Summary: Can Merry hold onto hope after Pippin leaves to go to war? It's not meant as slash, but I'm open, so interpret how you will. All the flashbacks are non-italicized, so don't get confused.

A/N: So, I'm back. This is a repost, so if it sounds at all familiar, well, that's the reason why. I'm not planning on posting Stirrings again, but I would love to hear what people think of the idea. For those who don't remember me, and don't know what I'm talking about, here's an explanation: Stirrings of a Sleeping Heart was the sequel to this fic, taking place after Pippin is brought back from the battle. It had about four chapters when I stopped writing it, because I wasn't too pleased with the way it was turning out. I probably am not willing to take the time to fix it up and finish it, but if enough people beg me (heh), I'll consider the idea.

Disclaimer: Unfotunately, all belongs to Tolkien, and if he were alive today, he would be frickin' rich. I own none of that estate, and am not receiving any profits off of this fic. This means that you can't sue me. You have my apologies if doing that would have given you pleasure.

Letting Go

He stood alone, a solitary figure silhouetted against the dark sky. In the window behind him, a candle burned dully, the flame slowly consuming the wick, casting flickering shadows across the room. The figure did not stir, not even when the light went out in a soft puff of smoke, like the final breath of a dying man.

All around him was still and dark, though it was the middle of the day. Not a sound reached the ears of the figure, who now sighed deeply and finally left his silent vigil. He turned to enter the room, memories of the day before haunting his footsteps.

When Merry awoke, the first thing he noticed was that the pain in his arm had decreased considerably. In the first stages of healing, he'd barely felt it, but for the past few days the pain had been coming back to him.

Pippin had insisted that he sleep in Merry's room, for the first few nights at least, just in case he was needed. Merry had protested at first and told him not to take the trouble, and for the first few nights it had seemed that Pippin's presence was, indeed, unneeded. The healing sleep was still heavy on Merry's mind and body, and he rested peacefully.

It was only last night that the pain had fully hit him. Merry had started into wakefulness in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, the shadows of evil dreams pervading the air around him. The pain in his arm was excruciating, but Pippin, alerted by Merry's cries, was at his side immediately.

He climbed into the bed and held Merry in his arms, soothing away his fears with soft words and comforting whispers. It was strange to be comforted by Pippin rather than to be the comforter, and Merry wondered vaguely when his little cousin had grown enough on such responsibilities.

The rest of that night, Merry slept peacefully, and upon wakening was greeted with the familiar feeling of Pippin's warm body pressed up against his. He found himself feeling much better all of a sudden. He sometimes wondered if there was some sort of magic surrounding Pippin that caused him to have such a lightening effect on people. Maybe one of the Tooks had indeed taken a fairy wife sometime in the distant past. But that was, of course, impossible.

Merry smiled as the sun broke through the window. His cousin had been sleeping peacefully, but now stretched and yawned, woken by the sudden light. He sat upright suddenly, on seeing that Merry was awake, but Merry merely smiled and laughed, giving repeated assurances that he was all right.

Merry was not all right. He stopped just inside the room. The pain had returned to him after this morning, but this time it wasn't just in his arm. It was in his heart as well. He was alone, just a lost little halfling, left behind as all the others rode out to meet their doom. He wanted to go with them, to go with Pippin, but he was not well enough.

He knew he would have been fine, though. Pippin was his cure; Pippin was what kept him holding on. As long as he fought by Pippin's side, he could face the wrath of the Dark Lord himself without so much as blinking an eye. Now that he was alone, he didn't think he could go on. Pippin had left with all the rest, and Merry couldn't help but wonder whether he would ever see his cousin again.

Pippin was falling back to sleep, his head pillowed on Merry's chest, when the summons came. The long debate was over. They were going to form an army, small but valiant, and this Host of the West would march to the gates of Mordor and do what they could to serve as a distraction. Most likely, they would have to fight, and lives would inevitably be lost.

Young Master Peregrin was to go with them, in the front rank, to represent the Shire. He was to go down to the Pelennor Fields in one hour and join the rest of the men.

"Do you have to go?" Merry had whispered when the mesenger left.

"It is my duty."

Pippin's manner had changed swiftly. A moment ago he had been half asleep, in a blissful little world of his own, where there was only he and Merry, happily forgetting all that had happened to them. Now he was subdued and grim.

"Then I shall go with you!"

"No Merry, you are still sick. You can't go out into battle in this condition."

"I am fine! Really, I am. If you don't let me go, then I shall follow you on my own. Please, Pippin."

Pippin took Merry's hand and looked down at it, stroking the fingers gently. He couldn't look into Merry's eyes, so filled with pain.

"Merry, I have no say in the matter, but even if I did, I would not let you go. Strider says that you are too ill, and need at least a week more in bed. He is the best of healers you know, and I trust his word with my whole heart."

"Yes Pip, me as well. I do trust him, but I want so badly to be with you. We've been apart for so long and we've only just been reunited. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. I don't want you to leave again. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

Merry looked into Pippin's eyes and realized the pain he was causing. His words struck Pippin with sorrow and guilt, yet Merry couldn't help saying them. He had to find a way to make his cousin understand. He couldn't live if he lost Pippin.

"Merry, listen to me. When you were in the Houses of Healing, and you were still unconscious, I nearly feared for your life. But I didn't. I knew you were strong, and I knew you would live yet. I felt your presence almost as if I could touch it, and it was filled with such life and love that I knew I wouldn't lose you. I kept hoping, and the next thing I knew you had opened your eyes and were speaking to me.

"You need to remember, when I go, that you'll always be in my heart. I'll be thinking of you, and if you think of me it will almost be like I'm right here with you. You'll feel me, inside your heart, like I did that day when I was sitting at your bedside. Can you feel me now, Merry? Can you feel my heart beating? My love for you will not change, whatever happens."

Merry realized that he was going to have to stay behind. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. He barely had the strength to nod.

"But what if-?"

Pippin's hand was over Merry's mouth before he could say anymore.

"Don't think of it. I promise you I will return, and you'll always be in my heart. As long as I love you, and you love me too, you'll be able to feel me there. Hold onto that Merry. Remember it when I'm gone. And don't let go of hope. Remember that Merry. Never let go of hope."

Merry didn't think he could stand the fate that hung in his future. He didn't want to be the only one left. He could see it in his mind. The happy return home he had dreamed of for so long, tainted by the pain of speaking with the families and loved ones of his three companions. Having to live with the thought that Frodo and Sam and Pippin had all gone out and sacrificed themselves for the good of Middle-Earth, while he himself had stood in the shadows and watched. How would he be able to live, knowing this?

Frodo was so brave, Sam so loyal, and Pippin was perfect beyond words. Still young and innocent, he marched off to war without a second thought. Merry felt a surge of guilt as he remembered being told to look after his younger cousin. The lad was mischievous and, being the only son of the Thain, his family was forever watching out for his health, frightened that he would get himself into serious trouble. They had trusted Merry as a guardian and he had let even them down.

Merry shut the door behind him and lay down on his bed, thoughts and recollections swirling together into a single moment. "Don't let go of hope. Never let go of hope."

It seemed an age since Pippin had uttered those words, though it had only been that morning. Merry felt more alone than he ever had been in his entire life.

His mind dissolving into despair, he sighed and let go.

A/N: Does the fic sound familiar? Want a sequel? Read the first author's note! That's what it's for, after all.

Happy to be back.

Luv

VI