By: Dana
Summary: The one where Pippin joins Merry at Crickhollow, mostly because he's needed.
Characters: Pippin, Merry (Frodo, Eglantine, Paladin, a rather grumbly OC with the name Imbrand, and mentions of others)
Pairings: Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild slash, angst and memories and dark dreams
Author's Notes: Written for the two lines fanfiction challenge. Beta by Dreamflower (with help from Lindelea, on one passage even if it was taken out of context) - thank you, both.
Honourable Mention in the Hobbits: Merry & Pippin category (The J.R.R. Tolkien Award For Honourable Mention) at the 2006 MEFAs.


Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

tell me what my hands were made for
tell me who my mouth was made for
-tegan and sara, come on

"But Frodo - " Pippin really doesn't know what to say. "Do you really think this all for the best?"

Frodo gives him a steady look, grins, and then takes a lasting sip from his tea. Rosie, Pippin thinks, makes a very nice cup of tea - though, he likes her seedcake somewhat more. He's half-standing still and, with a heavy sigh, lets himself limply fall back into his seat. Sunlight slants in pale and cool through the guestroom window, and dust motes dance slowly, like a rain of drifting stars into and around Frodo's dark curls. The Cottons, Pippin thinks, are all very kind, looking after Frodo like they have. Pippin had planned on staying at the inn, but they had offered up space for him, too.

Then Frodo looks at him, again, and he's grinning like a tween with mischief to work. "What is it, Pippin? I thought you'd like knowing that you still have a place that's just for you and Merry - he's been looking after the place for me, and I can't say I've any plans on what do with it other than that."

Pippin almost laughs. He shakes his head, and says, "Well, it isn't that - but our own place, I never thought..." Their own place. Well, the house at Crickhollow was Frodo's still, and Merry had been taking good care of the place since they'd all come back - there was a week where Pippin had been staying there with Merry, but after that his mother had called him back home - and it would be signed over, properly, and it would be theirs . He didn't know what they could do with it. He didn't even know what they'd do with all of Frodo's things - well, he'd be getting them back, of course, whenever he made it back to Bag End himself.

But Crickhollow. And that was good, because Pippin felt very, well, at odds with his own bed at Great Smials. It wasn't that he wasn't glad that they had made it all home, after wanting it for so long. But now that they'd come - well, it was difficult, not noticing all that had gone before. All that had been, but was different now. All that was changed.

Frodo stirs him from those thoughts, with a laughing, "You do that still, I know. Have you spoken to Merry?" It's good, Pippin thinks, to see Frodo laughing. Seeing how ill he'd been, when October had come around, he almost had been left thinking that Frodo'd never laugh again.

Pippin nods, and he smiles. "He's the one who told me, you know, and I know that you know. But I hadn't thought - oh, Frodo." He's quiet for a long while, and then he grins, a lopsided grin, once more shaking his head. Frodo would offer them this. Something small, but something all the same that was a gift, and being placed at their feet (though, Pippin thinks, it has for some time already been like Merry's home). "Well, you'll come and visit, won't you? I haven't a clue, now, what I'll tell my parents. Think of the scandal, Frodo - Tookland's heir, and him not living in Tookland."

Frodo's eyes spark. "Well, you know how I am."

That's right, Pippin does know how he is. "Oh, I do. I suppose you think all this scandal will be marvelous fun." Of course, Pippin's thinking mostly the same.

And Frodo nods, just as he would. He takes another drink of tea, and Pippin absently takes a drink of his own. Then he smiles, and Frodo says, "I'm certain it shall."

Pippin nods, and finishes his tea, then sets it down. The light's dancing, once more, in Frodo's dark hair. "You will be visiting, then. I'll have it no other way."

"But of course, Pippin. Merry'd not have it any other way."

"No," Pippin says, and they both share a laugh. "He'd not. He does want me about, though - you're not just saying this, and him thinking it best I stay myself at home?"

"Of course he wants you, Pippin. He thinks it for your best - but for his, too." Frodo looks away, and shadow falls down the curve of his cheek. "But it's mine, and I thought - well, I thought you might want to have a place that's all your own. For all I might want it at times, I can't consider myself alone here, and I don't think I'll be able to, when I do manage to take myself back home. That's how it should be, I suppose." Frodo's looking at him again, and Pippin's gaze has held steady all the while that he's spoken. "Now, cousin, don't look at me so."

But Pippin is, and then he says, "I won't. We might be off in Buckland together - " and Pippin holds back from saying, where you should be, too , " - but we'll visit as often as we can manage, and still keep from being under and a foot. And you're more than free to visit us, too."

"Yes, Merry insisted - he'd not have it any other way." Familiar, that sounds, and it should be. "But it's nice - isn't it? Knowing that you'll have a place that's all your own." Frodo means something more than the word's he's saying, but Pippin doesn't know what it is that he means.

"Frodo, dearest cousin - don't you tell Merry that, either - but I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about. But I - I'll have to speak with my parents. Think of the scandal."

A laugh, and Frodo again looks away. "I have. I have."

"Stop smiling at me so. No - never stop smiling, please." Then Pippin nods, and he shrugs. His tea is all gone, and Frodo finishes of the last of his. "I'll write them - my parents, that is. And then I'll go and talk with Merry. I'm sure he wants to know what I feel about all this - you'll sign it over right, of course. Oh. I never did think about living out on my own."

And Frodo says. "But you'll have Merry." There are shadows at the corners of his eyes, like dusty old webs in a room of old books. Like there's more that Frodo's saying, than what he's actually said. And Pippin knows that he should know what Frodo's saying - that he should, because it's something that he's known without knowing - but he can't say that he can, and maybe that's just best as it is.

So Pippin nods. "Oh. I'll have Merry. I can't think of not having Merry. But don't you tell him that, either. He'll get too full of himself, and he'll do neither of us any good."

"He's awful, I know."

"And we love him."

"Oh, of course we do. I can't think of not loving Merry."

Pippin stands, and Frodo grunts when Pippin catches him in his arms. "Now, don't think I don't love you ," he says, whispers against Frodo's ear. "I feel that I should thank you, but I can't seem to find the right words."

Frodo hugs him tight, and that almost knocks them both over - Frodo, still sitting, and Pippin too tall and too awkward, standing no almost sitting. "Then there's no need. I know what you mean, and I - well, what more could I ask for, Pippin?" Frodo smiles, and Pippin smiles back at him, and kisses him on the cheek. "Now, you'll have to fight over which bed belongs to which, but I think that you and Merry shall be very good for each other. Very good for each other, indeed."

All Pippin can do is hug him, hug him till he doesn't think breathing's all that right and essential, but then he lets Frodo go. His eyes are wet, and he smiles, and discreetly he wipes at his eyes. "I'll go and see Merry, then. I'll let Rosie know you've finished all your tea. Mrs. Cotton will want to make sure you keep up your strength." Then his smile turns to a grin, and Frodo chuckles.

"Oh, I can manage my way to the kitchen on my own. They've all been so very kind."

Pippin stands, and nods, and smiles before he leaves.

And the truth of it is, he'd not wanted to go back home on his own.

"Well, how long had you kept this secret?"

Merry gives Pippin what must be his most name-worthy grin. He had been outside when Pippin had first come up the Hill, and he was outside still, with the east wind blowing, cool and gentle, making play in his curls. He'd had his pipe out at first, but Pippin didn't know what he was up to now - other than he's outside instead of instead, where it's warm and smells of cinnamon and baking bread. Had he been offered room here, too? Knowing Merry, he'd be more comfortable taking up space at the inn.

"I can't say I know what you're on about, Pippin."

Spring is in the air - glorious and clear, and the sky is blue from east to west. Not a cloud out, and the early roses are all in bloom. "Just what I said, Merry," Pippin says. "Will you ride out to Tuckborough, with me? I'll need to let my parents know, and I - well, I thought to write them at first, but I think I can ride out with them if I've you at my side."

That merry grin sobers. "I'll ride out with you, if that's what you like. Are you very certain this is what you'd like?"

"Of course it is. If it gets me out from Great Smials - not to say that home's not a wonderful place."

Merry only nods. Maybe because, now that Pippin sees him with the sun shining bright, there are still shadows in the corners of his eyes, just like Frodo's. And, and he'd not thought to look, just like Sam's, he's certain, if he had thought to look. But there's something more, almost, but Pippin finds that, while he should, he really would rather not dwell on it. "I was just going to write them, but - "

"But it's best you talk it out with them, I know. We can stay out to the end of the week, and then we can be on our way back - well, if it all goes well, then we could bring something of yours along, and we could... What are you thinking, now?"

"Just that I never thought I'd be leaving again," Pippin says.

"Well, you left before."

"Yes, but this is - " Pippin frowns. "Different. That was for Frodo. When I finally did come back - oh, you should have seen the look on my Da's face. I've never seen him - so very happy, but so very - well." He sighs, then shrugs. He looks to the sky, and lets his eyes roll heaven's ward. "Mum didn't want me setting out again, but at the time I had to. Da knew it, and mum ended up thinking so, too. But then I came back, and - and I didn't quite fit. Everything was very good, but then..." He looks at Merry, and he wonders if he looks near as distraught as he feels. "Everything wasn't quite so good. I suppose it can't all last for always, but... but I didn't fit my clothes, and I didn't fit my bed, and I felt like I didn't fit my home ." He laughs, a small, short laugh, that hurts. And he whispers, "If I leave them now, I don't know if I'll ever be able to come home."

And Merry puts one arm about his shoulder, and Pippin breathes in spring and pipeweed and the indefinable Merry-ness of Merry. "Of course you will, Pip. But it's easier, not... well, it's easier."

"I shouldn't have left you. Ever." He turns, and hugs Merry tight - tight, like he'll not ever let him go. "I shouldn't have stayed at Great Smials, and you alone at Crickhollow. You should have asked me to stay, but you never... you didn't - "

"I do - I do. I do want you to stay." Merry's grin is small, and his eyes are washed grey. He puts his brow against Pippin's. "I'd like it if you stayed, and never went away."

Pippin swallows the emotion that lumps in his throat, but then he laughs. "We'll stay till the end of the week, then, then ride out Tuckborough way?"

Merry doesn't let him go right away. But it seems best that he doesn't, so Pippin doesn't think to complain.

They leave a day earlier than they thought they would - and Pippin was right, Merry takes up space at the inn - and it rains, halfway to Tuckborough, and that nothing more than a handful of miles. But the rain is a light one, and Pippin feels refreshed by it, more than hindered.

They come to Great Smials, and Pippin remembers having come back after having been a year away - how they hadn't known him, at first, but then, there were times when he didn't even think he still knew himself. How they had all mostly thought him gone off, dead. All green and shining windows. And the sun coming in from the west.

"Do you really think this all for the best?" he asks Merry, and Merry nods at him. An hour later, when they have been greeted and seated and they'd had luncheon with the extended relatives and additions, too, with Paladin and Eglantine in the Thain's private parlour, Eglantine asks the same thing.

"Maybe I'll be able to grow into myself," Pippin says.

"You've done a good deal growing that you oughtn't have, son," Eglantine says. Then she looks at her husband, and back to Pippin. "Here, have another cup of tea."

Pippin does, and he accepts the sweet berry tart that she offers, too.

"I am thinking," and this from Paladin, "that maybe this all is for the best." Eglantine looks at him once more, before sitting again, and Pippin looks at Merry, then to his father. Paladin smiles. He seems too old, but then, he is too old, and Pippin often forgets that. How could he think to leave them? He would have to be daft, a true fool, a -

But no, he listens to what his father has to say. "You did a good bit of growing, maybe that you oughtn't, but all for the better. And you'll listen to your cousin, and your uncle, too, and I don't see why that won't be for the best. I can't say I'm happy - but, well, it's not like you'd not be coming back, and I expect you to visit all that you can, and to be back for the planting, too. But - I think you need this. I'm no fool, son. I'm no fool."

Eglantine, frowning, sips her tea. I still don't see why this is all - oh, why do you have to leave? You only just came back , he can almost hear her saying. Pippin doesn't know what to say, but thankfully, Merry does, and he says it for him.

All Pippin can manage, by the end of it, is thank you, and I'll write, and I'll visit, of course.

He doesn't like thinking about being Thain - and maybe he'll think less of it, being gone. But he doesn't like thinking about being Thain, because that eventuality will mean that Paladin's gone, and gone for good.

Three days later, Merry leaves, telling Pippin that he'll be back for him before March grows too long. February still has a while til its end, and Pippin wants to leave with Merry, even if he has no time to pack anything more than a travelling pack.

When Merry does come back, Pippin tells him that it's been the longest four weeks in, oh, a very long time.

Three days later, they leave.

With the green hills of Tookland behind them, and the both of them well onto the road that will take them back through Hobbiton, Pippin says, "I thought she meant to tie me down and not let me go."

Merry chuckles. His pony stomps along and Merry smoothes his hand down the pony's neck, giving it a solid pat. "Well, we're not out of Tuckborough yet - you don't know if she'll run out after us, and drag you back to Great Smials by the ear." He gives Pippin a sideways glance, one that Pippin only sees because he's looking that way anyhow. Behind them, the great wagon Paladin had insisted on rumbles along, rattling with the indistinct sound of metal and turning wood. Cousin Imbrand couldn't have wanted to ride along with them, but Paladin had insisted on that, too.

Well, enough off that. A snorting laugh. "Please, Merry, I'd really rather not think about that."

Merry whistles, and his pony trots ahead, which in turn has Pippin push his pony to follow. "That eventuality?" Merry asks.

In his most serious - well, trying, at least - Pippin says, "Quiet, you, or I'll move back home and leave you all alone at Crickhollow. This wouldn't be so hard, as I'm not even moved in yet." A pause. "Poor Imbrand would appreciate it, I'm sure."

"You'd never!" Merry gasps, and they both know that he wouldn't. Funny, though, how it almost sounds that Merry's frightened that Pippin even would think of it, and turning back.

But they've been teasing each other all through their lives, so Pippin says, "Don't you dare tempt me, Master Brandybuck."

Merry laughs, but he's serious - too serious, all most. "Oh, but you did try it, once before. Well, once at least - when you were twelve, and you so intent on leaving for Michel Delving, and not ever planning on coming back..." He's looking to the east, where Hobbiton is a distant blur of dark on the horizon - if not for Imbrand, they'd have stayed a night there, at least.

"Well, yes," Pippin muses, then shrugs. He gives the reins a slight snap, and his pony trots ahead. "I thought I could take up living at the fair."

Merry laughs again, and unlike the last, it doesn't seem serious at all. "Perhaps you ought to have had."

"You'd have missed me, if I was gone," Pippin says. "Though you rather insisted I be off, if I recall at all correctly, at the time. You even helped me pack."

"Well, of course. But you'd not have thought of that, living off sweets and adventure, as you'd have been..."

"Well, I'd have missed you, too."

"I'd've come and visited you. Well, when the fair was around."

Pippin sighs, and doesn't even need to look sideways as he speaks. "And what about when it wasn't? I'm certain we're both lucky that I didn't actually make it all the way to Michel Delving - not that I recall you wanting to stop me, at the time."

A faint chuckle, and Merry goes on, "What can I say - I thought it all for the best."

They ride through Hobbiton, and press on til Frogmorton. Better to get as far as we can manage, Merry had said, and that was what they did. Anyhow, night might fall, and they might sleep (and cousin Imbrand had done insisting of his own, and made certain that he be treated to the finest of the fine - well, that Frogmorton had to offer, at least - before heading off to his own bed). But morning came again, a steady slow rising, bringing light to day.

And then they were off again, to the tune of Imbrand's complaining.

"Well, if you help Da out, that might impress Nellie a bit more than - well," Pippin says.

Imbrand has been set on impressing Nellie for years, without much success. But he does know a chance when he sees one, and as they neared the Causeway, he wasn't complaining nearly as much.

"Best we stay a night at the Hall," Merry says.

Pippin agrees.

Imbrand only stays long enough to unload what's been stuffed into the wagon load, but then he's heading back down the lane, towards the Hall - wheels rattling as he goes.

"Do you think that's the last of it? I hadn't thought you'd thought to pack so much."

"Mum didn't want me forgetting anything, so she double, no, triple checked all that I'd packed and then - oh, you might just love this."

"What?"

"She refolded all my clothing, thinking that I hadn't done a bit of it well. How silly. I miss her, but this is better, isn't it? Won't frighten her anymore when it seems I've forgotten how to smile. Really though, I didn't think Da would be so - well, understanding. When I came riding from Bywater, back when we had a Shire to clean - well, Mum wanted me to stay put right then, but it was Da who made certain I got back on my pony, made certain I went back where I was needed. Mum would have - ah, well, it's best we're both here now. I should never have left you, though, I'm beginning to think."

"But you had to."

"You've not left Crickhollow, except for visits, since we returned. I always meant to come along," Pippin says. "But I never did manage to follow. We were busy through the autumn, and staying at Brandy Hall, but then winter came and Great Smials called me home. But I always meant to come along - I thought, maybe, that you'd want me - no, need me around."

"Maybe I did. But it took us a season to figure that out."

"It did - now, I - I don't know what to say."

"You've said too much, then. Let's get this last trunk to your room, and then maybe you can cook us both something to eat."

"Oh, so that's why you really wanted me here," and Pippin laughs.

"I think, we cut this a bit close," Merry says.

"Oh, that we did. And that storm, coming out of nowhere. But that's how it is, these spring storms. But your mum was right, I suppose. Perhaps we ought to have stayed put for longer than just the night? It had been nice of her, to ask us to stay, when we'd almost only stopped for hellos and for tea."

"Perhaps. But its better that we made it here. That we made it home."

"I do like the sound of that. Home. Now, come along then. I thought you said were hungry."

"Oh, I am."

The bed doesn't completely fit, though Pippin doesn't mind it all the fist night - but the second night, it's different - and Pippin thinks, no, believes that he'll be able to sleep on his own. It's raining still when he wakes, and he knows he hadn't slept long at all. He stays there for an amount of time that he finds indeterminable, and then it just doesn't matter. He finds his dressing gown, and pulls it on, and then when he finds Merry's room, he finds that he's not the only one who couldn't sleep.

"I thought I left this behind me at the Smials," he says, grinning as cheerfully as he's able. Merry grins back at him, though there's something - off there, like it's stretched too wide, or Merry's stretched too thin. Candlelight flickers, and shadows dance back over Merry's cheek.

"Come and sit a while, then. Do you want to read?"

"Not greatly, but I could listen to you a while, if that's what you want. And if you don't mind."

Merry must not, after Pippin crawls in bed and pulls the covers up over him, because that's just what he does. And if Pippin's bed had been too small, this was even smaller, with the both of them jammed in it.

But for Pippin, it seems to be a perfect fit.

Morning comes, and the rain is still falling - a hard spring rain, where it seems that thick grey sheets of water falls relentlessly from the sky. Morning comes, and the rain is still falling - and Merry sleeps, pale and cool to the touch, where he is pressed against Pippin.

And he certainly is pressed close.

"Merry?"

A murmur. Still-shut eyes. "Ah. Good morning, Pippin."

"And a very good morning to you. Though it seems that the morning itself hasn't heard that it's to be good. It's raining still." He looks to the window, where the grey rain falls.

"Perhaps it will drown us all," Merry idly comments.

"Merry? Merry..."

"You needn't say my name again and again, Pippin. I am merely overtired - that, to tide over your curiosity, as I do know you far better than you might otherwise think."

It's the night before again, but this time cold grey light touches Merry's cheek, and pools in Merry's eyes. Pippin touches Merry's cheek, and it might not be the light that's all that cold, it might be Merry instead.

"I am feeling rather listless," he says, and drops back against the pillows. Pippin sits up, frowning as he does. "I think I'll just go back to sleep. Save us all a bit of trouble, wouldn't you say?" Merry closes his eyes, though his brow is still troubled - now more than Pippin can recall, at least in the last handful of months, the scar on his brow seems dark, and real, and it troubles Pippin to see Merry lying so still - so still and so grey, and fear falls over him for a lasting moment, before he can breathe again and he's able to push memory away.

"It's early still, and we did a good deal more moving yesterday than we have in a while. Why don't you stay abed, and I'll make us both some tea?"

But he makes breakfast, too, though before he finishes with it all - the last of the eggs and the last half of the round of good cheese, with onions and mushrooms, all diced and fried, and all from Merry's very sparse pantry (something they would have to see to, with Pippin staying around) - Merry comes to the kitchen, looking too much like a ghost.

And Pippin makes Merry his tea, and he chatters on brightly as he cooks and then sets the food out and readies their plates, and the air is cool and still though the fire is burning brightly and, really, it should do wonders to bring them both some cheer.

But then it hits him, slowly, like it sometimes does - how his bones had ached and ached throughout the winter, most especially when the days turned their coldest; and how his sword hand would sometimes tingle and then twitch, before turning into a full ache; it hit him, and Pippin knew the day, and he didn't think to apologize when he let his tea cup slip from suddenly nerveless fingers, and he stood and went to where Merry sat, listing noticeably to the east, and took Merry's right hand.

The sound of breaking ceramics breaks him, too, and Merry blinks and looks at him and Pippin laughs, though not with any cheer.

"Oh, I am a fool. I hadn't even thought of the day." But he thinks of Frodo, and he thinks of autumn, and he thinks of how very ill their cousin had been, when October 6th had come around. He is down on his knees know, clutching Merry's hand, and it is hard and cold to the touch - and Pippin, frightened, laughs again.

He thinks, when he can think, that maybe they ought to have stopped by and looked in on Frodo. But then he looks to Merry's face, and those thoughts all seem to flee.

"This must be why you wanted me here. Well, I wish you'd out and told me, Merry, as I might have thought to - to make some better plans." Sense, it all makes sense. Why else would Frodo think it for their best?

He touches Merry's cheek, and Merry stirs. He's tired, tired, still and cold and pale as death. Pippin feels, if he closes his eyes, then Merry will simply fade away. But he stands, and he's holding Merry's hand still, and there must be fire in his eyes, and in his voice, as he speaks. "Well, I shall - I shall send word to the healers at Brandy Hall, perhaps - "

"There's no need, Pip," Merry says, with the faintest trace of a grin. "I thought ahead, as I always do. There's no need to go calling anyone - actually, I would rather it that you not."

"But Merry - "

Merry takes a great breath, visibly shaken, "I already thought to send word to your King - after I spoke with Frodo, at least, and Frodo told me..." All the colour seems to drain from Merry's eyes, just as it seems to have with his skin. "Oh, Frodo. If he'd not come to me, and told me - well, I'd not have thought to write old Strider, that's for certain."

"Merry..."

"I've athelas ," Merry says, rousing a little just at the sound of the word. "A little bit, but, I think - oh, that you do it, I think."

"You knew - you knew..."

"Of course I did, my most beloved fool."

It comes to mind that Pippin has not kissed Merry in - well, in a very long time. He laughs, and this time it is almost with spirit, and he touches Merry's cheek, and squeezes tight his grip on Merry's hand, as though he is frightened just by the thought of letting go. And he does kiss Merry - kisses him like he's not in an age, and Merry's mouth seems as cold as his hand.

And Pippin draws back, and says, "Well, let me put you to bed."

Warmth washes over skin - as refreshing as summer warmth, as clear as elven breath, or something else so fanciful, and Pippin feels how the shadows all clear from his head. He boiled the water, and cast the athelas into it while it still steamed, and Merry had watched him from where he lay, still as stone, in his bed. "If I do anything wrong, you should let me know."

"Oh, I'm certain that I will."

And Merry closes his eyes, and Pippin wrings out the clean cloth - and smoothes it across Merry's brow, and then down his arm. Everything is pale and smooth, like stone - and Merry, a statue. Well, at least he's just as lovely as one. Merry's nose twitches. Then, with a murmur, it seems he falls into sleep.

Spring blooms all about them. The warm cloth too soon turns cold.

It would have been a pity to let the food go to waste, but Pippin eats it all, and doesn't even mind it that it's all so very cold. Then he cleans up the mess that he made, a mess of pale white shards. But the day is long, though the rain for a time has stopped - and when there is nothing more for him to do, he sits and watches as Merry sleeps.

This must all be for the best.

Merry is sleeping still, and the rain has come again. At least, Merry had been sleeping, but now he sits awake, watching Pippin - at least, watching Pippin when realises that he is being watched. He had been watching Merry, for the longest time. athelas still faintly scents the air - he had boiled the water, crushed and steeped the leaves, all through the day - and Merry had slept and slept and slept.

And now, now, he sits awake.

"Hullo, Merry."

With a great yawn, Merry speaks. "I am hungry. What is the time?"

Pippin laughs. "Long past supper-time, I am afraid. And, if you are feeling all that well, then you will have to cook for yourself - I hadn't thought to think of cooking, when..." He pauses. He blinks, then dashes the tears from his eyes.

"How long did you know?"

"After October... well, I had a thought. It's nothing... Pippin, it was very nice, having you sleeping right beside me. Even when you cried out, and I thought - I hadn't thought that you still had your dreams." Merry's voice is low. "Is it often that you dream of flame?"

Pippin feels the breath knocked from his lungs. He hadn't thought of - he dreams almost always, and not always of darkness or flame, but as March had drawn near, his mind had walked in Shadow... how had Merry known? He had not taken to reminding himself of such things, at least to save his mind. "I hadn't... You hadn't come back yet, though I'd wished you had - I might have been able to talk, or not think so much, and it wouldn't have all been that terrible. I don't dream of it all that often, but when I do - oh, you've known me all my life, Merry. I would have liked to have you there - or Frodo, or the both of you. But you were both so far away, and I - well, I've never been all that good at planning ahead."

Merry nods, and for a moment, doesn't speak. "Come here. Sit with me, Pip, before I send you off to make my supper." Pippin chuckles, but he moves from where he'd been sitting, and he sits where Merry offers, where the covers are pushed back. "I had my suspicions, but Frodo said something - and I knew, even if I hadn't been wounded as he had - well, that it had been a lasting thing. Shadow might be a thing that leaves, and that is for the best, but it seems to think that we want for it to come back and have a nice long visit with us, and stay for tea. Oh, I could do with some tea."

"I could make us both a bit," Pippin says. "And you're hungry, you say, though I haven't a clue what you'll eat - your pantry is rather bare, cousin," he says, and touches Merry's cheek. Merry smiles - a very real smile, clear as the spring sky, and somehow even sweeter. "But I shall manage something, I'm sure."

Merry kisses the tips of Pippin's fingers, then cradles his cheek against Pippin's hand. "I am very glad that you came to stay with me, Pippin," he says. "Though I wish, now, that I'd had the right words..."

"Fools, the both of us, then. Though I think, now that you have me here, you might just be stuck with me for a very long time..."

"I think I need you here," Merry says, and closes his eyes. "Best that we are stuck with one another, than not, I should say." There are many things, in all the world, that are right, but for them to be together - stuck together, Pippin should say - that seems the most right, of it all.

Once more, Pippin touches Merry's cheek. Then, his lips, where Merry's breath is warm and sweet. "Well, I shall have to write Frodo," he says, while Merry drowses. "I hope he's not as insufferable as you can be, when you've been proven right."

"Oh, he's far worse than I am," Merry says. With his eyes still shut, he says, "Now, shall you see to our supper? The pantry really can't be all that bare"

"Like I said, I shall manage something, I'm sure," Pippin says.

"And Pippin?"

This Merry says once Pippin has stood, once Pippin is almost out of the room. Pippin stops, and looks back at Merry - Merry, smiling only faintly, but with new colour in his eyes. "What is it, cousin? Is there something you need?"

"Just - I did like it with you back in my bed," he says and, then, shuts both his eyes. "I only hope that you'll be joining me again."