Chapter 7-Of Hangovers and Escape
He woke up the next morning feeling more than slightly hungover. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get rid of the feeling that he'd somehow got a woodpecker lodged in his head. But you didn't show that around Merry, who never seemed to get hungover, even if he'd got so drunk he couldn't walk home in a straight line (which had happened surprisingly frequently in the past).
No, wait, there really was a thumping noise. He sat up, feeling woozy. 'Hummph? Whassat? Och!' It was the door being thumped. He fell out of bed. If the past years had taught him one thing it was at least to shove some clothes on when answering doors. Thankfully. Throwing on shorts and breeches and ramming a shirt over his aching head, he dashed along the corridor, wondering why Merry hadn't answered it.
He tripped on an outstretched foot and fell flat on his nose. Merry loomed over him, finger to his lips. 'Weel, thaes a nice guid morning, an' ah don't think!' ' Oh shut up! Listen.'
The knocking on the door paused, and Pearl's screeching voice seeped through the woodwork: 'Peregrin! Wakey - wakey, stupid! We've got a bone to pick with you! We brought somebody to seeeee you!'
Pippin just about died. He knew what the sister's had in mind. 'Hide me!' he hissed frantically. 'Ten steps ahead of you, my friend. If anybody asks, I was asleep until lunchtime. And you, pal, were out. Quick, the back door's open, and you can grab something from the larder for a late breakfast. They'll give up and go away in about, oh, three hours probably' sighed Merry. Pip wrapped his arms round his friend. He really couldn't face his siblings, not the way he felt now. 'Thanks' He stumbled off down the corridor, not having time to check his reflection in the mirror.
He quickly sniffed round the larder, banging his head on the way in as he invariably did with low roofs. He shoved some pasties, fruit and a flask of cordial in a bag, slung it over his shoulder, stopped, took it off, put in several mushrooms and a few slices of cake (seeing as this may have to last him a long time, and do for second breakfast as well, possibly even elevensies).
He sneaked out the back door, with what would have been a silent exit if he hadn't whopped his head on the lintel again..
He woke up the next morning feeling more than slightly hungover. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get rid of the feeling that he'd somehow got a woodpecker lodged in his head. But you didn't show that around Merry, who never seemed to get hungover, even if he'd got so drunk he couldn't walk home in a straight line (which had happened surprisingly frequently in the past).
No, wait, there really was a thumping noise. He sat up, feeling woozy. 'Hummph? Whassat? Och!' It was the door being thumped. He fell out of bed. If the past years had taught him one thing it was at least to shove some clothes on when answering doors. Thankfully. Throwing on shorts and breeches and ramming a shirt over his aching head, he dashed along the corridor, wondering why Merry hadn't answered it.
He tripped on an outstretched foot and fell flat on his nose. Merry loomed over him, finger to his lips. 'Weel, thaes a nice guid morning, an' ah don't think!' ' Oh shut up! Listen.'
The knocking on the door paused, and Pearl's screeching voice seeped through the woodwork: 'Peregrin! Wakey - wakey, stupid! We've got a bone to pick with you! We brought somebody to seeeee you!'
Pippin just about died. He knew what the sister's had in mind. 'Hide me!' he hissed frantically. 'Ten steps ahead of you, my friend. If anybody asks, I was asleep until lunchtime. And you, pal, were out. Quick, the back door's open, and you can grab something from the larder for a late breakfast. They'll give up and go away in about, oh, three hours probably' sighed Merry. Pip wrapped his arms round his friend. He really couldn't face his siblings, not the way he felt now. 'Thanks' He stumbled off down the corridor, not having time to check his reflection in the mirror.
He quickly sniffed round the larder, banging his head on the way in as he invariably did with low roofs. He shoved some pasties, fruit and a flask of cordial in a bag, slung it over his shoulder, stopped, took it off, put in several mushrooms and a few slices of cake (seeing as this may have to last him a long time, and do for second breakfast as well, possibly even elevensies).
He sneaked out the back door, with what would have been a silent exit if he hadn't whopped his head on the lintel again..