Title: A Fair and Lordly Lad
Author: Ruby Nye
Author's Email: shmi@bantha.org
Rating:  R 
Pairing: Frodo/Pippin
Other
Pairings: Frodo/OC; Merry/Pippin; Frodo/Sam; frodo/Merry/Pippin; Sam/Rosie
Warnings: non-monogamy; archaic sexual terminology
Summary: Pippin is told a story, asks a question, gets a surprise.



"Pippin," said Frodo disapprovingly, "I do wish you wouldn't use that kind
of language."

"What kind of language, Frodo?" Pippin asked in dulcet tones, spreading
his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture of innocence; one corner of
Frodo's mouth twitched, and Pippin grinned briefly. "I am merely being
descriptive when I say that our dear Merry doubtless is having his cods
well juggled even now."

"Pippin." Frodo laid his pipe down and folded his arms. "I'm serious."

"So am I!" Pippin got to his feet, pipe in one waving hand. "I am quite
soberly convinced that Merry is seriously bundling bare with what was
Reginard's cousin's name? Chrysanthemum, I believe." At the thought of
Merry in Brandy Hall and chasing lasses without him, a strange unsettled
feeling had taken hold of Pippin; he paced Frodo's small parlor, poking
curiously at the emotion, as he kept chattering. "Or perhaps he's
profoundly wapping away with Emerald Took of the North-Tooks, they were at
Brandy Hall when I left, and she's a plump cheerful lass." Pippin was
bouncing now, charting a precarious path amidst the furniture with
careless bounds; Frodo watched him, seemingly impassive, but for the
quirking at both corners of his mouth. "Well, except that, being Merry,
he's more likely <i>cheerfully</i> dancing the featherbed jig with
whichever lass, rather than being here in cozy cousin-furnished Bag
End. Unless, of course---!"

Pippin's discourse upon the absent Merry's activities was cut short with a
squeak and a thump; he had strayed a bit too close to Frodo, who lunged
like a cat and brought him squarely down onto the thickest
rug. "Hoy!" Pippin cried, wriggling, but Frodo caught his wrists and
leaned forward, pressing him down; though Frodo was slender as grown
hobbits went, Pippin still needed a couple of inches and stone before he'd
be full grown, and Frodo knew just how to lean so that what weight he did
possess pinned Pippin inescapably. With a resigned sigh, Pippin
surrendered, pouting even though he brought his knees up around Frodo's
hips; eyes glittering, Frodo bucked hard against Pippin, sending a
delightful shock through him, and grinned at the answering gasp. "Pippin
Took," Frodo whispered, leaning closer, "you have," and their noses were
bumping, sliding, "an absolutely," Pippin could feel Frodo's words,
Frodo's breath, over his lips, "filthy mouth." And they were kissing.

"Mmph," Pippin replied, most of his attention on Frodo's pipeweed-sweet
mouth moving firmly over his, as he arched his neck and returned the
press, licking at Frodo's lips until he parted them with a chuckle and
tangled their tongues. Tilting his head back, feeling Frodo holding his
wrists to the floor and grinding him into the rug, Pippin eagerly let his
unsettled thoughts evaporate in the heat coiling up his spine, hazing his
mind and making his body tremble. "Mmmm," he moaned, in quite a different
tone from before, and when Frodo slowly lifted his head, Pippin held the
kiss till he couldn't crane his neck any further, then let his head drop
to the rug and blinked dazedly. "Well," said Frodo, eyes sparkling, a
thousand possibilities in one word.

Then Frodo took a breath, let go of Pippin's wrists, picked up the dropped
pipe, and sat back on his heels, most maddeningly. "Frodo!" Pippin cried,
"you can't just kiss me quiet and then look as if butter won't melt in
your mouth!"

"The entire Shire, taking turns, couldn't kiss you quiet, Pippin," Frodo
replied; Pippin pictured them all trying, and Frodo laughed heartily at
his expression. "Don't go try and find out, either. Come on, let's go to
bed." Frodo stood and held a hand out, and Pippin took it, tossing his
hair back as he got up; heat flickered in Frodo's gaze as he set his hand
in the small of Pippin's back and led him with gratifying speed from the
parlor.






The late winter rains beat at the shutters, but Sam had laid a fire in
Frodo's bedroom before dinner, so the room was cozily warm. Pippin stepped
out of his breeches, deliberately leaving them where they fell so he might
watch Frodo roll his eyes. "I don't know how you have any clothes," Frodo
said, kicking the breeches into the far corner, and Pippin grinned as he
finished unlacing his shirt and stripped it off over his head. He tossed
it to join the breeches and was about to get into the bed, but Frodo's
hand on his arm stopped him. "Stand for a moment, Pip," Frodo said is a
low smoky voice that made Pippin tremble and still; Frodo turned Pippin to
face him, looking him over from top to toe and up again with a warm,
stroking gaze that made Pippin blush and stiffen. When Frodo's eyes rose
to Pippin's his hands joined them, sliding up Pippin's arms and shoulders
and throat to cup his face, and Pippin looked up into such a deep gaze he
felt himself falling in for a moment, before Frodo kissed him again and
his eyes shut of their own accord.

"So, Pippin." Frodo let go of him and climbed beneath the covers; Pippin
followed and snuggled in. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Looking up at Frodo, who leaned over him on one elbow,
Pippin had a sudden flash of memory of them lying the same way, albeit
with Pippin quite a bit smaller and both wearing nightshirts, while Frodo
told him stories. "Tell me a story," Pippin said, before he could catch
himself; as the corner of Frodo's mouth quirked again, he quickly
explained, "Not a bedtime story, I mean. I'm not a child anymore, after
all."

"No indeed," Frodo agreed, lightly tracing with a forefinger on Pippin's
chest, "you're quite grown, my tweenage Took." Pippin relaxed and smiled,
winding his arms around Frodo's middle, watching Frodo's eyes unfocus for
a moment as he thought. "Did I ever tell you about my first tumble?"

"No, I don't think you have. I'd like to hear it." Pippin slid his hands
downward over velvet skin and firm muscle as he spoke; Frodo started,
grinned and began the tale a bit breathlessly. "I was rather too young,
younger than Merry was when he started, but I didn't look it." Frodo's
fingers trailed over Pippin's ribs, leaving a tingling wake."I met a
hobbit, another distant Brandybuck relation like me, who had come to
Brandy Hall---not so hard, Pip, I've barely begun the story---as I was
saying, he'd come to Brandy Hall to help with one harvest or another, and
he didn't treat me like a poor orphan cousin, so I began following him
about."

"What did he look like?" Pippin asked, before licking his hand and going
back to what he was doing. Frodo made an encouraging noise and smiled,
closing his eyes for a moment, but didn't forget the question. "He was
heading into his middle years, so he had laugh-lines around his eyes. I
always remember those first, they were grey eyes; he had fair wavy hair
and broad shoulders and was tall, if rather on the slender side. He looked
as if he knew something that I wanted to know, in my youth and
foolishness. So I chased after him, till he caught me."  

Frodo fell silent, staring off into the fire, looking strangely
wistful. Pippin would have expected a rather happier
expression; certainly, if he were telling his story about Merry, he'd be
grinning ear to ear. So, he left off what he was doing to stroke his hands
up over Frodo's chest to his face, and Frodo smiled, turning his eyes back
to Pippin's as he grasped his hand. "No, it was lovely," he replied to the
unspoken question. "It's just that, I really was too young, it was rather
too much for me, so I wept. He was rather startled. Dismayed,
really." Frodo dropped his head to the pillow, pulling Pippin closer,
starting to trace warm designs with his fingers again; Pippin shuddered
and giggled when Frodo's fingers skimmed a ticklish spot, and Frodo smiled
and leaned in for a kiss before continuing."I hadn't told him how young I
really was, or that I had hardly so much as kissed anyone, which was quite
ill done of me. Fortunately, he forgave me, although it's a wonder I ever
forgave him for talking about it to Bilbo."

"Bilbo?" Pippin burst out laughing, rolling about. "Oh, Frodo, I would
have died!" When Pippin rolled away, Frodo pulled him tightly against
himself, nestling them together, and Pippin's laughter ended in a gasp at
the feel of it, of Frodo warm and firm all along his back and hard against
his backside. Pippin braced himself against the headboard and pushed back
for more of the feeling, and Frodo chuckled breathlessly and nipped his
eartip. "We have all night, and the story's not done," he murmured, his
hands on Pippin's waist stilling him. "And you'd better be paying
attention."

"Of course I am," Pippin replied loftily, though his voice hitched as
Frodo's lips and teeth traced the shell of his ear. "Did you, oh!" Frodo
was nipping at his neck, those hands sliding forward over Pippin's belly,
maddeningly lightly. "Ah, Frodo! Do you want to drive me mad, and did you
tumble with him again?" Pippin blurted while he could still talk; Frodo
chuckled against his throat and pressed his hands in warmly, sliding them
up Pippin's chest. 

Pippin reached back with one arm and both legs, hooking his heels round
Frodo's, smiling at the catch in Frodo's voice when he replied, "Yes, and
no, Pippin; you're driving me mad, and no, we didn't." Frodo's touch faded
from firmness to gentleness as his tone went wry."I wasn't happy about it,
either. He told me I was a fair and lordly lad who disliked hearing
no." Frodo chuckled into Pippin's hair, but with a bitter edge that made
Pippin turn towards him. "He encouraged me to find friends a bit closer to
my age, he did, poor well-meaning hobbit. So I had a romance with one of
the Assistant Cook's daughters, and had to be given the 'don't tumble the
servants talk', fortunately before she and I had really done anything
dangerous." 

Pippin laughed brightly, hoping to drive that wistfulness out of Frodo's
voice. "Ah, that talk. It hardly took with you, didn't it?"

Frodo gasped, and his hands froze on Pippin's chest, then withdrew as he
rolled over and Pippin's insides wound up in a tight chill
knot. "Frodo?" Pippin asked, his voice gone small; when there was no reply
he rolled over to find Frodo pale as the pillowcase, staring at the
wall. "Frodo?" Pippin kissed his shoulder. "I'm sorry." Kissed his ear. "I
didn't mean it so." Kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Frodo drew in a great sighing breath. "Oh, Pippin. I know, Pip. It's all
right." He rolled back, wrapped Pippin in his arms and kissed him with a
bruising force between passion and desperation; Pippin could only cling to
him and kiss him back. "I know," Frodo whispered against Pippin's
brow. "I'm sorry. I just, well, do you think that's what I'm doing with
Sam?"

"No!" Pippin got his knees beneath him, raised his head, kissed Frodo
frantically. "No, of course not. You're fonder of him than anyone else in
all the Shire, and he'd follow you down a wolf's maw, if he couldn't talk
it into eating him instead." Frodo smiled at that, but his eyes were still
shadowed; Pippin wriggled, hoping to warm them both, and kept trying for
the right words. "It's plain as the freckles on my nose, Frodo, you're
meant for each other, no matter what."

Finally, Frodo relaxed again, and the smile reached and cleared his
eyes. "Ah, Pip. He loves me, lucky creature that I am, and I love
him. That's how he and I can do this."

Pippin nodded, and tucked his head up beneath Frodo's chin to kiss the
skin there. "I know. But---" Pippin paused, uncertain; Frodo laughed,
hands stroking along Pippin's spine. "Don't stop to think now, Pip. What
would you ask?"

"Mmmm. I mean---" Frodo laughed again, one hand on Pippin's rump, making
it quite hard for Pippin tto recall the question. "How did you know?"

Frodo considered that for a moment, fingers stroking slowly. "It took some
time and some pain to know, but we found our way to have each other. Even
so, that's part of why gentlehobbits aren't supposed to tumble our
servants. It would have been far too easy to tell myself it was there,
just so I might have him, because he wouldn't have said me no. I still
have to remember that. It still troubles me sometimes, that I might use
him so."

"Oh," For all that he was in a warm bed with one of his two very dearest
cousins, Pippin felt for a moment as if he stood on a cliff's edge, cold
winds swirling past his toes. No wonder his careless words had so wounded
Frodo. "Oh, Frodo, I---"

"It's all right, Pippin. I'm all right. Kiss me?" Pippin lifted his face,
and Frodo gave him a clear smile and a kiss that was long and warm and
damp and subject-changing. "I have talked too long, I think."

"But---" Pippin paused, but Frodo tilted his head and looked at him
expectantly. "But what happened with the Cook's daughter? And if she
wasn't the first lass you lay with, who was?" Frodo laughed again, and
Pippin smiled to watch him laugh. "Pippin Took, full of questions. All
right. Would you rather I tell you those tales, or that we tumble and save
the tales for another night?"

Pippin considered that for about as long as he could, which, with Frodo
warm and hot in his arms, was not very long. "Kiss me," he replied, and
Frodo smiled and obeyed, rolling Pippin beneath him.  Relief kindling to
desire, Pippin wound his arms round Frodo's shoulders and his legs round
his hips as he returned the kiss enthusiastically; Frodo moaned low in his
throat and bucked against Pippin, a flaring-hot pleasure that made Pippin
shudder and cry out. Frodo chuckled, warm breath over Pippin's lips,
sliding his hands down to grip slender thighs. "My, Pip, I think you're
ready."

"And you're not?" Pippin gasped, and pushed up so that it was Frodo's turn
to quiver and flush and bite his lip. "C'mere, Frodo. Tup me."

"Pippin," Frodo breathed, eyes closed tightly. "Oh, Pip-love. Let
me---" He tried to sit up, but Pippin hung on, and Frodo's eyes fluttered
open. "No," Pippin insisted. "Right now, like this, you over me, your arms
round me, Frodo, I---" 

Frodo cut off Pippin's pleading with a firm kiss and came up smiling,
almost fondly but for the desire darkening his eyes. "Well, then, at least
let me get to the nightstand?" Pippin relaxed his arms for that, though he
didn't unwind his legs; Frodo chuckled and wriggled over to rummage out
the oil flask and pull out the cork with his teeth.

"Your hand?" Pippin caught the splash of oil; Frodo corked the flask and
tossed it out of the way, leaning down for a kiss that turned hot and deep
as Pippin slicked him, pressing him closer with the other hand. Frodo's
hands slid along Pippin's skin, one tangling in his hair, the other
pushing his thigh up; his hand flat on Frodo's back, Pippin felt the
muscles move, wiry-thin but strong, trembling now as he drew his fingers
in tight circles and Frodo moaned into his mouth.

Frodo thrust against Pippin again, and Pip squeaked and pulled away from
the kiss. "I thought we were---oh! Ooh!" It was different this
way; instead of the slight catch of moist flesh the feel was slippery-hot,
spreading fire through Pippin's veins. Frodo smiled at Pippin's expression
and licked the tip of his nose. "Like that?" 

<i>Don't ask, keep going!</i> Pippin tried to say, but all that emerged
was, "mmrgh!"; he rolled his eyes and clung tighter to Frodo and kissed
him open-mouthed for reply, bucking up so that Frodo trembled and groaned
and pressed back, and Pippin cried out in response and held on tighter
still. They caught each other's rhythm, hearts pounding in time, moaning
and thrusting in counterpoint as it pounded up between them until Frodo
sweetly bit Pippin's lip and cried out, spilling hot between them, shaking
with his peak; Pippin felt that trembling take him, Frodo's lips quivering
against his and their bodies wound tight together, Frodo holding him and
covering him as he fell up into pleasure, up and up, and murmuring to him
and stroking his brow as he sank back again.

Pippin wallowed in the feeling of being enwrapped for a long moment before
he realized he couldn't breathe. "Ooof," he managed, and Frodo kissed his
forehead and slid off him, burying his face in Pippin's curls; Pippin
sucked in a deep breath and said, rather more appreciatively, "Mmm," as he
wrapped an arm around Frodo. "That, Frodo, was a good idea."

"Of course it was," said Frodo modestly. "I'm glad you liked it." Pippin
laughed at his tone and reached for a corner of the sheet; Frodo reached
over him to slap his hand lightly and give him a handkerchief pulled from
a pillowcase, and Pippin laughed some more. "So," Frodo said, draping his
arm over Pippin's belly, "How do you feel, Pip?" 

"How do I feel?" Pippin sat up, spreading his arms wide. "Full of
life! Well-tumbled!" He leaned down to kiss Frodo, who grinned at him and
nipped his lower lip. "Happy. A bit hungry, though."

Frodo laughed at that, and reached up to draw Pippin down for another
kiss. "You're always hungry. We can get up for a bite in a moment, but I
want to ask you something." 

Pippin tilted his head; that phrase never bode well. "What?"

"Why are you cross with Merry?" Frodo's tone was gentle, but Pippin had to
bite back a curse nonetheless. "I'm not cross with Merry!" he insisted,
flopping down and rolling over; Frodo's arm lay warm over his waist, and
he didn't know whether to sink into the embrace or to get up. "Were you
thinking of <i>that</i> while---"

"Peregrin. Of course not." Frodo tugged gently, his hand flat and warm
over Pippin's chest, and Pippin sighed and wriggled closer as Frodo lifted
the other hand to stroke his hair. "No, Pippin, all I think of when we
tumble is you. You're a demanding hobbit."

However reluctantly, Pippin had to laugh at that. "I try my best. Merry's
been teaching me well."

"So I see." Frodo's hand kept combing soothingly through Pippin's
hair. "And you've been teaching him, you know." Pippin startled at that,
turning over; Frodo's eyes were large and warm. "Not least about love."

"I, well, I love him too." There weren't any jokes now, just truth. "And
I'm not cross that he's at Brandy Hall, I'm just, I'm..." Frodo nodded,
and waited till Pippin found the words. "I'm his lad, he's mine, I like to
see him chase and catch, he likes to see me at it, too."  Frodo smiled
encouragingly, but something about the shine of his eyes made Pippin add,
"and I like being here, Frodo, especially <i>here</i>, with you," which
won him a gratifying kiss. "Mmm, where was I? About Merry. It's just that,
I don't like being without him. I never have, and especially not now, not
since we became bedmates. He's, well, I sometimes don't know where I stop
and he starts, and I like that, I like it a great deal. I miss him like
I'd miss my arms. and, when he told me he wasn't coming...."

"You're a fair and lordly lad, who doesn't care to hear 'no'." Frodo
stroked Pippin's cheek, memories moving in his eyes. "Actually, Pip, Merry
wrote me, to say why he wasn't coming with you. With all Saradoc has him
doing right now, I don't think he has much time for featherbed-jigging." 

Pippin thought about that, and was rather less relieved about it than he
might have expected, which both pleased and confused him. "Oh, well,
then. Poor Merry. It's not as if I want him to lie <i>alone</i>. What a
waste that would be!" Frodo laughed in agreement, and kissed Pippin's
brow, but Pippin tilted his face up to catch Frodo's mouth. "Why did you
ask?"

"Well, it seemed I should." Frodo's hands met in Pippin's hair and stroked
down, rubbing his neck. "You are my favorite cousins, and I want to be
sure all is well with you." Pippin rolled his eyes at that, but kissed
Frodo again, noticing as he did how warm his mouth was, his skin
was... Pippin realized he was proddy again. "Frodo?"

"Yes, Pip?" Lazily stroking Pippin's back, Frodo lay with eyes closed.

"Are you hungry? I don't think I'm so hungry as all that." Frodo opened
his eyes; Pippin nudged his hip and grinned, and it was Frodo's turn to
roll his eyes. "<i>Tweens.</i> Lawks, Pippin, we can tumble again in the
morning."

"I'll never be able to sleep like this," Pippin replied, opening his eyes
imploringly wide, and Frodo heaved a sigh, though the corners of his mouth
fought a losing battle with a smile. "Yes, you can, and I'm going to. Old
hobbits such as I need their sleep."

"Oh, you're not and you don't." Pippin leaned over Frodo, ignoring his
doubtful snort, to kiss his ear and nuzzle it, licking his way along its
curve to where it joined Frodo's throat; Pippin nipped him there, and
grinned to feel Frodo's hands tighten on his back. Winding his legs
through Frodo's to press their bodies together, finding and flicking his
nipple with one hand, Pippin nipped along the soft skin at the side of his
throat, feeling him trembling more and more, hardening against Pippin's
thigh; at the join of throat and shoulder, Pippin bit down slow and hard,
listening to the gasps that shaded into a mangled word into a moan as he
sucked at the bite. Frodo's hands pressed into Pippin's flesh as they
stroked up his back to his hair, and were delightfully ungentle as they
pulled his head up for a rousingly bruising kiss. "You terrible
Took," Frodo whispered fondly, rolling them over, "you are going to pay
for that."

"Make me," Pippin whispered back, feeling Frodo's smile against his mouth
before Frodo kissed him again, hard and hot.





The thin winter Sun was slanting through the shutters when Pippin slowly
woke, snuggled warmly against Frodo, his head tucked into the crook of
Frodo's neck. Frodo was sound asleep, snoring faintly, and when Pippin
nudged Frodo's head while lifting his own he didn't even stir; but then,
Pippin thought with some satisfaction as he stretched out a leg, Frodo had
rather earned it. He smiled at the memory, and grinned when his eyes fell
on a purple-pink mark on Frodo's shoulder. Pippin had a matching one,
rather more towards the back of his shoulder, throbbing gently; he reached
back to rub it, feeling the soreness like a keepsake, and smiled again.

His stomach growled, and Pippin sat up, gently unwinding Frodo's arms,
wondering if Sam were by  already and if he'd begun breakfast. Kissing
Frodo on his cheek, who muttered something and subsided further into
sleep, Pippin climbed out of bed; leaving the shirt for later, he pulled
on his breeches and clipped one brace, letting the other dangle rakishly
as he wandered out to the kitchen.

Delicious smells wafted down the hall, apples and tea, bacon and
onions. Sam turned from chopping winter cresses to bob his head with a
bright, "Mornin' Mr. Pippin," and Pippin smiled and threw his arms round
him. "Morning, Sam, what's for breakfast?"

"Roast apples and a bread pudding, and it's second breakfast-time," Sam
replied. scraping the chopped cresses into a bowl. "Is Mr. Frodo still
asleep?" 

"Quite," said Pippin proudly, tossing his hair back, and Sam
laughed. Pippin bounced around the kitchen, finding a bowl of sweet
apples, settling at the table to pour himself a cup of tea, turning a
question over in his mind. "Sam, you have a lass, if I remember aright?"

"Well, yes, Rose," Sam said in surprised tones, but still smoothly cracked
the egg in his hand. "Why do you ask, Mr. Pippin?"

"Because I was wondering, if it's different if your kissing-friends are
one of each. Mine are all lads, the steady ones anyway, and sometimes I
miss one of them even though I'm happy to be with another. Do you
sometimes miss your lass even when you're with Frodo? I won't tell him
your answer."

Sam laughed at that, shaking his head, and shredded hard cheese into the
bowl as he spoke. "Thank you, Mr. Pippin, but I daresay Mr. Frodo knows my
answer already. Sometimes, I do miss her. Sometimes I miss him when I'm
with her. I think it's just the way of it, it's not that I love him nor
her less for it." Smiling as he stirred, Sam added, "Sometimes he misses
you and Mr. Merry,  though for the life of me I can't see why." Pippin
laughed and bounded up to slap Sam on the back, then pat him again more
gently and gratefully; just then the door-bell rang. Sam looked at the
bowl in his hands, then at the disheveled Pippin, and said, "I'll just get
that."

Pippin shrugged and set himself to finishing his apple, wondering who it
might be. Perhaps he should go find his shirt, he thought, but didn't get
up. Sam's voice sounded cheerful, at any rate; he was saying, "and second
breakfast will be ready soon," as he came back into the kitchen, and the
hobbit ambling in behind him turned out to be Merry.

Pippin's heart pounded and glowed within him; his breath caught for a
moment before he cried "Merry!" and bounded up to fling himself at his
favorite Brandybuck, who laughed and could only reply "Mmph" as his mouth
was thoroughly kissed. Pippin wound his arms round Merry's neck to hold
him as he kissed the rest of his face. "I thought you weren't coming!"

"So did I----easy on, Pip---till three days ago; I got Da to let me go and
left before he could change his mind." Merry returned the kisses soundly
before unwinding Pippin's arms from his neck so he could sit. "I thought
I'd outpace a letter, so I just came. Where's Frodo?"

"Still in bed," Pippin replied; Merry took in his appearance, and grinned,
and said, "I see," with a saucy wink. "I can surprise him, too, then."

"I'd best go warn him," said Sam, lining a wide pie dish with pastry; he
poured the egg mixture into it, slid it into the oven, pulled out the
bread pudding, and shut the oven door in one motion, then went off down
the hall. Pippin took a deep breath of the raisin-and-spice scent of the
bread pudding, and smiled to watch Merry breathe it in too, and kissed him
again; Merry cupped Pippin's face in his hands, and held it even after the
kiss. "I missed you," Pippin said, watching Merry's eyes twinkle as he
smiled to hear it, as he replied, "I missed you too, Pip. I was sorry to
disappoint you. I hope Frodo explained for me."

Pippin nodded, put his hands up around Merry's hands on his face. "He
did. He also said I was a fair and lordly lad, who didn't like hearing
no." 

"He's right, you mollycoddled Took." Merry chuckled, stroked Pippin's
cheeks, tangled fingers in his hair."See, I've dragged myself across the
Shire just for you." Pippin grinned his thanks and joyfully kissed Merry
once again.