Merry wept as he followed the four men in silver and black uniform who bore
his friend through the streets of Minas Tirrith. King Elessar walked at the
head of the procession, weeping as well. Pippin was being given a hero's
funeral, and would be placed in honour in silent street, as was fitting for
a soldier of Gondor. Pippin had been old, and died peacefully after a good
life. Merry tried to be glad of that, but still the tears came.
Merry still couldn't believe he was gone. They had been friends for so long, through their childhood in the Shire, through the War of the Ring, and in years of peace that had followed it. Always the two of them had been together. It was inconceivable that they should be separated now. A loneliness filled him, despite the crowds that lined the street to see the final journey of this legendary figure. His closest friend was gone. All Merry could do was wait for death to reunite them.
The procession turned into silent street, and the ended at the house of kings, where Pippin was to lie. Merry stared at the old hobbit, lying still and silent in death, as the pall bearers left.
A hand touched his shoulder gently.
"I will wait for you outside," King Elessar said. Merry nodded, unable to speak for the tears. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, remembering and crying. He knew that once he left the house, he would have no choice but to face the rest of his life. Alone.
"Do not cry for me," a voice whispered. Merry raised his head, and looked round, but the house was filled only with the silent figures of the dead. He was certain he had heard a voice. A voice so familiar and yet so impossible. It was grief, he told himself, grief clouding his mind. Reason told him there could have been no voice.
"Do not cry for me," the voice said again. Merry knew that he had not mistaken it, nor had he mistaken who the speaker was.
"Pippin?"
***
Spooky, huh? The final chapter will be on it's way soon.
Merry still couldn't believe he was gone. They had been friends for so long, through their childhood in the Shire, through the War of the Ring, and in years of peace that had followed it. Always the two of them had been together. It was inconceivable that they should be separated now. A loneliness filled him, despite the crowds that lined the street to see the final journey of this legendary figure. His closest friend was gone. All Merry could do was wait for death to reunite them.
The procession turned into silent street, and the ended at the house of kings, where Pippin was to lie. Merry stared at the old hobbit, lying still and silent in death, as the pall bearers left.
A hand touched his shoulder gently.
"I will wait for you outside," King Elessar said. Merry nodded, unable to speak for the tears. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, remembering and crying. He knew that once he left the house, he would have no choice but to face the rest of his life. Alone.
"Do not cry for me," a voice whispered. Merry raised his head, and looked round, but the house was filled only with the silent figures of the dead. He was certain he had heard a voice. A voice so familiar and yet so impossible. It was grief, he told himself, grief clouding his mind. Reason told him there could have been no voice.
"Do not cry for me," the voice said again. Merry knew that he had not mistaken it, nor had he mistaken who the speaker was.
"Pippin?"
***
Spooky, huh? The final chapter will be on it's way soon.