By: Dana
Summary: What Merry would give to understand Sam.
Characters: Merry, Pippin, mention of Sam, Frodo, Rose
Pairings: Merry/Sam implied, Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash, angst
Author's Notes: Written as a challenge given to me by my friend Nikki; post-ROTK.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Sometimes, like now, Merry wondered if he'd ever be able to figure Samwise Gamgee out. He was the sort of hobbit, Merry knew, that would give all and ask for nothing in return. Merry knew, because he'd seen it with his own two eyes.

That didn't mean that he understood him in the least.

He must have said something out loud because Pippin's warm voice was suddenly melting in his ears. It was a summer night at Crickhollow, nothing but the sound of their breath, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the song of the crickets at the windows, hanging in the air. Merry looked to Pippin, and Pippin grinned.

'What was that, Pip?'

'I said that you need my help, Merry-lad.'

Merry snorted and took a drink from his mug before making his reply, the cold taste of the ale sharp and bitter upon his tongue. 'And how,' Merry began, voice wavering like the breeze, 'do you conspire to give me help?'

Pippin chuckled, light dancing in his eyes. 'It just happens that I've been keeping an eye or two upon our good Master Gamgee.' Pippin's voice was low suddenly and he leaned forward, a conspirator's tone. Pippin was looking at him like he could read him like a book, as though he knew him from cover to back. All of the little secrets in his head were out in the open suddenly for Pippin to seize and to embrace. 'It hurts,' he whispered, 'doesn't it, always watching, never having?'

But before Merry could reply, Pippin had leaned back and tapped his fingers against the rim of his mug. 'Mistress Rose is the happiest hobbit in the Shire, I dare say. What some would give to be her.'

'You're likely right,' Merry replied, lips twisting in a grimace. 'I don't see what you're getting at, Pip.'

Pippin laughed again and Merry decided that Pippin was perhaps too far into his ales. He picked his mug up, lips to the glass and then he paused. 'I have two eyes, you know.' The way it was said, it was almost as though Pippin was aware of some thought of Merry's that Merry himself was unaware.

'So you've said,' Merry replied with a snort.

Pippin drank deeply and then set the mug down. 'It's just with Sam, you see, he's an enigma. He's the simplest hobbit you could imagine - simple pleasures and simple loves and simple hobbit sense. But that doesn't change a thing, no, not when it comes to Sam. And just when you think you have him figured out, he goes and does something so surprising, and then you're starting at the beginning, all over again.'

Merry frowned and looked into his mug. 'Pippin,' he said, 'you haven't helped at all.'

Pippin smiled and took a long pull from his own, golden in the light of the fire, glowing like someone that was more than just a hobbit. 'Frodo tried, you know,' he said, and Merry frowned. Frodo had tried a lot, Merry knew, and there were those things that had succeeded, and those things at which Frodo had failed. And Frodo was gone now, far away from them, where the Darkness would never touch him again.

'That isn't the point.'

'Oh, but you think so, don't you?' and Pippin was grinning still like a hobbit gone mad.

Merry found himself reminded of those times when they'd been younger, when Pippin was nothing but a little lad and Merry had been the one who held the all the world in his hands. Pippin was grown now, and he was playing his own games. That grin, just a curve of his lips, lit up his eyes like the fires of Bonfire night; he was hiding something, and Merry had to know.

'What is it, Pip? What are you pulling?'

Pippin chuckled; sweet and syrupy thick, too warm in the confined air of the parlor. Pippin leaned close, and beckoned for Merry to join him. Merry did with a raise of his eyebrows as Pippin smiled and brought their mugs together with a clink.

'If you want to know Sam,' Pippin had whispered, cooler breath than Merry would have imagined ghosting across his lips, 'then you have to dig deep. He's like the earth. If you just skim the surface, then you don't know what you're missing. Because you might have to get dirty, to find out what it is, to be Sam.'

Merry closed his eyes, the warmth weighing down on his shoulders. 'Pippin,' he whispered, 'that's not what I meant...'

He hadn't been sure of the kiss, the taste of cool wet ale against his lips, more like a dream than something ground in logic and reality. He groaned and heard the thump of an empty mug against the carpet, the insistent curl of Pippin's fingers into his collar, the touch of Pippin's tongue sliding against his lips. Merry groaned and then there was fresh air against his lips and he lost the feel of Pippin. His eyes widened and he sat there frozen, lifting a hand up to press fingers against his lips, but stopping at the last moment, a breath apart.

'And what,' he said, 'will that do to help?'

Pippin just grinned and rose, bending to pick up the fallen mug. As he sat back, he traced his fingers round the rim and looked to Merry, a look that couldn't be read veiling his features.

'Maybe,' and his voice was soft, 'Frodo really figured Sam out before he left.'

'But Frodo's gone, Pippin. He's gone forever.'

'And he's left us a little bit of light,' Pippin replied. Merry went to reply but found that Pippin was right - for all that Sam was worth, he should have been gone, too, across the Sea, in the light forever more.

But Sam had stayed behind.

Pippin rose and swaggered more than just a bit drunkenly back towards the kitchen. 'Shall I bring you a refill, Merry?'

'No,' Merry replied, thoughtful, his mug half-full. 'I've enough for now.'

And Merry knew that it was all too late, but it could still be done.