The atmosphere was hushed inside the tent shared by Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf. The three alert occupants talked in subdued tones so as not to awaken the hobbit sleeping within. Merry was completely and utterly exhausted, and needed as much sleep as he could get.

"Is the young one going to be alright?" Gimli asked quietly. Pippin held a special place in his heart, ever since the Fellowship's escape from Moria. The youngster's grief and guilt over Gandalf's fall had been painful for Gimli to behold, accustomed as he had been to Pippin's unquenchable cheerfulness. He had done his utmost to raise the hobbit's spirits while they resided in Lorien, and he had succeeded, to a certain extent. The bond between the two had only strengthened on the journey from Lorien to Parth Galen. When Gimli had brought Pippin to Aragorn after finding him beneath the troll, he had been certain Pippin was dead; he had detected no signs of life within him. When Aragorn had brought him back from the brink of death, no one had been happier than Gimli, save Merry, of course. Now, to lose Pippin like this, when he had shown signs of recovery ...

"Pippin is going to be fine," Gandalf replied. "He over-exerted himself by trying to sit up on his own, putting undue stress and pressure on his internal organs, which were already bruised from the troll's weight. Thank goodness he didn't injure himself anew."

Gandalf had been the one to hear Merry's cries of dismay after Pippin had fainted in his arms. He had fetched Aragorn from his mid-day meal, and Aragorn had rushed into Pippin's tent fearing the worst. Pippin was already regaining consciousness when he arrived, much to his relief.

Merry had been beside himself, and once again had gotten himself banned from Pippin's tent. Aragorn had remained by Pippin's side for over an hour, determining what had happened and calming the young hobbit as best he could. In addition to over-exerting himself, Pippin had eaten the food given to him by Merry too quickly, and his stomach had rebelled quite fiercely, causing very painful cramping. When Aragorn left, it was with strict instructions to Pippin and his healer that he was to move as little as possible, and only take sips of broth at dinnertime for sustenance. He had taken Merry aside, and apologized.

"Merry, I'm so sorry that I didn't anticipate this happening. I should have known that he would try to take on more than he should; after all, this is Pippin we're talking about. I also should have foreseen that his stomach would react this way, and that he should have been warned to eat his food very slowly. This is my fault, and I beg your forgiveness, Merry."

"Of course you have it, Strider. You can't possibly think of everything."

"But I am a healer, and you hobbits are under my care and protection. I should have been more vigilant."

"Nonsense. Pippin and I don't deserve treatment that's different from any other person injured in your service. Frodo and Sam, on the other hand - I don't argue that they warrant special treatment, and from what I can tell, they have been receiving it. Don't worry yourself, Strider. You have a whole camp-site full of injured men to attend to. I don't expect you to only worry over Pippin. Now, when can I see him?"

"Oh, no you don't! I just gave Pippin a sleeping draught to help him rest. And you - you still haven't rested properly since the battle! I order you to get at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep; not much more than that, or you won't sleep tonight. Gandalf, take Merry to your tent and put him to bed. He is not to be disturbed until dinnertime."

"Not until I've seen Frodo and Sam," Merry said stubbornly.

"Merry! Do not make me order you, because I will if I have to; as a healer if not as your King. You may not be physically injured, but you ARE physically exhausted. It's well within a healer's right to order someone as weary as you to bed."

"Let me just look in on them, Strider, please? Then I promise you I will go to bed." Aragorn looked at Merry skeptically. "I swear! There's not much good I can do anyway with all three of them sleeping, now, is there?"

"Very well, Merry. Gandalf, please keep an eye on him and make sure he keeps his promise."

"Consider it done, Aragorn," Gandalf said, and he steered the young hobbit toward Sam and Frodo's tent. "Now you're going to have to learn respect, Merry," Gandalf chastised as soon as they were out of earshot. "I know you are used to addressing Aragorn as Strider, and to talking to him as if he truly were only a scruffy Ranger from the North. But you're going to have to realize that he is to be your King, Merry; yes, even the hobbits will be under his rule. Although I think he'll pretty much leave well enough alone in the Shire, it would be good to remember that fact. Do you understand?"

Merry sighed. "Yes, Gandalf. I keep forgetting that he truly is the King come back. No one ever thought it would happen, did they? You know that we have a saying in the Shire for something that will never happen...'When the King comes back.'

Gandalf smiled. 'Yes, I have heard it in other areas as well, not just the Shire. " Gandalf stopped walking. "Well, here we are. Don't be too long, Merry, we need to get you into bed shortly."

"But I'm not the least bit tired!"

"Once you stop and take a breath, you will be. Now off with you; I'll be waiting right here."

Merry nodded to the soldiers guarding the Ringbearers' tent as he entered. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Softly, he padded over to the two cots that were set side by side. He first went to Sam, and took his hand, smoothing the hair from his eyes. "Thank you, Sam, for looking out for my cousin. I owe you everything. Frodo couldn't have asked for a more faithful companion than you. I have a feeling that he never would have made it without you." Merry moved over to his elder cousin. Taking Frodo's good hand in his own, Merry tried to speak, but found that he couldn't for the lump in his throat. Various feelings waged within him while looking down at his cousin: fear, relief, joy, sorrow, gratitude...all were warring for predominance. Merry sat in the chair that was provided, and just looked at Frodo as tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn't know what to say, but he willed his thoughts to enter into Frodo's mind, so that Frodo could know how very proud Merry was of both him and Sam. No one else could have accomplished what they had, and although Merry didn't know what had transpired between Parth Galen and the eruption of Mount Doom, only one thing mattered; the Ring had been destroyed, and Middle Earth had been saved.

After several minutes, he found that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Leaning his head back, he told himself he would just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Within five minutes, Merry was snoring softly. Gandalf poked his head in, and smiled at the sleeping hobbit. Tenderly, he gathered Merry up in his arms, and brought him to his tent, laying him down on the small cot that had been set up especially for him. Dreaming of Buckland, Merry smiled in his sleep, and curled onto his side for a good, long nap.