Merry lay upon the crisp, pale linins in The House of Healing. His eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly and slightly unevenly as he slept. Merry was very pale and very cold. He looked all most dead – he had all most died. The maimed, right arm was wrapped up in clean dressings and lay lifelessly to his side. His left arm was bent and he had his hand resting upon his chest.

Another hobbit sat beside the wounded, sleeping figure. His fingers were pressed together and his pale and dirty face was drawn. The lad was still in his Gondorian armor, even though he had been told to bathe and change out of them. Pippin would not leave Merry, not for a moment. He couldn't. Peregrin Took stared at his sleeping, hurting cousin with a great sadness and fear in his green eyes.

For near a week they had been here in the House of Healing – Gandalf and Aragorn had worked non-stop for three of those days, trying to save the injured hobbit. By the dawn of the fourth day Gandalf told Pippin he had done all he could, but was not sure if he would make it. Pippin would not believe it though. Merry was a fighter and he would survive. Now a week had passed, and Merry still had not woken.

Pippin, as he sat there, thought back to when he had found Merry. Pippin ran through the field. His black cloak flew behind him as he ran. The sound of his footfalls were loud, as he tromped over the broken arrows and countless other things. His green eyes were wide with fright and he was scanning the horizon for any sign of his cousin. "Merry!" he called. Pippin stopped and looked around. He saw a small being under a creature. "Merry?" the young warrior asked in a trembling voice. Quickly, he scurried over to his downed kin. "Merry." Peregrin hissed, pushing the large creature off Merry just enough to gently drag Merry from the dead beasts body. Pippin bent down beside his maimed cousin. "Oh dear Merry," Pippin whispered, taking up one of his hands. Peregrin found it surprising and very frightening that his cousins' hand was so cold. With Pippins other hand, he felt his face, finding that it too was cold. So, with fumbling fingers, he unclasped the brooch that held his cloak together. With one fluid motion, the hobbit took off his cloak and put it over his cousin.

Merry slowly opened his eyes and smiled weakly at his cousin. "You came…." He whispered

"Shh…there, there – rest. I won't leave you." Pippin whispered, caressing his cousins hair away from a head wound.

"Pippin…" Merry whispered closing his eyes

"Pippin?" A voice said, making the hobbit jump and be driven from his thoughts. "Are you Pippin Took?" the being asked again.

Pippin blinked a few times. He got out of his seat went to the door. "Yes, I am Pippin. What may I be of service?" the hobbit said wearily

"You have a letter sir." The man said, handing him the letter
"Thank-you." Pippin said quietly as the man left. He looked at the letter and then with shaking hands, opened it. Quickly, the hobbit scanned the letter as he went back to his seat. It was an invitation to come to Dol Armoth at the coast.

Pippin sighed heavily. He knew what the answer was, without even thinking about it. He would like to see Imrahil again, but he missed the Shire, his friends, and his family much more and also, he did not think Merry would be up for such a journey and Pippin was sure he missed his home, friends, and family as much as Peregrin did.

Quietly, the younger hobbit went to the table near the window and sat down. He drew out a piece of paper, quill, and ink. Carefully, he dipped it into the ink.
Imrahil,

I have received your letter and I regret to tell you that I cannot make the journey to Dol Armoth. A great many things have happened since we last met and now that the world is at peace, I would dearly like to go home. I miss my home and my family – it has been nearly two years since I have seen them (no doubt they think I am dead). Also, in the fight at Pelennor Fields, the hand of the Witch King wounded my cousin Merriadoc. I do not think the journey would suit him at this time. Perchance at a later date, I may come, but for now, I cannot come.

Yours Truly,

Peregrin Took

Pippin read over the letter and then with a satisfied nod, placed it in an envelope and ceiled it. He looked at Merry. "I'll be back in a moment." He whispered as he headed to the door. Pippin trotted down the halls, looking for someone who could mail his letter. As he went he met various people, each of whom he asked and they told him they could not. He was about to give up when someone came up to him. "I have seen you about. You need a letter mailed, eh?" he asked

Slowly, Pippin nodded. "Aye, I do." He replied

"For a small fee, I will take it anywhere ye wish." The man said

"Oh thank-you." Peregrin replied, "Here. Take it to Imrahil in Dol Armoth, please." Pippin handed him the letter and a few coins. The man took them and with a nod left. Pippin watched him leave and slowly, turned and went back to the room wondering what next would happen in this infinite abyss.