SHELTER - Chapter 2

Merry made his way carefully around the many cots and pallets, exchanging greetings with the soldiers of Rohan who knew him. Finally reaching Pippin’s side, Merry fell to his knees, his eyes darting from Pippin’s face to Frodo’s, to Sam’s, and back to Pippin’s. Aragorn entered the shelter behind him, smiling broadly.

“Took you long enough to amble in here,” Pippin said, wriggling with delight to see Merry again.

“What?” Merry asked, dazed. They’re all alive. All three. I still can’t believe it. He shook himself out of his tumbling thoughts. “I just arrived, you crazy Took.”

“No you didn’t,” Pippin insisted. “I know you. First you had to pay your respects to Éomer. Then Gimli hugged the stuffing out of you. Then you hunted up Strider and asked him dozens of questions. Am I right?” He looked up. “Hullo, Strider. I’m feeling much better this evening, truly.”

Aragorn shook a finger at the young hobbit.

“You may not get up yet, Peregrin. I said another week, and I meant it.” Ruffling Pippin’s curls, he knelt to check on Frodo and Sam.

Pippin grinned resignedly; it had been worth trying. He turned back to Merry.

“Am I right?”

“Of course you are,” Merry admitted. He watched carefully as Aragorn pulled back Frodo’s blankets a bit. Merry turned pale at the sight of the fading bruises and cuts on his cousin’s throat, arms, and torso. Pippin shuddered slightly, remembering how Frodo and Sam had looked a week ago. At least Merry wasn’t seeing them like that.

“Have they been conscious at all?” Merry asked, concerned.

“They’re not exactly unconscious. Strider says they’re just in a very deep sleep.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Unconscious is when you can’t wake,” Pippin explained. “Sleeping is when you don’t wake.”

Merry looked at his young cousin blankly.

“They dream, and turn over, and mumble things, and...” Pippin stared at Merry in exasperation. “Unconscious is when... I mean, sleep is...”

“Strider, are you sure that’s just milk he’s drinking? Tooks get a bit incoherent when they hit the pubs, you know.”

Pippin began to splutter indignantly. Merry laughed, and suddenly Pippin was enveloped in his cousin’s gentle arms.

“You’re all right,” Merry whispered. “My brave, brave Pippin.” He sat back, beaming. “I hear you knocked down the Black Gate all by yourself.”

“Of course he did,” Beregond laughed, coming to greet Merry. “How is my son?”

“Bergil is fine, sir,” Merry told him. “He sends his greetings... and love.” His eyes strayed back to Frodo. “The Eagles came to the City,” he murmured. “They told us... they said that the Ring-bearers had fulfilled their...” Merry’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of Frodo’s bandaged hand.

“What happened to him?” he burst out. “Is Sam hurt, too? How long have they been unconscious?”

“I told you,” Pippin said patiently, “they’re not--”

“Merry, I will tell you and Pippin what transpired at the Mountain – at least, as much as I know – another time,” Aragorn said quietly. “This is not the place for such a tale. Suffice it to say that Frodo and Sam endured a journey beyond hope, and the Ring went into the Fire.” He look up as Legolas entered the shelter, bearing two mugs.

Legolas sat gracefully, put down the mugs, and propped Sam up against his chest. Aragorn did the same with Frodo, and Pippin and Merry watched in silence as they were fed a thick broth, one spoonful at a time. It was obvious now to Merry that his cousin and Sam were not unconscious, as both swallowed easily, and seemed responsive to being held.

The wounded Men, mindful of the privacy of the small folk, tried to look elsewhere, but the sight of their new healer-King tending to the Ring-bearers’ needs was impossible to ignore. The courageous little ones, swathed in blankets and being lovingly tended, brought smiles to the lips of the most battle-hardened soldier.

Aragorn pressed a gentle hand to Frodo’s brow and murmured something in Elvish, whereupon Frodo sighed, obviously relaxed and peacefully dreaming.

“He’s so thin,” Merry said, tears filling his eyes. "No, give him to me."

Aragorn had been about to lay Frodo back down, but very gently transferred his small burden to Merry before taking Sam from Legolas, and murmuring the same soft words to to him.

Merry wrapped his arms around Frodo, closed his eyes, and contentedly felt his cousin’s deep, regular breathing, and the steady heartbeat.

Alive. All of us.

Pippin smiled happily at the sight, but soon he needed to disturb Merry for something very important.

“Gimli’s back. It's time for supper!”

** TBC **