Chapter Ten: Letters Unanswered
A/N: Yay! I finally willed myself to write another chapter. Thank you, reviewers and readers, and enjoy. But I warn you, this is far from over.
The morning came quickly, and Meriadoc Brandybuck dreaded it. He wished he could stay at Bag End in that safe haven with Frodo. Yet, no matter what he wished, they were leaving and going far. Their travel bags had been hurled into the back of the carriage and the pony was once again hitched to it. Saradoc had said farewell to Frodo and thanked him for the umpteenth time before taking his spot in the carriage. Merry stood on the doorstep of Bag End with Frodo, saying good-bye.
"Frodo, if you see Pippin, please tell him that I miss him and that... that I hope he could forgive me for walking out on him, if he'll listen."
Frodo nodded and hugged Merry. "You take good care of yourself, dear Merry. And don't worry about Pippin. I'm sure he will come around. I will tell him where you are staying so he can write to you if he wants."
"And I will write to him," Merry replied as they pulled away. He nodded. "Thank you, Frodo. I do not know what anyone would do without you!"
Frodo smiled. "Fine with me. I will see you in a few months, Merry."
"Bye, Frodo." Merry turned around and started walking to the carriage. He sat down next to his father and waved solemnly to his elder cousin as the carriage took off down the road, disappearing into the morning mist.
Days went by, countless days. The leaves fell from the trees in red, yellow, and orange colors, growing less and less upon the branches of the trees. Cold winds of the north blew in and chilled the air.
It had been a full month since that day Meriadoc had left Frodo upon the doorstep. The day had passed slowly for many, until the night came. It was the eleventh of October, and much hustle and bustle there was that night. For there was a party to be held in the honor of the marriage of Palarhad Hozler and Marigold Erving. The guests were seated accordingly to family name and relation to the newlyweds. Every hobbit there could not have walked away denying that they had a splendid time.
At one of the last tables and farthest away from the front sat Frodo. He smiled as he watched the dancers weaving in and out around each other. In that moment he had no desire to dance, just sit there.
Across from him sat Pippin. Had it been any other time Frodo would have expected Pippin to be laughing merrily and running through the helpless dancers, testing how many he could make trip. Perhaps he would have been snatching more food or doing some sort of mischief . . . with Merry. Yet that was the reason why he was sitting still, nothing left of a smile upon his face. Merry.
Frodo glanced at him and frowned. "Pippin," he started, turning toward the young lad. Pippin, seeming to notice him for the first time that night, looked up to meet with Frodo's eyes. "Pippin, are you all right?"
Pippin looked down again and shrugged his shoulders. Frodo sighed and leaned over towards him, taking his cousin's chin in his hand and raising his head to keep eye contact.
"Have you written Merry yet?"
Pippin nodded immediately, choosing to keep silent.
"When was that?"
Thinking back awhile, Pippin hesitantly answered, "Three weeks ago."
"You sent it?"
"Yes."
"Did you get an answer?"
Pippin shook his head sadly. Frodo was about to ask something else but Pippin beat him to the punch line. "I wrote him three times and sent them all, but I haven't received any letters yet. Not from..." He trailed off and looked down again after Frodo released his chin.
Frodo sighed and thought to himself. Nothing made sense to him. If Pippin had written and sent letters to Merry, then Merry should have answered. He would have received them about five days after Pippin had sent them, so he should have written back by now. He shook his head and looked back to Pippin, his expression going from thoughtful to worried.
Pippin kept looking down at his hands, evidently trying to hide the fact that tears were leaping to his eyes. Frodo stood and walked over to Pippin, giving him a small hug of comfort. The young Took buried his face against Frodo's sepia jacket.
"Pippin, Merry still loves you-"
"No, he doesn't. He would have answered me by now. He promised to be there for me. He promised..." Pippin replied with heartbreaking desperation. His words were slightly muffled by Frodo's jacket, but they were still understandable. Frodo was silent for a moment, sympathy for Pippin welling up in his heart.
"Pippin... Pippin, please don't blame Merry. Merry probably did write you. The letters probably ended up lost in the post office somewhere or something. You know how slow they are." He gently stroked Pippin's curly hair, becoming silent.
Pippin allowed himself to be comforted by Frodo, but his older cousin was a small comfort. He sniffled as he felt Frodo start stroking his hair. It was what Merry used to do when he comforted him. He mentally kicked himself and told himself to stop thinking about it, all the while keeping quiet.
His tears finally dried, and he sat up in Frodo's arms, slightly abashed. "Thank you," he replied as he broke away from Frodo, hurrying off in some direction, though he really didn't care which.
Frodo sighed and sat down. His cousins' troubles were starting to wear him thin with patience. He reached over and popped open a bottle of wine. "Maybe they can work it out themselves," he muttered and downed a glass of the purple liquid.
Pippin stopped in his tracks after walking across the lawn to the other side. Marigold, or Mary as most people like to call her, was sitting three feet away. Pippin smiled as he looked over her dress, finding it very pretty.
Mary glanced up and smirked. "Hullo, Peregrin."
"Marigold," he replied. He stepped forward as Mary hugged him. She ruffled his hair as he pulled away.
"So how is my third-cousin? Not too bored, I hope."
Pippin shook his head. "Oh, no. Of course not, Mary. You know I just *adore* weddings and formal parties and the like," he stated, speaking and posing like his sister Pearl had done so many times before.
Mary laughed out loud for the first time that night, seemingly. "Pearl would be very proud, I'm sure. But, really now, are you bored? I certainly am."
"Why are you bored at your own wedding?" Pippin asked, surprised she had said that.
"Well, let's just say it seems my new husband is a very social creature, with other people."
Pippin had a very confused expression. "If you didn't like him, why did you marry him?"
Mary sighed. "I didn't have much choice," she muttered solemnly, but suddenly realized where she was again and smiled at Pippin. "Anyway, I think they are going to put on a play soon, so you can go and watch that. I have to go, but I will see you later." She stood and walked off to where her sisters sat.
Pippin shook his head. "I just don't understand some people." He turned around and walked off to find his own family.
A/N: Yay! I finally willed myself to write another chapter. Thank you, reviewers and readers, and enjoy. But I warn you, this is far from over.
The morning came quickly, and Meriadoc Brandybuck dreaded it. He wished he could stay at Bag End in that safe haven with Frodo. Yet, no matter what he wished, they were leaving and going far. Their travel bags had been hurled into the back of the carriage and the pony was once again hitched to it. Saradoc had said farewell to Frodo and thanked him for the umpteenth time before taking his spot in the carriage. Merry stood on the doorstep of Bag End with Frodo, saying good-bye.
"Frodo, if you see Pippin, please tell him that I miss him and that... that I hope he could forgive me for walking out on him, if he'll listen."
Frodo nodded and hugged Merry. "You take good care of yourself, dear Merry. And don't worry about Pippin. I'm sure he will come around. I will tell him where you are staying so he can write to you if he wants."
"And I will write to him," Merry replied as they pulled away. He nodded. "Thank you, Frodo. I do not know what anyone would do without you!"
Frodo smiled. "Fine with me. I will see you in a few months, Merry."
"Bye, Frodo." Merry turned around and started walking to the carriage. He sat down next to his father and waved solemnly to his elder cousin as the carriage took off down the road, disappearing into the morning mist.
Days went by, countless days. The leaves fell from the trees in red, yellow, and orange colors, growing less and less upon the branches of the trees. Cold winds of the north blew in and chilled the air.
It had been a full month since that day Meriadoc had left Frodo upon the doorstep. The day had passed slowly for many, until the night came. It was the eleventh of October, and much hustle and bustle there was that night. For there was a party to be held in the honor of the marriage of Palarhad Hozler and Marigold Erving. The guests were seated accordingly to family name and relation to the newlyweds. Every hobbit there could not have walked away denying that they had a splendid time.
At one of the last tables and farthest away from the front sat Frodo. He smiled as he watched the dancers weaving in and out around each other. In that moment he had no desire to dance, just sit there.
Across from him sat Pippin. Had it been any other time Frodo would have expected Pippin to be laughing merrily and running through the helpless dancers, testing how many he could make trip. Perhaps he would have been snatching more food or doing some sort of mischief . . . with Merry. Yet that was the reason why he was sitting still, nothing left of a smile upon his face. Merry.
Frodo glanced at him and frowned. "Pippin," he started, turning toward the young lad. Pippin, seeming to notice him for the first time that night, looked up to meet with Frodo's eyes. "Pippin, are you all right?"
Pippin looked down again and shrugged his shoulders. Frodo sighed and leaned over towards him, taking his cousin's chin in his hand and raising his head to keep eye contact.
"Have you written Merry yet?"
Pippin nodded immediately, choosing to keep silent.
"When was that?"
Thinking back awhile, Pippin hesitantly answered, "Three weeks ago."
"You sent it?"
"Yes."
"Did you get an answer?"
Pippin shook his head sadly. Frodo was about to ask something else but Pippin beat him to the punch line. "I wrote him three times and sent them all, but I haven't received any letters yet. Not from..." He trailed off and looked down again after Frodo released his chin.
Frodo sighed and thought to himself. Nothing made sense to him. If Pippin had written and sent letters to Merry, then Merry should have answered. He would have received them about five days after Pippin had sent them, so he should have written back by now. He shook his head and looked back to Pippin, his expression going from thoughtful to worried.
Pippin kept looking down at his hands, evidently trying to hide the fact that tears were leaping to his eyes. Frodo stood and walked over to Pippin, giving him a small hug of comfort. The young Took buried his face against Frodo's sepia jacket.
"Pippin, Merry still loves you-"
"No, he doesn't. He would have answered me by now. He promised to be there for me. He promised..." Pippin replied with heartbreaking desperation. His words were slightly muffled by Frodo's jacket, but they were still understandable. Frodo was silent for a moment, sympathy for Pippin welling up in his heart.
"Pippin... Pippin, please don't blame Merry. Merry probably did write you. The letters probably ended up lost in the post office somewhere or something. You know how slow they are." He gently stroked Pippin's curly hair, becoming silent.
Pippin allowed himself to be comforted by Frodo, but his older cousin was a small comfort. He sniffled as he felt Frodo start stroking his hair. It was what Merry used to do when he comforted him. He mentally kicked himself and told himself to stop thinking about it, all the while keeping quiet.
His tears finally dried, and he sat up in Frodo's arms, slightly abashed. "Thank you," he replied as he broke away from Frodo, hurrying off in some direction, though he really didn't care which.
Frodo sighed and sat down. His cousins' troubles were starting to wear him thin with patience. He reached over and popped open a bottle of wine. "Maybe they can work it out themselves," he muttered and downed a glass of the purple liquid.
Pippin stopped in his tracks after walking across the lawn to the other side. Marigold, or Mary as most people like to call her, was sitting three feet away. Pippin smiled as he looked over her dress, finding it very pretty.
Mary glanced up and smirked. "Hullo, Peregrin."
"Marigold," he replied. He stepped forward as Mary hugged him. She ruffled his hair as he pulled away.
"So how is my third-cousin? Not too bored, I hope."
Pippin shook his head. "Oh, no. Of course not, Mary. You know I just *adore* weddings and formal parties and the like," he stated, speaking and posing like his sister Pearl had done so many times before.
Mary laughed out loud for the first time that night, seemingly. "Pearl would be very proud, I'm sure. But, really now, are you bored? I certainly am."
"Why are you bored at your own wedding?" Pippin asked, surprised she had said that.
"Well, let's just say it seems my new husband is a very social creature, with other people."
Pippin had a very confused expression. "If you didn't like him, why did you marry him?"
Mary sighed. "I didn't have much choice," she muttered solemnly, but suddenly realized where she was again and smiled at Pippin. "Anyway, I think they are going to put on a play soon, so you can go and watch that. I have to go, but I will see you later." She stood and walked off to where her sisters sat.
Pippin shook his head. "I just don't understand some people." He turned around and walked off to find his own family.