Merry plunked his empty tankard onto the wooden table and gave a grin of satisfaction. The Green Dragon was nearly empty, most of the patrons having staggered away into the night to sleep off the remainder of the evening's overindulgence. He glanced around the dark pub, at Hob Boffin, who was face down at the bar and singing under his breath. Moonlight shone through the round windows, mingling with the firelight and casting silver shadows into the corners. Sighing with contentment, Merry tossed a few coins onto the bar, smiled at barkeep Sancho Chubb, and stepped into the night.
The smell of hyacinth was on the air from the low gardens along the road and Merry took a deep lungful of the scent. He slipped his hands into his pockets, whistled against the darkness, and set off across the field toward Bag End. But a low sound beyond the fence by the river drew his gaze. He placed a hand on the fence spar and swung his legs over with a practiced jump, listening hard to the night. His sharp hobbit eyes spied a small form silhouetted against the lamplight of the street, folded into a heap at the riverside. "Hello?" he said quietly, not wanting to startle the figure. He stepped closer and looked down into the tearstained face of Estella Bolger. "Tella, are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
Estella gave a small sniffle and dashed her hand across her face. "I'm fine, Merry. A spot of bad news is all." Merry settled to a seat at her side and threaded his arms around his knees. He looked sideways at his friend's sister. Though she was three years his junior, Estella was looking far more grown up than he had realized. She was, as usual, in a dark, plain dress, free of the ribbons or frills that other hobbit lasses of her age seemed to favor. Despite the constant disapproval of her very proper mother, Estella preferred to tramp the hillside rather than to attend the socials at which she was expected to make a match befitting her standing. In her younger years she constantly shadowed Freddy, acting as a sort of mascot for his friends. But now...now Merry's heart sank at the sight of her reddened eyes and the slight downturn at the corners of her mouth. She made another attempt to collect herself, drawing her sleeve over her face. "It's my da...he's taken ill again with the summer fevers. I heard Poncho Sandhill tell my mum that he'll likely not ever be the same after this bout. It's just taken too much from him." Her voice thickened with what Merry recognized as impending tears. "It's just not fair, Mer..."
Unable to respond, Merry slipped an arm around Estella's shoulder and drew her to his side. She laid her hair against his throat and sighed shakily. Together, wordlessly, they sat and watched the reflection of the stars wheel in the water, with both their hearts aching for very different reasons.
Pippin's hand roused Merry from his reverie. "What are you thinking about, Mer? You looked positively doleful," proclaimed Pippin, yanking the coverlets away and tossing a pair of breeches at Merry. "Get dressed, now. Don't dawdle, you silly hobbit." Merry stared at Pippin, openmouthed. "Aragorn says that since you're so eager to be up and about, you shan't be lazing the days away anymore, only to get up in the middle of the night to stalk the grounds." A flush of heat raced over Merry's face, and he started pulling the trousers on with his left hand. He struggled with the buttons on the braces, his fingers refusing to cooperate. Anger rose in him, but he bit it down and looked to Pippin for assistance.
"Yes, indeed," continued Pippin. "Aragorn told me all about your little escapade last night with Lady Eowyn. What are you thinking, sneaking out of a perfectly cozy bed at night to go wandering about the gardens in naught but your nightshirt?" Pippin pulled the braces from Merry's grasp and buttoned them quickly. "So Strider says its time you built your strength during the daylight, like regular people, instead of in the dead of night. Gimli and Legolas are eager to see you up and about as well. The healers wouldn't let them in, as they thought that too many visitors might hinder your recovery." Pippin prattled on as he buttoned Merry's shirt. He stopped and looked Merry up and down once, then licked his palm and ran his hand through Merry's thick curls. "There now, at least you look presentable."
"I haven't been treated so since Nanny Pearl, when I was a lad back at Brandy Hall," complained Merry. He had to smother a fit of giggles at the thought of Pippin in his Nanny's dresses, all bustling skirts and spilling cleavage. He snorted a bit with mirth and Pippin shot him a suspicious look.
"I must go attend to other duties for a spell. I've neglected my responsibilities while caring for you, thank you very much, and am now far behind in distinguishing myself in the service of Gondor," Pippin said grumpily, his intuition telling him that Merry was sniggering at him. "Legolas and Gimli shall be stopping in for you shortly, to take you for a turn upon the city walls. They've been patrolling out on the plains for quite a time, and are back in the city for a furlough before the time comes to take the Battle to Mordor." Pippin stripped his shirt and breeches off, and began dressing himself in the livery of Gondor. Merry watched him silently, a cold knot of disquiet growing in his stomach.
"Pippin," he said quietly. Pippin looked up at him, fingers pausing at the buckles of his hauberk. Merry felt tears sting his eyes and he choked out, "You will be a knight of knights for Gondor. Your father would be proud of you." He paused, and a sad little smile crossed Pippin's face. As Merry looked at him standing there, his chain mail shirt covered by a tunic bearing the mark of the White Tree, Pippin suddenly seemed tall and grim. His bearing was strangely changed from the hobbit lad of Merry's remembrance, to a hobbit of great deportment, straight-backed and purposeful. "I am proud of you," finished Merry, nearly inaudibly.
Pippin's face was sober as he placed his hands upon Merry's shoulders. "Merry Brandybuck, you are my friend and my family. You have brought us through danger and death, and have never wavered in the face of peril or menace. If anyone is proud, it is I of you." He laid his hand upon Merry's forehead, and gently caressed the brown scar there with his thumb. "And I want you to remember that you and I shall be going home together. So you mustn't worry about me, dear Merry, for though I am sworn to fight for Gondor, I am first sworn to you, my first and my best friend." At that, Merry found the strength to fling his arms around Pippin's neck and crush him close, and the two hobbits clung to one another and wept.
They were interrupted by a loud "harrumph". They looked up, dashing at their tear-stained faces, and saw Gimli and Legolas crowded in the doorway. "If we are not interrupting, young hobbits, we must be away if we are to get Merry any sort of exercise today," grumbled Gimli, trying to look put out, but the happy creases around his eyes belied his ruse. Pippin released Merry, running his arm over his face.
"Of course, Gimli. I have much to do as well. And don't fear tiring old Merry out. The more weary he is, the less the chance of him ranging the grounds in the dead of night," scolded Pippin.
"Fear not, friend. We shall care for him as well as you should," replied Legolas, handing Pippin his buckler and sword. With a skeptical but resigned look, Pippin hitched his cloak around his shoulders, petted Merry's cheek once softly, and left the room.
Gimli rested his axe against the wall and sat down with a weary grunt upon a low stool by the fire. Legolas gently took Merry's shoulders and knelt to look into the hobbit's face. "Dear Merry, it is a wonder and a blessing to see you again, my friend." With that, the elf enfolded Merry with his arms and hugged him softly to his chest. "We have spent long nights fearing for your health, and were denied our desire to stay at your side while you ailed." Merry pressed his cheek against Legolas' shoulder, strangely awed, amazed that he should be held close by a prince of elfkind.
"And I have missed both of you," he replied, pulling away from Legolas, a mite embarrassed by the attention. "I've been fairly well but the healers are more than a little bit protective of me. I fear that perhaps Aragorn put terror into them that he would hold them responsible if anything else were to happen to me." Merry forced a short laugh.
Gimli nodded, combing at his beard with his fingers. "I would venture you are right there, lad. Aragorn spent quite a lot of time here, hovering over the healers, until he was sure that you were on the mend. After that Pippin seemed to take over as the bearer of the whip."
Legolas took Merry by the hand and led him out of the Halls into the garden. As they walked, Legolas and Gimli spoke of the Paths of the Dead, and of the coming of the Corsairs to the battle at Pellenor, and of the rout of the armies of Sauron at the gates of Minas Tirith. Merry said little, his face grim as he listened to their tales. Gimli recounted the battle at Helm's Deep, taking special care to mention, with a rumbling laugh, that his count had passed Legolas' by one. Legolas merely smiled and laid his hand upon the dwarf's shoulder, and Merry marveled that they seemed close as brothers.
They talked long, until the shadows lengthened upon the grass and the sun began her journey down into the west. Legolas and Gimli walked Merry back to the Houses, but he desired to sit in the late afternoon sun, and bade them leave him for a while. The elf and the dwarf exchanged a troubled look, but left him as he wished upon a bench beside a fragrant, flowering lilac bush. He closed his eyes against the fading light, and it cast shadows of saffron and rose upon his eyelids.
Merry did not know how long he drowsed there, and when he finally awoke, he was startled to find his head resting on the shoulder of another person, who was gently stroking his hair. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly, flushing scarlet and turning to apologize. But the words stopped short in his throat, for next to him, clad in a gown of deepest midnight, was the Lady Eowyn. Merry tried to stutter an apology, his embarrassment deepening until he could feel the tips of his ears burning with chagrin. Eowyn smiled and shook her head slightly, murmuring, "All is well, Merry. You needn't look so shamed. You looked so comfortable, sleeping here, that I thought I should join you."
Merry ducked his head and stammered, "I do beg your pardon, Lady, I should never have been so bold as to..."
"As to use me as your pillow?" Eowyn laughed quietly and shook her head. "You and I have been through much together, dear Merry, and you shouldn't bother about something so simple as tipping over in your sleep." Merry could not help but smile.
"Of course, my Lady, I was merely startled. It is not often that I awake with my head pillowed upon..." He stopped and flushed again, and Eowyn smiled.
"If I didn't know any better, I would guess that you were about to be very cheeky," she said, and they laughed together again. "I am glad to see you about in the daylight. I presume that you were given the same lecture as I about staying abed when the moon is out."
"I was," replied Merry. "Pippin fairly cuffed me about the head. I think I shall obey, for another scolding from him might be the end of me." He sighed and looked out over the walls. "At any rate, I find myself so very tired, it is probably just as well that I stay abed." He gusted a sigh and studied his hands. It seemed to him that they should never look clean again. Dirt had seeped into every crack and line of his skin, and his fingernails were ragged and torn. Blisters and blood welts had formed upon his palms, for he was unused to sword work. His knuckles were gashed and scabbed. As he looked at them, he felt contaminated to his core, not by the filth upon his skin, but by every horrible sight he had seen since leaving the Shire, and by all the truths that had been revealed along the way.
"I understand, Merry, for I too feel weary to my very bones." Eowyn sighed and took Merry's hand in her own. "I feel somehow that though the sun shines, it shines through me, and will not touch me again. And it seems that no one else shall ever comprehend that." She softly stroked his fingers and shook her head. "Except for you of course, dear Merry, for only you were there with me, only you."
"I do understand, Eowyn," blurted Merry. "Somehow it seems that no matter what should happen, I shall never, ever be truly happy again. I feel that even in moments of joy there will always be a ghost of sorrow lingering. Death, desolation, loss...so much horror and fear...having to hide doubt of myself, trying to be stouthearted and brave..." Merry's words tumbled out as though a dam had burst and his thoughts were rushing out, unchecked. "After all of that I will end each day alone, for no one will ever know what is behind my heart."
Tears sprang to Eowyn's eyes and she pressed Merry's hand to her lips. "Dear hobbit, only friend," she murmured against his fingers, and in that moment Merry knew that if he were a man, or Eowyn a hobbit lass, he would love her. He laid his other palm to her cheek and allowed his own tears to fall. Eowyn bowed to rest her forehead upon his, and her tears fell upon his face.
Together they sat that way for a long time, until they were interrupted by the sound of a man gently clearing his throat. "I do apologize for interrupting, My Lady, Master Hobbit," said Faramir quietly, kneeling in the grass at their feet. "Lord Aragorn asked that I retrieve you to the Houses, as the weather threatens to turn." Eowyn wiped at Merry's cheeks with her thumb, then accepted Faramir's outstretched hand. Merry grasped the man's other hand, and together they retreated to the houses, pursued by the low rumble of thunder in the west.