He traced patterns in the sand with his fingers, he spoke little since he had returned. Being with the orcs had given him little to say and more to
think about then he could handle. He looked up, his eyes met a pair of green ones. A soft smile was given to him, but he only looked back down.
His merriment was gone, long spent. A sigh escaped his lips.

She stirred the liquid in the pot quietly. She could not lift her gaze from the man sitting alone. Her heart ached silently in her chest. She knew his
pain, she knew how it felt to be captured. Setting the pot off to the side of the dim fire she wiped her hands on her dress and made her way over
to him.

He felt the soft wind her body made as she sat beside him. Instantly his right side became engulfed in warmth from her body. His eyes closed, it
hurt for her to sit this close to him. Her hand found his and gripped it. Her thumb traveled across his fingers, comfort flowing from the simple
gesture.

“I,” her voice faltered not really sure what to say.

“You,” he echoed, lifting his head to meet hers.

“I know it hurts,” she spoke simply.

“Yeah.”

Silence. She dropped his hand, moving to get up. “I’m here.” She got up and walked back over to the fire, tending to her soup.

His fingers shivered from the loss of warmth. His head dropped again, this time to his knees. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was not what he
wanted. This was not how he had pictured his life. All he wanted was to go home and find a nice girl to marry, and to forget, to forget everything
he had seen.

Her eyes blurred as she focused on the pot. She said little as she gathered the others for meal. They sat in silence eating. Her gaze never went to
him.

He barley ate anything. The soup tasted like sand in his mouth. He downed his share quickly then disappeared into the fringe of darkness around
the camp.

She left her food and moved toward where he had gone. Determination swept through her like a wave upon the shore. This time she was going to
help him.

He lifted his gaze to the moon high in the sky. He felt her before she came upon him. “Gwen.”

“Pippin.”

He began to shake, memories flooded back to him. He could not bare to look at her anymore, knowing what she must have gone through, what
could have happened to him. He winced, emotions ripping through his body.

She stood next to him, a breeze blowing her hair across her far. Her gaze was downward, tears rolling down her cheeks.

They were both wounded, they were seeking comfort.

He darted his hand out and took hers in his, “It is going to be alright. It is going to be alright.”