"I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways."

                                       - Pippin, to Bergil, in "Minas Tirith," Return of the King

Cormallen, April 2nd

It was early still, but Aragorn had been busy for hours already, assisting the healers with some of the most gravely injured and consulting with others on the encampment's imminent move to Ithilien. It was going to be a difficult operation, but all welcomed the prospect of healthier climes to the west, away from the ravaged plains of what was once Mordor's Gate.

As Aragorn entered another healing tent to check up on one of his dearest patients however, he sighed to see that the dawn of a new day had still brought no change here. Not only had young Pippin's condition not improved, but his self-imposed carers had not so much as moved from the positions he had last seen them in the night before.

Curled up beside Pippin on his cot, Merry was still asleep, Pippin's uninjured hand clutched in his. In the corner, Legolas was seated on the floor, his head bowed, but he looked up solemnly as Aragorn approached. The King bent over Pippin and put his hand gently on the hobbit's brow, closing his eyes, and then withdrew, giving nothing away in his expression. He strode over to Legolas and knelt down beside him.

"You look tired," he said quietly. "You should get some rest."

Legolas frowned and sat up a little straighter, "I am quite all right, Aragorn, and I do not wish to leave Merry alone."

Aragorn opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Gandalf, who had quietly entered the tent behind him. The wizard wasted no time in standing over them both, and with his hands impatiently on his hips, he said to the elf firmly, "I shall watch them for now, Legolas. Go and get some sleep. When you are not too weary to be of any use, you may take your place here again."

Gandalf's tone brooked no argument, and Legolas bristled at this suggestion that his presence was unwanted, a sure sign that he was more tired than he thought. It was not the first time that the wizard had used such tactics to remove him from this tent, and he eventually yielded to the advice and got to his feet. "Very well," he murmured, and left the tent silently after one last, long look at the hobbits. Aragorn followed him, with an amused smile and a wink at Gandalf.

Once he was alone, Gandalf sat down on the chair beside Pippin's cot with a weary sigh, looking more closely at the two hobbits. Merry was curled up protectively around his young cousin, yet the brave front he put on when he was awake slipped in sleep, and the older hobbit looked just as vulnerable as the deeply unconscious Pippin. Gandalf sat back, frowning, and puffed on his pipe thoughtfully until Merry eventually stirred, as though feeling the weight of the wizard's troubled gaze.

He opened his eyes sleepily, and was unsurprised to see that his partner in Pippin's vigil had changed during the night.

"Hullo, Gandalf," he muttered with a yawn, and kissed Pippin's cheek automatically, "What time is it? I'm starving."

"So you should be," Gandalf replied, smiling, "You slept through first breakfast. One of the healers brought you some fruit and bread however, aware that you would be wanting it when you woke."

"Well, that was very kind of them!" Merry exclaimed with an eager glance at the basket of food. "They're learning very fast – even though it's only me that wants it," he added quietly, biting into an apple as he looked down at his sleeping cousin, carefully checking for any sign of change, something that might reassure him.

Pippin was so still and pale, and had been quiet now for too long. Sometimes Merry feared that he had stopped breathing, for he slept so deeply that the rise and fall of his poor damaged chest was almost imperceptible.

They had all told him that this was a healing sleep and that it was good for him not to move and do himself any more harm, and Merry had had to admit sorrowfully that since he had not been there when Pippin woke for the first and only time, he could not know just how much Pippin needed this. He was at peace – beneath the scars, all the lines of care and pain had been erased from his face, and he resembled a small child again, innocent of all that had happened.

But none of this changed the fact that Merry had watched over Pippin as he recovered from illness or injury many times before, and had learned and trusted that his little cousin was only getting better again when he was fidgeting, demanding and hungry. How could he tell now, when there was no sign, not a single one? From the slow fade of his bruises from black to purple it was clear that as time passed his body was healing – but Pippin had not made a sound since he had been here by his side, and nothing frightened Merry more than this. It was unnatural, but there was nothing he could do except wait.

Gandalf touched his arm gently, distracting him from these worries, and Merry gratefully took the mug of water he was offered. He looked up at Gandalf as he drank, seeing the same weariness and sorrow in the wizard's eyes that he knew were in his own, for Gandalf had watched over Frodo and Sam too that night.

He sighed when he had drunk his fill, and looked down at Pippin tenderly, combing his cousin's curls with his fingers.

"It's his birthday today," he said, as if to himself, not seeing Gandalf close his eyes briefly at this sad little piece of news. "He's twenty-nine now. Still a silly tween. Sometimes I wonder if he'll ever grow up."

He smiled up at the wizard, but his eyes were shining with tears, "We didn't talk about it before he left for the battle. It hardly seemed like the time to be thinking about such things. I don't suppose he even remembered, though I did. I've never missed a single one of his birthdays, you know – I didn't have a choice when he was little, not with the big fuss my aunt and uncle make every year."

He sniffed, and rubbed his eyes roughly with his free hand, "It's become quite a tradition now that Frodo and I do something with him, once all the relatives have left – fishing or camping or staying up at Bag End – whatever Pippin wants to do, normally," he sighed, with another weak smile.

Gandalf chuckled, "It doesn't surprise me in the least that your young Peregrin has the two of you traipsing all over the Shire to satisfy his every whim, simply because it is his birthday."

"Oh, but it's never just been on his birthday, Gandalf," Merry replied, with a sudden grin of his own. "He's had us at his beck and call since he was a tiny lad. You've seen it yourself. I never have quite understood how he does it."

Still smiling, Merry's gaze returned once more to his cousin's peaceful face. Gandalf watched him fondly, relieved to see the lonely hobbit find some small respite from his cares in remembering happier, simpler days.

"I don't think I have either," he replied thoughtfully, winking at Merry when he looked up in surprise. They shared a smile and then sank into silence; both only too aware of how their troublesome young Took had entwined himself around their hearts.

***

Merry realised that he must have dozed off when he opened his eyes blearily and found Legolas sitting where Gandalf had been, stroking Pippin's curls soothingly and humming very softly to himself. He sat up and rubbed his forehead irritably, feeling a headache coming on and wishing he could stay awake, but this stifling heat made him so drowsy.

As he sat up, Pippin frowned and shifted slightly in his sleep, his lips moving as he muttered something inaudible. Merry and Legolas both froze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, and looked down as one, watching Pippin anxiously for another sign that he might wake. Merry dared to smile, feeling a small glimmer of hope lighten his heart for the first time in days. He stretched out alongside Pippin once more and kissed his cousin gently on the cheek.

"Pip?" he whispered. "Pip, love, it's me. Please wake up."

A pause, and then Pippin's face turned into Merry's, sensing a familiar, comforting presence close by. Merry stroked his cheek, "Pip..."

"Mer..." Pippin sighed, his lips barely moving.

"Pippin," Merry faltered, his breath hitching, "I'm here, dearest." He kissed him again fiercely, tears of relief and pain mingling on his cheeks, and Pippin stilled once more, the corners of his mouth pulled up into the faintest of smiles, his head turned into the curve of Merry's neck.

Merry held him close, as tightly as he dared, "Happy birthday," he whispered into his pointed ear, and closed his eyes.

Legolas spoke up softly, curiosity overwhelming his wish not to disturb; "It is his birthday?" Merry stirred and opened his eyes, giving Legolas a shaky smile, "Yes. He'll be so upset he missed it. He loves to be fussed over... as you know."

"Well, he has plenty of attention now," Legolas smiled, carefully rearranging the sheets around Pippin.

"Yes," Merry replied sadly. "But he doesn't know it, the silly Took."

He nestled into Pippin's side, and lay there for a long time with his eyes closed, feeling Pippin's breath against his skin. Legolas got up quietly and sat in the corner of the tent once more, quietly watching over them both, hoping that there would be reasons enough in days to come to make these hobbits smile again. Was it too much to hope that they not lose their cheerful spirit, when they had lost so much else?

TBC