Liquor Leaf and Ladies - Kesselia Banta
Part 4 - Merry
Merry will never rank higher than second best but that's good enough. He's ready to fight the good fight to have her, even if it means sacrificing his bond with Frodo, Sam and Pippin. Now, every ounce of good luck the four ever had is thoroughly spent. Enter Kristana: a tough woman in a tough spot who is reluctant to hand over the pants-in-the-family title over to a customer.
Wagging Tails
Broken Bag End
Saving Merry
The Full Monty
Bad News
Merry's Midnight Bottle
Another Man's Wife
In The Doghouse
Summer Storms
Winter Freezes
Spring Can't Thaw
Autumn Can't Stay
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The moment he woke up, he rolled to his side, scooped her up in his arms, and started kissing her skin. She purred like a kitten to wake up to the affection, but she had good reasons to push him off.
He didn't go so easily. His hands started groping again; trying to find the places he'd left off at the night before. It made her body slide hungrily under his palms, despite the deepness of her tone. "Stop," she told him, but she was grinning.
He stopped, sighed, and looked her in the eyes with a wonton pout.
She laughed softly at him, wanting him, in love with him, and wishing just as passionately that all the rules and chores and expectations would simply vanish so they could stay and bed and play. But then it was so much fun to watch him squirm too. Dark blue eyes glittered at him. "No."
He grumbled playfully and cussed under his breath as he climbed out of bed.
"But you can tonight," she offered smoothly.
"You'd say anything just to keep me squirming all day," he bitched.
Her smile was white and big. "Whatever it takes to get you to come back."
He soaked that up into his heart as watched his own fingers button up his shirt. "What if I'd rather come back for a different reason?"
She was quiet for a moment, either not willing or not able to answer him aloud.
His eyes glanced up to peak at the emotion in her eyes and Meriadoc smiled at what he saw.
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Wagging Tails
It was going to be a big and busy day, so second breakfast, the larger morning meal of the two, was at Frodo's house. Lauren cooked and talked with Rose, Bailey, and Elanor as each arrived with their escorts. They talked of things the men really didn't care about, and the men they talked of things that the women didn't immediately understand.
Sam stepped into the kitchen with a bold strut and a bright, refreshed smile on his face, "Top of the morning, Frodo!"
Frodo had a twitching smile on his mouth. "G'mornin'.
Merry strutted in next, looking well-slept and alive. He took in Frodo's expression and smiled loudly. "What's the matter, Frodo?"
Frodo flicked a glance at him until he realized his eyes were going to give it away. "Shut up."
Merry chuckled lightly, gave Lauren a kiss on the cheek as he took a plate, and sat down at the table.
Pippin was bright and bouncy when he came in as well. "This is going to be a good day," he announced.
"Worked up an appetite already, eh?" Merry commented with a mouthful of biscuit.
Pippin poured milk in his tea and nodded brightly, "Twice."
Frodo set his elbows on the table and hunched his shoulders over like a vulture working very hard to ignore them. And it took only a few minutes of conversation before the other three started exchanging wily glances with each other.
Although sitting around the very same table, complete with a babbling toddler present, the ladies were distracted in a discussion about joining forces and spending the morning to make a large batch of lemonade. They were still absolutely clueless as to the nature of the conversation.
Pippin was chewing on a potato wedge as he studied Merry's telling grin. Merry scooped up a spoonful of eggs and stuffed them into his mouth to hide it, but flicked his chin over to the other side of the table as he chewed.
Pippin's brows lowered over his eyes as he looked at the other two. Frodo and Sam were separated by women to whom they were currently paying no attention. Sam leaned over his plate to take a large bite out of a sausage patty with his fingers. He found Pippin's eyes as he chewed.
Sam's eyes glittered with humor and flicked over to motion to Frodo.
Pippin set an elbow on the table, biting off another piece of his potato wedge, and blatantly studied Frodo. Frodo was oblivious at first. He picked up his mug for a sip of tepid tea before he caught Pippin's narrowed glare.
His eyes dashed down, his face flushed, and he forced himself to sigh slowly and calm quickly as he hid behind his mug. Recovered, he took in another sip.
Pippin blurted loudly, "You're lookin' a little shaggy around the snout this morning, Frodo." Frodo snorted tea through his nose. He slid quickly away from the table and ducked to cough it out and wipe it free. Merry had a jam covered roll in his fingers. He tucked behind the back of hand to snicker. Sam's face went red instantly because he was trying hard not to laugh it out and essentially spit sausage from his mouth. He stomped his foot instead.
The ladies had stopped their conversation to look quizzically at the red-faced, snickering men. Pippin was the only one of them that was calm, but he was quiet and grinning at it all. His eyes turned to Lauren and Rose to wink once with reassurance.
They were not reassured.
Sam calmed his tightly contained laughter enough to defend the lad. "How about letting out a good howl of vic- Owe!" He winced with pain. No one saw what caused it; only that Rose glanced casually over at her husband.
Merry cackled out laughter anew, Pippin now laughed at Sam, and Frodo had glanced up just in time to see Sam's pained expression before slamming them shut again and cussing momentarily into his palm.
All four men took great pains to calm their laughter to before the questions started flying. They breathed deeply and focused on their food. Mouths rippled with threats of new laughter, but another sigh and a cleared throat calmed it down again.
Frodo was the first to speak, "Thank you, Rose."
Rose was casual. "You're welcome, Frodo."
Bailey tucked into Pippin's shoulder and whispered, "What is going on?"
Pippin sat up straight and rubbed his palms together. His voice was too terribly bright for the subject of his statement. "Well, I'm anxious to get to work. How 'bout you?"
Bailey looked up at her fiancé like he'd been possessed.
Sam nodded swiftly, "Grand idea, Pip."
"Great breakfast," Merry exclaimed as he got out of his chair.
The men were leaving as fast as they casually could and the ladies were already moving to start cleaning up. Lauren took a step back out of the way to watch the first three walk lightly down the hall. She looked to Frodo with wary questions in her eyes.
Frodo had a soft smile and tucked in to kiss her deeper on the cheek that Merry would have dared. He whispered into her ear with enough tenderness to make it feel like a sweet nothing, "Thanks for breakfast."
Lauren warmed flirtatiously and forgot to ask.
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Broken Bag End
It was back breaking work with just the four Hobbits and one pony to do it with, but their minds were focused and their goal was the same. The small, four acre patch was completely plowed by lunchtime, at which point they were treated with two large blankets in the grass on which to sit, a giant bowl full of crust-less sandwiches, and several gallons of cool, cherry lemonade. After only a short rest to eat, drink, and digest, the men crawled back onto their dirty feet and dragged themselves back to work.
Elanor reached out to enjoy the tall wildflowers on the fat, untouched swatch between the homes. The ladies sat on the back slope in dresses of butter yellow, burnt orange, and spring green and loosely hugged their knees to watch the sweaty shirts, dark suspenders, and mud-colored trousers move back out to the newly uglified field. The men walked the field in a close group, smashing mud clods and tossing out the last of the rocks.
Frodo gazed over the whole of the field as he walked, apparently trying to calculate yield. He was pretty clueless how to estimate that, but looked at it keenly enough so that he appeared to have the math under control. Since Lauren had come into the picture, Frodo started looking a little meatier. His clothes were still baggy, but you could see it in his calves and forearms that he'd been fed well. He smiled a lot more often as well. Now that the lines of age were just starting to form, Frodo's face would wrinkle smiling instead of scowling.
Merry was on a trough of his own and throwing out rocks with big baseball throws. His dark coat flapped at his side when he threw it. Merry slept in the stables when he was in Hobbiton, and the last few months he'd been in Hobbiton more often than not. And though he didn't carry around a change of clothes with him, his yellow vest and well-sewn shirt were quite clean. In fact, his hair was light and fluffy, his skin scrubbed, and his smile was uncluttered – very odd attributes for a vagabond. The other three hobbit men knew the answer, but no one else had the care to figure out how he managed it.
An arms length away from Merry, Sam shuffled his feet with a dropped head to scan for imperfections in the plowing. As almost a silhouette against the green hills beyond, it was clear to see that Sam's belly was rounding out faster than the others, but it was roundy to begin with. Sam was the epitome of the happy middle-aged hobbit with his wife, kids, humble home, and outlook on life.
The thinnest of them all at this point was Pippin. He strolled an arms reach away from Sam's other side. But Pippin's time as gangly, playful boy was ticking rapidly away. Bailey already knew how to cook, she just needed a kitchen to do it in. If the goal came forth as planned, Bailey would have her kitchen and Pippin would have his six plus meals a day without having to run from farmers for it. But the bonus was that Pippin would be close enough to the others every evening to round out the complete set.
It was inevitable. There would be a living room set up on somebody's porch where all the old, comfortable, weathered chairs would end up in a half circle facing the road, the sunset or both. They were going to be four very fed, very round hobbits with leaf-stained teeth, gray hair, and an endless stream of stories unsuitable for mixed company. They would eat pie straight out of the tin. The beer would flow incessantly into their favorite mugs. They would protect the little girls from insult. They would teach the little boys how to light fireworks. They would steal apples from the kitchen. They would make sly comments about sexual positions, locations, frequency, and boast, of course, about the heftiness of the equipment. And if they were ever called to stand for their behavior, one would produce the richest, most grandiose of lies, and the other three would swear it was the absolute and undisputed truth.
Merry screamed.
The ladies sat up to find the man half as tall as he was a minute ago and scrambling at the mud for a grip. Sam was already at his side, grabbing an arm and yelling. Frodo and Pippin were rushing over to help.
Bailey and Lauren immediately came to their feet, picked up their skirts and took off in a full run into the muddy field. Rose stood too, but glanced back to check on Elanor. Sam saw a glimpse of the ladies first, but still held Merry's whole arm as if to keep him from being swallowed into the earth, "No! Don't come out here!"
Frodo turned and his eyes got wider. "Lauren! Bailey! Get back! Stay back!"
Pippin had dropped to his knees on Merry's other side and was so focused on saving his friend that he only glanced over at the girls as they were moving away again. Rose heard the shouting and ran back out to the backyard. Bailey and Lauren met up with her and explained what little they knew.
Was it quicksand? No, the pony and plow would have discovered it first.
From the edge of the field, it was hard to tell what was wrong. Someone mentioned the pony, and two others shook their heads at the idea. Merry looked have simply fell on his rear but was still perfectly upright. Sam's orange hair was in his straining face as if to keep someone from pulling Merry away from him. He set his feet firmly in the next trough and held onto Merry's right arm with all his might. Sam was clenching his teeth and heaving a deep, worried sigh from time to time. The men discussed options in with tension, but were quiet enough to be unintelligible.
Pippin dug his knees into the trench on Merry's left side, trying to coax Merry to reach and wrap his arm around Pip's shoulders. Frodo tried to straddle the trench behind Merry and squatted down to hook his elbows under the man's armpits.
The four men counted to three and pulled. Merry cried in pain as his broken leg was pulled free, and the field started to disappear in front of him.
"Dear lord," Rosie grabbed Lauren's hand with tension and started to step back. "It's a sinkhole."
Bailey's eyes went wide, flicking from the Bag End, to Bagshot Row, to the small field they'd just plowed. Torn between wanting to run out to help pull the men, and staying back in the safety of root-knotted grass as ordered, Bailey grabbed Rosie's other hand and winced to watch. Rose tore away from them and raced to pluck Elanor out of the grass.
All three men stumbled back away from the moving earth to grab Merry's arms and torso, scrambling backwards in the mud and dragging his limp body with them. All sets of eyes widened as the land sank away like tumbling sand in front of them in a giant crescent at first, and then rapidly growing larger in all directions.
Pippin tripped. Bailey screamed for him. Lauren grabbed her hand and kept her to stay back, though she was straining just as fearfully. The men frantically pushed themselves back out of the bowl, climbing up and out just as the ground kept tumbling away from underneath their legs and hindquarters. Every one of them always had a hand on Merry, yanking him backwards by the shirt collar or hand or elbow, even if it meant a suffocating demise for all four of them.
The rumble of crumbling land sounded like hollow earthquake and the bowl settled at a good six to eight feet deep. The collapse never slowed. It simply stopped in an ordinary chink and continued to ripple to a stop like a zipper. The men continued to scramble clumsily backwards, yanking Merry with them, even if it was obvious the land was solid beneath them again.
The sinkhole was the shape of a twice bitten circle and nearly the size of an acre when it was finished. It tucked up a foot or two beyond the back edge of plowed ground and created cliffs of mud against the short mound of a hill on the other side. Its south side never made it to the road or Sam's yard, but had crawled too close to do anything safely with the wide, plowed strips it hadn't taken. The east side of it, the one that literally chased them off the field, had only eaten half the width between the initial spot Merry punched through and where the ladies had been standing to watch. And the north side, reaching up the oval bowl behind Bag End, stopped only in time to leave two good acres to farm.
All four of them were smeared with mud. Black speckles and fat splotches sprinkled their faces and hair. Frodo was the first to stop scrambling and fell back into the dirt with relief. Merry dropped back into Frodo's lap. Pippin sank down to his elbow to calm his cool breath, clasping Merry's palm and holding it firm. Sam didn't untangle his arm from Merry's. His brows slanted sadly at the condition of the field, now completely unfarmable, and glanced back at how close his house was with a further drain of hope. No sinkhole was ever as small as the first time it crumbled.
Had they not dug up the old grass that had cemented itself over the pocket, they probably had several more years before the thing collapsed. But as it stood now, Bag End and the better two of the houses in Bagshot Row were at risk of being swallowed just as Merry's legs did.
The ladies gathered their skirts and started move out again, whether they were yelled at or not about it, but three of the four men spat the orders again with angry shouts and mean faces.
"Don't you come out here!" Sam warned Rosie, the most stubborn of the bunch.
"You need help."
Frodo shook his head back to them. "Don't come in the field."
It was rare to see Sam put his foot down so stiff and effective as this order. "Don't you come out here!"
Pippin muttered and Sam nodded. Merry winced silently.
Frodo turned to the women again. "We need washwater, the back room bed prepared, and the doctor."
The ladies took the orders and sped away, leaving the four men alone in the field to concentrate how to pull their next trick.
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Saving Merry
None of them had moved more than a turn of the heads since they stopped crawling away on their backs, and due to the few minutes of rest, Merry had closed his eyes and was able to relax his breathing a little. The man's right leg wasn't bent in any unnatural directions, but despite being covered in mud, the foot was obviously swelling and turning a shade of bruised.
"How are we going to do this?" Sam wondered aloud.
Pippin still held Merry's hand firmly. "Is it just your right leg?"
Merry swallowed dryly. "So far."
Pippin moved back to his knees without letting go. "Well, let's keep it that way, just for good measure."
Frodo scooted closer and cradled the wounded Hobbit's head on his thigh. "We're going to have to let the leg hang."
Sam nodded. "Pippin on your left. I'm on your right. You hang on our shoulders with both arms and we'll grab underneath your back."
Pippin nodded at the plan and positioned himself under Merry's arm. "Frodo, get his good leg."
Frodo waited for the other two get a good grip on Merry before removing himself as a headrest. He stepped carefully around Pippin to collect Merry's left leg.
As soon as they were in place, all four took a collective breath and in perfect unison, they strained, lifted, and hurried off the field with tiny, speeding steps.
"Open the door!" Frodo growled and the back door was suddenly opened to his command. They shuffled into the house and immediately lay Meriadoc on the patient bed, regardless that the black mud immediately smudged a mess onto the white sheets. Lauren draped a blanket over him before any of the men removed their grips to step away. Rosie brought in a stack of old cleaning rags with which the other three started tenderly wiping off the mud from Merry's face and leg.
Merry just lay there limply, trying to keep his breathing calm and his teeth from clenching too tightly. The doctor calmly came in and took in the situation with a serious face. Scissors were fetched, hot water was delivered, a wooden spoon was requested, and the ladies were ordered from the room. Rosie had to leave anyway. Elanor was becoming a crying nuisance because of the tension. Bailey and Lauren were left to listen to the whole thing from the hall.
Sliced off, muddy trousers started a pile in the corner and were rapidly joined by the entire stack of rags that had cleaned up Merry's leg and face. Pippin's voice was heard more than anyone else's. He was right next to Merry's head offering a strong set of hands to squeeze as well as keeping Merry's from panicky reaching to protect his leg from their work. Pippin's eyes were intense, but he managed to keep muttering jokes and words of encouragement. Frodo and Sam became the Doctor's handy men to straighten the leg and set it in a stiff splint.
It took several long and difficult tries to get the splint on it right. Merry started out with the handle of the wooden spoon between his teeth and growled out with inexplicable panic and pain. His unintelligible, mean swearing eventually crumbled to weeping and begging for them to stop. When the doctor finally let them, all four of faces collapsed.
A new bucket of water and a new stack of linens were put to use on the rest of Merry's body. Sheets were a trick to change. A fire was started. Hard liquor was declined telling them just how badly he really felt. Extra pillows were fetched. Rose brought a plate of crumb-less food to feed him. She was thanked and sent home again.
The doctor left. Bailey kissed Pippin on the temple and left too. Sam stepped to the bedside to look Merry in the eye and give him a flat mouth of sympathy. Merry's eyes were only open to slits now. The strange shape of his mouth grinned a little, and a hand waved the man off, so Sam went home.
The evening crept into a cool night. Lauren brought out rinsed rags, new hot water, one of Frodo's nightgowns, and a bed pad for the floor, all by Frodo's whispered instruction. When she returned to the kitchen, she was still buzzing with adrenaline to try to help, and Frodo watched her easily from the smial wearing nothing but his ankle-length nightgown.
She put a few things away that could have waited until tomorrow. She set out a cutting board, clean knife, and a bowl of apples just in case they got hungry during the night. She looked around the kitchen in search of anything else Merry might need, but her mind came up empty.
Frodo was calm and commanding about it. He had a gentle voice even if it was somewhat of an order, and he had an unmistakable flicker in his blue eyes. "Come to bed."
Lauren stood tall on the other end of the kitchen from him. She placed a palm on her chest, trying to calm her nervous energy, and gave Frodo a double take at the unusual request.
Frodo started to grin. His chin nodded a touch, confirming that he meant what he said. He held out a hand for her take.
She moved quickly to him but didn't take his hand. "You don't have your clothes on," she whispered loudly."
He sighed patiently and kept her eyes. "Does that matter now?"
"We have company." Lauren came back at him with a tighter look in her eyes and stiffness in her whisper. "What if they get up before us and come looking for me? Or for you? What if they get up in the middle of the night?"
"Lauren," he tried not to smile at such an overreaction and tried to comfort her worries. He cradled her jaw line to try to keep her eyes on him. "It's all right." His smile flashed a little. "They're my best friends-"
"You didn't tell them did you?!" Her whisper came out almost evil-sounding now. "They don't think we've -- . . . . Did you?"
The hope in blue eyes and the smile on his open mouth rapidly faded. "Well, it sort of slipped."
Her eyes went wide. Her face started to flush with a different kind of blush. It was real embarrassment this time. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. And Frodo watched her become reasonable again.
But her eyes flicked back to him just as tartly, "Was that what you were laughing about over breakfast?"
Frodo's mouth opened a long minute before he pushed any words out of it.
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The Full Monty
The back room was closed off from the rest of the world with a curtain hanging from the polished tree root. A fire crackled out steady air of heat and dryness in the attempt to prevent gangrene. Merry's eyes drifted closed, but not necessarily asleep, and that's when Pippin finally left his side.
Still, Pippin only traveled a few feet away. He got up off the bed and started stripping of his mud-caked shirt and suspenders.
"You can go home, Pip," Merry whispered tiredly.
"I know." Pippin didn't look at him. He wadded his shirt and tossed it into the pile of other mud-caked ware to be sorted through and washed in the morning. He started tearing away the buttons of his trousers.
Merry was weary, but not sleepy. He grinned a little. "Peregrin. Go home."
Pippin wadded up the trousers and tried to toss them over from where he stood to see if he could get the right aim at the pile. "No."
"Lauren can look after me just fine."
"I'm not leaving." He performed a cursory wash in the bucket just to get off all the caked mud and glanced over his shoulder to see if Merry was going to give it up yet or not.
Merry had closed his eyes already and shook his head with a tired grin.
Pippin grinned at himself for the win and stood tall. He took a clean rag and buried his face in it to start drying off.
A crack sounded in the hall.
Merry and Pippin exchanged strange glances until they heard bare feet shuffle lazily to them. Pippin moved the rag out of his face to dry off his neck and shoulders. The curtain came aside and Frodo stepped through it.
The pink handprint was coming clear on his left cheek. Though humored, Frodo looked a little unsure about what just happened.
Pippin chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not the only one that happens to."
"He was tryin' to reap the benefits from my suffering." Merry teased quietly.
Pippin smiled full beam over a Merry and wiped his arms down, "It's more like he was trying to sow some benefits."
"Pippin, you-" The curtain flashed aside so she could burn her eyes into him, but her anger was replaced by a fearful yelp when she saw Pippin wearing nothing but raindrops. Pippin was leaner around the shoulders, his belly was strong and flat, but the manly hair on his feet didn't stop at his feet. It didn't even stop at his knees-- Lauren slapped both palms over her eyes even though they were squeezed shut, the curtain fell closed just as fast and small, bare feet pitter-pattered away.
Pippin never had the chance to react, much less cover himself, before she ran off again. He looked at Frodo and looked at Merry with a perplexed grin. "Perhaps I should have saluted."
Frodo couldn't keep his laughter contained, even though it probably wasn't all that funny to Lauren. Merry didn't care. He rolled out a laugh from deep in his chest, "Put that damn thing away."
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Bad News
Three of the four farmers stepped back out to the field at daybreak to look at the damage and perhaps exhume a plan B. The sinkhole had grown a foot or two to the north and was starting to fill with a soupy spring of mud-colored water. If there were a spring in that dirt that was fighting to emerge, water would rapidly eat away at the sinkhole and eventually the foundation beneath their houses as well.
Sam tumbled down to sit on the edge of Bag End's small green slope with draining confidence. He stuck his fingers into his bangs and looked at the mess for several minutes of painful disbelief. Pippin motioned north and west, talking out ideas. Frodo pointed to the road to the south where the water would soon empty out of the new bowl and eat the road on its way down slope. Pippin dropped his head back. Sam closed his eyes, already feeling the thinness of next winter. Frodo stepped out to the middle of the plowed field to look down its center. He clasped his hands behind his head as he studied it, cursed, and flopped his hands down again at the stinging lack of ideas.
After strolling around the field for a few hours, testing the sturdiness of the earth, and throwing bad ideas back and forth, Frodo, Sam and Pippin gathered again in the back room to talk it all over with Meriadoc present.
Rose came in and stood at the hall, "Well?" Bailey strolled a little slower Elanor on her hip to hear it out too. When Lauren realized the front room had emptied, she went looking and found the crowd in the back room with muddy feet and grim faces.
Frodo sat on the floor next to the fireplace and loosely hugged a single knee as he laid all this out for everyone. The truth was that they didn't know how much it was going to sink, but even if they did, they shouldn't touch it until it was done doing it on its own. Hopefully, if left untouched, it would calm down until the summer dried out, but it would be a matter of great luck (that they were convinced they'd already spent) to keep it from sinking more during the autumn rot and the winter wet before spring roots of wild grass would bind the dirt together again.
If the water kept rising, they would need to get out there with shovels to control its direction so that it didn't wash away the road or drain into Sam's bottom-hill house. Meanwhile, they had a 25-pound sack of strawberry seed that poor Merry put out a several shining shillings for, not to mention six weeks with a broken femur, and now they didn't have anywhere to plant it.
"We'll get through the winter." Frodo told them all. "We'll bind together as family like we always do. No one's going to starve."
"We're hardly going to starve." Sam squinted a little, hoping Frodo didn't mean it that severely.
"I can still see the worry in your eyes."
Sam pressed his mouth a little and glanced over at his wife's worried brow and swollen belly.
Frodo looked at Bailey. "I see it in your eyes too."
Bailey's eyes were indeed staring worriedly at what Frodo had to say. Pippin was standing behind her. He squeezed her fingers and dropped his forehead to the top of her shoulder. He ducked his chin with a nod and sighed through his nose. Bailey turned her head his direction, adjusted Elanor on her hip and tried to consol him with a kiss in his dark blonde curls.
Frodo turned to Merry. The last man was lying in the same position on his back, propped up only a little with pillows behind his head and shoulders, and hardly turning his head to stay with the conversation.
"You're staying right where you are. I know your mum can take care of you but you shouldn't be moved for at least two weeks. You tell me what you need and I'll make sure it's taken care of. Don't think for a moment you're putting me out."
Merry smiled, "I get to lie in bed and eat Lauren's blueberry pie for two weeks while I watch the three of you dig up mud out this little window?" Merry chuckled weakly, "I wouldn't miss this for all the fireworks in Middle-earth."
Merry's comment got everyone to grin a little and start breathing again, but it was momentary at best. A review of Meriadoc's leg that afternoon brought new fear to everyone's eyes. His leg had turned a medium shade of purple and it was still swelling. He didn't complain about it outright, he just offered a description. It was a single, bright, steady throb of pain throughout his leg, and focused in the middle of his thigh. He couldn't sleep yet, he could only rest. It was the continuing swelling that concerned them all. If it didn't look better by the third morning, he requested the doctor be fetched again.
Until then, a different medicine would be required. Frodo took a bottle of aged whiskey out of the pantry and handed it voicelessly to Sam. Sam looked at it and all that it meant, and nodded. He set it on a shelf that was in Pippin's line of sight so that Bailey didn't notice it up front. As soon as she was distracted elsewhere, Pippin carried the whiskey bottle to the back room. He set it in a dark, dusty book shelf on the other side of the room yet still directly in Merry's line of sight. Merry didn't look directly at Pippin. His eyes fell tiredly closed and his chin nodded.
For the rest of that day, the bulging bottle sat proud and silent, staring back at Meriadoc as a statement of fact.
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Merry's Midnight Bottle
From this half–lain position, Merry turned his head and his eyes to check on Sam's progress. "Y'know, Sam, I'd sure like to numb this pain while my leg is still broken."
"I'm working on it!" Sam spat with a wrinkled nose.
Sam was never very good at this, and the difficulty showed in his face. He pulled out a knot of the crispy, green tobacco and tried not to smash it to dust while stuffing it snugly in the tiny pipe head. "Besides, we're not supposed to start until Pippin gets here."
Frodo lounged back against folded bedding. "I think Pippin will make an exception tonight."
Merry simply needed to meet his eyes for a single, not-so-patient moment for Frodo to receive his request.
Frodo sat up and scooted over to Sam on his rump. "Give it here," he whined softly. Sam slumped before he handed it over but Frodo gave the man a gentle grin of understanding.
Sam dropped back against the side of the bed. "Rosie won't let me smoke. I've hardly had a pipe to me-self since she got pregnant."
Frodo reached over Sam's head to hand the readied pipe up to Merry. "You say it like it was all her fault."
A grin threatened to grow on Sam's face, but he fought it off. "It is her fault. I'm the victim here."
Frodo reached back to the fireplace to grab a couple of six-inch-long matches and tossed one over onto the bed. He chuckled.
Sam continued, "One minute she gives me this . . . look. . . and the next minute she's pregnant. And I'm the one that suffers without tobacco for eight months." The other two were finding this claim funny enough to laugh softly about it, so Sam did too.
Frodo smiled at Sam as he took the pipe and burning match Merry passed down. He reheated the embers and pulled in a long, easy drag from the elegantly long mouth piece, but was still holding his breath when he offered it, brows lifted, to Sam.
Sam was pulled out of his sarcasm by the strange scent and the different way in which it was smoked. He sat up and leaned to look into the pipe head Frodo was offering. His eyes rolled suspiciously over to Frodo. "What kind of leaf is that?"
Merry turned his head with a deep sigh and a brand new, softly glazed grin in his eyes. "It's a particularly choice cut of Peregrin Blend."
Sam's eyes rolled to Merry. "Pippin doesn't grow leaf."
Merry agreed with a nod. "No, I grow leaf. . . . Peregrin Blend is so named because smoking it makes you act like Pippin."
Sam considered this for a long heartbeat. How much trouble will I get into? But the heartbeat was over soon. Sam took the pipe into his mouth and held it with his teeth as he took the match. "When Rose comes at me with a skillet, you guys have to back me up."
"Right behind yeh." Frodo leaned back almost until he was on the floor so he could reach the bedding and pull it over to where he sat.
Sam tried to hold his breath and cough at the same time. He whipped the matched out before it burned his fingers. He handed the long sloping pipe back up to Merry, and Frodo tossed the injured another long match.
Merry curled his hand under to take the pipe from the man in his blind spot. "Where is-"
The back door started to open.
Merry held off on his puff so he could snap at the man. "Where in hell were you?"
Pippin's face was hung on the fact that they started without him for a moment, but blinked out of it at Merry's question. His eyes leered at Merry's discontent with concern.
He stepped up to the bedside and took the pipe Merry offered him. "I was staking my claim on a leg." He kept the man's eyes as he pulled in his first long puff, daring Merry to make an issue out of it.
Merry settled against his backrest, tucked his eyes to his lap and nodded. He forced his tone to lighten a little. "So, how was your leg?"
Satisfied, Pippin pulled up another set of bedding and sat down on it. "Quite tasty, actually." He sat cross-legged on the bedding as though it was a shelf, but it only lifted him two inches off the cold stone floor. "There's something about talking houses that always seems to crank her up a couple of notches."
Merry nodded wisely. This part of Bailey didn't surprise anybody.
"I saw you looking impishly looking at Bagshot #2." Frodo teased.
Pippin deliberately gave him an impish grin. "And how might I barter you out of said Bagshot #2?"
Frodo reached the pipe back up to Merry. "Take it."
Pippin was already starting to wonder how long ago the two had started on his special blend. "You don't want me to buy it?"
Sam shook his head, "It needs a lot of work. The roof leaks and there's a draft through the bedroom."
"You're not getting any family money to move away from Tookborough," Frodo pointed out.
Merry sniffed and added lightly. "And Liam Bracegirdle's not gonna let you steal her away to a Hall."
Pippin looked at the three of them with bitterness in his eyes. "Gee, I feel so cheery now."
"Take the house," Frodo repeated.
Merry chuckled. "Besides, you go through the efforts of saving up the money to buy it and he'll just end up lending it back you so you can fix it up."
"Frodo doesn't have any money to lend me," Pippin pointed out, suddenly sounding like the wiser, most mature one of the bunch. He scratched the bridge of his nose with his index finger, and angled his head with a light comment to Frodo. "Perhaps we should discuss this when you aren't so incredibly stoned."
Frodo blinked hot, dry eyes and wagged a finger at Pip. "You're probably right."
Sam's sat with his shoulders curled over. He squinted over at Pippin with sleepiness in his eyes. "Aren't you worried about the sinkhole swallowing the row?"
Pippin looked directly into Sam's hazy eyes. "Wouldn't you rather have me beside you trying to prevent that?"
Sam and Frodo studied the man like he'd just said something in a different language.
They glanced at each other, shrugged, and then Sam reached for the jug. "What's in this?"
Pippin leaned his shoulder against the side of the bed and squinted up at Merry. "Did you get any of it?"
Merry passed down the burnt pipe and hooked a hand behind his head. He waved a hand at the other two who were already half asleep and drooping like dying flowers. "They're just out of practice."
"How are you feeling?" Pippin lifted the blanket to check the leg's color again. It was too dark to tell.
"I'm roasting comfortably on a spit now. Thank you for fetching the leaf for me."
"You're quite welcome." He retrieved the pipe and started packing up a second helping. The room grew quiet as he did this. Frodo and Sam were leaning in odd directions against each other. The pair stared at nothing through slits in their eyelids.
Merry's expression was tired and melancholy. He stared at Pippin for a long time.
Pippin caught it as he was puffing the pipe to life again. He took in the gaze and casually stared back, wondering what was on the man's mind. Finally, he lifted a brow. "What?"
"You haven't hit the pub with me lately." Merry muttered.
Pippin flattened his mouth with apologies, and then tried to smile. His brows shrugged slowly, guiltily, knowing the answer, but not knowing how to say it. Instead, he chewed on the end of the pipe before sucking down another helping. "You knew it was going to happen sooner or later."
Merry reached a hand out to request the jug. "Yeah, but I always thought it would be me that happened first."
"Me too." Pippin lifted the jug to him and made sure Merry had it with both hands before he let go. "Likely would be true were she not already espoused."
Merry's eyes slid over to Pippin while he was still taking a swig. Then he remembered that he'd already admitted near that much the last time they drank on the river.
Pippin rested an elbow on the bed by Merry's knee. "Does she know you're laid up with a broken leg?"
Merry hugged the jug with one arm and nodded. "Yep."
Pippin's mouth twisted trying to figure that out. Who would have told her if no one knew who she was?. . . unless she was already here… His eyes bulged at the sleepy Samwise Gamgee, and flicked to Merry with shock and questions.
Merry's face flinched at the accusation and shook his head like Pippin was crazy. "Don't be ridiculous."
Pippin slapped his chest with a breath of relief that it wasn't Rose. That would have been a mess to be caught in the middle of--
Pippin's head lifted, then his eyes lifted. His face was so struck that only his lower teeth were showing. "Caught in the middle." He whispered it, "That's why you won't tell me."
Merry shifted his eyes back to his lap. He chewed on his lower lip uncomfortably. "It's not that I don't trust you, Pip. Your loyalties have shifted."
Pippin checked that the other two were off in never-never land and scooted closer to lower his whisper. "I'd have to tell Bailey, wouldn't I?"
"I didn't want to put you in a spot." Merry folded his lips tightly together. He knew what was coming next.
Pippin's eyes burned into the air. As the puzzle pieces fell into place, his eyes lit up with understanding, died quickly as he realized the circumstances, and finally collapsed a sigh at the pickle Merry had gotten himself into. "Oh fuck."
The lad wasn't exaggerating. Merry sat back and let him work through the shock by himself.
Pippin's gray eyes rolled back to him soon enough, studying him again, almost accusingly. "How long?"
A tongue went into a molar. "Off and on since we got back."
Pippin's brows flicked into his forehead.
"I'm not even sure how it started. She needed food for the tot and I needed… well you know what I needed." Merry sighed heavily. "And I just. . . kept going… back."
"You had an eye for her when we were kids," Pippin pointed out.
Merry rolled his head back to Pippin and met the reality up front. "Yeah, until she married Bailey's big brother."
"Dirkwallen's been missing for two years."
"But not three," Merry insisted, almost sitting up to do so. "The rule is three years before a widow is declared. Three years and not a day before. You know Liam Bracegirdle isn't going to fold on that one."
Pippin considered the temperament of his future father–in-law, especially when it came to the eldest (and likely dead) son. 'When my boy comes home, Peregrin, you'll have more than me to answer to!' Pippin mouth pressed with difficulty. "No, I'd guess not."
Merry sat back and settled his shoulders in. "She's from poor roots. Every time she goes to Bracegirdle hall, they give her troubles and tease her that she's not one of them. His parents never even accepted the match. Dirkwallen's money didn't last but a few months. Now they think Kristana stole all the money and is just milking the Bracegirdles for more. Little Mick couldn't wait for porridge or warm clothes," he inhaled and pinched his nose a little, Merry sniffed quickly, "so I took care of it."
Pippin had a half smile on his face. He shook his head at Merry in disbelief and shucked out a bigger grin. "You've been shagging Kristana for a year and a half and I didn't know a thing about it." Pippin shook his head. "I fairly well suspected we were growing apart Merry, but…." His eyes sobered, "this is almost insulting."
Merry's eyes met Pippin's and a somber grin was on his face too. "Bailey distracted you enough to miss the clues."
Pippin tilted his head, then he picked up the jug again. "Want some more?"
Merry reached over.
Frodo rolled over and reached too.
Pippin looked down at Frodo like he was a beetle crawling out from under a table. "You can't have any unless you can at least sit up."
Frodo pushed himself to sit up, blinked over bone-dry eyes and reached again.
Pippin took a swig and gave it to Merry, since he was the first one that asked.
Frodo sloppily rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and squinted at Merry. "What's this about you shaggin' Anna for a year and a half?"
Pippin and Merry exchanged grins.
"Anna?" Merry smiled. "The only Anna I know is that perky bar wench in Oatbarton."
Frodo had to think on that. "The mangirl?"
Merry passed down the sour mash to Frodo. "It could be done, just haven't yet."
"You wouldn't reach her navel," Pippin teased.
"Doesn't make it impossible," Merry said confidently, settling back again, "Just makes it interesting."
Sam sat up and shuffled so he could lean against Frodo. "I think I skipped the stoned and went right to the sleep."
Frodo only had to turn his head an inch to tell it to the side of Sam's face, bringing his friend up to date. "Meriadoc shagged that brunette bar wench in Oatbarton."
Sam's brows had troubles with this. "But she's got to be six feet tall!"
Frodo shrugged. "I could stand on your shoulders. We could make it a group effort."
"Ha!" Sam spouted and curled in to shudder out a chuckle about the image that inflicted. Frodo dropped his head back and laughed too. Merry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Pippin scratched the back of his head and fondly watched the pair cackle together.
Frodo rolled his head up again and reached for the bottle. Pippin handed it over this time. Frodo was taking a bottom's up swig when Sam spoke.
"Forget all that shite about the Ring." Sam said, wagging a finger in the air. "Shagging a six foot tall bar wench together… Now, that's what I call teamwork."
Merry tossed his head back against the pillow and Pippin curled over to snigger into his lap. Frodo snorted sour mash out of his nose and still managed to laugh despite the groan of pain. His nose stung first and burned there after. He pinched it and opened his mouth wide to pant for air to cool it, but nothing worked. His eyes started tearing but his lungs were still laughing weakly at Sam's comment. He nearly rolled onto one side in the attempt to recover and started wiping the snorted liquor off his face. Sam scooted once to pat Frodo on the shoulder with concern, but he started chortling again, and Frodo soon joined him still thinking the comment absolutely hilarious. "Why do you keep doing that to me?!"
Pippin's brows lifted into his forehead with delight about the laughter coming unnaturally out of the pair, especially after such a bad day. "Time to roll 'em over. I think they're done roasting on that side."
Merry's head and eye reached back to see them a little, but he stopped the stretch to nod agreement at Pippin.
Sam wavered as he sat up, put both hands on Frodo's hip and leg, and started rolling him over.
Frodo fought off Sam and pushed himself up grumpily. "He was speaking phorometically, Sam."
Merry tossed his head back again with full, loud laughter.
"Don't you mean nymosynatically?" Sam answered, but his eyes shifted, "Wait-"
Frodo giggled at his mistake, "No. Your right. I meant a millisimile, didn't I?"
"Millisimile?" Merry echoed.
Pippin gave them a new grin. "I was speaking phoro-metically, Frodo. And while we're speaking a such, may I inquire just how much of fruit you put in your Lauren's basket?"
Frodo kept Pippin's eyes the whole speech and shook his head when Pippin was finished. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Merry stuffed an arm behind his head and grinned, "He wants to know how long Lauren's been wrapped around your maypole."
Frodo blinked hard and shook his head. His face turned bright pink.
Sam leaned into Frodo and yelled into his ear, "How many times have you had your knob buffed by your housemaid?"
Frodo tried to slap a hand over Sam's mouth to which every one glanced over. "My housemaid is still in the house."
All four went silent to listen for stirs in the darkness.
Frodo shifted indignant eyes back to Sam and whispered it, "Blighter."
"Cretin." Sam hissed back with a smile already shining alive in his eyes again.
"Goonie."
Sam sniggered a little, but they quieted again, still listening. Eyes started smiling again despite the haze in their minds. Three of them piped up nearly at the same moment. "Dog!" All four of them were laughing between weak attempts to howl.
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Another Man's Wife
This time, the entertainment substances were so strong that the conscious part of the night was over as fast as it started. It wasn't long before Sam and Frodo melted against each other until the dead weight of completely passing out made Sam fall over sideways and Frodo dribble backwards. Pippin was laying face down against his open arm at Merry's side and drifting off quickly.
The only eyes still open were Merry's. He stared at nothing, but looked at everything; from faded memories of Dirkwallen and recent memories of her tears. Merry was far too empathic about it. He wanted to absorb all the fear and pain for her just so she wouldn't have to endure it. Sometimes it appeared he could actually do that, that his show of comfort to her lifted weight off her shoulders and make her eyes smile again, but most of the time he was just feeling it with her.
He knew she'd be all right without him for the time it took to mend, of course that estimate extended every day the swelling got worse instead of better. He didn't know if she would worry or not. She always heard word through the grapevine, namely Bailey, if he was going to be out of town, and the system had been working for some time. For year already, Merry had kept her well stocked in either food or the money for it without anyone but Kristana and Mick knowing he'd been by.
Little Mick only saw Merry as the nice man who brought the groceries. That was intentional. But Kristana …
Meriadoc did have an eye for her when they were younger. Kristana knew that. But social winds change often with teenagers, and Kristana slipped out of his fingers as quickly and painlessly as she fell into them. People grow up and people get older. Despite rare visits and few friends in common, Merry and Kristana were always appropriately friendly and warm to one another. She was sweet and flirty; the girl with the long eyelashes, summer-shiney hair, deep blue eyes and the most swollen bodice. She was the one in the crowd that all the gents would try after first. It was no surprise that the handsome, upstanding, proud, responsible, money-wise Dirkwallen Bracegirdle was the one to win her hand in marriage.
These days, Kristana was a bold thing with a mind that had survived to become tough and sturdy. She'd already seen her share of domestic hell, and the desperation to take care of her babe brought her to the logical choice of making an illicit deal with this old school-time friend.
Merry was supposed to go back two days ago; and he would have gone, even if he knew that he wouldn't get so much as a kiss from her. He would have found goods to take her just to find the excuse to sneak through the forest in the middle of the night, whistle quietly in the shadows outside her kitchen window, and watch the smile blossom across her face when she heard it. He spent time sitting and talking with her on the back porch far more often than he went to call on her bed. He wondered if she noticed that.
In fact, for several months, Merry hadn't traveled out of town to get quenched elsewhere even when she turned him away. What the hell was happening?
Merry shook his head finally admitting to himself that that's not why he wanted to see her now. He wanted to sit with her in the grove out behind her house, listening out for Little Mick through the window, and soak up the peace and quiet. He never admitted it to his friends, but Merry already told Kristana his stories. She'd sit and listen to him for hours; let him ramble on sad and angry until he ran out of words, or Little Mick cried out with hunger, whichever came first.
Other times, Merry would be her shoulder instead—
That's how it started, Merry remembered. He was up to Bag End shortly after they'd returned from Gondor and had stopped in on her to say 'hello'. Instead of a happy family, he found her in a blistering state of single motherhood. Creature comforts splintered from her grip for the sake of necessities. And even necessities were being sliced and diced for the sake of recycling and longevity. Kristana had returned to the state of being poor, garishly lacking any rightful Bracegirdle money and support.
He remembered now. He already knew something was wrong the first day back that he stepped up to the small hobbit hole. He could see a piece of the house crumbling away to mudslide into the garden. Spring's grass was trying to solidify the new mold instead of having been repaired immediately. No one came to the door, so he walked curiously around the side of the house mound to the back grove. Wicker baskets of all shapes and sizes littered the yard as if compensated favors were trying to turn into an ad-hoc business. Little Mick was napping in one of them, still hardly a half a year old at the time. A large tin wash bucket sat in the middle of it all, filled with tears, suds, forearms and calluses.
Kristana's easy smile had turned into a scowl of stress. Deep blue eyes had paled white with worry. Her honey-colored hair was falling out of its fraying ties and stuck to her neck with sweat. If you looked close enough, which Merry eventually did, it was obvious that some of her honey strands had already whitened. He could hardly believe it was her. "Kristana?"
When her face lifted that day to take in the sight of him, her eyes lit up with hope. He wasn't the one she'd been waiting for, but he was one that had been gone. For a moment of splintering emotional strength and the spinning panic of thoughts, Kristana didn't immediately realize he wasn't Dirkwallen, even though she could recognize Meriadoc plain as day.
A man came home alive. That's all that mattered for the moment.
Her eyes lit up with hope, her mouth smiled in a bittersweet happiness, and she shook the suds from her forearms to rush to him with a hug around his midsection. "I was so worried about you."
Uncertain, Merry held her lightly and patted her shoulder. "Um, Kristana? . . . Where's Dirkwallen?"
Her bittersweet demeanor about Merry's return tumbled into his shoulder with a shuddering voice and squirting tears, as if she hadn't admitted anything of the sort until this very moment. "I don't know."
Merry wrapped his arms around her that day sat her down in the backyard. He consoled her and tried to make sense of the events around Dirkwallen's disappearance. Like some older brother or boyfriend's-best-friend, he offered to look after her from time to time with perfectly honorable intentions.
Dirkwallen was just gone too long.
Merry's leg was moaning anger into his mind and his heart strings tugged with the memory of her beautiful face and bitter tears. Dirkwallen had only gone to Bree for a week's worth of business. In her soul, Kristana knew her husband was dead before Merry came back. When the war-torn hero showed up in her back yard, Dirkwallen had already been gone three months.
It didn't take but a few more months before Merry found himself kissing her, and only a few weeks after that when Kristana had come up with her idea, just to keep it tilted towards survival instead of feeling like pure adultery. It was only meant to happen once.
And then it was only going to be 'just once more'. . . ..
Next thing he knew, Merry was crashing down an emotional cliff he had no business being on. He went to brothels just to keep his mind in check. He'd get drunk and chase bar wenches, just so he could pretend up front that they were all the same. And then he'd go back to Kristana just so he could sit and sip and hold and talk and laugh and cuddle and comfort and cry for as long as the circumstances could keep his presence a secret.
He wondered if she was in love with him.
Then he wondered if she knew he had always been in love with her.
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In The Doghouse
Chickens clucked through the round window and roosters crowed in the distance.Merry was in the very same spot in the very same position he'd been in for three days. He was upright in the bed with the sun shining in a circle on his face. He never went to sleep. The exhaustion was draining, and yet the increasing pain sent his mind in a deeper state of grogginess with each day. His eyes were slits, his face was dumbstruck, and his mouth hung open like he was dying. The other three were on the floor in scattered directions, snoring in mismatched keys, face down, face up, half a leg on another's chest…. They looked like they'd been surprised by a storm of arrows and fell dead the ground.
Lauren tiptoed silently to the back room as though she were sneaking into a den of sleeping tigers, armed with nothing more than a tray of very strong tea. She set it down at her feet, not far from where the nearest of them had fallen.
A brown eye tried to pull itself open, a soft mouth stretched with nausea, a painful tear was wiped from an eye, and a hand groped amiss for the leg of any angel that would baby him back to sobriety.
Lauren dashed back before Pippin's blindly searching hand took a grip on her small ankle. She bumped backward into Bailey.
Rose waved the two of them back again. "We'll wait for them in the kitchen while they sleep it off," she said wisely, but she spoke with a velvet voice dressing her iron words. "Meanwhile, I can explain to you what they were phorometically talking about."
Sam's exploded into a snicker, and the snicker immediately stifled because it made his head feel like it was the resting post for the blunt end of an axe. Frodo coughed like he'd just been kicked in the stomach.
The ladies laughed softly at them as they strolled easily out of the room again.
Reality pounded down on their heads before they were ready for it today. The more they woke up, the more they realized how much each and every one of them was going to be the doghouse. So, one shifted the winds of optimism and let out a quiet little-dog howl, "Owooo…" It made them all chuckle painfully awake and start slithering blindly for the tray of tea.
In short order, Lauren brought back a bowl of apples and cool glass of milk for Merry's breakfast. The quartet was upright but still half asleep. Pippin's face was ducked, but angled over to get a glance of how Merry was feeling.
Merry grinned sleepily at her offering, but fingers came up to the side of the bowl and pushed the whole thing away. He swallowed dryly and whispered, "Take the splint off."
Lauren pealed back the blanket and winced at the color. The swelling had pushed up through the spaces in the splint as though the thing was keeping his leg from exploding like a sausage in a spitting fire.
Lauren stood to set aside the apples and milk with an open mouth and a nervous nod. Bailey stepped up to take a look. Rose muttered from the tree an order to Lauren which instruments needed to be fetched.
Pippin's eyes were open on Merry, even if Merry didn't see him. He sat up straight when he took in the color of the leg, then started climbing to his feet when he saw the bowl of apples that had been turned down. "Bailey wait." Pippin stopped her with a deep command. "Get the doctor. I'll get the splint off."
Lauren glanced back. Frodo started to come to his feet with stiff concern.
Pippin stepped up to the leg and looked back at Bailey. He was so scared, he was angry. "Go. Now."
Bailey hurried off. Lauren scrambled to fetch the tools. Rose move Elanor out of the room and kept her quiet elsewhere.
Frodo's eyes widened at the leg. He shuffled quickly to fetch a sharp knife. Sam kept his palm sideways on his forehead as if to keep his brains from falling out. He winced at bed and his headache got worse.
Merry's leg was the color and shape of an elongated eggplant growing out of its crate. It was so unnaturally warm that heat radiated from it. The discoloration barely stopped beneath his hip. His toes were swollen together to form a single, blackening mass. There was no smell of gangrene yet, but it was certain to set in by lunch time if they didn't turn this around right now.
No one had touched him, and no one had noticed that until Pippin came at a cotton strap with the knife. As soon as he touched the cotton, hardly close to the leg, Merry gritted his teeth with a grunt.
Pippin pulled back with surprise. The pressure on Merry's leg was so intense that any slight touch sent screaming pain to echo throughout his body.
Frodo scrambled quickly for a wooden spoon and put it in Merry's mouth. Sam brought in a bucket of cool water and a bunch of wet rags. He wiped Merry's face with one. Merry closed his eyes to the cool, clean clothe and shoved the handle so far against his face that it was his molars that chomped on it. Sam stepped back to assist Pippin. Frodo grabbed both of Merry's hands with strong arms and Merry blindly held them just as tightly.
All settled wordlessly into place. Merry took a deep breath and nodded.
Pippin tried to do it gently and quickly at the same time, but Merry gritted out a growl anyway. His face turned red, making Pippin cringe that much more at what he had to do. Frodo held on tight to keep Merry's hands. Sam took every piece of splint Pippin had cut free and helped it fall away from Merry's leg without touching him directly. Pieces of wood rattled loudly on the floor behind him and slivers of stretched cloth fell to his feet.
Merry started to settle as soon as the last wrap was cut and he breathed easier the more of the splint was removed from his leg. Soon, he pushed the spoon handle from his mouth and let it fall to his chest. He let Frodo's hands go. He breathed long, deep and quaky.
Sam was still rushing to drape cool, wet rags over Merry's leg from toes to hip. Pippin reached over to cover his left leg and keep it warm, but his right leg stayed in the air so that the blanket wouldn't put more weight on it than necessary. By the time they ran out of things to do to help him, Merry's eyes were closed again, and fluttered open only occasionally time to time to nod with appreciation and relief.
The leg wasn't getting better. It was nearly beyond the Doctor's power to fix. Sam sat at the end of the bed. His shoulders curled over like a hunchback. Pippin pulled up the stool and straddled it. He stared at the leg with slanted brows. Frodo remained where he was, brought up a knee for his elbow, and dropped his forehead into his palm. Meriadoc was at risk of losing his leg entirely, but no one had to say that out loud.
Merry took it better than anyone. He grumbled out a grin, "Orcs, Trolls, Uruk Hai, Wraiths, Horses, trebuchet's, Oliphants and assholes. . . and I go gimp from a fucking farming accident!"
Frodo flashed a smile. Sam dropped his head and covered his mouth. Pippin snickered but only enough make him sniff hard and take in an open mouth of air.
They heard people coming through the front door and quickly pushed away their emotions. Even Merry blinked alive again, shifted the pillows so he could sit up a little more, and yanked the blanket to shield his manly section from female eyes. They were quiet and stiff, and they still carried the loudest of headaches, but alertly listened, aided and ordered so that the Doctor could have every possible opportunity to save the day.
But the Doctor was no more of a miracle worker than anyone else. He suggested the most morbid of plans. He gave a few notes on how to keep Merry comfortable for two days, and then promised to hurry back with a sufficient number of leeches for a quick bleed. If the leeches didn't work, the leg would have to be sawed off.
The Doctor left the four of them to wallow in the eeriest of silence.
Merry tilted his head and looked at Pippin. The wounded man's eyes were red and pained that he looked like he'd been scrubbed against a washing board. He begged Pippin with a whisper, "I want to see her."
Pippin closed his mouth and closed his eyes.
Sam already looked concerned. "See who?"
Pippin opened his eyes again just to look at Frodo and Sam.
"Not Anna," Frodo said with regret, looking to Pippin's struck expression for confirmation. "It's Kristana."
Sam curled his lip, his brow twitched, then his mouth opened.
Pippin folded his lips stiffly closed.
If the news got out, there was sure to be a Shire-Sized argument, as sure as the sky was blue. There was going to be a crowd brewing outside Bag End to do the name calling, hisses and insults. Merry's name would be dragged through the mud until every last Brandybuck was insulted enough to stick their noses in it, or angry enough at Merry for bringing it on. Frodo had walked on water up to now, but after the indecent relationship with his housemaid the sewing circle was now advertising, his grace was running too thin to harbor a gang of immoral scoundrels without repercussions. Sam knew which way his mother-in-law was going to go, and though Rose would stand by his decision come hell or high-water, they would be pressured to pack up and move out of Bag End to make a real living somewhere else.
Pippin was going to have to make a very big decision. If Pippin stood by Merry, Bailey's parents were sure to launch a counter attack on Pippin too. It wasn't too late for Liam Bracegirdle to rescind his blessing because he hadn't entirely given it yet. And Pippin recognized the risk that he might lose Bailey entirely over this.
But if Pippin stood by Bailey just because her parents couldn't accept that their son had died and left a widow in need of care, he'd watch Merry stand against a Hall of Bracegirdles, and half a Shire that agreed with them, suffering through the shame alone with a broken or missing leg. One choice envisions losing Meriadoc forever; the other choice involved losing Bailey. Both visions stung him to the core.
He curled back his shoulders, lifted his chin, and frowned. "I'll go get her."
Pippin shook his hand. Sam patted his shoulder. Frodo mussed up his hair. Then all three of them tucked in with determination and set out what they needed to do. Even if the team had to disband entirely so they could save their asses, they would still be a team until they were six feet under. No one had to say that aloud either.
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Summer Storms
"He did what?!" Rose snapped, rising from the living room chair.
Sam was sitting too, but he didn't get up. He sighed hard through his nose.
"Kristana's married!" She yelled, "What the hell was he thinking!?"
Sam turned to fight her off, "He's in love with her! He wouldn't be doing this if he weren't."
"How long has this been going on?"
"That's not our business," he pointed out. "But Merry's in for the fight of his life and he can't even do it standing up." He looked her in the eyes. "He needs us."
Rose's eyes widened and her head shook fast and crazy. "Sam, I'm seven months pregnant."
"I know."
She pointed hard out to the direction of Bag End. "Frodo doesn't have enough to feed us for three months."
"I know!"
"There is a big hole in the middle of our one and only crop field this season."
"I know," he growled. His eyes flared. His face was red. His big shoulders heaved with tension as he faced her down.
She hissed at him anyway, "Sam, no one is going to hire you if you stand guard to save a debauchery."
Sam swallowed hard and finally whispered, "I know."
Rose calmed down too, taking in the expression in his eyes. "I didn't know you and Meriadoc were that close."
Sam shrugged a little. "We don't ranking each other like that."
Rose slowly sat back down in the chair beside her. Her back was straight and her chin was bowed.
"He'd do the same for us," Sam said.
Rose shook her head, "I think you should go spend the day up there."
Sam turned his face away.
She closed her eyes. "You reek of that nasty leaf and making me sick. You still have a hangover; I can see it in your shoulders. Go do whatever it is you do up there, Sam, but I have to warm up to this one. Let me stay out of it for a bit longer."
Sam swallowed and nodded silently. She left the room and he retrieved a change of clothes to carry back up the Hill. It was best not to face Rose again until he was bathed and changed.
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Winter Freezes
Pippin pulled Bailey away from Bag End and half way down the front slope, below the road, to fall to his butt in the grass.
"You've got a hangover, don't you?" She almost grinned about that, but it shifted. "Is he going to be all right?"
"The doctor's going to be back in a few days with the leeches. We'll know then." Pippin couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. She was in pink again, like a little cherry blossom waiting to be plucked. He could already feel it in his soul how much he would miss her. He dived into her arms before she had the chance to develop some insulting expression about it.
Pippin rolled them both onto the ground. One knee hooked her leg, one arm wrapped around the front of her waist and up the other side. He tucked his face against her shoulder and held his breath. Had he opened his eyes he would have found the swell of a breast within reach of his mouth, but his mouth was pressed, his brows were laden with insecurity. "I love you."
Bailey smiled a little, though Pippin never saw that. "I love you too, Pip," she said easily. One arm held him around his arm, the other hugged his head. Her fingers combed the curls from his eyes. She held him like that for a full minute, and Pippin soaked it up as long as it lasted. She pulled in a deep fresh sigh through her nose, "I can't wait until we-"
Her fingers stopped. His eyelids rippled. She deliberately smelled his hair again.
His arms tightened around her already trying to keep her from getting away and Bailey started pushing him away so she could sit up alone. Sky blue eyes turned to him with rancor.
Grey eyes saddened and shifted away. "Merry was in pain-"
"But you weren't."
He flicked his sights down before they filled with guilt too.
Bailey's pushed herself to a stand up on the front slope and put her hands on her hips. She gazed over the fallowed sheep pasture where there was, once upon a time, a grandiose birthday party. "Do us a favor next time and take a bath before you try to cuddle in so I don't have to smell it."
Pippin plucked a purple wildflower from the grass and fiddled with it in his fingers. "Do you believe in standing by your husband?"
Bailey shifted on her feet and looked back to him. He was still a splotch on a bright green patch of grass. "Of course I do."
He grinned a little, "Even if only in practice?" He squinted up at her again and the sunshiny mid morning behind her. "Would you stand by me just as much before we married?"
She crossed her arms at her bodice and smiled down at him. "What did you do?"
"I did nothing wrong," he said bold and proud. He pressed his mouth as he looked at her. "Answer me."
Bailey turned completely. Her skirts shuffled against the high grass. Concern struck her brow. "What's going on?"
"I can't tell you yet." He swallowed hard, then pushed himself to a stand. Nervously, he rested his hands on her elbows. "I just found out myself." He tried to look her seriously in the eyes, but was strongly unaccustomed to doing it. "But I want you to stand by me like I was your husband."
The subject made Bailey smile gently. It charmed her just that he would request it. "You know I will."
He shook his head. She wasn't getting how seriously he meant. "I mean, stand by me even if I stand against your father."
Bailey curled her lip like he'd already missed a big part of the equation. "But you'll never get his full permission."
Pippin flinched.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure you and Dad can get along about it. At least, you can keep it to yourself until you get my dowry out of him, can't you?"
Pippin pulled his hands away from her and took another step back. He was surprised she didn't know this – or that he didn't know this. "What dowry? You don't have a dowry."
Bailey seemed certain she did, but cringed about revealing that to the fiancé to whom it was never offered.
Pippin blinked and shook that one from his head. "I don't need your father's damn money."
She took a step backward. "What? I can't move to Tookbank! What if you never get the house? What'll we live on?"
Pippin's eyes narrowed into hers. He motioned to his own chest, trying hard not to be offended. "Don't you have any faith in me?"
The question struck her to realize how serious the conversation was, as if she had though to this point that it was all hypothetical. Now she was faced with the real question for the first time. She'd never considered not having Dad, and therefore never considered whether or not she could put her future entirely in Pippin's hands.
Now that she thought of it, Bailey was shy to answer the question.
Pippin read it out of her eyes anyway. He took yet another step back and stood taller. "I see." He shrugged bitterly and started to turn. "So much for standing by your husband; there's a few hidden preconditions you failed to specify."
"It's not like that," she winced. "You're being unreasonable. A girl has to have some security—"
"I love you!" He shot angrily at her. "That should be all you need."
"Well, it isn't!" She shot back violently.
They're eyes drilled into each other. The air fell still around their ears. They stood staring painfully at each other for a full minute. Bailey was tearing up, but not wielding, and Pippin finally blinked.
"Well then," he said simply, swallowed hard, and dropped his eyes away. "I suppose you don't have anything to stand by to begin with, do you?"
Bailey shook her head, "No, Pip. That's not what I meant." She sighed and tried to rub the wrinkle out of her eyebrow. "Look, you've got a hangover. Let's talk about this later."
Pippin shook his head. "No." He strolled easily towards the upside of the hill, partially encircling her from a half a dozen feet away. "You can't live on fun and games, right?"
The air went brittle between them. When he looked her in the eyes again, Bailey met a new expression on Pippin's face. "I drink too much because I have to drink off all that fun I have. We were out in the mud all day yesterday just to have load so fun. And all that time you were batting your eyes at River Bolgers I was on my way to Gondor and back having nothing but fun, wasn't I?"
She shook her head, trying to speak--
"But rest assured, Bailey, you're the only game in town," he hissed. "I'm tired of playing." He flicked his hand in the air at her. "Go home."
Pippin was too angry to wait for a reaction, but he could hear her crying as he stomped back up the hill to Bag End.
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Spring Can't Thaw
Pippin knocked on the front door of Bag End. Lauren unlocked and peaked before she opened it. The woman slipped in quickly with a little boy on her hip. Her eyes reeked of worry. Frodo motioned them in. Pippin stepped in behind her and locked the door.
Lauren held her arms out with an offer to take the baby. Even though she and Kristana had never met, they now shared the deepest of secrets.
Kristana's rich blue eyes exchanged uncomfortable glances with Lauren and Frodo. She handed over Little Mick and let Pippin take the cape from her shoulders. Her honey colored hair was tied up behind her head, leaving an occasional curl to bounce at the back of her neck and shoulders. She brushed out the folds of her old calico dress and smoothed the bodice nervously at her stomach.
Pippin folded the cape over his forearms. He stared at the floor. "He's in the back room."Frodo nodded assurances that everyone here was okay. He flicked his head for her to go on back.
Kristana rubbed her lips together. Her arms were strong at her sides, away from the rest of her body. Her chiseled chin was tucked like she was ready to get into fisticuffs with somebody. She stepped into the back room to see him and stopped at the tree.
Merry's eyes were full of wonder that she'd really come. He tucked an arm behind his head until the elbow was sticking up into the air, and grinned sleepily at her. "Hallo, Blueberry."
Kristana stepped quickly to his bedside and forced herself into motherhood mode. She lifted the blanket and took in clues about the medical state of his broken body. "You had to go and break your damned leg."
Merry's eyes glowed to watch her stumble through the vast ambivalence she was suffering.
"You're wraps have warmed." She pealed off the wet rags that were meant to help the swelling go down. She sniffed, then flipped over the blanket from his torso to check the hip. Aside from a borrowed shirt from Frodo, Merry was as naked as the day he was born. She didn't flinch. She only checked where the purple stopped and that his hip wasn't swollen. "Why don't you have a splint?" She whipped the blanket back him and tucked him in again.
"I'm all right, Kristana," he assured.
She looked him in the eyes, "What did the doctor say?"
"He's fetching a bucket of leeches."
Kristana stopped. Her arched brows angled with concern. She sat slowly on his bedside, took this in with a slow, controlled breath, and then looked at him again. Her prominent cheekbones had a way of making her look intense when she studied him. "Why did you send for me?"
Merry's eyes leered at her just as intently. "Why do you think?"
She tightened her teeth despite the fondness in her eyes and moved to his bedside so she could sit down and look at him in the face. "This is a bad idea."
Meriadoc lifted his chin with propriety. "I am truly sorry about your husband's death."
Her expression shifted. "I know."
He sat up a little more, lifted himself away from his backrest, and shifted as forward as he could manage. "But he's dead."
She nodded with the fading bitterness on her mouth. "I know what you're trying to do—"
"You're a widow, Blueberry. You have to admit that."
"I do." She pointed out easily. "But it does not matter that I do. It matters that my in-laws do not. And you know that."
"They were Pippin's in-laws too."Merry pressed his mouth. "It seems I have put him in the very spot I tried so hard to avoid."
"And what of the spot you're putting me in?"
"I found you in a worse spot than this."
Kristana lowered her eyes. "That's not the point."
"I'm tired of having to hide in the shadows. I want to care for you in the daylight where I can still see the smile in your blueberry eyes."
Aforementioned eyes snuck up to smile at him with all his smooth talk, and how effective it still was after so much cold experience and hard decisions.
He had asked the question before, and he was going to continue to ask until he was awarded an answer. "Have you ever sold your services to anyone other than myself?"
She faced him down. "Does it matter?"
"To me?" He widened his eyes and told her with intense honesty, "Not a damn bit."
"Then why do you ask me?"
"Because it matters to you." He looked at her face even if she wasn't looking back. "You're not a prostitute. You never were."
"And how would you know that?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Have you ever purchased anyone else?"
"Yep." Merry's harsh truth was lodged in his eyes. "And it still doesn't matter."
Her chin dropped. "You're an ass."
"Yeah, I know." Merry held himself to sit up with fists in the mattress beside him. "You don't want me to think you a true harlot so the answer in your chin is 'no'. But you don't want me to think you're falling for me either so the answer in your eyes is 'yes'."
She started looking vulnerable and angry.
He wasn't phased by it, "I'm not going anywhere. Even if, by some chance of pure making sure you have everything you need."
Her eyes shifted wantonly, desperately trying to change the subject. "Everything?"
Merry grinned and shifted his chin, "Don't tempt me, luv, my leg is really very broken."
Reality struck her across the face. Her eyes dropped to her lap. "Leeches. . . ." she echoed, and started to realize what that meant. Cherry lips opened with a gut wrenching reality. Her eyes turned to him to realize that she could lose Merry too.
Merry studied the side of her face. "I know I'm second best, Kristana. But for you, I'll take it." He shook his head and muttered the plea into her ear. "If I ever get out of this bed, I'm coming for you."
She would have laughed at this insanity if it weren't so damned terrifying. "What exactly do you intend to do?"
His eyes shifted to the floor. He hadn't quite thought that far ahead.
"There is no chance Liam Bracegirdle is going to let me keep Dirkwallen's house. Even more so, he's not going to let his grandson move into Brandybuck Hall." She flicked her eyes at him with insolence. "You're good in bed, Merry, but hardly worth sacrificing my baby son over."
He angled his head the other way, "Come on, now. I never asked you to sacrifice him and I never would. I'm as attached to Mick as I am to you."
"You're not his father."
"He's never met his father," Merry snapped.
Her eyes shifted to him boldly. Merry was leaping over a line he'd never before crossed.
"I accept that you married him first, Kristana. You are in love with him and likely always will be. I will never forget that. But for whatever reason you want to blame, Dirkwallen isn't doing his duty. You need to be taken care of. You need food and clothes, help raising Mick, a house that's not falling down, a man who can-" his words tumbled to a stop only to stare into the air in front of his nose and heave with surprise.
Kristana shook her head at him like he had gone insane, "What in hell did you drink last night?"
Merry grinned at her comment, sat up, and sighed himself back to normal. "It was accompanied by a bit of the green."
She nodded, "It must have blossomed from a cowcake, Merry, because you're talking like your brain's in backwards." She closed her eyes and rubbed a pale eyebrow. "You've gone off the deep end."
"I'm jealous," he admitted casually.
A high eyebrow arched even more. "Of what?"
"Pippin," Merry grinned and straightened the blanket over his hip. "Sam, Frodo. What they've got. What they're about to have."
Her expression pulled in when she realized what he was talking about.
His eyes flicked back to hers. "We're not kids anymore," he whispered.
Kristana shook her head and lowered her voice, "You guys were no longer kids when you got back."
His eyes turned down again, but he nodded about it. "I can even tell you the day I grew up. The very moment I felt the joy of life drain away." He looked up-
"The day Boromir died," she told him.
Merry closed his mouth abruptly. But then it blossomed into a smile as he realized just how well she knew him already. He settled back at his 45 degree angle and looked at her over his nose. "Do you love me?"
Kristana's mouth drew small and stiff, and though she wasn't looking at him, her blue eyes sparkled. "I refuse to answer that question on account of professional courtesy."
"Fuck that." Merry had a twinkle in his eye. "Do you love me or not."
Her face
burst into a flushed smile. "Watch your language!"
"What? I'm not permitted to say it unless we're tangled?"
"No, your not." She insisted with a grin.
Merry pushed himself to sit up again and used his fists to make himself lean as forward as possible. It hurt terribly, but not enough to distract him from the goal. He hovered over her shoulder and lowered his voice. "You didn't answer the question."
A single eye turned his way, "What does it matter, Merry?"
"I supposed it doesn't." He grinned as much as his strength would let him. "Whatever your answer, I'm getting out of this be and I'm coming after you."
Blueberry eyes shifted sideways to look at him. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Don't make me do this. My parents are gone; I won't have anywhere to go. And even though he's clearly Dirkwallen's, they'll call Mick a bastard anyway. They'll shun him out of his Bracegirdle bloodline. And I will go down in West Farthing history as a cuckolding whore."
Merry shrugged. "So we won't live in West Farthing."
Kristana was almost snagged by it. She forced herself to keep her wits about her. "It doesn't matter whether I love you or not." She whispered painfully and began to shake her head. "I gave vows, Merry."
"It's time I started playing by the rules," he said simply. "Either I'm coming in the daytime or I'm not coming at all."
She rose slowly to her feet, but she didn't look at his eyes when she moved closer to him. Merry could feel what she was doing and his face started to show the pain. She reached down and gave him a tensely tender kiss on the forehead.
Kristana's eyes were water and her jaw was tight. "I will miss you."
Kristana forced her back to him and walked out of the room as tense as a ball of twine. His eyes slowly closed and the heals of his palms pushed fresh tears from both corners.
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Autumn Can't Stay
"All I know is that he told me not to make anymore blueberry pies for him." Lauren squinted into the sunshine and the bright reflections off the pond. The summer sun beat down on them, and she seemed to be the only one that noticed how hot the stones got against her tender bare feet. "The man deserves the right to deal with his woman on his own."
Frodo carried a large, tapestry bag over his shoulder as if he was Santa Claus and watched his feet as he thought on this. "I'm sure he appreciates your effort, Lauren, but this one's too big for him to suffer alone."
Lauren bumped shoulder into shoulder and grinned, "Well, then, you and the gents do what you need to do. I'm the new kid in the alley. I'm not making any bold moves until I've earned some tenure."
They were near to the bottom of the bridge again when Frodo's face lifted with a smile. "You? No bold moves? I seem to recall falling victim to one or two of them."
Her face flushed and she looked back over the bridge just to keep from looking at him. "A victim was the last thing you were."
As they talked and teased each other, Lauren started lifting her feet one at a time so they could cool in the air. Soon, she talked him into carrying her off the bridge and into the nearest cool grass.
His eyes lit up with fun. He gave her the tapestry bag to carry on her shoulder instead and let her crawl onto his back. She held her body against his back with one full arm across the front of his shoulders and he pulled her knees around his hips with a smile. He stepped out quickly and dipped around pedestrians, carts and pigs. They were laughing out loud by the time they reached the grass a hundred feet away, and Frodo deliberately rolled both of them and the tapestry bag clumsily into the grass for a soft landing.
The playfulness was fun sight to see, and not uncommon in town, but that it was Frodo and his Mysterious Guest made a few more eyes than usual glance over at the mirth in the grass.
Otho chewed thoughtfully on his pipe as he leered at it from the pub. He glanced at Liam.
Liam looked over at a visiting Mankin. "That's them over there."
Frodo climbed to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. He picked up the bag while she straightened out her butter yellow dress. They were on a mission with that tapestry bag, but were still tucked in close with flirtatious mutters as they walked into the town common. They stopped at Velma's table and smiled a greeting at the aging woman.
Frodo complained lightly to Lauren when they started unloading the bag. "Why is it you never bake me a pie? I'd like a pie."
"What kind of pie would you like me to bake?" Lauren offered.
Frodo set out a pair of silver plated candlestick holders in front of Velma. Velma did look at them, but Frodo didn't notice. Instead, he looked Lauren in the eye as he thought about it, and twinkled at her as he answered. "Cherry."
The bridge of her nose wrinkled to laugh---
"Maela!"
Time stopped ticking somewhere between giggling at him and turning in response to her name.
The town common slowed to a bated breath. Frodo's mouth opened, but his lungs wouldn't breath. His pulse thudded in his ears. His skin prickled with heat.
A Man marched to them with a chiseled stare, looking at her with confusion, with insult and questions and fears that what he suspected was true. He was a short for Man, but still a foot taller than a hobbit. He was in simple, black and white clothes. He had a baked-biscuit color to his skin, flat, raven-colored hair, almond shaped eyes... strong identifiers that were only accents on Lauren.
She turned around to look at Frodo with an expression as if she'd been shot in the chest with an arrow, like it was the last time, the last chance, the last moment she could be his Lauren. Her expression was struck with regret, and the clear wish she could have reversed time just a few minutes and change its direction.
Frodo started shaking his head in a hopeless plea.
"Maela Orin!" The man shouted deep and loud, disciplining her for turning away from him.
Lauren's eyes begged forgiveness from Frodo. Her eyes filled with tears.
The man grabbed her by the arm as soon as she was in reach and whipped her to turn around. He flicked a glare down to Frodo and pressed his thin lips together to leer at her. "I've been looking for you for months. I thought you'd gotten lost."
"Han," she whispered to beg his mercy. She winced painfully that she knew his name.
Han took a step back. "Perhaps you ran away."
Lauren shook her head. "No. I don't remember."
The bag dribbled from Frodo's hands. He took a wavering step backwards.
Otho lumbered over with Liam not far from his heals. "Mister Orin? I see you found her. Good." He winked at Frodo on his way over and gave a serious expression to the yellow-tinted couple.
Liam chimed in officially. "You're wife has been serving as Frodo Bagginses housemaid these last six months, though I've heard tell a story or two."
Han Orin's face bobbed up at that statement. He glared at Frodo and he glared at Liam for bringing it up in public. His voice was stiff to Liam, "You honor me with your hospitality Mister Bracegirdle, but I request you step away from my private affairs."
Liam flapped up his hands and took a step back. Otho smiled missing teeth at Frodo.
Han tucked in to try to look at her. "They said you lost your memory. Do you know who I am?"
Lauren stared wide eyed at his boot covered feet. A giant tear fell off her eyelashes and dripped directly to the dust below. Her voice was tiny. "Yes."
Frodo's wide open eyes watched them and empathically soaked up everything he hated to know. His face flushed with heat. His stomach flipped upside down. His heart balled into a knot and tried to escape through his throat.
Han stared him in the eyes. "I'll visit in on you at a later time." His hand squeezed around Lauren's upper arm and pushed her to turn her back on her keeper.
Lauren's head turned as much as it could to look over her shoulder to him. Her eyes pleaded for Frodo.
Han shoved her harder. She whipped into place and followed where her arms was dragged. Otho laughed with sick pleasure. Frodo watched Lauren being hauled away by an angry husband through the town common.
Otho took the pipe from his mouth to say it loud and clear for everyone to hear, sharing a complaint as if they were around a table at the pub. "You get comfy with something that you've rightfully inherited and some ungrateful bastard comes to take it away from you. Now doesn't that just curdle your milk?"
Frodo's shoulder started to hurt. His face crumbled with noxious wrath.
Han yanked her indoors of the pub.
"And Bailey's up in arms about breaking it off with Pippin too." Liam commented. "It's going to be a dramatic supper tonight."
Frodo turned his back to the old man and possessive father just to get a grip on what just happened. They took her. They took her and they took Bailey. And if they found out, they would take Kristana too. . . .
"You just needed to talk some sense in to her," Otho said loudly, just to rub it in. "Just like Lauren is about to have some sense knocked into her-"
CRACK!
Otho's mouth was bleeding before he knew Frodo was winding up for the punch. He fell into Liam and reached for his jaw.
Liam shoved Otho aside and spat at Frodo. "What the hell is the matter with you!?"
Frodo's fist was still swinging one way, so he just swung it back the other. He got Liam hard across the temple. WHAP!
Liam stumbled into Otho, but the two were so roundy that if they fell they would have rolled. Frodo took a single stomp to them and threw a wad of spit on the pair. Then he turned and stomped swiftly away.
"Frodo Baggins!" Otho growled. "You'll not shun me!"
"You come back here!" Liam demanded.
His feet started moving. He walked uneasily out of the town common and his feet sped up over the bridge. Some girl asked him if he was all right. He shook off her hand and fell into a trot to get across the river.
There was little conversation in Bag End that night, but there was a lot of drinking. Sam sulked about Rosie's truths – she was too right about too many things. Pippin's face was permanently etched, as angry at himself as he was at Bailey. Merry blank stare at the air illustrated how hollow he felt. Frodo just sat in the corner, hugged a bottle, and cried.
They were supposed to lean on each other, but they were unnaturally detached. It felt like a lead weight in the stomach that they'd already betrayed the other three. Souls stung sharply. Teeth gritted and faces winced. Liquor didn't numb it. Leaf only made them sick. And there was a yawning sinkhole in their hearts where the ladies had been.
Frodo sat up with anger in his mouth and sarcasm in his voice. "I think I liked it better in Mordor."
Sam turned away from him. His face crumbled to tears, but his eyes were too dry to produce any. The money was gone, and all hope of recovering had sunk. It felt like Frodo was getting ready to abandon him again, but this time Sam had to cut himself loose before even Frodo was ready to make the decision.
"Let's go back to Mordor," Frodo said strongly as though he were suggesting a vacation on the coast. He sniffed hard. "Who's with me?"
Pippin's legs were folded in front of him. He set his elbows on his knees and dug both sets of fingers into the hair at his temples. He may as well go back to Mordor. Life without Bailey wasn't going to feel much different -- just a big empty stretch of time where life never managed to happen. His squeezed his eyes closed and started shuddering.
"I'm with you, Frodo." Merry said distantly. His fingers reached blindly down the red/purple skin on his thigh, wanting so badly to scratch at the array of leeches now sucking the blood from his body. His eyes were open to nothing in front of him. "But I think I'm going to beat you there. . . . "
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