The East Gate

by Eastgaters

When Gandalf fell in Moria, The Fellowship escaped through the East Gate with relative ease. This story is what might have occurred had the orcs not fled but kept on coming. Features all the remaining 8 - COMPLETE!

13. Grief and Relief

The East Gate

Authors The Eastgaters

Cast list
Frodo – Baylor
Samwise – Budgielover
Pippin – Marigold
Merry – Llinos
Legolas – Mainframe
Aragorn – Nilramiel
Boromir – Rachel Stonebreaker
Gimli – Q

The Wicked Elves – Mainframe

Mister and Missus Tugman – Llinos

Story Editor Llinos
Beta Marigold

Chapter 13 – Grief and Relief

Haldir felt no small amount of satisfaction as fear forced the man to take several reluctant steps further into the cabin and thus away from the arrows that remained trained on him. Haldir's smile became more ironic as he saw the flicker in Rúmil's eye and knew that he was in for at least several decades worth of repartee once this was over, after all he had originally sent them away from the human dwelling to protect them, paradoxical, he thought that the tables were turned. No, Rúmil would ensure he didn't live this one down.

As inconspicuously as he was able, Haldir focused on Orophin, paying particular attention to the thinly pressed lips and the tightening around his eyes and the thorough rigidity of his pose. Though Orophin had brazenly declared more times than Haldir cared to count over the years, that because he did not remember the events there was no need for Haldir to hover over him so protectively, it would seem that the Marchwarden had good cause for concern. This had been dragged out overlong and now Orophin had been exposed to the very race that had made him suffer so cruelly. Haldir felt a sinking feeling as he watched all his hard work unravel by the minute as tremors, visible only to elven eyes, unsteadied Orophin's bow.

Rúmil shot Haldir a worried glance as his brother unconsciously stepped closer to him until their elbows brushed, soaking up the comfort that small contact gave.

"Legolas come, we…" Haldir never finished as the hobbit suddenly convulsed in the wood elf's arms and almost jumped out of his grasp and then lay limp as a slain deer.

"MERRY!" Legolas shrieked in fright, voice gone shrill with panic.

All activity stopped within the cabin, all mistrust swept away as humans and elves focused on the distraught elf and the rapidly paling hobbit.

Legolas quickly dropped to his knees and laid Merry down as his shaking fingers fumbled to unwrap the neatly folded blanket. By this time the human woman had sunk, with some difficulty, opposite Legolas and took one of Merry's small hands into hers, clearly frustrated when she garnered no response after a few squeezes.

Meanwhile Haldir, his brothers and the woman's husband hovered close and watched as Legolas pressed his golden head to Merry's chest, obscuring their view of both their faces, and waited. A small involuntary whimper escaped the elf's lips, distress crumpling his handsome features. He pressed the pads of his first two fingers lightly to Merry's throat, pausing. Everyone held their breath as they waited and hoped, but Legolas released a keening wail that made everyone flinch as the desperately sought pulse remained absent and Merry's lips quickly began to turn blue.

"Haldir his heart does not beat, it does not beat!" Legolas' broken tones pained the Lórien elf, who was only now realising the strength of the bond that had been forged between these two beings.

Fervently Legolas stroked his fingers through Merry's hair and stared deeply into unseeing, clouded, blue-grey eyes that were now emptied of that spark that was purely Merry. "Merry, mellon-nin do not leave us, it is not your time, please hear me!" He sobbed, "Pippin! Think of your beloved cousin, he needs you… I need you, come back!"

Silent tears rolled down Mrs Tugman's plump cheeks as she watched the heartbreaking scene before her, one moment the child was alive and actually cuddling into the elf's embrace, the next his body jerked uncontrollably and then all life left him and now she found herself kneeling on the rough wooden floor watching the elf frantically try to rouse the lad. What he said she had not a clue as he'd slipped back into his own tongue but his action spoke clearly and she clutched at the rapidly chilling hand and was forced to look away as the distraught elf pulled Merry into his lap and began to rock backwards and forwards crushing the child to him, an unconscious mantra beseeching 'Elbereth', flowing like water from his lips.

"Legolas" Rúmil ventured, but the elf was locked in his private grief, grief that he had failed the Fellowship, grief that he had broken Estel's trust, and grief that he had been unable to keep his promise to Merry.

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Sam cried out and jumped to his feet, but one of the mysterious figures raised a hand in peace and greeting.

"Do not be frightened!" he said. "I am Vanaloth, and this is Gayadur. We have hunted yrch throughout the night, as we searched for you, by order of the Lady Galadriel. We are here to take you to Caras Galadhon – the City of Trees. Do not be frightened! Safe haven is at hand."

Sam didn't know whether to call out to his companions or bow first and tried to do both; the result being an ungraceful bob and a choked cry that sounded like he had dropped one of his own frying pans on his toes. Recovering, he backed up several steps and stared at them blankly. Elves, yes. No question of that. They were tall and slender, with elegant, fine-boned features and long hair like golden silk that flowed over their shoulders. Sam was mortified to realize he was staring. He hastily bowed again, this time with more decorum.

"G' mornin', sirs," he whispered, though that was somewhat premature. The Sun hovered still below the horizon, but the growing light was sufficient to illuminate the Fair Folk's kind faces as they looked at him and past him to the two motionless bundles that slept on in the abandonment of complete exhaustion. Sam saw Vanaloth's eyes travel to his injury and take in his bedraggled appearance, and the poor hobbit was reminded that he needed a real bath, not a quick dip in a freezing stream. He flushed and looked at the ground. When he looked up again, he saw nothing but pity and concern in the Elf's eyes.

Gayadur had been inspecting the two blanket-wrapped lumps that were Frodo and Aragorn. Light-footed he stepped past Sam over to the smaller and knelt. Sam tensed and his hand went to his sword, in spite of that fact that these folk meant no harm. "This is the Ring-bearer?" the Elf asked, his voice no louder than a whisper on the wind.

"Aye," Sam replied through a dry throat. He felt a sudden, irrational fear that they would be turned away. 'Don't be a ninny, Sam,' he told himself sternly. 'They just said they spent the night searching for us; they're not going 'ta pack us off without help.' He took his fears firmly in hand and quashed them. Vanaloth was watching him with amusement, he realized. Well, he might not have Mr Merry's quick tongue or his master's gentle upbringing, but he wasn't about to shame the Shire.

"Sirs," he continued in a slightly louder voice, pulling himself straight to his full height. "I'm Samwise Gamgee. This is my master, Mr Frodo Baggins, the … the…" Sam faltered, hating to say the words that chained Frodo to the evil he bore. "The Ring-bearer. This Man is Aragorn, who pledged us his help in Rivendell at Lord Elrond's Council. We are all … all that is left of our Company."

Gayadur nodded, compassion in his clear eyes at the unsaid things in Sam's declaration. He glanced at the other Elf and some unspoken communication passed between them. "We must go," he murmured. "My kin and I have hunted yrch and killed many since darkness set, but more may be out there. Wake them, Master Gamgee. My Lord and Lady await us."

Aragorn had already awoken at the first sound of murmuring voices and had lain still with his eyes closed as Sam gave the greetings and explanations. He had measured that the story would at this stage sit better with the ingenuous, wide-eyed hobbit than from his own worldly lips. He could tell there was no danger from these Lórien elves; his greatest fear had been the possibility of being turned away because of the danger that followed them. Not of the orcs, but purely of the Ring. The elves, Aragorn knew, would sense Its evil and be disturbed by it.

Sam moved over to Frodo's side, across from where Gayadur now waited, and lightly placed a hand on his master's shoulder. "Mr Frodo," he called softly, giving the shoulder the most gentle of shakes, "time 'ta get up, sir."

Frodo blinked sleep out of his eyes and sighed wearily. "All right, Sam," he said, but did not sit up. Then he caught a slight motion out of the corner of one slitted eye, and he was suddenly fully awake, alert and on his feet, eyes wide open. At his movement, Aragorn stirred and rose to his feet, fully awake as he had been for some time.

"Greetings my friends," Aragorn bowed low, "Guren linna le cened!" He turned and indicated his head towards the hobbits, "The Periain, boe hain nesto!"

"Fear not Estel of the Dunedain," The elf replied with a smile in Westron, "They will be healed, they are under our protection now."

The two elves stood before Frodo, studying him with concerned, critical eyes that took in every scrape and bruise. One of them held up a hand in peace.

"Well met, Frodo of the Shire!" the elf furthest from him said. "I am Vanaloth, and this is my companion, Gayadur. We bring greetings from the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn, and are commanded to take you before them. We must move swiftly – the patrols of Lothlórien have hunted the accursed yrch all night, but yet more come from the mountains. In the Golden Wood, you will find protection and rest, even if for but a little while.

"Master Gamgee tells us that you are all that remains of your company. We are grieved to learn this, as we came looking for nine. Tell me, can you walk? We would be honoured to carry the Little People, should it be necessary. In any event, you will not carry your baggage farther. Estel tells us you need healing, are any of you grievously injured?"

Frodo's relief was so great at the kind and welcoming words that he truly thought for a moment that he might burst into tears. He took a deep breath and mastered himself.

"Thank you for your kind greeting," he said, and bowed. "You cannot imagine how happy we are to meet you. We are all injured, but none of us so grievously that we cannot walk. I do not think you will find any argument if you are so kind as to carry our baggage, though." Frodo touched a gentle hand to Sam's arm, both in command and assurance.

Now tears did prick at his eyes as he continued. "Are we all of our party that you have met?" he asked. "We sent two of our companions ahead of us, an elf and another hobbit, one of my kin. The rest of our companions – we left them beneath the mountain. My cousin was sorely injured and we feared for his life. Tell me, have they not arrived in your land? Have you heard nothing of them?"

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There was noise and confusion – then suddenly, with a mighty jolt, it all stopped! Everything was black! Too black! Merry was scared and flailed around, reaching out to his bedside table, seeking for a candle and vesta to make a light, but nothing fell into his hands. Where was he? And why was it so dark?

Suddenly, through the impenetrable void he heard a voice calling to him. It was warm and welcoming and he desperately wanted to go to it, if he could only find the way. He realised his eyes were closed so he opened them and saw in the distance a small point of light, like the first star of evening set in an ink-blue sky or a diamond laid on a blue velvet cloth.

Merry struggled towards the brilliance and it grew larger and larger. He saw Grandmamma Gilda waiting for him at the bedroom door and he rushed into her arms. "Come now Meriadoc," she laughed and set him down. "We have work to do, the featherbeds all need shaking and you shall help as you're a big strong lad. Buttercup the elderly chambermaid was there too and she and Grandmamma had stripped the big bed of its covers and were taking hold of either end of the enormous mattress. Merry caught a corner of the cambric material and, on the word "go", lifted and shook with all his might, giggling with glee as feathers and fluff flew up into the air, making little snowstorms in the shafts of light that shone through the early morning windows of Brandy Hall.

"We have to shake the bed well, Merry" Grandmamma laughed as he sneezed a feather off his nose. "The hobbit lads and lasses in the Shire will be waiting for the snow to fall so they can play tobogganing."

"Is this what makes the snow, Grandmamma Gilda?" Merry asked in wonder. "When you shake the beds?"

"Of course my child." Grandmamma put her hands on her hips and smiled patiently at him. "Did you think it was only dragons that brought the snow?"

"Yes," Merry gave his corner of the bed another little shake and watched the white down puff up into the air again as it escaped the confines of the thick cambric material. "Wait till I tell Pip about this, he'll be surprised too."

"Oh Merry my dove," Grandmamma stroked his hair now and even old Buttercup came and patted his hand kindly. "You can't be with Pippin for a long time yet. You've both got to be in different places for a while. But we'll be here with you until your Pip comes."

Merry gasped in disbelief, his joy at reliving the bedmaking with Grandmamma quickly fading as he realised Pippin would not be joining him soon. "But – but I'm not ready to say goodbye to Pip yet Grandmamma, we still have lots we have to do together. I need to see him again, please."

"No Merry, you can't just now." His Grandma started smoothing his hair down damping her palm first with her tongue in that annoying way that Grandmothers do. "There's a lady here to see you now."

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Boromir jerked awake at the sudden terrified scream calling out a name. He was on his feet crouching low with his unsheathed sword at the ready in his right hand, unconsciously clutching to his chest a small burden in his left arm.

Scanning the campsite he saw Gimli staring at him, alert and alarmed but not armed. Warily, Boromir stared back, silently willing Gimli to give him some indication of the problem. Raised eyebrows and a tilt of the dwarf's head caused the man to look down and notice just what or whom he was crushing to his chest in his haste and concern over an attack. His little bundle was sobbing hysterically and it wasn't but a moment before Boromir realised he'd jolted to his feet clutching Peregrin in a fierce hold. Had he hurt the lad?

Boromir made a little clucking sound as he quickly knelt and tried to stand the hobbit upright. "Pippin? Did I hurt you? Tell me. I am so very sorry. I didn't mean to crush you. But I heard in my sleep someone cry out in fear and I thought we were under attack. Shush, now little one! 'Twas a mistake I greatly regret."

He tried unsuccessfully to get Peregrin to stand on his own and this truly alarmed him. With his sword now lying on the ground, he himself kneeling, Boromir tried again to get the hobbit to stand. But the lad's hands were clenched in his tunic and the little head was trying to bury itself in his chest. Peregrin's terror was noticeably palpable. Boromir did not need to see the lad's face. He could feel the fear and desperation in every inch pressed to him. As his mind cleared from the sudden rush to wake he wondered, surely he hadn't squashed Peregrin that hard, had he?

"Peregrin? Lad?" Holding the hobbit now gently as he could, he sat down and tried to force the small head away from his chest so he could see the lad's eyes. "Pippin? Hello lad! Pippin?" He managed with a large hand on either side of Peregrin's face to force him to look up. "Are you hurt, friend?" Boromir was now very concerned. There was something amiss here and he had a very bad feeling about it. As he sat quiet now, that very bad feeling began to grow hot in the pit of his stomach. He'd heard Meriadoc's name called out in his dream. Merry's name. It had sounded as… as if, it were little Pippin calling in sheer terror.

All of a sudden, Boromir's skin went cold. A deep dread spread over him and he realised it came from the little bundle in his lap. In a flash, he recalled this feeling. It had happened once before.

He and Faramir were mere lads. They'd been playing out in a field as they often did when they could beg off their lessons. Lying on their backs, Boromir had shown his little brother fantastical designs in the clouds, they'd eaten their noon-meal, laughed about their new tutor and eventually drifted off to nap in the heat of the afternoon.

Then something had jolted Boromir awake from his almost-sleep. He reached for his brother to push him away so he could sit up. Faramir had always preferred to use him as a pillow rather than lie flat on the hard ground. When Boromir was in a good mood, he allowed it. That day, that late afternoon when he jerked awake and sat upright, he did not dump Faramir to the ground. No, his brother was already awake, sitting straight, staring in the direction of their rooms far off in the distance. A terrible, horrified feeling came over Boromir as he watched his younger brother sit frozen in place, unable to move, or unwilling to.

Boromir had stood, hauling his brother to his feet and setting him in motion. The slower of the two, five-year-old Faramir had never outrun Boromir who was twice his years. That day though it was Boromir who had trouble keeping up as they sped home. They reached the gate together, both blowing like winded horses, Faramir wide eyed and speechless, standing stalk upright still as a statue except for his heaving chest, Boromir leaning over to catch his breath gasping out for one of the servants to bring them water. The dread and fear he'd felt emanate from Faramir on their waking had not diminished. Yet Boromir could not bring himself to ask the matter. When no one came to greet his calls, he took his brother by the hand and they entered their house.

Remembering the shock of that day hit Boromir cold and hard as he sat with little Peregrin, not too much smaller than Faramir had been on that day, though Boromir himself was now full grown into a man. Tears welled involuntarily in his eyes as his memories continued to roll on and Pippin's tangible anguish did not lessen.

Whispering, so quiet he wasn't sure he even had voiced the words, so he asked again, "Pippin? Who died?" Once the words had been spoken aloud Boromir felt his own tears begin to fall. Green eyes looked up at him wordlessly and the premonition of dread intensified. Memories of his mother's death washed over him as he cradled Peregrin close to him just as he'd done with Faramir when they'd been told the news. "Oh, God of my father, hear me now. Please don't let it be Merry."

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"Legolas?"

Dimly he heard his name called but for what reason and by who he cared not, nothing mattered at that moment except the feel of thick, tightly sprung curls against his wet cheek, soft suntanned skin clutched under his palms, and the familiar earthy scent that was hobbit. 'Lady, please hear me…spare him! He is too young to pass… take me instead; I offer you my life freely! Spare him!'

"He's dead isn't he?" Mr Tugman stated sadly, coming up behind his still kneeling wife and placing his careworn hand on her shoulder as she openly cried and instinctively turned toward her husband for comfort.

Haldir sheathed his knives and knelt close to Legolas, who seemed no longer aware of anything that happened around him until Haldir tried to prise the Halfling's body from his grasp.

"No!" He screamed and drew away from the Marchwarden as if his touch burned, scuttling into the nearest corner of the room where he grew silent as he stared into Merry's unseeing eyes.

By this time Rúmil and Orophin had lowered their bows and looked to their brother for guidance, thanking Ilúvatar that they still had each other.

He was a piteous sight and he knew it, the crown prince of Greenwood the Great huddled on a filthy wooden floor, crying like the elfling he felt, and in that moment he so desperately wished for his father, but then abandoned that line of thought, he would not wish for his father to see what shame he brought to his House.

'Oh Merry, thirty-six summers is too short a time' His thoughts turned darker as he studied the hobbit's slack features. Somewhere back in Buckland his mother and father awaited his return, but that would never happen now and Buckland had been robbed of its only heir, a bright bubbly hobbit that would now never have the chance to fall in love and marry, raise children, rule Brandy Hall and grow old in peace. Gone!

It was in this moment of deep despair, while Haldir spoke much more civilly with the Tugmans, Orophin and Rúmil whispering between themselves and casting him concerned glances that it happened.

Orophin was the first to voice his discovery, "Brothers, look!"

Haldir and Rúmil followed his gaze and in doing so drew the attention of the human couple who both gasped as they beheld the devastated prince glowing brightly.

Legolas felt like he had fallen asleep as warmth steadily consumed him and his adrenalin-drained muscles loosened and became limp and weak, he could feel the very blood in his veins as his heart pumped it around his body, drunk on the strange sensation that suffused him he looked down upon Merry with half-closed eyes.

An overwhelming urge seized him; placing his hand on Merry's cold brow he began to chant words that were not his own and, as his voice grew in strength, he felt the warmth from his hand drain into the hobbit and continue to do so until the invading chill travelled the full length of his arm and spread to his chest.

Rúmil and Orophin stood transfixed, never had they seen an elf's fea shine so brightly, not even the returned Balrog-slayer, Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, whose aura shone brighter than all elves, save the Lady Galadriel, was so blinding.

"Meriadoc, Meriadoc Brandybuck return, look to the light, hear my voice and follow…"

The haunting tenor rang out and they watched as the light generated from Legolas rushed into Merry's body until only a pale glow remained around the prince who slumped further against the wall. When that fragile glow began to flicker Haldir stepped forward and wrenched Legolas' hand from Merry's brow having suspicions it was Legolas very own life he poured into Merry.

"Daro!" He cried; as he felt the broken links of energy writhe beneath the wood elf's flesh quickly diminish, giving way to winter's ice. "You go too far, it is enough!"

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"But I don't want to see anyone else." Merry said stubbornly. "I want to see Pippin and if…"

"Dear little one, let me not hear you do not want to see me."

The hobbit gasped in awe as a vision of elegance and beauty swept into the low ceilinged chamber. She was tall and elven and her golden hair swept down to the floor and yet not a strand was out of place, moving and flowing gracefully around her white silken gown. Menegilda bowed her head and Buttercup bobbed a respectful curtsey. Merry stood stock still with his mouth open.

"Don't gape Merry," his Grandmother whispered. "Remember your manners."

But before Merry could gather his wits, the glowing vision smiled at him and offered her hand. She spoke not to Merry but rather to his Grandmamma. "I am sorry Menegilda, but Merry is not to be here yet. I must take him from you again, but I trust you enjoyed your visit."

"Thank you Milady." Menegilda made a bob this time as she spoke. "I am sorry to lose him again so soon, but truly glad of it. He is yet young to be here."

"Come Merry," The vision took his hand and led him away. "You have much still to do but I will help you. Someone has interceded on your behalf and I will lessen your pain a little and you will soon be set on the road to healing."

Merry finally opened his mouth to speak. First to say goodbye to his Grandmamma and then to ask the beautiful vision a question. But before any words could leave his lips, he felt a warm glow surge through his body, followed by the crippling pain back in his chest. He gave a small cry, but then the glow turned to gold and he watched as the golden light engulfed him, soothing his return and lessening the agony. He saw Legolas cradling his spent and crumpled body and looked up at the Lady. She nodded sadly and he knew that he had to return, had to face whatever pain was waiting.

But he was glad to go. He had not finished, Pippin was still there and Frodo and his parents, and dear old Sam would want him to live. The Lady touched him lightly on the head and a little thrill of energy pulsed through his frame and he knew he could do it.

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Looking down at Merry, Haldir could clearly see the rise and fall of his small chest, his skin and lips had lost the blue hue death had turned them and instead the colour was returning to both his cheeks and lips.

Haldir turned his attentions back to the prince and motioned Rúmil and Orophin to relieve Legolas of Merry's weight and allowed the Tugmans to fuss over the hobbit while he assessed the wood elf. Legolas remained motionless, breath coming in small gasps, no longer able to support his head, it now rested heavily against the wall and upon closer scrutiny Haldir caught the dizziness that spun in those azure depths.

"Mellon, man agorech? What did you do my friend?" He whispered and waited, as the pale lids closed heavily, covering the blue unseeing eyes.

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Gimli sucked on his pipe, ridiculous to ask the nearly oblivious hobbit anything. He watched, wishing there was something he could do, but he also needed to keep alert to their surroundings – between Pippin's weeping and Boromir's fretting, any number of orcs or other assorted creatures might hear them. Boromir at last settled down, embracing their small companion protectively.

Then, to Gimli's consternation, Boromir went quite still. Pippin continued to cry, though less violently, and Boromir continued to hold him almost tenderly, but Boromir's gaze was elsewhere, lost in a memory and no longer focused on their small charge. Gimli sat up sharply, pipe forgotten, axe at the ready.

Gimli watched, horrified, as Boromir began to weep as well. "Pippin?" The man whispered. "Who died?" Pippin at last raised his head and the two stared at each other, locked in some dreadful silent understanding that Gimli was not privy to. Boromir breathed something to Pippin, but Gimli couldn't hear the words; he could only observe the look of horror on Boromir's face. This was something worse than orcs, worse even than the loss of Gandalf.

"Here now!" Gimli said, stiffly rising to his feet, leaning heavily on the boulder he'd been crouching behind. "What is this nonsense! The two of you settle down or you'll have these woods swarming with orcs." He hobbled closer to the others, dragging his splinted leg behind. "Here now, lad; dry your tears." Fumbling in his pack, he pulled out a rather shabby handkerchief. "That's a good lad. Now blow. Yes." Pippin obliged, thoroughly and noisily, and then took a deep breath.

"I-I'm sorry Gimli, Boromir," Pippin looked devastated. The liveliness that had once annoyed Gimli and then charmed him, had now fled. Gimli was struck to the heart at the sight. "It-it was – something terrible – I just know… no I can't say…" Pippin broke off and sobbed into the handkerchief.

"And you," Gimli said, trying to ignore his fears and turning to Boromir, who eyed the handkerchief with some concern. "What did you say to the lad? What has happened here?

"He felt a death… it is not for me to say," Boromir could at last meet Gimli's eye, not ashamed of reliving his old sorrow with Pippin, "I had experienced something similar once and I felt for the lad."

Felt a death? What magic was this? Gimli decided that rather than cause more upset by asking his friends to explain he would focus on practicalities. "Come. We have rested enough this night. We have miles to go. We must take Pippin to his cousins, and even I, a dwarf from Erebor, desire the safety of the Elves. Rise, Boromir; rise and let's hasten away. This is an evil place, to cause you such grief for no apparent purpose."

Despite his broken leg, Gimli tried to take Pippin from Boromir, who held fast to the lad. He did rise, though, and helped Pippin to his feet. Both remained silent, their faces drawn and exhausted, as they slowly readied themselves for departure. Gimli hobbled back to his boulder and awkwardly slung his pack around his shoulders. He was in pain, but determined not to show it to his companions when they were in such a state. He picked up the crutch Pippin had fashioned for him, staring at it sadly, and then turned.

"Gentlemen," he said firmly, remembering how effective that had been when said by Aragorn. "Time to leave."

Pippin straightened up, wiping at his dirty face, leaving muddy tear-stained smudges under his eyes. Gimli felt a pang; his cousins would have taken such good care of him, but here he was: dirty-faced, clothing torn, still gasping from the terrible woe that had overtaken him, and all Gimli could do was push him on, past his endurance, in the no doubt vain hope that Elves, Elves, would find and rescue them.

Boromir, the more seasoned veteran of the two, recovered much more quickly. He tugged at Pippin's pack, making sure the straps weren't digging into the thin shoulders, and thumbed away the worst of the dirt. The two stared at each other, and Gimli shivered; this was too uncanny for a poor dwarf. "Let's go," he said roughly, and stumbled forward. Boromir wordlessly seized him and slid an arm around his back for support; Pippin came to stand at his other side.

"Let's go," Gimli said again, but gently this time. "All will be well," he added shyly, and hoped his companions would believe him.

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"What?" Legolas breathed in confusion and tried to straighten himself, frustration and an edge of panic flitted across his face before he was able to hide it.

Haldir motioned for Orophin to bring the wooden rocking chair from the far corner and, much to the prince's embarrassment, he found himself lifted and placed in it.

The cool night air that blew in through the open door soon helped to revive Legolas and he dimly realised that the Marchwarden had asked him a question and that he had yet to answer, but before he could form a coherent sentence Haldir continued.

"That was very dangerous you foolish wood elf!" He fumed as Orophin and Rúmil visibly winced, having been on the receiving end of more than one reprimand from their eldest brother.

Legolas registered Haldir's frown at him deepen, his prior condescension dropping away to be replaced by concern, but he had no strength to reply and was forced to take a deep breath and concentrate to calm his pounding heart.

Haldir looked at the faltering elf questioningly, and Legolas gave him a small nod, at which Haldir turned to face the humans. "We are leaving" Haldir declared in Westron to the couple who had rewrapped Merry in the blanket and added two more for good measure.

Mrs Tugman brushed back the curls from Merry's right ear and traced the intricately shaped shell that could not belong to a human child, tenderly, her mother's instinct still reluctant to face the truth. "Aye. Oi sees now that thy friend told no lie, this' un's not human though Oi wished he were." Sighing wistfully she allowed Haldir to take Merry into his arms and stepped back to her husband's side.

"Oi don't rightly understand all that's happened here tonight and Oi don't need to nohow," Mr Tugman turned his gaze to Legolas and pinned him with his stare. "Oi don't know how thee did it but the young-un was stone-dead, we all saw it and thee brought him back. Elves are a strange folk no mistake, but Oi and Missus Tugman have always known our own minds and 'andsome is as 'andsome does we says."

He allowed his lips to curl as he stared at Merry's sleeping form, who nestled deeper into the Marchwarden's woollen garb until the tip of one pointed ear and a mop of fair curls were all that could be seen, "He'll be safe enough with thee". But then in a slightly reprimanding tone he added," But Oi'll thank thee not to come inta my home again uninvited, Oi don't know how it is with thine own folks but we humans likes our privacy! Thee near scared Missus Tugman inta an early grave!"

Haldir stared down his nose at Mr Tugman, radiating disdain but surprisingly Orophin answered, "You have been offered apologies by our friend. I hope that you will accept ours as well, we truly did not mean to cause such a disturbance to you".

As Haldir and Rúmil watched in shock, Orophin moved forward and extended his hand to Mr Tugman in human fashion. The Tugmans looked at one another before Mr Tugman clasped the delicate, bow-calloused hand in a firm handshake. As they stepped back Orophin moved to stand before Mrs Tugman, reaching for her hand and lightly pressing a kiss to the back of her palm, which elicited an embarrassed giggle and something about her mother warning her as a child to beware of handsome charmers and their roguish ways, which earned her a raised brow from Haldir and a grin from Rúmil at her reaction.

Haldir sighed loudly and moved towards the door, his message obvious and, after thanking Mr and Mrs Tugman once again for caring for his young charge, Legolas allowed Rúmil and Orophin to assist him and they lifted his weary arms across their shoulders and hoisted the elf between them as they left the cabin.

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TO BE CONTINUED

Hullo, folks. It's Sam again, and Mr Gimli is with me this time. We thought with Mr Merry dead (or almost), and Master Pippin driven into exhaustion from grief, and all of us in dire straits, Mr Gimli and me were in the best shape to answer your comments. At least we aren't bleeding or running or having ta fight off some dreadful creature at the moment…

Reasonably crazy: There is some Snazzy Elven CPR around,
right? Right? Right right right?
Sam: Hullo! Pardon me, but what's Snazzy Elven CPR?' Don't think
we have that in Middle-earth. Sounds delicious, though.

Anso the Hobbit: NO! You are so very mean! How is Pippin going to help the others out of Moria now that he has lost his Merry?
Gimli: You never saw such a pitiful sight as that youngling, lass. Our poor Peregrin. Boromir and I don't quite know what to make of all this, but we hope the lad's wrong. These young hobbits have a way of creeping into the heart and making themselves at home there. If Merry truly has died, this world will be a colder place.

Auntiemeesh: And then, just when we thought things were going well, Merry up and dies! How terribly tragic. And poor Pippin, feeling Merry dying, while they're linked. Oh dear, that's going to be a hard thing to recover from. I'm glad Boromir and Gimli are there to take care of him.
Gimli: It's a sight to tear your heart. Peregrin has been so brave, all through losing Gandalf and the battle in Moria, and Merry being so terribly wounded. This final blow might be more than the youngling can take. At least the little halfling sleeps now, safe in Boromir's arms. I dread what he might have to face when he awakes.

Reasonably Crazy: YOU TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE PEOPLE! I thought it was great! Dandy! Swell! Very in depth and in-character! There's always hope for a happy ending, right? AND THEN WHAT DO YOU DO! You- you- you... PREFORM THE UNSPEAKABLE! Ha, if you had killed/maimed Pippin, THEN I might be a little more... exuberant in my berating.
Sam: That seems a bit harsh, meaning no disrespect. Master Pip does drive us all batty now and then, but he's young (and a Took, if you take my meaning). As for a happy ending … well, I don't know if this story will have one - for us, anyway. I know what we're doing, taking that evil Ring to Mordor, is the most important thing in the world, but I'd rather be back home in Mr Frodo's garden, sharing a pipe with him of an evening. That'd be a happy ending, if you ask me. Guess there's no chance of that til we see this through.

Ica: Could someone please give Gimli a good slap upside the head? Stop trying to be so noble, you silly dwarf-of course they're not going to leave you behind! I'm absolutely loving the angst-o-rama of this story! And it is SO fabulously written. Kudos to all the authors, and double-kudos to the editors!Gimli: Humph! I feel I must point out that I was putting my comrades' welfare above my own, as any honorable dwarf would do. Especially when they are only human and hobbit.
Sam: Well, no one's leaving anyone behind. Beggin' your pardon, sir. This Big Person has some sense, anyway. Not sure what angst-o-rama' is, though.

TXMedic: Whoo-hoo! A new chapter. I've been quite neglectful about reviewing, and I do apologize. I've very much enjoyed this story and look forward to reading the next chapter. I've particularly enjoyed the Boromir/Gimli/Pippin arc. Keep up the good work!
Gimli: You might be of a different opinion if you had to journey with a very active, energetic young halfling who rarely stops talking. And running about. And who, somehow, has managed to wind all of us around his smallest finger… It is quite perplexing.

Pip4: No! Merry can't have died. I refuse to believe it. I have read these kinds of stories before. There's gonna be some cool happening and he'll come back and he won't be dead. Right? If he does Boromir and Gimli have to look after Pippin, please. Frodo was nice. I'm glad he didn't get mad at Sam as Sam would have thought. All in all it was a good chapter guys :)
Sam: Mr Frodo has a forgiving heart, no mistake. That's why I love him, I suppose. He's like that. It will just kill him if Master Pip's right about Mr Merry. I hope we are together again someday, all of us. Except for dear old Mr Gandalf, of course…

Pippinheart: This is very nice...Poor Sam worried about Frodo will be upset since he fell asleep…
Pippin and Merry can feel each others pain, merry can to pippin and now pippin believed merry is gone...Can't wait for more...
Sam: On behalf of all us hobbits (I'm sure Mr Frodo would agree), thank you. I've seen those cousins together since I was just a little lad, and know how much they love each other. If Mr Merry has died, it is going to just destroy my master. I can't imagine how Mr Pippin is taking it…

Piptook: OMG! NO! you can't kill Merry! please don't! Merry can't die! if Merry dies, then Pippin will die from sadness! NO! you can't kill off two of the hobbits! please i beg you!
Gimli: It's not under our control, unfortunately. We swore to protect the Ring-bearer, but all of us know that oath extends to all the halflings. Legolas will take care of young Meriadoc, if he can. And Boromir and I will do what we can for young Pippin.

Aranna Undomiel: Oh merdre! You can't kill Merry, no! NO! And then leave us with such a nasty cliffie, very evil it is indeed!
Gimli: These writers seem to enjoy – cliffies, I believe you said? – entirely too much, if you ask me. Of course, most of the blame falls on Llinos, who is doing the final whip-up. I've noticed that trait in humans. Especially this one. If you read her story called "Recaptured!" you'll be tearing your beard out.

FantasyFan: Another great chapter in which people sleep, talk about sleeping, and even talk whilst sleeping. I always tell my kids they need their sleep, for growing and healing. Let's hope some healing happens here quickly - you are scaring me, Merry!
Sam: A lass who thinks like a hobbit! WE know the importance of resting. Not that we've been allowed much o' that on this Adventure. Naps, I mean. And a moment to smoke a pipe without some ugly band o' orcs trying to kill us. And a decent bite of food. And … well, it's a long list, it is.

maripo5a: No! I was just sort of floating along, thinking, "Now if we can just get Merry extricated from the dratted humans, everyone will be fine," and now THIS? Author, thy name is cruelty! sniffle Fix my Merry! Wah! Loved how this chapter gave (almost) everyone some breathing room, time to calm down and get refreshed. Legolas, just TAKE THE FREAKIN' HOBBIT AND RUN. (Gently.) Okay? Okay. At this point I am fed up with the stupid stubborn human hillbillies and Haldir & Co should feel free to skewer them if it gets Merry's heart re-started and allows Legolas to take him to healers. deep breath Well. I feel better.
Gimli: You seem a tad excitable, there. I've noticed that about humans. Not as steady as Dwarves.
Sam: I'm glad that the readers care about us. Them writers are an evil lot. I wish they'd listen to maripo5a.

My-fool-of-a-took: Merry! no merry can't die! wails and hugs pippin tight he can't be dead, right? please don't be dead merry. hugs and kisses if u wake up again. update soon i hafta know!
Sam: If there's anything that would bring the lad back, that would do it. Hobbits aren't as stand-offish as Big Folk. Not that I'm criticizing, mind you. Wouldn't be my place. I just mean that hobbits know how important it is to show our love for each other.

Storyfish: Ooh, you bloodthirsty fiends! Bring on the angst! But in all seriousness, this chapter rocked! The perfect combination of scary developments and touching moments. Two requests. 1. BRING MERRY BACK! WAH! and 2. Feed Pippin. Or I'll have to come over to Middle Earth myself with my stash of instant oatmeal. -D
Sam: hopefully Oatmeal – that's porridge, isn't it? That'd be right welcome. If'n you'd been fighting and running for your life, you'd be ready to eat whatever came your way, too! Of course, Master Pippin being a tweenager (and a Took), he's suffering more than us adult hobbits. I truly hope he's wrong about Mr Merry. The lad wouldn't be able to go on. Neither would Mr Frodo, if it came to that.

Mae Ari: Gah! Merry better not die, he'd better not! The Tugmans and the Elves have to work together to revive Merry. Oh please, please please let Merry be all right. Poor Pip! Imagine seeing a friend like that. shudder I can't wait until everyone arrives at Lothlorien. It's my favorite place, and I hope they find some rest there. But maybe I'm just babbling.
Sam: I always thought Elves could do anything – Mr Bilbo's tales always seemed so. I know Mr Legolas will do the best he can for Merry, but I don't know how many of us will see each other again. Lothlórien seems a long way away right now. And don't you say you're sorry for babbling – if Mr Frodo didn't need me, I'd be wailing like a babe right now.

Earelwen: Bring my Merry back please! Please don't kill him! Legolas drop and do CPR NOW! It's horrible, it's terrible! Gosh I wish I'd thought of it! A masterpiece beyond comparison in the angst category. On the funny side of the chapter I keep getting images of Boromir in an apron and curlers, looking after hordes of hobbit children. How long do you estimate this story will be in the end?
Sam: Could you send me the recipe for this CPR' folks keep going on
about? Can you stew it?
Gimli: I think it is some sort of medical … thing, Samwise. I'd be hesitant to accept a recipe from someone who sees Boromir in an apron and curlers.' It sounds like the ingredients might include those mushrooms you hobbits are so fond of. As for estimating the length of this tale … well, like a vein of mithril, you just have to mine it till it runs out.

Smalldiver: EEK! Merry had a heart attack/stroke thingy! Dude, this is such a great chapter - it has things going well for Aragorn and co contrasted with the bad things for Legolas and co. All of you Authors are so talented it makes me sit back and smile. Is completely in love with this story now
Sam: Mr Strider's doing his best for Mr Frodo and me, and we're right grateful. We're still in a bit of shock, I think. I know what happened in Moria's going ta give me nightmares for a long, long time. Yet I'd trade that good meal and every moment of peace to know what's happening with the others.

Bubonic Woodchuck: I absolutely love this fic - I have a weakness for well-written LotR AU - and I love where it's going (not that I'd know, but. . .yeah). Anyways, I really do hope Merry isn't dead. . .it's just not Merry and Pippin without Merry, after all. Also, I absolutely love the Gimli, Boromir and Pippin bits. resists urge to glomp Boromir, which sadly fails Squee! GLOMP Keep writing!
Gimli: From what I've heard of humans, Boromir would not object to a second attempt at a glomp.' You might let him have a bit of a rest and try again.

Anniy: What! Did Merry die? But-but you can't do that!
Sam: But we didn't! Oh – you mean the writers. Well, some of them have a wicked streak, if you ask me.

Ziyal: YAY!NEW CHAPTERS! bounces up and down for joy i so love this story! Thank you so much! bows and worships you off to read the entire story again thank you darling.
Sam: You and Master Pippin would get along well! It's good to know that our story goes on. I always thought it'd be fine to be a story … a bunch of gaffers and gammers sitting in the sun, spinning tales … but right now I'd rather be one o' them and not in the story myself.
Gimli: Aye, Master Samwise. Well said.