Disclaimer: I don't own'Lord of the Rings', andno money is being made from this.
Characters: Merry/Pippin, Strider
Warnings: slash
A/N: This is a movie-verse ficlet written for Dana. It's the first time I've written slash, so I'd reallybe grateful for feedback! Thanks to Slightly Tookish for being such a great help :)
"What idiocy to be racing into this story and its labyrinths, sprinting away from our happiness among the fresh spring grasses by the oak." - from"Enduring Love" by Ian McEwan
Looking Back
They have camped for the night, hidden from the moon in the darkness beneath a great oak tree. Its skeletal branches sway restlessly above them, casting shadows that silently caress his friends' pale faces, and Merry lies on his side, wakeful and uneasy. Frodo's sleep is more troubled each night and Merry cannot shake his anxiety as he watches him – doesn't know how anymore, not since this stopped being a game all those nights ago at Weathertop. He sighs and sits up, running a hand across tired eyes, and sees Strider on the other side of Frodo and Sam. The ranger is looking up at the stars, his pipe intermittently glowing bright and fading, and Merry catches the scent of pipeweed in the air, hears the crackle as it burns.
"There is nothing you can do for him tonight, Merry," Strider says softly after a moment, without turning around. "You will be of no use to any of us if you do not get some rest."
Startled, Merry wonders if his fears really are as plain as that if even Strider, still little more than a stranger, can read his thoughts. He decides not to reply, only nods to himself, settles down again in his blankets and turns to face Pippin – Pippin who fell asleep within moments of dropping down beside him with a sigh. He lies now where he fell, his face turned toward Merry, mouth slightly parted, curls tumbling across his forehead. He is utterly quiet but for the rise and fall of his breathing, and in the slanting silver light there is such peace in his cousin's still face that Merry watches him as though mesmerised, caught in a moment just like this not so long ago, though now it seems another world.
They had slept beneath a tree then too, that night; the first place they could find to fall down in after leaving the Green Dragon. Pippin, ever the brightest spirit in the room, had worn himself out with his own enthusiasm for ale and song, and fell asleep immediately, leaving Merry to watch him tenderly as he curled up beside him.
It had been a night just like any other, or so they had thought, cheerfully unaware that it would be the last they would have together, like it was then, before all this started. Strange, it seems now, that they should all collide in that spot only hours later, half the Shire away from Hobbiton, and Merry would think that it was the will of the gods if only he and Pippin had been of some use to poor Frodo. But still, there it was, and he and Pippin had raced off after Frodo and Sam without even a backward glance at all they were leaving behind.
Merry wonders idly if he could reach that world again if he touches Pippin; and he gently traces the path of the shadow branches on Pippin's cheek and smoothes the curls back from his forehead, lets out a deep breath, and closes his eyes tightly, curling his fingers in Pippin's hair. Merry misses his carefree Pippin, and knows that this illusion of innocence will shatter the moment his cousin opens those green eyes made dark by fear and worry and exhaustion. He wants to go back there, almost more than anything; but he would not wish to run blindly on through the cornfield, ignorant of Frodo's plight. Not when they have come this far, knowing this much.
The steady pattern of Pippin's breathing has changed and Merry strokes his hair again, tucking it behind one ear, knowing that Pippin is awake - that Pippin has probably decided that Merry is watching him.
Without opening his eyes, his cousin smiles a little as if he can read Merry's mind, and reaches up, silently drawing him closer. His fingers follow the curve of his jaw to his chin and Pippin leans forward, his lips brushing gently against Merry's. Merry blinks slowly, once, and then closes his eyes, returns Pippin's kiss; all thoughts of what was or might be chased away as his world narrows down to the right-now, to Pippin, still here beside him… still his.
"Stop thinking so much, love," Pippin whispers against his cheek. "We'll be all right." He promptly falls asleep again, his head tucked into the crook of Merry's neck, and Merry can feel his warm breath tickle his skin. He closes his eyes and smiles a little, wishing for a little more of Pippin's gentle confidence. Perhaps he is right, and they can all still go back, when the time comes. Perhaps not everything has to change.