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Steward and Thain  by Agape4Gondor

Pippin stood straight and tall, as he had when he served the Steward. His eyes looked north, but saw only the thin strip of the river winding its way towards the Falls of Rauros. The Pelennor lay before him, ravaged by war yet filled with men, animals and tents. Though high up on the escarpment, Strider’s tent was visible. He wished the man were here with him – now. He held onto the parapet; his fingers dug into the cold, white marble as tears fell, unchecked.

A sound came from behind him, but he had given up being a warrior and ever wary, so he didn’t turn. A hand rested on his shoulder. He gasped, remembering Boromir’s hand ruffling Frodo’s hair on Caradhras, on Gimli’s shoulder in Moria, on his own as he stepped from the boat the last time – he choked back a sob – at Parth Galen.

“Pippin?” The soft voice held only the deepest concern.

“He never told me the tales of his own bravery, Strider. He stopped talking to me once we reached the rapids.”

“I know. He was not himself. But you saw his bravery, his loyalty, his love for you first hand, for nothing could be braver than what he did for you and Merry.”

Silence. “Pippin?”

“I failed him.”

“In what way?”

“I couldn’t save his father. I tried, Strider, I tried as hard as I could, but he locked me out.”

Aragorn heard the teeth chattering as the Hobbit tried to stop the sobs from escaping. He squeezed Pippin’s shoulder. “You saved his brother.”

Quiet sniffs sounded. At last, Pippin rubbed his arm across his eyes and nose. “That is what a Thain does, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Aragorn.

With a strangled cry, Pippin threw himself into Aragorn’s arms and sobbed till his heart began to heal.





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