Beaten
By Christine: Queen of the Geeks
DISCLAIMER: Does it look like I own any of Tolkien's creations? Notice that my name is Christine, not John or Christopher? If you're surfing on ff.net, do you really expect an authorized story?
About the rating: this chapter is PG, sorry about that (I personally hate G and PG rated slash). I think the rating will go a bit higher in the next installment and the third one. No smut or PWP here, sorry, I love reading those too but can't write it worth a crow's arse.
I'm calling this story "Beaten" because the plot has been used 15 million times, and beaten to death. Unfortunately, no sado-masochism (fun stuff) as of yet. I DO realize that this is the epitome of cliché, etc. Flamers tolerated because I probably agree with you. Also realize that I overuse commas, my sentences never end, and I am too adverb-happy for my own good. -----------------------------------
idoom, doom/i
The sonorous throbbing drumbeats mockingly echoed the grief of the fellowship as they raced out of Moria. Tears streamed out of Pippin's shock- stricken eyes and spattered on the cruel stone floors of its great halls; and he faltered behind the fleeing company.
idoom. doom../i
Blinded by despair, Pippin stumbled and nearly gave in, unheeded by each member of the Fellowship, now far ahead, bent on rapid escape from the black pit.
idoom/i
Unheeded, that is, by all but Merry, who risked a backward glance at his cousin and companion- and found him staggering without hope, his head cast down, wracking sobs shuddering his exhausted frame. With a cry, Merry leaped back and shook Pippin roughly, needfully.
"This is not the time for tears!" a harsh shout into the younger hobbit's hurt face, and half-led, half-dragged his friend towards the Moria-Gate, towards freedom, towards the end of a disastrous journey in the dark.
idoom/i
The rolling drums thudded one more time, and then fell silent in a perverse commemoration for the fallen grey Istari. Finally the weary legs of the Company gave out in the tauntingly beautiful Dimrill Dale, the black yawning Moria-gate a bowshot behind. Sorrow overcame them as they wept, taking comfort in the touch of commiserating friends. The two young hobbits flung themselves on the lower slopes of the accursed Misty Mountains, ignoring the stingingly frigid crusts of snow that their leaden bodies quickly broke and dissolved with warmth.
Merry and Pippin could hardly comprehend the magnitude of their loss: theirs, and the whole of Middle-Earth's; the quest seemed to have failed already to shadow and flame. Not daring to imagine the impact of Gandalf's death on deeds beyond their understanding, they instead wept for a friend, a leader, a bent old man who had sacrificed the ultimate gift of Eru for the Walkers and realm he had loved so much.
The mourning dead weight of Pippin's body crushed Merry, unprotesting, down into the numbing snows. Stricken by a sudden surge of pity and compassion for his young kinsman, Merry offered his arms to him; they held each other tightly in mutual wordless grief.
Unbidden tears smarted sharply at the corners of Pippin's bleary eyes. Too hot to freeze, glimmering, on his lashes, the burning seawater droplets rolled into Merry's mouth, peppering his tongue with liquid despair. He lifted his head up sharply from the freezing white blanket and glanced at his younger cousin.
iPippin looks beautiful when he's sad/i, he noted. Delicately, slowly, hardly daring to think- avoiding the thought- of what he was doing, he arched upwards and gently licked the tears from Pippin's face. The soft flavor of Peregrine, saltwater and dust and the earthy taste of his skin, seeped into a pool of warmth deep within Merry, oblivious to the frost outside his tensed body.
The first moment Pippin felt Merry's darting tongue caress his tearstained countenance sent him realling into a frozen state of blissful shock. And then, when Merry had lapped, painfully restraining himself, at his face, brushing against his lips just barely, he felt his core -chilled since the fall of Gandalf- begin to thaw with the inner flame of longing. For the first time since the departure from Rivendell, he felt truly alive.
With agonizing slowness, Pippin opened his eyes one by one, and his gaze traveled downwards. Time raced by as Pippin's softened brown eyes met Merry's sad but not unhappy grey ones, a glance of surprise and understanding and not quite platonic love.
One perfect moment crystallized in silence.
----------------------------- gaaaah, so goddamned FLUFFY! Will post the next chapter (probably not so innocent and sweet and disgusting)
By Christine: Queen of the Geeks
DISCLAIMER: Does it look like I own any of Tolkien's creations? Notice that my name is Christine, not John or Christopher? If you're surfing on ff.net, do you really expect an authorized story?
About the rating: this chapter is PG, sorry about that (I personally hate G and PG rated slash). I think the rating will go a bit higher in the next installment and the third one. No smut or PWP here, sorry, I love reading those too but can't write it worth a crow's arse.
I'm calling this story "Beaten" because the plot has been used 15 million times, and beaten to death. Unfortunately, no sado-masochism (fun stuff) as of yet. I DO realize that this is the epitome of cliché, etc. Flamers tolerated because I probably agree with you. Also realize that I overuse commas, my sentences never end, and I am too adverb-happy for my own good. -----------------------------------
idoom, doom/i
The sonorous throbbing drumbeats mockingly echoed the grief of the fellowship as they raced out of Moria. Tears streamed out of Pippin's shock- stricken eyes and spattered on the cruel stone floors of its great halls; and he faltered behind the fleeing company.
idoom. doom../i
Blinded by despair, Pippin stumbled and nearly gave in, unheeded by each member of the Fellowship, now far ahead, bent on rapid escape from the black pit.
idoom/i
Unheeded, that is, by all but Merry, who risked a backward glance at his cousin and companion- and found him staggering without hope, his head cast down, wracking sobs shuddering his exhausted frame. With a cry, Merry leaped back and shook Pippin roughly, needfully.
"This is not the time for tears!" a harsh shout into the younger hobbit's hurt face, and half-led, half-dragged his friend towards the Moria-Gate, towards freedom, towards the end of a disastrous journey in the dark.
idoom/i
The rolling drums thudded one more time, and then fell silent in a perverse commemoration for the fallen grey Istari. Finally the weary legs of the Company gave out in the tauntingly beautiful Dimrill Dale, the black yawning Moria-gate a bowshot behind. Sorrow overcame them as they wept, taking comfort in the touch of commiserating friends. The two young hobbits flung themselves on the lower slopes of the accursed Misty Mountains, ignoring the stingingly frigid crusts of snow that their leaden bodies quickly broke and dissolved with warmth.
Merry and Pippin could hardly comprehend the magnitude of their loss: theirs, and the whole of Middle-Earth's; the quest seemed to have failed already to shadow and flame. Not daring to imagine the impact of Gandalf's death on deeds beyond their understanding, they instead wept for a friend, a leader, a bent old man who had sacrificed the ultimate gift of Eru for the Walkers and realm he had loved so much.
The mourning dead weight of Pippin's body crushed Merry, unprotesting, down into the numbing snows. Stricken by a sudden surge of pity and compassion for his young kinsman, Merry offered his arms to him; they held each other tightly in mutual wordless grief.
Unbidden tears smarted sharply at the corners of Pippin's bleary eyes. Too hot to freeze, glimmering, on his lashes, the burning seawater droplets rolled into Merry's mouth, peppering his tongue with liquid despair. He lifted his head up sharply from the freezing white blanket and glanced at his younger cousin.
iPippin looks beautiful when he's sad/i, he noted. Delicately, slowly, hardly daring to think- avoiding the thought- of what he was doing, he arched upwards and gently licked the tears from Pippin's face. The soft flavor of Peregrine, saltwater and dust and the earthy taste of his skin, seeped into a pool of warmth deep within Merry, oblivious to the frost outside his tensed body.
The first moment Pippin felt Merry's darting tongue caress his tearstained countenance sent him realling into a frozen state of blissful shock. And then, when Merry had lapped, painfully restraining himself, at his face, brushing against his lips just barely, he felt his core -chilled since the fall of Gandalf- begin to thaw with the inner flame of longing. For the first time since the departure from Rivendell, he felt truly alive.
With agonizing slowness, Pippin opened his eyes one by one, and his gaze traveled downwards. Time raced by as Pippin's softened brown eyes met Merry's sad but not unhappy grey ones, a glance of surprise and understanding and not quite platonic love.
One perfect moment crystallized in silence.
----------------------------- gaaaah, so goddamned FLUFFY! Will post the next chapter (probably not so innocent and sweet and disgusting)