Bag End means winter only in Thain Peregrin I's memory now. Although he and Meriadoc the Magnificent would often visit the Mayor, affairs of their offices kept them from spending weeks at a time at Bag End. Frodo went over the Sea so many years ago, and now Sam has joined him. Rosie lies in the earth of the Shire, the only one of them that will be buried in the land that raised them.

Now Pippin gazes out at the White City, this land of Men that he and Merry have come to. He know somewhere, deep inside, that they will never see the Shire again in life. Although he and Merry do not speak of it, when they left to be with Eomer at his last days, they left for good. Here, though, with Strider and Arwen and Beregond's great-grandchildren about him, Pippin is content. Though he now only watches the younglings play, it snows here too. And his Merry is here, still keeping the blankets warm, and still lighting the fire when Pippin sleeps in, or is too stiff to do so himself.

They rise together to eat with the King. The servants are a little awed, with the Ernil I Pheriannath and the one who helped to slay the Witch- King, kin of Frodo of the Nine Fingers treated as family to the Elfstone. Merry and Pippin soon charm them into an easy alliance, resulting in a full six meals a day, which amuses Strider to no end. Mornings are slow, here in Gondor, especially in winter. Often, now, the King may join them for a pipe, and hours spent remembering days now long past. The Evenstar joins them, too, still beautiful and young and perfect, and plays and sings for them.

Late at night, once, when they were drifting off, Merry whispered to Pippin that he thought Arwen very beautiful, but too untouchable. Hands ghosting over white curls, Merry murmured that he loved beauty only when it was near, and could be touched and held. And they went into each other's arms, then, and though it may not have been as quick or acrobatic as when they were young, they loved each other with a lifetime lived together, and that was more than enough.

Merry is still finishing his last book, on herblore. Every time Legolas comes to visit, now, he brings a volume from Imladris, and Pippin feels a little shoved to the side for a few days, as Merry devours the knowledge, and adds it to his book. Legolas and Gimli, though, are a wonderful distraction, and Merry and Pippin still have their time together at night, so Pippin is content. He begins to feel the press of years, but with them comes peace, and a readiness for whatever may be next, boosted up by a life well-lived, and loving arms wrapped around him each night.

Gondorian winters are colder than Bag End, and Pippin feels a little lost among all the Big People. Still, they have a great, soft bed to themselves, and a huge fireplace, and the leisure to take full advantage of both of them. It is rare, though, that they will spend an entire day in their room, Merry reading aloud, or just talking-even after a lifetime, they still have much to say to each other, and Pippin marvels at it. They love Strider, and Arwen, and their family and, oddly at first, they love this land. A topic of much discussion, this connection to Gondor; but it still holds. Though it doesn't cradle him, love him, as the Shire does, Pippin feels like a part of Gondor was mixed in with him, and now he truly serves Her, in these his last years.

Winter is big fires, and lots of food. Winter is dozing with Merry, or listening to him read, words not mattering, just the rise and fall of his voice. Winter is remembering friends long gone, and treasuring a love that has been tempered and tuned, made sweet and strong and so beautiful Pippin wonders how they both survive each day. Winter, for Pippin, is still a quiet, snow-falling, fire-crackling, kind of love

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