Disclaimer: Hobbit are not mine, they are the creation of JRR Tolkien, however, they are the drive of my wild imagination.

Written for Marigold's Challenge #4.

THE HEART OF A BROTHER

Pippin’s Heart

Pippin sat up abruptly. Next to him Gandalf shifted uneasily but did not wake. Or so Pippin thought, as frightening dream did everything but vanish from his memory. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, even though it was cool in the daylight hours of March. Pippin drew his knees up, resting his chin atop his folded arms, eyes scanning the distant mountains while watching the beacons burn darkly in the light of day, gloomy as it was. For reasons unknown to Pippin, the beacons gave him comfort. The flaming signals were a reminder to him that there were other folks out here in the Anorien wilderness besides him and Gandalf. The tween tried desperately to recollect happier times while still living with his family back at home in the Shire, but the evil, dark vision of the seeing-stone gripped his being. He shuddered, laying his forehead where his chin had been.

Pippin yawned; his bones were weary from the long ride, yet he had slept for most of the journey while perched upon Shadowfax in front of Gandalf. Poor Merry, he thought to himself, all alone with no one to talk to. Well, at least, no other hobbits. Pippin himself had been spirited away by the White Wizard and was now traveling to a place called Minas Tirith, a city made of stone built upon a mountain.

Looking up, Pippin peered into the hazy eastern horizon. He could barely see the last peaks of the mountain range that they were following on the Great West Road. Pippin guessed that the white city sat on a mountain that was obscured from view. At least, that is where he understood the location to be as Gandalf explained it to him before they stopped for a rest.

Pippin yearned for the touch of soft grass beneath his feet; for a bright, sunny day filled with the promise of laughter amongst his friends in the woods around his home, though often it would be just him and Merry. Him and Merry. His thoughts centered on his life-long friend. He missed his cousin terribly. Never before had they been separated by so many miles between them. Dark images rose up in his mind’s eye; Merry’s doing fine on his own, Pippin thought mournfully, he doesn’t need me--he’s angry with me. I’m probably already forgotten.

“Peregrin?”

Gandalf’s voice gave Pippin a start. “I thought you were asleep. Did I wake you?”

“No, lad,” Gandalf answered, rising to his feet. He looked towards the sun still climbing towards its apex. “It is time for us to once again fly with Shadowfax.”

Pippin nodded, though the word ‘fly’ amused him when applying it to a horse. Pippin looked up at the Wizard, “Gandalf? Will I see Merry again?” he asked softly.

Gandalf perceived there was something heavy weighing on the young hobbit’s heart. “I would not give you false promises, Peregrin, but,” he placed a hand on Pippin’s shoulder, “there is always hope.”

“I…we…,” Pippin lowered his face towards his drawn-up knees; his voice cracking with emotion. “He was angry with me, Gandalf. He’s been angry with me before, but not like this. We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Gandalf sat down next to his young companion. “Of course he was angry with you, Peregrin. We were all rather displeased with your behavior two nights ago.”

Pippin quickly wiped his tears when he thought Gandalf wasn’t looking. “I’m sorry that I ever looked into that ball.”

“Of course you are; you’ve said that before, but I am afraid that does not change things, does it?” Gandalf realized that this was the first time in Pippin’s life that he had been totally cut off from other hobbits. “Are you lonely for your cousins?”

Without looking at the Wizard, Pippin answered, “He turned away, Gandalf.”

“Meriadoc?” Gandalf inquired, “He turned away?” After discovering Pippin with the Palantí r, Gandalf was so intent on reviving the young hobbit--and learning what he had told the Enemy--that the wizard never saw Merry’s actions.

Pippin’s eyes welled with tears as the entire scene played time and time again in his mind. Pippin explained, “He looked at me, and then as I caught his gaze, he turned away. He turned his back on me.”

“Peregrin, just because someone is angry with you, does not mean that they no longer love you.”

“But he’s never done that before.”

“I believe you are fretting overmuch about Meriadoc,” Gandalf told Pippin.

“Of course, Gandalf,” Pippin answered, rising to his feet, though he still felt the weight of care on his small shoulders.

The wizard lifted Pippin onto Shadowfax. “There now, Peregrin, I believe your reasoning has improved.

Pulling himself up behind the hobbit, Gandalf didn’t see the deep, sorrowful expression on Pippin’s face.

Merry’s Heart

Aragorn sat up abruptly. Nearby, Merry shifted uneasily but did not wake. Aragorn woke early to take counsel with Halbarad; his kinsman and fellow Dú nedain--there was much to discuss and plan. He quickly got dressed then headed towards the outskirts of the camp.

Merry opened one eye, watching Aragorn slip off into the night to heaven knows where. The young hobbit was having difficulties falling asleep; feeling much like Pippin the night before, twisting and turning as if he were lying on an anthill. The last memory of his young cousin riding off into the wild with Gandalf kept him tossing long after they made camp and settled in for a few hours of rest.

Aragorn had slept near the young hobbit, having had a long talk with Merry about his cousin. The Ranger sensed that the lad would need a companion when he awoke after a fitful night of rest, so before leaving to locate his kinsman, Aragorn whispered a few words to Legolas as he passed him by.

Merry, for his part, was now regretting his overt action of turning his back on young Pippin while his eyes were locked on him. His only intention was to force the tween to remember that his mischief affected more than just himself. But that was before the Nazgú l screeched in the night sky--before Gandalf swept Pippin into his arms and rode off towards Gondor. Now Merry felt alone; like excess baggage that no one was willing to carry.

The young hobbit twisted a few more times before he resigned to the fact he was not going to find sleep anytime soon. Sitting up on his bedroll, Merry wrapped his arms around his knees, then silently let loose the tears of his loneliness. Soon, he felt a presence at his side. Merry stiffened, thinking it was Aragorn returning to fetch something he had forgotten. He didn’t want the Ranger to see him with tears in his eyes. He surreptitiously wiped his eyes with his sleeve before looking to see who it was that intruded upon his melancholy.

“Hello, Merry.”

Merry recognized the voice of Legolas before he ever saw him. One gets like that after traveling for weeks on end with his companions. “Hullo, Legolas,” Merry sniffed. He didn’t mind so much if the elf caught him in his tears; Legolas carried a certain gentleness about him that Merry found appealing.

“I saw that you were awake--do you mind if I keep you company?”

Merry shrugged his answer; his face half buried into his arms as they rested upon his knees. The two companions sat together in silence for a while.

“I wonder how far Gandalf rode this night.” Though it wasn’t a question; Legolas was trying to ease the anxious thoughts out of the young hobbit.

“I wished he hadn’t ridden at all tonight,” was Merry’s reply.

Legolas spoke softly, “Because Pippin would be here?”

Merry’s eyes were fixed on the sleeping forms encamped around them. “I know that the Quest was threatened; that Frodo and Sam were in danger as long as Pippin remained near that glass ball. But Pippin…”

“What of Pippin?”

The hobbit brushed a tear away as he let out a sigh. “I turned my back on him, Legolas.”

There it was. Legolas now understood that Merry’s sorrow was a matter of the heart, not from fear of riding a perilous road into war. “I am certain that he understands, Merry.”

Merry wiped his eyes as if he were finished weeping. Forcing a smile he said, “You’re probably right, Legolas. I suppose I shall get some sleep now. Thank you for listening.”

Legolas had the feeling that Merry wasn’t being entirely truthful with him, but figured the young hobbit wanted to be alone. “You are most welcome. I will be sitting over there next to that tree if you wish to speak more on this. Goodnight.”

Merry laid down on his bedroll, listening to the footfalls of his companion until they were out of earshot. Opening his eyes, new tears sprang forth; his countenance etched with anguish.

Healing Hearts

Merry had no idea how long he had been trapped inside the dark, empty void. He felt suspended, floating as it were, in the cavernous nothing. His arm ached and felt cold as ice; full of despair, his spirit sagged.

“This is where you belong,” said a menacing voice. Or was it his own? Accusations and threats came from every corner of the void. Frodo is dead. You failed your king. You turned away from your closest friend. Something brushed passed his arm; it felt cold, sticky and slimy. He trembled with fear.

Merry supposed that he was indeed dead, as darkness surrounded his being. He did not feel anchored by his body--actually, he did not feel his body at all, though the constant throbbing in his right arm said that he did indeed have one…of sorts. You turned away from your closest friend. Utter hopelessness enveloped Merry. “Yes, this is where I belong.”

* *

Pippin wrung out another warm cloth, laying it on Merry’s cold arm. He leaned into his cousin’s ear and whispered one more time, “Merry.” There was more mumbling, “…cold…”, but no other response from his friend.

Many of the healers were busy with wounded soldiers or the Lady, who was also abed with the Black Shadow illness, so Pippin volunteered to watch over his cousin. He heard a rustling of clothing nearby; looking up, he saw it was Gandalf. The wizard was traveling from room to room all the day long in the Houses of Healing observing his various charges. “How is he, Peregrin?”

Pippin shook his head sadly, “Nothing else, Gandalf. He hasn’t said anything since the last time you were here--except just now he said something about being cold even though I keep putting these warm cloths on his arm.”

“I’ve sent for Aragorn,” said the wizard, approaching Merry’s bed. “Continue your ministrations.” Gandalf figured it would help to keep Pippin busy and from despairing of the worst. “When Aragorn arrives, he will be able to help Meriadoc.” Gandalf caressed Merry’s brow once again. The young hobbit felt cool to his touch. Make haste Aragorn!

* *

In the midst of the black abyss Merry heard a sweet song. Singing? Here in evil emptiness? For the first time since waking in the black pit, Merry felt a glimmer of light in his heart. It was a lullaby that Frodo used to sing to Merry when he was a little boy, frightened after having an ugly dream. Then Merry sang it to Pippin when he was a child, usually while his younger cousin was abed with a long illness. Abruptly, the song ended. He heard someone calling his name; the voice sounded familiar and pleasant. Merry followed the voice…

* *

“Thank you, Bergil,” said Pippin, coming through the door with a large tray laden with a large supper. Bergil held the carafe of milk until Pippin could set down the food tray on the table next to Merry’s bed. Pippin stood between the bed and Bergil and introduced his cousin to his recently made friend. He noticed Merry had an odd expression on his face.

“At your service, Mister Merry,” Bergil bowed low.

Merry was still thoroughly weary, but smiled as best he could manage, “Thank you, Bergil, and I at yours.”

The lad gazed with amazement at the two Perian in the same room with him. Little more than a week ago, these merry folk were but a legend in their songs and tales. “I must get back to running errands for the healers.” Bergil bowed again and left the room.

Pippin turned to his life-long friend, “What’s wrong, Merry? Are you feeling worse?”

“No,” Merry answered, fidgeting with the blankets tucked around him. “No, I…I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine--even I can tell by the sound of your voice.”

Merry took a deep breath before plunging in. “I’m not worse, just so that you don’t worry. I’m mostly tired.” He looked away from Pippin’s bemused features.

“Then what else is the matter?” Pippin sat next to his cousin on the bed, stroking Merry’s injured arm now in a sling. “I can run and get Aragorn, if he is who you really want to speak to.

“No,” said Merry. “I don’t wish to speak to Strider or Gandalf right now. I only wish to speak to you.”

The meal all but forgotten, Pippin stretched out next to his cousin on the bed. When they were children, their most serious conversations took place either after they were tucked in for the night, or first thing in the morning upon waking. This seemed like it was going to be a very serious conversation, so Pippin slipped under the covers in preparation for a long discussion.

Merry nervously avoided his friend’s gaze. That is, if Pippin still thought of him as his friend. “I didn’t think that I would see you again.”

Pippin turned to his cousin, “You were in an evil dream all day, Merry. It must have seemed like forever to you.”

“It did,” Merry conceded, “but…what kept me hoping against all hope to wake up, was you, Pip. I heard you singing to me.” He continued, lip quivering as tears welled up in his eyes. “Back at the camp, when you looked into the glass ball,” Merry sniffed, wiping away his tears, “I…I turned away from you, Pippin. When you needed me the most, I couldn’t bear to look at you.”

Filled with compassion, Pippin wrapped his arms around his cousin, carefully hugging him as tight as the injured arm would allow. “I saw you turn away, Mer.” Pippin’s own eyes were filling with tears, “And I can’t think of anything else in this world that hurt more than that.” The tween pulled away from Merry, taking his cousin’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “but I am glad,” he smiled, “that you are here now…alive and with me, because I couldn’t bear to live on without my dearest cousin, my closest friend…my favorite brother.”

Merry braved a smile, “I’m your only brother.” He took Pippin’s hand in his own, opened it palm up, then kissed the scar between his thumb and his forefinger. “But I have chosen my brother well.”

Both hobbits, with tear-stained cheeks, smiled at each other amid steaming bowls of soup and bread. Pippin smirked, “I told the cook that you were a very hungry Perian--that’s what they call us hobbits here.”

Merry feigned surprise, “But I am a very hungry hobbit!”

Pippin buttered Merry’s bread for him, “I know that you are, dear cousin, but I am quite certain that you don’t want to eat your supper all by yourself…do you?” He paused, eyeing Merry when his forthcoming answer was delayed.

Merry smiled at his beloved brother, “Absolutely not.”

 ~The End~