Disclaimer: Needless to say I do not own any of the characters and am not making any profit from this fic. It was written for pure enjoyment. 🙂
Warning: I do not consider this to be a slashy story. However it has been suggested to me that the sentiments depicted, border on the fine line between friendship love and slash. Therefore it’s up to the reader which side of the coin he/she sees. I take no responsibility for people’s subjectivity on the matter.
Rating: PG-13 (for angst and character death)

Sunset forever

Through the endless field of death and despair of Pelennor, Peregrin Took, Steward of Gondor, searched for his soul.
It was a very special soul. As beautiful as sunlight on a summer day, full of all that was good in the world, of love soft, warm and pure.
Peregrin searched for the sunshine, for his Merry. And all the while a phrase danced in his head like a spell, an enchantment sent through space and time: “Merry, Merry…don’t be dead, Merry!”

Darkness spun in the depths of mind and soul, tearing through the threads of consciousness, destroying memories, banishing feeling. Weaving death and spreading venom, killing hope, trust, love…
Merry Brandybuck floated in the endless void, in chaos of decay, surrounded by the ghouls of his own fears.
A foul wind from the depths of the earth blew away his life, and glimpses of a forgotten past flashed before him.
The very first time he’d held Pippin. He had looked so adorable, with rosy cheeks and those small baby lips. And when little Pip had opened his eyes, Merry’d gasped and felt the most incredible warmth fill his heart.
Unknown and almost unfelt, Pippin had crept into his heart then, forever becoming a part of him. Then followed his years in the Shire, with Pippin, playing mischief wherever they went. All throughout the day you could always trust a Took and Brandybuck to plant the seeds of discord and chaos.
And such lovely years were those! Between scraped knees, lazy summers at the creek, stealing apples, spying on lasses and nights of drunken laughter and song of the Green Dragon.
Smells and sounds of old crept into Merry’s memory: of Pippin’s soft voice lulling him to sleep on cold winters night, how he always smelled so sweet of apples and spring flowers and spicy pipe-weed.
Merry stretched his hand towards this Heavenly apparition.
“Pippin, my precious Pippin. If only I could touch you, hold you one last time.” He struggled to hold on this to this image, to heal his mind and heart. But swiftly as it had appeared it was taken away. The darkness spun again and Merry fell deeper and deeper, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he sunk into nothingness.

Like the wind carries raindrops, thoughts carry desires and turn them into threads of sunshine. Feelings travel through space and time in a heartbeat, splitting darkness and fear. And in the mist of oblivion a single healing sound is heard, distant…but loving: “Merry…Merry…”

Pippin cradled an unconscious Merry in his arms. “Merry, Merry…It’s me, it’s your Pippin! Merry…!” Merry opened his eyes. The light hurt terribly and he barely felt his body. He knew he was gravely injured and a single thought passed through his head: Pippin…before I die…Pip… “I knew you’d find me…” Merry barely whispered.
“It’s gonna be alright Merry, I’m here…” Pippin said tenderly.
“Pip…”
“Ssh! Don’t speak Merry, I’ll take you to Strider; he’ll know what to do. He’ll make you better!” Pip smiled reassuringly, but his tired eyes betrayed worry and sorrow…and fear.
“Are you going to leave me? ” Merry clung to him in desperation.
“No, Merry. I’m going to take care of you…”

Pippin managed to carry Merry to the city. Once inside he tried to look around as little as possible, for fear all the death and destruction about him would kill what little courage and hope he needed for his Merry, who had seemed to have given up. His brave Merry; he’d always looked up to him since he was a wee lad, following him around like a nuisance wherever he went, lost in silent adoration for his beloved Merry, who’d always been there when he got in trouble. Always by him to share the beatings Pip got for being such a nosy pest, to kiss away the tears of fear and sorrow, to fight away his fears and tend his wounds.
He’d healed his mind, heart and body more times than Pippin could count and now it was Pip’s turn to heal Merry. His precious Merry, how could he ever feel at home without him? Without Merry to hold him and tell him stories on stormy nights; without Merry to spend Yule, and his birthday and every other day in between. Without Merry’s wisdom and kindness to guide him and steer him away from trouble; without Merry…bereft of sore, mind, love, light…LIFE.

The Houses of Healing were all alight with the fires of worry and everyone was busy tending to the wounded. And, Pippin had noticed sorrowfully, it seemed like half the city was there. At first no one had bothered to take notice of two lonely hobbits dodging the busy people going by.
It was a frustrating 30 minutes that seemed like forever, but finally a young woman, by the name of Ilandra, took Merry in her arms and didn’t bother to tell Pip to follow. He did anyway but he wasn’t allowed to enter the room Ilandra chose for his cousin. The young steward was left standing in front of a closed door, trying in vain to see through it to the precious half of his soul beyond.

Hours later Pippin was called in by Aragon. The look on the Ranger’s face had distressed Pippin even as a curious feeling settled in his stomach. But he trusted the King and the healers.
The hobbit entered the room slowly and his eyes fell on the figure of Merry sleeping (he hoped peacefully) on the large bed.
“I’ll be outside,” Aragon said, his voice deep and soothing. Pippin nodded as he approached Merry. His cousin lay there pale and hurting, looking thin and vulnerable. Pip’s eyes filled with tears of dread and sympathy and anger seeing his beloved Merry like this. He took the older hobbit’s hand and gently brushed his fingers on Merry’s cheek. Merry stirred and opened his eyes, pale blue locking on to jade and he smiled tiredly. Pippin gasped, seeing Merry’s eyes, feeling a coldness that had never been there, darkness he’d never seen before.
“Pip…” Merry whispered, reaching out for him, his eyes pleading. Pippin understood and climbed carefully onto the bed. Gently he pulled Merry into a loving embrace, mindful of all his wounds. Merry’s head settled on his shoulder, feeling Pip’s warmth, ravishing in the feeling of love that enveloped him. They stayed like this for a long while, sharing this comfort, not talking, just feeling. Marry broke the silence first, startled by the sudden pang in his heart.
„Pip… I have to tell you something…”
„Hush Merry! You need to rest…”
„No, Pip please. I have to say this…” he shifted in Pippins arms so that he was looking into his eyes.
„Peregrin… Pippin… my sweet Pip. You’ve been my most precious gift, my sunshine, my entire world… I’ve loved you since the day you were born, so much it hurts, burns my soul with that delightful fire in your eyes. There aren’t words in all the tongues of this or any world to tell of my love for you, my sweetest Pip…” Merry trailed off, breathing heavily. He felt the tiredness slip into him again, pulling him into a new kind of sleep…deep and tranquil and endless… Tearing him from Pip’s warm embrace… forever. Merry gazed into Pippin’s eyes and wiped the tears from his cousins cheeks; he left himself fall into that fiery jaded gaze seeing all his feelings mirrored there even as death closed painfully around him. He laid himself back in Pip’s embrace closing his eyes …waiting.
„I love you, Pip,” he whispered.
Pippin gently patted his curls, kissed the top of Merry’s head. „I love you too, Merry-mine!” Merry took a last deep breath and went limp in Pip’s arms. Suddenly Pippin felt a coldness wash over him, panic settle in his stomach and a painful tug at his heart as if someone had suddenly ripped it in two. He looked down at Merry lost in sleep, looking peaceful.
„Merry…” Pip called gently. He brushed his fingers over Merry’s cheek… and stopped half way feeling Merry’s breath. Or rather not feeling it.
” Merry!” he called again, panicking, turning his cousin to see his face. The tearing at his soul became darkness and an icy wind filled his veins freezing his blood.
„Merry! Merry!” Pip shook him desperately, hot tears stinging his eyes.
„NO… Merry! Merry! Merry! WAKE-UP! Merry I love you! MERRY!!!!” Pippin screamed at the top of his lungs, choking, crying, shaking Merry’s lifeless body. He felt Strider pull him into his arms, tearing him from Merry, whispering words he couldn’t hear. He struggled and screamed and felt his head spinning. Anger and pain surged trough him, hatred burning at his soul and sinking him into oblivion.

Pippin woke up feeling dazed, cold sweat on his forehead. It felt as if he’d woken from a nightmare. Getting up, he hoped against hope he’d dreamed. He jumped out of the bed and ran to the mirror. Looking at himself, he felt all the hatred and anger return, more powerful and deadly than before. A burning fear scorched his heart and he searched his eyes panicking… searching for something… anything! But all he saw was emptiness and darkness… coldness, stillness, and nothing else. For the first time in his life Pippin couldn’t see Merry in his eyes, couldn’t feel him in his heart. Were once had been comfort and joy, was now an endless void.
Merry was no more…
These words spun in his head, saying themselves in a thousand ways, taunting him. Pippin barely realised he’d left his room, never knew when he’d walked down the hallways, through the gardens; he never realised how he’d come to be in front of the White Tree were Merry had been laid on what resembled an altar of sacrifice. Pip moved closer, not so much walking if not gliding, not really seeing anything except his beloved friend laid under the sky, skin and hair glowing in the setting sun. Taking Merry’s hand he kissed it lovingly, in a desperate gesture of good-bye, as he felt his last threads of life drain away, leaving him empty. His eyes aglow with the fire of the setting sun, he saw Merry and himself walking hand in hand towards a distant horizon, into bliss and oblivion, where his hands and mind could never reach, but where his will ever dwell, in a land where dream and reality meet, close to light and warmth and happiness… close to his Merry.