A Hard Truth

A few hours later, Merry quietly opened the door into Pippin’s room. They all hated the idea of waking the lad up, but he did need to take his medicine with his supper, so Merry had offered to wake him.

Merry stood beside the bed smiling down at the cozy view. The golden coloured dog had moved. She was now lying stretched out with her back against Pippin’s chest, tummy and thighs; the length of her head and body was longer than his torso. Pip had his right arm under her and wrapped around her chest, his left lay atop her shoulder and was bent so his hand rested on the side of her head. Merry took his first good look at the animal. She was a beautiful dog. Her hair was longish and wavy and amazingly clean for an animal that had been astray in the city.

A pang of worry shot through Merry. If Pippin felt as attached to the dog and she appeared to be to him, what would happen if she was someone else’s dog? She looked well fed and well cared for.

“We should try to find out as quickly as possible who has lost her.” Merry thought with a sigh while at the same time fervently hoping she had no other owner.

She looked at him with her large, soft brown eyes, then started to nudge Pippin’s chin with her muzzle. When that had no effect on him, she started to lick him.

An eerie feeling came over Merry. “One would think she knew I’d come in to wake Pip up,” he whispered to himself. “But, she couldn’t have . . . could she?"

His thoughts were interrupted by giggling.

“No. Stop. Quit licking!” Pippin said as he giggled while trying to move his face away from the dog’s insistent tongue. He finally noticed his cousin standing by the bed. “Merry!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve a dog, Merry.”

“Yes, you do. Where did you find her?”

“Her?” Pippin replied as he felt around for her hind leg and twisted himself around so he could see as he lifted it. He grinned broadly, “Aye!” He looked confused at his cousin who was laughing. Had he said something funny?

“What’s her name?” Pippin asked.

Merry caught his breath before answering. “We don’t know.” Merry hesitated then continued. “She might even have an owner who’s lost her, Pippin. She seems awfully well cared for to not have an owner.”

He noticed his cousin’s hold on the dog tighten as Pippin and the dog stared at each other. Merry felt oddly again, as he had a few moments earlier when it seemed the dog had known to wake Pippin up. The room was silent for a long minute.

Pippin said softly. “I . . . I think she’s . . . I think she’s my dog.”

Suddenly Merry remembered when he’d had this same eerie feeing in the past. He sometimes got it around his mother, Esmeralda (Took) Brandybuck. She was one of those Tooks that other hobbits would often gossip about, whispering about the Took clan and faeries behind their hands. She and Pippin’s father were siblings and Pippin was a lot like his Aunt Esme, they were both green-eyed Tooks, small, with dainty, sharp featured faces. In fact, Merry had got the same feeling from Pippin in the past. He had experienced the same feeling, even more strongly, when the Companions of the Ring had been in Lorien. The Lady Galadriel had somehow looked into each of their minds, speaking to them with her thoughts, offering them the choice to go home or continue on the Journey.

A small, quick tremor ran through Merry. This moment, as Pippin and the dog stared at each other, felt the same. It was a feeling of something important going on that he was not a part of. It was beyond his understanding.

“Eh . . . your dog,” he said hesitantly. “Well what are you going to name her then, Pip?”

The spell over them lifted as Pippin looked at Merry, a huge smile on his face. He was rubbing the dog with both hands.

“Sunshine!” He enthusiastically replied. “She is Sunshine. Come on, lass,” Pippin said to the dog, loosening his hold on her and nudging her to get off the bed, which she did. “I need to get up.”

“Sunshine?” Merry asked surprised at the name and at how easily, how normally, Pippin got up and began to put on his dressing gown.

Pippin paused. He had struggled a bit to get his arms into the sleeves then crossed the tie on the dressing gown and snugged it up, but seemed befuddled as to how to tie it any further.

“Help me Merry?” he asked, blushing a bit. “Yes,” Pippin continued as Merry tied the tie in a bow. “It’s her colour and . . .” He put his left hand on Merry’s shoulder while the good fingers on his right scratched Sunshine’s ear. The expression on his face showed that Pippin thought what he said next would make everything clear to his cousin. “That’s what she told me.”

Pippin grinned then he and Sunshine started walking out of the room. Merry stood there a few seconds, too stunned to move, before he hurried to catch up with the pair.

After luncheon, Pippin napped as had been recommended by Parsow. His healers were trying to be careful not to have their patient over extend himself. Even with the nap, however, Pippin complained of being quite tired and having a small headache that evening before he went to bed.

It was the beginning of the end of the severely ill Pippin that the lad’s own foolish actions had created. The oil cloth came off of his bed and there were no more vigils at his bedside. It was not, however the end of all of Pippin’s problems. Over the next few days, as his speech and cognizance improved, other problems arose. Frodo grew concerned. His youngest cousin woke up feeling quite well each morning and would be in good spirits until mid-day. But even if he napped Pippin grew increasingly moody from tea until an hour or so after supper when he would complain of a bad headache and, scowling, bid them all a good night. Frodo spoke with the others and all who lived in the house agreed; in the late afternoon and evening the Pippin the “bad” medicine had created before the lad had taken matters into his own hands seemed to be returning.

At dinner the third day everything came crashing down.

“Would you like some help with that?” Frodo offered as Pippin seemed to be struggling with buttering his bread left handed while at the same time talking to Merry. The lad would say a sentence or two, stop to make a couple of passes with the butter-laden knife across the bread, stop to say a little more then take a few more strokes with the knife, and so on. He seemed to be having trouble thinking about what he was saying while at the same time paying attention to what his hands were doing. As this went on his sentences became disjointed and he was starting to butter his fingers.

Pippin stopped. He looked at Frodo then shoved the plate with his bread upon it away from himself.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly. “No I – I don’t want help. We’re back to – to that are we? Pippin can’t speak well. Pip - Pippin can’t . . . dress himself well. He needs help eating. He forgets what he’s doing. Even if . . . even if I’m not having spells and – and fits all the time, I’m still annoying. ‘What shall we do with - with annoying Peregrin?’” Pippin roughly shoved back from the table, nearly pushing himself over backwards in the process. Sunshine, who had been lying on the floor behind Pippin’s chair, barely got out of the way before the chair would have hit her. Pippin stood up, leaning forward, his face red and his hands fisted at his sides. He said nothing for a few moments. He looked around at his friends as though he had more to say but could not think of what it was. Slowly Pippin blurted it out in more short, broken, sentences.

“It’s – it’s come to this again. You all – all hate me. You keep giving me . . . that bad medicine. How very kind. It’s making me sick again. I – I was better.”

Pippin’s tirade faded as his hands went to his head. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper, as if his own outburst had caused him pain.

“I-I’m going to my room. My h-head is h-hurting. G’night.”

Sunshine followed at the lad’s heels as he stumbled out of the kitchen.

Merry started to get up and follow, but Frodo held him back.

“A moment Merry, just a moment.” The eldest hobbit looked around at his companions seated around the table. He saw his own emotions upon their faces and in their eyes. Sadness that Pippin was changing again, when everyone had hoped the King’s Clover would not cause such problems. Fear because it was clear to them all that Pippin was blaming the medicine for what was happening and they all knew what that had brought to pass before. Concern because it was obvious that Pippin thought he was still taking the old elixir and was once more upset with what he saw as the cause of his problems.

“He hasn’t been told about what happened,” Frodo said with a sigh, although they all knew about it. “Lord Elrond and the others wanted to wait until he seemed more settled.” He looked around at the worried faces around the table. “It appears we can’t wait for that. Legolas?”

“Yes Frodo.”

“I hate to keep using you as an errand runner, but would you please get Lord Elrond, Strider and Parsow.”

“Of course.” Legolas rose and started out, stopping first beside Merry. He laid one of his slender hands on the hobbit’s shoulder. “We will all see to it that Pippin is kept from harming himself again, Merry.” With a nod of his head, the Elf was gone.

“Now,” Frodo began, with a glance at Merry who had once more started to get up from the table. Frodo gently took hold of Merry’s forearm with his right hand. His cousin stared down at the stub where Frodo’s ring finger had once been. It was a sharp reminder that none of them were how they once had been. “No Merry. It was my offer to help that started Pippin’s outburst, so I will go to him. It makes more sense for me to go and I think it best he not feel as though we are all crowding in on him just now. I’m not even sure we should all be in there when he is told what has happened, but we will decide that later.”

Frodo got up and started out the door but turned to Sam before walking out the door. “Sam, fetch me when Legolas and the others arrive. I want to talk to them before they talk to Pippin.” Then he was gone off to Pippin’s room.

Merry’s gaze shifted to his hands as he toyed with his fork. His feelings were running wild and he wasn’t quite sure which among them was the strongest. He was worried and frightened for his dear younger cousin, and upset that his older cousin seemed to be shutting him out. A chill began to creep up Merry’s right arm, as it always did whenever anything went wrong.

“I . . . he can’t go through that again,” Merry softly said to himself, although he said it aloud.

“He won’t, lad. None of us will,” Gimli gruffly replied. “You and I will just be makin’ sure that it doesn’t happen.”

Merry lifted his head and grinned weakly at the Dwarf. A look of understanding passed between them. Of all the Companions, these two had had the most difficulty dealing with how incapacitated Pippin had been.

Frodo moved silently down the hallway to Pippin’s room. Slowly, silently, he opened the door. Pippin lay atop the bedding curled around a pillow while Sunshine sat on the floor between the door and the foot of the bed, looking every bit a guard dog. Frodo’s old fear of dogs rose in him. Although she wasn’t snarling nor even growling at him, Sunshine nonetheless did not look particularly happy to see Frodo Baggins. He stood frozen in place until a soft voice spoke from the bed.

“You can come in Frodo,” Pippin said. “She knows you.”

“How did you know I was here?” Frodo asked as he carefully made his way past the large dog and over to stand at the side of the bed Pippin was turned towards.

Pippin shrugged but did not answer. His breathing was uneven; his face was blotchy and wet.

“I wanted to see if you were all right.”

Pippin nodded. “M’ head still hurts.”

Frodo understood that to mean that Pippin had calmed down even though he was still not feeling well physically. He sat in a chair near the bed and was just about to speak when Pippin spoke.

“Sorry, Frodo,” the lad mumbled. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. At everyone.” Pippin drew a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Sorry I’m saying ‘sorry’ again. Why should anyone believe me? I’ve said it too much.” He sniffed and Frodo handed him a handkerchief. For a few moments no one spoke as Pippin tended to his tears and his nose. He still had not looked at his oldest cousin.

“You do say it an awful lot Pip. But you are the most honestly apologetic person I know. You obviously mean it; I don’t think anyone has quit believing your sincerity.”

They sat in silence after that. Frodo was hesitant to say too much. He didn’t want to set Pippin off again. They were going to need him calm, settled and able to concentrate as best he could if they were going to have him understand what had been going on during the last week. He watched Pippin carefully. The lad lay there, not moving much, sniffling and looking anywhere but at him. Frodo was feeling increasingly guilty. This was his fault, in a way. His fault for saying he would take the Ring to the Mountain. No, his fault for not putting his foot down and telling his young cousins, his dearest cousins, that they could not go with him in the first place. What had he been thinking? He had actually felt happy that they insisted on making the journey, although, at that time he had thought it would only be as far as Rivendell. And yet . . .

They had already seen the Black Riders; they already knew they were being followed.

Frodo’s thoughts grew darker and his pity for Pippin increased as he sat waiting for the healers to arrive. Finally, Sam appeared at the door, cleared his throat. Behind him were Lord Elrond, Strider and Parsow. Gandalf had arrived as well. They had not wished to wait as Frodo had suggested, instead, Strider took Frodo aside as Elrond tended to Pippin.

“Sam said you wished to speak with us?”

Frodo nodded. He could not remember what it was he had planned to say. All his strength seemed to have ebbed away. Strider looked carefully at the Ringbearer and perceived the signs of Darkness upon him.

“Sam,” Aragorn called to the hobbit that was standing at the edge of the room as though unsure of what he should be doing. He came over to the king. “Sam, get a bowl of steaming water. I wish to infuse some athelas in it. There is an ill feeling in the room I wish to dispel and it also should help Peregrin’s headache.”

Sam glanced worriedly at Frodo, nodded to Strider and hurried off to get the water.

Parsow had accompanied the Elf Lord to tend to Pippin. Elrond knelt beside the bed.

“Peregrin?” Elrond spoke gently.

“Yes.”

“I have been told that you head aches. May I see if I am able to lessen your pain?”

At a nod from the hobbit, Elrond placed a hand on either side of Pippin’s head and closed his eyes. He was silent for several minutes before beginning to sing softly. The pathways of Peregrin’s brain were still recovering from his being struck down after not taking his proper medicine and, of course, some of the paths of his thoughts were damaged forever by the lack of air that was the cause of his falling sickness. Peregrin’s headache was not solely caused by either the tincture of King’s Clover or his condition; there was also a great deal of fear inside the young one. Fear and confusion and anger, those matters the Elf healer could deal with.

Gradually, with Lord Elrond’s song and the fresh soothing scent of the athelas filling the room, Pippin could feel some of his chaotic emotions quieting and his headache subsiding. However, he chose to remain curled around the pillow, his good fingers of his right hand caressing his scarf at the side of his neck.

Merry, Legolas and Gimli had come into the room.

“We are all involved with this,” Gimli said sternly to Frodo and Aragorn. “We won’t be told to wait in the kitchen. We will be here like the rest of you.”

The king smiled. “I do think young Peregrin is stronger now than he was the last time all of us filled his room while news was given to him. I think it will be well for everyone to be here.”

Frodo went to the bedside. He reached out and stroked Pippin’s hair.

“Pippin lad, we need to talk to you,” he began.

Pippin reached up to touch Frodo’s hand. It was his right hand and Pippin two good fingers searched out the nub where his cousin’s ring finger had once been and began to caress it. A strange emotion flooded Frodo. He hadn’t liked anyone to touch him there, yet Pippin’s touch was warm and soothing.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pippin whispered. “Not us coming with you, not anything that has happened to any of us. Many sad things would have happened if Merry, Sam and I had not come.”

The words touched Frodo’s heart. How his cousin knew he had just been worrying about this very matter, he did not know, though he had his own theories about it. He himself was an Elf-friend and given to moments of insight, he sensed something similar in his youngest cousin. The warmth of Pippin’s caress spread through Frodo’s hand, up his arm and into his heart.

“Thank you, Pip.” Frodo took a deep breath. “We need to talk to you about the last few days, Pippin. There were some . . . eh . . . problems. You had some problems that we need to . . .”

Merry watched as Frodo stopped, swallowed hard, than began again. The Brandybuck didn’t like how this was going. Frodo could be most stern and forthright most of the time, but he had times, especially since the war had ended, that he was too passive and subdued.

“You . . . you had a very bad . . . you were very ill for a few days Pippin. You . . .”

“Enough!” Merry interrupted.

Frodo jumped and looked over at Merry with a surprised look. The look Merry gave in return surprised Frodo even further. His young cousin had never given him so sharp a look.

Merry was a bit surprised himself. If Frodo had only known that it was his own stern look that Merry was using on him. But Merry hadn’t time to think about Frodo’s feelings just now. He walked over to the side of Pippin’s bed, nudging their older cousin aside as he did so.

“Peregrin Took, sit up,” Merry ordered.

“But Mer . . .”

“Sit up! You say you don’t wish to be treated like a child, well then quit acting like one. Unless he is gravely ill an adult would be sitting up in his bed to speak with visitors. Sit up. And don’t ask for help sitting up. You are perfectly capable of doing it yourself.”

Pippin laid there a moment then sat himself up. He had expected Merry to help with tucking a pillow or two behind his back, but he did not. Pippin reached behind himself and tugged awkwardly at the pillows until they were where he needed them.

“Comfortable?” Merry asked, but not in a caring tone of voice. If anything, Merry was sounding like healers often did; detached.

Pippin nodded. Merry sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You are nearly an adult, Pippin. You have gone through enough experiences that I feel you are an adult in all but years. I expect an answer from an adult, unless he is unable to do so. You are not unable. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Pippin didn’t like this new treatment and it was showing in his irked tone.

“That’s better. What is your rank, Peregrin Took?”

Pippin looked confused for a moment, then answered; “I am a Knight of Gondor.”

“What will you be someday, back in the Shire? What will your titles be?”

“I’ll – I’ll be The Took and Thain of the Shire.”

“Not if you keep acting like this you won’t. Do you have any idea what you did to yourself, Peregrin?”

Pippin was immediately defensive. “I didn’t do anything to myself, *Meriadoc *. A troll fell on me. I didn’t exactly do all this to myself. Well . . .” Pippin paused before adding, “I did forget to jump out of its way. But . . .”

“No, Pippin.” Merry’s tone was suddenly heated. “You bloody well nearly killed yourself because you can’t do as you’re told.”

“Merry!” Frodo exclaimed at his cousin’s bad language.

Merry glared at his elder. “I said what I meant, Frodo. We need to quit mollycoddling him. He wants to be treated like an adult then we need to treat him like an adult.”

Frodo looked deep into Merry’s eyes. The lad sounded angry but his eyes were filled with pain, not anger.

“Go on then Merry.”

Merry turned back to Pippin. Tears were starting to sting his eyes but he didn’t wish to acknowledge them by wiping them away.

“You tampered with your medicine.” Pippin’s eyes grew huge but he did not have time to respond as Merry kept speaking. “You tampered with the herbs that Sam and I were using to make your elixir. You nearly killed yourself and you made us your accomplices, Peregrin!”

At the edge of the room, Sam paled slightly at that thought. His eyes met Merry’s. They shared a knowing look before Merry turned his attention back to Pippin.

Merry took a deep breath and kept going. “You had been told not to stop taking your medicine, told it would make you very ill if you did, but you didn’t care. You . . .”

“It was making me ill taking the wretched stuff!” Pippin blurted out.

Merry put his face mere inches from his young cousin’s face. Tears ran fast and freely down his cheeks.

“Yes. You were vomiting and obnoxious and your head felt near to splitting in two. But you don’t know what happened when you quit taking it.”

“I was better! I went to Strider and Arwen’s wedding I stood with his honor guard and I sang at their feast. And the next day I . . . I . . .”

Pippin stuttered to a stop, but Merry unexpectedly didn’t cut in. Instead he backed away a little, his face no longer so close to his cousin’s, to give the lad some space in which to think. Pippin was trying hard to put the days in order. He held his left hand up; fingers curled, and then began to tick off the days as he remembered them by lifting his thumb and fingers.

He held up his thumb. “Strider’s wedding and I felt quite well.”

First finger. “The next day I . . . well, I didn’t feel as well. I woke up late and then must have gone back to bed . . .”

Merry interrupted with a grim snort. “Oh, you went back to bed all right. What next, Pippin.”

Pippin paused; looking startled by Merry’s comment but went on anyway.

Second finger. “I woke up with Sunshine in my arms and I slept a lot of that day too.”

Third and fourth fingers. “The day before yesterday and yesterday I was feeling better . . .” he paused again. He didn’t want to admit that the headaches and irritability had already been creeping up on him.

“And today I . . .”

Pippin knew he was stuck and Merry’s grin was not a pleasant one.

“So you think this is the fifth day since the wedding? It isn’t, Pippin, it isn’t. Let me correct your counting of days.

Merry once again moved in on Pippin until there were only a few inches between them.

“The wedding day. The day after, when I came home from duty expecting to play a game of chess with my favorite younger cousin but did not. The day after the wedding you went back to bed and were there for half of that day and the next two days, Pippin. Then there was a day where you were in bed and somewhat better but not very much better, though you did start walking again. Then a day you were up most of the day and met Sunshine, but you don’t remember any of it. And then, at last Peregrin Took, the morning you remember waking up with your arms around your dog. Then the day before yesterday, yesterday and today. Today is the ninth day after Strider’s wedding day, little cousin.”

Merry backed away from his astonished cousin. Pippin’s mouth was agape, his expression one of complete confusion.

“How could . . . How . . .” Pippin swallowed hard and looked to Frodo for confirmation of what Merry had said. Frodo slowly nodded. “How could I not remember four whole days?”

Pippin glanced around at his friends. Sam was looking at the floor. Gandalf closed his eyes for a short moment and sighed. When he looked back at Pippin, the Hobbit thought he saw pain in his old, wise eyes. And this pain was not just in Gandalf eyes, as Pippin looked at the others, he also saw it in their eyes. What could have happened, that had hurt and scared his friends so much?

The air in the room grew tense. Who would answer the question they all wished to avoid answering? How would the question be answered?

Merry held the floor.

“You don’t remember because you were having one bad spell after another after another after another with no time in between them. You stared at nothing with eyes that looked dead. You couldn’t move except to twitch and twiddle your fingers at your neck occasionally. You could barely swallow and drooled all down yourself. You had to be fed mush, most of which went down your bib instead of down your throat. You couldn´t speak, you couldn’t hear us, you couldn’t walk and you were in nappies . . . *for nearly four days Peregrin Took!*”

Merry grabbed Pippin and clutched him to his chest, but in spite of the loving gesture, he kept on with the terrible description with a tight, strained voice.

“You have said you didn’t want to be treated like a faunt, Pippin, but you were worse than a faunt. You were an infant, Pippin. And I could barely look at you. I could hardly stand to be in your room with you because it frightened me so and I was so helpless to do anything to bring you back. And with all that, we . . . you, were lucky. Lord Elrond said if it had been your fits instead of your bad spells, it would have killed you. And I mixed the herbs, Sam and I. I didn’t notice what you had done and I could have . . . no, you could have killed yourself.”

Pippin could feel Merry´s heart pounding against him, and could nearly smell the fear his cousin had lived through in the last days.

Could that all be true? He felt awful, embarrassed and sorry all at once.

If their friends in the room thought Merry was finished, they were wrong. He pushed Pippin away, pinning him to the pillows behind him with his hands on the lad’s shoulders.

“You were told not to quit taking your medicine, weren’t you?” The stern, pained tone was back in Merry’s voice.

“Y-yes.”

“Isn’t a knight supposed to do as he’s told by his king? Your king told you not to stop taking your medicine, should he have had to make it a formal order, * Sir * Peregrin Took?”

“N-no.” The poor young hobbit looked as though he was in shock.

“You are getting a new medicine, Pippin. You have been since your cleverness nearly killed you. I dare say you aren’t feeling anywhere near as badly as you felt with the other medicine. Are you?”

“No. Jus-just enough so that I was afraid it was going to end up as bad.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Pippin. None of us will allow you to get so desperate again without intervening.” Merry’s expression softened for a moment before becoming firm once more. “A wise adult does what is best for himself, Pippin. Do you want to be The Took and Thain when the time comes?”

Pippin’s expression changed. His fear and a touch of anger rose up in him. “I won’t get to be, Merry. It doesn’t matter. Not when they find out I have the falling sickness.”

Merry was stern. “We don’t know that. Your medicine helps a lot but you haven’t been working nearly as hard as you should have to do the most you can. You haven’t and we haven’t.” Merry looked firmly into Pippin’s eyes. “Do you intend to remain a Knight of Gondor and to take your titles in the Shire when the time comes? Do you, Pippin?”

Pippin looked at Merry then looked beyond him again to the others in the room. Not a single face showed doubt in him. Not a single person looked anything but hopeful. He sat up straighter and set his shoulders straight under Merry’s hands.

“Yes. Yes, I intend to remain a knight if my lord and king will still have me as such. And I will serve the Tooks and the Hobbits of the Shire as well if they will have me.”

Merry stood back and Pippin looked more easily at his king and his friends.

“I’ll do as I’m told. I guess even an adult still has to do as he’s told sometimes. I . . . I can’t help being curious but I’ll do as I’m told when I have been told what to do. I . . .” Pippin blushed and looked down. “I want you to be proud of me, Strider. Even when I’m back home and you’re still here and can’t keep an eye on me.”

The small knight looked up into his king’s eyes. “I promise I will do as you tell me and as Parsow and Lord Elrond tell me. No more trying to be clever and hurting myself and others by doing what I’ve been told not to do. I promise.”

King Elessar strode forward. He knew hobbits well. He knew they did not make a promise lightly. “I will honor your promise, Sir Peregrin Took, and trust that you will honor it as well.”

“I will, my lord.” Pippin said, and then hastily covered his mouth as he yawned. Strider noticed the lad paling.

He turned to the others. “I think my knight is tiring. We should take our leave now and let him rest.”

Frodo laid his hand on Pippins shoulder for a moment and gave him a relieved smile, before he walked around the bed towards the door.

Lord Elrond and Parsow came over to Pippin as the king and Gandalf ushered the others out.

“We have been discussing it quietly, Peregrin,” the Elf said. “And have decided to change some of the dosage of your King’s Clover. I think we can reduce the intensity of your headaches. We will begin tomorrow. Rest well tonight, Peregrin.”

Elrond turned and started away. Parsow paused long enough to give an encouraging wink to Pippin.

Merry started to leave as well but Pippin grabbed his sleeve.

“Stay with me Merry?”

His older cousin nodded before moving to the other side of the bed. Merry started to sit down beside Pippin but hesitated.

“You need to get changed into your nightshirt, Pip. I’ll turn the covers down for you.”

Pippin got up and walked over to the wardrobe.

“Was I really in nappies Merry?” he quietly asked as he changed clothes.

“You were really in nappies,” Merry sighed as Pippin snuggled down beneath his blankets. “And I was really terrified. But that is over and done with, my dearest pesty cousin. Tomorrow is your new beginning. What story do you want to hear while you fall asleep?”

Pippin yawned.

“I thought you said I’m an adult now. Do adults get to have bedtime stories?” he grinned at Merry, who ruffled his hair.

“Not often, no, but…,Merry chuckled softly, once again being the Merry Pippin knew so well, “Be that as it may, you nevertheless will always be my little cousin.”

“Alright then,” Pippin smiled widely. “Tell me about one of the Yule times that we spent together at the Hall.” He yawned again. “One where I was really foolish and you had to rescue me.”

Pippin fell asleep listening, Merry fell asleep telling, and they both fell asleep smiling.

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A/N: Thank you to our readers for your patience, and to Golden for hers in dealing with a stressed-out co-author. I have a lot happening in my life right now and it's taking a toll on my writing; it's causing some writer's block issues. I will be making every effort to keep updates timely, but will make no guarentee of how frequent they will be until after my daughter's wedding on Halloween.