Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters or the world in which they live. Tolkien owns such.
A/N: The following tale sort of came out on its own, a manifestation of many things we deal with today. I realize that some of the story may be hard to follow or not make sense at some parts. You needn't comment on this (or you may if you like) but I wanted to point out that life is like that. Many things that happen make the least bit of sense and have nothing to offer us later, they just are.
A tale of friendship and dark paths.
Being the Second Part of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
Old Wounds
Boromir the Man glanced distastefully at the small Hobbit that twitched and squirmed beside him. A small fire had been built thanks to the Man (though he would acknowledge the two youngest Hobbits' contributions to the blaze) and its warm tendrils wrapped soothingly around Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Hobbit alike. The Fellowship rested contently and somewhat more comfortably than one would think was possible on such a mission as they had taken. The night was cool but not uncomfortably so and Boromir relished the crispness that it held. He loved nights like these--it brought him back to the walls of Minas Tirith. The Man's slight sigh of sorrow was cut off as a sharp elbow caught him in the thigh. He glared down at the halfling.
"Sorry," Pippin whispered sheepishly. Beside him, his cousin chided him.
"Aren't you tired, Pip?" Merry asked drowsily, nearly beyond the waking world. "Go to sleep."
Peregrin glanced at his cousin; then wriggled down into his thin blanket, cast it aside, pulled himself to a sitting position, and feeling the sharp gaze of the Man on him, looked up at Boromir.
"Is something the matter?" the Man inquired, slightly amused and slightly irritated. The Hobbit was worse than a child.
Pippin shrugged. "Rocks," he said. Quiet snores came suddenly and Pippin glanced sharply at Merry beside him. The older Hobbit slept soundly.
Across the way and unnaturally far from his younger cousins, Frodo smiled a quiet smile. "Come now, Pip," he said cheerfully, "Your always asleep on your feet. Why is tonight so different?"
Gimli, seated firmly against an old weathered stone, shifted slightly. "Perhaps the lad needs a stiff drink?" and he pulled from his pack the wineskin. Pippin, eyes suddenly bright and eager, sat up. Boromir saw the eldest hobbit's gaze darken and fall accusingly on the youngest.
"Pippin," Frodo said sternly and immediately Peregrin seemed to recall his cousin. His face flushed bright and he hunched low in his blankets. Wide, innocent eyes fell on Frodo.
"Yes, Cousin?" Pippin ventured timidly. His delicate fingers entwined nervously in the fabric of his cloak.
Frodo's frown deepened. "May I have a word with you, please?" Pippin glanced at Gimli but found the Dwarf had taken a sudden interest in the glistening stars overhead. Finding no help there, the young Hobbit looked to the Man. Boromir sniffed, rubbed his chin and rose ungraciously to his feet. Perhaps Aragorn was in need of his assistance on watch.
Now completely abandoned and knowing he'd find no help in Merry, even had his cousin been awake, Pippin slowly rose and made his way around the fire to Frodo. Sam snored softly beside his master and was, for once, honestly asleep. Pippin wished desperately that his cousin might turn aside, if for just a moment, so that he might kick the sleeping Sam. The young Took was in need of anyone's help--even his cousin's servant.
Pippin came before the seated Frodo, deciding that his best bet would be to feign ignorance. He was good at that.
"What seems to be the trouble?" he asked lightly, his eyes falling upon anything but the deep ocean of his cousin's gaze.
"I could ask you the same thing," Frodo returned, his words clipped.
'He's disappointed,' Pippin realized sadly. 'I didn't mean to, honest. Cousin Frodo must know this.' Slowly, Pippin's gaze locked with that of his cousin's and the youngsters nonchalant air melted, as does the snow from the summer sun.
"All I had was a sip," Pippin cried, the guilt slamming into him full force. He fell helplessly to the ground, tired and in a sense, exhausted. "You cannot begrudge me this, Frodo. Not when I've done so well!"
"One sip, Pippin, one sip?" Frodo repeated, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. "Try five glasses at Lord Elrond's dinner. Try two more after the rest of us went to bed." Pippin's eyes widened in shock. "And what of the night we left Crickhollow, Pip, what of then? Did you only have one sip?"
"I--no, I . . ." Pippin stuttered, horrified.
"Did you think I was so blind, Little Cousin," Frodo demanded, anger thick in his soft voice. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? There is a reason why you cannot drink, Pip, there is!"
His voice had risen much louder than usual, causing those who were not already aware of the Ringbearer's displeasure to peer curiously over at the two halflings. Sam was awakened from his deep slumber but, seeing his master's face, immediately curled up and pretended to sleep. Merry, however, did not fall into pretense, for once Frodo's harsh words roused him he looked from cousin to cousin in evident confusion.
Neither Pippin nor Frodo noticed any of this. "I will not see my youngest cousin lying on the floor again, drunk beyond this mortal realm," Frodo gritted. Tears were in his eyes and he damned them. "I will not!"
The young Hobbit shook himself, torn between guilt and that ever-present urge to defend himself. "It was a one time thing, Cousin," he tried to sooth. "An accident. I had not meant to take it that far and I do not mean to again. It's just . . ." He frowned and looked hard at his elder. "You cannot take this from me, Frodo, you can't."
"Why can't I, Pippin?" Frodo whispered. "Is it because you depend so wholly upon it? That night--" Frodo swallowed and his face contorted in pain. He shivered and then suddenly was calm. He looked at his young cousin and said evenly, "Do not let it happen again, Peregrin. Do you hear me? You will not touch an ounce of it. Not one sip; not one gulp. Not anything."
Pippin froze, looked at his cousin and saw such conviction in his gaze that it frightened him. He gulped but did not back down; it was not in the Took's nature to do so. "You cannot make me, Cousin," he said softly and Frodo's eyes widened. Down in his bedroll, Samwise twitched.
"Peregrin Took," Merry snapped, jumping to his feet and coming around the campfire. "You will respect your elders."
Pippin jumped and for the first time seemed to note that the rest of the Fellowship was present. He scrambled to his feet. "Merry," he began, breathless, but he was cut short.
"Just because we are miles from home does not give you the right to disregard Cousin Frodo. For all intents and purposes he is your father--"
"Merry," Frodo cautioned, seeing Pippin flush in humiliation. He got unsteadily to his feet.
Meriadoc shook his head firmly. "No, Frodo, you are right and Pippin needs to understand." He turned back to his younger cousin. "Your mother and father charged us with your safety, Pippin, and how would it look if we returned home without their son. 'No, Auntie Eglantine, it wasn't the wild orcs that got him it was the ale. Finally took him, it did.' A fine tale that would make, I'm sure Diamond would be right proud of you--"
"Merry!" Frodo hissed, shocked. "Enough. We will speak no more of it." Without a second glance, Frodo turned to Pippin. The youngest Hobbit shook uncontrollably; his eyes on Merry were filled with such rage Frodo wondered that he did not attack the Brandybuck. "Pippin," Frodo said softly but Peregrin did not hear him. "Pippin," he said again.
Slowly, Pippin's eyes shifted and, his breath coming harsh, he looked to his older cousin. "Go to bed, Pip," Frodo said. Pippin stared at him for many moments, uncomprehending, then he blinked and without meeting anyone's gaze he stumbled to his thin bedroll and curled up within its depths. Peregrin did not sleep that night.
Merry heaved a ragged sigh and collapsed, nearly within the crackling fire. His head in his hands, he began to sob. "I did not see . . . how could I not see . . ."
Frodo, his eyes still on the youngest of his kin, swayed slightly but caught himself upon a gnarled old tree trunk. Without a word, his hand crept up to his throat where he desperately grasped the small golden band and was comforted.
~*~