For Frodo and Sam!

Author: Llinos
Beta: Marigold

"But I should be ashamed to be left behind," Merry sat on the edge of a bench in the great hall, his feet swinging impatiently, as a healer replaced the bandage on his wounded shield arm. He looked plaintively up at Aragorn. "Please do not consign me to unwanted baggage once more."

"You are not fit for such a journey," said Aragorn. "But do not be ashamed. If you do no more in this war, you have already earned great honour."

"From what Pip told me," Merry glanced over at his cousin, who was already clad in his full armour, "the march to the Black Gate is a distraction, to give Frodo and Sam a longer chance, not a full battle."

"I'm afraid that Master Peregrin Took," Gandalf cast a knowing look at Pippin, "has understated the desperation of this venture."

"Gandalf is right," Éomer added bluntly, "it is the final endeavour! If this fails, then all is lost."

"Pip?"

"Well, I didn't want you to worry Merry," Pippin confessed, "I knew you would try to stop me from going, or insist on going yourself, and honestly Merry, you're not well enough yet."

"Yet!" Merry's voice was growing tense with frustration, "there isn't any time for 'yet'! If this is the last battle, please don't deny me my part in it."

"I thought I'd lost you before, Merry," Pippin pulled off his gauntlet so he could take his cousin's hand. "Don't make it true, please, I couldn't bear it."

"And what if I lost you, Pip?" Merry's voice calmed as he tried to squeeze Pippin's hand in turn, but his right hand still had little feeling. He hoped Pippin would not notice his lack of response. "How would it be, if anything happened to you, and Frodo and Sam never returned, and I had sat here and done nothing? Would you die happy, knowing that?"

Pippin shook his head but said nothing. There was no answer to such a question.

The healer finished his work and patted the newly bandaged arm gently. "There, that is mending well Master Perian."

"Thank you Mr Dysgwr," Merry had grown to know and like this healer while he was confined to bed. "So I'm fit enough to join the march?"

"I am merely a physician, not a soldier," Dysgwr said diplomatically. "It is not for me to order troops into or out of battle, just to repair them. I bid you take care Meriadoc, that is all!" He left quickly before he could be drawn into the debate.

"Merry," Aragorn raised both eyebrows, slightly alleviating his stern expression, "I strongly suspect you have enlisted the neutrality of Master Dysgwr. Nevertheless, you are not well enough to join this battle. Your shield arm still requires a bandage, your sword arm is barely healed, and…" Aragorn placed two fingers beneath Merry's chin and gently tilted the hobbit's face up, "…the shadows beneath your eyes show me you have not slept with any peace, to say nothing of the bruises that still darken your face. You are not healed enough for a fight such as this."

"Éowyn was bereft when she thought you were lost," Éomer said quietly. "Please do not add to her distress by putting yourself in such danger again."

"But Éowyn would go herself if she could!" Merry said defiantly. "She told me, she desired nothing more than to fill an empty saddle of some fallen Rider, but her body is too broken," Merry glanced up at Aragorn, then looked away, as if he knew more than he said, "and her heart is empty too."

"She is a noble and valiant shield maiden," Aragorn agreed. "I do not doubt her bravery, nor do I doubt yours Merry. But now is not the time for you to take arms again."

"Meriadoc, you are a brave soldier, and so you have proven," Gandalf shook his head, "but be a little gentle on yourself. Do not let your intrepid spirit force your injured body to take on this fight."

"It would be a lie to say I am fully healed," Merry admitted despondently, "and I daresay that one small, injured hobbit will make little difference to the outcome of this war."

Merry looked steadfastly at the concerned faces around him. Gandalf, magnificent in his gleaming white robes; Aragorn, regal and strong, but still filled with compassion. Éomer, his noble bearing well befitting his new role as King of Rohan. Even Pippin seemed filled with majesty, grown taller from the Ent draught and proudly bearing the arms of the Guard of Minas Tirith, betrayed only by the tears that filled his eyes at his cousin's plight.

"But what of Frodo and Sam?" Merry said quietly. "They are just two hobbits, set alone in that terrible wilderness, with all resting upon their shoulders."

"Merry, I understand," Aragorn explained, "but your injuries could prove a hazard to others, as well as to you. Would you risk that?"

"Does a soldier throw down his arms if he is wounded in battle?" Merry countered. "Or does he fight on, for his country and comrades? Perhaps I can do little in such a war, but what little that may be, please do not deny me the right to fight for those I love."

"Meriadoc, Knight of the Mark I shall dub thee," Éomer said solemnly. "Well you served Théoden King as his esquire, and protected my fair sister with such gallantry that I am now deeply ashamed I ever doubted your prowess. But your honour is won, there is no need to prove further that you are brave and valiant."

"I thank you Éomer King," Merry lifted his head proudly, "But it is not for me that I wish to fight; it is for my own kin. Frodo and I grew up as brothers; Sam has been my friend for many years and Pippin… Pippin is the twin of my soul. Would you Éomer, sit idly by, even wounded, if Éowyn were marching to battle?"

Éomer's eyes flashed as suddenly he realised the depth of Merry's loyalty and love. Before any of the assembled company could speak he drew his sword, and commanded, "Kneel, Meriadoc, son of Saradoc!"

Merry slid from the bench, waving off Pippin's proffered arm, and sank to his knees before the new King. Éomer tapped him lightly with the sword on each shoulder and said, "Swear you allegiance to Rohan? To protect and serve her people, to command and be commanded, to honour her King and lay down your life in the defence of the King's Realm?"

"I swear!" Merry looked up with proud defiance in his eyes, "As long as I shall live, my King, my sword and my body are yours to command."

"Then arise, Sir Meriadoc, Knight of the Mark," Éomer held out his hand, and Merry took it, rising on slightly wobbly legs, to stand before his King. "And now, Sir Meriadoc," Éomer said with a grim smile, "my first command to you is that you ride pillion with me to the last battle."

"Éomer?" Aragorn frowned, "is this wise?"

"It is his right," Éomer replied, "and he is now under my command, so there is no more to be said." He turned back to Merry, "Knight of Rohan, get you to the armourer at once and report back to me when you are suitably attired as befits your station."

"Sire." Merry bowed and then cheekily winked at Gandalf as he linked Pippin's arm. "All right Pip?" He whispered.

"All right Merry, you stubborn fool," Pippin muttered back, "we're both going to war."

"For Frodo and Sam!"

"Aye," Pippin squeezed Merry's hand, his love and admiration for his brave cousin grown even greater than he thought possible. "For Frodo and Sam!"

 -The End-