This was written earlier this year for Marigold's Challenge 2. :)

Together

"Frodo! Watch out!"

The sudden, loud shout, close to his ear, woke Frodo with a start. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking confusedly in the dark for a moment, Frodo heard the heavy panting of his cousin beside him, and rolled over to face him.

"Merry," he whispered. "What's the matter?"

For a long moment there was silence, then Merry's small voice spoke up. "…Frodo?"

"Yes, you nit, who else?" Frodo replied in the customary bantering tone that they always used when one or the other had had a nightmare.

But Merry did not make the usual playful retort, and instead repeated, "Frodo?"

Puzzled now, Frodo propped himself up on one elbow and tried to make out Merry's face in the dark. "Yes?"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Merry threw himself upon Frodo, knocking him flat as he wrapped his arms round his older cousin's neck and hugged him tightly. Startled and slightly winded, Frodo returned the embrace gingerly. "Merry," he said, "what's gotten into you? Are you sick?"

Merry shook his head against Frodo's chest. "Frodo," he asked instead of replying further, "am I really here? Home, in Brandy Hall?"

Frodo, now thoroughly mystified by his cousin's strange question, tried the light-hearted approach again. "No, you're on Girdley Island—yes, of course you're in Brandy Hall. Where else would you be?"

"And you," Merry persisted, "you're here, too? With me?"

Ah, so that's it, Frodo thought with sudden insight. Ever since it had been announced, that afternoon, that he would be going to live with old Cousin Bilbo at Bag End in September, Merry had not once let him out of his sight. He had even insisted on sleeping in Frodo's room that night, although more than a year ago Merry had declared himself too old to share a room with his older cousin.

"Yes, Merry," Frodo assured him gently. "I'm here with you."

To Frodo's dismay, Merry shuddered, and he felt warm tears suddenly dampening the front of his nightshirt. "Merry, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly. "You must be sick. I'll go fetch your mother."

Frodo made to get out of the bed, but Merry clung to him tighter and shook his head again. "No, Frodo, I'm not sick," he said, sniffling. "It's just… I had a nightmare… about—"

Allowing Merry to remain sprawled across him, Frodo brought one hand up and stroked his cousin's honey-colored curls soothingly. "About me leaving?" he guessed softly. There was a nod against his chest, and Frodo sighed. "Merry, you know I won't be leaving until September—that's a whole month away. And until then I can spend every moment with you."

Merry reached up and wiped his eyes. "I know," he mumbled. "But, Frodo, why do you have to go at all? Don't you like it here with me and mama and papa?"

Frodo sighed again, and was silent for a moment. "Of course I like being with you, and Aunt Esme and Uncle Saradoc," he said at last. "I love all of you. But, Merry… This isn't my home, really. I don't belong here."

Merry lifted his head to look at his cousin. "What do you mean, you don't belong here?" he demanded. "You live here, and we all love you! Of course this is your home!"

Frodo continued to stroke Merry's hair. "I know, Merry," he murmured. "I know, and I've been happy here. But… but, Bilbo needs me. And I need him. Do you understand?"

Merry did not reply at once. He rested his head back against Frodo's chest, listening to his cousin's steady heartbeat and turning over his words. He hadn't thought of it that way—he had never considered that Frodo might feel out of place here. But then he remembered seeing his cousin sometimes, standing in a dark corner of one of the hallways or outside by himself, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, head bowed and eyes inexplicably sad and shuttered. Was Frodo truly lonely, and he had not even noticed it?

"Yes, Frodo, I understand," he said at last. "But…" He raised his head again, and looked at Frodo. "Bilbo will take care of you, won't he?"

Frodo smiled. "I'm sure he will. He loves me too, you know."

Merry smiled back, and let out a sigh. "Yes, he does," he agreed. "I know you've always been his favorite." He tightened his arms around Frodo and hugged him again. "But I will miss you awfully."

"I'll miss you, too," said Frodo, hugging him back. "But Hobbiton isn't all that far away—you can visit whenever you like, and I'll come visit you, too."

Merry nodded, and released his cousin. "Can I come for Yule?" he asked. "Hobbiton always has the best Yule celebrations."

Frodo ruffled his hair and was rewarded with a scowl. "As long as it's all right with your parents," he said. "And if you promise not to make a mess of Uncle Bilbo's fine smial…"

They laughed together, quietly, and settled back down comfortably in the bed. Frodo pulled the blankets up and straightened them, and Merry moved off of him, a little bit. They were silent for a long while, nestled companionably together.

But at last, Merry spoke up. "Frodo?"

"Mmm?" Frodo was already beginning to fall asleep again.

"You won't forget me, when you go live with Uncle Bilbo?" Merry asked anxiously. "Will you?"

Frodo shifted and held Merry at arm's length. "Of course not, Merry," he said with a soft chuckle. "However could I forget you? Just because I'm moving away doesn't mean we can't still be friends."

"Best friends," Merry corrected.

"Best friends," Frodo agreed, smiling, and he kissed Merry on the forehead.

Merry sighed, satisfied, and settled back down against Frodo, who draped an arm around him. "Well, I suppose that doesn't sound so bad, after all," he whispered. "As long as we can still see each other sometimes. But if Uncle Bilbo doesn't take proper care of you…"

Frodo covered his mouth with his free hand to muffle a giggle. "Don't worry, Merry," he said reassuringly. "I'm sure Uncle Bilbo will do just fine. But I'll tell him that you'll be checking to make sure, next time you come to visit."

Merry nodded against Frodo's shoulder, and closed his eyes. "That's right. You tell him…" He yawned hugely.

Frodo chuckled and tightened his arm around his cousin. "Goodnight, Merry."

Merry curled up closer against him. "'Night, Frodo," he mumbled.

Within a few minutes, Merry could hear Frodo's slow, even breathing, and he knew his cousin was asleep. He shifted, and raised his head to kiss Frodo on the cheek. "Goodnight, cousin," he whispered. "I love you."

Farewells might come soon to separate them, but for tonight they were together, and that was all that mattered. Merry felt at peace.

The End