A Week. . . . or Two
Chapter 10: The Moonlight
Merry stood there silent and still. A rush of emotions came flooding though him. His eyes wandered around at the scenery, not really taking any of it in, just looking, anywhere, anywhere but there. Then, raising his eyes, Merry watched as Pippin strolled off down the path, pack high on his shoulders, whistling a walking turn. Merry took notice of how he walked with the slightest hop in his step, "'Probably has a grin on his face, that cheeky Took," he whispered allowed.
"Alright Merry, just try not to think about it, you will only get yourself into trouble. Just wait until you get to Frodo's, and then deal with it." Merry shook his head, as if he could actually knock loose the images in his mind and send them flying out and rolling down the path. 'It was only a kiss!' he thought. 'Just some silly little nothing kiss that one gives a relative. He didn't mean anything by it! He couldn't have. Could he?'
"He did use the phrase "hitting on." You can't dismiss the possibility entirely," Merry was surprised to hear his own voice, even more surprised to find himself answering his own question. He picked up his pack and settled it on his shoulders, staring down at his feet. Merry let his tongue poke out of his mouth to taste his lips. Oh Elbereth, he thought, I could drown in that. In his taste, his lips, his. . . No! I must not think on that. I will only encourage my hopes. It is best to trust hope, not bet my father's best apples on it. Yet hope allows some thoughts. Perhaps, some day, I will be allowed to drown in it. Someday, just not today.
It was about this time that Pippin stopped ahead on the road. Looking back he saw his cousin standing in the middle of the path, staring at his feet. The grin faded from his face. Could I have really hurt Merry? Pippin reflected, and for the first time, thought about his actions and the effect they had on others. If I have hurt him, I will surely never forgive myself.
"Merry? Are you coming?" he called out, "Frodo's is a long way from here. We should get moving." Pippin hoped that his voice didn't convey the worry he was feeling. His stomach tightened up as Merry lifted his head. Even from the distance, Pippin could see unmistakably, a lone tear mar a path upon his cousin's perfect cheek. As it slowly rolled down from the corner of his eye and across the high of his cheekbone, the tear trapped the moonlight. Moonlight in its simplest form conveyed what Merry could not. The sparkling upon Merry's cheek for less than a millisecond told Pippin more than a thousand words could have, what he feared most. Merry was hurting. It was simple, pure, truthful hurt, and Pippin had caused it.