A/N: I had so much fun writing the first chap, now I'm going "what the heck, on with it!" and the little plotbunnies are already raging in my brain for a follow-up.
A/N: This chapter here is dedicated to Catherine Maria! My first and I must say pretty loyal reviewer for this story. She's even read through my rejected fic, and continued to read this one. Aww. This one's for you! And it's on precious little Pippin. :) Don't we all love Pippin? C'mon… I know you dooo…*noogies reader*
A/N: again, might I remind you this is fan + fiction + dot + net, and I don't think I have to spell it out, now do I? So if anything is out of character from the books, it is absolutely deliberate but it is not my intent to annoy you. Now, on with it!
Disclaimer: Dammit, Tolkien, you always get the cooler stuff.
Summary:Not all the good guys in the Lord of the Rings are pure at heart. Each soul has a definitive weakness, and that is a certain element of evil and of nonsensicality. Let me pore out the antagonist that is Perigrin Took… Element 2: Senselessness. How does he cope with the loss of his true love?
… ++…|| Elements of the Antagonist ||… ++ …
Element 2: SenselessnessPippin didn't know why but he just felt infinitely happy. Well, hobbits do that sometimes but this time around, Pippin was on high (steroids or whatnot, we shall not discuss). He danced his way across the living room, completely ignoring the fact that he had just flipped one of Mrs. Eglantine's plates off the rack. Or the fact that some of the furniture had discovered the lengths of anti-gravity whenever he foxtrotted by. Or that whatever he crashed into, obeyed Murphy's Law religiously and incessantly. Crash, and there goes the clockpiece the great Hildigrim Took had passed down as the family heirloom. Pippin didn't even show the slightest bit of care at the thought that if he continued this for another exact 7 minutes, studies show that the whole house would actually crumble apart. What was the hobbit thinking? Well, he wasn't in the first place.
Humming a whimsical tune, he danced his way to greet the love of his life who was waiting at the dining table. It was close to Elevensies, anyway.
The cheery Took bounced happily enough into the kitchen, beaming and all, coming to greet her with all the love he had woken up with.
"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well last night?"
No answer. Pippin, hearing no reply, had thought she was probably in the pantry, so he continued his morning 'how-are-you's nonetheless, only just a tone louder. He persisted.
"Don't you think the weather is absolutely lovely this morning?"
The house was silent still.
Pippin started becoming anxious. All around him was silence, and the house seemed dimmer than usual. The fool, he had been so oblivious to his surrounding, hopping and trotting around since morning. Hurriedly, he began searching for her.
"Love, where are you? Are you trying to hide from me?" he uttered these words out loud, in a somewhat soft, reprimanding manner but kept a deep seriousness in his heart. He was truly worried; worried that history might just repeat itself again. A flash of the past ran through his eyes, and his crystalline orbs were glistening with tears that dared to fall from them.
"Look, this isn't funny! Stop playing games with me! Where are you?!"
He began to slam open all the doors in the hobbit-hole, rummage through every closet and flipped the furniture to see if she might be hiding somewhere. Alas, his search was futile and fruitless.
…But finally, as if by a stroke of luck, he saw her, sitting mournfully on a little table at the living room. (Why hasn't he checked the living room first, of all places? Pippin, obviously being petrified out of his wits, was literally petrified out of his wits and simply forgot about the most obvious place to find her.) He was just about to break a smile when he realized, she seemed somewhat pale. And she wasn't moving.
Pippin felt a hitch slice through his heart. Oh no.
This can't be.
Not another one.
Not again.
Pippin ran to her, and he felt that she was breathless, lifeless, cold. He took her in his arms and the dark, red liquid flowed out of her deep, slashing cuts simply enough, draining out of her frail frame and into Pippin's fingers. They dripped to the floor ceaselessly.
He was too late. History showed its ugly rear again.
He cursed himself aloud; and wept hard, and wailed and cried out pathetically as he never did before. He cried till he could barely find his voice, till his eyes stung like hell and until the last bit of hope that was in him drained out from his emerald green eyes. The last of his lover crumbled from his fingers, and Pippin felt, for once in his life he felt utter vengeance, and madness, and that he will never forgive the villain. Never.
The last of the blackforrest chocolate muffin crumbled to the floor, the sweet cherry sauce still dripping from his fingers.
"CURSE YOU, MERRY! CURSE YOU!!!"
His trembling voice echoed through the hills of Hobbiton. Merry had done it again; ravishing tasty desserts from Pippin's own kitchen. It was the most cruel, morbid felony since he ate off the last of the strawberry shortcake last month. Pippin was really angry this time. Oh, heads are gonna roll.
* * *
Post A/N: A hobbit's true love is always food. Man, am I a drama queen or what? ^____^;;;; Review please! I love reading others' opinions on my weird, uh…brain. If it even has the right to be called one.
If you'd like to know where the blackforrest chocolate muffin ended up, well what can I say? It flew its way up happily to Muffin Heaven, and rejoiced with its muffin cake-mix parents. And it stayed happily there ever after, of course visited often by its close friend, the strawberry shortcake who flew once in a while from Shortcake Heaven to visit her sweet friend. Aah. Poor Pippin. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
By the way, any ideas on the next chapter? Which of the Lord of the Rings character should I torture next? ^__^