Title: Coveted 
Author: Kragey (MorbidMonk@aol.com) 
Pairing: Merry/Pippin 
Rating: (mild) NC-17 
 
Website: http://cele.topcities.com 
 
Feedback: Sure. 
 
Summary: Something of one-sided love and smut. (Sorry, I suck at summaries.) 
 
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings. Rich people do. 
 
Warning: I'm not very good at writing mushy stuff, so this isn't mushy. If you don't like my 
characterization, then too bad, so sad, don't read the stupid thing. T_T 
 
Authors Note: I'm a big fan of all of the authors here and an admirer of the beta readers, but I 
don't "use" beta readers. It makes me nervous when people critique my things, as I am a "shy 
writer". However, my love goes out to all of them, and also to each of my fellow Merry/Pippin fans 
whom don't beat me over the head with their monitor after reading this. ::Kisses:: 
 
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I hate Estella Bolger. 
 
Oh, sure, she's a nice enough lass, and a pretty one at that, but she 
knows what she wants and how to get it. Well, damn her, she wants what 
I want, and there's no way in all of the Shire for me to get it. 
 
Damn flouncy hobbit lass. 
 
I hate her to Hell and back. 
 
We gentlehobbits worked long hours in the fields, picking apples off 
the trees for elderly Tooks and doing our best not to eat the succulent 
fruit while the women sat about and looked pretty-and mind you, some 
of them are not quite as fair as, say, Miss Rosie Cotton. The heat of 
late spring lay heavy against our backs, forcing weskits and scarves 
of all kinds to be removed by mid-day. The season heavied the edible 
jewels and made them that much more tempting, yet we yielded from 
normal hobbit desires and placed the apples into our baskets, moving at 
a rushed pace that is somewhat unusual for hobbits. It was the party 
set to rise with the moon that put us in a fury. 
 
Including Estella Bolger. 
 
The stars were mere dirt compared to the majestic fireworks set off in 
the humid night. Half of Hobbiton had come for the picking and many 
were Tooks, so it was a grand party indeed. After all, my family has 
always been the life of the party! 
 
And Meriadoc Brandybuck-"Merry Mine", I had called him when we were 
young-is conducting his own festivities beneath the shade of the 
apple orchard. Several feisty couples have slipped away, in fact, and 
it's almost scandalous that the adults haven't come about and rattled 
the bushes with long sticks, ranting and cussing for the "tom foolery" 
to cease immediately. 
 
I can hear their moaning from my perch in the sky. I'm only a few 
trees away but well concealed; they wouldn't have noticed me if they'd 
looked. She sighs "Aye, Merry!" while he groans "Sweet Estella!", 
but earlier I had done my best to hush his growling of "Yes, Pip, 
YES!" 
 
It happened in the shed, just before lunch. This was a dangerous game, 
oh yes, deadly, for the apples were being gathered there until they 
could be used or stored otherwise. But he was desiring and I was in 
love, and we both were hot, so much so that we couldn't reach another 
spot before the wave struck us. (And nobody will EVER manage to hide 
from a Took, mind you!) 
 
I had opened up his shirt in hopes of removing it, but no such luck. 
He popped the buttons of mine to a threadbare state, yet they (thank 
the Shire,) clung stubbornly to the cloth. We'd been panting since we'd 
entered, yet I was slightly surprised when he pushed me against the 
wall, forcing me to wrap my legs around his hips. For me, this was 
romance; for him, it was just another quick go in another quick place. 
Yet I wasn't a quick PERSON. No, he does love me, only not in that way. 
 
But when he bit me with harsh little nibbles down the side of my moist 
neck, when he wiped the sweat from my chest onto the top of my 
breeches with strong fingers, when he opened both our fly buttons and 
pooled mine around my ankles, I didn't care. Even when he knew I was a 
virgin, but he entered me swiftly without any preparation and causing 
me to claw at his back, I barely noticed. When the blood trickled from 
my passage and my breathing became shallow, I easily blocked out the 
pain for the immense pleasure he began to give me. And, oh, when we 
became one for that glorious moment, that moment of total heat and 
passion a million times more scorching than the rays of the May sun, 
I searched blindly for the love of my seed against his stomach and his 
inside of me. 
 
It wasn't there, at least not THAT sort of love. Our hearts slowed to 
their normal rate in the musky quiet. I sighed and leaned my head 
against the wall, watching the dust play in the dim light of the shed. 
He set me down gently, treating me very much like the Elven doll other 
hobbits think I am. 
 
Then he gave me a soft smile and kissed my temple chastely, murmuring 
"Aye, you're sweet, Peregrin," as he left the shed. I followed suit, 
staying silent beside him to keep the heavenly glow I felt around me. 
We buttoned our shirts in soul-twined unison, journeying to the kitchen 
for a quick snack and an ale with our many distant cousins. 
 
I swear I'll never forget it, and I hope he won't, either. Even 
though he's spreading kisses across Estella's bared shoulders and 
showing her care that he didn't reveal to me, I know I'm in his heart. 
 
And I hate Estella Bolger still. 
 
But Merry doesn't.