A/N: This chapter was written for Elanor's birthday. Beta by Dreamflower :D
Merry peered over the top of his spectacles, and put down the letter he was reading.
"Writing to Faramir?" he asked the hobbit sitting across the room.
"Yes," the hobbit replied, straightening up and putting his hand to his lower back, wincing slightly. "I haven’t heard from him in awhile, and I wanted to make sure that the family is doing all right. And I want to let him know that we are still happy and healthy."
Merry smiled. "Yes, he would worry about that, wouldn’t he? Quite the son you raised, Peregrin Took. I’m sure he is doing the Thainship proud. At least, that’s what Boromac says." Merry waved the letter he was reading in the air.
"Ah, and how is the Master of Buckland doing these days?" Pippin asked teasingly.
"Wonderful; he and Tulip are expecting another little one around Yule. I’m glad they’re having more children; Tulip is such a motherly hobbit, I can imagine her with as many children as Rosie and Sam had!"
Pippin chuckled. "Well, thank goodness the residential portion at Brandy Hall for the Master of Buckland’s family is very large with its extensive warrens. There’s certainly enough room for a large family there."
"As there is at Great Smials," Merry said with a wink.
"Yes, well; I do believe my son and his lovely Goldilocks have their hands full with four. Gracious, I don’t know how Sam and Rosie did it, I really don’t. Diamond and I had trouble enough with one…."
Merry noticed with resignation that Pippin had got that look in his eye that he always got when speaking of his beloved Diamond. Pippin’s voice trailed off, and he stared off into space with that look; Merry knew that during those times, Pippin would not respond if spoken to, so he settled himself into re-reading his letter from Boromac, while waiting patiently for Pippin to return.
Dearest Father,
Greetings from Brandy Hall, Buckland, the Shire, the Kingdom of Arnor (there, is that formal enough for a knight of the Mark?)
I hope that this letter finds you and Uncle Pippin well and in good health. We worry for you constantly. At least we know that you have safely arrived, and are settled in with the hobbit comforts that we would insist upon for you. King Elessar sounds like he knows the habits of hobbits well enough; Faramir, Goldie, Tulip and I are satisfied in that regard.
Aster just turned five; my, how she has grown in such a short time.! Soon, she will no longer be a faunt. Which reminds me… Tulip and I have some very exciting news. We are expecting another little one! The babe is expected about a week before First Yule. Isn’t that so very exciting?! Tulip is beside herself with anxiety and nervousness; you remember how difficult her first pregnancy was for her. Well, so far (and it’s been three months), nothing but mild bouts of morning sickness have plagued her. We are hoping that this pregnancy goes far more smoothly.
Now, I know you always read your letters to yourself before sharing any of them with U uncle Pip. I will tell you something now that you must keep secret from him until Faramir sends off his own letter to him. Goldilocks thinks that she is with child again! She and Faramir have told nobody but Tulip and me. You must not say anything to Uncle Pip until they are sure, and want to give him the news themselves.
But I ramble. If I know you, you’ll want a summary on the order of business here at Brandy Hall, won’t you? Well, the first haying went without incident, except for one minor accident. Young Tad Wilfoot injured his ankle…
"Merry?"
Merry looked up; Pippin had returned from wherever it was that he went whenever he mentioned Diamond.
"Sorry about that," Pippin muttered, shamefaced.
"No reason to be, Pip," Merry said gently. "I miss Stella, too. I still miss her dreadfully, even after ten years. So you are allowed, after only five."
Pippin smiled sadly. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her not being by my side when I wake up in the morning. I was always the earlier riser, and she would always still be deeply asleep when I rose for the day."
"I know," Merry smiled. "It was the opposite with me and Stella. I would always wake to an empty bed. "
Pippin grinned. "You’ve been that way since forever! I remember during the Quest, Strider would always have to shake you awake when the rest of us had already eaten breakfast and were packing everything up! You would willingly miss breakfast for a few extra winks. Very unhobbit-like, Merry."
"Yes, well… who was the one who was so cheerful in the mornings that even Legolas got annoyed?"
"Speaking of Legolas… when are he and Gimli scheduled to arrive?"
Merry checked the calendar at his side. "Sometime within the next week. And they are staying for at least a month; taking a bit of a holiday, I suppose, after all the work those two have put into setting Strider’s kingdom to rights. Where are they coming from? All the way from Annuminas, aren’t they?"
"Yes," Pippin replied. "Apparently, a whole contingent of both Dwarves and Elves were there, helping to restore the old capital. It’s taken years, but it is almost finished. Gimli and his father Gloin had led a dozen dwarves in the project, and Legolas had brought twenty or so from Mirkwood to help with the planting of trees and the landscaping."
"I can hardly wait to see them again," Merry sighed. "How long has it been since we’ve seen Legolas and Gimli? At least twenty years, hasn’t it?"
"It seems so. Far too long."
"Indeed."
The two hobbits resumed their respective activities, Merry re-reading his letter, and Pippin writing his letter to Faramir and Goldilocks. After Merry finished his letter, he pulled out his pipe and started tapping Longbottom Leaf into it. Pippin looked up, and gave Merry a look.
"Tut! Merry," Pippin said, wagging his finger," you know what Strider said about that. We’re only allowed to smoke outside, never indoors."
"Oh bother," Merry replied, easing his creaking bones out of his chair. "To expect an old hobbit like me to get up from a comfortable position, just so the inside air can remain fresh and clean…."
"Quit your grumbling," Pippin said distractedly. "You know the rules, now abide by them. After all, we are their guests. We can’t make ourselves too comfortable."
"Why not? I’m not going anywhere, likely for the remainder of my days. This is our home now."
Pippin shook his head and smiled. "No, Merry," he said softly, tapping a finger on the letter he was writing. "The Shire will always be our home."
"Oh you’re right, as usual, Pip," Merry said as he made his way to the entrance of their home. "I’m just feeling cranky because I’m feeling my age more than usual today."
Pippin took on a concerned look; he did that too often these days, Merry thought irritably. Did Pippin expect him to keel over at anytime? He didn’t like being hovered over.
"Is it your joints today, Merry?"
"No, Pip... well, yes, my joints ARE bothering me, but what's really bothering me is a general feeling of malaise. I’ll be able to shake it off by this evening, never fear." This was Wednesday evening, the one evening out of each week that the hobbits spent with Strider, Arwen, and whatever members of the family happened to be present that week. It was the King’s subtle way of keeping his eye on his small subjects, to make sure that they were yet comfortable and thriving.
Pippin remained unconvinced. "Merry, if it’s your mood that’s off, why don’t you mention it to Strider? There are things that he can do, that he learned from the Elves, that might help…"
"Leave off, Pippin!" Merry snapped. "Please, just leave it be. I’ve felt this way before, and it just went away on its own. It gets worse around the time of the year that Estella passed away. I just have to deal with it on my own."
"But you never used to get these moods…"
"I know, Pippin… I’m getting older, remember? Maladies assail the old that don’t bother the young."
"I still wish you would ask Strider…."
"No, end of story. I’m going out for a smoke."
Pippin shrugged, and went back to writing his letter. However, inwardly, he fretted. Well, if Merry wouldn’t say something to Strider, then Pippin would.
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Merry sighed as he sat down on the bench just outside the doorway to his and Pippin’s house. It was a very fair day; the sun was shining brightly, the birds were a-twitter, and the smell of honeysuckle and rose teased his nostrils. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and inhaled the fragrance of the day. A butterfly hovered near his shoulder before a-lighting on it. Merry laid his walking stick across his legs, and let his mind drift.
He was well aware of where this sudden fit of malaise came from; for the past ten years, he had felt it at the same time of year… the month of AfterLithe, the month during which Estella has passed. This would mark the tenth year of her passing. Merry was sure that Pippin hadn’t caught on to the pattern… if he had, he would have said something about it already.
This year, it seemed to be clinging to him much more heavily than previous years; not surprising, since this was the tenth anniversary. He had never thought to linger on much past Estella, much less to reach the ridiculous age of one hundred and four! Granted, both his grandfather and great-grandfather had lived past one hundred, but Merry had never in a thousand years thought that he would make it so far. Saradoc had only lived to ninety-two, due in part to weak lungs.
Merry sighed again as tears stung at his eyes. He wanted, needed, to recapture his joy of living, for Pippin’s sake if not his own. He could not give up, and leave Pippin behind. Not over something as trivial as grief!
But he did not know what else to do. He would not ask Strider for help. Not after all the King had already done for them, to bother him with something so - mundane. And in previous years, he had always bounced back after a few weeks of melancholy. There was nothing to indicate that this time would be any different. Except for the intensity of the grief. It was almost as if he had lost Estella yesterday. He never would tell Pippin of the intensity of his feelings during these times, and especially now. It would only serve to cause him worry. If Pippin had any idea, he would smother him with care and concern, and as well-intentioned as that would be, Merry didn’t think he’d be able to stand it.
Slowly, Merry opened his eyes to drink in the beautiful day. The butterfly was still perched on his shoulder; Merry took care not to move abruptly so as not to startle it. The sounds of the lower levels wafted up to him.
Merry and Pippin had taken a house on the sixth level, so as to be close to Strider and the palace. Their house was a small, one-story affair that had been especially built for them when Strider heard of the plans of his perian friends to settle in Gondor. The door to the entrance was round and made hobbit-high, with the ceilings inside somewhat lower than the norm. There were no stairs, for Strider had remembered that Hobbits do not care for heights. It had taken time to accustom themselves to the higher levels once more, but Strider wanted his friends close by in case anything unforeseen were to happen.
Now, Merry was listening to the hustle and bustle of the crowds below him. He could hear the hawkers of their wares as the merchants settled into the hubbub of the busy mid-day. He could even smell the aroma of freshly baked bread coming from his favourite bakery on the fifth level. Which reminded him, he and Pippin needed to take a jaunt there later this afternoon, to replenish their supplies of bread, rolls and pastries. It was amazing how much two elderly hobbits went through of those foodstuffs in a week!
Merry was surprised that Pippin hadn’t followed him outside by now. But no, it was about two o’clock; the time when the Hobbits usually partook of a nice, long afternoon nap until nearly tea-time. It was probably best that he make his way back in, and lie down on a nice, soft, cushy down mattress. Groaning, he gently dislodged the butterfly from his shoulder, used his cane to prop himself up and pushed himself up with his other hand. Bother, his joints ached today! He wondered if a storm was coming. He stretched, getting all the kinks out of his back before heading back inside.
Merry smiled as he walked back to the rear of the house where his and Pippin’s rooms were. He could hear gentle snores coming from Pippin’s room; so he had retired a bit early, and was already asleep. That happened fairly often, since Pippin was always up at some ungodly hour of the morning, usually well before dawn. Merry shook his head. He never did see the sense of getting up to start the day when the Sun hadn’t even peeped her head above the horizon yet! If it was too early for the Sun, it was too early for a hobbit. He’d felt that way since he was a faunt, and he wasn’t about to change now that he was one hundred and four!
He pushed open the door to his room, and made his way to the bed. Sighing, he set his walking stick to the side, and brought his right foot up on his knee to massage it. Not only did his back hurt today, but his feet hurt as well, and he hadn’t even done much walking today. Getting old has its disadvantages, Merry decided as he lay down. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.