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"I've always regretted deserting you, you know." His voice was so quiet one might have thought that he was but speaking to himself, perhaps a comment to remind himself of what he had forgotten to do, or meant to have done. But Merry instantly understood, and glanced over to him with a frown.
This business of being dwarf height was still, even now, startling at times, and he unexpectedly remembered being quite pleased with himself when he had reached Frodo's height, the proper height for a hobbit. The speaker, however, was not conscious of this difference, since his head was turned to the road, seemingly surveying the newly planted plane trees, as they both sat together on the bench facing Bagshot Row.
"We went through this years ago," he declared firmly, studying, unseen, his cousin's face, now marked forever with the signs of his ordeal. "It was the best thing for you, and me as well, I'm sure." The dark eyes that turned his way, more black than blue in the fading afternoon light, were so much older than they had once been.
"Leaving me and deserting me, anyway, are entirely two different things," he added, covering Frodo's hand, as it lay on the bench beside him, with his own. "You've left me on several occasions, and I've no doubt you'll do it again some day. I'll most likely be quite put out, just as I usually am. But you never have deserted me, you know."
Frodo's hand turned to grip his, and Merry felt the yet unfamiliar clasp, as if there wasn't enough of Frodo in his hand. "You always have understood me," Frodo gave him a half smile.
"Well, of course," Merry pointed out reasonably. "After all, I have known you the longest."
"And you turned out rather well, nevertheless." Frodo's smile deepened, his eyes searching Merry's. A single tawny leaf, blown from the poplar near the kitchen door wafted past them, and then suddenly required both of their attention, as it seemed to hover in the slanting rays of gold, caught by a cross-current of air. Merry closed his eyes, fighting to not let the tears be seen, as he felt Frodo's head come to rest on his shoulder. "I never tell you so, but I'm very proud of you, my dearest Merry," he heard Frodo's low murmur.
Summer was nearly gone.