Answering the Call

Pippin

"Pippin! What are you doing? What have you done?"

Pippin froze for a moment, wondering at the answers to those questions himself. What was he doing? Oh, the Ring. It was so beautiful. He had only wanted to look at It. Then, like an itch that must be scratched, he had to have It.

But then the others had become alarmed, and he knew they would take It from him. He couldn't let them do that. It was his now. Frodo had had It long enough. It was his turn to hold It.

Frodo never let anyone see It long enough to get a good look at It. That alone had piqued Pippin's curiosity. The young hobbit had taken to sneaking peeks at night while Frodo slept. As Frodo turned restlessly, the Ring would often slip out of his shirt, and Pippin would be mesmerized as a glint of moonlight reflected off It while he drifted to sleep. Once he tried to reach into Frodo's shirt for It so that It would catch the light. But Frodo had awoken too easily, and Pippin had to be content with what glimpses he could get.

Yet soon those glimpses were not enough. It was so beautiful, so perfect, his heart soared to see It. And soon his fingers ached to hold it. How was it that Frodo had never mentioned how happy It made one by merely looking upon It? He had never told them how precious It was.

Now it was his turn to hold It, his turn to wear It. He had known that as soon as he put It on, the same thing would happen that had happened to Frodo—he became invisible! It astounded him and thrilled him. But then the others were searching for him, and though they couldn't see him, he decided to put as much distance between him and them as he could.

It was eerie being invisible, and not only because he couldn't see his own feet. Everything looked grey and far away. There were also horrid whispers calling to him. But he still needed to get farther from his companions, in case they had a mind to take It from him. So he ran.

The Eye was there then. He felt it, though he couldn't see it. It was looking for him. It wanted him. It wanted the Ring. Well, he wouldn't give It up so easily.

He looked around and realized he had run haphazardly and almost in circles, and wasn't far at all from where he'd started. He wondered what direction would be best, and then his feet chose a direction for him. They headed east.

*****

As Aragorn and Legolas crossed the Anduin where Pippin had taken a boat to the eastern shore, Boromir, Gimli, and the hobbits rode the River south for a time, then made their way north again through the forest. They hoped to hem Pippin in by coming at him from both sides. In their silence, Boromir could feel the tension among the hobbits. Did they lose hope, he wondered, that they would arrive in time to save Pippin? He had not, and to show them his hope, he hastened his pace.

*****

Further north, Aragorn and Legolas continued on Pippin's trail, though they began to lose the light of the sun. After hours that felt like days, Legolas stopped, eyes wide. "An army of orcs approaches." Doubling their speed, they continued their silent chase until they neared the orc army and stealth became critical. The thunder of orc steps grew louder. "The army is large," Aragorn whispered. Legolas only nodded, eyes narrowed. As he continued on, Aragorn followed closely.

They climbed a small rise and rose slowly above the summit to avoid exposing themselves. Their position showed them the valley below and the black line creeping over the far end—the orcs were close. They edged themselves further under the brush to wait until the army passed.

As they waited north of the orcs, and just as Boromir and the others approached from the south, Pippin wandered into the dale, where a triangle of spectators had formed to corner him.