13. Celebrating

Merry made his way to the bathing tents, figuring that if he started getting ready at early mess call, he'd have time for a quick bath before changing into his Rohirrim clothing. After all, he could afford to skip breakfast after last night's feasting.

When he saw the lines at the bathing tents, he shook his head. Evidently half the guardsmen in the camp had the same idea. He had turned away when a hand touched his shoulder and a respectful voice said, 'Master Perian?' He turned to see a smiling guardsman. 'Your cousin the Ernil i Pheriannath was here earlier and charged me to watch for you.' To Merry's chagrin he was escorted past a long line of respectful guardsmen to the front of the line, where he was greeted and shown immediately to a steaming bath. He shook his head; being related to royalty sometimes paid off, he supposed.

'Will you be needing any help, Sir?' a deferential servant asked.

'No, thank you, I'll call if I need anything,' Merry answered, and the Man bowed, hung his armload of towels upon a rack next to the tub, and exited the tent. Merry tested the water in wonder, it was hot, and clean. He would be the first to use this tubful. Really, having a Prince of the Halflings for a cousin was very useful, indeed.

Merry bathed quickly, aware of the guardsmen awaiting a turn, and dressed himself as befitting a knight of the Rohirrim. He carefully folded his hobbit clothing; he had dressed simply for Frodo's sake, no need to complicate his awakening unnecessarily. He traced one of the neatly mended slashes in the shirt, a reminder of orc whips. More reminders decorated his back and legs, in the form of scars, but he hardly thought about them; they had healed quickly after he and Pippin drank the Ent draughts.

As Merry was recovering in the Houses of Healing in the interlude between the siege of Minas Tirith and the march to the Black Gate, Pippin had found someone in the City, a widow Beregond knew, who had mended their clothes and somehow washed away the bloodstains, a necessary skill in a warrior society, he imagined. He was still struck by the contrast between warlike Men and his own people. The hobbits of the Shire were probably still quietly going about their business with no idea of the great events happening in other parts of the world. The funny thing was, even if someone came to tell them, they wouldn't be all that interested anyway.

He realized he was getting lost in his thoughts, keeping others waiting. He shook himself, picked up his bundle of clothes, and left the tent.

The servant was hovering outside the entrance to the tent, evidently waiting for a call from within. He bowed as Merry emerged, saying, 'I hope that everything was to your satisfaction, Sir.' Merry thanked him, glanced at the angle of the sun, and realized he still had time for breakfast.

He found Pippin already eating, and joined him. 'So how are Frodo and Sam?' asked Pippin.

'Frodo's awake,' Merry said, 'or at least he was a little while ago. Sam's still sawing logs and looks as if he could sleep another week.'

'I've had enough sleep to last a lifetime,' Pippin said. 'I may never sleep again!'

Merry laughed. His cousin had fallen asleep at the table in the middle of the celebrating the previous night, and been carried to his bed. 'Let's just take it one day at a time,' he told Pippin. 'You've only been up since yesterday. Don't push yourself.'

Pippin snorted in frustration. 'How can I?' he said, 'with so many, Big People, and hobbit, elf, and dwarf looking after me it would be pretty hard to push myself.'

The words sounded familiar to Merry, though he couldn't place them, exactly. 'I know just what you mean,' he said feelingly. 'I'm afraid to sneeze for fear someone will pop me into a bed. There are too many healers about with too little to do. I hope they all get sent packing to the City again soon.' He took a last bite and rose, saying, 'I see Elfhelm; he's come to tell me it's time to attend the King. I'll see you at the feast, cousin, if not before.'

Pippin nodded and waved cheerily, his mouth too full for speech.

***

Merry stood in the ranks of the knights of Rohan. He unsheathed his sword, a gift from Eomer to replace the one lost to the Dark Captain's demise, and joined the rest in calling out praise for the Ring-bearers. Frodo and Sam passed by, eyes shining with wonder and faces flushed, too bewildered by the spectacle to even notice Merry and Pippin in the ranks.

Merry grinned as Frodo recognized Strider and ran to meet him, Sam close behind. He nodded in quiet satisfaction as the Man bowed on his knee before them, took them by the hand, led them to the throne and placed them upon it. Merry joined the rest in the shout of acclamation, then quieted to hear a minstrel sing the tale of the Quest, and he wept and he laughed with the great host at the telling of the tale.

Pippin joined Merry briefly as they walked to the pavilions made ready for the feasting. 'Did you hear what he called us?' the younger hobbit said mischievously. 'We are Greathearts of the Shire.'

'I think he was talking about Frodo and Sam,' Merry answered.

'I thought he'd never finish,' Pippin continued. 'I'm about to drop from hunger.'

'Well you don't get to eat quite yet, you have to serve the king, you know.'

'What, Strider?' Pippin cried. 'He's served himself for so long I don't think he knows how to *be* served.'

Merry smiled. 'He is a Man of many talents,' he said. 'Don't underestimate him.'

'Don't make me nervous, now, cousin,' Pippin warned, 'or I'm likely to drop his wine cup in his lap, and then where would I be?'

'Off on patrol to hunt orcs, I suppose,' Merry answered.

'Huh. Sounds a lot more fun, somehow. It would be nice to be the hunter instead of the hunted, for a change.'

'Shhh. It's time for the Standing Silence,' Merry hissed. For a wonder, Pippin was able to stand a moment without speaking, then nodding to his cousin with great dignity, he took his place behind Aragorn's chair as Merry moved to stand behind Eomer's.

Merry heard Sam's voice raised, calling Frodo's attention to them. 'Well if it isn't Pippin. Mr Peregrin Took I should say, and Mr Merry!' Merry met his wondering gaze and gave a little bow. 'How they have grown!' Sam continued. 'Bless me! But I can see there's more tales to tell than ours.'

Pippin gave Merry a wink and turned to Sam. 'There are indeed,' he said, 'and we'll be telling them as soon as this feast is ended.' He suggested, with mischief in his eye, that Sam should ask Gandalf if he wanted to hear any tales at that moment, 'though he laughs now more than he talks,' Pippin concluded, and Gandalf fulfilled his words at that moment with a merry, ringing laugh.

'Peregrin...' the wizard began, shaking his head, but decided instead to laugh again.

'See?' Pippin said. He neatly filled Aragorn's wine cup and presented it gracefully to the king. 'For the present Merry and I are busy. We are knights of the City and of the Mark, as I hope you observe.' Belatedly recalled to his duties, Merry filled Eomer's wine cup and made sure the king's plate was filled.

'And now, Master Perian, I am well served,' Eomer said, 'and I order you as your king to take your seat beside me and partake of the feast.'

'Who am I to disobey my king?' Merry asked, and Eomer laughed. Aragorn had seated Pippin beside him, Merry noted, and his famished cousin had managed not to drop from hunger, or spill wine all over the king for all his threats.

After the feast had ended, Merry and Pippin walked with Frodo and Sam under the trees until they came to a quiet place where lanterns hung from branches, and the white Moon flickered through the fluttering leaves. They sat there on the grass, breathing the fragrance of Ithilien and talking. Gandalf joined them there soon, and after awhile Legolas and Gimli found them, and they talked long into the night of all that had befallen the Fellowship since their parting.

Sam scratched his head, looking bewildered. 'It sounds as if you've taken a book of fairy tales and mixed up all the pages, and then jumped into the story,' he said. 'I can't make heads nor tails of it.' He eyed Pippin again. 'But what I'd really like to know is how you got to be so tall, young Mr Pippin!'

'We've told you already, twice or four times, perhaps,' Pippin answered laughing. 'It was the ent-draughts.'

Sam shook his head. 'Walking trees,' he muttered. 'It just don't sound possible.' He looked up sharply. 'You're putting me on, Mr Pippin, it's one of your jokes, it has to be! I'm a gardener, I know well enough about trees.'

Pippin laughed helplessly. 'He'll never believe us, Merry,' he said. 'We're just going to have to take him there, let him see for himself.'

Gimli gave a shudder. 'Believe them, lad,' he said. 'And leave your hatchet at home when you go to visit!'

They could have talked through the night and well into the next day but for Gandalf, who rose finally, to call an end to the evening. Not unkindly, the wizard said, 'It is now time to sleep again,' peering from under his bushy eyebrows at Sam and Frodo.

Merry got up. 'I'll walk you to your beds,' he said, 'seeing as my own bed is set near yours.'

Gimli growled at Pippin that it was well past time for him to seek his own bed. When Frodo heard the dwarf tell how near death had come to his young cousin, he threw his arms around Pippin and held him tight for a moment. 'I had no idea,' he said soberly.

'It would take more than a troll to finish me,' Pippin said reassuringly.

The dwarf snorted. 'Come then, young hobbit,' he said. 'I'll escort you to your rest, to make sure you don't go astray and end up where the guardsmen are pouring more ale.' The other hobbits laughed as he took Pippin firmly by the arm and led him away.

Legolas took his leave, and the hobbits stood a moment to hear the elf as he went singing down the hill. Frodo sighed. 'What is it, cousin?' Merry asked in concern.

'It is sad to think of all the Fair Folk leaving Middle Earth and sailing away,' Frodo answered. 'Seeing the friendship that has grown between those two, I wonder what Gimli will do when Legolas finally seeks the Sea.'

'Well, perhaps he will stay for another hundred years of men, as he said,' answered practical Sam. 'He might stay until he loses Gimli, at least, and by then it won't matter to us if he goes or if he stays, now will it? Dwarves live a lot longer than hobbits do.'

Frodo shook his head and smiled. 'Come, Sam,' he said. 'I think we had better look to our beds before Gandalf comes back and shortens our lives further with a scolding.' Arm in arm, the three hobbits walked back to the grove. Merry was relieved to find no healers on watch. He saw Frodo and Sam to their beds himself.

Gandalf's estimate of their energy had proven accurate; when they reached the grove Sam and Frodo were more than ready to stretch out on their beds, and were asleep as soon as their heads touched their pillows. Merry pulled up the covers over the two, and softly bid them good night, though he doubted they heard. He looked down upon them for a long time, then sought his own bed, falling quickly into dreamless sleep.