Day Eight, April 2:

Midmorning

"Then you knew about it too!" Merry exclaimed in annoyance. The bumps in the road that the cart took did not cause his gaze to waver though his grip on the splintery side of the cart lessened.

Gimli looked somewhat sheepish at the accusation and was overly long in adjusting his pack. At last he met the hobbit's eye. "We are very sorry, Merry. Nobody knew you hadn't been told. We all thought the other one had said something to you. There was no conspiracy to worry you further."

Merry sighed wearily. "I know. It only gave me a scare is all."

"Pippin will be fine," Gimli said and then tried to look past Merry. "How is he now?"

"Fine," replied Merry mischievously. "Sleeping soundly as before."

"Take good care of him," warned Gimli, fixing him with a stern eye. "If anything were to happen while you are not watching I fear I shall have to bring out my axe."

"Then you would have to wait in line behind my aunt and uncle and Pippin's sisters and my parents and some five scores of relatives including Frodo," Merry answered. "There would not be much left of me for your axe to deal with."

"But I would wait in line nevertheless," Gimli laughed. Then he grew sober. "So the young terror is a favorite in your Shire?"

Merry cautiously folded his arms on the cart's side. "Yes. Well, among relatives at any rate but that is almost the same thing. So many family names have been linked together that nearly everyone is related to everyone else. Even with blood ties, though, I do not think some would welcome us with open arms. We have made too much mischief to be welcomed everywhere." A faint grin played on his lips as he recalled the many misadventures they had had in the past.

"Indeed?" the dwarf replied, seeing a way to distract Merry. "So am I to understand you are as much to blame as he?"

It worked. "Indeed," said Merry, warming to his topic with a smile. "We were quite a terrible duo. There was the time we convinced our cousin Roderic that conkers were hedgehog eggs, and the time we snuck off to Bag End without telling anyone, and the time when we borrowed my father's skiff and went down the Brandywine." Merry grew pensive at the memory. "But that one backfired, I'm afraid."

"Tell me about it," Gimli said.

Merry drew a breath. "Well, it happened almost ten years ago to the day . . ."

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i"But Merry, you promised you would teach me how to row a skiff," Pippin pleaded. "I've been waiting for ages!"

Merry shook off the insistent hand on his sleeve and concentrated on sorting seed potatoes from eating potatoes. "Not with the spring tide. It isn't safe. Besides, we'll be caught for sure."

"We wouldn't be gone very long," Pippin said, ignoring his share of the potatoes. "We could be there and back again before anyone found out."

Merry shook his head, conscious of his coming of age in six years and the increased responsibilities that would come with it. "It's dangerous, Pip. The Brandywine at spring tide is nothing to fool around with if you aren't experienced with boats."

"You are," Pippin pointed out. "And we're both excellent swimmers - you taught me yourself."

"That's not the point," objected Merry. "When the spring tide swells the river even the best swimmer in the Shire doesn't stand a chance. Remember Frodo's parents? Cousin Primula grew up on the Brandywine and she and Cousin Drogo drowned."

Pippin had heard the story, of course, but as it had happened a full year before he had been born, the argument had little weight with him. Besides, he knew the details as well as Merry. "But that was at night, after dinner when the ale and wine had flowed freely. This will be in broad daylight."

Merry said nothing, only continued to sort the potatoes. Pippin pressed his case. "Didn't Uncle Scattergold say that if a hobbit learned to manage boats in rough conditions then he would have no trouble in calmer times? This would be the perfect time for me to learn."

He saw his cousin work more slowly, considering the words. Merry had always respected his father's opinion when it came to the river. Pippin lightly placed a hand on Merry's arm and made his voice soft and pleading. "Please, Merry? You did promise."

And that was how Merry found himself on the brown and green shores of the Brandywine in the light rain, showing Pippin the proper way to launch a skiff. "Stronger hand above the weaker and widen the space between them. You'll have more control and strength. Don't tilt it when you lift it - keep it upright."

"But it's harder," Pippin argued. "The mud keeps trying to grab it out of my hands."

Merry checked the loop of rope off the mooring post. "But it makes it harder to put the pole back down for the second stroke. Do it right way." Pippin sighed and poled back and forth a few more times, both with and against the current, until Merry was satisfied with his technique.

"All right," he said. "We'll go downriver a little ways now, just to the sandy clearing on the bank."

Pippin cheered immensely and skipped a bit. "And I get to pole the whole way?"

It was within Merry's mind to refuse, to take the pole himself and teach Pippin by example. But several factors stayed his words. His father's opinion on learning in rough conditions was one, as was his knowledge that Pippin would only beg and plead until Merry gave in. More importantly, he honestly wanted to teach Pippin to handle a skiff. In recent years their ages had caused them to drift apart somewhat. They were still as close as ever but the brotherly times had grown fewer in number. Who knew how long it would be before another such opportunity came their way? And so Merry heard himself say, "Yes, Pippin, you get to pole the whole way. Stand here." Merry placed him near the corner on the river's side. "Keep us close to shore or you'll miss the clearing and the current will get us."

"I know, Merry," replied Pippin patiently and stood with his feet separate for better balance, eager to be off.

"And mind the extra rope. It wouldn't do to get your feet tangled in it," Merry added.

"I know, Merry," Pippin said, less patiently. "Shall we be off now?"

With a small sigh, Merry slipped the loop of rope off the mooring post and the current took the skiff. Pippin's poling was not such much for speed as it was for guiding the raft in a straight line. His movements were a bit awkward but Merry praised them for he was doing well for a beginner. Pippin beamed and concentrated on smoothing out the jerkiness. Soon the willow tree indicating the clearing came into view.

"The clearing's up ahead," said Merry. "Start poling us to the left now."

Pippin nodded and bit his lip in the effort to turn the skiff. Unfortunately, the current's speed had picked up and the water depth had increased.

"Hurry, Pip," Merry urged in a low voice, seeing the clearing near with the skiff not nearly close enough to it.

"I'm trying," Pippin answered, his voice tight with fear. He strained with the effort of pushing the skiff but he lacked the required strength and the skiff skimmed past the sandy bank.

Pippin froze for a second, but came back to himself when the pole was nearly jerked out of his hands. The current was faster now, taking them downstream at a frightening pace. The water deepened further and Merry quickly realized the pole was sinking down too far for it to be of much good anymore.

"Listen to me, Pippin," he said in as reassuring a tone as he could manage. "Stop poling and get the rope ready. There are some large rocks up ahead near the shore that we could use for moorings. When we get close enough throw the loop over it. It's tied pretty tight to the mooring screw so you don't need to mess with that. Just make sure to keep the slack out from underfoot."

"What are you going to do?" Pippin quavered, holding the dripping pole above the skiff.

"I'm going to guide us over to shore the only way I can," Merry replied softly. "Now get the rope ready and stand on the other side."

Pippin obediently picked up the loop of rope and moved over but watching warily as Merry quickly stripped off his jacket and shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Just be ready," Merry replied and slid into the ale-colored water.

The coldness took his breath away and made him gasp. It felt as though a band of iron encircled his chest while a freezing fire attacked his feet and legs. He gripped the edge of the skiff and began kicking for dear life.

Pippin watched him anxiously. "We're getting closer to shore," he called helpfully. "I think I see a rock I could tie us to."

"How close?" Merry panted.

"Just kick a bit harder and I think we'll make it."

Merry gritted his chattering teeth and redoubled his efforts. It felt as though all his limbs had been turned to lead and his blood to ice. And if they missed the shore this time they might well be dragged right through the Old Forest.

"Stop, Merry!" Pippin cried and jammed the loop down over the nearest rock. The rope grew taut as the current kept going relentlessly. There was an anxious moment, then the skiff lurched to a stop while the water streamed past.

Pippin was thrown to knees but both the rock and rope held firm. Merry was not so lucky. The jerk had caught him unawares and his numb fingers loosened their grip. Immediately the current took hold of him and dragged him away.

"Pip!" he gasped out.

Pippin turned at the cry, saw Merry being borne away and did not think twice. He grabbed the slack, a goodly amount, and launched himself from the skiff. Being lighter, the current pulled him along more quickly and his dive had already given him added propulsion. He reached Merry just as he was nearing, quite literally, the end of the rope. Cold fingers latched on Merry's wrist and Merry reciprocated desperately.

The slack jerked taut in Pippin's hand but he did not let go to either the lifeline or his cousin. "Can you grab the rope?" Pippin shouted over the roar of the golden brown river.

"Not yet," Merry shouted back. He dug his fingers into the sodden wool of Pippin's jacket. "Take the rope in both hands until I can grip it."

"I'm not letting go of you!"

"I'll be fine so long as you don't lose your jacket," Merry replied. "Do it or we'll both be lost."

Pippin gave him one despairing look and released Merry's wrist. Immediately Merry clung to Pippin's jacket with both hands and began moving his hands, inch by inch, to the sleeve. Slowly, painfully, Merry clung to Pippin's arm and dragged himself to the rope. His frozen fingers came in contact to the rough fibers and he said a quick prayer of thanks. "Hold on, Pippin. Let me get a bit father and then you can grab my ankle."

Pippin shook his head until he realized Merry couldn't see him. "I'll just pull you down."

Merry scowled but there was not time to argue. "Fine, then, we'll do it together. Move one of your hands between mine." It took a moment for Pippin to manage this but at last he accomplished it.

"Now the other one. Above my top hand," Merry ordered.

"Like how we decided captains for stick ball," Pippin said, understanding.

Little by little they pulled themselves back to skiff in that manner, one hand at a time while the treacherous Brandywine rushed past them. At last Pippin gripped the edge of the skiff and with a boost from Merry, clambered onto it. Shivering in the March air, Pippin reached down and hauled his cousin up next to him.

Merry struggled back into his clothes, fingers fumbling and shaking too hard to do up the buttons. At last he decided to pull the jacket around him and forget the fastenings. He sat, huddled in a miserable lump. "Well," he chattered, "that was a bit of an adventure."

"Oh, Merry!" Pippin wailed suddenly and threw himself at his cousin. His arms went about Merry's shoulders and buried his face in his damp shirt. Merry held Pippin close, feeling the respective shivering of their bodies. It was hard to tell who was worse off, for even though Merry had been in the frigid water longer, Pippin did not have a dry stitch on him.

"It's all right, Pip," he whispered, knowing the shivering was just as much from fright as it was from cold. He tightened his embrace and hoped the close contact would dispel the fear as well as some of the cold.

"I was so scared," Pippin mumbled. "I thought we were going to die when we missed the shore. Or that you would drown when you jumped in the water."

"Well, we are both alive," Merry said comfortingly. Then a thought struck him. "But what about when I saw you leap in after me? It certainly terrified me."

"Oh!" Pippin pulled back, surprised and somewhat shamefaced. "I saw you in the water and I just . . . dove in. I didn't even have time to be frightened. But I'm sorry if I scared you. It wasn't intentional."

Merry smiled gently. "No, I imagine not. I could shake you with a clear conscience for risking your life like that if not for the fact that I'm quite sure you saved my life. You were quite the brave little hero today."

"Oh no, Merry!" Pippin exclaimed, blushing red with embarrassment. "It wasn't brave, not really. Foolishness, more likely. You would have made it to shore. If I had stopped to think I'm sure I would have realized that."

Merry only smiled more and hugged Pippin again. He knew, even if Pippin refused to acknowledge it, that he would not have made it to shore under his own power. But there was no need to frighten him again by voicing that thought.

"Come on then," said Merry gently. "Let's get the skiff back to the moorings before we're caught."/i

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"He's always been braver than he thinks," Merry concluded softly. "He just forgets sometimes and needs to be reminded."

Gimli nodded in agreement walked on silently for a few minutes. "What happened afterwards?" he asked.

"We pulled the skiff over the rocks," said Merry with a grin. "But we hadn't gone very far before my father caught me. Practical sort, my father. He helped us get the skiff back to the mooring, allowed us to dry off and warm up - then he took us to the woodshed and took a strap to us. We both came down with a slight chill afterwards and got scolded for it but I could tell our parents were proud of us for keeping our heads in an emergency."

Gimli chuckled. "When they weren't giving the two of you the rough sides of their tongues, that is."

Merry laughed too, then sighed. "Those were the days before we knew about the Ring and the Eye and all the legions of evil." He sounded wistful, pensive. Gimli was on the verge of saying something comforting. It was unnecessary as Merry suddenly shook himself and smiled again. "But it worked out for the best. Pippin hopped on a boat eagerly enough afterwards so he wasn't shaken up too badly. At least he learned caution. He'll never be a proper boats-hobbit but he's capable enough on the water." He met Gimli's eye. "Some day we must show off for you."

"I look forward to it," Gimli replied.

***** Evening, Ithilien

The carts and weary walkers made their way through the camp, accepting food and drink from the healers and bedding down where they could. Merry, who had been dozing lightly, sat up and looked around at the place he had been just four days before. The evening breezes sang softly through the beeches and pines and the shadows grew long in the setting sun.

A figure in white suddenly blocked out the view. "Stir yourself, Meriadoc. There is *cram* available if you are hungry, and then to bed with you. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"And where would bed be, Gandalf?" Merry asked, getting to his feet.

The wizard easily caught up Pippin's sleeping form, securing the blankets more firmly around him. "Where else but with Frodo and Sam? I doubt you would be agreeable to anything else."

Merry wanted to argue that point but, in good conscience, decided he could not. He satisfied himself with following Gandalf through the chaos of tents, fires, and bodies to the tent of the Ringbearers.

Aragorn was there, relieving Legolas of his long watch. The elf gave Merry a smile as he passed but it was obvious even Legolas was exhausted. Gandalf set Pippin down on one of two pallets Merry couldn't recall being there before and joined the former Ranger between Frodo and Sam.

Hesitantly Merry approached and was somewhat cheered to see improvement. The sores were healing and the deadly paleness had given way to a light pink. The skin no longer stretched so painfully over bones though both were still terribly thin. That would be easy to fix, Merry reflected. Frodo's missing finger, though, was still a shock and nothing in Middle Earth could be done about that.

Absently he nibbled on a cake of *cram*, enjoying the nutty crunch of it, for it had hardened and dried over time in a pleasant way. Gimli assured him all was as it should be and put Merry in mind of grapes and raisins.

Then Aragorn crossed the room to Pippin and, laying a hand on his brow, whispered words Merry could not hear. When he had finished, he turned to Merry. "I must beg your forgiveness, I am afraid. I thought you were aware of what I was doing, having been in the House of Healing. I assure you, Merry, I truly am sorry for the worry I have caused you."

Merry nodded shortly, accepting the apology but still a little put out. "He will wake?"

"Tomorrow morning, more than likely, but as well rested as I promised," said Aragorn. "Frodo and Sam are in a similar sleep but there they must remain for a few days yet."

Merry started to speak but ended up yawning. "I do not think such a sleep is necessary for me, but I should like a place to rest all the same," he hinted without malice.

"There is a pallet for you here," Gandalf said. And as Merry lay down, Gandalf drew the coverlet over him. "Sleep well, Meriadoc."