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At the End of His Rope  by Lindelea

Chapter 51. In Dreams

Merry opened his eyes to stare disoriented at the unfamiliar ceiling. It was a flat ceiling, with intricately carven beams of some dark wood, reminding him of Rivendell... but different, somehow. The quality of light was clear, bright, unreal... no, more as if it were more real than "real".

He stared in wonder as his ears registered unfamiliar birdsong, while a sweet scent stole through the room. He tried to lift his arm, but it was weighed down by a silken coverlet. Yet, at the same time, he felt astonishingly light, as if he might float away should the coverlet be removed. Pulling his arm out from under the covers, he rubbed his face.

A familiar, well-loved voice spoke. 'Welcome, cousin.'

'Frodo?' he said in amazement. 'How... how come you to be... here?'

His cousin laughed, a sound he had missed for O, these many years. 'And where is... here?' Frodo teased gently.

Merry nodded, bewildered. 'Yes, that's what I was going to ask next.'

Frodo smiled and took his hand. 'Perhaps you are dreaming, cousin.'

Merry stared at him. 'Dreaming,' he murmured. Taking a deep breath, he continued, 'But... this doesn't feel like a dream.'

Frodo smiled enigmatically. 'Then perhaps you are not dreaming.'

'I don't have time for this,' Merry snapped. He tried to sit up, to rise from the bed, but a sudden wave of dizziness caused him to fall back against the soft pillows.

'You have all the time in the world, Merry,' Frodo said. 'Rest now. You've been running too hard.' His smile was sad. 'You're supposed to be walking, remember?'

'Walking in the light,' Merry whispered.

Frodo nodded encouragingly. 'That's right,' he said, 'That's what I told you, before I had to go.'

'You did go...' Merry mused. Suddenly he said, 'But you did, you went to Elvenhome. Is this Elvenhome, then?'

Frodo shook his head. 'This is a dream, Merry. Perhaps I'm dreaming, as well, and somehow we've been allowed to share this moment. The Darkness has nearly caught you, I think.'

'It is all around me, Frodo,' Merry answered. 'I see it when I close my eyes.' He felt suddenly ashamed. 'I'm afraid,' he confessed.

'Afraid of what might happen,' Frodo said gently.

'Yes,' Merry answered.

Frodo was silent, but he squeezed Merry's hand. 'Look at you,' he said. 'Master of Buckland. So many depending on you. Tell me what's happening.'

'The crops have failed,' Merry said. 'The people will starve this winter. We need rain, Frodo, we need it badly, before all the Shire turns to dust and blows away. And Estella...'

'You fear for her, every waking moment, and in the dreams that haunt you when you cannot fight off sleep any longer.'

'Yes,' Merry said.

'And Pippin...'

'O, Pippin's all right,' Merry corrected. 'He was healed, you know.'

'Of course I know,' Frodo chuckled. 'I know everything that you know. I'm a dream, remember?' Merry's grip tightened on Frodo's hand; it felt so real in his, and the air was a benediction, pure and fresh as he drew breath.

'There's nothing you can do for Estella but to love her, Merry. You cannot add to her time, or to your own, by worrying. As a matter of fact, your worry may shorten the time you have together. Do not let dark thoughts overtake you. Remember what I told you...'

'Walk in the light, yes, I've tried for years to do just that.'

Frodo patted his hand. 'And you've done a fine job, cousin. Not many have suffered the Black Shadow, and survived, even thrived in years after. Pippin told me what Aragorn said, as he was healing you... "Weary, grieved, and hurt, these evils can be amended, so strong and gay a spirit is in him. His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom." As it has. You are a fine hobbit, Merry, a fine Master, husband, father, cousin, friend. But your wisdom is failing.'

'What do you mean?' Merry whispered.

'You are taking on grief that has not even come to pass. You grieve for your wife, yet she lives, does she not? As does the child within. You grieve for the hobbits of the Shire, but none have died for want of food. You even worry still about Pippin, for fear that the cure will not be lasting. And you worry about yourself, that your heart will betray you as your father's did him.'

Merry was silent. It was all true.

Frodo said, 'Do you know what I would tell you, were this not a dream?'

'What?' Merry asked.

'I would tell you that your heart is strong; of course, 'twould be better if you did not overtax it, even the strongest heart can be broken for want of care. I would tell you to cherish your wife and look forward to welcoming your new daughter in the spring. And I would tell you that you are equal to the task of leading those entrusted to your care.

'That's why the Shire has a Master, and a Mayor, and a Thain, you know,' Frodo said. 'Together you can find a way. You all have good heads on your shoulders, and lots of training in meeting adversity, thanks to the Quest.' He laughed. 'So something good came of it, after all.' He leaned forward, intent. 'And you made good friends, Merry. Think about the King of Gondor, and the King of Rohan.'

'What do you mean?' Merry asked.

'They owe Halflings a great debt, you know.' Frodo laughed. 'They would have showered us with treasure unimaginable, and we took nothing. How it must have frustrated them to be so stymied in their good intentions!'

Merry felt his eyelids growing heavier; his whole body felt heavier, as if he could sink right through the feather-filled comfort that cradled him.

'But you are weary,' Frodo said quietly. 'Rest, cousin.' He gave Merry's hand another squeeze. 'And remember, do not let the Darkness overcome you. Keep walking in the light. Promise?'

'That's a promise, Frodo, just like I said before,' Merry said sleepily.

Frodo smiled. 'I'm going to hold you to that,' he said.

 





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