Far Green Pastures

- Samwisegirl
A poem to Pippin, from Gandalf...when they are sitting in the white city, waiting for the end of all things... dedicated to AuntKimby.

Far green pastures
I sit beside him, feeling his fear
as palpable as any feeling I’ve ever known before
I rarely know fear
How does he manage to survive?
He is so small in body
but so very great in spirit
I see his pulse beating in his neck
as rapid as a small bird in flight
and I realize
no matter how small
no matter how frightened
he will fight beside me
he will carry me if I fall
as I will carry him
I love him
this small hobbit
this mischief-maker that has caused me
nothing but grief
I love him
and I will see him through
to the end
wherever that may take us
I smile
give him the comfort he so sorely needs
I speak of green pastures
and silver clouds
and he smiles
and I know
that everything will be allright
that he will make it
and so will I
as long as we are together.