A/N: After much thought and deliberation, I have decided to continue on
with this story. I know, I know. It's been a long time and you might be
wondering where I have been the past few months. For starters, I am now a
freshman in high school. Secondly, I am writing a series of my own novels
that should be finished within the next few years. I have been writing
original fiction due to the fact that I wanted to experiment in writing. My
writing has evolved since I last updated on this story. I hope it shows.
Secondly, I am trying to write myself out of a ten-fold block here. I just saw ROTK today, however, so therefore I have plenty of new inspiration. (Especially from the Merry/Pippin moments!) Sooo.let's get on with it!
_
Chapter Twenty-One: Reacquainted/The Storm Brews
_
Low, arising flames crackled in the hearth of Bridgewater's bare sitting room, shedding light and warmth to ward off a chilled night. Pippin figured he would have been warm even if he was not sitting in front of the fire, for he was snugly wrapped in one of Merry's heavy jackets. He pressed the collar to his nose and sniffed. The jacket smelled like Merry, of fresh spring mornings and dewy grass with a hint of boyish sweetness that only Meriadoc possessed. He inhaled the scent deeply and then breathed out a contented sigh.
"Well, the tea is done," piped a voice from behind him, and he looked to see Merry rounding the hall's corner, a tray of fresh-brewed herbal tea in his hands. The older hobbit paused, smiling at his cousin sitting on the floor. "Enjoying yourself, Pippin?"
Pippin realized he still held the collar close to his nose, and he quickly released it and turned his face to the fire, hoping Merry would mistake his certain blush for a reaction from the heat of the flames. He jumped an inch when Merry sat next to him on the floor and placed the tray before them.
Merry noticed his jump and frowned, puzzled by Pippin's sudden nervousness. "'m sorry for scaring you, Pip. . . Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Merry," Pippin whispered, still staring at the flames, appearing fascinated by the movements of the fire. Merry gazed at him, wanting to reach out and guide Pippin to look at him. Instead of taking Pippin's face in his hands, he reached out and hovered his hand over Pippin's, hesitating before lowering it. Pippin inhaled sharply and glanced down to Merry's older, smooth hand on top of his. His blank look turned into a smile, and he overturned his hand to grasp Merry's.
After a second, Merry looked up with smiling eyes. "Pippin," he whispered in the still of the room. "When you were at home all those months, did you- did you. . ." He swallowed, nervous. "Did you ever think of me? Really think?"
Pippin glanced up to Merry and held similar eyes in thought. His eyes flickered once, and he settled his gaze on Merry's eyes again. "Yes," was his slow, breathy reply, low as though he was afraid to ruin the perfect quiet. "All the time. Every day."
Before Merry could ask any more questions, Berilac strolled through the room, a large book clutched in both of his hands. Pippin, startled, jerked away from Merry's hand and focused once again on the fire. Merry sighed and looked up as Berilac noticed them. "Well, boys, I'm turning in. It's going to be a long day tomorrow, with all the 'furnishing' we are going to do." He chuckled and continued on, throwing a 'Good-night' over his shoulder and stepping through the door, closing it behind him.
Merry grunted and turned back to Pippin, and he knew his chance at questions was gone from the abashed look on Pippin's face. He looked at the fire for a moment before getting up onto his feet. "I think I'm going to take Berilac's advice and turn in, too. You'll be all right?"
Pippin made a bare hint of a nod, and Merry turned to go before he remembered the envelopes stashed in his pocket. He pulled them out and sorted through them before taking out the letters addressed to Pippin. He let them fall next to the younger hobbit on the floor, and he stuffed the others back into his pocket as Pippin glanced down at the envelopes. As he began to walk away, he saw Pippin pluck one thick envelope from the floor and pull at the seal. He reached his appointed bedroom door and closed it behind him.
Advancing to his bed, he pulled the rest of the letters out of his shirt pocket and placed them on the bedside table, deciding they could be read tomorrow morning, even though he felt anxious to read what Pippin had written. He stepped around a small chest on the floor and plopped down upon a bed twice as large as he needed. His muscles ached from the day's travels and events, and he was overall exhausted. He sighed and fell back against his pillows, pulling the coverlet over himself. It was not long before sleep found him.
He awoke in the dark of the night, hours later than he had fallen asleep. Rain pattered on the ground outside, soaking the window, but calming Merry's senses. He exhaled and turned his head into his soft pillow before he realized what, or rather who, had awoken him.
The other side of the bed dipped down farther as someone slipped into the bed beside him. A whisper of his name revealed the person: Pippin. Merry smiled in the dark and lay still on his side until a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Merry!"
He turned his head and smiled, blinking, at Pippin's wide-eyed expression that he barely made out through the dark. "What is it, Pip?"
"Merry," Pippin whispered, gripping his shoulder, "did you mean all you wrote in your letters? Everything?"
Merry had to think a minute about what Pippin asked, and then he leaned up to cup Pippin's face. "Everything."
Pippin smiled and asked, "And your promise? Will you stay by me forever? Keep me safe?"
"Yes." Merry wrapped his arms around Pippin as he lay back down, letting the Took rest beside him. "I'll be there, always. Even in your darkest hours."
With his cheek pressed against Merry's chest, Pippin sighed and breathed, "Thank you, Merry. You're the greatest friend I've ever had." He turned his face into Merry's and closed his eyes, suddenly tired. His breathing began to even out, and he murmured one more thing, slightly muffled, before sleep overcame him. "I love you."
The Brandybuck's arms tensed before going slack around Pippin. He placed his head lightly upon Pippin's, his chin buried in a knot of brown curls. "'Love you, too."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rain continued to pour, harder until it beat at everything on the ground. A hobbit on a pony raced through the night, the rider cloaked and hooded to shield the rain, the pony blanketed. Both were soaked to the bone. The pony trotted on the road, for the rider could only see the road through the dark and the rain. The hobbit brought his hand over his pocket, just to be certain the envelope he was delivering was still in his pocket.
He sighed when he found it was. Berilac Brandybuck would have been terribly devastated if he had lost it along the path. He had no real need to make haste, though he figured he was approaching Hobbiton, considering the amount of time he had ridden already from Buckland.
He wondered briefly what the letter said, but then, he thought, he was only a messenger. The contents of the letter were not his business. But it was addressed to Frodo Baggins. He had heard the owner of Bag End was nearly as odd as old, vanished Bilbo, though perhaps a bit more civil when it came to social terms. He chuckled and shook his head. Like he thought before, it was not his business to know.
He gripped the pommel of his saddle as his pony came to a halt quickly and reared. He twisted around the neck to see that a great amount of water blocked his path. Grumbling, he jumped down from the pony and went to investigate. Surely the water level was not yet too high. It had been only raining a few hours, though the rain could drench a person in instants.
As he stepped into the pool of water and continued to wade in, the water rose to his knees, and soon up to his thighs even at the edge. He gave a disgruntled yell and waded back to his pony, climbing on again. The pony could not make it through that, especially if it was deeper further out. Quickly he thought of other paths to take into Hobbiton from where he was, but he could think of only two and he feared that those two were flooded as well. The rain was soaking him, and he knew he had better find a place to lodge and dry out in warmth before he caught sickness.
Sighing, he turned and rode off into the darkness.
__
[A side note: Watch for new chapters in the following week, and thank you to the reviewers! Your comments have been very appreciated.]
Secondly, I am trying to write myself out of a ten-fold block here. I just saw ROTK today, however, so therefore I have plenty of new inspiration. (Especially from the Merry/Pippin moments!) Sooo.let's get on with it!
_
Chapter Twenty-One: Reacquainted/The Storm Brews
_
Low, arising flames crackled in the hearth of Bridgewater's bare sitting room, shedding light and warmth to ward off a chilled night. Pippin figured he would have been warm even if he was not sitting in front of the fire, for he was snugly wrapped in one of Merry's heavy jackets. He pressed the collar to his nose and sniffed. The jacket smelled like Merry, of fresh spring mornings and dewy grass with a hint of boyish sweetness that only Meriadoc possessed. He inhaled the scent deeply and then breathed out a contented sigh.
"Well, the tea is done," piped a voice from behind him, and he looked to see Merry rounding the hall's corner, a tray of fresh-brewed herbal tea in his hands. The older hobbit paused, smiling at his cousin sitting on the floor. "Enjoying yourself, Pippin?"
Pippin realized he still held the collar close to his nose, and he quickly released it and turned his face to the fire, hoping Merry would mistake his certain blush for a reaction from the heat of the flames. He jumped an inch when Merry sat next to him on the floor and placed the tray before them.
Merry noticed his jump and frowned, puzzled by Pippin's sudden nervousness. "'m sorry for scaring you, Pip. . . Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Merry," Pippin whispered, still staring at the flames, appearing fascinated by the movements of the fire. Merry gazed at him, wanting to reach out and guide Pippin to look at him. Instead of taking Pippin's face in his hands, he reached out and hovered his hand over Pippin's, hesitating before lowering it. Pippin inhaled sharply and glanced down to Merry's older, smooth hand on top of his. His blank look turned into a smile, and he overturned his hand to grasp Merry's.
After a second, Merry looked up with smiling eyes. "Pippin," he whispered in the still of the room. "When you were at home all those months, did you- did you. . ." He swallowed, nervous. "Did you ever think of me? Really think?"
Pippin glanced up to Merry and held similar eyes in thought. His eyes flickered once, and he settled his gaze on Merry's eyes again. "Yes," was his slow, breathy reply, low as though he was afraid to ruin the perfect quiet. "All the time. Every day."
Before Merry could ask any more questions, Berilac strolled through the room, a large book clutched in both of his hands. Pippin, startled, jerked away from Merry's hand and focused once again on the fire. Merry sighed and looked up as Berilac noticed them. "Well, boys, I'm turning in. It's going to be a long day tomorrow, with all the 'furnishing' we are going to do." He chuckled and continued on, throwing a 'Good-night' over his shoulder and stepping through the door, closing it behind him.
Merry grunted and turned back to Pippin, and he knew his chance at questions was gone from the abashed look on Pippin's face. He looked at the fire for a moment before getting up onto his feet. "I think I'm going to take Berilac's advice and turn in, too. You'll be all right?"
Pippin made a bare hint of a nod, and Merry turned to go before he remembered the envelopes stashed in his pocket. He pulled them out and sorted through them before taking out the letters addressed to Pippin. He let them fall next to the younger hobbit on the floor, and he stuffed the others back into his pocket as Pippin glanced down at the envelopes. As he began to walk away, he saw Pippin pluck one thick envelope from the floor and pull at the seal. He reached his appointed bedroom door and closed it behind him.
Advancing to his bed, he pulled the rest of the letters out of his shirt pocket and placed them on the bedside table, deciding they could be read tomorrow morning, even though he felt anxious to read what Pippin had written. He stepped around a small chest on the floor and plopped down upon a bed twice as large as he needed. His muscles ached from the day's travels and events, and he was overall exhausted. He sighed and fell back against his pillows, pulling the coverlet over himself. It was not long before sleep found him.
He awoke in the dark of the night, hours later than he had fallen asleep. Rain pattered on the ground outside, soaking the window, but calming Merry's senses. He exhaled and turned his head into his soft pillow before he realized what, or rather who, had awoken him.
The other side of the bed dipped down farther as someone slipped into the bed beside him. A whisper of his name revealed the person: Pippin. Merry smiled in the dark and lay still on his side until a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Merry!"
He turned his head and smiled, blinking, at Pippin's wide-eyed expression that he barely made out through the dark. "What is it, Pip?"
"Merry," Pippin whispered, gripping his shoulder, "did you mean all you wrote in your letters? Everything?"
Merry had to think a minute about what Pippin asked, and then he leaned up to cup Pippin's face. "Everything."
Pippin smiled and asked, "And your promise? Will you stay by me forever? Keep me safe?"
"Yes." Merry wrapped his arms around Pippin as he lay back down, letting the Took rest beside him. "I'll be there, always. Even in your darkest hours."
With his cheek pressed against Merry's chest, Pippin sighed and breathed, "Thank you, Merry. You're the greatest friend I've ever had." He turned his face into Merry's and closed his eyes, suddenly tired. His breathing began to even out, and he murmured one more thing, slightly muffled, before sleep overcame him. "I love you."
The Brandybuck's arms tensed before going slack around Pippin. He placed his head lightly upon Pippin's, his chin buried in a knot of brown curls. "'Love you, too."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rain continued to pour, harder until it beat at everything on the ground. A hobbit on a pony raced through the night, the rider cloaked and hooded to shield the rain, the pony blanketed. Both were soaked to the bone. The pony trotted on the road, for the rider could only see the road through the dark and the rain. The hobbit brought his hand over his pocket, just to be certain the envelope he was delivering was still in his pocket.
He sighed when he found it was. Berilac Brandybuck would have been terribly devastated if he had lost it along the path. He had no real need to make haste, though he figured he was approaching Hobbiton, considering the amount of time he had ridden already from Buckland.
He wondered briefly what the letter said, but then, he thought, he was only a messenger. The contents of the letter were not his business. But it was addressed to Frodo Baggins. He had heard the owner of Bag End was nearly as odd as old, vanished Bilbo, though perhaps a bit more civil when it came to social terms. He chuckled and shook his head. Like he thought before, it was not his business to know.
He gripped the pommel of his saddle as his pony came to a halt quickly and reared. He twisted around the neck to see that a great amount of water blocked his path. Grumbling, he jumped down from the pony and went to investigate. Surely the water level was not yet too high. It had been only raining a few hours, though the rain could drench a person in instants.
As he stepped into the pool of water and continued to wade in, the water rose to his knees, and soon up to his thighs even at the edge. He gave a disgruntled yell and waded back to his pony, climbing on again. The pony could not make it through that, especially if it was deeper further out. Quickly he thought of other paths to take into Hobbiton from where he was, but he could think of only two and he feared that those two were flooded as well. The rain was soaking him, and he knew he had better find a place to lodge and dry out in warmth before he caught sickness.
Sighing, he turned and rode off into the darkness.
__
[A side note: Watch for new chapters in the following week, and thank you to the reviewers! Your comments have been very appreciated.]