Faramir awoke to moonlight nearly as bright as morning, the beams slanting in through the balcony doorway across the end of his bed like ribbons of silver. At first, he did not know what had awakened him, but the sensation that he was not alone made him half sit up and look about. Danger and threat had taught him to trust his senses, yet he felt no menace. There, at the foot of his bed, just beyond the stream of pale light, stood a shadowy figure, small hands stretched out to grasp the footboard in a grip that whitened the knuckles.

"Pippin?" Faramir asked in doubt.

At the question, the hobbit jerked out of his abstraction. "Oh. Forgive me, Faramir. I didn't mean to waken you." In spite of the quick apology, his voice ached.

At the sight of his small friend's distress, Faramir threw back his bedcover and climbed out of bed. The fur of the rug beside his bed was warm, but when he left it to make his way to Pippin's side, the stone floor chilled his bare feet. Pippin raised his face to look at Faramir, an urgency borne of desperation spelled out on his features. The movement brought him into full moonlight and revealed the unshed tears that glittered in his eyes. Unexpectedly, he flung himself at Faramir and threw his arms around the man's waist.

"Here now, what is this?" Faramir asked. He bent and scooped up the hobbit then set him on the bed, and himself beside him. "Tell me what it is that troubles you so."

Pippin bowed his head, but when Faramir encircled his shoulders with his arm, he gave a faint sigh and leaned against the man. The warmth of his small body eased the lingering ache of Faramir's healing wounds.

"I had a dream," Pippin admitted.

Faramir stiffened slightly, and hoped Pippin had not noticed. His own dreams had not been kind to him of late, and they had, in the past, revealed things to come. "Did it speak of the future?" he prodded gently.

The tousled head moved denyingly against his shoulder. "No. Of the past."

"Tell me of your dream," Faramir encouraged. How could Pippin fail to have dark dreams after his experiences in the War? How could anyone? Perhaps the telling would ease Pippin's memories. Since the loss of Boromir, there had been none Faramir could speak to of his own dreams. He would grant Pippin the same understanding that his brother had once given him.

Pippin looked up at him once, his face pale in the moonlight, then he bowed his head. His hands plucked up the edge of the coverlet and he pleated it unknowingly. "In my dream, the city was burning," he said. "I saw it burning in the Palantír, before I ever came here." A tremor passed through his body. "I didn't think I would see it burn for real, but once Gandalf brought me here, I couldn't help fearing it."

"The Palantír does not always reveal what will be, but what may yet come to pass," Faramir assured him.

"It happened," Pippin said stubbornly. He caught his breath. "This is real, isn't it?"

"Now? Yes, this is real, Peregrin Took. The dream that troubled you was but illusion."

Pippin gave a faint, watery chuckle. "Gandalf always calls me Peregrin Took. Both names. I can tell by the way he says it whether I am in trouble or not."

"Yet I have heard him speak your name with great fondness," Faramir said gently.

The small face lifted, and a fleeting smile touched his mouth. "And very sternly, too," he said. "I am glad he sometime likes me."

"Now methinks you are questing for compliments," Faramir said with mock sternness.

The smile expanded. "When I was little, I thought Gandalf just a funny old man who brought fireworks to the Shire. We children would race to greet him, eager to see what he had brought. The adults would frown and shake their heads; they knew what he really was, you see, and they expected him to bring trouble. They called him a Disturber of the Peace. Now I know him better."

"And what is your opinion now?" Faramir prompted. He, too, had known Gandalf since childhood, and had grown into knowledge of Gandalf's full value.

"I am too small to have an opinion," Pippin said. "I didn't understand about wizards before, about how powerful they were, and how terrible--not terrible in a bad way," he amended. "But terrible in...in an awesome way. I don't think he needs a hobbit to love him, but I do."

"As do I," Faramir acknowledged. "And if he does not need our love, know you that he values it greatly, for it is given freely without expectation of reward."

Pippin nodded against Faramir's shoulder. "He saved us all," Pippin said. "And sometimes I can't help thinking of what would have happened if he'd really died in Moria." He swallowed hard. "I couldn't have saved you without Gandalf."

"Gandalf would never have known I needed saving if not for you," Faramir reminded him. "You never yielded. He told me you ran through the burning city, always in danger from the Orcs, to find him. He was very glad of you--as I shall always be." His memories of Pippin's rescue from the pyre were vague and indistinct, and troubled his dreams. Was that what had disturbed Pippin's this night?

Pippin leaned against him harder. Down went his head once more, and his shoulders bowed. "I dreamed of that," he confessed. "I dreamed I ran to find Gandalf, but we came too late." Now he had begun, the words gushed forth like the Anduin in spate. "The door burst open and Shadowfax carried us in--but the pyre was lit already and you were burning...." He caught his breath. "In my dream you screamed as you died, and when I tried to jump to save you, Gandalf held me back and said it was too late." He sobbed once, then fought to stifle it. "I tried so hard, and in the dream I was not good enough."

"Say not so." Faramir encircled Pippin with both arms and held him. "My life is owed to you. You did not fail me. You did not fail Gondor. Gandalf has spoken to me of your great courage. Not only how you saved me, but how you faced death with him during the fighting in the city. How you searched the terrible battlefield among the slain for your kinsman Meriadoc. How you ran into battle for Frodo's sake at the Black Gate. He said you were the very first to go after Aragorn."

"I was?" Pippin asked blankly. He looked up at Faramir, astonishment etched upon the tear-lined face. "I had to do all those things. What else could I do? That's not being brave, just--just necessary. I have seen how brave others are. They don't hesitate and fear."

"Pippin, Pippin." Faramir gave him one warm squeeze then he pulled back and rested his hands upon the hobbit's shoulders. "You think yourself the only one who feels fear in terrible times? We all feel it. It is how we face it that determines our worth. That is the true meaning of courage."

Pippin looked up at him. "I've heard people say that, but it never seemed quite...real before."

"May it seem real now. I am indebted to you, to your courage. What you dreamed was not real, merely a shadow. Such come to all, after terrible times. It is how we begin to heal." He tightened his grip on Pippin's shoulders. "I, too, have dark dreams. All do. You need not bear them alone. Your friends stand ready to help you, just as you would help them in their distress, for you have a kind heart."

"Everyone has been so brave. I didn't see...." He straightened. "I think I do now. Or I am...beginning to. I fear Frodo has terrible dreams. I'd help him if I knew how."

Faramir hesitated. He had seen the shadows in Frodo Baggins' eyes, in Ithilien, in Osgiliath, and now, since the Ringbearer's return. Frodo took joy in his friends' survival, in his release from the Ring's cruel bondage, but the hurts he bore went deep. The loss of Boromir and Denethor's tragic end had wounded Faramir, but he sensed in Frodo deeper wounds. "Be his friend, Pippin. Give him your wholehearted love. He will value it, as I do."

Pippin beamed at him, then grew more serious. "I will. I'd do anything for Frodo. And for you, too."

"And for any who need you. Gandalf tells me that one day you may become the Thain in your land, a position of great responsibility."

"Someday far off," Pippin said doubtfully. "I don't think I'm ready for that. But maybe one day I will be." His forehead wrinkled. "Everything is different now."

"For all of Middle-Earth," Faramir agreed. "We have made a new world. Mostly Frodo has made it, but we all played our own parts. Gandalf has done so much, and the Lord Aragorn...."

"And to think we called him Strider when we met him and thought him no more than a Ranger of the North."

"We all change." He gave Pippin's shoulders a shake. "Can you sleep now, do you think?"

The hobbit hesitated, then he nodded sleepily. "I think I can." He bounced off the bed and started for the door, then he came back, grabbed Faramir's hands, and squeezed them. "I'm glad I could save you," he said. "It was the best thing I ever did."

Humbled by Pippin's words, Faramir returned the grip. "You found the strength within you when it was needed," he said.

"I wish I could have saved...." His voice trailed off unhappily.

Faramir drew a deep breath. "It would have taken more than one brave and determined hobbit to save my father. Even had he lived, I fear he would still have been lost."

Pippin bowed his head, then he looked up. "If there had been time to ask him, I think he would've called for me to save you. At least he died knowing you were alive." He held Faramir's gaze, his face full of utter sincerity. "That made him glad. I saw it in his eyes."

"Ah, Pippin, you came to me for comfort, yet in the end it is you who comfort me."

"Do I?" Pippin asked hopefully. "I'm glad." He shifted on his feet and yawned hugely, then he seemed to notice the hour and the moonlight. "You should be sleeping. You're not fully recovered. I should have waited till morning. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I am not. Why should you wait in distress for sunrise? We have aided each other, you and I. Come, I will walk you back to your chamber. Perhaps you can arrive before Merry notices you are missing and begins to search the whole city for you."

"He'd do it, too." Pippin smiled. The thought of his friend warmed him; Faramir could see it in his eyes.

"Then we must prevent such a panic. Come."

They set off through the silent halls of Minas Tirith side by side.

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