Found

Sam hurried off towards the markets. The largest markets were in the first circle of the city were they were easily accessible to the wains that brought goods in and took goods back out of Minas Tirith, but there were markets located on the main road in the second, third and fourth levels as well. He would start with the pastry shops. The young Took loved sweets. If Pippin had decided to comfort himself with food, Sam was certain it would be with pastries.

This was making his feet hurt, nearly running on the cobbles of the road. Sam’s feet had taken quite a beating, as had Frodo’s, but Sam had somehow managed to suffer worse burns and deeper bruising to his. They had healed well, Strider was very pleased. Yet they still pained him, what with all the hard stone one had to walk upon in this place. Sam ignored the ache, they had to find Mr. Pippin before he did something rash.
**************

Frodo went straight to the Third Circle of the White City. There had been a lot of damage to that level so there was now a great deal of repair work being done. It had been decided to turn the ruined section into a park, instead of trying to rebuild the buildings there. Legolas and Gimli were to be found there most days. Good strong stone work was needed to support the soil being brought in. A sound knowledge of handling green an growing things was also needed, so the Dwarf and Elf were both in great demand.

When Frodo found them, hastily explaining what had happened, Gimli said he knew which taverns and inns the young hobbit frequented and would start with them. Legolas said he knew of a few quiet places he had seen Pippin. If the lad had felt the need to think before acting, and it was to be hoped he had, the Legolas added, he may have gone to one of them. The Elf and the Dwarf went in to opposite directions, Frodo went in a third; Gandalf was somewhere in the Citadel libraries. Aragorn would be somewhere in the Citadel as well.
*********************

Merry was making his way around the sixth level, the same level the Companion’s house was on. He knew some of the back ways that Bergil had taught to Pippin. But it wasn’t easing his anxiety, this was taking too long. Everything was moving too slowly. He had been wandering about for over an hour now with no sign of his cousin anywhere. By the time he found Pippin this way he could . . .

Merry stumbled. He took a moment to steady himself, using the back of a hand to wipe sweat from his brow.

“You can’t let your thoughts go there, Merry old lad,” he muttered to himself. “It just makes you panic and that mars your thinking, and I need to think clearly.”

Just then, he felt a tug at his back pocket. Merry spun around to see a little girl, with hair nearly like the Lady Eowyn’s, standing behind him. Pippin’s scarf was in her hands. More precisely, it was her doll who seemed to be holding the scarf to its chest.

“No, Feva!” the child said sternly to the doll. “That isn’t nice to do.” She became aware that Merry was looking at her and shyly lifted her head to look at him.

“Give that back,” the Hobbit said firmly. “I’m in a hurry.”

“You look like Pippin.” The child’s voice was oddly calm, her gaze steady into Merry’s eyes.

“Yes, I suppose . . .” He suddenly realized the meaning of what she had said. “You know Pippin? Have you seen him today? How long ago did you see him? I’m trying to find him.” The words flew out of Merry’s mouth.

The child tipped her head toward her doll while her eyes stayed fixed on Merry’s. “Feva says she’s sorry, she just wanted to cuddle his scarf.” The doll, and of course the little girl as well, held the scarf out to Merry. “Pippin was sad because he’s broken. Feva said he should go and talk to a healer.”

Merry gently took Pippin’s scarf without looking at it. “Yes, he is sad. I said something that hurt him. I . . . I shouldn’t have but I did.”

She smiled. “It’s all right. He told me he has folks who love him. I can tell, you are one of them. You should go and find him.”

“Yes, yes I will. I’ll find him.”

Merry turned and ran toward the Houses of Healing, clutching Pip’s old, soft, grey scarf in his right hand. Mallefinnros and Feva smiled.
*******************

Sam had worked his way through the pastry shops on the way to the first level and now stood before the shop in the first level that was considered to be the finest in the White City. So far, there had been no sign of Pippin. Not one shop owner had seen the lad. Sam took a deep breath and walked into the shop.

“Lord Samwise!” the shopkeeper effused. “With what might I help you this fine bright day? Cream horns? Honey Rolls? Perhaps tarts for Sir Peregrin?”

“I’m looking for Mist . . . eh, Sir Peregrin,” Sam said firmly. He had already been unable to avoid longer conversations than he had wished with a few of the other bakers. “Have you seen him today?”

“I can’t say as I have, my lord.” the baker looked more carefully at the perian. Lord Samwise was sweaty and a bit disheveled, not the way he usually presented himself. “If I do see him, shall I send word?”

“Yes, please, and thank you,” Sam replied, the last being said over his shoulder as he left the shop.
*****************************

As Frodo approached the seventh circle, he began to see more Men in the livery of the Tower Guard. He stopped, slapped his hand to his forehead and shook his head. Why were they trying to search this huge city with only the eight members of the Company? Wouldn’t it be wiser to make use of those members of the guard who were not on duty and thus free to search for one of their own?

“Pardon me,” Frodo said to a Guardsman passing by.

The Guard was brought up short as he realized who had addressed him. “My lord,” he said, bowing.

“Are you on duty?”

“Just coming off duty, my lord.”

“Would you do something for me? We are trying to find Sir Peregrin. It would help us greatly if you and some of the other guardsmen who are off duty could search for him. Make it clear he needn’t be brought to me, unless he seems . . . eh, distressed. Just that whoever finds him should find me and tell me where he is. I shall be in the libraries I should think, looking for Mithrandir.”

“Of course, my lord! I’ll see to it at once. Where shall I tell them to search?”

Frodo felt a bit foolish, but it was the only response he could give, “Everywhere,” he replied.

“Yes, my lord.” the man replied and dashed off to the nearest buttery. He doubted there was a man of the Tower Guard who did not like the small knight. There should be many willing to join the search. What he didn’t quite understand was how the other pheriannath had lost Pippin, as he asked to be called. It was well know they spent much of their time together and were very close.

Frodo went on to the libraries. His feet ached. His left shoulder felt tight and chilled. He was frightened that he was taking too long. As he hurried down the main aisles, glancing quickly down each row of shelves, he thought for the first time ever in his life that it was such nonsense to demand quiet in a library. If he could shout it would making finding the wizard that much simpler.

He began looking into each of the small rooms set into the walls of the main library that were used for even quieter study. Gandalf was in the fourth one he looked into.

“Gandalf, at last!” Frodo said more loudly than he meant to as he rushed over to the wizard sitting behind a small table. Suddenly, Frodo’s usual calm left him. The panic he had restrained to this point broke through. “Pippin is gone, we have to find him as soon as possible. He took a knife and might hurt himself”

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “What? Slow down, Frodo, my lad. You aren’t making much sense.”

“Everthing’s a dreadful mess. Pippin is more Pippin-like than usual. His thoughts wander, he threw a quill, he daydreams, he’s clumsy, forgetful. He’s not himself, he’s surly, snapish. Merry yelled at him. Pip is driving us all to distraction. He poured tea until it over flowed, and just kept pouring. Burned Merry’s hand. He said the most horrible things to the lad and Pippin left. The knife was missing off of the table. Pippin soiled himself.” Frodo tugged at Gandalf’s sleeve. “We have to find him.”

Frodo hadn’t slowed down. He had sounded exactly like his missing cousin, pouring the tale out in a breathless rush.

“The new King’s first poorly made decision. He will will be quite devastated that it was in regards to young Peregrin and the rest of you.” Gandalf stood and set off out of the small room at a pace almost too fast for the hobbit to comfortably follow. “We will visit King Elessar at once. Come along, Frodo.”

“Poorly made decision?” Frodo asked as he hurried along.

The Wizard did not reply, he just kept to his hurried pace until they were at the doors of the Tower Hall. He did not pause to address the guards nor to give them time to announce him but went straight through the doors and down the length of the room. He stopped four feet before the throne.

“I will have your attention, King Elessar.”

Aragorn and the ambassadors with whom he was speaking had dropped into silence as the wizard and hobbit walked so boldly toward them.

“Your Majesty, who is this who treats you with . . .” one of the ambassadors began, but the King raised a hand to silence him.

“Gandalf, Frodo. What is it you need?” the King asked.

The ambassadors’ mouths fell open. These, then, were the mighty White Wizard and the Ring Bearer. They bowed and backed away to give them privacy.

“You should have told the hobbits what you feared might happen with Peregrin. The situation has been going sour and now it appears to have become critical.” Gandalf paused a moment then continued. “I do not lay all the blame upon you, my friend,” He said sadly. “I also said and did nothing. The lad has run off and is now in peril, Aragorn.”

At that moment a man rushed in followed by the guards.

“My lords, we’ve found Sir Peregrin. He’s at the Houses of Healing.”
***************************

“Parsow!”

The young healer turned to see Peregrin trotting awkwardly towards him. His limp was more pronounced than was usual.

“Parsow,” the Hobbit puffed as he came to a stop. “Have you . . . some time . . . just now.”

Parsow quickly thought of all he had to attend to at the moment, but there was something to his friend’s tone that made him push the other matters aside.

“Yes, Pippin, I do. Do you need something?”

“I . . .” Pippin paused, his expression going blank for several moments. Parsow frowned. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you,” Pippin suddenly said.

“Concerning what, my friend?”

“Well, I’m wondering if maybe someone other than Merry and Frodo could help me with my exercises. I seem to be upsetting them both lately, and it might be better if I’m not doing that.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, Pippin.” Parsow put a hand on Pippin’s shoulder as he spoke. “Perhaps we should sit down by the fountain for a moment. You seem a bit winded.”

Parsow began to guide the lad toward the fountain in the center of the courtyard where there were also benches. Pippin didn’t look right to the healer, nor did he feel right in that hard to explain way of sensing that good healers have.

“Maybe someone who works with the broken . . . I mean hurt children at the orphanage,” Pippin was saying. “They would be used to small sized hands and . . .”

Once again, Pippin stopped in mid-sentence. But this time, with a gasp of pain. He grabbed at his left leg.

Across the courtyard to the right, Merry had just spotted Parsow and Pippin. Off to the left, the off duty guardsman leading the King, Mithrandir and Frodo entered the open space . They each were just about to call out when a strange strangled sounding cry came from Pippin. As Parsow reached for him, the young hobbit stiffened and toppled to the ground.

Everyone ran toward Pippin, but all except Aragorn stopped when, just as they neared the place where he lay, Pippin began to thrash about.

Merry turned to Frodo who had come up beside him. He buried his face in his older cousin’s shoulder and wept, unable to watch as the fit continued to convulse his young cousin’s body.

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A/N: I will mention here, as well as at the beginning of the next chapter, that I will be using the older terms of “fit” and “falling sickness” in this story instead of the newer terms of “siezure” and “epilepsy”.