[identity profile] dashoftook.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] lotr_sesa
Author: [livejournal.com profile] dashoftook
Title: The Eve Before Yule
Pairing: Frodo/Merry if you squint? Overall I'd say gen!
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and the hobbits belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and no profit is being made from this work of fiction.
Notes: Written for [livejournal.com profile] ladysunrope for the [livejournal.com profile] lotr_sesa. She asked for a fic involving either Frodo/Sam or Frodo/Merry, and I chose the latter. I'm terribly not very confident in my ability to write slash, so this leans more towards gen and I really hope you don't mind! I was also quite apprehensive about writing Merry, but I did my best and enjoyed writing this as well. :)
Summary: This takes place during the holiday of Yule, most likely in the year 3020 after the four travelers return. Merry's not quite in the spirit and old wounds are troubling him, but Frodo's presence makes the holiday considerably brighter and starts Merry on the road to healing and recovery. I hope you have a lovely holiday, [livejournal.com profile] ladysunrope!

My dear Merry,

It has been far too long since your last visit, and I deeply apologize for the lack of correspondence on my part. It has not been as easy as I had wished to fall back on an old life of comfort, and I imagine you know the feeling all too well. I am glad that you and dear Pippin have Crickhollow to live in, for the thought of the two of you being apart was a difficult one to bear. If I know you as well as I think I do, you are naturally worrying fervently about me up here in old Bag End. I beg of you to curb your fears for I am fine, and could not be in better care.

But soothing you is not the reason I write, my cousin. Word has reached me from Pippin that he was summoned to the Great Smials to help look after Aunt Eglantine with her recent sickness. He (and Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme, might I add) was most concerned about you spending Yule on your own, and I have decided to come to Crickhollow and celebrate it with you. Sam is celebrating with Rosie and the Cottons, and I have convinced him that this visit will do good to both you and I. I know you will object, I know you will believe me a fool for going out in such weather, but I wish to see you. It is not quite like you to refuse to partake in Yule time festivities, and I deeply apologize if you feel that Pip and I have been conspiring against you- Consider it payback in its finest form. I have planned to arrive on the Twentieth, and I beg of you to take care until then, dearest.

Yours,

Frodo


--------------------

Meriadoc Brandybuck held back a sigh as he read his cousin's elegant script. Of course Frodo had sent the letter so it would arrive too late for Merry to reply in hopes of changing his mind- His cousin had always been terribly clever like that. He should have known that Pippin would not have let him spend Yule alone, not when his constant companion and dear friend had felt so guilty about leaving him in the first place. Honestly, Merry had even surprised himself by his polite refusal to attend Buckland's celebrations, but the winter chill had seeped into his bones and refused to leave. The only reason, he supposed, that his parents had accepted his declination was due to the fact that he had just returned from paying a visit to the Master and his wife.

Still, he couldn't help but to anticipate Frodo's arrival. How long had it been since he had last seen his cousin? The days seemed to blend all into one, flowing like a river that pulled him around every bend whether he liked it or not. Merry was waiting for his life to pick up where he had left it off, but the honest truth was that no- Going back was impossible. He could not forget the pains the journey had cost him- Somewhere along the way he had found himself muddled along in the grey, torn between mourning a world lost and the one that was gained.

It was a strange, surreal feeling finding himself home, where he had aided in banishing the last clutches of evil. He was seen as a great captain in the eyes of his people, though still he did not feel it. Even in Gondor after he had felled that foul beast, he did not feel like a hero. He was a simple hobbit of the Shire; friend, cousin, son. As much as he had yearned of an adventure like the ones in old Bilbo's stories, in the back of his mind he had always known that they were not as grand as they appeared to be in the tales. His own journey had been quite different than he had ever imagined, his strength and bravery fueled by his pure love for his kinsmen.

Shame flowed hot through his veins as he thought of what Frodo might think if he told him of his troubles. Wasn't that the simple reason why his dear cousin had gone at all? He had nearly sacrificed himself for a greener world, for peace, for a chance of prosperity. And now stuck in this awful rut, Merry feared he was tossing away the enjoyment in life that Frodo had given him the very day he had reached that horrid fiery mountain and done away with the ring that haunted him so (and as far as Merry knew, still did). He wanted to weep for the innocence that he and his cousins and Sam had lost, but that simply wasn't like Merry.

No, he thought as he paced the house, pipe in his chilled hand, it wasn't. Somehow there was beauty in all they had suffered- The relationships he had cemented with Strider, Gandalf, Eowyn and countless others, the very fact that he had helped his friends save the Shire and ensure a future for hobbits who followed in his footsteps- Yes. Yes, it had been very much worth it, he suddenly realized. He would learn again to enjoy the sunshine that he had earned warm his face, to love and appreciate all that grew- renewed vigor for living would come in due time while he healed. Until then, he would busy himself with watching over Frodo and Pippin like a hawk, because he found his life's purpose in them.

Merry was drawn out of his thoughts by three soft knocks at the door, striding past the cackling hearth and the steaming cup of tea he had poured himself without even realizing it, hand wrapping around the knob and pulling it open. He was met with the sight of Frodo Baggins, dark brown hair streaked with the flakes that had only just begun to fall from the grey sky, and deep inside the pools of his sad blue eyes, Merry saw a flicker of the old warmth he yet to see since the ring had fell into his hands. They stood there in silence for a few moments, Frodo's hand reaching out to clasp Merry's shoulder, a gesture that he returned.

And in his cousin's firm grasp, Merry found strength and love flooding into his veins once more, arm that was cold with memories of his past, present and future warming. His throat was tight as Frodo brought him into an soft embrace, his four-fingered hand taking Merry's chilled one in his own. "There now, my lad. No need to despair. Pippin's informed me you've had quite the rough time of it as of late and don't argue, you stubborn thing. I can see it clearly written on your face." Frodo said, tone bordering on stern as Merry opened his mouth to object. As much as he wanted to argue against it, Frodo would have none of it and assumed the role of a caretaker in this particular situation, reminding Merry of earlier days at Brandybuck Hall.

In a matter of minutes, Frodo had the pair of them settled by the hearth with two cups of tea and a mound of blankets woven between their limbs, faces framed by the glowing firelight. Frodo's hands absently brushed Merry's wayward curls aside, sad eyes gazing at him with a sort of sorrowful love that Merry didn't understand and wouldn't for a while yet, not until he stood at the Grey Havens watching his cousin sail onto the sundering seas.

"Does your hand feel any better now?" Frodo asked quietly, wounded hand still clasped in Merry's.

"Yes, Frodo. Does yours?" He challenged, a stubborn look in his eyes as he gestured towards the gap in his cousin's fingers. There was a hint of amusement in Frodo's eyes and he laughed, a rich sound that Merry would savor until the end of his days.

"Sometimes." Frodo said, a thoughtful faraway look in his eyes before he continued, "But it feels better, Merry, with good company such as yourself." He paused again, catching the slip of Merry's eyelids and guiding his head to rest upon his chest. "Do you remember the Yule where Gandalf visited Buckland with Bilbo, Merry? You were only little and back then I saw you as my very own baby and wouldn't let either of them touch hair nor hide on you until Aunt Esme scolded me for trying to take your Da's place.."

And so they exchanged fond memories of holidays past (sometimes laughing until their sides ached and their eyes watered) until Merry found it impossible to keep his eyes open for another moment, safe and warm in his cousin's grasp. "Frodo?" Merry murmured.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here. So very glad." Merry's weary voice cracked with emotion as his hand pressed his, and Frodo was quiet for a long moment until he heard the other hobbit's breath even into the rhythm of sleep. Leaning down to press his lips against his cousin's forehead, Frodo felt tears that tasted of the salt of the sea slip down his cheeks, though a peaceful smile was relaxed upon his features.

"And I you, Merry. And I you."

Date: 2008-12-25 08:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cherie-morte.livejournal.com
This was sooo sweet! I really enjoyed it because I'm a Meerry fiend and I really think you got him down perfectly. Especially in the paragraph where you talk about all the good that came from their suffering, I've always felt that Merry in particular (though maybe Pippin a little too) would never be able to really be content with a calm life after the journey.

Date: 2009-01-14 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ladysunrope.livejournal.com
This was lovely! Thank you so much for writing it for me. I've only just got back onto lj after a really bad dose of flu and this is a very nice way to get back to reading and posting. I hope your Christmas was a good one and thanks again!

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