Merry felt the weight of the seemingly simple task fall heavily on his shoulders as he relieved Aragorn of his watch. In the Shire, being able to stay awake a full six hours in the middle of the night would have been nothing, but Merry yawned as he took his place on the mossy rock. The wind whipped around him, tugging at his curls and turning his cheeks into ice. It was the only thing keeping him awake, really, and was less than pleasing but he had no choice. He was their sole watcher, their only protector should an outsider approach their ephemeral safety. At this very moment, if one wanted to consider it, the entire fate and livelihood of Middle-Earth lay in the usually-restless hands of Meriadoc Brandybuck.
In all honesty, he didn't necessarily want to consider it.
Darkness shrouded his vision when he peered in any direction. and silence had become par for the course. Silence was a thing practically unknown in the Shire, and what he wouldn't give now to have a chat with Fatty Bolger, or even old Farmer Maggot. A lively conversation, with lots of laughter. There had been very little laughter on this journey, understandably. Swordplay and scuffling about with Boromir had been the height of the amusement thus far. He and Pip had tried to keep everyone in good spirits, but that grew increasingly difficult with each passing hour, with each obstacle this motley fellowship had bravely fought off. With every step their packs seemed strangely to get heavier, and their hearts inevitably followed suit. And the nights were terribly windy and endless.
Merry always attempted to battle the dark in every possible way - he'd think of the Shire, of parties and pipes and second breakfasts. Pleasant thoughts eluded him tonight, however. He needed something a little more substantial, something more tangible with which to while away the barely-moonlit hours. He began to hum to himself, one of his favorite drinking songs, and soon he was singing very softly to the trees and whatever insects might listen. As he sang, he wished he'd brought ale along, remembering the ease with which it usually warmed and soothed him.
"You might wake the others, Merry, soft and lovely though your singing voice may be," murmured the sudden and unassuming voice of Aragorn. Merry nearly jumped in surprise, then smiled brightly.
"Strider!" Then he frowned. "Did I wake you?"
Aragorn smiled as he joined Merry on the chilled surface of the rock. "No. You did not. I can barely sleep these nights."
"You should be sleeping now, aye," replied Merry helpfully. "You needn't worry. I may be quite small, but I can keep an eye out just fine. Both of my eyes, even!"
Aragorn allowed himself the softest of chuckles. "I do not for a moment doubt you, Merry. In fact, I am quite grateful for your presence, and that of Pippin's."
"And why is that, sir?" Merry replied with great interest in his tone, his eyes turned upwards to the Man's face, which was half-hidden in shadows.
"You are both brave and light of heart. It is your kind that is an inspiration, a hope to revive in Middle-Earth an unbreakable happiness rather like yours." Aragorn sighed softly as he said this, as if the reminder of Middle-Earth's current unhappiness was such a burden on his mind that he could think of nought else.
Merry was immensely flattered, and may even have blushed, but for all his humor and bravado looked uncharacteristically serious. "I don't so much see it as bravery. More of a call-of-duty kind of thing, something you do because nobody else will, or can, or think they can. Not many Hobbits venture this far from the Shire, and even fewer do so on an adventure such as this! And, when you look around, the scenery's quite pretty if you can just ignore this ghastly wind..."
Aragorn was smiling again as he wrapped his fraying cloak around Merry's shuddering shoulders, pulling him closer. "I admire your outlook, I must say. It has been of great help on this perilous trip. No, I think you're right, not many Hobbits have had a chance like this one, if a chance is what you'd call it. And you all are doing so well."
Merry was practically beaming as he curled like a child into Aragorn's side, absorbing as much warmth as he could find. "You think so? You don't reckon we blunder about and make too many jokes?"
The Man's expression was resolute as he slowly shook his head. "No. You are what we all need here, a morale-booster, a reason to smile. You're doing your job perfectly." He pressed an appreciative kiss to the golden curls that fluttered about Merry's forehead, and the little hobbit grinned widely at the attention and the assurance. Had Merry been told a year ago he'd be present on such an overwhelming quest, he may have spent a good while wondering at his place in such a situation, and then laughed it off. But he did not doubt his place in the least, not anymore. Aragorn's words were a morale-booster of their own.
"Might I...might I sing to you, my lord? Keep you further entertained?" Merry asked, smiling up at the man who clutched him now with both strong arms.
"Please," replied Aragorn, resting his forehead against Merry's hair, strangely comfortable with the hobbit pressed against him. It was very soothing to be talking to Merry, to warm him and be warmed in return. He closed his eyes, letting down his guard as much as he dared, as Merry began once more to sing in that perfectly velvet voice:
Oh, of all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight, and joy be with you all
Oh, all the comrades that e'er I've had, they're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had, they wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not
I gently rise and softly call, goodnight, and joy be with you all
Oh, if I had money enough to spend, and leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this land who sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own she holds my heart in thrall
So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight, and joy be with you all...
"Thank you, Merry, for that lullaby," Aragorn whispered, placing the smallest of kisses just beneath Meriadoc's ear. It was almost too lovely, to hold these soft little people, to adore and kiss and caress them so sweetly.
"'Twas my pleasure, Strider, to be sure!" Merry chirped, all too pleased with the man's graceful, tiny kiss. He shifted against Aragorn's chest, one hand rising to rest at the armor on the man's shoulder, playing naturally with the hair settled there. He curled his fingers around its strands, fascinate with it. Hobbits' hair was more often than not very curly but Aragorn's fell in waves and juts about his handsome face. He was probably the most becoming man Merry had ever seen aside from Legolas, but Legolas was an elf and of unnatural beauty, and therefore didn't count.
Merry found he wanted Strider to kiss him again in that gentle and chaste way, but felt it rude to ask; not that he abhorred impertinence, mind you, but the moment was too filled with beautiful spontaneity and pretty silence to shatter it with such a request. He was growing too cozy in the man's arms, too able to become warm and sleepy. "Mm...need to stay awake," he murmured against the fabric of Aragorn's shirt. "Should I sing some more?"
"If you'd ike," he replied pleasantly, and smiled as Merry struck a beautiful note, his eyes closing as the lyrics of 'The Town I Loved So Well' carefully formed on the hobbit's pretty lips. And Aragorn pondered the fact that Merry had not shied from the kisses, had in fact leant close, as if awaiting more. He graced Merry's shoulder with another light but lingering peck, but left it at that. His heart belonged ultimately to Arwen, and although his body may have appreciated what young Meriadoc Brandybuck might willingly have offered, tonight was not the night, this moment not the moment. He could focus right now only on the Hobbit's slow and saddening song.
Now the music's gone, but they carry on
For their spirit's been bruised, never broken
They will not forget but their hearts are set
On tomorrow and peace once again
For what's done is done, and what's won is won
And what's lost, is lost and gone forever
I can only pray for a bright, brand new day
In the town I loved so well...
The song did indeed render Merry even more nostalgic for the Shire, it was undeniable. But it made him realize that someday he'd look back and feel equally as nostalgic for this very moment, when he'd lain in the Ranger's arms warding off the silence. And no longer did Merry shiver for he was no longer cold.
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