"Pippin, you're too young!'
We'd barely started planning; it was to be the Grand Adventure, to follow Frodo Baggins on his Quest to save the Shire.
I thought you ought to stay home, you and Fatty Bolger.
But you weren't having any. You said that you would follow If we tried to leave you there.
I said it once again, but you would not be moved.
"Pippin, you're too young!"
Oh, how the words did sting, spoken by an Elven Lord,
I saw the look on your face, but then you stood up to him:
They'd have to tie you in a bag to send you home.
Even that wouldn't work, for as soon as you clawed your way free,
And follow you did, up Caradhras and down Moria,
Stumbling along and dropping pebbles, sometimes it seemed
you really were too young after all...
But then you saved my life, with your quick wit and ready action,
cutting your bonds, dropping a brooch, baiting an orc, daring him to think that you had Something he wanted,
I wouldn't be here now if not for you.
"Pippin, you're too young."
That's what I wanted to say that day you marched with the armies of the West, forever away, I thought, and I had to be the one to stay behind, again.
Just like when you rode away with Gandalf. Only worse, for I knew I'd never see you return, you marched to death, and darkness, and the end of the world.
I saw Sam and Frodo, they look even worse than you do.
Perhaps I'll be the only hobbit to return to tell the tale.
I ask Strider about your chances, he only shakes his head,
And his eye, meeting mine, is filled with sorrow.
Pippin... you're too young.