Author’s Notes: This is definitely book-verse. Merry is supposed to have written a book on herb-lore from the Shire. I have to assume it had more in it than pipeweed’s history.

Disclaimer: The usual - these characters don't belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story except any positive feedback that happens to wander in my direction. (hint, hint)

***

"Sam?"

"Why, Mr. Merry! We wasn’t expecting you today." The gardener brushed the dirt from his hands before he shook Merry’s hand. "It’s a bit chilly this morning, so come inside and have some tea."

Rosie greeted them both happily at the door, Elanor resting on one hip and the other arm bringing her husband’s head down for a kiss. "Mr. Merry, come in, please! The water’s hot for tea, Sam. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve put Ellie down for her nap."

Sam poured tea for his guest with a smile, settling Merry in a comfortable chair by the fire. The Heir of Buckland looked about the kitchen, remembering all sorts of things from a childhood filled with visits to Bag
End. And a great deal of mischief and laughter in this kitchen.

"Is Frodo…?" Merry began hesitantly.

"Sleeping, just now." Sam answered quietly. "He had a bad night, I’m afraid."

"I wanted to…I need some herbs, and I thought that you would be the right one to ask. Maybe Rosie, as well." Merry said, running one finger around the rim of his teacup over and over.

"What was it that you wanted to ask me?" She came through the door just then, pouring herself some tea and perching on the arm of Sam’s chair.

Merry stared at his tea for a long moment. "When it’s this cold out, Pippin still…the cold sets him to aching where he was wounded…before. Sam," he went on, finally meeting the other hobbit’s eyes. "You saw what happened to him at the Black Gate. Well, you saw what was still there days later. He’s hurting like my Grand-da did every winter in the leg he broke years ago, and I want to help him but he won’t let me call for a healer."

"Why-ever not?" Rosie asked, her brow furrowed in concern and confusion.

"Not that the lad’s ashamed of his scars, Rosie-lass," Sam explained, and Merry was grateful for the reprieve. "Only it’s hard to explain to others without remembering. And I’d reckon," the younger hobbit added shrewdly. "That it’s the remembering Master Pippin is trying to keep himself from."

"Well then." Rosie put her teacup on the table and went to the cupboard, pulling out several small jars. "This willow bark will do steeped in his tea, and it should help with the pain. There are others would do for sleeping without remembering quite so much, if you wish to take some of those with you as well."

Merry noted that she was kind enough not to ask which of them would need the latter infusions, probably knowing it was both.

"I shall tell you how to prepare them," she added with a shy smile, and measured out the two herb mixtures into small muslin bags. "Since I doubt that a hobbit such as yourself has had much experience."

Merry chuckled. "No, not as such, Rosie. Healers get called to my father’s house as they do to any other home on occasion, but we just do whatever they say. I learned some from Aragorn on our travels, and some from the elves at Rivendell. Bits from my mother, sisters, and you."

Rosie dictated some instructions to Merry, who wrote them on a scrap of parchment and tucked it safely into the pocket of his vest. "Sam, will you peel the potatoes for me? I’ll walk Mr. Merry out to the gate."

When they reached it, though, she put one hand on his arm as he moved to open it. "Is it as bad as Frodo was in March?" She asked softly.

Merry shook his head. "A different sort of pain. This one is physical and Frodo’s…there was darkness and an evil magic in what happened to him in that place. Did he ever tell Sam about…?"

"No. He wouldn’t, you know. He wanted Sam to concentrate on making the Shire green again. I’ll not break a confidence." Rosie smiled sadly. "And yes, some of the herbs I gave you are the same you helped me give him then. I was right grateful for your help those days and nights. It helped him to have you near just as much as the herbs did, I think."

Merry re-fastened his cloak against the chill air with the green and silver leaf pin he still wore. "I’m starting to keep notes on these things. I suppose I had some vague idea of writing a book someday, but it may come in handy in any case."

"Well, it shall help you now. You’re doing all you can, you know that, do you not?" And when she saw the tear roll down his cheek, Rosie hugged him briefly, all formality gone for the moment. "The love we all have for your two cousins, that will see them through more than any teas and tisanes. But you just see those will do for now. Mind you rest yourself as well. You’ll not do your Pippin any good if you collapse from exhaustion and worry."

Merry sniffled and let her motherly hand brush the tears from his face. "Thank you, Rosie. I’ll take good care of him. Just take care of Frodo."

"You know you needn’t ask that, of all things, Mr. Merry."

"I know Rosie. I’ll bring Pip with me next visit. He wants to see Frodo soon, and to spoil Ellie some more."

Rosie rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "Oh, that is just what she needs. Off with you, then. Safe journey."

He patted his pockets, where he’d tucked away the herbs. "It’ll be safer now."

"Ah-hah! I knew it would be…no, that isn’t it…" Merry’s voice trailed off into muttering in more than one language he’d picked up on his travels. Diving back into his exploration of the shelf of parchments and books, he put the scroll back where he’d found. A bit of exploratory rummaging through the myriad stacks of documents on the table was finally successful.

"There it is! I thought I’d left it here yesterday." His triumphant voice must have carried a little further than he’d planned, since he heard footsteps pause in the doorway to the library.

"Merry? What in Middle Earth…" Eowyn managed to keep a serious face for all of half a minute; then she burst into peals of laughter at the sight of her friend’s dust-smudged face and curls.

As much as he normally enjoyed hearing Eowyn’s clear, musical laugh, Merry gave her a mock glare as he climbed down the stepladder. He brushed the dust away with a free hand as he did so, coughing slightly and having to clear his throat. "Oh, thank you very much, my lady. Do not forget that I have seen you look much the same on many, many occasions.

"I am sorry, Merry." The Princess of Ithilien finally managed to catch her breath, and tidied her own long, fair hair that still hung nearly to her knees. "It is just that I suddenly realized that there is much about you that has not changed a bit over the years. A fact," she added, "for which I am most grateful."

Setting the journal down on a nearby table, the hobbit sat down on a low couch his friends had added to the library during his previous visit. It would not do, Legolas had pointed out to Faramir, to have his hobbit and dwarvish guests having to climb up on furniture as if they were children.

"What brings you into the library, then?" He suddenly stopped and looked at her. "Is Estella all right? Shall I return to our quarters…"

"No, she is fine. She went to see the new garden with Diamond and Pippin. Legolas wants to show off something he planted there last spring, and I supposed my reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped. I’m afraid I don’t appreciate things such as blooming flowers so much as I do the new foals and colts in the stables." Eowyn returned his grin that came to his face at that last comment.

"I understand. Sam is forever telling me to see to the gardens at Buckland, and I tell him that is why I hire gardeners."

Merry watched Eowyn gracefully sit next to him, tucking her feet up under her long skirts. She brought the scent of lavender into the library, sharp and soothing all at once, somehow. It made him think of home, where Estella often tucked the dry blossoms into the linen cupboards to keep the bedclothes smelling sweet.

"Merry, what have you spent three days searching for in here?"

"I was hoping to find something. Eowyn, you and Faramir have had two such beautiful children, and I do love spending time with them as well as you. But…"

"But you and Estella would wish for your own family?"

"Yes." He whispered, and leaned his head back against the cushions with a sigh. "It has been eight years, and we’ve watched Pip and Sam become fathers several times over."

She covered his hand with hers. "Can your healers and midwives not help?"

Shaking his head, Merry entwined his smaller fingers through his friend’s. "They’ve done all they could think of doing. If I cannot find what I need here, perhaps Aragorn could help."

"Merry, shall I ask one of the Elven midwives to speak with Estella? They are not hobbits, but perhaps they know something here that you do not. Legolas’s people have added greatly to our knowledge, and you know that they bear you much love and respect. It was their medicine that helped me when I was with child."

Looking at Eowyn gratefully, Merry sighed in relief. "Silly of me not to ask, I know. I suppose I wanted to be the one to help her."

"Well," Eowyn answered with an affectionate smile. "My children are as inquisitive as Pippin, and Legolas may need rescuing by now. A Knight and a former Shieldmaiden should be enough to help the two of them. Let us go and find our loved ones, then. They cannot have strayed very far into the gardens, and I shall ask Legolas to bespeak his healers for you."

He rose without letting go of her hand and tugged her to her feet. They walked together down the corridor and out into the garden, where the sunshine had released all the scents of flowers and herbs onto the breeze.

Author’s Note: Yes, that’s Sam’s Ruby in this chapter. With all those hobbit children Sam and Rosie had, it stands to reason that one of them would marry into the Brandybuck family, too…

Estella and the cook had just set out second breakfast when they all heard the frantic knock on the front door of Brandy Hall.

"Is my father here?" they all heard Theomac shout, sounding as though he’d ridden at a gallop the whole way from Crickhollow.

"Theo?" Merry queried, moving quickly to the front hall just in time to grab hold of his son’s shoulders to steady him.

"Da, it’s ‘Bell…she’s so ill…we haven’t been able to bring her fever down since yesterday." The younger hobbit was gasping out his words in a panic. "And the healers were called to Long Cleve yesterday for something big, so they couldn’t come and…"

"Easy, my lad. Come with me while I get my things. Tell me what happened." Merry said soothingly, keeping one arm around his son as they walked.

"Bluebell was feeling poorly a few days ago, and it just got worse and worse. Ruby’s fair to collapsing herself from worry, Da. We’ve tried everything we know. Everything." Theo fell into a chair and watched Merry as the Master collected herbs from a familiar cupboard and a leather-bound book from a shelf nearby.

Quickly dropping it all into a sturdy pack, Merry absently pushed grey hair behind his pointed ears to keep it out of the way. "Theo, what else?"

Theo raised stricken grey eyes to his father. "Oh, Da, she hasn’t spoken in two days, except to cry in her sleep a bit at first, when the fever hit."

"Well, let’s be off, then. We shall see what I can do when we arrive." Merry helped Theo stand on shaky legs and hugged him close for a long moment. "Things are not always so dark as they seem."

Estella caught them at the front gate and proceeded to unlace the top of her husband’s pack so she could drop a wrapped bundle inside. "Here, you didn’t have a chance to eat and you’ll probably both be hungry on the way." She gave her son a swift embrace. "Send someone for me if I’m needed."

***

Several hours later found Merry standing in the smaller bedroom at Crickhollow, resting his hand gently on his granddaughter’s forehead. "Her fever’s mostly gone, but she’s far away from us. Can you fetch me my pack, Theo? And I’ll need some water in a basin, Ruby, as though it were for tea."

His daughter-in-law hurried off to get the water, looking mightily relieved to be able to do something at last that might help, and he thanked Theo quietly as his son handed him the well-worn pack.

Pulling out the book, Merry opened it and flipped through the pages to get to the bit he wanted. "Ah, it was two leaves, I thought so." Then, he took out a little earthenware jar and held it carefully in both hands.

"Da? What is that?" Theo asked as he stroked tangled brown curls away from his daughter’s hot face.

"Athelas…kingsfoil’s what we call it in the Shire." Merry chuckled softly. "Sam used to pull it out of the garden at Bag End all the time from in between the rose bushes, calling it a weed. We learned better on the Journey, though."

"How?" Somehow, the Brandybuck thirst for knowledge broke through even Theo’s exhaustion, and that made his father smile faintly. Merry leaned back against a bedpost and opened the jar. He tipped it sideways to spill two leaves into the palm of his hand and crushed them gently between his fingers.

"How did it…" Theo broke off as a delicate scent, familiar to both father and son, began to infuse the air in the little bedroom. "It’s what Mama uses when your arm hurts so much in the spring, isn’t it? And what I remember Auntie Diamond using once for Uncle Pippin when we visited and he was sick that time. I remember it."

Ruby came back with the basin just then, and as Merry cast the crumbled leaves into the steaming water, all three adult Hobbits found themselves breathing deeply. The athelas seemed to melt away the fear they felt. And for Merry, sharp-again memories of a quiet chamber in Minas Tirith faded away until all that was left was an impression of Pippin’s clear green eyes, and a strange combination of sunshine’s warmth and cool water.

"Talk to her, Ruby, call her back." Merry urged his daughter-in-law forward to the bed.

"Bell? Please, come back to us, love. We all need you."

The tiny hobbit-lass on the bed stirred and screwed up her face in confusion for a moment before her eyes drifted open. "Mama?"

Ruby gave a cry of relief and swiftly settled on the bed to hold her youngest child. "Oh, ‘Bell, there now, everything’s going to be all right."

Merry closed the jar and tucked it back into his pack, and gathered his things to silently creep out of the room, leaving his son’s family to their own comfort for now. After a few minutes, Theo came out and joined his father at the kitchen table. "Thank you, Da." He murmured into Merry’s shoulder in the midst of a tired embrace. "She’s all right and wanting food." Then he looked up when the older hobbit began to laugh heartily. "What?"

"Oh, Theo." Merry sighed, taking a deep breath as he calmed. "That’s what I did first thing when I woke up."

"Woke up when?" Theo asked curiously.

Wrapping one hand around the warm cup of tea he held, Merry gratefully let the sensation spread through his fingers. "In Minas Tirith, after the battle at Pelennor. When I woke, Theo, my arm was numb. It took me weeks before I could feel how hot a cup of tea was in my hand, or feel anyone’s hand in mine." He smiled at his son as the younger hobbit slipped one hand into his and gave it a little squeeze.

"I’m glad that you were healed, Da," Theo said to his father.

Merry ran a callused thumb over his son’s fingers. "It’s strong enough now, I’m strong enough. It’s only that…when I woke, I realized how much I missed the King I’d pledged myself to before the battle. King Theoden."

Theo’s eyes widened at the mention of the man for whom he’d been named.

"He and I talked of many things on the ride to Dunharrow," Merry said. "We spoke of herb-lore but little, and he’d promised we should do so again soon. I suppose I began to write down that lore as I learned it in his memory. I felt so small and…and lost as thought I were merely baggage among the Riders, alone without Pippin and Gandalf, Frodo and Sam, and he seemed to value my knowledge and opinion when we spoke."

Through a haze of held-back tears, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip of tea. "And then he was gone. And then I almost lost Pippin, and Frodo and Sam. We were so very lucky. There was some thought in my mind that if I knew these things, then perhaps I wouldn’t lose anyone else. So I began to gather what I could."

Theo took the cup from his hand and set it onto the worn, wooden table. "It worked, Da, it worked. You’ve done it before and you did it again today."

"Theo," Merry said seriously, looking into his son’s eyes. "Someday, you will have this book." He pressed the worn leather of the book into Theo’s hand. "None in the Shire outside our families, Pippin’s, Sam’s, and ours…they don’t know the legacy we leave them. And some of the family won’t know, either, or don’t care to understand. This what I shall leave you…that will be passed down the generations."

Theomac looked down at the book he was holding, stroking a finger across the cover. "Oh."

Merry waited and watched, then took the book back to tuck it into his pack, and gave his son a gentle push on the shoulder. "Go and rest, lad. You and Ruby should sleep for a while. It seems there’s been a lack of that around here of late."

"Thank you for Bell," Theo whispered, and Merry felt his son’s kiss on the crown of his head.

He sat there at the table long after Theo left the room. Merry supposed he should send word to Estella, but he was too weary with heartache and joy together to do it now. In the morning would be soon enough. Eventually, he wandered to the window and looked out on Crickhollow’s little garden.

"As a father you were to me, for a little while," he whispered into the twilight that filled the garden with muted blues and greens. "And now I am a father, and Theo is as well. I will remember you as long as I am here, my lord. Keep Boromir company, if you’ve met him, would you? I’ll have lots of tales to tell you both someday. You’ll need to wait for your esquire and knight for a while. I’ve got things to do yet, perhaps even more books to write."

Merry murmured a goodnight into the sky and carefully closed the shutters. He fell asleep to the faint sound of Ruby’s singing from down the hall, her sweet voice carrying him into a sleep filled with the scent of athelas and pipeweed.