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Dreamflower's Mathoms I  by Dreamflower

 AUTHOR: Dreamflower
RATING: G
CATEGORY: General
SUMMARY: Merry watches over Pippin at Cormallen on Pippin’s birthday…
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Scenario from Marigold: It is Pippin’s birthday in Cormallen, when he is still so badly hurt. This actually takes place *during* my story "Kingly Gifts", and expands on the day. I suppose you could call it a gap-filler for a gap-filler.
DISCLAIMER: Middle-earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PIPPIN!

1 Astron T.A. 3019 (S.R. 1419)

Merry knew he was awake, though he’d yet to open his eyes. For just an instant, just the briefest instant, he had thought he was a child again, in his own bed at Brandy Hall, with Pippin snuggled up to him as he always did in visiting.

But of course, the illusion could not last. The cot was not his childhood bed, though it felt large enough to be, and this was not his little Pippin, but Pippin grown, and Pippin injured, as the feel of bandages beneath his hand told.

Yesterday, for the first time, Pippin had awakened briefly. He had seen Merry, he had asked after Frodo and Sam, and he had slept once more. But, oh! He had been awake! And at that moment it had seemed miracle enough.

He leaned up on one arm, and watched his cousin breathe. Was it his imagination, or was Pippin breathing easier? He reached to move the curls away from Pippin’s face. So bruised it was, and pale--yet it seemed to have more color today than yesterday.

Today. His eyes widened, as he suddenly realized the date. It was the first of Astron, and it was Pippin’s birthday. His cousin was twenty-nine years old today.

Tears stung his eyes, as he studied his younger cousin. Pippin was always a little embarrassed when he passed out birthday gifts, worried about whether they would be liked--but this was the best gift of all, this clinging to life, this getting better.

“Happy birthday, Pippin,” he whispered.

The lashes fluttered, and the eyes opened. Pippin looked at Merry in momentary confusion, and then managed to say huskily--”Is it?”

Merry nodded. “It is. It is your birthday, Peregrin Took, and you are twenty-nine years old today.”

Pippin drew in a hitching breath, and tears gathered in the pain-filled green eyes. “ ‘M sorry. N-no gifts…”

“Oh, Pip!” Merry’s own eyes overflowed. “You are still alive, and that is the best gift I could have. Don’t worry about presents.”

Pippin sniffed, and then gave a little gasp of pain.

Just then, the tent flap opened, and Aragorn entered. He came over to the cot and smiled to see Pippin awake.

“Merry, you need to go to the mess tent, and get some breakfast--no, don’t argue--you eat breakfast, and then you are to bring back a tray for Pippin--a bit of thin porridge and some watered ale. Also bring back some hot water, for I have some medicine to mix for his pain. But take your time and eat a proper breakfast, Meriadoc. I shall be here, with Pippin, and with Frodo and Sam as well for a while.”

Merry sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the cot, and then slid to the floor. He ran his fingers through his curls, and then padded over to the other side of the tent, to stand next to the cot where Frodo lay, and Sam in the one beyond that. He stood, gazing at Frodo’s sleeping form for an instant, and then glanced at Sam. He shook his head sadly.

“Strider?” he asked, without turning. It bothered him how deeply they slept; it seemed unnatural not to see Frodo moving in his sleep, or hear Sam’s soft snores.

“They are still doing as well as can be expected, Merry. This sleep is the best thing for them.” said Aragorn. “Now go on, and get your breakfast.”

Merry hurried from the tent, and trotted in the direction of the mess. Now that he was out of there, he realized that he actually was hungry.

The porridge, flat bread, dried meat and thin ale that he was given did not go much toward satisfying a hobbit’s appetite; but Merry had gone longer on shorter rations than these, so he made no complaint. He told the cook of Aragorn’s order for Pippin’s breakfast, and was given a tray with the required elements, and he headed back to the tent.

As he walked in the direction of the hobbits’ tent, he found himself joined by Gimli and Legolas.

“Merry,” said the Elf, “we heard that Pippin has awakened.”

Merry smiled up at him. “Yes, he woke up for a bit yesterday, and again this morning.”

Legolas nodded, pleased.

Gimli harrumphed. “It is about time! After all the effort it was to find him,” he grumped. But Merry saw the Dwarf blinking, and knew he was more affected than he let on.

Aragorn greeted his friends, but Pippin was having trouble finding his voice. He gave Legolas and Gimli a weak and rather watery smile. Aragorn mixed up his medicine with the hot water Merry had brought, and after Pippin slowly drank it down, he made way for Merry to sit by him and feed him the porridge. Aragorn left, and Legolas and Gimli sat down, and talked to one another and to Merry for a little while, telling Pippin of some of the things that had happened.

But soon the medicine began to make him drowsy, and Merry put aside the half finished food, so that Pippin could lie down and rest again. As he began to drift off, he caught Merry’s eye. “Mer--Fro--needs--you…”

Legolas smiled. “He thinks of Frodo, Merry. I think he wants you to go sit with Frodo for a while.”

“I know,” said Merry. He brushed aside Pippin’s curls and found an unbruised spot on the forehead to leave a little kiss. Then he carefully got down from the cot, and went over to Frodo’s, and climbed up beside his older cousin, and took Frodo’s uninjured hand in his.

Legolas and Gimli quietly took their leave.

Merry sat by Frodo’s sleeping form, the warmth of the hand and the very slow rise and fall of breath all there was to indicate that his cousin was alive.

He talked to Frodo softly, more to reassure himself really, than in any hope that his cousin heard.

“Frodo, it’s Pip’s birthday today. You’re going to be so proud of him when you wake up. He’s done so very much since we saw you last. It was his cleverness got us away from the Orcs. And in the City, they think he’s a prince, if you can believe it. He saved Boromir’s brother, saved him from being burned alive.

“He’s taken the oath of a Guardsman of the Citadel, and he looks so fine in their livery. He’s grown--not just grown in wisdom and bravery, but he’s actually *grown*, thanks to Treebeard. We’re both taller than you are now. I can’t wait to see the look on your face!

“And then he marched away to battle. All alone, among a great throng of Men. I couldn’t come with him, Frodo, I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect him.” Merry’s tears overflowed and ran unchecked down his cheeks. “I had to let him go all alone, and we really thought it would be to certain death. I’m so sorry, Frodo. I couldn’t protect you, I couldn’t protect Pip. I’m so sorry.” He sobbed for a few moments, overcome by remorse and guilt, and then he gave a sniff and wiped his eyes with his free hand.

“But I’m being ridiculous now. He’s alive--he was so brave--he killed a *troll*, Frodo, all alone, he did! And yet he’s alive, and he woke up yesterday, and Strider says he’s going to get well, so I don’t know what I have to weep over now.” Merry began to brush the dark curls away from Frodo’s pale brow. “He’s alive, he’ll get better! And Strider says you and Sam will be all better soon as well. Oh, Frodo, I do wish you’d wake up soon. I miss you so.”

He fell silent then, and just sat quietly, and then after a few moments, he turned his head to see Pippin, eyes open, watching him.

He gave Pippin a weak smile, and then looked at Frodo once more.

“Merry?” Pippin’s voice was a barely audible croak.

Merry’s head whipped around. “Do you need something, Pip?”

Pippin swallowed, and when he spoke his voice was a bit stronger. “No, just wondering how he’s doing, and Sam?”

Merry shook his head. “Aragorn says they are doing all right for now.” He hoped he did not sound dubious.

This sleep still seemed unnatural to him.

“And they are,” came Aragorn’s voice from the tent entrance.

“Strider!” Pippin’s voice sounded almost normal, but then it was spoiled by a fit of coughing. His eyes teared up from pain, and Merry slid off Frodo’s cot and was by his side in a flash.

Aragorn poured a small cup of water, and Merry held it to his cousin’s lips.

Pippin took a few sips, and then waved his hand to show that it was enough. Merry eased him back down, and then stood, taut and hovering.

“Merry,” said Aragorn.

Merry did not at first respond..

“Merry.” Merry looked up at him. “Éomer is asking for you.”

Merry gave him a glare. He knew very well it was just a ruse to get him away from the others and make him take a break. But he didn’t argue. Fealty was fealty, after all.

As he went out, he heard Pippin saying, “He needs to get some rest.”

“I know. Right now, this is the best we can do. Unless you want me to put him to sleep like Frodo and Sam?”

“Oh, no, don’t do that to him!” Pippin sounded horrified.

Merry shuddered. Thank you, Pippin, he thought. The idea of being put to sleep like Frodo and Sam was almost as frightening as riding to battle had been.

He spent a couple of hours sitting next to Éomer, as the young King talked with some of his officers about the plans to send some of the Riders home. He took notes of all that was said, something he had done for his father more than once, so it was not at all difficult, though he had a bit of trouble concentrating, as he kept wishing he were back with Pippin, Frodo and Sam.

Then he was sent to fetch luncheon to his King, and was invited to partake with him. He ate distractedly, and did not really listen to what was being said.

“Master Holdwine!” Éomer said, “did you hear my question?”

Merry shook his head, “I am sorry, my liege.”

Éomer smiled. “Doubtless you are worrying for your kindred and friends again. I release you for the day.”

Merry hopped down from the cushions where he sat. “Thank you, my Lord!” he exclaimed, and flew from the tent.

He could hear laughter behind him, but he didn’t care.

He spent the afternoon chatting with Pippin; the conversation was sporadic, as his cousin would sometimes doze off in the middle of a sentence, and he sometimes had to stop and concentrate on breathing, but it was good to just natter on in hobbit fashion of their friends and what was happening.

“It’s true, Pippin,” Merry told him, “I do believe that Faramir and Éowyn are going to make a match of it.” He grinned. “You just wait till you see them together.”

“Well,” said Pippin, “I am glad to hear it, for poor Faramir really deserves a bit of happiness. He really was very grieved for Boromir, and his father was not at all kind to him.”

Merry nodded, and both were quiet for a few minutes, thinking of poor Boromir, and grieving for him a bit themselves. Merry felt for his pipe, and then moved his hand away, remembering that Aragorn had said there was to be no smoking around any of the invalids just now.

“Well, if this is not a pleasant sight--two hobbits gossiping!”

“Gandalf!” Merry exclaimed. “Pippin’s awake!”

Pippin just grinned.

“So I see,” said the wizard. He was bearing a laden tray. “I brought a bit of supper for us all. Peregrin, you will have to make do with broth and a bit of bread to soak in it; I’m afraid Aragorn doesn’t want anything heavy in your stomach just yet.”

Actually there was not much more than bread and broth for Merry and Gandalf--a bit of meat and a few vegetables floated in their broth, and they had some cheese to go with slightly larger pieces of bread. None of them complained, however, but made short and silent work of the food, Merry helping Pippin to eat the bread and sip the broth.

Gandalf sat back, and Merry couldn’t help but notice that the wizard too almost reached for his pipe, and he suppressed a smirk.

“If I am not mistaken, this is a special day, is it not?”

Pippin’s eyes widened in surprise.

Gandalf chuckled. “It *is* your birthday, is it not?”

“Yes, but--”

“How did I know? Not through any wizardly omniscience, I assure you Peregrin Took! But for how many years have I been friends with Bilbo and Frodo? How could I not know of your birthday?”

“Oh.”

Merry grinned. Gandalf was ever so much more cheerful, now he was the White.

“Now,” the wizard continued, “I know it’s not much, but when a Took has a birthday it calls for something special.” He reached inside his capacious robes, and drew forth two sparklers, such as neither Merry nor Pippin had seen since Bilbo’s famous Party.

“Here.” He handed one to each hobbit, and as they held them wide eyed he made a tiny gesture. Both burst into a display of brilliantly glittering sparks, that changed to all the colors of the rainbow. It seemed to Merry that the sparklers lasted far longer than he remembered them doing in the past, and Gandalf watched them, his eyes twinkling beneath his bushy brows. But finally, they came to an end, both at the same time.

There was a brief appreciative silence, and then Pippin said “Thank you, Gandalf.”

“Not at all, my dear little fool of a Took!” He stood up and then placed a hand on Pippin’s head. “I’m most uncommonly proud of you, you know,” he said. He looked at Merry. “And of you as well Meriadoc. Sometimes the hardest and heaviest task in the world is to simply wait.” He chuckled briefly, and then went out.

Pippin yawned.

“I think you are tired out,” said Merry.

“But I’ve slept so much,” was the reply.

“Well, let’s sleep a bit more.” Merry clambered up on the cot, and to lie next to Pippin, arranging himself carefully, so that he would not hurt his cousin. “Good night, Pippin. And I hope you had a happy birthday.”

But Merry’s only answer was his cousin’s soft snores.





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