Healing Hearts

Merry had no idea how long he had been trapped inside the dark, empty void. He felt suspended, floating as it were, in the cavernous nothing. His arm ached and felt cold as ice; full of despair, his spirit sagged.

“This is where you belong,” said a menacing voice. Or was it his own? Accusations and threats came from every corner of the void. Frodo is dead. You failed your king. You turned away from your closest friend. Something brushed passed his arm; it felt cold, sticky and slimy. He trembled with fear.

Merry supposed that he was indeed dead, as darkness surrounded his being. He did not feel anchored by his body--actually, he did not feel his body at all, though the constant throbbing in his right arm said that he did indeed have one…of sorts. You turned away from your closest friend. Utter hopelessness enveloped Merry. “Yes, this is where I belong.”

* *

Pippin wrung out another warm cloth, laying it on Merry’s cold arm. He leaned into his cousin’s ear and whispered one more time, “Merry.” There was more mumbling, “…cold…”, but no other response from his friend.

Many of the healers were busy with wounded soldiers or the Lady, who was also abed with the Black Shadow illness, so Pippin volunteered to watch over his cousin. He heard a rustling of clothing nearby; looking up, he saw it was Gandalf. The wizard was traveling from room to room all the day long in the Houses of Healing observing his various charges. “How is he, Peregrin?”

Pippin shook his head sadly, “Nothing else, Gandalf. He hasn’t said anything since the last time you were here--except just now he said something about being cold even though I keep putting these warm cloths on his arm.”

“I’ve sent for Aragorn,” said the wizard, approaching Merry’s bed. “Continue your ministrations.” Gandalf figured it would help to keep Pippin busy and from despairing of the worst. “When Aragorn arrives, he will be able to help Meriadoc.” Gandalf caressed Merry’s brow once again. The young hobbit felt cool to his touch. Make haste Aragorn!

* *

In the midst of the black abyss Merry heard a sweet song. Singing? Here in evil emptiness? For the first time since waking in the black pit, Merry felt a glimmer of light in his heart. It was a lullaby that Frodo used to sing to Merry when he was a little boy, frightened after having an ugly dream. Then Merry sang it to Pippin when he was a child, usually while his younger cousin was abed with a long illness. Abruptly, the song ended. He heard someone calling his name; the voice sounded familiar and pleasant. Merry followed the voice…

* *

“Thank you, Bergil,” said Pippin, coming through the door with a large tray laden with a large supper. Bergil held the carafe of milk until Pippin could set down the food tray on the table next to Merry’s bed. Pippin stood between the bed and Bergil and introduced his cousin to his recently made friend. He noticed Merry had an odd expression on his face.

“At your service, Mister Merry,” Bergil bowed low.

Merry was still thoroughly weary, but smiled as best he could manage, “Thank you, Bergil, and I at yours.”

The lad gazed with amazement at the two Perian in the same room with him. Little more than a week ago, these merry folk were but a legend in their songs and tales. “I must get back to running errands for the healers.” Bergil bowed again and left the room.

Pippin turned to his life-long friend, “What’s wrong, Merry? Are you feeling worse?”

“No,” Merry answered, fidgeting with the blankets tucked around him. “No, I…I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine--even I can tell by the sound of your voice.”

Merry took a deep breath before plunging in. “I’m not worse, just so that you don’t worry. I’m mostly tired.” He looked away from Pippin’s bemused features.

“Then what else is the matter?” Pippin sat next to his cousin on the bed, stroking Merry’s injured arm now in a sling. “I can run and get Aragorn, if he is who you really want to speak to.

“No,” said Merry. “I don’t wish to speak to Strider or Gandalf right now. I only wish to speak to you.”

The meal all but forgotten, Pippin stretched out next to his cousin on the bed. When they were children, their most serious conversations took place either after they were tucked in for the night, or first thing in the morning upon waking. This seemed like it was going to be a very serious conversation, so Pippin slipped under the covers in preparation for a long discussion.

Merry nervously avoided his friend’s gaze. That is, if Pippin still thought of him as his friend. “I didn’t think that I would see you again.”

Pippin turned to his cousin, “You were in an evil dream all day, Merry. It must have seemed like forever to you.”

“It did,” Merry conceded, “but…what kept me hoping against all hope to wake up, was you, Pip. I heard you singing to me.” He continued, lip quivering as tears welled up in his eyes. “Back at the camp, when you looked into the glass ball,” Merry sniffed, wiping away his tears, “I…I turned away from you, Pippin. When you needed me the most, I couldn’t bear to look at you.”

Filled with compassion, Pippin wrapped his arms around his cousin, carefully hugging him as tight as the injured arm would allow. “I saw you turn away, Mer.” Pippin’s own eyes were filling with tears, “And I can’t think of anything else in this world that hurt more than that.” The tween pulled away from Merry, taking his cousin’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “but I am glad,” he smiled, “that you are here now…alive and with me, because I couldn’t bear to live on without my dearest cousin, my closest friend…my favorite brother.”

Merry braved a smile, “I’m your only brother.” He took Pippin’s hand in his own, opened it palm up, then kissed the scar between his thumb and his forefinger. “But I have chosen my brother well.”

Both hobbits, with tear-stained cheeks, smiled at each other amid steaming bowls of soup and bread. Pippin smirked, “I told the cook that you were a very hungry Perian--that’s what they call us hobbits here.”

Merry feigned surprise, “But I am a very hungry hobbit!”

Pippin buttered Merry’s bread for him, “I know that you are, dear cousin, but I am quite certain that you don’t want to eat your supper all by yourself…do you?” He paused, eyeing Merry when his forthcoming answer was delayed.

Merry smiled at his beloved brother, “Absolutely not.”

 ~The End~