Pippin woke from his foul dreams to enter dark waking. Slowly it all came back to him: he and Merry had been crying out for Frodo but instead of finding their missing cousin, they had run right into the orcs that had been looking for him as well. Merry struck several of them down but it was too much for even as brave a hobbit as Merry to handle. Too much even for Boromir who had come charging to their rescue. Now they were captured and Pippin did not care to think of what would happen to them now. Where was Frodo? Where was Sam? Had they gotten them too? And Strider and Gimli and Legolas? Could he hope for rescue? Should he hope? Shouldn’t they be looking for Frodo instead? That was more important Pippin knew.

Amid the dreams and waking and the torment of both, he caught strange visions of Aragorn’s stern face swimming in and out of his head and he wondered if he was dreaming again, but his heart told him no. The man was following them! He had hope again and his wits about him. He ran off a bit from his guards and left some footprints in the wet grass for Strider to see. And then a thought came to him to loose the brooch that held his cloak and he let it fall to the ground. He didn’t know why he did it, but there it lay. He was recaptured and though he thought it was for naught, he had obeyed the instruction in his heart to drop the token of hope. Elbereth smiled from her high place and the One smiled with her.