When Pippin finally awoke, nothing really clicked in his mind except for
the feeling that if he moved too quickly, his head would explode. Soon
enough, despite the throbbing headache he had, courtesy of his hangover, he
realised three things that were possibly quite important.
1. He was in a strange bed, in a strange room he didn't recognise.
2. He was lying next to Tara.
3. They were both naked.
It was when he realised thing number three that he properly woke up, despite the pain surging through his head, and the strange feeling that not all was good in the world. He realised quickly what had happened, and felt sicker than he already did. Didn't he have morals? Wasn't he supposed to be the only person who DIDN'T do this with Tara? He glanced around the room, looking for his trousers. They were folded up neatly, along with his shirt and vest, on a nearby chair. Well, at least he hadn't been so out of it that he had just thrown his clothes somewhere and let them remain wherever they happened to land. Of course, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. If he hadn't been completely out of it, why had he done this with Tara? Everything was so confusing, and his head was splitting. He wanted to die more than ever. He felt the maiden stir beside him. His first impulse was to get out of the bed, get dressed, and run before she awoke. No such luck. She rolled over and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze upon Pippin - and immediately slipping into her normal mode. "Hey, honey..." she purred. "Have fun last night?" He shook his head quickly, and immediately regretted it. Both hands instantly flew to his head, and he tried to murmur something to the extent of, "Oh sweet mother..." But all that came out was something like, "Dsafbgjadnfbluurek," and a new case of bad breath.
She got to her feet, and smiled, rather charmingly, at Pippin. He tried not to look as she turned to search for her clothes, revealing herself in all her glory. Despite his attempts, it was rather hard to ignore her naked body right in front of him. "I suppose I should take that as a no. I rarely get 'no's when I ask people that. Normally they start drooling and beg for more. You are a hard one to please, aren't you?" She chatted amiably, without any shame regarding her lack of attire, and certainly lacking any tiredness. Clearly, she was not hung over.
As for Pippin, well, he properly covered himself with the blankets and waited for Tara to leave. Finally, he found himself able to speak. "I suppose you just don't know what I like." He replied, attempting to speak defensively, but only succeeding in sounding rather... half-dead, and still holding his head in his hands. "Why does this have to happen to me?" He muttered to himself.
He closed his eyes, but was unable to fall back into his uneasy sleep, due to his splitting headache. When he finally resigned himself to this and opened his eyes, Tara was gone.
*
"Oh, Pippin..." was all that Sam could think to whisper, as he held a hand tightly on Pippin's shoulder and tried to keep his eyes off the sight in front of them. Pippin was again in tears, and much of the local population had turned out to take a look at what had happened. To look at the dead body, the mutilated dead body, of Prince Legolas Greenleaf. Blood poured from the wounds, and disgusting entrails and the like were visible from at least three stab wounds in the stomach. There were whispers of a mass murderer in the area, and a ripple of fear passed through the crowds.
Had Pippin been in a better frame of mind, he might have given thought to the incredibly suspicious (and incriminating, for Aragorn) circumstances of the elf's death. After all, he knew of what Aragorn was capable of. But with his initial shock at the discovery, coupled with the feeling that a whole army of archers had just used his head for target practice erased his mind of anything of the sort. Sam not yet knew of what Aragorn had done.
None of the other Hobbits (and certainly not Gimli) even suspected Aragorn in the slightest. All suspicions of Aragorn's part in the deaths were immediately erased when they saw his reaction to the death, especially coupled with the rumours about them. Knelt by the dead elf's side, clutching the cold hand close to his chest, and trying to hold back tears, was King Aragorn of Gondor. Instead of appearing regal and kingly, he looked smaller, meeker, and more innocent. "Oh Legolas," he held back a sob as he gazed at the blood-covered body. "Mela en' coiamin, Legolas..."
Pippin glanced at Sam, his head still foggy from the splitting headache. "Mela-what, Sam?"
"Mela en' coiamin." Sam repeated the King softly, unable to take his eyes off the tragic scene. "It means something like 'love of my life' - but I'm not entirely sure."
"Love of my life?" The younger Hobbit repeated. "But... they weren't /really/ together, were they?"
At this, Sam spun slowly to look at Pippin, drawing his eyes away from the disgusting sight. "Not really together? Pip, we saw them. They were asleep. Together. And they never leave each other's side. They're constantly defending each other, and the other day, Legolas came pretty close to beating a young Hobbit around the head for insulting Aragorn." Despite himself, Pippin laughed softly, the first time he had laughed in days. Sam paused for a moment, thinking over what he'd just said. "I just described my relationship with Frodo, didn't I?" The younger Hobbit nodded. "Well, okay, it's not proof, but this is. Why else would Aragorn call Legolas 'love of his life'? And if that's not enough evidence for you, we saw them /kiss/. Now, I admit, a lot of the stuff they do is a lot like Frodo and myself. But even the very best of friends don't kiss."
It was the perfect time to tell Sam what had happened. Absolutely perfect. Pippin opened his mouth to explain it to Sam - but then he noticed Aragorn out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face him slowly, and saw a certain look in his eyes that contradicted the rest of appearance. Whilst still weeping over Legolas' untimely death (well, any death is untimely, if you're an elf), and clutching the poor elf's hand to his chest, he looked up, and Pippin saw the murderous glint in his eyes. The great King of Men mouthed four simple words to Pippin, which caused the younger Hobbit to turn and flee from his friend Sam. 'Tell, and you're next.'
Sam watched the retreating figure of his friend. He did not take chase, for he had a feeling he already knew what Pippin was fleeing from - and chasing after him and forcing him to confirm his suspicions was not the best way to find out for sure.
It was when he realised thing number three that he properly woke up, despite the pain surging through his head, and the strange feeling that not all was good in the world. He realised quickly what had happened, and felt sicker than he already did. Didn't he have morals? Wasn't he supposed to be the only person who DIDN'T do this with Tara? He glanced around the room, looking for his trousers. They were folded up neatly, along with his shirt and vest, on a nearby chair. Well, at least he hadn't been so out of it that he had just thrown his clothes somewhere and let them remain wherever they happened to land. Of course, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. If he hadn't been completely out of it, why had he done this with Tara? Everything was so confusing, and his head was splitting. He wanted to die more than ever. He felt the maiden stir beside him. His first impulse was to get out of the bed, get dressed, and run before she awoke. No such luck. She rolled over and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze upon Pippin - and immediately slipping into her normal mode. "Hey, honey..." she purred. "Have fun last night?" He shook his head quickly, and immediately regretted it. Both hands instantly flew to his head, and he tried to murmur something to the extent of, "Oh sweet mother..." But all that came out was something like, "Dsafbgjadnfbluurek," and a new case of bad breath.
She got to her feet, and smiled, rather charmingly, at Pippin. He tried not to look as she turned to search for her clothes, revealing herself in all her glory. Despite his attempts, it was rather hard to ignore her naked body right in front of him. "I suppose I should take that as a no. I rarely get 'no's when I ask people that. Normally they start drooling and beg for more. You are a hard one to please, aren't you?" She chatted amiably, without any shame regarding her lack of attire, and certainly lacking any tiredness. Clearly, she was not hung over.
As for Pippin, well, he properly covered himself with the blankets and waited for Tara to leave. Finally, he found himself able to speak. "I suppose you just don't know what I like." He replied, attempting to speak defensively, but only succeeding in sounding rather... half-dead, and still holding his head in his hands. "Why does this have to happen to me?" He muttered to himself.
He closed his eyes, but was unable to fall back into his uneasy sleep, due to his splitting headache. When he finally resigned himself to this and opened his eyes, Tara was gone.
*
"Oh, Pippin..." was all that Sam could think to whisper, as he held a hand tightly on Pippin's shoulder and tried to keep his eyes off the sight in front of them. Pippin was again in tears, and much of the local population had turned out to take a look at what had happened. To look at the dead body, the mutilated dead body, of Prince Legolas Greenleaf. Blood poured from the wounds, and disgusting entrails and the like were visible from at least three stab wounds in the stomach. There were whispers of a mass murderer in the area, and a ripple of fear passed through the crowds.
Had Pippin been in a better frame of mind, he might have given thought to the incredibly suspicious (and incriminating, for Aragorn) circumstances of the elf's death. After all, he knew of what Aragorn was capable of. But with his initial shock at the discovery, coupled with the feeling that a whole army of archers had just used his head for target practice erased his mind of anything of the sort. Sam not yet knew of what Aragorn had done.
None of the other Hobbits (and certainly not Gimli) even suspected Aragorn in the slightest. All suspicions of Aragorn's part in the deaths were immediately erased when they saw his reaction to the death, especially coupled with the rumours about them. Knelt by the dead elf's side, clutching the cold hand close to his chest, and trying to hold back tears, was King Aragorn of Gondor. Instead of appearing regal and kingly, he looked smaller, meeker, and more innocent. "Oh Legolas," he held back a sob as he gazed at the blood-covered body. "Mela en' coiamin, Legolas..."
Pippin glanced at Sam, his head still foggy from the splitting headache. "Mela-what, Sam?"
"Mela en' coiamin." Sam repeated the King softly, unable to take his eyes off the tragic scene. "It means something like 'love of my life' - but I'm not entirely sure."
"Love of my life?" The younger Hobbit repeated. "But... they weren't /really/ together, were they?"
At this, Sam spun slowly to look at Pippin, drawing his eyes away from the disgusting sight. "Not really together? Pip, we saw them. They were asleep. Together. And they never leave each other's side. They're constantly defending each other, and the other day, Legolas came pretty close to beating a young Hobbit around the head for insulting Aragorn." Despite himself, Pippin laughed softly, the first time he had laughed in days. Sam paused for a moment, thinking over what he'd just said. "I just described my relationship with Frodo, didn't I?" The younger Hobbit nodded. "Well, okay, it's not proof, but this is. Why else would Aragorn call Legolas 'love of his life'? And if that's not enough evidence for you, we saw them /kiss/. Now, I admit, a lot of the stuff they do is a lot like Frodo and myself. But even the very best of friends don't kiss."
It was the perfect time to tell Sam what had happened. Absolutely perfect. Pippin opened his mouth to explain it to Sam - but then he noticed Aragorn out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face him slowly, and saw a certain look in his eyes that contradicted the rest of appearance. Whilst still weeping over Legolas' untimely death (well, any death is untimely, if you're an elf), and clutching the poor elf's hand to his chest, he looked up, and Pippin saw the murderous glint in his eyes. The great King of Men mouthed four simple words to Pippin, which caused the younger Hobbit to turn and flee from his friend Sam. 'Tell, and you're next.'
Sam watched the retreating figure of his friend. He did not take chase, for he had a feeling he already knew what Pippin was fleeing from - and chasing after him and forcing him to confirm his suspicions was not the best way to find out for sure.