The dust from the last of the horses' hooves soon settled back to the ground, waiting once more to be stirred by a passing stranger, whether to ride off to war or simply in merriment, or perhaps a few children playing whence their country found peace amongst the tragedy and lived harmoniously with their neighbors and evil was yet again at bay.
Master Meriadoc Brandybuck of Buckland could care less, however, of what caused the dirt to rise again. He desired nothing more than to be alongside his friend, Peregrin Took, riding with the Captains of the West to represent the Shire folk in what everyone expected to the Final Battle against the Dark Lord Sauron. It was a distraction so that Merry's kinsman, Frodo, could cast the One Ring into the fires of Orodruin and be rid of the darkness that lay over the lands for ever.
With the riddance of the Dark Lord hopefully the world would return to normal and Merry would see his friends again and they could return to their homes and live in comfort with their ale until they grew old and grey, reminiscing about the old days and of the War. However, Merry pondered how likely this was. Pippin rode off to face terrible Orcs and whatever other beasts Sauron had brought into darkness to fight for him, and Merry knew the chances of Pippin returning were slim; and he did not even know if Sam and Frodo still lived. Perhaps, Merry thought grimly, I shall return home alone and to find the lands of the Shire destroyed.
Long did he sit upon the ground and gaze to the east where he could just see the clouds of ash and smoke from Mt. Doom. Never did he think to leave, long since he had abandoned the thought of attempting to remain cheerful while his friends were in danger. Always left behind was he, always did his companions ride away without him. Merry heaved a small sigh and began to sing softly to himself…
Sun setting in the West
Dying light upon the crest
Shadow growing from the east
Hiding fearsome, evil beast
Hard I find it on this night
To sleep whilst they ride to fight
Left I am, all alone
Pray thee friends return on home
Behind I stay
Now ye ride away
Pray thee friends return on home
Merry thought nothing much of his song, it was nothing on old Bilbo's rhymes, yet he could find no other way to deal with the loneliness he felt. Perhaps he had the valor of aiding to defeat the Witch King, but Merry cursed his wound, wishing only to fight, to fight along side his friend, rather than wait for the news of the tidings battle had taken and of which lives were lost. Always was he behind, and always did he hate it.
Never was one able to keep a secret for long in the Shire. The folk of Hobbiton enjoyed their gossip as they enjoyed their ale, and a rich story was always welcome, especially now that the world had calmed and the most exciting of news was that the Elves were still passing West and that only few remained.
However now the Hobbits had another tale to tell, that their old mayor Samwise Gamgee, one of the four Travelers and the last Ring Bearer upon Middle Earth, had taken it upon himself to join the Elves and pass West as his friend and master, Frodo Baggins, had done so long ago. The news spread from Sam's eldest child, Elanor, when folk began to question the old gardener's disappearance.
By the time the tale had reached the ears of the Thain and Master of Buckland, Sam had long since gone, and the two had not even the chance to wish him a goodbye. Upon hearing the news the two friends sat quietly together, but for counsel or for reminiscing fondly of Sam, many knew not.
Merry stood now in front of a window, hands clasped behind his back, his window facing ever West, to the land of Valinor where neither he nor Pippin could ever follow Sam or Frodo. Pippin shook his head and murmured, 'Why Sam told us not, I should never be able to guess. We are his friends, has he truly left us behind without a word of forewarning?'
'Left us behind…' Merry repeated quietly, suddenly struck by the memory of a rhyme once made long years ago when he remained in Gondor on the eve of the Battle. Now he repeated it, but changed his words, for it was a different time and a different place…
Sun setting in the West
Dying light upon the crest
Follow winding, fated road
Upon the trail you bear your load
Yet your steps I cannot follow
Here I stand, now so hollow
Though to Blessed Realm you sail
Never shall our friendship fail
Left I am, all alone
Gone thy friend, won't come home
Behind I stay
Now ye sail away
Gone thy friend, won't come home
'So gone is he whilst we stay behind.' Merry said when he finished his rhyme, then turning to his old friend, he looked Pippin straight in the eyes and said, 'Left behind yet again am I, left behind for once art thou.'
Though winter had yet to grasp the land, cold was the wind that blew into Pippin's face. Stood he was upon the lands of Gondor, though this time he stood alone. Set out had he with Merry in their fellowship to see the lands they loved once more before they left Arda, freed by death. To Rohan they had gone first after leaving their homes in the Shire. They stayed until King Eomer's death then they rode to Gondor where they planned to live out their remaining years.
Now it had come to pass that Merry had drawn his last breath. Pippin looked upon this old friend, so frail and withered in death. Though old in his years Pippin could still find humor in anything, no matter how dry, so it was no surprise when his wheezy chuckle could be heard in the silent stone room as he said, 'Complaining always you were about being left behind by me or the others of the Company, yet now it is I who is left behind by you, Braldagamba.'
Though Merry had not been the Master of Buckland for some years, as he had passed the title to his son, Pippin still dared as he did back when to call his cousin by this title that 'only a very bold hobbit would have ventured' to do.
For a moment Pippin allowed his words to bounce softly off the stone walls, over and over, before he recalled the song Merry had sung upon finding out about Sam's leaving to the West. After hesitating only for a heartbeat so that he could remember all the words, Pippin repeated it, but changed his words, for it was a different time, though in the same place…
Sun setting in the West
Dying light upon the crest
Gone from Arda now ye are
Yet I shan't wonder just how far
Death has come to take his claim
Though in tales you shall remain
Now come what thee has so yearned
Peace and rest thy long since earned
Left I am, all alone
Friends, ye have all left me home
Behind I stay
Whilst you've gone away
Friends, ye have all left me home
Pippin felt his song did not do justice to Merry's original rhyme, but that mattered not to him. With the final line did Pippin realize, it was indeed he who was left behind this time, as for once Merry went forth first.
"This day I am by myself, Master Brandybuck. Truly understand your song, I do now, left behind this time am I." Pippin whispered quietly to the stillness in the room. He hung his head and said very softly once more to himself, "Left behind again am I…"
A/N:: WOT BE THIS? It's NOT an Hp fanfiction? Right-o, dear reader, right-o. My first fic out of the Harry Potter fandom, written and published on the anniversery of Gollum's happy dance leading to the destruction of the One Ring, March 25, 3018, Third Age. (hahah! The Happy Dance of Destruction...) How ironic it is that I joined on this day one year ago exactly...
Also, I KNOW Merry would probably say 'are you' instead of 'art thou' but I wanted to practise my Ye Olde English, so THERE, DEAL!
Anyway, a note on the term 'Braldagamba'. It is said in Appendix F that "It must be observed, however, that when the Oldbucks (Zaragamba) changed their name to Brandybuck (Brandagamba), the first element meant 'borderland', and Marchbuck would have been nearer. Only a very bold hobbit would have ventured to call the Master of Buckland Braldagamba in his hearing." For an explanation of who the Oldbucks were and such, just go check out Appendix F, last page, it's got all the info ya need to know. Also, if you didn't know, Arda = Earth.
One Last Note:: songs by me (don't steal, yo. Not cool.), Lord of the Rings, Pippin, and Merry (and Frodo, and Sam, and Gondor...etc) belong to Tolkien.