a/n: this is like…the Return of the Becky! Yes, this very well may be the last installment of A Cheap Shot. I hope you all enjoy is as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Thank you all for your kind reviews and encouragement. And especially for giving me a chance to work with these two characters. I love you all! Happy Thanksgiving!
To the Bottle
Though mostly silence and quiet words had taken the remaining Fellowship for the past few days, Gimli could think only of the Lady Galadriel and Peregrin Took was not helping the situation. Gimli had seen the Lady once in the four days they had been there, but the brief glance he had received of her eyes was still etched into his heart, and her voice repeated itself over and over in his mind.
"Gimli, are you not hungry?" Legolas' voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up under heavy brows at the Elf. "The Lady's maidens have brought food to us…will you not eat with the Company?" Gimli grunted and gestured to a few meters in front of him where Pippin had acquired a white silk veil and wrapped it about himself, fluttering his eyelashes at Gimli every now and then in mockery over the Dwarf's feelings toward the Lady of the Wood. Legolas looked over at the hobbit and exhaled sharply through his nose. "I should have known."
"Just mention the word 'dinner' and it may stop him for now." Gimli rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. Legolas pursed his lips and frowned, unsure how to react to the hobbit, but he straightened himself and nodded.
"Right. Well…Gimli, let us go eat dinner…" the last few words were spoken in a louder tone, and Pippin's attention had been hooked and reeled in. A blur of white silk and dirty blond curls dashed past them and sailed over the table to under the pavilion some distance away. Legolas shook his head waited for Gimli to stand. "Have you yet toured the wood yet, Gimli?"
"Nay, I've been deep in thought."
"Then that will be tonight's plans. You must see the rest of the wood."
"If I could focus long enough I would be honored, Master Elf." Gimli pulled himself heavily to his feet and began to follow the Elf. When they passed Gimli's makeshift bed area the Dwarf paused. "Oh, Legolas, may I ask you for a favor?"
"What is it, Gimli?"
"Last night I took the liberty of making a brew from my homeland…I prepared it for a toast to Gandalf's memory we might have tomorrow night, would you be so good as to sample it for me?" The Dwarf's rough voice sounded sincere enough, and as Legolas' new good friend he trusted the Elf's opinion. "Before we got to dinner?"
Legolas hesitated, and then shrugged one of his shoulders, delicately moving his long wheat hair behind his back absently. "Dwarvish beer?"
"Yes."
"Well, I suppose so. Why not?" he followed the Dwarf into the grove of trees, and Gimli pulled a bottle with a smooth ale gleaming inside of it in the pale forest light. He poured a bit of it into a cup from his supplies and offered it to the Elf, who accepted it slowly, sniffed it, then sipped it. His face lit up. "I had always thought Dwarvish beer to be coarse…this is quite good, Gimli."
"Thank you, Legolas."
Pippin darted between Legolas and Gimli from the pavilion. "Will you two hurry up? Aragorn refuses to eat without you – " a low, menacing rumble came from his middle, and he scowled at the two of them. "You see? I'm going to starve!"
Gimli frowned. "Of course, Master Took. Come, Legolas, he's going to starve." Legolas silently followed with a wry grin on his pale lips. The hobbit was the first to sit down at the table, and seconds later the other three accumulated with a speed nearly quicker than even an Elf's eye.
With Aragorn and the others already at the table Pippin felt compelled to apologize for his two late friends before shoving a forkful of something light and fluffy into his mouth, but knew it would only earn him a smack from Gimli and probably a wallop from Boromir.
"I was talking to that Haldir fellow," Merry said pleasantly in the seat next to Aragorn, who towered over him even when seated in the delicate elven chairs under the pavilion. "Taught me how to throw a ladder up a meter into a tree in less than the time it takes for one of you,' he looked around the table as if he himself were the Captain of Lorien and the rest of them were mere mortals. "…To blink six times."
Legolas nodded with awe, not horribly impressed – but Merry, whom he had come close to in the past months, as he had with the rest of the company, was a hobbit and to get a hobbit anywhere near a tree was accomplishing much.
"Haldir has always been one of great skill, in words as well as with the ways of scouting and fighting." Was all Aragorn had to say to that, and he chewed his food quietly, content to gaze distantly past Boromir's head. The Lady's words had taken the taller folk of the company into a worrisome world – Boromir was uneasy, Gimli was madly in love, and Legolas still grieved for Mithrandir.
"Did he let you touch his bow?"
"Yes, Pip…he had to help me hold it up at first," Merry laughed. "Even a light elvish bow is too heavy for a hobbit."
"But you held it, didn't you?"
"Yes, Pippin, I told you! I was able to hold it after a while."
"It is beautiful here," Frodo commented quietly from beside Samwise. He looked to his plate. "I feel…at peace, for now."
"I do not." Boromir growled, elbows on the table top with his hands folded loosely near his chest, his dinner forgotten. Forgotten by him, not by Pippin.
"Boromir?"
"What?"
"Are you going to finish – "?
"No."
Pippin quickly pulled the man's plate over to his space of table and turned it on its side, emptying the contents onto his own plate. Aragorn would have laughed at the Took's selfish hording any other day, but he could not think of that now. He turned grey eyes to Boromir.
"Are you not hungry?"
"I cannot think of food." The captain replied, running gloved hands wearily through his hair and giving an exasperated sigh.
"Neither can I," Gimli replied gruffly, bearded chin on his palm. "Only one force occupies my mind."
"Does that force happen to wear white robes, has endless pale eyes and has a tendency to use its feminine beauty to petrify one senseless?" Aragorn asked playfully, eyes still drawn to his plate and his fork fighting with a potato slice. Gimli laughed this time, heartily.
"Nay, not Legolas."
Legolas dropped his fork to his plate with a loud, sharp clamor and looked up rather indignantly while the company, even the distressed and weary, broke down in peals of heavy laughter. It drew the attention of several maidens and walked in song nearby, and a few other Elves glanced over to see what the noise was about. Legolas' mouth gaped open in a combination of confusion and insult. Gimli slapped a hand heavily onto the Elf's shoulder.
"Forgive my torment, Master Elf!" he choked, and the company was still nearly asphyxiating themselves with laughter. Legolas accepted the apology but did not laugh, and finally the men and hobbits settled down and once again poked at their food with their forks (with the acceptation of the Hobbits, who scarfed their food down as well as the food of the members with no appetite).
A few minutes after the dangerous encounter with Dwarvish humor Haldir approached the table, looking somewhat diplomatic, as if expecting to have to make peace with these howling travelers. Merry, however, swallowed his food immediately and smiled broadly.
"Haldir!"
"Master Brandybuck." Haldir gave a small inclination of his head and smiled. "It is good to see you again. I was wondering if I could steal you from your company once more? You still owe me the story of the four nights you spent in Farmer Maggot's cornfield." Haldir and Merry shared a brief, light laugh, and the Elf looked upon the other members of the company. "I trust you are all well?"
"We are, thank you Haldir." Aragorn replied, and a few affirmative grunts followed from the others. "Meriadoc here tells us you have been training him in the art of climbing trees."
"Aye, it is true." Haldir looked behind him for a moment, then back to Merry. "Would you join me, Meriadoc?"
"Gladly." Merry stood and waved to the company, who in turn gave half-hearted goodbyes as he ran to catch up with Haldir, who already was walking down the path to where he and his company set temporary post. Pippin also pushed his chair from the table and stood, yawning.
"That was delicious." he looked around. "I could use a walk."
"Go on, then, enjoy yourself." Boromir told the Halfling, getting up as well. "I am going to rest…I have not slept in many nights."
"See that you do rest, Boromir." Aragorn said to him as he walked around the table and back to the pavilion that held their small camp. "You look weary." Boromir said nothing, just stretched out on the bedroll, folded his hands over his chest, and closed his eyes.
"What a dullwit," Pippin muttered, disappointed that his friend would rather sleep than go have fun in the woods with him. He waved to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, and moved over to the pavilion where Boromir slept, crouching by his prone body and waving a hand over his closed eyes. "Boromir," he whispered.
The Captain's brows furrowed, but his eyes did not open. "What?"
"Let's go with Merry and Haldir."
"I am exhausted." Boromir snapped. "Leave me be."
"Well we don't have to be with Merry and Haldir…"
One eye opened. "Took…"
"We could go talk to those pretty Elvish maids…I saw them give you a second glance…"
"Go away."
"Of course that was after they couldn't tear their eyes off a handsome lad like me. Don't know why they'd even look at you, you're dirty and scruffy and you growl a lot – "
"Let me sleep!" Boromir suddenly roared, coming instantly to a sitting position and drawing his sword from it's sheath in one smooth motion that made Pippin squeak and duck for cover, and made Aragorn and the two other Fellowship members turn and see what was happening. Aragorn exhaled sharply.
"Pippin…"
"Sorry." The Hobbit gave a nervous grin and, while he for once stood taller than Boromir, reached down to ruffle the Captain's hair as was done to him over and over. "Go to sleep, Boromir, I won't bother you." Boromir grumbled and settled back down while the Hobbit retreated further under the pavilion. He wanted to find something to do, desperately, because he was so horribly bored. Pippin moved around the large pavilion.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the camp area boredly, once again thinking back to the old days in the Shire when Gandalf would knock him on the head with that comfortingly heavy staff of his and then sitting him down to tell him stories of Elves and of Men… Pippin's gaze wandered over to Gimli's bed area, and his eyes widened.
Something glinted in the ethereal light of Lorien that filtered down from the gaps in the trees.
A bottle.
A bottle with something smooth and light brown.
Pippin smiled. He could depict a bottle of liquor from a mile away. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Gimli and Aragorn were being led away by Legolas and a few other elves on their official tour of the Golden Wood. Good. That would keep them busy. The Halfling dashed over to Gimli's area and pulled the white softness up and curled his little fingers around the cold neck of the bottle, slipping it under his jacket and moving away from the site.
He ran past the large tree where Haldir and Merry had stopped their drills and were now sitting side by side on a thick branch, talking and laughing about various things. The hobbit had really bonded with the Elf for some reason since they arrived, but Pippin could not concentrate on such things. Ale called him.
The hobbit dived behind one of the large trees and pressed his back against it, let out a deep sigh, and removed the bottle from under his shirt. Surely Gimli would not mind a taste. He pulled the cork out and tilted his head back, taking a little sip. Then another. And another. It was quite good, this Dwarvish beer.
Half an hour later, the bottle was empty.
And Peregrin Took was drunk. He got to his feet, smiled, feeling very warm and very relaxed. Unfortunately he had filled his stomach with brew and with elvish food, so the bottle would not longer stay under his shirt without being noticed. So he unbuttoned his pants and shoved it down the front of them, looking down to see if it was easy to see. No, just a little bulge. He put one foot in front of the other and walked forward, back to the camp.
It was still empty, save for Boromir.
Good thing Gimliss s'not here… he thought to himself, and could not help but smile again and again. He even laughed. He'd cut me in two…or s'three…or… his thoughts wandered, and he looked to Boromir, who looked like he was finally resting peacefully. Pippin moseyed over and plopped down onto Boromir's front, and the man's eyes flew open and he gave an undignified 'OOF!' . Pippin laughed.
"Peregrin Took, that's the last straw –" Boromir gave another sharp cry and tensed up, speaking through a tight throat as if pain itself denied him speech. "Pippin…off."
"Wha –?"
"Can't breathe…"
"Oh." Pippin rolled off and Boromir narrowed his eyes at the bulge in Pippin's pants. He went completely deadpanned.
"Pippin. What do you have in your pants?"
"Oh…s'it's a bottle and uh, can't tell anyone…"
Boromir recognized a strong scent around the Hobbit, and inwardly cringed. He reached out and yanked Pip closer by the collar of his shirt, and hesitantly reached into his pants and pulled the bottle out, looking at it from under furrowed brows.
"What is this?"
"Gimli's! Hide it, he'll cut me in half!" Pippin laughed when he said the words, and Boromir knew that Pippin was in big trouble. And Gimli was walking back. The heir of Denethor panicked and shoved the bottle under his pillow, and pulled the Took behind the tree he had slept against. He held a gloved finger before Pippin's pale little face and said quietly,
"Now you be quiet. Don't say anything and maybe they won't suspect you."
Pippin laughed and reached up, grabbing Boromir's light brown hair in both hands on either side of his head and yanked him down. He was now hysterical, and cried, "You look like a puppy dog!" Boromir snarled at the hobbit and pulled back but the result was a hobbit hanging from his head, and he caught the little fellow's fists in his own, completely enveloping them in his gloved hands.
"Pippin, be quiet!"
"Huhehehuhuh…" he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close, so that his sweet ale breath was hot on Boromir's cheek. "I have a secrete to tell you…"
"What?"
"You can't fence! You're terrible at it!" he laughed and pulled away from Boromir, scrambling away but not fast enough to avoid Boromir's great arms scooping him up and smothering any sounds he made with a large gloved hand cupped over his little face.
"I can too fence," he grumbled as he crouched behind the tree with the hobbit. Boromir of Gondor had yet again found himself entangled in a web of the Took's mischief.
to be continued…