A/N: This was written for Marigold’s Challenge 9. Thank you to Pipwise for the beta :)

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When Frodo boarded the ship, Merry moved closer to Pippin and put his arm around him. Pippin felt Merry’s fingers digging into his shoulder as if he were begging - please don’t leave me, too.

But when they turned to go, Merry’s expression changed, and Pippin began to wonder if he might have imagined the desperation in his cousin’s eyes.

The journey back was silent, except for the stifled sounds of crying; but even then it was only Sam and Pippin who shed those quiet tears, and every time Pippin stole a glance at his cousin he saw Merry staring resolutely ahead, his face unreadable and his eyes dry.

It was Merry who broke the silence though, when they reached the Shire; oddly enough, by singing. It was not the fine music of Elves or the epics of Men, but an old hobbit-song, the kind that mothers sing to their children at bedtime. Pippin soon joined in, one song falling easily enough into another, and they continued singing even after Sam had turned toward Bywater, stopping only when at last they reached their house at Crickhollow.

“Here, Pip,” Merry said then, taking the reins from him. “Go ahead and build the fire.”

“I’ll help you,” Pippin said, but Merry just smiled a little and turned away. Pippin hesitated for a moment, watching as Merry made his way to the stable, before doing as Merry had asked, and going inside.

He built the fire quickly and it soon warmed the room, but Pippin did not remove his cloak. It was not that he felt cold, but more a feeling he had that he needed to be ready for something. Ready for what, he did not know, but he could not bring himself to take off his cloak until Merry walked through the door.

“I’m starving,” Merry said as he came inside just a few moments later. He hung his cloak on the hook by the door and turned around. “Do you-” he began, breaking off suddenly when he noticed that Pippin was still cloaked and standing before the hearth.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his expression unlike any other Pippin had seen before.

Pippin blushed a little – it all seemed quite silly, now that Merry was standing before him. “No, just a bit chilly,” he replied, quickly tearing off his cloak and scarf.

With a slight smile, Merry turned away. “I’m just going to make us a quick supper,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” Pippin said, as he started to follow, but Merry shook his head.

“No – I’ll be fine.”

Pippin waited, listening to the clatter of pots and pans for a moment before finally trudging to his room with a heavy heart.

When they sat down to supper they spoke of the weather, the latest Shire gossip, and how Pippin’s parents wanted them to visit, but made no mention of Frodo. It was not a conscious choice, at least on Pippin’s part, but then Merry was doing most of the talking.

Maybe he was just imagining things, Pippin thought, when the conversation finally hit a lull. Merry seemed fine – a little tired, perhaps, and certainly not happy, but what else could be expected from either of them, today of all days? 

“Merry,” he said, spearing the last piece of potato with his fork. “What do you suppose Frodo is eating, or doing, right now? Do you think…” he trailed off as Merry stood abruptly, strode over to the bin and started scraping off his plate.

“Merry,” he said again, softer this time. He rose and walked to his cousin, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do you-”

“All done, Pippin?” Merry interrupted. “Bring me your plate, then.”

Pippin hesitated, but when it was apparent that Merry would say no more he returned to the table and retrieved his plate.

“Thank you,” Merry said, and immediately began scraping the plate without meeting Pippin’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Pippin said quietly, after a long moment passed. “Don’t be angry with me, Merry.”

“Angry? For what?” Merry asked, finally turning around. His lips quirked into a crooked half-smile and his eyes were oddly blank.

His own smile felt stiff and old, but Pippin forced himself to play the cheerful part expected of him.

“For leaving my plate at the table,” he replied with a grin. “I know I’m always leaving messes for you to clean up, Merry, so let me wash the dishes tonight, while you have a bath. Think of it as my gift to you – let’s call it an early birthday present.”

Merry rolled his eyes, and for a moment it almost felt like old times. “Pippin, you flooded the kitchen the last time you tried to wash the dishes, and I ended up mopping the floor. So why don’t you go have that bath, while I keep this place from turning into a pigsty?”

Pippin’s eyes were beginning to sting with tears but he smiled instead, because it was expected of him. Just before he left the room he glanced back and said, “If you need any help, Merry, just let me know.”

If Merry responded at all, Pippin did not hear it.

Pippin had his bath, taking care not to leave any puddles or damp towels for Merry to clean up (all joking aside, Pippin was well aware of his sloppiness. It was just that he never usually made an effort to be neat). He then drew a bath for his cousin, all the while carefully keeping his eyes away from the third, empty tub that sat in the corner.

As he was changing into his nightshirt he heard Merry go to his own bath. Pippin meant to stay awake so he could speak with Merry when he was finished, but he was so exhausted that he fell asleep sitting in the overstuffed chair by his bed.

He woke up a few hours later; his neck sore from his uncomfortable sleeping position, and found himself covered with a blanket. For the first time that day, Pippin smiled genuinely, and tucked the blanket under his arm as he went to check on his cousin.

Merry was not in his room – his bed was untouched, and the only sign that he had ever been there was the stack of clothes neatly folded on a chair.

A noise, a dull boom, sounded behind Pippin. Shivering a little, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and pattered down the passage.

There was Merry, in his nightshirt and robe, rearranging the furniture. Pippin stood in the doorway, watching his cousin mutter to himself as he attempted to drag the large, heavy table across the room.

At another time it would have seemed funny, and Pippin would have bounded over and thrown himself on top of the table to make it entirely impossible for Merry to move it. Only now, his feet were rooted to the ground, and when he spoke lightly it was with tremendous effort.

“My dear Merry! What are you doing?”

He must have startled him, because Merry dropped his end of the table – there was that boom again – and looked up at Pippin almost guiltily.

“Hullo, Pippin. I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“You didn’t,” Pippin replied. He cautiously stepped closer and asked again, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, just changing things around a bit,” Merry said, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “What do you think about getting some new things for the place, Pip? Different chairs would be nice, and a smaller table; this one takes up too much room. There’s some furniture over at the Hall that my mother said we could have.”

Pippin nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, Merry – if you think it will help you.”

“Help? I don’t need help,” Merry snapped. “I just want to clean out this place, get rid of some of this old stuff. This house has looked the same for too many years now, and I’m sick of looking at it all.” His voice changed suddenly, and he sounded as exhausted as Pippin felt, “I’m just so tired of everything.”

He turned then, and once more hoisted his end of the table. Pippin watched for a moment and then let his blanket fall to the floor as he marched over to Merry.

Raising the other end of the table, Pippin waited until his cousin met his eyes.

“I’ll help you, Merry,” he said then. “If you let me.”

Closing his eyes, Merry nodded, and together they moved the table across the room.

Merry was letting Pippin help now, for the first time, showing him how he needed him. Pippin needed him, too. Later, when he wrapped his arm around Merry, there in the darkness, he could no longer tell who was begging, and who was holding.