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Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of The Lord of the Rings belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.

Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.

"The Vision of Galadriel"
Chapter Three: Waiting

Sauron's armies seemed to be perpetually marching. Merry was forced to wait, and grapple with his thoughts. Merry was almost without hope; there was no way he could carry Pippin all the way to Mount Doom. He could not leave his cousin. Yet, he had promised to finish the Quest if Pippin could not. Gandalf had made him promise that he could do that. He was followed by the fear that he would be forced to choose between leaving his cousin and destroying the Ring. How he longed to move! To stay meant he could not escape thinking about that terrible fear. How odd that hopelessness itself should drive him ever closer to the mountain, but so great was Merry's desire to flee from the seeds of hopeless thoughts in his mind that hopelessness helped him stagger on toward the final goal.

The toil that Merry's mind endured as these thoughts ran through his head became almost too much to bear. He desperately tried to turn his thought elsewhere, and eventually succeeded. Alas, the thoughts were still unhappy. Merry shuddered to think about it. Pippin had killed. Merry had not thought that such a thing was even possible. "The Ring, that accursed Ring!" he hissed to himself. Still, that had been perhaps the only time that Pippin's essential nature had been changed, which would have been a good omen, if Merry thought it possible that Pippin would live for more than a few days. His younger cousin had grown weary and fear had exacted that which it was owed. As he considered this, Merry hung his head, completely defeated. He looked down at Pippin, and realized that he had failed. 'You were supposed to protect him from fear. That's why Gandalf sent you with him,' he thought, 'to quell his fear and to shoulder his weariness.'

'You were going along there well for a bit, Meriadoc Brandybuck, but boy did you stumble when it came the episode with that gollum-creature. Yelling at Pippin like that, what foolishness!'

Merry had chastised Pippin that night. From the moment Merry looked at that dead creature, he had been filled with a distant, lingering dread. The death would work against them in the end, of this he was certain. Killing. It was wrong. Something inside Merry told him that not even in filling their orders was killing justified. He could almost hear Gandalf's voice in his head, warning them about killing another creature, though Gandalf had issued no such warning.

'Perhaps it slipped his mind. What a pity,' thought Merry, in disgust.

'Yes, but you had to go and lecture the lad right then and there. He was so scared, remember what he said to you, remember how your young and unprepared cousin came to you, crying and wishing for comfort and reason, saying: "I cannot live in fear. I am so tired of being scared, and being followed. Scared and followed! I want it to stop!" So concerned were you with his orders that you forgot your own: to keep him as free from fear and weariness as possible! You deserved what happened.'

Pippin had used the Ring. For five days he remained in the Ring-world. Luckily, he left a visible trail, and Merry was able to track him, though he could not figure out why the hosts of Mordor did not descend upon them; Gandalf had said they would be drawn to the Ring with renewed vigor if it should ever be worn. Eventually, Pippin made himself visible again, but it took many days of walking to repair their relationship. It was a testament to their bond that it had been forged anew, and there were no dents upon it.

Merry looked at the Ring as it lay on Pippin, and he directed all his hatred toward it. "Because of you, he'll never live to the mountain!" growled Merry. The Ring gave no response; it merely remained there, a simple golden band. All the more infuriating. As he had many times before, Merry wished that Gandalf had taken the Ring from Pippin and given it to him, so that he could go out alone, do what needed to be done, and return.

It was coming to the time where moving would be best done. Merry started to cry as he put Pippin on his back. His cousin barely moved, and hadn't responded verbally in days. His face told the story—he was exhausted from the burden he had been asked to carry. The Ring was easily visible, still hanging on its little cord around his neck. Merry took a deep breath, and then reached out for the Ring, to take it, to lift the burden from Pippin. Merry stayed his hand, but it was so very hard for him to do. Still, he knew—just knew—if the malevolent thing could be taken from Pippin, he would recover.

Merry moved with as much haste as possible, and found another spot that would do as far as concealing the two of them. This same procedure of crawling along with Pippin on his back, just to find another spot to hide, went on for days. To Merry's continual astonishment, Pippin was actually beginning to recover. By the time Merry had gotten them to the roots of Mount Doom, he could carry on a conversation with Pippin again.

Pippin talked about his death as though it was imminent and could not be halted, but his mood was as cheery as ever, and he seemed to be accepting the situation with an unbelievably jolly manner. Merry would not let him walk, for though Pippin had lost all hope of living, Merry could see that he was continuing to get better. Little did Merry know that Pippin was improving because the Ring was transferring its burden. Each day it was harder for Merry to hold his hand back from the Ring as Pippin slept.

'Gandalf should have taken it from him and given it to me!' thought Merry angrily one night. 'If I take it from Pippin, he will get better!' He watched his cousin sleep, and almost without willing it, moved ever closer to him. He stretched his hand out to take the Ring, pulling his hand away only seconds before Pippin woke up.