Chapter Three: Merry, Warrior Hobbit

A/N: The herbal remedy mentioned in this chapter is not recommended to be used for any illness or injury. In other words, don't try this at home.

Merry,

I managed to cut your fool cousin off at the pass, as they say. I convinced him to accompany me to Rivendell to rethink his harebrained scheme to run away to Gondor. Follow and your questions will be answered.

Gandalf

Merry let out a tense breath and put his hand on his heart.

Barliman Butterbur looked down at the Hobbit encouragingly. "Good news?"

"The best sort of good news, thank you." Merry stuffed the note in his pocket and rubbed his hands together happily. Now that he knew Pippin was safe he could finally relax and get his first good night's sleep in days. But first a pint and a smoke.

Merry gave his pack to Nob, Butterbur's Hobbit servant, and entered The Pony's common room. Though he and Pippin enjoyed riding through the Shire dressed as fine warrior Hobbits, Merry decided it was better to take a page from Strider's book when traveling outside friendlier borders. He was dressed as a simple gentlehobbit in a dark green waistcoat, brown jacket and breeches topped with his Elven cloak. He wore his mail shirt over his linen, of course, and made sure his sword, dagger, and Horn of Rohan were hidden under his cloak.

He was halfway through his first pint when he felt unfriendly eyes on him. Merry glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw two ragged Men approaching. He wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized the larger of the two ruffians from the Battle of Bywater.

"Imagine that, Deken," said the smaller man. "Two fancy, large Hobbits passin' through Bree in as many days."

"Tis a wonder, Rima. I guess them's growin' 'em big in the Shire." The larger Man's mocking laughter echoed through the room as the two Men moved to either side of Merry. The Hobbit did not look up and took another sip of ale.

"Look Rima, this one's got hisself a pretty horn." The Man called Deken snatched the Horn of Rohan off Merry's belt and turned it over in his filthy hands. Quick as a flash, Merry grabbed Rima's shirt front, drew his dagger and stuck it in into the Man's gut just far enough to break the skin.

"Put it down and move away," Merry rumbled dangerously, "or I'll disembowel your friend."

Deken hesitated. Rima roared in pain as Merry pushed the blade in a hair further. "Do as he says, blast you!"

Deken threw the horn down and stepped back.

Merry shoved Rima away from him and jumped up out of his chair. He drew his sword and brandished it menacingly. "Leave here now, and don't come back!" The attention of all in the common room was on the strange tableau of the two fell Men cowering before a Hobbit. If Merry had not commanded immediate respect by his bearing and skill, there would have been more than a few snickers at the sight.

Rima held his gut in as if he feared his insides would fall out from the shallow wound. "Let's get out of here, Deken."

With a last evil look at Merry, the two men ran out of the inn.

Merry sheathed his sword, just then noticing the wary stares of the other patrons. He took a last long pull of ale and went in search of Butterbur to change his room from a comfortable, but insecure Hobbit hole to something a little farther off the ground. So much for relaxation.

Less than a day's ride from Weathertop, Merry got the distinct impression that he was being followed and had been for some time. He was certain it was Deken and Rima from The Pony. The Hobbit suspected it was more because of the humiliation the two Men had suffered, rather than any riches they hoped to steal that caused them to come after him.

They had horses, stolen no doubt, and even though his pony Stybba was bred by the horse masters of Rohan, he could still be outrun. Merry didn't want to make a mad dash for it unless he had no other choice.

Eventually, Merry was forced to stop to relieve the pressure in his bladder and take a quick meal. It was the opportunity the two villains had been waiting for. Merry barely mounted Stybba and drew his short sword before they burst out of the trees.

They had long knives, but they had no training in battle or fighting on horseback, judging by their wild slashes.

Rima aimed for Merry's head, but the Hobbit ducked before he could strike. Merry plunged his sword beneath the Man's ribcage and through his entire body. Rima fell to the ground, dead. Merry just managed to parry an attack by Deken.

"You killed my best mate!" The Man screamed, barring his rotten teeth. "You're next, you ugly little rat!"

"You're calling me ugly?" Merry backed Stybba up then charged forward, stabbing Deken in the shoulder. Deken used the opportunity to slash Merry's left thigh. With a resounding battle cry, Merry pushed the Man off his horse with his uninjured leg. Now free from his abductor, the horse ran towards Bree.

Merry galloped east, the sound of Stybba's hooves pounding the earth and drowning out Deken's vile curses. The Hobbit continued riding for an hour to put as much distance between him and the Man as possible. Finally, he stopped by a stream to tend to the wound on his leg. It wasn't deep, but it was long and jagged. He cleaned it with clear cool water that stung and soothed at the same time. He then ripped the hem off of his extra linen shirt and bound the wound. After that Merry traveled off the road the rest of the way to Rivendell.

Three days after the skirmish, Merry awoke at dawn, drenched in sweat. His left leg was stiff and his thigh wound felt like it was on fire. He gingerly removed his makeshift bandage and his nostrils were assailed by the unmistakable odor of infection. The cut was red and angry, with pus beginning to ooze out of it. "I'm going to kill Pippin when I see him."

He started a small fire and boiled some water. By then the sun had risen. Merry stumbled to his feet and limped in search of some herbs he had seen his mother use to treat wounds. He managed to find boneset on the stream bank and ripped up a handful of the long itchy plants, careful to include its medicinal roots. Ruddes proved much harder to find, but he finally spotted a bunch of its golden orange flowers. He cut up the plants and ground them as finely as he could. He wrapped the crushed herbs in a piece of his shirt, dipped it into the boiling water, and applied it to the wound. If any Hobbit wife had been there to hear the word Merry cried out, she would have surely washed his mouth out with soap. When it cooled, Merry covered the poultice with a clean bandage and secured it tightly. He saved some of the leaves, roots, and flowers for later and made the rest into a tea.

Merry grimly considered his options while he ate a late breakfast. There was no one around for many miles and he certainly could not wait here for his wound to heal--or not. He had to ride for Rivendell as swiftly as possible; but even then it was three day's ride. Somehow, he managed to climb into his pony's saddle and gallop away. Ever jolt magnified the agony in his thigh until his whole leg settled into a burning numbness.

By the next morning, the wound was festering badly and Merry knew the infection had seeped into his blood. Burning with fever, his mind was becoming increasingly foggy and confused. Fortunately, Stybba seemed to know which way to go. If it wasn't for the loyal hill-pony, a gift from King Théoden, Merry would have been hopelessly lost.

A day and a half from Rivendell, Merry was so weak with fever and pain that he fell off his pony into a field of heather. All Stybba could do was nuzzle the Hobbit and whinny. Merry felt his pony's nose nudging his side. He reached to pat the beast's muzzle, but his hand fell on the Horn of Rohan instead. He lifted his head with a sudden burst of energy and put the horn to his lips. Even though the sound reverberated throughout his entire body, Merry wasn't certain he'd made any sound at all.

Completely spent, Merry lay in the heather, dying of thirst, but too weak to retrieve his water bottle. His lips were dry and cracked, he didn't have enough spit to swallow, but he did manage to shed a few tears. "Pippin, why did you leave me?"

"No one has left you, Merry."

Merry looked up and for a shining second he saw his young cousin smiling down on him. "Pippin?"

"I will look after you now." Pippin leaned down to pick him up. The illusion dissolved and was replaced by the reality of a tall, dark-haired Elf taking the Hobbit in his arms. Merry smiled gratefully and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to sink into painless oblivion.

Pippin had been in Rivendell for only two days and he was already bored to tears. Most of the Elves had left for the Grey Havens and there was only so much smoking even he could do with Bilbo and Gandalf. He began to take long, lonely walks along the terrace path as far as the stone bridge. He supposed it was about time for him to continue on to Gondor, but the thought of that treacherous journey was worse even than the boredom.

He was skipping stones in the River Bruinen and thinking that perhaps he should return to the Shire after all, when a rider approached at breakneck speed. Pippin quickly jumped out of the way to let the rider through. It was one of the twin sons of Lord Elrond and he was holding a largish bundle before him. At the sight of a furry hobbit foot peeking out from under a familiar Elvish cloak, Pippin realized the bundle was Merry.

 "MERRY!"

The Elf rushed passed him and Pippin ran to catch up. Lord Elrond met Elrohir at the entrance to the hall and the two Elves spoke quickly in their own tongue. Elrond directed his son to take Merry to a sick room, where Elrohir laid Merry gently on the bed. Pippin tried to jump up as well, but the bed was too high for that, so he just stood by Merry's head. The older Hobbit was delirious and it took a few moments for him to focus on his cousin. "Pippin?"

Pippin stroked his damp curls and started to snuffle. "I'm so sorry, Merry."

Sudden anger flashed in Merry's eyes. He took a handful of Pippin's shirt in his fist. "Why did you leave me, Pippin?"

Pippin shook his head and burst into tears when he glanced at Merry's leg and finally saw the terrible wound on his thigh that was making him so ill.

Tears sprang to Merry's blue eyes as well. "I don't understand. You told Rosie why you left, but you won't tell me?"

"I never thought you'd come after me," Pippin said between choking sobs.

Merry's grip on Pippin's shirt tightened. "That's your problem, Pippin. You never think!"

Elrond gently but firmly separated the two Hobbits and ushered Pippin out the door. "Now is not the time for arguments, Master Meriadoc. We must heal your hurts first."

Pippin stumbled to his room and cried through luncheon and afternoon tea. This was worse than dropping the stone into the well in the Mines of Moria; worse still than looking in the palantír and having his mind attacked by the Enemy. He had almost killed his beloved Merry by his reckless actions.

When he had no more tears left, Pippin washed his face and then went to sit with Bilbo and Gandalf. He looked out over the balcony, but did not allow himself to enjoy the exquisite view. "How could one Hobbit cause so much damage in so short a time?" It was a rhetorical question, but he half expected a response. He wasn't disappointed.

"Because, Pippin," said Bilbo, "the choices you make not only affect you, but everyone who loves you."

"And keeping secrets that should not be kept takes its own toll," added the wizard.

Pippin turned on Gandalf uneasily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stuff and nonsense!" Gandalf snorted. "Your mysterious reason for leaving the Shire is apparent to anyone paying the slightest bit of attention."

Bilbo nodded apologetically. "I'm afraid so, my boy."

Gandalf inhaled some pipe smoke and then blew a smoke-ring in the shape of a heart. Not to be outdone, Bilbo blew his own ring in the form of an arrow piercing Gandalf's smoke-heart. "So Peregrin Took, are you going to tell your cousin why he was forced to leave the comfort of his Hobbit-hole to come chasing after you?"

Pippin just stared at Bilbo and Gandalf in horror. How could they know?

"Well," said Bilbo as he continued to puff away, "when are you going to tell Merry that you're in love with him?"

The old Hobbit's blunt statement was like a slap across Pippin's face. "W-who told you?"

"You did," said Gandalf, "by your irrational behavior of late. Or should I say, more irrational than usual. Besides, I had suspected as much for a while."

"You're not shocked." It was a statement of surprise, not a question.

Gandalf laughed gently. "I have seen much through the ages and I have found that when it comes to love, gender matters little."

"Neither of you thinks badly of me then?"

Bilbo tut-tutted and patted him on the arm. "Of course not. There is too little love in this world to rebuff it when it blossoms."

"Do you know if Merry loves me?" Pippin asked hopefully.

The wizard shrugged. "You know he loves you dearly, but I have no idea if he cares for you in the same way you care for him. You'll just have to ask him and find out."

Pippin shook his head vigorously. "I couldn't. What if he doesn't feel the same way and he hates me for the way I feel? I think it will be better for me to just leave for Gondor as I had planned."

"I doubt he could ever hate you," Bilbo said, "but he will resent you if you don't tell him why you're leaving. Don't you think you owe him at least that?"

The next morning, Pippin opened the door to Merry's room and poked his head in. "How are you feeling?"

Merry glared at him crossly, but his anger melted into a tired sigh. "Come in, Pippin." His young cousin crept gingerly toward him until Merry gestured impatiently for him to sit in the chair beside his bed. "No worries, Pip. I'll be fine. Master Elrond says there's no permanent damage."

"Oh, I am glad," Pippin replied with relief. "Elrohir told us you were attacked by two Men."

"Bree-Men. They gave me a bit of trouble at The Pony, then they followed me. I killed one of them and wounded the other."

Pippin's face fell. "Good for you."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I saw them at The Pony right before Gandalf came to my rescue." The guilt in Pippin's voice was palpable.

Merry nodded. "They did mention seeing another large, 'fancy' hobbit."

"Oh, Merry," Pippin cried. "I wish Gandalf had come for you instead and I'd been left to face those Men."

Merry took Pippin's hand. "Don't say that. I don't really blame you. You didn't intend for it to happen."

Pippin pulled his hand away as if he was undeserving of Merry's comfort. "I never intend anything to happen, but it always does!"

Merry ruffled his curls affectionately. "You are a bit of a calamity waiting to happen, but that's part of your charm."

Pippin wiped his eyes and grinned sheepishly.

"I'll forgive you if you tell me why you caused all this fuss." Merry took his hand again and held it firmly.

Pippin swallowed hard and nodded. "Quite right. You deserve to know."

"Well?"

"Well, I, ah...you see, I didn't intend for it to happen, but, you know...."

"Just say it for pity's sake!"

"I'm in love!" Pippin blurted out.

Merry rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Is that all? Who is she then?"

Pippin looked away. "Someone beyond my reach."

"Is it an Elf-maid or a Woman?" Merry asked.

"No," Pippin replied coyly, "it's a Hobbit."

Merry scratched his chin and thought hard about who it could be. There was really no Hobbit lass that was beyond Pippin's reach. He would be The Thain one day and inherit a fortune. Perhaps it was someone who was unavailable. Perhaps it was a Hobbit-wife! "It's Rosie Gamgee isn't it? How could you do that to poor Sam? Oh Pippin, I'm so disappointed in you!"

It was Pippin's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Merry. It's not Rosie."

The only other lass that came to mind made Merry's blood boil. "Not Estella? Because she's my girl, and besides she's too old for you."

"It isn't Estella or any other lass, you great fool!" Pippin exploded. "It's you!"

Merry released Pippin's hand, feeling as if his head was suddenly being stuffed with lamb's wool. Whatever was actually happening inside his skull prevented him from processing what Pippin had just said "What?"

"I'm in love with you, Merry."

Merry laughed nervously. "You're joking, right?"

Pippin's face went ashen, then he forced a mad giggle. "Of course, I am!" His lower lip started to quiver and tears welled up in his eyes. "Good one, eh?"

Merry's mind continued to reel. It all made sense now, at least in a Pippin-logic sort of way. "I don't know what to say." All amusement was gone from Merry's face. He shook his head, feeling his own heart break at the sight of his cousin's devastated expression. "I'm so sorry, Pippin...."

Pippin sprang up, almost knocking the chair over, and ran out of the room.

To be continued....