Chapter 7, Pippin’s Reward

April 7

“Pippin...”

Pippin’s eyelashes fluttered as he came fully awake. He heard various sounds about him, however, it was mostly the echo of someone calling his name in the far reaches of his mind that brought him to.

“Pippin?”

This time, the voice was not of the echoes, sounding very near.

Pippin covered his eyes with one hand, feeling a thin bandage on his forehead. “Strider? What is the time?” he asked.

“Almost nine o’clock,” answered Aragorn.

When Pippin opened his eyes, he no longer saw a Man dressed in the rough, dusty green clothes that a Ranger would wear. Who Pippin saw before him was a noble lord--a kingly Man dressed in cloth of fine, deep red velvet. No crown was upon his brow, yet he looked every bit a king, nonetheless. Pippin did not ask about the new garments, figuring a lord will do as he will.

“How do you feel, Pippin?” Aragorn asked, shifting uneasily in his chair--he had a few questions for this young hobbit.

Initially, Pippin’s tongue was tied, feeling a bit intimidated by Aragorn’s bearing, but soon he regained his Tookish resolve. The tween had never seen royalty up close before; kings were considered ancient legend back in the Shire. Finally Pippin sighed. “I want to say that I feel stupid...but I won’t apologise for having a look at Frodo and Sam. I couldn’t help myself. Besides, everyone else got to see them.”

“You were not a part of everyone else because you were injured, Pippin,” Aragorn reminded the lad. “Just a few days ago you had taken a sleeping draught for the pain in your ribs.” The healer in Aragorn softened his words toward his patient. “Tell me why you might feel stupid, and then I will be the judge of such thought, though I am curious as to what transpired.”

“I didn’t mean to disobey you,” Pippin began, a bit distracted by the goings-on around him. Gamling and two Soldiers of Rohan were busy rearranging the furniture inside the tent, setting out a few chairs in a straight line as if there would be an audience of a sort. Oddly enough, Merry was missing. Pippin forged on in recounting to his healer the events that led up to his collapse in Frodo’s tent.

“Merry was frantic with worry,” said Aragorn. “He must have sensed your distress, for he woke up to discover that you had gone from your bed. We all were worried over you, Peregrin. What do you say to that?”

Pippin fidgeted under the gaze of his healer. “That I...that I am sorry to have troubled everyone, but still...,” he stole a glance toward Aragorn, “I do not regret going to see Frodo.”

Aragorn sat back in his chair scrutinising his young charge. “Even though you disregarded the instruction I gave to not leave the tent?”

Pippin nodded apprehensively.

“Very well, Peregrin Took,” Aragorn replied, “then I have only one question left to ask you.”

“What is that?” said Pippin, wondering where all of this was going. He also wondered what sort of punishment he would receive for his cheek.

“Do you trust me?”

Pippin was a bit shocked by the query. “Why do you ask that? Of course I trust you,” replied Pippin. If not for the grave expression on Aragorn’s face, Pippin might have been amused by the inquisition.

Aragorn expounded upon his question. “Trust entails complete faith in another’s deeds--sometimes accepting his words on blind faith alone. Can you do that with me?”

Now Pippin thought he knew where the conversation was going. “If you’re saying that my actions implied a lack of trust in your abilities as a healer,” said Pippin, “let me assure you, it was not. It was somewhat a lack of judgement on my part, yes,...and yet...” Pippin paused for the right words to come to him. “And yet it was something beyond my control, so to speak,” said Pippin, looking the lordly Man in the eye, “You are my friend! I could no more turn my back on you, my lord, if you and yours were ever in danger--no more than I could turn my back on Merry or Sam--or Frodo after seeing him last evening.”

A light came into Aragorn’s sombre features, and he smiled. “Then I believe we understand one another, my dear friend.” When Pippin gave an inquiring look, the King went on. “To my recollection, your heart--and Merry's--has been moved on many occasions to prove that claim you just made. Neither you or Merry had any idea what would befall you, yet you both accompanied Frodo on his Quest out of love for him. Many such deeds you both have shown since then in like manner, all out of love. In your case, Faramir...Beregond, to name two at present. I believed your behaviour two evenings ago was out of love for your cousin and friend, yet I wanted to hear it for myself.

“Lord Éomer and I have been discussing something for the past week, and I would bring the matter before you for your decision. Éomer wishes to reward Merry’s valour on the battlefield, bestowing him rank--making him a Knight of Rohan. I also desire to reward your courage, your great heart as it is--with rank. I wish to make you a Knight of Gondor--with all of its responsibilities and privileges. Yet, I must know something first. Therefore, I ask you again--do you trust me?”

Pippin’s eyes were wide with amazement. “A Knight?” he whispered. So that is what Gamling was doing! He was getting things ready for Merry’s ceremony. Pippin’s heart swelled with pride for his cousin. And yet...here Aragorn was offering him the same reward. The same feeling that moved Pippin when he first set eyes on Faramir, moved him once again for Aragorn. Tears of joy came to his eyes when he spoke. “Yes, I trust you, my lord, for so you are. You are no longer my Healer, but my King, and I hereby place my utmost trust in you.”

Aragorn smiled sincerely, and then laughed. “Stop, Pippin! Your own ceremony will take place after Merry’s. That is why I am dressed as I am. I had full confidence in the decision you would come to. And I am glad of it.” He leaned down, taking a parcel from at his feet, placing it atop Pippin’s bed. He watched the young Knight-to-be eagerly open the package.

Pippin held up a surcoat of sable velvet with a tree and silver stars embroidered into the breast. The coat appeared to be full-length by its size. He gasped at its splendour.

“That is for you to wear at your ceremony,” said Aragorn, enjoying Pippin’s delight. “Gandalf will help you put it on while I fully dress for the occasion in my own tent.

After Aragorn spoke his last remark, Gandalf came into Pippin’s view. “You gave us all quite a scare the other night, young hobbit!”

Pippin’s brow furrowed in thought. “The other night? You both have indicated that my accident occurred two nights ago. I thought it was just last night.”

“No,” Gandalf laughed, “Today is the 7^th of April. Aragorn sent you into sleep much like your cousin, Frodo. He recalled you so that you may join us in today’s celebration.”

Pippin’s gaze switched to Aragorn.

“I had to, Pippin,” Aragorn confessed, “so that your body would be rested and healed enough to withstand tomorrow’s celebration and feast. Tomorrow, Frodo and Sam shall wake--and I know you and Merry want to be there, as you should, for you are his kin.”

“Frodo will wake tomorrow--and I’ll be there to see it!” Pippin said with excitement.

“Today is yours and Merry’s day of honour. However,” Aragorn continued, “though I will allow you out of bed for today, I want you to take things easy. You will find that you are now able to move about much easier, with residual pain, but that can be easily remedied with medicine. No running, no frolicking, or you will find yourself right back inside this bed. Have I made myself more clear this time?” Aragorn’s last words were firm, yet there was a sparkle in his eye when he said them. He then held out a hand to assist Pippin to his feet.

Pippin readily nodded as he gingerly put his feet to the ground.

TBC

A/N: Whether she likes it or not, lol, I must credit shirebound’s “Shelter” with the idea of honouring Merry and Pippin’s valour separate from Frodo and Sam’s. She so graciously allowed me to include the idea from her story here in my own tale. Without reading “Shelter”, I doubt my muse would have dreamt it up in time for my own story. “Shelter” is a brilliant tale authored by shirebound, set in Cormallen amid a storm and wonderful hobbits. Hope she doesn’t mind me giving a link: http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=4592

The Knighting of Merry and Pippin, however, is an obvious conclusion in the books, as we see the two cousins wearing their new livery at Frodo and Sam’s feast. Pippin also declares it himself to Sam. I decided not to detail that ceremony(ies) for my own lack of knowledge on that subject. I would have to do some in-depth research because I’d want to do it all proper.

One more chapter!