EPILOGUE: TOGETHER ONCE MORE

Pippin sat bare-chested on the edge of his bed, Merry hovering over his shoulder. Aragorn kneeled in front of the younger hobbit, lightly running his hands across Pippin’s ribs and the faded bruises there.

Aragorn shook his head and sat back on his heels. “Once again, I’m amazed by the healing power of hobbits.”

“Does that mean I can keep those bandages off?” Pippin asked, wrinkling his nose at the constricting strips of cloth piled next to him.

“I don’t see why not,” Aragorn said.

Pippin pulled his shirt over his head and looked triumphantly at Merry. “See? I told you so!”

“I just said to check with Strider first,” Merry said. “Anyway, there’s no harm in being cautious.”

“Except when you’re over-cautious.”

“I’m not--” Merry began, but Aragorn held up his hands.

“Peace, friends. I have good news.”

Immediately, Merry turned to him, hope lighting his eyes. “Frodo and Sam?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Aragorn said, a smile spreading across his face. “The Ringbearers should be waking up soon.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Pippin cried, and leapt to his feet. He shrugged on his braces as he dashed for the door.

Merry watched his cousin disappear rapidly through the doorway, then raised an eyebrow at Aragorn. “Did you notice? I don’t think there’s a thing wrong with him now.”

“I think you’re right,” Aragorn said. “And what a terrible misfortune for Minas Tirith it will be, once he realises it.”

He and Merry shared a grin, just as Pippin’s head reappeared in the doorway.

“Merry! Aren’t you coming?”

And so Merry got up and ran for the door, and by the time they were racing down the corridor to Frodo’s room, they could already hear Gandalf laughing inside. Pippin whooped and pushed open the door as Merry crowded behind him, pushing him forward.

Inside, Frodo’s room was lit up in golden hues, the afternoon sun streaming warm and bright through a westward-facing window. Gandalf stood in the middle of the room next to a wood-framed bed piled high with soft, white blankets. And on the bed was a hobbit whose dark curls were bathed in light.

Frodo was sitting up, a look of astonishment on his face. But it melted away to peals of delighted laughter when he saw Merry and Pippin in the doorway.

Merry and Pippin didn’t remember crossing the room to him, so great was their joy. They launched themselves onto the bed and Frodo could hardly understand a word coming out of their mouths, so animatedly were Merry and Pippin talking--correcting each others’ stories, interjecting, interrupting, not really caring what they said because all they were saying was how very, very happy they were to be there, together once more.

THE END