disclaimer.
All belongs to Tolkien and Jackson.
warning.
Brief mention of animal death.
October 30th 3018, T.A
"This is perfect!" Pippin whispered fervently to his cousin. "They won't know what hit them!"
Merry nodded his agreement, leaning as far forward as he dared as gravity threatened to dislodge him from his perch. The two Hobbits were hidden in cage of branches of an ancient oak tree that brushed up against the walls of the Last Homely House and had been since the Sun reared her fiery head, wariness of the great height they found themselves at persisting even though they had been reassured that they would not suffer an untimely fall. Pippin was perhaps the most fearful of the two, pressed into the thick trunk of the oak where the branches were easiest to balance on, and preferred to watch his cousin edge closer and closer to treacherously narrow areas of their hiding place though he made several times as if to lunge across and drag Merry back to safety.
"Cursed Brandybucks," he had hissed when Merry had first broke away from his side. "All that damnable river water addling his brain."
"You're hardly one to talk, Mr Where Are we Going!" Merry had retorted tartly, tripping and almost pitching to his death. Pippin decided that if Merry fell, he would look away- if he didn't know whether Merry was dead, was Merry really dead? Frodo would not hesitate to correct him on his theory, he knew, but he really, really, really didn't want to look at splattered Merry.
From beneath them there was the sound of rustling leaves, branches creaking and groaning as they were audibly displaced. Quite obnoxiously if Pippin was honest, seeing as he knew all the people who could climb trees could do so without a whisper of noise. Merry scampered back over to Pippin's side and both Hobbits exchanged nervous glances- it would be just their luck if Strider happened to climb trees as well. No doubt he'd have something to say about their... current activities. A tree climbing Ranger who could lecture them was something neither of them wanted to experience.
Especially after the whole volunteering for deadly suicide quest that we have zero business being on- just as much business as we had at the Council.
But the head that poked up from the leaves was familiar, smiling face of their newest friend. Legolas Greenleaf swung himself up onto the branches beside them, hanging precariously off to one side, and gave a breathless, victorious smile. It had been what Pippin considered a stroke of luck to run into the Mirkwood Elf- he'd been running like the hounds of Hell were upon him and if Merry and Pippin hadn't been pursued by an irate cook, they would have missed him. The Elf had dragged them into a cupboard when he'd seen them dashing madly towards them and Merry and Pippin had managed to regulate their breathing just in time before two identical looking Elves had sprinted past yelling about frog spawn in their boots and the cook about the jar of mice let loose in her kitchen.
Merry had never became friends with someone as quick as he had became friends with Legolas after that and the three met in secret to scheme and plot in the shadows- good friends prank each others' enemies and Legolas disliked the overwhelming majority of the Rivendell Elves. It was only right that the Hobbits lent a hand or two. Where before boredom threatened, Merry and Pippin found themselves enjoying their time in the Valley as much as they did knocking about Rivendell. Mostly because of the pranks. Mischief made excellent company.
"Is it done?" Pippin asked eagerly, grinning up at the Elf.
He gave a beaming grin in response, jerking one lazy thumb in the direction of the two closest windows. "They won't know what hit them."
"We'll enjoy the show," Merry promised and they swapped congratulatory pats on the back and the pinkie promises they'd dubbed as their 'team handshake'.
"You won't have to wait long," said Legolas and seemed to Merry that the Wood-elf straightened imperceptibly where he sat, twisting around to stare with unblinking eyes at his targets, Under his breath, so quiet Merry could barely hear, he began a countdown.
"Twenty Gondolin, nineteen Gondolin, eighteen Gondolin," he murmured and Merry added his own soft voice to the count, Pippin copying, albeit a little louder, only moment later until they were all chanting and tingling with anticipation.
After 'one Gondolin', they froze, their breathing straining and out as they huddled together and watched, waiting. It took only a moment, one silent, lingering moment for the efforts of their labour to become known to their victims. One moment of unbridled anxiety, of waiting for everything to either fall apart or float above the potential consequences. Then came the signal that their mess had been discovered.
"Thranduilion!" hollered a furious voice from the room closest, black with fury and the type of threatening that one could really only reply to with an immediate retreat. The trio did no such thing, leaning even further forward with growing smirks as they listened to the owner of the voice crash about his room, the sound of wardrobes doors swinging open and slamming closed.
"Elladan," Legolas breathed, exultant.
"We've got away with!" chirped Pippin cheerfully, fist pumping the air with a wordless whoop of joy.
The window of the other room slammed open.
"Elrohir," Legolas breathed, terrified.
"Hobbits," the other Elf growled, slinging one leg other the window sill.
"Run, run, run!"
Merry wasn't quite sure who said it. All he knew was that he Pippin practically tumbled out of the tree, desperate to escape the wrath of the Elf-lord clambering out his bedroom window, and were saved only by Legolas supported hands as the Wood-elf followed them adeptly. On the lowest branch, Pippin and Merry launched themselves to the floor, landing with a twin thud! thud! as their knees struck the floor. They were on their feet again in no time, sprinting madly to where they had been showed the training fields by Strider, arms pumping and legs leaping in strides much larger than any Hobbit had ever taken before.
"Split up! Split up!" he thought he heard Legolas cry from behind, however he couldn't be sure.
Pippin gave another whoop as if that had not been what got them in trouble in the first place. "We're going to make it, Merry! We're going to-"
Despite his many childhood misadventures, Merry had never ran into a brick wall before. If he had, he imagined it would feel someone like this. All the air whooshed out of his body as he struck something in his path, hard and solid and unmoving. He bounced backwards, landing with nothing more than a surprised puff of air as he slammed off the ground, and the world seemed to fade so violently he was left blinking stars out of his eyes when his vision lapsed and returned. He heard Pippin hit the floor beside him and would have to turned to look for his cousin if the world had been moving at a snail's pace, bright and painful and slow.
"Ahh," Pippin groaned weakly, "that hurt."
"Mm," Merry agreed, sucking in breath after breath with the want of a newborn babe fresh from the womb.
"That's what happens when you run into people," an unamused voice observed from above them. Merry craned his head, seeking the owner of the voice only to slam his head back onto the ground when he recognised the stern face of the Gondorian soldier Boromir. His luck, and Pippin's, to embarrass themselves in front one of their could-be companions; this day could only get better.
Boromir offered them both a hand, gripping their wrists and dragging them to their feet, allowing them to reorient themselves before releasing them. Gentler than Merry had been respecting for a Man but then again, Merry was sure he'd seen him hanging about with Legolas at times. Perhaps they were friends?
"You should be careful," he warned, eying them with blatant curiosity. "Falling flat on your backs will make certain you don't escape whatever it is you flee."
"We weren't-" Merry began.
Pippin merely said, a little desperately, "mushrooms."
Boromir raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I heard Hobbits like their mushrooms," he muttered, "now if you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone."
"Pardon!" a voice called. "Is this one yours too?"
Merry and Pippin spun on their heels, feeling Boromir raise his eyes too, and noticed for the first time the approaching Elf. Glorfindel. They hadn't seen him since the Fords when he forced the Riders away and they'd heard he'd been sent patrolling by Elrond after the Council to seek tidings of the Enemy and draw it off if needs be. He'd obviously been back long enough to change out of his travelling gear however and looked the part of the stately Elven lord he was with a handsome green robe that hugged his tall frame and set of his hair, let loose around his waist. Or he would have looked the stately Elven lord if it weren't for the squirming Mirkwood Elf he held tightly by the shoulder.
"I found him climbing the roof," Glorfindel announced cheerfully, "and was almost away before I caught him."
"Caught me?" Legolas scoffed. "You threw a stone at my head!"
Glorfindel smiled serenely, the golden haze around him seeming to flare a little brighter as he did. Legolas muttered something in Elvish mutinously under his breath.
"I was looking for him actually," Boromir said and Legolas gave him a tiny grin and innocent wave which the Man returned with a look of faint exasperation.
"As," a new voice remarked, "was I."
Merry and Pippin spun about yet again to see a redhead Elf materialise to their left, her face blank as she surveyed the scene before her. Pippin inched into Merry's side, staring nervously at the long blade that hung from her waist and the bow slung across her back beside a quiver of arrows. She looked deadly, as if she could kill everyone there in a heartbeat and knew she could at that- and didn't care either.
"Tauriel!" Legolas exclaimed happily, flashing her a wider smile than he had offered everyone else. "Come to join us?"
"I've come to ask that the Noldor removes his hand," she corrected, "or that he can loose it, if he so prefers."
"Always so cheerful," Glorfindel jested and Merry watched as her hand wrapped around the hilt of her knife with a cool smile, banishing Glorfindel's smile as he dropped his hand and backed off a couple paces.
"Unhand your weapon!" Legolas commanded and Tauriel listened, though she gave no other indication that she heard him, staring off at point somewhere over his shoulder.
"I think everyone is looking for him after hearing that racket," she pointed out before mimicking, "Thranduilion!"
"Yes," another voice chimed from behind Glorfindel and Legolas, "everyone is looking for him, and the Hobbits."
Merry and Pippin spun about again, cursing the soundless nature of Elves that allowed them to sneak up on the unwary and cursed again when they saw the two victims of their pranks: Elladan and Elrohir, glowering darkly at the three perpetrators. Then Boromir's hands slapped over their eyes and Merry computed what he'd actually seen.
Elrohir stood in front of his brother, partially blocking him from view, and gave a complete view of mess he and his clothes had became. Honey and paint coated him from head to toe, streaks drying in amber rivers and ivory floods, and feathers clung and stuck everywhere they could find purchase. Legolas had assured them it would not come off easily and Elladan had received the same treatment. But unlike his brother, Elladan had began to fix up his appearance though he hadn't gotten far. Merry saw much more of the Elf than he ever wanted to see and wished that they hadn't decided to empty the twins' wardrobes of clothes and send them to the laundry room.
"Hot," Pippin whistled quietly and Merry felt the pressure of two glare drilling into them.
"Dear... God," Boromir choked out and Legolas burst in gales of hysterical laughter, wheezing and sniggering with the decorum all of his Wood-elves seemed to lack.
"I didn't know you felt that way about Legolas, Elrondion, yet I can tell you he's more the wine and dine type," Tauriel drawled and Merry fancied that he could practically taste her amusement.
Glorfindel seemed a lot less amused if the tone of his voice was anything to go by. "What on earth is up with you? Elladan, put some clothes on for Elbereth's sake! This isn't Doriath!"
"We didn't strip in Doriath," Legolas objected.
"You were never in Doriath-"
"I still know we didn't walk about in the nude!"
"Melian did!"
"How do you know that?"
"I've met her! A lot! I was in Valinor you know!"
"Of course I know. It isn't as if you Wise folk ever let us live it down."
"Because-"
"Why," a voice Merry recognised immediately as Elrond, "is my son naked?"
Boromir shuffled back a couple of steps, nudging the Hobbits back with him, and a light brush across their heads announced Legolas' arrival. There was another shuffling and the smell of Pine sap; something icy cold brush against Merry's arm, raising goose bumps and he took it to mean that Tauriel had joined them. He felt much better now- he wouldn't be the first of the Hobbits to admit that Elrond scared him. He knew Pippin was nervous around the Elf lord and he didn't see how the other two of their party could feel any different though Merry hadn't had the time to ask them seeing as Frodo was in and out of the Halls of Healing and Sam was always at his side.
It was his eyebrows, he was sure of it.
"If I knew that I'd tell you," Glorfindel snapped, aggrieved.
"Elladan" -Elrond sounded more exhausted than anything now- "why, oh why, are you naked?"
"It isn't my fault!" Elladan cried and muffled noise of something striking the floor, as if he had stomped his foot like a recalcitrant child. "Thranduilion stole my clothes."
"I don't want to hear about your assignations, ion nin."
"It isn't an assignation- I hate him!"
The Elf was frustrated now, his voice cracking as the pitch heightened in his fury, and Merry felt an answering irritation stir in his chest. Thranduilion did this, Thranduilion did that; Merry and Pippin had helped with the prank too. They'd listened as Legolas had detailed a prank the twins played on him once that he wanted to recreate (stealing his clothes) and improved it (the viscous, sticky mixture and feathers), they'd sourced the paint and the honey and the feathers, they'd found the twins' rooms, they'd emptied the wardrobes of clothes...
Legolas had dumped the mixture over their heads and appointed a look out yet he got all the credit. Merry pursed his lips. If they tried to uphold the equal partnership they had, everyone else needed to see it as an equal partnership or by fault of perception, the Hobbits would only be Legolas' lackeys. Which meant Merry had to do something Legolas couldn't.
Merry had to get them out of trouble.
By the now, the twin sons of Elrond knew it was the three of them- and would strive to convince Elrond of that- but they believed that Legolas had taken the predominant role. Managing to talk he and his friends out of trouble would show them that Legolas wasn't the only one conspiring here- and that Hobbits were just as, if not more, genius than Elves.
He cleared his throat. Now, Merry, now, a voice urged him, do it now.
"Excuse, Mr Naked Elf Dude," Pippin announced from his left, "my cousin wants to speak."
"I just want to ask," Merry said, thumping Pippin's hip with his fist, "whether you have any proof it was us?"
"You were sat in a tree outside our rooms cheering," Elrohir snapped and Merry smiled in his general direction."
"Legolas is a Wood-elf," he informed them, "of course he was in a tree."
"Outside our rooms!"
"It isn't as though he knows his way around this place."
"I saw him on Lindir's tour only a couple days past," Elladan groused, "so spare me your excuses."
"I wasn't on the tour," the Elf in question replied, "because the tours are boring. I was following the tour."
"The difference being?" inquired Elrond, seemingly resigned.
"If you on the tour, you listen to it, but if you follow the tour, you make snarky comments," Legolas explained, patient, as though he spoke to a child of why the Sun rose and set each day. "I've no idea how to get around this place at all."
"So," Merry interrupted with what he hoped passed for an expression of angelic innocence, "how would we know where your rooms are? Besides, even if we did, you have no proof we involved."
Animalistic almost, Elladan snarled, "Thranduilion dumped a barrel of honey and paint of our heads before dousing us in feathers. That is involvement."
"If he was dosing you in feathers then he wasn't in your room, was he?"
Elrond sighed and Merry felt sorry for the ancient Elf who seemed quite acclimatised to the chaos. It couldn't be easy raising three children, running a realm, dealing with a war, fostering the King of Men and also handling the antics of his guests. "Elladan, Elrohir, borrow some of my robes," he breathed after a moment of gathering his composure, "Glorfindel, Erestor need you in the library. Everyone else... you're free to go. My apologies for my sons."
There was a rustling of robes and whisper of movement- the baleful presences Merry had felt keenly vanished, the thrumming hum of Glorfindel's magic gradually trailing off and fading with distance and the strange feeling of electricity that sparked of Elrond lingered still, but passively now that the lord had left. A took a moment before Boromir would remove his hands however ad when he did, Merry and Pippin were left squinting in the sudden influx of light. He stared down at them and Pippin smirked and waggled his eyebrows lewdly.
"So hot I reckon we could have destroyed the One Ring," he moaned and Merry didn't have to ask to know who he was speaking about.
Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Hobbits," she huffed in disgust before vanishing back in the direction she had came from, calling over her shoulder to Legolas, "Laewen wishes to know when she should return to Mirkwood, my prince. She'll await you tonight."
Legolas, as if he confided a great secret, whispered, "she loves Hobbits actually. She and Elladan have history though."
"History?" Pippin asked curiously.
Legolas shrugged. "Whether its the one night stand thing or a murder thing, no one knows."
"I thought Elves didn't have one night stands," Boromir remarked, tilting his head to one side.
"We're Silvan," Legolas said, as if that clarified everything.
The Wood-elf glanced about at the vacant faces before shrugging again and moving off towards the house, a leisurely pace that made it clear he was waiting for them to follow. Merry jogged forward, Pippin and Boromir following on his heels. "I can't imagine having only one relationship for life," he shuddered and Legolas grinned, "neither."
They shared a look of solidarity as Boromir threw back his head in disbelief, fist bumping. Legolas sprung up towards the archway as they entered the Last Homely House, brushing the stone work with the tips of his fingers as he used Boromir as a launch pad. Pippin nicked a leaf from a near by bush and put it contemplatively in his mouth. This, Merry thought, was perfect. His friends, new and old and nothing to worry about but whether or not his cousin had eaten some form of toxic plant.
"Elladan's still hot as," Pippin sniffed disdainfully, swallowing his leaf, and Boromir made a scandalised noise in the back of his throat. Pippin snorted, "you'd be lying if you said he wasn't fit so there's no need to scold me, Dad."
Merry watched as Boromir's eyes widened with surprise, staring down at Pippin with the look of someone who had been unexpectedly punched in the stomach- but in a nice way, if that was possible. His cheeks flooded with colour and he tousled Pippin's hair before the Hobbit realised what affect his casual nickname had had on him but his smile was softer than before, warm and gentle, and he looked on Pippin as a father would- like he looked at Legolas, like he had looked at them when they collided with him. The same look he had worn whenever he looked at them though Merry knew what to call it now.
"You remind me of my brother," he muttered with a hoarse laugh, "when he isn't wearing his guise of Elros reborn."
"Elros was a consummate trouble maker," Legolas pointed out. "My adar met him once and walked away with a lot less hair in his head."
"Whatever," Merry said flippantly, "we totally got away with it. No need to worry about it, Dad Number Two."
Boromir eyes widened again and Merry almost felt sorry for him. There was no escaping it now, he thought, Pippin had decided that Boromir would fill a parental role and there was no stopping it now. The joking nickname construed as simple sarcasm was more a Pippin way of testing the boundaries- he done it a hundred times before, usually with uncles and aunts and hundreds of grandparents he'd adopted. Merry would eat his hat if Pippin didn't continue calling Boromir Dad and he was awfully fond of his hat. And if Pippin was calling Boromir Dad... Well, there was a reason half the Shire couldn't tell them apart and it was because they did absolutely everything together.
"Aye," Pippin agreed. "I think we should go with my plan next time. Spiders are much more effective and more child friendly."
"There are no children here," Legolas complained, "and I hate spiders."
"Spiders?" Pippin echoed incredulously, his fingertips almost touching as he illustrated the size of a house spider in disbelief.
"In Greenwood, the Spiders can be as large as horses and their bite is enough to kill a person if they wish it so."
Everyone paled. "Your home sounds horrible," Pippin whispered miserably, patting the Elf's hand.
"I had a pet Spider once. I called her Lianrîs," Legolas remarked airily, dragging his fingers through Pippin's hair. "My father skewered her on his sword."
No one quite knew what to say to that. Boromir watched Legolas concernedly, Pippin looked torn between launching himself at Legolas to hug him or running to the hills and Merry imagined he must resemble Boromir with his worry than he did Pippin- Mirkwood suddenly seemed a much larger, harsher and scarier place than the Shire. But Legolas... Legolas must have been used to such horrors because he related the tale with the casualness one told stories of youthful folly. It seemed to not bother him as much as it would have bother Merry- perhaps he had moved on, perhaps it was just something normal in Mirkwood. The Elf seemed not to realise what concern his words would have and Merry sighed- Big People were so strange.
He yawned obnoxiously and stretched, drawing attention away from the increasingly discomfited Legolas. "We've missed second breakfast," he informed seriously and Boromir shook his head.
"I'm too old for this," he thought he heard him mumble beneath his breath.
Pippin grumbled, "no wonder my stomach feels uncommonly empty."
"This is something I can rectify," laughed Legolas, flashing a wide grin of white teeth. "I believe I remember the way to the dining room. Boromir?"
The Man shook his head. "I've been challenged to a spar by Master Gimli, to demonstrate how well Men can wield their axes."
"As well as a Dwarf if you have the right person wielding."
"Whether or not I can wield an axe sufficiently to beat him- which I probably can't-, my honour urges me to fight and see."
"May luck be with you and may your blade be sharp," Legolas intoned solemnly before clapping him on the back. "Show the Dwarf what heroes are made of."
"Watch you don't get into anymore trouble," Boromir retorted with a pointed glare at his companion.
Legolas dragged him to a swift, one-armed hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Break a leg, Ada," he whispered fiercely with a quicksilver smile.
Boromir had frozen- Merry could guess the meaning of the Elvish name- and Legolas gave him one last wave before chivvying the Hobbits down the hall, nattering about Mirkwood delicacies in his lilting voice. Merry twisted around to glance back at the Man and saw him standing stationary, staring after the departing trio with an almost jubilant confusion, his eyes the eyes of a father and Merry knew that if he went on the Quest with Frodo, it would Boromir whose hands he put his life in, Boromir who would see him home alive.
"Dad," the Steward's son was mouthing, "Ada. Dad. Ada."
A prayer, a promise, a benediction.
Merry had never believed in any gods but this- his friends and his family, Pippin and Boromir and Legolas, Frodo and Sam-, this he could believe in. This he did believe in. Conviction filled him like a rush of fire, exploding though his limbs- he smiled and took Pippins hands. They were going to survive this; they all were. He could feel it.
to be continued.
translations.
Thranduilion - Son of Thranduil
Adar/Ada - Father/Dad
Ion nin - My son
Lianrîs - Spider Queen (Liantë + Rîs)