"No, please, take Merry down first!" Pippin might have almost surprised himself with his commanding tone, had he not been so worried. "Carefully! He's muttering something, but I don't think he's really awake."

Trwystan raised an eyebrow to his companion, Gwirion. "Do not fear, Master Halfling, we know our business."

As the two men lifted Merry from the horse's back, he cried out in alarm. "Help me, Pippin! I'm falling! Where are you?"

Pippin, not waiting for Trwystan's proffered arm, slid off Shadowfax and caught Merry's hand in his, "I'm here Merry, please don't fret."

Merry's head moved feverishly from side to side and his eyes fluttered as if trying to focus. His voice was muted and defeated. "Pippin? Are they going to bury me?"

"No, indeed!" Pippin took Merry's face in his hands and spoke quietly but firmly, "they are going to heal you, I promise!"

"Stand aside young perian," Trwystan ushered Pippin out of the way as he manoeuvred Merry into Gwirion's arms. "Had you not better see to that horse?"

"You can help him, can't you?" Pippin looked anxiously at Gwirion, who was laying Merry down upon a litter, "please, you must."

"We are not healers," Gwirion shook his head, "we are battle sore warriors assigned to help here until we may return to the field. There are many sick and dying people in this place, he will have to take his turn and his chance."

"But, surely there is something…" Pippin knelt beside Merry and saw that his face had taken on a grey pallor, "…Merry? You'll be all right, don't be afraid, they'll take care of you."

"Erm," Trwystan coughed ostentatiously, "the horse, I think you had better see to your steed."

Pippin suddenly remembered Gandalf's instructions, "Oh! I'm sorry." He jumped up and turned to their benefactor. "Thank you very much Shadowfax, Merry and I are most grateful."

Trwystan raised both eyebrows this time, "I meant, shouldn't you take it to the stable?" He and Gwirion lifted the pallet between them and suddenly Pippin was torn in two.

He could not abandon Shadowfax to go to the City gates alone, the guards would probably try to stop him, but neither could he let them take Merry inside without him, added to which, how was he to ensure Merry got the proper care? These two weary soldiers seemed inclined to leave his poor ailing cousin to take his chances, but Merry was a hero – Gandalf had said so himself!

As if fate had read his troubled mind, two figures miraculously appeared in the doorway.

Bergil had run back to see if his new friend needed any help. He looked from Merry on the litter to Pippin, who was hovering anxiously by the wizard's great horse. "Shall I take Shadowfax to the stables?" He asked, "I think he knows me well enough."

Behind him strode a tall, fair warrior that Pippin recognised from Rohan. It was the King's own nephew, Éomer! He paid no heed to Pippin or Bergil, but addressed the litter-bearers in a tone that bode no argument. "The perian! Let me take him. You are needed elsewhere."

Pippin was stunned for a moment, then quickly regaining his wits, took Bergil's hand. "Please, not to the stables, but could you escort Gandalf's steed to the City gates? Be sure no one delays or hinders him, I would be forever in your debt."

Bergil nodded and took his place beside the great horse, who immediately understood what was required and, with a farewell snort and toss of his noble head at Pippin, started back down towards the shattered gates. Bergil ran at his side, barely keeping up with the magnificent animal.

Éomer, ignoring the faint protests of Trwystan and Gwirion, gently scooped Merry up into his arms, cradling his head against his mighty chest. "Be at peace Rider of Rohan," he spoke firmly to Merry's incoherent murmurings, "Lord Aragorn is within and he has brought succour to my sister, just as he will to you."

"Will he find my grave at last?" Tears trickled down Merry's face, "I have longed for it to bring me peace. Do not let Pippin grieve, for he is of the living and I belong with the dead."

"Sir?" Éomer looked down at the touch to his elbow, "is it true?" Pippin's face was wrought with anxiety. "Did Strider heal the Lady Éowyn? Can he make Merry better?"

"He has healed her in body," Éomer spoke softly so as not to distress Merry further. "But her spirit remains in despair. Just as Merry is afflicted with this bitter malady, so Éowyn is riven with guilt and anguish."

"Oh," Pippin was even more deflated by this news, "so will she… I mean, might they both…?" He could not bring himself to say the words.

"We must have faith," Éomer smiled grimly, "that perhaps they will find hope in each other."