Title: The Ramblin' Rover
Movie: Lord of the Rings
Pairing: Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG
[Lyrics to the song The Ramblin' Rover belong to the band Silly Wizard.]
"Oh, there's sober men in plenty…"
Merry placed his dirt-caked hands on the polished cherry wood of the last empty table in the Tavern, all the way in the back. Monday through Thursday the work of the farm occupied his labor morning till noon; but Fridays, sweet Fridays he worked from twelve until the late afternoon glowed the golden orange of sunset. That is when Merry would visit him.
"And drunkards barely twenty…"
Women of all age, some with partners and some without made use of the dance floor and men too proud to dance clutched their mugs of mead and watched, enviously. All the tables where filled, as they usually were this time of day. Waitresses scooted skillfully between the narrow spaces of the hollow, offering drinks to those who looked like they needed them. Merriment filled the room along with the smell of maple ale.
"There are men of over ninety..."
All hobbits of the age entered into a sense of togetherness upon entering the tavern. Knowing the town would find the place of drink a place of social gathering, the tavern hall was made purposefully large. Everyone belonged here. Those who had no smile when they came in, left with one. Men who were too proud to dance drank until they were less proud. Hobbits came here for the feel-good sensation the hallow gave to them. For some the sensation came from the mead, others from the company, but most, oh most everyone's spirit was lifted by the music.
"That have never yet kissed a girl…"
Merry came to see Pippin perform every Friday night. To his right on stage, a male hobbit would typically play the winds. To his left, a female would play the tambourine. As for Pippin himself, the violin was his best suit for an instrument, but singing was his specialty. The lights were dimmed to a warm candle-lit glow; the dancing hobbits slowed their movements to better fit the rhythm of the song. Accompanied by the male hobbit for the lightest touch of harmony, Pippin sang his song acapella tonight, and it happened to be one of Merry's favorites.
"But give me a ramblin' rover…"
After they'd returned from a journey of a lifetime accompanying Frodo in his quest to destroy the ring one year ago, the two hobbits had found they had never been fonder of the Shire; every day was celebratory for them. Every touch of green grass beneath their feet was made all the more satisfying when remembering a time when there was none. Every warm breeze that blew was breathed in deep and appreciated as they recalled a time when the air was a smog ash. Every scent of strawberry jam that drifted temptingly from the bakery was experienced all the more intensely when thinking back on the times when their only meals were stale lembas bread.
"Fae Orkney down to Dover…"
But it was not the grass, nor the breeze, nor the strawberries that Merry appreciated the most. Above all else, what Merry loved more than anything, was his time with Pippin. In the time of war when they were separated, in the time where he thought he might never see his best friend again, being able to be with Pippin whenever he pleased, being able to watch him sing was a gift that Merry eagerly unwrapped every day.
"We will roam the country over…"
After everything had settled down, the two hobbits had made their home in the shire once again. Merry had found work as a farmer, discovering it was much more satisfying to sow and reap the plentiful awards of his own personal crops that to pilfer unripe vegetables in someone else's yard. He had quite the green thumb in his own garden and Pippin had encouraged him to make a business of it when his crops began producing more food than he could ever eat alone. A store was put together for him in which he sold his plump fruits and vegetables and he'd soon had success as the Shire's grocer. Between the shop and the field, Merry found to his satisfaction, that he'd found a pleasant way to earn his living.
"And together we'll face the world."
But Pippin found his success where Merry had always known it would be: in music. He preformed weekdays, noon till dark, at the town's Tavern and had become such an attraction that even those not fond of the drink would sit in to hear his songs or the chords of his violin. Merry would drown himself in the sound of his voice every Friday at sunset, becoming more drunk off of it than any amount of mead could ever inebriate. The entire tavern clapped in time to the last chorus of the song and, as the last note struck, each individual savored it desperately before erupting into a roar of applause.
With a humble smile, Pippin bowed and thanked the crowd for lending him their ears before taking his leave of the stage. The Hollow remained open just a few hours more after the music ceased and the sun was lost, as by then most of the dancers would have grown weary and wandered home. Casing his instrument, the performer made his way through the audience at a very slow pace as he was constantly slowed by the bombardment of compliments gushed upon him by the crowd. He politely thanked all of them for their kind words, but the only person whom the vocalist truly wanted praise from was waiting for him in the back. His face lit up when his eyes found the person he was looking for,
"Merry!"
Merry left his table to meet Pippin half-way, closing the distance between them with an amiable embrace, "You were wonderful as always, Pippin."
"You really think so? I didn't know if the crowd would go for an acapella song, it's quite a change from the usual upbeat jigs."
Merry held him back by the shoulders to make eye contact with his out-of-breath friend, "Well, obviously they loved it. That song happens to be one of my favorites."
"I know. I'd hoped you'd be here to hear it." Pippin admitted, shyly. Merry was always there on Fridays but he didn't always stay to meet up with the singer afterward, lest he seem obsessive. If he thought himself unnoticed, Merry would simply slip out the back in the chaos of the adoring crowd scrambling to awe over Pippin. But always, always on the start of the weekend Merry would be there to listen. Other workers ran the store for Merry completely on Saturday and Sunday so that he may be relieved of it, but work was never a burden for him, he could arrange his own hours if he wished it. Life in the shire was good and, after successfully completing a grueling quest to save Middle Earth, a life of happiness and prosperity afterward was more than earned.
"Will you stay and have a drink with me? I get them for free now." Pippin offered, jerking his head towards the still-empty table Merry had left in hopes that he would sit once again. Merry smiled warm-heatedly and patted his musical friend on the shoulder before releasing him with a grin,
"You? Free drinks? Are you quite sure there's any mead left in the entire tavern, Pippin?"
Both erupted into a jovial round of laughter and Pippin insisted that he, "Please, sit."
A renaissance-dressed waitress soon noticed their lack of drinks and attended to them, bringing over two pints of the sweet, amber liquid. Both indulged in it gratefully and finished a fourth of the mug before their conversation continued.
"I think you've really got something going here, Pippin."
"You really think so?"
"Of course. The shire loves your music, you make more money in tips in a week than I do on radish sales in a month, and you can't complain about the benefits."
Merry raised his eyebrows and lifted his drink which Pippin clanked exuberantly with his own glass. Though when he brought the pint back down to the table he fingered it lightly, playing with the condensation and staring at his reflection in the golden pool,
"I do love it here, Merry. I'm very happy."
"Well, that's what it's all about now, isn't it, friend?"
Both finished their drinks in the silent pleasure of the other's company, only interrupted every now and again by the occasional passerby on their way out who cared to pay their last compliments to Pippin. Merry could have sat with Pippin all night, but as soon as they'd reached the glassy bottoms of their mugs, the informative chime of a waitress' voice rang throughout the hallow that it was ten minutes until closing time.
"Well, I think they want us out. Shall we go?" Merry suggested.
"I suppose we'll have to."
"Are you drunk?"
"Maybe a little. I think I've built up a tolerance."
"I'd believe it. C'mon, I'll walk you home."
Both hobbits made their way out of the hollow with the last few remainders of the crowd, walking slowly to steady themselves. Merry draped Pippin's arm around his shoulder, who was probably worse off than he was. Relying on the stars for light, they made their way down the soft, earthy path until they met their destination at Pippin's front doorstep.
"Well, here you are, home sweet home. Thanks for the drink, Pippin."
Merry said, unwrapping Pippin's arm from his neck and holding him by the shoulders just briefly to make sure he could stand properly. When he saw that he could, Merry released him with a nod and a farewell smile, but Pippin stalled his leave. Running his hand around the back of Merry's head, Pippin wound his fingers gently into his burnt-gold curls, leaning his head forward so that their foreheads could touch. Closing his eyes, he whispered softy,
"I like it when you come to hear me sing, Merry. Please, come more often."
Unhurriedly, Pippin let his hand drop and Merry slowly straightened his back, running his eyes questioningly over Pippin's exhausted face. With a last tired smile, Pippin made his way into his hobbit hole and left Merry for the night.
Merry had smelled the identifiable scent of alcohol on his breath as he'd breathed his soft words onto his lips, but was it the relaxed nerves from drunkenness that had lead him to make a gesture so…intimate? Merry couldn't decide if it was, nor was he able to decide if he wanted it to be because it was. The stunned hobbit rubbed a hand unconsciously to the back of his neck where Pippin had touched, finding his flesh to be hot with what was undoubtedly blush.
As Merry walked back to his own home in silence, he wished that one day Pippin would give him a private serenade. He wished that he would sing him a song that was for no one else's ears but his own, and Merry would lay his head in his lap and drown himself in the idyllic intoxication of his voice,
"And together we'll face the world."
The End