Chapter 10. As Cold as Death

A strangely disturbing feeling kept creeping into the pleasant dream Pippin was enjoying, threatening to awaken him. He held on stubbornly to the warm and hazy feeling, as if he were wrapped up in a blanket of sewn-together sheepskins, toasting his half-frozen toes by the cheery fire, smelling the promising aromas arising from the steaming stew-pot and the bread loaves baking on the stone.

He'd fallen asleep while on watch when the old shepherd had gone to fetch supplies and left him in charge of watching the flock, and awakened to find not a sheep in sight, and violent weather rapidly encroaching. Luckily, being creatures of habit, the bulk of the flock had meandered along to the next sheepfold along their line of travel. After he'd caught up with them, he counted them and secured them in the fastness of the fold, but the count came up short. The most valuable ewe in the flock, an exceptionally fine milker and mother, was missing with her twin lambs. Worse, Pippin's favourite ewe, "the auld love", due to lamb at any time, was also unaccounted for.

And so the old shepherd's young apprentice went out into the storm to seek the lost sheep.

Pippin shivered in his sleep, remembering how the water had come up in the valley where he found the "fine milker" and her lambs, and how he'd nearly drowned as he'd rescued them.

But... 'All's well,' he murmured in his sleep, throwing off the chill of memory and wiggling his toes in the dreamy firelight. He was safe in the shelter; old Shepherd Brockbank had arrived before Pippin returned with the last of the strays, worn-out and chilled to the bone. The shepherd had built a fire and stirred up a supper of hearty stew and fresh-baked bread and had been preparing to go out in search of his apprentice when Pippin came through the door. Seeing the state of his apprentice, close to collapse, the old shepherd had stripped away the tween's sopping clothing, rubbed Pippin down with sacking until his skin glowed, wrapped him in sheepskins, and sat him down close to the fire to thaw his outsides whilst coaxing him to sip from a mug of freshly-brewed tea, just off the boil, to thaw his insides. 

Out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth the dreaming Thain fancied he now heard Brockbank speaking. There’s things in this world that’re beyond our ken, laddie. P’rhaps there’s more for thee to be doin’ with thy life.

But I fell asleep, old hobbit, Pippin answered with an effort. But then he felt himself shaken, bringing him back painfully to wakefulness. He strove to open heavy eyelids without much success. The overlarge gloved hand that so firmly grasped his shoulder felt uncannily familiar... Memory stirred once more, deep within.

Boromir! he exclaimed. How came the Captain of Gondor to be part of this dream? You don't belong in this place! What're you doing here? 

I might ask the same of you, youngster, came Boromir's reply, and then the Man raised his voice to claim the Wizard's attention. This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf, Pippin heard him say, just as he always did when he dreamed of Caradhras. It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves.

'...do something to save ourselves,' Pippin echoed, shaking his head, for the Captain of Gondor sounded unusually urgent. 

At least, the young Thain tried to shake his head. It lolled on his neck, rather, ending in a sharp dip and jerk that roused him to wakefulness.

Blinking, he looked around the shadowy cavern, a far cry from the small, cosy shelter he'd been dreaming.

Ferdi huddled nearby, curled in as tight a ball as he could form, head down and hugging his drawn-up knees. The cavern seemed dimmer than Pippin remembered, though a weak light streamed in at the entrance, indicating that night had not yet overtaken them.

The young Thain pushed himself to his feet and stood swaying a moment, then brought up his hands to hug himself, then vigorously rubbed his upper arms in an attempt to warm himself. 'No fire,' he said, 'nothing to burn here,' – an echo of his earlier conversation with Ferdibrand. He didn't even have the lantern – it had been lost in one of his tumbles as they'd descended Hoard Hill. He'd also lost his pack, but then what good would the coins do in this place? They'd only weigh him down.

Though Pippin wanted nothing more than to slip back into dream, he knew better than to do so. He forced himself to stagger towards the entrance. Perhaps the storm had calmed enough that they could start the homeward journey? Even if the cold and their weakness forced them to go slowly... even if they were unable to reach the Smials before darkness fell, Regi would be leading a search party in this direction as soon as they were deemed overdue and would likely meet them halfway with ponies to bear them, along with warm cloaks and blankets and food and drink.

Upon reaching the cavern entrance, Pippin looked out in wonder on a world gone white. Heavy snow was now falling, whipped by variable winds whose gusts shrieked and moaned like tormented spirits.

For many moments he stared, mesmerised by the falling, blowing snow. Then, curiously, Boromir's voice came to him as he'd so recently dreamed it: This will be the death of the halflings.... It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves.

'You have the right of it, my good Captain,' Pippin murmured, and added, 'Nothing to burn here.' They might survive in this inadequate shelter by moving continuously, generating warmth through movement. But they were already exhausted from the perilous descent of Hoard Hill from the store-hole to the valley floor while enduring the assault of the storm. How long could they hold out here? The lack of a warming fire was not the only problem they faced.

'A small store of firewood, neatly stacked, just like the Rangers left behind,' the young Thain whispered to his ghostly companion. 'That's what's needed. If I get back to the Smials – I mean, when I get back to the Smials, I'll see to it that a traveller's rest is established here for Tooks and Tooklanders stranded by circumstances and in need of shelter. So,' he continued, ticking off his thoughts on his fingers as he spoke. 'A stack of firewood, with strikers, and a tinderbox with flint-and-steel into the bargain, for starters. A store of food, as well, the kind of supplies that would keep well under these conditions – travellers' rations! There's already a spring of clear water in the hillside... but then, I'd forgot, you were not there at Weathertop with us, but only joined us at Rivendell.'

He thought he saw dream-Boromir nod.

But why bide here i' this bare an' dismal place? dream-Brockbank whispered.

'We cannot venture out in this!' Pippin protested. 'We'd never reach the Smials – it's too far, and worse, we might lose ourselves on the way!'

Just past the next hill, the old shepherd insisted. Why, laddie, I know ye ken the land hereabouts, e'en though ye ken not the land betwixt here and yon Great Smials half so well! We walked it together enough times, thae and me and th' dogs and our woolly charges!

Galvanised by the memory, Pippin stood abruptly straighter. He'd walked this part of the Green Hill country in his circuits with his father's flock and their guardian, the old shepherd! And truly, one of their way-stations was just the other side of the next great hill to the west of Hoard Hill! He knew the path well enough to walk it in daylight or dark of night, under calm conditions or in the wildest of weather.

Even snow? he asked himself.

Dream-Frodo spoke up then, interrupting Pippin's thoughts. You used to boast you could find your way blind-folded, at least in this part of the Green Hill country... Don't you remember that time I took you at your word? I certainly do!

Despite the desperate situation they were in, Pippin found himself grinning. I didn't do so badly, at that!

He could have sworn a phantom hand ruffled the curls atop his head, a familiar feeling from his youth. Not at all, Pip! Blind-folded! Who would have thought it?!

Pippin closed his eyes, and a tear crept from under one lid and rolled down his cheek. 'How I miss you, dearest of cousins! But somehow you are still helping me out of my scrapes, even now, though you are only a memory...'

As he opened his eyes and turned away from the entrance, he could almost hear Frodo's snort, followed by the mock-indignant protest, Who're you calling "only a memory"?!

'You, dear cousin, o' course!' he replied aloud.

Ferdi stirred and groaned. 'What about me?' the escort said.

Pippin moved to his side, crouched to take hold of his hand, and lifted his older cousin's arm over his shoulders. 'You're going to live up to your oath, cousin, and safeguard the Thain as you swore to do! I certainly have no intention of releasing you from your oath, nor do I intend to allow Death to do so!' And pushing up with his legs, he hauled Ferdi to his feet.

'How...?' Ferdi mumbled, shaking his head to clear it. Pippin was glad to see awareness sharpen his cousin's eyes as the head of escort turned his head to scrutinise the Thain. 'What're we...?'

'You know this country as a hunter... know it as well as you know the fur on your feet,' Pippin told him. 'Whist I know this country – this exact part of the Green Hills, as a matter of fact! Quite fortuitously for us! – as an apprentice shepherd who, half a lifetime ago, followed the sheep hither and yon! And so, together, I deem, we ought to be able to find our way to safety...'

'Too far,' Ferdi said, for his gaze had moved from Pippin to the entrance, and he was staring at the falling, blowing snow. He shook his head. 'The freezing rain was bad enough, along with the punishing winds, that we agreed it would be death to try to get back to the Smials until after the wind dropped and the ice stopped falling. But now, with snow coming down so thickly and the wind blowing it into drifts, I wager we willna be able to see our hands in front of our faces once we step outside the cavern! Even if we don't lose our way, we'll never reach the Smials in this...' 

'No, but I know of a way-station within our reach,' Pippin said. 'And I've fought my way through worse snow than this, I'll have you know!'

'So cold,' Ferdi said, as if he had not been heeding his Thain.

Pippin clapped him on the back. 'The exercise will be warming!' he said. 'Think on't as an added bonus into the bargain!'

Seeming to come awake again, the head of escort nodded. 'Lead on, O Took,' he said.

'Let's hope this comes out better than that old story did,' Pippin answered, sliding a steadying arm around his older cousin. 'Tally-ho!'

By common accord, the two cousins paused on the threshold for a deep breath before plunging into the blinding blizzard, holding tightly to each other and helping each other along through the blowing, drifting snow.

*** 

Three days later, Pippin suddenly interrupted himself in the middle of the story he was telling. 'Did you hear that?'

Though the young Thain had miraculously suffered no lingering effects of their ordeal, his head of escort had not been quite so lucky. The chill Ferdi had taken had turned into a heavy cold, but he was well-wrapped up, warmed by the fire, and on the mend. Once the storm blew itself out, Pippin had considered leaving Ferdi here and hiking through the snow to the Great Smials, but he knew his head of escort would never countenance such a plan. Despite fever and a racking cough, Ferdi would undoubtedly insist on accompanying the Thain – and he'd probably catch his death along the way. That would never do. No, but the better course seemed to be to wait until Ferdi's fever should break, or rescuers found them, whichever came first. He also had complete confidence that Steward Reginard would not rest so long as the Thain was missing.

Ferdi looked up from the stew he was stirring, made up from the dried meat and vegetables they'd found on the pantry shelves of the shepherds' way-station. 'Thickening nicely,' he rasped, and then added, almost absently, 'Did I hear what?' 

But the young Thain had already risen from the fireside, crossed to the door and thrown it open.

Ferdi started up at the clear call of a hunting horn. 'Searchers!'

'The muster has reached us,' Pippin confirmed. 'They likely scoured the countryside between the Smials and Hoard Hill and then spread out to search farther afield...' He leaned out the door, cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice to a mighty shout. 'View halloo!'

A gust of wind blew in through the open doorway, flattening the flames on the little hearth. Pippin hastily stepped outside and slammed the door firmly closed behind him. 'Wouldn't want the fire to go out, what with the stew so close to bubbling and all!' he muttered to himself. Then he shouted again, and was rewarded by hearing a distant yell, followed by a flurry of horns. 'We're here!' he called for good measure, standing on tip-toe and craning for a view of the approaching hunters. As they came around the hillside, he waved vigorously.

After seeing his wave returned, he ducked back into the shelter. 'Company's coming!'

'They have impeccable timing,' Ferdi said. Though his cousin's tone was as nonchalant as ever, Pippin detected relief replacing the subtle tension that had dogged the head of escort ever since they had stumbled out of the storm and through the doorway into this refuge. 'Just in time for tea!'

'It must have been Frodo's Tookish side that gave him such cunning in getting up just in time for a meal,' Pippin said in oblique reply.

'What brings that wandering hobbit to mind?' Ferdi said, though he was quick to replace his look of confusion with his usual bland expression.

Pippin shrugged. 'Wandering is just the word,' he said. 'I once won a wager on this very spot, I'll have you know.'

'Did you now?' Ferdi said, interested. 'With Frodo Baggins? I'd had the impression he was a canny hobbit who so seldom lost a wager, hardly anyone would bet against him!'

'He was, at that,' Pippin said, and at Ferdi's raised eyebrow was prompted to add, 'a canny hobbit, I mean. Someday I really ought to tell you, for your own good...'

But Ferdi had raised a staying hand. 'Bite your tongue,' the older cousin said firmly, 'if this has anything to do with an adventure of any sort...! Perish the thought.' And then he turned his full attention back to his stirring.

Pippin stared at him, momentarily bemused. One day... he said under his breath, a promise of sorts to himself, as well as his beloved, absent cousin.

But then the door was thrust open, and too many bodies to fit the confined space of the shelter, intended for a shepherd and one or two helpers, were spilling in through the doorway, cheeks red from the cold and the exercise of hiking through thigh-deep snow and digging their way past smial-high drifts, and their voices raised in glad exclamation. 

'Thain Peregrin! Ferdibrand! Found! Found safe at last!'

*** 

Author's notes:

As mentioned earlier, Pippin's brief apprenticeship to a shepherd is described in the story Thain, a work-in-progress that is due to post in full in 2026. (Think good thoughts, if you wouldn't mind.) 

Some phrases will likely sound familiar as they echo passages sprinkled throughout The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. The chapter title is taken from one of Gollum's riddles in The Hobbit.

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