Chapter 5 - Dealing with grief
At last Legolas spoke.
"The extent of his injuries is bad, although we still do not fully know what ails him. He has a particularly bad cut on his chest, as well as numerous other wounds, from what I can tell at this time. We don't know how hard he was hit on the head. He has suffered blood loss, and it looks as though he has been knocked out."
Merry clenched his fists.
"You haven't answered my question. Is he going to die?"
Aragorn looked up. His face was weary and sad.
"We don't know Merry."
Sam, who was hovering on the outskirts of the camp, saw Merry's face fall, and made his way over to him.
"Don't worry Mister Merry. Pippin is a fighter, and I know Strider won't let him die," Sam said, gingerly sitting down beside Merry.
"But you don't know that Sam," Merry said, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek. "Pippin is my best friend as well as my cousin. I don't know what I'll do if he dies."
Sam patted him on the shoulder. He didn't know what to say to console Merry; he was never very good with words. Instead he sat by him while Legolas and Aragorn tended to Pippin.
Merry wished he had Sam's trust in elves and men. He knew that Legolas and Aragorn were clever and skilled, but even they couldn't do everything. Feeling thoroughly miserable he leant against Sam, feeling a surge of weakness overcome his body.
"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" Sam asked tentatively. Merry blinked, and straightened himself up. He realized his head had flopped onto Sam's shoulder.
"I couldn't sleep while Pippins like...like that," he said, nodding to where Pippin lay.
"You'll be of no use to him like this, it's best that you rest," Boromir had heard them talking, looking at Merry kindly. He hated seeing such jolly people so sad and despairing like this.
"No, I'll sit here," Merry said stubbornly.
Boromir shrugged his shoulders and resumed his circling of the camp.
Merry wanted to know how Pippin was. He wanted to sit by him and help him, like he had always done. He hated to think of his cousin being in pain, especially in this cold and unfriendly place.
Over by Pippin, Legolas straightened up and looked over to where Merry was sat.
"You may come and sit with him, if you would like. We have done all we can, he must now rest."
Merry moved over to Pippin's side. Pippin's body was covered in a thick rug, so only his face was visible. The cut on his forehead was bound in some cloth, and the other small scrapes had been washed, but he was still as white as chalk, and his lips were pale and thin. His eyes were shut and his breathing was sharp and shallow.
"Oh Pip," Merry said, looking sadly at his cousin's face. "What have they done to you?"
He grasped his hand and held on tightly, for just as much his benefit as Pippin's. Willing from the bottom of his soul for Pippin to wake up from his unconscious state and sleep naturally, he watched the rise and fall of his chest, terrified that it would stop. However, it did not, Pippin carried on breathing. Merry's eyes grew heavy as the night grew old, but he stayed by Pippin's side, silently fighting sleep. One by one the rest of the fellowship slept, until only he and Aragorn were awake. Aragorn walked softly over to Merry, his feet making almost no noise on the ground.
"I can stay with Pippin. Please Merry, take some rest," Aragorn said quietly, putting his hand on Merrys shoulder.
"I can't. I can't leave Pippin." Merry mumbled, a lump rising in his throat.
Aragorn did not argue, instead he sat by Pippin and took out his pipe. He too was out of pipeweed, but the habit was too great to break so he simply chewed on the end.
"It pains all of us Merry. You are not alone in your grief," he announced, removing the pipe from his mouth.
"No one knows Pippin like I do. I have known him since he was born. I'm supposed to look after him, but where was I when the orcs took him? I was asleep, that's where I was," Merry said bitterly, disgust at himself showing in his voice.
"You cannot blame yourself. It's not going to help Pippin," Aragorn said gently.
"I know, but I can't help it. I feel so guilty."
Aragorn did not speak for a time, he merely looked into the darkness that was slowly growing light. Merry felt sleep overcome him. His eyes slowly shut and he sank down onto the ground. He dimly felt Aragorn lay a rug over him, before he slipped away into the world of the dreaming.
*-*
Authors note: A little bit of a sad chapter! I feel bad at myself for doing that to Pippin.
Thanks as always for the reviews, I just have one to respond to:
Schlee Verde: I did know that Pippin was about 28, but I guess it slipped my mind when I said that he was a 'grown hobbit'. Thanks for pointing it out to me. Thanks also for your spelling!
I think that's all I have to say for now, but remember to check back regularly, because I update this fic daily!
LOTR is not mine.
Please review on your way out, all criticism is welcome, as this is the first 'proper' fic with over one chapter that I've ever written and I'm a little apprehensive about it to say the least.
At last Legolas spoke.
"The extent of his injuries is bad, although we still do not fully know what ails him. He has a particularly bad cut on his chest, as well as numerous other wounds, from what I can tell at this time. We don't know how hard he was hit on the head. He has suffered blood loss, and it looks as though he has been knocked out."
Merry clenched his fists.
"You haven't answered my question. Is he going to die?"
Aragorn looked up. His face was weary and sad.
"We don't know Merry."
Sam, who was hovering on the outskirts of the camp, saw Merry's face fall, and made his way over to him.
"Don't worry Mister Merry. Pippin is a fighter, and I know Strider won't let him die," Sam said, gingerly sitting down beside Merry.
"But you don't know that Sam," Merry said, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek. "Pippin is my best friend as well as my cousin. I don't know what I'll do if he dies."
Sam patted him on the shoulder. He didn't know what to say to console Merry; he was never very good with words. Instead he sat by him while Legolas and Aragorn tended to Pippin.
Merry wished he had Sam's trust in elves and men. He knew that Legolas and Aragorn were clever and skilled, but even they couldn't do everything. Feeling thoroughly miserable he leant against Sam, feeling a surge of weakness overcome his body.
"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" Sam asked tentatively. Merry blinked, and straightened himself up. He realized his head had flopped onto Sam's shoulder.
"I couldn't sleep while Pippins like...like that," he said, nodding to where Pippin lay.
"You'll be of no use to him like this, it's best that you rest," Boromir had heard them talking, looking at Merry kindly. He hated seeing such jolly people so sad and despairing like this.
"No, I'll sit here," Merry said stubbornly.
Boromir shrugged his shoulders and resumed his circling of the camp.
Merry wanted to know how Pippin was. He wanted to sit by him and help him, like he had always done. He hated to think of his cousin being in pain, especially in this cold and unfriendly place.
Over by Pippin, Legolas straightened up and looked over to where Merry was sat.
"You may come and sit with him, if you would like. We have done all we can, he must now rest."
Merry moved over to Pippin's side. Pippin's body was covered in a thick rug, so only his face was visible. The cut on his forehead was bound in some cloth, and the other small scrapes had been washed, but he was still as white as chalk, and his lips were pale and thin. His eyes were shut and his breathing was sharp and shallow.
"Oh Pip," Merry said, looking sadly at his cousin's face. "What have they done to you?"
He grasped his hand and held on tightly, for just as much his benefit as Pippin's. Willing from the bottom of his soul for Pippin to wake up from his unconscious state and sleep naturally, he watched the rise and fall of his chest, terrified that it would stop. However, it did not, Pippin carried on breathing. Merry's eyes grew heavy as the night grew old, but he stayed by Pippin's side, silently fighting sleep. One by one the rest of the fellowship slept, until only he and Aragorn were awake. Aragorn walked softly over to Merry, his feet making almost no noise on the ground.
"I can stay with Pippin. Please Merry, take some rest," Aragorn said quietly, putting his hand on Merrys shoulder.
"I can't. I can't leave Pippin." Merry mumbled, a lump rising in his throat.
Aragorn did not argue, instead he sat by Pippin and took out his pipe. He too was out of pipeweed, but the habit was too great to break so he simply chewed on the end.
"It pains all of us Merry. You are not alone in your grief," he announced, removing the pipe from his mouth.
"No one knows Pippin like I do. I have known him since he was born. I'm supposed to look after him, but where was I when the orcs took him? I was asleep, that's where I was," Merry said bitterly, disgust at himself showing in his voice.
"You cannot blame yourself. It's not going to help Pippin," Aragorn said gently.
"I know, but I can't help it. I feel so guilty."
Aragorn did not speak for a time, he merely looked into the darkness that was slowly growing light. Merry felt sleep overcome him. His eyes slowly shut and he sank down onto the ground. He dimly felt Aragorn lay a rug over him, before he slipped away into the world of the dreaming.
*-*
Authors note: A little bit of a sad chapter! I feel bad at myself for doing that to Pippin.
Thanks as always for the reviews, I just have one to respond to:
Schlee Verde: I did know that Pippin was about 28, but I guess it slipped my mind when I said that he was a 'grown hobbit'. Thanks for pointing it out to me. Thanks also for your spelling!
I think that's all I have to say for now, but remember to check back regularly, because I update this fic daily!
LOTR is not mine.
Please review on your way out, all criticism is welcome, as this is the first 'proper' fic with over one chapter that I've ever written and I'm a little apprehensive about it to say the least.