Right, I like this, but this is only a prologue of what's to come. I'm
still writing Poison and Morph, so I'm going to wait until I finish them
before carrying this on, (I consider starting earlier if this is popular)
but basically this is my way of saying 'this is what my new story is going
to be like'. I haven't chosen what age Pippin is in this, you can decide
for yourself, but this is a lot darker than what I normally write, and this
it's going to take on the form of Pippin explaining things, but I figured
it's easier to tell things as I story so...I'll explain in latter chapters.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as one reviewer of one of my stories said.
"Let the Pippin torture commence!"
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Laughing. They were all laughing at him, as if he was shameful, but he was doing nothing!
"Merry!"
Pointing and whispering amongst themselves, talking about him.
"Merry, help me!"
Jeering and rioting around him, leaving no gaps in the vicious circle of tormentors that had surrounded him.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The little hobbits scream rang out through the stillness of the night's air. Shrill and piercing it sounded to the untrained ear. But to people who listen more, who hear more sounds of the Earth than all, it went much deeper than that.
Years and years of torment were sounded in that scream. It would make one wince to hear it. But what was worse was possibly the sobbing that came after, loud muffled wails echoed around the small campsite as the shaking hobbit buried himself in his cousin's arms.
"It's okay Pippin, calm down, you're okay now, I'm here!" Whispered Merry soothingly to his younger cousin. "I'm here!" He mumbled again, glancing up at the other hobbits, sitting on the other side of the campfire, Frodo and Sam.
Merry soon realised that Pippin had begun to say something over and over, repeating it in a mass jumble of words that made no sense.
Pippin stared up at Merry, always repeating the same thing, his large brown eyes opened wide, as if he was terrified. He clutched hold of his cousin's shirt and refused to let go.
"Pippin, Pippin!" Cried Merry, holding his sobbing cousin close once again, "Tell me what you're saying, calm down and take a deep breath!"
Pippin leaned back and looked up, studying Merry's face, as If he was a stranger, then he gave another shuddering sob and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking down at his hands. "I'm so sorry."
Merry stared round confused, wondering what his younger cousin was babbling about. He took his chin and lifted it, so Pippin was forced to look up into Merrys eyes.
"For what Pippin?" He asked Gently, staring deep into Pippin's eyes, as if forcing an answer out of him.
"I." Pippin paused, and sniffed, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated again. "Nothing." He stood up and faced Frodo, Sam and Merry, with a grave face. "I have to go home now."
The remaining hobbits frowned at each other as Pippin took off down the hill to his home. Stumbling in the darkness.
What had started as a night of fun and laughter, turned into a mass of confusion, tears and nightmares. And no one understood why.
"He was fine a while ago!" Insisted Merry, holding his head in his hands, grieving over the sudden change in his cousin's behaviour. "He wasn't even asleep was he?"
Sam and Frodo glanced at each other. "I ain't knowing for sure, I could hardly see him in the darkness!" Mumbled Sam, trying not to get Merry even more worried.
"He must have had a nightmare then, something like that," Decided Merry, frowning and looking over at the spot where Pippin had been sitting. The four hobbits had come up into the forest behind Pippin's house to camp on the small hill the rose a little way in.
Inside the house, in Pippin's cramped room, the little hobbit sat, shaking like a leaf caught in a strong gust of wind. "Go away." He mumbled quietly to himself.
He stood and walked over to a small table, which took up more room than his own bed. On it was a pocket-knife. Time seemed to stand still as Pippin stared in anticipation, before picking it up and hesitating once more.
Then slowly, he pressed the blade hard into his wrist. Gasping with half delight and half horror as the thick, crimson blood seeped out from the gash he had made.
He stared for a moment at his wound then pressed down again, only harder, and more blood dripped out. He sat down, gazing with nervous delight at his own wound. Then dizziness began to over come him, but still he sat, watching until he slumped to the side.
He was vaguely aware of someone opening his door and yelling loudly, but it was all a blur. He felt someone hold his slowly drooping body close, then he was lost, in pitch blackness that swallowed him whole.
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Hope you enjoyed, now to finish Poison and Morph!
**************************************************************************** ******
Laughing. They were all laughing at him, as if he was shameful, but he was doing nothing!
"Merry!"
Pointing and whispering amongst themselves, talking about him.
"Merry, help me!"
Jeering and rioting around him, leaving no gaps in the vicious circle of tormentors that had surrounded him.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The little hobbits scream rang out through the stillness of the night's air. Shrill and piercing it sounded to the untrained ear. But to people who listen more, who hear more sounds of the Earth than all, it went much deeper than that.
Years and years of torment were sounded in that scream. It would make one wince to hear it. But what was worse was possibly the sobbing that came after, loud muffled wails echoed around the small campsite as the shaking hobbit buried himself in his cousin's arms.
"It's okay Pippin, calm down, you're okay now, I'm here!" Whispered Merry soothingly to his younger cousin. "I'm here!" He mumbled again, glancing up at the other hobbits, sitting on the other side of the campfire, Frodo and Sam.
Merry soon realised that Pippin had begun to say something over and over, repeating it in a mass jumble of words that made no sense.
Pippin stared up at Merry, always repeating the same thing, his large brown eyes opened wide, as if he was terrified. He clutched hold of his cousin's shirt and refused to let go.
"Pippin, Pippin!" Cried Merry, holding his sobbing cousin close once again, "Tell me what you're saying, calm down and take a deep breath!"
Pippin leaned back and looked up, studying Merry's face, as If he was a stranger, then he gave another shuddering sob and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking down at his hands. "I'm so sorry."
Merry stared round confused, wondering what his younger cousin was babbling about. He took his chin and lifted it, so Pippin was forced to look up into Merrys eyes.
"For what Pippin?" He asked Gently, staring deep into Pippin's eyes, as if forcing an answer out of him.
"I." Pippin paused, and sniffed, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated again. "Nothing." He stood up and faced Frodo, Sam and Merry, with a grave face. "I have to go home now."
The remaining hobbits frowned at each other as Pippin took off down the hill to his home. Stumbling in the darkness.
What had started as a night of fun and laughter, turned into a mass of confusion, tears and nightmares. And no one understood why.
"He was fine a while ago!" Insisted Merry, holding his head in his hands, grieving over the sudden change in his cousin's behaviour. "He wasn't even asleep was he?"
Sam and Frodo glanced at each other. "I ain't knowing for sure, I could hardly see him in the darkness!" Mumbled Sam, trying not to get Merry even more worried.
"He must have had a nightmare then, something like that," Decided Merry, frowning and looking over at the spot where Pippin had been sitting. The four hobbits had come up into the forest behind Pippin's house to camp on the small hill the rose a little way in.
Inside the house, in Pippin's cramped room, the little hobbit sat, shaking like a leaf caught in a strong gust of wind. "Go away." He mumbled quietly to himself.
He stood and walked over to a small table, which took up more room than his own bed. On it was a pocket-knife. Time seemed to stand still as Pippin stared in anticipation, before picking it up and hesitating once more.
Then slowly, he pressed the blade hard into his wrist. Gasping with half delight and half horror as the thick, crimson blood seeped out from the gash he had made.
He stared for a moment at his wound then pressed down again, only harder, and more blood dripped out. He sat down, gazing with nervous delight at his own wound. Then dizziness began to over come him, but still he sat, watching until he slumped to the side.
He was vaguely aware of someone opening his door and yelling loudly, but it was all a blur. He felt someone hold his slowly drooping body close, then he was lost, in pitch blackness that swallowed him whole.
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Hope you enjoyed, now to finish Poison and Morph!