Title: Deep In the Night (1/1)
Author: Liz Huisman
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Would I be doing THIS if I owned them? No!
Summary: He looks up at you, and his tears glisten in the moonlight. | Merry/Frodo slashiness.
A/N: This is unusual story, I suppose. It's Merry's POV, done in the second person. Full of angst. Powerful, I guess. Set on their journey from Moria to Lothlorien. Merry/Frodo slashiness, though nothing hardcore. But definitely not fluffy… this is angst ridden!
You feel someone kick your stomach in their sleep, and you wake up to find him thrashing about, though no one else around notices, not even Gimli, who's sentry tonight.
He's muttering something, but you can't make anything out. Instinctively, you grab his hand under the blankets. You notice that his palm is sweaty.
As you stroke his hand with your thumb, he stops tossing around, and settles, though he still wears a look of uneasiness.
You wonder what is making him thrash around so, though you have a suspicion that it involves either Gandalf or Weathertop, or maybe, both.
You begin to feel sleepy again, and you loosen your grip on his hand. As you fall back into slumber, you move a little closer to him. Sleep then overtakes you.
But awareness that night does not totally leave you, and when you wake up once more, you find him gone.
Pippin, who should have been watching, had fallen asleep and was snoring gently, so you sit up and listen for any indication as to the direction that he went. You hear a far-off whimpering, so you follow the sound.
You find him in a small clearing, huddled in a ball, sobbing to himself. Saying nothing, you go over and lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, and his tears glisten in the moonlight.
You sit next to him, and wrap your arms around him. He lays his head on your shoulder and sobs once more. You rock gently, and run your hands through his dark, curly hair. You hate to see him suffer like this, and you'll do anything to try and ease his pain.
"Do they know I'm gone?" he asks softly.
"Pippin fell asleep on guard. I suspect Legolas woke, but he didn't say anything," you reply, holding him just a bit closer.
"Merry, they won't stop. The nightmares—they won't stop."
You realize then that he's trying to open up to you, and you wait in silence for him to continue.
"I keep seeing him falling. Over and over. It only changes but once in a while, and then I'm out at Weathertop. Each time, I see the Black Riders as the White Kings, and they're all coming for me. Every time I try and escape… they still come. I get… stabbed again. Sometimes, though—sometimes I die. Sometimes I don't. Other times, someone else gets stabbed. Pippin, or Sam, or… you."
"Oh, Frodo…" You're shocked by his words. You knew he was having nightmares, but you didn't realize that they were this horrible.
You see he wants to continue, so you remain silent until he musters up the courage to continue.
"Sometimes another person falls, too. Sometimes Aragorn and I fall off the stairs, while the rest of you are safely across the gap… I can't take it anymore. I can't make it stop, Merry…"
You hear the pain in his voice, and his face shines in the twinkling moonlight. You hold him even tighter, and for some time you remain like that, silent.
Soon, though, the moon begins to fade away behind the trees, and a single ray of new morning light shines into the small clearing.
You gently shake him, for he had fallen asleep in your arms. He slowly wakes up, and sees the ray of sunlight.
"We should probably get back," he says.
"I know," you agree. Neither of you make any move to go, though.
"We shouldn't be away from the others. It was dangerous for me to come, and for you to follow," he says.
"I know," you reply again. But still neither of you make any move. You know why. Neither of you wants to go. You suddenly realize that you want to stay like that forever.
You also realize that he does, too.
"We really should go," he says once more. You still make no move for several minutes, but finally, reluctantly, you get up.
In silence, together, you walk the short distance back to the camp.
The only one awake is Aragorn, but he says nothing to acknowledge your presence.
As you lay back down for a final few extra minutes, he leans close to you and whispers a thank you.
Underneath the blanket, you clasp his hand, and you both fall into a brief, but peaceful slumber.
END
End Note: Sort of depressing. That is my mood today, and I fully intend on taking advantage of it by popping out a sixth chapter in 'And the Angels Were Silent'. Thanks for reading!