Rating:  PG13

Summary:  In the Houses of Healing, March 15 seems to last forever… A drabble pair, originally written for Anso, on LJ.

~~~~~~~~

Hoping

It is the only thing that pierces the darkness of despair, like the feeblest lamp in a vast and tortured mine…  No!   We left Moria far behind, with its sadness and its demons; but there too lay failure, dragging him under, another leaden link…  If not for Moria, what strength that had been squandered might have served…  No aimless debate, no lonely choice, no foolish sacrifice, no orc-driven trek…  No Palantir.

“Merry?”

Bright tones, tremulous with fear.  A flash of amber-green, cool forest soul, hope… It is the only thing that pierces the darkness of despair, like the feeblest lamp…

 ~~~~~~~~~

Watching

Under skies grey with smoke, Pippin keeps watch.  Not for orc-kin at the gate, or assassin’s in the King’s Hall, or even for the welcome sight of the Sun.  His vigil is not open, his sword will be no help.  It is a task he can leave to no other, for who else here could see that smile and know it false?  Who else could note the instant when that blue-grey gaze turned numb and dead, and know to reach out with the right word?  Who else among these strangers here would know or care if Merry’s soul should die?