Disclaimer: The usual…these characters don’t belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien and to New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story, but please review!

Author’s note: Prompt #9…Movie-verse as Merry refers to being at the Black Gates. With that big gaping hole between the eagles’ rescue of Frodo and Sam and when Frodo awakens in Ithilien as done in the film, it doesn’t mean that Pippin wasn’t wounded in the final battle as in the book…we miss thirteen days, after all.

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A Chance Conversation

By Songspinner

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Kicking at the grass as he strode out of the tent, Meriadoc Brandybuck almost wished he were back on the battlefield. Almost. At least then, he thought, he’d be able to do something useful, something constructive. Aragorn had finally ushered him to the tent entrance and pushed him none too gently outside into the sunshine.

"Your cousins and Sam still sleep, and you have not left their side for two days. I will not have you falling ill as well — you’ve barely recovered from your own wound." The man’s voice was firm, but kind.

"But Aragorn…"

"I will not be swayed in this, Merry."

"But if one of them wakes, then…"

"Do you wish to have me worry over you as well?"

Instantly guilty, Merry replied, "No." in a small voice, only to glare at the future king as he realized how easily he’d been manipulated.

"Out. Legolas and Mithrandir are taking watch for a while, for I must attend to other things this afternoon. And stay outside for more than a few minutes this time, hmmm?" Aragorn ruffled his young friend’s curls a bit and gave his shoulder an almost playful shove.

"All right then, fine." Merry muttered. "But you shall…"

"…come and get you if anything changes." Aragorn finished for him with a weary smile.

Feeling adrift now, if less so than on his journey to Ithilien a few days before Merry wandered toward the nearby stream. He rested his furry feet in the cool water, poking his toes amongst the smooth stones, and picking up a particularly pretty one out of habit to show Pippin when he woke. Mostly, he tried not to think about what was happening in the tent Aragorn had set aside for the other three hobbits.

He was, in fact, trying so hard not to think that he was startled at the whooshing sound to his left and almost fell into the water. One of the Eagles had come down to the water for a drink.

"I beg your pardon, my lord." Merry said as formally as he could, with a little bow.

"No need for apologies, young hobbit."

The Eagle’s resonant voice startled Merry somehow, even though he knew they could speak. Bilbo’s stories, he thought, didn’t do the huge birds justice. He settled down carefully on a rock, drinking in the sight with his eyes as the Eagle dipped its beak into the clear water over and over.

"Thank you." Merry murmured and the Eagle cocked its head to one side to look back at him.

"For what do you thank me?" The bird’s voice sounded like muted thunder to hobbit ears recently grown too used to tense silence.

"For…for saving my cousin and my friend. I know it put you in danger — I saw Mt. Doom explode." A violent shiver ran through the hobbit’s small body as he remembered his shift from triumphant shout to being voiceless with despair. "You and your kin have given them a chance."

"It was my honor to help Lord Gwaihir to save the Ringbearer and his companion." Golden eyes glistened in the sunlight as the eagle answered him. "I only hope that we were not too late."

"Oh, Aragorn and Gandalf say that they should be better soon, just that they are sleeping long so they can recover." Merry eased himself onto a sun-warmed rock. "I was wondering…I was wondering why you stayed when the other eagles went home." He blushed, hoping he wasn’t being too forward with this creature who radiated the same regal presence as he’d remembered Theoden having. "I do not even know your name."

"Landroval, brother to Gwaihir, Wind-Lord." The Eagle replied kindly. "You are Meriadoc, I believe? Mithrandir tells me you and your cousins are kin to Bilbo, who is well known to my family."

Eyes wide with astonishment, Merry stared. "You’re that…I’ve been…I’ve heard that tale from Bilbo since I was very small. Somehow it seemed so very far away and unreal." He found himself laughing, if quietly, for the first time since his arrival at the camp.

Landroval ruffled his feathers to shake the water droplets off and then smoothed them down carefully with his beak. "I am no tale, Meriadoc. But it amuses me to think that I am to some. I hope it was a good telling."

Grinning despite his nervousness, Merry leaned back against the warm stone surface of the boulder. "Oh, it was, my lord. One of my favorites, actually. I remember pretending I was Bilbo being rescued, when I was rather small. Fortunately, my cousin Frodo found me before I tried to jump from the roof to soar through the sky."

"Hobbit children would be much like our fledglings, then. They often try to fly before their wings are fully feathered." Landroval observed dryly.

"We can’t fly later, either, you know." Merry countered.

"There are many ways to fly."

Merry contemplated this answer in silence for a few moments. "Landroval," he finally asked. "Why did you stay?"

The great eagle regarded him steadily. "It was requested by Mithrandir, in the event that swift transport to Gondor or Rivendell was needed."

"Swift…" Merry’s mouth snapped shut as he realized what the eagle meant. "You mean in case any of them needed more help than he or Aragorn could give."

"Yes."

After a few more minutes, during which Merry tried desperately not to comprehend that his loved ones could actually be injured beyond the skill of Aragorn or the ancient wizard, the young hobbit shook his head. "Then I must thank you, though I do hope those services shall not be needed."

The eagle bowed his head a bit in Merry’s direction. "I would hope that also." He was silent a moment, and then added, "And what shall you do now, young hobbit?"

Merry cocked his own head sideways a little in unconscious imitation of the eagle. "I suppose I shall go back to watching over them. My cousin Pippin is really named Peregrin, you know." He added that fact, unsure of why. "It means wanderer, so I guess that he was well named."

Landroval flipped his wings back against his sides with a flourish. "A noble bird, the falcon. They stoop to catch their prey faster than we ever could, and for that and their fierce loyalty to family, we admire them."

"Oh." Merry breathed. "When you say it like that, I see that he is well named."

"He is fast, then?" Landroval inquired.

With a wry chuckle, Merry tossed a nearby pebble into the water and watched it form circles of ripples. "Fast to get into trouble, and fast to act before he thinks, but just as fast to rise to the defense of those he loves." He nodded to himself. "Which is of course why he is lying in there in the first place."

"Then he is well-named, indeed, my young friend. When he wakes, tell him that. I shall remain as I have promised, until the danger has passed."

"Thank you, my lord. We are in your debt."

"No, Meriadoc. There is no debt to those who helped to save our world for both our kind."

Merry rose to his feet and bowed. And with one last, wistful look at the eagle that gleamed in the sunlight, he went back to the tent. Checking Frodo and Sam where they lay side by side on the large cot, he moved next to Pippin’s side. Merry settled down carefully next to his cousin, stretching out on top of the blankets. Leaning close to one small, pointed ear, he began to murmur softly.

"Uncle Paladin named you well, little one. And I’ve been assured of it by one who would best know. When you wake I shall tell you all about him…."