Fairy-tale
Part One: Small
He watched her ever chance he got, stealing glances at her from the fireside and the hearth. She was so beautiful, a gentle grace that made him think of a future that laid outside the Shire, away from his family and all he knew. He wanted to ride a horse, and take her in his arms, riding as fast as he could into the sun. There was nothing that he would not forsake if his path would, and it should, be intertwined with her own. He wanted to ride with her away from this darkness, from the halls that confided her, and made her cry into her pillow late at night, as if stealing her tears from the low hanging sickle moon.
But he couldn't ride a horse. He wasn't tall enough. And he couldn't take her in his arms - it would be the other way around. It because of this that he hid his feelings, though there were times where he felt that his very heart would burst if he did not say even one of the tender words he uttered in secret.
She glanced at him, today, before dinner broke, and covered his hand with her own. In that glance, he saw everything dash away and crumble into emptiness. There was nothing in her save the love of a brother, of a friend.
And he began to despair. Another has claimed her heart. That was not what plagued him. It was just knowing that she could never declare her love for Aragon that tore his heart not into two, but into a million pieces.
Even if they did not share a love, they shared the same bitterness. The same pain. And the same longing.
===
She thought oft of him when the night was low. Where would his horse be now? - a good twenty days have passed since the Company left the palace. She swore she heard a fair Elvish song being echoed from some far away place. She asked Legolas to sing every night that the Company was good, and her Lord in fair spirits. But she knew that the songs, though tiny, though so faint, were nothing more but her own imagining.
She would have despaired if not for her fair and high spirited companion. He, above all else and everyone else, managed to stay by her side and keep her smiling, thought there was days where she woke up cursing the sun and have all but any will to keep on living. Just one day became to her a trail of countless obstacles, all wrought with the same constant desire followed by a glance faraway to the east.
Often, Merry brought her flowers. How the blessed spite found such beautiful flowers, and the hikes and ventures he must have endured to bring her such blossoms were a gentle joy to her worrying self. She wanted to ask him how he managed to find them in such wildness but the pride in his eyes when he presented each blossom to her answered all her questions.
Merry was the only thing in this palace of stone and cold wind that smiled as beautifully as the flowers that now adorned her room. He would tell her stories of Aragon, and of Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. He never mentioned Pippin, and she never asked for she knew the pain he must have felt being so far away from such a dear deep friend.
Because the moment that Merry left these halls, she would feel the same despair.
===
"Do you know that I can handle a boat, my lady?"
"Can you now? I thought Hobbits were always surrounded by land, good and farmed under skillful hands. I never heard of Hobbit village near the lake, or the river."
"My lady, I think you haven't heard of a Hobbit, let alone a Hobbit village before you meet me, isn't that right? And I'm sorry to say, but we Hobbits take to water quite easily. Save a few, like Sam."
"Well, if you can handle a boat, then a horse should be of little difficultly, Master of All That Can Be Eaten."
"Why would you say that, Lady of the Winds that Chill This Hobbit's Feet?"
"Merry, you know I owe much to you. Every day, I know how you worry about me. I see it in your eyes. It'll be useless to say that you do not have to worry. But I want to repay you. Let me teach you to ride a horse."
"Of course my lady."
===
It was a late afternoon, and a lazy one at that. The sun shone lazily, her rays flirting between orange and gentle red. A light mist rose from the mountains to the east, and all that stirred in the great plain were passing birds - and Eowyn, Merry and a horse that reared its golden head every so often.
Merry blushed as Eowyn wrapped a strong hand around his waist and helped him sit upon the horse's back. The stirrups and the seat was adjusted to fit his small frame and Eowyn's hand was steady when she handed him the reins.
"Steady, steady. Let the horse know whose the rider, but do not make the horse hate you. When the horse takes off, you'll most likely be thrown by the rather abruptness of her long strides. Let the horse run upon her free will, just for a moment and then begin to led. Her name is Astrid. She is gentle, but free spirited, like you, Master Merry."
Merry smiled to hear such a compliment from her mouth and he lowered his head in shyness. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, but he accidently squeezed his feet together a bit too strongly and Astrid was off, galloping across the plain with much speed.
- How can Aragon and Legolas make this look like fun? -
Merry held on for as long as he could, and leaned forward, trying to keep the hairs of her mane out of his eyes. The whole world was rocking, and the sounds of her hooves sounded far too much like thunder for his comfort. And, he paled when thinking this, Eowyn was watching him. That made everything even more bitter.
- What's left now is for me to black out and have the horse run over me. At least that way, I can be spared any further embarrassment. -
That didn't happen. What did happen was Astrid ran straight for the edge of a forest and someone let out a mighty yell. The horse reared and Merry fell upon the plains, his head striking rock.
"Merry!"
===
The first time he kissed her was during the first night of the second month, the night of the full moon. It happened quite by accident, however. because he would have never have been up so late if he haven't dreamt of Pip. It was a sad dream, as many of the dreams that occur between two deep friends, and Merry never once found the right words to describe it.
He couldn't sleep that night, alone in a great chamber of stone and linen. He missed his feather pillow and his bed covered with fresh smelling cotton. His father must have been waiting for him to return, or else, waiting by the Old Took's house. Ever since they could walk, Pippin and Merry was always seen together, making some unhappy hobbit happy, or just making themselves happy. Merry put on his shirt, his shoes and fastened his cloak, thinking about Pippin all the while.
This King's halls were so beautiful, filled with wonders and splendors hiding just behind every closed but unlocked door. The air of welcome and benevolence never lingered, never died down to cold hostility - it was in this aura of kindness that Merry spent many lonely hours in. There were guards and visitors always in the halls, singing and talking, but Merry missed his friends. Even if he caught but a glimpse of Gimli, or Legolas, he would be happy. If he saw Pippin even for a half a second's glance, he could sleep easy. But he saw no one, and the sleepless nights continued.
Anyway, that night, of the second month during the full moon, Merry walked through the halls of the King, trying to remember which door held the painted scrolls. He wanted to write a letter to Frodo describing to him one scroll in particular, a scroll of a lovely maiden asleep in the valley surrounded by rowan trees, before his loneliness made him forget to do so. He walked past a door that was slightly ajar, and from that slight crack, a light broke free.
Merry, mostly responding to his lonely heart then his curiosity, peered into the room only to find the painted scroll he was searching for, now free from illusion and dream and place into reality. The maiden with long flowing hair, curling around her shoulders, surrounded not by trees, but by the silks and furs of a kingly bed. Her lips open, as if seeking an answer from the moon and the stars, her hands held lightly over her heart. Who is she waiting for? A man - Merry's eyes widen with unexplainable pain as he dared inched closer to the sleeping maiden. A man who will free her.
He inched closer to her, but not too near, in fear that what he thought was reality was only illusion sparked by fire smoke, the moon would disappear behind the clouds, and the maiden would vanish. He let his hand gather a strand of her hair, and held it to the silver light. The moon grew jealous, blighted at the sight of such gold upon the head of such a fair face, but he felt only love, gentle and warm.
He dared not breathe as he leaned over her face, gently brushing aside the tresses that clung to the side of her face. The fire of the torches seemed to dim, bowing their heads in acceptance of a heart the beat more strongly then the flames burned. To this, Merry suddenly felt a slight tremor of happiness that Pippin was not here to share in such beauty, as fair and new as the spring sun upon snow. Breathe in the illusion, close thy eyes, breathe and be one, this fair illusion is yours - the world seemed to tip forward in happiness when Merry perched himself on the side of the maiden's bed and lower his lips to hers.
The touch of such flesh so stolen on a night that was both cold and not so made his mind forget all else. Stone and linen could bound his soil loving hands, for now, his heart was bound to the maiden. Sleep forever, just like this. Merry let his hands slide themselves down to touch, barely touch, barely stroking the base of her white throat and was startled to find her breathing. To him, she was too prefect to be real.
He kissed her again and felt his heart rising to his throat. He belonged to her, there was nothing left fo him anywhere. The trees, the rivers, the land he loved they did not mean anything because they did not hide so beautiful a secret as this sleeping maiden. Merry kissed the base of her throat, letting the pulse of her breathing throw him into a state of near happiness. She was real. She was right here.
But she would never be his.
Merry knew this when he had to jump to lower himself from her bedside. He was too small for so valiant and so strong a lady. The white tree that supported Rohan, like the trees of Lothlorien, strong against the wind and bearing leaves of gold, would never accept so humble a stone.
Merry knew this but he could not wipe away from his mind the image of the sleeping maiden, beautiful even in her sleep of longing and worry, and the few stolen kisses that took his very heart and breath away.
Merry knew all this but he could not stop himself from loving her.
===
"Merry?"
"My lady?"
"Never give me such a fright again!"
"What do you mean, my lady?"
"Your hands grew cold, your head and your cheeks. I feared that I shall no longer have any flowers to wake up to - or any friend to call my own."
"It will never happen. I will never leave you when you are like this."
"So alone - and so in need of support."
"Merry -"
"I am a stone. Lean on me -
I will not break or tremble."
===
Part One: Small
He watched her ever chance he got, stealing glances at her from the fireside and the hearth. She was so beautiful, a gentle grace that made him think of a future that laid outside the Shire, away from his family and all he knew. He wanted to ride a horse, and take her in his arms, riding as fast as he could into the sun. There was nothing that he would not forsake if his path would, and it should, be intertwined with her own. He wanted to ride with her away from this darkness, from the halls that confided her, and made her cry into her pillow late at night, as if stealing her tears from the low hanging sickle moon.
But he couldn't ride a horse. He wasn't tall enough. And he couldn't take her in his arms - it would be the other way around. It because of this that he hid his feelings, though there were times where he felt that his very heart would burst if he did not say even one of the tender words he uttered in secret.
She glanced at him, today, before dinner broke, and covered his hand with her own. In that glance, he saw everything dash away and crumble into emptiness. There was nothing in her save the love of a brother, of a friend.
And he began to despair. Another has claimed her heart. That was not what plagued him. It was just knowing that she could never declare her love for Aragon that tore his heart not into two, but into a million pieces.
Even if they did not share a love, they shared the same bitterness. The same pain. And the same longing.
===
She thought oft of him when the night was low. Where would his horse be now? - a good twenty days have passed since the Company left the palace. She swore she heard a fair Elvish song being echoed from some far away place. She asked Legolas to sing every night that the Company was good, and her Lord in fair spirits. But she knew that the songs, though tiny, though so faint, were nothing more but her own imagining.
She would have despaired if not for her fair and high spirited companion. He, above all else and everyone else, managed to stay by her side and keep her smiling, thought there was days where she woke up cursing the sun and have all but any will to keep on living. Just one day became to her a trail of countless obstacles, all wrought with the same constant desire followed by a glance faraway to the east.
Often, Merry brought her flowers. How the blessed spite found such beautiful flowers, and the hikes and ventures he must have endured to bring her such blossoms were a gentle joy to her worrying self. She wanted to ask him how he managed to find them in such wildness but the pride in his eyes when he presented each blossom to her answered all her questions.
Merry was the only thing in this palace of stone and cold wind that smiled as beautifully as the flowers that now adorned her room. He would tell her stories of Aragon, and of Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. He never mentioned Pippin, and she never asked for she knew the pain he must have felt being so far away from such a dear deep friend.
Because the moment that Merry left these halls, she would feel the same despair.
===
"Do you know that I can handle a boat, my lady?"
"Can you now? I thought Hobbits were always surrounded by land, good and farmed under skillful hands. I never heard of Hobbit village near the lake, or the river."
"My lady, I think you haven't heard of a Hobbit, let alone a Hobbit village before you meet me, isn't that right? And I'm sorry to say, but we Hobbits take to water quite easily. Save a few, like Sam."
"Well, if you can handle a boat, then a horse should be of little difficultly, Master of All That Can Be Eaten."
"Why would you say that, Lady of the Winds that Chill This Hobbit's Feet?"
"Merry, you know I owe much to you. Every day, I know how you worry about me. I see it in your eyes. It'll be useless to say that you do not have to worry. But I want to repay you. Let me teach you to ride a horse."
"Of course my lady."
===
It was a late afternoon, and a lazy one at that. The sun shone lazily, her rays flirting between orange and gentle red. A light mist rose from the mountains to the east, and all that stirred in the great plain were passing birds - and Eowyn, Merry and a horse that reared its golden head every so often.
Merry blushed as Eowyn wrapped a strong hand around his waist and helped him sit upon the horse's back. The stirrups and the seat was adjusted to fit his small frame and Eowyn's hand was steady when she handed him the reins.
"Steady, steady. Let the horse know whose the rider, but do not make the horse hate you. When the horse takes off, you'll most likely be thrown by the rather abruptness of her long strides. Let the horse run upon her free will, just for a moment and then begin to led. Her name is Astrid. She is gentle, but free spirited, like you, Master Merry."
Merry smiled to hear such a compliment from her mouth and he lowered his head in shyness. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, but he accidently squeezed his feet together a bit too strongly and Astrid was off, galloping across the plain with much speed.
- How can Aragon and Legolas make this look like fun? -
Merry held on for as long as he could, and leaned forward, trying to keep the hairs of her mane out of his eyes. The whole world was rocking, and the sounds of her hooves sounded far too much like thunder for his comfort. And, he paled when thinking this, Eowyn was watching him. That made everything even more bitter.
- What's left now is for me to black out and have the horse run over me. At least that way, I can be spared any further embarrassment. -
That didn't happen. What did happen was Astrid ran straight for the edge of a forest and someone let out a mighty yell. The horse reared and Merry fell upon the plains, his head striking rock.
"Merry!"
===
The first time he kissed her was during the first night of the second month, the night of the full moon. It happened quite by accident, however. because he would have never have been up so late if he haven't dreamt of Pip. It was a sad dream, as many of the dreams that occur between two deep friends, and Merry never once found the right words to describe it.
He couldn't sleep that night, alone in a great chamber of stone and linen. He missed his feather pillow and his bed covered with fresh smelling cotton. His father must have been waiting for him to return, or else, waiting by the Old Took's house. Ever since they could walk, Pippin and Merry was always seen together, making some unhappy hobbit happy, or just making themselves happy. Merry put on his shirt, his shoes and fastened his cloak, thinking about Pippin all the while.
This King's halls were so beautiful, filled with wonders and splendors hiding just behind every closed but unlocked door. The air of welcome and benevolence never lingered, never died down to cold hostility - it was in this aura of kindness that Merry spent many lonely hours in. There were guards and visitors always in the halls, singing and talking, but Merry missed his friends. Even if he caught but a glimpse of Gimli, or Legolas, he would be happy. If he saw Pippin even for a half a second's glance, he could sleep easy. But he saw no one, and the sleepless nights continued.
Anyway, that night, of the second month during the full moon, Merry walked through the halls of the King, trying to remember which door held the painted scrolls. He wanted to write a letter to Frodo describing to him one scroll in particular, a scroll of a lovely maiden asleep in the valley surrounded by rowan trees, before his loneliness made him forget to do so. He walked past a door that was slightly ajar, and from that slight crack, a light broke free.
Merry, mostly responding to his lonely heart then his curiosity, peered into the room only to find the painted scroll he was searching for, now free from illusion and dream and place into reality. The maiden with long flowing hair, curling around her shoulders, surrounded not by trees, but by the silks and furs of a kingly bed. Her lips open, as if seeking an answer from the moon and the stars, her hands held lightly over her heart. Who is she waiting for? A man - Merry's eyes widen with unexplainable pain as he dared inched closer to the sleeping maiden. A man who will free her.
He inched closer to her, but not too near, in fear that what he thought was reality was only illusion sparked by fire smoke, the moon would disappear behind the clouds, and the maiden would vanish. He let his hand gather a strand of her hair, and held it to the silver light. The moon grew jealous, blighted at the sight of such gold upon the head of such a fair face, but he felt only love, gentle and warm.
He dared not breathe as he leaned over her face, gently brushing aside the tresses that clung to the side of her face. The fire of the torches seemed to dim, bowing their heads in acceptance of a heart the beat more strongly then the flames burned. To this, Merry suddenly felt a slight tremor of happiness that Pippin was not here to share in such beauty, as fair and new as the spring sun upon snow. Breathe in the illusion, close thy eyes, breathe and be one, this fair illusion is yours - the world seemed to tip forward in happiness when Merry perched himself on the side of the maiden's bed and lower his lips to hers.
The touch of such flesh so stolen on a night that was both cold and not so made his mind forget all else. Stone and linen could bound his soil loving hands, for now, his heart was bound to the maiden. Sleep forever, just like this. Merry let his hands slide themselves down to touch, barely touch, barely stroking the base of her white throat and was startled to find her breathing. To him, she was too prefect to be real.
He kissed her again and felt his heart rising to his throat. He belonged to her, there was nothing left fo him anywhere. The trees, the rivers, the land he loved they did not mean anything because they did not hide so beautiful a secret as this sleeping maiden. Merry kissed the base of her throat, letting the pulse of her breathing throw him into a state of near happiness. She was real. She was right here.
But she would never be his.
Merry knew this when he had to jump to lower himself from her bedside. He was too small for so valiant and so strong a lady. The white tree that supported Rohan, like the trees of Lothlorien, strong against the wind and bearing leaves of gold, would never accept so humble a stone.
Merry knew this but he could not wipe away from his mind the image of the sleeping maiden, beautiful even in her sleep of longing and worry, and the few stolen kisses that took his very heart and breath away.
Merry knew all this but he could not stop himself from loving her.
===
"Merry?"
"My lady?"
"Never give me such a fright again!"
"What do you mean, my lady?"
"Your hands grew cold, your head and your cheeks. I feared that I shall no longer have any flowers to wake up to - or any friend to call my own."
"It will never happen. I will never leave you when you are like this."
"So alone - and so in need of support."
"Merry -"
"I am a stone. Lean on me -
I will not break or tremble."
===