Summary: Just a teeny tiny drabble, fairly self-explanatory. Someone watches a friend sleep in Ithilien.
Author's Note: Lol, I'm submitting this as a kind of peace offering: For neglecting to update in over six months. Eep. I'm sorry! But this came to me last night while I was freezing at my computer desk. Enjoy
I do not own Tolkien or any of the following characters or places.
Sweet Dreams
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it had grown dark. He knew that he should really light a candle, before he strained his eyes. He knew that a cold breeze had accompanied the twilight, and he should really get up and find a warm jacket, lest he catch a chill. More than that, he knew that he was running late; That Eomer expected him, and no doubt would be sending summons for him at any moment.
But none of that seemed to matter, there and then.
His source of light and warmth came directly from the small, curled up figure on the cot before him, half buried beneath blankets. One hand beneath his head, the other flung out to the side, resting limp upon the covers. His curls wild, yet soft and freshly washed, and smelling just as sweet and familiar as it ever did. His eyelids dark and swollen, yet his face pale, and relaxed finally, in sleep. A little smile graced the corners of his lips, indicating a happy dream for once.
The bruises were fading. There was no need for them now, nor patience. Not when everything else was so perfect. His skin was slowly healing, as was his spirit. He was even growing more willing to obey orders, with the promise of a trip to the tent at the furthest end of the camp; The one holding Frodo.
They all knew that the last of the bruises would vanish, once he could saw Frodo again.
As Merry finally climbed to his feet, and shrugged into his coat, he moved first to his cousin's bedside, and smiled, before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. Pippin shifted slightly, and sighed gently, his little smile growing faintly.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Merry heard his cousin's well known bubble of laughter, and he left the tent with a spring in his step, and a song in his heart. He knew that his dearest friend would have nothing but sweet dreams until he returned: News of Frodo's and Sam's swift recovery had banished all nightmares.
For them all.