~*~*~*~
Marroc's Tale
By Hippy Hobbit
Chapter 9: Cousins
Dedicated to Niph
A/N: I would like to take this time to announce that 'Marroc' is NOT pronounced 'Mare-rock', 'Mare-ock', 'Mer-ick', or 'Mer-ock' as people have mistaken it for previously. The protagonist of this story's name is properly pronounced 'Mare-ick'. However, 'Tarroc' is properly pronounced 'Tare-ock'
~*~*~*~
Marroc's little outing hadn't gone as good as he had hoped it would. He waited at his fairy tree until it got cold and the sun began sinking into her bed for the night, before he decided to go back to Brandyhall.
Both Gildor and Lastriel had promised him that they would visit before the days got shorter, but the sun was beginning to sink earlier and earlier everyday, and neither had come. He'd hoped that at least one would come today, but nothing happened. Not even the dove whose life Marroc had resuscitated came to grace him with its presence.
Marroc and Butch trudged back to the Hall, the wee hobbit lad's head drooping and a frown on the cherubic face. To darken his mood even farther, it seemed, the clouds massed above, thunder boomed overhead and it began to pour. Marroc bundled up closer in his jacket and walked home, not caring to quicken his pace at all.
He and Butch were soaked to the bones by the time they stepped into Brandyhall's foyer. No one was there when they stepped in, so they went immediately to the room that Marroc had been given. The lad changed and dried himself off, then bundled up in a warm, red sweater, brown trousers and a brown scarf and went to the great hall to get a bite to eat, and possibly see his mother, if she had been allowed to rise from her bed for some of the celebrations that were to be taking place that night.
He had to leave Butch there, though, as his uncle Saradoc had told him that the goat would not be allowed to accompany him at meals. But before he left he dried his friend off, wrapped him up in a warm blanket, and fed him some of the cabbage he had stolen from the cooks that morning. He put the rest in a box under his bed, patted the goat's head and went off to the great hall.
The hall seemed to be more crowded then ever that evening, though it was because Paladin's family hadn't been the only ones to arrive that day. Most were Tooks, or distant relations of the Brandybucks from all over the Shire, some of whom had been traveling for days. Most were laughing and joking, catching up with their friends and relatives.
Marroc spied his mother sitting with Eglantine and Esmeralda, her two best friends, and smiled a small smile. He was still feeling a bit sour from when she had gotten angry with him before that afternoon, but he was enthralled to see her away from her bed and laughing, despite the dark circles under her eyes.
Maggie was wrapped in a warm blanket and was wearing trousers under her skirts to keep her legs warm. She looked incredibly tired and her golden hair was in a messy braid.
The lad was just about to go over and speak with her, when something far heavier than he was landed on him, as things of said size had nasty habits of doing. It crushed him to the floor and temporarily knocked the wind out of him.
When he was finally able to refocus his eyes, Marroc found that one Peregrin Took was the particular creature that had attacked him. He smiled warmly at his cousin, happy for the first time that day, "Hullo, Peregrin!"
Pippin grinned evilly as he climbed off, "Hiya, Mer!"
Marroc sat up and stretched, rubbing the back of his head, "Why'd ya tackle me?"
Pippin shrugged but didn't answer verbally, "Wanna play with me? Merry is bein' stupid an' he wont play with me no more, 'cause he says I'm too little," he pouted.
Marroc smiled a little to himself ~At least someone agrees with me on the fact that he's stupid...~ "Whatcha wanna do then?" he asked.
Pippin looked around nervously, before grabbing Marroc's hand and pulling him away.
He led him out of the Great Hall and down a corridor, far deep into the depths of Brandyhall. Marroc followed eagerly, wondering what they were going to do.
At last they came to a door, nearly 15 minutes later. Pippin opened it and led his cousin into a room that the lad had never seen before.
It was fairly elegant, and consisted of not only one room, but also several, as Marroc saw by the number of round doors around the place.
This was the place that Paladin and his family always stayed in when they came to visit the Hall.
Pippin began walking towards the door that was farthest right. He opened it and slipped in, Marroc following him closely.
This had to be the room that Pippin was staying in, Marroc knew. He didn't think anyone else in the family could have such a messy room.
The room was, in fact, very like the one that Marroc was staying in. Except messier. A whole lot messier. It looked as though Pippin had purposely flung all the belongings he'd brought with him blindly about the room. It looked more than a bit awkward, as he'd only just gotten there that day and it already looked as though he'd been there for months and never cleaned it. But then again, some children can manage this quite easily.
Marroc raised an eyebrow at the display, "Didn't yewr muma ever teach yew how ta clean yewr room?"
Pippin didn't answer, yet again. He had busied himself in one of the bags that had probably once contained some of the clothes that were hanging on the four-poster and stuck on the paintings that were on the walls. He pulled something out that Marroc couldn't see, so he stepped forward.
Pippin turned around, "Oi found some swwords!" he held them out for his cousin to see, "See? D'yew wanna have a swword fight?"
Marroc blinked, eyeing these 'swwords', "Those aren't swwords."
Pippin blinked, and then turned them over in his hands, "They aren't?"
Marroc sighed, "They're knitting needles."
"Oh." Pippin might have said more, if the door hadn't flown open at the time. There stood Pervinca, looking a more than a little bit angry, "THERE YOU ARE, PIP!" She strode in and took Pippins hand in one hand and Marroc's in the other, then began to lead them out, "It's supper time and mum is worried sick, seeing as how you weren't with Merry when he came in from the barn, Pip, and you, Marroc... well... your mother couldn't find you either. It's a good thing you were together, otherwise the whole Hall might be out searchin'!"
~*~*~*~
The two Took families sat together that night for the first time ever. Marroc sat in between his mother and Pippin and kitty-corner to his uncle. The two didn't say a word to each other the whole meal, nor did they look to each other, not even a glance.
Tarroc was not mentioned at all during the supper. It didn't seem as though Maggie was ashamed of her husband- but she knew Paladin well enough to know that saying something might inflate his ego.
After supper was finished, the little ones were sent to bed for the evening, a few of the men-folk went to the den to talk with Saradoc and some of the women-folk went to the parlor to talk with the Mistress.
Since all of their parents had been allowing, Merry, Marroc and Pippin had yet another little 'slumber party' in Merry's room, seeing as how Merry and Pippin were magically able to patch things up without even talking to each other.
And, of course, Butch came along with Marroc too.
Pippin thought it was a bit odd at first to be sleeping in the same bed as a goat, but Merry didn't seem to mind as much as he was already sharing the same house, among other things, with the beast.
They kept the candles burning in their holders that night for some unknown reason, as they talked throughout the night. The bed that Merry slept in was easily large enough for him, the goat and his two tiny cousins.
Marroc and Merry spoke of their various (although separate) adventures along the banks of the Brandywine, while Pip chatted on about the many pranks he'd found affective on his sisters, and the mishaps and punishment he'd gotten into with the ones that didn't work.
It wasn't until Marroc mentioned his elf friends that tension began to arise among the cousins.
Pippin had mentioned that his father hardly approved of silly notions about elves and fairy queens (which was rather odd, as the Tooks were well known for that rumor that one of their ancestors had taken a fairy wife).
In the end, however, Pippin (surprise surprise) ended up on top of Marroc, in a huff for insulting his father by saying that Elves were NOT nonsense and that Paladin was silly because he didn't believe what people said unless he saw it himself.
Pippin was quite strong, stronger than Marroc. He was able to keep himself from being kicked off by the younger lad, and from being pulled off by Merry. Merry had managed to get him off a few times, but the smaller lad kept jumping out of his older cousin's arms and jumping at Marroc again, punching and kicking and screaming.
This went on for a good 5 minutes, before the door opened, and Pippin feared that it would be his father, who, if he saw his son beating Marroc up, may take him away and not let him stay with Merry. He climbed off Marroc quickly and quickly through himself under the covers beside Merry. Marroc moaned and stayed where he lay. His nose bleeding and a brilliant blue bruise beginning to bloom on his eye.
But the person at the door was not Paladin. It wasn't Saradoc either, nor any of the parents. A skinny tween with big blue eyes opened the door. His hair was claret and his skin ivory. His face seemed angelic and elf-like as he stepped into the room, his eyes twinkling as the light form the candle danced upon them.
Merry smiled, recognizing his favorite cousin at once. He stood, and practically ran to greet him, wrapping Frodo in a tight hug, as the older hobbit tousled his hair, roughly.
"Frodo! I didn't know you were coming this year!" Merry withdrew as Pippin smiled and called out the eldest's name, following in said Brandybuck's suite and running to hug him.
Marroc had finally managed to sit up properly. He rubbed his bleeding nose on his sleeve, as if trying to re-gain his dignity, and let out a stifled cough. All three head turned towards him, and he felt so alone all of the sudden.
He didn't know this new hobbit, but it seemed as though Merry and Pippin did. And very well at that fact.
Marroc soon found out that Frodo was from Hobbiton, a village not a horrible distance from Tookland. But he had once lived in Buckland, until his parents drowned in the Brandywine. Then he had gone to live with his cousin, Bilbo, in Hobbiton. He was nice to Marroc, overly nice, the lad observed and found it slightly annoying. But Butch took to him like a charm, so Marroc said nothing too horrible.
At least he made Pippin apologize for inflicting so much pain upon his cousin, which was good. It seemed as though a horrible conscious was another thing that Marroc and Pippin had in common- the lad seemed so remorseful, a few tears managed to squeeze their way out of his big, green eyes and dribble down his cheeks and chin on to his nightshirt.
Marroc muttered something about along the lines of 'I forgive you' and was engulfed in a gigantic hug from his cousin, which knocked him off the bed and on to the floor, much to his displeasure, as the floor was made of wood and he badly bruised his backside upon the fall. But, nevertheless, he settled in Merry's bed comfortably with Pippin, while Frodo and Merry talked,
"I'm in the room next door and I just came over because I heard the noise..."
"Well, you can stay if you'd like," Merry said, happily.
But Frodo didn't answer. He took a look at Marroc and Butch, and then went back to Merry
"What's with the goat?" he asked
Merry shrugged, "It's Marroc's. He takes it with him everywhere. Hutch, I think is it's name."
"BUTCH!" Marroc growled, loudly, a note of indignity in his voice.
"Butch, I mean," Merry corrected himself, raising his eyebrows at Frodo who gave a small, polite smile and sat on the edge of Merry's bed.
"I think I'll take up your offer, Merry," he said, "if none of you mind staying with me tonight... I don't snore, I swear..."
"Oi dun mind.." Pip said, "Mer?"
Marroc thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying his head on the now-sleeping Butch, like a pillow. The auburn-colored goat bleated in his sleep.
Marroc snickered, "Butch doesn't either..."
Frodo laughed, "Either that, or he's snoring..."
Everyone laughed and even Marroc, who'd been rather morbid lately, snickered slightly.
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Replies to Reviews:
TakeMe2TheHavens: Yes, Estie, running into electric fences. Very fun. Try it sometime. Though not right after you've A. taken a shower or B. Run through the sprinklers. Also don't lick it. Or take a pee on it. Just a warning. You can spit, if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. Lt. Hippy's rule for masochism (as in beating yourself up masochism, not the icky kind *shudders*)...
*grins* I get all the ideas of wee Pip and Marroc from Robin Girl's stories. She's an excellent writer, as I've already said before. So go read her stories. Now. All of you. Or I'll sick Marty on you all. Grrr.
Niph: Heh... decided to leave the *elmeluelselhelreloeloelmelsel* 'till next chapter. But I promise that it'll be good. Oh yes it will *evil cackle*. Hmmm... cookies.
~Hippy
Marroc's Tale
By Hippy Hobbit
Chapter 9: Cousins
Dedicated to Niph
A/N: I would like to take this time to announce that 'Marroc' is NOT pronounced 'Mare-rock', 'Mare-ock', 'Mer-ick', or 'Mer-ock' as people have mistaken it for previously. The protagonist of this story's name is properly pronounced 'Mare-ick'. However, 'Tarroc' is properly pronounced 'Tare-ock'
~*~*~*~
Marroc's little outing hadn't gone as good as he had hoped it would. He waited at his fairy tree until it got cold and the sun began sinking into her bed for the night, before he decided to go back to Brandyhall.
Both Gildor and Lastriel had promised him that they would visit before the days got shorter, but the sun was beginning to sink earlier and earlier everyday, and neither had come. He'd hoped that at least one would come today, but nothing happened. Not even the dove whose life Marroc had resuscitated came to grace him with its presence.
Marroc and Butch trudged back to the Hall, the wee hobbit lad's head drooping and a frown on the cherubic face. To darken his mood even farther, it seemed, the clouds massed above, thunder boomed overhead and it began to pour. Marroc bundled up closer in his jacket and walked home, not caring to quicken his pace at all.
He and Butch were soaked to the bones by the time they stepped into Brandyhall's foyer. No one was there when they stepped in, so they went immediately to the room that Marroc had been given. The lad changed and dried himself off, then bundled up in a warm, red sweater, brown trousers and a brown scarf and went to the great hall to get a bite to eat, and possibly see his mother, if she had been allowed to rise from her bed for some of the celebrations that were to be taking place that night.
He had to leave Butch there, though, as his uncle Saradoc had told him that the goat would not be allowed to accompany him at meals. But before he left he dried his friend off, wrapped him up in a warm blanket, and fed him some of the cabbage he had stolen from the cooks that morning. He put the rest in a box under his bed, patted the goat's head and went off to the great hall.
The hall seemed to be more crowded then ever that evening, though it was because Paladin's family hadn't been the only ones to arrive that day. Most were Tooks, or distant relations of the Brandybucks from all over the Shire, some of whom had been traveling for days. Most were laughing and joking, catching up with their friends and relatives.
Marroc spied his mother sitting with Eglantine and Esmeralda, her two best friends, and smiled a small smile. He was still feeling a bit sour from when she had gotten angry with him before that afternoon, but he was enthralled to see her away from her bed and laughing, despite the dark circles under her eyes.
Maggie was wrapped in a warm blanket and was wearing trousers under her skirts to keep her legs warm. She looked incredibly tired and her golden hair was in a messy braid.
The lad was just about to go over and speak with her, when something far heavier than he was landed on him, as things of said size had nasty habits of doing. It crushed him to the floor and temporarily knocked the wind out of him.
When he was finally able to refocus his eyes, Marroc found that one Peregrin Took was the particular creature that had attacked him. He smiled warmly at his cousin, happy for the first time that day, "Hullo, Peregrin!"
Pippin grinned evilly as he climbed off, "Hiya, Mer!"
Marroc sat up and stretched, rubbing the back of his head, "Why'd ya tackle me?"
Pippin shrugged but didn't answer verbally, "Wanna play with me? Merry is bein' stupid an' he wont play with me no more, 'cause he says I'm too little," he pouted.
Marroc smiled a little to himself ~At least someone agrees with me on the fact that he's stupid...~ "Whatcha wanna do then?" he asked.
Pippin looked around nervously, before grabbing Marroc's hand and pulling him away.
He led him out of the Great Hall and down a corridor, far deep into the depths of Brandyhall. Marroc followed eagerly, wondering what they were going to do.
At last they came to a door, nearly 15 minutes later. Pippin opened it and led his cousin into a room that the lad had never seen before.
It was fairly elegant, and consisted of not only one room, but also several, as Marroc saw by the number of round doors around the place.
This was the place that Paladin and his family always stayed in when they came to visit the Hall.
Pippin began walking towards the door that was farthest right. He opened it and slipped in, Marroc following him closely.
This had to be the room that Pippin was staying in, Marroc knew. He didn't think anyone else in the family could have such a messy room.
The room was, in fact, very like the one that Marroc was staying in. Except messier. A whole lot messier. It looked as though Pippin had purposely flung all the belongings he'd brought with him blindly about the room. It looked more than a bit awkward, as he'd only just gotten there that day and it already looked as though he'd been there for months and never cleaned it. But then again, some children can manage this quite easily.
Marroc raised an eyebrow at the display, "Didn't yewr muma ever teach yew how ta clean yewr room?"
Pippin didn't answer, yet again. He had busied himself in one of the bags that had probably once contained some of the clothes that were hanging on the four-poster and stuck on the paintings that were on the walls. He pulled something out that Marroc couldn't see, so he stepped forward.
Pippin turned around, "Oi found some swwords!" he held them out for his cousin to see, "See? D'yew wanna have a swword fight?"
Marroc blinked, eyeing these 'swwords', "Those aren't swwords."
Pippin blinked, and then turned them over in his hands, "They aren't?"
Marroc sighed, "They're knitting needles."
"Oh." Pippin might have said more, if the door hadn't flown open at the time. There stood Pervinca, looking a more than a little bit angry, "THERE YOU ARE, PIP!" She strode in and took Pippins hand in one hand and Marroc's in the other, then began to lead them out, "It's supper time and mum is worried sick, seeing as how you weren't with Merry when he came in from the barn, Pip, and you, Marroc... well... your mother couldn't find you either. It's a good thing you were together, otherwise the whole Hall might be out searchin'!"
~*~*~*~
The two Took families sat together that night for the first time ever. Marroc sat in between his mother and Pippin and kitty-corner to his uncle. The two didn't say a word to each other the whole meal, nor did they look to each other, not even a glance.
Tarroc was not mentioned at all during the supper. It didn't seem as though Maggie was ashamed of her husband- but she knew Paladin well enough to know that saying something might inflate his ego.
After supper was finished, the little ones were sent to bed for the evening, a few of the men-folk went to the den to talk with Saradoc and some of the women-folk went to the parlor to talk with the Mistress.
Since all of their parents had been allowing, Merry, Marroc and Pippin had yet another little 'slumber party' in Merry's room, seeing as how Merry and Pippin were magically able to patch things up without even talking to each other.
And, of course, Butch came along with Marroc too.
Pippin thought it was a bit odd at first to be sleeping in the same bed as a goat, but Merry didn't seem to mind as much as he was already sharing the same house, among other things, with the beast.
They kept the candles burning in their holders that night for some unknown reason, as they talked throughout the night. The bed that Merry slept in was easily large enough for him, the goat and his two tiny cousins.
Marroc and Merry spoke of their various (although separate) adventures along the banks of the Brandywine, while Pip chatted on about the many pranks he'd found affective on his sisters, and the mishaps and punishment he'd gotten into with the ones that didn't work.
It wasn't until Marroc mentioned his elf friends that tension began to arise among the cousins.
Pippin had mentioned that his father hardly approved of silly notions about elves and fairy queens (which was rather odd, as the Tooks were well known for that rumor that one of their ancestors had taken a fairy wife).
In the end, however, Pippin (surprise surprise) ended up on top of Marroc, in a huff for insulting his father by saying that Elves were NOT nonsense and that Paladin was silly because he didn't believe what people said unless he saw it himself.
Pippin was quite strong, stronger than Marroc. He was able to keep himself from being kicked off by the younger lad, and from being pulled off by Merry. Merry had managed to get him off a few times, but the smaller lad kept jumping out of his older cousin's arms and jumping at Marroc again, punching and kicking and screaming.
This went on for a good 5 minutes, before the door opened, and Pippin feared that it would be his father, who, if he saw his son beating Marroc up, may take him away and not let him stay with Merry. He climbed off Marroc quickly and quickly through himself under the covers beside Merry. Marroc moaned and stayed where he lay. His nose bleeding and a brilliant blue bruise beginning to bloom on his eye.
But the person at the door was not Paladin. It wasn't Saradoc either, nor any of the parents. A skinny tween with big blue eyes opened the door. His hair was claret and his skin ivory. His face seemed angelic and elf-like as he stepped into the room, his eyes twinkling as the light form the candle danced upon them.
Merry smiled, recognizing his favorite cousin at once. He stood, and practically ran to greet him, wrapping Frodo in a tight hug, as the older hobbit tousled his hair, roughly.
"Frodo! I didn't know you were coming this year!" Merry withdrew as Pippin smiled and called out the eldest's name, following in said Brandybuck's suite and running to hug him.
Marroc had finally managed to sit up properly. He rubbed his bleeding nose on his sleeve, as if trying to re-gain his dignity, and let out a stifled cough. All three head turned towards him, and he felt so alone all of the sudden.
He didn't know this new hobbit, but it seemed as though Merry and Pippin did. And very well at that fact.
Marroc soon found out that Frodo was from Hobbiton, a village not a horrible distance from Tookland. But he had once lived in Buckland, until his parents drowned in the Brandywine. Then he had gone to live with his cousin, Bilbo, in Hobbiton. He was nice to Marroc, overly nice, the lad observed and found it slightly annoying. But Butch took to him like a charm, so Marroc said nothing too horrible.
At least he made Pippin apologize for inflicting so much pain upon his cousin, which was good. It seemed as though a horrible conscious was another thing that Marroc and Pippin had in common- the lad seemed so remorseful, a few tears managed to squeeze their way out of his big, green eyes and dribble down his cheeks and chin on to his nightshirt.
Marroc muttered something about along the lines of 'I forgive you' and was engulfed in a gigantic hug from his cousin, which knocked him off the bed and on to the floor, much to his displeasure, as the floor was made of wood and he badly bruised his backside upon the fall. But, nevertheless, he settled in Merry's bed comfortably with Pippin, while Frodo and Merry talked,
"I'm in the room next door and I just came over because I heard the noise..."
"Well, you can stay if you'd like," Merry said, happily.
But Frodo didn't answer. He took a look at Marroc and Butch, and then went back to Merry
"What's with the goat?" he asked
Merry shrugged, "It's Marroc's. He takes it with him everywhere. Hutch, I think is it's name."
"BUTCH!" Marroc growled, loudly, a note of indignity in his voice.
"Butch, I mean," Merry corrected himself, raising his eyebrows at Frodo who gave a small, polite smile and sat on the edge of Merry's bed.
"I think I'll take up your offer, Merry," he said, "if none of you mind staying with me tonight... I don't snore, I swear..."
"Oi dun mind.." Pip said, "Mer?"
Marroc thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying his head on the now-sleeping Butch, like a pillow. The auburn-colored goat bleated in his sleep.
Marroc snickered, "Butch doesn't either..."
Frodo laughed, "Either that, or he's snoring..."
Everyone laughed and even Marroc, who'd been rather morbid lately, snickered slightly.
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Replies to Reviews:
TakeMe2TheHavens: Yes, Estie, running into electric fences. Very fun. Try it sometime. Though not right after you've A. taken a shower or B. Run through the sprinklers. Also don't lick it. Or take a pee on it. Just a warning. You can spit, if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. Lt. Hippy's rule for masochism (as in beating yourself up masochism, not the icky kind *shudders*)...
*grins* I get all the ideas of wee Pip and Marroc from Robin Girl's stories. She's an excellent writer, as I've already said before. So go read her stories. Now. All of you. Or I'll sick Marty on you all. Grrr.
Niph: Heh... decided to leave the *elmeluelselhelreloeloelmelsel* 'till next chapter. But I promise that it'll be good. Oh yes it will *evil cackle*. Hmmm... cookies.
~Hippy