C'est Par-dessus

by StarWolf

12/08/2003 -- 6:05 P.M.

Title: C'est Par-dessus

Author: StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)

Rating: G

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Slight Merry/Pippin, if you want to read it that way.

Warnings: None.

Distribution: Please don't put it anywhere that I don't. Namely, I'm only archiving it on Fanfiction.net and my website, so please don't take it.

Disclaimer: We all know they're Tolkien's, not mine.

Summary: Merry remembers.

Authoress' Notes: Just a short story. "C'est par-dessus" is French for "it's over."

Dedication: Happy birthday to Dominic Monaghan.

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Pippin and I used to laugh.

On bright, warm summer days in the ever-green Shire, we'd run and play in the lush meadows and the endless fields of emerald grass. We'd tackle each other and roll around on the dust, dirtying our homespun clothes beyond salvation, and knowing that our mothers would kill us when we returned to our respective homes. Other times we'd climb to the top of a tree and relax in its cool shade, watching the clouds drift by and smirking as Pippin's sisters looked for him. We'd grin knowingly at each other, content with the simple satisfaction that they'd never find us. Inevitably they would (it was all a matter of time, either until they peered through the right clump of foliage, or until one of us got too hungry), but it was all part of the happy-go-lucky routine we'd become so accustomed to.

Pippin and I used to talk.

Under the clear, starlight sky we'd sit on a patch of ground and point at the constellations we recognized, and name a few that we discovered ourselves. Their names would occasionally change, as one of us would undoubtedly forget what they had previously been, but this was a trivial matter. With our arms folded behind our heads, we'd speak of the past, present, and future, and how we'd go on grand adventures when we were older. We looked forward to these things with an anxiety that could not be stifled.

Pippin and I used to battle.

When that grand adventure presented itself unexpectedly, we gladly accompanied our cousin, and though we hadn't realized what the instantaneous agreement would entail, we endured the quest to the end. Through woodland refuges to endless darkness, from seas of green growth to seemingly unscalable mountains, we trekked with the Fellowship of the Ring, and we were a part of it all. We rode horses and fought evil creatures and earned ourselves eternal places of honour, and after unbearable separation, we reunited with each other again. We'd returned to our beloved home, and saw to it that all was right in the world.

Pippin and I used to travel.

After years of peaceful existence, we both felt an urge to wander again, and wander we did. We walked the weary roads that we'd taken so long ago, and we visited old friends and familiar places, as well as meeting new acquaintances and unknown locations. We ventured to Rohan and to Gondor, to Edoras and to Minas Tirith, to Éomer and to Aragorn. Upon reaching our friend the King, we decided to stay for a while.

Pippin and I used to dream.

We'd sit in the moonlight filtering through the trees of Gondor's forests, and again we'd laugh and talk of years past and times gone by, of the things we'd accomplished, and the things we wished we could've done, but wouldn't again have the chance to. We talked of talking trees and laughed about a laughing man living near the Shire, and we'd recall things that we'd thought we'd forgotten. Pippin would point to the stars and laugh softly, and I would tell him stories that we hadn't listened to since the days of our childhood. And he'd lean his head on my shoulder and I would wrap my arm around his, and we'd sigh and fall into a peaceful sleep.

Pippin and I used to live, but now we don't.