It's in the darkness of believing
It's in the shadows where we have to stand
Besides the loving and the grieving
Oh I'll never understand
(Dougie MacLean)
***
Soon after he had lit all the candles and had chased away the gloom, he realised that it probably hadn't been his best idea today. The flames would steal away a lot of the air Pippin needed to breathe.
Merry bent down as quickly as his back, hurting from long days of work, allowed and started putting the candles out again. One after another he watched the flames vanish into thin clouds of smoke. It was only then that he noticed that the smoke was probably even worse than the burning candles. Frantically, he was trying to figure out a way to dispel the cloud which had grown thick and obtrusive by now out of the tent and cursed his suddenly so very Tookish behaviour.
It was in that very moment, unnoticed, that Aragorn entered the tent.
He watched the hobbit and his frantic attempts to make the smoke leave Pippin's little corner of the tent with growing concern.
Merry didn't feel the anxious gaze of the ranger resting on him, he simply tried even harder to undo his mistake. Coughing heavily, he stumbled around in the tent, desperately trying to find a way to let fresh air inside.
Aragorn caught him in mid-stride. "Merry, wait."
After overcoming the initial shock of finding he had been caught behaving in such a confused fashion, the hobbit fidgeted and tried to find a way out of the ranger's firm grasp on his shoulders. It was to no avail, but Merry tried anyway. The slim hands had always belied Aragorn, but they were surprisingly strong.
"What are you doing?" There was no accusation in the soft voice, just genuine concern.
Merry let his gaze stray away from the ranger and fidgeted again, trying hard to get away from the soon-to-be King.
"Merry, please. There is no need to explain. I saw what I saw. Do not worry about that. You do not have to talk. But please allow me to speak to you quite frankly."
Merry looked up, amazed. He had expected a reproach for his most erratic behaviour rather than a plea. He nodded.
"I have been watching you, Meriadoc. You have done great works here in helping us tend the wounded and harmonising the return of the army. And all this time, in every free moment, you have also sat vigil at Pippin's bedside and you have watched over Frodo and Sam." Aragorn smiled fondly at the hobbit who had gone slightly pink around his pointy ears. "We all are indebted to you, Merry."
"No, please . . . you don't have to . . ."
"Do let me finish, if you please?" Aragorn interrupted him softly. "As I have said, I have been watching you. I have noticed that you went on with no more than a catnap for almost four days and nights now. There has not been a moment of peace for you. Not a second to rest. I am worried about you, Merry, as a healer and as your friend."
"There really is no need to . . ." Merry started, but halted when he noticed Aragorn looking at the still gleaming wicks of the candles surrounding Pippin's bed, and the thick clouds of smoke.
"There isn't?" The ranger asked and arched an eyebrow.
"I can't leave him alone here, Strider. I can't *leave* him." There was a determination in Merry's voice that surprised even him. "Not again. I will not leave him unless I am direly needed somewhere else. I cannot and I will not."
Thoughtfulness flitted over Aragorn's face. Those hobbits really *were* amazing creatures. Their dedication towards each other far surpassed the family bonds of man, elf or dwarf.
"How about you rest a little, and I will take over your vigil? After all, Pippin is my friend too."
Merry squared his shoulders in determination. "I will not leave his side."
"Who ever said you had to?" smiled Aragorn, son of Arathorn. His eyes shone warmly as he motioned towards one of the vacated beds next to Pippin. Merry shuddered when he thought of the reason for the empty bed. He had watched the tall man of Gondor who had been lying there fade a little more each day while Merry had sat at Pippin's side. The soldier had finally lost the battle against his severe wounds and had passed away quietly in the early morning. Afterwards, the bed had been freshly remade by the healers, but thankfully there were no more injured to fill it.
"I . . . I can't." Merry shuddered again, visibly this time. "Not here."
Aragorn noticed the strained tone in the hobbit's voice and understood immediately. Being the battle-hardened man that he was, Aragorn hadn't considered the hobbit's suspicions in this matter. He pondered the situation for a few blinks of an eye and then pulled over one of the make-shift beds the healer's used and placed it next to Pippin's bedside. It was much taller than the one in which the young hobbit rested, but it would have to do.
"Is that better?" he asked, gently, his eyes pleading for forgiveness of his inconsiderateness. And when the hobbit nodded imperceptibly, he continued: "You rest here, Merry. I will keep the vigil."
"But what if he . . ."
"I will wake you should Pippin wake up while you still sleep."
"And what about the . . ."
Aragorn followed Merry's gaze towards the only candle that was still burning next to Pippin. It cast a golden hue upon the youngest hobbit and showed that he rested comfortably.
"Do not worry. I will watch out for the light. I will not let it go out."
So Aragorn knew? Merry carefully raised his eyes to meet the man's. What he found there surprised him, and sent waves of soothing relief washing over him. Aragorn knew, though Merry couldn't tell how he had found out. But it was good to finally share the burden. The man knew about the importance of the candle. And Merry trusted him. Aragorn would take care of Pippin and would take care of the candle as long as Merry himself slept. Maybe the ranger would even do a better job in protecting the light. Aragorn had never failed until now, had he? He would not fail now.
The weakness Merry had pushed back for four days now finally took a hold of him in that very moment. When he took a deep breath of the smoke-infused air, a coughing fit seized him and shook him mercilessly. Sheer stubbornness was all that kept Merry on his feet, for the fit of coughing used up what small reserve of strength he still had, and left him trembling.
He felt foolish and small and terribly useless, now that there was no more need for him to keep his mind occupied by duty.
"Are you sure?", Merry ventured, one last time trying to fight the inevitable.
This time, Aragorn didn't smile. He simply lifted Merry onto the bed and pushed him down with gentle resolve. "Rest, Merry. And do not let your heart be troubled anymore. There is nothing you can do now but wait." He settled the rough linen cover over Merry and tucked it in under the hobbit's chin. "You wouldn't want Pippin to look into a grey and tired face when he wakes up, would you?"
Merry allowed himself a small lopsided smile and snuggled into the welcoming warmth of the cover. "You're probably right," came the muffled response. And after a while, he added, his eyes closed already: "As usual."
"Sleep." There was obvious amusement in Aragorn's voice.
Merry heard his friend, the High King opening one of the tent's casements, then settling into a chair between Pippin's and his own bed. Fresh, moist air wafted in. After a while, Aragorn started humming a soft, familiar tune.
His friend, the High King. It was only now, in his utter exhaustion, that Merry put those two aspects of Aragorn together for the first time. What an odd thing to say about a High King. What a decidedly un-hobbitish relationship to lay claim on, Merry noted with a mental snicker.
It was only when he had already fallen half asleep, and with a last conscious effort, that Merry recognised this song as one of the Shire's lullabies.
Friend to the King. Others might laugh. But the fact that he was a friend to the High King was no more unbelievable than that the High King was soothing a weary hobbit to sleep with a lullaby from his own little homeland.
A smile played on Merry's lips when he finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
"Merry. Wake up, quickly."
Later on, Merry couldn't recall ever having left his bed with such alacrity again. Within the blink of an eye, he stood next to Pippin's bed, his knees weak from the sudden waking, his hands trembling. It was a good thing Aragorn supported him with an strong hand on his upper arm.
The tent ceased to exist. Aragorn ceased to exist. Suddenly, his world consisted of nothing but the small figure of his cousin lying in the bed before him.
He felt the grey eyes watching him from under lowered lashes. For a second or two, he didn't dare move, fearing that he was still dreaming.
Tired, confused eyes, watching him. So tired in fact, that Pippin barely had the power to keep them open. Yet there was life in them, a spark and a deep relief to find Merry at his side. In that dreadful hour when he had almost lost Pippin, Merry hadn't been able to feel the younger one's strong life essence. It had cut deeper than anything. But now, Merry saw not only the life in Pippin's eyes, but also felt the essence, faint still but strong emanating from his cousin again.
When the younger hobbit closed his eyes again, Merry reached for the slim, warm hand on the white linen and squeezed it gently. He needed three attempts until his voice was finally strong enough to rise above his own breathing. "Pip?" It was all he managed to squeeze around the lump in his throat. It sounded breathless and choked, no matter how much Merry was trying to sound natural.
The small hand squeezed back, although weakly. Merry's heart jumped. The moments which passed afterwards were sheer agony. He waited anxiously, impatiently for Pippin to gather up the strength to open his eyes again. Seconds seemed to drag into hours.
Then, after what to Merry felt like an eternity, the lashes fluttered up and fully revealed those clear and familiar grey eyes looking at him.
"Merry?" His cousin's voice was a bare whisper, raspy from disuse, but still recognisably Pippin with his lilting, boyish tone and his so very typical Tookish burr.
"Yes, Pippin?" Merry bent forward. Restraining himself in that moment from embracing his cousin with earth-shattering force was the most difficult thing Merry had ever done. Not for a moment letting himself forget Pippin's still serious condition, and the need to be mindful not to cause him more physical pain he simply fixed his gaze eagerly upon the younger ones face, letting his eyes, glistening with tears he refused to let fall, speak of the happiness his heart could not find the words for. "What is it?"
A mischievous twinkle appeared in the grey eyes. "Have I missed breakfast?"
***
TBC
Yes, a TBC. No, this story isn't quite done yet. I still have something up my sleeve.
I STILL don't see more feedbacks on Murron's "Little Bird"
That story is worth reading, people. Really. It will leave you with an amount of warmth in your soul which you haven't experienced in a long time.
Do leave comments on her story. She's all sad, and I can't take those puppy dog eyes much longer without hugging her to death.
By the way, I should let you know that your feedback is quite addictive. It's almost embarassing to admit that I'm rushing to this site almost every day, to see if people actually like this story.
I'm never quite sure, you know? *smile*
That said, I'm sorry that I kept you waiting so long. I hope it was worth it, though.
*hugs*
eretria
P.S.: I didn't consult my beta-reader on the last changes for this chapter. So if there are any glaring mistakes, just blame it on me not being a native speaker. :o)