Merry perceived talking. It was loud and frightened. What was the person (Was it a new person? He thought so) saying? Merry did not know nor did he care. The only thing that sounded vaguely familiar was the word 'Merry', but he did not know how.
The ill hobbit felt something on his forehead. It was cool and wonderful. It brought back memories of his youth.
He was in a pond. The water was only waist deep. His cousin was just a few feet away. Merry heard a gasp and a splash. The young hobbit turned swiftly. He looked around frantically.
"Pippin! Pippin!" Merry cried out. The hobbit waded over to where Pippin had been. He dove under the cold water and looked around. Where was he? Merry could not find his cousin. For a good five minutes Merry could not find him, but then he spotted him a few yards away. He swam over to his cousin as fast as he could. Merry grabbed the back of Pippins' shirt. He kicked his legs hard as he swam to the surface of the water. Merry heaved his cousin onto the dry land. "Pippin…Pippin," Merry cried, shaking the hobbit gently. The younger hobbits head lolled from side to side. Merry went to the waters edge and scooped some of the water. Quickly, he went back to his unconscious cousin. He splashed his cousin.
"Pippin," Merry cried out in his fevered sleep as he clenched the blankets tightly. His chest heaved and his breath came out in a watery rattle.
Pippin heard his cousin's call from the other room. Grabbing the hot and full kettle, he rushed back to the living room. He had some small hope that his dear Merry had awakened. To his despair and disappointment Merry was still in a fitful slumber, grasping his blankets and breathing short, shallow breaths. I will save you, Merry. I won't forget when you saved me, Pippin thought.
Pippin lay on his back, in shadow. Dark, strange creatures prowled around him, things that he had always imagined lived at the bottom of the lake. They licked their lips with blackened tongues, waiting to feed on the helpless hobbit. He tried to sit up, to move away, but something was holding him down, something wet and thick. He tried to call out to Merry, but nasty seaweed held him down and gagged him.
"Pippin...Pippin," Merry murmured. The words tumbled from his lips. They sounded more like nonsensical sound than actual words. His eyes opened, but just for a moment, just long enough to see the form of Pippin standing there clutching something in his hands.
Merry danced with Estella. She was a pretty lass, who was just a little younger than Merry was. 'Round and 'round they went in a waltz. They laughed as they did so. This was a special night. There was a party going on for the fall harvest. Merry and Estella passed Pippin, who was playing the fiddle. Merry paused from dancing and grabbed Pippin, leaving 'Estella, laughing, behind.
A small, weary smile played on his flush features as he remembered this. Merry's smile then faded.
He rushed into the Took's home. "Is he all right?" Merry demanded. Mr. Took had a tired and grim look on his face. "I am afraid not, Meriadoc." Paladin replied.
"Let me see him," Merry said harshly. Mr. Took nodded gently and led Merry to his cousin. Merry gasped when he saw how frail and pale his cousin was. Merry went over to Pippin and took up one of his hands.
"Oh Pip, you are so ill," Merry whispered, "Don't leave...Don't leave." A small tear trickled down his cheek.
Aragorn looked from Merry to Pippin. He silently asked for an explanation to what Merry said. With the look Aragorn gave him, Pippin took a breath and began to explain. "I-I also had the winter fl u when I was eight, because I had almost drowned that summer. I nearly didn't make it and I wouldn't have, if it were not for Merry. Merry saved me that day and he stayed by me when I was sick. I have to save Merry, not just for him, but for me too. If I can't save him, I don't know what I'll do," Pippin replied.
Aragorn listened while Pippin told his story, and it became clear how much Pippin loved his cousin, as clear as that day on the fields of Pelennor.
Pippin ran towards the prone figure of Meriadoc on the battle field, surrounded by corpses of all kinds. For a moment, it seemed that Merry was as lifeless as those around him, and all hope seemed lost. "Merry!" the younger hobbit cried, letting his small sword fall to the ground as he ran to his Merry. He coughed and smiled weakly. "I knew you'd find me, Pip…"
"It's all right Merry. I'm goin' to take care of ye." Pippin said softly.
Pansy was in tears, overcome by grief. She hoped that Merry would be well soon, and as Peregrin spoke, she realized that she too would be as helpless without Merry. When did Merry become so important to her? Why did she care so much?
It was a warm summer's evening. Tomorrow around noon, Merry would be leaving on a journey to Bree, to help his cousin. All the hobbits of the Shire knew however, that Frodo was just moving to Buckland and Merry was going to help him move his things.
But right now, that was not important. Pansy thought very little of what was to come the next day, she knew she would see her Merry in a couple of days. She hugged him gently as they sat under the apple tree, watching the stars come slowly into view above them. The tree had a scar where the branch had been grafted back on, but it bore the sweetest and juiciest apples of all. The nearby Brandywine flowed lazily in a meandering curve, the sun's last light reflecting off the surface of the water which created fleeting sparkles.
" How long is this move going to take?" she asked, dreading the days ahead without her hobbit friend at her side.
Merry looked at Pansy. He shifted slightly. Then the hobbit bit his lip. "I don't know how long it will take. It shouldn't take very long. A week at most," Merry replied, not knowing it would take over two years. He looked at Pansy and took her hand. The hobbit gave it a friendly squeeze.
The ill hobbit felt someone take up his hand. It was comforting and loving. Who it was, Merry did not know, though he did not care that he did not know. Merry was so ill, he did not even know why he did not know nor did Merry know he was ill.
Merry stroked his frail cousin's hand absently with one of his thumbs. He bowed his head and looked at the young hobbit. Pippins face was drawn and pale, yet it was clammy. He did not move. Deep in his chest, there was a horrible rattle. "Oh Pip, you can get through this. Don't let this take over. You are stronger then that. Come one dear," Merry whispered as one tear trickled down his face. He curled up beside his cousin carefully so that he did not jostle him. "Please, wake up, Pippin dear, please," he whispered.
Merry lay on the battlefield of Pelennor. He was under a huge beast and it was squashing him. He was as still as a corpse and a cold as one. The only thing that kept him alive was the thought that he would see his dear Pippin soon. The hobbit heard someone something coming towards him. His eyes opened weakly and the maimed hobbits' heart leapt. Weakly he coughed and gave him the best smile he could muster. "I knew you'd find me, Pip…" Merry murmured. He broke off suddenly and a moan filled with agony escaped his cracked lips.
Merry shifted uncomfortable. He pushed against the blankets trying to remove them. Suddenly, he stopped moving. The hobbit was still. He became paler. It was a different paleness - a bad paleness.
Merry woke. He was not by his cousin. Merry looked around. He was in the library. There were footsteps outside the door and Pippins father came in. "Merry…" he began. Hurriedly and with fear he stood. "Uncle is he…is he…" Merry gasped.
"Dead? No…not yet, but…" he faltered and drifted off.
"What?" Merry demanded, "Tell me now, please!"
"Pippin, he-he is not going to make it. You need to go to say good-bye," the older hobbit said in a grave voice.
Merry's face turned pale as a sheet. "No…no," Merry murmured, sinking onto the couch that he had just been laying on. He looked up at his uncle with wide brown eyes. Suddenly, Merry stood. He stormed out of the library. Merry rushed down the hall. He stopped outside of the room. He heard people talking in Pippins' room. Merry pressed himself against the wall. Merry tried to hear what was being said, but the hobbits, which were in his ill cousins room, were too quiet to be understood. After a moment, Merry heard a sob and then Pippins' mother, led by the hearer, left Pippins room. They went past Merry without even seeing him. Slowly, Merry took in a shaky breath He then left his post and went to the door. Merry went to the door and slowly the hobbit entered the sick room. What Merry saw took his breath away and broke his heart. Pippin was so much worse looking and sounding. The hobbit felt tears well up in his eyes, but he did not cry. Carefully, Merry went over to the bed. He took one of his cousin's hands. Merry brought it up to his lips and gently kissed it. "Oh Pippin," Merry whispered, "Don't leave me…don't." Merry closed his eyes and tears trickled down his face.
Aragorn stood abruptly when he saw how pale Merry was. He went over to Pippin and Pansy. The king placed a hand on both of their shoulder's and steered them out of the room. He did not say anything until they were out the door. "Go check on Rosie," he instructed to Pansy and then to Pippin, "Go to a room and rest Peregrin. I will come and get you when it is time." Aragorn then closed the door and turned to the matter at hand. The king went over to the bed. He stooped and felt Merry's forehead. He was so hot. Hotter then he had ever been. Gently, Aragorn brushed a stray hair away from Merry's sweaty brow. Grabbing a cloth, he soaked it in cool water and wiped the ill hobbits forehead. Aragorn dropped the cloth back into the water. He then placed a hand on Merry's chest. He could feel the watery rattle as Merry fought to bring in air. Aragorn closed his gray eyes and bowed his head over the hobbit. "Túla, Meriadoc, at a amin. Ed i eruanna en Eru," Aragorn chanted in a soft voice.
Merry heard a soft voice. It drew him. Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw a form bending over him. It was blurry and he had not idea whom it was. He felt for a moment, no pain and for a second Merry could breathe with ease. The hobbit then gasped and grabbed the blankets tightly. He closed his eyes and was still.