"Death, Be Not Proud"
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR. I have added some elements of vampirism to suit my own needs and the story, however. I also do not own the title of the story, as I took it from the poem "Death, be not proud" by John Donne.
A/N: I had stumbled across a few vampire!hobbits stories and found them interesting enough, but I never really thought about writing my own. Then the other day I was listening to 'Sleeping Sun' by Nightwish and I put pencil to paper and wrote—and this is the result. Vampires are often overrated in my opinion, and I know that the idea of hobbits as vampires is, truthfully, quite laughable; but for this story I tried to make it a little different from any other vampire!hobbit story that's been written, and I've tried to write it with as much heart as I can. All I can ask for now is for my readers to try to take it seriously. As with all of my other stories, this will not be slash!
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Prologue:
Whenever Pippin Took had thought about his future, it had never been like this. Never, even six months ago, had he thought he would be here, trembling in Merry's arms, an undead night-walker being led by a Man no less to try and find a cure. Six months ago, he would never have dreamed that he would have been the reason a life was ended right here in this abandoned building.
Merry was still stroking his hair, trying to settle himself down as much as his younger cousin. Pippin wasn't even a fully grown hobbit but he had aged so much since the Brandybuck had found him in the grove outside of Tookland; very little of the energetic, talkative lad Merry had known was left. Even now he lay unnaturally still in his arms. Merry tried to ignore the sickening sight of drying blood that stained Pippin's clothing, the evidence of the death he had brought about with one of Strider's daggers.
Pippin finally stirred from his thoughts and looked up at his older cousin with red-gold eyes that were only now returning to their normal lively green. "I'm sorry," he said again, nearly pleading. "It all happened so fast. I- I hoped we could save him."
Merry swallowed down a fresh wave of tears with difficulty. The death was too fresh in his mind, the memories overwhelming him. "He was probably relieved you did it, Pip," he whispered, agonized. "He was himself when he died. That's all that matters." Over Pippin's head he saw Strider kneeling beside a shrouded body, preparing it for burial, and shuddered. Hiding his face in Pippin's curls he held his younger cousin closer and desperately repeated his own words back to himself.
That's all that matters.
A/N: I have shoved all of my other stories off to the side temporarily because I have literally been doing nothing else but writing this story down. I even just scribbled down a four-page essay for English class in an hour because I was so obsessed about writing this story. Needless to say, I have this almost completely written down already. I will be coming back to my other stories soon, too, especially "Turning of An Age", so no need to worry about those.
Chapter 1 will be up no later than Sunday. See you then!