Chapter 2, Back Among Friends

March 28

When he next awoke, Pippin heard the sound of rustling leaves in the treetops outside the tent, birds singing as they flitted from tree to tree. The air that found its way inside the tent was cool and refreshing...and then Pippin remembered certain things. He opened his eyes cautiously so as not to reawaken the wretched headache that plagued him before and upset his stomach. The only thing that Pippin could move without pain were his eyes. Lying still as a stone, the lad let his eyes rove and investigate his surroundings.

He began from his left, scanning the sparse area of the shelter. To his right, Pippin could see Merry curled up on his own bedroll nearby looking utterly spent. Pippin’s heart leapt for joy at seeing his beloved Merry! His Merry wasn’t dead after all.

Sensing Pippin was conscious, Merry opened his eyes, giving his friend a weary smile. He sat up yawning and stretching, and then rubbed at his bleary eyes. Merry went over to kneel beside Pippin, softly running the palm of his left hand over his young cousin’s brow then through his curls. “So, Pip, Merry spoke softly, his voice thick with sleep, “you’ve decided to remain with the living, hmm?”

Pippin’s eyelids blinked slowly, groggy from the medicine he had been given earlier. “You’re...here.”

“Yes, I’m here, Pip,” Merry answered tenderly, tears welled in his eyes. His dear Pippin lay covered in bruises and bandages. “You’re alive, and I’m here.”

“Don’t...cry...Mer--ry,” said Pippin, wishing he could cheer his closest friend.

“Silly gooseberry!” Merry laughed. “These are not sad tears!” The joy of seeing Pippin alive and talking bubbled up from within, and it was a balm to the young Brandybuck.

Pippin was glad to hear those words, so he gave his best smile to his closest friend.

Once again, Pippin let his eyes wander the length and breadth of the tent without turning his head. “Where.....” he whispered to Merry, “...are...we?” Some of the pain was returning to his head and chest, so the tween took his breaths small and careful.

“In Ithilien, of course,” said yet another familiar voice off to the other side of the room.

Momentarily forgetting his predicament, Pippin turned his head slightly in the direction of the well-known voice--then was rewarded with the pounding headache and upset stomach. Pippin grimaced at the sensation, but then mustered enough strength to grin at the very dear friend....Gandalf! Standing beside the wizard was Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli--the dwarf’s features creased with worry.

Gandalf approached Merry, handing him a small leather pouch, saying, “This is not Athelas, I am afraid. Even so, it will help Peregrin feel better.” Merry nodded, taking the pouch from Gandalf.

Aragorn stepped closer to kneel at Pippin’s side, surveying the young hobbit’s face. The king with healing hands drew back his patient’s coverlet to gently examine Pippin’s limbs. The lad’s arms and legs were still quite swollen and purple, just as they were two days ago when Aragorn first examined him. Fortunately, no other bones were broken except for a few ribs. Next, Aragorn tested the tightness of the binding that wrapped about Pippin’s chest. The ever so slight a touch made Pippin stifle a cry. Naturally, this concerned Aragorn, however, he was confident that time and a good deal of rest would be the best healer. Finally, Aragorn brushed away Pippin’s honey-brown curls and looked into the hobbit’s green eyes; as expected, they were clouded in pain, but alert. Aragorn ran his fingers through the lad’s thick curly hair as he did with Merry not too long ago in the Houses of Healing, although he was mostly checking for any lumps or other injuries that he may have missed during his initial exam of Pippin.

At length, Aragorn smiled, “It seems you will yet remain with the living, Peregrin Took! Now heed my words; take your ease and rest--it will be needed for your healing.” Aragorn placed the cover back over his patient.

Pippin didn’t feel like he was part of the living at the moment. All he could feel at this point was terrible pain. Pippin looked at Aragorn with a troubled expression. “Where is...Frodo?” he asked, speaking in short spurts. ‘Have you...seen...him?”

The pain in Pippin’s chest was getting worse, yet he had to know. He feared the worst for Frodo and Sam; did they perish in the Quest? Merry was present, and that was enormous relief and comfort to Pippin, but what about Frodo and Sam? Musing upon this, Pippin grew agitated, his breathing had become increasingly difficult.

Still near to the lad, Aragorn noticed Pippin’s growing anxiety. “Remember what I said, Pippin”, he said in attempt to calm the tween. “Take your rest and have no fear! Frodo and Sam are completely safe--they are sleeping in their own tent. Suitable bedding and other supplies are on their way from the City, so all three of you will be able to mend swiftly and near to one another.”

Pippin gazed at all the familiar faces standing round him. It didn’t seem as if they were holding anything back. The young soldier lay back, letting the relief wash over him. The nightmare had ended! It was finished; they were all safe. Pippin tried to swallow the rising lump of emotion in his throat but failed. The months of running, fearing, battles, and nightmares had lifted from his small shoulders. Tears spilled from his green eyes unchecked. Alas, Pippin soon found that mere weeping was also painful with his breath coming in hitches. Nevertheless, now that he started he couldn’t stop.

Merry was right there at his dear cousin’s side with a handkerchief wiping away his tears, kissing his brow. Merry, too, was crying; between Pippin’s narrow escape from certain death and the significance of Frodo’s accomplishment with the help of Sam, Merry’s tears reflected those of his cousin’s.

Aragorn, seeing that his young charge was now in good hands, silently rose from his seat, kissing Merry’s head of thick curls and Pippin’s forehead. With a nod to Legolas and Gimli, the three companions walked toward the entrance. The King with healing hands paused in the entry, smiling with unspeakable gladness, giving the hobbits a slight nod before slipping through the doorway.

Once the Elf, Man, and Dwarf departed, the wizard himself stepped closer to where Pippin lay, placing his hand upon the lad’s brow. Quietly, he mumbled a blessing under his breath. When Gandalf was finished, he also walked out of the tent.

Only Merry remained with Pippin. The two cousins lay peacefully upon their bedrolls for a while, Merry gaping thoughtfully at his friend. Merry wanted to lay beside his young cousin and comfort him, just as they did when they were much younger. However, Merry deemed his movements would contribute to Pippin’s distress...and he also felt his idea might seem ridiculous to Pippin. After all, he himself was a grown hobbit, and Pippin had only four years before Coming of Age. Instead of acting on his impulse, Merry continued to keep watch from his own bedroll near to Pippin and kept the ‘juvenile’ thought to himself.

As for Pippin, having Merry’s company was soothing in and of itself--thus, he inwardly wished that his dearest cousin would slip under the coverlet and lay beside him, putting to flight his fears and tears with his mere presence. Pippin often climbed into Merry’s bed until he entered his tweens, and then seldom thereafter. While he mused on his idea some more, Pippin reasoned that adult Merry might feel a bit uncomfortable lying beside an older tween, even though Merry would yield to Pippin’s request. But mostly, Pippin knew Merry would object to sleeping beside someone infirm. And so it was with the latter thought that Pippin kept his wish in his heart.

After the long companionable silence, Merry saw that Pippin began to fidget, observing that even that bit of activity was aggravating the lad’s injuries. Merry got up, reached for his pack then took out the small pouch Gandalf gave him earlier. He next went to the small fire pit, pouring some hot water into a bowl. Merry then took the pouch and emptied its contents into the steaming water. A fragrance stole over the tent, though not as much as the aroma of Athelas. Still, Pippin’s pain began to ease. Merry took a bit of cloth, dipping it into the healing water and then wrung it. First, he gently wiped the tear stains from Pippin’s face and then uncovered him to bathe the bruised arms and legs with the healing water. Merry did this twice before Pippin began to feel drowsy. Merry dipped the cloth again into the hot water, completely wringing it out this time. He folded it up, placing it on Pippin’s forehead. After Merry did this, Pippin was unable to keep his eyes open any longer; he let sleep take him once more into the sweet forgetfulness of his mind.