Title: "These Four Nights" 
Author: Fishtoes
Email: mshistorybuff@yahoo.com
Pairings: Pippin/Merry
Rating:  NC-17  
Disclaimer:  Didn't, sadly, create them ... but I sure as hell am having a lot
of fun screwing with them.
Summary:  Pippin's wounds are beginning to heal, when in dreams they are
re-opened by an unexpected visitor.
Warning: Character death and situations of an AU manner, angst, hurt/comfort,
weepy schmoop.  Incest, if you consider M/P to be so.
Author's Notes:  A few things.  As far as "canon" goes, I'm not going to pretend
to be an expert.  I've seen the movies a countless number of times, read Robert
Foster's Middle-earth A-Z, and have begun reading the books.  I know what I
know, and I apologize for what I don't.  As for the subject of death and the
afterlife, Mr. Tolkien decided to be a bit vague in that category, so I had to
do some research, and from there, let my imagination fill in the blanks (you've
been warned!).
A/N+:  * = italics, { } = change in narration 
Special Thanks: I'd like to thank the people at Theonering.net for so thoroughly
answering my questions... I'd be lost without your help.  Also, thank you,
Enyclopedia of Arda, and Thesaurus.com  *bows down*.

***
~Chapter One

-The Fall and the Aftermath 

I tried to save him. I really tried. When I found Merry on the ground at
Pelennor Fields, I told him I was going to take care of him, and that's exactly
what I did. 

Sure, Strider is known as the one who saved him, who cured him with the
kingsfoil, and that's true. But it was me who sat at his bedside constantly, the
last face he saw before slumber took him, and the first when he awoke. I was the
one who discouraged him from fighting at Black gate, although by that time, he
had convinced us all that he was healed. And I curse myself for taking his word. 
He made it through the battle, and for several months afterward, seemed alright.
At Strider's...err, *Aragorn's* betrothal ceremony, however, I noticed that
Merry seemed a bit woozy. He brushed it off, and I wondered if perhaps I was
being a bit of a mother hen. I finally decided I was, that I was worrying over
something which I no longer need worry, and then he fell. 

It wasn't discreet, or dignified in any way. He was dancing on one of the table
benches at the party afterwards, and began to stumble a bit. His eyes rolled
back, and one of the men sitting nearby noticed and asked if he was ok. Merry
didn't answer however; he fell face first into a large serving bowl of clotted
cream. 

The black shadow, as the doctors called it, had managed to seep into his heart
and fester there, where it remained hidden and seemingly non-existant. It
returned suddenly with a bang, swimming through his arteries and poisoning his
bloodstream. It wasn't until the doctors began referring to him in the past
tense that I realized he was dead. Looking back, I'm a little embarrassed for
catching on so much later than everyone else did. But at that point, the shadow
could have passed into me for all I care. I didn't want to live anymore. 

You see, to complicate matters further, I loved Merry. I would have loved him
anyway, because he was my cousin and best friend. But it was something a little
*more*. 

I can't remember when exactly I realized I felt that way about him. I imagine it
was something that developed over time. Like turns to infatuation, infatuation
turns to admiration, admiration turns to love. And love does not discriminate
against relation or gender, apparently. 

I sometimes thought that Merry knew, too, though I never could figure out if it
was reciprocated. Mixed messages and subtle hints seemed to suffice for him. It
would drive me insane. 

I took that chance, nevertheless. The night of Aragorn and Arwen's betrothal,
when I told Merry I would meet him at the hall a little later, I decorated the
room with candles that I had bought earlier at a local market (and had quite a
time trying to hide!), and purple tulips. He and I had never seen tulips before
we came to Gondor, and were immediately awed by their beauty. 

I was going to declare my love for him that night. I was tired of waiting, and
at that time, I'd rather face rejection, than to keep my feelings for him pent
up any longer. 

Instead, I spent that night in the hospital, crying by Merry's bedside (once
again). And when visiting hours ended, I continued to cry, crumpled in a ball
outside his door. Finally, the doctors convinced me to go home and get some
sleep. 

A wave of nausea overtook me when I walked into the bedroom that was covered in
flowers. I wanted to rip apart each flower by the bulb and burn them, but they
were used at his funeral instead. I wonder if anyone ever figured out why I had
so many flowers to begin with. 

In the end, that is why I curse myself. I curse myself for being a coward. Had
Merry lived one more night, he could have died knowing just how much I loved
him. 



I met Diamond at Sam's wedding, years later, back at the Shire. She caught
Rosie's bouquet, and looked straight at me. The few lasses that I had courted
-previous to the the quest, that is- were very shy and docile due to their
upbringing. Not Diamond. It was *she* who approached *me*, and asked me what I
was doing after the party. With those sharp eyebrows and those smirking lips, I
found I couldn't turn her down. 

We saw a lot of each other from then on, and I soon learned she was even more
independent than I had guessed her to be. She hated knitting, and had no second
thought about sassing someone back if they said something that she resented. A
wild woman in the bedroom, too, she was -refused to be on the bottom, though she
got no argument from me, there. 

I never told her about Merry. Well...of course I told her about him, but I never
let her know how deep my feelings for him ran. It wasn't a lie, but a secret
rightfully kept. There was no need to hurt her if I didn't have to. 

The time came when I would ask her to be my wife. I wish I could say the
decision was born purely out of love, but that was not the case. Sam and I had
recently returned from seeing Frodo off to the Grey Havens. It broke both of our
hearts to watch him leave, even though we knew it was for the better. 
I now found myself even lonelier than before, if that were possible. I needed
someone to hold me, and comfort me, and let me know I was not truly alone.
Diamond's arms were open, and I was in no state leave them empty. 

She and I bought a comfortable sized home not far from Bag End where Sam and
Rosie now resided. It was big enough for the two of us, and then some, since she
was quite heavily withchild by this time. Big as a house she was, and awful
proud of it. She carried around that belly as if it were a trophy. I was proud,
too, but a bit nervous as well. There's this frightening sense of responsibility
in being the planter of life in another's body. 

The house itself was embellished with many things I had brought home from
Gondor. Book after book on the history of men, elves, and wars of years past
filled our bookshelves. I took to reading a lot those days as the drudgery of
the quest still left me unaccustomed to free time. A small bed of violets from
Lebennin (I preferred tulips, but for obvious reasons, I chose something else)
grew in our garden, adapting surprisingly well to foreign soil. There was also a
barrel of sweet galenas, but I only smoked outside, so as not to bother Diamond
or harm the baby. 

Of course, there was my armour. We had special hooks made by the blacksmith, and
mounted the entire suit onto the wall above our bed. Helmet, cloak, and all.
Often the local children who had been told the tales of the War of the Ring
would come visit and take a look at it, to see if the tales were true. Sometimes
during bonfires, holidays, and coming of age parties, I'd wear my tunic which
bears the White Tree, but that was the extent of it. I don't talk about the war
much ... *unless I'm asked*.

Anyway, I suppose you're wondering if any of this prattling has a point -which
it does. I only figured a bit o' background would be best. 

It was the during the night in mid-March, I remember it quite well. The winter
that seemed to extend into springtime and keep the weather from warming made
everyone cranky. It also kept me from getting a good night's sleep, as I was
constantly awaken by loud gusts of wind, and cold breezes that snuck in through
the slight spaces between the windows and the walls. That night was particularly
chilly, causing me to toss and turn in discomfort (though being careful as to
not wake Diamond) until my own shivering had miraculously lulled me to sleep. 
It was that night that I dreamt of Merry.


~Chapter Two

-Night One 

It was not unusual for me to dream of Merry whenever something that day would
remind me of him. If I smelt someone smoking the same pipe-weed he smoked, or if
I heard a laugh similar to his (though I should point out, *no one* laughed like
Merry did). Unfortunately, my dreams of him always wound up the same: in
returning to my room, facing all the candles, all the tulips, and feeling that
wave of nausea as bad as the first time I felt it. And then I'd wake up. Valar
forbid I could have re-lived all the mischief we would get into (oh, to be a
tween again), or singing and dancing at the Green Dragon... or even curling next
to eachother to retain warmth in the Misty Mountains. But no. Even in my dreams,
I would re-live the pain of his death. 

However, I could not think of a single thing on that day that would have brought
it on. It was as if it came on its own volition. 

In the dream, I was walking back to my room in Minas Tirith, coming back from
the hospital -not unusual. This time, however, it went on. I was in the room,
crying, and tearing apart the bulbs, feeling the plump silkiness of the petals
smear and crush between my fingers. "Why?" I cried to myself (in the dream).
"Why did you leave me? There was so much I had to tell you..." 

"Like what?" 

I spun around to find Merry sitting cross-legged on my bed, as beautifully
illuminated and golden as an Elf prince, despite only one candle being lit. I
don't know why I didn't see him there when I first walked in, nor can I figure
out why I just stood there when I should have leapt at him and held him close
-but then, this is dream logic. "You..." I began, shakily. "You died..." 

He did not give me a "yes" or a "no" for confirmation, but went on with what he
started. "What did you have to tell me?" His voice sounded the same, if a bit
softer and more fluid than I remember. 

I tried to hold in my sobs in order to be as comprehendible as possible. "To
tell you that...I love you. As a cousin and a friend. But more, too. I love you
as a hobbit loves a hobbit lass. I...I know it's unlawful, and they say it's
unnatural... but I do. And for the longest time, I have." 

Remaining as ambiguous as before, he appeared neither repulsed nor moved. "Why
did you not tell me before?" 

Unable now to hold back my tears, my answer came out almost as a bawl. "I don't
know! I feared your reaction, and did not want to break the bond we had. I
wanted to tell you -and I was going to tonight... and then..." I wasn't sure how
to finish my sentence. Could I say "and then you died" when he was *sitting
there before me*? 

Merry smiled, and it almost appeared sadistic, as I stood there drenched in my
tears. "But you're telling me now." 

I woke up. I was panting, and the sweat that collected on my brow and cheeks
were met with the coldness of the room, and made me shiver. I had never had such
a lucid dream before. And ...what did he mean by "But you're telling me now"?
Was he saying he wasn't really dead? No...perhaps he was saying that even in
death I could proclaim my love? Before I let myself ponder this further, my
sensible side kicked in. "Silly," I thought. "It's just a dream. Doesn't mean
anything."




~Chapter Three

-Night Two 

I was a complete wreck that following day. I sat at the breakfast table, head in
my hands, unable to push the dream from my mind. I was somewhat drowsy, having
been reluctant to try and fall back asleep in fear that my dream would follow
with an equally disturbing sequal. A part of me was angry, too. I had finally
found reason, other than time, to move on with my life. I had a home, and a
wife, and a child on the way. Why resurrect something in which I had already
spent so much time mourning? 

My thoughts were then interrupted by a bowl of porridge set under my nose. I
stared at it blankly, as if it took me a few seconds to realize what it was.

"Thanks, love," I replied, without even looking up, swirling the spoon around
for a while before eating it. I never ate as much after the war. Perhaps I had
gotten so used to having to rough it, that returning to my old eating habits
seemed grossly excessive. "How's *she* doing?" 

"*He!*" she argued. Di and I did this all the time. I was convinced we were
having a girl, but she claimed to know it was a boy. 

Looking up, I saw that she slaving over the kettle as I sat there thinking
myself into dizziness. "Oh, Di, I'm sorry," I said, getting out of my chair.

"Sit down, I'll make your breakfast." 

"Don't worry about me," she laughed, and pulled out a chair. "I'm withchild, not
deathly ill." 

*Deathly ill*. I winced at the wording, setting two mugs of licorice tea on the
table. 

"Besides," she continued. "Ain't me you should be worried about." 

"Aye?" I handed her a large bowl of porridge, pretending to noy know what she
was talking about. 

"Moaning and kicking in your sleep, and in another world this morning. You think
I don't see it, but I do." Sometime Di fancied herself as somewhat of a mother
figure to me, and I never understood just why. Perhaps it came from her
childhood in Long Cleeve, where she was the older sister to four younger
brothers. Or the fact that she was just a few years ahead of me, and used that
as an excuse. She took a sip of her tea, and continued, now sounding more
sympathetic than patronizing. "Is there anything you want to talk about, love? I
can't promise you any answers, but I can listen. You know you can tell me
anything." 

"Oh, Di," I said softly, brushing her cheek. I decided that saying "nothing"
would only irritate her, so I came clean as much as I could without giving away
that which I myself struggled to understand. "Just some bad dreams is all." 

Though I was successfully able to hide it, I went to bed that night feeling a
bit uneasy. I wasn't sure if I could handle another dream such as the one I had
night before. I actually attempted to keep myself awake, but sleep took me
eventually. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. 

From the warm, cottony comfort of my bed, I was transported to a cold, cloudy,
late Autumn day in a field before a river. It did not take me long to realize
just where I was. I was in Gondor, just east of Minas Tirith, dressed in my
formal garb. Around me stood Aragorn, Faramir, Eomer and Eowyn, Sam and Frodo,
and the rest of the fellowship, as well as other Men of Gondor and Rohan. All of
them lookedsomber, ranging from teary-eyed to just short of bawling. In their
sadness, none of them seemed to notice my initial confusion. 

The river before me was the Anduin, which ran south to the Bay of Belfalas. I
practically jumped backwards when I looked down into it. A canoe was afloat,
kept still by a rope knotted around a stake in the ground. In it was Merry, in
full armor, holding a sword -the same he used to stab Angmar from behind. The
purple tulips which were taken from my bedroom were beginning to fall apart, and
the vibrant purple of the petals that framed his face contrasted its sallow
paleness. 

"Great," I thought to myself. "Now I'm at his funeral. *Again*." 

A hand that was suddenly placed on my shoulder startled me. It was Aragorn, bent
on one knee to be at eye level. "Would you like to do the honor?" I could almost
mouth out the words along with him, I remembered them so clearly. 

Without answering, I knelt before the stake and untied the rope. With a slight
jerk, the canoe set free and slowly began its trek south. 

Now forgive me, for I can't remember how exactly it happened, and in such a
surreal situation, it is hard to find the words to describe it... I was all of a
sudden sitting down, the ground beneath me much shakier than it was a moment
earlier. I was *in the canoe*. 

"Kind of romantic, isn't it?" 

On the other side of the canoe sat the supposedly deceased, rowing with an oar
that was not there before. "The two of us, alone, wandering down stream..." 

I gripped my hands into my hair, hard enough to leave nail markings on my skull.
Not this again...I wanted to explode. "*What is going on*?" I asked,
exasperated. "Who....how...what is this?" 

Once again, Merry was untouched by my frustration -if anything, he appeared
slightly amused. "We never got to finish our conversation yesterday...seeing as
how you went and woke up in the middle of it." 

Unable to find the words to ask a comprehendible question, I reached out and
touched his face to see if it was real. If it wasn't real, it certainly was a
convincing illusion. "How is this possible?" 

Merry smiled, and whether it was real or not, it was as warm as a rising sun
melting a week's worth of fallen of snow. "Anything is possible." 

"Are you alive?" I asked, trying to get around his oblique logic. 

"No," he answered, the smile slowly fading from his angelic face. "Sadly, not." 

"What are you?" 

He paused for a moment. "Are you up for a tale?  The bay isn't for a while, and
you've still another four hours before you're due to wake up." 

"Sure." I loved to hear Merry speak. Normally I would shut my eyes and just
listen to his voice, golden and smooth like honey gliding down a dipper. But now
I was unsure of what time I had left with him, and so my eyes were focused
solely on him. 

"Well, the first thing I saw, after an extreme close-up of clotted cream..." 

I let out a laugh, and was surprised that I could, considering the circumstance. 

"...The first thing I saw," he continued, though I could tell he was pleased to
see me smiling, "was a large ship -not unlike the one on which Frodo parted.
There were many other men there, as well. Many of them were slain in the Battle
of the Black Gate. We were standing on a large white dock, and there were Elves
there, ushering us onto the ship." 

"Where were you going?" I struggled to follow with his story, though it was
already beginning to sound like a fairy tale. 

"The Halls of Mandos," he answered, his face shining just at the thought. "It
was so grand, so beautiful... it made Rivendell look like Isengard." 

My eyes widened. "How long did it take you to get there?" 

"Days, weeks, months? I lost track of time. We spent the whole trip trading
stories from our days in Middle-earth. You know...what he had left behind, what
we would miss..." Without even giving me the chance to ask, he answered my
question for me. "The first thing I said I would miss was you." 

I blushed, but I took the opportunity to change the subject so as not to become
teary eyed. "So what happened when you arrived?" 

"Patience, Pip," he replied. "It was a large grey castle with long, winding
hallways. Beautiful, yet something about it was stark and depressing..." He
paused for a moment at as it the thought of it actually made him sad. "We were
brought to the main foyer where we were told that, unlike the elves, our time in
the Halls would not be permanent. We were then given small rooms in which we
were to stay in everyday, remembering and reflecting on our lives; remembering
if there was anything we did not accomplish, or anything we regretted when we
left our bodies behind. Those who left no unfinished business, and left their
loved ones with none, were the first to pass on." 

"Pass on to where?" I know I was being inquisitive, but I wanted to know
everything. I had years of catching up to do. 

"Well, that's the big secret. They say only the Valar Manwë and the keepers of
the Halls know for sure where mortals go when their time has come," he mused.

"Mine obviously, has not." 

"You have unfinished business?" 

"No, but *you* do." 

I cocked my head, curious. "What do you mean?" 

Merry decided to put it rather bluntly, and I wondered if he was becoming
impatient with my questioning. "I may have died with no regrets, but I have left
you with one in particular, haven't I?" 

I shook my head. "It's not your fault, Merry." Something occured to me, then.

"But...if you knew I did, why only now, years later, have you come to fix it?" 

"Well that's just the thing," he answered, playing with one of the many petals
scattered around in the canoe. "I didn't know. Whenever men would be chosen to
pass, the keepers would tell me I could not, for I had business to solve back at
home. And because you worked so hard not to show your true feelings, you were
the last person I would have suspected. It wasn't until Vailë, one of the
keepers came out and told me, because she could not bear to see me struggle any
longer."

"So if I had told you of my feelings long ago, you could have already passed," I
said, trying to make sense of the situation. "A lot of trouble I've cost you." 

Merry inched in closer, then. "No," he whispered, that golden breath feeling
wonderful on my face, "I would have waited an entire age if it meant to see you
one last time." My eyes met his in shock. "Though it hurts me to know I've left
you in such pain," he continued, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to hear
it was you I would return to heal." 

He cupped my face, and I leaned into his palm, nuzzling against it. It was warm
to the touch, proving that his pallor was quite deceiving. "I've missed you so
much, my love," I said, no longer hiding my pain. "And though these wounds have
begun to heal, they've already left their scars." 

He moved in closer, and I shut my eyes, expecting -or at least hoping- for a
kiss to follow. Instead, he put his lips to my ear, and replied, "And so I've
come to take those scars away." 

When I opened my eyes, I was in my bed, with the dawning sun beginning to peek
through the blinds.



~Chapter Four

-Night Three

 That next day brought a change in the weather. It was still unseasonably cool,
but the sun shone so strongly, it was as if it were to compensate for its recent
absence. Diamond and I had long planned to have a picnic with the Gamgees on the
first mild day of the year. 

I fell back asleep after I first woke up from my dream, and didn’t come around
again until about ten o’clock. I began to stir from the powerful smells of bacon
and cranberry scones emerging from the kitchen. Di finished the job by opening
up the blinds, sending yellow-orange beams of light all over the room, and
directly onto my sleep-heavy face. 

“Arrgh,” I protested, rolling over into my pillow. 

“Up, up, up, you lazy donkey,” she persisted. “Lazy ass!” She pulled the giant
white down comforter from me, and I gave in. 

”I’m up, I’m up!” I assured her, sounding much like I did as a tween when my
mother woke me up for my morning chores. 

I stumbled into the kitchen, and leaned against the entryway with a yawn.

“Mornin’, love.” I looked at her belly, which appeared to be even bigger than it
was yesterday. “Both o’ you.” 

Di, arched over the oven with a tray of delicious scones (yes, I know they were
so, as I had enjoyed them many times over by then) in her mitted hands, smiled,
and asked, “So, you’re feeling better, today, then?” 

“Yes. Quite.” And it was true. Though my mind was muddled with information and
emotion from last night’s dream, there was a certain happiness –almost
giddiness- that came along with it. I had seen Merry, held an actual
conversation with him, and woke up knowing that he loved me, in any sense, in
return. I only wished it hadn’t ended so abruptly. Still, the abruptness gave me
an inkling that this would not be our last “meeting.” Even though it was only
morning, I already looked forward to that night. 

She slid the scones onto a large pink platter, which was one of our many wedding
gifts, and answered, “Good. Then wash your face and put some clothes on. We’re
meeting Sam and the bunch at Bywater Pool in an hour.” 


Bywater Pool, which ran alongside the village of Bywater, contained many
memories from my childhood -and all of ours, actually. Against the advice of our
parents, (who were wary of water by their nature) all the boys and I, including
Merry, would jump in and cool off after a day of plowing in the oppressively hot
summer months. This day, unfortunately, was much too chilly for a swim, though a
picnic would do. 

By the time we arrived with our wagon full of delectables, Sam and Rosie, along
with their two children, had already found a spot on a lush green hill. Elanor,
already fair and almost elf-like as a toddler, was running around with the
butterfly net we had bought her for her birthday. Little infant Rose, or
“Rosette”, sat on Rosie’s lap, already beginning to fuss only minutes into being
there. 

“Hey, stupid fat hobbit,” I joked endearingly, jumping down from the wagon, and
pulling Sam in for a hug. Actually, experience and responsibility had aged him
well, and he grew quite gracefully into what was once a rather awkward and podgy
body. To be completely honest, I couldn’t at first understand what prompted
Frodo, years ago, to bring him along on the quest (as it turns out, Sam wondered
the same about Merry and I). He always came off as aloof, and a bit of a stick
in the mud. If only I knew then what a wise and valiant gentleman he’d turn out
to be! 

And with Merry and Frodo gone, we seemed to develop a bond which previously was
not there. Though we had our memories and keepsakes, we considered each other
the “remaining” hobbits, and kept, if unconsciously, an ardent closeness because
of it. 

Diamond, meanwhile, was skeptical of Rosie at first, thinking her somewhat of a
princess due to her natural fair beauty and grace. What a wildflower, eh? It
turns out that Rosie was every bit as stubborn and defiant as she (Sam and I
often joked that the days of the strong husband and tame wife were over!), and
so they wound up getting along beautifully. 

We enjoyed what turned out to be a most generous meal, and in our satiety, were
content to lie back and take in the afternoon breeze. Rosie and Di went off with
the kids to “walk off the bulk”, and discuss child-raising, much to Di’s
benefit. 

That left Sam and I sprawled out on the throw, slowly digesting what could have
been two days worth of food. I had contemplated all afternoon discussing my
dreams with him, and now that I had the opportunity, I was beginning to
second-guess the idea. Would he find my situation unhealthy and obsessive? Would
he even believe me? How would he regard my feelings towards my own cousin, let
alone another lad? Still, Sam was nothing if not open-minded, and I really
wanted another opinion on whether or not any of this was normal (which, I had
already decided, was not). 

Without diverting my eyes from the clear blue above me, I asked, “Do you ever
dream about him, Sam?” 

“Say what?” 

“Frodo,” I replied. “Do you ever dream about him?” 

Sam let out a sigh, but it was more of contemplation than melancholy.

“Sometimes,” he answered, slowly, and quickly confirmed it. “Not often, but yes,
sometimes I do.” He turned to me, and I knew it was now or never. “Why, Pip?
Have you been dreaming about Merry?” 

I grimaced, trying to find the right words. “Yes, sort of. I think so.” Well, so
much for the right words, eh? Still, I was going to force this to make as much
sense as possible. “How much do you know about the afterlife?” 

I could tell he was confused by my rapid turn in subject, but he went along,
anyway. “Well, I know you’re set sail to the Houses of the Dead. The elves stay,
but we and the men leave…” 

“If?” I asked, testing him. 

“If what?” 

“If there is no unfinished business.” 

Sam rolled over onto his side, and propped himself on one elbow. “I didn’t know
that.” He chewed on his lip in thought. “So, you mean, if there’s something they
hadn’t accomplished in life, they can’t leave the halls?” 

“Or if they left their loved ones with unfinished business that concerned them,”
I specified. “And not only can they not leave, but they have to come back to
rectify it.” 

I was startled to hear a chuckle come from Sam. “You’re saying that there are
dead souls walking Middle-earth, finishing their business? What are you getting
at, Pip?” 

I stifled a huff. Apparently I had sounded as if I were telling a ghost story.

“Not…walking around, necessarily. But appearing in some way. Like in a dream,
perhaps.” 

And suddenly Sam knew exactly what I was trying to say. “Is that what you think
your dreams are?” 

“I…I don’t know for sure,” I admitted. “This is all what Merry explained to me
–in my dream, that is.” I suddenly heard how silly that came out sounding, and a
wave of defensiveness washed over me. “But if you see it as a joke, then just
forget I said anything.” 

Sam, hurt by the bite of my tone, realized that I was quite serious. “Now,
listen, you,” he retorted. “I’ve witnessed many things in my time –we both have-
that I didn’t even know existed. More magic, and more peril than most hobbits
will know and have ever known. The last thing I have a right to do is tell you
what is and is not possible. If you think that Merry is in your dreams for a
reason, I believe you.” 

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you Sam. It means a lot that you do.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, though,” he continued, calmer now. “What finished
business would you have with him?” 

Here goes nothing, I thought. “I loved him, Sam. Very much.” 

“We all did.” 

“No,” I corrected. “It…was something more.” I didn’t give him time to respond,
but went on. “There were so many times that I wanted to tell him, but my
sensible side stopped me, knowing that that information could only lead to
trouble. Finally I pushed my brain aside, and planned to tell him, anyway. A big
deal I made of it, too. Flowers, candles… and then he died. He died the very
same night I finally mustered up the courage to tell him how I felt.” I could
feel my cheeks heat up despite the cold, and a few stray tears run back into my
hair. “So he’s come back. I have now to prove what I for years put off.” 

Sam, now on his stomach, toying with a blade of grass, raised his eyebrows in
awareness. “Ohhh.” 

“I know,” I said, bitterly. “It’s sick. I’m sick –sick to feel that way about
another lad, and-“ 

“I suppose that makes me a whole lot sicker than you, then,” he interrupted
without looking up. 

My gaze turned to him. “What?” 

Sam smiled, knowingly. “You think you’re alone in your feelings? You’re not. I
know exactly what you mean.” 

I sat up, now. “*You*?” I asked, still shocked. “When? Who?” 

He looked up at me and smirked. “Who do you think, Pip?” 

“Frodo…” My jaw dropped. Yes, it made perfect sense. The way you would never see
him without Sam at his side, how he always held him, and snuggled against him in
front of a warm fire, back in Rivendell, during Frodo’s recuperation. Why hadn’t
I seen it before? “So, then….” I thought aloud, “you must have had the dreams,
too.” 

Sam’s smile turned almost mischievous, then. “*Nope*.” 

“Why not?” For a moment I was outraged that I should have to endure this while
he was spared. Then I knew. 

“That’s the difference,” he explained. “I didn’t keep it a secret –for long,
anyway. We shared the knowledge…*we shared everything...*” 

I immediately felt horrible for forcing him to bring up such memories. “I didn’t
know, Sam. I’d never ask you to…” 

“No, it’s fine,” he answered ruefully, his face red with the threat of tears, as
well. “It’s good to know you’re not alone, isn’t it?” he sniffled. 

“Yes,” I agreed, whole-heartedly, and more than ready to change the subject. I
stood up, and lit a pipe. “Smoke?” I asked, holding out to him. 

“No, thanks. Trying to quit.” 

“Ha,” I said, smugly. “You’re looking at a three-time quitter. Good luck.” 
He stood up as well, and started to stack up the plates. “Let’s clean up and
find the girls.” 

I agreed and helped out with the plates. “Thanks for listening, Sam.” 

He shook his head to mean “no problem.” Then he paused a minute, and looked up.
“One more thing, though.” I awaited his question. “Why only in dreams?” 

I went to answer, but found myself stumped. “I…don’t know.” 


I returned to my bed that night with mixed emotions. I was anxious to see him
again, to hear his voice, and feel his touch. But I was also filled with
questions. Why did he only appear in my dreams? And now that my feelings were
out in the air… just what was left to be rectified? 

I woke up once or twice during the night, and began to worry that I was not
going to see him. And from there, the worry only postponed my sleep. It wasn’t
until the wee hours of the morning that I finally landed into dream. 

I was in another bedroom, but it was not Minas Tirith. The formal bluish white
and silver were replaced by warm peaches, and burgandies. Adjacent to the large,
canopied bed was a shelf lined with fragrant bath oils, lotions, and ointments.
Below was a desk on which sat an ivory colored teapot with two matching cups. A
window on the opposite wall gave view to flourishing meadows, mountains, and
waterfalls. “*Rivendell*!” I exclaimed, thrilled. 

“Aye. When I thought of the most beautiful place we’ve visited, this was the
first that came to mind,” said Merry, once again, seemingly appearing out of
nowhere. He stood with his back leaned against the bedroom door, and walked
toward me upon finishing his sentence. We were both clad only in the shimmering
silk nightshirts that the elves had supplied us during our stay. 

I turned to him and smiled, no longer as startled by his sudden appearance as I
was before. “You’ve been on my mind all day, Merry.” 

“I know,” he replied cheekily. “So much so, that you told Sam.” 

I frowned. “Was I not supposed to?” 

He scrunched his face, and answered, “It technically breaks a rule, but they
gave it an exception –it was beneficial that you know about Frodo and Sam.” 

“I have another question.” My mind was all over the place that night.

“You always do,” Merry joked, but was serious again to hear my question. 

“Why dreams?” I asked. “Why can you not visit me at home when I’m alone, or
doing chores? Why must you always be where I leave too soon?” 

“Think about it,” he said, sympathetically. “If you saw me walking around the
Shire, what would you do? Have a right *panic attack*, I reckon. And besides,
only you would see me, and I wouldn’t you to become the Ol’ Looney of Bagshot
Row cause you’re out talking to yourself.” I nodded. “Dreams are the only place
that you can *see* crazy things and not be *called* crazy,” he added, and it was
so right that I was lost for words. 

To an extent, anyway. “But… so…now that you know how I feel, now that I’ve
declared my love… what else is there? Aren’t you free?” 

“Is that my cue to leave you alone?” he joked once more. 

I laughed, too. “No, you know I don’t mean that.” 

“Well,” he started. “Say you *had* told me before I died… would that have left
you satisfied? Is that what you planned that night –say, ‘I love you, Merry’,
and then go to sleep?” Before I could answer, he continued, “No, Pippin. It
wasn’t.” 

The heaviness of what he was saying hit me in the chest like a brick. The
ultimate expression of love… the rectification was sex. Sex. It was not an
expression that I was unfamiliar with. In my youth, I had had lots of light,
playful sex with lasses I courted. With, Diamond, sex was earthy, and
comforting, like a hot savory meal or a good night’s rest. But now…here…sex was
something almost *ceremonial*. Spiritual, even. 

“You’re willing to do that?” I asked, my heart beating unnaturally fast. 

“I am *going to* do that.” As if it distracted him, he looked over at the
window, thoughtfully. "I suppose we should set the mood first, don't you think?"
He ran his fingers over the pane, and right before my eyes I watched the sunny
day turn to twilight. I gasped, then gasped again as I saw that the room
remained lit by a myriad of votive candles that suddenly lined the room. 

“But...” I continued, despite the little feats, even as he slipped his arms
around my waist, and began to nuzzle my neck, “Do you even feel for me the same
way as I do you?” 

With both hands now cupping my face he asked, “What do you *think*?” and pulled
me into a long kiss. “You’re not the only one whose feelings were left
un-proclaimed.”


He captured my lips with his once more, and slowly led me towards the bed. "I
love you, Pippin," he reiterated. "In life, in death, and whatever lies beyond."

He pulled at my shirt strings, and it fell right off (elven gowns being a bit
oversized) beneath his hands. It came as reflex to blush and look downwards, but
Merry lifted my chin, and whispered, "I forgot how beautiful you are." Beginning
with my lips, he began kissing a trail down my jawline, neck and to my shoulder
blades. "If there is a paradise that lies beyond the halls," he continued, lips
now dragging over my throat and chest, and hands sliding down my back, "I hope
it's right here." 

Those words combined with the feeling of his soft lips on my body sent a chill
that ran all the way down to my heels. I pulled him up and kissed him fiercely,
with ten times more strength than I even knew I possessed. We continued to kiss
with the same fervency, exchanging light bites to our bottom lips, and muffled,
belly-deep groans. "Merry...bed...please," I managed to mewl between nips. 
It was all the encouragement he needed, as I suddenly found myself thrown back
onto the bed. He was looming over me, a yearning flicker in his eye. 

I let out yet another gasp when I felt his tongue drag across my nipple. He
grinned at my reaction, and moved to the next one. "So...beautiful..." he
repeated, continuing to to kiss downward. Being very ticklish, I giggled when he
kissed and lapped at my belly, but he quickly shut me up by moving south with
his hand. His face once again met with mine, as he began a rhythm of stroking my
length, as his other hand clasped mine. I bit my lip to keep from emitting a
groan, but he whispered in my ear, "Don't be afraid to do what you feel," and
that was enough to pull the sound from me. Slipping downward, he carried on with
his mouth what he started with his hand. My eyes rolled back -no woman I'd been
with ever felt like that. I don't know what got me off faster: what he was
doing, or the sight of him doing it. His head bobbing between my legs, obliging
me and dominating me at the same time, was one of the most erotic things I had
ever seen. I erupted with a fury, emitting another groan, only this one more
like a whine. 

He slid back upward. "How are you doing up there?" I could only pant and nod,
turning so red, that I had to cover my face. "Thank you," I mumbled through my
hands. 

Before I could lower them, I was turned over onto my belly, his hands kneading
at my back like dough. They moved down to cup and spread the cheeks of my ass,
and I almost jumped when I felt a tongue wiggle its way between them. I didn't
want him to stop, feeling the mattress sag as he got up. 

"Let me get something," he muttered, and soon returned with one of the bottles
from the shelf in his hand. He squeezed its contents onto his fingers, turned me
back over, and gently slid one into my entrance. Again he gripped my hand, aware
of the fact that this was a completely new sensation to me. Feeling him slide in
another, I let out what sounded like a yelp, and pressed my head as far back as
I could against the pillow. 

He pulled off the nightgown that I forgot he still had on. I didn't say
anything, but my awe-struck face told all. He was simply breathtaking. The sweat
on his cheeks and chest glimmered in the candle light, and made him look even
more golden than before. I tried to push him onto his back, but he held up his
hand. "No, not now. Right now this is about you." Sensing my disappointment, he
added, "Don't worry, this is a long dream. You'll have your chance." 

I laughed, but it soon ceased, as it hit me what was about to happen. He ran his
hand through my hair, and whispered soothingly, "Ssh, we're going to take this
slow. I'm not going to hurt you." Leaning back, he smoothed some of the lotion
onto his erection, and leaned back over me. He drew my knees up, and balanced
himself on his hands. I felt him slowly enter me, and I gripped his arms tightly
in response. I was surprised to find it was more like an extreme pressure than
straight out pain, but it was hard to bear at first, either way. Finally pushing
all the way inside, he asked me if I was ok. 

I grunted a yes, and adjusted myself underneath his weight. We managed to find a
rhythm, slow at first, then picking up speed as I grew more comfortable. He
looked down at me with impassioned, half-lidded blue eyes, and I found it
impossible to not pull him down for a long, slow kiss. He replaced his leaning
with wrapping his arms around me and burying his face into the crook of my neck.
I felt so close to him, it was like being an extension of his body. He kissed my
face and neck, and everywhere he could reach, as I panted and moaned in his ear
in response to every push of his hips. I could tell he was close to coming as
the pushes became more jerky and erratic. Somewhere between a moan and a sigh,
my name came from his lips, and I felt him release inside me. My own finish,
with the help of his hand, came with a strangled cry, leaving me limp and spent
on the soaked and rumpled sheets. 

Hours later (or what felt like hours -we're counting on dream-time, here), we
lay silent and satisfied in each others' arms, as nothing need to be said.
Everything there was to know, I had just *felt*. Just as Merry had alluded to,
we made love twice, so that we both could feel what it was like to love the
other from inside. 

The silence, however, did not last forever, as I eventually found myself
creating questions in my head. "Merry," I asked, softly, incase he was asleep. 

"...Mmm?" Half-asleep, I guess. 

"You said that you share the same feelings for me..." I began, unsure myself
where I was going with this. "But you also told me it was I who had unfinished
business." 

"Right," he nodded, beginning to realize what I was getting at. 

"So, you died with no regret, and yet you say you wish that we..." My brows
furrowed. "I don't understand... are you lying, then?" 

He smiled from ear to ear. "Exactly." 

I sat up, completely hurt. "You lied about your feelings? Did you feel nothing
in what we did just now?" 

Sitting up with me, he broke into laughter. "No!" He gave me a playful push.

"You stupid ass! I lied when I said I left with no regret. How could I have
gotten you to admit and accept your feelings unless I pressured you to?" 

"Well, that's very sneaky," I huffed, in semi-resentment. 

Merry pouted. "Look around you, Pip. You're going to complain?" 

I broke down and joined him in laughter. We cuddled a bit more, my head against
his warm, golden chest. I could feel the vibrations as he spoke. "Any more
questions, my inquisitive one?" 

"Yes," I admitted. "One." 

"Let's have it, then." 

"Is this the last time I'm going to see you?" 

"No," he assured, kissing my forehead. "There is one more night." 

I moved in closer to kiss him back, but felt nothing save air. I was back in my
own room, in my own bed, alone. The sun shining through the blinds, and an empty
space where Diamond should have been, told me that I had once again overslept.
As I draped my feet over the bed to get up, I felt something damp on my belly. I
was rather glad that Di was out of the room, when I realized that my dream
infiltrated into my sleep. I sat for a moment to reflect on what I had just
experienced. With a bashful grin, I rose to start the day.



~Chapter Five

-Night Four 

That afternoon, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Diamond packed her
duffel. I offered to help, but she resented the idea of me treating her as if
she were incompetent. "Do you have to go?" I groused, and frowned when I
realized how needy I sounded. Perhaps that was the reason why she was so
motherly to me. "It's so far." 

"Yes, I do," she answered, sternly, wrapping a biscuit into a hankerchief, and
shoving it into the side pocket. "I can't help that the only damned baby ward is
in Newbury, and I'll not be nursed at home like some bumpkin farmer!" 

"Are you sure you're not just going to have the baby, and never come home?" I
asked with a bit of a whine, really only half-serious. 

She smirked and shook her head. "I'm not due for another month. I'm only going
so that I can make an appointment for when I am, and perhaps get a check up. I
should see how *he's* coming along..." 

"*She*!" I barked back. "And don't be too long. I'll have no one to bother with
you gone," I added with a wink. 

"I should be back late tonight; you might be asleep." She lifted up the duffel
and tried not to let it show how heavy it was. "There are some mushrooms and
parsnips in the pantry -enough to make a soup, I reckon." She started toward the
front door, and I followed her. Though she was reluctant to let me do so, I
helped her lift the duffel into the wagon. 

"Bye, love," I said, holding her hand as she mounted onto the seat. 

She blew me a kiss and rode off. I watched until the wagon become a dot and
disappeared behind a hill. 

Being that the temperature dropped once more (that sunny day was too good to be
true!), I took a long, relaxing, hot bath. I stepped out, skin pruned, giving
off steam once exposed to the cool air, and tied on my linen robe. I made the
soup, as she had suggested, and did a bit of reading. I don't know whether it
was boredom or actual tiredness, but my body was telling me to retire early. 
As I pulled up the covers, I remembered this would be the last night. I looked
forward to seeing him again, but not to saying goodbye. Not *again*. 

This time, I fell asleep and into dream, almost instantly. I felt myself walking
before I could truly see anything, but a few steps upon the creaky wooden floor,
and I knew exactly where I was. The painted sign that I could finally see above
my head affirmed my assumption: "*The Green Dragon*." 

I sought to beat Merry at his own game by speaking first. "Ah, but what memories
we have here, eh, my love?" No answer. "Merry?" Nothing. I looked around, behind
the bar, and underneath the tables. The inn was almost completely dark, save one
dim lantern lit in the corner. "Merry, where are you?" Perhaps he was late. I
chuckled to myself at the thought of arriving late to a dream. I figured I
should make the best of the wait, so I took a mug from a hook on the wall, and
helped myself to the tap. As I sat down on the equally creaky bench, I wondered
impatiently where he could be. I almost finished off the mug before I heard a
voice. 

"Glad to see you're making yourself comfortable," it said, coming from behind me
from the dark doorway. But I looked up from my glass as I noticed the voice was
not Merry's. It was stronger, darker, like black onyx. Before I could turn to
see who it was, he was sitting in front of me on the other side of the
splintered table. 

He was tall, even for a big folk. His hair was the same color that I had
pictured his voice to be, if not darker. In contrast, his skin was white and
beaming like an elf's. He wore an intricate circlet around his high forehead.
His deep set eyes, and layers of flowing robes were ashen grey. 

"Who are you?" I asked, trying not to sound disrespectful, as he gave off the
impression of being great in power and importance. 

"I am Námo," he said with a voice so deep it could have shook the table. "Though
your Meriodoc may have referred to me as Mandos." 

Mandos, I thought, trying to trace the source of its familiarity. "From the
Halls...the Houses of the Dead?" 

I smile finally crept onto his stone-serious face. 

"Where is Merry?" I insisted, a with a bit of agitation that was not intended. I
hoped I did not speak too forcefully. 

Apparently not, as the smile remained. "He is waiting for you in the halls." 
"Why is he not here to meet me?" 

"Because," he explained, a lighter tone in the depth of his voice, now. "He
would like *you* to meet *him*. He is ready to set sail, Peregrin Took, and we
cannot keep him in the halls any longer, lest his spirit perish. It was his
request that you be the last face he sees upon his leave." 

The threat of tears stung my face once more. "I don't know if my heart can
handle him leaving me again," I said earnestly. "I'm beginning to believe it
would have been easier if he never returned to me at all." 

"For someone who was blessed with a second chance," he said, with little regard
to my sorrow, "you show little little gratitude. If it were solely up to me,
this night and the night before would never have happened at all." 

I snapped out of my despair, quickly. "What second chance? Why do you say that?"
I asked, with the force slightly more intentional. 

"Because you broke a rule, Peregrin, you know that." I remembered Merry telling
this to me, but I knew not how grave it was. "It is not your place to give away
the secrets of the Spirits." 

"Do I not get to see him, then?" 

"I did not say that," he replied, and continued with the lightness that graced
his voice earlier. "...Have you time for another tale, little one?" 

More words... where was my Merry? "As long as I'm not due to wake up soon." 
"Let us talk then, while we travel." He looked down at my empty mug. "Provided
that you had your fill of drink." 

I looked down into it as well. "Should I be inebriated for this tale?" 

Mandos laughed (thankfully, as I feared I had gone a step too far by making a
joke), and arose from the bench. "Come. To the halls." 

"But I cannot," I answered before I took hold of his strong hand. "It is
restricted to the deceased." 

"You can," he assured. "For this is only a dream." He took hold of my hand, and
pushed open the heavy inn door. Instead of the dusty road with usually lie in
front of it, there was a long, stone hallway, just like Merry described.. 

He began to tell me the story:

{When Meriadoc returned to the halls this past night, he informed me of your
mistake, though I already knew it. I could feel it.}

I wondered how long I was to be made to feel guilty for it. 

{And at once I told him that his chance for passing on was destroyed. "The words
of Spirits are to stay within these halls," I said to him. "If you put that in
danger, than I see no reason to allow you do so further." And it was then that
Vailë, my wife, happened to be walking passed and overheard us. 

"But for everything there a reason," she said to me, though she looked at him. I
new she had told Merry about you instead of letting him figure it out for
himself, but I said nothing. "Perhaps it was beneficial for Peregrin to find
that he is not alone."

Needless to say, I was angered to see her involve herself, and defend him. We
battled each other with our words, each unwilling to back down.
 
"Meriadoc will not be punished for another's mistake,' she finally cried, her
voice raised higher than I knew possible. 

"And I will not be kind to those who endanger our world.' I spat back, though it
was no match for her in volume. 

"If you do not let him sail,' she said in protest. 'Than *I* shall. And I shall
take with me whomever I please."} 

Seeing my stunned face, he insisted, "Yes. She said that. And she meant it. She
would rather leave me, than to see what she considered an injustice. So I
surrendered to her wishes. And Meriadoc's, who asked me if he could see you as
he sets sail."

So taken by this story, I was, that I didn't even realize when we stood in the
great foyer of the House, until many minutes after. 

"Have you not bogged down his heart enough with your talk of truth and secrets?"
A woman came from behind an archway. "Does he not already carry enough worry
upon it?" She, too, was tall, and fair of skin. Her warm brown hair was
decorated with flowers, and loosely piled up atop her head so that wispy strands
fell around her friendly oval face. Her robes were not of a single color, but
like a tapestry -similar to those on the walls- wrapped around her curvy frame.

"Let him see what he has come for." 

"Thank you, Vairë," he said quietly and somewhat humbled, opening the door which
lead to the docks. "Go to your Meriadoc, little one." I did not see either one
of them again after that. 

The "ship" they spoke of, was a small, simple swan boat, sized for one. 

"*Merry*!" I cried, as I saw him approach the boat. We ran to each other and
embraced. "I worried that I would not see you again." 

"You will not," he said, frowning, "after this night. As I leave the Halls, so
will I leave your dreams, and your heart shall be free to love, and mind be free
to enjoy your life's remains. In time, I will be little but a distant memory
that appears seldom, and invokes little." 

Those words, sounding as if they had been greatly rehearsed, were the last of my
composure. "I do not *want* you to *leave* me. Along with the memory does come
pain, but joy, as well. It comforts me, and my heart breaks to know that in its
place will be emptiness." 

"Not emptiness," he said, brushing my cheeks, as the tears flowed freely, now,
"but room to expand your love. You have a wife, and soon a child. You will need
all the love you can fit." He put his hand on my heart. 

"It's breaking," I repeated, as he felt it beating. 

"And it won't be for long." 

He backed closer to the ship, and I knew my time was limited. "I've one more
question," I asked, though it came out as a plea.

Merry smiled. "You always have." 

"If this is only a dream, then you are not really leaving then, right?" 

"It is *your* dream," he corrected. "But for me, *in my world*, this is actually
happening. I told Mandos that I wanted you to be the very last thing I see...and
I meant it." 

With that I crumpled into his arms, and broke down as he held me tight. "I love
you. And even if my memory does eventually fails me, that will be the one thing
I remember." 

It was his turn to break down, as he looked at the boat that awaited him. "And I
love you, Pip. Wherever this journey takes me, it'll be the one thing I know." 
We kissed, drawing it out for as long as we could, then I slowly let go. I
watched him climb into the boat. "Good bye, Pippin." 

"Good bye, Merry," I choked. The boat began to drift, without oars, as if it
were an animate creature that new the way. I could have watched it sail for the
length of the ocean, but too soon it faded and disappeared from sight. So soon,
that it was almost cruel. 

I've not dreamed of him since.



~Chapter Six

-Kicking With Life (Epilogue) 

I woke up crying, and lie there in my own sorrow for some time. I then heard the
front door creak open, so I quickly wiped my eyes dry, and turned over as if I
were asleep. With a thump, Diamond dropped her duffel, and began to remove her
clothes. I slowly turned over, as if the sound had woke me. "Hello, love.
Everything go alright?" 

She pulled her tunic over her head, leaving her naked. "Wonderful. Just
wonderful." She climbed into bed that way, and I thought it curious, as the
chilliness carried relentlessly into the night. 

"Tell me about it," I said, pulling my mind from Merry, and into the life I had
around me. 

"Later," she whispered, straddling my lap, and untied the knot of my robe. 

We made love for the first time since she began to grow big. I had forgotten how
well I knew her body. The curves of her hips, the little sunken dip between her
breasts that I loved so much. The swollen belly underneath them made her look
out of proportion, and left stretchmarks, but I didn't mind at all. It made her
look real,...look...*living*. Afterwards, I spooned behind her, and slipped my
hand around her belly. It kicked with life. 

"So tell me about today," I said, knowing she was awake. 

"Well," she started, "he said both the baby and I are perfectly healthy, and I
was right to schedule, and I should expect within the next three weeks!" 

"That's wonderful," I remarked, nuzzling her ash-brown curls. "Three more weeks,
until I see my *daughter*." 

"Actually..." she continued, with a playful note. "He also told me that by the
way he's positioned -they can tell that, now, you know -that I should expect a
*boy*." 

"A *boy*," I smiled, pulling her closer to me. "An heir to the throne. Another
little Pippin to chase around, eh, Di?" 

"So is that what we're calling him? At least that's one less thing I need to
worry about," she joked, the sleepiness taking over her voice. 

"No...actually, I'm unsure as of yet what his name should be," I answered,
though, secretly, I already knew perfectly well what it would be. 

When we awoke that morning -together- we were met with a heat that we hadn't
felt since September. "Spring, finally," Di commented, peering out the window. I
sat in bed a little longer, exhausted from the very emotional night I'd just
had, while she sauntered out into the garden. "Pip," I heard her call. "Since
when were we growing *tulips*?"

I smiled, with a most amused and satisfied smile. "Must be that strange Elven
soil, love," I called back.


I don't know what the future holds for me. But as I speak, these four nights
remain as clear as ever in my memory. 

The End.