Chapter 3,  Always There

April 1

Unlike the first few days of lying upon his bedroll, Pippin now had the luxury of a feather-down mattress and bed frame. The soldiers who helped to carry it in called it a child’s bed. It was still a bit large by hobbit standards, but even so, it mattered not to Pippin. The more he mended, the more he was in the mood for comfort. They brought in a second bed like the first for Merry. The young hobbit would not be coaxed from Pippin’s side except to use the privy.

“Draw,” said Pippin in a flat tone, handing the black slate over to his cousin. They had been playing Noughts and Crosses all afternoon. Over the past hour, the gnawing pain in his ribs began to take its toll on the tweenager, not to mention utter boredom.

Merry sighed, “You’re bored again, aren’t you?”

“But not with you, Merry.”

“I can see your pain has returned.”

Pippin said nothing in reply. He carefully reached over to his night table for a wooden box filled with small, handcrafted toys that recuperating soldiers would make for the young Perian. He took from it a ball and cup; the ball being attached to the cup with a bit of string. He tossed the attached ball up a couple of times but missed catching it with the cup due to the pain. The activity only served to aggravate Pippin’s already aching ribs, so he put the toy away. “Let’s play draughts,” suggested Pippin. Using a quill and ink, the two cousins had fashioned a grid upon an old rag, placing it on top of a food tray to use as a support while they played. Small stones, either light or dark, served as the draughtsmen.

“All right,” said Merry, “You set up the board while I prepare your medicine.”

“I refuse to swallow any more of that foul substance, Merry. The last time I did it made me retch.”

“Strider said that I could mix it with your tea now that you’re feeling a bit better,” said Merry hopefully. “Will you try it with tea?”

“Oh, very well!” Pippin sulked against his pillows, displaying his full dissatisfaction of the whole deal. Inwardly though, he was in a fair amount of pain.

Merry prepared two cups of tea, but into one cup he poured a dark liquid from a vial kept on Pippin’s night table. With each sip, Pippin made a sour face; Merry could not ascertain if it was from the pain or the medicine. After a few moments he asked, “How are you feel--” Without warning Pippin got sick. “Pippin!” he gasped.

Thinking swiftly--and in spite of hurting ribs--Merry turned Pippin onto his side so the lad wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. “Are you finished?” Merry asked while gently holding his dear friend. He heard Pippin let out a muffled cry then felt a slight nod underneath. “I’m going to run and fetch Strider!”

* * *

“Is he asleep?”

Aragorn nodded from where he sat beside Pippin’s bed. Rising up, he ambled over to Merry’s bed where the young hobbit sat with knees drawn up, arms locked around them.

“I cannot give him any more of this particular medicine, Merry. Somehow he must be persuaded to take the tea tonic.”

“He detests it,” Merry spoke softly, blue eyes fixed upon the sleeping tween.

“Between the two of us, perhaps we may find another approach that Pippin will find more pleasing to taste.” Aragorn studied the face of his smaller companion; indeed, it appeared Merry was carrying a weight upon his shoulders. “I hope you do not believe that this was your fault.”

Merry sighed. “I should have known this would happen.”

“How could you have foreseen this?”

Merry had no immediate answer; however, one particular night of sleeping in the bracken after a long day's ride came foremost in the Brandybuck’s mind. Prior to pinching the Seeing Stone, Pippin had spoke of his desire to have another look, but Merry felt too tired to help. And as tired as he was, Merry had a hunch that Pippin might do such a deed on his own. When Pippin was subsequently caught, instead of being there for the lad, Merry turned his back on him. He shuddered, recalling the angry words he shared with Aragorn about the tween after Gandalf took him away toward the White City. Merry felt his stomach reel at the mere thought of it. 

Before this afternoon’s incident when Pippin winced after each sip of his medicine, Merry thought he should have been on the lookout for his friend becoming sick; it had happened twice before when Pippin was a child.

“I know my cousin, Strider,” Merry finally answered. “I’ve known him all his life. When we were children we swore an oath that we would....” Merry trailed off his last thought, realising he was divulging more than he wanted. “I just know my cousin, is all.”

Aragorn perceived that Merry would not disclose whatever was on his mind until he was ready. He took Merry’s chin in hand to look him in the eyes so that his words would find a secure place. “Very well, Merry, but do not blame yourself over matters that are beyond your control. I have learned that blame is a heavy weight to carry.” Aragorn rose up to take his leave of the young hobbit “I shall return to examine him tomorrow.”

* * *

April 2

“Where have you been?” Pippin asked Merry when he entered the tent. Pippin woke to a warm, spring morning, but Merry was not in the tent. When his absence grew longer than a mere trip to the privy, Pippin’s curiosity got the better of him. Also, being that second breakfast was upon them, the tweenager was hungry.

Merry plopped down upon his mattress. “I went to see about breakfast for the both of us and then I went to look in on Frodo and Sam.”

“You’re the lucky one,” said Pippin, sulking on his pillows.

“How so?”

“You get to see Frodo and Sam any time you want to,” answered Pippin.

Merry got up to gently sit beside his friend on the bed. “You’ll see him before long,” he said. “Strider said that you ought to be able to get out of bed and test your legs soon.”

“But I want to see him now,” Pippin said sadly. “You said Frodo is missing a finger. I should like to be at his side when he wakes up.”

“I whisper things like that in their ears as much as I can--for the both of us,” said Merry, trying to cheer up Pippin. “I tell Frodo and Sam that we’re never far from them.” Merry wondered if his bit of encouragement touched the dreams of the Ringbearer and Sam. “They probably can’t hear me, but I tell them nonetheless.”

“Merry,” Pippin spoke after long and thoughtful moment, “as soon as I am able to stand up, I want to visit Frodo.”

“That won’t be today,” said Merry solemnly. He lay back with Pippin upon his pillows, then reached up, placing a hand of tender support onto his friend’s shoulder. As long as the movements weren’t rough, Pippin could withstand a bit of company in his bed. “Your legs are still swollen and your ribs still trouble you, but I daresay that most of your bruising has gone away.”

“Good old Merry,” said Pippin, trying to sound cheery. “It’s been with your help. You’ve always been there looking out for me. Now you’re looking after Frodo and Sam. I want to be there for them, too.”

“I know you do,” Merry answered almost absently. As soon as Pippin’s words left his tongue Merry’s thoughts were immediately elsewhere; where he and Aragorn left off last evening while Pippin slept.

The astute tween caught the distant ring in his cousin’s voice. “What’s wrong, Merry?”

Merry took in a long breath before taking the plunge. “Remember when Gandalf broke Saruman’s staff, and then we rode for hours on end before making camp for the night? You and I made a bed out of the bracken; I was on the verge of sleep when you began to toss and turn as if you had an ant hill underneath you.”

“I remember,” said Pippin, wondering where this conversation was going. Was Merry going to bring up his ridiculous act of taking the Palantír?

“I did something foolish that night,” confessed Merry. “Utterly foolish.”

“What do you mean?” asked Pippin, turning carefully to face his friend. He was quite surprised that Merry took the matter in another direction--his.

Merry hesitated, his eyes welling with tears, but there was nothing for it except to speak what was on his heart. “I...I, um...”, he stammered, “I turned my back on you. You see? I haven’t always been there for you.” Pippin was stunned, his mouth gaping wide, so Merry went on. “We didn’t speak of it in the Houses of Healing, and yet I wondered what you must think of me--after we took an oath so long ago.”

“Think what of you?” Pippin asked with alarm. “My dear Merry! How long have you been carrying this burden?”

Wiping away his tears with his sleeve, Merry replied, “Ever since my anger wore off--soon after Gandalf took you away and I thought I’d never see you again. Will you ever forgive me?”

Pippin leaned his head upon Merry’s shoulder. “Forgive you?” he asked, then his voice softened. “I saw it all. I saw you turn your back...and it hurt me so. But,” he paused, hearing his dear cousin groan as he wept. “If I recall...we both did something utterly foolish that night. I stole something that didn’t belong to me and was beyond my reckoning.” He kissed Merry’s forehead, “Of course I forgive you, you goose! Because I love you--and that’s what brothers do. Now...will you forgive me?”

Merry sniffled, embracing his friend. “I do.”

Together, they lay quietly beside one another until sleep finally claimed them.