Chapter 11. Merry Meetings

Merry wakened suddenly, as he usually did, with a jerk. Where and how he wakened usually determined his next few moments: if in bed beside Estella he would stretch long and luxuriously, wrap his arms around his wife and bury his face in her fragrant hair. If he had wakened in the midst of nightmare, he'd hold her until his heart stopped pounding and beat steadily once more; if he wakened without memory of dreaming he'd hold her in silent thankfulness, just for being.

He was in a chair, however, which meant that someone was ill, or injured. He opened his eyes to see Pippin’s bruised face against the pillow. Estella sat in the other watcher’s chair, her head resting on one arm that lay across Pippin’s chest, and Pippin’s right hand was tangled in her curls. Both of them were asleep.

The cooling cloth, now dry, had slipped over one of Pippin’s eyes, giving him a rakish appearance. Merry rose cautiously from his chair, took up the cloth, soaked it in the basin of water and wrung it out again, and sponged his cousin’s face, still too warm by any measure. Pippin did not waken, though his fingers twitched in Estella’s hair and he murmured something directed at Diamond.

Merry sat down again, letting them sleep, the two hobbits he loved best in Middle-earth, remembering the long and earnest conversation with Estella—surprising, too—as they watched Pippin sleeping in the depths of the night.

***

 ‘...at least he’s bold enough to risk the dreams,’ Estella said.

 ‘Is that how you know?’ Merry said, watching her soothe Pippin’s forehead with her cool, gentle fingers. ‘Diamond told you...’

 ‘They have held complete conversations as he slept, you know,’ Estella said. ‘Not like some hobbits’ husbands who scarcely speak to them at all when worrying about somewhat.’

He winced at the hurt in her tone, but remained stubbornly silent. The Orcs in the Old Forest had reawakened dark thoughts and feelings, and the Shadow that haunted him seemed to mock at him, seeking to enclose him in chilly, numbing walls. He smelled the stench of death in his nostrils, and feared that Estella would smell it too, if she ventured too close. Unconsciously he took his icy right hand in his left, massaging and prodding, a gesture Estella knew of old when her beloved was troubled. 

 ‘Merry-beloved, I swore to take you, warts and all, and I meant it,’ Estella went on, her eyes on Pippin’s face. ‘We made a solemn vow to give ourselves completely, one to another, and yet...’

She left off her ministrations to Pippin and swept around the bed, to take Merry’s right hand and lift it to her cheek. ‘The Shadow is not real, you know,’ she murmured. ‘Pippin told me so; he said it is only a memory that troubles you, and when you worry you lay yourself open to its chill.’ She lifted his hand to her lips, nuzzling his knuckles, and it seemed as if life and warmth sparkled upon his skin wherever she left a kiss.

 ‘Real or not, it will drag you down into darkness if you do not fight,’ she said, sliding her arms around him. Unbidden, his left arm encompassed her as she pressed against him.

 ‘Beloved,’ she murmured, her embrace tightening. ‘Do not push me away...’

 ‘Push you away?’ Merry said dryly. ‘I’d say we’re about as far from that as...’

She reared back to look up at him, and he was startled to see a tear glistening upon her cheek. ‘You pretend all is well, even when drowning in your memories,’ she said softly. ‘You lie down as if to sleep, and rise up when you think I’m sleeping—did you think I wouldn’t notice, beloved? Did you think I sleep through the night with an empty spot beside me, only wakening in the morning after you’ve returned to the bed an hour before dawn?’

He was drawn to kiss the tears from her face, but they were flowing faster than he could remedy them. ‘Do not weep, my love,’ he murmured.

 ‘I am weeping for you,’ she said fiercely. ‘For the lonely walk you have chosen, just as Frodo did before you. He’d’ve gone to that terrible Mountain by himself, had he been able to leave his faithful Samwise behind, but I ask you... would there be a Shire today? Would not Middle-earth lie under Shadow even now, had his selfish choice been allowed to stand?’

 ‘Selfish—’ was wrung from Merry in protest.

 ‘Selfish!’ Estella said. ‘Sam was the wiser.’

Merry swallowed hard, his head shaking ever so slightly in denial. ‘Frodo was the bravest...’

 ‘He was a fool,’ Estella said, ‘as he, himself, admitted to me, in the dark of one middle night while we watched by Freddy’s side and you and Pippin were off scouring the Shire. He was a fool to try to walk alone into the Dark Land! And you know it, Merry Brandybuck. No one can stand alone against the Shadow. Even the Lady Eowyn had a champion to stand at her side.’

 ‘To crawl, rather, sick and shaking,’ Merry said. ‘No more than a dog, or an ant in the dust...’

 ‘An ant with a sting,’ Estella said stoutly. She slowly withdrew her embrace, reaching for his right hand once more, kneading it between her warm and living hands. ‘I would stand beside you now, as you face your fear,’ she said, ‘and do not fear for me, beloved. There’s more to hobbits than you give us credit for!’

 ‘Beloved,’ Merry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. His right hand was painful, as if pins or sharp needles were being stabbed into the flesh as life and feeling returned, but he welcomed the sensation. It was better than a hand that seemed carven of cold stone, or ice.

 ‘Or do I have to dress in armour to stand beside my lord?’ Estella pressed. ‘Hide my hair under a bright helm, and wear a sword at my side... how you ever manage to walk with a sword hanging from your belt is beyond my comprehension...’

Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep within as the last of the ice melted away, and Merry swept Estella up in his arms. ‘Beloved,’ he said again, firmly this time, and his lips sought hers.

It was a long kiss, and a satisfying one, and when it ended Estella smiled and sighed, casting a sidelong glance at the sleeping hobbit in the bed. ‘A promise,’ she whispered, ‘of good things to come.’

 ‘A promise,’ Merry whispered in accord, lowering her gently to the floor.

 ‘But you have to come to bed to collect it!’ Estella warned.

Merry laughed. Estella took him then by the hand and led him to one of the chairs, perching upon his lap and sharing her loving warmth with him until, relaxing, he allowed sleep to take him at last.

***

Merry sat watching the two hobbits he loved best, peacefully sleeping, until Pippin moved restlessly and began to breathe rapid, shallow breaths. Estella raised her head, untangling her hair from Pippin’s fingers and taking his hand between hers. ‘Pippin?’ she said. ‘Pippin-love...’ It was what Diamond so often called him, when they were alone together.

Merry sat forward, taking Pippin’s left hand. ‘Pippin,’ he said in his most reassuring tone. ‘All’s well. You’re safe, cousin. The Orcs are all dead.’

Pippin became rigid and his lips moved soundlessly. Estella looked to Merry and back to their stricken cousin; she chafed the bruised hand gently, calling him to waken, but he did not seem to hear her. He gave a sudden strangled cry and was ominously still.

 ‘Merry,’ Estella gasped. ‘I cannot see him breathing!’

Merry half-rose from his chair, ready to go in search of old Ossilan, but he was arrested as Pippin shuddered, cried out, and sat fully upright, crying in a shrill and toneless voice, ‘It is not for you Saruman! I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!’

Merry knew what to expect, now, and he threw himself forward to hold Pippin on the bed as his injured cousin struggled to get up and escape. Through it all, Estella clung desperately to Pippin’s hand.

At last the struggle calmed, and Pippin lay still once more, Merry still pressing him to the bed.

 ‘Merry?’ Estella said, to be echoed by Pippin. ‘Merry? What is it?’

Merry rose slowly, cautiously, to find Pippin blinking up at him. ‘What’s this all about, Merry?’ Pippin said in a reasonable tone. ‘First your wife mistakes me for you, and then you...’

 ‘Another dream, it was,’ Estella said briskly, though her cheeks were very pale. ‘Don’t you remember?’

 ‘No,’ Pippin said slowly, shaking his head. ‘It was something terrifying, I’m sure, just from the pounding of my heart, now,’ he added, ‘but it was gone the moment I wakened, as the dreams so often do.’

Merry’s cheeks twitched; he seemed to be trying to smile, though it was a poor attempt. ‘At least they do not haunt your waking hours,’ he said.

 ‘Unlike some folk I could name,’ Estella said with asperity. ‘There are some who are so bothered at the mere thought of dreaming that they avoid sleep altogether.’

 ‘There’s foolishness for you,’ Pippin said. ‘Worrying about something that might not even come to pass...’

 ‘Enough of you,’ Merry said, standing up again. ‘I’m famished! How about some breakfast?’

 ‘Mmm, breakfast,’ Pippin said, slowly raising a hand to rub gingerly at his jaw. ‘Coddled eggs, perhaps? Or shirred?’

 ‘Both!’ Merry said with a decisive nod, ‘if that’s what you have a taste for.’

Estella rose abruptly to her feet, laid Pippin’s hand down, and skimmed around the bed to Merry. Standing on tiptoe and seizing him firmly by the ears she drew his head down for a thorough and lingering kiss while Pippin politely averted his gaze, though a mischievous smile played about his lips.

 ‘There!’ Estella said in satisfaction as she pulled away at last. ‘That’s better!’

 ‘I should say so,’ Merry said in fervent agreement.

 ‘What, naught for me?’ Pippin said, a twinkle in his eye.

 ‘Only if you’re in the depths of nightmare and cannot be wakened any other way,’ Estella said. ‘And even so, it was not my kiss you had...’

 ‘You might have fooled me,’ Pippin began, but Estella put her hands on her hips and tapped one foot in indignation.

 ‘It was Diamond’s kiss,’ she said. ‘She gave it into my charge, and I was only the messenger!’

Turning on her heel, she flounced from the room, pausing only to fling over her shoulder, ‘I’ll order the breakfast, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll eat every bite!’

 ‘She’s taking Diamond’s role much too much to heart,’ Pippin said. ‘Next thing you know she’ll be stuffing me with food...’

 ‘Since Diamond cannot be with you, she’s told my mother and Estella how best to soothe your dreams,’ Merry said.

 ‘What, kissing me?’ Pippin said in horror. ‘Not your mother...!’ He broke off and eyed Merry suspiciously. ‘Don’t you get any ideas in your head,’ he warned.

Merry laughed heartily, and Pippin smiled, well-satisfied at the fruit borne of his jest.

 ‘There are also nursery songs,’ Merry said at last, ‘and lullabies. You might as well get used to those; you’ll be hearing a lot of them in the coming months.’

 ‘Ah now,’ Pippin said with a sigh. ‘It ought to be fairly difficult for a nightmare to intrude, if I have a babe cradled in my arms.’

 ‘If you get any sleep at all,’ Merry said. ‘I’m told your father walked the floors with you for nights on end, to allow your mother some rest and sleep.’

 ‘I’ll just call upon you to provide that service,’ Pippin said airily. ‘After all, you’re not one to spend much time in your bed...’

 ‘I fear I may not be... available... so much as you might think,’ Merry said, his chin in the air. ‘You’ll have to do most of your own babe-walking, I imagine.’

 ‘Is that so?’ Pippin said in astonishment.

 ‘It is,’ Merry said firmly, and Pippin threw back his head with a hearty laugh, despite the pain it caused his battered ribs.

 ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,’ he said at last, wiping at his eyes. ‘I’d hate to think of Estella’s kisses going wanting...’

***

Merimac Brandybuck slept little these days—he was getting on in years, after all, and older hobbits don’t seem to sleep as long or deeply as younger hobbits do, though he hoped he did not yet deserve the appellation “gaffer”!

It was still dark when he emerged from the Smials and crossed the yard to the stables. He’d just check on the ponies—they’d ridden hard and fast, straight through from the Ferry to the Smials, and they’d be riding straight through on the return journey, though perhaps not at as fast a pace, now that it seemed that the Shire was clear of Orcs.

In the middle night, he’d been summoned by Paladin, who’d been receiving the reports of messengers for the better part of the evening. No hobbits were missing, and no livestock had disappeared from the environs. The hobbits of the surrounding communities were on their guard, and the Thain would call a muster at the least alarm. However, with spring planting in full swing, Paladin had decided, instead of calling a muster now, to send out a body of armed hobbits, hunters and such, to scout the wild Green Hills. They’d scour the Tookland in the direction of the Woody End, meeting up somewhere between Tuckborough and the Ferry with Saradoc’s hobbits that were scouring the Marish even now.

He’d seen a few giggling dairymaids, shawls over their heads as they crossed the yard to the byre, but no one else seemed to be about in the shadowy stables. He lit a lantern and began his inspection, one pony after another, running his hands down the legs to feel for swellings or lumps, checking for signs of chafing where harness or saddle pad would go.

Halfway through, he was startled to see a shawl-clad figure hovering at the door of the stall. He straightened, giving the sleepy pony a pat in parting, and turned to the door, wondering what a dairymaid was doing in the stables. ‘Can I help you with somewhat, miss?’

Opening the door, the figure slipped inside and closed both half-doors to shut them off from the corridor completely.

Merimac’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but beetled in concern as the hobbit let fall the shawl clutched over her head.

 ‘Aggie?’ he breathed. ‘What’re you doing here...?’

 ‘Dinny said you’d be leaving before the convocation,’ Eglantine said. ‘Since you already know the news to be shared, there’s no reason for you to stay...’

Merimac nodded.

 ‘I wanted...’ Eglantine said. By the light of the lantern he saw her swallow hard. ‘O Merry...’

 ‘Aggie,’ he said softly in acknowledgment, and waited.

 ‘I want you to take word to my son,’ she said. ‘He’s sent no reply to any of our letters, and...’

 ‘I doubt he’s read any,’ Merimac said. Perhaps Paladin had not told his wife that Pippin sent back, unopened, all correspondence from the Great Smials.

Eglantine took a sharp breath at this, but nodded. ‘I see,’ she said. After a long pause, she added, ‘He is well?’

 ‘Well is a relative term,’ Merimac said cautiously.

Eglantine smiled without humour. ‘Is he happy? Will he recover from his injuries? Is his wife good to him?’

 ‘He is well,’ Merimac said.

Eglantine’s smile was more genuine, though her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘Tell him...’ She hesitated, for there was so much to be said, and so little time. She had to return to the Smials before someone saw her, here with a Brandybuck, and stirred up the Talk.

Merimac nodded. ‘I’ll tell him,’ he said.

Stepping swiftly to his side, she laid a kiss upon his cheek, murmuring, ‘Dear Merry.’ In another moment she was gone.