Chapter 2. Arriving in Ithilien

Merry's gaze searched eagerly among the bustle along the quay. The message summoning him had come from Aragorn, not Frodo, and it had said merely that he was to come to join the other hobbits; no other details in so brief a missive. Likely Frodo hadn’t had a moment to sit down, to put pen to paper, in the joyous bustle that he'd heard was Ithilien. Rumour had it that two of the great Eagles had flown him and Samwise from the very mouth of Mount Doom to safety, after the Ring was destroyed. Merry looked forward to hearing the account from Frodo; no doubt Sam had covered his eyes and cowered amongst the feathers on the great bird’s back. Merry rather suspected he’d have done the same, though he’d no doubt Pippin was bitterly disappointed that he hadn’t had anything to do with Eagles.

 He didn't expect the whole Fellowship to be there to meet him, of course, but... His grin brightened as his eyes fixed on a small, stalwart figure standing like a rock among the eddies of busy dockworkers. About the right height for a hobbit, but wide enough to be three hobbits bundled together.

Pippin might come up with such a joke, borrowing clothes off Gimli and stuffing himself into one trouser leg and Frodo into another, to fool Merry. Ah, but he could see now the axe hanging from the broad belt. Gimli would never lend his axe, not even for such a grand deception. No, likely Pippin had convinced Frodo to stand in the shadow of one of the barrels on the dockside, only to step out grinning as he walked past...

Once the ship was made fast and the gangway was being extended, Merry heard the Captain behind him. 'It has been an honour to have you grace the Dove, Master Perian.'

'The honour is mine,' Merry said, turning with a smile. 'I thank you for a most agreeable journey, Captain, even if it was much too short to my thinking.'

The Captain laughed. 'You are welcome anytime on a longer journey, Sir. Perhaps we can persuade you to join us when next we seek the Sea.'

'I'd like that,' Merry said. Thingal came up with his pack, saluted, and left again with a grin for the hobbit. Merry gestured to the waiting dwarf. 'It seems my welcoming committee is here.'

'Aye,' the Captain said, as they came to the top of the gangway. He turned back to Merry, then, to say, 'May grace go with you, lad, wherever you may go.'

'And with you,' Merry answered, lifted his pack, and strode jauntily down the gangway, calling a greeting to the waiting figure.

'So, a welcoming committee of one!' he said cheerily. 'Where are my cousins, then? Could they not be torn from the feasting to meet me?'

Gimli smiled briefly before letting his face settle into its customary grim lines. 'They would have liked to come, I'm sure,' he muttered. Forcing a smile, he said with all-too-obviously put-on cheerfulness, 'And how was your journey, young hobbit?'

Merry turned to face the dwarf squarely, refusing to acknowledge a sinking feeling deep inside, that he’d fought all through the dark days until the news came of triumph and delivery from darkness. 'All right, now, what are you not telling me?' he asked firmly. Surely Strider would have said something... surely...

'We didna want to distress you...' Gimli began.

'I'm feeling more distress all the time,' Merry answered. 'Just what do I have to be distressed about?'

'Aragorn summoned you to come...' Gimli said, but seemed to have difficulty in continuing.

'The summons said only that the King called me to Cormallen,' Merry said.

'He didn't want to worry you,' the dwarf said gruffly. ‘Not with the journey you must make to come here, and you only new-healed...’

'What's to worry about?' Merry asked. He looked intently at Gimli. 'They're all right, of course.' Gimli said nothing. Merry reworded his question. 'They're going to be all right, aren't they?' When the dwarf did not respond immediately, he said again more slowly, 'Aren't they?'

'Of course,' Gimli muttered. 'Of course they are.'

Merry stared hard at him, then said softly, 'You'll be wanting more practice if you're going to tell a convincing lie.'

Gimli met his eyes. 'I'm sorry, lad.'

'How bad is it?' Merry breathed. How bad could it be? If his cousins were already dead, he'd have been told... surely...

The dwarf shook his head, dropping his eyes. At Merry's gasp, he raised his eyes again to say urgently, 'Now, lad, don't take on, while there's breath there's yet hope.'

'Why wasn't I told?' Merry demanded.

'We didn't want you to fret all the journey here, knowing how ill you'd been,' came the answer.

In Gimli's voice he could hear the implied warning: If he were to allow himself to get upset, make himself ill again, he would not be allowed to see his cousins.

Merry took a deep breath and nodded. 'Ah, well, your plans worked, it was a restful trip, very strengthening.' He looked hard at the dwarf. 'Now, where are my cousins? And where's Sam?'

'I'll take you there,' Gimli said.