Merry groaned as he lowered himself to the ground. The small company had been riding for three days. Even with the companionship of Elessar and Markus it did little to improve his mood. The wounds on his body were becoming worse, all ready showing the signs of spreading infection. Even the knife wounds on his back, sewn shut, were beginning to ooze and crack open around the sides. Pneumonia was still racking through him, causing his strength to diminish further. He hardly slept due to the pain. He was also unable to lie on the ground due to his reduced lungs that had him hacking nearly every minute. The herbs were no longer relieving his body of the ales that plagued him.
Elessar was soon seated beside him in the grass. Merry couldn't muster the courage to gaze up at him. The hobbit knew the king could sense his approaching fate and he didn't have the stamina to discuss it. Merry curled into a ball and closed his eyes, attempting to find rest. As usual, he found none.
The next morning Merry awoke to Elessar shaking his shoulder. The amount of sleep was meager, leaving him in a rotten mood. The hobbit shot the king an irritated look, which turned to one of confusion as the man took off the stand over the edge of a hill. Though in pain Merry forced himself to stand and stretched out the cramps in his legs. He walked to Elessar's side and glanced up at the king's face.
"What is it?" Merry asked. "Are there enemies heading for us?"
"Look over that hill," Elessar replied. "Someone approaches but they are not the enemy."
Merry did so. The morning sun was peaking over the valley, shining its warm rays upon the company. Ahead the Gwathlo` river gleamed like tiny crystals in the light and just a ways from the bridge the hobbit could make out an object moving down the hill. He squinted his eyes to gain a better view over the blinding rays when he emitted a loud gasp. The figure was in plain view now. It was Sam.
Forgetting his injuries Merry took off down the hill nearly tumbling down from the steep drop. Behind him he the voice of Elessar sounded, calling the hobbit back in fear of straining himself. Merry ignored the pleas and continued down the small slope until he was flat on the ground in the fields. He continued to sprint through the massive growth, pushing any foliage aside. Emerging from the meadow he stepped onto the wooden bridge and fell back in alarm when he nearly crashed into a pony. A loud thud echoed as his back struck the planks. For a moment he remained still moaning in slight pain. He could feel a form hovering over him, lifting him from the ground to his feet.
"My, my that was a nasty tumble you took," Sam said. "You ought to be more careful in the future or you could truly harm yourself."
Merry wept at the sight of him. "Oh Sam. I'm so happy to see you again."
"And I you, you silly hobbit," Sam cried, embracing the other tightly. "It has been far too long since our last meeting."
"If only we were meeting under better circumstances," Merry muttered.
"Come now, let us not speak of it for the moment anyway," Sam said. "Let's return to where the king and his men have camped. Hop on. We'll both ride up the hill together." The hobbit helped Merry mount the pony before taking his place behind." You appear quite ill. I'm sure he will not pleased with you bolting away as you did."
"I doubt he'll care much," Merry chuckled. "It feels good to be in your presence again."
The two traveled up the hill where they received a warm greeting from Elessar. Meals were served during which Sam told Elessar and Merry of his journey through The Shire. Afterward a separate fire was made and the two hobbits circled it while the king prepared herbs for Merry's treatment. Sam gazed intently on the boiling herbs but chose to speak about other issues.
"You'll be happy to know nothing has changed much in The Shire, save a few more trees growing here and there," Sam said. "Most of the land has been restored to its former beauty though it took long enough. It's a shame that certain matters can't be repaired over night." He shook his head. "Speaking of which, I suppose you'll want to hear about your son?"
"Very much so," Merry replied. "I have heard things, transactions, that may have taken place in Crickhollow; deeds that may have taken place with Pippin. Do you know of what I speak?"
Sam lowered his head. "I fear so. Are you certain you want me to speak of such affairs here?" Merry nodded. "A few weeks after you left men emerged frequently in our land, searching for you. Unfortunately, word of mouth gets around and they learned of your travels to Minas Tirith. For a time they vanished and nothing more was thought on the matter. Months later I was trekking through The Shire to make my annual stop at Crickhollow to visit the Smallburrows when the oddest thing happened. It was near dawn when three men raced down the path nearly trampling me with their horses. For some reason or another they appeared to be in a big hurry to leave the area. Within the hour I reached the house to find poor Nad lying in the mud from the fresh rains while dear Poppy was trying to crawl out the door. Both were securely tied and badly beaten. Poppy begged me to go inside, to check on their son, and what I found was most horrifying. I won't even dare go into detail about what the repulsive acts that had been inflicted upon the poor lad. Somehow, even with the extent of his wounds, he survived due to Mr. Brombleburr. A few more months went by and everything went back to normal, as normal as everything could be. The Smallburrows are doing very well, especially Pippin. They've managed to put the incident behind them and move on in life. You'll be happy to know that Pippin has grown up to become an outstanding young hobbit."
"I must know Sam," Merry said. "Did those men...take Pippin?"
Sam blinked at him. "I do not understand." Then, realization dawned on him. "That?! Good heavens no! Mind you, the lad was definitely tortured but not that extent. No, he was never defiled in that manner."
"Then what did they do to him?" Merry asked.
"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it," Sam snapped, gazing about the staring men. "The boy was beaten, tortured for information on your whereabouts. That's all there is to it, there isn't anymore. Why? What thoughts were placed in your head to make you think otherwise?"
"Something someone once told me," Merry sighed. "Apparently, all that was said were mostly lies. I have been beating myself over lies, though there isn't much comfort in what you have told me. My son was still harmed due to the actions I took in life. It's all because of me that he has been wounded."
"I wish you wouldn't say things such as that," Sam pleaded. "It wasn't by your hand that Pippin was injured. His wounds have long since healed."
"I doubt that," Merry retorted. He wiped at his eyes. "I guess there is no point in pressing this issue. I never could win an argument with you Sam. Tell me, what else has transpired in The Shire. I hope to hear good things."
"In good time," Elessar interrupted. "I'm sure you two can pick up on the conversation later. I must place herbs on your wounds Merry to help fight the infection."
"Wounds? What wounds?" Sam inquired, looking over Merry's body. "Where and how did he manage to get injuries?"
Before Merry could react Elessar had unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it from his shoulders. He grimaced at the face Sam made as his pale back was exposed to light. The stitching was dribbling pus and the flesh around the area was turning shades of yellow and dark red. The moment Elessar applied the ointment Merry let out a loud yelp and jerked away. Sam was immediately at his side holding him in place. Sweat was sliding down the hobbit's forehead as he squirmed madly. Merry's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he passed out, nestled in the other hobbit's arms. When finished Sam turned to the king.
"There is dried blood at the bottom of his pants," Sam murmured. "I think I all ready know what has taken place here. Those men that attacked the Smallburrows, were they the same ones that did this to him?"
Elessar nodded. "Fear not though. The men that haunted him have been taken care of, as well as the last one that assaulted him."
Sam gazed at him in disbelief. "He was attacked on a separate occasion? What a turn of bad luck that has befallen him. I sometimes wonder if he, or the rest of us for that matter, will ever find peace in this world."
"Come, help me carry him in the privacy of the woods," Elessar said. "I must tend to his other injury and I will need your assistance. If he wakes up he will not take kindly to the sight of me treating him. I dread to gaze upon it, in fear of what the infection has done."
"How long do you give him?" Sam asked.
Elessar ran his hands through Merry's drenched curls. "No more then a week, perhaps even less. There is nothing more I can do for him, except making him comfortable as possible. All treatments are failing and the infection will soon turn to a fever. The pneumonia isn't helping the situation either. Travel must be quick from now on."
Merry was carried into the brush.
Late in the afternoon Merry awoke from his slumber in less pain then he had been in. He smiled warmly at Sam, seated next to him and smoking from his pipe. The hobbits resumed their earlier conversation about The Shire and even reminisced about the old days until the sun began to set from the sky. The king beckoned them to join him near the fire.
"My friends, though I have enjoyed being in your presence I must inform you of my departure in the morning," Elessar said. "I am no longer needed here nor my troops. Sam shall be your guide the rest of the way home."
"But I thought you would join us in The Shire!" Merry wailed.
"No, I'm afraid not," Elessar answered. "I have responsibilities and my place is back within my kingdom of Gondor. For now, rest and we shall talk things over more before my departure in the morning."
The hobbits returned to their bedrolls as the king also turned in. Merry closed his eyes and managed to find a moments rest.
In the middle of the night Merry woke in a cold sweat. He drew himself out of the roll and skulked near the edge of the hill, gazing over the darkened land. Warmth came over him as he felt an arm drape over his shoulder.
"You should be back in bed," Sam grumbled. "It's not good for your health."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Merry sighed. "You should know that by now."
"Aye, that may be but I still don't like seeing you this way," Sam replied. "It would set my mind at ease if you returned to bed, where it's warm."
"In a minute," Merry muttered. "I just wanted to see the land near The Shire again. It's been so long since I have seen it last." He turned to Sam. "I'm curious, what are you still doing here? I assumed that you would sailed to the Havens by now."
"It's simple, hasn't been my time to leave yet," Sam said, "though that is changing. For some time now I can hear whispers from the sea calling to me and I have been tempted to answer them but I couldn't go. Every time I thought of the notion of leaving a strange feeling came over me, like something had been left unfinished. I still have a role to play here on Middle-earth and I'm not leaving until I've finished it. Now, enough talk. I'll help you return to bed."
More to follow.