A/N: Thank you to Gryffinjack for the beta.

March 17

"A proper breakfast for the bedridden!" Merry declared. Arranged on the tray Pippin set on his lap was a soft boiled egg, toast with jam, a small bowl of applesauce and strong tea sweetened with honey.

Pippin smiled apologetically as he settled beside Merry on the bed. "The cooks have had quite a time of it. There are more mouths to feed here in the Houses of Healing than usual, even if most are having just tea and broth." His hand fidgeted restlessly with the edge of Merry's blanket, rolling it between his fingers. "I'm sorry it's so little. I'll bring you something else soon."

"It's all right, Pippin. I was only teasing." Merry looked at his cousin closely. Pippin was quieter than usual and seemed distracted. "Have you eaten yet?"

Pippin brightened at that. "I ate earlier with Gandalf and Gimli. We found an inn nearby that hadn't been damaged in battle. And I had thought there were no inns in this City! They're just cleverly hidden. This one is called The Running Stag and they serve wonderful eggs and bacon, and excellent ale too. I thought it was a bit early for ale, but Gimli insisted…"

Merry’s attention wandered as he listened. His mind kept drifting to an unsettling dream he had had of his mother the night before. She had been standing on the threshold of the main entrance to Brandy Hall, the large, golden-brown door open behind her. His mother had looked right through him, not acknowledging his voice as he called to her repeatedly. At last she had sighed and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The dream faded into another then, and Merry was left wondering why he had not rushed forward and tried to open the door himself.

"…Merry! Aren't you hungry?" Pippin was peering at him closely, frowning.

Merry glanced down at his hands, one clutching a half-eaten triangle of toast and the other aimlessly stirring the bowl of applesauce, and smiled. "I suppose I'm a little out of sorts this morning, Pippin. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Pippin shook his head. "I'll…I'll tell you the rest later, when you've finished eating," he said. He bit his lip for a moment and then went on briskly. "At least drink the tea, Merry, and have the egg. The toast, too. Oh and the applesauce."

"I should clean the plate, you mean," Merry said wryly.

"Well, you need to regain your strength," Pippin said with a shrug. His smile was back, nearly as bright as usual as he slid off the bed. "In fact you ought to eat a bit more, as shall I. Is there anything you would like, Merry? More toast perhaps, and some bacon? They have coffee here, you know, and strange fruit juices. I'll bring you the orange kind, you would like that. But don't forget to finish your egg!"

With that Pippin left the room. When he returned a short time later, he not only bore another tray but unwelcome news.

*

It had been useless to try to argue with Pippin, and Merry soon wore himself out. He was already weak and nodding off when his cousin left, and it was not long before the dream returned.

This time as his mother stood upon the threshold Merry dashed forward, calling to her in the loudest voice he could muster. But no matter how his feet pounded on the grass, nor how quickly he ran, he was not in time. His mother never saw him, and the door closed in his face once more.

Faintly Merry could hear a voice calling his name. It was not his mother's voice, but a man's, strong and commanding. A hand touched his sweaty brow, and Merry woke instantly, shaking and panting for breath.

"Drink this," the voice ordered. Merry reached out blindly; he could see nothing but utter darkness. A gentle hand cradled the back of his neck, lifting him off the pillows. The rim of a mug touched his lips and Merry drank thirstily. Whatever it was, it was bitter and jarred him into full wakefulness.

Merry discovered Aragorn sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him closely. "Another nightmare," he noted grimly.

"No…no wraiths," Merry managed, his voice shaky. Unconsciously he rubbed his arm. "It wasn't like the others. I dreamed of my mother."

Aragorn's lips quirked into an amused smile. "Was she angry? A mother's wrath is no trifle."

"No, she wasn't," Merry replied. "That is what makes it so strange." He said no more, oddly unwilling to discuss the dream further, even though he had found it easy to discuss his recent, and more terrifying, nightmares with Aragorn.

With a sigh Aragorn set the empty mug on the bedside table. "I gather Pippin has informed you of his plans."

The gaze Merry directed at Aragorn was steely, and he was clearly poised to argue. "Pippin is not yet of age, and I'm the eldest member of his family here. I could forbid him to go."

"It is not your decision to make," Aragorn said. There was pity in his quiet voice.

Merry shook his head and sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was calmer. "At least take me with you, Strider. I’m no use here. Let me leave this sickbed, and march with you."

"I cannot allow it, my friend," Aragorn said, his voice brooking no argument. "Were you healthy and whole I would have agreed but you will require many days of rest yet before you will be fit to travel, let alone go to battle. And were I to allow you to journey with us in such a state you would be a distraction to the others, especially to Pippin. He would be too concerned with caring for you to remember to protect himself."

It was true. Feeling ashamed and useless, Merry's shoulders sagged. The fight had gone out of him, and now all he felt was a bone-deep weariness.

Aragorn rested his hand on Merry's cold one. "You have done more than enough already. But fear not, for it may be that you, Lord Faramir and the Lady Éowyn will have to bear arms again, but not when those able of body have strength to fight. Pippin is strong and hale, and will represent the Shire-folk. Do not dampen his spirits when such a daunting task lies before him. Your cousin looks to you for support and approval." For a long while Aragorn fell silent but at last he added, "Some may call it a desperate attempt, a foolish one. But if we draw Sauron’s eye away from what he seeks and buy Frodo some precious time…"

"When we formed our Conspiracy, Pippin and I swore that we would follow Frodo and protect him as much as we could," Merry said. "I want Frodo to have as much help as possible with his task. But I can't bear to lose my two dearest cousins, Strider."

Aragorn's face was very grave. "I will do all that is within my power to ensure that you will lose neither of them. But we need all those who are able to fight, or else we shall fail. The Enemy’s numbers are far greater than our own."

Merry nodded, expecting as much. "You will keep an eye on Pippin? As well as you can?" But even as he asked this Merry thought back to the chaos of Pelennor Fields, and how he had been left to fend for himself, not just in battle but in the aftermath as well. How much better would a hobbit fare at the Black Gate? Would Pippin, too, be forgotten?

"I shall try," Aragorn said. "Pippin will be in Beregond's company. I am told that he is a good man, and a loyal friend. Both Gandalf and Pippin hold him in high esteem. I believe Pippin and Beregond will look after one another."

"But it won’t be the same as if I were there," Merry said with a note of resignation in his voice. "I cannot help Pippin at all."

"Do not think me cold-hearted," Aragorn said. "I know it is difficult for you to be parted from Pippin again. But you may help your cousin yet in the days ahead. Do not dwell so much on what lies ahead that your health suffers. For Pippin, seeing you on the mend will lessen the strain of leaving you. His path will not be an easy one."

"I know," Merry whispered. "And I do understand why he must do this."

"Then tell Pippin that," Aragorn said gently. "It will ease his heart to know that you understand."

Merry nodded. Even though he wished that Pippin would stay behind he would never allow his cousin to leave thinking that he was angry or disappointed in him. Especially, he thought, his blood going cold, when he was uncertain if he would ever see Pippin again.

Aragorn seemed to sense his thoughts, and squeezed his hand once before releasing it. "I left Pippin visiting with Lord Faramir, but I know he is most anxious to see you again. I shall send him here with a tray. It is nearly lunchtime," he said, standing.

Merry yawned. "It seems that all I do these days is sleep and eat," he said.

"Well," Aragorn replied, "you are a hobbit."

Somehow laughter came easily to Merry as he watched Aragorn leave his room, grinning. Lying back against his pillows, Merry fell into a light doze as he waited for Pippin to arrive.

This time, he dreamed of nothing at all.

*

Merry woke just moments before Pippin entered his room, a tray in his hands and trepidation in his eyes. But with one look at Merry's face Pippin smiled, abandoning the tray on the bedside table and leaping onto the bed to pull his cousin into a hug.

Nothing was said on the matter, and yet they had come to an understanding. At last Pippin turned aside and lifted the cover of the tray to reveal two bowls of stew, warm fresh bread and a bit of cold meat and cheese. Merry’s stomach growled.

"It sounds like you're ready to eat," Pippin said happily, serving Merry first and then himself. “Let’s go outside when we’re finished. The fresh air will do you good, Merry. Gimli left after breakfast to have another look at the stone-work of the City, but I think we’ll find Legolas in the garden again.”

Merry smiled. "I would like that," he said.

"It's settled, then," Pippin replied with a grin.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they turned to their food, and when they were finished Pippin helped Merry outside. For a time they walked along the walls, gazing through cracks in the stone to peer out at the City below. When they came at last to the garden they found Legolas and the three friends sat together in the grass, speaking quietly in the sunshine.