ONLY THE STRONG
A full moon hung low in the sky, shadowed behind a thin veil of clouds. Few stars shone, appearing as though they were nothing more than burnt embers, tossed aloft on a pitch night. Shallow voices could be heard among the field, speaking softly of dangers passed and victories won. The evening was still, absent of all sound, but that of the weary hearts of war.
Far along the outer edge of the plains a row of tents stood, hastily raised to house the wounded. Within they glowed, the lights of candles burning inside, appearing to eyes from afar as though they were fireflies, resting on the horizon. Here is where the fallen lay. Many who would never wake to the see the light of the coming morn. It was a place of hope, and despair... a place where only those with courage dare tread.
Nearly an hour had come to pass since the sound of footsteps last fell along the ground outside the tents. It seemed as though the world stood still, forever coming to an end, yet it had been said that nay, it had merely begun anew.
Hidden away in a small tent, now lined with the nameless arms of Minas Tirith, lay a bed fashioned with skins of deer and blankets of soft wool. Resting among the covers was a fallen solider, valiant and brave, his eyes closed and unseeing, unaware of the companion at his side.
The sound of rustling leather was heard and a voice, firm yet tender spoke, stirring the vigilant watcher from his thoughts.
"Meriadoc, the hour grows late. Will you not come away from the bedside and find your own rest?"
"Nay." said Merry, his eyes gazing up into war ravaged face of his visitor. "I shall stay. I will not leave Gandalf. Not in this hour or the next."
"And I would not order you away, if you so wish to stay." said Gandalf with a smile, his eyes shining bright beneath his weary brow. He then came to Merry's side, placing his hand upon his right shoulder.
"Your arm, how does it fair this eve?"
"It is still weak." replied Merry, slowly drawing his arm away from Gandalf's touch. "It feels heavy, but no heavier than the weight I bear upon my heart."
"We all share the weight my dear Meriadoc." answered a voice. It was Aragorn, returning from his rounds through the tents.
"How many have we lost?" asked Gandalf, as Aragorn came near.
"Just in this hour ten and twenty." replied Aragorn. "Those are the counts of men from Minas Tirith and Rohan. Many more shall pass before the dawn rises. My hands could not attend to all the fallen that have come hither."
"Nor were they meant to such a task." said Gandalf. "Those you have touched will be saved. The men that will go to their forefathers did so knowing that lives would be lost in this war. Their passing was not in vain."
"Alas, my heart knows this, but it saddens me to see what has fallen before my eyes." said Aragorn with despair. "And now here, before me, young Peregrin, innocence so close to death. He was brought to me holding on to naught but a thread of life, he has been saved, if not by my hands, by the hands of Gimli who brought him to me with such haste." No other words were spoken. Merry's eyes looked up to Gandalf and Aragorn standing behind him, their faces long and grieved. Merry sighed deeply, turning his attention back to the bed. He reached his hand out, gently touching his fingers to Pippin's brow. He flinched under his touch and Merry drew back, tears welling in his eyes.
"I can not even lay my hand to his flesh." cried Merry. "You say he shall live but his body is broken. How can such wounds be healed? I should have been in battle. I should have been there to spare him from this pain."
"Count your blessings that you are among the living Meriadoc." said Gandalf. "He has been spared, yet it will be some time before he is abroad again. Your people are a strong people in both heart and body. Just as you, Peregrin shall pull through and be walking at your side along the plains in days to come. You should not grieve for those not lost. But alas, I have stayed far beyond the hour I had to spare. I have business I must tend to my friends. Fare the well, until our paths cross again." Gandalf then took leave while Aragorn stood in silence next to Merry as he knelt beside Pippin's bed.
"And the hour has come for my departure as well." replied Aragorn, setting his hand on Merry's shoulder. "I shall return with the dawn. Call on me if you find the need." Aragorn bowed and turned away, making his way outside the tent. Again Merry was alone. His hand resting on the coverlet next to Pippin's arm, deeply bruised from the crushing blow of the troll which had fallen onto him, following the strike of his sword. Merry so long to touch his hand to Pippin's... to intertwine his fingers between those of his friends, but he could not bare to bring him any more pain. Even the faintest of touches sent him coiling back, writhing with agony. His skin was red with fever, his brow angered with gash and cut from his helm, which sliced into his flesh under the weight of the troll. Merry gripped the sleeve of Pippin's tunic, soiled with blood and dirt. He felt as though his whole world had been taken away. So close and yet so far away, when all he wanted to do was touch his fingers to Pippin's brow and let him know that he was by his side.
With the dawning of the new 'morrow voices rose up in song, waking Merry from sleep. He was lying on the grass within the tent, partially covered with a small blanket. His arm was resting up on the bed, his fingers gently lying against Pippin's hand. Merry sat up, stretching his arms high above his head before standing up, looking into a basin of water that rested near the bed. A damp cloth was draped over the rim of the bowl, stained with the tinge of Pippin's blood. The water was now a pale shade of crimson red. A deep sigh fell over Merry's lips. He reached his hand to Pippin's brow and turned away a few strands of curls that were resting over his eyes. His skin was now pale, glowing from beneath with the deep hue of bruises under his flesh. Dark circles shadowed Pippin's eyes. His lips were dry and slightly parted, showing the deep cracks where his teeth had bitten through his bottom lip when he was smitten down under the troll. Merry could feel his eyes growing damp with tears as his eyes focused on Pippin's chest, watching as he struggled for each breath that filled his lungs beneath his crushed ribs. A voice then grew close and Merry turned away to see Aragorn coming into the tent.
"Good morning to you master Meriadoc." said Aragorn coming to Merry's side. "I see that you did find some rest during the night. I came before the sun rose and tended to Pippin's wounds once more. I bid the nurse maids to leave his care to my hands."
"Aye. I did." replied Merry, looking up to Aragorn. "A few short hours only, I must say. I woke just now to the sound of the men within the fields, their voices rising into song."
"Yes." said Aragorn, placing his hand onto Merry's shoulder. "Their hearts have grown lighter. The war has ended and in time we shall all return to the city and begin to rebuild. This is an age for renewal and speaking of such, you my friend need more rest. Come, do not let yourself be troubled. Be at peace, for Peregrin shall recover from his wounds. He will not be one of the many, whose name will be remembered in song. Rest now Merry. I shall let you have use of my quarters nearby." Merry breathed in deeply, looking to Pippin once more.
"I will do as you ask." replied Merry. He then fell silent before speaking once again. "How is he? Frodo I mean?" whispered Merry. "I wish to see my cousin and Sam once more."
"They live, but they are broken. Not in body but in spirit. The scars they bare upon their skin are only but a fraction of the scars which they bear within." said Aragorn. "I let you go to them with a heavy heart. They will mend in time, yet they are both only a shadow of the friends you once knew. It pains even my own eyes to look upon them now."
"My eyes did see those shadows as they were brought to the fields by the eagles in the day now passed." sighed Merry. "I was also pained as they passed my sight, but I must see them again. I must lay my hand upon them and know in my heart that they are here with me once more."
"I understand." replied Aragorn. "They are in the tent at the far edge of the fields. I have bid every man that walks upon the fields to leave them to their own. No other eyes have fallen on them since their return. There is where they shall remain until they wake. Go now and rest your hand against their brows. They will feel your touch, though they rest in dreamless sleep. Peace be with you master Meriadoc." said Aragorn bowing once more, "Until we meet again." Merry bowed his head and Aragorn departed, leaving Merry to his own.
Merry slowly made his way from the tent, walking along the field as many heads bowed at his passing. The joyful songs that had filled the air had now faded as men now began to rise to their feet, removing their helms, holding them to their chest as Merry came by. In all the days that had passed since fighting at the side of his lady Éowyn on the field of battle, he had not once thought of himself as any type of hero. But now, as he left the side of his fallen friend and companion, he could feel a lump rise high in his throat as his name was whispered upon the lips of the men. Tears began to fill Merry's eyes and as he neared the end of the row of tents, he turned to the men, graciously bowing low. Cheers rose high and Merry turned away, his face wet with tears as he finally made his way to the tent at the far end of the fields, standing alone on the plain, housing the true hero's of war within.
A stillness unlike any other seemed to be within the air. Merry turned back one last time looking over the row of tents. His eyes focused on the one pitched in the center of the fields, the one holding Pippin and the countless swords and shields of soldiers who were fallen by the enemy in the hands of war. He sighed, turning his eyes back to the tent before him. A thin saddle blanket covered the opening, keeping curious eyes at bay. Slowly Merry reached out, pushing the covering aside. With great hesitance one foot went before the other as Merry went inside, letting the blanket fall down behind him. There in the middle of the tent rested a bed fashioned with the finest of silken linens and furs. As Merry came near he could see Sam's golden brown hair catching the light of the sun shining through the opening in the tent above. The smell of fragrant blossoms filled the air as a cool breeze came through the tent. Merry drew closer, now looking down upon the face of his cousin, lying still at Sam's side. There they rested, side by side. Their hands folded upon their chests, slowly rising and falling with each passing breath. Merry fell to his knees at the bedside, his hands tightly grasping the coverlet, pulling it close to drown out the sound of his tears. Indeed, Frodo and Sam were nothing more than shadows of the friends who last stood along their side before they were parted at Amon Hen. Their eyes were nothing more than dark circles sunken into pale flesh, covered with cuts and gashes. Deep bruises circled Frodo's neck, his face no longer flawless with scratches now etched across his cheeks. Merry's eyes fell to Frodo's right hand. The third finger was missing, bandaged with white fabric stained with dried blood. What did come to pass within that mountain, Merry wondered as he turned to Sam, his frame now lean, only a mere whisper of the stout hobbit it once held. A gash lay upon his brow. The skin on his fingers lay open and torn, darkened with the dirt of Mordor and that of his and his master's blood. He too held bruises around his neck, though not as deep as Frodo's. With a trembling hand Merry pressed his fingers to his lips and touched Frodo's brow.
"I am here with you cousin." Merry spoke softly, reaching down, taking Frodo's left hand into his own. He then drew Frodo's hand towards his chest, tightly clasping both his hands around Frodo's. It was then that Merry noticed a tear falling from Frodo's eye.
"Do not weep." whispered Merry, drying away Frodo's tears. "You are safe now; all of your fears have passed away. Sleep now and wake when you are no longer weary." Merry then reached over to Sam, touching his brow lightly. "You have done well dear Samwise." said Merry tenderly.
"He would have never made it without you. More weight was carried upon your shoulders in this journey than we shall ever know." Merry replied standing to his feet. Slowly he made his way from the tent. Yet, little did he know how much truth was in his parting words, for indeed Sam had carried more weight upon his shoulders then most... he had carried the weight of his master.
Five days had now passed since Pippin was brought in from the field of battle. Still Merry kept vigil at his bedside every evening, sparing his time equally between Pippin and his cousin Frodo and Sam. Not one of them had yet woken. Frodo and Sam still lay in silent sleep, their faces now starting to fill with color. Yet, as Merry now sat at Pippin's bedside, he could not help but notice how much closer to death Pippin seemed to appear. His skin was dark and swollen; bruises still lay far beneath his flesh. Merry slowly slid his hand under Pippin's as it lay upon the coverlet. Pippin's fingers were twice their normal size. Merry wanted nothing more than to draw his hand to his lips and kiss it gently. He wanted Pippin to know he was by his side. He wanted him to know he wasn't in the darkness alone. Merry turned away, looking out through the opening of the tent to the men resting before the fires that now lit the darkened night. He had not seen Aragorn or Gandalf, nor any other member of the fellowship in two days. It seemed as though everyone had gone on without him, leaving him to tend to his friends without their aid. Merry felt abandoned. Almost as though he and the others were nothing more than a burden, that no one cared if they live or die. The men just wished to move on. To return home to their loved ones that they had left behind, but Aragorn would not allow it. He would not leave until the hobbits had woken. He would not part until the fellowship had been restored.
Many more hours passed while Merry sat at Pippin's bedside long into the night. The fields had grown silent. The smell of smoldering fires filled the air. Merry grew weary and his eyes began to close upon themselves. His hand still rested under Pippin's and as he fought to keep his eyes open one last time, it almost felt as though Pippin's fingers were slowly caressing his skin. Merry looked over the bedside. Indeed, Pippin was moving his fingers. Merry could feel tears of joy well up inside but they were soon overcome with fear when Pippin screamed out Merry's name, shriller than any sound he had ever heard pass over his dear friend's lips. Pippin screamed out again and Merry yelled out for Aragorn, clutching Pippin's hand tightly. Pippin let out another loud cry and Merry quickly let go of Pippin's hand. Merry covered his ears, the sound of Pippin's cries piercing his heart. Still Merry called out for Aragorn, his own voice muffled under the echo of Pippin calling out Merry's name. Merry drew himself away from the bedside, resting his back against the bed, rocking back and forth when Aragorn finally came to his aid. Quickly he drew back the covers, letting the cool night air fall over Pippin's flesh. Gandalf then came within the tent, drawing Merry into his arms, pulling him away from the bedside. Aragorn placed his palms over Pippin's brow, softly whispering words of a long forgotten language. Pippin's voice grew silent and he fell still, his chest rising and falling deeply. Merry's face was wet with tears, his own heart racing within as he reached his hands to his breast.
"He has grown ill with fever." said Aragorn softly, turning away from the bed. He needs medicine more than my own hands can give. He rests now, but I must take leave and find the herbs I need to make him well once more. I shall return within the hour. Stay with him my dear Meriadoc." Aragorn replied, kneeling before Merry, placing his hands on his shoulders. "If he wakes, press your hand to his brow and he will grow still once more. Do not despair. I will not let him pass. Come Gandalf, I will need you at my side." With that Aragorn rose to his feet, leaving quickly with Gandalf following close behind. Merry looked on, his eyes saddened. Again he was alone. He turned to Pippin, his heart falling within his chest. Pippin was still, too still in fact. Barely a breath passed by his lips and his skin seemed to grow pale in the light of the candles that lit the inside of the tent. Merry fell to his knees, holding his head within his hands as he cried with a fury unlike any other. Even though Pippin lived, it seemed as though he had just died.
Not even an hour had come to pass when Aragorn and Gandalf returned to Pippin's bedside. Merry was silent, saying not a word as Gandalf came to him while he rested in the far corner of the tent, clutching a blanket tightly across his chest. Aragorn knelt beside Pippin, holding a small clay bowl in his hand. Within was a fine powder, made with herbs and roots found along the vale of Ithilien. A soldier of Gondor then came inside the tent, carrying a small pot filled with steaming hot water. He placed the pot on the table near the bedside and bowed low, taking his leave. Aragorn then turned the bowl over, pouring the contents into the boiling water. Instantly the water seemed to cool and Aragorn took the pot up into his hands, dumping a small bit of the liquid back into the clay bowl.
"Meriadoc, please come to my side." Aragorn said softly, motioning for Merry to come near. "I will need your help my friend. You must climb behind Pippin and hold him in your arms. I need him to be propped up so he can drink this." There was no response. Aragorn turned to Merry, taking in a deep breath. "I need you to do this for me." pleaded Aragorn. Both Gandalf's and my touch would be too much for him to bear."
"Please, for Pippin." said Gandalf tenderly, touching his hand to Merry's shoulder. Merry couldn't find the strength within himself. He did not wish to cause his dear friend any more pain. He slowly shook his head, closing his eyes whispering no, as Gandalf knelt before him.
"Meriadoc, look at me." Gandalf sternly replied, touching his hand to Merry's chin. "You must be strong. Pippin needs you now. He needs this medicine or he will not live." Slowly Merry's eyes opened, tears blurring everything before him.
"I can not bear to bring him any more pain." Merry choked through his tears. "If I touch him, he will surly die."
"If you don't, he will." said Gandalf, extending his hand to Merry. "Come now, to your feet. You must do this for Pippin." Gandalf then stood up and Merry followed. Slowly he walked towards Aragorn, stopping for a moment at the side of the bed. Pippin was pale, the bruises barely visible under his pasty white skin. His lips seemed shrouded in darkness, his eyes stirring beneath closed lids. Merry's eyes fell to Aragorn's face. His visage had turned to an earnest stare. Within Aragorn's glance, he could see that Pippin was closer to death then he wished to imagine. Merry then climbed onto the bed, sitting down close to Pippin's side. Gently he lifted his head, holding him tenderly as he slid his legs under Pippin's back, guiding him upwards, and leaning him against his chest. Pippin let out a wail and Merry stopped for a moment, tears slowly streaming along his cheeks. Though Pippin looked pale and cold, his skin burned like fire against Merry's own flesh. He could feel the warmth through his own tunic as he began to pull Pippin closer to him before finally getting his head to rest against his shoulder.
"Lean his head back and open his mouth." replied Aragorn. Tenderly Merry placed his hand under Pippin's chin, tilting his head back and opening his mouth. Aragorn then held the small bowl to Pippin's lips and let the liquid fall down his throat. Pippin choked on the fluid, flailing his arms out, knocking the bowl away from Aragorn's hand. Merry reached forward and held down Pippin's arms. He could feel Pippin coiling back in pain from his touch, but he held on, tears falling down his face as Aragorn poured more liquid into the bowl, bringing it to Pippin's lips once more. Aragorn gently rubbed his finger along Pippin's neck, helping move the medicine down. Pippin then grew calm and Aragorn rose to his feet, placing the bowl down on the small table next to the bed.
"I have done all I can do." he said quietly. "When the dawn rises we shall see what work the herbs have done." Aragorn then left as Gandalf looked to Merry, still holding Pippin tightly within his grasp.
"With the 'morrow new hope shall come." Gandalf whispered softly. He then bowed his head and left, his white robes flowing behind him. Merry sobbed deeply, holding Pippin closer with each passing minute. He leaned back into the pillows, letting Pippin's head rest against his chest.
"I'm so sorry, Pip." Merry cried, pressing his lips to Pippin's brow. "Please, forgive me."
"Merry." A soft voice whispered. "Merry, I can't see you. Where are you?" For a moment Merry listened, his eyes still closed in sleep. He had heard that voice calling out to him many times before. It was Pippin's voice, almost too faint for any ears to hear, but Merry always heard it, from the very moment he watched Pippin fade over the horizon from the Pelennor Fields when he went with the host of men to the Black Gate, that voice haunted his every waking moment. Yet now, the voice seemed close, no longer distant or a whisper upon the wind. Slowly Merry opened his eyes. The dawn had come. No voices lingered outside the tent, not even the sound of footsteps fell along the ground.
"Merry." The voice came again. "Merry." Another whisper said.
"Pip?" Merry heard himself say with a faint breath. Merry then looked down into his arms. The color had at last came back into Pippin's face. His cheeks were blushed, his skin no longer dark with bruises. Merry reached up and placed his hand upon Pippin's brow. "I'm here Pip." He whispered. "I've never left." Just then Pippin opened his eyes.
"Merry." Pippin said softly with a smile. "Say that you have not passed too." Merry bit down on his lip, smiling brightly as tears filled his eyes.
"Nay. I live." replied Merry, his tears falling onto his hand resting over Pippin's brow. "As do you. You have been brought back to me." Merry then drew Pippin close, holding him tightly.
"Merry." Pippin quietly replied. "You're squeezing too tight." Merry laughed, letting his grip loosen as Pippin fell away from his grasp.
"My body is filled with pain." Pippin cried, tears falling from his eyes.
"Oh Pip." Merry said cradling Pippin in his arms once again. "I'm so sorry. I let my emotions get the better of my judgment. I did not mean to hold you so tight."
"Do not scold yourself." replied Pippin. "It is good to see your face again my friend." Pippin said touching his hand to Merry's face. He then pulled back in pain, tightly clenching his teeth. The moment then passed and Pippin took in a deep breath.
"It all seems dark to me somehow." Pippin said softly. "How many days have passed since I left the Pelennor?"
"Six days." replied Merry. "It is the first day of April." Pippin then fell silent.
"What happened to me Merry?" asked Pippin. "I remember wishing you were by my side and thinking my journey had come to its end. All I can recall is this feeling... as though a great weight had fallen upon me."
"And that it had." replied Merry. "At the Black Gate, there was a troll and you were crushed beneath it as you struck him with your sword. At least that is the tale I was told, when Gimli found you on the hill and brought you hither."
"Crushed..." muttered Pippin, his soft green eyes looking up to Merry wet with tears.
"Aye, but Aragorn has tended to you, and you will mend with time." said Merry, as he kissed Pippin's brow. Pippin's eyes then grew large and he came away from Merry's arms, clutching his side with his hand.
"What about Frodo and Sam?" Pippin asked eagerly, trying to hold back the pain that filled his body once more. "What has become of our friends?"
"They live." Merry replied, coming down from the bed. "They were brought from the fire of the mountain by the Eagles, here to the fields. They rest now, in the tent at the far edge of the row."
"The Eagles." whispered Pippin. "I remember now... hearing the men call out that the Eagles were coming. It was they who saved us in the last hour and brought our friends out from the very Cracks of Doom."
"They were." Merry said softly.
"I must see them Merry, I must." Pippin earnestly replied.
"I do not bid that to be a wise choice." said Merry. "They are nothing more than shadows of the friends we once knew. It has pained me to look upon them these days past, and it would pain you more to see them now. Rest, when you have found the strength I will take you to them." Merry then heard voices and there, before the opening of the tent stood Aragorn with Gandalf at his side.
"Indeed it was your voice I did hear." Aragorn replied, his eyes glowing as he smiled. "It is a day to celebrate indeed." Aragorn then turned away, standing out before the tent shouting to all who were in reach of his voice.
"Master Peregrin has awoken! Bring out the finest ales!" Cheers then rose along the field and Merry looked to Pippin, as a smile began to fall over his lips. Aragorn then came into the tent, standing at Pippin's bedside.
"I see that the herbs have done their work." Aragorn said with a smile. "You still need a few days rest before you will be up and abroad. I will leave you in Merry's care. He will know what is best for you and will warm your spirits once again."
"That is if he does not crush me first within his embrace." replied Pippin with a tender laugh. "But Aragorn, tell me, are Frodo and Sam as Merry has said. Have they come back to us from the fires of that accursed mountain?"
"They have and my hands have tended to them as well. They will live, but they both carry wounds deeper than any of us will ever fathom." said Aragorn solemnly. "As they appear now, they seem to be nothing more than shadows, nothing more than a memory of who they once were to your eyes. In the days to come I shall have Merry take you to them. I can not say when they will wake, for their bodies were almost empty vessels when they were brought to me. Only time will tell when they shall be restored to us again." Pippin nodded and Aragorn stood to his feet.
"I shall leave you now my friends." He replied bowing low. "There are more I must tend to, now that you have risen. Call on me if you shall need anything." Aragorn then took leave. Gandalf said not a word. He smiled brightly as he looked to Merry still holding Pippin in his arms. Hope had now grown among the host of men... it now seemed as though the day was near when at last they could return home.
Four days soon came into passing. It was now the sixth day of April and night had once again fallen upon the camp along the Pelennor as Merry lay sleeping at Pippin's side in their tent.
"Merry." Pippin said softly, drawing a blanket up around his shoulders. "Merry, are you awake?" Pippin muttered, lightly jostling Merry's arm.
"I am now, Pip." Merry yawned. "What is it?"
"Today is Sam's birthday." replied Pippin. "He is thirty six today."
"So what of it?" said Merry turning over, pulling a blanket over himself.
"Merry!" Pippin sternly replied, kicking his foot into the small of Merry's back.
"Sorry Pip." Merry said sympathetically, rubbing his back with his hand. "Didn't mean it how it sounded. I'm tired is all."
"I want to see them Merry." replied Pippin. "Will you take me to them?"
"Not now Pip." Merry mumbled, curling up tightly under his blankets. "Wait until the coming 'morrow after the sun has risen. I can not bear to look upon their faces anymore with naught but the light of candles shadowing their visage. Still to this day it looks as though they lay in death, though they are breathing. I feel as though I'm a mourner at their funeral every time I come to their side. Let me rest and I shall take you there after breakfast." Merry then felt Pippin come away from his side and he rolled over, watching as Pippin slowly walked away from the bed.
"Where are you going?" asked Merry.
"To see my friends." Pippin snapped back at Merry. "If you won't take me to them then I'll go myself."
"But Pip, you haven't been on your feet for nearly two weeks!" shouted Merry as Pippin made his way outside the tent.
"I'll manage!" answered Pippin as he faded from Merry's sight.
"Pippin wait!" Merry yelled tossing his covers aside. He then ran outside of the tent and came to Pippin's side, putting his arm around Pippin's back, helping him in his stride as they made their way along the field, to the tent at the end of the row.
As Merry and Pippin neared the tent, Pippin faltered in his steps, nearly falling to the ground.
"Pip!" Merry cried, catching Pippin in his arms. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." replied Pippin. "Just a moment of weakness is all. It has passed. Come now, let us go inside." Merry then reached out, pulling the thin blanket aside that covered the opening to Frodo and Sam's quarters. He held his arm out to Pippin and drew him inside. Within, the tent was aglow with the light of candles. There in the center upon the bed lay Frodo and Sam. It seemed as though they had not moved since Merry first came to their side ten days past. Merry looked to Pippin watching as his face grew saddened at the sight before him. Indeed they appeared much more vibrant then they did the day after they were brought from the fires. Many of their wounds had now begun to fade and they seemed to lay there in nothing more than a deep sleep, almost as though they would wake if someone but called their names. Pippin came away from Merry's side and knelt along the bedside, taking Sam's hand into his own. He pressed it tightly to his brow before pulling it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on Sam's fingers. Tenderly he placed Sam's hand back over his chest before rising again, making his way to the other side of the bed. Pippin knelt once more, slowly drawing his fingers over Frodo's bandaged hand. Pippin looked to Merry, his eyes now beginning to tear.
"No one knows what happened." whispered Merry, kneeling down next to Pippin. "Only they know and perhaps, if they allow it, they will tell us when they wake. Be thankful you did not see them as I did the day they were brought from the fires. You would have fallen into despair." Merry then rested his hand on Pippin's shoulder as Pippin leaned forward, kissing Frodo's brow. Pippin rose to his feet and Merry followed catching Pippin as he fell into his arms, sobbing while he buried his face within Merry's chest. Merry embraced him tightly, drawing his fingers through Pippin's curls. He too could feel his eyes growing wet with tears.
"They will wake soon." Merry said softly, reassuring Pippin that all would soon be right with the world. Pippin's eyes turned upwards and he brought his hand to his face, drying away his tears. Pippin then pulled away from Merry's embrace, making his way back to the opening of the tent. Merry followed, but then Pippin stopped, turning back to Frodo and Sam once more.
"Who are we to have endured so much pain Merry?" Pippin whispered. Merry smiled and reached to Pippin's face, turning aside a few tears, saying ever so softly...
"Only the strong."