Disclaimer: I only own two of the characters in this story. Guess which ones? ;-) The rest I only wish I could have.
Please be gentle when reviewing this, I'm new at this! The characters might not be precisely in...well...character, but this is fiction right? Isn't it supposed to be different?
And, btw, if you can't tell from the story, my favorite two characters are Sam and Pippin. Hope you enjoy the story! If you do, please say so! And *constructive* criticism is appreciated. Thanks!
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"I'd like to say that this is not a good idea."
"Sam, nothing is going to happen," Pippin said, poking out his bottom lip. "Would this face lie?"
Sam cut Pippin a look but kept his mouth shut, he could count how many times that face had lied to him, but he didn't have nearly enough fingers or toes.
"Come on, Sam, it's going to be ok, we're just going for a drink or two, and we'll bring it right back. Promise!" Merry chimed in, trying to look innocent too, but failing miserably because his face contorted by choking back a giggle.
"No, if it goes, I goes with it. Me and Mr. Frodo that is. We'll stop by Bag End to get him on the way out."
The `it' in question was the Ol' Gaffer's cart and horse. Pippin and Merry had had the bright idea of borrowing them for a run into a neighboring village to visit a new inn that had opened. Sam wasn't completely against the idea, in fact he was more than a little eager to see the new establishment. "The Green Dragon" was a fine place, make no mistake, but curiosity was getting the best of him. The rumor going around was that the ale at "The Purple Elf" was the best to be had in the Shire.
At Bag End Frodo was recruited (and not without a fight) for the adventure and they set off. It was a short ride; and night was starting to fall when they pulled up to "The Purple Elf". The early drunks were already there, warming the stools around the bar, so the quartet took a seat at one of the tables in the back.
A couple of rounds of ale were ordered, and the four hobbits were well into their cups when Pansy Chubb walked in, a girl that Pippin had been seeing on and off....mostly on.
"Oi, Pansy! Over here!" Pippin half stood up, waving to the pretty hobbit lass. She walked over to the table and promptly sat down on Pippin's knee.
"Pip! Where have you been? I've missed you!" Pansy said, twisting one Pip's brown curls around her forefinger.
"Ah, now, Pansy, you know how busy things get!" Pippin said, trying to look contrite.
"Aye, I'm sure it's been busy what with you and Merry stealing mushrooms and such from the Farmer Maggot", she pouted, "I know very well what you've been up to Peregrine Took!"
"Pansy, luv, how can I ever make it up to you?" Pippin asked, one hand creeping around her shapely waist and his mouth nuzzling her ear.
"You can start by buying me an ale, then we'll get to the rest of the payment later," Pansy purred, cuddling up to the young hobbit.
Sam's eyes met Frodo's and then Merry's across the table. The real reason Pippin had been so busy had less to do with Farmer Maggot than with other clandestine activities. The three hobbits snickered in their ale and averted their eyes. Hopefully Pansy wouldn't realize that something was up. Fortune wasn't smiling on the young Took that night however; trouble chose that moment to arrive.
"Peregrine Took! What are you doing!" a high-pitched voice asked from somewhere over Sam's shoulder. All five of the table's patrons jumped and spilled ale on the scared wooden table.
"Bless me!" Sam cried, clutching his chest with one hand "That took ten years off me life it did!"
Frodo was energetically pounding Merry on the back since he had sucked half his ale down his throat and couldn't breathe.
"P-P-Peony!" Pippin stuttered, standing up suddenly. Pansy slid off Pippin's lap and her behind thudded on the floor. This was not going to be Pippin's night...and it was going to get worse.
"Pippin! What were you doing!? Who was that girl in your lap? I thought we were only seeing each other," Peony asked in a hurt tone. It had been dark and not a little smoky in the room, all she had seen when she came in was that a female "someone" had been in his lap. There was a loud `thwack' from the underside of the table and Pansy stood up, rubbing her head and her behind.
"Pansy? Pippin? What's going on here?" Peony looked from one to the other, then at the other three hobbit lads around the table. Three pairs of eyes had suddenly found their ale to be the most fascinating thing in the Shire. Nearly every *other* eye in the room had suddenly found the commotion at the table fascinating though. It looked like the young Took was finally going to get caught with his hand in not one, but *two* cookie jars.
Pippin ran a frustrated hand through his thick curls. A quick look at his friends showed that they were looking at everything but him (he would have sworn he could even hear Sam whistling under his breath) and there would be no help from them. He would have to get himself out of this mess.
"It's not what it looks like! Pansy here, was just...was just...sitting in my lap until she could find a seat of her own?" Pippin finished weakly with a shrug, his hands spread outwards in a gesture of helplessness.
"Fool of a Took," Peony said, narrowing her eyes. "I didn't just fall off the pipe weed cart, you know. I know what you were all about, and with my cousin no less! Pansy Chubb, you can have him!" And she turned on her heel and strode out the door with a pert little nose in the air.
"Wench," Pansy muttered under her breath, straightening her skirts. Family reunions were definitely going to be strained for the next few months. Not that she and Peony had gotten along all that well anyway.
His mouth hanging open, Pippin looked at the retreating back of Peony. Pansy put one hand under his chin, and snapped his pie hole shut. "Now, where were we?" Pansy asked, batting her long eyelashes.
Three startled pairs of eyes collided over the table, and ale spewed across the tabletop. Sam, Frodo, and Merry were startled that Pansy hadn't started taking Pippin a part limb from limb. Sam shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; hobbit lasses were definitely a strange sort. Give him a garden any day, he understood why that did the things it did.
A short time later, three very drunk (and very loud) hobbits walked from "The Purple Elf" with arms thrown around each other's shoulders. Pansy had given Pippin a sloppy kiss and a whispered `I'll see you soon' before she went back to her own smial. Sam, the only one of the three that was more sober than drunk left his friends swaying at the front door while he retrieved the cart and horse.
Once Sam had the three drunks loaded into the cart and the lanterns lit, he chirped to the horse and turned them towards home. The moon was a burnished silver disk in the sky and the stars shone like polished diamonds. It was a pleasant night for a drive back and Sam whistled a merry tune under his breath, competing with the slurred gibberish coming from the back of the cart.
"Oi, Pip. Wha's th' deal wi'd Pansy and Peony?" Merry asked, lolling his head in Pippin's general direction. Frodo had long since passed out and fallen backwards over the seat; his large furry feet were sticking straight up in the air.
"Wha' d'ya mean?"
"How'd ya ge' `way wi'd id? They live in th' same hall, don' they?"
"Aye. I don' think they ge' `long well. Don' talk ta each other. I dunno."
Suddenly up ahead Sam spotted a small figure, when they drew up closer they saw it was Peony walking home in an unsteady line. Pulling up even with Peony, Sam stopped the cart.
"Peony, what are you doin'? Here," Sam hopped off the cart and held out a hand. "Let me help you into the cart, we'll take you home."
"No! I'll walk, thankyouverymuch," she said, ignoring his hand and staggering on.
"'Ey! Peony!" Pippin said, almost breaking his neck climbing out of the cart. "Wha' ya doin'? He more or less walked to Peony and put an unsteady hand on her shoulder.
"Ge' `way from me, Took! Wan' nothin' ta do wi' ya," she said, pushing him away from her.
The night had already been bad; it was about to get worse...much worse. Two shiriffs rode up on their small ponies, feathers bending in the gentle breeze. Each carried a lantern that illuminated the damning scene.
"What's going on here," one asked, fingering the large stick tied across his saddle.
"Uh oh," Merry said, and quickly flopped backwards off the seat to lie `comatose' beside Frodo.
"Nothin', sir, just a bit of a misunderstandin'. We offered to take the lady home is all," Sam said, holding both hands out in front of him. Two more shiriffs rode up, from the opposite direction of the first pair. Sam noticed that they had those big sticks, too.
"I'm no' goin' wi' `em anywheres!" Peony hollered, taking a swing at Pippin when he tried to grab her hand. A string of words followed that caused Sam and the shiriffs to blush.
Yet another pair of shiriffs rode up, effectively surrounding the group; and Sam rubbed a hand over his suddenly dry mouth. Things were rapidly going downhill, especially when two of the shiriffs dismounted.
"I'll have to ask you to put your hands on the cart," the shorter of the shirriffs said pointing at Sam. "You," he continued, pointing at Peony, "Go over there. And, you lad, go over there. Move it!" The others had their sticks in their hands, watching to see if anyone got out of line.
Sam turned around slowly, placing both hands flat on the cart. A sigh of relief rose when Pippin and Peony also followed directions, both still glaring at each other.
The shorter shiriff walked up beside Sam, shining a lantern in his face, the other hand wrapped around the stick and said, "I'm going to put the three of you in jail, I'm going to impound your cart and horse, then we're sending a messenger to each of your families so they can come get you out of jail."
`Please,' he thought, `Let them just beat me to death with those sticks there. Me Gaffer will likely kill me anyways when he finds this out. I'm thinking this death will be easier and quicker than the one I'll get at home.' At that point he slowly started beating his head on the side of the cart. Loud `snores' were coming from Merry inside the cart; he sounded more like a choking cat than a drunk in a stupor.
A hand on his shoulder stayed the pounding of poor Samwise's head, and then he was turned around. "You, how much have you had to drink tonight?" The shiriff attached to the hand asked, searching Sam's eyes for any sign of a lie. In the mean time, the taller shiriff was questioning Pippin. Another shiriff had dismounted and was talking with Peony. There was much wild gesturing and loud words being exchanged in the two separate camps.
"Not much, sir, one ale maybe. That's the honest truth and make no mistake!" Sam earnestly said, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking.
"Tilt your head back, touch one finger to your nose, then the other, until I tell you to stop," the shiriff commanded.
Sam did as he asked, only missing his nose once or twice. `It's up now, Samwise Gamgee; you've gone an' done it. You'll all be in jail for sure now,' he moaned to himself, sweat trickling down his spine.
"Ok, I'm letting you all off *this* time," he said, pointing a finger in Sam's face. "You take the hobbit lad on home; we'll take the lass to her smial. If I catch the three of you back in my town drunk and disturbing the peace again, it's the jail for you. Clear?"
"Oh, sir, yessir, crystal clear, sir!"
Peony was boosted onto a horse, and the six shiriffs rode off toward Chubb Hall. Sam helped Pippin into the cart, climbed up himself and made flicked the reigns to take them quickly as possible back toward Hobbington and away from the near arrest.
"Ya di' it, Sam!" Merry said, popping his head up from the back of the cart. He pounded hard on Sam's back.
"Aye, with no help from you, you sod," Sam growled, fingers tightening on the reigns.
"Wha' happen'?" Frodo asked, pulling himself back onto the seat with some difficulty. Sam's face was white as a sheet in the moonlight. There was very few times that Frodo could remember where Sam had looked so spooked. Merry slanted Frodo a look, and Pippin had his face buried in his hands.
"It's a long story Mr. Frodo. We very nearly got to see the inside of a jail."
"Aye, Pip's wanker almos' got us a spot in jail," Merry giggled.
"Shu' up, you!" Pippin squealed, turning round in his seat and popping Merry in the back of the head.
"If the two of you don't quit, I'm stopping this cart and making the two of you *walk* home. If you don't think I won't do it, then my name's not Samwise Gamgee! And I swear on me Ol' Gaffer if you touch each other, I'll kill you myself!"
At this point, Frodo had passed out again and was lying in the back of the cart. Merry and Pippin were shooting daggers at each other, both drunken minds thinking of things to do to get back at the other.
On second thought, maybe he would just kill them anyway and hide the evidence. Either way, he was never going to take the two of them into public with him again. He just hoped that everyone would keep his trap shut and he would be able to live to see old age.
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A special thanks goes out to P. Elrond, a member of my LOTR guild for the inspiration for "The Purple Elf".
This was also based on a true story of the author's life. Myself, my friend Melody, and her cousin Kelly were almost arrested on a military base. This story follows very closely what happened. I'll let you decide which of us did what. LOL
Please be gentle when reviewing this, I'm new at this! The characters might not be precisely in...well...character, but this is fiction right? Isn't it supposed to be different?
And, btw, if you can't tell from the story, my favorite two characters are Sam and Pippin. Hope you enjoy the story! If you do, please say so! And *constructive* criticism is appreciated. Thanks!
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"I'd like to say that this is not a good idea."
"Sam, nothing is going to happen," Pippin said, poking out his bottom lip. "Would this face lie?"
Sam cut Pippin a look but kept his mouth shut, he could count how many times that face had lied to him, but he didn't have nearly enough fingers or toes.
"Come on, Sam, it's going to be ok, we're just going for a drink or two, and we'll bring it right back. Promise!" Merry chimed in, trying to look innocent too, but failing miserably because his face contorted by choking back a giggle.
"No, if it goes, I goes with it. Me and Mr. Frodo that is. We'll stop by Bag End to get him on the way out."
The `it' in question was the Ol' Gaffer's cart and horse. Pippin and Merry had had the bright idea of borrowing them for a run into a neighboring village to visit a new inn that had opened. Sam wasn't completely against the idea, in fact he was more than a little eager to see the new establishment. "The Green Dragon" was a fine place, make no mistake, but curiosity was getting the best of him. The rumor going around was that the ale at "The Purple Elf" was the best to be had in the Shire.
At Bag End Frodo was recruited (and not without a fight) for the adventure and they set off. It was a short ride; and night was starting to fall when they pulled up to "The Purple Elf". The early drunks were already there, warming the stools around the bar, so the quartet took a seat at one of the tables in the back.
A couple of rounds of ale were ordered, and the four hobbits were well into their cups when Pansy Chubb walked in, a girl that Pippin had been seeing on and off....mostly on.
"Oi, Pansy! Over here!" Pippin half stood up, waving to the pretty hobbit lass. She walked over to the table and promptly sat down on Pippin's knee.
"Pip! Where have you been? I've missed you!" Pansy said, twisting one Pip's brown curls around her forefinger.
"Ah, now, Pansy, you know how busy things get!" Pippin said, trying to look contrite.
"Aye, I'm sure it's been busy what with you and Merry stealing mushrooms and such from the Farmer Maggot", she pouted, "I know very well what you've been up to Peregrine Took!"
"Pansy, luv, how can I ever make it up to you?" Pippin asked, one hand creeping around her shapely waist and his mouth nuzzling her ear.
"You can start by buying me an ale, then we'll get to the rest of the payment later," Pansy purred, cuddling up to the young hobbit.
Sam's eyes met Frodo's and then Merry's across the table. The real reason Pippin had been so busy had less to do with Farmer Maggot than with other clandestine activities. The three hobbits snickered in their ale and averted their eyes. Hopefully Pansy wouldn't realize that something was up. Fortune wasn't smiling on the young Took that night however; trouble chose that moment to arrive.
"Peregrine Took! What are you doing!" a high-pitched voice asked from somewhere over Sam's shoulder. All five of the table's patrons jumped and spilled ale on the scared wooden table.
"Bless me!" Sam cried, clutching his chest with one hand "That took ten years off me life it did!"
Frodo was energetically pounding Merry on the back since he had sucked half his ale down his throat and couldn't breathe.
"P-P-Peony!" Pippin stuttered, standing up suddenly. Pansy slid off Pippin's lap and her behind thudded on the floor. This was not going to be Pippin's night...and it was going to get worse.
"Pippin! What were you doing!? Who was that girl in your lap? I thought we were only seeing each other," Peony asked in a hurt tone. It had been dark and not a little smoky in the room, all she had seen when she came in was that a female "someone" had been in his lap. There was a loud `thwack' from the underside of the table and Pansy stood up, rubbing her head and her behind.
"Pansy? Pippin? What's going on here?" Peony looked from one to the other, then at the other three hobbit lads around the table. Three pairs of eyes had suddenly found their ale to be the most fascinating thing in the Shire. Nearly every *other* eye in the room had suddenly found the commotion at the table fascinating though. It looked like the young Took was finally going to get caught with his hand in not one, but *two* cookie jars.
Pippin ran a frustrated hand through his thick curls. A quick look at his friends showed that they were looking at everything but him (he would have sworn he could even hear Sam whistling under his breath) and there would be no help from them. He would have to get himself out of this mess.
"It's not what it looks like! Pansy here, was just...was just...sitting in my lap until she could find a seat of her own?" Pippin finished weakly with a shrug, his hands spread outwards in a gesture of helplessness.
"Fool of a Took," Peony said, narrowing her eyes. "I didn't just fall off the pipe weed cart, you know. I know what you were all about, and with my cousin no less! Pansy Chubb, you can have him!" And she turned on her heel and strode out the door with a pert little nose in the air.
"Wench," Pansy muttered under her breath, straightening her skirts. Family reunions were definitely going to be strained for the next few months. Not that she and Peony had gotten along all that well anyway.
His mouth hanging open, Pippin looked at the retreating back of Peony. Pansy put one hand under his chin, and snapped his pie hole shut. "Now, where were we?" Pansy asked, batting her long eyelashes.
Three startled pairs of eyes collided over the table, and ale spewed across the tabletop. Sam, Frodo, and Merry were startled that Pansy hadn't started taking Pippin a part limb from limb. Sam shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; hobbit lasses were definitely a strange sort. Give him a garden any day, he understood why that did the things it did.
A short time later, three very drunk (and very loud) hobbits walked from "The Purple Elf" with arms thrown around each other's shoulders. Pansy had given Pippin a sloppy kiss and a whispered `I'll see you soon' before she went back to her own smial. Sam, the only one of the three that was more sober than drunk left his friends swaying at the front door while he retrieved the cart and horse.
Once Sam had the three drunks loaded into the cart and the lanterns lit, he chirped to the horse and turned them towards home. The moon was a burnished silver disk in the sky and the stars shone like polished diamonds. It was a pleasant night for a drive back and Sam whistled a merry tune under his breath, competing with the slurred gibberish coming from the back of the cart.
"Oi, Pip. Wha's th' deal wi'd Pansy and Peony?" Merry asked, lolling his head in Pippin's general direction. Frodo had long since passed out and fallen backwards over the seat; his large furry feet were sticking straight up in the air.
"Wha' d'ya mean?"
"How'd ya ge' `way wi'd id? They live in th' same hall, don' they?"
"Aye. I don' think they ge' `long well. Don' talk ta each other. I dunno."
Suddenly up ahead Sam spotted a small figure, when they drew up closer they saw it was Peony walking home in an unsteady line. Pulling up even with Peony, Sam stopped the cart.
"Peony, what are you doin'? Here," Sam hopped off the cart and held out a hand. "Let me help you into the cart, we'll take you home."
"No! I'll walk, thankyouverymuch," she said, ignoring his hand and staggering on.
"'Ey! Peony!" Pippin said, almost breaking his neck climbing out of the cart. "Wha' ya doin'? He more or less walked to Peony and put an unsteady hand on her shoulder.
"Ge' `way from me, Took! Wan' nothin' ta do wi' ya," she said, pushing him away from her.
The night had already been bad; it was about to get worse...much worse. Two shiriffs rode up on their small ponies, feathers bending in the gentle breeze. Each carried a lantern that illuminated the damning scene.
"What's going on here," one asked, fingering the large stick tied across his saddle.
"Uh oh," Merry said, and quickly flopped backwards off the seat to lie `comatose' beside Frodo.
"Nothin', sir, just a bit of a misunderstandin'. We offered to take the lady home is all," Sam said, holding both hands out in front of him. Two more shiriffs rode up, from the opposite direction of the first pair. Sam noticed that they had those big sticks, too.
"I'm no' goin' wi' `em anywheres!" Peony hollered, taking a swing at Pippin when he tried to grab her hand. A string of words followed that caused Sam and the shiriffs to blush.
Yet another pair of shiriffs rode up, effectively surrounding the group; and Sam rubbed a hand over his suddenly dry mouth. Things were rapidly going downhill, especially when two of the shiriffs dismounted.
"I'll have to ask you to put your hands on the cart," the shorter of the shirriffs said pointing at Sam. "You," he continued, pointing at Peony, "Go over there. And, you lad, go over there. Move it!" The others had their sticks in their hands, watching to see if anyone got out of line.
Sam turned around slowly, placing both hands flat on the cart. A sigh of relief rose when Pippin and Peony also followed directions, both still glaring at each other.
The shorter shiriff walked up beside Sam, shining a lantern in his face, the other hand wrapped around the stick and said, "I'm going to put the three of you in jail, I'm going to impound your cart and horse, then we're sending a messenger to each of your families so they can come get you out of jail."
`Please,' he thought, `Let them just beat me to death with those sticks there. Me Gaffer will likely kill me anyways when he finds this out. I'm thinking this death will be easier and quicker than the one I'll get at home.' At that point he slowly started beating his head on the side of the cart. Loud `snores' were coming from Merry inside the cart; he sounded more like a choking cat than a drunk in a stupor.
A hand on his shoulder stayed the pounding of poor Samwise's head, and then he was turned around. "You, how much have you had to drink tonight?" The shiriff attached to the hand asked, searching Sam's eyes for any sign of a lie. In the mean time, the taller shiriff was questioning Pippin. Another shiriff had dismounted and was talking with Peony. There was much wild gesturing and loud words being exchanged in the two separate camps.
"Not much, sir, one ale maybe. That's the honest truth and make no mistake!" Sam earnestly said, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking.
"Tilt your head back, touch one finger to your nose, then the other, until I tell you to stop," the shiriff commanded.
Sam did as he asked, only missing his nose once or twice. `It's up now, Samwise Gamgee; you've gone an' done it. You'll all be in jail for sure now,' he moaned to himself, sweat trickling down his spine.
"Ok, I'm letting you all off *this* time," he said, pointing a finger in Sam's face. "You take the hobbit lad on home; we'll take the lass to her smial. If I catch the three of you back in my town drunk and disturbing the peace again, it's the jail for you. Clear?"
"Oh, sir, yessir, crystal clear, sir!"
Peony was boosted onto a horse, and the six shiriffs rode off toward Chubb Hall. Sam helped Pippin into the cart, climbed up himself and made flicked the reigns to take them quickly as possible back toward Hobbington and away from the near arrest.
"Ya di' it, Sam!" Merry said, popping his head up from the back of the cart. He pounded hard on Sam's back.
"Aye, with no help from you, you sod," Sam growled, fingers tightening on the reigns.
"Wha' happen'?" Frodo asked, pulling himself back onto the seat with some difficulty. Sam's face was white as a sheet in the moonlight. There was very few times that Frodo could remember where Sam had looked so spooked. Merry slanted Frodo a look, and Pippin had his face buried in his hands.
"It's a long story Mr. Frodo. We very nearly got to see the inside of a jail."
"Aye, Pip's wanker almos' got us a spot in jail," Merry giggled.
"Shu' up, you!" Pippin squealed, turning round in his seat and popping Merry in the back of the head.
"If the two of you don't quit, I'm stopping this cart and making the two of you *walk* home. If you don't think I won't do it, then my name's not Samwise Gamgee! And I swear on me Ol' Gaffer if you touch each other, I'll kill you myself!"
At this point, Frodo had passed out again and was lying in the back of the cart. Merry and Pippin were shooting daggers at each other, both drunken minds thinking of things to do to get back at the other.
On second thought, maybe he would just kill them anyway and hide the evidence. Either way, he was never going to take the two of them into public with him again. He just hoped that everyone would keep his trap shut and he would be able to live to see old age.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
A special thanks goes out to P. Elrond, a member of my LOTR guild for the inspiration for "The Purple Elf".
This was also based on a true story of the author's life. Myself, my friend Melody, and her cousin Kelly were almost arrested on a military base. This story follows very closely what happened. I'll let you decide which of us did what. LOL