All of My Symphonies
Oct. 6th, 2004 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liptonrm_backupWell, it appears that I didn't work on crack!fic after all. Instead I went and wrote up the last part of the first chapter of my ongoing hobbit-fic. Pippin just wouldn't let me string him on for one more single moment. Sorry that it took me so long to get this out Pip, I promise that I love you just as much as the other hobbits. Really, I do!
Previous parts can be found here.
Twilight - Pippin
Pippin felt cold and tired and scared and smaller then he had ever thought he could possibly be. The exhilarating euphoria that had swept through him as he saw the waters arise and sweep down on the Black Riders had drained out of him and now he felt empty and forlorn. He imagined that if someone were to come up and pat him on the back that the sound would echo through his whole body like a barrel of beer that had been drained dry.
Pippin choked a little as an involuntary noise welled up from his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was a giggle or a sob and that inability to understand something as simple as laughter or tears brought everything tumbling down around him. He had always dreamed that his great adventure would be exciting and romantic. He had pictured himself strong and confident fighting off goblins and trolls and outwitting strange, fishy creatures with strange accents. He had never thought that he would be so powerless, swept along in danger’s wake as they ran from nightmares turned real. He could still see Frodo small and weak on that great white horse, defiant in the face of wraiths and in spite of his own injury and there he had stood on the bank, unable to do anything more then wave a silly stick in the air and watch as watery horses tumbled over and over drowning everything in their wake. He would never forget how still and white Frodo had been when they found him unconscious on the other side of the ford.
This time the involuntary noise he made was most definitely a sob. Pippin felt a tear fall unbidden on his cheek and he viciously wiped it away. He was supposed to protect Frodo and instead it seemed like everything he did had turned out to be absolutely pointless. He hadn’t been able to resist the lure of Old Man Willow, he hadn’t been able to protect Frodo when the Riders had come upon them in the Shire or in Bree or under Weathertop and he had acted like a scared ninny when he had found Bilbo’s stone trolls. He might as well have stayed behind in the Shire with old Fatty for all the help he had been.
Pippin glanced over his shoulder at the grey hills and the water that shone faintly in the deepening twilight. He could always turn around and just go home. No one would miss him and they would all probably be better off without one more piece of baggage to drag along. It was best that he leave before he did something incredibly foolish that just put Frodo in even more danger then he already was. He briskly readjusted his pack on his shoulders, ready to turn around and leave this particular adventure in more competent hands when he heard a soft, muffled noise that sounded quite a bit like his own choked sob of only a moment before. Pippin glanced forward and noticed Merry awkwardly scrubbing at his eyes. With a start Pippin stopped dead in his tracks, a thousand thoughts and ideas fluttering through his mind. Suddenly and with great clarity Pippin realized that he couldn’t leave, not now, not in the middle of the adventure and certainly not after they had all gone through so much together.
He had to see this through, no matter what. After all, he couldn’t abandon Frodo or Merry or even Sam when there was still so much danger out there in the wide world.
Previous parts can be found here.
Twilight - Pippin
Pippin felt cold and tired and scared and smaller then he had ever thought he could possibly be. The exhilarating euphoria that had swept through him as he saw the waters arise and sweep down on the Black Riders had drained out of him and now he felt empty and forlorn. He imagined that if someone were to come up and pat him on the back that the sound would echo through his whole body like a barrel of beer that had been drained dry.
Pippin choked a little as an involuntary noise welled up from his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was a giggle or a sob and that inability to understand something as simple as laughter or tears brought everything tumbling down around him. He had always dreamed that his great adventure would be exciting and romantic. He had pictured himself strong and confident fighting off goblins and trolls and outwitting strange, fishy creatures with strange accents. He had never thought that he would be so powerless, swept along in danger’s wake as they ran from nightmares turned real. He could still see Frodo small and weak on that great white horse, defiant in the face of wraiths and in spite of his own injury and there he had stood on the bank, unable to do anything more then wave a silly stick in the air and watch as watery horses tumbled over and over drowning everything in their wake. He would never forget how still and white Frodo had been when they found him unconscious on the other side of the ford.
This time the involuntary noise he made was most definitely a sob. Pippin felt a tear fall unbidden on his cheek and he viciously wiped it away. He was supposed to protect Frodo and instead it seemed like everything he did had turned out to be absolutely pointless. He hadn’t been able to resist the lure of Old Man Willow, he hadn’t been able to protect Frodo when the Riders had come upon them in the Shire or in Bree or under Weathertop and he had acted like a scared ninny when he had found Bilbo’s stone trolls. He might as well have stayed behind in the Shire with old Fatty for all the help he had been.
Pippin glanced over his shoulder at the grey hills and the water that shone faintly in the deepening twilight. He could always turn around and just go home. No one would miss him and they would all probably be better off without one more piece of baggage to drag along. It was best that he leave before he did something incredibly foolish that just put Frodo in even more danger then he already was. He briskly readjusted his pack on his shoulders, ready to turn around and leave this particular adventure in more competent hands when he heard a soft, muffled noise that sounded quite a bit like his own choked sob of only a moment before. Pippin glanced forward and noticed Merry awkwardly scrubbing at his eyes. With a start Pippin stopped dead in his tracks, a thousand thoughts and ideas fluttering through his mind. Suddenly and with great clarity Pippin realized that he couldn’t leave, not now, not in the middle of the adventure and certainly not after they had all gone through so much together.
He had to see this through, no matter what. After all, he couldn’t abandon Frodo or Merry or even Sam when there was still so much danger out there in the wide world.
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Date: 2004-10-07 10:47 am (UTC)And yes, if only Pippin knew. That's one of the things I do like about the hobbits is that they don't know and yet they still go on and do what they have to do. It's a regular kind of heroism and it's somehow more astounding, in my opinion, then the heroism of an Aragorn who knew what he was getting into.