REPOST

Disclaimers: All characters, places and events are the sole property of the Tolkien Estate. I receive no money for this piece of fiction, only the satisfaction of writing about the land and peoples that he so beautifully depicted.

Warnings: I've written a song ... so be warned. It's in the typical Irish ballad style I heard from my grandmother so often.

A/N: At last, a lighthearted chapter to make up for all the others. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. I also hope you can understand what they are saying, as they are quite inebriated. (It gave my spell checker fits!!!)

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 35

Merry stumble down the corridor of the Houses of Healing until he found himself in the bright afternoon sunlight. He did not relish the long, arduous climb up the hill and through the gates to the Citadel, but he was on a mission. So he found his feet, and began to walk, somewhat wobbly, towards the seventh level of Minas Tirith. A horse galloped up to him, and its rider offered a hearty hail.

“My dearest hobbit, where are you going on such unsteady legs?” laughed the Steward of Gondor.

“Faramir, how fair you, my dea' frien'?” countered Merry with a lopsided grin.

“I am well, little one. But where are you off to?” Faramir asked again.

“I have an urgen' erran' at the Cit'del, Far'mir, bu' my legs are tire' an' I am abi't unner the weathrr at the momen',” slurred Merry, as he staggered about the horse.

“Truly? Are you unwell, Merry?” Faramir asked with concern as he quickly dismounted to look more closely at the weaving hobbit before him.

“No, no nothin' like tha'. I will be fine in time,” Merry replied as he batted his hand at the Steward and miss by a league.

“I too, am bound for the Citadel to meet with the King. Would you like to ride with me instead of walking all that way?” asked Faramir, still feeling concern at his friends obvious lack of balance.

“Tha' would be mos' kin' of you, Far'mir. I would be honnort to ride wi' 'oou,” Merry grinned. He snapped to attention, then leaned precariously towards the Steward.

Faramir placed Merry up on the horse first and then jumped up behind him. “Merry, what *have* you been into? Here I was, thinking you were ill, and you are nothing short of being completely soused. You absolutely reek of alcohol, it's obvious you are very drunk,” he scolded.

“Ah, bu' my Sleward, it was for a worthee caus'. I have been with Fro'oh and it too' a bit to loossn his tongue an' tell me 'is storee. ‘Course, we had to cellbraa' af'erwards. All jus' inn'cent fun, I assur' 'oou,” Merry looked up at Faramir with the most beguiling expression on his face.

Faramir had realized, early on, that the hobbits had a way of wrapping he and everyone else, around their little fingers. He felt completely helpless to do anything except whatever they wished when they turned their eager faces up and looked at him like this.

He smiled. “And, were you successful, dear friend?” he asked, knowing the pain the Ringbearer still kept hidden deep inside himself and hoping desperately, that Merry had had some success in reaching out to Frodo.

“More than sussessful, Far'mir. Fro'oh an' I haff been tal'kenn frohowrs. I trulee beleefe I haff helted him, in some small way. At leas' I hope I haff. Time will tell if I wass truwe sussessful in my underkating,” Merry said sadly.

They arrived at the seventh level and the guards stood back to admit the Steward and his companion. “Will you be here on the seventh level long, Merry? My meeting with the King should not take long, and then I would like very much to visit Frodo and see how he fairs,” Faramir asked.

“Fro'oh will pro'bly be asweep,” Merry hedged, “Bu', if you wiss to see'em you cou'd come by laler 'dis eve. I know how verr' mush he wanss to visit wi' you. Ass fo' myself, I plan to be done wi' my errann within an 'ours time, and then musss return to my couss'n.”

“Then perhaps, I will see you as you descend to the Houses of Healing and would delight in your company once again, if it is meant to be.” Faramir smiled and lowered the hobbit to the ground. They dismounted and a page took Faramir's horse to the stables. They walked together in comradely silence into the Citadel. Merry waved good-bye as Faramir went down the long corridor to the Kings throne room.

Merry gained the steps and climbed wearily up towards the Kings quarters. At the door were the guards that Merry had encountered the night previous. They smiled down at Merry as he approached. “Goo' day t' 'oou, gennlemen,” Merry said with a wobbly bow.

“Good day to you, Master Periannth.” They too, smiled and bowed. “Do you have need of our services this day?”

“I do, kinn' sirs. The Keen wishes me to brin' some of his finess vintage to sofen 'de 'earts of sdose visining from far lanns. He asts that I pwocure his own, priwate laball whish he has in his cham'ers. I am here to do so.” Merry lied smoothly, and then gave them his most innocent look.

The guards knew in what high esteem the King held the Periannth, even though this one was obviously inebriated, they saw no threat to allowing Merry access to the royal chambers. They had received no word that the hobbit would be coming for the spirits, but thought this merely an oversight by the royal court. They moved to the doors and held them open as Merry walked inside. “Let us know, young Master, if there is ought else we can do to assist you,” one of the guards offered.

“You are too kinn', goo' sir. I shall not be lonn', tha..nk (hic) yoou,” said Merry innocently. The door closed and Merry giggled to himself. He didn’t think Aragorn would mind if he took a few decanters to Frodo. After all, it was for Frodo’s healing process that the spirits were needed, he convinced himself. He moved to the cabinet by the window where all manner of delicately crafted bottles and different colored liquids resided. One by one, he opened and sniffed them, trying to discern if each was something that could be imbibed or if it was a medicine, to be avoided. Strangely, they all seemed to smell about the same, but Merry did recognize another decanter of the elvish vintage that Frodo so preferred. The sweet light fragrance was unmistakable. Finding a small cloth sack he gently placed the decanter within. He found two more bottles that, to him, smelled like wine and placed those in the bag with the first. He truly wanted an ale, but the ale in Gondor was far inferior to the Shires, so he stuck with the wines. He staggered across the room towards the door, taking one last look back at the mess he had left in the King’s room while he had expanded his search. He thought briefly about trying to tidy the room, but remembered that Frodo was waiting, and so he turned his back and wobbled slowly out of the chamber. He stopped at the door, bowed and thanked the guards for their assistance. They smiled in return and chuckled softly at the site of the small hobbit walking, somewhat unsteadily, down the corridor with the huge bag slung on his back.

Faramir had finished speaking with the King and was making his way to the courtyard, when he spied Merry struggling with his baggage. “Merry, wait, I can carry that for you, my friend. Besides, I do not wish you to be staggering about when you are so obviously 'under the weather',” he called, with a laugh.

Merry stopped and turned a huge smile on his face, and said, “Far'mir you trulee are my safior today. Bearwing me hence, caree'ing my burdens, and then bearwing me away ag'in, if I am not bein' too forwar'.”

“Not at all, Master Brandybuck. I would be delighted to return you to your cousin,” he said with a smile. He hoisted Merry up onto the horse’s back, handed him the bag, and then climbed up behind him in the saddle. “And what, may I ask, is within this bag? It is quite heavy, I am amazed you got as far as you did,” he asked with a quirk of a smile.”

“A suppwise for Fro'oh, no less. I am sure he will finn' 'dis to be to his likeeng,” Merry smiled.

“Ah, a mystery for me, but perhaps not for Frodo, eh?” Faramir chuckled.

Merry laughed delightedly, “'oou hav' seen thwough me, ass ussual Far'mir,” he said.

They arrived at the Houses of Healing, and Faramir lowered Merry to the ground, handing the bag down lastly. “Tell Frodo I look forward to seeing him later, but now I have an errand to run for the King. Take care, Meriadoc, I will discover this ‘mystery’ later, I hope,” he said with a chuckle.

“Indee' you will, Far'mir. Until late', 'den.” Merry waved and congratulated himself on how very easy his return trip had been. Certainly he had been deceptive, but he kept telling himself that is was for Frodo’s benefit, and all would be forgiven in the end. He smiled and stumbled into the sick house and down the corridor to Frodo’s room. He walked in and saw his cousin staring dreamily up at the ceiling. “Hass ane'one bothered 'ou, Fro’ while I was 'way?” he asked.

“No. Ssam c'me by and I prenended to be aslee'. He’s sush a goo' frienn', bu' I simmly do no' feel li'e eatinn' righ' now. I ’ave founn tha' if 'oou feign slee' someptimes they, meanin' 'da healslers, 'ill leaf you 'lone. 'Though I do feel verr' guiltly doin' it to Ssam,” Frodo sighed.

“How do 'oou feel, cous'n?” Merry asked tentatively. He knew that Frodo had much healing yet to come, that one brief, emotional discussion of his torment would not be enough to purge him of the bleakness that had taken hold over him, but it was a start in the right direction, at least.

Frodo turned and smiled at Merry, “Be'ter, Mer’, mush be'ter. So wha' 'ave you brough' in tha' huge bag, if I may be so boll' as to asst?” He looked apprehensive knowing Merry’s penchant for trouble, but still felt too loose and comfortable from the wine to let it bother him over much.

Merry began to pull all manner of delicate crystal glassware from the bag, each holding a different colored liquid, and each, it seemed larger than the last. “More spirsits to continoo our con'ersation wid,” Merry said with a laugh.

Frodo winced. “Merwy, no mo'. I canno' continoo tohay to talk of all tha's on my minn' an' hearts,” he said. His face had paled at the mention of more ‘conversation’ and he began to tremble.

“No, Fro'o, no thas’s not wha' I meann'.” Merry reached for his cousin and pulled him to him. “You haff benn ssso bwave today, I would not asts any mor'n of 'oou. I jes' wannet to join you in a nigh'cap, if thas’s alright?” he said soothingly, and then smiled down at his cousin.

“A nigh'cap? 'Oou haff 'nough 'der to fill the Brannywine,” Frodo laughed.

“Indeed. Bu'ff we haff worksoveree hardt today, so it shoo't be a large nigh'cap, don’n you thinks cousnn?” Merry’s eyes were lit up with a devilish glint, and Frodo could not help himself as he began to giggle uncontrollably.

Merry threw the bolt on the door, and climbed up on the huge bed. He made Frodo comfortable against the headboard, and sat facing him cross legged on the bed. “Whish shoul' we try firs', do you thinn?” he mused.

“I like 'dat one inn the dar' red detancter. Wha' say 'oou, cousnn?” volunteered Frodo.

“I say bommoms up, Fro’” again they laughed until they all but fell from the bed. Merry opened the decanter and poured two very healthy man sized goblets of the dark red liquid. Each sniffed, smiled at each other, and then downed the entire goblet in one huge, gasping gulp. “Ah, sos ist’s a competission 'oou wan', is it, my Hobbibon relaxion?” Merry’s eyes danced with glea.

“No, Mer’ I jes' wann' taste everysing. I feel li'e a new hobvit. I wann' to feel and tais'e and enjoy ag'in. The fasser I drinn t'is, the fasser we can moove on to the nest bobble, don’n 'oou thinn?” Frodo grinned mischievously.

“Fro'oh, it has been too lonn since you haff bin you' ole, defian’ selfs. And I can’n fall't 'er logshic, as uswel,” he grinned.

One by one they made their way through the cache of decanters, drinking far more than any man could, because it was a well know fact that hobbits could drink almost as much as they could eat. Empty bottles lay strewn about the bed and on the floor. There had been a few minor accidents and stains of various colors spotted the bed and their clothing. But no one was complaining. They were quite completely drunk, balanced precariously against each other, trying to hold the other up in order to pour the liquids into the goblets, and not on the counterpane. Finally, they gave up and began drinking from the delicate crystal bottles themselves.

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...*Meanwhile......at the Citadel, in the King's quarters* ...

Aragorn and Arwen were laughing and walking towards their rooms, arm in arm, very much enjoying one another's company. They walked past the guards with a nod and entered the room. Both stood transfixed with the mess that greeted their astonished eyes.

"What in the name of Eru has happened to our quarters????" Aragorn demanded in a yell. The guards rushed in, swords drawn, expecting to find a physical threat to the King and his Queen. They looked around the room, mouths agape, at a scene of total chaos. "Were you not here at your post all evening,?" The King commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesties, and we heard nothing amiss that could have done such damage."
One of the guards elbowed his counterpart and whispered in his ear.

"What are you whispering about? SPEAK! You have not caught me in the best of moods," Aragorn fixed a deadly look at each of the guards.

One of the guards cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, we know you have a special fondness for the periannth, and so thought your orders to let no one enter did not include them," he said nervously. He did not wish to be reduced in rank for his misjudgment, but knew it was best to be forthright with the King.

"Yes, that is true. I do not see what this has..." Aragorn's sentence drifted off. Now he noticed that his cabinet that held all of the spirits and wines, most gifts from regions being gathered into his realm, were in disarray or gone entirely. "Which of the periannth was allowed into my chambers?" he asked grimly.

"Your Highness, they all look the same to us, except of course, the Ringbearer," the guard said gulping.

"Describe him to me, and let us see if we can rule out the others," commanded the King.

"He had curly blond hair, and a pert face....oh,....and a twinkle in his eye. He said he was retrieving the decanters for you and your guests. Since he was a periannth, I deemed it was all right to allow him access. I beg your deepest pardon, My Lord, if I have erred in judgment, and this was not your wish." the older of the two guards was now on bent knee before Aragorn and Arwen.

A light, girlish, giggle escaped behind Arwen's covered mouth. Aragorn himself, was having trouble controlling his grin.

"You have done nothing wrong, my men. I will deal with the culprit myself....and if I know my hobbits, it can only be one person," he smiled grimly at Arwen. "Shall we, my Lady, take a stroll to the Houses of Healing?"

She laughed outright, a fine clear sound like silver bells to the guards ears, "Of course, my husband, I would enjoy seeing the saviors of Middle Earth again, and I would not miss this for all the Mallorn's in Lothlorien." She put her arm in Aragorn's and they walked, with purpose, towards the seventh gate and made their way to the houses of healing.

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Sam had no success all that day trying to get food into his Master. The times he had approached the room the door was either barred, or Frodo was asleep. Instead of waking him, he had retreated back to the kitchens and left the foods to be kept warm, until his Master awoke. But he had grown increasingly worried and impatient, and with the warmed tray in hand, now stood outside the barred door. He banged loudly on the door, "Mr. Merry, I know you're in there, open the door so I can bring Mr. Frodo somthin' to eat, you silly Brandybuck" he demanded.

"Itsss Ssam 'gin. Wha' dowedonow?" Frodo whispered very loudly to Merry who sat right next to him.

"We mus' stall, dea' couss'n. Ooh, hez gon' be tighd to be fit," Merry slurred.

Frodo broke into gales of laughter. " Yooo ...sai' .... i' ..... aulll...baacworsse, Mer'". Merry, realizing Frodo was right, laughed so hard he fell off the bed. Frodo looked over with a big wavering grin, "Ol' righ' down 'der, Mer'? he said slowly.

Merry just laughed in reply. Now the hammering on the door began again, this time it was Aragorn. "Gentlemen, I desire to speak with you, NOW!" he said with authority.

Frodo's and Merry's eyes became very wide and together they said "Ohhhhhh...", which caused more gales of laughter from them both. They tried to control themselves enough to clean up the strewn bottles and glasses, but Frodo was completely useless because of the tiredness he had been experiencing even before they started drinking. He lay there, unable to move, swaying slightly back and forth, a silly smile on his face. He began to hum to himself, moving his finger back and forth in the air as if conducting a group of singers. Merry could not walk, let alone bend over and pick up the evidence of their plunder. He was afraid if he *did* bend over, he would never get back up. So, instead he crawled back up on the bed, with much assistance and giggling from Frodo, until they both lay panting against the headboard.

"Less hide it all unner 'ere," said Frodo, at least Merry thought that's what he said, as Frodo pointed to the covers.

Merry shook his head violently back and forth, "Nooo, Froo'oh, Araorn knowss I too' 'is ... 'is ...liq...liq...drinkin' stuff," Merry laughed.

Frodo was almost hysterical. "'ou call' me Froo'oh," then he burst into screams of laughter again.

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A large group had gathered outside the door, by now, wondering what the problem was with the Ringbearer, and hoping it wasn't another relapse of some sort. Saleth, sent them away, one by one, saying it was all right, and that they had it under control, which caused Aragorn to give Saleth a questioning look. Of the group, Faramir was allowed to stay and offer his assistance if needed. When he saw Aragorn, he smiled.

"What fair Steward, is so funny?" asked the King with a smirk.

"Only that I may have inadvertently helped create this little party by giving a drunken Merry passage to and from the Citadel, this evening." he said with a chuckle.

"Merry. I *knew* it was Merry. Who else could it have been? Pippin's laid up, or I would have suspected him. Sam would never do this to his Master after he's been sick so long. Only Merry would be free to wander, and plunder at will," he grinned and then grimaced. "Frodo hit his head this morning on the table when he fell. It is very unwise for him to be drinking anything stronger than milk or juice," he murmured.

"Will he be all right, Mr. Strider? Is he in any danger?" asked an anxious Sam.

"I would have to see him to know, Sam, but yes, he could become very ill very suddenly if the knock on the head was more serious than I initially thought it was. We need to get in there and get this rectified. Saleth?" The King now looked genuinely concerned over Frodo's welfare, no longer grinning and chuckling at the partying hobbits on the other side of the door.

"Yes, My Liege, I have a way to lift the bar. I shall return shortly, and we will enter," he said and walked briskly away.

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Frodo continued to hum his song to himself. Merry listened closely, but was not acquainted with the tune. "Cousn' wass thaa' sson' you seenin'? Ssng fo' me, Froo'oh," Merry quite unintelligibly said.

Frodo smiled a lazy, drunken smile and leaned over against Merry. "I 'avn't finnssht it ye', Merr'," he slurred.

"Wellll, ssng wha' 'oou 'ave den, pleess?" Merry whined.

"Ohh, verr' well," and then Frodo's sweet tenor voice began. He slurred less while singing, and Merry sat transfixed listening to the lovely refrains of his cousins clear voice.

"O, there is a garden that lay in a green land
the hills and vales they call to me.
I yearn to walk the flowering hillsides
the colorful blossoms, a sight to see...

And in the gardens of my dear Shire land
there dwells a lass so fair to see.
With hair of gold and blue ribbons streaming
and sweet red lips she saves for me...

My journey done, I will soon see my Shire lands
the dales and streams, they succor me.
A soul and heart so broken from burden,
a gold haired lass for company...

She dances 'oer the dells and the hillsides
her hair a sail of gold light to see
a smile so bright when she spies me a walkin'
with sweet, soft lips, she kisses me...

Within the dell, a great tree's a growin'
a blue-ribboned lass, she waits for me.
A pledge of love, soft kisses to sweet lips
our happiness, for all to see...

A hole so grand behind a green door,
we fill the rooms with children fair.
They frolic in the greening Shire lands
a blur of ribbons and golden hair...

O, there is a garden that lies in the Shire lands
a fair haired lass, blue ribbons to see.
A home once empty, in need of laughter
now filled with love and family..."

"O, Froo'oh, tha' wass so sad, lofflee, bu’ so sad too," Merry said, wiping his face.

"I wro' it fo' Sssam 'n Wosee. Fo' win 'dey ge' marwee whe' we ge' back," he smiled at Merry, but he had tears in his eyes too.

"Froo'oh, tha' sounn'ed almo' (hic)...sounn'ed almo' like Bag'nt. Yoorr son'gg I mean. Wass'it?" Merry looked at Frodo with deep concern.

"Yess, i' wass. I wann' Ssam to 'ave i', an' livv' 'der wiff Wossee," he said.

"Bu' Frowho, ware will yoou liff'?" asked Merry, becoming more distraught. He knew Arwen had said Frodo could sail in her place to the undying lands, and also he worried that Frodo would give into the depression and possibly take his own life.

"Welll, iff 'del 'ave me, I wou' like to liff wif 'em. Itss big 'nough fowall 'o us, if itss alwigh' wif 'em." Frodo said sadly. "It neese a fammwe, an' I don' wan' ta liff 'lone aneemo'," Frodo smiled at Merry. Merry was so relieved he smiled back.

"Thas' why 'oore de smar' one, Frow'ho. Thass a grea' idea." Merry swallowed hard. He was beginning to feel a bit nauseous and after looking at Frodo again, he saw that his cousin was also looking a little green around the edges. "ell, wee bess finiss 'dis off, so therss no evid....evid....so therss non' leff," he finished very awkwardly. Frodo giggled again at Merry's avoiding certain words in favor of those that were easier to pronounce in their inebriated state. Merry refilled both glasses, which was a difficult task in and of itself, and they brought them up, clinked them together, spilling a large portion of the drink, and gulped the remainder down in one swallow. Then they both sagged back, boneless and not a little ill, and watched the room spin around them.

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The whole entourage had stood outside the door transfixed by the haunting ballad, most had tears in their eyes. "Mr. Frodo always did have a fine voice. It's been so long since I've heard him sing, I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful," Sam sniffed.

Aragorn smiled a little, although the song had seemed so sad to him. He knew Frodo had no one to return to in the Shire, but that Sam did, and his heart was touched by the gift that Frodo would, one day, present to Sam and his Rosie.

Saleth returned with a lever like device and, reaching in between the door and the jam, lifting the bar. They all moved forward as one and gasped at the site of the two completely drunk, and soon to be sick, by the looks of things, hobbits sitting precariously on the bed. The room was littered with empty glass decanters and goblets. The covers and floor had a large amount of spilled vintage, and each hobbit sported a number of stains where they had missed their mouths while drinking. Aragorn was in front, and could not help but break into a wide grin. Arwen began to giggle at the sight. Sam was not as charitable. All he saw was the condition of his Master and began to turn his wrath on Merry, a known culprit of drinking rampages. But, before he could start, Frodo looked up and with those beautiful blue eyes and spotted Aragorn. He smiled the largest smile Aragorn had ever seen and wavered precariously towards the side of the bed. Aragorn almost burst out laughing, they looked so bedraggled and limbless. But he noticed that Frodo seemed happier, although he was uncertain as to whether this was from too much drink or a lightening of his burden by speaking with Merry.

"Araagrn, how deliful t' see 'ou! An' 'da latee Ahwen, ass well. Soo goo' t' see 'ou again, My Quee'," he grinned and made to bow forward, but lost his precarious hold on balance and fell heavily to the floor, in a tumble of limbs, bottles and blankets, instead.

TBC
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Song by Lovethosehobbits :D