Written for Auntiemeesh :)

A/N: Thanks to Shirebound for the idea of Pippin thanking Elrond. This is mostly bookverse with a bit of the movies thrown in. 

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Revelry and Reflection

For many in Minas Tirith, the royal wedding on Midsummer’s Day would come to symbolise the beginning of a new Age. With darkness overcome and a new King on the throne, there was not a soul in the City that did not rejoice to see the White Tree’s return to Gondor herald the arrival of his Elven Queen. A feast was held for everyone that night in the Great Hall, its stone walls now adorned with bright tapestries and banners, and there was much dancing too, for minstrels played and sang throughout the night.

After serving the King during the feast, Pippin joined the group of his friends talking merrily in one corner of the hall. It appeared that though Eomer and Gimli had put aside their differences regarding the Lady Galadriel, the (by now, quite amicable) rivalry that had existed between them since they met was considered reason enough for a drinking contest – a civil one, of course, given the occasion. Legolas was swiftly banned from taking part, but Pippin and Merry were all too eager to join in.

“The last time we were in The Seven Stars, Merry and I were debating with Beregond whether or not we could outdrink a Man between us,” Pippin informed the group. “I think we could outdrink a Man and a Dwarf, but Merry wasn’t so sure.” He winked at Merry and then looked appraisingly at Gimli and Eomer. “I think now would be a good time to find out.”

The proposition was ludicrous but Gimli and Eomer agreed to it anyway, unable to resist the impudent confidence on their young friends' faces. It was decided, however, that whatever the hobbits drank should be either doubled or halved again to account for size, and in this way several pints were consumed before Frodo made his way over to them, having spent much of the evening speaking with the Elves.

“Pippin,” Frodo protested, when his youngest cousin gleefully filled him in on what was happening, “I hardly think either of you will outdrink either of them. It only took you a pint in The Prancing Pony to start telling every story you’d ever heard to anyone that would listen. Any more than that and you’d have been under the table.”

“As I remember it, you were the one under the table, cousin,” Pippin retorted, blushing faintly as the others chuckled around him.

“Well,” Frodo replied, with a small frown. “Drink all you like, then. But it would be nice if you – knight of Gondor that you are, Peregrin – managed not to end up under a table, tonight of all nights.”

“We’d have ended up under a table tonight for certain, if we were back home at the Fair,” Merry spoke up pensively as he reached for another ale. “After a few mugs of the Shire's finest brew.”

Pippin waved dismissively and took a long swig from his mug. “The ale is quite good here though, Merry. I suppose Minas Tirith is a little grander than Michel Delving, but it’s not all that different.” He waved his arm about vaguely at their friends, the tables of food and wine, and the dancing couples nearby. “It’s not often you get to attend a royal wedding either – especially not in Gondor, or so I’ve been taught,” he added, tilting his head cheerily in Gandalf’s direction. “Anyway, I imagine we’ll be home again by next year’s Fair.” His face fell for a moment, and he took another gulp of ale and swayed a little.

Frodo put his hand on Pippin’s arm and glanced about the hall. “I think you’d better get some fresh air and sober up a little, dearest. Both of you,” he added, with a glance at Merry, who was now gazing solemnly into his mug. “We’ll celebrate the Fair on a less important day.” He gave them a gentle push toward the door and then sighed, satisfied, and grinned at the others.

“I think you saved them from certain defeat,” Legolas spoke up from where he was keeping a close eye on the two remaining competitors. “It was a most mismatched contest.”

“Merry and Pippin can be very stubborn,” Frodo said ruefully.

“As stubborn as this dwarf,” Legolas agreed, and raised an eyebrow. “I fear it might have become rather unpleasant.”

“That would have been unfortunate,” Frodo replied, watching after his cousins fondly. “Lord Elrond wants to speak to them and I hope for their sakes they’re behaving when he finds them.”

**

Merry and Pippin stood obediently outside the Great Hall, where other revellers mingled quietly away from the music and crowds within. Pippin closed his eyes and leaned his head on the wall, took a deep breath, and then turned to Merry and held out his hand. “Let’s sit by the White Tree, Merry.”

Merry smiled and grasped Pippin’s hand and they wandered unsteadily over to the blossoming Tree glowing golden in the soft lantern light. Merry glanced at Pippin as he sat down carefully and brushed his fingers thoughtfully over the embroidery of his livery. The small gesture seemed to have become a habit, but Merry said nothing, certain that he knew why his cousin liked to come here, and just as sure that he would be unwilling to speak of it.

The Tree was a beautiful sight, and it often lifted his heart to sit here and listen to the sweet music of the fountain; but he was feeling unusually melancholy tonight, and he gazed about him, noticing how the warm light melted into blackness a few feet away, marking the boundary of the Citadel where the wall of rock dropped away to meet the Pelennor Fields at the foot of the City.

He sighed, wishing he were sitting instead by the door of The Old Buck in Newbury, looking out at the cheerful and bustling market square. His thoughts had been leading him to the Shire more so than ever of late, now that there was light and hope again in the world, and though they were all content here in Minas Tirith, it would never be home – not for him, at least. Not like Buckland was home.

“Frodo told me that I might find you here,” a deep voice suddenly spoke, startling him from his thoughts. “May I speak with you?”

Merry looked up to find Lord Elrond standing over them and started, giving Pippin a nudge and hoping his cousin hadn’t fallen asleep; just as Pippin nudged him, hoping the same. Pippin had looked up blearily the moment the Elf Lord spoke, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Of course, my lord!” Pippin stuttered, smiling tentatively when he saw the calm and kindly expression on Elrond’s face. It wasn’t such a long time since they had enjoyed his hospitality in Rivendell, Pippin remembered; feeling a familiar wave of guilt that only the Elf seemed capable of evoking in him by his mere presence. Elrond didn’t seem at all perturbed though, and Pippin was at a loss to understand what he could want with two tipsy hobbits on the night of his daughter’s wedding.

Elrond seated himself beside Pippin with a small sigh. “Much has changed since I saw you last,” he began, and paused. “I did not foresee any good in your accompanying the Fellowship, as you know. But I wished to tell you that Gandalf and Aragorn have told me of your bravery. They speak of you with great praise and affection, and I see now that Gandalf was right to trust friendship over strength and duty. I was grieved, though, to find that my fears for your safety were well founded. How do you fare now?”

“Oh, we’re all right now, Master Elrond.” Pippin’s mind was reeling and he said the first thing he could think of, wishing he had the right words. “Frodo and Sam had the worst of it, really.”

“We only did what we could,” Merry added, meeting the Elf Lord’s ageless eyes with his own honest gaze. “I would do it all again if I had to, and so would Pip, though I’m glad there won’t be any need for it.” He smiled. “I think you’ll find that Gandalf can think of a few stories to prove that we were just as much a bother as a help.”

Pippin turned to smile at Merry affectionately and then looked up at Elrond again, “He’s just being modest. Merry was brave all along, but I might as well have been tied up in a sack after all. I was nothing more than a burden most of the way, and a rather foolish one besides.”

“It does not seem to me that either of you was ever a burden,” Elrond replied, fixing them both with the stern, piercing gaze that used to make them nervous. Now Merry thought he saw gratitude lighting the Elf Lord's eyes, and his mouth fell open in quiet awe.

“You may feel that your contribution was small," the Elf continued, his voice softening, "but you did not shy away from your task when it grew difficult, nor when all seemed lost. The quest depended not only on the Ring’s destruction or victory in battle, or any of the great deeds that will one day be told of in song - for the Fellowship was held together by loyalty and friendship alone, even when you were separated. You were equally as deserving of that loyalty as those in whom you placed your trust and pledged to help. It may seem a small thing to you, putting the lives of your friends before your own; but your selfless deeds in a world grown dark with despair will be remembered in the great stories of the countries to which you now belong. Of that I am certain.”

The two hobbits looked up at Elrond in wide-eyed speechlessness, Merry’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s very kind of you to say, my lord,” he managed at last. “We followed Frodo because we love him, of course. But we still wondered sometimes if we had done the right thing – if we weren’t making things more difficult.”

“Do you regret choosing not to return to the Shire?” Elrond asked.

“I miss home very much,” Merry said quietly as Pippin shook his head, his eyes dark. “But I would not change a thing.” He smiled sadly and squeezed Pippin’s hand.

“Thank you for allowing me to go,” Pippin spoke up suddenly. “You could have sent me home and I would have gone, I suppose… but even though I sometimes thought I wasn’t brave enough, I’ve never wanted to be anywhere but with Merry and Frodo.”

“And I am glad I did not separate you,” Elrond responded gently. He smiled at them and rose, bowing to each of them as Merry and Pippin scrambled up from their seats and bent their heads in turn. “I will leave you now, though our paths lie together for some time yet.” He turned then, and made his way back to the Great Hall, nodding solemnly to those in his path as they stood back reverently to let him pass.

“Goodness,” Pippin breathed, sitting down again heavily. “I feel quite light-headed.”

Merry shook his head in amazement. “Me too. Aren’t you glad we stayed here long enough to hear it though?”

“Yes,” Pippin said, holding his head and groaning softly. “But I’m afraid I won’t remember a word of it in the morning.”

“We’d better ask Frodo to write it down then,” Merry said, once he had stopped laughing. "Though I doubt he'll believe a word of it." He held his hand out to Pippin and pulled him up, leading him back inside to join their friends and wondering what state they would find them in when they did. He was quite sure he would never see a night like this one again; and only then did he realise how much he would miss when they finally returned home.

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