Title: Far Away But Close At Heart
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Characters: Merry and Dernhelm
Timeline: SR 1419, on the way to the battle of the Pelennor Fields
Note: For Dreamflower who requested Dernhelm and Merry in an emotional Merry h/c after stumping me in how well I know my stories. Also written for the 20 rings Challenge. Not betaed.
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Merry sighed and leaned back a little, trying to find a more comfortable position in the saddle. His thighs were hurting and his rear too, but he could not get off the horse yet. He had been sitting under Dernhelm's cloak for a long time, but was now sitting in front of the Rider where everyone could see him. It was too late to return to Edoras now and they were riding at high speed. Merry watched the landscape pass in a blur but he didn't pay much attention to it.

Dernhelm didn’t speak much and riding in secrecy as they were, Merry supposed that was all right, but it would make the time go faster if he would speak a little. Merry had tried asking questions and telling a bit about the Shire, but gave up after some time as the only response he got was silence or the occasional “yes” or “no”. None of the soldiers seemed in mood for much talking these days. He supposed all of them thought they were riding to their deaths just like he was. Merry didn't think he would survive a great battle of Men but he would do anything to save his friends, to protect them, and if dying was what he needed to do, then so be it. The odds of him surviving such a battle that he predicted they were facing, were too small. He was little and easily overlooked which meant that he could hide easily among the large horses and men but it also meant that he could be trampled down fast.

Suddenly he thought of Boromir and he remembered in horror the many arrows that had pierced him. Merry’s heart lurched and he longed for Boromir with all he was. He would have been able to help. Gondor was after all his country. But poor Boromir had died defending Merry and Pippin and no matter how much Merry longed for him to be alive just now, nothing could be done, Boromir was gone. That great Man who had been such a steady comfort and friend to Merry and Pippin was gone forever now. When the orcs attacked that day Merry had hewn off some hands and arms and Pippin had shown his mettle too, but whatever they did, it wasn’t enough to save poor Boromir's life. Merry sighed in regret. Boromir would have known what to do now. He would have brought words of comfort or maybe even a jest to lighten the mood. Being around hobbits had rubbed off of him, Merry thought and he had learned that grievous situations could be brightened with a light-hearted comment or song, just as the hobbits did. Especially Pippin.

Merry choked a sob when the thought hit him that he might never see Pippin or Frodo again. He'd do anything to help and be of use, to protect them. He was frightfully worried for all of them. Where were they? Where were Frodo and Sam now? Were they safe? He supposed not. His stomach rumbled. Merry had eaten a bit of bread in the morning but that was many hours ago now and he thought longingly of a hot meal. Did Frodo have any food? Merry thought that he would gladly give up some of his food so that Frodo could have it. His cousin had barely eaten like a proper hobbit since they left the Shire, thanks to that dratted Thing around his neck. And Pippin, how was he faring in that huge City of Men alone with Gandalf. Merry shuddered.

Poor Pip. Pippin had grown a lot lately and had again and again surprised Merry but he was still so young. A familiar and much loved picture suddenly appeared in Merry's head. A little Pippin was climbing a tree, squealing with joy and loudly exclaiming over all he could see from its branches while Merry was lying underneath it, looking up at Pippin as he climbed higher. It was a long time since Merry had stooped warning Pippin about tree climbing but he couldn't help feeling the need to protect him anyway and watch carefully as Pippin climbed higher, always at the ready to climb up and fetch him if need be. Gandalf would look after Pippin in Minas Tirith, Merry knew that, but there wouldn't be any other hobbits to look after him. Who would make sure that Pippin tidied himself up properly, combed his hair and washed his ears? Pippin was in so many ways still a lad, often too occupied with what the new day might bring than to think about how presentable he was. There had been times during their journey where none of them had looked anything but muddy and grimy, exhausted and cold, but still Merry would with fingers shivering of cold run his hands through Pippin's hair or brush it behind his ears, wet a piece of cloth and wash his face if Pippin was too cold to manage himself.

A gust of cold wind tore through Merry's clothes and he tucked his cloak more securely in around himself. Pippin was often cold and after they set out on the Quest it had become one of the most natural things for Merry to wrap himself around Pippin and cover them up with blankets and cloaks, one arm stretched out to touch Frodo too. Merry longed for the warmth of his cousins now and wrapped his arms around himself. Was Frodo cold now? How about Sam? Where exactly where they? If Frodo succeeded in throwing that cursed Ring into the fire, Merry was sure that he would know somehow, but what if he failed? What if he didn't even make it to Mount Doom? Sam would of course finish the task for him but what if he didn't make it either? Merry shook himself. He could not think like that. As far as he knew Frodo was on his way to Mount Doom this very minute and Merry needed to focus on that, not despair. Frodo, Sam and Pippin were all far away now, but they had a place in Merry’s heart and focusing on that he would not lose hope, Merry told himself sternly. There was still hope.

The day was drawing to an end now and Dernhelm stopped their horse along with the rest of the Riders. He jumped down and lifted Merry down off the horse. Merry collapsed in a heap as soon as his feet touched the ground, his muscles too sore to manage to keep him up. Slowly he sat up and looked with apology at Dernhelm who just smiled back and helped him to his feet, steadying him until Merry could stand by  himself.

“You will get used to it soon.”

Merry nodded. “I suppose." His stomach rumbled again and Merry blushed and looked down, thinking that Dernhelm must think him constantly hungry. Which he was, but he didn’t want to say anything. 

“Do not worry. I will get us some food." Dernhelm patted Merry on the shoulder and soon came back with two bowls of hearty stew and some bread. Merry rolled out his bedroll and sat down on it gingerly. There was a curving stream nearby and the horses were already standing along it, drinking from the cool water. Merry thought longingly at the water as he ate and looked around to see if he could find a secluded spot where he could soak his sore limbs. Many of the soldiers had seen him and acknowledged him they did not talk to him or encourage him in any way and he had to keep out of sight if he could manage. Merry hadn't thought he would need his hobbit stealth in this way during their travels, but found it very convenient now when he moved about the group of soldiers. He couldn’t vanish completely of course, but staying at the outskirts of the camp he could walk silently and not be heard, hiding his fair curls under the hood of his cloak so they wouldn't betray him.

Merry took the last bit of his bread and cleaned his bowl with it. The food was good but sparse and he found himself longing for a proper meal laid out on a table with enough to eat and good friends and family to share it with. Again Pippin came to his mind. Hopefully he had plenty to eat in Minas Tirith. Pippin could not go long without food and it had been a sore trial for the Fellowship to provide enough food for the hobbits to not completely perish, especially Pippin. Merry sighed and a distant part of his mind reminded him that he had been doing that a lot lately. Everything was gloomy and dark, the world covered in a brown cloud that veiled the sun and made everything look black and grey. Hope was fading away quickly.

Finished with his meal he rose stiffly and after retrieving his pack, walked to the stream. The stream was making a little bend just by a copse of trees and Merry sat down there in the shallows, soaking his sore muscles. The water was cold but he forced himself to sit until he couldn't feel the aching in his legs any more. Riding from dawn to dusk on a pony was one thing but sitting on a horse all day was something completely different. He’d been bone-weary tired after riding from Helms Deep to Dunharrow and when Dernhelm said he could ride with him, Merry had thought that his short legs would reach farther down the sides of great, grey horse but he found himself sitting with his legs almost straight out to the sides. He had tried sitting sideways like a lass for some time but that had only made things worse because the saddle was not meant for sitting that way and after almost falling off Merry turned back to sit in the usual position. How had Pip fared on Shadowfax? Merry wondered. That horse was much bigger than Windfola.

At last Merry rose and walked over to his bedroll again. The camp was settling down for the night but he could still hear Riders talking among themselves in hushed tones. It felt like an eternity since Merry had heard laughter, and even worse – laughed himself. Tired as he was, sleep would not come and Merry tossed and turned, twisting his blankets, trying to find a comfortable spot to lie on. He sighed.

“Do not despair,” Merry heard Dernhelm say quietly. Merry could not see the Rider in this constant, gloomy dark, but his voice was not far away. "There is hope still. Your friends may be far away but they love you. You have much to live for Merry. You are pure at heart and brave and that will take you far."

Merry sat up. Dernhelm had appeared to Merry as a young Rider, perhaps even younger than himself if he understood the aging of Men right, but now Merry got the feeling that he was wise beyond his years. How could such a young Rider know so much about hope and despair? Surely he was too young to have been in many battles? “How can you know that?” Merry asked.

“Because love conquers all and so we must have faith in that love is victorious when everything else fails."

Merry thought of Pippin again and how he lonely and afraid he must be just now. He didn't know where Merry was either and Merry knew that Pippin was worried for him. He had better keep up hope then, for Pippin's sake if nothing else. "You are right," he finally said. "I had thought that there wasn't any point in hoping any more but you are right. There is still hope and we need to cling to that. Pippin is with Gandalf and he is safe as long as he is with him. If there is nothing else I can do then I can at least hope that I will survive the battle and find him safe and sound.”

Merry lay down again and closed his eyes and when sleep came to claim him it brought dreams of sweeter days full of promise and hope and the Shire and Pippin and Merry clung to that.