Meanwhile, back in Brandyhall, Aragorn lifted Merry up off of his bed and carried him into the sitting room where Legolas and Gimli had a fire going in the fireplace. "It will be alright Merry," he reassured his friend as he then asked Legolas to move the couch closer to the fire. When this was done, he laid Merry down on it.

Going back into Merry's room, Aragorn took up as many blankets as he could and left the room. The king carefully laid them over his friend. He knelt near him and felt his forehead. Merry was drenched in sweat and hot to the touch. "Heat some water Gimli and bring it here," he commanded of his dwarven friend. The dwarf nodded and went off to find the kitchen. "When did you come down with this sickness? Do you know who came down with it first," Aragorn asked in a gentle voice.

Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw Aragorn kneeling by him, though he was blurred. "Four days...right after Frodo left," Merry panted out in a hoarse voice. Slightly Merry shook his head. He did not know. "Everyone is coming down with Winter Flu," Merry hissed, coughing a few times, "No one gives it...it just invades." The hobbit cleared his throat, which turned out to be a mistake.

Merry sat up straight and then doubled over as yet another coughing fit came over him. When he was done hacking, he flopped down onto the couch, depleted of the little energy he had. Merry closed his eyes and did not move nor speak for a while; he seemed to doze. Then, after fifteen or so minutes Merry mumbled, as if recalling a memory, "Pip has had it - when he was little."

Gimli came back soon after with the heated water and brought it to the king of Gondor. Aragorn dipped some cloths in it and placed them on Merry's chest. He was hoping to soothe the coughs. With the rest of the water, he crushed the little athelas and rosemary he had brought into it and dipped another cloth in it and mopped Merry's forehead. He held the bowl before Merry's face for a bit also, to calm his coughs. The King, after he had finished giving Merry the concoctions, placed his hand on Merry's forehead once again and sighed inwardly. The fever was so high. Wearily, the ranger closed his eyes. The ride here had been trying because of the weather. When Merry said, "Pip has had it-when he was little." the king opened his eyes and whispered, "Then I must send for him at once. It is likely he is immune to this illness and perhaps he can tell what has been done for him when he had it."

Legolas and Gimli hastily rose and offered to go and find him. Aragorn nodded and they left to find Pippin. Elessar again turned to Merry and took his arm in his. He became alarmed when he found that it was somewhat cold. "Merry," he repeated to his fevered friend. "Your arm, does it hurt?" When a long pause followed, Aragorn bent forward and again said, "Merry, I must know if your arm hurts. I know it is hard but please answer me." He gave and encouraging smile to the ill hobbit.

As Aragorn placed the hot cloth was placed onto his chest, Merry felt his chest muscle spasm slightly, but they stopped and he relaxed. Some of the ache ebb away slightly even. Merry inhaled the strong, pungent aromas, making his bronchial tubes open up slightly, which in turn made his breathing easier than it had for the four days he had been ill. Slightly, the hobbit jumped when his healer placed a hand on his forehead. Merry's mind had drifted off to some far away place where it was a perfect day. Wearily Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn whispered his name.

"Everything hurts," Merry mumbled, "My chest…my legs…my back…my arm aye, but not so much as my chest and back." The hobbit closed his eyes and fell into a doze, but woke a little bit later, with coughing. The hobbit held onto the couch with a death grip as he did so and by the time he was done with the coughing he was crying from the pain. His nightclothes looked as if he had been dunked into water they were so wet from sweat. With one last cough a small

amount of green phlegm, spotted red, came up. The lad lay back wearily and closed his eyes.

"No more talking," he begged hoarsely.

While living among the Dunedain Aragorn had seen this illness before, but he had never seen it this fierce before. He rubbed Merry's back as he coughed, because that was all he could do for Merry at the moment. As Elessar massaged his back, he felt the fever rise, even through the nightshirt. The king knew his fever had to be broken if Merry was to survive. Hurriedly he went outside and filled a pail with snow. Going back inside he told Merry, "This is going to feel almost unbearably cold but I must get your fever down." With that, he took a handful of snow, wrapped it in a thin cloth and laid it on Merry's forehead and chest. After he had done so, he then placed his hands on Merry's head and chest and hummed an Elvish healing chant. The effect was to relax Merry to the point where he could sleep, without pain and interruption from anything, for a few hours. He hoped his friends would soon return with Pippin and Pansy with the athelas.

Merry whimpered as he lay on the couch. His eyes moved under the closed lids. He bit his lip and clutched the blankets in his clammy hands. Merry squirmed and tossed from the fever. Wearily, Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn spoke. All Merry did was nod, he did not wish to speak because of the coughing that would come with it. Merry hissed as Aragorn put the snow on him, but he did not fight him. The snow melted almost as soon as Aragorn had placed it on him, but it did not cool the fever.

When Aragorn sang the Elvish song, Merry wearily closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly. He felt no pain or anything for the first time in a while. The ill hobbit woke a few hours later with a strange gasp. His eyes were wide. The hobbit sat up straight and tried to get air in, but it was in vain. The only sound that came from his throat was a squeak and a funny wheezing sound. Merry looked around frantically. "Hhhhhh," Merry gasped. He was trying to say help, but he could not. Dizziness and the threat of unconsciousness took him. Merry grasped the couch tightly and suddenly started to cough. The green phlegm that was closing his throat up was coming up. This time there was even more blood in it. He lay back wearily when it was over. Slowly this world melted away and around him. The dissolved world, slowly resolved and he was in Hobbiton with his cousins Frodo and Pippin. There was a blanket spread over the ground and a large assortment of food was laid out over it. The three hobbits were enjoying the food greatly and were not paying attention to the sky nor the weather. They only looked up when large, fat drops of rain hit them squarely on the top of their heads. "Let's go," Merry yelled, not only in his fake reality and in the real, though it was a moan. Merry shook uncontrollably. He kept grasping and un-grasping his blanket and kicking his legs listlessly. His chest rose erratically and his face was scrunched up with pain and discomfort.

Pansy and Pippin were on their way back to Brandyhall with all the athelas they could find, while Legolas and Gimli rushed towards Pippin's house, unaware he was not there. Running hastily, they reached the gate at the same time as the dwarf and elf.

"Gimli! Legolas," Pippin cried. Jerking his head back toward Pansy, he said "This is Pansy. She told me about Merry."

Gimli and Legolas nodded, having already met the lass and the group made their way towards Brandyhall.