Author’s Notes: This is definitely book-verse. Merry is supposed to have written a book on herb-lore from the Shire. I have to assume it had more in it than pipeweed’s history.

Disclaimer: The usual - these characters don't belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story except any positive feedback that happens to wander in my direction. (hint, hint)

***

"Sam?"

"Why, Mr. Merry! We wasn’t expecting you today." The gardener brushed the dirt from his hands before he shook Merry’s hand. "It’s a bit chilly this morning, so come inside and have some tea."

Rosie greeted them both happily at the door, Elanor resting on one hip and the other arm bringing her husband’s head down for a kiss. "Mr. Merry, come in, please! The water’s hot for tea, Sam. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve put Ellie down for her nap."

Sam poured tea for his guest with a smile, settling Merry in a comfortable chair by the fire. The Heir of Buckland looked about the kitchen, remembering all sorts of things from a childhood filled with visits to Bag
End. And a great deal of mischief and laughter in this kitchen.

"Is Frodo…?" Merry began hesitantly.

"Sleeping, just now." Sam answered quietly. "He had a bad night, I’m afraid."

"I wanted to…I need some herbs, and I thought that you would be the right one to ask. Maybe Rosie, as well." Merry said, running one finger around the rim of his teacup over and over.

"What was it that you wanted to ask me?" She came through the door just then, pouring herself some tea and perching on the arm of Sam’s chair.

Merry stared at his tea for a long moment. "When it’s this cold out, Pippin still…the cold sets him to aching where he was wounded…before. Sam," he went on, finally meeting the other hobbit’s eyes. "You saw what happened to him at the Black Gate. Well, you saw what was still there days later. He’s hurting like my Grand-da did every winter in the leg he broke years ago, and I want to help him but he won’t let me call for a healer."

"Why-ever not?" Rosie asked, her brow furrowed in concern and confusion.

"Not that the lad’s ashamed of his scars, Rosie-lass," Sam explained, and Merry was grateful for the reprieve. "Only it’s hard to explain to others without remembering. And I’d reckon," the younger hobbit added shrewdly. "That it’s the remembering Master Pippin is trying to keep himself from."

"Well then." Rosie put her teacup on the table and went to the cupboard, pulling out several small jars. "This willow bark will do steeped in his tea, and it should help with the pain. There are others would do for sleeping without remembering quite so much, if you wish to take some of those with you as well."

Merry noted that she was kind enough not to ask which of them would need the latter infusions, probably knowing it was both.

"I shall tell you how to prepare them," she added with a shy smile, and measured out the two herb mixtures into small muslin bags. "Since I doubt that a hobbit such as yourself has had much experience."

Merry chuckled. "No, not as such, Rosie. Healers get called to my father’s house as they do to any other home on occasion, but we just do whatever they say. I learned some from Aragorn on our travels, and some from the elves at Rivendell. Bits from my mother, sisters, and you."

Rosie dictated some instructions to Merry, who wrote them on a scrap of parchment and tucked it safely into the pocket of his vest. "Sam, will you peel the potatoes for me? I’ll walk Mr. Merry out to the gate."

When they reached it, though, she put one hand on his arm as he moved to open it. "Is it as bad as Frodo was in March?" She asked softly.

Merry shook his head. "A different sort of pain. This one is physical and Frodo’s…there was darkness and an evil magic in what happened to him in that place. Did he ever tell Sam about…?"

"No. He wouldn’t, you know. He wanted Sam to concentrate on making the Shire green again. I’ll not break a confidence." Rosie smiled sadly. "And yes, some of the herbs I gave you are the same you helped me give him then. I was right grateful for your help those days and nights. It helped him to have you near just as much as the herbs did, I think."

Merry re-fastened his cloak against the chill air with the green and silver leaf pin he still wore. "I’m starting to keep notes on these things. I suppose I had some vague idea of writing a book someday, but it may come in handy in any case."

"Well, it shall help you now. You’re doing all you can, you know that, do you not?" And when she saw the tear roll down his cheek, Rosie hugged him briefly, all formality gone for the moment. "The love we all have for your two cousins, that will see them through more than any teas and tisanes. But you just see those will do for now. Mind you rest yourself as well. You’ll not do your Pippin any good if you collapse from exhaustion and worry."

Merry sniffled and let her motherly hand brush the tears from his face. "Thank you, Rosie. I’ll take good care of him. Just take care of Frodo."

"You know you needn’t ask that, of all things, Mr. Merry."

"I know Rosie. I’ll bring Pip with me next visit. He wants to see Frodo soon, and to spoil Ellie some more."

Rosie rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "Oh, that is just what she needs. Off with you, then. Safe journey."

He patted his pockets, where he’d tucked away the herbs. "It’ll be safer now."