A/N: I'm sure there are all sorts of hidden meanings and hints in this story. If you find any please tell me because I quite lost track. This is a little melancholy and I'm not sure if the ending's happy or not, it's open to interpretation really.
Enjoy!
Dreaming
Pippin lay down in bed after a long day's Thaining. It would only be another few years before he could start thinking about passing the Thainship on to his son. Pippin could feel his bones stretching out after a full day of standing, the pleasant ache spread down his spine as all the tension fell from him.
His wife climbed carefully into bed beside him. They kissed goodnight and then sunk quickly into their own dream worlds.
Pippin found himself climbing a tree, why was he climbing a tree? It was an apple tree. That answered Pippin's question. He looked around him, he was surrounded by leaves and apples then he looked up and there he saw the reddest and ripest apple and if he didn't pick it now it would fall and be bruised and he'd never taste its perfection. But it was so very high up.
"Peregrin Took!" Pippin jumped and nearly lost his hold on the branch, "You're going to fall if you go any higher, come back down!" Pippin peered over his shoulder. What he saw nearly caused him to let go of the branch again. Gandalf the Grey was striding towards him, staff pointing up at him.
"But that apple!" Pippin was surprised to find his voice higher than usual, higher than it had been for a few decades. "That apple is going to fall if I don't get it soon," he pulled himself up onto the next branch.
"I'll wager that apple isn't nearly as nice as it looks," for the third time Pippin nearly fell from the tree, he was sure he was alone just seconds earlier. "It's probably worm ridden, you remember that one you gave your sister?"
"What one I gave my sister?" said Pippin, astonished he was talking to his father, whose funeral he'd attended a number of years ago.
"You remember the one!" Pippin peered through the leaves, looking completely nonplussed. "You don't? Ah well, that's the way of it sometimes," Pippin frowned in confusion at his father but was soon distracted.
"Pippin! Come down from there!" there was another one? Who this time, his mother, Eglantine (also a few years dead)? Pippin turned and looked.
"Frodo?" he said incredulously.
"Yes, of course it's me! Who were you expecting? Eglantine?" Frodo's hands were on his hips in that I'm-over-twice-your-age-don't-argue-with-me pose. It had been a long time since Frodo was over twice his age though.
"Well, actually," started Pippin.
"Don't be silly, Eglantine's over there," Pippin looked in the direction of Frodo's vague hand-wave and saw his mother making jam with two of his aunts who were, yes, long since dead. "Now come down before she notices you or she'll have my guts for garters!"
"But I have to get that apple!" said Pippin as he climbed up another branch.
"Pippin, what will you do when you get to the top? You'll only look down and lose your balance and suddenly you'll find yourself on the floor with your head cracked open and your mother will be wearing part of me around her leg. Where will that get us?" Pippin looked thoughtfully at Frodo for a while and then climbed up another branch in answer. Frodo sighed and sat down next to Gandalf on a slight hill and brought out his pipe.
"Don't worry," said a voice from below. Pippin had now got used to the sudden appearances of voices and so didn't nearly fall. "I'll catch him if he falls," Pippin looked down and saw Boromir beneath him with his arms held out, ready to catch Pippin if he fell.
"Boromir, I'd squash you!" laughed Pippin. It was the squeaky laugh Pippin thought he'd grown out of.
"Nonsense! You can't be taller than two foot five,"
"Two foot five? I most certainly am taller than two foot five! Are you blind?" replied Pippin quite reasonably; he was one of the tallest hobbits ever, he was not two foot five.
"Boromir don't tease him, you know he's taller than two foot five," said Frodo from where he was lying, hands behind his head and pipe in his mouth. "He's two foot five and a half," Pippin looked at Frodo, his mouth hanging open.
"Frodo! That's how tall I was when I was seven!" he cried.
"You are seven,"
"No I'm not!"
"Peregrin!" said Pippin's father sternly. He was now sitting on a bench next to Pippin's two grandfathers with an ale in his hand, "Don't lie! You know I don't tolerate lying!" Pippin opened his mouth to protest but instead:
"Sorry father," came out.
Pippin carried on climbing and soon he was above the main body of leaves. Was that apple getting further away? He still had another few yards to climb yet. He looked down and tightened his grip around the branch he was hanging onto, so much so, it became more of a hug. He was rather high. He could also see everyone. There was his father deep in conversation with his two grandfathers, there were now a few empty mugs surrounding them. Further off were his two grandmothers knitting, he hadn't noticed them before. One of them had her face hidden, which was a shame because he'd always wondered what she'd looked like; she'd died before he was born.
Then he looked over at his aunts and mother, they were still making jam. He wished he could go over there and talk to them, it had been so long since he hugged his mother but he had to get that apple.
"What's Pippin doing all the way up there? His mother won't like that," Pippin looked to the new voice, it was Rosie.
"No she won't," replied Frodo, who was still sitting next to Gandalf on the bank, both smoking. "But we can't persuade him to come down, he's set on getting that apple,"
"It is a nice apple," said Rosie. Pippin felt rather detached from them all, they seemed to think he couldn't hear them. He looked back down at Boromir, expecting to still be standing there with his arms outstretched, true to his word as always but instead he saw Boromir lying against the base of the tree pierced with many arrows. Pippin looked at the others in panic, hoping one of them would notice and help him but when he looked back down, Boromir was merely sleeping. That was very odd.
He climbed up to another branch.
Pippin looked towards his father, hoping he'd drunk too much ale to mind what his son did. Indeed, all three of them there had drunk so much they were slumped forwards on the table, asleep. Or were they arranged peacefully in their beds, whence none would rise again?
He checked his mother and his aunts but they were still there, fully conscious and making jam, blackberry jam it looked like but it was hard to tell when he was so high up.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Pippin heard that once familiar call that heralded the arrival of Samwise Gamgee. "We've got to get going. Is Mr. Gandalf coming?" Leaving? Pippin didn't want them to leave.
"Don't go!" he shouted down at them. Sam peered up at him.
"Who's that? Why, it's Mr. Pippin! You shouldn't be so high up, you'll fall and crack your head open!"
"He's been told but still he climbs higher," Frodo informed him.
"He's after that apple," added Rosie. Sam nodded to show that he'd heard and stared up at Pippin thoughtfully for a few moments before he shook himself.
"We've got to get going or we'll be late!" Frodo and Gandalf stood up and dusted themselves down.
"Lead the way Sam!" said Gandalf.
"Could I come along?" asked Rosie.
"Of course m'dear!" Sam and Rosie linked arms and started walking away from Pippin's tree.
"Can I come with you? Take me with you! Don't leave me here!" Pippin called after the four retreating backs.
"No Pippin, you have to pick your apple!" called Frodo over his shoulder. They disappeared over the horizon very quickly and Pippin knew they wouldn't be coming back.
Pippin's lower lip began to wobble and the tears welled up in his eyes. They'd left him again. He glanced around at his tear-blurred world. Only his mother and aunts were left.
Pippin bit his bottom lip even though he couldn't stop a few tears rolling down his cheeks and he resolved to get that apple once and for all. He carried on climbing and surprised himself with the speed of his ascent. Hadn't the apple only been a few yards away?
"Pippin!" Came a sharp call from the ground. "What are you doing up there? And where's that Frodo? I told him not to let you climb!"
"Frodo's gone," replied Pippin. Eglantine softened immediately, seeing the hurt in her son's eyes.
"Come down here will you? What about a hug?" suggested Eglantine. Pippin had never thought he could be so happy to hear such a simple suggestion.
"Hang on mum! I'll be down in just a moment!" he called down as he began the descent. "Mum?" he looked down to check that she was still there. She wasn't.
He was alone.
All he had left was his apple. Now he was determined to get it. He would climb for the entire day if that was what it would take.
It didn't take that long at all. He managed to get close enough to reach it in one short minute. It was in an awkward position though; there were no branches near it and he'd have to stretch. Stretch he did, at first holding tightly to the branch and then slowly letting himself lean out a little further.
His fingertips touched the smooth skin, it was tantalisingly close but he couldn't grip it yet. He leaned out a little further and a little further still until he could stretch no further. Then he looked down. The shock of seeing the ground so far away made the hand anchoring him to the tree slip and no matter how much he flailed his arms he could neither gain his balance nor grab a hold of the branch again. He was falling further and faster than he had ever fallen before.
Pippin awoke with a jolt. He pushed himself up on his elbows and breathed in deeply, his breath hitched like one who had recently been crying. Had he been crying in his sleep? He felt the pillow and it was damp.
Diamond opened the door and quietly walked in.
"Are we awake at last?" Pippin looked up at his wife and blinked away the last of the tears.
"I think we are," Diamond smiled and set her tea down on the bedside table,
"Have any nice dreams?"
-FIN-