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Leaving Darkness Behind  by Periantari

“To Merry the ascent seemed agelong, a meaningless journey in a hateful dream, going on and on to some dim ending that memory cannot seize.” ~The Houses of Healing, RotK

Cold. It felt cold and frequent, unnatural trembling left Merry quite fatigued from the surrounding war that was only gradually subsiding. An odd mistiness in the air was starting to affect his sight. It had seemed like days that he had been trying to manage his way through the many levels of the White City, but however long he trudged, he felt as if he were he was moving through water with leaden legs. Merry had never felt so helpless in his life and his moving was slow-going, as darkness descended quickly...

The Witch-king emerged forth once again, threatening to kill him and all his kin...the shrill sound of his cry filled his mind with dread and fear. A flash of light and all was gone…The orcs cursed at him, the constant blows of the whips was felt, blood streamed down from the forehead wound; his hands were bound and he felt helpless to resist... King Theoden was bloodied, the Witch-king advanced menacingly before Dernhelm...

Shocked from his dreams, Merry came into slight wakefulness. Had he fallen asleep upon the ground? Breathing hard and in terrible fright, he tried to convince himself that it had all been a dream. But he still could not feel his right hand, and weariness suppressed him. There were corpses littering the ground nearby, a stench of decay and ashes with spears and swords lay deserted besides their masters. He did not know where he was and where he was aiming to go. Was he going to die here overlooked, alone, and forgotten?

“Well Merry! Thank goodness I have found you!*** I have been so worried!”

The familiar voice brought him back to the present, reminding Merry of home, and he looked up into Pippin’s worried face. Dear Pippin had found him. Strong hands held onto his shoulders, pulling him up to a sitting position, and Merry almost had tears of joy to see Pippin again. Merry felt a spark of hope course through his mind once again, and he sought to stay strong for Pippin and not show any weakness.

But he only caught snatches of Pippin’s words, “Citadel,” “wrong turning,” “Gandalf,” “hurt or wounded,” before he felt his right hand cease being numb and begin to hurt horribly, a cold pain that seemed to immobilize him. Again, a constant coldness continuously seemed to force him into darkness. But he must explain his condition, and try hard not to worry Pippin.

“I can’t use my right hand … ever since I stabbed him, Pippin! I helped Dernhelm, who is really the Lady Eowyn... but …I can’t use it anymore,” Merry motioned to his right hand. “I’m not hurt anywhere else though,” he added, smiling grimly at Pippin despite the disquieting chill that was starting to fog up his mind and make his cousin’s face seem a bit blurry. “I need …a hand, in… getting …getting where we need to go, Pip.”

“It’s all right, Merry–I’m here for you—lean on me. I’ll bring you to safety,” Pippin shuddered, his eyes filled with tears to see Merry so hurt. “I’m going to bring you to the Houses of Healing– You’ll be healed there,” Pippin helped Merry up to his feet and put his cousin’s left arm around his own shoulders to support him.

“Not burying me with King Theoden?” whispered Merry, tears forming in his eyes. “He died, Pip... I hope Lady Eowyn did not die as well...” He felt helpless again, unable to help the Rohirrim to which he had pledged his service. However, he was feeling increasingly lethargic, the bone-chilling pain was spreading, and his surroundings seemed a bit dimmer than usual—or was it his tears that had made everything so unclear?

“I don’t know about them, Mer… but shush, Merry– think of yourself first...you're not in the best condition. I’m here for you—“

“All right, Pip–you… lead the ..way...” Merry’s voice dropped to a whisper. Once more he heard fell voices whispering in his ears, and the chill and pain in his arm had spread to his shoulder. The darkness seemed interminable even though Pippin was by his side.

Pippin helped Merry stand and held onto him as best as he could, but he could see that Merry was struggling hard to remain conscious. A sheen of cool perspiration gathered on Merry’s forehead, his breathing was shallow, and he was noticeably favoring his left hand. Pippin knew that he could not bring Merry to the Houses of Healing by himself; Merry’s weight had increasingly begun to bear down upon him, and he was frightfully afraid that Merry was injured more than he was telling him.

“Merry! Stay with me! Merry! You’ll be all right; we’re almost there…”

Merry’s eyes were glazed over and he seemed to not hear Pippin’s reassurances but kept stumbling upon the path they were taking.

“Merry! Do you need to rest? How are you faring?” Pippin was frantic and tried hard to hold onto his ailing cousin.

“It’s dark, Pip… and… arm’s ... hurting…” whispered Merry.

Pippin frowned, beyond worried about Merry’s state, but he was relieved to see Bergil hurrying down the path.

“Bergil! There is a wounded perian from the battlefield–you must alert Mithrandir immediately! He is quite injured...” Pippin’s voice faded and he was almost too overcome with worry and fright to know what else to say.

“I’m sorry, Master Perian; I need to run a few errands for some of the healers, but when I can, I’ll try to tell Mithrandir if I see him,” Bergil seemed amazed and shocked to see the injured, pale-faced perian before him, and he hurried along the path to try to respond to Pippin’s order as quickly as he could.

Vaguely listening as Bergil acquiesced to Pippin’s orders, Merry suddenly saw horrible images appear before his eyes. The pain become intolerable and he sank down, and remembered no more.

“Hang in there Merry... Merry! Merry!” Pippin’s eyes were now full of tears and he was fraught with dread and fear. What has happened to his dear Merry? What if Merry died? No, no–he must be all right! “Merry– please wake up....” Pippin’s voice drifted as he placed Merry’s head upon his lap, holding onto Merry’s hand, trying to prevent the unnatural iciness of his right hand from spreading and placed his other hand on Merry’s chest. “Merry—stay with me, you’ll be all right. Please be all right. I’ll let you nap only a little, just a little, Mer… but please, please wake up soon…” Pippin was frightened but he knew he had to stay brave for Merry.

Merry’s face had become too pale, his pulse was racing, and he seemed steeped deep in unconsciousness for he did not stir no matter what Pippin did or said.

It seemed like they had sat for eternity upon the cold steps of the deserted yet dirtied street. Pippin only saw injured or dead soldiers and orcs all around, many remnants of rubble all around, and shuddered upon seeing so much mass destruction of the city. Merry still did not awaken in his arms but started mumbling incoherent words, and Pippin was feeling increasingly desperate that he was wasting time that would be crucial for healing Merry. What if Gandalf never found them? What if he was the cause of Merry’s delayed treatment? What if--

Suddenly a familiar voice interrupted his dark thoughts

“Peregrin Took!”

Pippin looked up into Gandalf’s gentle and worried eyes. Gandalf reached over for Merry and picked him up. “I’m glad you found Merry, Pippin– we must all acknowledge the task that he has done. But first, we must tend to his wound. He should be borne in the honor of this city; he has well repaid my trust...”****

“Will he be all right, Gandalf? Will Merry be all right?” Pippin was trying hard to choke back the tears that were continually streaming down his cheeks. Seeing Merry pale and unresponsive was becoming too much for him to bear, and he almost wanted to weep openly but Gandalf was there, and he was Knight of Gondor and had to be strong.

“We shall see, Pippin— we shall see what Aragorn can do.”

Pippin followed Gandalf with trepidation, trying desperately to keep his hope alive.

~~~~

Gandalf had found it very worrisome that Meriadoc had not accompanied the king, Eowyn, and Elfhelm and the other soldiers of the Rohirrim back up to the Citadel. He had found out from Elfhelm that the Halfling, the king’s esquire, had indeed come along with them but they had soon lost sight of him.

“Lord Mithrandir?” said a timid voice behind him.

Gandalf turned around to see young Bergil with a solemn look upon his face.

“My lord, I have seen another hobbit with the Ernil i Pheriannath down in the first level of the city—he seemed injured ¼ and¼ I was told to fetch you¼”

“Thank you, dear lad, I shall go at once to find them,” Gandalf replied. He patted the boy on the shoulder and hurried out the door of the Citadel.

Galloping upon Shadowfax, he quickly went through the higher circles of Minas Tirith to find utter destruction all around. Chaos still reigned from the lingering battles from the Siege, with men still fighting or gathering prisoners of war together, but Gandalf paid them no heed for he had a much urgent deed at hand.

When he found Pippin with Merry, he noticed that Pippin’s eyes were filled with tears and that Merry lay very still. Gandalf lifted up the cold, unconscious hobbit and placed him upon Shadowfax. He had an ill feeling that Merry was suffering from the spell of the Witch-King, just as the Lady Eowyn did. Time was indeed precious.

“Come now, Pippin, do not be afraid. I will bring Merry to the Houses of Healing and will meet you there.” Before galloping off with Merry, Gandalf put his hand to Pippin’s shoulder, lifted his chin, looking into his sorrowful eyes and said, “Things may seem bleak now but your cousin is strong and has always shown lots of spirit. He will be all right, I promise. We will do whatever we can.”

Pippin said nothing at first, reluctant to show his fear and grief, but then he murmured, “Hurry Gandalf¼ I ¼ I¼ can’t…lose Merry.” His eyes filled with fresh tears, and Pippin found he was unable to contain his sorrow as he wept openly.

“We will make haste at once—“ As if on cue, Shadowfax sprang forward and Gandalf and Merry disappeared from Pippin’s sight.

In reality, Gandalf was keenly aware of the danger of the situation. Recalling the history of those who had tried to kill the Witch-King and those who had suffered from the Black Shadow and the Morgul wound, he knew many men who had soon fallen deathly ill from the poisons and spell of the Nine Riders’ black sorcery. There was no cure for the ailments of dark dreams, periods of delirium and sudden, deep unconsciousness, where breathing and the pulse slowed, reminiscent of death.

It was too close for comfort that Frodo had survived the Morgul wound for seventeen days, and Gandalf still marveled over that. Even though he feared for Merry, he knew that he was strong-willed and had the trademark resilience that hobbits possessed.

His task should be made renowned in all of Middle Earth for his selflessness and courage, Gandalf thought to himself. Meriadoc has indeed gained my respect and admiration for having the bravery to help slay that dreadful thing. But first, he needs a master healer to tend to him. He shall not endure this suffering without a full recovery.

Though the healers were busy caring for the scores of wounded, when Gandalf arrived with Merry, Ioreth was there to greet them.

“Mithrandir, come this way—we’ve been expecting the perian to come. We know of the great deed that he has accomplished and hope that we can revive him.”

After his clothes had been changed and his wounds bathed, Merry was placed upon the bed. Though he remained unconscious throughout, he started murmuring in his sleep as if he was trapped in a terrifying nightmare. Only then, Gandalf was confirmed of his suspicions; it was the sign of the Black Breath, which only the King could heal.

TBC

***Quotes taken or paraphrased from "The Houses of Healing", RotK





        

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