Are You Going to Leave Me?

Author: Llinos
Beta: Marigold

The weight of the dead orc barely registered in Pippin's mind as he vaguely heard the sound of a grunt. Dimly he realised he had made the involuntary noise, as his arms complained at the effort of rolling the monster over. His mind could focus on only one thing, the sight of a furry hobbit's foot beneath that great carcass.

"Merry?"

Merry's eyes flickered open but it was hard to focus. Someone was leaning over him, the face was familiar, it reminded him of Pippin. But there was something wrong. This face was panicked and whoever owned it was crying.

Pippin drew breath, trying to stem his tears, but it was impossible. Poor Merry looked so hurt, so helpless. This was not how things were supposed to be. Always it was Merry who saved him, got him out of trouble, soothed his cuts and bumps, got cross with him when he was daft, told lies to get him out of trouble. Now, he did not even seem to recognise him, "Merry! It's me, it's Pippin!"

Pippin? Merry tried to thrust his way through the filthy black blot that was pushing down on his soul, clouding his thoughts and clamouring to own every part of his being. He grasped at the fragment of light that pierced him through his darkness. "I knew you'd find me."

As soon as the realisation that this was Pippin filtered into his consciousness, Merry's blackness seized upon it. Pippin was gone! Pippin had left him, taken by Gandalf from danger into more danger – to the blighted and besieged City. The sinister darkness pressed home its advantage on his drear thoughts. "Are you going to leave me?"

Pippin felt a surge of guilt, remembering his stupidity over the palantír. He remembered how cross Merry had been. Merry had realised that Gandalf would take him away, long before the awful fact had dawned on Pippin himself. He had not even contemplated such an outcome until Gandalf had actually urged Shadowfax forward and they had left poor Merry desolate and alone in a strange and daunting country. There had not even been time to say goodbye. How could he ever make that up to Merry?

Pippin gritted his teeth and forced back his feelings of remorse. Merry had survived and Pippin knew there would be no recriminations. Merry would forgive him – Merry always forgave him.

But his cousin seemed so lost; resigned to a bleak fate. It was as if he no longer could rely on Pippin and believed that he might desert him once again. Poor Merry, that he should think that. "No Merry, I'm going to look after you."

For a terrifying moment, fear gripped Pippin's heart as he thought Merry might die! He had saved Faramir, so how could he then lose his beloved Merry? He had to get help.

Pippin stroked Merry's forehead and was taken aback at how icy his skin felt. He had found Merry's cloak earlier during his long search and now he used it to cover his cousin's chill body. "I have to get help Merry," Pippin tucked the covering as closely as he could trying to will warmth into the stricken hobbit. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"N-no, Pippin!" Merry's eyes opened again for a brief second, filled with fear and panic. "Don’t leave me! Please Pip!"

Pippin looked around the vast battlefield. There were people moving about, collecting the wounded and dead, but none nearby. Where was Gandalf? The last Pippin had seen of him he was in the City, directing the men making temporary repairs and overseeing the housing of the sick and wounded. It was Gandalf who had given him leave to search for Merry. Although Pippin would have gone anyway, surely the wizard must have known he would eventually find him or why else would he have allowed him on this mission?

Pippin sat down and, lifting his cousin up slightly, he gently cradled

Merry's head in his lap. Perhaps he could persuade Merry to manage a few steps and that way eventually find some help. "Merry, Merry my dearest, do you think you can walk?"

"Pip?" Merry's eyes flickered and looked up at Pippin in bewilderment. "Did I fall asleep? Have Frodo and the others gone on the haywain? Must have had too much cider!"

Pippin smiled down, "Yes Merry, the haymaking is all finished and we have to get home." At least Merry's mind seemed to be wandering in happier fields now. "Tea will be ready and it's a long way across the lower pasture."

Pippin eased his arms under Merry's and managed to get him to a sitting position. Pulling off his torn Rohirric gauntlets, he took his cousin's hands in his. There was a momentary shock as Pippin realised one hand was cold, but the other was like ice, freezing to the point that he felt it might burn.

Steeling himself further, Pippin tugged and succeeded in getting Merry to his knees. "Come on Merry, see if you can stand, lean on me."

"Pip! It's too dark, I can't see you!" Merry's voice was panicked again, "Why did you let me sleep so long? We'll get lost if there's no moon."

"Well, let's get you on your feet, and then perhaps I'll find something to light our way." Pippin made his voice sound happier than he felt. Although it was twilight, there was still enough light to see by. What was darkening Merry's world with such dread? "Besides, I can see well enough for both of us. Remember you always said I had eyes like a cat – must be all those carrots I ate!"

Painfully, Merry allowed Pippin to drag him upright, but then all he could do was hang weakly in his cousin's arms. "Sorry, Pip, that cider must've been stronger than I thought. I don't think my legs will work."

"Please try Merry," Pippin was still casting around to see if any possible help was near, but no one was close enough to notice two little hobbits lost amidst the chaos and devastation of the battlefield. "Just one step, foot by foot. It's not far."

Merry tried but after one faltering step, he sank back to his knees. Pippin endeavoured to haul him back up, but he had neither the strength nor the heart to cause his cousin more distress.

'I'll never get him there," thought Pippin. 'Is there no one to help me? I can't leave him here. I promised I'd not leave him again. What did Gandalf expect me to do?'

With one arm around his cousin's back, Pippin gently laid Merry down again and sat down beside him, once more tucking the cloak around him as he considered their plight.

Gandalf must have expected him to use his wits to alert him once Merry had been found. What to do? He could not leave Merry alone here, that was certain. Perhaps there was another way to draw attention to their predicament. What was it Gandalf had said to him when he bade him climb the cliff face to light the beacons?

'Peregrin Took, my lad, there is a task now to be done. Another opportunity for one of the Shire Folk to prove their great worth.'

He had put his hand on Pippin's shoulder and looked into his eyes. 'You must not fail me!'

But that had been straightforward enough. Just climb up and light the beacon and climb back down. No great wit needed for that task. This was altogether different.

"Aie! That's it!" Pippin yelped and leapt to his feet making Merry blink up at him, "The beacons!"

"What is it Pip?" Merry asked dazedly, "is it Harvest-tide already? We must be getting home. We'll miss the feast!"

"Don't worry Merry my love," He began rifling through Merry's pack that was still hung on his cousin's shoulder. Pippin had used all his matches by now but he knew Merry would have conserved some, probably so they could enjoy a reunion smoke together. "We won't miss the feast – I promise!"

Quickly as he could, and being careful to stay close enough to Merry that he would be able to rush back to his side, Pippin gathered pieces of battlefield debris into bonfire shaped heaps. He found many spent arrows, broken spears and pieces of wooden shields, orc clubs and staves. Then with his sword he hacked at the fallen dead oliphaunt. As amazed as he would normally have been to see such a creature, Pippin had paid scant attention to the beast until then; such was his concern for Merry. But now he was intent upon it, hewing and chopping at the thick grey skin until he pierced it to unleash the treasure within – animal fat!

Swallowing down the urge to be sick, Pippin cut away chunks of the yellow matter and ran to heap a large piece in the midst of each of the six beacons he had fashioned.

He had a spot of bother getting the first bonfire to catch. Merry's box had but five precious matches left and he was down to his penultimate vesta before a flare finally kindled. Blowing gently on the flame, Pippin waited until he had a good blaze going, before taking a burning arrow, smothered in the fat, to his next beacon.

Pippin had set his fires in the shape of an arrow, three forming the shaft and the other three the point, which he carefully positioned around Merry, hoping that the heat would bring some warmth to his icy cold cousin's body.

Once all six were lit, he returned to Merry and, lifting his cousin's weary head once more to his lap, sat and waited. "There Merry," he made his voice as light as he could. "The fires are lit and soon we'll be feasting and frolicking."

"Can't frolic Pip," Merry was still wandering far from the present. "I'm too addled to think. My head hurts, it's darker than death and I can't find my way."

"I'll take care of you Merry." Pippin's heart froze again at his cousin's sinister words. "I'm not going to leave you and don't you leave me!"

It seemed like a year and a day that Pippin sat there, listening to Merry's lost murmurings and whispering back any snippets of comfort he could find. But in fact it was less than half an hour before he spied across the desolate plain a sight that made his heart leap with joy.

Gandalf slipped gracefully from Shadowfax and stooped over Merry and caressed his brow; then he lifted him carefully. "He should have been borne in honour into this city," he said. "He has well repaid my trust; for if Elrond had not yielded to me, neither of you would have set out and then far more grievous would the evils of this day have been."

Just then a cry rang out from across the devastation. Gandalf turned abruptly, Merry still held in his arms. The wizard squinted his eyes against the gathering gloom and his face set in a weary grimace. "There are wargs roaming the battlefield. They are preying upon the injured as well as the carrion." He looked sternly down at Pippin, "Peregrin, my lad, you must take Merry back. These poor men have enough to contend with, rescuing the sick and dying, I must at least put a stop to these foul beasts taking more lives."

"B-but Gandalf!" Pippin was dismayed, "I can't carry Merry and he can't walk, what shall we do?" He dropped his head down as he realised that perhaps he was being selfish. Merry was at least alive and these poor men were more in need of the wizard's help. "I'm sorry, you do what you must Gandalf, I-I'll manage somehow."

"Pippin, dear lad!" Gandalf actually broke into a smile; "Shadowfax shall bear you both back to the City. Would that I could summon you an armed escort fit for heroes, but my dear friend will serve my brave lads as befits their honour."

Pippin's jaw dropped and he could find no answer. He was glad that Gandalf turned away to lift Merry up onto the great horse's back, as he would not see the flush of embarrassment such praise-filled words had brought to his cheeks.

By the time the wizard reached down to pick him up, he had regained his composure; such as it was under the circumstances. "Gandalf are you sure Shadowfax will be all right with Merry and me? I mean, will I be able to make him go where he should?"

"Foolish hobbit!" Gandalf reverted to his usual abrupt manner, making both wizard and hobbit feel more at ease. "Shadowfax knows his business. All you need do is stay as quiet as you are able and keep hold of Meriadoc."

"I will and I won't say a word," Pippin promised breathlessly as he was thrown up behind his cousin.

"Well don't forget to say 'thank you' at least." Gandalf reminded him grumpily, "and when you are safely delivered, leave him to come back to me, but see he is escorted to the City Gates." Then he addressed the great white horse. "Take them with care my friend – straight to the Houses of Healing and let nothing stay you."

As Shadowfax moved forward, Pippin did not even dare to turn round to thank Gandalf, let alone call out to him. His arms clasped firmly around Merry's waist, he whispered into his ear, "We're going back to Minas Tirith Merry, you'll soon be better, I'll stay with you."

"Éowyn, shall I take the reins?" Merry mumbled sleepily, "I can steer, we shan't fall this time!"

"It's all right Merry," Pippin soothed, "we won't fall, Shadowfax won't let us."

As they rode through the shattered gates of the City, Pippin could not help but notice the stares of wonder from the people. The great horse trotted steadfastly forward, ignoring the held-up arms as guards tried to halt his progress, wondering why the wizard had left his precious stallion in the charge of two such small children.

Others cried out "Ernil i Pheriannath – the Halfling Prince has returned! See how he rides the great white horse and bears another before him!"

Pippin dared not wave back or make reply. He was intent on Gandalf's parting words and determined, on this occasion, to do exactly as bid.

Shadowfax halted at the doors of the Houses of Healing, and Pippin wondered how he was going to get Merry down, let alone himself. He need not have worried. Shadowfax raised his mighty forefoot and struck the door. Within moments the doors swung open and Bergil, open-mouthed at the sight, stood there.

"Erm, I think we need. . . "

Before the words left Pippin's mouth, Bergil had turned to run along the corridor, "I'll get someone," he called over his shoulder.