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Chapter 29

A DAY OF MIRACLES

            When she opened her eyes all that filled her vision were green eyes.  Green eyes speckled gold.  She thought she recognized them, was sure she had seen them before but couldn't seem to place them.  They were beautiful though, wide and filled with life, if a bit hazy with weariness.

            "It is you."  The eyes suddenly seemed to laugh.

            Apryl blinked.  "Pip?" she managed weakly.

            "I wasn't sure at first," he said.  "When I first woke up I saw you lying here and didn't know who you were, but then I suspected and now I know I'm right.  It is you, isn't it?"

            The girl looked around, found that she lay in a huge bed in a large airy room and recognized the place instantly.  She sat up.

            "I'm back!"

            Someone laughed at her side and she was suddenly enveloped in a hug.  The warmth that the body radiated was a pleasant counter to the chill she felt she had experienced her whole life.  She returned the embrace eagerly.

            When they finally broke apart, Apryl peered at the hobbit.  There was something different about him, something she couldn't quite place.

            "By the Shire, Apryl," Pippin gasped, looking at her up and down.  "How . . . What happened to you?"

            Apryl frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

            Pippin reached out and grasped her by the hand, guided it to her ear until she lightly brushed the tip.  Apryl's eyes widened.

            It's not Pippin who's different, she realized suddenly, It's me!

            "What's happened to me?" she gasped, touching her face and hair but finding nothing odd about them.  Through her eyes, however, she realized the change and found herself in a very large world.

            When Pippin spoke next, Apryl couldn't tell if his voice held more disbelief, fear, or joy.  "Your . . ." he shook his head, "Your a Hobbit."

            "No," Apryl disagreed as she peered at herself in the full-length mirror, "Not a Hobbit."

            "It wouldn't appear so, would it?" Merry said.  "Your feet look human enough, though smaller."  He stepped forward.  "May I, Lady?"

            Apryl placed a foot into Merry's outstretched hands and regretted doing so almost immediately.  Her balance was horribly crippled.  With a glance at Pippin and a grin on his part, she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

            Merry touched the soles of her feet and Apryl giggled.  Merry glanced up and smiled.  "Ticklish, milady?" he wondered.

            She frowned.  "No."

            Merry grinned.  "That's alright," he nodded toward his cousin.  "Neither is Pip."  This caused Apryl to grin devishly and peer over at Peregrin.

            "Hoy, now," Pippin protested, "Like you have room to talk, Cousin."

            "I do as a matter of fact," Merry said, putting Apryl's foot down and slowly rising to his full height--which wasn't very full at all.

            "Oh, you do, do you?" Pippin challenged, placing his hands on his hips.  Finding herself between the two, Apryl took several subtle steps backwards.  "This coming from the very hobbit who ran behind Cousin Frodo every time I so much as twitched a finger?"

            Apryl giggled at the mental picture this brought.  What I would have given, she sighed.

            "You little twit!" and Merry jumped at his cousin.  With a yelp, Pippin stumbled backwards, tripped and fell with a painful thud! on his rump.  Merry was on him in a flash.

            Shrieks of laughter split the air and Apryl watched the two in glee.  She couldn't help laughing right along.  She watched them fondly, wishing above all else that she might join them in their scuffle but terrified that they wouldn't want her to.  So she watched, and decided she was content to do so.

            "Merry, you great oaf, get off me!" Pippin cried, struggling beneath the weight of his cousin.  But Merry was not to be deterred and he remained where he was, straddling his cousin, a gleeful grin upon his hobbitish features.

            Apryl caught Pippin's eye and smiled.  "Having fun?" she mouthed.

            Pippin could only squeak in protest.  The sound cut through her heart and she had to physically restrain herself from leaping upon Pippin's assailant and dragging Merry from atop his cousin.  How she would have managed this Apryl didn't even consider for it was easy to forget she was now smaller than they; the change, for some odd reason, was hard to cope with.

            But just as Apryl could stand it no longer and was about to leap atop them both whether they wanted her to or not, something Apryl had noticed earlier but could not place slammed into her like a brick wall.

            "Pippin!" Apryl fairly cried and Merry halted in mid-tickle to look up in startlement.  The tone in her voice . . .

            "Pippin, your face," she ran over to him, knelt and peered hard at his features.  She reached out, grasped his hand and turned it over, looked at it desperately.  Merry's eyes suddenly widened as he saw what the girl had.

            "The scars, Pip," Merry exclaimed.  "They're gone!"

            Pippin brought his hand before his eyes and saw that it was so.  Nothing . . . gone . . . his skin was flawless.  He turned his head, peered at his reflection in the mirror.  It was as though it had never happened, the pain had never been.  Even the phantom of its memory was fading from his mind and though he remembered feeling the pain and experiencing it he couldn't remember exactly how it felt.

            "A miracle," Merry breathed, staring at his cousin.

            "It is a day of miracles," Pippin returned and glanced at Apryl. 

            She knew what he was thinking and shook her head.  I do not know who healed you, Pip, but it wasn't me.  How could it have been?  She did not even remember hurting him, how could she have corrected something she did not remember causing?  But, then, she did not remember finding a way home, nor of how she had accomplished it.  She barely remembered the Dark Lord.  Everything was a hazy blur and she did not like it.

            "Indeed," Merry agreed.  "A Day of Miracles."  He too looked at the Maiar-turned human-turned-hobbit. 

            But then, she wasn't a hobbit and she had never truly been a human and she did not remember being a Maiar.

            "I know what you are both thinking," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.  She got to her feet and went over to the bed.  "And I didn't do it."  She looked over at Pippin, who was struggling to his feet, Merry close behind.  "I do not remember hurting you, Peregrin Took," she did not know why she said his full name.  Perhaps because, admitting that she did this wrong, it didn't give her a right to call him "Pippin" or "Pip".  What kind of person hurts their friend?  "But I know that I did and you know it, too, if I'm not mistaken."

            Pippin nodded.  He knew.  He didn't know how, he just did.

            "Gandalf told me and Frodo," Merry said softly.

            Apryl winced.  Frodo. 

            It took a moment before she could collect her thoughts and remember what she had meant to say.  "I hurt you," she said, finally, slowly, "but I did not heal you and I do not know why I am . . ." she glanced down at herself, ". . . like this.  I fell asleep a human and awoke a . . ." she hesitated.  What am I?  Surely not a hobbit for I do not have the feet and neither do I have the ears.  They were different somehow.  Pointed, yes, but unlike both seen upon hobbits and elves.  Unlike them and, yet, the same.  They resembled both, actually.

            Merry's eyes widened slightly when she spoke of awaking.  He glanced at Pippin then suddenly realized something he should have already known.

            "But--" he protested.  "You did not wake, Lady Apryl."  Apryl looked at Merry, uncomprehending, then sought out the answer in Pippin but found he would not catch her eye. 

            Of course she wouldn't know? Pippin mourned.  How could she?  But I shan't be the one to tell her.  Let Merry, Merry can . . .

            "You died," was as best Merry could explain.

            Apryl blinked.  "Pardon?"

            "Died," he repeated, glancing at Pippin but finding no help in his younger cousin.    "The morning Sam fell into the pool and you dragged him out, you caught pneumonia or some such illness.  You would not heal.  Lord Elrond tried, I was there once even, but nought he tried would take.  Gandalf seemed to know you would not mend and after a time the entire House seemed to realize it.  You died before dawn on the fourth day following Samwise's mishap."

            Apryl looked down at the ground, seemed to try and pry answers from it, and said softly, "I--I couldn't . . . it's not possible."  She looked up.  "I cannot die and be alive at the same time."

            "We burnt your body," Merry said.  He had not gone to see, none of the hobbits had.  They did not burn their dead.  Once, long ago, when their people were new to the world and dangers were still close at hand, they burnt their enemies and buried their heroes.  It was a great evil to burn those you loved.

            "But--but I am not dead," she said desperately, looking to either hobbit.  She looked to Pippin and was horrified that he wept.  "I am not dead," she said again, firmer, as if to command such the Angel of Death would submit to her wishes.  "Why are you crying?" she demanded angrily, feeling tears sting at her own eyes.  She looked at Merry.  "Why is he crying?" but this time it came out as a child might ask her mother why the butterfly dies.  She was suddenly frightened.  She had never seen anyone cry over her before.  She didn't like it.

            Merry could only shake his head.  He turned to his cousin so he might comfort him, tell him everything was alright, even as he had done when they were children and the monsters would come in the night. 

            "Apryl is right, you know," he assured both Pippin and, he hated to admit, himself, "She isn't dead.  She is alive, though Eru knows how."

            Pippin nodded, smiled through his tears.  "I know it," he said.  "That is why I weep.  He has blessed us."

            Apryl thought she had mistaken his words and could only stare at him dumbly.

            "You are an amazing, if a bit mysterious friend," Merry had to agree, regarding her as he had when first they had met.

            "A bit like Gandalf," Pippin commented.

            "Indeed," Merry said thoughtfully.

            "In any case," Pippin said suddenly, "I care not whether you're a hobbit or a human, whether you were dead and are now alive.  I care only that you are here and we might share a laugh again."  He smiled at her.  "I quite enjoy it."

            Apryl still wasn't certain if she was hearing correctly, though her cheeks were suddenly very hot and, she imagined, quite red.

            "I second that," Merry agreed.  "Though, my dear Lady Apryl, I do promise not to make you cry again."  Pippin frowned and looked hard at his cousin.

            "You made her cry?!" he asked, horrified.

            Apryl smiled and, a tear that had formed earlier when she had spied poor Pippin crying, slipped down her reddened cheek.  Merry sighed gustily.

            "Well," he mourned.  "I shall try at any rate."

            "Indeed you shall," Pippin said severely.  "Otherwise I shall have Gandalf turn you into something unnatural as he nearly did to poor Sam."

            Merry laughed in disbelief.  "I'd like to see that one, Cousin.  Gandalf would sooner turn you into something unnatural.  I'm not the one constantly getting into mischief and causing havoc upon whatever and whomever I lay my eyes upon."

            Apryl giggled.  "I'd have to agree with Merry on that one, Pip."

            "Hoy, now," Pippin turned to Apryl in mock hurt, "I was defending you."

            Apryl seemed to consider this.  "Yes, well, I do agree with Merry."  She looked at Pippin, her eyes wide with disbelief.  "You wouldn't have me lie, would you?"

            The corner of Pippin's mouth twitched.  "Well," he sniffed, fighting the urge to smile.  "I should think I am unloved.  I will return to my bedroom," and with that he turned and left the room.

            Apryl laughed aloud.  "My poor falcon," she cried.  "I did not mean it, come back in here and see how sorry I am!"

            "Pippin, you twit!" Merry said and he laughed.  It was deep and Apryl felt that it was quite pleasant.  "This is your bedroom.  You most certainly do not have two of them.  Come back here so that I do not claim it for my own!"

            "So that you might have two?" Pippin appeared at the doorframe, hands upon hips.  "I think not."

            "Come, Pip," Apryl said, "See how sorry I am?"  And she made her eyes wide, perfectly innocent and sorry-like, and stuck her bottom lip slightly out.  Both gentlehobbits burst into fits of laughter.  Apryl grinned, pleased.

            "Well," Merry challenged, calming his fits of giggles, "she might claim such but I do not.  I will not apologize to the likes of you."

            "Indeed you never do," Pippin returned seriously.  He grinned devishly not a second later.  "Until I make you."  And he leapt for his cousin. 

            The two scuffled for a time, tumbling about upon the floor and Apryl marveled that no one came running at the ruckus the two hobbits were making.  She suddenly felt sorry for their parents and could almost imagine all the gray hairs the boys had gifted them.  Boys will be boys, she thought with a mental sigh and, as her reward for thinking such, was knocked off her feet. 

            She landed on Pippin, or it could have been Merry, she wasn't quite certain which.  Perhaps both.  At first she tried to escape, wriggle free and then run to the bed, but that hope was immediately dashed as Merry latched onto her and would not let go.  She wasn't certain but she thought that she was now his shield.

            Put off at first, Pippin tried to go around her, uncertain that she could handle their rough-housing or would want to.  But as Merry was quite good at maneuvering her so that it was nearly impossible for Pippin to reach him, the younger gentlehobbit was forced to find a knew way. 

            He did.  Pippin found tickling was an excellent tool against Apryl.  Amongst shrieks of laughter and protest, she immediately curled up into a small ball.  This, actually, was useful to both hobbits.  As it got past Merry's guard for Pippin it also caused him to lose complete interest in attacking his cousin.  Tickling Apryl was much more pleasing than hitting his cousin over the head.  Merry, too, found her entertaining.

            Suddenly, a throat was noisily cleared. 

            Immediately, both hobbits ceased their "torture" and glanced toward the noise.  Apryl, too, peeked out from her fetal position amongst the two.

            Lord Elrond, desperately fighting a smile from forming on his features, stood in the doorframe, tall and quite his usual regal self.

            The two hobbits scrambled to their feet, Apryl following clumsily after.  She looked up at the elf . . . and up . . . and up . . . and up. 

            She shrank away from him, moving behind Merry and Pippin.  It was not that she feared the elf, for Apryl knew Lord Elrond would cause her no harm, but he was so tall! and this reminded her, with a start, what she had become and what the elf lord might think.  For some reason, she was ashamed.

            Lord Elrond seemed to note her discomfort but said nought of it.  Instead, he looked at Pippin.

            "I see that you are well mended," Elrond said, pleased.

            "Yes," Pippin nodded, "Thank you, Master Elrond."

            The elf smiled warmly.  "The hands of your healer are gentle indeed," and at this he glanced at Apryl.  Pippin gave her a look that seemed to say, "See, I told you" but she was not looking at the halfling.

            "I should hope you would forgive me, my dear gentlehobbits," Lord Elrond said, "But I am afraid I have much to talk of with young Atira."

            It took a moment for either hobbit to recall that "Atira" was Apryl and they looked at her expectantly.

            "Come, my dear," Elrond said kindly and, with a last look at either hobbit (an especially penetrating one towards Pippin), she followed the elf from the room.

            Pippin watched her go and understood all too clearly what that look she had bestowed upon him meant.  "Don't worry, lady," Pippin said to himself, "I failed you once but I shan't to so again.  I promised after all."

*****