A/N: I want to thank Pipspebble for beta'ing this chapter.

Ithilien, April 5th

Before dawn on the fifth of April, Merry woke abruptly. Someone was prodding him in his side and whispering his name. Reaching out to brush the offending hand away, he turned over and found himself looking straight into Pippin’s green eyes.

"Pippin!" he gasped. He hesitated for just a moment before reaching up to touch his cousin’s cheek tentatively with the hand that was not already in Pippin’s, suddenly struck dumb and not sure what to do. Pippin had not so much as stirred since he’d whispered Merry’s name three days earlier; and now that he was here, looking back at him with those eyes that had seen more than they should have, everything he now thought to say seemed silly… when there was so much to say, and so much was different. Was Pippin different? Merry almost didn’t want to find out.

Pippin’s eyes were bright with pain, and there was something else there too, an almost desperate relief. Merry recognised it, because that was how he had felt when he woke in the Houses of Healing to find Pippin holding his hand, after dreaming the darkest, most powerful dreams of losing everything he had ever loved.

He did not know where Pippin had been all this time, but Merry didn’t need to ask to see that the youngest hobbit had been very, very lonely. Merry had been lonely too, without Pippin, and as their eyes locked together he felt the same desperate relief, in a moment of empathy that overcame his fears. They still understood each other, perhaps better than ever, and nearly losing Pippin proved to Merry something he had never needed to know, that his little cousin had half of his soul firmly in his grasp.

Perhaps it was only an instant since he had turned over, or perhaps it was an hour, but Pippin swallowed then, and broke the silence. "Hullo, Merry," he whispered, a smile lighting his eyes, "I knew I’d find you."

"Find me?" Merry echoed, and drew back a little, suddenly finding his voice. "I think I found you first this time, Pip." At Pippin's confused frown, Merry smiled, and the words began to tumble out of his mouth, "I’ve been waiting ever so long for you to wake up, you know. We’re in Ithilien, and it’s all over, and Frodo and Sam are here, and oh! there’s so much to tell. But I should think you’re hungry, aren’t you?" Merry finally ran out of breath as Pippin looked at him in disbelief.

"Frodo and Sam are here? How?" Pippin tried to sit up, but sank back down again with a groan, his eyes closed tightly against his obvious pain. "Hungry?" he asked, after a moment. "I don’t know, Merry. I’m not sure I could eat. I feel dreadful."

Merry's grin faded at once, "I'm sorry, Pippin. Is it that bad?" he asked anxiously. He got off the cot carefully so as not to jar the injured hobbit, and stood beside him, running his hands nervously through his hair. "I don’t know what I’m doing, Pip, I mean, I should have got Strider straight away, but all I can think about is that you’re here, and awake at last, and I can’t leave you! Where in Middle-earth has Legolas got to now we need him?" he cried.

"It’s all right, Merry," Pippin soothed. "Legolas was here. I saw him. He went out as soon as he saw I was awake. Now stop flapping, would you? You’re making me nervous."

Merry took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and gingerly sat on the cot again, keeping one eye on Pippin and the other on the tent flap. He sighed, and smiled a little, stroking Pippin’s curls, "Sorry, Pip."

Pippin smiled back, closing his eyes and relaxing beneath the familiar comfort of his cousin's touch; "Mmm… that’s all right... you’ve been doing this a lot, haven’t you?"

"What, flapping? Or stroking your hair?" Merry jested, but then hesitated and said more seriously, "Both, actually. I’ve been horribly frightened, you know."

"So have I," Pippin replied quietly after a moment, without opening his eyes. "I wanted to find you so much, but I didn’t know where I was, or where to start looking. I didn’t understand… because I couldn’t find Frodo and Sam either, and he said – that…" His breath quickened and a line of worry formed on his forehead.

Merry hushed him, stroking the frown from the tween's brow. "It doesn’t matter, dearest. It’s all over and everything bad is gone forever. Everything will be all right again." It sounded good to say that at last. Merry fervently hoped it was true.

The sound of voices from outside signalled Aragorn’s arrival, and both hobbits looked up to see Legolas and the King enter, smiles lighting their faces.

"Greetings, Master Took. I am glad to see you have finally joined us," Aragorn smiled at his patient. "You should know that you’ve driven your friends to distraction with worry these last few days."

"Really?" Pippin asked, looking from one to another. "All of them?"

"Oh, yes. It seems that everyone has come to appreciate your chattering after all, and they all miss it when it is gone."

Pippin grinned with pleasure, as Aragorn sat down carefully on the cot beside him. He seemed to be digesting the King's words, because he frowned after a moment, and looked up at him curiously, "Days? Has it really been days? How long ago was the – the…."

"Sauron was overthrown on the twenty-fifth of March, the day of the Last Battle, when you fought so bravely," Aragorn explained gently. "Today is the fifth of April."

Merry stroked Pippin’s injured hand soothingly, for the young hobbit looked distressed. Pippin turned to him and Merry saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes, "You said you’d been waiting ages… but I didn’t know you meant that sort of ages. I’m sorry, Merry… I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to wait that long – when it was you, and not me."

"There was nothing you could have done, dearest," Merry assured him, smiling gently. He looked up at Aragorn, finally voicing his concern, "He’s in a lot of pain, Strider. He says it hurts too much to eat."

"Where does it hurt, Pippin?" Aragorn asked solicitously. Legolas, who had maintained a bit of distance until now, leaned in more closely, his keen eyes and ears taking in the scene with interest.

Pippin shifted uncomfortably under this scrutiny, and muttered, "Quite frankly, everywhere. It feels like there are knives sticking in me here," he motioned feebly at his ribs with his free hand, wincing at the movement.

Aragorn gently took his hand and laid it back at his side, as Pippin looked up at Legolas, the quirk of a grin on his lips. "I never thought I’d find out what it really feels like to be sat on by a troll," he said wryly. "I wonder what Bilbo will say."

"Somehow I do not think he will be very pleased," Legolas replied with a frown, turning his attention back to the King as he conducted his examination.

"A lot of bones were broken, Pippin, and they will keep aching until they mend completely," Aragorn began. "Your broken ribs did the most damage, which is why your chest still hurts so much, but they have been healing nicely without any interference from you," he smiled at the fidgety young hobbit to lighten his stern words. "So I want you to stay in bed. I hope that will stop you doing anything to hinder your full recovery. If you rest, you might be well enough to get up in a couple of days. I shall give you something to ease the pain and then you should eat. But not too much," he added firmly, frowning at Merry for emphasis. "You haven’t eaten anything in a long time and it will take your body some time to adjust."

Pippin’s expressive eyes betrayed his relief, dismay and frustration at all this information, and he sighed heavily at the end of it, apparently forgetting that this was a hard thing to do when his chest was bandaged up so tightly. He coughed then, and for a moment his friends watched helplessly as he struggled for breath.

"Ah," he whispered hoarsely, after Aragorn had poured him some water and told him to drink a little. "I suppose you’re right then."

"Yes, I suppose I am," Aragorn smiled sympathetically. "I’ll send a healer in with something for the pain, but I must leave you now, I’m afraid. I have much to attend to." Pippin grinned as the King made a face before he turned to go; but before he left, he hesitated and bent down again, clasping Pippin’s hand in his. "It is good to see you, my friend."

"I am glad to see you too, Strider," Pippin returned. He flushed, clearly rather overwhelmed by Aragorn’s open relief, and he was quiet as both of their friends took their leave.

When the two hobbits were alone once more, Pippin glanced up at Merry, his green eyes troubled, "Was I really so near death, Merry?"

"What do you mean?" Merry asked, involuntarily tightening his grip on Pippin’s hand as his cousin broached the subject he least wanted to discuss, or even think about.

"I don’t think Strider thought he would see me again," Pippin replied simply. "Did you?" he looked at Merry searchingly, and his voice lowered to a whisper. "I knew I was wandering somewhere, very far away, but I thought that all I had to do was find my way back to you. I never thought that I might not be able to."

Merry’s eyes filled with tears, "I always knew you would come back, Pip. I knew you would if I waited long enough."

Pippin opened his mouth to reply, but a healer entered the tent before he could say anymore, and Merry jumped, scowling at the man for interrupting them. He watched intently as the healer bent over Pippin and gave him a foul-smelling tonic to drink; and the preoccupied tween accepted it without complaint, though he could not hide his disgust as he swallowed it.

"Yeeuch," he gasped, "I hope that works."

"It certainly will," the healer promised, "The King made it himself." He smiled down at his patient before hurrying out to tend to others, leaving them alone once more – but Merry knew that the moment had passed.

"Pip…" he began tentatively.

"It’s all right, Merry," Pippin interrupted. He glanced up briefly, but averted his eyes as he met Merry’s worried gaze, "I think I’d rather not talk about it anymore."

Merry’s heart sank. Perhaps Pippin wished to spare him from hearing things that were dark and painful, but Merry would listen without hesitation, if Pippin let him. He would do anything, but he did not know what to say, and a heavy silence descended on them both as Pippin pulled restlessly at the threads of the bandage around his hand, apparently deep in thought.

Eventually, when the young hobbit spoke up again, he turned to Merry with eyes full of hurt, "What did Strider say the date was, Merry?"

"It’s the fifth, love," Merry replied gently, nodding when he saw recognition dawning in Pippin’s eyes.

"Oh." Pippin turned away and gazed up at the roof of the tent, an unreadable expression on his face. "I think I’d like to sleep for a while," he said quietly, his voice shaking.

He closed his eyes and said no more, leaving Merry sitting beside him, looking down at his hands miserably.

TBC