Hours passed and he still wandered in circles, aimlessly flipping his way over pebbles and glowing shoots. NOW he was the furthest from home he'd ever been because it seemed he had ended up in an entirely different realm altogether. It must be a long way back to Under-The-Hill from here he came to think, melancholy crowding his buzzing mind, and as baby brandybuck keeled and groaned from his nest of whither hair and downfeathers, Pippigrin grew increasingly anxious about whether Mister Volterra or Missus Ampere made it across trouble-free.
He'd seen almost nothing of what happened at the rift and was only lazily passing by the chaos when he was sucked in like a fly down a vacuum. Who had even survived the breach was quite beyond him, in fact he didn't really believe something so catastrophic was truly happening. Pippin was sure that there was a way back, that he'd just be able to find a Dragon's Throat camp and tear their way home.

It was as he walked through a land familiar yet frightfully unchartered that he came to realise how how dire his situation was.