A/N: It's a tinny little ficlet that came into being just for the sake of one line. "He asked if i was going to bury him." That line wrote the fic, and here we are. Enjoy! - nadz
The Vigil
He is sitting there, back against me, hand gripping his cousin's battered arm. He is neither asleep nor awake, drifting somewhere in between both worlds. Exhaustion is creeping up on him, lulling him into unconsciousness. Yet, he refuses to give in, so deep is his devotion to his cousin. For hours he has sat there, refusing both food and rest. Neither has he moved from that spot, seeming almost immobile and encast in stone…least until his cousin's eyes open.
Somehow he senses my presence and he seems unsurprised by it. Rather he has almost been anticipating it, some comfort in his troubled world. For one so young, he has seen so much more than even the hardiest soldier of Gondor. And he has survived it all with a determination possessed seemingly by all the small folk. Yet, as I see him now, he seems younger and more lost than I have ever seen him. I am reminded, perhaps for the first time, of just how young Peregrin is.
"He asked if I was going to bury him."
My heart clenches at his words and aches at the hopelessness and despair I hear in it. His voice carried a tone of resignation to it, as if he has given up hope of ever seeing his beloved Merry well again. It is a tone that I have heard often in the voices of grieving fathers who have had to watch their sons writhing in pain, lost to the world. It is a tone that I would have expected from an old weary man, and not from a young hobbit.
He turns to me, eyes full of anguish and sadness, "Is he going to die, Boromir? Is my Merry going to die?"
I wished that there was something I could have said, something that would have comforted him, that could have given him come inkling of hope. But I do not wish to lie to him, my young friend to whom I have the highest respect for. I do not wish to give him hope when a part of me feels that there is none.
He looks to me for answers, but I know not what to say. For a moment, the years fade away and I am staring into the upturned face of an eager Faramir, constantly asking me questions. I relished my role as the wise older brother, answering all his questions and adding to his learning. But that is all in the past now and that role is no longer mine.
The memories fade, leaving me once again looking at Peregrin's sharp features. I know not what to say for I do not know the answers. He sees the hopelessness in my eyes and turns away, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. Sadness floods me as I stare at his dejected figure, back once again to me. There really is nothing more I can do but wait with him through the night.
Whether he means for me to be there or not, I will stay by his side as the sun rises and a new day dawns. May the Valar heed the prayers of a lost hobbit.