Far and Away
Chapter twenty-three
Merry sat beside the King of the Mark, holding the man's hand. Tears streamed down his face. His small body shook as he sobbed.
Merry looked around the Fields. He saw many bodies lying lifeless on the ground, but his eyes finally rested on Eowyn. Merry stumbled to his feet and walked over to where she lay. Her face was deathly pale and she did not seem to be breathing. Merry sank to his knees and picked up her limp hand. He kissed it and whispered, "Thank you so much for all you did for me." He gently laid her hand back down and sat between Theoden and Eowyn.
Two hours passed before Elfhelm showed up with Eomer and the remaining eored. Merry staggered to his feet.
Eomer stood silently, gazing at the loss of life around him. He held back his tears as best he could. Elfhelm knelt beside Eowyn's form and carefully picked her up and rested her on her back. Merry watched as the captain brushed back Eowyn's hair.
Some men made a makeshift stretcher out of some spears and blankets. Eomer helped them lift his uncle onto it. He took an extra blanket and covered his uncle's body up to his neck. Eomer fixed the king's helm and set it upon his head. He paused for a moment, gazing at his uncle. This was the man who had been a father to him all those long years and now he was gone. Eomer bowed his head to hide his tears and then turned and saw Eowyn.
Eomer cried out in pain and his face became pale. Elfhelm was still bent over her body. Eomer rested his hand on the captain's shoulder to steady himself. Elfhelm looked up sadly. "I am so sorry Eomer. It is my fault this happened. I should have told you she was riding with us."
Eomer stared at Elfhelm for a moment and then knelt by his sister. "No, do not be sorry," he said softly through his tears, "you were someone she trusted and you kept her trust." He lifted her and laid her on a stretcher. He walked over to his horse and mounted. "We march now to Minas Tirith."
No one had spoken a word to Merry the entire time.
Merry walked slowly behind the men bearing the stretchers of Theoden and Eowyn. The mile and a half walk to the city seemed to take an eternity to him.
When they were halfway to the City, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, rode toward them. He drew near Eomer and nodded to him.
"Men of Rohan, what do you bear?"
"My lord and king, Theoden of the Mark. He was slain in this battle." Eomer replied quietly. Tears sprang to Imrahil's eyes. He rode back to where King Theoden lay. He took off his helm and bowed his head to show his respects. When he straightened, his eyes fell on Eowyn.
"Why do you bear a woman also? Do your women fight too?"
One man answered, "No, my lord, this is the lady Eowyn, sister of Eomer and we were unaware of her presence until this very hour."
Imrahil bowed his head in honor and respectfully touched Eowyn's hand. His hand rested on hers and his head came slowly up. He leaned over her and then exclaimed, "Men of Rohan! Are you blind? She is hurt, yes, and maybe even to death, but she is still living!" Imrahil held his helm up to her lips and it clouded.
Eomer smiled through tears and said loudly, "Come men! We must hasten to the City!"
They were going at a quicker pace than earlier now. Merry's short legs ached. He slowly began to fall behind. It was just a little at first and by the time they reached the Gate of the City, he was only behind 10 feet. But as the company was led through the streets and alleys of Minas Tirith, Merry fell further behind.
His legs seemed to refuse to go any faster and sweat poured down his face. His chain mail was getting heavy and his helm weighted down his head. He caught his foot in a crack in the stone street once and fell. It took all the strength he had left to get up. But when he had lifted himself from the ground, the company was gone.
"Great, I've been left behind again," Merry muttered to himself. He sighed and pushed his matted curly hair from his eyes. His vision had become a bit blurred and his head pounded.
He almost tripped again, but saved himself by grabbing onto a windowsill. He used the wall for support as he made his way through the deserted streets, trying to find his company again. His legs got heavier and he stumbled.
Merry wanted to cry, to scream. His body ached all over, his head felt like it was going to explode and he was alone in a strange place. He had finally lifted himself and was inching along to wall when he faintly heard someone coming toward him. He didn't bother to raise his head because, really, he couldn't.
He heard a yelp and feet came running toward him. Two hands grasped him and helped him stand. The hands weren't big like men's hands, but like a child's or a Hobbit's. As best he could, Merry tilted his head to the side and peeked through the mass of curls that were in his face.
"Merry! I've been looking everywhere for you! Gandalf sent me. Why are you so far behind the others? Did they leave you? They must have; they probably just forgot that you were there behind them, you being so small and all-"
"Pippin," Merry muttered, "you're giving me a headache."
Pippin laughed. "Ok, ok. I know I talk too much, but come on, I haven't seen you in days!"
Merry shook his head. "Really Pippin. I don't feel good."
Pippin stopped laughing and looked at his older cousin closely. Merry's face was pale and his hands were cold and sweaty. "Oh, please don't faint on me Merry, I can't possibly carry you the rest of the way."
Merry nodded. "I'll try not to." His voice cracked and faded. "I can't use my right arm Pippin, not since I stabbed him."
Pippin's face was full of concern. He let Merry lean on him as he slowly made his way through the streets. He tried to go as quickly as he could, but Merry was almost dead weight. He glanced at Merry. Pippin stopped and took Merry's helm off and tucked it under his arm. Merry lifted his head slightly and looked up at Pippin. He smiled faintly at him.
When Pippin came to the stairs, he stopped. There was almost no way that he could get Merry up all those stairs by himself. "I wish I could carry you. You can't possibly walk any further. They shouldn't have let you walk at all!"
Merry nodded dizzily. "Yes, but please, I've been overlooked so many times- well, we'll not talk about it." Merry felt his head throb. "Pip, help me. Its all going dark and my arm is getting so cold-"
Pippin grabbed Merry to support him. "Come on Merry, just a little further. It's not far-"
Merry gazed up at his cousin. "Are you going to bury me?"
Pippin looked at Merry in horror. "No! Of course not! Merry, we're going to the House of Healing." Pippin turned from the stairs and headed toward the small incline. Merry was getting heavier and Pippin was struggling to hold him up.
Bergil ran by right at that moment and Pippin caught his arm. "Bergil!"
The young boy turned and smiled at the Hobbit. "Hullo. I cannot stay, I'm on an errand."
Pippin nodded. "Of course, don't stay, but tell someone that I've got a hurt Hobbit, uh- perian, from the battle and I don't think that he can walk much further."
Bergil nodded and ran off again. Pippin decided that it would be best for Merry to rest so he helped him to the ground. Merry settled his head in Pippin's lap. Pippin pulled gently at Merry's curls and then took Merry's hand in his. It was Merry's right hand and it was icy to the touch. Pippin's face drained of all color. That is was Frodo's hand had felt like after the Ring Wraith had stabbed him.
"Come on Merry, don't leave me."
Merry rolled his head to the side and gazed up at Pippin. "Listen, if I don't make it-"
Pippin shook his head violently. "No! I'm not delivering any death-letters or good byes! You'll have to tell them your bloody self!"
Merry gave a faint smile. "That's the Pippin I've always known."
Tears were running down Pippin's cheeks. "Yes," he sobbed, " and you'll know me for many years to come. We're going to grow fat and old together and we'll get married and have lots of children."
Merry tried to laugh, but it hurt to and it turned into a fit of coughs.
Pippin pulled at Merry's curls again. "Please, hold on just a little longer, someone's bound to show up soon."
After five more minutes had passed and Pippin was beginning to feel as though no one would come, Gandalf came hurrying toward them. He knelt beside them and gently picked Merry up. He walked with quick strides toward the House of Healing and Pippin ran behind him.
"Tell me," Gandalf said, " how long ago did you find him?"
"Maybe half an hour ago," Pippin replied, getting worried.
"Hm," Gandalf muttered. "He should have been carried into the City with honor."
Pippin nervously nodded. He followed Gandalf to the entrance of the House of Healing. The stone archways were covered with curling ivy that crept up to the top. Two guards opened the large steel and oak door and they hurried through.
Pippin had been in the House earlier that day, visiting Faramir. Faramir was being treated for the burns and the black breath. He wasn't doing too well and the warden was starting to get worried.
The few people who worked in the House were mostly older women, and they stared curiously as Gandalf and Pippin went by.
Gandalf talked to the warden and then placed Merry in a small room.
The room was made completely of stone and the small arch-window opened to the north. A movable glass pane had been place in the window and some ivy had begun to grow around it. The room was sparsely furnished with only a high table, stool and a bed that was set to the side.
Pippin climbed onto the stool and watched as Gandalf placed Merry in the bed. The wizard turned to Pippin and sighed. "I'm going to speak with the warden more. Keep an eye on Merry, will you?"
"Of course."
Gandalf patted Pippin shoulder and left the door, leaving the door slightly ajar. Pippin placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his cupped hands. He studied his cousin. Merry didn't look well at all. He was pale and covered with sweat. His curls were wet and plastered to his forehead. He seemed to be asleep, but having a bad dream. He moved fitfully every once in a while, but then he would always settle down.
Pippin sighed and thought back to all the fun times that they had had in the Shire. Merry had always been Pippin's guidepost, someone who could help him and give him advice, even if it wasn't always the best. Pippin looked back at Merry and a thought rushed into his mind: What would he do if Merry died?
~*~ ok, I am so sorry that I took so long! Please forgive me! Well, please review! I've just been so busy. with school, and volleyball, and with my friends. I'll try to write the next chapter more quickly, but I'm actually trying to write it to match the movie and I've seen some previews for return of the king which looks AWESOME!! Ok, so please review!
Chapter twenty-three
Merry sat beside the King of the Mark, holding the man's hand. Tears streamed down his face. His small body shook as he sobbed.
Merry looked around the Fields. He saw many bodies lying lifeless on the ground, but his eyes finally rested on Eowyn. Merry stumbled to his feet and walked over to where she lay. Her face was deathly pale and she did not seem to be breathing. Merry sank to his knees and picked up her limp hand. He kissed it and whispered, "Thank you so much for all you did for me." He gently laid her hand back down and sat between Theoden and Eowyn.
Two hours passed before Elfhelm showed up with Eomer and the remaining eored. Merry staggered to his feet.
Eomer stood silently, gazing at the loss of life around him. He held back his tears as best he could. Elfhelm knelt beside Eowyn's form and carefully picked her up and rested her on her back. Merry watched as the captain brushed back Eowyn's hair.
Some men made a makeshift stretcher out of some spears and blankets. Eomer helped them lift his uncle onto it. He took an extra blanket and covered his uncle's body up to his neck. Eomer fixed the king's helm and set it upon his head. He paused for a moment, gazing at his uncle. This was the man who had been a father to him all those long years and now he was gone. Eomer bowed his head to hide his tears and then turned and saw Eowyn.
Eomer cried out in pain and his face became pale. Elfhelm was still bent over her body. Eomer rested his hand on the captain's shoulder to steady himself. Elfhelm looked up sadly. "I am so sorry Eomer. It is my fault this happened. I should have told you she was riding with us."
Eomer stared at Elfhelm for a moment and then knelt by his sister. "No, do not be sorry," he said softly through his tears, "you were someone she trusted and you kept her trust." He lifted her and laid her on a stretcher. He walked over to his horse and mounted. "We march now to Minas Tirith."
No one had spoken a word to Merry the entire time.
Merry walked slowly behind the men bearing the stretchers of Theoden and Eowyn. The mile and a half walk to the city seemed to take an eternity to him.
When they were halfway to the City, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, rode toward them. He drew near Eomer and nodded to him.
"Men of Rohan, what do you bear?"
"My lord and king, Theoden of the Mark. He was slain in this battle." Eomer replied quietly. Tears sprang to Imrahil's eyes. He rode back to where King Theoden lay. He took off his helm and bowed his head to show his respects. When he straightened, his eyes fell on Eowyn.
"Why do you bear a woman also? Do your women fight too?"
One man answered, "No, my lord, this is the lady Eowyn, sister of Eomer and we were unaware of her presence until this very hour."
Imrahil bowed his head in honor and respectfully touched Eowyn's hand. His hand rested on hers and his head came slowly up. He leaned over her and then exclaimed, "Men of Rohan! Are you blind? She is hurt, yes, and maybe even to death, but she is still living!" Imrahil held his helm up to her lips and it clouded.
Eomer smiled through tears and said loudly, "Come men! We must hasten to the City!"
They were going at a quicker pace than earlier now. Merry's short legs ached. He slowly began to fall behind. It was just a little at first and by the time they reached the Gate of the City, he was only behind 10 feet. But as the company was led through the streets and alleys of Minas Tirith, Merry fell further behind.
His legs seemed to refuse to go any faster and sweat poured down his face. His chain mail was getting heavy and his helm weighted down his head. He caught his foot in a crack in the stone street once and fell. It took all the strength he had left to get up. But when he had lifted himself from the ground, the company was gone.
"Great, I've been left behind again," Merry muttered to himself. He sighed and pushed his matted curly hair from his eyes. His vision had become a bit blurred and his head pounded.
He almost tripped again, but saved himself by grabbing onto a windowsill. He used the wall for support as he made his way through the deserted streets, trying to find his company again. His legs got heavier and he stumbled.
Merry wanted to cry, to scream. His body ached all over, his head felt like it was going to explode and he was alone in a strange place. He had finally lifted himself and was inching along to wall when he faintly heard someone coming toward him. He didn't bother to raise his head because, really, he couldn't.
He heard a yelp and feet came running toward him. Two hands grasped him and helped him stand. The hands weren't big like men's hands, but like a child's or a Hobbit's. As best he could, Merry tilted his head to the side and peeked through the mass of curls that were in his face.
"Merry! I've been looking everywhere for you! Gandalf sent me. Why are you so far behind the others? Did they leave you? They must have; they probably just forgot that you were there behind them, you being so small and all-"
"Pippin," Merry muttered, "you're giving me a headache."
Pippin laughed. "Ok, ok. I know I talk too much, but come on, I haven't seen you in days!"
Merry shook his head. "Really Pippin. I don't feel good."
Pippin stopped laughing and looked at his older cousin closely. Merry's face was pale and his hands were cold and sweaty. "Oh, please don't faint on me Merry, I can't possibly carry you the rest of the way."
Merry nodded. "I'll try not to." His voice cracked and faded. "I can't use my right arm Pippin, not since I stabbed him."
Pippin's face was full of concern. He let Merry lean on him as he slowly made his way through the streets. He tried to go as quickly as he could, but Merry was almost dead weight. He glanced at Merry. Pippin stopped and took Merry's helm off and tucked it under his arm. Merry lifted his head slightly and looked up at Pippin. He smiled faintly at him.
When Pippin came to the stairs, he stopped. There was almost no way that he could get Merry up all those stairs by himself. "I wish I could carry you. You can't possibly walk any further. They shouldn't have let you walk at all!"
Merry nodded dizzily. "Yes, but please, I've been overlooked so many times- well, we'll not talk about it." Merry felt his head throb. "Pip, help me. Its all going dark and my arm is getting so cold-"
Pippin grabbed Merry to support him. "Come on Merry, just a little further. It's not far-"
Merry gazed up at his cousin. "Are you going to bury me?"
Pippin looked at Merry in horror. "No! Of course not! Merry, we're going to the House of Healing." Pippin turned from the stairs and headed toward the small incline. Merry was getting heavier and Pippin was struggling to hold him up.
Bergil ran by right at that moment and Pippin caught his arm. "Bergil!"
The young boy turned and smiled at the Hobbit. "Hullo. I cannot stay, I'm on an errand."
Pippin nodded. "Of course, don't stay, but tell someone that I've got a hurt Hobbit, uh- perian, from the battle and I don't think that he can walk much further."
Bergil nodded and ran off again. Pippin decided that it would be best for Merry to rest so he helped him to the ground. Merry settled his head in Pippin's lap. Pippin pulled gently at Merry's curls and then took Merry's hand in his. It was Merry's right hand and it was icy to the touch. Pippin's face drained of all color. That is was Frodo's hand had felt like after the Ring Wraith had stabbed him.
"Come on Merry, don't leave me."
Merry rolled his head to the side and gazed up at Pippin. "Listen, if I don't make it-"
Pippin shook his head violently. "No! I'm not delivering any death-letters or good byes! You'll have to tell them your bloody self!"
Merry gave a faint smile. "That's the Pippin I've always known."
Tears were running down Pippin's cheeks. "Yes," he sobbed, " and you'll know me for many years to come. We're going to grow fat and old together and we'll get married and have lots of children."
Merry tried to laugh, but it hurt to and it turned into a fit of coughs.
Pippin pulled at Merry's curls again. "Please, hold on just a little longer, someone's bound to show up soon."
After five more minutes had passed and Pippin was beginning to feel as though no one would come, Gandalf came hurrying toward them. He knelt beside them and gently picked Merry up. He walked with quick strides toward the House of Healing and Pippin ran behind him.
"Tell me," Gandalf said, " how long ago did you find him?"
"Maybe half an hour ago," Pippin replied, getting worried.
"Hm," Gandalf muttered. "He should have been carried into the City with honor."
Pippin nervously nodded. He followed Gandalf to the entrance of the House of Healing. The stone archways were covered with curling ivy that crept up to the top. Two guards opened the large steel and oak door and they hurried through.
Pippin had been in the House earlier that day, visiting Faramir. Faramir was being treated for the burns and the black breath. He wasn't doing too well and the warden was starting to get worried.
The few people who worked in the House were mostly older women, and they stared curiously as Gandalf and Pippin went by.
Gandalf talked to the warden and then placed Merry in a small room.
The room was made completely of stone and the small arch-window opened to the north. A movable glass pane had been place in the window and some ivy had begun to grow around it. The room was sparsely furnished with only a high table, stool and a bed that was set to the side.
Pippin climbed onto the stool and watched as Gandalf placed Merry in the bed. The wizard turned to Pippin and sighed. "I'm going to speak with the warden more. Keep an eye on Merry, will you?"
"Of course."
Gandalf patted Pippin shoulder and left the door, leaving the door slightly ajar. Pippin placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his cupped hands. He studied his cousin. Merry didn't look well at all. He was pale and covered with sweat. His curls were wet and plastered to his forehead. He seemed to be asleep, but having a bad dream. He moved fitfully every once in a while, but then he would always settle down.
Pippin sighed and thought back to all the fun times that they had had in the Shire. Merry had always been Pippin's guidepost, someone who could help him and give him advice, even if it wasn't always the best. Pippin looked back at Merry and a thought rushed into his mind: What would he do if Merry died?
~*~ ok, I am so sorry that I took so long! Please forgive me! Well, please review! I've just been so busy. with school, and volleyball, and with my friends. I'll try to write the next chapter more quickly, but I'm actually trying to write it to match the movie and I've seen some previews for return of the king which looks AWESOME!! Ok, so please review!