Thank you to Pipwise for the beta! :)

The night of March 27 – morning of March 28

“Gandalf?”

The hesitant whisper seemed very loud in the quiet tent, and the wizard’s eyes, which had closed in thought, opened to see Merry standing at the tent flap. Pale and wild-eyed, he hurried inside, stumbling in exhaustion and haste, and would have fallen had Gandalf not rushed forward and grasped him tightly by the shoulders.

“I had a dream,” Merry whispered hoarsely, looking past Gandalf to gaze at Pippin’s unmoving form. “Pippin lay upon a field, covered in blood, and his eyes were open and unseeing. I knew he was dead, and I came forward to hold him one last time, but he vanished, and my arms were left empty.” His face crumpled and he burst into tears, wracking sobs that shook his entire body.

Kneeling, Gandalf pulled the crying hobbit into a hug, and Merry buried his face in the wizard’s shoulder. Gandalf frowned; Merry’s right arm felt icy against him and his movements were slow and clumsy.

“Meriadoc, your cousin is most certainly not dead, nor has he vanished into thin air,” Gandalf said brusquely, hoping to shake Merry out of the lingering Shadow. “If you would put your ears to good use you would be able to hear him breathing, and labored as it is I assure you that it is an improvement from what it was just a short time ago.”

Merry pulled away, his eyes confused. With a small smile, Gandalf reached for Merry’s injured hand and held it tightly, trying to bring some warmth to it as he spoke in a gentler tone.

“I will not lie to you, my lad. Pippin was terribly injured, and his spirit is wandering in a place that we cannot reach. It is a very grave situation, but I would not have you give up hope yet. You know what the Shadow would do to you.”

Merry seemed to come back to himself then, and his eyes were no longer wild or puzzled, but filled with love and concern for his cousin.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I know.”

Standing, Gandalf placed a hand on Merry’s shoulder and gently pushed him toward Pippin. “I suppose you are anxious to see your cousin now, Merry. I told him that you were on your way, and I think he is waiting for your arrival, even though he dreams still.”

Merry managed a smile, but his eyes filled with tears again as he took in the sight of Pippin’s battered and broken body, looking impossibly small in the man-sized cot.

“Oh, Pip,” he whispered, and with a trembling hand he reached out and gently skimmed through his cousin’s matted curls and down the side of his bruised face. He sighed shakily and reached for Pippin’s uninjured hand, and saw that it was clenched in a tight fist.

Merry tried to pry Pippin’s fingers apart, and looked up in confusion when Gandalf gently, but firmly, pulled his hand away.

The wizard looked closely at Merry for a moment before smiling. “Did your cousin ever tell you about his stars?”

“His stars…?” Merry’s brow furrowed in thought.

“The stars that came to visit him while he was ill,” Gandalf prompted.

“Oh, yes, the ones he said you gave to him.” Merry smiled a little at the memory. “Pippin was a bit put out afterwards, if I remember correctly. He thought that Frodo never quite believed him.”

“Did you?” Gandalf asked.

“I knew that Pippin would never lie to me,” Merry replied. “And whatever had happened made him very happy.” He paused to smile down at his cousin before turning to meet Gandalf’s eyes. “But what were they truly, Gandalf? Fireworks? A trick of the light?”

Gandalf smiled mysteriously. “Open your cousin’s hand, Merry, and tell me what you see.”

Merry cast Gandalf a long, doubtful look, before reaching for Pippin’s hand and prying the clenched palm open.

“Stars?” Merry shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

Gandalf reached over and closed Pippin’s fingers around the stars once more. “Tell me, Merry, how does a wanderer find his way through the darkest of nights?” he asked quietly.

“He follows the stars,” Merry whispered. He glanced questioningly at Pippin.

“It is my hope that these stars will find your cousin, wherever he is wandering, and lead him back to us,” Gandalf said.

Merry looked down at Pippin’s hand, watching as small slivers of light shone between his fingers, and when he glanced up again Gandalf could see the tiniest spark of hope shining in the hobbit’s eyes.

“Do you really think it will work, Gandalf?” he asked quietly. “What if Pippin is so lost that he can’t follow the stars, or even see them at all?”

Gandalf smiled a little and placed Merry’s hands over Pippin’s. “Perhaps you may help show your cousin the way.”

Merry smiled back, and gripped Pippin’s hand tighter in his own. Paying careful attention not to jostle Pippin, he climbed onto the cot and settled down at his cousin’s side as Gandalf sat back in his chair to continue his watch.

For a long time they were silent, watching Pippin’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Breathing seemed to come easier now to Pippin in the fresh air of Ithilien, and Gandalf was grateful once more for the Eagles’ assistance in transporting the seriously wounded.

The hours crawled by and Merry, made weary by his long journey and his fear for Pippin, fell into a light doze several times, only to come awake a few moments later, feeling guilty and irritated with himself. Gandalf was just about to suggest that Merry give into his sleepiness and rest for a bit when the hobbit began to speak.

“Pippin has always liked stars,” he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “When we were younger, we once thought to ask Bilbo how many stars there were and what their names were, and then managed to forget all about it when we reached Bag End.” He smiled a little at the memory.

“I doubt that Pippin ever truly forgot,” Gandalf replied, grumbling half-heartedly. “On the way to Minas Tirith, your cousin not only had the audacity to ask me to name each star, but he also demanded that I recount the entire history of the world.”

“He didn’t!” Merry cried, his eyes widening.

“He most certainly did.” Gandalf smiled sadly. “I wish now that I had not been so short with him that day, and on other occasions.”

Merry managed a wobbly smile. “Well, Pippin usually deserves it,” he admitted fondly, and pressed a gentle kiss in his cousin’s curls before sitting up, his drowsiness drifting away as he focused his concentration on Pippin.

His eyes searched his cousin, desperately hoping that he would discover that a change, however small, had occurred.  Sighing a little in disappointment when he found nothing, Merry opened Pippin’s hand a little to steal a glimpse at the stars inside. They gleamed vibrantly in the dim tent, their light casting into shadow the lines of care on Merry’s face, his worry making him seem much older than his years.

“They’re beautiful,” Merry said quietly, squinting in their brightness. “Now I know why Pippin was so happy whenever he spoke of them. I only wish that they would find him now,” he added before closing his cousin’s hand once more around the stars.

“I know it is difficult, but you must be patient,” Gandalf said gently. “Pippin’s spirit has wandered far, and it is not so easy to return to the waking world, as you know.”

Merry frowned at that, and fell deep into thought for some time, his eyes trained on Pippin. His mind seemed crowded with memories, and he sorted through them all, beginning with the last time he had seen his cousin.

Pippin had been whole and healthy then, his armor gleaming in the sun, and Merry’s thoughts drifted deeper into their shared past until finally he found himself thinking of the very first time they had ever met, when his cousin was nothing more than a tiny wriggling baby laughing in his cradle.

“It’s too much to bear, seeing Pippin like this,” Merry said suddenly, tears stinging his eyes and throat. He bowed his head and wept for a long while as Gandalf struggled to think of some words of encouragement, and failed.

“Merry?”

The whisper was so faint that it was nearly drowned out by Merry’s tears. Gandalf leaned forward in his chair and Merry half-choked on a sob as he leaned closer, too, as Pippin’s eyes opened, just barely.

Merry clutched his cousin’s hand and stared at him in disbelief, watching as he blinked slowly. “Pippin?”

A tiny, strained smile formed on Pippin’s bruised face, and Merry shook his head and wrapped his arms around his cousin, holding him far too tightly. He buried his face in Pippin’s hair and squeezed his eyes shut, thanking every star in the sky that Pippin had returned.

Pippin attempted to hug Merry in return, but when he found it too painful to lift his arms at all he settled for turning his head a little, resting his cheek against his cousin’s.

They stayed that way for a few moments, as Gandalf saw fit not to disturb them, until Pippin’s breathing hitched and he began to cough. Merry drew back in alarm, and Gandalf quickly reached for the mug of water on the table beside the cot. He slid a hand beneath Pippin and, lifting his head a little so he would not choke, held the mug to the hobbit’s lips.

As Merry watched, concerned, Pippin managed to drink a small mouthful of water before he grew exhausted by the activity. His head lolled back, and he stared at Gandalf beneath heavy-lidded eyes as the wizard tenderly lowered him once more to his pillow.

“Hullo, Gandalf,” he murmured, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy from the fever. “You sent me stars again.”

The wizard smiled fondly. “You were lost for some time, my lad. I am very glad that they found you, and that you were able to follow them back to us.”

“I couldn’t find my way back at first,” Pippin whispered slowly. “And then I was so tired, and couldn’t go on any longer.”

“Oh, Pip,” Merry whispered, willing himself not to cry again.

Pippin smiled weakly. “I thought of you, Merry, and I knew that you must be nearby, and Gandalf, too,” he said, turning to the wizard. “I don’t know how I knew.” He frowned a little, catching his breath and trying to sort out his thoughts, before continuing.

“Then I followed the stars for a long time.” Pippin shifted a little, and hissed in pain. “I finally reached them, and…I’m not sure what happened. They left, I suppose.”

“They are still here,” Gandalf said gently. He carefully opened Pippin’s still-clasped fist and released the stars.

The stars floated upwards, shining brightly as they danced in the air. Pippin stared at them in awe, and forgot his pain for a moment. “Look, Merry.”

“I’m watching, Pip,” Merry replied, though in truth he was looking at Pippin more than the stars.

“It is nearly morning,” Gandalf said, taking note of the pale light seeping through the tiny opening in the tent’s flap. “You know what that means, Pippin.”

Nodding, Pippin watched as the stars twinkled at him once more before they disappeared though the tent flap and soared away into the fading night. He turned back to Gandalf then, and smiled through his pain.

“I am very happy that you have returned to us, Peregrin my lad,” Gandalf said warmly. “As I hope you remember, I do not like quiet Tooks, and these past few days I have discovered that I do not like still ones, either.”

“Chatty, cheerful and curious,” Pippin remembered, repeating the words said on that long-ago evening. He tried to move and grimaced in pain. “I’ll try, Gandalf, but everything hurts at the moment.”

“That is to be expected when you so absurdly stand beneath a falling hill-troll,” Gandalf countered grumpily, though he offered Pippin a fond smile.

Pippin gave a short laugh, and though it sounded dry and little-used, Gandalf and Merry grinned at each other, glad to hear the familiar sound. Their smiles faded quickly, however, when Pippin’s breath caught, his eyes squeezing shut as his face contorted with pain.

“There will be plenty of time later for chatting and curious questions,” Gandalf said as he rose to his feet. “But for now I must go and fetch Aragorn so that he may tend to you. I fear some foul tonic will be involved.”

Pippin barely flinched at the thought, and even managed to offer the wizard a smile.

“Thank you, Gandalf,” he whispered. It seemed that he wanted to say more, but was in too much pain, and Gandalf was forced to read all that was left unsaid in Pippin’s eyes.

“You are most welcome, my dear hobbit,” Gandalf replied, smiling in return. He left the tent, then, and once outside called for Belecthor to tend to Pippin until Aragorn arrived.

Gandalf lingered at the tent flap, watching for a moment as Belecthor happily greeted Pippin and joined Merry in fussing over him. With a satisfied nod, he left to summon Aragorn as the new day dawned bright in Ithilien.

TBC...