Imladris: Chapter One - The Balm
Disclaimer: The characters from The Lord of the Rings belong to the franchises for Tolkien ™ and The Lord of the Rings ™. I do not claim possession of any copyrighted characters. Any and all other characters belong to me and may not be used without my permission.
Rating: G
Characters: Merry, Elrohir, and Pippin
I never thought I'd actually post this on I wrote it about a year and a half ago, when The Lord of the Rings reigned eternal in my mind. But I suppose it should be shared. So here is Chapter One, of my story, Imladris. I'll post the other chapters in increments.
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The gentle breeze caressed Merry's fine, sandy-colored locks back from his face, but did nothing to assuage the ache in his heart. The beautiful gardens of Elrond's house went unnoticed by his blank eyes, staring ahead aimlessly. The memories were hard to contend with. He kept seeing them again and again as if on a continuous reel; he and Pippin being ruthlessly shoved aside, Frodo backing away desperately, the stab, the scream that pierced the hollows of his ears. Merry's head sagged forward. He had failed Frodo. He and Pippin, as Frodo's cousins, should have stood up to the wraiths more then they had. And because of their weakness, Frodo had gotten injured, almost fatally so.
Merry silently stood from the stone bench he had been sitting on, and looked out over the valley of Imladris. It truly was beautiful, he thought in anguish, but of what use was it. He couldn't help but feel that he didn't deserve to see these wonders and beauty. Not with his beloved cousin so ill. The soothing hand on Merry's shoulder shocked him out of the melancholy. There stood an elf, tall and majestic, with dark hair that flowed in ribbons down his back and piercing eyes the color of which Merry had never seen before. "I am Elrohir, Master Meriadoc, son of Elrond," came the melodic voice that reached to Merry's very soul. Merry felt that his lips were permanently shut, for not a word squeaked past his tight throat. "Here, sit down for a while, young Hobbit," the expression on the elf's fair features showed delicate worry for this halfling.
Merry found that his legs would no longer support him and slumped back onto the seat, his eyes still wide with shock. The elf leaned back against the intricately woven railing of silver, and simply studied the Hobbit with sharp eyes that had the ability to see into any soul. Elrohir's eyes softened and he spoke with comfort, "Frodo will recover, Meriadoc. His wound, though great, has no power whilst in Elrond's house." Merry's chin quivered with emotion and his eyes sparked with a fire that raged from his soul, "But I could have prevented it, should have prevented it. Frodo is my cousin, and I simply stood by and let that, that THING do him such harm. I would rather have jabbed my sword into my own heart then have Frodo hurt in such a way." The elf's eyes locked with his and seemed to search for something, until finally Merry broke the contact, turning his head away with shame.
The young Hobbit stood to walk away, but Elrohir's firm voice stopped him, "You did try to save Frodo, Meriadoc. Your guilt is not from failing to try, but from failing to do." Suddenly, Elrohir knelt in front of Merry, reaching out to gently lay hold of the tense shoulders. Their eyes met, and Elrohir spoke, "You did all you could. The wraith's power far exceeds your own, Master Meriadoc, but you were there with Frodo when the blow was dealt, and you did all within your power to protect him." Merry's blue eyes filled with shimmering tears, until he could no longer see the stately form in front of him. His shoulders started trembling under the burden of holding the tears back, until the strong arms of Elrohir drew him close in an embrace that cleansed the Hobbit's soul, and the floodgate of tears finally broke forth.
The perfume of hundreds of flowers, mixed with the tears Merry cried, creating a healing balm to sooth the ache of guilt until there was nothing left but peace. There in a garden, Meriadoc found the healing he sought in the arms of an elf whose compassion compelled him to reach out, and in so doing discovered a gentle soul. Merry's head rested against the elf's shoulder, and finally he spoke, "Thank you, Elrohir. I," he hesitated slightly then continued, "could not see the truth. Though I may seem careless, family means far more to me then anything else in Middle Earth. When the wraith stabbed Frodo, it felt like I myself was being wounded to the heart. Now I see that I did what I could." Merry's eyes lifted with sudden joy to meet Elrohir's, "And Frodo will be all right!" That knowledge in itself caused Merry to laugh, and Elrohir's eyes lit with the joy from Merry's soul, and a smile graced his normally solemn lips.
"Come with me, Meriadoc, I believe it is time you found something to fill your stomach." Merry pushed gently away from the elf and nodded, "I can't even remember the last time I did eat, and for me that is amazing. You wouldn't happen to have any apples would you?" Elrohir could not hold back his rich laughter this time, "Yes, I believe Vasalye our chef has some apples in the kitchen." The pair started off in the general direction of the kitchen, smiling and talking, leaving behind someone neither had seen.
Pippin had noticed the anguish Merry was experiencing and had decided to speak with him, but had not scrounged up enough courage when Elrohir arrived. So he had simply stayed behind the lilac bush, watching and listening, hoping for some change in his cousin's behavior. The joy he felt could not be matched, but not wanting to be discovered, Pippin lay in waiting until all was clear. Then, standing silently, he followed.