Some Comfort Here Written: December 14, 2003 For Tricky, who needed a peaceful moment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometime in the night, Pippin awakens. He stares up into the darkness as the shadows focus into a crosshatch of tangled treelimbs and rustling canopy, so tightly woven that not a star can be seen twinkling through the chinks. The disorientation of those first moments of waking smooths out and he relaxes into the grass, the graveled laughter and bruising fingers of his nightmare fading in the hush around him. He lies still for a moment, feeling his heartbeat slow, awareness replacing panic. And then he turns his head to the softly-snoring form beside him. Merry lies on his side, facing Pippin, one hand pillowing his head and the other curled beneath his chin, fingers lost in the tousle of golden curls under his cheek. His face shines in the moonlight that somehow manages to pass through the gnarled filter above them, the curve of his cheekbone and the roundness of his lower lip pale in the glow. His mouth is open, lips soft, and he breathes long and even into the grass between them. The tiny blades stir with the movement. Pippin rises to one elbow, the echoes of his bad dreams forgotten. He watches Merry's face, lax and deeply asleep, the creased lines on his forehead gone for the first time since before-- since what seems like forever. The wound on his brow looks harsh, jarring with the white skin and soft curls around it. Pippin sees his own hand reach out, drawing a tentative trail down the jagged scar. Merry's face, changed forever. Something twists in Pippin's chest; a sudden ache he can't quite process but which makes his throat tighten painfully. "Merry," he whispers. Merry twitches and draws in a long breath, and turns away from Pippin's fingers to roll heavily onto his back. His fingers curl and flex, reaching up before spreading across his chest as he exhales. He settles back into the recesses of sleep before his eyelids can even flutter. His hair falls away from his face, skin once again smooth in the dim moonlight, shining in the darkness of the strange forest around them. Merry's face, familiar peace. Pippin moves forward into the warm grass where Merry's body has just been, and curls himself in a careful embrace around the slow rise and fall of Merry's chest. He turns his face toward gold curls, his eyes closing, and feels his own rest returning as their fingers connect and intertwine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ home