Fic: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream, Chapter 12
12/19
Authors:: Piplover, Lindelea, Auntie Meesh, Slightly Tookish, Cathleen, Dreamflower, Rosietook, Ariel, Pearl Took, Budgielover, and Gryffinjack
Summary: A plot against the newly crowned King leads to possibly deadly consequences for his smallest Guardsman; and disturbing questions arise for the new Steward to answer, as the entire Fellowship rallies around. Written as a group story by the PippinHealers mailing list.
Genre: Hurt-comfort
Rating: PG-13 for angst and some violence
Warning: An OC character death and mention of drug abuse
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Prologue: Piplover
Chapter 1: Lindelea
Chapter 2: Auntie Meesh
Chapter 3: Slightly Tookish
Chapter 4: Cathleen
Chapter 5: Dreamflower
Chapter 6: Rosietook
Chapter 7: Ariel
Chapter 8: Piplover
Chapter 9: Lindelea
Chapter 10: Dreamflower
Chapter 11: Dreamflower
Chapter 12: Cathleen
Ingold drew a deep breath and nodded solemnly. His tears were forgotten quickly and a glimmer of hope shone in his desperate eyes. 'Anything at all, I swear it, if you will but give me more of the powder.' His voice trembled just slightly.
*****
Pippin allowed his cousins to persuade him into taking another nap after they had all eaten their fill. After they left him he lay awake pondering for some time. Gandalf was right, of course, though he was reluctant to admit it. He did need to talk to them, share with them the despair he'd felt, the horrible dreams that sometimes came even during his waking hours. There was so much he didn't understand yet. Pippin wondered if either of his cousins or Sam were troubled by the same waking dreams. He sighed and shifted to his side, continuing to think.
But where should he begin? Pippin was at a loss. He wasn't even certain what bothered him most, the dreams, or his need to keep everything inside and not share the horrors with anyone. He'd felt a sense of desperation, a need to keep the memories to himself while still holding them at arm's length in order to avoid acknowledging their hold over him. Truth be told, the power of those dreadful memories was more frightening than anything else. The shadows were always there, always lurking, threatening to consume him. And so, he had refused to concede their presence or their command over his mind whenever he was the least bit vulnerable. If he refused to speak of them then he didn't have to acknowledge their existence. Just how was he going to share his dark thoughts with those he cared for the most, those who had already suffered enough?
Pippin flipped over onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. They were still very sensitive, even in the darkened room. He sighed, recalling the day he had accepted the pouch of powders Targon had offered. He'd really thought he wouldn't use it, but the lack of sleep had finally driven him to the desperate measure. But he hadn't listened to his friend. Pippin recalled how he had scooped up not a pinch, as he had been advised, but a small handful of the powder and deposited it into his drink. He shuddered. Targon had no doubt already been questioned and would be in trouble for giving it to him. How many people had been hurt by his stubborn refusal to seek help? He turned over again and balled his pillow up, punching it in frustration before burying his face in its softness while he wept.
*****
Frodo wandered into the gardens. Sam was working so hard to create beauty once more where naught but destruction had lingered for so long. He knew this task was very important to his friend. Sam yearned to restore the loveliness of nature that the gardener treasured so highly. Middle-earth would indeed be rich with bloom again because folks like Sam worked so diligently to make it so.
Frodo paused, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a gentle smile as he watched. His friend sensed his approach and sat back on his heels regarding Frodo with a little grin.
'Hullo, Sam.'
Sam nodded a greeting but remained silent. He watched while Frodo took a seat on the stone bench near the gate. Sam rose to join him. Settling next to him they sat together in the comfortable silence shared only by the closest of friends. He waited for Frodo to speak.
*****
Merry decided to take a walk while Pippin slept. He had much to think about.
Trudging down the streets of Minas Tirith he barely saw anything or anybody he passed, soon finding himself down in the lowest level of the city. He stepped away at last and stood gazing sadly in the direction of the vast fields of Pelennor, his mind awhirl with the memories of the great battle. Pippin had not given up on him. He had searched for Merry for a very long time before coming upon him.
Merry shook his head in sorrow. What thoughts must have been going through his cousin's mind during all those hours Pippin sought after him? Just how much had Pippin suffered through this experience? Merry only knew the nature of his own pain for certain, and much of it was still incredibly raw. He had been reluctant to trouble anyone with his suffering. Perhaps that had been a mistake.
Maybe if he'd told Pippin about his own feelings, his own difficulty in sleeping and the vivid flashes of memory that seemed so real returning him to the middle of battle at times when he least expected it.
Merry shuddered at the thought and an icy feeling crept up his injured arm. He rubbed at his shoulder almost absent-mindedly while he considered what to do. His younger cousin was good-hearted and very sensitive to the pain of others. What a fool he had been not to comprehend the torment that Pippin must have been going through! Of course Pippin would try to make everyone think he was fine. That was his way. Merry knew he should have realized what was happening so much sooner.
He hadn't wanted to burden Pippin with the knowledge of his own distress, either. But he'd never considered the idea that Pippin might be feeling the same way. Merry knew he'd only wished to protect him, though he hadn't been able to shield him from some of the greatest hurts of their lives. He felt a tear slip down his cheek and brushed it away while continuing to stare at the field.
'Why didn't he tell me? We've always shared everything with each other! How could he have shut me out like that? He could have died…he very nearly did.'
Merry slid down the wall coming to rest with his knees up to his chest. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
*****
'Why didn't I do something Sam?' Frodo stared straight ahead as he spoke. 'Why didn't I see he was in a bad way?'
'You mustn't blame yourself. Your cousin keeps things close when he's of a mind to. You know that.' Sam slanted a knowing gaze at his friend as if to suggest that
Pippin was not the only one among his family who did that.
Frodo sighed heavily, choosing to ignore Sam's pointed look. 'Nevertheless, it's very difficult for me not to blame myself, Sam. I vowed I would take care of him and Merry. I was even happy that they came with me, though I felt guilty for feeling that way.' Frodo lowered his head into his hands. Sam slipped an arm around his shoulder to comfort him.
'He didn't see fit to confide in me either, you know. Mr. Pippin has done that often enough, whenever he didn't want to burden you or Mr. Merry. He sometimes felt comfortable in talking things out with me. I feel bad that he didn't trust me enough to do that this time.'
'No Sam, you shouldn't blame yourself! Pippin is my responsibility.' He turned to look at his friend. 'Gandalf told me that Pippin had confessed some very dark secrets to him while they were alone here in Minas Tirith.'
Sam raised an eyebrow. 'Dark secrets?'
'Yes. And I've been thinking a great deal about that. I can't help but wonder if much of Pippin's nightmares and sleeplessness doesn't have to do with the time he looked into the palantír. It seems to be the one memory he doesn't discuss with anyone, even Merry.'
Sam nodded slowly. 'It is an experience that none of the rest of us shared in.' Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Sam pondered Frodo's words. 'I wonder if it might be the one thing he's afraid to talk about.'
'Gandalf alluded to that possibility in a conversation we had.' Frodo clutched Sam's arm tightly. 'Sam, we were told how horrific Pippin's reaction to the palantír was. When he gazed into it and was confronted by Sauron he was exposed to pure evil. How ghastly that must have been for him!' Frodo shook his head sadly. 'And I quite honestly had never even considered that until this moment.'
'Aye, Mr. Merry was actually in tears when he related the story to us.'
'Yes, he was. And after Pippin told Gandalf what he'd seen and heard that was apparently the last mention of the incident, as far as I am aware.'
'It was. I'm certain of it.'
Frodo and Sam looked up in surprise. Merry watched them from the entrance into the garden where he'd paused to listen to their conversation, his hand still resting on the latch of the gate. His face was weary, yet held a look of determination.
'Now we have to let him know we're there for him, and that we'll listen and try to understand what he went through, when or if, he wants to talk about it.' Merry's voice was quiet. He approached them, arms crossing over his chest.
'I've been thinking a great deal about everything that's happened,' Merry said, his voice still soft, 'and I'm caught somewhere between being angry with myself and him, and feeling like I failed him somehow.' Merry sighed and sank onto the bench beside Frodo. 'I can't believe the lengths he went to in order to hide his suffering from all of us.' He shivered. 'And taking that dreadful sleeping powder! I want to know more about that, including exactly where it came from!'
'Yes, I do too. But the time for blame is in the past. Now it's time for all of us to talk.' Frodo looked from Merry's face to Sam's. 'And share forthrightly. Agreed?'
'Aye,' Sam nodded firmly.
'Yes, it is.' Merry also nodded his agreement.
*****
'All right. Here's what we want you to do.' The men shared a knowing smile before the taller one turned to Ingold. 'You are prepared to do whatever you are bid? Regardless what we command of you?'
'Yes, yes! That is what I said, is it not? Please…do not toy with me any longer! Name your price and I shall do whatever you propose. But first, pray give me just a little of the powder! I shall surely go mad if you do not, then I will be of no use to you.' Ingold threw himself on his knees and begged even more shamelessly, his need becoming greater with each passing minute.
The men laughed cruelly and traded looks of satisfaction. 'Excellent,' the tall one nodded to his friend who quickly dispensed a tiny amount of the powder into the hand of the desperate man at their feet. Ingold greedily shoved it into his mouth without benefit of drink and immediately sputtered and choked on the bitter powder. The men laughed again.
'All right.' The tall one spoke again. 'We wish for you to return to your Company under cover of night. Seek out the Steward and tell him you have important information to share…'
*****
Pippin opened his eyes slightly at the knock upon the door and winced as the dim light penetrated the crack under his lids. He rose up on one elbow, a question on his face as his kin and Sam filed in. Merry and Sam took their seats but Frodo remained standing.
'Pippin, we'd like to have a talk with you,' Frodo began.
Pippin nodded wearily and sank back down on the bed. 'Yes, it's about time.'
Next
Authors:: Piplover, Lindelea, Auntie Meesh, Slightly Tookish, Cathleen, Dreamflower, Rosietook, Ariel, Pearl Took, Budgielover, and Gryffinjack
Summary: A plot against the newly crowned King leads to possibly deadly consequences for his smallest Guardsman; and disturbing questions arise for the new Steward to answer, as the entire Fellowship rallies around. Written as a group story by the PippinHealers mailing list.
Genre: Hurt-comfort
Rating: PG-13 for angst and some violence
Warning: An OC character death and mention of drug abuse
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Prologue: Piplover
Chapter 1: Lindelea
Chapter 2: Auntie Meesh
Chapter 3: Slightly Tookish
Chapter 4: Cathleen
Chapter 5: Dreamflower
Chapter 6: Rosietook
Chapter 7: Ariel
Chapter 8: Piplover
Chapter 9: Lindelea
Chapter 10: Dreamflower
Chapter 11: Dreamflower
Chapter 12: Cathleen
Ingold drew a deep breath and nodded solemnly. His tears were forgotten quickly and a glimmer of hope shone in his desperate eyes. 'Anything at all, I swear it, if you will but give me more of the powder.' His voice trembled just slightly.
*****
Pippin allowed his cousins to persuade him into taking another nap after they had all eaten their fill. After they left him he lay awake pondering for some time. Gandalf was right, of course, though he was reluctant to admit it. He did need to talk to them, share with them the despair he'd felt, the horrible dreams that sometimes came even during his waking hours. There was so much he didn't understand yet. Pippin wondered if either of his cousins or Sam were troubled by the same waking dreams. He sighed and shifted to his side, continuing to think.
But where should he begin? Pippin was at a loss. He wasn't even certain what bothered him most, the dreams, or his need to keep everything inside and not share the horrors with anyone. He'd felt a sense of desperation, a need to keep the memories to himself while still holding them at arm's length in order to avoid acknowledging their hold over him. Truth be told, the power of those dreadful memories was more frightening than anything else. The shadows were always there, always lurking, threatening to consume him. And so, he had refused to concede their presence or their command over his mind whenever he was the least bit vulnerable. If he refused to speak of them then he didn't have to acknowledge their existence. Just how was he going to share his dark thoughts with those he cared for the most, those who had already suffered enough?
Pippin flipped over onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. They were still very sensitive, even in the darkened room. He sighed, recalling the day he had accepted the pouch of powders Targon had offered. He'd really thought he wouldn't use it, but the lack of sleep had finally driven him to the desperate measure. But he hadn't listened to his friend. Pippin recalled how he had scooped up not a pinch, as he had been advised, but a small handful of the powder and deposited it into his drink. He shuddered. Targon had no doubt already been questioned and would be in trouble for giving it to him. How many people had been hurt by his stubborn refusal to seek help? He turned over again and balled his pillow up, punching it in frustration before burying his face in its softness while he wept.
*****
Frodo wandered into the gardens. Sam was working so hard to create beauty once more where naught but destruction had lingered for so long. He knew this task was very important to his friend. Sam yearned to restore the loveliness of nature that the gardener treasured so highly. Middle-earth would indeed be rich with bloom again because folks like Sam worked so diligently to make it so.
Frodo paused, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a gentle smile as he watched. His friend sensed his approach and sat back on his heels regarding Frodo with a little grin.
'Hullo, Sam.'
Sam nodded a greeting but remained silent. He watched while Frodo took a seat on the stone bench near the gate. Sam rose to join him. Settling next to him they sat together in the comfortable silence shared only by the closest of friends. He waited for Frodo to speak.
*****
Merry decided to take a walk while Pippin slept. He had much to think about.
Trudging down the streets of Minas Tirith he barely saw anything or anybody he passed, soon finding himself down in the lowest level of the city. He stepped away at last and stood gazing sadly in the direction of the vast fields of Pelennor, his mind awhirl with the memories of the great battle. Pippin had not given up on him. He had searched for Merry for a very long time before coming upon him.
Merry shook his head in sorrow. What thoughts must have been going through his cousin's mind during all those hours Pippin sought after him? Just how much had Pippin suffered through this experience? Merry only knew the nature of his own pain for certain, and much of it was still incredibly raw. He had been reluctant to trouble anyone with his suffering. Perhaps that had been a mistake.
Maybe if he'd told Pippin about his own feelings, his own difficulty in sleeping and the vivid flashes of memory that seemed so real returning him to the middle of battle at times when he least expected it.
Merry shuddered at the thought and an icy feeling crept up his injured arm. He rubbed at his shoulder almost absent-mindedly while he considered what to do. His younger cousin was good-hearted and very sensitive to the pain of others. What a fool he had been not to comprehend the torment that Pippin must have been going through! Of course Pippin would try to make everyone think he was fine. That was his way. Merry knew he should have realized what was happening so much sooner.
He hadn't wanted to burden Pippin with the knowledge of his own distress, either. But he'd never considered the idea that Pippin might be feeling the same way. Merry knew he'd only wished to protect him, though he hadn't been able to shield him from some of the greatest hurts of their lives. He felt a tear slip down his cheek and brushed it away while continuing to stare at the field.
'Why didn't he tell me? We've always shared everything with each other! How could he have shut me out like that? He could have died…he very nearly did.'
Merry slid down the wall coming to rest with his knees up to his chest. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
*****
'Why didn't I do something Sam?' Frodo stared straight ahead as he spoke. 'Why didn't I see he was in a bad way?'
'You mustn't blame yourself. Your cousin keeps things close when he's of a mind to. You know that.' Sam slanted a knowing gaze at his friend as if to suggest that
Pippin was not the only one among his family who did that.
Frodo sighed heavily, choosing to ignore Sam's pointed look. 'Nevertheless, it's very difficult for me not to blame myself, Sam. I vowed I would take care of him and Merry. I was even happy that they came with me, though I felt guilty for feeling that way.' Frodo lowered his head into his hands. Sam slipped an arm around his shoulder to comfort him.
'He didn't see fit to confide in me either, you know. Mr. Pippin has done that often enough, whenever he didn't want to burden you or Mr. Merry. He sometimes felt comfortable in talking things out with me. I feel bad that he didn't trust me enough to do that this time.'
'No Sam, you shouldn't blame yourself! Pippin is my responsibility.' He turned to look at his friend. 'Gandalf told me that Pippin had confessed some very dark secrets to him while they were alone here in Minas Tirith.'
Sam raised an eyebrow. 'Dark secrets?'
'Yes. And I've been thinking a great deal about that. I can't help but wonder if much of Pippin's nightmares and sleeplessness doesn't have to do with the time he looked into the palantír. It seems to be the one memory he doesn't discuss with anyone, even Merry.'
Sam nodded slowly. 'It is an experience that none of the rest of us shared in.' Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Sam pondered Frodo's words. 'I wonder if it might be the one thing he's afraid to talk about.'
'Gandalf alluded to that possibility in a conversation we had.' Frodo clutched Sam's arm tightly. 'Sam, we were told how horrific Pippin's reaction to the palantír was. When he gazed into it and was confronted by Sauron he was exposed to pure evil. How ghastly that must have been for him!' Frodo shook his head sadly. 'And I quite honestly had never even considered that until this moment.'
'Aye, Mr. Merry was actually in tears when he related the story to us.'
'Yes, he was. And after Pippin told Gandalf what he'd seen and heard that was apparently the last mention of the incident, as far as I am aware.'
'It was. I'm certain of it.'
Frodo and Sam looked up in surprise. Merry watched them from the entrance into the garden where he'd paused to listen to their conversation, his hand still resting on the latch of the gate. His face was weary, yet held a look of determination.
'Now we have to let him know we're there for him, and that we'll listen and try to understand what he went through, when or if, he wants to talk about it.' Merry's voice was quiet. He approached them, arms crossing over his chest.
'I've been thinking a great deal about everything that's happened,' Merry said, his voice still soft, 'and I'm caught somewhere between being angry with myself and him, and feeling like I failed him somehow.' Merry sighed and sank onto the bench beside Frodo. 'I can't believe the lengths he went to in order to hide his suffering from all of us.' He shivered. 'And taking that dreadful sleeping powder! I want to know more about that, including exactly where it came from!'
'Yes, I do too. But the time for blame is in the past. Now it's time for all of us to talk.' Frodo looked from Merry's face to Sam's. 'And share forthrightly. Agreed?'
'Aye,' Sam nodded firmly.
'Yes, it is.' Merry also nodded his agreement.
*****
'All right. Here's what we want you to do.' The men shared a knowing smile before the taller one turned to Ingold. 'You are prepared to do whatever you are bid? Regardless what we command of you?'
'Yes, yes! That is what I said, is it not? Please…do not toy with me any longer! Name your price and I shall do whatever you propose. But first, pray give me just a little of the powder! I shall surely go mad if you do not, then I will be of no use to you.' Ingold threw himself on his knees and begged even more shamelessly, his need becoming greater with each passing minute.
The men laughed cruelly and traded looks of satisfaction. 'Excellent,' the tall one nodded to his friend who quickly dispensed a tiny amount of the powder into the hand of the desperate man at their feet. Ingold greedily shoved it into his mouth without benefit of drink and immediately sputtered and choked on the bitter powder. The men laughed again.
'All right.' The tall one spoke again. 'We wish for you to return to your Company under cover of night. Seek out the Steward and tell him you have important information to share…'
*****
Pippin opened his eyes slightly at the knock upon the door and winced as the dim light penetrated the crack under his lids. He rose up on one elbow, a question on his face as his kin and Sam filed in. Merry and Sam took their seats but Frodo remained standing.
'Pippin, we'd like to have a talk with you,' Frodo began.
Pippin nodded wearily and sank back down on the bed. 'Yes, it's about time.'
Next