Thank you to Pipwise  for the beta :)

*

“Which way should we go, Merry?”

Merry stirred a little, his eyes fluttering, but made no attempt to speak before going limp again.

Shivering, Pippin clasped his cousin’s cloak around his neck, all the while looking for someone to assist them. There was no one nearby; the other soldiers had gone into the City or were scattered across the Pelennor, searching for the dead and wounded. Pippin could see their torches glowing in the darkness, too far away for a hobbit’s cry for help to be heard.

But he had found his Merry, Pippin thought with relief and satisfaction, found him hours after Eomer carried Eowyn into the City, after Theoden King was brought to lie in state in the great throne room of Minas Tirith. Hours after his own hope began to fade, hanging by the tiniest of threads. Nearly half a day had passed and, when the sun set, still Pippin searched the field, clutching Merry’s cloak and vowing not to enter the City again without his cousin.

And here he was now, at Merry’s side, but Pippin knew that his presence alone would not save him. With an effort Pippin pulled Merry into a sitting position, and then to his feet, all the while wishing he could carry his cousin, just as Merry had done so often when he was a tiny lad.

Merry woke then, and though he struggled to keep his eyes open he managed to take a few slow steps, leaning heavily on Pippin.

“That’s it, Merry; foot by foot,” Pippin encouraged, carefully holding him steady. His heart sank as he saw how far away the gate was, and sank further still when he remembered how many levels they would have to climb before they reached the Houses of Healing, but he forced his voice to remain light.

“Strider will see to you,” Pippin continued, smiling a little as Merry turned to him, his eyes full of unanswered questions. “Yes, my dear Merry, we shall have a nice reunion once you feel better. Strider is here, and so are Legolas and Gimli, and Gandalf of course. Safe and sound.”

“Eowyn,” Merry mumbled, clutching at his right arm with his left as his eyes slipped shut. “Eowyn…”

“She was brought into the City by her brother, and Strider is tending to her now,” Pippin replied, trying to keep his tone light as he remembered how lifeless the lady had been when she was found. “They must be in the Houses of Healing, and you’re very lucky, Merry, that you have me for a guide because I know exactly where to lead you. I was there today, you know, keeping watch over Faramir. Boromir’s brother,” he added, smiling again when Merry opened his eyes at this bit of information.

“I think you’ll like Faramir very much, Merry. He’s like his brother, and yet not so, and he was very kind to me when I needed a friend in this big City of Men.” Pippin felt tears stinging his eyes, and forced them back. He could cry later, but for now he needed to be strong for Merry.

“So,” he continued, clearing his throat, “which way should we go, Merry? Straight on to the gate, or would you rather take the scenic route alongside the wall? Minas Tirith is a very beautiful city, you know. Its not looking its best, I’ll grant you, but I would not want to stop you from having a proper look.”

Merry’s lips quirked into a weak smile. “That’s good of you, Pip, but I just want to get inside…and rest for a bit.” He sagged, then, but Pippin caught him and carefully, tenderly, eased him down to the ground.

“Let’s have some rest here then,” Pippin said. “I feel tired too. I wish I had something for you to drink and eat. You must be starving.”

“Not hungry,” Merry said groggily. “Just cold.” He shivered violently, and his arm felt like ice.

In the darkness Pippin searched the ground near them, his fingers closing around something that felt like fabric.

“Here,” he whispered, tucking the cloth around Merry and hoping it was a lost cloak or horse’s blanket and not a bit of orc clothing, though that would certainly smell worse. Wrapping his arms around Merry, Pippin pulled him close, rocking him slowly. “Rest now, Merry, and I’ll look after you. When you feel better we’ll try walking again.”

Merry said nothing, and in the dim light Pippin watched over him, checking constantly that he still drew breath. They were fairly close to the gate now, but there seemed to be nothing else to do but wait – wait for Merry to feel better or for help to arrive, though Pippin wondered which would happen first.

“Are you awake, Merry?” he whispered, smiling a little as he spoke. How many mornings had he awakened his cousin with those very same words? His smile grew when Merry opened his eyes blearily.

“Rest,” he said, as he smoothed Merry’s curls away from his forehead. “Just rest, and I’ll do the talking.”

Merry smirked a bit at that, but his eyes slipped shut, and Pippin felt him relax a little.

“I have so much to tell you,” Pippin began softly. “Faramir saw Frodo and Sam just a few days ago. Nearby, in Ithilien, and he said they looked well.” Pippin smiled at Merry, who had opened his eyes once again. “So you really must get better soon, Merry, before Frodo and Sam come back to us. I am certain that there will be a feast held in their honor, and I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Smiling in return, Merry looked like he might say something – and what would Pippin give for one of his cousin’s witty remarks right now? – but his eyes closed once more, and he appeared to sleep.

“Well, I suppose you don’t need to hear everything else just yet,” Pippin said softly, gathering Merry even closer to him.

“I missed you so, so much, Merry,” he continued a few moments later. “I was able to bear it because I thought you were safe at Edoras, but I should have known you would never stay behind if you could help it.” Pippin tried to push back the tears that threatened to fall, and failed this time.

“I hardly knew where to start searching in this field when I found your cloak.” Pippin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It seemed that I would never find you.”

“I knew you would,” Merry said, his voice raspy and slow. “If I didn’t find you first.”

“You’re awake,” Pippin said, laughing a little as he wiped his tears away.

“Yes. I don’t want to sleep,” Merry murmured, trembling slightly. “I think I can walk now.”

“All right then,” Pippin said, and helped Merry to stand.

“Which way should we go, Pippin?” Merry asked. He smiled faintly, swaying a little but managing to stay on his feet, and Pippin clutched him tightly. “I think we’ll save the tour for another day; for now I just want to find a warm bed.”

“To the gate, then,” Pippin replied, cheered to see Merry more alert than he was before. “We’ll be there soon.”

They trudged along; it sapped Merry’s energy to put one foot before the other, and the closer they came to the City the more he leaned on his cousin until Pippin was supporting nearly all of Merry’s weight. He was just about to suggest that they rest again, though they were nearly at the gate, when Pippin saw a group of men coming toward them, bearing torches and led by a figure in flowing white robes.

“Gandalf,” Pippin breathed in relief. “Help is here, Merry.”

And then there were two men at their side, holding a stretcher between them, while another stepped forward and gently lifted Merry onto it.

Pippin stayed close to Merry, holding his hand as the pain and fatigue finally overwhelmed his cousin into unconsciousness.

“Will Merry will be all right, Gandalf?” Pippin asked desperately, his eyes filling with tears once more. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Hobbits are a resilient folk,” Gandalf replied, resting a gentle hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “You certainly know that better than anyone, Peregrin Took. Meriadoc has always been a strong lad. I believe he will recover faster than you think.”

If Gandalf said it, then it must be so. Wiping away his tears, Pippin smiled gratefully at him as they walked alongside the men carrying Merry into the City.

“You did well, my lad,” Gandalf said. “Now let us bring your cousin to the Houses of Healing. Aragorn is waiting for him.”