A ROHAN TAPESTRY

Chapter Four:  Clearing the Air

“Time wears on, and the mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wreathe yourselves in smoke.”  Legolas, ‘Flotsam and Jetsam’, The Two Towers

Frodo slowly awoke to the sweet smell of pipeweed, and a murmur of nearby voices. He opened his eyes to a sight that made him smile. In the windowseat sat Merry, still partially wrapped in his blanket, and in a chair next to him sat Aragorn. Both held lit pipes, and as Frodo watched, Merry blew three perfect rings of smoke out the open window.

“Beat that,” Merry said triumphantly.

“Is it a contest?” Frodo asked groggily. “I taught Merry everything he knows, Aragorn; you don’t stand a chance.”

“And Gandalf taught me everything I know, Frodo,” Aragorn said. He drew on his pipe. “Observe.” He matched Merry’s three rings, and barely managed a fourth, rather shaky one.

“Hmmm,” Merry said critically. “Doesn’t count.”

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” Frodo said, frowning at the king. “Did you slip something into my tea?”

“Nay, Frodo, no such persuasion was necessary,” Aragorn assured him. “You were wearied from your exertion in the hot sun. You slept only a few hours. How are you feeling?”

Frodo stretched and sat up. He felt a bit lightheaded, and his feet throbbed, but not nearly as badly as before. “Much better,” he decided. He reached for the pitcher of water on a table next to the bed, poured a mugful, and drank it thirstily. “Merry, how are you feeling?” he asked anxiously.

“Much better,” Merry echoed hastily. “But Strider wants me to stay in bed today.”

“Does he? You don’t appear to be following orders, you miscreant, and he doesn’t appear to be enforcing them.”

“It was hardly an order,” Aragorn chuckled. “Your cousin needs to rest, and he is.” He set down his pipe, and Merry's, then lifted Merry back onto the bed next to Frodo.

“Come back anytime for a rematch, Strider,” Merry said. “You may not get many chances after this.”

“True,” Aragorn said regretfully. “Arwen has little appreciation for this particular pastime. I may need to arrange a trip to the Shire someday soon.” He smiled and left the room.

“Come here, Mer,” Frodo said. He sat back against the headboard and pulled Merry against his chest. Frodo felt his cousin’s right hand, which no longer felt icy cold, then drew the blankets around them both.

Merry smiled faintly. “We used to sit this way when I was little, remember? When you would tell me stories in bed?”

“Of course I remember,” Frodo said. “I think you still have a bit of fever.”

“Just a little bit,” Merry admitted. “Strider says I caught a chill, and it... all the memories came back, and they made me sad. I just need some sleep, then everything will be--”

“Merry, I know.”

“What do you mean?” Merry asked nervously.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck, I don't believe for a second that you and Pippin just ‘didn’t get around’ to telling me what happened to you when Théoden died. You didn’t want to worry me.”

“What... what did they tell you?”

“That you grew wings, flew into the air, rode an oliphaunt into battle, and lopped off the Witch King’s head while singing 'The Ballad of Isengar Took’ at the top of your lungs.”

“What?” Merry gasped. “I never did any such thing!”

“You silly goose,” Frodo said gently. “I asked them to tell me the truth... or as much as they know, anyway.”

“We told you everything that--”

“... you wanted me to hear,” Frodo said firmly. “Pip told me how he found you, and what happened when Aragorn called you back; and Faramir shared what Éowyn remembered of the battle, and what that cold, awful darkness was like.”

Merry shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s all right,” Frodo said softly. “There are things we’ll never know about what happened to you. There are things you’ll never know about what happened to me, or Sam, or even Pippin. I barely know, myself, what happened to me.” He smiled gently. “Merry, I know you’ve felt abandoned and lonely, time and again. The first time was when I left you – to live with Bilbo.”

“Frodo, I never blamed you for--”

“I think you did; deep, deep down inside, where you didn’t even know about it. I tried to leave you twice after that, to protect you, but you wouldn’t let me. And then you and Pip were hurt and captured, and Gandalf took Pip away, and Aragorn left you with King Théoden, and then even he tried to leave you behind...”

Merry started to weep again, and Frodo held him tight.

”Merry, when I was out there in those awful places, in the dark and the cold, weary and hungry and thirsty, so far from home, I wondered if anything we were doing would make any difference, in the end. I know you felt that way, too.”

Merry took a deep, shuddering breath, and clung to his cousin.

“And then, when Aragorn took Pip away to the Black Gate with him, you were alone in that huge city, confused and frightened.” Frodo continued. “You thought we all had left you, again... this time, maybe for good.”

“I hoped not,” Merry whispered. “I hoped so very hard.”

“So did I,” Frodo told him. “And when I couldn’t anymore, I think Sam hoped hard enough for both of us.”

“Oh Frodo,” Merry burst out, “I couldn’t bear to tell you everything. You had enough to burden you.”

“You were never a burden,” Frodo murmured, stroking Merry’s hair gently. “You never will be.”

“Did you carry me all the way up here?” Merry asked suddenly.

“I had a little help from Elladan and Elrohir,” Frodo chuckled. “As Pippin is quick to point out, you're now tall as an oliphaunt and heavy as a troll.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble,” Merry whispered.

“You’re never any trouble,” Frodo said in exasperation. “That’s the whole problem.”

“What is?” Merry asked, puzzled.

“You’re always so brave, so helpful, so full of plans and strategies...” Frodo sighed. “Don't forget that sometimes you need us, too.”

“I won't if you won't.”

“As if I could, anymore,” Frodo grumbled. “Sam now reads my mind better than even you do, if such a thing is possible.”

“Speaking of Sam,” Merry said, wiping his eyes, “he said that if he catches you walking any farther than the front doors of the Hall before we have to leave, he’ll lock you in a closet.”

“Sam would never say that,” Frodo declared.  “Not out loud, anyway.”

“Well, I suppose it could have been Pippin,” Merry admitted.

“Where is Sam?”

“I think he went to the kitchens to teach the cooks how to make ‘a proper tea’.”

“Thank goodness,” Frodo sighed. “Éomer’s folk really do need a few cookbooks, Mer. Think there’s time to write out some recipes for them?”

“Well, we won’t be leaving for a few more days yet. Plenty of time.”

“Do you know where we’re going next?”

“Helm’s Deep. It’s a fortress to the northwest, where a huge battle took place. The walls were nearly destroyed. Gimli wants to help rebuild it. And there are caves that he wants to...” He looked up at Frodo suddenly. “I nearly forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Gimli and Legolas came to visit when you were asleep. There are some caves Gimli's all excited about seeing again.”

“What about them?”

“They’d like us to come along. Gimli says that he wants us to see an underground ‘wonder’ that isn’t dead and frightening, like Moria was. I don’t think Legolas wants to go at all, but they apparently made some kind of wager during the battle.”

“Caves?” Frodo said doubtfully.

“Gimli’s just wild about them. I think he’ll be terribly hurt if we don’t come along. He said there was cool sand on the floors that would feel good on your feet.”

“He’s a good friend,” Frodo said softly.

“Mm hm,” Merry said, yawning. He snuggled down into the blankets.

“Have you had any sleep?” Frodo asked.

“No. Someone had to help Sam look after you.”

“I can’t think of anyone better,” Frodo smiled. He slid down a bit, his arms still wrapped around his cousin. “Just so you let us look after you once in awhile.”

“Well,” Merry murmured, “maybe once in a while.”

** TBC **