Title: Merry Birthday

Rating: G

Challenge: Write a story in which something is made. It can be anything, made by anyone. Written for Marigold's Challenge 5 series.

Thank you to Shirebound for putting all the time and effort into beta-ing this!

Summary: Merry celebrates his birthday in Minas Tirith. Giving gifts created by himself, to his friends.

        As Merry walked along the streets of Minas Tirith, it was hard to believe that only a scarce two months before battle had been waged in the City's streets. Of course there were some things that would take months-- perhaps years-- before they were restored to the way they once were. The highest circles, however, hardly looked to have been touched by war.

        Merry was wandering one of the lower circles. The damage was the most evident down here, and many homes and shops were in the process of being rebuilt. Although the damage was grievous, there were hardly any frowns among the workers. Earlier that week, on May 1st, Strider had been crowned King Elessar. There had been much celebrating, and many flowers and bright banners still hung from windows and walls. It had been a grand occasion.

        Many shops were still closed; making Merry's crusade fruitless and causing him to wander lower and lower into the City. "Blast all," he muttered on passing another shop. It was mid-morning and if he didn't return soon, someone would come looking for him. He snorted softly, King Elessar would probably send out a search party if Pippin reported him missing. He had left the house he shared with the rest of the Fellowship, excluding the new king, before anyone had stirred this morning.

        He was in the lowest circle when he noticed one last shop. It was not terribly ruined; most of the windows were still intact and there was a light in one of the windows, signaling they were open for business. He stood as tall as may be and looked in through the window. It was cluttered, but it looked like someone was moving things back into the front room. Taking a deep breath, Merry pushed the door open.

        "Good morning," sang a fair voice, "and what may I do for you this morning child?" A short, round, woman with gray hair and smiling eyes greeted him. "Forgive me! You are no child, but one of the Perian, dressed in Rohan's finest no less! Iorlin at your service, sir." She curtsied before him.

        "At your service and your family's," replied Merry, in turn bowing to the woman before him. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, ma'am."

        "Master Meriadoc, what can I do ye for?" asked Iorlin straightening. She didn't stand much taller than Gimli, making it easier for Merry to meet her eye.

        "I have been searching this City for some supplies that I fear are not in high demand," said Merry looking around the room. "I wonder that you still have a shop, so close to the Pelennor."

        "Yes, well when I realized our City was to be under siege I removed many of my goods from the house, hiding them where I could. An empty shop doesn't present much of a target for pillaging orcs, now does it?"

        "No ma'am," replied Merry, "The items that I am in search of are frivolities. Do you by chance have canvas and paint?"

        Irolin laughed. "Those are certainly not things that are requested often, even during times of peace. However, I do have the supplies you seek, come this way."

        An hour later Merry was hurrying back up the way he had come, a package wrapped protectively in an oil-skin, under one arm. When he reached the last Circle he was nearly running.

        "Hoy, Merry, where have you been all morning?" called Pippin, as Merry entered the house, passing the kitchen, full of those eating lunch.

        "I just went for a walk," replied Merry, hurrying into the room designated as his and depositing the bundle under the bed. "What's for luncheon? I'm starving!" He took his seat at the table.

        "Sam made lunch," said Pippin, pushing a bowl of stuffed mushrooms toward Merry. "Anyway, you're late, and I'm off." Pippin pushed back from the table. He was dressed in his own livery and soon out the door.

        Frodo was gazing steadily at Merry, fearing something was amiss. Merry would normally be the last one to leave with no word to anyone about his whereabouts. He gave Merry a small smile before clearing his place and Pippin's.

        Merry ate hurriedly as various people began to leave the table. "Sam and I are going to visit Minas Tirith's libraries, would you like to join us, Merry?" asked Frodo.

        "No, thank you, Frodo," replied Merry around a mouth full of chicken, "I think I will enjoy the gardens today."

        Frodo nodded, "See you at supper then."

        "Frodo, where's Merry?" asked Pippin impatiently, the next evening. He had just got off guard duty, quite the dull business of standing outside the door to the room that the King occupied making sure no one entered without express permission.

        "He has locked himself in his room again," said Frodo, looking over an old scroll dictating the lineage of Stewards.

        Pippin frowned. "Is he alright? He's hardly been out of his room in two days, only for meals, and even then he misses two or three a day!"

        "Perhaps he is seeking rest from your wagging tongue, Peregrin Took," said Gandalf as he entered the parlor.

        "No, Merry would be the last person to ignore me," said Pippin, glancing down the hall. He frowned, "Do you think his arm is bothering him?" He directed this more to Gandalf than anyone else in the room.

        Frodo looked up at that, and Sam paused in his whittling to look at Gandalf as well.

        "I see no reason why it should, it is almost back to normal -- and as far as I know he is taking Aragorn's advice to heart and is getting plenty of rest," replied Gandalf.

        Merry lay on his bed looking at the ceiling, enjoying a moment of peace before getting on with the day. He lightly closed his eyes, seeing the same pattern on the ceiling in his mind. The door squeaked open and there was a patter of feet, then the bed shifted as someone lay down next to him pressing cold toes into his legs.

        "Happy Birthday, Merry," Pippin whispered, partially testing to see if Merry was really awake.

        "Good morning, Pip," replied Merry. He shifting his leg out of the way of cold feet, but Pippin just snuggled closer.

        The duo lay in companionable silence for a little while. Merry nudged Pippin gently, "Still awake?"

        "Mh-hm," was the sleepy reply.

        "Don't go back to sleep, yet, not if you want your birthday present." Merry shifted and jumped off the bed. He bent down and started moving things around under the bed.

        "You didn't have to get me anything this year, Mer," said Pippin, sitting up. "It was enough that we all survived, wasn't it? I mean after everything that happened, there could be nothing else to want."

        Merry grinned as he retrieved the item he was looking for. "Here, open this anyway."

        Pippin returned the grin and, curiosity getting the better of him, quickly removed the wrapping. "Oh!" His breath caught and he stared, speechless, at the thing that had been unwrapped. "Merry, it's wonderful!"

        Merry laughed, catching Pippin as he flung himself into his elder cousin's arms. "I thought you might like a little piece of home."

        "They look so real," Pippin ran his hand along the canvas lovingly. The picture depicted was that of a scene that often occurred in Pippin's home. There was his mother knitting, his father smoking with an old book in his lap, and each of his sisters, as well as himself grouped around the fire doing various things.

        "I decided to do it as when you were younger and would listen to stories in the evening. I didn't have a big enough piece of canvas to draw your sisters' husbands and children, but I hoped this would do for now." Merry smiled reminiscently, "How many times I joined all of you there."

        Pippin laughed, "More than you can remember. I'd wager."

        Merry laughed too. "I'm sure you're right." He slid off the bed again and began to dress. "Was anyone else up when you decided to come disturb my sleep?"

        "You were already awake," said Pippin idly, "Sam was already up; how he gets up so early I don't know."

        "You're just too lazy," commented Merry, pulling on his braces then pulling out a second item. When Pippin didn't reply he looked up as he headed out the door. Pippin was gazing at the painting, his eyes distant and a smile lighting his face. He quietly left the room and went in search of Sam.

        It was easy to locate Sam; you just followed the delightful smell of breakfast in the making. Sam was humming a light tune as he prepared breakfast, in the too-big kitchen. Merry moved on silent feet to stand next to Sam.

        "Merry!" With a jolt Sam had turned around, almost landing a bowl of eggs on the floor. "Trying to frighten the life out of me are you?"

        Merry laughed, "Not at all, Sam, just wanted to see how long it would be until you noticed me here."

        Sam shook his head; you never could tell what would happen next. Between Merry, Pippin, and a house full of other folk there was always some excitement or mischief afoot. "Breakfast will be ready in a bit although I don't know that anyone else is up yet."

        "If you could spare a moment," Merry said softly.

        Caught off guard by the quiet and serious tone, Sam turned. "Is ought the matter, Mr. Merry?"

        Merry smiled almost sadly as he looked at Sam. He thought of everything that had been done in the last few months. Sam had been the one to follow Frodo, to stay with him and keep him safe, when no else had been able to. "I just would like you to have this." He offered the wrapped item to Sam.

        Sam looked questioningly at Merry and took the parcel. With Merry's nod of encouragement he began to untie the string that kept the paper in place. Sam gasped then looked up at Merry, tears threatening his deep brown eyes. He opened his mouth and then closed it, having no words that seemed adequate.

        In Sam's trembling hands was a painting of Frodo. He was leaning over the hedge that bordered Bag End, with a smile on his lips and eyes dancing. So many times he had stood just that way, spinning tales and talking with Sam as he worked in the garden.

        Merry bit his lip, suddenly unsure. "I'm sorry, Sam, if this has upset you. I just thought, well it seemed like a good idea..."

        "No, Mr. Merry, it's perfect, you captured Mr. Frodo perfectly," Sam looked up and smiled at Merry, "I knew you painted, but after some mishap of some sort Frodo said you had given it up."

        Merry laughed a little; he always held himself up to a standard of perfection, and if something didn't meet that standard he became angry and frustrated with himself. "I had given it up, until a few days ago. I decided I wasn't going to be perfect and that I should enjoy doing things even if they didn't turn out how I hoped. Besides, friends are worth the frustration."

        Sam laughed. "It is an extraordinary likeness." Neither of them said so, but it was becoming apparent that Frodo would not return to the happy carefree hobbit he had been before they set off -- and that hurt them all more than war or plague could.

        They heard Pippin's voice ring through the house with laughter, and Gandalf rumble an answer. Sam sprang into action, removing tea from over the fire and setting out plates, while stowing the painting carefully in his pack. "Breakfast is ready!" he called into the main room where everyone tended to gather if they were not eating or out. Soon the kitchen was full of laughing, talking occupants.

        After breakfast Merry waited until the house cleared and then went after Frodo; he found him enjoying a book in the little garden adjacent to the house.

        Merry paused before approaching Frodo. He looked so content, leaning against a wall, feet dangling off a bench, too absorbed in what he was reading to pay much attention to the world around him. "Hello, Frodo!" he finally sang cheerily.

        Frodo looked up and smiled, although it didn't quite fill his eyes the way it should -- but a smile of any kind was considered good. "No duty to Rohan today?"

        "No, I have no duties to perform today," Merry took a seat next to his older cousin. "I thought I would enjoy a bit of sun with you, if you don't mind."

        "I don't mind," said Frodo, looking up into blue skies. "It is wonderful to see the sun again. Shadow had stolen her away for so long I had begun to fear she was gone for good."

        Merry could see that Frodo's mood was settling into being a melancholy one. Before he could do or say anything to relieve it, Frodo turned to him and grinned a little more whole-heartedly. "Happy birthday, cousin."

        Merry laughed, "I figured you would have forgotten."

        "No, Merry, I could never forget. You were my first light in dark places," replied Frodo reaching out to tousle Merry's hair as he used to do when Merry was just a little lad.

        "I have something for you on this very important occasion." Merry pulled out yet another painting. "I hope it helps to bring you peace."

        Frodo gently unwrapped the parcel handed to him. He then stared wide- eyed, forgetting to breathe so lost was he in the scene depicted. Finally drawing breath, he looked at Merry with wonder. "How do you remember, Merry? How do you capture such detail?"

        Merry smiled and leaned into Frodo to look at the picture as well. It was Bag End sitting on the top of the hill. In the garden a seven year old Pippin held fast to Bilbo's hand, Frodo sat with Merry pointing out things from a book, and Sam was going about his gardening, yet no doubt paying attention to everything that was being said.

        "Thank you, Merry, I will treasure it always," said Frodo hugging Merry close, being reminded why he had set out on a hopeless quest nearly nine months before -- so that other hobbit families could be just as content in every day life as the hobbits in the picture.

        Merry spent a good part of the morning talking and laughing with Frodo, easing him out of his melancholy mood with stories and remembrances of past events. After lunch, in which Sam and he decided to visit Minas Tirith's gardens, Merry went in search of those whose gifts he still had safely tucked away.

        Merry wandered down to the lower Circles of the City where he knew Legolas and Gimli were working to help restore the City to it's former luster. They were not too difficult to find, as they were the only dwarf and elf in the area and many remembered quite vividly seeing the unlikely pair together. Merry found them seated in an alcove, enjoying lunch and bickering lightly.

        "This City needs more plants," commented Legolas, "something more alive then bare rock; it would bring more cheer to the inhabitants."

        "Nay, Legolas," growled Gimli, "the stone speaks well of the craftsmanship of this land. Merry! It is a surprise to find you down here at such an hour!"

        "I pleasant one I hope," laughed Merry.

        "Quite pleasant," responded Legolas although Gimli just "harumphed" in a teasing manner.

        Merry smiled as he listened to the teasing that persisted then stretching he grinned at his companions. "You are acquainted with hobbit birthday customs, I believe."

        Both Legolas and Gimli nodded in the affirmative. After so many tiring walks together, everyone had learned something new about the other race, perhaps with the exception of Gandalf.

        "Today happens to be my thirty-sixth birthday, and I would like to give both of you something." Merry unslung from his shoulder the pack he had been carrying and withdrew two parcels, handing one to each of them.

        Gimli, in a rather impatient manner, pulled the wrapping from his and looked at it thoughtfully. Legolas, in a more leisurely fashion, also unwrapped his. "Well, Master hobbit, there is certainly a talent in your hands."

        "Yes, Merry, wherever did you learn to paint like this?" asked Legolas, inspecting his closely.

        Merry beamed, coming from Gimli it was high praise, and for someone who had lived for so long to comment at all was quite flattering. "I have an ability to remember almost everything that I see and later recreate it if I wish to."

        Legolas' picture was of Lothlorien, captured perfectly on canvas and with the most becoming colors. He felt as though all he need do was step into the painting to once again be in those enchanting woods.

        Gimli was looking intently at his own gift -- the walls of Moria lit up with starlight and moonlight. The doors looked so real, it seemed he had only to open the doors to see his people's once brilliant home.

        "Thank you, Merry, I shall treasure it long after Lorien has faded," said Legolas sincerely.

        "Thank you, Meriadoc," muttered Gimli. Merry smiled happily, as expressions of gratitude came rarely from the dwarf.

        "I'm glad you like them!" said Merry, "Now I must be on my way back up, I have a King and wizard that I still need to find today."

        It proved to be easier to find Gandalf than Merry had anticipated. The White Wizard was sitting out on one of the many balconies, smoking, while looking out over Minas Tirith. Merry hesitated a few steps behind him, wondering if he was contemplating something of great importance that required silence.

        "What are you hanging back there for, Meriadoc?" asked Gandalf, startling Merry out of his own thoughts. "If you have climbed all the way up here then you must have been in search of me, and if that is true then there is no need to skulk in the shadows."

        Merry smiled; Gandalf's color may have changed, but sometimes he was the same grouchy old wizard that would visit Bag End years ago. Merry stepped forward and took a seat next to Gandalf. "I just thought you might be thinking over something terribly important."

        "Hmm, if I had been you would have already broken my concentration when you entered the room behind me," said Gandalf, "For all your hobbit stealth there is just no getting around a wizard." Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he looked down at Merry.

        Merry wasn't fooled by the gruff manner, he knew that hobbits had always been Gandalf's special interest. After everything that had happened in the last year, a special bond had developed between those who had seen and experienced the same things. "I wanted to give you something." Merry then pulled out yet another parcel, finding he was quite enjoying the bit of time he shared with each person.

        Gandalf took the package and, after blowing a few more smoke rings, began to unwrap it. Gandalf chuckled at the painting that lay within: five year old Pippin sat in a puddle of mud, with the wizard's pointed hat, while thirteen year old Merry and twenty-seven year old Frodo stood guiltily by. Fifteen year old Sam hovered nervously in the background holding some wilted flowers that had been meant for the kitchen table.

        "How I remember that day," laughed Gandalf. "The first time I had the pleasure of meeting young Frodo's cousins; after that I could understand why Bilbo always seemed so frazzled when he spoke about you. Little Pippin was never one to be nervous around folk he didn't know, he never stopped asking question, still doesn't as a matter of fact, and pretty soon he got it into his head that my hat would make a good toy. You were a bit shyer than your cousin, but could not be suppressed once you got going. I'm afraid I frightened Sam there out of his wits; it must have been a sight, an old man, a big person none the less, chasing three hobbit lads around the garden. I think Frodo just got caught at the wrong time with you and Pippin, as I understand you are usually the master mind behind the plots that have landed the three of you in trouble."

        Merry laughed happily, "Perhaps, but I did learn from the best; dear Frodo was quite the master mind himself!"

        Gandalf laughed heartily and Merry felt, like so many others, that if Gandalf would laugh more there would be no troubles in Middle-earth. His laughter chased away the shadow, no matter how thick.

        It was getting close to evening, which meant he would have to head back to the house they shared, for supper. He had one last gift, and that was for the King. Merry didn't really know what the proper protocol was for getting an audience with the King, or if he even had time. So Merry walked to the throne room where two guards were stationed outside the door.

        "Hullo, Pip, is Str-King Elessar busy?" asked Merry upon nearing the door.

        "Of course he is Merry, he is trying to run a kingdom here and has no time for silly hobbit chatter." Pippin spoke sternly, but the affect quite was ruined when he grinned.

        Merry rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, but smiled back.

        "Silly Brandybuck, hobbits have special rights to the King's time!" said Pippin, "Besides, he has seen his last dignitary for the day and it just getting ready to leave; then I will be released just in time for dinner."

        Merry didn't have time for another word before Pippin shoved him through the door that the other guardsman obligingly held open. Merry stood at the end of the long room looking passed the likenesses of generation upon generations of the kings of old.

        King Elessar stood at the other end of the room before a throne on a small dais. Suddenly Merry felt very uncomfortable; Strider looked so regal and, well, kingly that he wasn't sure how to proceed. He did not feel fit to be asking a few moments of the King's time, he was just deciding to leave and wait for a time when Strider was available for a hobbit to speak to when Elessar looked up and saw him.

        King Elessar smiled and suddenly he looked like Strider, even in the fancy attire. "Good afternoon, Merry, or should I say evening?"

        "Either works, my lord," Merry approached Elessar and bowed deeply before him.

        "Merry, you know better than that," Elessar knelt to be eye level with the young hobbit, "What brings you to my place of work?"

        "I wanted to give you something." Blushing, Merry pulled out the last package and handed it, shyly, to Strider.

        Aragorn curiously took the package. "Your birthday, is it not? I think I remember having a conversation regarding ages on one of those, long, night walks." He held the package up to his ear and shook it, making Merry laugh. "What could it be?" He then held it up to his forehead and said "Reveal your contents to me. Is it a book?"

        Merry rolled his eyes, at ease again with his friend. "Just open it already!"

        Strider tore the paper off of the gift and smiled. The picture on the canvas was that of Rivendell, and under one of the many arches stood the Lady Arwen.

        "It is not a very good likeness, but I do not think even a master could catch her beauty with paint and canvas," said Merry, looking critically over the King's shoulder. "I chose the only thing I could think of that you would truly miss in these times."

        "It is extraordinary, Merry," said Strider in wonder, "It is the best likeness I have yet to see of her. Short of the real thing, this is the best!"

        Merry hesitated for only a moment before embracing the King of Gondor. "It is really quite in inadequate after everything you have done for me, for all of use, but it was the best I could think of." He whispered, then, in a teasing tone, "I'm afraid it is the only way you can see her, for the time being."

        Aragorn laughed and returned the embrace. "It is wonderful, and will have to do until I can see My Lady again. Come, I believe you are missing dinner. Give me a moment to change and I will escort you down to your house."

        A few moments later, Strider and Merry headed down to the little house shared by the remaining members of the Fellowship. The lights were dancing merrily in the windows, although the room that served as a parlor was empty and the rest of the house was unnaturally silent.

"I would think that I would be the last one to dinner this night," said Merry, hanging his cloak up at the door. "Come on in, Strider, at any rate we can have a bite to eat."

As Merry flung open the door to the kitchen, he was greeted by many voices, "Happy Birthday, Merry!" Merry laughed, seeing everyone already gathered in the kitchen, as well as enough food for an army.

Everyone began to talk and laugh, sharing and admiring the pictures that Merry had created. Merry looked around at those that he had loved for many years and those he had grown to love over the last few months. Everyone was having a good time, troubles and cares temporarily forgotten, and he knew that this too would stay impressed in his memory for years to come.