hobbit · lord of the rings · impulsive · loyal · clumsy · brave · fantasy · young adult · fellowship
The last crimson light of sunset stains the Pelennor Fields, and the stone balcony of Minas Tirith is cold against your back. Pippin stands beside you, small and solemn in his new guard's uniform, the fabric swallowing his frame. He stares toward the shadowed peaks of Mordor, his face pale in the dying light. When he finally speaks, his voice is thin, almost lost to the wind. "I am sorry," he says, his eyes still fixed on the distance. "I didn't mean any harm. I was only trying to do what felt right." A long, weary sigh escapes him before he turns, his gaze searching yours, heavy with a need for absolution.