The Fellowship Inside the Fellowship
Author's Note: This is my first delve into the world of slash fiction. If your looking for a hot, fast paced M/P slash then don't look here for it cause you won't find it, but if you like romanticism mixed with some witticisms then read on.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's work, though I think I own the right to shack them up with whomever I want in this fanfiction.
The Fellowship Inside the Fellowship
Chapter 1
"Oh where is Gandalf?" Frodo sighed, looking down into his hands. He had been repeating the phrase constantly over the last few hours and it was sort of becoming a mantra to him. "He should be here by now."
Pippin, on Frodo's right, took a long sip of wine. "I'm sure he will turn up Frodo. In the mean while please stop your moping and enjoy your last birthday in Bag End."
Hearing this, Merry, to Frodo's left, added, "And if you don't stop worrying and start drinking instead you will find that the last of the Old Winyards will be gone before you've even had a sniff of it."
At this Frodo looked up at the table, his eyes anxiously scanning the open bottles of alcohol. Noticing that there was still ample supply left, he relaxed slightly and allowed himself a swig from his previously untouched glass before turning to Merry.
"Cousin Meriadoc don't tease me like that, though I do deserve it for how glum I've been acting all day." He raised his glass and took another swallow from it. " Pippin is of course right that I should enjoy my birthday here at Bag End before I leave to move to Crickhollow. So I'm going to make it my duty to finish this marvelous brew, with the help of my friends of course." Frodo once more raised his glass, this time in the manner of a toast. "I would of course like to remark that today is Bilbo's 128th birthday this year. The only other thing I would like to drink to is the end of the Baggins legacy. It lasted long and may we hope that it is just as long if not longer before it is forgotten."
"To Bilbo, to Frodo and to the Baggins' of Bag End," Merry, Pippin, Folco and Fredegar chanted in response and all five of them drained their glasses, immediately refilling them.
Slowly the evening grew later and they sang many songs and talked of many things they had done together in the Shire. All the while, the drink continued to fill the cups in front of their occupants, as all were constantly serving one another more of the intoxicating beverage. Pippin appeared to have consumed more wine than any of the others, for he was slightly slurred in his manner of speech. When Frodo suggested he leave the rest of his wine, Pippin agreed that this was a good idea, adding that he was going to step out for a breath of air.
Frodo smiled and told Pippin that he would be out in a bit to join him, that he just wanted to finish the wine, have a smoke, then stretch out his legs in the garden before retiring. Nodding, Pippin said he would see Frodo and the others in a bit, implying subtly that he needed a moment of peace to himself and that he was grateful nobody was getting up to follow him.
Indeed Pippin had realized something that he wanted to mull over, something that he had realized when they were discussing all the mischief they had done around Hobbiton and Tuckborough and Buckland. Actually he really had more than one conclusion that he came to as he paced back and forth in the back garden of Bag End in a slightly inebriated state, puffing at his pipe, blowing his smoke in curly wisps up to the stars and moon in the sky above; a sky that under normal circumstances made him feel tiny, tonight gave him the sense that he was beyond miniscule in comparison to the world around him. For it was that night that Peregrin Took truly fell in love with Merry.
R&R