|
Fortunes Of War
Pippin gave a wordless but plaintive sigh and got up,
walking over to the window. It hadn’t been more than a day since he had
found Merry, wandering dazed through the streets of Minas Tirith, but he
seemed so much worse now, and that couldn’t be right. He was in the
Houses of Healing, after all, and these Men seemed to have some sort of
healing skills, but apparently nothing they did helped Merry, or Faramir
either, for that matter. Then there was Eowyn, who was also here, but
how or why, he didn’t quite know.
Gandalf could help, he was very sure, but he had not seen him since the
wizard had carried Merry here, and he was afraid to go search him out in
the tumult of the streets outside of the Hall. He couldn’t shake the
feeling that if he did leave, there would be no one here for Merry, and
he could never have forgiven himself if… But he shut that thought firmly
out of his mind and turned back to the large, high bed that appeared to
have swallowed Merry up.
Merry really seemed all right, at least to look at him. Bruised and
somewhat battered, certainly, but he had definitely seen Merry in worse
condition. The most troubling thing was Merry’s right hand, for it
seemed cold and lifeless, and he couldn’t help thinking of Frodo after
the Witch King had struck him, so very long ago now. Well, not really,
of course, but Pippin had quite lost track of the days; one grim day
blending into another, and it seemed like ages ago that he and Merry had
gleefully plundered Saruman’s storehouses, and had cheekily greeted
Gandalf and company.
Not knowing what else to do, he carefully climbed up on the bed again,
next to Merry, and cautiously took up his cold hand. “Oh, Merry, my
dear,” he murmured, trying to hold back the tears that would
occasionally creep unawares down his face. “What times we are in, my
love.” But Merry did not answer, his chest only barely moving, and
Pippin felt despair. He moved to Merry’s left side then, where his hand
was at least still warm, and bringing it to his lips, buried his head at
Merry’s side. It was there that Gandalf found him, hours later.
Pippin slowly found himself surfacing from the black depths in which he
had hidden himself, and heard the wizard’s deep rumble questioning him
with a certain amount of asperity in his voice. “Pippin, lad, has the
healer not come to tend to Meriadoc yet?”
“They did, but it didn’t seem to have done much good,” Pippin blinked
tear-swollen eyes, and tried to sit and straighten himself up a bit,
keeping good hold of Merry’s hand nevertheless.
“Not the normal sort,” Gandalf waved aside his answer impatiently.
“Aragorn. Has he been here?”
“Strider?” Pippin questioned, in confusion. “What, is Strider hurt too?”
It was hardly a surprise to him at this point. The whole world was
falling to ruin about them, so why should a ranger be immune?
“No, my dear hobbit,” Gandalf gave him a weary but tolerant smile.
“Strider, or the King, as I think you’d better get used to hearing him
addressed, is not here for healing himself. Rather, he is the healer.”
Straightening up with only the fleetest signs of exhaustion, he added,
“I suppose it is easy after all, for these other healers to overlook a
small hobbit in all of this. Especially if they have no idea of what an
extraordinary feat he has accomplished. Of course, Aragorn simply does
not know where to find Merry. Rest easy, Pippin, I will search for him.”
And before Pippin could ask him more, he had parted the curtained
doorway out of the small stone chamber and was gone.
&&&&&
Aragorn had found them not long after, quietly entering the room and
standing there silently for a moment, begrimed and blood-stained. Not
all of the blood had been red. Pippin sat up, once again, more quickly
this time. Gandalf seemed to have a good deal of confidence in Aragorn’s
abilities, and that could only but encourage Pippin’s hopes. “Can you
help Merry, Strider?” he whispered, his face open and trusting,
tightening his hold of Merry’s unresponsive hand.
“I can certainly try, Pippin,” Aragorn responded, weary but unable to
resist returning Pippin’s smile, at least a little bit. “Others may
underestimate your folk, from time to time, but I well know there is no
more resilient a creature in Middle Earth than a stubborn and determined
hobbit. Let me see what can be done then for our dear Merry.”
He brought up the herb that had been in his hands then, unnoticed thus
far by Pippin, and crushing the leaves slightly, brought it under
Merry’s nose. Pippin immediately remembered that scent with a wrench of
his heart. It was the same herb that Strider had sent Sam to find when
Frodo’s life had been in peril.
Closing his eyes, the ranger laid a gentle hand on Merry’s forehead, and
the other, still grasping the athelas, on Merry’s chest. He bowed his
head, and did not otherwise move, but after a couple of moments, Merry
stirred uneasily. Pippin leaned forward at his reaction, unconsciously
drawing Merry’s hand to his own breast. With all his will, he silently
urged Merry to open his eyes, to take a deep breath, to live for him
again.
And it wasn’t until doubt had begun to creep, ever so unwillingly, into
Pippin’s heart, that Merry at last gave a sudden harsh gasp. Aragorn
drew back then, a fatigued smile flickering across his weathered face,
and waited. Merry’s eyes opened slowly, and he first stared ahead, as if
he had been awakened reluctantly from a deep dreamless sleep. But then
he blinked, and turning his head, met Pippin’s anxious gaze.
“Have I been asleep for long?” he asked, in a weak but distinct voice.
“I must have been; I’m so frightfully hungry.” His words were calm, but
his smile towards Pippin was intimate and tender, and Pippin felt a rush
of emotion that he could not begin to sort out, save for the fact that
all he wished to do, at the moment, was to kiss Merry senseless.
With only the greatest of efforts, he lifted his eyes from Merry’s and
turned to Aragorn with such deep thankfulness, such as would take a
lifetime for him to repay. “Thank you, Strider,” he whispered. Such pale
words, so weak, but they were all he had.
But he knew that Strider had understood. “Whatever dishes that the both
of you should wish, Masters Hobbytla, shall be brought to you the moment
you desire. Only pull the cord there.” The tall man indicated with a
grin, despite the exhaustion still clearly written upon his face, a
velvet bell pull that Pippin had not noticed until now in the corner of
the chamber. “And the kitchen staff will compete to bring you sufficient
food that would satisfy the most noble of appetites, even that of a
hobbit. I will return later this evening, but I suspect that your cousin
wishes to bring you up to date on matters at the moment.”
With a bow that was nothing if not respectful, Aragorn was suddenly
gone.
&&&&&
It took awhile, indeed, for Pippin to finally, and reluctantly, allow
Merry to recover from a quite thorough welcome. Merry didn’t really seem
to mind, truth be told, but kissed back with equal enthusiasm, until
Pippin had a sudden pang of conscience, and realized that Merry was, no
doubt, desperately hungry in truth. With a quick bound off of the bed,
that made Merry give out a weak but sincere laugh, he ran over to the
rope pull, and tugged it down with glee. “What shall we have, Merry?” he
cried out happily. “Chicken pie? Toad in the hole? Cakes and crumpets?
Anything but lembas; only say the word.”
“Pippin!” Merry exclaimed with a grin. “Have mercy on a poor invalid.
Tea and toast, I think, would do quite nicely. And perhaps a bit of
honey on the toast. And maybe a bit of stewed apples. Taters, too, of
course. I wonder what sort of soup they do here? Or perhaps stew? Some
lovely carrots would be nice, don’t you think?”
It was then that the serving lad hastily knocked on the wall outside and
pushed aside the doorway draperies. “Bergil!” cried out Pippin, happily.
“None other,” the boy answered, with a cheery grin. “Oh, I mean, at your
disposal, Masters Periannath,” he added with, as if recollecting his
place, a deep bow.
“Oh, come now, Bergil, it’s only me,” Pippin couldn’t help giving him a
suspicious glance at that unaccustomed sign of respect. “And my cousin,
Merry,” he continued, as he nimbly returned to the bed and helped Merry
lift himself up into a sitting position, still weak, but curious about
the newcomer. “Meriadoc Brandybuck, if we must continue to be on formal
terms, although I certainly hope we shan’t.”
“Meriadoc Brandybuck! Slayer of the Witch King himself!” Bergil’s eyes
widened with wonder, and he bowed again, this time in earnest.
“What’s this, Merry?” Pippin turned to him in confusion, having paid
very little attention to the circumstances under which Merry had been
found on the field of battle, and far more to Merry himself.
“Oh, I did get in a rather good whack at his ankle, supposing he had
such a thing,” Merry shook his head, slightly embarrassed. “It was
actually Eowyn who did most of the work,” and then his face clouded
over. “She’s all right, isn’t she, Pip?”
“We can ask Strider, the next time he pops by,” Pippin reassured him,
hastily. “But I want to hear more about this Witch King business.”
“Well, I don’t wish to talk about it, at least now,” Merry’s frown
remained for a moment, but then he shook himself and added with only a
slightly forced smile, “Didn’t you promise me food a few moments ago,
Pip? I certainly think that that comes first.”
“Very well, you mysterious Brandybuck,” Pippin conceded good-naturedly.
“I’m feeling a bit peckish myself, for that matter. There’s definitely
been a missing meal, or three, or six, these last few days. Very well,
then.” He turned back to Bergil, who had been following this exchange in
a somewhat open-mouthed state. “Master Brandybuck the Magnificent
requires an enormous pile of well-buttered toast, with honey, and
whatever sort of jam you have, and at least two pots of tea. While he
starts on that, you might have the kitchen fry up some taters and a half
dozen sausage, not to mention tomatoes and onions. A nice basket of
apples would be lovely to have on hand, and any baked items, such as
scones, buns, and the like, that might be loitering about, would be
appreciated likewise. Quickly, now, lad, the hero awaits!”
With a last grin, Bergil scurried off to do their bidding.
&&&&&
It was only after their stomachs were quite satisfied, that other
matters were addressed. “Since you haven’t mentioned it, I assume there
is no word on Frodo and Sam,” Merry sighed, as he straightened up in
bed, pushing aside the tray full of well-emptied dishes.
Pippin shook his head, putting the honey spoon down abruptly. “No, none
at all. But Gandalf thinks that they are still alive, for what that is
worth,” he added soberly. “For the moment, I suppose that that is all we
can ask for.”
Merry gave him a close look. “You’ve been through some hard times since
last I saw you, Pip,” he murmured, reaching out for his hand.
“Hard times are the only times we have now, it seems to me,” Pippin
shook his head slowly, and grasping Merry’s hand in both of his, drew it
up and kissed it longingly.
“At least, now, it will be hard times for the both of us, together,”
Merry smiled tenderly, moving closer in the broad bed to Pippin. “I am
definitely not letting Gandalf cart you off again, Pip. If I have to
steal a pony and gallop after you the next time, I will.”
“No worries,” sighed Pippin, throwing himself in Merry’s welcoming arms.
“I’ll fall off next time, or something equally as graceful. You can’t
imagine how much I’ve missed you, Merry love.”
“Oh, I believe I have a fair idea.” Merry’s voice was low, and his hands
ran slowly and longingly up Pippin’s sides. “It would have been as much
as I missed you.”
“Oh, Merry, Merry.” Pippin brought his mouth back up to Merry’s again,
and it was only the sound of intentionally heavy footsteps out in the
hallway that allowed them to scramble apart in time.
“Well, it would seem that the mighty perian warrior has recovered,”
Aragorn laughed as he pushed aside the doorway drapery, upon seeing
Merry’s expression at being so interrupted. “And it would also seem that
I have learned a thing or two regarding hobbits, and their recovery
processes on our journey from the Shire to Rivendell, so if you don’t
mind, good gentlehobbits, I have found a more appropriate room for the
both of you.“
“With a door?” Pippin asked hopefully, as Aragorn approached the bed.
“Certainly, Peregrin,” Aragorn bowed his head with a broad smile. “Do
you mind, Merry? It really is the most effective way to take you there,
and I’d imagine you might still be somewhat wobbly as of yet.”
With a rather reluctant acquiescence from Merry, Aragorn picked him up
carefully and began to carry him to the curtained doorway.
“Indeed with a door, Master Peregrin,” he continued, turning his head
back to Pippin, who was cheerfully following them. “And a lock. I’m
afraid the ways of the Shire might be a bit of a shock to these simple
folk, so I would suggest using it.”
&&&&&
The room was darkening rapidly not long after they arrived, with a fiery
redness streaking the dusk as had become all too common in Minas Tirith,
and by mutual, unspoken consent, they allowed the small fire burning in
the hearth to be the only light in the room. It was a simple, austere
stone chamber, but the bed, plain and only large enough for one man, was
pleasantly comfortable and ample enough for the two hobbits. Certainly,
they had had far less pleasing situations since they had left the Shire.
Pippin had prudently taken Aragorn’s advice, and had locked the door
behind them as soon as Aragorn left. “We’ve had enough to eat for the
moment,” he stated firmly, “and I intend on becoming thoroughly
re-acquainted with you, Merry. It has been so very long, hasn’t it?”
“Months,” Merry agreed, lying back against the pillows, watching his
cousin with a soft smile. “I don’t think we’ve ever been apart for this
long.”
“Well, I don’t plan on it happening again, Merry my love,” Pippin
promptly shed his livery and climbed into the bed, kneeling on the
bedclothes next to Merry. “Look at you. I’m sure you did something
wildly heroic, and tomorrow you must tell me all the smallest of
details, but tonight, dearest, I must mention that you are looking a
little worse for the wear, if I may be quite frank, and we really can’t
be having that.”
Merry smiled tenderly, and reached a gentle hand out, cupping the side
of Pippin’s face. “You need to take better care of me, my dear Pip, and
then I wouldn’t end up in this sorry state.”
“Oh, I plan on doing that,” Pippin breathed, his eyes closing as he
turned his face into Merry’s touch. “I plan on doing exactly that.”
Merry felt the surge of life in his veins again at the intoxicating
sound of Pippin’s husky voice, and instinctively drew Pippin closer.
“Aragorn did a bang-up job of bringing me around, I’m quite sure, and I
won’t forget to thank him very nicely tomorrow, but it is you I need
now, my own beautiful Pip, and no one else could ever do.”
“Ah, such sweet words,” murmured Pippin, just before his mouth met
Merry’s. “However did I manage without them?”
With a low moan, deep and guttural, Merry’s arms wound around Pippin’s
back, urging him closer, as if that were at all possible. His mouth
opened passionately to Pippin’s desperate kiss, full of all the emotion
that he was keeping from his words. One of Pippin’s hands had crept up
into his curls, and was clutching them, he later realized, quite
tightly. But now he had thought for nothing other than this slim eager
body in his arms, and he felt what he had thought, in his darkest days,
that he would never feel again, the ache and craving of desire.
“Oh, Merry, Merry,” Pippin’s voice was ragged in his ear, once they had
broken apart. Merry was still wearing the gown that he had found himself
in, when he had awoken, but Pippin was impatiently tugging it up now, as
if he couldn’t possibly spare the time to get it entirely off of him,
And there were suddenly Pippin’s hands on him. When had they become this
strong? But the knowledge in that touch was as intimate and shrewd as
ever, drawing enticingly up his sides with a seductive allure, and then
down his chest, down his stomach, and then… Oh, he was lost to this
touch, forever lost, and there never would be a time when he did not
plummet absolutely without rational thought, with a full and hungry
heart, into the giving of himself to this beautiful youth who knew him
so very well. There could never be a time that he did not gasp, and
moan, and lose his very mind to the caresses of the one who could see
into the depths of his heart, and know who he was.
“Pip, oh, Pip!” he cried out wildly and bucked up and spilled and fell
back again, shaken and spent, in Pippin’s arms.
Exhausted, he quickly lapsed into sleep, secure and embraced in Pippin’s
love and with the familiar soft lilt in his ear. “Love you, Merry, love
you for always.”
&&&&&
They both lay in an exhausted sleep, hardly stirring at all during the
night, and woke up quite late in the morning, still tightly entwined in
each other’s arms. But something caused Pippin to lift his head up
groggily, and with a certain amount of irritation as he felt Merry stir
against him with a sigh, and then a low moan. There it was again, a
polite, but firm knock upon the stout door.
With an inaudible groan, and trying his best not to fully awaken Merry,
Pippin slid carefully out of his embrace, and looked about for some sort
of garment to throw on. The breeches, where were they? Again the knock
sounded, just as he spotted them where they had been flung the night
before, in the farthest corner of the room. With a stifled curse, he
grabbed them, thrusting his legs hastily through them, and impatiently
drew up the closing laces. There was a shirt and jerkin somewhere about,
but there just wasn’t time for niceties. Merry needed all the sleep he
could manage.
Opening the door with a jerk, he found himself very nearly eye-to-eye
with Bergil. “I’m sorry, Pippin,” the youth said quickly, on seeing
Pippin’s expression. “The King told me that you had been moved, but I
wasn’t quite sure where. I thought you’d be up by now, it is nearly high
sun,” he added, innocently.
“Erhm, well, I suppose so,” Pippin replied hastily, with several
questions suddenly springing to mind. How young was Bergil, again? What
were the customs about this place in regards to bed partners, anyway?
Possibly Strider had a point regarding customs of the Shire and that
sort of thing. Well, at any rate, it did not seem like a good idea to
let Bergil into the room just then.
“I suppose it’s past breakfast time, first or second, and even past
elevenses, but do you imagine that the kitchen could come up with
something in the way of toast and honey, and a pot of tea?” he smiled
hopefully at the teen. Bergil brightened, and with a quick nod, took off
immediately on his assigned task, giving Pippin a chance to scurry back
into the room to awaken Merry.
&&&&&
Bergil brought a breakfast that was significantly more substantial than
tea and toast, for he had learned a thing or two concerning hobbits in
his friendship with Pippin, and in very little time, the three were
seated in a sunny courtyard, both of the hobbits enjoying a peaceful
pipe together. Bergil was offered a chance at Pippin’s, for they had no
spare, but hastily declined, watching the smoke wreath about their heads
with great curiosity. “’Tis a curious scent,” he ventured at last, “and
one I’ve not smelt afore now.”
“No, then!” Merry exclaimed, glancing at him in surprise. “I’d be
surprised at that, for I know Longbottom leaf is traded in these parts.”
“Ah, well, I’d wager it goes to folk of quality then,” Bergil replied
simply, shrugging his shoulders, “and not to the likes of my dad and
myself.”
“But your father is of the Steward’s guard.” Pippin pointed out,
inquiringly. “Is that not quality enough?”
Bergil laughed suddenly at that thought. “’Tis on the fifth circle that
we live, so I suppose we’d be up from some folk, but there’s two circles
above, so we’d not be all that high and proud,” he demurred, with a
grin.
“Circles?” Merry glanced inquiringly at Pippin.
“Oh, Merry, I forget; you probably didn’t see much of Minas Tirith
before I found you,” Pippin exclaimed quickly. “It’s looking somewhat
worse the wear at the moment, but when I rode into it the first time, at
Gandalf’s back and clinging on to Shadowfax for dear life, I thought it
was the most amazing place I had even seen. Straight to the top he rode,
and none could stop him, and straight away in to the Great Hall at the
top, and me scrambling to keep up, like a stray puppy.”
“Is that the livery you wear, Pip?” Merry asked softly, as Pippin’s face
suddenly clouded over, and Bergil glanced at him with concern. “I had
wondered about that, you know.”
“I suspect we have much to tell each other, over the next few days,”
Pippin put out his pipe with a swift gesture, and got to his feet, from
the bench on which he had sat. “But there will be time, I can feel it.
It is as if the whole place is taking a bit of a break, if you know what
I mean, counting their bumps and bruises, and figuring out what comes
next.”
“Then now is not the time to speak of where we have been and what we
have seen and done,” Merry agreed, rising to his feet slowly but trying
to disguise that fact. “Now is the time to enjoy this glorious sun,
while we may. I am curious about this fair city, Bergil. Could you show
an old hobbit about?”
“Silly Merry!” Pippin laughed as carefree as if the black mood of a
moment ago had never been. “You only came of age yourself, what, three
years ago?”
“More nearly four, now,” Merry corrected him with a grin. “Very soon now
you’ll have to be calling me grampus.”
“Only if you insist on acting like one,” Pippin informed him tolerantly,
and then bounced irrepressibly toward him like a rubber ball. “”I’m
quite sure Gandalf will have all sorts of grim tidings for us the next
we see him," he laughed, swinging a rather startled Merry about, much to
Bergil’s delight, “but here you are, with me again, and I refuse to
brood on this glorious morning. Come, Merry, Bergil and I have so much
to show you.”
And Merry followed, treasuring the look on Pippin’s face. Piquantly
beautiful it was, and trusting and loving; the auburn curls, a little
longer that usual, flirting with the breeze, and the green eyes dancing
with amusement. He knew, quite well, why the Black Shadow held no power
over his heart.
Feedback
BACK to Far From
Home Index
BACK to Fanfic Index
BACK to Main Page |
