A/N: This chapter was written for Elanor's birthday.  Beta by Dreamflower :D

Merry peered over the top of his spectacles, and put down the letter he was reading.

"Writing to Faramir?" he asked the hobbit sitting across the room.

"Yes," the hobbit replied, straightening up and putting his hand to his lower back, wincing slightly. "I haven’t heard from him in awhile, and I wanted to make sure that the family is doing all right. And I want to let him know that we are still happy and healthy."

Merry smiled. "Yes, he would worry about that, wouldn’t he? Quite the son you raised, Peregrin Took. I’m sure he is doing the Thainship proud. At least, that’s what Boromac says." Merry waved the letter he was reading in the air.

"Ah, and how is the Master of Buckland doing these days?" Pippin asked teasingly.

"Wonderful; he and Tulip are expecting another little one around Yule. I’m glad they’re having more children; Tulip is such a motherly hobbit, I can imagine her with as many children as Rosie and Sam had!"

Pippin chuckled. "Well, thank goodness the residential portion at Brandy Hall for the Master of Buckland’s family is very large with its extensive warrens. There’s certainly enough room for a large family there."

"As there is at Great Smials," Merry said with a wink.

"Yes, well; I do believe my son and his lovely Goldilocks have their hands full with four. Gracious, I don’t know how Sam and Rosie did it, I really don’t. Diamond and I had trouble enough with one…."

Merry noticed with resignation that Pippin had got that look in his eye that he always got when speaking of his beloved Diamond. Pippin’s voice trailed off, and he stared off into space with that look; Merry knew that during those times, Pippin would not respond if spoken to, so he settled himself into re-reading his letter from Boromac, while waiting patiently for Pippin to return.

Dearest Father,

Greetings from Brandy Hall, Buckland, the Shire, the Kingdom of Arnor (there, is that formal enough for a knight of the Mark?)

I hope that this letter finds you and Uncle Pippin well and in good health. We worry for you constantly. At least we know that you have safely arrived, and are settled in with the hobbit comforts that we would insist upon for you. King Elessar sounds like he knows the habits of hobbits well enough; Faramir, Goldie, Tulip and I are satisfied in that regard.

Aster just turned five; my, how she has grown in such a short time.! Soon, she will no longer be a faunt. Which reminds me… Tulip and I have some very exciting news. We are expecting another little one! The babe is expected about a week before First Yule. Isn’t that so very exciting?! Tulip is beside herself with anxiety and nervousness; you remember how difficult her first pregnancy was for her. Well, so far (and it’s been three months), nothing but mild bouts of morning sickness have plagued her. We are hoping that this pregnancy goes far more smoothly.

Now, I know you always read your letters to yourself before sharing any of them with U uncle Pip. I will tell you something now that you must keep secret from him until Faramir sends off his own letter to him. Goldilocks thinks that she is with child again! She and Faramir have told nobody but Tulip and me. You must not say anything to Uncle Pip until they are sure, and want to give him the news themselves.

But I ramble. If I know you, you’ll want a summary on the order of business here at Brandy Hall, won’t you? Well, the first haying went without incident, except for one minor accident. Young Tad Wilfoot injured his ankle…

"Merry?"

Merry looked up; Pippin had returned from wherever it was that he went whenever he mentioned Diamond.

"Sorry about that," Pippin muttered, shamefaced.

"No reason to be, Pip," Merry said gently. "I miss Stella, too. I still miss her dreadfully, even after ten years. So you are allowed, after only five."

Pippin smiled sadly. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her not being by my side when I wake up in the morning. I was always the earlier riser, and she would always still be deeply asleep when I rose for the day."

"I know," Merry smiled. "It was the opposite with me and Stella. I would always wake to an empty bed. "

Pippin grinned. "You’ve been that way since forever! I remember during the Quest, Strider would always have to shake you awake when the rest of us had already eaten breakfast and were packing everything up! You would willingly miss breakfast for a few extra winks. Very unhobbit-like, Merry."

"Yes, well… who was the one who was so cheerful in the mornings that even Legolas got annoyed?"

"Speaking of Legolas… when are he and Gimli scheduled to arrive?"

Merry checked the calendar at his side. "Sometime within the next week. And they are staying for at least a month; taking a bit of a holiday, I suppose, after all the work those two have put into setting Strider’s kingdom to rights. Where are they coming from? All the way from Annuminas, aren’t they?"

"Yes," Pippin replied. "Apparently, a whole contingent of both Dwarves and Elves were there, helping to restore the old capital. It’s taken years, but it is almost finished. Gimli and his father Gloin had led a dozen dwarves in the project, and Legolas had brought twenty or so from Mirkwood to help with the planting of trees and the landscaping."

"I can hardly wait to see them again," Merry sighed. "How long has it been since we’ve seen Legolas and Gimli? At least twenty years, hasn’t it?"

"It seems so. Far too long."

"Indeed."

The two hobbits resumed their respective activities, Merry re-reading his letter, and Pippin writing his letter to Faramir and Goldilocks. After Merry finished his letter, he pulled out his pipe and started tapping Longbottom Leaf into it. Pippin looked up, and gave Merry a look.

"Tut! Merry," Pippin said, wagging his finger," you know what Strider said about that. We’re only allowed to smoke outside, never indoors."

"Oh bother," Merry replied, easing his creaking bones out of his chair. "To expect an old hobbit like me to get up from a comfortable position, just so the inside air can remain fresh and clean…."

"Quit your grumbling," Pippin said distractedly. "You know the rules, now abide by them. After all, we are their guests. We can’t make ourselves too comfortable."

"Why not? I’m not going anywhere, likely for the remainder of my days. This is our home now."

Pippin shook his head and smiled. "No, Merry," he said softly, tapping a finger on the letter he was writing. "The Shire will always be our home."

"Oh you’re right, as usual, Pip," Merry said as he made his way to the entrance of their home. "I’m just feeling cranky because I’m feeling my age more than usual today."

Pippin took on a concerned look; he did that too often these days, Merry thought irritably. Did Pippin expect him to keel over at anytime? He didn’t like being hovered over.

"Is it your joints today, Merry?"

"No, Pip... well, yes, my joints ARE bothering me, but what's really bothering me is a general feeling of malaise. I’ll be able to shake it off by this evening, never fear." This was Wednesday evening, the one evening out of each week that the hobbits spent with Strider, Arwen, and whatever members of the family happened to be present that week. It was the King’s subtle way of keeping his eye on his small subjects, to make sure that they were yet comfortable and thriving.

Pippin remained unconvinced. "Merry, if it’s your mood that’s off, why don’t you mention it to Strider? There are things that he can do, that he learned from the Elves, that might help…"

"Leave off, Pippin!" Merry snapped. "Please, just leave it be. I’ve felt this way before, and it just went away on its own. It gets worse around the time of the year that Estella passed away. I just have to deal with it on my own."

"But you never used to get these moods…"

"I know, Pippin… I’m getting older, remember? Maladies assail the old that don’t bother the young."

"I still wish you would ask Strider…."

"No, end of story. I’m going out for a smoke."

Pippin shrugged, and went back to writing his letter. However, inwardly, he fretted. Well, if Merry wouldn’t say something to Strider, then Pippin would.

-------------------------------------

Merry sighed as he sat down on the bench just outside the doorway to his and Pippin’s house. It was a very fair day; the sun was shining brightly, the birds were a-twitter, and the smell of honeysuckle and rose teased his nostrils. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and inhaled the fragrance of the day. A butterfly hovered near his shoulder before a-lighting on it. Merry laid his walking stick across his legs, and let his mind drift.

He was well aware of where this sudden fit of malaise came from; for the past ten years, he had felt it at the same time of year… the month of AfterLithe, the month during which Estella has passed. This would mark the tenth year of her passing. Merry was sure that Pippin hadn’t caught on to the pattern… if he had, he would have said something about it already.

This year, it seemed to be clinging to him much more heavily than previous years; not surprising, since this was the tenth anniversary. He had never thought to linger on much past Estella, much less to reach the ridiculous age of one hundred and four! Granted, both his grandfather and great-grandfather had lived past one hundred, but Merry had never in a thousand years thought that he would make it so far. Saradoc had only lived to ninety-two, due in part to weak lungs.

Merry sighed again as tears stung at his eyes. He wanted, needed, to recapture his joy of living, for Pippin’s sake if not his own. He could not give up, and leave Pippin behind. Not over something as trivial as grief!

But he did not know what else to do. He would not ask Strider for help. Not after all the King had already done for them, to bother him with something so - mundane. And in previous years, he had always bounced back after a few weeks of melancholy. There was nothing to indicate that this time would be any different. Except for the intensity of the grief. It was almost as if he had lost Estella yesterday. He never would tell Pippin of the intensity of his feelings during these times, and especially now. It would only serve to cause him worry. If Pippin had any idea, he would smother him with care and concern, and as well-intentioned as that would be, Merry didn’t think he’d be able to stand it.

Slowly, Merry opened his eyes to drink in the beautiful day. The butterfly was still perched on his shoulder; Merry took care not to move abruptly so as not to startle it. The sounds of the lower levels wafted up to him.

Merry and Pippin had taken a house on the sixth level, so as to be close to Strider and the palace. Their house was a small, one-story affair that had been especially built for them when Strider heard of the plans of his perian friends to settle in Gondor. The door to the entrance was round and made hobbit-high, with the ceilings inside somewhat lower than the norm. There were no stairs, for Strider had remembered that Hobbits do not care for heights. It had taken time to accustom themselves to the higher levels once more, but Strider wanted his friends close by in case anything unforeseen were to happen.

Now, Merry was listening to the hustle and bustle of the crowds below him. He could hear the hawkers of their wares as the merchants settled into the hubbub of the busy mid-day. He could even smell the aroma of freshly baked bread coming from his favourite bakery on the fifth level. Which reminded him, he and Pippin needed to take a jaunt there later this afternoon, to replenish their supplies of bread, rolls and pastries. It was amazing how much two elderly hobbits went through of those foodstuffs in a week!

Merry was surprised that Pippin hadn’t followed him outside by now. But no, it was about two o’clock; the time when the Hobbits usually partook of a nice, long afternoon nap until nearly tea-time. It was probably best that he make his way back in, and lie down on a nice, soft, cushy down mattress. Groaning, he gently dislodged the butterfly from his shoulder, used his cane to prop himself up and pushed himself up with his other hand. Bother, his joints ached today! He wondered if a storm was coming. He stretched, getting all the kinks out of his back before heading back inside.

Merry smiled as he walked back to the rear of the house where his and Pippin’s rooms were. He could hear gentle snores coming from Pippin’s room; so he had retired a bit early, and was already asleep. That happened fairly often, since Pippin was always up at some ungodly hour of the morning, usually well before dawn. Merry shook his head. He never did see the sense of getting up to start the day when the Sun hadn’t even peeped her head above the horizon yet! If it was too early for the Sun, it was too early for a hobbit. He’d felt that way since he was a faunt, and he wasn’t about to change now that he was one hundred and four!

He pushed open the door to his room, and made his way to the bed. Sighing, he set his walking stick to the side, and brought his right foot up on his knee to massage it. Not only did his back hurt today, but his feet hurt as well, and he hadn’t even done much walking today. Getting old has its disadvantages, Merry decided as he lay down. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

He felt himself floating, floating gently; all sensations were suspended as he felt lighter than air, floating like a feather on the breeze. Slowly he descended. Hearing, seeing and touching nothing, he could still sense that he was falling. Not at a shocking speed, but gently...ever so gently. He sighed as he let his mind drift. He didnt' know where he was, or WHO he was; all he knew was that he was a hobbit. No other knowledge came to him as his mind sought to figure out what was going on.

Inhaling deeply, he smelled a lingering scent of lemon. Wasn't that the soaps that the laundress at Brandy Hall used for the linens? He hadn't smelled that particular aroma since ... well, too many years to count, he imagined. The next thing he smelled was a hint of onion, along with garlic and sage. Breakfast? His mouth started watering.

Then the sounds started to intrude, very softly at first. He thought he could hear a young child, a faunt perhaps, crying softly. He heard a soft voice whisper in his ear "Merry? Merry, it's time to wake up."

Shifting in his sleep, he rolled over on his side and proceeded to drift back off. Now the sensation of touch was present. He could feel the softness surrounding him, from his head to his feet. He felt the softness of the pillow that enveloped his head. Sighing contentedly, he burrowed under his covers and tried to block everything out. But it was to no avail. He was on the verge of waking, and nothing could stop that now.

The last sense to return to him was sight. He slowly cracked open his eyelids, and peered out from under the blankets. Estella's face was about an inch away from his, and she was smiling sweetly. "Hello, love," she said softly. "I let you sleep in because you stayed up so late last night. Breakfast is ready, and there's a three year old who has been awake for a couple of hours now; I've held him off as long as I could, but soon he'll want to see his da."

Merry smiled as he stretched languorously, reaching up to cup Estella's cheek in his hand. Sitting up, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "Hmm, just as good as breakfast," he murmured as his stomach grumbled in protest.

Estella laughed merrily, and patted him on the shoulder. "Alas, my shining knight, your stomach doth give you away! I cooked this myself, and made your very favourite meal."

Merry rubbed his belly in anticipation. "Lass, you are far too good to me," he said.

"I know," she cheekily replied. She reached over to wheel the breakfast cart over to her husband. "Here, " she said as she raised the lid on the plate of steaming food.

"Oh goodness," Merry said as he inhaled the sweet aroma of breakfast. Piled on the plate were scrambled eggs with cheese; potatoes mixed with onions and garlic; fat, succulent, juicy sausages; sliced tomatoes; and toast with raspberry jam already spread on them. Estella reached for the pitcher of milk, poured it into the waiting mug halfway, then filled it the rest of the way with the tea which was sitting off to the side.

"This is absolutely perfect!" Merry exclaimed. He winked at Estella as she deftly retrieved a breakfast tray from underneath the cart, and she started loading the tray up with Merry's plate and mug.

"Lie back, dear, and enjoy your breakfast in bed!" she said triumphantly.

"Thank you, m'dear," Merry smiled. He took a moment to take in the look of the meal first, for it had been arranged as very pleasing to the eye. But one can admire a thing with a mouth-watering aroma only so long, and Merry finally set to. "What time is it?" he asked around a mouthful of egg.

"Eight o'clock," Estella replied. "I'll get Boromac dressed and ready to meet his papa after you've eaten."

"Eight o'clock!" Merry almost choked. "My dear, you shouldn't have let me sleep so long! There's so much to be done today; Did Pippin ever arrive last night? We need to go over those figures .. "

"Merry!" Estella reprimanded, hands on hips and glaring at her husband. "You work far too hard! You were up until 2 am last night; six hours of sleep is the least that you need in order to function during a busy day like today. Pippin can wait for however long he needs to. He arrived around midnight last night; he was bone tired, so I showed him to his room right away. I don't know if he's up yet or not; knowing him and the early riser that he is, he's probably been up for hours. I haven't seen him yet this morning. At any rate, he will wait until you have eaten your fill, and played with your son for a few moments."

"Yes dear," Merry said humbly, as he continued shovelling food into his mouth. Lawks, his wife was a good cook! He wished she cooked more often, but she really didn't have the time, not with all of her other duties as mistress of the hall. Well, he would take what he could get, and enjoy it all the more for its rarity.

Suddenly, a mist appeared before his eyes. Blinking rapidly, Merry reached up with his hand to wave it aside... but it would not go away. Instinctively, Merry knew what was going to happen. He wasn't going to fight it, though; he just leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes. The sound of Estella's voice gradually faded away, the smells of his food dissipated. He could still feel the bed underneath him, and the pillows under his head, but even that evenutally gave way to nothingness. This time, however, he knew who he was and what had just happened. His mind was perfectly clear, and his surroundings came back to him in a rush.

Merry opened his eyes, blinking back the tears that were coursing down his face. He sighed as the room came into focus; the room that he had been sleeping in for over a year now, ever since he and Pippin had arrived in Minas Tirith. And that was probably Pippin knocking at the door; had Merry cried aloud in his sleep? He closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the lingering vestiges of the dream. Opening his eyes, he looked at the clock that was sitting by his bedside; he had overslept by about thirty minutes. Sitting up as he wiped his face, he called out, "I'm awake! Come on in."

As expected, Pippin tentatively appeared. "I didn't want you to sleep through dinner, Merry. I'm sorry; if you're not feeling well, Strider will understand. Do you want me to send a messenger?"

Merry smiled. "No, Pip; I'm fine. I guess I just needed the extra sleep."

"The extra sleep? You sleep two hours later than I each morning to begin with, how could you need more sleep?? And they say that the older one gets, the less sleep one needs." Pippin peered closely at Merry, a concerned frown on his face. "Are you sure that you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Pippin!" Merry said a bit testily. "Now let's get ready for dinner; I've already got a late start. I'll be out shortly." Merry turned away, effectively dismissing Pippin.

Frowning, Pippin took the hint, and left Merry's room. As he shut the door, he stood in the hallway and sighed. Maybe it was time to ask Strider for his opinion on Merry's state of mind. But he would have to do so without Merry knowing about it. That would involve some sneaking around, something Pippin had never been very good at. Well, he would have to do his best. Maybe he could corner Strider tonight at dinner without Merry noticing. Squaring his shoulders, he marched off to his room, mulling a plan over in his head.

TBC...