Final Journey

"Are you going to bury me?" said Merry.* Pippin attempted a smile, his cousin's hand cooling inside of his own.
"Oh, not yet, Merry-lad," he said, as cheerfully as he was able. The room was filled with comforting firelight and warmth, but the hobbit on the bed was old, eyes dimmed by age. The beauty that had lain in them for many years had not faded, but their sight had, and Merry was forced to rely on the sound of Pippin's voice to be certain his cousin was near him. Pippin's heart was wrung with fear and pity*, not unlike an infamous day so long ago. The words were echoed, but in his sadness, he felt their truth keenly.
"I shall miss you so," Merry murmured, trying to squeeze Pippin's hand. "It shall be lonely, waiting for you."
"Yet ere long I shall be there beside you once again," Pippin reassured, stroking Merry's hand.
"It grows cold and dark," Merry said, turning his head toward where he'd last heard Pippin's voice. The years had not been as kind to them as they had once been to Bilbo and Frodo, but in this old-Merry's face the traces of his beautiful cousin remained, and his heart was grieved. Once the eight years that held sway between them had not mattered, but now they did, as death was rising swiftly to claim he whom was dearest to his heart.
"Ah, now, dearest one, relax and be calm. I vow to you that I will greet you there ere long," Pippin soothed softly. And Merry listened, and held Pippin's hand tighter, and whispered.
"Sing to me, my dearest love. A song to speed me on my final journey."

And so Pippin sang, clearly and sweetly, and Merry's eyes drifted closed. It might have been hours later that he paused, voice growing hoarse, and felt the first twinge. It grew and grew, a widening, burgeoning ache, and he knew what it was, and he feared it and cursed it. It was the tearing of his soul in half, as the one he loved most was leaving him. More and more the sensation grew, until at last it came to a violent, finalistic rending, and Pippin moaned low in his throat. He could still feel Merry's spirit, as it was borne away on swift wings to halls beyond where he could yet follow. It became more and more distant, and the room grew cold, and Pippin felt Merry's hand slip out of his own. At last he lay down his head and wept.

"And now, Merry-mine, I shall have to bury you. Oh but I loved you well in life, and I shall love you no less well in death! I shall greet you there, and again shall my heart be whole and my spirit lightened! Ah love it was a sweet thing while it lasted -- and I vow it will be a sweet thing once more, in the halls beyond this world. In the place where naught can separate us, ever again." As he wept, he wondered if the pain in his heart was anything like Merry felt in the eight years before his birth. He cursed the years, and blessed his cousin, and at last he stood. Preparations needed to be made.

end.

*From RotK, The Houses of Healing.