The Strength and Truth of Men by Raiyana

The Brave Squire

“Mer– Meriadoc Brandybuck!” Boromir exclaimed, grabbing the too-brave Hobbit’s shoulder to stop him running off for the armourmasters. “Please.” He allowed the weariness still clinging to his bones to colour his voice. “Be sensible.” He sighed, closing his eyes; they were small for all that he knew Merry considered himself full-grown, and he could not but be put in mind of young recruits eager to see the field of battle when he looked at him. 

Too many such eager recruits had ended on pyres. 

“I will not be coddled, Boromir!” Merry said, his voice barely missing the mark of a shout. “I may be smaller than you, but-”

Boromir winced. “And I would not,” he swore. “You are braver than many, Merry, and I shall be the first to say it – but it will be a hard ride for Gondor, and you…” Boromir sighed, recognising that stubborn set to Merry’s oft-laughing mouth from the Council of Rivendell. “Someone would need to ride double with you, Merry, and Théoden has no man to spare for the task – nor can I take you.” He tried to portray an image of the warrior he had been less than a sennight before, but Merry of all people knew it to be a falsehood when his breaths still came short with bitten-off moans, and his steps moved slow and careful among the camp, too far from their usual commanding stride. 

“I can ride!” Merry objected, dressed in the small uniform that Boromir had not the heart to tell him had been Théodred’s as a boy, too fine for war, yet almost too plain for the Steward’s table where he had first met the northern prince so long ago. 

A wave of grief threatened to wash him away, but Boromir forced it down, swallowing the bile that always accompanied the image of Théodred’s last stand. 

“I can ride with you, Boromir,” Merry repeated, putting his hand on Boromir’s arm. “Please… The others are all gone – let me follow you, my friend.” 

“No, Merry, I would not have young Pippin fear losing you to another orc-spear,” Boromir said, shaking his head though it hurt almost as much as his still-healing ribs to deny such an earnest request. “I will add my request to Théoden’s command in this: Please, stay with Éowyn and her people, for my sake.” He had no wish to see that, himself, either, he admitted in the privacy of his own mind, no need to see again the grinning Uruk-hai with its crude weapon or feel the fear that he would be too late to save him. “For me, Merry,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he put his hand over Merry’s, squeezing it to feel the life coursing through the small limb. He allowed himself a moment to fix Merry’s kind face in his mind, one more among those he pictured behind him, shielded by the strength of his arms and the breadth of his shoulders. “Please.”

“Be well, my friend.” 

“And you as well, my friend.”

Chapter End Notes

But of course Merry is merely waiting for Dernhelm to swoop in and scoop him up fro the next adventure ;)