Ithilien, May of 1425
Pippin shivered in the bright shining sun and pulled his Elven cape closer around him. The warm breeze felt like an icy wind in the middle of December and he could swear the sun was hidden behind the clouds even though it was shining bright from a clear sky. He was clad in his black Gondorian armour and the warmth of the sun ought to be making the black fabric burn like fire on his skin. Pippin could not feel any of that, for all he knew he was wearing nothing at all on a cold winter's day.
He did not feel sad, he told himself. Not sad, not crushed, just cold. Cold with no hope of warming up again.
He had insisted at first that Merry should have a grand funeral, one worthy of one of Gondor's heroes. He had been sure he'd won Aragorn over on the idea when Éomer King had arrived from Rohan and demanded to have a say in the matter. It was his esquire who had lost his life, not Aragorn's, and Éomer felt a smaller ceremony with only friends gathered would be much more appropriate. Pippin had been upset, but now he was glad. The lesser people there the lesser eyes that stared at him and wondered which of the Periannath had died and which one was it that lived. He had been called Master Holdwine a few times by people who thought the dead one was Master Peregrin, and it had scared Pippin out of wanting to be around anybody who didn't know him or Merry personally.
Éomer had had to surrender his will in one aspect. He wanted to have the actual burial take place in Rohan, where Merry had sworn his allegiance, but Aragorn had insisted that Ithilien was a better place. Merry's truest loyalty had always been to Éowyn, and his greatest adventures had taken place within the realms of Gondor. Pippin had been the one to settle the debate, opting in favour of Aragorn. Pippin wanted Merry's burial to take place in Ithilien; he wanted to know that in the end Merry had come back to the city. To that argument Éomer had yielded.
The ceremony was still not very small. It was not only attended by Pippin and his fellow members of the fellowship, Éomer was there with his queen and between them and Aragorn stood Faramir and Queen Arwen. Most of the soldiers stationed in Ithilien were there, and so were a few of the people who worked at the castile. Pippin could spot the chefs somewhere behind Gimli.
The only person missing was Éowyn, who refused to attend. Pippin knew he should probably care why, but he truthfully didn't. He knew that she grieved and if she wanted to do so without saying a proper goodbye then that was her choice. He wanted nothing to do with her choice to stay away; he would neither have tried to convince her to go nor given his blessing to her staying away if anyone had asked him to. Wherever Éowyn was this afternoon it was her own decision and Pippin cared not.
A small coffin rested before them, covered in flowers. Pippin thought it was a complete waste to bury flowers along with the coffin, Merry didn't even care much for flowers when he was alive, he was only interested in their roots. But there were many aspects to this funeral which made no sense to Pippin, customs of the race of men which were foreign to him. He found himself welcoming them nonetheless, with Éomer in charge of the funeral it meant Pippin did not have to make any decisions or plan anything at all. He liked it better that way. It was easier.
Éomer conducted the ceremony, a great honour for the esquire to have the king himself take on the job. Pippin didn't know Éomer very well but he knew Merry had been fond of him, so he had not said anything about it. The king of Rohan looked weary, but he had been through worse scrapes than this and would recover. He mourned the loss of an esquire who had meant so much to the royal family of Rohan and who had played such a pivotal part in the safekeeping of the land, Pippin did not doubt that his sorrow was real. But for him life would have to continue as it always had before. Pippin could not hope for the same.
Next to Éomer's queen stood Faramir, holding his head low. He had not slept for many hours during the past week and barely ate. Although Merry had not been his own esquire or one of his soldiers he had served Faramir's wife and as such Faramir had seen him as a member of his own court. Faramir felt that he had failed the Hobbit; he could have sent soldiers after him much sooner and not given up hope as quickly as he had. Merry had ridden out while being under Faramir's supervision and he was his responsibility. Faramir had barely dared to face his king or his brother-in-law since he had been forced to bring them news of the Halfling's death.
Not far from Faramir stood Aragorn, also guilt-stricken and with his head held low. He battled the same demons now as he did the day Merry's pack was brought to them, unable to forgive himself for not having found his friend. He had been feeling even worse since Pippin and Éowyn had returned and he learned that there were more traces of Merry further down the river. He should have gone down there himself, he knew that he should. He had ridden out that day and followed the river as far as he could, bringing home what he found on the way.
Pippin was standing in-between Legolas and Gimli, a rather awkward placing which made him feel out of place and in the way. He was not entirely comfortable around Legolas these days, the Elf never seemed to be able to grasp the concept of death and when he lost someone he distanced himself in order not to succumb to the Elfish ability to sit down and die after suffering a loss.
Pippin reached out for Gimli's hand and squeezed it hard. The Dwarf was a far better rock to cling to at this time, much to Pippin's surprise. Gimli acted on his emotions more often than not and he knew exactly what buttons to push to make Pippin cry, something he much needed to do. They had not seen each other more than a few times in the past week but Pippin had cried twice in his arms and it had been the only times he had shed any real tears at all. The Dwarf's straightforwardness was a comfort; he didn't expect Pippin to even try to keep his act together. It was only in his company that Pippin didn't have to wonder how he was expected to act.
While listening to Éomer's words Pippin thought back on the last days he had spent with his best friend. He remembered very vividly their last meeting in the gardens. He never wanted to forget a single minute of it, the last time he had seen his cousin alive. Every time he thought about it he felt a stab of pain, it hurt knowing that there was so much he wanted to say to Merry and he had not said it the last time they met. Their last meeting should have been a monumental one, they should have said and done things out of the ordinary, they should have spent one of those moments together which they knew they would remember forever no matter what. Instead they had briefly spoken in a garden. It seemed so trivial. Not worthy of the long friendship they had shared.
From a window a woman clad in white watched the ceremony. She was all alone, but it was by her own choice. She was too far away to hear what was said so she sang her own song of sorrow. An ancient song which had been sung at the funerals of great knights, men and kings. She only watched for as long as the song lasted, then she turned and walked away from the window.
Éomer finished speaking and someone gave Pippin a nudge. He was supposed to say something, but he didn't know what to say. He had not prepared any form of speech, not even known that he was expected to talk. Éomer had told him that the person closest to the deceased was expected to say something at the funeral but Pippin had not listened. Usually the closest person was a spouse, a child or a parent but in this case it was a cousin. Pippin looked at the gathered people with uncertain eyes, then gathered some courage and cleared his throat.
"I don't know what to say to you at this moment…" he said, not to the people around him but to Merry. "There is nothing to say. Nothing that can describe what I'm feeling now. Since no words can do justice to what I want you to know and I want to describe to you then I won't even give it a try. All I will say is that you may have left Middle-Earth in body but you will live for as long as I do through me. Please never leave me. Keep your spirit near me. If you only get to take one thing with you to the place you are now then let that one thing be my affection. I can come to terms with a lot of things in life. I can come to terms with war, with friends leaving, with lives changing forever and with hurt and pain. But I cannot come to terms with losing the bond we've shared. I can't come to terms with something so strong having to be gone."
He swallowed hard and stepped up to the coffin. There was one Hobbit tradition he had insisted upon for the funeral, a ritual in which every guest left something for the deceased. The ones closest to the departed placed their gifts on the coffin; the other guests placed theirs around it. There was little room for any gifts on top of the coffin among all the flowers but Pippin had insisted on this part of the ceremony. There had to be something about Merry's funeral which fitted a Hobbit.
"Something for the road, my special friend" Pippin said with a trembling voice and held up a pouch.
The Queen of Rohan began to sing a lament as Pippin moved aside some flowers and placed his gift, a bag full of champignons, on the coffin. Champignons had been Merry's favourite mushroom. Pippin stayed by the coffin for a few seconds, wishing that the voice he heard belonged to Éowyn and not to her sister-in-law. Then he solemnly stepped back into his place.
Éomer stepped forward next and placed a dagger, long enough to be a Hobbit sword, next to Pippin's bag of mushrooms.
"You lost your blade in battle, twice" Éomer said. "Take this new blade with you where you are going."
Next Aragorn stepped up, placing a pouch filled with herbs on the coffin. Their interest in herbal medicine was one of the things which had bound him and Merry to one another and it was the only thing he had been able to think of to give to Merry.
"We shall meet again, Holdwine" he said. "Until then, please forgive me for failing you this time. Your life was prosperous when it was taken from you… may you continue to grow in our hearts if you cannot grow on Middle-Earth."
After Aragorn it was Legolas' turn. The hint of a smile appeared on Pippin's face when he saw the Elf placing lembas bread next to the sword. Legolas placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. With closed eyes he said something in Elvish, probably meant as something private but Pippin understood the language enough to understand what he was saying.
"Something to keep you from hungering" the Elf said in his own tongue. "We love you. Forgive us, please."
Pippin wanted to reach his hand out to Legolas and let him know that he had understood what he had said. But there was something about his friend which made him hesitate to touch him, almost as if he would be breaking some form of ritual if he did.
Gimli stepped up after Legolas and placed a new leather pack, made out of the finest Dwarfish craftsmanship, next to the lembas bread. Sow in to the pack were tiny gemstones which Gimli had gotten from the Glittering Caves.
"You will never be forgotten, brother" Gimli said.
Then Faramir stepped up. Pippin looked at him and saw the same look on his face as the one on Boromir's the last time Pippin had seen him. A look of sorrow and guilt. Faramir resembled his brother so closely at that moment that Pippin had to close his eyes. The look was too much for him to handle and it brought back memories which he longed to forget forever.
With his eyes closed Pippin could not see what gift Faramir placed on the coffin. No doubt it was something practical yet impersonal, Faramir had not known Merry as well as the others who placed their gifts on top of the coffin and Pippin knew he would not pretend that he had by giving him something very personal.
"You were only an esquire in my household for a short period of time" he head Faramir say. "But during that time you made a great difference. Ithilien holds you eternally grateful for all that you have done for us, especially for our princess."
Pippin opened his eyes when he heard Faramir take a step back. The coffin was covered in gifts by now; the rest would be placed on the ground next to it. The first person to place hers was Queen Arwen. Traditionally it should have been Éomer's wife and not Aragorn's, but the former was still singing her lament.
One by one the people around them stepped forward and left their gift, saying their last farewell to Merry as they did. The lament ended and everything was strangely quiet, the only thing that was heard was the feet walking up to the coffin and the words spoken by the people who came up to it. It was too quiet; Pippin felt he would go crazy if it was to be this quiet. He began to sing an old song from the Shire, commonly sung at funerals. When the song was over the procession still was not and Pippin needed more song to fill the air. He felt he could not endure a moment of silence.
He felt Gimli's hand on his shoulder and took comfort in it. Strengthened by the Dwarf's silent support he searched his memory for other songs of sorrow that would be fitting to sing at times like these. But when he opened his mouth and began to sing it was not a lament that passed from his lips but a song of joy and of friendship.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a disapproving look from Legolas and when he looked over at Éomer he found the king to frown as well. But it only lasted for a brief moment, for then Éomer nodded and looked content. Pippin felt encouraged by this silent approval and sang with all his heart. He was relieved that Éomer understood, that Merry's king could see that Pippin's song was an homage to everything his cousin had meant to him. Éomer's approval meant a lot to him.
Which every passing note of the song Pippin felt the hint of a smile appear on his face and continuously grow. Perhaps it was not fitting to the humans around him to smile at a funeral, especially when the person being buried was your own best friend, but Pippin could not bear the thought of Merry's last farewell being an occasion filled only with sorrow. Merry had brought joy, not sadness, and it was impossible to Pippin to say farewell without acknowledging that.
Pippin's song lasted until the last of the soldiers had placed his gift by the coffin and walked away. Tradition called for the people close to the deceased to remain but the rest of the guest were expected to leave when they had left their gift. Now the eight people who had been the closest to Merry were alone with him, getting their last moment with him together.
Nobody spoke a word. This time the silence felt comforting to Pippin, it offered him a retreat. The people around him stood with their heads bowed, thinking about the friend they had lost and wishing him well wherever he was now. Pippin's hand reached up and grasped the Elven brooch holding his Elvish cape together, comforted by the familiar feel of something he had worn on his long journey. A look around him told him that the other three members of the fellowship also grasped the brooches on their capes.
While they stood their in silence Pippin let his thoughts brush the reality of Merry being gone. He still had not accepted it. Part of the beauty with this foreign funeral service was that it was so far from what Pippin was used to that it didn't seem real. He could still tell himself that Merry was alive and well and this was all just a nightmare which would end at any moment.
He managed to wish so intensively that Merry was still alive that he half expected to turn around and see his friend come walking through the gardens just as he had on that very last day they'd had together. If only he could live that moment over again, if only he had the chance of changing the course of that meeting.
He had been brought up to believe that the power of your wishes was a strong thing and that it could change things around you. He also remembered Merry telling him once that healing had a lot to do with one's mind, that when one was ill or hurt that person could come a long way in the healing process if he only believed in it strongly enough. Pippin believed with all his heart that Merry was still near, somehow his cousin just couldn't be gone, it was not acceptable. But if Merry had been right then Pippin's powerful wishing would have been enough to bring Merry back. Yet no Merry came, no matter how much Pippin dreamed nothing was going to change that fact.
"Anyone who wants a dream to come true knows what this feels like" he mumbled to himself.
"What was that?" Gimli asked.
"Nothing…"
"Quiet! Both of you! Pay your respects!"
Pippin looked at Legolas who had just snarled at them. He was not used to hearing the Elf speak like that. He could not quite understand what was wrong with Legolas; it was hard for him to comprehend how an Elf could be so dumbstruck by something as common as death. He wished he could hug Legolas and hold him close, like he could with Gimli, but he was afraid that his friend would push him away if he tried. He could not handle rejection right now; he preferred keeping a distance to Legolas.
They stood by the coffin for a long time. The sun began to set in the west, slowly but steadily. Faramir became the first to leave, going to find his wife and to make preparations for dinner. In spite of everything that had happened life had to go on in Ithilien.
The two women left together shortly after Faramir. Pippin was glad they had left, they had not known Merry well enough for his liking, he wanted to be alone with those who had cared about his cousin the most.
The other six remained for quite some time. Éomer became the next one to go, realizing that the fellowship needed some time alone to say goodbye to their lost member. He gave Pippin a reassuring look on his way from the gardens. Pippin wished people would stop pitying him, because that's what he felt they were doing. He didn't want them to pity him just because he had been the closest to Merry, he wanted them to grieve his cousin and let Pippin be.
The four members of the fellowship stayed until the sun had almost set. Then Aragorn nodded slightly and walked away. He stopped after a few paces and awaited the others. Gimli and Legolas came as soon as he stopped but Pippin lingered. He knew that the moment he left people would arrive to take care of the burial. Pippin was not going to take part in it, he was glad he was spared the task for he didn't know that he had the strength to send his cousin into the grave.
"Pippin" Aragorn's voice said.
Pippin knew he had to leave now. He could not spend any more time with his best friend. But before he left he stepped up to the coffin and placed one last thing on top of it. A pouch with all of his pipe weed.
"Something for the end of the road" he said. "I love you, Meriadoc."