"Come along Meriadoc, keep up!"

 Merry shot a dirty look at Pippin's back.  Today, he was feeling all eight years difference between their ages.   Pippin was far up the path ahead, swinging the picnic basket and, in general, acting like a tween.

Merry scowled.  He was in a bad frame of mind this morning; his body kept announcing proof of his great age, and complaining about the journey he and Pip had set out upon a little over a fortnight ago. 

Merry had received a letter from King Éomer, begging him to come and be with him one last time.  The king's health was declining, and had been steadily for some time.  At 102 years of age, Merry knew that he was awfully old to be taking the long trip to Edoras, but he felt that he must.  After all, he wouldn't be alone...Pippin wouldn't let him leave without bringing him along, of course.

Both of their wives were now gone, so there was nothing keeping them anchored to the Shire.  Their children had taken over most of their duties as Thain and Master, so there was no big fuss about handing over responsibilities.  Oh, Merry liked to keep his hands in the thick of things, but at least he could know that Boromac had things well in hand.

Merry shook himself out of his reverie.  He really needed to stop daydreaming so much.  He was having trouble with that lately -- one more thing to blame on his old age.  He needed to be aware of his surroundings, for Pippin if for no other reason.

The loss of Diamond was a fairly recent one for Pippin. She had left him not more than 8 months previous.  He desperately needed some distraction from his grief.  When Merry had shown him Éomer's letter, he had fairly begged to come along.  Like Sam, he had been entranced with the elves and would dearly love the stop in Rivendell.  They hadn't seen an elf in over 20 years, when they had last seen Legolas.  They were to spend a week here before pushing on.  This was their third morning here, and they were being spoiled by Elladan and Elrohir, both of whom had elected to stay in Middle earth.

The change in Pippin had been heartening.  He seemed like his old self again; singing songs, chattering, altogether too much of a morning-hobbit for Merry's taste.  Pippin had woken them both up at the crack of dawn these past few days, having packed enough for a picnic breakfast and second breakfast, and then dragging Merry with him to explore the parts of Rivendell they hadn't seen up until now.  Merry would grumble, but he was actually glad to see his cousin enjoying life again.  Stella had been gone for almost 10 years, so Merry's pain had dulled a good time ago; Pippin's, however, was far fresher.  He had been stuck in mourning for months now.

"Hoy, Pippin!  Wait up, lad!"

Merry huffed and puffed up to where Pippin sat beneath a huge oak tree overlooking a beautiful waterfall.  They had found this place yesterday, and had decided to come back today and enjoy the view.  Pippin had taken up painting lately, and he had already set up his easel and had his paints ready.  It really did make a beautiful picture...there was even a rainbow today arcing across the top of the fall.  The mist was very light today, and the river was a deep blue.  Pippin had started the painting yesterday, and was finishing it today.

"Merry!  It's even more beautiful than I remember!"  Pippin's green eyes twinkled and shone, and his smile gladdened Merry's heart.  "I love the early mornings; the lighting is spectacular during these times."

Merry smiled indulgently as he eased his body down against the tree.  He reached into the picnic basket and drew out some cheese and sliced apples.  He sighed contentedly as he watched Pippin paint the scene before him.  "Well, what do you say, Pip? Who would have thought...you, an artist!" 

Pippin smiled back.  "It's amazing how much this relaxes me.  My thoughts stop racing, and settle down for awhile when I paint.  You might try it, Merry."

Merry smirked.  "Me?  I think not.  I'll leave the creative drive to you, cousin.  I have my books." That was always one big difference between the two.  Merry had always been an avid reader, whereas Pippin was not nearly as interested in the written word.  He kept a large library at Great Smials, and he did read from time to time, but nowhere close to as much as Merry did.  Pippin was a visual person, so it would make sense that he would turn to painting and sketching. 

Pippin set his paints down, walked over and sat next to Merry.  He reached into the basket, rummaged around, and finally pulled out a small crock of cold strawberries, and a separate, smaller tin cup of whipped cream.  Ice had been on hand at the last Homely House, and Merry and Pippin made good use of it with their picnics.

After a time, Pippin asked softly, "Merry?"

"Yes, Pip?"

"I feel more at peace today than I have in a long time.  The grief does blunt in time, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Pip, it does.  It takes a long time, but it does become more bearable as time goes on." He put his arm around his cousin and pulled him close.  Pippin laid his head on Merry's shoulder and closed his eyes. Merry smiled.  For all that Pippin rarely acted his age, he could still fall asleep on a silver penny.  Very shortly, soft snores could be heard coming from Merry's side.  Merry patted Pippin's shoulder, and leaned back to take his own nap.

On the way back, Merry and Pippin ran into Elladan.  "Good afternoon, Sir Meriadoc and Sir Peregrin," greeted Elladan, bowing slightly.  "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Beautiful day!"  Pippin chirped happily.  Elladan smiled.  He was always amazed at how cheerful hobbits tended to be.  Even two elderly ones, who had their share of aches and pains.  Merry wasn't quite as buoyant as Pippin, but what hobbit was?  Pippin's spirit had ever been unquenchable.  That was part of why Merry loved him so fiercely.

"Will you be joining us at the Hall of Fire this evening?" Elladan asked.  The previous two nights the hobbits had begged off, claiming to be too tired.  "Perhaps you can tell us some stories of the Quest."

Merry smiled indulgently.  "We may, if we're up to it. Actually, I haven't had Rivendell ale in ... well, years!  I hope you serve some tonight."

"But of course, Sir Merry.  Anything you need."  Merry sighed.  It seemed that outside the Shire, they were to be treated as heroes and subject to special treatment their whole lives, no matter how much they objected.  No getting away from it, I guess, Merry thought.  Especially if we head to Gondor afterwards.  In Minas Tirith, the Travellers were the most famous of all, and would be catered to almost to the point of embarrassment.  The merchants there still refused payment from any of the holbytla.

"Where is your brother this fine day?" Pippin asked.  Rarely did one see one Elven brother without the other.  The two were as close, if not closer, as Merry and Pippin were.  Pippin was glad they had stayed; it was nice to see familiar faces among the elves, after so many had left Middle earth.

"Elrohir is out hunting today.  Tonight we are to have a feast in your honour, sirs.  Hopefully he will be able to bring home some game for us to enjoy."

Pippin grinned.  If there was one thing age hadn't dimmed for him, it was his appetite.  Pippin could still out-eat almost every hobbit except for Merry.  A feast sounded just fine to him.  "That is very generous of your people, Elladan. Our thanks for making us feel so welcome."

Elladan smiled.  "Only the Ringbearer and his companion accord higher honour among us, young sirs; even the King falls behind you in rank when it comes to treatment within our walls." The hobbits blushed, and giggled at being called "young."  Only the Firstborn would say so.

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After the feast that night (Elrohir had brought down a succulent boar), Pippin regaled the hosts of Rivendell with his beautiful voice as he sang many songs from the Shire.  The elves were delighted with this; they couldn't get enough of the hobbits' singing and stories.  Merry told the story of how he and Pippin found out Frodo was planning on leaving without so much as a good-bye.  Merry still wept whenever he told this story; it was perhaps the saddest thing that had ever happened to him during his life.  Next to Pippin, Frodo had been Merry's nearest and dearest cousin and friend.

They had just returned from Brandy Hall after an enjoyable evening of supper with Merry's parents.  The lovely Estella had also been in attendance, which had warmed Merry's heart immensely.  Pippin had given him glances throughout the evening that suggested he knew what was on his cousin's mind, and that he was glad of it.  Merry had been sweet on Estella since before they had left on the Quest, and Pippin was fairly sure that they would make a match of it, eventually, when Merry finally screwed up his courage to start courting her.  As confident as Merry was in all else, courting still managed to scare the young warrior worse than the Witch-King ever could.

  Pippin was putting the ponies away, and Merry was just about ready to set a fire in the hearth, when the sound of approaching hooves distracted him.  "Who could this be?"  he thought to himself as he made his way to the door.  Traffic was always light near Crickhollow, and at this time of night pretty much non-existent.  Honed instincts and habit made Merry reach for his sword that was lying across pegs in the wall as he opened the door.  One never knew.

  "Greetings, Meriadoc," said a familiar voice.

  "Gandalf!"  Merry cried, and ran out to greet the visitor.  Gandalf raised his eyebrows at the sight of Merry's sword.  "What news do you bring us, for I see in your face that it probably isn't what would be considered good."

  "Not good, but neither is it bad.  You and Pippin will want to saddle up and ride to the Grey Havens, for that is where Frodo is headed.  I would not have him leave you without a proper good-bye."

  "Good-bye?" Merry asked weakly.  He felt his knees start to give out; he would have fallen if he hadn't leaned against his sword to keep himself upright.  He had a bad feeling about this; he was reminded of another time, not too long ago, when Frodo tried to give him the slip.  Well, he didn't succeed then, and he wasn't going to succeed now.

  "Yes, good-bye," Gandalf repeated.  "He means to sail with the elves into the West, along with Bilbo.  You must hurry."

  Merry blinked back tears of sorrow and, he was surprised to find out, anger.  He was angry at Frodo for trying to leave without saying goodbye.  Suddenly all of those feelings from when he was 7 years old came flooding back ... the feelings he had felt when Frodo told him he was leaving Brandy Hall for good to go live with Bilbo.  The feeling of rejection had been overwhelming for such a young lad, and he hasn't left his room for days after Frodo left, crying his little heart out.  He was a child no longer, but he felt reduced to one now.

  "Now, Merry," Gandalf said gently, "Do not be angry with Frodo.  You know how sorrowful he's been these past two years, and how much in need of healing he is.  He still blames himself for claiming the Ring."

  "I know what he blames himself for!"  Merry said angrily.  "I don't see how leaving us is going to help him.  Wouldn't it be better for him to stay among those who love him, his friends and family?  We can help him heal more than any elves can.  He's just stubborn, and doesn't want to be a burden to us.  But he could never be a burden, doesn't he see that?  We love him." 

  "I know that you do, and he knows it, too.  But the Shire no longer holds the joy for him that it once did.  It doesn't mean that he loves you any less, Merry.  None of us can know what he's been through, or everything that happened during that dark time in Mordor.  I trust his judgment; if he feels this is what he must do, then you have to let him do it.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and give him the support that he needs in this decision."

  Merry looked up and gave Gandalf a dark look; but his look soon softened, for he knew in his heart that Gandalf's words rang true. 

  "All right, Gandalf," Merry said resignedly.  "We just returned from a trip, but we will hasten our way onto another.  Are you going to say goodbye too?"

  "I am going, but not to say goodbye; I am leaving Middle earth as well." At this Merry's eyes widened as he looked at the wizard in astonishment. "My work here is done, and it is time to move on.  I will see you at the Havens."  With that, the wizard turned Shadowfax around and galloped away.

Merry swallowed as he paused in his story.  That had been the worst day of his life, seeing Frodo off to the Lonely Island.  He had kept up a brave front for Pippin and Sam, even singing on the way home.  But inside he had been dying.  It wasn't until many years later that he had confided in Pippin what his true feelings had been that day.

Pippin tactfully reached over and grasped Merry's arm, while aloud he said, "I think that's enough for one night.  Merry and I will be retiring now."  He put his arm around Merry, and gently led him out of the Hall of Fire towards their rooms.  After Pippin got Merry settled in his bed, he went to the kitchens to prepare a sleeping draught.  After administering it to his cousin, Pippin went to his own bed, crawled in, and finally gave vent to his own tears. 

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The next morning, Pippin let Merry sleep until almost past elevenses.  Yesterday had been hard on him emotionally, and Pippin wanted to make sure that he got his rest.  The rest of their stay in Rivendell was quite subdued compared to the first couple of days.  Merry and Pippin spent their time relaxing with pipes, eating, and listening to elven stories and songs.  They spent a lot of their time with Elladan and Elrohir, just walking and talking, or sitting and talking.  The last couple of days were spent in scholarly study by Merry, who was taking notes on elven herblore.  He still had some writing he wanted to do, and some passages to add to his book on herblore.  While Merry did this, Pippin would whittle away on the gift he was making Merry for his birthday.  All of his life, Merry had said how much he wished he could play a musical instrument.  Pippin had decided that he would make a flute for Merry, and that would be one complaint out of the way!  Pippin was sure Merry would love it, that he wasn't complaining just to hear himself talk, but that he did have an inherent love of music that he never was able to focus on before.  Pippin was a fair woodworker, so he hoped that his gift would be something worthy of the type of music he hoped to hear Merry play upon it.

The eighth morning of their stay dawned bright and beautiful.  Pippin had risen very early, and had gone to the waterfall that he had painted in order to see the sun cast her rays on its waters.  It was a sight to behold.  The pinks and purples of the sunrise reflected in the water slowly faded to orange and yellow, until finally the blue of the river came sparkling through.  Tears ran down Pippin's cheeks as he realized this was the last morning he would ever spend in Rivendell.  Oh, he hoped to see elves again, namely Legolas, but he would probably never see Elladan and Elrohir again, or any elf that remained at the Last Homely House.   They had never said it out loud, but he was sure that Merry and he were making a one-way trip this time.  That was as it should be, but it made saying farewell especially poignant, and Pippin had always been a hobbit to wear his feelings on his sleeve. 

Sighing, Pippin turned around and made his way back.  As he came around the last bend in the path, he saw that Merry had already prepared their ponies for them.  Smiling gratefully, Pippin greeted Merry with a warm hug.  "Did you sleep well, cousin?" he asked. 

Merry smiled. "Very.  The last few nights have been very restful.  I think we'll need it on our continuing journey, where we'll have to sleep outdoors again, on the ground." Merry grimaced.  "I think I shall miss these nice, soft featherbeds."

"Aye," Pippin agreed, "I couldn't agree more.  How long is it now between here and Edoras?"

"About 200 leagues, perhaps more.  Since we have to backtrack to Bree in order to hit the Greenway, it should take a little over a month and a half if we keep a good pace.  Hey, we'll be celebrating your birthday on the way, Pip!"

"So we shall," Pippin smiled, remembering that he had just finished up Merry's gift the night before.  Good timing, he thought.

Elladan and Elrohir came out to greet the hobbits.  "Come in for one last breakfast before you leave," Elladan offered.  "We have a small sack of gifts we'd like you to take to King Éomer, King Elessar and their families if you would be so kind.  They are small and light, and won't take up much room."

"We'd be more than happy to deliver them," Merry said.  "Now I can smell eggs and sausage from here....lead the way!"

Elladan laughed delightedly.  Merry had just finished some porridge and toast, and now was already ready for more food.  Trust a hobbit; their appetites didn't seem to slacken with age.  He hoped Éomer could keep these two fed in the manner to which they were accustomed...and King Elessar as well.  Two hobbits could certainly out-eat two men of any size. 

Merry and Pippin passed a leisurely hour eating breakfast with Elladan and Elrohir.  They had said their goodbyes the previous night to anybody else they wanted to say a special farewell to.  Right now it was just the four of them.

Elrohir commented, "We visited Estel and Arwen about three months ago.  They seem to be doing very well.  Eldarion just had his fourth child ... a boy, finally, after three girls.  Estel was ecstatic, as you can well imagine.  He loves his granddaughters, but a grandson gives him special joy.  Now the future of the throne is secured for another generation."

Merry smiled.  "Hopefully we will be able to meet the little heir after we leave Edoras.  What did they name him?"

Elladan grew solemn.  "Iorhael," he said softly.  Merry and Pippin gave a start; even they knew enough Elvish to translate that name.  "What an honour," Pippin said softly, tears in his eyes.  "I wish Frodo knew."

"He would probably be embarrassed by it," Merry laughed.  "He was always uncomfortable with any honor that was bestowed upon him, and I can't imagine him feeling any different about this.  But I'm glad .. even if he never knows about it, he deserves the recognition.  The heir to the throne of Gondor, named after my cousin."  The tears were flowing freely down Merry's face. 

The four sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in memories of the Ringbearer.  Right now, they were all fond memories.

After the hobbits had filled up the corners with scones and strawberry jam, they made to depart.  The two brothers accompanied them out to where their three ponies waited ... Merry's mount, Gandalf, Pippin's pony Gimli, and their pack animal, Bilbo.  All three were well-laden with gear, food (lots of that), and gifts.   They wouldn't be camping out every day, but these two enjoyed the outdoors, so they would be cooking and sleeping outside for most of the trip.

It was a tearful farewell. Elves usually hold their emotions in check, but hobbits are very demonstrative, and Merry and Pippin's tears brought forth tears in Elladan and Elrohir.  Finally, the embraces ceased, and the two hobbits mounted their ponies. 

There was nothing left to say.  Merry and Pippin gave one last smile to the brothers, and lifted their hands in farewell.  Then they faced forward, straightened their backs, and headed out of Rivendell for the last time, Edoras in front, the Last Homely House at their backs. 

To be continued.....