Chapter One: The Mustering

Merry woke only reluctantly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he squinted against lantern light. Blinking rapidly, he made out a blurry form. “Pippin?”

“Aye. I’m sorry to wake you, Merry, but I thought you might take first breakfast with me before I go.” Pippin’s voice wavered just slightly and Merry was suddenly wide awake. Pippin was leaving this morning with the host, going to the very doors of Mordor to provide a distraction, keep Sauron’s eye outside of his realm so that the object of all their hopes should have a chance at least of success.

“Of course I will, Pip. I should have been furious with you if you hadn’t woken me.” He forced a grin and climbed out of bed. He felt stiff and his right arm ached slightly. Doing his best to ignore the sensation, he quickly drew off his nightshirt and dressed in clean clothes. He eyed the armor he had received from King Theoden but decided against putting it on. Instead, he wrapped his elven cloak about himself and turned to Pippin. “Shall we go?”

The two friends walked silently through the House of Healing, careful to disturb none of the patients sleeping in the rooms they passed. Once out in the street, they spoke lightly as they headed to the mess hall. Although it was still some time before dawn, they were not alone as they entered the large hall. Many men were sitting about, alone or in small groups, eating quickly and speaking in hushed tones. Pippin led Merry to a high counter and spoke to the man on the other side.

“Good morning, Targon. This is my cousin, Meriadoc.” Targon nodded his head to Merry, “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” the large man said as he handed over bowls of steaming porridge, a warm loaf of bread, fresh butter and cheese, along with a pot of tea and two cups. In the short period of time that he had known Pippin, he had come to understand that the perian preferred tea to ale, first thing in the morning.

The two friends made their way to a table that was half empty and set their tray down. They didn’t speak for several minutes as they applied themselves to their food. Finally, when all that was left on the tray was some bread and a few nibbles of cheese, they pushed back from the table.

“When do you need to go?” Merry asked this haltingly, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Soon, but we still have some time,” Pippin replied.

Merry did not know what to say to Pippin. He wanted to remind his cousin to be careful, keep himself safe, but knew that there was no safety where Pippin was going. “Did you remember to pack everything you’ll need?” he finally asked, just to break the silence.

Pippin smiled in understanding and Merry was struck by how much older his young cousin seemed. Pippin had matured a great deal just in the short time they had been separated. They had spent much time the past two days talking over their adventures but somehow Merry had not realized until now, how much Pippin had changed.

“I don’t suppose there will be much that I do need, once we get there,” Pippin commented. “Just my sword and shield, and the strength and courage to use them.” His brow was creased and his eyes shadowed.

“Are you worrying that you won’t be brave enough to face whatever comes?” Pippin nodded. “That’s ridiculous, Pip. You are one of the bravest hobbits I know. You came all this way with us, knowing that unknown terrors awaited and yet refusing to be sent home. You have faced orcs, ents, wizards, mad Stewards, fire and fear. You will not fail of courage.” Merry quirked a smile. “Of course, you may fail of height. You are woefully short, Pippin.”

“Hoy!” Pippin shouted in indignation. “I’m taller than you, Meriadoc Brandybuck.”

“Let’s get this straight once and for all, Peregrin Took. You have never been, are not now and never will be taller than me. If I, on occasion, seem shorter than you, it is only because I have slouched in order to make you feel less inferior.” Merry’s eyes sparkled warmly as he bantered with his cousin.

The conversation continued in this vein for some time as they piled their dishes in a waiting receptacle and left the hall. They wandered down through the levels of the city, still arguing in all good nature. The sun was just rising in the east as they approached the ruins of the main gate. It was time to say their farewells and the thought was bitter to Merry.

Looking at Pippin, he could find no words to say that would properly express all the things he was feeling right now, shame that he could not go along, fear that he would never see Pippin again and a greater fear that was too difficult to even put into thought, that they might fail and Sauron regain the Ring. Finally, he simply put his arms around his cousin and held him tight for a moment. “Do the Shire proud, Pippin, and come back safe,” he muttered into his friend’s collar before breaking away.

Tears glistening in his eyes, Pippin nodded and turned away, moving to join the company that he would be marching with, led by his friend, Beregond. Merry, with Pippin’s friend Bergil next to him, stood where he was, eyes glued to the one small form amongst the Men of Gondor. He remained where he was long after the last horns had blown and the last companies had disappeared into the distance, unwilling to let go of his friend. He bowed his head in despair, the pain in his arm growing stronger as he lingered. Dimly, he was aware of Bergil talking to him and guiding him up the hill back to the Houses of Healing, but he paid the lad little heed. Once again he had been left behind by everyone he cared for. Feeling old and useless, he was grateful to reach his little room. Closing the door behind him, he slowly undressed and crawled into the overlarge bed, pulling the covers up over his head and shutting out the sights and sounds of the new day.