~*~*~*~
Marroc's Tale
Chapter 2: Of Cousins, Goats, and Much Speculation
By Hippy :) Hobbit
Dedicated to Niph
A/N: anything in between ~~ are thoughts. See author's notes at the end also.
~*~*~*~
It didn't take long for Marroc and Pippin to get to Tookland, but they didn't talk at all along the way (for awhile at least). There seemed to be a distinct silence between the two, as though just daring the other to say something.
Marroc followed Pippin loyally, not even knowing that his home way his own desired destination. Merry had told him to go with him, and whatever Merry said went. Marroc was still greatly in his debt for saving his hide from a wolf earlier that summer, and followed his every order to the dot.
"Where are we goin?" he asked Pippin after a long time.
"Moi house."
"Where's dat?"
"Tooklan'"
"Where's dat?"
"Um..." Pippin stopped looking utterly confused, "...in Tooklan'"
"Oh..." said Marroc, sounding as though he understood, yet didn't. "Wot's yewr name?"
"Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin."
"Oi'm Marroc Took."
"Yew look like a Brandybuck."
"Moi mum is a one."
"Oh. Why are yew 'ere den?"
"Oi'm buyin' a goat!" there was now an excited tone to his voice.
"Why would yew wont a goat?" Now it was Marroc's turn to be confused.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Day smell norra good."
"Nuh-uh. Moi old Ruby smelled jus' fine!"
"Well, yew norra smell good, so she musta smelled jus' fine ta yew!"
"D'yew 'ave goats?"
"Yep. Moi da's sellin' one ta someone taday though." They both had yet to make the connection and so walked in silence for a few more moments before-
"Hey! Is yewr da's name Paladin?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Oi'm the one buyin' yewr goat den!"
"Oh."
"Dat makes us cousins, 'cause moi da said dat Oi'm buyin' it from moi uncle."
"Where is yewr da then?"
"'ee fell out of a tree an' couldn't come ta take me, so Oi had ta go meself.
"Wot was 'ee doin' up there?" Pippin blinked, confused. It didn't seem as though Marroc knew either.
"Oi-" but just then, Merry came running up behind them, his face a bit flushed. He scooped up Pippin in his arms as soon as he had caught up to them and ruffled Marroc's hair, who then clamped a hand to his curls, annoyed.
"Oi thought yew weren't going ta come, Mewwy."
"My da bullied me into it, Marroc-Lad. And besides, I figured I would get to see Pip if I came." He rustled the other lad's hair.
~And that makes everything better then doesn't it?~ Marroc asked himself, more then a bit jealous of the attention that Merry was giving his other cousin. Merry rarely got to see Pippin, unlike it was for Marroc, whom he often found himself purposely avoiding. It wasn't like he didn't like his younger cousin...
...okay, so it was.
There had always been a fine line between Marroc and Pippin, according to Merry's understanding, although they did have a lot of similarities. For one, it was quite impossible to tell the two apart during their younger years; however, if you knew what you were looking for, you could tell that Marroc had slightly a lighter hair color, due to his direct Brandybuck relations. Also, he was a bit thinner then Peregrin, and taller, even though he was about a year younger and his face was almost always dirty, as he never saw it sensible to wash it- it would be dirty again with in the hour. Their eyes, however, were both a brilliant green hue and their smile and face structure- undoubtedly Tookish. And lack of regular intelligence was always expected when near one of them (as some put it 'I can feel my very I.Q. dropping while standing in their presence!')
Forgetting their looks and stupidity, however, the two Took lads could sometimes be very different hobbits. Pippin was always pretty rough and fun to be around- Marroc could be rough too and fun, but sometimes he was kind of...well...there was only one word that the future Master of Brandyhall could say to describe it...and that was...
...feminine.
Not like feminine as in 'Ohmigosh I got my dress dirty!!'(Quite the contrary as a matter-of-fact). More like 'I'm so adorable- and you can't resist me', which annoyed Merry very much.
But really- the lad didn't know exactly what he was doing. There were periods during the day when he would get extremely tired from running around (his youthful energy can't last forever) and he would sit there, lay back, and flutter his eyelashes with a softly bemused look on his face, trying to keep awake, though it looked... well... rather odd (though strangely cute); however, most of the Brandyhall elders were making bets on whether Marroc would be a queer when he grew up. Neither Maggie nor Tarroc knew anything about this absurd idea- Saradoc didn't have the heart to tell them. Nor, if seemed, did he have the courage to risk getting his face punched in by the lad's over-protective father.
~*~*~*~
"Why were those lads picking on you, Pippin dear?" Merry asked after a while.
"Day said me da wasn't really me da and 'ee bought me off a tramp so 'ee could be Theein." Merry was aghast
"How could they say something like that?! You weren't bought off some tramp!!"
"Oi wasn't?"
"NO! I was there when you were born!!!"
"Were yew there when Oi was born."
"Yes Marroc, now hush up!" Marroc scowled, but Merry continued on. "You see, Pippin, Roy and his friends just pick on little lads like you to make themselves feel good. They hate themselves, and so making others feel bad makes them feel good." He sighed, knowing he probably wasn't making any sense to his younger cousin. "You should stand up to them!"
"Like wot Marroc did?" Pippin asked, giving his other cousin a smile as if to say 'My Hero!'. Merry glanced back at Marroc.
"Erm... no. Not like what he did. Not physical. Stand up to him and defend yourself. Or at least run away."
"Yew ain't supposed ta run away from a fight!" Marroc said, indignantly "Moi da says yewr supposed ta fight 'em back!"
"No Marroc. You shouldn't get into fights. It's bad. You'll get hurt. It's just like with that wolf, lad."
Marroc's cheeks flushed a little remembering the incident, and he said nothing more.
~*~*~*~
Not long after that, they came upon the looming blue door of the Took household, and the many hills of the Smials behind with their various windows and smaller doors. Merry, being the oldest and strongest opened the large door for his younger cousins, who scooted inside quickly.
Marroc's mouth dropped open. Not even Brandyhall had so many hobbits. Servants were busy bustling by with trays and flowers and doing whatever else they could find as to make themselves busy and not get yelled at by the Thain.
He might have been trampled by a rather large and round hobbit carrying a centerpiece, if Merry's hand hadn't grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out of the way.
"Marroc!" Merry hissed, giving the lad a penetrating stare before releasing him, "You need to be more careful in here! They're getting ready for a feast tonight and they're very cranky!" Marroc nodded obdiently, and then followed him and Pippin.
A few of the elder hobbits stared as Marroc passed, but when he looked up at them, they simply smiled and nodded in an almost forced-friendly fashion, before turning to each other and whispering fervently.
Now, there's an important point I'd like to bring up here- Tarroc never told his son why he'd been sent away from the Took clan. He never told him that he had almost killed his cousin Paladin- not out of shame, but for fear that his Marroc-Lad, who was already turning out to be so much like himself, would act with the same denotations towards his own cousins. It was simply that Daddy WANTED to work as a bounder, not that Daddy had been FORCED to work as a bounder.
And so, they continued on down the long corridors filled with both closed and opened doors, and weaving their way around everyone, until at last, they came to the Great Hall- which would be where the celebrations that night would be taking place at. Marroc's mouth dropped open again at the size of the room. Never before had he seen so many hobbits in one place, especially a place as big as this!
"Marroc!" Merry yelled, annoyed, snapping the lad back into his rightful mind. Marroc ran after him, though not before tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face at the feet of Paladin Took- the soon to be Thain and Arch-enemy of his own father.
Merry covered his face with one hand ~Stupid git!~. Paladin picked Marroc up by the back of his green jacket and set him on his feet in front of himself. Marroc blinked a few times, then rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and looked Paladin straight in the eye. Pippin watched silently as Merry strode forward a bit a set his hand on the younger lad's shoulder.
"Err... Mr. Took. This is Marroc, Tarroc's son. He's the one my father... my father said would be coming to buy that goat you had for sale." He gulped, waiting for some kind out outburst to come from Paladin about having Tarroc's son IN the Took household, but nothing came immediately. Pippin's father just stood, surveying the skinny lad in front of him, and scratching his chin with a pensive look on his face. Marroc stood looking equally as thoughtful. Paladin... now that he thought about it, that name rang a bell. Oh yeah! Paladin was that guy that his da was always hollering about. ~He doesn't look THAT mean~ Marroc mused to himself. But Paladin's words brought him back from his thoughts.
"Since when did Tarroc get married?" he asked Merry, in a rather rude, though skeptical tone, "We all thought he was dead!"
"Err..." when DID Tarroc and Maggie get married anyway? Merry knew it was before he was born- they had waited a long time to have children. He was almost ready to answer that he didn't know, but then Paladin spoke again.
"Forget it. I'm not going to sell him the goat." Marroc's mouth dropped open and he looked to Merry to defend him. Merry caught the lad's sad eyes and felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for his little cousin.
"Wha..why not, sir?" Paladin frowned at Merry.
"Don't question me, Meriadoc Brandybuck! I have my reasons. Don't you know what his father almost did to me?!" Merry nodded.
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you should have a grudge against Marroc! He worked hard to earn the money to buy that goat!" ~and you don't have to walk all the way home with him being all pouty!~
"I don't care how much he worked!" Paladin was getting angry. The Brandybucks were supposed to be on HIS side, goshdarnitall!
Marroc's usually bright and perky green eyes were starting to tear up now. Merry watched, feeling rather awkward. He had, of course, seen the lad cry. Marroc could be a very emotional person at times. Though he never threw a fit- his parents had raised him well (with the exception of beating up all who opposed him). But seriously, he didn't cry when he got hurt, he didn't cry when he didn't get his way, he didn't cry when someone played a joke on him, and he usually didn't cry when he got scared (the wolf thing was a whole different story and understandably so). He cried when he saw those he loved in bad moods, which happened most of the time when he was around Merry. But now... after he had worked so hard for that danged goat-
"Meriadoc! Take this lad home and tell his father that I don't ever want him around here AGAIN! And I don't want him talking to Peregrin or the girls! Do you understand, Meriadoc?!" Paladin yelled to his nephew. Merry sighed
"Yes sir." He took Marroc's hand and began leading him away. Pippin looked sadly up at his father.
"Paddy, can I go with Merry?" he asked eagerly.
"NO Peregrin! Have you heard nothing we have been talking about?!" Pippin gave his father the sad-puppy-dog look.
"But Paddy-"
"NO!" Pippin gave Marroc and Merry a sad wave, as they left the Great Hall.
~*~*~*~
Marroc hadn't said a word since they had left, and it was starting to bug Merry. He patted him comfortingly on the back.
"Come now, Marroc. We'll find you another goat." Marroc said nothing in reply, though his thoughts were going wild. ~It's the whole point of rejection, Meriadoc. You don't understand it, because no one had ever rejected you, and your parents aren't the only ones who love you~
Merry was just about to say something more, when it began to rain. Not just some light summer shower, but a full-fledged storm broke out in a matter of minutes.
Merry sighed in an exasperated tone ~The world hates me, doesn't it?~ He stopped walking, and Marroc stopped too, looking back at him.
"We're going to need to get back to Tookland. It's closest." Marroc gave him a sardonic look, which just made Merry even angrier.
"Look, Marroc. I don't care if Uncle Paladin doesn't want YOU there. You'll catch cold in this weather, and he can't cast out his own kin into the storm no matter how much he hates them-err their fathers!" ~Can he?~ He picked Marroc up and began running back towards Tookland.
~*~*~*~
By the time they got there, they were both soaked to the bone. Merry lifted a shaking hand and gave a knock upon the rain-soaked azure surface of the door and waited. Finally, it opened.
"Meriadoc!" Eglantine opened the door, then pulled him and the lad he carried in in a rush. "My goodness, Merry! Why are you out in the rain, and with such a little child? You could get him sick, not to mention yourself also!" she took Marroc from Merry's arms.
"Err... this is Marroc... Tarroc and Maggie Took's son, Mrs. Took," said Merry quietly. He waited for the same sort of reaction that came from his uncle, but that didn't happen.
"Maggie's son? Well, I didn't even know she got married! To Tarroc? Tarroc Took? No wonder I haven't she hasn't come on holiday in such a long time! That man's probably been keeping her away! Well no matter. Come with me, lad. You'll catch cold if you stay in those clothes. I'll get Edvard to loan you something to wear, and Peregrin can give this one something!" She hurried off with Marroc and Merry followed quickly.
~*~*~*~
They both had been taken care of within the hour, being given warm pajamas to wear. It was soon obvious that they were now going to have to stay the night. Even if the rain let up, the roads would be too muddy to travel all the way back to Buckland and it was starting to get dark. Eglantine had told the servants to get them blankets and a mug of hot soup each, then told the lads to curl up in front of the fire in the parlor. Merry had asked her to fetch Pippin, who was only too happy to join their little slumber party. He and Marroc shared a blanket, and they soon fell asleep, Marroc with his head resting on Pippin's chest and Pippin hugging his new friend tightly.
Eglantine watched her son and his cousin with a delighted smile on her lips ~Children get along so well...~ the two looked so content, their chests rising and falling lightly in unison. She closed the door of the parlor, so that none of the guests that evening would go in and disturb their rest. And especially not Paladin.
~*~*~*~
Tarroc was not happy camper when his son didn't return by nightfall.
"That blasted Paladin!" His yells echoed throughout their hobbithole as his wife tried to calm him down, " 'ee's prob'ly done somethin' ta Marroc-Lad! 'urt 'im or drugged him or somethin'! Oh Maggie! Why did Oi let 'im go there alone?!"
"Shhh, Tarroc love! I'm sure Marroc's fine. He probably went to Brandyhall when it started raining. I'm sure he's there now, you know he's a bright lad, dear!" said Maggie, soothingly.
"All the same! Oi'm not goin' ta jus' lie 'ere and not know if 'ee's alright or not!" he tried to stand, but fell back over due to his broken leg. "ARGHHHH!!!" Maggie sighed.
"Tarroc, dearest, if you want me to, I'll take the ponies to Brandyhall to see if Marroc's there. I don't want you to hurt yourself!"
"No Maggie! Oi'm commin' with yew!" Maggie sighed again, rendering it useless to argue with him.
Tarroc managed to limp his way into the stable without any incident, upon a make-shift crutch he had Maggie make for him out of a few bundled walking sticks and some rags. There, he helped his wife hook up their old pony, Loch Lomond, to their cart, and in the pouring rain, they drove all the way to Brandyhall.
"Sorry Tarroc," Saradoc said, as they sat by the fire in the parlor of the Master's home, "He hasn't come back. And neither has Merry. I made him feel guilty for not going with your lad, and I suppose he probably caught up to him. He left not long after Marroc went past here. Though they might have stayed in Tookland when it started raining, I'm sure."
Tarroc banged his fist down on the coffee table that was next to the rocking chair he was sitting in, denting the wood ever the slightest and making Maggie jump up a little.
"Tarroc!" she scolded. Saradoc sighed, knowing it would be no use to try and sooth his friend's anger management problem.
"I wouldn't risk going to Tookland, Tarroc, not in this weather, and especially not with that leg of yours. It'll be too muddy for the cart also."
"I DON'T CARE! I'm going to find my son before something terrible happens to him! Maggie, you stay here-"
"No Tarroc. I'm coming too."
"Maggie!"
"Tarroc, I'm going with you, or you're not going at all! Besides, you'll probably kill Paladin- Someone's going to need to hold you back!"
" I don't want to kill him..." Tarroc scowled, "maybe maim him a bit though,"
"Well, you almost killed him last time," said Saradoc, folding his arms across his chest, " I remember it well. I don't think I'd let you go unless Maggie went too, anyway," he smiled at his cousin and fellow Brandybuck, "She's a strong lass, and I reckon the only person in the Shire that would be able to calm YOU down. Besides Marroc of course," he stood up and they did to, Tarroc leaning heavily on his crutch, " Well, have Merry come home with you if you make it there in one piece."
~*~*~*~
It was far past the end of the feast. Pimpernel, Pippin's older sister, was asleep in a chair by the door, where she had been greeting guests all night (most of whom had gone home, not living far away enough for the rain to be a problem). A sharp knock came to the door, jerking Pimpernel out of her peaceful rest. After the second knock came, she decided that she should get it, since no one else was around. She pulled herself out of the chair with a groan, and opened the door.
Tarroc and Maggie stood there, of course, but she had no idea who they were.
"Err... can I help you?" she asked them politely, though they looked rather like gypsies due to the extensive travel they had under taken during the storm and it was making her nervous.
Tarroc leaned on his crutch, then said to her, nicely, "Sorry to bother yew this late in the evenin', Miss, but could yew tell me if one such Paladin Took still resides in this fair home?" Maggie covered her face, trying to keep from laughing at the politeness in her husband's voice ~He wasn't even this nice to me at our wedding! Alright, maybe he was...~. Pimpernel nodded, slowly.
"Yes. He's my father. Erm... shall I fetch him for you, sir?"
"'hat would be dandy, Miss."
"Uh... would you come in then?" She led them into the second parlor, which wasn't as nice as the one Marroc, Pippin and Merry were sleeping in, as her mother had warned her not to let anyone into the that one. They sat down and she rushed off to find her father.
She found him, speaking with the old Thain, near the back of the Great Hall.
"Father," she said, after making sure they were both done speaking, "someone is here to see you."
"Really? Who is it?" he asked, mildly curious. Pimpernel shrugged.
"I dunno. I didn't ask for names. It's a man and a woman- they're all haggard from being out in the rain and mud, and the man has a crutch. He asked for you personally."
Paladin frowned. "Well, alright." He bade goodnight to the Thain and left the room with his daughter.
As soon as he walked in the room and saw who was sitting in the chair, a look of intense fear came over Paladin's face. He stared wide-eyed at his cousin.
"Y-you! What are you doing here?!"
Tarroc stood up and leaned heavily on his crutch.
"Where's my son?!" he asked. He didn't say it loudly, but it was in a curt and threatening tone. Paladin paused for a moment, thinking, and then replied snidely,
"Your scanty little rat of a son left here at noon, with Meriadoc! I don't know where they went after that, but he most certainly isn't here!" He folded his arms across his chest angrily, "Now go before I tell the Thain you're here!"
This enraged Tarroc even more. Before Maggie could grab him to hold him down, he had leapt from the crutch, to Paladin, knocking him flat on his back.
"WHERE IS MY SON?!"
~*~*~*~
In the room next door, Pippin and Marroc awoke as they heard the yelling. They both sat up, Pippin looking altogether mortified, though Marroc just looked confused and half-awake.
"W-w-wot was d-d-d-dat?" Pippin stammered, grabbing Marroc's hand, frightened beyond his wits. The walls between them distorted the yelling quite a lot, so the noises they heard were just a bunch of random, though frightening roars. Marroc shrugged, then yawned and stood up, stepping over the lump that was Merry and walking to the door. Pippin scurried after him.
"Wait! Dun yew think we should wake up Mewwy?" He asked, shaking furiously. Marroc watched him for a moment, looking a bit worried, then shook his head, his curls flopping around.
"Naw..." He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, then pulled the door open.
Two curly, Tookish heads poked out into the hallway, Marroc was on the bottom and Pippin was on top, leaning a bit too far over perhaps. They both fell making quite the clatter a few moments later, though it was nothing compared to the room next to them.
"TELL ME WHERE HE IS, YOU KNIVING FIEND, OR I'LL KILL YOU HERE AND NOW! WHERE'S MY SON!"
"Tarroc, sweetie! C'mon now, let him go!" Loud thumps could be heard now- Tarroc was beating Paladin's head upon the hard wood floor. He was ignoring his wife though.
Marroc pulled himself out from under his cousin.
"Oi think dat's me da..." he said, slowly to Pippin, before standing and walking over to the door of the second parlor. He twisted the knob and slowly pulled it open.
The scene that came to his eyes was odd for such young children to see. Marroc's crippled father, was sitting on the stomach of his uncle, shaking and beating his head on the floor by means of grabbing his shoulders. He was using his knees to keep Paladin from grabbing him, pushing his arms into the ground. His mother was on her feet too, trying with all her might to pull her husband off his very frightened, now very confused and befuddled cousin.
Everyone looked up and stopped what they were doing as Marroc entered, Pippin following closely behind him. Marroc looked his father in the eye, his mouth slightly open. Tarroc watched his son, feeling his heart break. He watched the cogs turning under his son's thick hair, feeling irresponsible and altogether stupid ~Ack! How could I set such a bad example?!~. It was a few moments before anyone said anything, but Marroc was the first to speak.
"Da..." he said, slowly, backing up until he was standing next to Pippin. The cogs seemed to be working hard. "We-we are fwiends..." he took Pippin's hand, "why cant yew two be?"
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Okay that kinda took me a while to get up, didn't it? But it was, most definitely longer then chapter 1. Erm... I got three reviews, so I guess I'll answer them now:
Niph: Aww... thanks! That whole big, long conversation between Marroc and Pippin I wrote just for you, because of that review (no really, it was going to be a lot shorter then what it finally turned out as) ! *feels all special now*
Gollumsess: Jeez, now I feel even more special! Thank you!
Cerridwen: Erm... the accent...riiight. Here's a little key to use, if you need it. I (shamelessly) ripped a lot of it off the mole's speech in the Redwall series:
Oi- I
Norra- not or no
Yew- you
Yewr- your or you're
Wot- what
Dat- that
Day- they
Moi- my
Theein- Thain
Marroc won't talk like that after a while. Tarroc will only be in a few more chapters also, so you wont have to put up with the accent for a little while.
I think the rest should be pretty easy to figure out. Oh yeah... the sparkplug thing hit me like a baseball in the forehead from home to right field (ouchies)... I realized that right after publishing the last chapter and felt really pretty stupid x.X But thanks for the review and I look forward to some more of your insights if you read this chapter too!
Now for just a few little sidenotes: The very last line of this chapter comes from the movie 'Big Bully' (cant remember who stars in it) but the son says it to the father when he sees his best friend's paddy wrestling with him. Yeppers. Some parts in this chapter may make absolutely no sense, but that's because I wrote the majority of it while half awake. Uh... what else? Oh yes... I don't like the fact that Tookland and Buckland are like, 100 miles away from each other (according to the Middle Earth Atlas) so, they wont be in MY story.
Err... Tarroc has anger management problems, though I'm sure you figured that out already. Marroc has emotional problems- he becomes rather jealous of Merry and Pippin's relationship, not having any real hobbit friends himself.
Oh, and I added the Edvard thing for you too, Niph. Thought you may get a kick out of that ~.^
~Hippy :) Hobbit
Marroc's Tale
Chapter 2: Of Cousins, Goats, and Much Speculation
By Hippy :) Hobbit
Dedicated to Niph
A/N: anything in between ~~ are thoughts. See author's notes at the end also.
~*~*~*~
It didn't take long for Marroc and Pippin to get to Tookland, but they didn't talk at all along the way (for awhile at least). There seemed to be a distinct silence between the two, as though just daring the other to say something.
Marroc followed Pippin loyally, not even knowing that his home way his own desired destination. Merry had told him to go with him, and whatever Merry said went. Marroc was still greatly in his debt for saving his hide from a wolf earlier that summer, and followed his every order to the dot.
"Where are we goin?" he asked Pippin after a long time.
"Moi house."
"Where's dat?"
"Tooklan'"
"Where's dat?"
"Um..." Pippin stopped looking utterly confused, "...in Tooklan'"
"Oh..." said Marroc, sounding as though he understood, yet didn't. "Wot's yewr name?"
"Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin."
"Oi'm Marroc Took."
"Yew look like a Brandybuck."
"Moi mum is a one."
"Oh. Why are yew 'ere den?"
"Oi'm buyin' a goat!" there was now an excited tone to his voice.
"Why would yew wont a goat?" Now it was Marroc's turn to be confused.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Day smell norra good."
"Nuh-uh. Moi old Ruby smelled jus' fine!"
"Well, yew norra smell good, so she musta smelled jus' fine ta yew!"
"D'yew 'ave goats?"
"Yep. Moi da's sellin' one ta someone taday though." They both had yet to make the connection and so walked in silence for a few more moments before-
"Hey! Is yewr da's name Paladin?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Oi'm the one buyin' yewr goat den!"
"Oh."
"Dat makes us cousins, 'cause moi da said dat Oi'm buyin' it from moi uncle."
"Where is yewr da then?"
"'ee fell out of a tree an' couldn't come ta take me, so Oi had ta go meself.
"Wot was 'ee doin' up there?" Pippin blinked, confused. It didn't seem as though Marroc knew either.
"Oi-" but just then, Merry came running up behind them, his face a bit flushed. He scooped up Pippin in his arms as soon as he had caught up to them and ruffled Marroc's hair, who then clamped a hand to his curls, annoyed.
"Oi thought yew weren't going ta come, Mewwy."
"My da bullied me into it, Marroc-Lad. And besides, I figured I would get to see Pip if I came." He rustled the other lad's hair.
~And that makes everything better then doesn't it?~ Marroc asked himself, more then a bit jealous of the attention that Merry was giving his other cousin. Merry rarely got to see Pippin, unlike it was for Marroc, whom he often found himself purposely avoiding. It wasn't like he didn't like his younger cousin...
...okay, so it was.
There had always been a fine line between Marroc and Pippin, according to Merry's understanding, although they did have a lot of similarities. For one, it was quite impossible to tell the two apart during their younger years; however, if you knew what you were looking for, you could tell that Marroc had slightly a lighter hair color, due to his direct Brandybuck relations. Also, he was a bit thinner then Peregrin, and taller, even though he was about a year younger and his face was almost always dirty, as he never saw it sensible to wash it- it would be dirty again with in the hour. Their eyes, however, were both a brilliant green hue and their smile and face structure- undoubtedly Tookish. And lack of regular intelligence was always expected when near one of them (as some put it 'I can feel my very I.Q. dropping while standing in their presence!')
Forgetting their looks and stupidity, however, the two Took lads could sometimes be very different hobbits. Pippin was always pretty rough and fun to be around- Marroc could be rough too and fun, but sometimes he was kind of...well...there was only one word that the future Master of Brandyhall could say to describe it...and that was...
...feminine.
Not like feminine as in 'Ohmigosh I got my dress dirty!!'(Quite the contrary as a matter-of-fact). More like 'I'm so adorable- and you can't resist me', which annoyed Merry very much.
But really- the lad didn't know exactly what he was doing. There were periods during the day when he would get extremely tired from running around (his youthful energy can't last forever) and he would sit there, lay back, and flutter his eyelashes with a softly bemused look on his face, trying to keep awake, though it looked... well... rather odd (though strangely cute); however, most of the Brandyhall elders were making bets on whether Marroc would be a queer when he grew up. Neither Maggie nor Tarroc knew anything about this absurd idea- Saradoc didn't have the heart to tell them. Nor, if seemed, did he have the courage to risk getting his face punched in by the lad's over-protective father.
~*~*~*~
"Why were those lads picking on you, Pippin dear?" Merry asked after a while.
"Day said me da wasn't really me da and 'ee bought me off a tramp so 'ee could be Theein." Merry was aghast
"How could they say something like that?! You weren't bought off some tramp!!"
"Oi wasn't?"
"NO! I was there when you were born!!!"
"Were yew there when Oi was born."
"Yes Marroc, now hush up!" Marroc scowled, but Merry continued on. "You see, Pippin, Roy and his friends just pick on little lads like you to make themselves feel good. They hate themselves, and so making others feel bad makes them feel good." He sighed, knowing he probably wasn't making any sense to his younger cousin. "You should stand up to them!"
"Like wot Marroc did?" Pippin asked, giving his other cousin a smile as if to say 'My Hero!'. Merry glanced back at Marroc.
"Erm... no. Not like what he did. Not physical. Stand up to him and defend yourself. Or at least run away."
"Yew ain't supposed ta run away from a fight!" Marroc said, indignantly "Moi da says yewr supposed ta fight 'em back!"
"No Marroc. You shouldn't get into fights. It's bad. You'll get hurt. It's just like with that wolf, lad."
Marroc's cheeks flushed a little remembering the incident, and he said nothing more.
~*~*~*~
Not long after that, they came upon the looming blue door of the Took household, and the many hills of the Smials behind with their various windows and smaller doors. Merry, being the oldest and strongest opened the large door for his younger cousins, who scooted inside quickly.
Marroc's mouth dropped open. Not even Brandyhall had so many hobbits. Servants were busy bustling by with trays and flowers and doing whatever else they could find as to make themselves busy and not get yelled at by the Thain.
He might have been trampled by a rather large and round hobbit carrying a centerpiece, if Merry's hand hadn't grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out of the way.
"Marroc!" Merry hissed, giving the lad a penetrating stare before releasing him, "You need to be more careful in here! They're getting ready for a feast tonight and they're very cranky!" Marroc nodded obdiently, and then followed him and Pippin.
A few of the elder hobbits stared as Marroc passed, but when he looked up at them, they simply smiled and nodded in an almost forced-friendly fashion, before turning to each other and whispering fervently.
Now, there's an important point I'd like to bring up here- Tarroc never told his son why he'd been sent away from the Took clan. He never told him that he had almost killed his cousin Paladin- not out of shame, but for fear that his Marroc-Lad, who was already turning out to be so much like himself, would act with the same denotations towards his own cousins. It was simply that Daddy WANTED to work as a bounder, not that Daddy had been FORCED to work as a bounder.
And so, they continued on down the long corridors filled with both closed and opened doors, and weaving their way around everyone, until at last, they came to the Great Hall- which would be where the celebrations that night would be taking place at. Marroc's mouth dropped open again at the size of the room. Never before had he seen so many hobbits in one place, especially a place as big as this!
"Marroc!" Merry yelled, annoyed, snapping the lad back into his rightful mind. Marroc ran after him, though not before tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face at the feet of Paladin Took- the soon to be Thain and Arch-enemy of his own father.
Merry covered his face with one hand ~Stupid git!~. Paladin picked Marroc up by the back of his green jacket and set him on his feet in front of himself. Marroc blinked a few times, then rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and looked Paladin straight in the eye. Pippin watched silently as Merry strode forward a bit a set his hand on the younger lad's shoulder.
"Err... Mr. Took. This is Marroc, Tarroc's son. He's the one my father... my father said would be coming to buy that goat you had for sale." He gulped, waiting for some kind out outburst to come from Paladin about having Tarroc's son IN the Took household, but nothing came immediately. Pippin's father just stood, surveying the skinny lad in front of him, and scratching his chin with a pensive look on his face. Marroc stood looking equally as thoughtful. Paladin... now that he thought about it, that name rang a bell. Oh yeah! Paladin was that guy that his da was always hollering about. ~He doesn't look THAT mean~ Marroc mused to himself. But Paladin's words brought him back from his thoughts.
"Since when did Tarroc get married?" he asked Merry, in a rather rude, though skeptical tone, "We all thought he was dead!"
"Err..." when DID Tarroc and Maggie get married anyway? Merry knew it was before he was born- they had waited a long time to have children. He was almost ready to answer that he didn't know, but then Paladin spoke again.
"Forget it. I'm not going to sell him the goat." Marroc's mouth dropped open and he looked to Merry to defend him. Merry caught the lad's sad eyes and felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for his little cousin.
"Wha..why not, sir?" Paladin frowned at Merry.
"Don't question me, Meriadoc Brandybuck! I have my reasons. Don't you know what his father almost did to me?!" Merry nodded.
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you should have a grudge against Marroc! He worked hard to earn the money to buy that goat!" ~and you don't have to walk all the way home with him being all pouty!~
"I don't care how much he worked!" Paladin was getting angry. The Brandybucks were supposed to be on HIS side, goshdarnitall!
Marroc's usually bright and perky green eyes were starting to tear up now. Merry watched, feeling rather awkward. He had, of course, seen the lad cry. Marroc could be a very emotional person at times. Though he never threw a fit- his parents had raised him well (with the exception of beating up all who opposed him). But seriously, he didn't cry when he got hurt, he didn't cry when he didn't get his way, he didn't cry when someone played a joke on him, and he usually didn't cry when he got scared (the wolf thing was a whole different story and understandably so). He cried when he saw those he loved in bad moods, which happened most of the time when he was around Merry. But now... after he had worked so hard for that danged goat-
"Meriadoc! Take this lad home and tell his father that I don't ever want him around here AGAIN! And I don't want him talking to Peregrin or the girls! Do you understand, Meriadoc?!" Paladin yelled to his nephew. Merry sighed
"Yes sir." He took Marroc's hand and began leading him away. Pippin looked sadly up at his father.
"Paddy, can I go with Merry?" he asked eagerly.
"NO Peregrin! Have you heard nothing we have been talking about?!" Pippin gave his father the sad-puppy-dog look.
"But Paddy-"
"NO!" Pippin gave Marroc and Merry a sad wave, as they left the Great Hall.
~*~*~*~
Marroc hadn't said a word since they had left, and it was starting to bug Merry. He patted him comfortingly on the back.
"Come now, Marroc. We'll find you another goat." Marroc said nothing in reply, though his thoughts were going wild. ~It's the whole point of rejection, Meriadoc. You don't understand it, because no one had ever rejected you, and your parents aren't the only ones who love you~
Merry was just about to say something more, when it began to rain. Not just some light summer shower, but a full-fledged storm broke out in a matter of minutes.
Merry sighed in an exasperated tone ~The world hates me, doesn't it?~ He stopped walking, and Marroc stopped too, looking back at him.
"We're going to need to get back to Tookland. It's closest." Marroc gave him a sardonic look, which just made Merry even angrier.
"Look, Marroc. I don't care if Uncle Paladin doesn't want YOU there. You'll catch cold in this weather, and he can't cast out his own kin into the storm no matter how much he hates them-err their fathers!" ~Can he?~ He picked Marroc up and began running back towards Tookland.
~*~*~*~
By the time they got there, they were both soaked to the bone. Merry lifted a shaking hand and gave a knock upon the rain-soaked azure surface of the door and waited. Finally, it opened.
"Meriadoc!" Eglantine opened the door, then pulled him and the lad he carried in in a rush. "My goodness, Merry! Why are you out in the rain, and with such a little child? You could get him sick, not to mention yourself also!" she took Marroc from Merry's arms.
"Err... this is Marroc... Tarroc and Maggie Took's son, Mrs. Took," said Merry quietly. He waited for the same sort of reaction that came from his uncle, but that didn't happen.
"Maggie's son? Well, I didn't even know she got married! To Tarroc? Tarroc Took? No wonder I haven't she hasn't come on holiday in such a long time! That man's probably been keeping her away! Well no matter. Come with me, lad. You'll catch cold if you stay in those clothes. I'll get Edvard to loan you something to wear, and Peregrin can give this one something!" She hurried off with Marroc and Merry followed quickly.
~*~*~*~
They both had been taken care of within the hour, being given warm pajamas to wear. It was soon obvious that they were now going to have to stay the night. Even if the rain let up, the roads would be too muddy to travel all the way back to Buckland and it was starting to get dark. Eglantine had told the servants to get them blankets and a mug of hot soup each, then told the lads to curl up in front of the fire in the parlor. Merry had asked her to fetch Pippin, who was only too happy to join their little slumber party. He and Marroc shared a blanket, and they soon fell asleep, Marroc with his head resting on Pippin's chest and Pippin hugging his new friend tightly.
Eglantine watched her son and his cousin with a delighted smile on her lips ~Children get along so well...~ the two looked so content, their chests rising and falling lightly in unison. She closed the door of the parlor, so that none of the guests that evening would go in and disturb their rest. And especially not Paladin.
~*~*~*~
Tarroc was not happy camper when his son didn't return by nightfall.
"That blasted Paladin!" His yells echoed throughout their hobbithole as his wife tried to calm him down, " 'ee's prob'ly done somethin' ta Marroc-Lad! 'urt 'im or drugged him or somethin'! Oh Maggie! Why did Oi let 'im go there alone?!"
"Shhh, Tarroc love! I'm sure Marroc's fine. He probably went to Brandyhall when it started raining. I'm sure he's there now, you know he's a bright lad, dear!" said Maggie, soothingly.
"All the same! Oi'm not goin' ta jus' lie 'ere and not know if 'ee's alright or not!" he tried to stand, but fell back over due to his broken leg. "ARGHHHH!!!" Maggie sighed.
"Tarroc, dearest, if you want me to, I'll take the ponies to Brandyhall to see if Marroc's there. I don't want you to hurt yourself!"
"No Maggie! Oi'm commin' with yew!" Maggie sighed again, rendering it useless to argue with him.
Tarroc managed to limp his way into the stable without any incident, upon a make-shift crutch he had Maggie make for him out of a few bundled walking sticks and some rags. There, he helped his wife hook up their old pony, Loch Lomond, to their cart, and in the pouring rain, they drove all the way to Brandyhall.
"Sorry Tarroc," Saradoc said, as they sat by the fire in the parlor of the Master's home, "He hasn't come back. And neither has Merry. I made him feel guilty for not going with your lad, and I suppose he probably caught up to him. He left not long after Marroc went past here. Though they might have stayed in Tookland when it started raining, I'm sure."
Tarroc banged his fist down on the coffee table that was next to the rocking chair he was sitting in, denting the wood ever the slightest and making Maggie jump up a little.
"Tarroc!" she scolded. Saradoc sighed, knowing it would be no use to try and sooth his friend's anger management problem.
"I wouldn't risk going to Tookland, Tarroc, not in this weather, and especially not with that leg of yours. It'll be too muddy for the cart also."
"I DON'T CARE! I'm going to find my son before something terrible happens to him! Maggie, you stay here-"
"No Tarroc. I'm coming too."
"Maggie!"
"Tarroc, I'm going with you, or you're not going at all! Besides, you'll probably kill Paladin- Someone's going to need to hold you back!"
" I don't want to kill him..." Tarroc scowled, "maybe maim him a bit though,"
"Well, you almost killed him last time," said Saradoc, folding his arms across his chest, " I remember it well. I don't think I'd let you go unless Maggie went too, anyway," he smiled at his cousin and fellow Brandybuck, "She's a strong lass, and I reckon the only person in the Shire that would be able to calm YOU down. Besides Marroc of course," he stood up and they did to, Tarroc leaning heavily on his crutch, " Well, have Merry come home with you if you make it there in one piece."
~*~*~*~
It was far past the end of the feast. Pimpernel, Pippin's older sister, was asleep in a chair by the door, where she had been greeting guests all night (most of whom had gone home, not living far away enough for the rain to be a problem). A sharp knock came to the door, jerking Pimpernel out of her peaceful rest. After the second knock came, she decided that she should get it, since no one else was around. She pulled herself out of the chair with a groan, and opened the door.
Tarroc and Maggie stood there, of course, but she had no idea who they were.
"Err... can I help you?" she asked them politely, though they looked rather like gypsies due to the extensive travel they had under taken during the storm and it was making her nervous.
Tarroc leaned on his crutch, then said to her, nicely, "Sorry to bother yew this late in the evenin', Miss, but could yew tell me if one such Paladin Took still resides in this fair home?" Maggie covered her face, trying to keep from laughing at the politeness in her husband's voice ~He wasn't even this nice to me at our wedding! Alright, maybe he was...~. Pimpernel nodded, slowly.
"Yes. He's my father. Erm... shall I fetch him for you, sir?"
"'hat would be dandy, Miss."
"Uh... would you come in then?" She led them into the second parlor, which wasn't as nice as the one Marroc, Pippin and Merry were sleeping in, as her mother had warned her not to let anyone into the that one. They sat down and she rushed off to find her father.
She found him, speaking with the old Thain, near the back of the Great Hall.
"Father," she said, after making sure they were both done speaking, "someone is here to see you."
"Really? Who is it?" he asked, mildly curious. Pimpernel shrugged.
"I dunno. I didn't ask for names. It's a man and a woman- they're all haggard from being out in the rain and mud, and the man has a crutch. He asked for you personally."
Paladin frowned. "Well, alright." He bade goodnight to the Thain and left the room with his daughter.
As soon as he walked in the room and saw who was sitting in the chair, a look of intense fear came over Paladin's face. He stared wide-eyed at his cousin.
"Y-you! What are you doing here?!"
Tarroc stood up and leaned heavily on his crutch.
"Where's my son?!" he asked. He didn't say it loudly, but it was in a curt and threatening tone. Paladin paused for a moment, thinking, and then replied snidely,
"Your scanty little rat of a son left here at noon, with Meriadoc! I don't know where they went after that, but he most certainly isn't here!" He folded his arms across his chest angrily, "Now go before I tell the Thain you're here!"
This enraged Tarroc even more. Before Maggie could grab him to hold him down, he had leapt from the crutch, to Paladin, knocking him flat on his back.
"WHERE IS MY SON?!"
~*~*~*~
In the room next door, Pippin and Marroc awoke as they heard the yelling. They both sat up, Pippin looking altogether mortified, though Marroc just looked confused and half-awake.
"W-w-wot was d-d-d-dat?" Pippin stammered, grabbing Marroc's hand, frightened beyond his wits. The walls between them distorted the yelling quite a lot, so the noises they heard were just a bunch of random, though frightening roars. Marroc shrugged, then yawned and stood up, stepping over the lump that was Merry and walking to the door. Pippin scurried after him.
"Wait! Dun yew think we should wake up Mewwy?" He asked, shaking furiously. Marroc watched him for a moment, looking a bit worried, then shook his head, his curls flopping around.
"Naw..." He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, then pulled the door open.
Two curly, Tookish heads poked out into the hallway, Marroc was on the bottom and Pippin was on top, leaning a bit too far over perhaps. They both fell making quite the clatter a few moments later, though it was nothing compared to the room next to them.
"TELL ME WHERE HE IS, YOU KNIVING FIEND, OR I'LL KILL YOU HERE AND NOW! WHERE'S MY SON!"
"Tarroc, sweetie! C'mon now, let him go!" Loud thumps could be heard now- Tarroc was beating Paladin's head upon the hard wood floor. He was ignoring his wife though.
Marroc pulled himself out from under his cousin.
"Oi think dat's me da..." he said, slowly to Pippin, before standing and walking over to the door of the second parlor. He twisted the knob and slowly pulled it open.
The scene that came to his eyes was odd for such young children to see. Marroc's crippled father, was sitting on the stomach of his uncle, shaking and beating his head on the floor by means of grabbing his shoulders. He was using his knees to keep Paladin from grabbing him, pushing his arms into the ground. His mother was on her feet too, trying with all her might to pull her husband off his very frightened, now very confused and befuddled cousin.
Everyone looked up and stopped what they were doing as Marroc entered, Pippin following closely behind him. Marroc looked his father in the eye, his mouth slightly open. Tarroc watched his son, feeling his heart break. He watched the cogs turning under his son's thick hair, feeling irresponsible and altogether stupid ~Ack! How could I set such a bad example?!~. It was a few moments before anyone said anything, but Marroc was the first to speak.
"Da..." he said, slowly, backing up until he was standing next to Pippin. The cogs seemed to be working hard. "We-we are fwiends..." he took Pippin's hand, "why cant yew two be?"
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Okay that kinda took me a while to get up, didn't it? But it was, most definitely longer then chapter 1. Erm... I got three reviews, so I guess I'll answer them now:
Niph: Aww... thanks! That whole big, long conversation between Marroc and Pippin I wrote just for you, because of that review (no really, it was going to be a lot shorter then what it finally turned out as) ! *feels all special now*
Gollumsess: Jeez, now I feel even more special! Thank you!
Cerridwen: Erm... the accent...riiight. Here's a little key to use, if you need it. I (shamelessly) ripped a lot of it off the mole's speech in the Redwall series:
Oi- I
Norra- not or no
Yew- you
Yewr- your or you're
Wot- what
Dat- that
Day- they
Moi- my
Theein- Thain
Marroc won't talk like that after a while. Tarroc will only be in a few more chapters also, so you wont have to put up with the accent for a little while.
I think the rest should be pretty easy to figure out. Oh yeah... the sparkplug thing hit me like a baseball in the forehead from home to right field (ouchies)... I realized that right after publishing the last chapter and felt really pretty stupid x.X But thanks for the review and I look forward to some more of your insights if you read this chapter too!
Now for just a few little sidenotes: The very last line of this chapter comes from the movie 'Big Bully' (cant remember who stars in it) but the son says it to the father when he sees his best friend's paddy wrestling with him. Yeppers. Some parts in this chapter may make absolutely no sense, but that's because I wrote the majority of it while half awake. Uh... what else? Oh yes... I don't like the fact that Tookland and Buckland are like, 100 miles away from each other (according to the Middle Earth Atlas) so, they wont be in MY story.
Err... Tarroc has anger management problems, though I'm sure you figured that out already. Marroc has emotional problems- he becomes rather jealous of Merry and Pippin's relationship, not having any real hobbit friends himself.
Oh, and I added the Edvard thing for you too, Niph. Thought you may get a kick out of that ~.^
~Hippy :) Hobbit