Title: Keep It Secret

Author: Adalanta

Email: adalanta14@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Characters: Merry, Pippin

Categories: Drama, Angst

Summary: After the battle of the Black Gate, Merry begins to notice that Pippin is acting strangely and is determined to find out what is wrong with him. But secrets are kept for a reason…and oaths are not easily broken. Movie verse. NO SLASH.

Disclaimer: Merry and Pippin are Tolkien's.

Author's Note: Wow! Thank you so much to all who have reviewed thus far! I never dreamed I would get such a response. Okay. Now before you read on, be warned that this chapter has a bit of a cliff-hanger ending. Originally, this part and the last one were one big chapter, but it kept getting longer and longer, so I decided for proofing purposes to cut it in half. Sorry if this upsets anyone, but I promise the last chapter will be up in the next three or four days. Once again, please take a second to leave a review and let me know what you think. I appreciate each and every comment. Thanks!

Keep It Secret

Chapter Three: Finding a Way

I don't know if I can do this.

Merry stood outside the tent he and Pippin shared, hesitant about entering – afraid of what he might learn. The last several hours since he had left Gandalf's tent had been nearly unbearable, filled with fear, concern, and an overwhelming urge to race to his cousin's side to beg, plead, or force the truth out of him. He had endured the endless time, though how he did it, he did not know. And now all he had to do was walk through the canvas flaps and into the tent.

But his large, furry feet seemed unable to move from their current place of residence…two feet from the tent's entrance.

He'd spent the whole afternoon worrying about the health of his dear cousin, but now that he was here…He wasn't sure if he could bear to learn what was wrong. What if something serious is wrong with him? What could possibly be so bad that he can't bring himself to tell me? What if…what if Pippin was…was –

NO! he shouted silently, shaking his head and sending his brown curls flying. Don't think that! Don't ever think that! 'Bad thoughts have ways of coming true' – isn't that what Father always says? So don't be thinking those things, Meriadoc Brandybuck! Not now, when we've already been through so much! He forced the terrifying thought out of his mind and tried to focus on the present.

Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, he lowered his gaze to the plate of food he held in his shaking hands and immediately felt his heart go out to his cousin. Poor Pip, he thought sadly. It's nearly time for dinner, and he barely ate a thing at luncheon. He must be starving! It's not right for a hobbit to go without a meal, especially one so young. He had stopped by the eating tent on his way here only minutes ago and had begged the food from a sympathetic cook, telling him that his hobbit friend did not feel well and had not been able to eat during the noontime meal. The Man of Gondor had been easily charmed by the hobbit, a fact that Merry had previously noted …and was not ashamed to take advantage of, especially for Pippin's sake.

Boromir had told them when they had first met in Rivendell that hobbits seemed like children in his eyes, as they had the same height and build of a nine or ten year old boy in Minas Tirith. It had taken quite a while to convince the Steward's Heir that he was not a child and was in fact considered an adult in the Shire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Pippin, who, being a tweenager, still had several years to go before he was given adult status. And though Boromir had eventually been convinced that the hobbits were not children, he had still made a point to stay close to Merry and Pippin during their journey, just as Aragorn had stayed near to Frodo and Sam.

Merry's eyes burned as he thought about Boromir, the hole torn in his heart by his friend's heroic death aching fiercely. How he missed the Man – his amazing patience, his staggering devotion, and his gentle, caring heart! He blinked quickly to keep the tears from falling. Now was not the time or the place to be mourning the dead. Besides, he already had Pippin to worry about.

All right, enough of this! he told himself firmly, taking a deep breath and then slowly letting it out. Holding the plate close to his chest, he pushed his way through the flaps and into the tent at last.

Pippin looked up at him from the other side of the tent from his seat at the table, a small smile appearing on his face at the sight of his cousin. "Hullo, Merry!"

Merry was relieved to hear that the weariness and strain had disappeared from his friend's fair voice, and as he drew closer, he was pleased to see that the drawn look had vanished as well, although he still seemed a bit paler than normal. "Hullo, Pippin!" He set the plate down on the small table and sat in the chair across from the other hobbit, smiling when Pippin's eyes widened upon seeing the heavily laden plate. "I thought I'd bring you something to eat, since you didn't eat much at luncheon."

The tweenager blushed faintly and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry I was so short with you, Merry," he apologized softly. "I don't know what came over me."

"That's all right, Pip. I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking."

"You're not?" he asked, raising his gaze from the tabletop.

"Of course not," Merry reassured him. "Here, have an apple." Grabbing a bright red apple from the heaping plate, he tossed it to his cousin – who completely missed catching it by more than a hand's length.

Pippin immediately bent over to pick the apple off the grassy floor, mumbling apologizes and excuses the entire time. Merry frowned, only half listening to the muttered words. How could he miss catching that? he wondered, thinking back to all the times he and Pippin had played catch together, both indoors and out. It was rare indeed when his cousin failed to catch the ball…and never had it happened at so short a distance.

If he was worried before, now he was downright scared.

His frown vanished as Pippin popped up from beneath the table, holding the apple in his left hand and wiping it off on his clothes. "I can't believe I missed that. It's a good thing that none of the other cousins were here to see it. I might never have lived that down," he said and then took a small bite of the errant fruit.

Merry nodded, reaching out to grab another apple off of the plate and began to munch on it thoughtfully, watching Pippin as he did so, noticing how slowly he was eating the piece of fruit. The Brandybuck began to talk, speaking of this and that, all the while trying to draw the Took into conversation. All he got for his trouble, however, was a few one-word answers and a lot of nodding. Pippin, in the meantime, slowly polished off the apple and then moved on to a small piece of yellow cheese and a bit of brown bread. Everything he chose was a small portion, just a fraction of what a normal hobbit would eat…and much, much less than was normal for Pippin.

Finally, the older hobbit could take no more of the silence and the odd behavior. "Pippin, are you feeling well?" he asked nonchalantly, pouring himself a cup of water and one for his cousin.

"I'm fine."

He winced at that particular phrase, remembering how horribly sick Pip had looked when he had said the exact same words to Gandalf earlier that day and had then promptly collapsed. Well, he thought wryly, at least it wasn't a one-word answer. Still… "Then why aren't you eating?"

Pippin shot an incredulous look at the figure seated across from him at the wooden table. "I am eating, Merry." He gestured to the apple core off to his left. "See?"

"You've hardly eaten a thing – not at luncheon and not now," he countered firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. "And you haven't even touched your meat. Would you care to tell me why?"

"I…I don't care for the way it tastes," Pip said, looking off to the side and pulling his arms off the table, placing his hands in his lap.

Merry watched, puzzled, as the pale face before him grew whiter. "But how do you know? You haven't even tried it today!" His frustrated words drew no response from Pippin, who refused to look at him, choosing instead to stare at the side of the tent and shift about in his seat. All right, he decided after a short period of silence. I guess I'll just have to try another way.    

"I went to see Gandalf today," he admitted, watching Pippin closely to see if his words got a reaction. They did – of a sort. The young hobbit stopped shifting about in his seat, suddenly growing very still. Well, it's not much, but at least it's something. Merry waited a few seconds to see if Pippin would say anything but was once again disappointed.

"I thought I would stop to see how he was doing and ask his opinion on a certain matter – see if he could shed a little light on things, so to speak." Still no response, although he could see that Pippin now appeared to be holding his breath, his black uniform doing little to hide the tenseness that held his small body rigid. Come on, Pippin. Say something already! Don't make me have to drag whatever it is out of you. He waited for a few moments more, but nothing happened, so in desperation, he decided to try one last time. "Gandalf gave me a message for you. He said to tell you that, 'The decision is up to you. I release you from your oath.'"

With a low gasp, Pippin's head snapped back towards Merry, his eyes wide, emotions swirling turbulently in the emerald depths. He stared wildly at his cousin, his thin face now a sickly white. He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak but nothing came out.

"Pippin," Merry began softly, yearning to learn the truth and yet afraid to push his friend too far. "I saw you there…with Gandalf…outside his tent." He paused, sighing heavily, and then continued in a voice filled with determination. "Look, I know that something's wrong…that you've been acting, well, a bit off lately. You've not been yourself, and…and I'm worried about you, Pip. Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I…I c-can't," Pippin stammered in a small, shivery voice.

"Because of what you promised Gandalf?"

"H-how – ?"

"I went in and talked to Gandalf right after you left," he explained, leaning his forearms on the table. "I asked him about you, but he refused to tell me anything…said he'd made a promise not to tell anyone else…" He glanced down at the table and then just as quickly looked up again, meeting Pippin's gaze as he finished, "…just as you had promised him. But, Pip, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Please…tell me what's wrong."

But Pippin only shook his head violently, his body visibly trembling from head to toe. Merry could plainly see the anguish and fear that rolled across the expressive face and ached to hold the younger hobbit in his arms and comfort him, but he steadfastly refused to back down now that he'd gone this far. Uttering a silent prayer, he urged him gently, "Pippin, please. You know you can tell me anything – you always have! Why is this time any different? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I can't," he repeated in a strained voice, head now bent over the table, the chestnut mop of curls successfully hiding his face.

"Can't or won't?" he pressed.

"I CAN'T!" he shouted abruptly, stunning Merry, and bolted from his seat, moving quickly towards the tent's entrance.

Without thinking, the older hobbit lunged to the side as Pippin came around the table and grabbed his cousin's right hand tightly, tugging back sharply in a desperate attempt to stop his flight.

And he did.

But not the way he wanted to.

TBC…

(I know – it's cruel to end right there, isn't it?)