Title: Courses
Authors: Brenda & Niere 
Emails: (Brenda: hapuh3@yahoo.com; Niere: momv3@hotmail.com)
Series Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: R
Characters: Merry/Pippin/Frodo/Sam
Pairing(s): M/P/F/S (in various combinations)
Genre: Angst
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to us. We make no 
money from this. We are just having fun(?).
Summary: The one ring was destroyed long ago. But what about the 
effects it had on the bearer?
Warnings (series wide): slash!, BDSM, rape, graphic sex, nasty sex, hobbit 
abuse
A/N: (Niere): Ladies and Gents, hobbit lads and lasses, I'd like to present 
Brenda's first fic! (now be nice!!)
A/N: (Brenda):  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"A hetla ar caita cain amman."

Pippin looked up at Merry, his brow furrowed in consternation. "That's not 
right. It's 'a helta ar caita cain annam'. Helta, not hetla and annam, not 
amman."

"Whatever. The important part is, what does it 'mean'?"

Pippin's eyes closed in concentration. He thought for several minutes, then 
slumped against Merry in defeat. "I don't know," he said with a sigh. "I just 
can't remember."

Merry pulled his cousin closer, embracing him tightly. "I don't get it, Pip. 
Why is it you can 'say' the words perfectly yet, no matter how many times 
you're told, you just can't remember what they 'mean'?"

"I don't know!" Pippin buried his face in Merry's chest, his shoulders 
shaking in silent sobs.

Merry just held him, letting him get it out of his system. He knew the lad 
was scared, after all, he was, too. Pippin had every right to be frightened. 
Frodo tended to pick on the young Took when the anniversaries of his 
injuries came around.

The monthlies still weren't too bad, although they had been gradually 
getting worse. Every twenty-eight days, with perfect regularity, it was as if 
the ring had been claimed by the ringbearer instead of being destroyed. 
Frodo would become a totally different hobbit: dominating, possesive, 
nasty....and overwhelmingly lustful. At first, that wasn't so bad, kind of 
fun, in fact. But over the years, he had gradually gotten worse. It was 
common now for Merry, Pippin, and Sam to be sporting a variety of 
bruises and bite-marks at the end of every month.

Poor Sam had the hardest time. It seemed that Frodo had no memory of 
what happened during the twelve to twenty-four hours of his "courses", as 
they had taken to calling his episodes, and Sam was not about to tell him. 
To hide what his beloved had done to him, the gardener had taken to 
arguing with Frodo when the madness had subsided. That gave him an 
excuse to stay away from him until the damage had healed. Although 
effective, this was taking it's toll on him......on both of them.

As bad as the monthlies had gotten, the annuals were so much worse. 
During the quest, Frodo had been gravely injured three times: stabbed by 
the Morgul blade; bitten by Shelob, the giant spider-creature; and the 
worst, his finger had been completely bitten off by Gollum when the ring 
was destroyed. During the anniversary month of these injuries, Frodo 
became as if he were possessed. He was cruel and ruthless, seeming to 
delight in the pain of others. He apparently particularly enjoyed tormenting 
poor Pippin. Frodo would occasionally give his orders in elvish, knowing 
the lad wouldn't understand. Over the years, thanks to lessons cheerfully 
given by Frodo and a few cautious requests for translation, Merry and Sam 
had managed to learn enough to keep him pacified. Pippin, on the other 
hand, seemed unable to catch on to the language. His pronunciation was 
perfect, but he was totally unable to retain the meaning of the words.

"Merry?" Pippin's voice startled him from his reverie. "Merry, what am I 
going to do? The anniversary of the ring's destruction is in two days. That's 
always the worst one."

"I don't know, love." Merry tilted Pippin's face upwards, and gently kissed 
away the tears shining there. "Maybe it won't be so bad this time."

"It will, I know it." Pippin began to tremble. "I've seen his eyes. They've 
been flashing all week." Merry stiffened at that. He remembered the first 
time he saw the flames flaring in those depthless blue eyes. He shuddered 
at the memory. "I'm scared, Merry. It's going to be as bad as that first time, 
I just know it."

Merry clutched at his cousin, burying his face in his ever unruly, baby-fine 
curls. "That won't happen. I won't let him do that to you, I swear. I'll kill 
him first."

"Merry, no! Don't talk like that!" Pippin pulled back and began raining 
small kisses over his lover's face. "Please don't talk like that. He won't hurt 
me, not really. Besides, we could leave. Then he couldn't get to me."

Merry shook his head. "It wouldn't work. He'd just come after us." He 
captured Pippin's head and planted a firm kiss on his lips. "We already 
tried that, remember? He almost broke Sam's arm he was so mad. Then he 
caught up with us, beat us both bloody and knocked you totally 
unconscious because of it. I won't risk you like that again."

"I wish we could go back to when we were in Gondor, Pippin said 
wistfully, lying back on Merry's shoulder and staring up at the clouds 
passing overhead. "He wasn't so nasty then." He smiled at a memory. 
"Remember that first time? When you caught him watching us? That 
wasn't so bad. It was rather fun, in fact."

Merry snickered. "I remember the little show you were performing. I've 
never seen anyone have so much fun with a bar of soap before."

Pippin blushed. "I didn't hear you complaining," he said.

Merry grinned and rolled on top of Pippin, supporting his weight on his 
hands. "I'll just have to get you good and dirty then, won't I? Then you'll 
have an excuse to do that again." He leaned down to nibble on Pippin's 
ear. "Maybe I'll even help this time," he murmured.

Pippin shivered in delight at the sensation as Merry traced his ear with his 
tongue, then began licking his way down his neck. The Took tilted his 
head to allow better access, as his body began to heat.

They both looked up at the sound of running footsteps. It was Sam. "Mr. 
Merry, Mr. Pippin, you have to come back immediately!" he panted. He 
came to a stop beside the blanket they had spread for their picnic.

Merry and Pippin sat up, looking at their friend with concern. "What is it, 
Sam?" Merry asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's Mr. Frodo. He's early."

TBC