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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
 RE: Into the West (and Back Again)
on: July 13, 2005 02:52
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OOC: This is a JP between EowArwen, breifly Pansy, and me. I am adding a little bit to the top to blend your last post with the rest of the JP EowArwen.Shall we do part 2 of this JP now Pansy and Eowarwen?
Note from Pansy: Sorry to Eoarwen for using Aragorn a bit in that one sentence... 
BIC: Merry looked at Aragorn with a weary smile on his pale, clammy face. He gave a sigh of relief as well, that sent him into a flurry of coughing. The fit lasted a long time and when it finially did finish he was out of breath. Slowly, he took in deep breaths and when he spoke, he rhasped out, "Tis Samwise' daughter Eleanor." Merry took a step away from the door, which made him waver and fall. Darkness took him and the next time he woke it was many hours later.
Merry slowly blinked as he woke and moved his head. Where was he? Merry was not exactly sure for a moment, but soon realized he was in something soft. How long had he been there? Three days, at least Merry figured, but he did not feel any better from the time before. He actually felt worse. His whole body felt as if it might explode or burn up. What had woken him? Voices calling him, but who it was, he was not sure.
Pansy was sitting next to Merry, holding his hand. “Merry!” she gasped. She whispered, “Oh, thank Eru you are awake!”
Carefully, he pushed himself up, glancing towards the other voice that he heard and then turned so that he was facing the door. "I'm in..." Merry called but he could not finish. The worst coughing fit he had ever had took him over. Merry wrapped protective arms around his waist as the coughs shook his whole body. He felt like they would shake him apart! Why wouldn't they stop? They always had. He doubled over as he continued to cough. Oh, how painful it was. It was just a cold. How could I be this bad? This sick? He thought fearfully.
As Merry continued to cough, each flinch the coughs brought on drove their way straight into Pansy’s heart. It made her feel terribly ill. Swallowing, she attempted to hold him steady, but the barrage of coughs was too strong.
Aragorn heard coughing coming from a back room and cursing the darkness under his breath, he finally was able to light a candle and make his way to where Merry was. "Light a fire" he commanded Legolas and Gimli and they hurried to do so. Aragorn found Merry doubled over from coughing and quickly went to him. He sat near Merry and rubbed his back, trying to ease his friend's pain. Worry showed in his grim face.
The fit of coughs went on for some time and when he thought he would be driven insane from the pain, they did stop. Merry closed his eyes and fell against Aragorns chest, too exhausted to sit upright. His nightshirt and hair were damp from his fevered sweat. His chest rose erratically and a wet, thick sound came from with-in his chest.
At Aragorn’s request, Pansy rushed off to gather more kingsfoil. She also felt that someone needed to find Peregrin Took, Meriadoc’s cousin and very dearest friend. Pippin had to be there for Merry, it would help greatly. What the King of Gondor would want with such a simple weed though, she couldn’t grasp.
Strange, how little she knew of this Man from the North, even though they had spent the last few days caring for Merry; She recognized the crown from the tales the Heroes of the Shire (for that was how they were known after the War of the Ring and the Scouring of the Shire) would tell at parties, and so knew from those tales that he was indeed a friend. It was then that she realized that she knew more about the Man than who he was. She shook her head and continued.
Pippin had just come home from Minto’s house after checking up on her leg again, assuring her that she would be just fine in a couple of days. Saying his goodbyes, he had trudged through the Shire, his toes colder than he remembered, except for that one time on Caradhras. He was warming his rather large feet when a knock came to the door.
“ Hullo? Pippin, it’s Pansy!”
Opening the door, the lad found the lass that often had served him his drinks at the Green Dragon. It was closed for quarantine, he at least knew that much. Looking at her face, Pippin noticed that Pansy’s face was wrought with desperation. “ Why, Pansy! Ye look like ye have seen a ghost!”
Pansy gasped for air, having run all the way from Merry’s. “ It’s—Merry, he… He is sick. With—with pneumonia!” She shivered in the snow, not from the cold, but for fear. “Please, please, Pippin. Aragorn has asked me to find Kingsfoil, which he called Athelas. I need ye to help me, and be with Merry!”
Pippin’s face went almost as pale as Pansy’s upon hearing that his best friend in all of Middle Earth was terribly ill. Taking her hand in his, he exclaimed, “Come, there is no time to lose! Let’s go fetch the athelas!” The two hobbits ran off into the darkness of night, rushing to help their friend.
Aragorn lifted Merry up off of his bed and carried him into the sitting room where Legolas and Gimli had a fire going in the fireplace. " It will be alright Merry," he reassured his friend. He asked Legolas to move the couch closer to the fire and he laid Merry down on it. Going back into Merry's room, Aragorn took as many blankets as he could with him and laid them over his friend. He knelt near him and felt his forehead. Merry was drenched in sweat and hot to the touch. "Heat some water Gimli and bring it here." While Gimli hurried to do so, Aragorn asked Merry, "When did you come down with this sickness? Do you know who came down with it first?"
Merry barely felt Aragorn pick him up in his strong, embracing arms nor did he really notice as he carried the ill hobbit swiftly into a room down the hall. However, through it all, he felt pain and a coughing fit preparing to erupt at any moment. Merriadoc, though, was slightly aware of being lowered onto another surface, what it was, Merry was not exactly sure, but he knew it was something soft. Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw Aragorn kneeling by him, though he was blurred. "Four days...right after Frodo left," Merry panted out in a hoarse voice. Slightly Merry shook his head. He did not know. "Everyone is coming down with Winter Sickness," Merry hissed, coughing a few times, "No one gives it...it just invades. Bad Sick."
Merry sat up straight and then doubled over as yet another coughing fit came over him. When he was done hacking, he flopped down onto the couch, depleted of the little energy he had. Merry closed his eyes and did not move nor speak for a while; he seemed to doze. Then, after fifteen or so minutes Merry mumbled, "Pip has had it - when he was little."
Gimli came back with the heated water and Aragorn dipped some cloths in it. He then placed them on Merry's chest, to soothe his coughs and with the rest of the water, he crushed athelas and rosemary into it and dipped another cloth in it and mopped Merry's forehead. He held the bowl before Merry's face for a bit also, to calm his coughs. He then placed his hand on Merry's forehead once again and sighed inwardly. Merry would need all the help he could get from his friend and Aragorn was weary from traveling. Nonetheless he became very interested when Merry said, " Pip has had it-when he was little."
" Then I must send for him at once. It is likely he is immune to this illness and perhaps he can tell what has been done for him when he had it." Legolas and Gimli rose and offered to go and find him. Aragorn nodded and they left to find Pippin. Aragorn again turned to Merry and took his arm in his. He became alarmed when he found that it was somewhat cold. " Merry, Merry," he repeated to his fevered friend. " Your arm, does it hurt?" When a long pause followed, Aragorn bent forward and again said, " Merry, I must know if your arm hurts. I know it is hard but please answer me."
Merry felt his chest muscle spasm slightly when the hot cloth was placed onto his chest, but quickly the spasms stopped and he felt himself relax and some of the ache ebb away slightly. Merry inhaled the strong, pungent aromas, making his bronchial tubes open up slightly, which in turn made his breathing easier than it had for the four days he had been ill. Slightly, the hobbit jumped when his healer placed a hand on his forehead - it had startled him -, Merrys mind had drifted off to some far place where it was sunny and a perfect day, with sweet herb fragrancing the world. Wearily Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn whispered his name twice.
“Everything hurts,” Merry mumbled, “My chest…my legs…my back…my arms aye, but not so much as my chest and back.” The hobbit closed his eyes and fell into a doze, but woke a little bit later, with coughing. The hobbit held onto the couch with a death grip, as he did so, and by the time, he was done with the coughing he was crying from the pain, and his nightclothes looked as if he had been dunked into water, they were so wet. With one last cough, a small amount of green phlegm, which had one little spot of red in it, came out. The lad lay back wearily and closed his eyes. ‘No more talking,” he begged hoarsely.
Aragorn had seen this illness before, when he had lived among the Dunedain, but he had never seen it this fierce before. He rubbed Merry's back as he coughed, for it was all he could do, for the moment. Aragorn became alarmed at how hot Merry was and knew his fever had to be broken if Merry was to survive, at the moment he was much too hot. So, he went outside and filled a pail with the snow that lay around the hobbit hole. Going back inside he told Merry, " This is going to feel almost unbearably cold but I must get your fever down." With that, he took a handful of snow, wrapped it in a thin cloth and laid it on Merry's forehead and chest. After he had done so, he then placed his hands on Merry's head and chest and hummed a sweet, low, Elvish healing chant. The effect was to relax Merry to the point where he could sleep, without pain and interruption from anything, for a few hours. He hoped Legolas and Gimli would return with Pippin soon, and that Pansy would bring the athelas.
Merry whimpered as he lay on the couch. His eyes were closed, but his eyes moved under the lids. He bit his lip and clutched the blankets in his clammy hands. He squirmed and tossed from the fever. Wearily, Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn spoke. All Merry did was nod, he did not wish to speak because of the coughing that would come with it, and he was too tired too do so anyway. Merry hissed as Aragorn put the snow on him, but he did not fight him for the same reasons. The snow melted almost as soon as Aragorn had placed it on him. The water mixed with the sweat and made him, if it was even possible, wetter.
Merry wearily closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly. He felt no pain or anything for the first time in a while, though his fever did not subside and his chest raddled with the sticky phlegm. The ill hobbit woke a few hours later with a strange gasp. His eyes were wide. The hobbit sat up straight and tried to get air in, but it was in vain. The only sound that came from his throat was a squeak and a funny wheezing sound. Merry looked around frantically. “HHhhhh….” Merry was trying to say help, but he could not. He felt himself go dizzy and the threat of unconsciousness took him. Merry grasped the couch tightly and suddenly started to cough. The green phlegm that was closing his throat up was coming up finally and there was even more blood in it. He lay back when it was all over. His eyes closed and he fell into a darkness that was neither wakefulness nor sleeping. He could hear everything, but he could not see nor could he respond to anything that was asked to him.
Slowly the world melted away and around him. The dissolved world, slowly resolved and he was in Hobbiton with his cousins – Frodo and Pippin. They were all a lot younger. There was a blanket spread over the ground and a large assortment of food was laid out over it. The three hobbits were enjoying the food greatly and were not paying attention to the sky nor the weather. They only looked up, when large, fat drops of rain hit them squarely on the top of their heads. “Lets go,” Merry yelled, not only in his fake reality and in the real, though it was in a moan. The young hobbits scampered up and started to run to the closest shelter.
Merry shook uncontrollably. He kept grasping and ungrasping his blankets. He kicked his legs listlessly. Merry tossed and turned aimlessly and his head rolled pointlessly from side to side. His chest rose erratically and with the sound of chain mail. His face was scrunched up with pain and discomfort.
Pansy and Pippin were on their way back, arms full of all the athelas they could find, when they found Legolas and Gimli rushing towards Pippin’s house. Running as fast as they could without dropping any of the precious herbs, they reached the gate at the same time as the dwarf and elf.
“ Gimli! Legolas!” Pippin cried, glad to see his friends again. It had been many years since he had seen them. Jerking his head back toward Pansy, he introduced them. “ This is Pansy Sackville-Bracegirdle. She told me about Merry.”
Gimli and Legolas nodded, having already met the lass. The group made their way towards the Brandybuck Estate, hoping that their friend would heal soon
Aragorn turned Merry on his side so he wouldn't suffocate from the phlegm in his throat, rose, and quickly heated a kettle of water. He was making Merry some spearmint tea to clear his throat when he heard gasps and moans from the couch. He went back to Merry and took his hand once again. " Merry, it is going to be alright. Just relax." he paused and whispered, " Go to sleep.......sleep...." and he watched as Merry's eyelids fluttered and closed. He then returned to the tea he was making and made it as strong as he possibly could. He left it over the fire to keep it hot until Merry awoke. " I must go to Rosie as well," he thought to himself. "But I must wait until Pippin arrives and then he can look after Merry for a time until I return." Aragorn then went and sat on a chair across from Merry and watched him intently.
Merry heard and felt Aragorn as he took of Merrys hands and spoke to him, of course, but the ill hobbit did not respond to the kings’ touch or voice. Relax? How may I relax? I cannot breathe! This is bad, very bad, He thought, You don’ even know how bad this is! I am worse then even Pippin got and he about died. A strangled sound came from his tight throat at the last word that entered his mind. Merry was dying and there was not much that could be done; except hope and to try to remove the fluid from his lungs.
Merry was with his dear Pippin. They were fishing, laughing, and having a grand time. Merry stood as something pulled on his line. The hobbit pulled back, but he was pulled in and under the water. Merry gasped and water filled his lungs.
Merrys face turned chalky white and the skin around his lips were pale blue. His chest barely rose and with the pitiful breaths that came into his lungs, a sound of death echoed from deep within.
Aragorn rose and grabbed Merry. He sat him up straight and began to hit his back slightly, to loosen up his throat. " Come on Merry, you can make it through this." He laid Merry back down, took a cloth, dipped it in water, and mopped Merry's forehead once again. Aragorn then went and filled a cup with the spearmint tea he had made and sitting Merry up once again tried to get him to swallow at least a little. " Just try to swallow a bit Merry, it will help you." When Aragorn got a very small amount down Merry's throat, he rose and crushing more athelas, he soaked a few rags in it and laid them again on Merry's chest. He held the bowl once more in front of Merry's face. His thoughts drifted back to when he first had healed Merry, almost 4 years ago. That time he had been successful but he did not know if he had the power or skill to heal him this time. If only he had brought Ioreth with him for she was the most skilled healer in all of Gondor. Sighing, Aragorn tried to brush away the "what ifs" and held Merry's hand in his. " You cannot give up Merry. There are people who need you, Pippin for instance. You are very dear to him and if you were to die, he would never recover from the shock. You must pull through this and be strong, my friend. Not only for you, but for those who love you as well." Aragorn ran his hand through Merry's curls and wondered to himself how long it would take Legolas and Gimli to find Pippin.
Merry could scarcely feel or hear anything. His mind was muddled and his body felt as if it was not there. He felt himself sinking – sinking into darkness of the deepest depths of an inky lake. Suddenly, he felt as if he was being pulled out and the water/poison come out of his tortured lungs. The fluid was a horrible shade, a mix of green and red – which looked a little like rust or clay. With one last cough and some more phlegm coming out he gave a shiver and was still. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He did not know where he was or why he was there. All he knew pain, heat, and near impossible breathing. He heard someone speaking to him, but had no clue who it was or what he wanted, though that was soon figured out. Hastily, he shook his head slightly. Merry did not want the concoction being offered to him. He absolutely hated spearmint. Merry was startled when, the person tried to make him drink it. Some went down and he about gagged. The hobbit sputtered and whimpered. The drink had hurt his already chaffed throat.
Merry felt a small amount of relief when the person placed something hot on his chest. That was where heat was helping, not his throat. His muscles relaxed and the hobbit found he could swallow just slightly without wishing to scream from the torture. He heard the person speak again. He did not understand what was being said, except for one word – Pippin. What about Pippin? Had something happened to him? Was he ill? Worry came into Merry's still slightly chalky features. He rose slowly, though the hobbit did not know it. Merry had to get to Pippin - he just had to! Merry let out a whimper, a cry of fear and pain.
[Edited on 13/7/2005 by ~Stella~]
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Author
Here it goes.
