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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
 RE: Into the West (and Back Again)
on: December 01, 2005 03:23
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OOC: This is a JP between Eru and me.
BIC: Aragorn sat near Merry and tried to quiet his friend, but to no avail. He rose and began to pace the room. Where was Pansy? And Pippin? He needed them here! Sighing, he went and sat on the couch by Merry and held his hand. He placed another hot cloth on Merry's chest stroked his forehead. Aragorn knew he could *not* let Merry die. Too many people would be heartbroken. Pippin, Eomer, and.. Eowyn. He sighed. Eowyn especially. She was rather fond of Merry and had invited him to visit her and Faramir in the spring. Aragorn bent his face near Merry's and said;
" Merry, listen to me. You are stronger than this illness. You can pull through it! You must. I can only help you so much, but if you do not have the will to live, I cannot save you." Aragorn rose again and anxiously stared out of the window.
Merry tried to stand. He had to get to Pippin, he just had to! However, as soon as he stood, a wave of dizziness and weakness swept over him and he had to sit down, well it was more like his knees buckled and he fell onto the couch.
The hobbit felt someone place another hot cloth on his chest, relieving a small amount of discomfort, though not enough to really matter. He was aware of someone caressing his forehead. Who was doing this, Merry had no idea. He had no clue on anything anymore. In fact, he had not a clue WHO he was, though Merry did not really care. He just wanted the fire to die down inside him and the pain to subside. Merry heard the person speak again, but what he was saying, he did not know. That frustrated him. Merry gave a whimper.
He was back at the Smials with Pippin. Both were very young. They were playing together and having a jolly time. Merry had convinced Pippin to climb up in the apple tree with him and for some reason and somehow, Fredgar, who was playing with some rocks, convinced Merry to climb back down and leave Pippin in the tree. Merry told himself that Pippin could climb down on his own, and went along with it. But, soon Pippin was crying for Merry. With a dirty look at Fred, Merry climbed down and got Pippin out of the tree. "I am so sorry, Pippin." Merry sobbed and found himself in a comforting embrace of his little cousin. "Don' cry 'erry!" he exclaimed, "Tis al'righ'."
As Merry shifted in and out of consciousness, he mumbled in delirium of the memory. Merry shifted uncomfortably and balled his hands around his blankets tightly.
Surprised by Merry's sudden upright position, Aragorn jumped slightly and stared worriedly at the hobbit before glancing behind him. Where were Legolas and Gimli? Had they not found Pippin yet? He exhaled then slowly turned himself back to the matter at hand and gently placed a hand on the sick hobbit's shoulder then one on his chest.
"Lay back down, Merry. Sitting up will only make it worse." Careful as he had ever been, Aragorn helped Merry to lie back in the bed, propping his head comfortably on the goose feathered pillow. Again, he looked behind him then down at the pale being, which had once been a playful companion and a brave warrior. Just seeing him like this saddened him.
Again, Aragorn took up each rag and fully soaked them into the Athelas, renewing the warmth and again laid them on Merry's chest. The poor hobbit was pale, ghostly pale. Death would be on the lad's doorstep soon enough. Aragorn wiped his forehead then stared down at the hobbit. He took one of the rags into his hands and laid it trustfully onto Merry's forehead hoping that would do some good, if any at all. Time was surely against them.
"Where are they?" he whispered quietly, glancing again over his shoulder but with no luck. The trio was not in sight range. Merry would need Pippin's support for this one. Perhaps Pippin would even be able to help his dear friend recover. He exhaled, running his hand along Merry's sweat damp curls but stopped to the hobbit's indistinct murmurings. He stooped close to the hobbit's lips and could only make a few words. Most were related to Pippin.
Suddenly in the midst of the silence, horses could be heard approaching. Their hooves hurriedly pounding against the earth as they approached. Quickly Aragorn rose and muttered. "I shall be back, Merry." Hesitantly he left the room and headed for the door of the hobbit hole but it was all ready swung open as Legolas and Gimli entered, Pippin in their presence.
"You found him!" Aragorn said with much relief. That was one thing done. Now the hard part of the entire situation: They had to save Merry from the cold death encircling him.
Pippin stood next to the towering elf, looking like a child. His head was held so that he could look Aragorn in the eye. His green eyes were round and frightened. “Aragorn?” He whispered, his voice shaking with fear, “I-is he alright?” Pippins face was just as pale as Merry’s, but it was from fear that he was so pale.
Merry was aware of someone gently pushing him back into a sitting position and he could hear the same being (at least, Merry presumed it was the same person) speak to him. What this person said, Merry was not sure nor did he really care. Merry knew he had been sitting up, but for what reason, the hobbit did not remember. Merry then felt something warm placed on his chest and head though it did not do much good. He had no relief. He heard more murmurings, but what was said, Merry did not know. Merry perceived that the being had left. Is he getting the coroner? Am I dead? Of course I am not or I wouldn’t be wondering…would I?
Merry shifted slightly in his bed and his mind drifted off to a time where there was no pain or fever. He whispered, in his delirium of the things as if they were real and happening then. He whispered of swimming, boating, going into farmer Cottons fields, and going into the old forest, but not too far. He murmured of eating apples and gingerbread, of climbing trees and rocks, and picnics and family reunions.
Pansy and Pippin arrived out of breath, panting almost in unison, having run to the Brandybuck estate non-stop. They had gone off toward Merry and Aragorn while the elf and dwarf went to warn Samwise. Pansy was the first to speak. "I do hope that we have enough, we searched the whole Shire, it seemed!"
Pippin opened the door, letting Pansy in first. Her red hair swayed as she moved, and the scent of roses followed her, making him smile. Pippin had always had a bit of a soft-spot for Pansy ever since she kissed him, way back when he was ten; but he was married and quite happily too, thank-you-very-much. He shook his head slightly, remembering his best friend was ill.
They rushed inside, athelas still crisp, and entered Merry's bedroom, only to find him missing. Pansy very nearly dropped the kingsfoil in shock, but common sense told her that he must have been moved to somewhere with a fireplace. "Pip, where is the nearest fireplace in this house?"
Pip caught on to the idea and gestured with his head, "Follow me, it's in the living room! Quick thinking, lassie." Pippin prayed to Eru, if he truly existed, to protect his dearest friend and beloved cousin.
Pansy followed, hoping that her knowledge of the Winter sickness and Aragorn's skill could save Merry; he had saved her long ago, when they were children...
The summer breeze blew, and Pansy stood on a long thin branch, reaching for a bright red apple. Merry stood below with Pippin, holding a blanket to catch the fruits without bruising them. The lass and Peregrin were both pre-teens, and Merry was just barely beyond.
Just as she was about to grasp the apple, the branch creaked. After a short pause, nothing happened. Pansy again reached out, taking the apple. Suddenly the branch snapped, and the lass tumbled down.
Merry and Pippin acted quickly, stretching the blanket to break her fall. Sure enough, Pansy landed feet first into the blanket, tripping forward. She landed with a soft thud onto Merry, toppling him over. The apple was still in her hand, completely unharmed.
" Thank ye! I could have been really hurt, but you saved me," she exclaimed, sitting up. Tears were in her eyes, the shameless tears of a child. She hugged Merry tightly, and kissed his cheek gently. Brushing herself off, she got up and walked over to Pip.
"Thank you, Peregrin. You saved me too!" she kissed him gently on the forehead, as she was slightly taller at the time. The hobbits sat and ate their fill of delicious ripe apples, watching the butterflies flit through the skies...
Pippin padded quickly into the living room, finding Aragorn sitting next to a very pale, sweaty-looking Merry. "Merry!" he cried, rushing to his ailing cousin's side. "Aragorn, what's wrong with him?"
The man looked at the desperate hobbit's face, who had tears welling up in his normally jovial face, and took his hand. " He has got pneumonia, Peregrin. I am working to heal him, but I need the athelas, and some time."
Pippin's tears finally overflowed, mixing with the melted snow. "You've got to let me help him, Aragorn! He needs me, he needs my help!" He clenched his little fists as he spoke, a mixture of sorrow and anger washing over him.
Pansy looked at Aragorn and Pippin. She had long admired the hobbit's devotion and loyalty to his friends. She had heard the stories of how Merry had defeated the Witch King, and how Pippin saved a great city of Men almost single handedly (after five years of circulation, stories were bound to take on immense proportions). However, the stories never came close to describing Pippin's real loyalty. Pansy's own eyes welled up with tears; she could almost feel how heartbreaking this must have been for him.
Aragorn took Pippin by the shoulders and looked straight into his leek green eyes. "Peregrin Took, I need you to be rational. I need you to give me some time, and I really need to get some more hot water. That is how you can help your cousin, my dear hobbit friend."
“ All right,” Pippin whispered, his head hanging low. Hot tears stung his eyes, and a few landed on the floor with the smallest of noises. In the silence, it seemed as though those sounds were like drum beats. Time started moving again and Pippin set some water boiling. Pansy fetched another cloth for the feverish Merry’s forehead, and soaked it in some cold water. Neither hobbit knew what might happen to their friend, and both wished that they would never find out.
Merry perceived talking. It was loud and frightened. What the person (Was it a new person? He thought so) saying? Merry did not know nor did he care. The only thing that sounded vaguely familiar was the word ‘Merry’, but he did not know how.
The ill hobbit felt something on his forehead. It was cool and wonderful.
He was in a pond. The water was only waist deep. His cousin was just a few feet away. Merry heard a gasp and a splash. The young hobbit turned swiftly. He looked around frantically.
“Pippin! Pippin!” Merry cried out. The hobbit waded over to where Pippin had been. He dove under the cold water and looked around. Where was he? Merry could not find his cousin. For a good five minutes Merry could not find him, but then he spotted him a few yards away. He swam over to his cousin as fast as he could. Merry grabbed the back of Pippins’ shirt. He kicked his legs hard as he swam to the surface of the water. Merry heaved his cousin onto the dry land. “Pippin…Pippin,” Merry cried, shaking the hobbit gently. The younger hobbits head lolled from side to side. Merry went to the waters edge and scooped some of the water. Quickly, he went back to his unconscious cousin. He splashed his cousin.
“Pippin!” Merry cried out in his fevered sleep. He clenched the blankets tightly. His chest heaved and his breath came out in a watery rattle.
Pippin heard his cousin's call from the other room. Grabbing the kettle, he rushed back to the living room, in some small hope that his dear Merry had awakened. To his despair and disappointment, Merry was still in fitful slumber, grasping his blankets and breathing short, shallow breaths. I will save you, Merry. I won't forget when you saved me...
Pippin lay on his back, in shadow. Dark, strange creatures prowled around him, things that he had always imagined lived at the bottom of the lake. They licked their lips with blackened tongues, waiting to feed on the helpless hobbit. He tried to sit up, to move away, but something was holding him down, something wet and thick. He tried to call out to Merry, but nasty seaweed held him down and gagged him.
"Pippin...Pippin," Merry murmured. The words tumbled from his lips. They sounded more like nonsensical sound than actual words. His eyes opened, but just for a moment, just long enough to see the form of Pippin standing there clutching something in his hands.
Merry danced with a pretty lass named Estella. Round and round they went and laughing as they did so. It was a party for the Fall harvest. They passed Pippin, who was playing the fiddle. Merry paused from dancing and grabbed Pippin, leaving a laughing hobbit lass behind.
A small, weary smile played on his flush features.
Aragorn took the kettle from Pippin and filled it with water. He hung it on the hook in the fireplace so that it could boil. Merry's smile faded.
He rushed into the Took’s home. "Is he all right?" Merry demanded. Mr. Took had a tired and grim look on his face. "I am afraid not, Meriadoc." Paladin replied.
"Let me see him," Merry said harshly. Mr. Took nodded gently and led Merry to his cousin. Merry gasped when he saw how frail and pale his cousin was. Merry went over to Pippin and took up one of his hands.
"Oh Pip, you are so ill," Merry whispered, "Don't leave...Don't leave." A small tear trickled down his cheek.
Aragorn looked from Merry to Pippin - silently asking for an explanation to what Merry said.
Pippin took a breath and began to explain. “I, I also had the Winter sickness, because I had almost drowned that Summer, when I was eight. I nearly didn’t make it, in fact I wouldn’t have, if it were not for Merry. Merry saved me that day, and he stayed by me when I was sick. I was ill for so long, so long… I have to save Merry, not just for him, but for me too. If I can’t save him, I don’t know what I’d do!” He took Meriadoc’s hand, warming it with his own.
Aragorn listened while Pippin told his story, and it became clear how much Pippin loved his cousin, as clear as that day on the fields of Pelennor.
Pippin ran towards the prone figure of Meriadoc on the battle field, surrounded by corpses of all kinds. For a moment, it seemed that Merry was as lifeless as those around him, and all hope seemed lost. “Merry!” the younger hobbit cried, letting his small sword fall to the ground.
As he reached his cousin’s side, Merry coughed and smiled weakly. “I knew you’d find me, Pip…”
“It’s all right Merry, I’m goin’ to take care of ye.” Pippin said softly.
Pansy was in tears, overcome by grief. She hoped that Merry would be well soon, and as Peregrin spoke, she realized that she too would be as helpless without Merry. When did Merry become so important to her? Why did she care so much?
It was a warm summer’s evening. Tomorrow around noon, Merry would be leaving on a journey to Bree, to help his cousin. All the hobbits of the Shire *knew* however, that Frodo was just moving to Buckland and Merry was going to help him move his things.
But right now, that was not important. Pansy thought very little of what was to come the next day, she knew she would see her Merry in a couple of days. She hugged him gently as they sat under the apple tree, watching the stars come slowly into view above them. The tree had a scar where the branch had been grafted back on, but it bore the sweetest and juiciest apples of all. The nearby Brandywine flowed lazily in a meandering curve, the sun’s last light reflecting off the surface of the water which created fleeting sparkles.
“ How long is this move going to take?” she asked, dreading the days ahead without her hobbit friend at her side.
Merry looked at Pansy. He shifted slightly. Then the hobbit bit his lip. “I don’t know how long it will take. It shouldn’t take very long. A week at most,” Merry replied, not knowing it would take over two years. He looked at Pansy and took her hand. The hobbit gave it a friendly squeeze.
The hobbit felt someone take up his hand. It was comforting and loving. Who it was, Merry did not know, though he did not care that he did not know. Merry was so ill, he did not even know why he did not know nor did Merry know he was ill.
Merry stroked his frail cousins hand absently with one of his thumbs. He bowed his head and looked at the young hobbit. Pippins face was drawn and pale, yet it was clammy. He did not move. Deep in his chest, there was a horrible rattle. “Oh Pip, you can get through this. Don’t let this take over. You are stronger then that. Come one dear,” Merry whispered as one tear trickled down his face. He curled up beside his cousin carefully so that he did not jostle him. “Please, wake up, Pippin dear, please,” he whispered.
Merry lay on the battlefield of Pelennor. He was under a huge beast and it was squashing him. He was as still as a corpse and a cold as one. The only thing that kept him alive was the thought that he would see his dear Pippin soon. The hobbit heard someone something coming towards him. His eyes opened weakly and the maimed hobbits’ heart leapt. Weakly he coughed and gave him the best smile he could muster. “I knew you’d find me, Pip…” Merry murmured. He broke off suddenly and a moan filled with agony escaped his cracked lips.
Merry shifted uncomfortable. He pushed against the blankets trying to remove them. Suddenly, he stopped moving. The hobbit was still. He became paler. It was a different paleness. It was a bad paleness.
Merry woke. He was not by his cousin. Merry looked around. He was in the library. There were footsteps outside the door and Pippins father came in. “Merry…” he began. Hurriedly and with fear he stood. “Uncle is he…is he…” Merry gasped.
“Dead? No…not yet, but…” he faltered and drifted off.
“What?” Merry demanded, “Tell me now, please!”
“Pippin, he-he is not going to make it. You need to go to say good-bye,” the older hobbit said in a grave voice.
Merry’s face turned pale as a sheet. “No…no,” Merry murmured, sinking onto the couch that he had just been laying on. He looked up at his uncle with wide brown eyes. Suddenly, Merry stood. He stormed out of the library. Merry rushed down the hall. He stopped outside of the room. He heard people talking in Pippins’ room. Merry pressed himself against the wall. Merry tried to hear what was being said, but the hobbits, which were in his ill cousins room, were too quiet to be understood. After a moment, Merry heard a sob and then Pippins’ mother, led by the hearer, left Pippins rood. They went past Merry without even seeing him. Slowly, Merry took in a shaky breath He then left his post and went to the door. Merry went to the door and slowly the hobbit entered the sick room. What Merry saw took his breath away and broke his heart. Pippin was so much worse looking and sounding. The hobbit felt tears well up in his eyes, but he did not cry. Carefully, Merry went over to the bed. He took one of his cousins hands in both of his. Merry brought it up to his lips and gently kissed it. “Oh Pippin,” Merry whispered, “Don’t leave me…don’t.” Merry closed his eyes and tears trickled down his face.
Aragorn stood abruptly when he saw how pale Merry was. He went over to Pippin and Pansy. Merry placed a hand on their shoulders and steered them out of the room. He did not say anything until they were out the door. “Go check on Rosie,” he instructed to Pansy and then to Pippin, “Go to a room and rest Peregrin. I will come and get you when it is time.” Aragorn then closed the door and turned to the matter at hand. The king went over to the bed. He stooped and felt Merrys forehead. He was so hot. Hotter then he had ever been. Gently, Aragorn brushed a stray hair away from his sweaty brow. Grabbing a cloth, he soaked it in cool water and wiped the ill hobbits forehead. Aragorn dropped the cloth back into the water. He then placed a hand on Merrys chest. He could feel the watery rattle as Merry fought to bring in air. Aragorn closed his gray eyes and bowed his head over the hobbit. “Túla, Merriadoc, at a` amin. Ed` i` eruanna en` Eru,” Aragorn chanted in a soft voice.
Merry heard a soft voice. It drew him. Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw a form bending over him. It was blurry and he had not idea whom it was. He felt for a moment, no pain and for a second Merry could breathe with ease. The hobbit then gasped and grabbed the blankets tightly. He closed his eyes and was still. His breath came out in a rattle and his face was so pale, but his cheeks were red with fever. His hair stuck to his forehead and neck in clumps and was wet from sweat.
Translation: Come, Merriadoc, back to me. By the grace of the one.
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| Cirnellë |
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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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| Cirnellë |
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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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