Chapter 3-Of.er, Naked Hobbits
'Knock! Knock! Knock!' Oh Valar! Some idiot was knocking on the yellow door to the hobbit-hole. As a matter of fact, it was three idiots, but he wasn't to know. Pippin groaned and yanked his head out of his pillow. He tumbled out of his bed (lovely, comfy place, what business had anyone making him leave it anyway?), and was three-quarters of the way to the door before he realised he had no clothes on. He cursed.
He spun round to dash back to his room and bumped into Merry, who giggled. 'That's no way to greet ladies, Pip. It's your Sisters, and they look, well, as they ever do. ' he grinned, peering out the window. 'And ye said the world wid look better in the mornin'...' Pippin grimaced. 'Let them in aind give me five minits tae git changed!', he called, speeding back to his room. 'Or leave oot the back dair aind no' come baick 'til they've gone..' He muttered darkly.
He stumbled back, dunked his head in the basin of water (which Merry had, very thoughtfully, neglected to heat) and flung his shorts, breeches, shirt and waistcoat on. A glance in the mirror showed that his hair resembled a semi-huffed dandelion. Much rummaging located a comb, which he ran over his feet also.
Drat those Sisters! They could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and were more than a Force to Be Reckoned with. They were just about the biggest gossips in the Shire, and totally convinced their little brother still needed protecting from the world. This had embarrassing consequences. When he'd come back from an almost two-year adventure, in full armour, full of tales about how people had called him 'The Prince of Halflings' for his deeds in battle, their reaction was ' Well, how come Melilot Bolger beat you up when you were fifteen, then?'. Idiots.
He took a deep breath and glumly turned the handle of the living-room, fervently wishing he'd had time for at least one breakfast.
'Knock! Knock! Knock!' Oh Valar! Some idiot was knocking on the yellow door to the hobbit-hole. As a matter of fact, it was three idiots, but he wasn't to know. Pippin groaned and yanked his head out of his pillow. He tumbled out of his bed (lovely, comfy place, what business had anyone making him leave it anyway?), and was three-quarters of the way to the door before he realised he had no clothes on. He cursed.
He spun round to dash back to his room and bumped into Merry, who giggled. 'That's no way to greet ladies, Pip. It's your Sisters, and they look, well, as they ever do. ' he grinned, peering out the window. 'And ye said the world wid look better in the mornin'...' Pippin grimaced. 'Let them in aind give me five minits tae git changed!', he called, speeding back to his room. 'Or leave oot the back dair aind no' come baick 'til they've gone..' He muttered darkly.
He stumbled back, dunked his head in the basin of water (which Merry had, very thoughtfully, neglected to heat) and flung his shorts, breeches, shirt and waistcoat on. A glance in the mirror showed that his hair resembled a semi-huffed dandelion. Much rummaging located a comb, which he ran over his feet also.
Drat those Sisters! They could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and were more than a Force to Be Reckoned with. They were just about the biggest gossips in the Shire, and totally convinced their little brother still needed protecting from the world. This had embarrassing consequences. When he'd come back from an almost two-year adventure, in full armour, full of tales about how people had called him 'The Prince of Halflings' for his deeds in battle, their reaction was ' Well, how come Melilot Bolger beat you up when you were fifteen, then?'. Idiots.
He took a deep breath and glumly turned the handle of the living-room, fervently wishing he'd had time for at least one breakfast.