Live Journal FeedA/N: Many thanks to Jules for the beta-work and sorting my English out
Hope Lost
- May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young -
(Joan Baez, "Forever Young")
Long after there was no more sight of Gandalf and Pippin, Merry was still standing on top of the barbican of Edoras, staring as though paralysed in the direction that his friend and the White Wizard had vanished. The sun was setting, a cold wind blowing, but Merry did not notice. At least so it seemed. His heart was heavy, torn by the certainty that he would see little Pippin of the Shire never again. He heard someone calling his name and slowly turned around. It was Aragorn. The human was standing below him, and looked with concern up at the Hobbit. Merry didn’t reply, but turned around again. Whatever it was that Aragorn wanted to talk with him about, he didn’t care. Pippin was going to die. What else was important?
Lost in thought, Merry did not notice that Aragorn approached him. As the human gently touched the Hobbit’s arm, Merry flinched, but did not say anything. His eyes were filled with something that Aragorn had never seen before. Not in a Hobbit. It was complete... hopelessness. It was scary to see how the past events had changed the little Hobbit. He seemed to have grown up within only a few months. From an innocent young man of the Shire-folk, he had turned into someone without any innocence left. For Merry had seen too many horrors, had suffered too much. He had experienced pain and hunger, fear and almost certain death. He now knew that there was horrible evil in the world that would destroy everything he had once loved. He had begun to understand that there was no returning to his old life, and that he probably would not survive this war. It grieved Aragorn that this innocence, the simple cheerfulness had been taken away from Meriadoc Brandybuck so harshly. For a Hobbit, he had grown up way too fast.
And though Aragorn knew that Merry and Pippin of course had joined the Fellowship voluntarily he felt guilty. He should have insisted on the Hobbits’ return to the Shire after the council of Elrond. He should have sent them back. The evil lands of Middle-Earth with all their wicked perils were no place for Halflings, brave as they might be. And if one of the Hobbits was to lose his life in this quest, if Aragorn was never to see them smile again, if the terrors were to wound their souls and minds forever, it was all his fault.
Still Merry had not spoken a word but kept staring at Aragorn with those empty eyes. There was not even a spark of hope in them. Aragorn sighed.
“Merry….” He finally began, gripping the Hobbit’s arm a little tighter, but Merry roughly pushed the human away.
“Leave me alone… !!!” he exclaimed with a shrill voice, and without further hesitation climbed down the barbican.
“Merry!” Aragorn cried, but either the Hobbit could not or did not want to hear it, for he ran away as fast as his short legs would allow, and soon his shape was concealed by the wooden houses of Edoras.
Merry ran, ran without any purpose or goal, he just ran. He could not explain why he had pushed Aragorn away, it just felt like he could not bear anyone’s presence at the moment. He did not want to hear words spoken or feel touches full of sympathy. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to cry.
When he was too exhausted to keep running, when he felt he had left Aragorn far enough behind him, he finally found refuge in one of the king’s stables. The stables were empty and quiet except for some calm snorts from the horses every now and then. Apparently everyone was at the Golden Hall, deciding what was to be done in the future course of events. Merry frowned and then sought shelter in the box of a sandy coloured stallion. Even in his state Merry recognised its exceptional beauty. He did not know why, but he felt like aplologising for disturbing the horse.
“I’m sorry… I … I need a quiet place…” he said, his voice sounding very shaky. Almost haltingly the hobbit went to the very corner of the box where he sat down on the warm, soft straw. Some peace at last. Merry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to think of something cheerful, but couldn’t. All that was in his head revolved around his friend Pippin, every thought was with the youngest of the Hobbits.
“I should have asked Gandalf to take me with him as well...” he thought, knowing how foolish it was... Gandalf would have refused this request at once. He, Merry, would only have slowed the wizard down, and there was need to get to Minas Tirith as quickly as possible. Merry sobbed loudly, startling himself by the noise it made in the silence around him. Why had he not kept Pippin from looking into the Palanthir? Why had he not slapped his friend right then and pulled him back? Merry somehow felt responsible for the younger Hobbit, more like a big brother than simply a friend to Peregrin Took, he always had, as a matter of fact.
Pippin had always looked up to Meriadoc, whenever he was in need of good advice he would turn to his older friend. Whenever he had got into some mischief and was afraid of punishment, he would come to Brandy Hall to hide there. And Merry would always accompany his friend Peregrin when he finally returned home, and plead with the Tooks not to be too hard to their son. Again, Merry felt tears coming up at the memories of his dear Shire and the happy days of his youth that seemed to be a whole lifetime behind him already. So suddenly had the steadiness of his happy life passed away, turning him over to war, fear and pain. He knew no more, he was not sure of anything, he didn’t know what to think, what to believe. Never before had he felt so small and helpless. Here everything was too big for him, it was nothing like the Shire. And now he had lost Pippin.
The young Took had no idea what he was going to face. He did not know that he was riding right into death and countless sufferings. Maybe it was better that way. Merry was now almost certain that he would see Peregrin Took never again. No, he was absolutely sure. Maybe he was only a small Hobbit, but he was not dumb. He knew that war was unavoidable now, and that Sauron would do anything to destroy the city of Minas Tirith and wipe out the people living there. And Peregrin would be there when it happened. Merry didn’t dare hope his friend could escape death once Sauron’s attack had begun. And that (he had heard Aragorn speak to Legolas) would happen very soon.
Merry could not imagine what life without his friend would be like. That was just impossible.... there could be no Shire without lively, slightly clumsy Peregrin Took. If Pippin died, Merry would never be able to laugh again. Or even smile. Nothing would matter anymore. He would have failed to save his best friend, to protect him as he had secretly promised to do when they had left Rivendell.
The world had fallen into darkness, and the eclipse would grow even darker if Pippin died. With a sudden start Merry realised that he might never know what had become of Pip. Maybe he would never find out what had finally happened to him... maybe Peregrin would spend his last days in prison, in some filthy dungeon, broken and driven mad by pain and the terrors that he had seen. Pippin, who had never done any harm to anyone in his entire life. Merry could no longer bear thinking about this. He felt as though he was torn into pieces, screaming silently, burning alive. Why, why had he not kept Pippin from looking into the Palanthir? It was all his fault... it was only him, Meriadoc Brandybuck of Brandy Hall who was to blame if something happened to Peregrin. And something would happen. Merry had no doubt of that.
He buried his head in his arms, pinching the flesh with his fingers, until his fingers almost became claws, until he thought he could not take the pain any longer. He wanted to cry but his tears had dried out. He wanted to scream but his voice had abandoned him. He wanted to run away but his legs would carry him no more. All he could do was to sit and wait. Wait for better times. Or maybe a spark of hope. For Pippin to return. He would wait in vain then. Merry didn’t care.
And then, all of a sudden, he started to weep. The tears burst out like a long retained flood, like the river Isen itself when the Ents had released it. He did not know why, but suddenly he could not stop the tears from coming, they simply overpowered him. And so he wept helplessly, his tears falling onto the golden straw like silver rain. Desperate and powerless, the Hobbit cried, sobbing loudly in the majestic silence of the kingly stables. And all the tears that he had held back over the past days, weeks and months full of darkness finally broke free, and turned him over to pure desperation.
All he wanted was to go home to his dear Shire with Pippin, to return to his old life where there was no fear and war, he desired peace. But he knew only too well that this was nothing but an illusion, for soon the whole world would fall into darkness. It had already begun. There was no way back to his old life, for he, Merry, would never be the same again. Not after all the terrible things he had seen, the cruelty, the deaths, the despair, the blood. He would never forget the sight of Boromir who, mortally wounded, still tried to protect the Hobbits.
Merry’s whole life had broken to pieces and he did not know whether he would ever be able to put them together again. Most likely, he would die before he’d get the chance anyway. Meriadoc knew that everybody was well aware of the fact that the Hobbit was just too small and weak to survive a battle in war. He was no fool. And though the human did not actually say or show it, Merry knew that even Aragorn thought so as well. He could see it in his eyes when they looked at him, the Hobbit, the Halfling; for there was always doubt and pity in Aragorn’s eyes. And Pippin was even smaller and younger than he, Merry, was. So what chance did Pippin have in this war?
None. He would die.
And just when this thought had rushed through his mind, another voice rose inside of him. No he won’t. Merry had no idea where this sudden voice came from, it seemed to have listened to his inner conversation quietly until the point came where it could be silent no longer. No, he will not die.
It was strange that right at the moment when he was so sure he would never see his friend again, suddenly this voice, this thought arose in him. No, it was not merely a thought, it was the vehement protest of his soul. Maybe his rational mind was convinced that Peregrin Took would never survive this, that he, Merry, was never to see his best friend again – but his soul certainly was not.
His heart refused to let Pippin go that easily, and this was the worst part. Don’t even dare to hope Merry, his rational thought advised him, it will only make things worse if the unavoidable happens. And it WILL happen. You know that.
Without even noticing it, the Hobbit slightly shook his head. Yes, he knew it. But he didn’t believe it anymore. And that made the difference. Maybe it was not likely to happen but... a confidence grew in him, that maybe he would see Peregrin Took again. After all, he was with Gandalf – and that simply had to be good for something, hadn’t it? He rose and slowly walked outside the stables. As he left the building and looked up to the sky he saw that, for the first time in many days, it was clear blue, and the sun shone brightly and kindly down on the town of Edoras.
Strange as it was, Merry somehow felt, yes he was almost sure, that even if he did not find Pippin, his friend would find him in the end. He could not explain why, but a spark of hope had been lightened in his heart. Again he looked up to the skies and the mighty mountains, and then he smiled.
-fin-
