Chapter Four: Kiss Interrupted

A/N: I think I was channeling Quentin Tarantino while I was writing the end of this chapter, so be warned.

Three days after Pippin's startling declaration, Merry was well enough to leave his sick room and sit with Gandalf and Bilbo, but he took no interest in their conversation. Pippin had not come to see him since he had told Merry he was in love with him, but Merry had been informed by every Elf in Rivendell that Pippin had asked about his progress so incessantly, even the patient First Born were exasperated with him.

Merry looked out over the balcony and watched Pippin sitting outside on the terrace overlooking the River Bruinen. Pippin just stared out into the water, occasionally banging his head against the wooden railing.

In the past, whenever Pippin was low, Merry had always been able to coax a smile out of him and raise his spirits. Now he was the cause of Pippin's pain, though he couldn't remember having done anything to lead him on. Why did he have to say that? Merry tried to be angry with him, but how could he blame Pippin for how he felt? Falling in love wasn't something Hobbits, Elves, or Men had much control over. Merry marveled a little at his understanding attitude. If any other hobbit lad had said such a thing, Merry would have likely pummeled him until the lad in question knew better than to say it ever again.

But this was Pippin. He was dearer to Merry than anyone else in the world. Sure, he was very fond of Estella Bolger; she was a first-rate lass, after all, but no one could replace Pippin. They had been through so much together. Bonds like that went deeper than love or friendship. Soul bonds, he had heard Aragorn call them. He had every sort of affection for his young cousin, except the sorts of feelings Pippin apparently had for him.

Merry left the balcony and sat down, putting up his still-sore leg on a soft cushion. He opened a book of Elvish history, then immediately put it down again. He couldn't even feign interest. Gandalf gave Merry a sympathetic look, but didn't impart any words of wisdom. He had to work this out for himself.

Pippin couldn't remember eating that day, but he hardly noticed the growling in his stomach. He was hanging his feet through the bottom of the terrace railing, hoping some fell creature would rise from the depths of the river and drag him under, when he heard the sound of irregular footsteps approaching. He turned to see Merry carrying a basket in his hand and limping. "Merry, you shouldn't be up walking so soon." Pippin rose and hurried to Merry, taking the basket and settling Merry on a bench.

"Lord Elrond said I should," Merry replied with authority.

"Well, I'm certain he wouldn't approve of you carrying a heavy basket full of--" Pippin took a deep breath in through his nose. "Is that mushroom pie?"

"Your favorite," Merry said, smiling encouragingly.

"I am feeling a bit peckish." Pippin hesitated, then quickly laid out the contents of the basket on the fine linen cloth he spread over the bench.

"Of course you are. Bilbo tells me you've hardly eaten in days." Besides the mushroom pie, there was fruit, cheese, Elven bread, and wine. Merry filled a goblet and offered it to Pippin. "This will help whet up your appetite, if anything will."

Pippin accepted the goblet and drained it. He savored the warmth that immediately filled him, dulling the pain in his heart.

Merry put a restraining hand on Pippin's. "Not so fast on an empty stomach."

Pippin nodded as he felt his head swimming from the wine and reached for a piece of bread.

"Well," Merry began brightly as he fixed two plates, "I thought we might stay here for another few days, and then head back home."

Pippin filled his goblet again, but sipped it this time. "I'm not going back to the Shire, not after--what I said."

Merry tried to laugh it off, waving his hand as if that were enough to make it go away. "It's forgotten. We'll go back home and everything will be just as it was."

Pippin shook his head. He finally brought himself to look at Merry directly and knew that his beloved cousin didn't believe that was possible either. "I can't un-say what I said. I don't think I want to now that I've said it. It's a relief, really, after all this time."

Merry drained his own goblet and traced his finger around the rim. "How long--?"

"Ten years, give or take."

"Ten years?!" Merry sounded flabbergasted and perhaps even a little flattered that someone--anyone--could pine for him for so long.

"Do you see why I can't go back? I can't bear the thought of you marrying someone, having a family--" Now that he heard the words, Pippin was ashamed. "Dreadfully selfish of me, isn't it? I should want you to be happy above all else."

Merry put his hand on Pippin's shoulder, causing the younger Hobbit to stiffen. Merry withdrew sadly. "I want you to be happy too. Do you really think you would find happiness in Gondor?"

"No," he replied quietly. Not without you, Merry.

"Then it's settled. We'll leave for the Shire as soon as Elrond says I can travel." Merry put a plate overflowing with food in front of Pippin. "Now, you've got to eat so you'll have plenty of strength for the journey."

"But I've spoilt everything," Pippin protested. "I had a tremendous row with my father--"

"Don't worry about it now. We'll manage that when we get back." Merry handed Pippin a heaping spoonful of mushroom pie. "Right now you've got to eat."

Pippin took the spoon and began to eat mechanically, but now even Merry's mushroom pie tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Merry took leave of his cousin, hoping he would eat more if Merry wasn't there to watch him. On his way back up to the Hall, he encountered Lord Elrond. "How is your kinsman?"

Merry glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. "I'm afraid he's heartbroken." He looked up at the usually stern elf and saw welcome compassion in his eyes. "The worst thing is that I'm the cause of it."

Elrond inclined his head in understanding. "He will heal in time."

Merry forced a small smile, oddly glad that everyone here seemed to know what the trouble was between him and Pippin. It was nice not having to explain one's problem over and over again, particularly when it was so painful. "I wish there was something for it."

"I'm afraid even the Elves do not possess a charm to heal a broken heart."

Suddenly a solution, albeit a drastic one, occurred to Merry. "But you do have other kinds of charms? Like...love charms, for instance?"

The Elf Lord nodded gravely. "I could cast a charm so powerful that you would be instantly besotted with young Peregrin for the rest of your days." Elrond put an elegant hand on Merry's shoulder. "I doubt your cousin would want to win your heart that way, if he truly loves you."

"He does, I'm sure of it." That acknowledgement caused Merry's heart to contract, as if in sympathy to the pain Pippin must be feeling. "I love him too. I feel as if it's my duty to make him happy."

"You cannot fall in love with someone out of a sense of duty."

Merry turned and gazed at Pippin still sitting by the river. "I know. I just wish there was something for it."

Four days later, Merry and Pippin gave their thanks and said their goodbyes to Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Bilbo. Merry promised to visit again soon, anxious to take Elrond up on his offer to let Merry use Rivendell's extensive library anytime he wished (he had several book projects he wanted to do research for).

Pippin was polite, but distant; doing his best to avoid gazing directly at anybody and taking an inordinate amount of time checking the tack on his pony. Merry sighed. Gandalf patted him on the shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear.

"Sometimes, Meriadoc, when one has struggled with a problem, but no clear answers are forthcoming, it's helpful to try and look at the problem from another angle." Merry followed Gandalf's gaze to Pippin. "Try to see things in a different light."

Merry knew Gandalf was getting at something, but he wasn't quite sure what that was. He nodded politely, hoping that the wizard's point would dawn on him during their trip west.

The road was quite wide enough for two ponies to ride side by side, but Pippin did his best to either remain in front or in back of Merry for five whole days.

The atmosphere at camp wasn't much cheerier. They ate their meals in unbearable silence and Pippin would plead fatigue if Merry tried to engage him in a song or story. On the morning of the sixth day while they ate another quiet breakfast, Merry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to prevent himself from screaming out of frustration. What can I do to fix this? Gandalf's vague words came back to him unbidden. Look at the problem from another angle. Try to see things in a different light.

Merry looked at his cousin, who was turned away from him--another of Pippin's new habits. Merry studied his profile and discovered something rather surprising: Pippin was fair. As fair as any Elf Merry had ever seen; fairer still when he was smiling. He missed Pippin's smile most of all.

Pippin turned and fixed his large green eyes on his cousin. "What is it, Merry?"

Merry lowered his gaze, his heart thumping hard in his chest. "W-we should move on. We need to reach Weathertop by nightfall."

Pippin nodded curtly and shouldered his pack.

They arrived at Weathertop after dark and set up camp at the western foot of the great hill. Once again they supped in silence. It was much colder than it had been in Rivendell, but Pippin insisted on sleeping a Man's length away from Merry. It would have been the most natural thing in the world for the two Hobbits to huddle together for warmth and comfort, but Pippin seemed afraid to even go near him. A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Merry. Perhaps Pippin hated him. Well, that just won't do at all! Merry rose and bundled his blankets around him; within seconds the harsh wind chilled him to the bone.

Merry scurried across the camp and laid down close beside Pippin, pulling his blankets over them both. Pippin awoke and turned on Merry. "What are you doing?"

"I'm freezing and so are you. I could see you shivering under your covers." Pippin tried to pull away, but Merry swung his feet over Pippin's legs so he couldn't move.

"Get off, Merry!"

"You can hate me if you like, but I'm not going to freeze to death for not feeling the way you want me to." Merry removed his feet, hoping that Pippin wouldn't bolt to the other side of the campsite. Pippin looked as if he was about to cry again. Merry resisted the temptation to ruffle his hair.

"I don't hate you," Pippin told him. "I could never--"

"Then why are you acting like this?" Merry asked more gently.

"Don't you understand?" Pippin said with anguish in his voice. "Now that I know there's no hope...your touch is like torture to me."

"Oh." Merry began to pull away.

Pippin stopped him. "It's all right," he mumbled, then pulled the covers over his head.

Pippin's body did help to keep the cold at bay, but Merry's proximity kept Pippin awake for most of the night. Exhaustion finally took the younger Hobbit just before dawn.

"Good Morning, Pippin! Time for second breakfast." Merry smiled down at him as Pippin rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sun was well up in the sky. It seemed he did indeed miss first breakfast.

Pippin threw the blankets aside and yawned. "Sorry I slept so late."

"I know you didn't sleep very well, so you can have first and second breakfast at the same time if you like." Merry grinned cheerfully, hoping his mood would rub off on Pippin. He sliced up half a potato and threw it in the frying pan, tucking his eating knife in the sheath sticking out of the waistband of his breeches. He handed Pippin a plate filled with cheese, Elven bread, and strips of dried pork.

Pippin's melancholy seemed to lighten at Merry's efforts and he accepted the food gratefully. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult lately."

Merry was about to say, 'It's forgotten,' but gave his cousin an understanding smile instead. Pippin had been right when he said that things would never be quite the same between them, but that didn't mean Merry wouldn't do all he could to make things right. But first he needed a little information.

He waited until Pippin was quite full and content before he asked his question. "So," Merry began casually, "What exactly do lads do--together?"

Pippin sighed heavily and scrambled to his feet. He started clearing off the pans and wooden dishes and shoved them none too gently in his pack. "You said before that you wanted to forget what I said. Let's please forget it and never speak of it again."

"I didn't mean to upset you," Merry said. "It's just that I hate to see you this way."

Pippin turned on him angrily. "I can bear the fact that you don't feel the same way about me, but I cannot bear your pity."

Merry went to him and took him by the shoulders. Pippin did not pull away, but wouldn't look at Merry either. "It's not pity. I love you, you silly fool! Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I'm even asking the question?"

"And you would go against your nature to make me happy?" Pippin asked it in such a way that said he already knew the answer.

Merry threw up his hands. "I don't know! I just don't want to lose you."

Pippin shook his head, abashed. "You haven't lost me, Merry."

"Haven't I? You're so distant, pushing me away at every turn." Merry sat cross-legged by the small fire and motioned Pippin to do the same. "So tell me. What do lads do with each other?" Pippin tried to escape from Merry again, but Merry grabbed his arm and sat him back down. "Maybe it's something I wouldn't mind doing for you. It isn't pity, Pippin. I just want you to be happy to be with me again."

Pippin sighed in defeat then gazed at him sheepishly. "To be honest, I have no experience in the matter, though I did hear a few things from some Gondorian soldiers. I have to warn you, it is a rather rude story."

"I'll be sure to cover my ears at the bad words," Merry said with a grin. "Go on."

Pippin blushed furiously. "I was in the mess hall with Beregond. One of the soldiers, a big, smelly brute of a Man said, 'I hear them Orcs sometimes does take prisoners. Remember Alaric?' The other soldiers nodded gravely and several took long draughts of ale as if to steady themselves. Of course, my ears pricked up when they spoke of Orc prisoners, having been one myself. 'What happened to Alaric?' I asked.

"Beregond shook his head, no doubt trying to protect me from hearing the story, but the gesture went unheeded. The Brute said, 'The demons beat him nearly to death and then they took him like a lass. Ripped his insides they did. He couldn't--" Pippin paused and leaned towards Merry to whisper. "shit-- for a month.' 'I don't understand', I said."

"Of course you did, Pip," Merry said, horrified at the story. "You never did know when to leave well enough alone." How could Pippin want him to do that? Or maybe it was Pippin who wanted to do it to him.

"Just let me finish. Another soldier, by the name of Bran, explained, 'He took him up his back passage, if you take my meaning, but he didn't grease him up before he did it.' 'What's the grease for?' I asked. Bran replied with a terrible leer, 'So's his cock (another whisper) goes in nice and easy.'

"'That's enough in front of the little one.' Beregond said with no little authority. I replied with as much dignity as the situation allowed, 'I am not a child.' 'No, he ain't,' said the Brute. 'He wouldn't be in the service of the Steward, nowise.' I smiled at that, but then the Brute turned his drunken stare on me. 'Tell us, Halfling. Are all your kind so fair as you?'"

"You are fair, Pippin," Merry interrupted. "Uncommonly so. It's no wonder they called you Ernil i Pheriannath, Prince of the Halflings."

Pippin burst out laughing. Such a name might have been fitting a thousand years ago when The Thain ruled the Shire, but now it just sounded silly, particularly coming from Merry. "You're shoveling it on a bit thick, aren't you?"

"Sorry."

"As I was saying, I felt my ire rising faster than my fear.'My name is Peregrin son of Paladin.' The Brute laughed heartily. 'Well, then Peregrin son of Paladin, how'd you like to see the business end of a proper man-cock?' 'Only long enough to cut it off.'" Pippin smiled with shy pride. "The soldiers, even the Brute, laughed heartily and left me alone after that."

"Well, Pip," Merry said awkwardly. "I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself like that, but what the Orc did to poor Alaric--how could you want to do that with me? It sounds beyond dreadful."

Merry could tell by his expression that Pippin suddenly realized how inappropriate his anecdote was. "I know it sounds odd, but later on that day I found myself thinking of what could have happened to us when we were held prisoner by the Orcs, and it was truly horrible, but then I thought about you and me in a soft bed, all gentle and sweet, with lots of grease and just for a moment I imagined it could be wonderful." Pippin lowered his head. "Stupid me, I should have left the other part out, now you'll never--not that you would anyway."

Merry tried to imagine them together as he had imagined being with a lass a hundred times. It wasn't unpleasant exactly, just strange; a little too strange for him to comprehend right now. "I wonder if lads do other things that lads and lasses do, like...kissing."

Pippin's breath caught in his throat. "Don't, Merry. For pity's sake, let's drop the subject." Pippin started collecting his things and shoved them into his pack, but Merry wouldn't give him peace.

"You're not giving me a chance," Merry said as he turned Pippin to face him. "Just one little kiss. It's not just for you--I need to know as well."

Merry inched closer, his hands clutching Pippin's arms. Pippin stiffened visibly and shut his eyes and lips tightly, unwilling to take any pleasure from the experience. "Relax, Pippin. Give me a chance." When Pippin refused, Merry lightly tickled him just below the ribs. It was enough to cause Pippin to open his eyes and giggle.

Merry took the opportunity to press his lips to Pippin's. Merry paid close attention to the feelings passing through his mind and body, but Pippin withdrew before he could make much sense of it. It certainly didn't feel disagreeable, but he remembered kissing his ancient Aunt Euphemia more passionately than this.

"Nothing, right?" Pippin said as a sort of challenge.

"How can I tell?" countered Merry. "You're not even making an effort."

"You want me to make an effort?" Pippin asked, his breath quickening. "All right then." Quite suddenly, Pippin slipped his hand on the back of Merry's head and covered Merry's mouth with his own. Merry gasped in surprised, allowing Pippin to snake his tongue into his mouth with surprising expertise. Merry responded with a moan and entwined his tongue with his young cousin's, as they embraced each other tightly.

With every thrust of Pippin's tongue, Merry felt powerful, pleasure-pains shooting from his groin, through his stomach and into his heart, making him lightheaded. Pippin withdrew, their lips just a hair apart. An aching longing threatened to overwhelm Merry, but then he felt Pippin's soft lips and teasing tongue trail along his jaw, and up to the sensitive skin just behind his ear. "Please, Merry."

Pippin's plaintive whisper journeyed straight to the depths of Merry's soul. The soul-bond they had always shared felt comfortable and safe, but this new intrusion was unnerving and filled him with dread. Merry realized that, if he chose to wield it, Pippin had the power of life and death, bliss and despair over him. Pippin could destroy him utterly or ask him to do anything he wished and Merry would be powerless to refuse.

The sound of a hundred Brandybuck voices reverberating through the walls of Brandy Hall warned him that if he gave into Pippin he would lose himself. Merry pushed Pippin away almost cruelly. But Pippin was still there, inside of his soul even though they were no longer touching. It terrified him. "That's enough, Pippin!"

Instantly, the connection was ended and the polite distance in Pippin's eyes returned. But more than that, Merry felt an aching void in his heart. He realized that when he had ordered Pippin away from him, he had lost something more precious than all the Rings in Middle-earth--the part of Pippin's soul that belonged to Merry alone; that always had since the day his young cousin was born.

"Don't stop now, Halflings. It was jus' gettin' interesting."

Both Hobbits spun around. It was the Man, Deken. He was holding his left arm close to his body because of the wound Merry had dealt him, but he looked as dangerous as ever wielding a large serrated knife.

And their short swords still lay on the ground next to their packs. Merry made a move to dive for his weapon, but Deken put his boot on the hilt. "Not this time, rat. And I don't suggest you run either, or one of you will feel this in your back." He grinned evilly. "Something tells me neither of you wants to lose the other."

Pippin lowered his head in shame as if it was his fault that their attachment to each other was betrayed.

"I'm going to gut you like a piglet," Deken said to Merry, licking his filthy lips. "But first I think I'll have some fun with your little whore."

Merry was incensed almost beyond words that anyone, even the likes of Deken, would dare call Pippin such a thing, but still his stomach trembled possessively. He instinctively pushed Pippin behind him. "You'll not lay a hand on him!"

Merry felt Pippin slowly pull the eating knife out of its sheath in his waistband, all the while whimpering convincingly.

"Oi, Merry! Whatever shall we do?" Pippin wailed, dashing out from behind his cousin. "Don't hurt him, sir. I'll do anything you want!"

"Pippin, no!" Merry's panic was not at all feigned. He knew Pippin had a plan, but that was hardly a comfort to him. And for one insane moment, Merry thought now that he had rejected him so completely, Pippin was prepared to give himself to Deken!

Deken laughed. "How could I refuse such a delicious offer? Come here, little one," he coaxed Pippin in a sing-song voice. "I always liked Halfling sluts, most being waist high and all, but I never had a bundle as fine as you."

Merry assumed that Pippin had palmed the knife and hidden it in his sleeve. Pippin stepped forward slowly and halted in front of Deken. He looked up at the Man in that haunting way he had; wide green eyes all innocence and charm, almost challenging the recipient of his gaze to protect him. Merry strangely hoped it was lost on Deken.

"If I please you," Pippin breathed, "will you let him go unharmed?"

Deken lowered his blade and stopped unlacing his breeches so he could stroke Pippin's smooth face. "Of course, my little beauty."

Pippin's eyelids fluttered and he pressed his cheek into the Man's touch. "Liar." Pippin had said it so quietly that Deken didn't realize the Hobbit had spoken until he felt the blade shoved viciously up into his privates. "That's for what you did to Merry!"

Deken fell to his knees, clutching his crotch. His mouth flew opened in a scream that came out as a strangled gurgle. The Man finally found his voice and let out a shriek that could have been heard in Rohan.

Merry ran for his sword and plunged it into Deken's chest, silencing him forever.

Pippin stood staring at the dead man, shaking violently. "It wasn't nearly as satisfying as I had hoped." He began to gag. "Excuse me, Merry. I have to throw up second breakfast." Pippin retched behind a tree for a quarter of an hour while Merry held his head, crooning softly in his ear, but the comfort Merry offered wasn't enough to regain that which he had lost. As soon as Pippin recovered, they quickly gathered their belongings.

Pippin pointed uneasily over his shoulder at the dead man. "I suppose we should get your knife."

Merry glanced at Deken, his lifeless eyes wide, still holding his bloody crotch and shuddered "That's all right, I'll get another one."

To be continued....