There for You
In a small hobbit hole in Crickhollow a door creaked slightly as a hobbit entered the dimly lit room. In the corner a fire was burning down to ash and a draft could be felt on his bare hobbit feet. He picked up the fire poker and tried to make the coals burn bright again, but managed little more than a slight crackle as a log was nudged and fell to the base of the hearth. It was early in the morning and his keen hobbit sense had abandoned him to be replaced with shear exhaustion. "To early for any sensible hobbit to be up and about," he muttered.
Merry hadn't risen of his own accord though. There had been a shriek that had cut into his sleep like a blade. At first he'd thought of a burglar, but then he remembered Pippin's dreams. Years had passed since the days of the quest, but even now, Pippin woke often from fits of nightmares. With all that he had been through and all the courage he had gained, it was hard to believe that he could still be affected so greatly by a dream. He would whimper and moan, waiting for Merry to wake in the next room and come to him, too ashamed to just call out.
Merry walked to the bed where Pippin lay nestled in a ball of blankets he had created by tossing and turning as he always did. Everything about the young hobbit looked peaceful, except his face. It was contorted into a look of strained fear and discomfort. He kicked again, and this time let out a little yelp as though he'd been kicked back.
"Pip," Merry whispered. He got no response, so he laid a gentle hand on his friend's brow and smoothed back the sweaty curls. "Pippin, wake up." Ever so faintly, he prodded his cousin in the side, just enough to nudge him into consciousness. Pippin's eyes shot open and his hands flew up to grip Merry's nightshirt. Merry fell awkwardly forward and landed on the bed beside Pippin, only to be pulled up again and held even tighter by his young cousin. "You're alright," he managed to say as he wrapped a protective arm around his the hobbit and allowed him to crawl into his lap. Pippin hadn't done that since many years before the quest, when he was still a pre-tween, but even now their forms melded together perfectly and it still felt natural. Pippin let his tears come then as he clutched Merry's rounded hobbit form and drew in deep, shuddering breaths while he hid his face in the chest of his companion. "What's this about?" Merry asked comfortingly.
Pippin shook his head and said quietly, "Nothing," but stifled another sob as he buried his head further still into Merry. This was to be expected. Growing up, the heir to the Thain had always been taught to keep his emotions to himself, bottled up and not to let them out as his sisters were so frequently allowed to do. Merry smiled and pressed a kiss into the weeping hobbit's matted mess of curls. For a future Thain, Pip still showed every sign of the youngest in a spoiled bunch. At almost 50, the Took still called on his mother for anything that confused him or caused him anguish, and if she couldn't mend it, it was up to Merry.
"Alright, keep your secrets then. I'm here if you want to talk," Merry said kindly, and shifted his weight so he and Pippin could lean back against the fluffed feather pillows.
As he closed his eyes sleep began to descend upon him. He felt Pippin's warm figure curl into him and realized he was still shaking. He tightened his grip around the bundle that was his cousin and began to sing him a soothing song. He was cut off though when a muffled voice from somewhere around his armpit whispered, "You died."
"What?" he questioned Pippin as he blinked back sleep to hear of his friend's dream. "What about me dying?"
Pippin sat up and looked into Merry's face, scrubbing away the wetness that had formed around the base of his bright green eyes with a trembling hand. His lip quivered and he repeated himself. "You died, in the dream. I was all alone," he sniffled again and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Ahhh… I see," Merry tentatively put a hand to Pippin's cheek and when Pippin didn't turn away he caressed it. "Cousin, I'm not going anywhere. You've nothing to worry about." Pippin closed his eyes and put his hand over Merry's. Merry looked at his cousin in the dim morning light. Lines had crept up along the sides of Pippin's face, and maturity and wisdom had been etched into his skin. He wasn't the young Took that Merry remembered. Even now, curled up in Merry's lap, Pippin was older and less innocent than he had been in the days before the quest. It pained Merry to remember how unfairly Pippin's youth had been ripped away from him. Now, he stared at an adult hobbit as the early stretches of dawn shone through the window onto the bed. He felt his own tears well up in his eyes and he closed them tightly to hold his emotions in.
"Merry?" he opened his eyes again and looked into Pippin's.
"Hm?"
"Why are you crying?" Pippin looked at him for a long time. Merry could feel the silence mounting. He saw a look of concern in Pippin's face as the younger hobbit forgot his own nightmare and focused his apprehension on his older cousin. Merry felt hot breath on his face as Pippin looked closely at him, as if trying to see hidden words in his eyes, revealing his thoughts. It was a strange sensation. With anyone else, Merry would have felt violated if watched that closely, but there was something sweet and sincere about Pippin's gaze, and it calmed him.
Pippin's lip trembled again, but this time not in an attempt to restrain tears. He looked as if he wanted something from Merry. The silence intensified and Merry found Pippin's face coming closer and closer to his own. There was a moment of tension as Pippin waited for Merry to push him away. When it didn't come Pippin let his lips brush ever so slightly against Merry's and Merry responded by moving his hands to Pippin's waste and pulling him closer, bridging the last gap of air between them and allowing their bodies to mesh completely, with the exception of two thin layers of cloth. Pippin's hands moved to the back of Merry's head and he deepened the kiss. Pippin tasted like The Shire, mingled with salty sweat and bath oil from yesterday's wash.
Merry didn't know how it had all transpired. Pippin was his youngest cousin, his best friend, and the most important aspect of his life, besides air. How had this come to be? The younger hobbit opened his mouth modestly and let his tongue dart out just enough to moisten Merry's lips, and then he closed it again. Tease. Merry thought, and let his own lips part. It was all the segue Pippin needed as he plunged in, letting his tongue tangle with Merry's and exploring the deepest regions of his love's mouth. A moan escaped the depths of Merry's throat, and he could feel a smile form on Pippin's face. More precious than air, he thought, and held Pippin tighter still against him.
When they pulled back for breath Pippin looked deep into Merry's eyes and smiled. "You're very much alive," he said, and nuzzled his face against Merry's neck, "and I'm not afraid anymore." Together the hobbits nestled into the mass of blankets and wrapped themselves together. As daylight began to dapple the dewy morning grass, two hobbits fell into a sound and happy sleep, tucked away in a small hobbit hole in Crickhollow.
In a small hobbit hole in Crickhollow a door creaked slightly as a hobbit entered the dimly lit room. In the corner a fire was burning down to ash and a draft could be felt on his bare hobbit feet. He picked up the fire poker and tried to make the coals burn bright again, but managed little more than a slight crackle as a log was nudged and fell to the base of the hearth. It was early in the morning and his keen hobbit sense had abandoned him to be replaced with shear exhaustion. "To early for any sensible hobbit to be up and about," he muttered.
Merry hadn't risen of his own accord though. There had been a shriek that had cut into his sleep like a blade. At first he'd thought of a burglar, but then he remembered Pippin's dreams. Years had passed since the days of the quest, but even now, Pippin woke often from fits of nightmares. With all that he had been through and all the courage he had gained, it was hard to believe that he could still be affected so greatly by a dream. He would whimper and moan, waiting for Merry to wake in the next room and come to him, too ashamed to just call out.
Merry walked to the bed where Pippin lay nestled in a ball of blankets he had created by tossing and turning as he always did. Everything about the young hobbit looked peaceful, except his face. It was contorted into a look of strained fear and discomfort. He kicked again, and this time let out a little yelp as though he'd been kicked back.
"Pip," Merry whispered. He got no response, so he laid a gentle hand on his friend's brow and smoothed back the sweaty curls. "Pippin, wake up." Ever so faintly, he prodded his cousin in the side, just enough to nudge him into consciousness. Pippin's eyes shot open and his hands flew up to grip Merry's nightshirt. Merry fell awkwardly forward and landed on the bed beside Pippin, only to be pulled up again and held even tighter by his young cousin. "You're alright," he managed to say as he wrapped a protective arm around his the hobbit and allowed him to crawl into his lap. Pippin hadn't done that since many years before the quest, when he was still a pre-tween, but even now their forms melded together perfectly and it still felt natural. Pippin let his tears come then as he clutched Merry's rounded hobbit form and drew in deep, shuddering breaths while he hid his face in the chest of his companion. "What's this about?" Merry asked comfortingly.
Pippin shook his head and said quietly, "Nothing," but stifled another sob as he buried his head further still into Merry. This was to be expected. Growing up, the heir to the Thain had always been taught to keep his emotions to himself, bottled up and not to let them out as his sisters were so frequently allowed to do. Merry smiled and pressed a kiss into the weeping hobbit's matted mess of curls. For a future Thain, Pip still showed every sign of the youngest in a spoiled bunch. At almost 50, the Took still called on his mother for anything that confused him or caused him anguish, and if she couldn't mend it, it was up to Merry.
"Alright, keep your secrets then. I'm here if you want to talk," Merry said kindly, and shifted his weight so he and Pippin could lean back against the fluffed feather pillows.
As he closed his eyes sleep began to descend upon him. He felt Pippin's warm figure curl into him and realized he was still shaking. He tightened his grip around the bundle that was his cousin and began to sing him a soothing song. He was cut off though when a muffled voice from somewhere around his armpit whispered, "You died."
"What?" he questioned Pippin as he blinked back sleep to hear of his friend's dream. "What about me dying?"
Pippin sat up and looked into Merry's face, scrubbing away the wetness that had formed around the base of his bright green eyes with a trembling hand. His lip quivered and he repeated himself. "You died, in the dream. I was all alone," he sniffled again and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Ahhh… I see," Merry tentatively put a hand to Pippin's cheek and when Pippin didn't turn away he caressed it. "Cousin, I'm not going anywhere. You've nothing to worry about." Pippin closed his eyes and put his hand over Merry's. Merry looked at his cousin in the dim morning light. Lines had crept up along the sides of Pippin's face, and maturity and wisdom had been etched into his skin. He wasn't the young Took that Merry remembered. Even now, curled up in Merry's lap, Pippin was older and less innocent than he had been in the days before the quest. It pained Merry to remember how unfairly Pippin's youth had been ripped away from him. Now, he stared at an adult hobbit as the early stretches of dawn shone through the window onto the bed. He felt his own tears well up in his eyes and he closed them tightly to hold his emotions in.
"Merry?" he opened his eyes again and looked into Pippin's.
"Hm?"
"Why are you crying?" Pippin looked at him for a long time. Merry could feel the silence mounting. He saw a look of concern in Pippin's face as the younger hobbit forgot his own nightmare and focused his apprehension on his older cousin. Merry felt hot breath on his face as Pippin looked closely at him, as if trying to see hidden words in his eyes, revealing his thoughts. It was a strange sensation. With anyone else, Merry would have felt violated if watched that closely, but there was something sweet and sincere about Pippin's gaze, and it calmed him.
Pippin's lip trembled again, but this time not in an attempt to restrain tears. He looked as if he wanted something from Merry. The silence intensified and Merry found Pippin's face coming closer and closer to his own. There was a moment of tension as Pippin waited for Merry to push him away. When it didn't come Pippin let his lips brush ever so slightly against Merry's and Merry responded by moving his hands to Pippin's waste and pulling him closer, bridging the last gap of air between them and allowing their bodies to mesh completely, with the exception of two thin layers of cloth. Pippin's hands moved to the back of Merry's head and he deepened the kiss. Pippin tasted like The Shire, mingled with salty sweat and bath oil from yesterday's wash.
Merry didn't know how it had all transpired. Pippin was his youngest cousin, his best friend, and the most important aspect of his life, besides air. How had this come to be? The younger hobbit opened his mouth modestly and let his tongue dart out just enough to moisten Merry's lips, and then he closed it again. Tease. Merry thought, and let his own lips part. It was all the segue Pippin needed as he plunged in, letting his tongue tangle with Merry's and exploring the deepest regions of his love's mouth. A moan escaped the depths of Merry's throat, and he could feel a smile form on Pippin's face. More precious than air, he thought, and held Pippin tighter still against him.
When they pulled back for breath Pippin looked deep into Merry's eyes and smiled. "You're very much alive," he said, and nuzzled his face against Merry's neck, "and I'm not afraid anymore." Together the hobbits nestled into the mass of blankets and wrapped themselves together. As daylight began to dapple the dewy morning grass, two hobbits fell into a sound and happy sleep, tucked away in a small hobbit hole in Crickhollow.