the light and then heard himself groan...a sure indication that he was indeed alive.

Next, Pippin felt a warm touch on his forehead...a hand--yes, it was someone’s hand. He tried to breathe--no! Pippin found he could not breathe without suffering unbearable pain. He dared not open his eyes again, but he had to know...was it Merry? “Mer...’ was all Pippin could speak; the sound of his own voice felt like a hammer beating upon his head, and he felt nauseous again. He swallowed to keep from getting sick. Without opening his eyes, he could hear low murmurs and discerned that more than one person was present, however, one voice very near to him whispered, “Shhhh, Pippin; you’re safe.” He knew that whisper, but it wasn’t his Merry. Eyes, still closed, Pippin felt another touch on his forehead. He groaned again from the agony--any simple contact with his skin made the lad flinch. Pippin hurt everywhere on his body.

Then someone held a bowl of steaming liquid somewhere close by; Pippin could smell the soothing fragrance it released. The aroma instantly calmed him. The residual despairing thoughts from his earlier dreams had dispersed--his heart now filled with hope and promise. When the bowl was placed near his face, Pippin could feel the warm steam wafting against his skin. He heard someone tell him to breathe. He tried, but still found breathing too painful.

However, Pippin hardly needed to take a deep breath. The scent of Athelas did its virtuous work without him taking so much as a sniff; it seemed to know exactly where all his pain emanated. Pippin felt his muscles gradually relax. After a minute of the Athelas-steam doing its work, Pippin found he could now take shallow breaths with only moderate pain. He opened his eyes to slits, fearing the stabbing headache that would follow once again. The light wasn’t so severe this time, so he opened them just a little more.

Pippin instantly recognised the familiar face that greeted him. He tried his best to smile.

Aragorn smiled back, “He’s alive!”

“Where...is...Mer--ry?” Pippin struggled to speak amid gasping for breath, and whispering his beloved friend’s name took everything he had. Pippin closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep he had not known since before leaving the Shire.

No death, war, or darkness was in his dreams.

* A reference to another tale, Payment Put Off.

A/N: This chapter really exploded upon submission and I couldn't find where the bits and pieces landed.  If you see any words amiss, please let me know in a pm.