A/N: Written for the Waymeet Ties That Bind challenge. Thank you to Gryffinjack for the beta!

Pippin had been home for nearly two months, and yet he was hardly at home, not when he was so often away with Merry and a number of other lads, hunting out the last of the ruffians. It seemed to Paladin and Eglantine that they had scarcely seen their son since his return, but then they had been kept very busy as well. Paladin had more official duties to perform now than he had ever had as the Thain while Eglantine managed the restocking of the Great Smials’ pantries with the fruits of the meager harvest. After the Travellers had returned and liberated the Lockholes, they discovered there great stores of provisions that had been confiscated by the Ruffians. The Travellers had then arranged for the dispersion of these provisions throughout the Shire so that no hobbits would go hungry this winter.

Eglantine also saw to it that new clothes were made for Pippin. None of his old things fit now, and she would not have her poor lad dressing as if he were going to war, not now when the Shire was finally being set to rights.

And it was set to rights sooner than everyone had expected. Well before Yule Merry and Pippin had the Shire free of Outsiders, and plans were made by both families to celebrate the turning of the year as they always had, with the Tooks visiting Brandy Hall. Merry went ahead to Buckland, while Pippin returned home to stay with his family until it was time to depart for the Hall.

It was then, when Pippin had finally returned home, that his nightmares began. Or rather, it was then that Paladin and Eglantine witnessed them for the first time.

These were far different from the bad dreams of childhood that could be soothed with a few gentle words and a warm hug. No, now Pippin’s nightmares were fraught with pain, sharp pain that leaked into his voice when he cried out in the night, waking all those who slept in that part of the Great Smials. But Pippin did not always wake from his dreams, sometimes his shouts would recede to murmurs, his cries would fade to whimpers, and he would slumber on, oblivious to his parents’ concern. On other nights, however, Pippin would startle from his sleep, gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably, his eyes dark and distant as he relived some painful memory. He would refuse to go back to sleep then, choosing instead to pace the halls, moving soundlessly through silent corridors, haunted by the past.

In the mornings Pippin was always his usual cheerful self, his smile bright though his eyes were tired and often ringed with dark circles, and even in the warm, soothing sunlight he did not speak about his nightmares. When his parents attempted to ask him, Pippin’s shoulders tensed and he grew quiet, and they left it at that. He had told them enough – after all there was no hiding the scars he had returned home with, and a parent questions such things – but now they wondered what exactly Pippin was concealing from them.

“We should ask Merry when we get to Buckland,” Paladin said during a hushed conversation one night after a particularly bad episode. “These nightmares must have started before Pippin returned home. I’m certain that Merry knows about them. He might know something, a better way for us to deal with them. Some way for us to help our son.”

Eglantine sighed, her brow crinkled with worry. “Perhaps Merry suffers from nightmares of his own,” she replied.

Paladin had no answer for that.

***

Frodo did not come to Buckland for Yule, and neither Merry nor Pippin seemed surprised at that. Still, his absence was keenly felt; Saradoc and Esmeralda loved him like another son, and Paladin saw that they were worried about him. But at least Merry and Pippin were home this year, and they knew that Frodo was safe at Bag End. This Yule, there was a reason to celebrate.

Brandy Hall was as crowded as always, and candles burned brightly in the windows while garlands and large red bows decorated the doorways and mantles of every room. Though the meal was not as bountiful as in years past, owing to the poor harvest, Esmeralda still kept a fine table, and there was goose and ham and her own Tookland pudding, with wine and cakes served after. The children were awed by Merry and Pippin and followed them wherever they went, marveling at how tall they were and begging for stories of their adventures. Merry and Pippin laughed and obliged, sitting on the floor amongst the children as they spun tales of elves and dwarves and men and wizards and all the strange lands they had visited.

As Paladin watched them his mind wandered. He remembered listening to Bilbo’s stories when he was young and thinking that they were magnificent, but when he grew older he had decided that they were certainly not real. But now Paladin knew better – they were as real as the tales his son and nephew now told, as real as scars and nightmares and ruffians overrunning the Shire beneath his very nose.

Eglantine’s hand on his arm startled Paladin from his thoughts. She smiled at him and suggested that he go and get some rest; it had been a long day and they were all weary from travelling. Paladin glanced around, surprised to see that the stories had ended some time ago and the children had been sent to bed. Merry and Pippin stood by the fire now, pipes in hand and speaking so quietly that all Paladin could hear across the room was the soft hum of their voices, Pippin’s higher, quicker one matched by Merry’s deeper, lower tones. Turning back to his wife Paladin nodded and stood, and bid everyone goodnight.

As exhausted as he was, Paladin’s sleep was restless. He lay awake long after Eglantine fell asleep and had just slipped into a doze when the sound of another nightmare reached his ears.

Startling awake, Paladin glanced over at Eglantine. She was still asleep, exhausted from their long journey, and so Paladin slipped silently from the bed and closed the door behind him, heading down the now-silent hall.

Pippin’s guest room was dark and empty but light spilled out into the hallway from the open doorway to Merry’s bedroom. Paladin looked inside and saw that several candles had been lit in addition to the blazing hearth and that Pippin was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door. Merry sat beside him, one arm resting soothingly around Pippin’s shoulders as he listened to his cousin with concern.

“…it was so dark. I felt like I was being crushed, crushed and smothered all over again. I couldn’t move, couldn’t get away from the troll, from its weight and its smell. I can still smell it, Merry, I can still taste its blood in my mouth…”

Paladin stepped back, shocked and appalled. The sound or movement caught Merry’s attention and he glanced over in surprise. But Paladin shook his head and crept away. Pippin had not noticed his presence and Paladin knew that his son would stop speaking if he saw his father there. It seemed that Pippin was determined to keep his worst memories a secret from his parents, but Paladin thought that it would be best for his son to speak of his nightmares now to Merry, to someone who understood. And Paladin was certain that Merry understood Pippin’s nightmares all too well; he had seen it in his nephew’s face just now, not only the weariness and sadness, but also the understanding, an understanding that could only be won by sharing a similar experience.

Paladin did not return to bed, but went instead to the private sitting room reserved for the Master’s family. The fire had gone out but the room was warm and cozy enough still for Paladin to sit and think for a while. After overhearing Pippin speak about his nightmare, Paladin wondered what other horrific memories his son and nephew still carried with them. How lonely Merry and Pippin must have felt during the past few weeks, he realized, forced to remember such terrible things without having each other to speak to.

Things could not go on as they were. It broke Paladin’s heart to think that his son had suffered so, and continued to suffer even now that he was home. A change needed to be made…but what that change should be, Paladin did not yet know, and this frustrated him deeply. He was accustomed to finding solutions, to solving problems. It was what people expected of him as the Thain. Why was it that he could not think of a way to help his son?

No answers came to mind, and after a time, Paladin rubbed his eyes tiredly and stood. The room had grown cold and Paladin felt more exhausted than before. But before he returned to bed, he wanted to check on Pippin and see that he was all right. The hall was silent and dark, but a pale light continued to shine from Merry’s bedroom. Inside, a pair of candles continued to burn on the mantle as both cousins were tucked into Merry’s bed – a bed that was hardly big enough to fit Merry alone any more. It would have been a comical sight, with their arms and feet hanging off the mattress in every which way, but Paladin could find no laughter, only concern. At least Pippin and Merry were asleep now, all traces of fear and worry gone from their faces as they found some much-needed rest.

With a sigh, Paladin returned to his and Eglantine’s guest room. Soon it would be morning, and although his worries weighed heavily on his mind, Paladin hoped to get some sleep as well.

***

Second Yule dawned unseasonably warm, but Paladin’s spirits felt quite dreary when he rose for breakfast. He told Eglantine about Pippin’s nightmare, but he did not tell her what he had overheard. Paladin felt as though he would be betraying Pippin’s confidence if he did so, even if Pippin had not confided in him.

Paladin was uncharacteristically quiet during breakfast. Still reeling from what he had overheard about Pippin's nightmare, he could hardly bear to look at the cheerful garlands of holly decorating the table, thinking the Yule decorations terribly out of place now. He was startled from his thoughts, and pleasantly surprised, when Pippin suggested that they go for a walk after second breakfast, just the two of them. They dressed in their cloaks but left their scarves and gloves behind as they left the Hall, enjoying the gentle breeze ruffling their hair and the sun shining upon their faces.

They walked for some time in silence before Pippin spoke. “I’m sorry you heard about it, Da,” he began hesitantly. “What my nightmare was about, that is. Merry said that you heard me talking about it.” He kicked at a pebble as they passed, sending it flying into the hedge that lined the road.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Paladin replied. “But I’m not sorry that I heard. I don’t mean to pry, Pippin, but I am very worried, as is your mother. We have been for quite some time. We only want to understand so that we might be able to help you.”

“I know,” Pippin said. “But there are some things I don’t want you or anyone else to understand. I wouldn’t want you to know about such terrible things. Merry was with me for most of it, and he already knows what happened, just as I know what happened to him. I – I wish I didn’t have to tell you, and burden you, with any of it.”

Paladin was struck by how serious Pippin looked, and how brave and mature he had become. “It would not be a burden,” he said quietly. “You are never a burden, Pippin. And whenever you are ready to talk, your mother and I will be there to listen.”

Pippin smiled gratefully at that and for a while longer he and his father walked in silence. The path ahead them led to Crickhollow and Paladin could see the dark shape of the small house ahead. Frodo still owned that house, though he had not shown any inclination to live in it upon his return, and now Paladin’s thoughts turned to him. “Does Frodo know?” he asked.

“About our nightmares?” Pippin shook his head. “It would hurt Frodo dearly if he knew about them, and he would blame himself for our suffering. But I do think he has some idea of them.” Pippin glanced at his father. “The last time we saw him, Frodo gave Merry and me the keys to Crickhollow, in case we ever wanted to stay there.”

Paladin sensed what Pippin was asking him, and for a time they continued to walk in silence, still heading towards the small house at the end of the road. Paladin wondered if he should feel hurt by this, by his still tweenaged son wanting to leave home, again, after being gone for so long, but all he could feel was hope, hope that maybe this is what Pippin needed – to be near Merry, with someone who understood completely, with someone to whom he would not have to explain anything. Perhaps they would sort through their memories together and find the healing they both needed.

“If this is what you need, then I give you my blessing,” Paladin said at last. “When we return to the Hall we should speak with your mother about this, but I am certain that she will understand as well. The Smials will always be there for you, Pippin, as will your mother and I, and I want you to return to us as soon as you can.” He hugged his son close. “I just want what is best for you, always.”

There were tears in his eyes but Pippin smiled and gratefully hugged his father in return. “Thank you, Da,” he said. “I am glad that you understand a little now.”

“So am I,” Paladin replied. There would be changes, but after their conversation both Paladin and Pippin were hopeful that these changes would be for the better. With that in mind, they walked on, talking lightly about happier matters as they turned back to the Hall, where luncheon awaited them.