April 7^th 3019 - Cormallen

"Arise Sir Peregrin, Knight of the City!"

Pippin winced; then glanced guiltily up at King Elessar. Aragorn frowned suspiciously at his smallest Knight.

Pippin had sworn not only his fealty to his Monarch, but had also promised that he was recovered enough for this ceremony.

Aragorn understood the importance to Pippin not to overshadow the honouring of the Ringbearers, so had not pressed the matter.

Silently, a small figure, dressed in the Arms of a Rohan Knight, stepped forward.

"All right Pip?" Merry stooped and gently slipped his arm under Pippin's and together they rose to face their beloved King.

April 17^th 3019 – Henneth Annûn

'He is grown so thin.' Sam could not help worrying, even as he set the picnic out on the greensward, hoping that the surroundings, away from soldiers and warhorses, might remind his Master of more idyllic days.

The food ready, Merry and Pippin set to; they had heeded Sam's warning and not worn their precious heraldic armour this day.

Sam frowned watching his Master struggle to separate meat from bone. 'Samwise Gamgee! You pie-brained nitwit!'

Without a word, Sam reached forward and took the cutlery from his Master's injured hand, silently cutting his meat and returning the fork to Frodo.

September 29^th - S.R. 1422 – Bag End

Sam would have usually doused the lamp an hour since. Rosie had already gone to bed, but somehow he could not bear to extinguish the flame, not tonight.

Suddenly his melancholy was startled by the beat of hooves outside the window, voices trying to be discreet and failing.

"Ho Pip, take my reins."

"Right! You got the bottle?"

Sam opened the door before they knocked, silently leading them through to the kitchen.

Merry slammed down a bottle of best Rohirric whiskey, a single malt brewed for Kings and given to him by Éomer as a parting gift for 'emergency' use.

March 15^th – S.R. 1423 – Crickhollow

There it was again! Pippin looked sideways at Merry, hunched on the sofa, nose buried in a book, looking at ease.

And yet, he turned the leaves too soon to have read the page, as if he were using the book as a shield – a distraction.

"Merry?"

"Mmm?"

Again, that slight but frantic shift, trying to ease a great pain, held tightly in check, for he would sooner suffer than inflict the knowledge of his hurt on Pippin.

 Wordlessly, Pippin took the book from his cousin and placed a cushion beneath Merry's arm, gently rubbing and stroking the cold hand.