A/N: Gazillions of thanks to Miz Marvel, who beta'd this.
Pippin ran through the hobbit-hole at top speed, maneuvering his way through dim hallways and around various servants, aunts and cousins. That this was Brandy Hall and not the Smials was no barrier; he knew Merry’s home nearly as well as his own by now. And his feet could reach Merry’s room nearly on their own, as they’d been running there since Pippin could barely toddle. Thus, his journey was completed quickly and without incident or interruption.
He exploded through Merry’s door with the same energy he’d used to get there, and as a young teen, that was considerable. Merry looked up from the book he’d been reading, frowning a little, but didn’t get a chance to speak.
“Merry! Put the book aside and come on, you’re going outside, because it’s beautiful today. Didn’t it feel like winter would last forever?” Pippin’s chattering trailed off as Merry still frowned.
“Pip, I’d really rather just stay inside and read. I don’t think I’d be very good company, anyway, and you know I can’t go far from the Hall yet.” Pippin shifted impatiently in place.
“Please Merry? Just down to one of the streams-the one closest to the Hall, I promise.” Pippin raised his eyes to his cousin, knowing precisely which pleading look to give Merry to get him to agree. He’d been doing that since he could remember, and was quite good at it by now. Softening his voice, he reached for Merry’s hand and continued, “Besides, cousin, the fresh air and sunlight will be good for you. You’ll get stronger faster outside, I know you will.” He knew he’d won when Merry smiled, and set his book aside. He’d nearly died of the Winter sickness only a few months ago, and recuperation was slow. The tween sometimes balked at the slowness of his recovery, frustrated with his lack of energy, but what scared Pippin the most was when Merry just lay there, not even protesting as he stayed in his room, and the world moved on around him. Pippin had come to the Hall for a visit just before Merry fell ill, and had gone from helping to tend him (often interpreted as being constantly underfoot and sneaking treats from the kitchen) to making it his personal mission to see Merry got better as quickly as possible.
Buoyed by his success, Pippin impulsively flung himself at Merry, hugging his cousin tightly. Just as quickly, though, he grabbed Merry’s hand and led them through the Hall, stopping briefly in the kitchen to grab two apples from last year’s harvest, wrinkled but still sweet and good. Pippin had also made it his mission to see that Merry gained back every pound he’d lost-and if he got to benefit from the treat-wheedling, well, so the better. The cooks always thought he looked a bit spindly himself, so the two cousins rarely came away from the Brandy Hall kitchens empty-handed. Pippin slowed, and let Merry set the pace as they headed to the nearby stream, an offshoot of the Brandywine that was gentle enough for even the smallest hobbit-toddlers to wade in, as Pippin had done years ago, when Merry first brought him there.
Sitting on the bank, legs dangling in the water, Merry chewed the apple slowly, hearing Pippin move about in front of the huge rhodedendron bush behind them that created a screen and shaded the stretch of creek, first cutting some leaves and then a few slim branches. Just watching him move around so much made Merry tired, but he smiled, watching his carefree cousin, happy to be there, and alive, and getting healthy again.
Quite soon, Pippin came and sat beside Merry, his hands still full of leaves and branches and pocketknife. Merry watched with interest as Pippin cut the stiff leaves down into two long, slender strips, and then began to cut slits in the more slender of the branches.
“It’s something Frodo taught me, last summer when I visited him at Bag End.” Pippin spoke conversationally, but lapsed back into a comfortable silence, continuing to work at his creation. Merry watched as quick fingers guided the leaf-strips through the slits in the twig that had been whittled down to only be as long as Pippin’s hand. He then bent over the stream, securing the two other twigs deep in the fine silt. They each had a fork at the end, also cut down to be small. Pippin held up the first branch, now with the leaf-strips through it at right angles to each other, and with a showman’s smile, cradled it on the two forked branches. They both watched appreciatively as the little water-wheel spun in the stream, quickly becoming a green blur.
Pippin moved to lie on his stomach, furry feet in the air. “The more you watch it, the more interesting it becomes. Just a tiny little wheel, spinning with all the force of this little stream, that came from a bigger stream, that came from a river, that goes to the Sea.” Pippin spoke dreamily, and something in his voice made Merry shift to lie on his stomach next to his cousin, his head lying on his arms, and he regarded the water-wheel. The earth was cool under his body, and the young grass still soft and comfortable. He relaxed easily in the shady copse, and as the spinning leaves hypnotized him, Merry felt his eyes begin to shut.
“You almost died, you know.” Pippin spoke quietly, and turned to meet his cousin’s eyes. All thoughout those long, cold, tired months, Pippin hadn’t spoken of Merry’s illness except in the most passing of ways. He had been there the whole time, had held Merry when his whole body spasmed with fever and coughing, and then held him tighter as the fever broke, and the coughing subsided, rocking him and singing. After that, although Pippin was kind and often stopped in the middle of reading, or tale-telling, or between songs to ask if he was thirsty or hungry or tired, he spoke only of the future. Rarely appending “When you get well” or “When you’re stronger”, to the beginnings of his plans, together they plotted camping trips and pony rides and picnics. Frodo had been there too, and he was often included in the plans, and it appeared the summer would be spent with the three of them traveling between the Hall, Tuckborough and Bag End.
Merry let out the breath he was holding. “I know, Pippin.” His companion was silent for a few minutes, and when he turned, he saw Pippin’s eyes were damp.
“Were you scared?” The teen’s voice trembled only a little when he spoke, but the tears began to fall. Merry sat up and opened his arms, Pippin flinging himself into his cousin’s embrace and cuddling there as he had only rarely done since he was a toddler.
Merry paused a little before answering, torn between possibly scaring the younger one, and answering him truthfully. Truth won out. “Yes, sweetheart, I was scared.” Merry held Pippin tightly, rocking him and rubbing his cousin’s back, whispering, “Shh, shh.” Even when Pippin’s tears had stopped, he stayed in Merry’s arms, his back still rhythmically rubbed.
“What’s worriting you, Pippin?” Merry pulled back a little, to look into bright green eyes, and thought his heart would break from the look on his little cousin’s face.
Pippin took a deep breath. “You almost died, Merry, in my arms. You’re my best friend, and you almost left forever. And, oh Merry, sometimes in the morning when I go to wake you up, I can’t see you breathing, and-“ Tears filled the meadow-eyes again, and Merry pulled his cousin close, trying to comfort him while crying himself.
“Pippin, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry you were scared like that. But I’m here, and it will be okay. Shh, Pippin, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, and I’m getting well. You’re certainly seeing to it.” Merry pulled back a little, and grinned at Pippin, hoping to tease him back into good cheer. He was met by a watery smile, and Pippin nuzzling closer. Merry sighed a little and cradled the lad back to his chest. He’d forgotten, in the past few months, just how young Pippin still was. He’d been so good at taking care of Merry, teasing him into eating, and coaxing bitter medicines into him, he had suddenly seemed much older than his years. Merry lay back, supported a little by the gentle slope that led down to the water’s edge, and let his mind wander, hoping it would find the right thing to say.
“You’re so strong, little one.” Merry spoke softly, but Pippin heard and looked up into beloved blue eyes. “You helped me fight-every moment, you were there, holding me and willing me to win. I wanted to give up so many times, Pippin. It was like fighting against the Brandywine, it would have been so easy just to let go, and float away. But I couldn’t leave you, and you wouldn’t let me. And I can’t leave you now, I couldn’t bear to not be here, watching you grow up and always at your side. And still, you won’t let me leave you.” Pippin looked up, smiling now, albeit tremulously. Merry pulled him in close for a hug, treasuring the solid body in his arms. “Don’t cry anymore, dear one. The dark is over, and ended, and it will be summer soon. And,” he pulled back to smile into Pippin’s eyes, “you, Frodo and I will have such fun tramping about the Shire, and having Adventures.” Pippin giggled, and settled against Merry, tucking his head under Merry’s chin. “Like what?” he asked idly.
“Well,” Merry began, trying to draw the suspense out, “we might find a dragon. Or perhaps have to fight wolves. Or Frodo and I could teach you to swim.” He spoke the last part nonchalantly, but was not disappointed in Pippin’s happy response.
Laughing, he dumped the teen out of his lap, onto the ground. “What do you say to going mushroom hunting now, Pip? I think there might be some up over by the Brandywine now, in that really shady thicket where we hid from Aunt Woodruff last summer. He jumped up, feeling more energetic than he had in long months, and pulled Pippin to his feet as well. Pippin looked at him carefully, and then smiled, pleased with what he saw. They set off hand-in-hand, Pippin questioning where they’d be swimming, and how soon it would be warm enough to learn.