5. And Sleep To Meet

"How long?" Pippin asked.

He stood in the doorway, looking out into the garden. It was a high, windswept thing, Merry's garden, like all gardens in Minas Tirith, but over the years he and Pippin had filled it, little by little, with the flowers and sweet herbs and familiar trees of the distant Shire. Merry was not so far off dozing in the shade, propped up on cushions to keep his old bones off the hard ground. Bright flecks of golden Autumn sun dappled his white hair, but he had a blanket tucked up to his chin. He was always cold, lately.

"Till springtime, perhaps," Aragorn answered. "Certainly no longer."

"As soon as that!" Pippin murmured. "Well, I suppose that isn't so bad, leaving in spring, when all the world is green and waking up. To close one's eyes on a blue sky and a bright day."

Pippin sighed, as if he could already feel the kindly warmth of that future sun, but Aragorn sank into a chair, shoulders rounded in defeat. It was bitter to know that even his great skill in healing could not mend all ills, or buy one more season of time for the ones he loved best. "It will be hard news to hear, even from the lips of a dear friend-"

"That's why we're not going to tell him," Pippin said firmly, his fingers tightening on the handle of his cane. Then his face softened and he came to Aragorn and put his hand on his shoulder. "He hasn't said anything, but he can tell that I haven't been quite myself lately, and he has been so terribly worried, you see, that I might go first and leave him. He is coming to the end of his road, Aragorn. Let him go to his own rest now when it comes, in peace, thinking that I have years and years yet to go, to feast and be glad, and to sit by the fire with my pipe."

"If that is your wish," Aragorn said.

"It is," Pippin said. He paused as his sensitive hobbit ears caught the distant sound of Afternoon bells: Four of the clock, or thereabouts. "And now I believe the Maids will be bringing in the trays soon; it is almost time for our Tea, and yours as well. I had best go rouse Merry, so he doesn't doze off again in the midst of it, nose-first in the jam." He was smiling, his bright eyes like two chips of green glass caught in nets of wrinkles, and Aragorn couldn't help but smile in return, though his heart was heavy. "You have been a great king, my Lord, and a good friend. You have done so much for us Shirefolk, more than we can ever repay. Please don't feel sad for us. We've so been blessed, Merry and I, with home, and happiness, and kind friends, and good work. It's been a good life."

Aragorn knelt and embraced him. Tears stood in his eyes, and he could barely speak. "It is I who owe, my friend."

"There, there, don't take on so." Pippin put his sharp old chin on Aragorn's shoulder, and patted his Lord's broad back, as if he were the elder cousin comforting a grieving younger hobbit. "It's all right, it's all right. Everything ends, you know. It's a comfort to me, really, to know that Merry and I won't be parted for long."

~~~~~

Pippin walked over the grass to where Merry was sleeping and looked down at him fondly. Merry's hands were folded over his blanket-covered chest. He looked very quiet and content, and a little smile was hovering at the corners of his mouth. Pippin wondered what Merry was dreaming of.

Merry opened one eye. "Hullo, Pippin. Is it time for our Tea?"

"Nearly," Pippin said. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and leaned his back against the tree. "How did you know?"

"I heard the bells," Merry yawned. "Brandybucks are famous for their excellent hearing, you know."

"And their incredible boasting," Pippin chuckled.

"No, truly," Merry said sincerely. "Why, when we were among the Orcs all those years ago, I could hear everything that was happening to you, even when I couldn't see you. When you ran off to drop your brooch, my head was all muddled: I thought you had gone mad and were trying to escape, and the Orcs would tear you to bits. I could hear the whip, every sound you made, every blow." He gave a little shudder. "I don't know which was worse, the fear that you would fail and be killed, or that you might succeed and leave me. I knew we were both bound for a very bad end, and my only hope was that we might come to an end together. Does that sound terrible?"

"Perfectly dreadful," Pippin said, pretending to be horrified. "As if I would have left you to your fate like that, wounded as you were! Your mother would have torn out my inwards for it. Safer to take my chances with the Orcs."

"Must you jest about everything, you cheeky Took?" Merry said. "I'm quite in earnest here."

"So am I, " Pippin said, suddenly turning serious. He touched Merry's hand. "I would never have left you like that, Merry. Never."

Merry was deeply moved. "Ah, I know. I know you would have tried to stay with me to whatever end-"

"-But everything turned out all right after all, so I don't know why we're talking like this. It was all so long ago." Pippin yawned hugely. "Gracious! Now you've gone and made me sleepy, too."

"Shall we get up?" Merry suggested.

"I don't think that I can. Get up, that is, now that I'm down here," Pippin sighed. "Ah well. It's a warm day, anyway, and the grass is soft. Let's just stay here, for a while."

"I suppose the Maids will fetch us," Merry agreed. His chin dropped to his breast and his eyes closed.

Pippin watched Merry begin to snore softly. He wasn't really as tired as he had let on, and he had no desire to sleep, but he was quite warm and comfortable. He supposed if the Maids were a bit late with their Tea, he probably would put his head on Merry's shoulder and end up nodding off in spite of himself, following on Merry's heels again, as he had so often all down through the days of his long, long life. Our evening rest and sleep to meet, Pippin thought, and smiled.

(More ficlets to follow...)