5. When the Black Breath Blows
By the bedside Pippin, unseeing, fretfully plaits and unplaits his fingers; Merry tosses uneasily, muttering under his breath, as Gandalf stands over them both.
What a day's work is this, Sauron! Thou hast twisted and broken a good man, and brought him to despair and fiery death. And through his madness and thy evil how many more are laid low? Faramir sweating in fever, Éowyn and Merry beneath the Shadow; Théoden King and countless thousands slain…
The wizard sighs. Enough. He pats Pippin on the shoulder. "I'll return; I must speak with the lord Imrahil. And here... we need Aragorn."
For the tolkien_weekly "Plait" challenge.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.