El Ver Pero El Preguntarse
(Seeing But Wondering)
Chapter One
Fuera de la ventana
(Outside the Window)
A/N: This is my very first non-poetry piece on Fanfiction.net. After three solid weeks of working on it, the first chapter is finally close enough to my standards to post it for your viewing pleasure. However, as I've said before I'm not very good at description and being a perfectionist I welcome constructive criticism. I realize that it is a bit short for now, but it started getting very lengthy and I decided that I needed to cut the first chapter down to build some suspense.
On another note, there are several couples in here. There is a little bit of Faramir/Eowyn and Arwen/Aragorn in later chapter. And there is also the center point of the emotional depth to this story: The Merry/Pippin and Frodo/Sam. Now, the way you take this is entirely up to you. There will be nothing horrifically graphic in this fic, but there will be slashy situations. However, part of the reason the relationship these four share is so special is because there is never a clear line drawn on their friendship. So, trying to derive from Tokien's work, I've also kept that line rather vague. If you are one of those people that simply can't take male love with a mature manner then turn back now and please don't waste your time or mine.
One last thing, this is a little bit of an AU fic. You'll see when you get there. ^_^
As usual, criticism always welcome! I need you all to help me so that I can make this the very best work I can. Oh, and my extreme thanks goes out to Violet Raven, who has faithfully reviewed all my works. You are my greatest help, my friend!
Fuera de la ventana
(Outside the Window)
"Do you think they are faring well, Master Perian?"
Merry continued to gaze out the window, his eyes fixated on the hazy sky. Absently he raised his left arm and squeezed the right, fisting the fabric of his shirt. He paid no attention to the question being asked.
"Master Perian? Do you think they are faring well, my father and the others."
Still Merry made no reply.
"Sir? Master Perian? Are you alright? Mr. Merry? Shall I send for the healers?"
Merry started and blinked, whatever daydream he had been lost in now gone. He turned to the speaker, a tall anxious boy, and forced a smile.
"No Bergil," Merry managed. His voice sounded far stronger than he felt inside. "Thank you, but I am fine. I was merely lost in thought. I apologize; did you ask me something?"
Bergil frowned a moment longer, weighing the hobbit's words carefully. The two were not well acquainted yet, but Merry had been lonely and Bergil had had no errands to run at the moment; and so the young boy had offered to keep Merry company. They had walked about the gardens for a bit, but Merry tired quickly and Bergil, noticing Merry's weary gait, had insisted that they return to the Houses. Until presently they had sat in Merry's room making idle chatter, and while they did so Bergil thought to himself that this Perian (as those of Minas Tirith called all hobbits) was very melancholy and reserved, not at all like the cheeky lad who had befriended Bergil and the guard Beregond (who was subsequently Bergil's father).
The young boy looked at Merry thoughtfully and not without a little awe. This was after all the "Prince of the Halflings" who had smote down the Witchking and returned from the black breath.
*Perhaps that is why he is so sad,* mused Bergil internally. Then realizing that a question had been posed to him he said aloud to his companion: "I asked how you thought the soldiers are faring. So many wondrous men! If only you'd seen them all! I have never seen anything as the likes of them in my life! So brave they are!"
Merry smiled faintly once more and returned his gaze to the window. "Indeed they are," he murmured. Then he squeezed his right arm and was quiet again. Bergil fidgeted, uncomfortable in the silence that loomed over all and seemed almost deafening in the close room. Luckily for him the door creaked then opened and in walked one of the healer women, dusting her hands on her apron and looking rather bedraggled. When she saw Bergil and Merry lounging on the bed she gave a rather loud sigh.
"Thanks be to everyone that you two are in here and not out there in that frenzied beast hole. More injured bustling in every day and everyday we grow shorter on supplies. I just pray that something happens soon, that either the war is won and over with or that the earth opens and swallows us all, lest we run out of anything to ease the suffering of those poor souls in this house." She paused a moment and then snapped her fingers and stomped her foot impatiently.
"Bergil, silly git, get off of that bed and help tend to the other women. Gracious, child, bless you but you can't stay in here all hours and keep Master Perian awake while there's chores to be done and jobs for you to fill."
Merry's frown deepened and he gripped his arm tighter. Bergil, however, hopped off the low bed and started for the door mumbling a "Good bye, sir," to Merry and a "sorry ma'am," to the sour faced healing woman.
"Hurry child, Ioreth needs hot water!" The woman cried, swatting the boy lightly on the behind. Once Bergil had disappeared out the door the healer shook her head and at once began chattering again. Merry paid little attention to what was said, only listening enough to nod or shrug in the appropriate places. He could not be a rude guest, after all. Still, his heart was not there in the Houses of Healing, not even in Minas Tirith at all, but riding off to the Black Gate with Pippin. Merry had been very distraught upon discovering that his young cousin was to go to the very gates of Mordor to represent the Shire-folk in what looked to everyone to be the Last Battle. Merry had argued fiercely with Gandalf and Aragorn to be allowed to accompany them, but they had outright refused to consider it for even a moment. His wounds, they said, were not yet healed and they could not risk him further injury.
And so Merry had been left behind, just as he had been left behind in Rohan when Gandalf went ahead with Pippin and Theoden had ridden with the Rohirrim. This did not bode well with the Brandybuck, just as it had not bode well the last time. He was alone, utterly, the only one of his kind in the vast white city. And the fear was ever growing on him that he might be the only one of his kin who had set out on this journey to return.
*Pip….* thought Merry. A sudden chill seized him and he shivered, drawing the attention of the healer-woman.
"Save me!" the woman exclaimed. " Heavens, but you've gone ghastly pale!" Before Merry could so much as open his mouth to protest further the woman had rushed to his side and was attempting to coax the aghast hobbit into a lying position.
"No, really, I am fine…" Merry attempted, but the healer did not seem to hear him. He struggled against her quite fruitlessly for a while before sighing and giving in….for the moment anyway.
"There now," the healer cooed, taking up the candle from the bedside table. "You lay quiet Master Perian, and rest easy. I'll make sure that none disturb your sleep."
"Oh yes," Merry said, yawning (albeit a bit exaggeratedly). "Thank you, kind woman. I am rather tired, now that the pillow is behind me."
"You see, you could not deceive Iathain's eyes. Rest easy, little master." Humming to herself, the healer called Iathain blew out the candle and turned to leave. Merry could not help himself and twisted his features into an irritated face at the healer's retreating back. Suddenly she stopped and tapped her fingers to her lips thoughtfully. Merry's scowl quickly faded as he waited for her to voice her thought.
"You know," Iathain said. "I think perhaps its past time for your elixir." She turned to the halfling with a broad smile on her face. "I'll go fetch it for you straight away. Can't have you catch a chill now can we, sir?"
"No….of course not," Merry replied, trying very hard not to screw up his face again in disgust. How he hated those potions! Bitter to the taste and they made the eyes water. Drinking them twice a day was beginning to numb his tongue. Not noticing her patient's distaste Iathain nodded shortly and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her. The moment her footsteps retreated down the hallway Merry flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. He yelled into it in frustration then lay still for a moment or so. He could not stand this waiting, this endless waiting and sitting and sighing and worrying. The loneliness was driving him mad!
Taking a deep breath, Merry raised his head, turned back over and sat up. He lowered himself onto the floor and treaded over to the window. Iathain had closed the shutters during her chatter and bustle around the room so Merry had to reach up and reopen them before standing on his tiptoes and gazing out at the White City. There were few people in the streets. Most were either marching to the Black Gates, resting or tending to others in the Houses of Healing or guarding what was left of the outer wall. No one noticed the solemn little hobbit peering out of his window.
*I wonder if anything has happened out there,* pondered Merry. *I hope you're alright, Pip.*
As if in answer to his thought, Pippin's voice suddenly rang in Merry's head, calling his name as clearly as if they had been standing in the same room. Startled, Merry whipped around, his eyes darting over the floor and walls, half expecting to see his younger cousin standing in the door way. No one was there, and Merry's body reacted negatively to the sudden movement. His head reeled, causing him to sway and clutch at the window ledge. Far out in the distance the Ringwraiths screamed, the sound carrying over many miles and stinging the halfling's sensitive ears. An icy chill shot down his right arm and his grip on the ledge faltered then slipped all together. He landed on his back and blinked up at the ceiling in a daze. Something had happened, though Merry did not know what it was. Something had gone horribly wrong and Pippin might have been caught in the middle of it. Merry's heart skipped. He forced himself to inhale: once….twice….three times…The dizziness lifted and he was able to sit up. Then all Hell broke loose.
It started with a low, distant rumble that grew louder and louder before turning into a tumultuous shaking. The room rattled and the bedside table tipped over. Merry leaned against the wall in an attempt to stay stationary in this sudden earthquake.
Outside, Bergil, who had been sent on an errand for some more firewood, screamed in terror as the sky lit bright red in the distance with fiery ash. Mount Doom had erupted.