When it was over, when his throat was raw and his voice hoarse from screaming, when his arms ached from fruitless efforts to free himself, he begged the darkness to take him, begged for death, begged for madness - anything to take from him the memory of the last few hours. He knew he would never forget what he had seen, what they had forced him to watch, and he could not live with the memory of what had happened.
He sobbed, even now, though he had no more tears, and no voice, and every breath burned like fire. He could still see it, hear it - dear stars, even smell it - and it would be forever with him; it would never let him go.
All was lost, forever lost, lost to darkness and death and despair.
He threw his head back and cried out, consumed by anguish, his spirit broken and defeated at last. He felt the earth ripple and shudder around him as his bonds dissolved and he fell, screaming, into the abyss.
"Pippin?"
He was shaking all over.
"Oh, Elbereth! Not again!"
No - he was being shaken.
"Pippin, wake up!"
He opened his eyes, and saw a flame against a background of darkness, casting evil shadows over the face that leered at him. He gasped and drew back, wondering what new horrors they could be planning for him -though nothing, nothing, could be worse than what he had just seen -waiting for the cruel laugh, the tight, twisting grip on his arm, the burning pain...
"Pippin?"
...but the voice didn't match. It wasn't harsh and guttural and mocking, it was at once angry and tender. The face wasn't right either, for instead of the sharp angles and sneer he was expecting, there was a round cheek and a snub nose and messy, honey-coloured curls.
"Merry?"
At his whisper, the world returned to normal with a jolt, and Pippin looked about him. He was in his room in the little house in Minas Tirith, and Merry was standing by his bed, his face a complex mix of emotions that Pippin couldn't read.
There was a soft commotion at the door, and he saw Sam and Frodo peering in, looking worried. Merry hurried over to them.
"Is he all right. Merry? We heard him calling out." Frodo leaned forward as if to step into the room, but, surprisingly, Merry held up a hand and stopped him. There was a short exchange in low tones, that Pippin couldn't quite make out, and then Merry was shooing them out of the room.
In the silence that remained, he watched as Merry turned to him, and he saw, but didn't really understand, Merry's expression darkening, his features hardening, his eyes becoming dark and grim. As he approached the bed, Merry put out a hand and rested it lightly on the lump in the middle of the bed.
"Why, Pippin?"
Pippin looked down. The quilt that usually lay folded at the foot of the bed was now wrapped around a large round shape, a large heavy round shape, that was pressing down into the mattress. It looked awfully like the bundle Gandalf had been holding when he had wrapped his cloak around the seeing-stone that Pippin had looked into after Orthanc, before they had made their way to Minas Tirith and Denethor and battles...
Seeing-stone. Denethor.
Oh.
He looked up to find Merry looking back at him, and suddenly that mix of emotions wasn't too hard to read at all, and Pippin could see that Merry was scared and furious and protective all at once. Pippin thought, for a moment, that Merry was going to box his ears, just the way he had done so many times in his childhood when Pippin had done something impossibly stupid and dangerous (only then Merry would always hug him, and kiss him on the forehead, and tell him that he was still loved). Somehow, Pippin didn't think that was going to happen this time, except perhaps for the boxing of the ears. He wasn't all that surprised when ears were duly boxed, but it still felt just as painful now as it had when he was twelve, and brought fresh tears to his eyes.
"What did you think you were doing?"
Pippin couldn't answer; his body tensed as he remembered the visions that had ensured him. First he had seen fire, and a pair of hands clutching the palantír, and then he had heard the faint sound of screaming. That must have been Denethor, he realised. Then, somehow, the sphere had twisted itself around him, through him, looking for his fears, his darkest secrets. It had taken what he feared and made it into a nightmare of such terrifying power that he would never be free of it.
"Didn't you learn your lesson last time? Didn't Gandalf knock it into your thick Tookish head? These things are dangerous!"
"I didn't think - "
"No, you didn't think! You never think! You just go haring off to do whatever mischief comes into your head, and you never give a thought to the consequences. You could have died! You could have gone mad!"
Pippin looked determinedly at Merry's right shoulder, trying very hard not to think about going mad with pain and terror.
"You're lucky Gandalf wasn't here - he'd have turned you into a toad for this."
"He wouldn't."
"He would so, and I'd have held you down while he did it."
"Silly," Pippin had to smile, in spite of himself, "then you'd have been turned into a toad, too."
Merry's mouth twitched, but he stopped himself from smiling back. "Then at least I could still have boxed your toadish ears when you needed it."
"Toads don't have ears."
"They do. Just not big hairy ones like some hobbits I know."
"My ears aren't hairy!"
"Yes, they are, and you're not going to change the subject." Merry looked stern again, and Pippin realised that his diversionary tactics hadn't worked. "What possessed you to do it? And where did you get it, anyway? I thought Aragorn had hidden it."
"He did. Both of them."
Merry's eyes widened. "There's more than one?"
"Seven - well, there were, but most of them are lost. Gandalf told me while we were riding here." Somehow he couldn't help but sound a little smug - after all, it wasn't often that he knew something that Merry didn't. "He said there was a master stone, at Osgiliath, only that one is lost, and then three for the south and three for the north. There was one at Orthanc, that Saruman took, and one at Minas Ithil, that Sauron took, and one here at Minas Tirith."
"The one Lord Denethor had?
"Yes, Denethor's."
"But I thought it burnt up when he... when he died. I thought it was destroyed."
"He had it with him," Pippin shuddered, "but it wasn't burnt. Aragorn let everyone think it was destroyed in the fire, but it wasn't. He took it from the ashes and hid it. I followed him."
Merry stared at him, aghast. "You didn't... Pippin, please, tell me you didn't."
But Pippin just looked miserable and bit his lip. "I couldn't help it, Merry, I really couldn't! I wanted to find out where he put the other one. I just wanted to look at it again. I wanted to see if I could see through it. I wanted to see the Shire. I thought it would be safe!"
"Well, it obviously wasn't."
"It should have been! They're all dead now, all the enemy who used them, and I remember Gandalf telling me that they used to be good, that the men of old used them to see far off places. He said that there were three in the north - Annûminas and Amon Sûl and the Tower Hills, and I may not be as good at learning as you are, but I'm not so stupid that I don't know the borders of my own Shire! And I might have seen, if... if..." but here his voice broke as he was overwhelmed once more with the things he had seen. He took a deep breath, and continued, "I picked the wrong one. I thought I had Saruman's stone, but it was Denethor's. He was mad, Merry, and his madness got into the stone..." He started to shake as images crowded into his mind once more.
"What did you see?"
Pippin shook his head. "I can't, Merry. I can't talk about it." Merry could never know what he had seen. Never. His chin quivered and his throat tightened, and he felt his hands clenching with the effort of not breaking down entirely.
Suddenly Merry's face crumpled, and he sat on the bed, hugging Pippin to him tightly, until all the air was crushed out of his chest. "Oh, Pippin, I thought you were dead. You screamed and screamed and then you were still, and I thought you were dead, and I couldn't bear it."
At Merry's collapse, the fragile hold that Pippin had retained on his self-control disappeared, and he couldn't stop himself from bursting into tears. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to, I really didn't," he sobbed, all the terror of the night overwhelming him. He clung to Merry, his body trembling and his throat tight with suppressed wails, while the nightmare images rolled around his mind.
Orcs. Flames. Whips. Knives. Harsh, cruel voices, and harsh, cruel hands, and promises of pain.
The curl of a whip around his legs, that burned and stung; and he never got used to it, not even after he'd lost count of the blows. The lesser fire around his wrists when he struggled against the rope that bound him. The ache in his head where they had kicked him.
"We'll find a use for your legs before long."
Question and answer, in a never-ending cycle: "Where is it? Who has it? Where is it going?" "I don't know! I don't know! Please, no, don't do that! No!"
The stink of burnt flesh. The shock of cold water.
"Do you think I can't search you to the bones? Search you! I'll cut you both to quivering shreds."
Yellow fangs, and yellow eyes, and long, pointed faces all around him, telling what they were going to do, just for the fun of hearing him struggle. The flash of a long jagged blade; the way it caught the torchlight would have been beautiful, except for the knowledge of what it was about to do; and Pippin screaming, because he could do nothing else.
"I'll untie every string in your bodies."
"Merry! No! Not Merry!"
"Hush, it's all right. You're here with me, love. You're safe for now." Merry's arms were around him, strong and warm and protective; and Merry's voice was a soothing monotone in his ear, the sound doing more to comfort him than the words themselves, bringing him back from the brink of madness. It was several minutes, though, before he could bear to loosen his hold on Merry enough to lift his head, and even then he kept both arms wrapped around the solid chest of his cousin.
"I'm sorry." He sniffed, and wished that he could remember what he had done with his last clean handkerchief.
"Ssh. It's over now."
Pippin sniffed again, and realised that his cheeks were sticky and wet with tears. He raised one hand to his cheek, but before he could rub them off he felt a hand on his chin as Merry turned his face and gently wiped away the tears with the cuff of his nightgown. He closed his eyes and shivered slightly at the touch, which should have been no different from the hundred times that Merry had done this before, yet, somehow, it was different.
"There, now, all better," Merry murmured.
The feather-light touch of lips on his forehead made him giddy and light-headed, and he almost collapsed again as the implied absolution brought relief to his distressed mind. He opened his eyes as Merry drew back, and was startled at the intensity expression in the face before him.
"All right, now?" Merry asked, and Pippin felt that he could drown in the smoky depths of those eyes. He didn't trust himself to speak, but nodded.
Merry gave a half-smile as he flicked Pippin's nose with a forefinger, as if to dispel the too-serious mood. "Good."
Pippin felt Merry's arms go around him again, and buried his head in the hollow between neck and shoulder, shifting around until he was almost curled up in Merry's lap as he had done when he was a bairn and Merry had been so much bigger than him. It wasn't quite so easy now that they were almost the same height, but he still took comfort in Merry's embrace, thankful that Merry had forgiven him and wasn't angry any more.
Calmer now, he was able to think back to before, to the reason why he had taken the palantír.
"It's just that things are so different here."
Merry tilted his head in silent query.
"Frodo's hurt, and Sam's hurt, and you're hurt..."
"We're getting better, love. And you as well."
"But we're none of us really well yet. And this city isn't helping - I can't breathe here. There's cold grey stone everywhere around us, and too many Big People, and I feel as if I'm suffocating from it all. I want to go back to the Shire, Merry. I want apple trees to climb in and streams to fish in and fields to catch rabbits in. I want to live in a smial with chairs and tables and beds that are right for us, and good solid earth over my head and not a stairway in sight. I want ale and pipeweed and bramble pie. I want to walk in my bare feet and feel the grass tickle my toes. I want to go home."
He felt Merry's hands rubbing his back, soothing him, and heard Merry's voice, soft and tender now, as it always used to be when Merry was holding him. "I know, love. I want to go home too. But Frodo and Sam aren't well enough to travel yet. I'm not sure I am either - you know I can't ride for long, and I certainly can't use a sword yet. And we still have duties to keep here. You'd have to ask Aragorn to release you from his service, and I would have to ask …omer."
"They'd let us go."
"They might not."
"Oh, they probably would. What use is a hobbit in a city guard, anyway? What use is a rider of Rohan who can't keep up with the éothed? We need to go home, Merry. We need to be with our own kind."
He felt Merry's agreement in the sudden tightness of his arms and the hitch in his breath. Home, the Shire, family, loved ones...
"You're right. I think we've been away long enough. We've done all we set out to do, and more, and it's time to go home."
"When?"
"When Frodo's well again, when I can ride, then we'll ask. Yes, we'll tell them we need to go home." Merry sounded confident, and Pippin smiled, but then paused.
"Do we have to tell Frodo? About... tonight?" he nodded to the lump which still lay in the middle of the bed.
Merry shook his head. "I think Frodo's had quite enough to worry about lately, without adding this as well."
"What if he asks?"
"Don't worry, love, I've already told them it was just a nightmare. It's hardly unexpected, after all. We've been through such a lot in these last few months; we all have nightmares now and then."
Pippin nodded. He'd heard Frodo moaning in his room one night when he returned home from a late duty, and had put his head in the door to find Sam sitting by the bed, holding Frodo's injured hand and soothing him with his slow measured speech. Don't you fret, Mr Frodo, it's just a dream. Everything's all right now. You're safe now. He had nodded a greeting to Sam and retreated, reassured that Frodo was in good care.
A thought struck him, and he looked up at Merry. "You don't have nightmares. At least," he faltered, "I've never heard you."
Merry looked uncomfortable and slightly guilty. "I do, sometimes. I just try not to cry out too loudly. You need your sleep, and so does Sam."
"But that's not fair!"
"Hush, you needn't shout. There's fair, and there's fair, and that's the way the world is."
But Pippin was feeling so remorseful that he hadn't even known of Merry's nightmares that he felt on the verge of tears again. "I'll sit with you then, if I'm not on duty, and I'll leave my door open so that I can hear you, and -"
But Merry stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips. "It's all right, Pip. Really, it is."
Pippin subsided, though his heart ached to think that Merry had suffered and had not told his own cousin, who could have comforted him. "Promise me you'll come and wake me if you need me."
"I promise. And don't worry. It's not so very often, after all." He patted Pippin's shoulder, then fixed his gaze on the lump that remained, like a malevolent growth, in the middle of the bed. "First thing tomorrow, we'll put this back. Let's hope that Aragorn hasn't missed it already."
Pippin shook his head. "I'll put it back. It's my responsibility. Besides," he couldn't help the teasing note that crept in, "I'm the sneaky one, remember. You'd only get caught."
Merry raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue - he couldn't, and Pippin knew it. It was true, after all, that Pippin really was far better at getting in and out of places unobserved, while Merry was the one who excelled at diversions. Merry nodded, then got to his feet and picked up the quilt-wrapped bundle in his arms, tucking the loose ends in. He placed it under the chair by the desk, making sure that it wouldn't roll out during what remained of the night, and turned back to Pippin. He lifted the covers and gestured Pippin to get into bed.
"Come on, pet, settle down and get some sleep. What time does your duty start tomorrow?"
"Not till noon." Pippin scrambled under the covers, but didn't lie down.
Merry smoothed the sheet over Pippin's legs. "Good, then you can have a bit of a lie-in. I'll make sure that Frodo and Sam don't disturb you." He gave Pippin a chaste kiss on the temple. "I'll also borrow your candle, since I don't want to trip over on my way back." He turned to leave, but was stopped by Pippin's urgent grip in his wrist.
"Don't go," Pippin pleaded. "Stay. I'll only have bad dreams if you leave."
Merry hesitated, and Pippin applied a gentle traction to the wrist he was holding. "Please? Just until morning."
"All right, I'll stay." Merry put the candlestick back down on the bedside table and crawled into the bed as Pippin wriggled over towards the far side.
"Oh, Merry, your feet are cold!"
"Well, I didn't stop for dressing-gown or slippers when I heard you yell out, did I? Or a candle, for that matter," he added, as he blew out the flame and snuggled down under the remaining blankets.
"I'm sorry, Merry. I really didn't mean to scare you."
Merry snorted, and Pippin knew that if there were any light to see by, Merry's face would have that mock-exasperated look that always seemed to appear after one of their adventures. And Pippin felt that things were almost back to normal when he said, "I swear, Peregrin Took, if I had a penny for every time you said 'I didn't mean to' I'd be the richest hobbit in all the Shire."
Pippin grinned. "You are anyway. Or at least your father is."
"Hmm. He might be, now, though I always suspected that Cousin Bilbo could buy up your father and mine and still have pocket change left over. That treasure was legendary."
"Frodo says the stories were all exaggerated."
"And Frodo has never been known to tell the occasional fib, has he? Does the word 'Crickhollow' mean nothing to you?"
Pippin giggled, "You're right." He yawned, widely, and wriggled some more until his arms were around Merry and his face tucked once more into that very convenient hollow between neck and shoulder. "I will try to be good and serious and responsible... and to think of consequences before I do things."
Merry turned his head and rested his cheek against Pippin's hair. "Don't try too hard," he said, softly. "Don't grow up too fast, Pip." His fingers were drifting lazily over Pippin's shoulders, and he felt, rather than heard Pippin's whispered "Why not?"
He considered it for a few minutes, then said, "I saw you coming back from your duties the other day - you looked so different, walking up the street in your uniform, so grown-up and serious and competent. You looked so much like your father that I was worried that you'd turned into Peregrin and that I'd never see Pippin again. You were so different - always talking about things happening in the court, and hardly ever laughing anymore - and I thought I'd lost my little cousin forever." He chuckled. "And here I am not two days later, boxing your ears for doing something so absolutely Pippinish that - that I can't even begin to describe it!"
Pippin laughed, and tangled his fingers in Merry's hair. "Silly Merry. I'll still be Pippin even when I'm Thain, you'll see."
"I hope so."
"Though you won't be allowed to box my ears when I'm Thain, you know that."
"Well, you won't be allowed to make fun of the Master of Buckland."
"Won't need to. He'll make himself look ridiculous at least twice every day and three times on holidays, and all the family will laugh at him. He'll go down in history as Meriadoc the Mucilaginous."
"The what?!"
"Mucilaginous. It was in one of the reports I had to read yesterday. It means - "
"I know what it means, brat. It means "snotty", and if you think you're going to get away with that you're sadly mistaken!"
He started to roll over, the better to deliver a well-deserved tickling, but stopped when Pippin laughed out loud and started to struggle.
"Hush, Pip. You'll wake Frodo and Sam."
"Well, stop tickling then."
"Only for now. You're not going to get away with it, just because it's the middle of the night and we don't want to wake them."
"Oh, you can get me back in the morning instead. I'm sure you'll think of something."
"I will."
They settled down, and Pippin was almost asleep when he realized that there was something he'd forgotten, something important that he had to say.
"Merry?"
"Mmm?"
"I love you, Merry."
"I love you, too, Pip. Now go to sleep."
Pippin pressed a kiss into the soft skin beneath his cheek and closed his eyes.
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The PalantÃr by Alassenya
Story notes: Written for the Fic Inspiration v5 challenge - LOTR chapter titles. More bookverse than movieverse overall, with three quotations from LOTR III:3 The Uruk-Hai (yes, I know, not my designated chapter. Tough). Many thanks to Suemichave for the lightning-fast beta.
