Title: Camping
Author: IndigoNight
Feedback: Yes please
Summary: Merry and Pippin can't sleep.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or the characters.
Spoilers: Kind of? Not really.
Pairing: Nothing happens really, so it's only slash if you want it to be. Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG, pretty much completely innocent.
Warnings: Tinsy-tiny bit of slash, if you look for it.
Author's Note: Fluff and cuddliness, with just a tiny tinge of humor, obviously, Pippin's here. Couuuuuuuuuuuld be continued I suppose? Read, Review,
Enjoy!
Merry rolled over in bed. He hitched the blanket up higher around his shoulders. He punched his pillow. Finally he flopped back down on his stomach, sticking his head under it, and lay still.
The large clock in the hall just outside his door ticked away.
Five minutes later he repeated the process. Eventually he gave up, laying on his back and staring up at the shadowed ceiling. He huffed to himself, arms resting on his belly as he attempted not to fidget.
This was simply no good. For the first time in longer than he could remember it seemed he was home. The war was over, the Shire was finally settling back into its normal routine, and he and Pippin had just moved into Crickhollow. It was to be their new permanent residence. And yet he didn't feel at home.
His bed, the very same bed he'd slept in since childhood, now felt too large, too soft. He half feared drowning in the layers of pillows and blankets that he'd collected over the years. He was restless, and though his body ached with tiredness, his eyes simply refused to stay closed.
Finally he decided perhaps a nighttime snack would settle him down. So getting up out of bed he put on his robe, for the night was rather chilly, and went to the kitchen. However, after several minutes of rooting around in the pantry he came to the shocking and slightly disconcerting realization that he didn't actually feel like eating.
He was so deeply absorbed in his dilemma that he was caught completely unaware by the soft scrapping of a door opening and slow, heavy footsteps dragging across the floor. As soon as his drowsy mind processed the sounds he jumped, whirling around, a butter knife tightly clasped in his hand without his even realizing it. It was a sad thing when a hobbit has become so used to a constant threat of danger that he will grab and brandish any weapon close at hand without thought.
Creeping with silent stealth down the hall toward the front door, Merry kept the knife slightly in front of him, exactly as Boromir had taught him to hold it. His heart pounded in his throat as he approached the dark shadow looming in the door way. Steeling his nerves he lunged forward and pressed the blade to tender flesh.
"Don't move," he growled darkly.
The shadow froze, a breath caught in his throat and the pale flesh under the blade pulsed in fear.
"M-Merry," Pippin choked, holding very, very still, "It's me."
Immediately Merry relaxed, withdrawing the knife. "S-Sorry," shame washed over him, the unrest he'd been feeling all night coming to a head and forcing him to bite his lip against confused tears.
"What were you doing up so late?" Pippin asked.
"Couldn't sleep," Merry mumbled. It was only then that he realized how odd it was that Pippin had been heading toward the door, and even stranger still, that he seemed to be clutching his worn bedroll. "What were you doing?" he inquired suspiciously.
He had the grace to look highly embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed. "I, uh, I was going to sleep outside," he mumbled, not meeting Merry's eyes.
Merry blinked, "Whatever were you going to do that for?"
"It's the strangest thing," Pippin confessed, "My bed is too… soft. I feel like I'm drowning."
"I had the very same thought earlier!" Merry exclaimed.
"I missed the stars, and the night sounds, so I thought perhaps if I went outside I'd be able to sleep."
"I think perhaps your right, Pip," Merry agreed, as his cousin's words stirred a deep longing for the open air in him as well. "Wait just a moment and I'll join you." Hurrying off Merry quickly found his own bedroll and returned to his waiting cousin.
They didn't go far, sojourning only out into the little yard behind their house. They spread their bedrolls beneath a large oak tree and settled down.
"Good night, Merry," Pippin said cheerfully, already feeling more relaxed and at home.
"Good night, Pip," Merry returned, feeling much the same.
Quiet descended over them, broken only by the natural sounds of the night and the occasional shuffling as one of them shifted to a more comfortable position. But neither fell asleep.
Eventually Pippin sat up. "Pst, Merry," he hissed.
Merry, feeling himself so close to the edge of sleep only grunted reluctantly in response.
"There's a hole in my bedroll," Pippin complained.
"We took them across the world and back, there are lots of holes." Merry was fighting very hard to stay in the relaxed state he finally managed, but Pippin, as usual, refused to be put off.
"Yes, but this is a very large hole."
Merry sighed. "What would you like me to do about it?"
Pippin hesitated a moment, a sudden shyness making him pause, though not for long. "Let me share yours."
It took Merry so long to answer the Pippin began to fear that his cousin would refuse him. But finally with a sigh Merry shifted over and lifted the edge of his blanket in silent invitation.
Quickly Pippin scrambled over, snuggling down into the bedroll and squirming around until he was in just the right spot.
"Satisfied?" Merry's voice came out grumpier than he actually felt, but Pippin knew him well enough not to be bothered.
"Yes," he answered simply, chastely kissing his cousin on the cheek before settling down and closing his eyes.
A broad grin split the younger hobbit's face when a few minutes later Merry settled an arm over Pippin with a sleepy huff and pulled him closer. Snuggled happily against Merry's chest, like they had often slept together as child, Pippin closed his eyes and at last they both found peaceful dreams.
