Healing and Honors

The next several days were busy ones. Pippin was, indeed, healing more quickly than a Man would. He had been more than eager to tell Strider that Tooks were known to be fast healers, but the King was inclined to giving much of the credit to the Ent draughts. Though it had been nearly a month since they had drunk them, Strider felt they were yet helping both Merry and Pippin to be “green and growing” as the two hobbits joked. Still, the youngest hobbit was in considerable pain.

His knee ached, both from the injury itself and from the exercises that were being done to strengthen it. The pain in his ribs had subsided to an occational dull ache so his chest was no longer bound. Pippin’s arm still pained him greatly and this had delayed the beginning of the exercises needed to return the arm to it’s fullest function. This last had Strider worried, though he had said nothing to anyone but Parsow.

Merry, Strider was certain, would be fine. Most of the stiffness in his arm was gone and being around Pippin, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Parsow was keeping his spirits raised. Merry’s spirit was what worried the king the most. Far and away the worst damage to the Brandybuck had been to his spirit. He seemed to have been particularly susceptible to the effects of the Black Breath and had been closely exposed to it on at least four occasions.

Although he had said nothing to the hobbits, their king had plans for them. He and Eomer wished to honor them but more importantly he wished for Merry and Pippin to have at least a semblance of well-being before the Ring Bearers awoke. He truly felt it would not be best if the first thing Frodo would see upon waking was his two young cousins obviously injured. Frodo would have enough guilt upon his heart without taking the blame for Merry and Pippin’s injuries as soon as saw them. But it was becoming clear that Pippin’s arm might still be in the sling when Frodo and Sam awakened.

These thoughts were uppermost in Aragorn’s mind one afternoon as he passed Pippin’s tent. He had told Merry and Pippin that morning that Frodo and Sam would be awakening in two days.

“One more time around, Merry. Please!” Pippin’s whiney voice could be heard through the canvas walls of the tent.

“You should rest a bit,” came Parsow’s calm, steady voice. “You are looking tired.”

“Of course I look tired. I’m always tired these days. That makes no difference whatsoever. Strider said they will be awake the day after tomorrow and I refuse to still be confined to walking around the inside of my tent or walking around the outside my tent.”

Strider stuck his head in through the door flap. “Is there a problem?” he asked, with a look on his face that made it clear that he both knew there was a problem and that he thought it humorous.

Pippin turned quickly, nearly losing his balance and leaving Merry grasping awkwardly at his cousin’s left arm.

“I’m supposed to be giving you support, Pippin. Quit snatching your arm away,”

“I’m all right, Merry,” Pippin snapped then turned his attention to his king. “They keep hovering over me, Strider, and now they are trying to make me stop walking about. I’ll never be ready for when Frodo and Sam wake up if they keep making me lie down. Order them to stop.”

The king looked at the three of them. Merry had obviously been working hard. His hair on his forehead was damp, he looked exasperated. Parsow’s lips were narrowed and tight as though there was a great deal he wanted to say but wasn’t. Pippin’s hair was also damp with sweat. His cheeks sported red spots and he couldn’t hide the occational wince of pain, but there was fire in those green eyes.

Strider looked down at Pippin, glad for the advantage his height gave him in a situation like this. “Parsow has his orders, which are to see to your well-being.”

“I’ve tried, your majesty. I was just considering grabbing hold of Peregrin, lying atop him to hold him down upon his bed, and having Merry tie him to it.” Parsow’s voice was a tight as his lips.

“You should have said so,” Merry put in. “I would have been glad to have helped.”

“Do you see what I mean, Strider!”

Strider put a finger to Pippin’s lips. “Quiet. Yes, I see. They are weary from contending with you and anxious for your welfare.” Pippin started to try speaking around the man’s finger. “No, Peregrin Took. They are right and you know it.”

Pippin lowered his eyes then after a moment nodded his head. Strider removed his finger from the hobbit’s lips.

“I want to see Frodo and Sam when they wake up,” Pippin said in a small, childlike tone. “We’ve heard that there are plans afoot for a great welcoming for them and a feast. I just . . . I don’t want to be the only one of us not to be there.”

It was suddenly very easy to remember that, by the reckoning of his kind, Pippin was still a youngster. Strider sighed. With all the lad had gone through, that all the hobbits had gone through, he had allowed himself to forget how young Peregrin actually was. He went down on one knee, his height no longer being an advantage.

He looked Pippin in the eye. “I promise you that you will be at their welcome and at the feast.”

It was a king’s promise and Pippin gave him a proper reply. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“However, that said my young hobbit, you need to do as you are told. Parsow is a most caring healer and Merry loves you dearly, they only wish your good health, Peregrin. Then there is the matter of a certain Dwarf who sees himself as your protector now.” Pippin looked surprised, Strider grinned sheepishly. “Yes. It is so. I have been informed that, much as he would hate to do so, he would have to see to my assassination before I have even taken the throne if all due care is not given to your recovery.”

Pippin smiled as his left hand strayed up to touch the place where an amethyst disc rested against his chest. Gimli had brought it to help with his healing; Dwarf medicine that only Pippin, Parsow and Merry knew about. Everyone else had been told it was merely a gift.**

“Very well,” Pip said, smiling at Strider. “I would hate to be so cruel to Arwen. She really seems to have her heart set on marrying you.” He paused a few moments, staring at some spot behind Strider, then he blinked a bit. “Arwen is quite set on marrying you.”

“Which is, of course, the important thing, that Arwen is not disappointed.” Strider tousled the lad’s hair as he stood. “Now, young hobbit,” he said in a fair imitation of Gimli’s voice, “to bed with you!”

They all laughed as Pippin lay down.

“Parsow.”

“Your majesty?”

“He is to rest at least three hours or until he awakens on his own. Send for me when he awakes and we will begin some of the exercises for his hand. If he behaves himself, he will be allowed to walk a bit this evening. I think outside to the edge of the field where he can look at the stars. Does that sound agreeable to you, Peregrin?”

“Yes, Strider! Thank you,” Pippin replied enthusiastically, but the comment ended in a large yawn.

“Merry?”

“Yes, Strider?”

“You will go to your tent and nap as well. And no arguments. You will sleep better for being away from Pippin. I do want you here when I begin Pippin’s hand exercises so you may see how they are done.”

“As you wish, Strider,” Merry said with a yawn of his own. “I will see all of you later.” He nodded to his cousin, the king and Parsow then left for his own tent.

Aragorn looked at Parsow. “You are tired as well, lad. I will send Gimli to watch over Pippin, since he has grown so fond of the lad. I want you to nap as well. I will see you later this afternoon.” He patted the young healer’s shoulder and left.

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The next morning, Pippin had a surprise when Merry came into his tent.

“Merry! You look . . . you look . . .”

“Stiff and uncomfortable?” Merry asked as he tugged at his new green velvet surcoat upon which was broidered a white horse rearing. Mail shone at Merry’s neck and below the short sleeves of the surcoat. A finely tooled leather belt held a scabbard, but it looked to Pippin as though the scabbard was empty. Dark green trousers of proper hobbit length peeked out below the bottom edge of the surcoat. Over all was a dark green cloak with gold embroidery along the edges.

“No,” Pippin chuckled. “Noble. You look noble. But why are you dressed that way?”

“I don’t really know. These were brought to me by King Eomer himself, he even helped me dress in them, but he was smugly silent as to why.”

“Good morning, Merry. Pippin,” Aragorn said as he entered the tent. “It is a fine morning is it not?” He was carrying folded black cloth in his arms.

“I suppose it is a fine morning, though I can hardly be certain as I’m not allowed out of my tent without being watched over.” Pippin retorted, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What are you carrying?”

“Your other livery was ruined. Letting it be soaked in troll’s blood really wasn’t the best thing for it, Pippin,” Strider teased in return. “You are a soldier of Gondor, it is merely time for you to once more be clothed as one.”

Strider set about helping Pippin dress. Pippin noticed there was no mail.

“The mail has been made and you will need to wear it when in uniform once you are more completely healed. I do not wish to burden your shoulder,” was Strider’s response.

The bigger surprise was the surcoat. It was much more ornate than the one he had before. This had the White Tree and the Seven Stars as had Pippin’s former livery, but this bore the image of the Crown of the King as well, as had the banner the army carried before them into the Black Lands. The stars were set with gems and everything gleamed brightly upon the sable velvet.

“This seems a bit fancier than my other livery, Strider,” Pippin said quietly as he ran the fingers of his left hand over the velvet.

“Yes, it is,” Strider replied with a smile as he settled a sable cloak trimmed with silver embroidery around Pippin’s shoulders, clasping it at his throat with a star shaped broach. “Now, Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck; shall we take a walk?”

With the King between them they left the tent.

“We are going to the field,” Aragorn said.

Flags were stirring gracefully on the breeze. Soldiers of Dol Amroth, of Rohan, of Gondor and the Dunedain of the North stood in straight rows, forming a path that led to a rise with three thrones set upon it. The Silver Swan and the White Horse flew upon the left and right of the White Tree. At the head of one row of soldiers stood the sons of Elrond, at the head of the oposite row stood Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf.

“Did Frodo and Sam wake up this morning instead of tomorrow, Strider?” Merry whispered.

“No,” was all the King said.

To the hobbit’s surprise the King led them to stand before the three thrones along with a few men of Rohan and Gondor who wore livery like their own. Aragorn went a few more paces to stand before the central throne, then spoke to the assembly.

“It is customary to honor those who perform bravely in the service of their country. All who stand here this fair morning have fought bravely. These few before me did so far beyond what we expect of any soldier.”

He recounted how one soldier had led four separate charges at the Mumakil on the field of Pelennor, bringing three of the four creatures down. Aragorn spoke of a Rider of Rohan who had braved the power of the Black Breath to help the Lady Eowyn bring down the Witch King and of a soldier of Gondor who single-handedly killed a hill-troll thus sparing the lives of several other soldiers. Another had left himself vulnerable as he set as much of a barrier as was possible around several of the wounded before the Black Gate. And there were other stories besides these.

An indescribable feeling flooded through the hobbits as they recognized their own deeds among those the King recounted. A part of them did not quite understand, they had only done what they had to do. Yet they both stood a bit straighter as tears rolled past their smiles.

Eomer presented Meriadoc a new sword, since his sword from the Barrow had vanished after striking the Witch King. Then King Eomer asked for the sword in order to use it to bestow knighthood on the astonished hobbit.

Aragorn called Peregrin forward but quickly told him not to try to kneel. There were others, the King said, who would also be standing to receive their knighthood. Nor was the hobbit the only soldier to offer his sword using only one hand. Pippin had not noticed until called upon, that his sword hung at his right hip.

King Elessar looked at the White Wizard. Had he ever seen Gandalf look more like a proud grandfather? The king smiled, he was sure he hadn’t. He could hardly wait to see the look on that dearly loved face on the morrow when Frodo and Sam would be honored.

“Would you have ever imagined becoming a knight?” Merry asked Pippin as they sat at table at the celebration feast. He nudged Pippin who seemed entranced by something happening across the room. Merry looked there himself but could see nothing of interest.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it , Merry,” Pippin suddenly said, drawing Merry’s attention back to his cousin. “Who would ever think we would be knights!”

“Who indeed, Pip.” Merry looked at the younger hobbit a bit more closely. “Are you all right, Pippin?”

“Tired. I’m just tired I think. Not quite used to all of this after spending nearly a fortnight lying about my tent.”

“Wait here, Pippin,” Merry instructed, then he went to speak with Aragorn and Eomer. “They said we are free to go.”

Pippin started to lower himself from the Man sized chair. Legolas was immediately at his side. “Allow me to assist you, Sir Peregrin.” The elf smiled and bowed.

“Thank you, Legolas,” Merry said with a smile. “Sir Peregrin is tired and I was just going to escort him to his tent.”

“Let me see to him, laddie,” Gimli said planting himself firmly at Pippin’s left side to steady the younger hobbit. “This celebration is in honor of you newly knighted knights.” The Dwarf’s words were a little slurred.

“He will be fine. He’s been enjoying the King’s ale.” Legolas whispered to Merry as he noted his doubtful expression.

With a nod from Merry, Gimli and Pippin headed off at a slow pace towards Pippin’s tent. Pippin woke later in the day but still seemed somewhat off to his cousin and Parsow, who both insisted Pip stay abed for the rest of the day. Pippin didn’t argue, after all, he did wish to be in good form tomorrow when Frodo and Sam awoke. Merry exercised Pippin’s unresponsive fingers while Parsow gently rubbed the back of his injured shoulder and his knee. The cousins played a bit of draughts, though Pippin’s attention kept wandering and he eventually feel asleep sitting up. Sir Meriadoc and Parsow tucked Sir Peregrin in and he slept through the night.

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**A/N: This is from my story “Healing Lessons”.