With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 61: Going Forth

King Théoden rose from his chair at the head of the great dining table, until moments ago laden with such heapings of food, Pippin had barely contained himself. The meal had begun once the king had joined them in the dining hall, a room smaller than the Golden Hall and plainer, with fewer tapestries and carvings on the walls. But what designs they had were no less fine than that which graced the King's Hall.

They were at last to have their talk of battle now that the meal was eaten. "Lord Aragorn has his path to decide. We, the Rohirrim, have ours. For though the Ents have seen to the orcs that marched from Isengard, we yet have orcs from Mordor to fight. Although my mind was bespelled by Saruman, I do recall giving orders to Éomer to prepare for battle." He glanced at Gandalf on his right, and Pippin thought he looked uncertain.

"I fear I was not present at the time, lord. I cannot tell you what plans you have made."

"I was present," Strider said from Gandalf's other side, but he hesitated. "I believe... you ordered Éomer to prepare to fight beside the uruk-hai of Saruman." Pippin wished to assure Aragorn that he remembered rightly, but he would not interrupt the king.

"With those orders, they would prepare for a battle to be fought beside an army larger than our own. Now we face Mordor alone."

"Your men should know as well that they fight for you, not for Saruman," Gandalf said.

"Rohan's army is no match for the forces of Mordor," King Théoden said with a scowl. "But there is no time to call to Gondor for aid. And we have good reason to believe Sauron will soon send a force upon them as well. They may not be in a position to come to our aid if there were time." Lord Théoden closed his eyes.

Pippin realized there was a misunderstanding among the Big Folk. They misjudged Saruman's plans. With so many formidable people present, he hesitated to speak, but this was important. He sat up straighter in his chair and looked to the front of the table. "Gandalf?"

The wizard turned at the hobbit's question. "Pippin, now is not the time—"

"But, Gandalf—"

"Pippin, we can discuss it later, I assure you."

Pippin frowned. Gandalf dismissed him as if he had nothing useful to say, as he had done many times before. But before was... different. So much had changed. He had changed. And he knew when his words were worth interrupting the king. He took a deep breath. "No, Gandalf, we cannot discuss it later," he answered with a sternness that surprised even himself.

Gandalf's eyebrows rose to new heights. Pippin raised himself on his knees and tried to ignore all who watched him, especially the newcomers. He bowed his head to the king. "King Théoden, I am Peregrin Took of the Shire and cousin to Merry. I apologize for my interruption. But there is something you ought to know. It is not all of Mordor that comes to Edoras."

There was silence around the table.

"How do you know this, Pippin?" Gandalf said warily.

Suddenly, the scrutiny of the Big Folk was too much for him. Why did he think he should speak in the first place? "I—I heard Saruman..."

"You heard him? When?"

Strider spoke up, to Pippin's relief. "Lord Théoden, Gandalf, Pippin is perhaps our best source of information." After offering a brief, private smile of assurance to Pippin, he turned to the king. "He was kept as Saruman's vassal while we were imprisoned. I imagine he heard most of his plans."

"I have, all of them, or nearly so." They all looked at Pippin with new interest. He focused on King Théoden, whose attention seemed least intimidating.