Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

The Palantir

Aragorn stepped outside, taking a moment to enjoy the cool night air while he indulged in his vape. As he gazed out into the distance, he noticed Legolas standing alone, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon.

"The stars are veiled," Legolas said, turning slightly to meet Aragorn's gaze. "Something stirs in the East, a sleepless malice. The eye of the enemy is moving."

Inside, Pippin stirred from his sleep, throwing back his blanket. He paused, ensuring that everyone else in the room was still asleep, then crept quietly up the center of the room.

"What are you doing?" Merry asked, his voice low but filled with curiosity. Pippin whirled around guiltily, glancing at Merry before continuing with his mission. He approached Gandalf but hesitated as he noticed the wizard's eyes were open.

"Pippin," Merry warned, but Pippin waved a hand in front of Gandalf's eyes, confirming that he was asleep. With a mischievous grin, he glanced at the Palantír cradled in Gandalf's arms and carefully replaced it with a jug.

"Pippin, are you mad?" Merry hissed, concern creeping into his voice. Pippin placed the Palantír on the floor before them and began to unwrap it.

"I just want to look at it, just one more time," he insisted, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Put it back," Merry urged, but Pippin's smile faded as an ominous orange glow emerged from the Palantír, revealing a dark pupil. Suddenly, Pippin's hands fused to the sphere, and he began to shake.

"No!" cried Merry, panic rising as he watched Pippin tremble uncontrollably.

Outside, Legolas turned sharply. "He's here," he said, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

Back inside, Pippin clenched his eyes shut. "I see you," came a chilling voice, deep and menacing.

"Pippin!" Merry shouted, his voice laced with dread. The Palantír erupted in flames, and Pippin struggled, falling to the floor, trapped in a battle against an unseen force.

"Help! Gandalf, help!" cried Merry, his voice rising in urgency. Gandalf jolted awake as Aragorn, Legolas, Liv, David, and Haldir burst into the room.

"Help him!" Merry pleaded, his eyes wide with fear. Aragorn rushed to Pippin, grabbing the Palantír from his grasp. After a brief struggle, he dropped it, and it rolled away.

"Pippin!" he called, watching as the Palantír continued its journey across the floor. Gandalf dashed after it, throwing a blanket over the glowing sphere.

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf scolded. But when he looked back, Pippin lay still, eyes wide open. "No!" Gandalf exclaimed, rushing to Pippin's side and shoving Merry out of the way. He grasped Pippin's hand with one of his own and placed the other on his forehead, muttering an incantation.

Pippin gasped and suddenly jolted awake. "Look at me," said Gandalf, urgency in his voice. Pippin met his gaze, confusion clouding his expression.

"Gandalf, forgive me," Pippin said, closing his eyes again as if the memory was too much to bear.

"Look at me. What did you see?" Gandalf pressed.

"A tree," Pippin replied, his voice trembling. "There was a white tree in a courtyard of stone. It was dead. The city was burning."

"Minas Tirith? Is that what you saw?" asked Gandalf, his concern deepening.

"I saw him. I could hear his voice in my head," Pippin confessed.

"And what did you tell him? Speak!" urged Gandalf.

"He asked me my name. I didn't answer. He hurt me," Pippin whispered, fear etched on his face.

"And what did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Gandalf demanded, urgency sharpening his tone.

The next morning, the group gathered in the main hall. "There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool, but an honest fool he remains," said Gandalf solemnly. "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." Gimli sighed in relief.

"We've been strangely fortunate," Gandalf continued. "Pippin glimpsed the enemy's plans. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith." The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air as Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Théoden, Liv, David, and Haldir stood around, Liv holding Gabby and Lily at a nearby table.

"His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing," Gandalf continued. "He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?" Théoden asked, skepticism in his voice.

"I will go," Aragorn declared resolutely.

"Aragorn, are you mad?" Liv interjected, her concern palpable.

"No," Gandalf countered. "They must be warned."

"They will be. You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river. Look to the black ships. Understand this: things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith, and I won't be going alone," Gandalf said, determination in his eyes.

Outside, Gandalf hurried toward the stables, Pippin and Merry trailing behind him. "Of all the Hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst. Hurry, hurry!" Gandalf exclaimed.

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"Why did you look? Why do you always have to look?" Merry demanded.

"I don't know! I can't help it!" Pippin replied, frustration seeping into his tone.

"You never can," Merry added.

"I'm sorry, all right? I won't do it again," Pippin insisted.

"Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the Ring. He is going to be looking for you, Pip. They have to get you out of here!" Merry urged.

"And you? You're coming with me? Merry?" Pippin asked, uncertainty creeping in.

"Come on!" Merry replied, determined. Gandalf lifted Pippin onto the back of Shadowfax.

"How far is Minas Tirith?" Pippin asked, looking worried.

"Three days' ride as the Nazgûl flies. And you'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail," Gandalf warned.

"Here, something for the road," Merry said, handing Pippin a leather pouch.

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf?" Pippin asked, surprised.

"I know you've run out. You smoke too much, Pippin," Merry chided.

"But... will we see each other soon?" Pippin asked, concern lacing his voice.

Merry glanced at Gandalf, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I don't know what's going to happen," he replied honestly.

"Merry?" Pippin pressed.

"Run! Shadowfax, show us the meaning of haste!" Gandalf commanded.

"Merry!" Pippin called as Shadowfax galloped away, the urgency palpable.

Merry rushed up the steps to the top of a watchtower, Aragorn following closely behind. They watched as Shadowfax faded into the distance.

"He's always followed me everywhere I went since before we were tweens. I would get him into the worst sort of trouble, but I was always there to get him out. Now he's gone," Merry lamented.

"One thing I've learned about Hobbits: they are the most hardy folk," Aragorn reassured him.

"Foolhardy, maybe. He's a Took," Merry said with a chuckle, though the weight of worry still hung over him.