PART SIX: Explanations

Merry was lost. He walked around the desert, calling out for Pippin and Frodo, but no answer came. He felt completely dry and it was getting more and more difficult to shout. Where were they? Merry felt he was walking for days, no, weeks, without finding anyone or the terrain changing. Each time he looked around his surroundings, hoping to see another track of footsteps, he only saw his own. There was no sun, only cold wind blowing his hair in his face and filling every opening with dust and dirt.

*****

Pippin went to Merry’s study and sat down behind the desk to write a note for Frodo. Pippin fingered with the quill above the paper and thought about the day’s events and what to write. Immediately his thoughts went to his poor Aunt, but knowing her, Pippin also knew how strong she was and how much she loved her life. If someone could get through this it was her. Uncle Sara was another matter. Just like Merry he could think himself into a corner and don’t find a way out unless someone helped him. Pippin was glad his Aunt could do that for him, as he himself often did for Merry.

As his thoughts drifted to his cousin, a feeling of urgency came upon him and he hurried to write the letter to Frodo telling about the accident and that he and Merry would stay at Brandy Hall until Esmeralda was better. He pondered for a moment confessing his worries about Merry to Frodo, but knowing how much Frodo had to struggle with the rebuilding of Bag End and everything he had been through, Pippin decided to write that if Frodo could find the time to come down to Buckland, not only Esmie would be glad of his presence.

Pippin knew that the news about Esmeralda was enough to make Frodo come down to Buckland if he could manage, but he couldn’t help but hint that something else was wrong too. Hopefully Frodo would understand, or maybe he already felt that something was amiss with Merry as the three of them had a very strong bond. Besides, Pippin knew it wasn’t like him to be subtle and that alone would alert Frodo.

Pippin sighed and folded the sheet of paper before sealing it and writing Frodo’s address on it. He’d better get to the kitchen and then back to the others. He wasn’t very hungry, but a hobbit needed his food and Pippin knew well enough how much comfort there was in a good meal.

*****

Burdened with a heavy tray Pippin struggled to open the door to the Master bedroom, but just as he was about to set the tray down to open it, the door opened and Saradoc came out, his face showing a mixture of feelings.

“She’s awake!” he sad with a smile, but continued very solemnly. “But we can’t get Merry to wake up. I’m going for Daffodil now.”

“That is good to hear,” Pippin smiled back. “What is wrong with Merry?”

“I am not sure. He seems to be deeply asleep but we can’t get him to wake up. He has been lying with his head on Esmie’s bed since you left and that is not a comfortable position to sleep in. I would have thought he would wake up again quickly if he fell asleep again at all. Has he been having nightmares again?”

Pippin frowned. “No, not that I am aware of but I do believe I know what is wrong.” He walked towards the open door. “You go get the healer for Aunt Esmie and I’ll see what I can do for Merry.”

Saradoc squeezed Pippin’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re a good lad, Pippin. I am glad my Merry has you to look after him, but be honest with me: This-“ he tilted his head towards the bedroom, “It has to do with your travels, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, Uncle, it has. I will explain later.”

When Pippin came into the bedroom Esmie was bent over Merry’s still head, stroking what she could reach of his face, trying to coax some reaction or movement from him. “Pippin!” Her voice quivered with anxiety, Pippin saw, and there were tears in her eyes. “There you are. What is wrong with my Merry-lad?”

Pippin set the tray down on a table and came towards the bed, giving his Aunt a gentle, but firm hug. “I’m so glad to see that you are awake Auntie! How are you feeling?”

Esmeralda returned the hug and sank back against her pillows again. “Not too bad. My foot hurts but I’ll live. I’m more worried about Merry.”

Pippin walked over to Merry and gently shook his shoulder. “Merry, it’s me, Pippin. Wake up now. Come back to us.”

“He’s cold,” Esmie said, shaking a little to make sure that what happened was real and drying her tears.

Pippin nodded and reached for Merry’s right hand, his own eyes brimming now and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He had to stay strong now, for Merry and for his Aunt and Uncle. Merry’s hand felt like ice. “Yes he is.”

“But his face is flushed, and I think he has a fever. Pippin, what is this thing ailing my boy?”

“It is a long tale Auntie, but first let us see if we can wake him up, shall we?”

Just then Saradoc returned with the healer, Daffodil. Old Pardy had died the previous year and she had taken over as Master Healer at Brandy Hall after being his apprentice.*

“Uncle, will you help me lie Merry down on your side of the bed, if it won’t hurt Aunt Esme? He can’t lie like this.”

“What is wrong?” The healer was about to start examining Esmeralda’s leg but looked closer at Merry. “I thought he merely was asleep and didn’t want to wake him. He is not in the way for my work, so I thought to let him be. Isn’t Master Merry asleep?”

“Yes, in a way,” Pippin said.

“My leg can wait,” Esmeralda said and held up her hand to the healer who was turning down the covers. “I want to know what is wrong with my son.”

“All right.” Daffodil said. “But let’s lie him down first.” Pippin and Saradoc put Merry down on Saradoc’s side of the bed and Esmie quickly laid his head in her lap, stroking his brow soothingly.

“Pippin?”

Pippin looked from his Aunt and Uncle to Daffodil and to Merry. “I will give a short version of the tale now so we can concentrate on getting you both well. During our travels, you know that Merry and I were separated after we lost Frodo and Sam?” Pippin said, surprised at how he sounded. Where had this grown up hobbit come from?

Esmie and Sara nodded. The healer looked confused at them. “Should I leave?”

“No it’s all right,” Saradoc said. “You need to hear this in order to help him. Is that all right with you Pippin?”

Pippin thought for a moment. They hadn’t told many outside the closest family about anything that had happened, but he was sure that Merry would agree that his own healer would benefit from the knowledge. “I agree. Anyway, Gandalf brought me to the city of Minas Tirith where the Steward Denethor ruled in the King’s stead. Merry was left with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli and went to Rohan and King Thèoden.”

“Who are all these people?”Daffodil asked.

“It would be too much to explain that now, but they are friends,” Pippin said. “Good people we met during our travels. Merry swore his fealty to Rohan and rode in secrecy out with the army of Rohan when it rode to Gondor’s rescue and during the battle Merry was hurt badly. He stabbed one of the most evil creatures on earth and hurt his arm. That is almost to the day one year ago. When he was injured he fell into a black darkness that only Aragorn could revive him of by using a healing plant called athelas.” He paused to check that everyone was with him so far. Saradoc and Esmeralda listened carefully, and although Daffodil bore a confused expression on her face, she nodded. “I fear that the coming of the anniversary of Merry stabbing that foul creature has a bad effect on him and that it is the reason why he is ill now. Also, the knowledge of you being hurt Auntie, triggered this, in addition to his worrying about Frodo.”

“He is a worrier our Merry, but why is he worried about Frodo. Is he not well?” Esmie asked.

“That is also a long story, but let’s say that I think he might have trouble settling back into his old life again.”

“Yes,” Saradoc said. “I thought so.”

“We shall have to hear that tale later then.” Esmeralda stroked the brown scar above Merry’s eyebrow tenderly. “Except for this scar and the white marks on his wrists I see no other marks of injury in him.”

“It’s because it is another kind of injury, Auntie. It is something that settles in your mind. It’s almost like when Frodo sometimes is very sad because he lost his parents. It’s a blackness that creeps into his mind and if it’s not chased away then it drags him down into darkness.”

Saradoc reached for Merry’s hand, but gasped in shock at the coldness of it. “His hand is icy cold!” He looked at the others and down at Merry’s flushed face. “Yet he seems to be running a fever. How can this be?”

“If I may?” The healer asked and came forward. Saradoc nodded. She took Merry’s hands in his own and studied them carefully. “The left hand seems warm, yet as you say, the right is icy cold. Very curious.” She reached over and felt Merry’s forehead. “And he does indeed have a fever. I have never encountered anything like this. Master Pippin, do you have any explanation for it?”

“To some extent I do,” Pippin said. “The coldness in his hand and arm comes from the stabbing. The creature he helped killed was one of the Dark Lord’s closest men, known as the Witch-king of Agmar, and very possibly one of the Black Riders who set such a fright in poor Freddy just after we left. He is a ringwraith, a dead king that many, many years ago joined Sauron’s side. He dwells neither in this world, nor is he dead. That is, until Merry and the Lady Èowyn of Rohan killed him. An old prophecy** said that no living man could kill him, but a hobbit and a shield maiden of Rohan could. I think that whenever Merry is having a hard time, the Darkness threatens to claim him and so his hand grows cold. I shouldn’t have left to write that letter earlier and stayed with him. Perhaps I could have prevented what happened.” Pippin cast his eyes down and looked at his prone cousin.

“It is not your fault, Pippin dear. You could not have known this would happen.” Esmie gathered him in a hug and kissed his brow.

“What of the fever?” The healer asked, now taking Merry’s pulse.

“From what I have learned when he’s been like this before, the fever somehow comes to balance the temperature in his body and tries to prevent the coldness from taking over.” Pippin said.

“What do you mean with that this has happened before? Do you mean when he was wounded?” Saradoc looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Well, yes. Then too, but it has happened after that.” Pippin sighed and rubbed his face. This questioning was quite exhausting.

“All right, that is enough for now,” Esmie said. “What do we do to wake him up?”

“We bring him back to the light.” Pippin said firmly. “However, this is the first time Merry has been this ill since the stabbing. Whenever the Darkness has threatened to claim him before, Strider, that is the new King of Gondor, Aragorn, has always been within reach to bring him back.”

“Yes,” the healer said. “This King, this Aragorn, has used a healing plant. But I have never heard of it before.”

“We call it kingsfoil. It’s a weed,” Pippin explained, “but it does not grow in the Shire. We will have to find another way of bringing him back.”

“Well,” Saradoc said musing, “you say we have to bring him back to the light. But how do we do that? We have tried to wake him up, but to no avail. How do we reach him?”

Esmeralda listened as the others debated how to reach Merry. She looked down at her beloved son’s face. Merry looked to be sound asleep but for the fever flushing his face and his eyes moving behind the closed lids. “It looks like he’s searching for something. Look!” The others leaned closer and they could clearly see Merry’s eyes moving from side to side as if he scanned a great area.

“Yes, he looks for us. This really isn’t mine to tell, but in his nightmares Merry often dream that he is looking for Frodo and me. It helps talking to him, touching him and reminding him that he isn’t alone, that we are here and if he only will come back to the light, we will be here for him.”

“Yes!” Saradoc leanded forward and took Merry’s face in his hands. “Merry-my-lad, do you hear me? Merry, it’s me, it’s your Da. Come back to us now.”

Pippin looked to the healer. “What do you say? You know more about these things than I do. I’m afraid that desperation and instinct is what drives me to do what I do when Merry has a nightmare.”

“He is trapped in a nightmare now,” the healer said, “yet, it is something else. I wonder if he was awake when this Darkness as you called it came upon him, or if he had fallen asleep?”

“We won’t know that until he wakes up,” Esmie said.

“True. Master Pippin is right though. Reminding him that he is surrounded by his loved ones and that there is something for him to come back to when he wakes is very important. You have indeed been doing the right thin, Master Pippin.”

Pippin thought for a moment. “When we were travelling, we did many things that no hobbit ever would dream of doing, things only soldiers do – like killing. When the four of us were together again we talked about how these actions changed us and I think that reminding Merry of his hobbit nature might be the most important thing here. He is a hobbit, even if he is a Knight of Rohan, and I think that is the clue to bring him back.”

“Tell us more about what happened the last time,” Saradoc said, holding Merry’s hands in his and now and again whispering in his ear that he was wanted back with them.

“All right,” Pippin said. “it was when we still were in Minas Tirith***. A cold o some sort was going through the army of Roah and Merry caught it. We were all still weakened from what we had been through and somehow the cold brought on the Darkness. I think Merry should explain what happened himself, if he remembers, I found him lying almost like now, curled up in bed, feverish and out of reach. Aragorn came and revived him with the athelas.”

“Thank you Pippin,” Saradoc said, putting a calming hand on Esmeralda’s shoulder as she dried her tears. “Now we know what to do.”

“Yes, thank you, Pippin-lad. Come here.” Esmie reached out and gathered Pippin in a tight hug. “What would we ever do without you?”

Pippin accepted the hug gratefully and leaned into the familiar warmth and comfort of his Aunt. It was hard going through this and at the same time having to explain everything to the others. “it’s all right, Auntie. I’m glad you’re here.”

Esmeralda released her nephew from the hug and looked at her son, Merry’s head still lying in her lap. “What do we do now?”

“First we should distinguish all darkness in the room,” Saradoc said. “If what he needs is light and warmth we should light candles and lamps and chase all darkness from the room.”

“Do you not think it would be wise to move him to another room, Master?” Daffodil asked. “He is not well and neither is your wife. They both need to heal.”

“No.” Esmeralda said firmly. “He is my son and if I can’t come to him, he’d better stay here.”

“All right. Let’s make the both of you more comfortable then. May I look at your leg now, Mistress? Master Pippin can light the lamps and put more wood on the fire. I need hot water to tend your leg.”

Pippin jumped up to do as the healer wanted. Now that he was finished with explaining things, he could concentrate on making Merry better. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his curls and walked over to the hearth. Reluctant to leave Merry for one second even if he was with his parents, Pippin fetched more fire wood and built a bright fire. He then moved to light every candle or lamp there was in the room and fetched several more candles from the private parlour in the Master’s quarters.

“Your leg looks to be healing nicely, Mistress.” Daffodil said and tucked the blankets up around Esmie again. “Your heart beats steadily and evenly, but you are weakened by the fall and the strain on your heart. You need to rest. I will allow Master Merry to stay for now, and I will watch the both of you carefully, but as soon as he wakes, he needs to be moved to another room.”

“I understand, Daffodil. Thank you.” Esmie watched as Saradoc made Merry more comfortable on the bed and sat down beside him.

“Come on, Merry-lad. We are here, just waiting for you to come back to the light again. We need you here. Your mum and I and Pippin and Frodo too.”

“Is there anything we can do about his cold arm?” Esmie asked.

“Yes,” Daffodil said. “I will heat bricks and we should also attempt to get something warm and nourishing down him. I am sure that whatever he’s battling, it must take its toil and he needs all the energy he can get to chase the Darkness away. Master Pippin, do you know of any special drinks or broths your King used?”

“I don't remember. But I am sure he didn't use anything out of the ordinary.”

“Very well. I will see to that some chicken broth is made and go fetch more of my herbs. You could do with some willow bark tea for your leg, Mistress.”

“I’ll put the kettle on.” Pippin said. “And speaking of tea. I have completely forgot the tray I brought in. Shall we see if there is anything on it we may salvage?”

“That my lad, is a very good idea,” Saradoc said and fetched the tray. “The sandwiches, cheese and cold meat is still good. I do believe we only have to brew another pot of tea.”

----------------------
A/N:
* Both Pardy and Daffodil are of my imagination. Pardy appears in several stories, among them are “Growing” and “Heir to Buckland”.
** Glorfindel came with this prophecy and you can read about it in my story “The Prophecy”, here: http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=282
***The last time Merry was ill from his stabbing of the Witch-king after the battle at Pelennor Fields is in Minas Tirith, before the hobbits return home. You can read about it in my story “Cousins on Watch”, chapter two “Merry” here: http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterview.asp?sid=1631&cid=6758. He did however also suffer from it during my story "Sneaky Snakes and Broken Bones".