LotR: Pippin's Point of View

XIII: Fool of a Took

"Quietly now," Gandalf whispered, but his voice was amplified in the huge expanse of the dank room ."It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

I shivered and adjusted my sopping wet tunic. My scarf was now itchy, and I pulled it off, shoving it into my equally drenched bag.

The Mines were eerily glorious. We made our way across a long, narrow passageway. I glanced over the side and saw blackness. I was about to ask Merry how far he thought it went down, but I didn't feel like being the one who would break the silence held by the group. 

We crawled up a steep set of stairs, us hobbits on all fours. My head popped over a particularly high step and came nose to non-existent nose with a long-dead relative of Gimli's. The empty eye sockets bored into my skull, and I slipped backwards. Merry caught me and helped me back up. "Pippin," he groaned quietly. 

We finally made it to the top of the staircase, where Gandalf was staring at three separate passageways -- each dark, each silent, each terrifying me to death. 

"I have no memory of this place." Gandalf murmured. I took a shaky breath. If Gandalf didn't know where we were going, we would be lost in here. 

Aragorn and Boromir decided to set up camp while Gandalf took a meditative seat on a large boulder in front of the middle passageway. I sat down in a niche with Merry, watching the Men light pipes next to the small fire.

"Are we lost?" I whispered to Merry, wincing as my voice carried in the hushed atmosphere. 

"No," Merry replied.

"I think we are." I glanced up skeptically at Gandalf's back. 

"Shh -- Gandalf's thinking." Merry corrected me.

"Merry," I put my chin on my fist.

"What?" he snapped back.

"I'm hungry," I drew a line in the dust on the ground.

Frodo ran up to Gandalf. I sort of hoped he was going to ask him if we were planning on eating soon. 

"There's something..." Frodo whispered.

"Do you think they're talking about dinner?" I asked Merry. Legolas exhaled loudly to my left.

"...for three days." Gandalf replied.

"No," Merry rolled his eyes. 

With a few edits to my line, I drew a basket of muffins in the dirt. 

"I wish none of this had ever happened." I heard Frodo choke. I stopped sprinkling pebbles on my muffins and listened, my arm suspended in the air in front of me. 

Gandalf replied, but all I heard was: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." 

I pondered on that. I looked down at my feeble attempt at the baked goods. I thought about Mr. Bilbo's old stories, and how he had to overcome many of his discomforts and fears to complete his quest. My arm fell limply at my side, the pebbles scattering on the stones. I felt so stupid. And useless. If all I did this entire journey was complain about not eating and fantasize about muffin baskets, I would be a burden to this team. I owed it to Frodo, and to the Fellowship, to be mr of an asset. 

My head jerked up, out of my stupor, when Gandalf grunted a noise of surprise. "It's that way." He chuckled. Everyone stood up.

"He's remembered," Merry smiled. 

"No," Gandalf corrected him. "But the air doesn't smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." 

I remembered the smell of fresh bread or fish, and I almost asked if we were planning on eating before going any farther, but then I looked down at my drawing. I stood defiantly, and dragged my foot carefully through the picture. I stared, satisfied, at the smeared artwork on the ground, then I picked up my bag and followed everyone down the passageway.