Proper Places

By Songspinner

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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 except useful reviews and constructive criticism.

A/N: This one’s bookverse. Just felt like these two strong pairs of friends had some uncertainties to work out, and that they were the ones to help one other do so.

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Part One: Eowyn and Merry

By the end of the second day after the Armies of the West had departed, Merry could not bear to stay in bed any longer. Worrying about Pippin and their friends kept him sleepless until the healers gave him his nighttime draughts, and he didn’t like the lack of control those noxious potions gave him.

So after a fairly long time of tossing and turning, the hobbit crept out of his bed before the healers return. He managed to pull on a pair of breeches and a loose shirt, but gave up on anything more complicated than that. Still wobbly and dizzy for a few moments, Merry leaned on furniture and the walls until he reached the door. Stretching up to reach the latch, he slipped into the hallway and paused to try and remember where Eowyn’s chamber was in the Houses of Healing.

There was a rather unsteady bit of sneaking that seemed to produce more noise than stealth, and then he found the door and knocked softly.

"Yes?" Eowyn’s voice came muffled through the door.

"’Tis me, Merry. May I come in?" He waited for a reply, leaning on the doorframe.

"Of course, if you are alone."

He opened the door and even that small action seemed too much as the room spun around him in a blur of muted color.

"Oh, Merry, here…" Eowyn was bending over him then and using her good arm to support him over to the low couch. She knelt anxiously in front of him, chafing his cold hand in hers. "What possessed you to get out of bed on your own, then?"

Merry raised one eyebrow at her with a tired ghost of a smile. "They’ve been gone for two days, Eowyn. I cannot bear to stay in bed any longer, no matter what the healers say about remaining still. And no, they’ve no knowledge of my escape. You do not look entirely well yourself, yet, my lady." Indeed, her face was still pale and showed lines of pain around her eyes and mouth.

She reached over for a blanket and pillow at the other end of the couch and tucked the pillow behind his head. As she spread the blanket over him as well, he noticed the warmth remaining in the pillow and realized that she must have been resting when he knocked. "You were resting here. I am sorry, Eowyn. I shouldn’t…"

"No, it is no imposition, Merry, not you. The healers, perhaps, but not you." She patted his hand and leant her head against the arm of the couch. "I’ve been restless today, as have you, apparently. And I have snapped enough at Ioreth that she finally left me alone for the afternoon. I wish," she added softly, "to be given no more medicines. I’ve no intention of being asleep in the darkness again when it’s not by my choice."

Merry lowered his eyes to stare at the blanket, picking at a loose thread absently. "I don’t particularly like the darkness anymore, either, actually."

He glanced over at the window, where dim light that ends the sunset had begun to fade.

"Wait but a moment, then." She rose awkwardly and lit a series of candles on the table by the window. Returning, she sat on the cushion next to him, taking his hand in hers again. "Merry?" she said, sounding uncertain.

"What’s wrong?" Merry asked, turning to her as quickly as he could move.

"What shall…if we survive this, and your cousin and the others can somehow defeat this darkness…I shall be the Lady of Rohan until my brother marries, I suppose. And what then? He will be Eomer King…"

Merry pressed her hand gently. "He shall do Theoden King honor, I know it, my dear."

"But what of me?" Eowyn’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, a single tear sliding down her face. "What shall I be then? He will be my only family if he returns. I’ve lost my uncle, my cousin…you would go home to your Shire and I would go back to Meduseld to emptiness."

"But you will be a hero for what you did, Eowyn. Surely your people will see that, and I know that your brother will make sure they know it." Merry tried in vain to reassure her.

Her golden hair falling forward to hide her face, Eowyn pulled her hand away to cover her mouth for a long moment. Merry thought to himself that she looked as though she were muffling a scream.

"Eowyn? Please, don’t cry. We can look after each other, can’t we?" He pulled her down so that her head rested on his shoulder, suddenly aware of being her elder by thirteen years. "If all else fails, we’ll have to be strong…"

If Frodo failed, then that would mean Sam and Pippin would be dead as well, and himself left alone in this still-strange place. It did not bear thinking about just now, when he was searching so desperately for hope. Merry cocked his head to one side, stroking Eowyn’s hair with a hand rapidly growing colder again. Suddenly, he did not feel so much older and wiser, but rather small again.

And he must have made some small sound of distress, for Eowyn raised her head to look at him, worried for him even through her own despair. "Merry?"

"I was just thinking." He faltered, clearing his throat for a moment. "I miss home so dreadfully. Tea with my parents, tramping through the Shire with Frodo and Pippin, and a pint of two at the green Dragon…but I have seen battle now, Eowyn. Killed. Hobbits, as a rule, do not kill. We’ve seen no battle for generations, and here I’ve left the Shire and taken up the sword. I shall not be able to put it aside until I know that my family is safe, and my home. I haven’t let Pippin know of it, but with all that we’ve seen, I wonder if the Shire has been taken…taken into darkness, too…"

Eowyn leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. "You’ve fought in battle, Merry, but I don’t think that it changed you for the worse. You fought to save my life, did you not? And that of your friends? I am sure that the Shire will need protecting, but from what you told me of your home, your people are strong. They will have a place for you.’

Moving back a little, she laid her head on the pillows behind her. "And Merry? If nowhere else, you’ll have a home with me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "My shield-brother."

Merry curled up, exhaustion and herbs finally catching up with him. As he rested his head on her uninjured shoulder, he managed to answer her before the world slid away in the flickering candlelight. "My shield-sister. I shan’t let you be alone in the dark either, I promise."

Part Two: Faramir and Pippin

"Is this the one you wanted, Faramir?" The young knight burst into the room with a wooden casket cradled against his chest.

Smiling, Faramir nodded. "My thanks, Pippin. That is indeed the one I sought." He watched as his friend carefully placed the box on a nearby table and just as carefully tried hard not to stare at it. After a moment or two of watching this, the Prince of Ithilien burst into laughter. "Peregrin Took, just bring it over here and I shall show you its contents."

Smiling sheepishly, Pippin did as he was told. Faramir opened the box to reveal a silver necklace nestled into soft blue silk. "Oh, Faramir! Is that for Eowyn?"

"It was my mother’s from father when I was born, and I very much want to give it to Eowyn this evening as my pledge." Faramir answered him, staring wistfully at the graceful curve of the silver swans that surrounded a beautiful cabachon emerald.

"I know she will love it, then. All the more for that it has such a story about it." Pippin’s voice was hushed as he reached out to touch it briefly.

"’Tis my hope as well." Faramir sighed, and then cocked his head to the side, looking at Pippin. "And I am glad you could find it — I knew I’d packed it for the journey, but I couldn’t find it."

"You’ve had certain other things on your mind, then?" Pippin asked him with a twinkle in his green eyes.

Grinning back, Faramir nodded. "Now that you mention it, yes." He closed the little casket and laid it back on the table. "Will you help me get ready? I fear that I shall be just as distracted now as I was when I was packing back in Minas Tirith. Unless Aragorn needs you to squire him today?"

"Ah, he’s gotten Legolas to help him, I think." Pippin replied, moving quickly to help. "Merry is with Eomer, who seems to be as nervous as his sister."

As Faramir pulled the formal tunic over his head, he emerged from folds of embroidered wool to find his friend standing very still. Unusual for the young hobbit, enough so that such inactivity sparked a certain amount of worry. "Pippin, are you well?"

Green eyes holding fathomless amounts of uncertainty stared back at him, startled. "Oh, I’m sorry…let me…"

"Peregrin Took." Faramir knelt in front of Pippin and reached out to frame his face with one hand that suddenly seemed quite large. "It can wait. We have quite some time before our presence is required in the Hall of Meduseld, and I would have you share the joy of this night. What is wrong?"

"You and Eowyn are so well suited for one another, and you looked so sad when we first met, and now your eyes don’t hold so much of that anymore, and you both look so happy now, like you’ve found your place in the world…" Pippin’s ramble trailed off and he looked down at his bare feet. The normally self-assured knight of the realm was looking distinctly uncertain just then.

"I should not like to see that sadness come to rest in your eyes, Pippin. What troubles you so?" Faramir slid his hand down to rest on his friend’s shoulder, remembering all the times his older brother stood just so and asked him just that question.

With a strangled sound, Pippin whirled to throw his arms as far around Faramir as he could reach, and mumbled something into the crook of the man’s arm.

"Hmmm? Pippin, here…" Faramir eased back and pulled the hobbit over to the window seat to sit beside him.

Pippin clambered up to pull his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a good day and now I’ve gone and spoilt it." His murmured voice sounded terribly apologetic.

"Now, Pippin," Faramir interjected, putting an arm around him and tucking him close to his side. "You’ve spoilt nothing, and I would hardly be a friend if I let you remain thus without remedy. I do consider you a friend, you know."

Green eyes met his solemnly. "And I you, and not just for your brother’s sake. I just wondered…when we go back home…I shan’t be the same as when I left. I’ve seen things outside the Shire that none inside it can fathom, you see. You and Eowyn, you love each other so very much. You…you complete one another. And I…how will I find someone there who could understand? I’ve changed. What if none of the lasses wish to be with a hobbit who has so many…so many scars, or so much of Gondor in him now? Or one taller than most other hobbits? What if I’ve changed so much that…" Pippin’s right hand rubbed absently at the rope scars on his left wrist.

Faramir reached out a hand to tip up Pippin’s chin. "That what?"

With a sniffle, Pippin tilted his head sideways to rest in the man’s hand, and the gesture of trust did much to ease Faramir’s heart and worry. "What if I’ve changed so much that there isn’t a hobbit lass who’ll have me? Who’ll understand or want someone like me?

Smiling fondly, Faramir ruffled his friend’s hair before pulling his hand away. "Pippin, if it hasn’t escaped your notice, some of us came to know you after those scars were made, and neither we nor those who already loved you changed our minds. What we have survived has changed us, but believe, me — you’ll find someone. You are still yourself, in the Shire or in Gondor." He paused and looked serious again for a moment. "What does Merry say to this? Have you asked him?"

"He said much the same, actually. That I was still myself, just older and perhaps a bit wiser." Pippin dropped his voice’s pitch to mimic his cousin deftly for a moment, and then let it go back to normal. "That he was proud of me. But it was he who said it, and so…"

"And so knowing that he loves you so, you felt his view might be a little biased?" Faramir shook his head. "I felt much the same with Boromir, and yet I always believed him, just the same, after our father’s harsh words. He’d sit with me and talk with me, and I’d know I was loved."

"That’s how he made me feel, after we thought Gandalf had died." Pippin admitted with a shy smile. "That it wasn’t my fault, and that he’d keep telling me that until I believed it." He heaved a great sigh. "I suppose that he’d be scolding me just now, and Merry too, if he wasn’t off helping his King."

"Probably," Faramir agreed, and gave him a quick hug.  "Pippin, somewhere in the Shire is a hobbit-lass who is the right one for you.   I went through such a long time of feeling worthless and then Eowyn found me, after all."  He tried in vain to hide the silly grin on his face.  "And she is quick to remind me that I have worth when I feel that way sometimes still. Now, are you feeling any better about things?"

"Yes, thank you. And I’m sure that he’s proud of you, you know. They are…both Boromir and your father." Pippin said, returning the embrace and then hopping down from their seat. Faramir watched him, amused at the lightning-quick return to good humour.

"Can you deliver this gift to my lady quickly, then, and come to fetch me when it is time? Without detours to the kitchen to sample things?" Faramir dodged the hand that swatted at him with the skill of much practice, laughing.

"My lord, I am a Knight of Gondor. I can carry out my duties without delay!" Pippin’s indignant expression was marred by the smile hovering around his mouth. He snatched the wooden box from the table and went off to find Eowyn.

Faramir stayed sitting on the little bench for some time, just staring out the window. "Thank you for protecting him, brother, so he could be such a friend to me." he whispered into the evening breeze. "I am happy, for the first time in a very long time. I hope you feel the same where you are."

As a cool drift of air curled through the open window, stirring the hair at his brow, he could imagine it was Boromir’s hand ruffling his hair as he had done when they were younger. And when he heard Pippin’s voice calling him from down the hall, that image of his brother’s bright smile melted into visions of a different beloved pair of bright eyes, and golden hair to frame them. Getting to his feet, Faramir took a deep breath and went to meet his bride.