~*~*~*~
Marroc's Tale
Chapter 10: Chain Of Events
By Hippy Hobbit
Dedicated to Niph (Grown-up Marroc: *wavewave*))
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Pippin and Marroc awoke early the next day. Well, Pippin woke up first, but Marroc could hardly sleep any longer when his cousin pounced on him and bit into his arm at the same place where the wolf who'd attacked him earlier that summer had sunk it's teeth into, leaving 7 long, deep scars. Marroc had yelled out in pain and kicked Pippin off. Both fell on to the floor and wrestled for quite sometime, though neither Merry nor Frodo awoke.
Pippin finally ended up on top as both panted for breath, then they broke out laughing. Butch awoke and bleated at them, as though to scold them for waking him. Marroc looked up from flat on his back, "Oh hush!" and Pippin giggled. He stood up and pulled Marroc up by his arm and the two peered up over the edge of the bed, watching their cousins snoozing soundly.
"Should we wake them?"
Pippin shook his head, "Naw. Merry'll be cranky."
Marroc shrugged, "Okay. You hungry?"
"Yeah"
"Let's go eat then."
The two cousins went off for the great hall for breakfast.
While they were mid-way through their meal, Merry and Frodo strode in, both telling them off considerably for not waking them.
It seemed that when Merry was around his older cousins (E.g. Frodo) he didn't act like as much of a friend to Pippin as he did when it was just the two of them. Marroc found this slightly confusing. Of course, Merry wasn't always incredibly evil to him; on the contrary, when he was in a considerably good mood, and without the distraction of Pippin or any other cousins, he could be rather amicable towards his youngest cousin. But it didn't happen very often.
Merry and Frodo sat down and ate, but the two younger lads couldn't stand the glares they were being shot, so the stood and excused themselves, and began wandering the many halls and corridors of the Hall, looking for something to occupy themselves with.
It was during second breakfast when they returned to the Great Hall to eat when the chain of events was started.
It actually, first began when Merry came back to the hall. For some reason, he was feeling rather cantankerous, and upon discovering that there was no more maple for his pancakes, he sent Pippin and Marroc in to get some for him, saying it would be a good way of making it up to him for not awakening him this morning.
The kitchen was running a wee bit behind that day, since the arrival of the visitors was still having an affect on the weary cooks, most of who had been up all night, washing dishes from the night before. No sooner had the two lads walked in, had they been snatched up by one of the aids, to wash dishes.
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Several hours later, after some most extensive scrubbing, Marroc and Pippin trudged out of Brandyhall.
The younger of the two followed his cousin, sulking a bit over his hands, which were raw and stinging from the lye soap. Some of his scabs were starting to chap in the cold air, as well. He stuffed his sore paws in the pockets of his jacket, miffed both at Merry, and Pippin.
"Are you SURE you know where we're going?" he asked, annoyed.
Pippin nodded. " Merry an' Oi go 'ere all the time."
Marroc sighed, shivering, slightly annoyed at the mention of said Brandybuck. He took his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together a few times, flakes of dry skin chapping off, along with some dried dirt from under his nails. He sighed again, cold, as a chilly breeze blew through, biting at their faces and nipping at their ears.
Pippin blinked, looking back to the hunched up Marroc, himself being rather warm with a new scarf and glove set, presented to him only last night by his Auntie Essy, "See?" he pointed up ahead, to a bend in the path, "Behind 'er!" He began to run, and Marroc, taking his hands from his pockets, followed.
Though his legs were not much longer than his cousins, Marroc got there well before Pippin, who was having problems, as various tree roots seemed to be getting in the way of his large, hobbity feet, and causing him to fall and land on his face. Marroc slid to a stop. It was, indeed, a patch of the largest mushrooms he'd ever seen, which was surprising this late in the year. He began picking them as fast as he could, before his cousin could get any, stuffing them in his pockets and mouth.
From about 5 feet back, Pippin launched at Marroc, hitting him with hardly a yelp. Spitty mushrooms flew out of the latters mouth, as Pippin grabbed him around the stomach, pulling him backwards off his knees and trying furiously to crawl over him, whilst Marroc kicked out at him.
Pippin seemed to be winning- he was on top, trying to subdue his cousin, who was about the same size, though not as quick, when he suddenly spied an amazing sight. A pile of cow dung was only 3 feet away. he glanced back at Marroc. The Tookish emeralds of the younger soon filled with fear as he glanced to where his cousin was looking, to the dreaded dung, and then back to his cousin.
A wordless struggle soon incurred, as Pippin tried his best to push Marrocs fuzzy head into the dung, though Marroc, managing to square his shoulders between two tree roots that held above the stinky mess, tried his best to fight off Pippin, boxing at his ears and trying to kick him off. A few times, one shoulder would slip and he would have to force one hand down to support himself.
The two wrestled for sometime, Pippin trying to force the stubborn Marroc to fall into the stinky mass, until the latter finally managed to get in a single kick to Pippins face, sending him sprawling backwards. Marroc managed to scramble from his nook and try to get away, but Pippin quickly recovered from his blow and started to scramble after him. He pinned Marroc down on his stomach, sitting on his back.
Gasping for air, Marroc yelled, "STOPIT! I CANT BREATHE!"
Pippin blinked, a bruise coming over his eye. He glared, "Why'd yew kick me?"
Marroc coughed, "You were forcing my head in that muck, you dolt!
Pippin scowled indignantly, looking away. His eyes immediately caught the dung, and he stared, as if interested by it. Marroc looked at it for a second, trying to figure out what was so great, but then.
Both seemed to know what the other was thinking. Pippin let go of Marroc immediately and both scuttled over to the mushrooms in a matter of moments.
Marroc drew his knife from his pocket and picked up one of the mushrooms in a hurry, slitting it open. Watching him, Pippin blinked. Marroc turned back to him.
"What are you waiting for? Get the smelly!"
Pippin looked dully at him, "How?"
Marroc raised an eyebrow. This hadn't occurred to him. He looked from his cousins face, then to the dung, then to the mushrooms, trying to think of a plan.
"Here!" he found a large chunk of bark and handed that and his knife to his cousin, "Scrape it on with that. Then bring it over."
Pippin did as was ordered and brought the sticky, smelly mess over to Marroc, who tried his best not to recoil, in case his hands might slip and he'd drop it all over himself.
They worked quickly, using Marrocs knife and also some sticks to scoop the dung into the mushrooms. Both surely thought this to be a huge waste of such wondrous food, but still. it was a hell of a way of getting Merry back!
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Wow. that took a long time, didn't it? Ha, like almost all summer. I'm horribly lazy though, so you'll have to excuse me, my loyal readers *dull silence**glances around* I mean Estie and Niph.
Thank you to all of you that reviewed chapter 10, or whatever. As to those of you commenting on my spelling and punctuation, please excuse that. I'm horribly stupid, if you must know (HA! I just proved it by typing 'mush' instead of 'must'. my brain is muuuuush. maharaja. o.O)
But wait! Before you REVIEW (which I know you WILL, AREDHEL) please, remember to go to my fictionpress account and r & r my many poems. They rhyme *winkwink*)
~Hippy
Pippin and Marroc awoke early the next day. Well, Pippin woke up first, but Marroc could hardly sleep any longer when his cousin pounced on him and bit into his arm at the same place where the wolf who'd attacked him earlier that summer had sunk it's teeth into, leaving 7 long, deep scars. Marroc had yelled out in pain and kicked Pippin off. Both fell on to the floor and wrestled for quite sometime, though neither Merry nor Frodo awoke.
Pippin finally ended up on top as both panted for breath, then they broke out laughing. Butch awoke and bleated at them, as though to scold them for waking him. Marroc looked up from flat on his back, "Oh hush!" and Pippin giggled. He stood up and pulled Marroc up by his arm and the two peered up over the edge of the bed, watching their cousins snoozing soundly.
"Should we wake them?"
Pippin shook his head, "Naw. Merry'll be cranky."
Marroc shrugged, "Okay. You hungry?"
"Yeah"
"Let's go eat then."
The two cousins went off for the great hall for breakfast.
While they were mid-way through their meal, Merry and Frodo strode in, both telling them off considerably for not waking them.
It seemed that when Merry was around his older cousins (E.g. Frodo) he didn't act like as much of a friend to Pippin as he did when it was just the two of them. Marroc found this slightly confusing. Of course, Merry wasn't always incredibly evil to him; on the contrary, when he was in a considerably good mood, and without the distraction of Pippin or any other cousins, he could be rather amicable towards his youngest cousin. But it didn't happen very often.
Merry and Frodo sat down and ate, but the two younger lads couldn't stand the glares they were being shot, so the stood and excused themselves, and began wandering the many halls and corridors of the Hall, looking for something to occupy themselves with.
It was during second breakfast when they returned to the Great Hall to eat when the chain of events was started.
It actually, first began when Merry came back to the hall. For some reason, he was feeling rather cantankerous, and upon discovering that there was no more maple for his pancakes, he sent Pippin and Marroc in to get some for him, saying it would be a good way of making it up to him for not awakening him this morning.
The kitchen was running a wee bit behind that day, since the arrival of the visitors was still having an affect on the weary cooks, most of who had been up all night, washing dishes from the night before. No sooner had the two lads walked in, had they been snatched up by one of the aids, to wash dishes.
~*~*~*~
Several hours later, after some most extensive scrubbing, Marroc and Pippin trudged out of Brandyhall.
The younger of the two followed his cousin, sulking a bit over his hands, which were raw and stinging from the lye soap. Some of his scabs were starting to chap in the cold air, as well. He stuffed his sore paws in the pockets of his jacket, miffed both at Merry, and Pippin.
"Are you SURE you know where we're going?" he asked, annoyed.
Pippin nodded. " Merry an' Oi go 'ere all the time."
Marroc sighed, shivering, slightly annoyed at the mention of said Brandybuck. He took his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together a few times, flakes of dry skin chapping off, along with some dried dirt from under his nails. He sighed again, cold, as a chilly breeze blew through, biting at their faces and nipping at their ears.
Pippin blinked, looking back to the hunched up Marroc, himself being rather warm with a new scarf and glove set, presented to him only last night by his Auntie Essy, "See?" he pointed up ahead, to a bend in the path, "Behind 'er!" He began to run, and Marroc, taking his hands from his pockets, followed.
Though his legs were not much longer than his cousins, Marroc got there well before Pippin, who was having problems, as various tree roots seemed to be getting in the way of his large, hobbity feet, and causing him to fall and land on his face. Marroc slid to a stop. It was, indeed, a patch of the largest mushrooms he'd ever seen, which was surprising this late in the year. He began picking them as fast as he could, before his cousin could get any, stuffing them in his pockets and mouth.
From about 5 feet back, Pippin launched at Marroc, hitting him with hardly a yelp. Spitty mushrooms flew out of the latters mouth, as Pippin grabbed him around the stomach, pulling him backwards off his knees and trying furiously to crawl over him, whilst Marroc kicked out at him.
Pippin seemed to be winning- he was on top, trying to subdue his cousin, who was about the same size, though not as quick, when he suddenly spied an amazing sight. A pile of cow dung was only 3 feet away. he glanced back at Marroc. The Tookish emeralds of the younger soon filled with fear as he glanced to where his cousin was looking, to the dreaded dung, and then back to his cousin.
A wordless struggle soon incurred, as Pippin tried his best to push Marrocs fuzzy head into the dung, though Marroc, managing to square his shoulders between two tree roots that held above the stinky mess, tried his best to fight off Pippin, boxing at his ears and trying to kick him off. A few times, one shoulder would slip and he would have to force one hand down to support himself.
The two wrestled for sometime, Pippin trying to force the stubborn Marroc to fall into the stinky mass, until the latter finally managed to get in a single kick to Pippins face, sending him sprawling backwards. Marroc managed to scramble from his nook and try to get away, but Pippin quickly recovered from his blow and started to scramble after him. He pinned Marroc down on his stomach, sitting on his back.
Gasping for air, Marroc yelled, "STOPIT! I CANT BREATHE!"
Pippin blinked, a bruise coming over his eye. He glared, "Why'd yew kick me?"
Marroc coughed, "You were forcing my head in that muck, you dolt!
Pippin scowled indignantly, looking away. His eyes immediately caught the dung, and he stared, as if interested by it. Marroc looked at it for a second, trying to figure out what was so great, but then.
Both seemed to know what the other was thinking. Pippin let go of Marroc immediately and both scuttled over to the mushrooms in a matter of moments.
Marroc drew his knife from his pocket and picked up one of the mushrooms in a hurry, slitting it open. Watching him, Pippin blinked. Marroc turned back to him.
"What are you waiting for? Get the smelly!"
Pippin looked dully at him, "How?"
Marroc raised an eyebrow. This hadn't occurred to him. He looked from his cousins face, then to the dung, then to the mushrooms, trying to think of a plan.
"Here!" he found a large chunk of bark and handed that and his knife to his cousin, "Scrape it on with that. Then bring it over."
Pippin did as was ordered and brought the sticky, smelly mess over to Marroc, who tried his best not to recoil, in case his hands might slip and he'd drop it all over himself.
They worked quickly, using Marrocs knife and also some sticks to scoop the dung into the mushrooms. Both surely thought this to be a huge waste of such wondrous food, but still. it was a hell of a way of getting Merry back!
~*~*~*~
(A/N: Wow. that took a long time, didn't it? Ha, like almost all summer. I'm horribly lazy though, so you'll have to excuse me, my loyal readers *dull silence**glances around* I mean Estie and Niph.
Thank you to all of you that reviewed chapter 10, or whatever. As to those of you commenting on my spelling and punctuation, please excuse that. I'm horribly stupid, if you must know (HA! I just proved it by typing 'mush' instead of 'must'. my brain is muuuuush. maharaja. o.O)
But wait! Before you REVIEW (which I know you WILL, AREDHEL) please, remember to go to my fictionpress account and r & r my many poems. They rhyme *winkwink*)
~Hippy