A/N: Thank you to Dreamflower for the beta. Italicized quotes are from The Return of the King.

Dark Dreams

March 15, S.R. 1420

Pippin woke in the deep of night, disoriented and not knowing what had awakened him. He could recall no dream, no nightmare that had startled him into such sudden wakefulness. The fire was low in the grate and the house was silent save for the tapping of branches against the windowpanes with each gust of wind. For a moment Pippin lay there, blinking in the darkness, before sitting up in a rush as he remembered the date.

Tugging the blanket along as he slipped from the bed, Pippin flung open the door and peered down the hallway. A cold draught swept along the passage, ruffling his hair and causing him to shiver. The front door was open, and Pippin hurried to it, calling his cousin’s name as he went. There was no answer.

Once outside Pippin glanced around, his heart hammering wildly in his chest until he finally spotted Merry standing half-hidden against the hedge that lined the path. A rush of relief washed over Pippin, and though he wanted nothing more than to dash down the path and retrieve his cousin, he forced himself to approach Merry slowly, thinking for some reason that it would be for the best.

In the darkness Pippin could see that Merry’s eyes were open, but his gaze was vacant, as if he were looking toward faraway lands, and he rubbed at his right arm almost absently. He was sleepwalking, Pippin realized with a shock. Merry had always slept like a log, and it was only since they had returned home that his sleep was plagued by nightmares. But never before had Pippin witnessed his cousin sleepwalking and now as he crept down the path he heard Merry muttering to himself.

Pippin remembered the old goodwives’ tale, the one that warned against waking a sleepwalker. But now that he could hear snatches of words – the king, and Éowyn – Pippin thought it would be best to try and wake his cousin, or at least guide him away from such dark dreams.

“Merry,” he said, softly but as cheerfully as he could manage. He draped the blanket around his cousin’s shoulders and clasped his hands. Both were cold, but the right was positively icy. “Come now, Merry. Let’s go back inside before you catch a chill.”

“Where is the king?” asked Merry in a slow, hollow voice. “And Éowyn?” Pippin could see that he was still not awake.

“Don’t you remember, Merry?” Pippin replied lightly. “Éowyn is with Faramir now. They live in Ithilien.”

Merry blinked slowly, as if trying to remember, and for a moment Pippin thought he was coming awake. But then he shook his head, and his eyes were still distant.

“But I can’t use my right arm, Pippin, not since I stabbed him. And my sword burned all away like a piece of wood,” he said.

“I know, Merry,” Pippin said quietly. “But that happened long ago, and now you’re just having a bad dream. Won’t you wake up and come with me?”

Again Merry was slow to respond, but at last his eyes cleared and he was awake. “Pippin,” he said, glancing around in surprise. “What happened? What are we doing outdoors?”

Pippin smiled in relief. “You were dreaming,” he said simply. “Come on, let’s go inside. You’re freezing!”

“So are you,” Merry observed. Pippin was shivering in his thin night shirt.

“Nothing a little tea won’t help,” Pippin said firmly as he led Merry along the path and back into the house, shutting and locking the door behind them. “I’ll put the kettle on right now, unless you would rather go back to bed straight away?”

“No,” Merry replied quickly, following Pippin into the kitchen and sitting heavily at the table. “Not yet. I don’t want to…dream about that any more.” He bowed his head, cradling his right arm close to his chest. “I’m sorry, Pippin.”

“Your arm was hurting all day, wasn’t it?” Pippin asked quietly as he set out the cups and saucers.

“Yes,” Merry whispered.

“And you said nothing about it,” Pippin said. “You seemed little quieter than usual today, but I thought you were only remembering. I didn’t know that you were in pain.” He sat beside Merry and took his hand. It was still cold to the touch but not as frigid as it had been while Merry was dreaming. “I wish you would have told me, Merry, and that I would have realized it sooner. I would have looked after you better.”

“You did well enough,” Merry replied with a rueful smile. “And I should have suspected that something like this might happen, but I didn’t. I suppose we know now, for the future.”

Pippin smiled and squeezed his cousin’s hand. “Well, I’ll be keeping you under a close watch from now on, Merry. I can’t have you wandering off into the Old Forest. I don’t want to find Old Man Willow settling down to a nice supper of hobbit any time soon.”

Merry laughed just as the kettle whistled. Pippin went to prepare the tea and together they sat at the table, drinking in silence, until both were calm enough to return to sleep. And sleep they did, peacefully and dreamlessly, until well after dawn.