The water was warm and comforting, and it eased some of the pain along Pippin’s aching ribs. He knew without doubt that it was Merry who wiped his skin down, gentle hands smoothing the wet cloth across bruised and hurting flesh.

As Merry did so, memories arose in his mind, of a time and place far away from the sounds of battle and the smell of blood. His mind was filled with the images of a Pippin small enough to fit snuggly in his arms, who gazed up at him with eyes filled with laughter and delight. Of a Pippin squealing in happiness as his cousins bathed his tiny body, the two of them talking about the important things that mattered the most to an 8-year-old hobbit lad as they worked.

As Merry gently stroked the damp curls from Pippin’s eyes, he could not help but think of the numerous times he had done so, as far back as when his cousin was barely old enough to crawl.

He soaked the cloth again in the basin by the cot, unaware as he did so of the eyes of his friends watching from a distance. Gently he used the warm, soapy washcloth on the arms that still trembled if held aloft too long, and wiped with utmost care around the bandage on Pippin’s forehead, all the while talking soothingly.

“Do you know that Frodo was the first one who helped me bath you?” Merry whispered into a pointed ear, laying a gentle kiss on the tip. “And that you were so happy to be in the water you could not stop laughing. You have always loved your baths, haven’t you, dearest? It won’t be long until you can take a proper one, and then we shall all be wet, no doubt, and laughing with you.”

Tenderly he moved the cloth down to scarred and still sensitive feet, using extra care not to tickle. Pippin smiled sleepily up at him as he did so, knowing what a difficult task he had.

“I remember how Frodo would take you out of the water, and we would wrap you up in a big, thick towel, and you would laugh, until anyone who was about could not but join in, and then I would tickle your foot, and everything would be all right with the world.”

As Merry went to move, he heard a soft intake of breath, and knew what Pippin was asking. He smiled, gently using one finger to tickle the spot beneath Pippin’s big toe, just for a moment.

“Merry?” Pippin whispered hoarsely, smiling.

“Yes, dearest?” Merry asked, looking up.

“Everything is all right with the world.” And Pippin laughed again, until none could doubt the truth to his words.