The dark clouds that loomed over Minas Tirith were full of gloom and despair and Pippin could not mistake the catch of worry in Gandalf's voice as he hurried after the wizard through the alleyway littered with boxes and barrels.

Peregrin Took, my lad, there is a task now to be done. Another opportunity for one of the Shire Folk to prove their great worth. Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "You must not fail me!"

Pippin nodded his head, his own eyes now echoing Gandalf's anxiety. Much as he would have liked to ask a million questions, especially as he was not too sure why he must climb the sheer rock-face of the City to light the beacon, Pippin understood there was no time for such luxuries. All he knew was that if Gandalf asked it of him, it must be important.

Pippin climbed steadily, never looking down, never stopping. He knew that if he paused to think about what he was doing, or to consider the consequences of falling… "No, don't think – just climb. Gandalf knows you can do it, so it must be safe!"

Above all else, Pippin knew that in his pocket was the silver ear of wheat that the great wizard had given to him as a child. A tiny piece of magic that would vanquish his fears as he alone might never have managed to do.

Pippin had carried the little silver token ever since that day when Gandalf spoke to him in the wheatfield and it had been especially important as he and Merry journeyed with Frodo and Sam on the Quest. That night in Bree, when the Black Riders had come, in his heart Pippin knew he was safe, because the silver wheat was in his pocket. And if he was safe, the others were too.

That night on Weathertop, Pippin had clutched his magick silver charm tightly in his hand. That had made him brave enough to jump before Frodo, to even offer his life in his cousin's place.

In Moria, Pippin had finally made his great leap across a massive fissure, just as Gandalf had known he would. The wizard had called to him, "Jump Peregrin Took. It is not so far, trust your ear! You can do it." The veiled message had reassured him and he had touched the silver ear of wheat, then jumped with a strength he had not known he possessed.

When he and Merry had been stolen away by the Uruk hai, Pippin was relieved that they had not searched them, for then, surely the shiny ear of wheat would have been plundered and would he then have dared to leave his elven brooch for Aragorn to find, or plot their escape with such daring?"

The night he had disobeyed Gandalf and stolen and gazed into the palantír, it was afterwards that Pippin realised, the ear of wheat had been in his britches' pocket and he was wearing just a nightshirt. A lesson indeed not to abandon your magick when you need it the most. Pippin had resolved after that happened that, at the earliest opportunity, he would have the ear of wheat made into a pendant to wear about his neck.

At last he was at the top! He reached forward and tried to grab the oil vessel to ease the ignition, as he could see the hay was damp and might not catch that easily. It was just out of reach! Pippin stretched again and with one mighty effort managed to grab it and tip the contents over the beacon. It was a simple matter to then drop the lit torch into the hay.

Pippin smiled as the straw quickly caught light. For a second his mind wandered back in time, as the smell of the warm hay and breeze blowing through his curls in that high exposed place, made him think of that first haywain ride so many years ago. He drew the silver ear of wheat from his pocket and held it in his hand, drawing comfort from its magickal presence.

Just then, as if the thought had summoned some evil conspiracy to punish him for his illegal actions, as if the enemy had read his mind and was at work to foil him, the token slipped from his hand and fell into the hay beneath his feet.

Pippin gasped and made as if to pick it up, but the little fire had already grown to a small but contained inferno. The hobbit realised that, not only could he not retrieve his precious ear of wheat, but he needed to remove himself – and quickly.

The climb back down would be a perilous one, more challenging than climbing up, "But," Pippin thought stoically, "better than going down the fast way!"  

Taking his time and trying to ignore the shouts of the guards as they realised their beacon had been lit prematurely, Pippin worked his way, hand over hand, foot by foot, inch by inch, down the face of the great edifice.

Gandalf was waiting for him as he neared the end of his climb, the wizard grinning in a way Pippin had not seen for a long time. "Well done, lad! Well done!" He reached up and caught Pippin under the arms, lifting him the last few feet and standing him dizzily on the ground. "That was quite a climb for a small hobbit!"

"I-I know… o-only… I…" Pippin was out of breath and puffing made him stutter.

"Take your time," Gandalf patted him kindly on the shoulder, "what's wrong?"

"I lo-lost it!" Pippin looked down at his feet, the fur there slightly singed by the fire above. "I-I dropped it!"

"What?" Gandalf glanced quickly over the hobbit; everything seemed to be there. "What did you drop?"

"My silver ear of wheat!" Pippin let fall a slight hitch of a sob, "The magickal one you gave me. It's gone! I dropped it up there in the fire. Now I won't be able to do anything brave any more!"

"Goodness me!" Gandalf stooped down to look Pippin in the eye, the way he had all those years ago in a wheatfield in Whitwell. "It was just an ear of wheat, Peregrin! Any bravery you show is all your own – I promise you!"

"No!" Pippin protested, "it really did work – truly! I would never have dared climb up there without it!"

"And did you dare climb back down without it?" Gandalf raised his eyebrows to emphasis the ironic question.

"B-but, you said…" Pippin began. Then stopped as he suddenly realised the truth of the words. "So, you mean it wasn't really magick? You told me a story all those years ago?"

"Well, you were only three!" Gandalf laughed affectionately, "I thought you would have worked it out by now, my lad!"

"I never really thought," Pippin admitted, "if I hadn't have lost it, I probably would have kept on believing in it forever."

"Well, I had planned to tell you the truth once you came of age," Gandalf straightened up again. "Once you're 33 you need to stand on your own two hairy feet."

"But, I'm only 29 now," Pippin pointed out, "I've still got four years to go before I come of age."

"Pippin, my lad," Gandalf placed a comradely hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "Coming of age is not just a question of years you know! Your deed today, was a more worthy rite of passage than simply having a few birthdays."

"It was?" Pippin's eyes grew round as he looked up at the wizard who had often bereted him and called him 'fool'; realising in that moment that it was only because of the Grandfatherly love that Gandalf bore him.

"Yes," Gandalf assured him, "You may now consider yourself a fully grown up hobbit! Peregrin Took – Guard of the Citadel of Minas Tirith! Ernil i Pheriannath and heir apparent of The Shire!"

Pippin grinned up at the wizard.

"Come along now," Gandalf gave him a gentle poke in the back with his staff." We've much work still to do."

The End