A/N: This is primarily as the hobbits are waiting for Frodo to wake up.  No slash, just lots of love and a good amount of angst - my two favorite things! :)

Pippin

My world has been reduced to your cotside, waiting for you to wake. You are so still. I anxiously watch the slow rise and fall of your chest, holding my own breath and biting my lip. It seems to take forever for one breath to be drawn and expelled and the next one to be taken that I am so afraid that it won’t come at all, but it does, it always does. I know exactly how many you take each minute and I am in agony if there is even one less from one minute to another. You have already stopped once all together and Aragorn was barely able to bring you back. I think Gandalf had something to do with it, too, but they shooed me out of the tent when they started working on you and only let me back in when you were breathing normally again.

When I am not breathlessly waiting for you to take your next breath, I watch your face for any sign you are waking, but you are still deep in the healing sleep you and Sam were sent into when you first came. Your face is so pale, your cheeks so sunken and I beg you to wake so I can see those beautiful eyes of yours shining with the love you have always given me so abundantly, so I can see you smile. Please, Frodo, you can’t leave me, not yet, not ever, not after we’ve made plans for years for my coming of age party and you’ve promised it would be even more fun than Cousin’s Bilbo’s eleventy first. I must admit I can’t imagine how that could be, but any party with you would be a treasured one, any without you not even worth having. So wake up, cousin dear, please. Let me hear your laugh, let me feel you hold me and call me Pippinsqueak and rustle my curls and kiss me goodnight and tell me how much you love me. I’ve told you so many times these past few days how much I love you. Let me, let us both be happy again. I can’t be if you don’t wake.

When you and Sam were first brought back, Merry and I watched as Aragorn himself cleaned you both as tenderly and reverently as I had ever seen him touch anything or anyone and he’s the king! Or he will be. Do you know that? We are waiting for you two to wake for the coronation so that’s another reason you have to wake. You were so dirty the water ran dark as it streamed off you and Aragorn had to go through several cloths to soap you up and wash you enough that your own skin shone through again. It was the first time we came to see how thin and frail looking you were and I decided I preferred seeing you with all the dirt instead. I wanted to give you all the energy I could just by being near. I couldn’t bear to look at your maimed hand, couldn’t stand to imagine what had happened to you, so that was the hand I always held so I wouldn’t have to look at your missing finger. I cried for all the terrors you had endured, that I hadn’t been able to protect you from. I cried because I was so afraid I would still lose you, even though you continued to breathe steadily in and out. I don’t like to look at how thin your arms and legs were so I was glad that you were kept covered most of the time. I wanted to hold you, to listen to your heart, but you were so fragile looking I was afraid. So I just sat at your side, held your hand and tried not to look into the chasm that yawned at my feet that was the idea of spending forever without you.

Each time I held your hand, I have felt four fingers weakly wrap around mine and I rejoice that you know I am near. I have been spending my days looking for such signs. I have barely left your side, even to eat. Imagine that! You have to wake up so you can tease me about that. I look down at your hand and try not to think how it is only four fingers that now hold my five. I have cried so much already from seeing you so hurt. I want to know what happened to you and I don’t. It scares me so much to think of it and I’ve had plenty of time to think up all sorts of horrible things. It scares and shames me even more that I wasn’t there to stop it, though I know Sam was and I will be forever indebted in him for taking care of you when I couldn’t.

Merry is with me most of the time, his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him often for reassurance. He’s trying not to show how frightened he is, but I know our Merry. We both are so afraid of losing you and I think he knows more about your condition than he has told me, than anyone has told me. Gandalf and Aragorn come in often too and I look up at them too and they tell me the same things that Merry has. That you and Sam have been badly hurt and need time to recover before you can wake. And that’s all. They know more, Merry knows more and no one is telling me much of anything! I know they are doing it because they don’t want to frighten me, but can’t they see I am already scared to death?

I tell myself over and over again that you are going to be okay, that you would never leave me anymore than Merry would. I would die if either of you did because you are both halves of my heart and soul and how can anyone live with only half a heart, half a soul? You’ve been sick before, I say to myself, and you’ve always pulled through before. Not this sick, but you have given me more than one scare and I know better than to give up on you now.

I remember one time I was so ill that I think even my parents, even Merry, were beginning to despair, but you never did. Mum never cried near me, but I knew she did. I could see it in her eyes. And I could see that Papa and Merry did too. Your tears were the only ones I ever saw, but I know they were more for my misery than fear for my survival. For some reason, though you were afraid, too, you seemed to know I’d be okay and I held onto that hope like a lifeline. Pearl was sick then too, even worse, and Mum was so glad that you and Merry were there to help me so she could help her. The two of you did everything you could to keep my spirits up (a very sick little hobbit I was if you had to help me with that!) and my fever down. I laughed at your jokes even though my head ached abominably and my stomach kept doing flip flops. You both helped me drink and eat what little I could put past my very sore throat and rebelling stomach. Merry wiped me down and kept me cool. You sang to me that wonderful lullaby I loved so much that had come from your parents, stroked my sweaty curls and told me how much you loved me. I know how much you did when you didn’t even wince when I threw up all over you the buttered toast that you had just coaxed down my throat. Merry merely went out to get you fresh clothes and you wiped at my mouth and helped me lay down. When I groaned that all I wanted to do was die, you both gave me reasons to live.

So I have spent my days here, talking to you, stroking your cheek and your curls, singing to you every song I can remember and telling you over and over again all the jokes and tales you and Merry have ever told me, hoping you will hear. I wait for you to wake up and smile and tell me to shut up because how can you sleep with such incessant chatter? I wait and I wait and I wait, but you don’t move. You don’t do anything except what is the most important. You are still breathing. You are still living.

When you stir at last, I almost miss it. Exhaustion had finally overcome me and I fell asleep at your side. I only knew you were awake when you squeezed my hand weakly and croaked my name. It is the most wonderful sound I have ever heard as I jerk awake and look at you and see you looking back at me. I begin to cry when I see your eyes so glazed with pain and exhaustion and torments I don’t even want to guess at, but they are open and they are beautiful. Love is already beginning to overflow from there, crowding out the others. You smile at me faintly and reach up to wipe at my tears. “Don’t cry, ’squeak,” you whisper. “I’m so glad to see you. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

I laugh then, the first time I have in far too long. It feels so good! You have nearly died and the first thing you say to me is to tease me! How long I have waited for this! The chasm that had opened at my feet at the thought of living without you closes and I cross the solid ground now to curl up next to you. I am still afraid of hurting you so I restrain myself from hugging you breathless which is what I really want to do and settle for gently kissing your brow and gingerly laying my head down on your chest. Your arm slowly closes around me and your lips softly brush my head.

“I’m very glad to see you, Cousin,” I murmur and we fall asleep like that, with me listening that beloved heartbeat of yours and your arm around me.

It’s going to be all right.

Merry

Wake up, dearheart. Open those beautiful eyes of yours and let me see that you have come back to us. I don’t think I’ll believe it until I see the love and light in your eyes. Last time we saw each other, there was fear and desperation there. Oh, love was there also, you never looked at Pippin and me without it, but it was nearly crowded out by the others. So, please, Frodo, wake up and show us that you are all right.

You shift restlessly in your sleep and Sam does as well. You murmur his name and from his cot beside you, he responds. I wonder at all you two endured, far beyond anything I think I could and maybe even beyond what you think you could. Evidence of the horrors the both of you endured is etched into your too-thin bodies, the scars on your neck and shoulders and back, the long whip mark on your side, the scratches on your arms. Sam is covered with some of the same. The most horrifying of all your injuries is the stump of your finger, all mute testimony to a reality far worse than any nightmare Pip or I had as we worried about you. I stroke your forehead, run my hand through your curls, talk to you, hoping to reach you, to let you know we are at last back at your side. Much as happened to me and Pippin as well and I know I won’t believe all is well until you open your eyes and smile and hold me.

Aragorn comes in to check on you as you shift again and call out a little louder to Sam, but still so softly and weakly my heart breaks. The king tenderly lifts you up and places you in Sam’s arms. Neither of you wake. You curl up against him, then around Sam, and I am reminded as Sam’s arms wrap themselves protectively around you, how many times you had held Pip and me when we had had nightmares or were sick or you simply wanted to show us how much you loved us. Like a parent holding a beloved child was how you were to us, but now you are the child and Sam the parent. We had always looked for you for strength and comfort. It’s frightening that you are now so vulnerable, in such need of that same comfort. But there is something profoundly moving about it as well and I wipe at the tears that threaten to fall. I am so glad that Sam has been able to be there for you when Pip and I couldn’t be.

It is a couple hours later that Sam wakes and strokes your cheek, looking at you with such love. It is so beautiful to see that my heart aches. Pip and I have always believed that looking into your eyes is looking into love and light and joy itself, but now I see what it is you have looked into all these months and I can’t wait for you to have that joy again.

Sam raises his head and looks at me. The welcoming smile on my face falters at what else I see in his eyes. Overwhelming love for you, yes, but memories of pain and darkness that I don’t even want to guess at. Are your eyes going to reflect the same when I look at last into those beautiful blue depths? Or is it going to be even worse?

“He’s going to be all right, Mr. Merry,” Sam rasps, seeing my fears. His voice is hoarse with disuse and the poisonous fumes you and he inhaled so much of. Gandalf and Aragorn already warned Pippin and me of that, but still it is a shock to hear. How will you sound when you wake?

I look at him and he smiles and that gentles his features back to how I’ve always known them and the pain retreats some from his eyes. Things are getting back to normal. Now that has to continue with you waking. I smile back at Sam and some of my anxiety over the two of you fades. Sam turns back to you, strokes your curls for a moment, then kisses your head and holds you a little tighter.

“Yes, he’s going to be all right,” he says again and I think this time it’s also to reassure himself as well as me. He closes his eyes and sleeps again. I wonder if he woke just to tell me that.

I maintain my vigil over you, but it is no longer one with a held breath as one would over someone they were afraid won’t take another of their own. It is simply one where I await your return from sleep. I know you will be all right now. You haven’t stirred, but there is a slight smile on your face, softening the strain that has been there so long. I sit back and just watch you.

Take your time, love, I will be here.

It’s going to be all right.

Sam

I didn’t understand at first what was happening when I was lifted up away from the ash and the fumes and the heat. All I knew that my hand was leaving yours. I could feel your fingers feebly try to hold on to mine and mine to yours, but we were both too weak. I felt our hands part and that was more than I could bear, that at the very end we were being torn apart. A strong cry went up in my heart, but only a croak from my lips, the beginning of your name as I heard the softest whisper from you, trying to say mine.

When I came next aware, I heard many voices around me, but muffled as though from a great distance. A great weariness still lay heavy around me. I ached so much I felt not only had I tended your garden, but all of Hobbiton, perhap the entire Shire. I strained to pick out from the voices the only one I wanted to hear, yours. But I did not. I struggled that hard to wake, to seek you wherever you were. Why couldn’t I hear you? I could not believe that you had been left behind in that terrible place. I did not want to believe that you had died, gone on ahead of me, without your Sam. The questions kept echoing in my head and I wasn’t getting any answers that I could bear. I called out for you, then sank back into my fatigue.

When I became aware again, I struggled even harder to wake and this time succeeded. I blinked against the sunlight and looked around. I was in a tent, on a cot, a real bed for the first time in months. And I was holding you. I began to cry just from the sheer joy of doing that and watching you sleep. You were so beautiful. And alive! You had been washed and cleaned, sleeping comfortably in a cream-colored nightshirt. The rat’s nest your beautiful curls had become was washed and combed. You looked peaceful. I let that last word sink into my mind and heart. You had done it, dearest. And we were still together. I let that word sink even deeper.

I reach out to stroke your cheek gently, careful to avoid the scars still healing there. I feel your breath against my fingers and I smile. I have never been happier than I am right now. I hold you a little tighter as I feel the fatigue start to drag me down again. Almost imperceptibly I feel your arms close around me a little more. You don’t wake but the smallest of smiles graces your lips and widens mine. I kiss your head quickly, then close my eyes.

It’s going to be all right.

Frodo

You are still sleeping when I wake. I’m in my favorite position: my head resting over your heart, your arms across my back. This is the first time I feel I can stay awake more than a few minutes, that I actually feel rested and can be more fully aware you are still with me, that we have survived together. For a long time, I just lay there and have the simple but profound joy of listening to your heart. I could stay here forever content just to listen to that steady, beloved beat that helped sustain me on the Quest, with your voice, and your love that was always there for me, even when I returned anger or hatred. I know if I had lost any of those things you gave so freely to me, I would not have gone on. I could not have.

After a while, I raise my head and duck out from under your arms. You murmur something in your sleep, almost waking. I squeeze your hand for a moment and kiss your brow. “It’s all right, my Sam,” I tell you quietly. “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.” That calms you and I watch you fall more fully back to sleep. I can’t wait for your eyes to open and I see all that love, but you need your sleep. I settle for looking at your face and frown as I trace the scar on your cheek. I don’t remember seeing it before and I wonder when and where and how you got it. I noticed less and less as the Ring consumed me, but how could I have missed you being injured? Sudden fear grips me. Did I cause it? I begin to search anxiously for any other wounds.

I touch your throat lightly with two fingers, seeking any mark I may have left when I held Sting there. I close my eyes for a moment in relief when I don’t see any. I continue my examination carefully, not wanting to wake you. I know you would not have counted the cost of getting me safely to Mordor and back again, and would not want me to either, but I have to know. I raise the long sleeves on your nightshirt and see long, thin, red scratches on your arms, a healing salve applied to them. I bite my lip. How can I not remember how you got those? Did I hurt you? I continue my search with growing dread and tears that begin to fall. Your legs are blessedly free of cuts, except a bad one on one of your knees that is bandaged. Had you fallen when you carried me? Why can’t I remember?!

I am crying freely now as I look at your feet. Healing scars criss-cross your soles. New pink skin is growing there. You will be all right, but why did you have to suffer at all? The tears are now not just for your pain, but profound gratitude for all you endured walking with me, carrying me at the end. You never complained, but I have should have noticed that you were in pain, dearheart. I should have known. I know my feet cannot be much better as I can feel them hurt even now. My entire body aches, but to know that you suffered and I wasn’t even aware of it hurts so much more. I could not have got to Mordor without you, dearheart, I would have failed utterly, but I cannot bear how much you suffered for me and because of me.

A groan escapes me as I see that you are frowning. Are you still in such pain? I reach up to smooth it out, to say I’m sorry and beg you to forgive me. I notice that you are trembling slightly. Are you cold perhap, dearest? I bring up a blanket over the sheet already covering us, but you kick it off almost right away, still not waking. I smile a little. All right, not cold then. I search your face intently for any clues. Your brow is furrowed now. I am quite familiar with that look: you always have it when something is particularly vexing you, like when you notice a particular flower has got a blight and you are worried it might spread. Oh, how I wish those were the only problems you had to deal with and not with the blight that you had to watch spread through me. It is still growing I’m afraid, but I know you will continue to take care of me as lovingly as you ever have. You mumble something in your sleep and I lean closer, trying to understand, but I can’t. Are you having a bad dream? I don’t know if I can protect you from those, my brother, but I will try. I smooth out your furrow, kiss your brow, then lean back down against you, ear pressed against your heart, arm stretched back against your chest.

“It’s all right, my Sam,” I tell you. “Don’t be afraid.”

I close my eyes and feel your arms reach around to cradle me once more. Your trembling ceases. Did you just need to hold me again?

“Thank you for all you did for me,” I murmur, then as we both fall back to sleep, I think of what I’ve told you.

It’s going to be all right.