Title: The Marble of Minas Tirith
Pairing: Sam/Merry; Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin and Frodo/Merry implied
Rating: Hard R
Categories: slash, canon, hurt/comfort, post-Quest
Author's name: Ruby Nye
Section: 2 of 2
Summary: Sam and Merry understand each other.
Pippin was sound asleep, and his injured hand was curled normally beside his face, a sight that heartened Merry considerably. Frodo was awake, though he lay with eyes closed; when Merry came in he turned to look at him, and Merry noted how pale he was indeed, with barely more color than the sheets. "Hullo, coz," Merry said cheerfully, as Frodo smiled at him, holding out his uninjured hand and asking "What time is it?"
"Nearly elevenses," Merry replied, sitting down and taking Frodo's hand in his. Frodo interlaced their fingers, regarding Merry with a smile that unfurled into something right wicked. "Looks like you've already had Sam for second breakfast," Frodo observed, and Merry felt himself blush as he grinned.
Then Frodo's smile softened into love. "Good. I'm glad, Merry. I know watching over me isn't always easy for him---"
"He'd be nowhere else," Merry interjected; Frodo's smile grew tinged with sadness, as he nodded and continued. "Just as I know that watching over Pippin isn't always easy for you." Merry opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo's blue gaze stopped those words. "You'd be nowhere else, either. That I know, just as I knew that night at Crickhollow that I couldn't possibly leave you two idiots behind." Frodo's smile was a grin, echoed in Merry's. "I know you love Pippin; I know Sam loves me. And I know both of you understand each other, and I'm glad you are friends."
Merry smiled, his heart warm within him. "That's why we had to come with you," he said, and leaned forward to kiss Frodo on his brow. "Can I bring you anything, or send Sam in?"
"No, Merry, thank you. Sam has earned a break, and I think I will lie here a bit longer and listen to the rain fall." Frodo released Merry's hand and closed his eyes again, and Merry left him to rain and restfulness.
Of course, when Sam heard that Frodo was awake, he was up and dressed, patting Merry on the shoulder even as he stepped into his breeches, buttoning his shirt even as he left for Frodo's room. Merry sat on the bed, and chided himself for feeling bereft, and considered the rest of his day. Several of the books Frodo had brought to their house had sections on the history of Rohan, and it might be a good idea to survey one or two, he thought, carefully not listening to Sam and Frodo's soft conversation down the hall.
Then, before Merry had even moved from the bed, Sam was back, looking puzzled and worried and relieved all at once. "Sam?" Merry asked in surprise.
"Mr. Frodo said he's fine," Sam replied absently, sitting down beside Merry. "He kissed me and said he'd hear the rain, and that it was good to see me have summat for my own." Sam looked up at Merry. "And he sent me back here."
Merry smiled and put his arm round Sam's shoulders. "You don't mind putting up with me for a little while longer, then, Sam?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Merry." Sam's smile was genuine and heartening. "Oh, not at all. It's just that�"
"You worry for him." Merry tightened his arm, and Sam nodded and laid his head on Merry's shoulder, and slowly, softly continued. "Aye. He's so thin, and so pale, pale as the marble of this city, and some days I almost think I can see through him, as if one day he might fade away to naught." Sam's breath caught in his throat, an odd little choking sound, and Merry realized he was holding back a sob, and began to rub his arm gently, up and down. "I love him as best I can, and I care for him as best I can, and I only wish it was enough."
"No hobbit could ever ask for more, Sam." Merry wound both arms around him now. "Frodo is fortunate in your love."
Sam shook his head just a little. "I'm just his Sam. I've always been his Sam. I just wish that was enough."
"It is." Merry eased them both backwards; fortunately, this bed, made for Big Folk, left them plenty of space to not have to lie in the wet spot. "It is more than he, than I, than anyone could ever say."
"Oh, Mr. Merry." Now Sam was struggling indeed, his broad shoulders shaking. Merry held him as best he could and kept stroking his arm, a little afraid and a little relieved and very much hoping that Sam found ease in his clumsy comfort . "Mr. Frodo told you some of what befell us, but did he tell you how he came by the scar on the back of his neck?"
"No." Merry had figured that whatever had caused that livid round horror of a scar, it couldn't have been pleasant, couldn't have been something Frodo wanted to recall, so he hadn't asked and had restrained Pippin from asking.
Sam's voice was low and grim. "It was a spider." Merry almost would have laughed, but for the tone of Sam's voice, and his next words banished all mirth. "A great, monstrous spider such as you would never hope to see, a spider larger than the tallest elven-horse. A spider such that we were the flies, led into the web by that Gollum." Sam's mouth was a tight line of bitter pain, and Merry raised one hand to his brow to stroke it, thinking how unfair it was that Frodo's sunny gardener lad should have seen such a thing, or so many other horrors besides.
Sam's expression lightened, and Merry prided himself on his powers of comfort until Sam spoke again. "There was a light in the darkness, though, Mr. Merry. The Star-glass that the Lady of Lorien gifted Mr. Frodo, it saved us then, the glass and Mr. Frodo's brave heart. Oh, glory, Mr. Merry, you should have seen him!" Sam smiled now, waving his hand in the air. "He stood like a silver torch, holding the Star-glass in his hand, holding Sting burning with blue fire, facing down that dreadful creature, as brave as any warrior in a song. You'd have been right proud of him, Mr. Merry"
"I am just to hear it, Sam! What a picture!" What Merry pictured was his cousin, who'd given Merry rides on his shoulders and soothed his tears and scolded him lovingly, who'd taken Merry into his arms and his bed and later listened to Merry's lengthy agonies over loving Pippin, who'd looked at Merry with relief and anger and gratitude that night at Crickhollow; he thought of Frodo, his Frodo, standing forth against the darkness, defying a massive monster. "I am proud of him."
Sam sighed, his face drawn again, and Merry guessed the next part of the tale was not so lovely. "The spider, though, had more than one web, more than one way, and she stung Mr. Frodo, caught him from behind, while I struggled with Gollum. When I broke free, when I saw him, I thought he was, I thought, I�" Sam turned his face into Merry's shoulder, and the sobs began in earnest.
Now Merry knew what Frodo had meant, when he said that the orcs took him because he was so hurt Sam had thought him dead, and now he knew why that was all Frodo would say about it. Merry remembered when Legolas and Gandalf had finally let him in to see Pippin, and how he had thought, 'He is dead, he is dead!' till the thought filled all his head, all the world, and all he could do was weep. That was after they had bound Pippin's wounds, cleaned him and straightened him, and Merry had had Gandalf and Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn; what must it have been like for Sam, alone in the wild with enemies all about, thinking his master and lover and friend was dead? Merry felt his own eyes overflow, as Sam wept into his shoulder and he held him as best he could, stroking his hair gently.
Finally, Sam snuffled to a halt and raised his face from Merry's shoulder, scrubbing at it with the back of his hand. Merry pulled up a corner of the sheet, and Sam took it, smiling gratefully; when he'd wiped his own face Sam wordlessly wiped Merry's, then settled his head beside Merry's on the bed. "Here I am, crying like a lass," Sam said ruefully, and Merry laughed and punched his shoulder gently. Then, more soberly, holding the brown eyes with his own, he said, "Sam, I understand." Sam nodded at that, and smiled just a bit "Aye, Mr. Merry, you do, and I'm right glad of it. Thank you."
"Sam, you're my friend." Merry squeezed him more tightly as he spoke, and Sam leaned forward with the squeeze to kiss him again, warm and sweet. Still kissing Merry, Sam rolled over him to climb out of the bed, not letting go till his feet hit the floor; then he straightened his shoulders and observed, "It must be nearly time for luncheon," seemingly serene as ever. Merry sat up, but whatever thought he was forming into words faded away when his stomach growled. "I suppose I could do with a bite," Merry agreed.
"And it's past time for your hand exercises, Mr. Merry," Sam added, folding his arms. Merry sighed; he had forgotten. "But I've been using my hand all day!" he protested, lunging forward in an attempt to pinch Sam, who nimbly jumped back, laughing, and went out to the kitchen.
Sam cooked, frying mushrooms and ham for omelet filling, while Merry flexed his hand and buttoned and unbuttoned his shirt, and they spoke of home, of all the little ways of late spring in the Shire, and eventually of their lasses. "I wonder if Rosie has a new swain by now," Sam mused, cracking eggs into a bowl as Merry sliced bread. "I told her not to wait for me, that I could make no promises, but she's as stubborn as she's fair."
"Nearly as stubborn as a Gamgee," Merry agreed cheerfully, and Sam attempted to look cross before giving up and smiling. "And Miss Estella?"
"Oh, she's a lively lass, she has so many friends, she's likely forgotten me," Merry said with transparent lightness; Sam set his mouth and shook his head. "I think not, Mr. Merry. Have you kissed her?"
Merry thought, she's noisier in bed than Pippin, before deciding on a slightly different reply. "Well, yes, of course."
"Then, I think I might say she's not forgotten you." Merry watched Sam's eyes twinkle, and felt his own mouth fall open, before he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Sam! I daresay you might!"
"What's all this noise, then?" Pippin said, imitating the crotchety tones of a wakened elder, as he wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "And do I smell mushrooms?"
"I was hoping you would join us sometime this month." Merry held his arm out, and Pippin slid into the embrace and leaned down to favor Merry with a slightly sleepy kiss. "How are you, Pip?"
"Better for the tea and the sleep. I can still feel the rain in my bones, but it doesn't ache nearly so much." Pippin leaned over Merry a moment longer, then stood up, looking amused. "I see you and Sam managed to find some entertainment. Did Frodo watch?" Sam choked at that, and Merry pretended to punch Pippin. "Frodo has been ill in bed all morning, same as you, you dirty-minded creature."
Pippin pulled a disappointed face. "I should have curled up with him, then," he said wickedly, and bounded over with some of his old lightness to embrace a spluttering Sam and kiss him on one apple-red cheek. "So, what are we having for luncheon?"
"Omelets, Mr. Pippin, if you ever get off me," Sam replied, and both Merry and Pippin laughed.
After serving Merry and Pippin their omelets, Sam vanished into his and Frodo's bedroom, and Merry heard another soft conversation for a moment, before Pippin captured his attention with a hand on his arm. "I'm glad, Merry," Pippin said, all seriousness. "You and Sam take care of me and Frodo so very well, it can't be easy. I'm glad you two are friends."
Merry smiled at his Pippin. "That's what Frodo said. And you should eat." Pippin obediently shoveled in half a slice of bread, and Merry leaned over to brush the curls back from that high dear brow and kiss it before returning to his omelet.
Around then, Frodo emerged with Sam; he gave Sam's hand a squeeze and joined his cousins at the table, stealing a piece of bread from Merry's plate as he sat down. "Hey!" Merry mock-protested, delighted to see Frodo in such good spirits.
"The loaf's right there," Frodo pointed out reasonably between bites. "So, after luncheon, what shall we do?"
"How about going out to the lower city to explore and see the repairs?" Pippin suggested; Frodo snorted, and Merry pointed with his fork for emphasis as he said, "let's not overdo it, Peregrin just-risen-from-bed Took."
"How about reading tales in the parlor?" Sam suggested as he put an omelet before Frodo. "I would dearly love to hear you read the Lay of Luthien, sir."
Frodo smiled up at Sam. "It's a long tale, Sam," he said, the warmth in his voice having little to do with his words,"and full of pain and sadness."
"Yes, but in the end, they came back to life, and they were together." Sam finished cooking his omelet and came to the table, his free hand brushing over Frodo's four-fingered one. Pippin laid his injured hand on Merry's good one, and Merry turned his hand up beneath it, not clutching or holding, just warmly palm to palm. Frodo kissed Sam's cheek, and turned a look like a kiss on Pippin and on Merry. "Yes," Frodo agreed, "in the end, they were together."