Merry could scarcely feel or hear anything. His mind was muddled and his body felt as if it was not there. He felt himself sinking – sinking into darkness of the deepest depths of an inky lake. Suddenly, he felt as if he was being pulled out of the inky blackness and the water/poison came out of his tortured lungs. The fluid was a horrible shade, a mix of green and red. With one last cough and some more phlegm coming out he gave a shiver and was still. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He did not know where or who he was. All he knew pain, heat, and tortured breathing. He heard someone speaking to him, he but had no clue who it was or what he wanted, though that was soon figured out. Hastily, he shook his head. Merry did not want the concoction being offered to him. He absolutely hated spearmint. Merry was startled when, the person tried to make him drink it. Some went down and he about gagged on the bitter tea. The hobbit sputtered and whimpered. The drink had hurt his already chaffed throat.
Then, Merry felt some relief when the person placed something hot on his chest. That was where heat helped, not my throat, Merry thought. His muscles relaxed and the hobbit found he could swallow just slightly without wishing to scream from the torture. He heard the person speak again or he thought he did. He did not understand what he thought he heard, except for one word – Pippin. What about Pippin? Had something happened to him? Was he ill? Worry came into Merry's still slightly chalky features. Merry let out a whimper, a cry of fear and pain.
Aragorn sat near Merry and tried to quiet his friend, but to no avail. He rose and began to pace the room. Where was Pansy and Pippin? He needed them here! Sighing, he went and sat on the couch by Merry and held his hand. He placed another hot cloth on Merry's chest stroked his forehead. Aragorn knew he could not let Merry die. Too many people would be heartbroken. He sighed and bent his face near Merry's and said, "Merry, listen to me. You are stronger than this illness. You can pull through it! You must," Aragorn then anxiously stared out of the window.
He rose slowly, though the hobbit did not know it. He was no aware of the cloth that had been placed on his chest. Merry had to get to Pippin - he just had to! Merry tried to stand. He had to get to Pippin, he just had to! However, as soon as he stood, a wave of dizziness and weakness swept over him and he had to sit down, well it was more like his knees buckled and he fell onto the couch.
He was back at the Smials with Pippin. Both were very young. They were playing together and having a jolly time. Merry had convinced Pippin to climb up in the apple tree with him and for some reason and somehow, Fredgar, who was playing with some rocks, convinced Merry to climb back down and leave Pippin in the tree. Merry told himself that Pippin could climb down on his own, and went along with it. But, soon Pippin was crying for Merry. With a dirty look at Fred, Merry climbed down and got Pippin out of the tree. "I am so sorry, Pippin." Merry sobbed and found himself in a comforting embrace of his little cousin. "Don' cry 'erry!" he exclaimed, "Tis al'righ'."
As Merry shifted in and out of consciousness, he mumbled in delirium of the memory. Merry shifted uncomfortably and balled his hands around his blankets tightly.
Aragorn had been surprised by Merry's sudden upright position. He had just been ready to help him lay down, when Merry lay himself down. The man glanced out the window. Where were they? They were needed. Again, he looked down at the pale being, which had once been a playful companion and a brave warrior. Just seeing him like this saddened him. He then took up each rag and fully soaked them into the Athelas, renewing the warmth. Carefully the king placed them on Merry's chest. The poor hobbit was pale, ghostly pale. Death would be on the lad's doorstep soon enough. Aragorn wiped his forehead as stared down at the hobbit. He took one of the rags in his hand and laid it onto Merry's forehead hoping that would do some good.
"Where are they?" he whispered quietly, glancing again over his shoulder to look out the window. The trio was not in sight range. Merry would need Pippin's support for this one. Perhaps Pippin would even be able to help his dear friend recover. He exhaled, running his hand along Merry's sweat damp curls but stopped to the hobbit's indistinct murmurings. He stooped close to the hobbit's lips and could only make a few words. Most were related to Pippin.
Suddenly in the midst of the silence, horses could be heard approaching. "Thank Eru," he whispered, "Help is here Merry." The man sighed with relief. One thing had been completed. Now the second and most dire thing had to be finished – the healing of Merry.