Title: Morning Light Author: Jai Marie (magicy2jai@cox.net) Web: http://www.free-joy.org/fiction/ Pairing: Merry/Pippin Rating: R Summary: Merry and Pippin share a few intimate moments together before Pippin leaves for battle on the Pelennor Fields. Disclaimer: The characters are property of JRR Tolkien, and not me. This is merely a creative fanwork derived from ideas inspired by his characters. No copyright infringement intended. Authors Note: Sequel to "Interlude" although it can stand on its own. Merry was exhausted, but sleep refused to come to him. He turned to one side, wincing a bit at the strange pain that lingered in his arm, then the other, until he ended up facing the window that looked out upon the garden adjacent the Houses of Healing. The light outside was gray, not yet touched by the sun but rather seemingly lit by the setting moon, which was making one last desperate stand to play its part in the fight against darkness, as they all were. He felt alone; crushingly, achingly alone. Pippin had left earlier in the night with Strider, when he had come to fetch him for the imminent battle. Merry's face burned with frustration and anguish as he recalled Aragorn's kindly words of reassurance that had been no comfort to him. Even if he had already done his part, he still wanted to return to the battlefield; he wanted to go with Pippin. But this was no longer his story to tell. Just as before, when Gandalf had taken Pippin after he had looked into the palantir, the story was in Pippin's hands. He would write the ending after all. Merry slipped from the bed, gripping the blanket for a moment to steady himself before taking up the too-large dressing gown that hung nearby and putting it over his shoulders. He hoped that perhaps a walk would tire him out as it had earlier in the day when they had spoken with Legolas and Gimli, and that he would sleep enough to be of some use in the morning, in case the need should arise. The grass was wet with dew beneath Merry's feet, and the coldness served only to waken him further. He walked slowly, listening to the sounds of the night insects singing as they did here and everywhere in Middle Earth, as he had come to find during his travels of the past long months. It was reassuring in a way, and his heart twisted when he thought of the same sounds coming from beneath his bedroom window back in the Shire. It was so long ago, and so far away. He had come perilously close to never returning there, and the chance was still very real that he might not. "No, no thoughts like that," Merry muttered, trying to focus on something different, such as the sounds of low conversation drifting on the cool breeze. There were sentries below, and others were preparing to march out in the morning. Even though he could not understand the language, their voices were slurred, and he could tell they were sleep-deprived. His heart went out to them, and he also wondered if Pippin was among them. He wondered if he was frightened, or resolved. Perhaps, Merry pondered, he could slip out of the garden unnoticed and go find him-- He had done it again; allowed his mind to go places it shouldn't. "This will never do," he sighed forlornly, turning to go back to the room. The almost deathly quiet of the city below gave his mind nothing to grasp for distraction. Rather, it was foreboding, as though the entire city was holding its collective breath for sunrise and the bloodshed it would bring. With the dawn, their shared fate would be brought forth for judgment. So the moon lingered on the horizon, trying futilely to keep away what might come. "But why?" Merry thought as he walked back along the path. "Why delay the inevitable? What else do we have tonight but to wait and anticipate and dread?" He stopped short when he came in sight of the door and saw a familiar form silhouetted there. "Pip?" Merry gasped, hurrying as best he could to the door and wondering if this was the answer to his question. Pippin walked out to meet him instead, gripping his arms gingerly. "There you are, you ass! You gave me a fright! Stealing out of your bed and making me think they'd taken you somewhere else!" "What are you doing here?" Merry asked, ignoring his cousin's chastising. "Strider summoned you to--" "To prepare for the morning, yes, and I am well prepared," Pippin interrupted. "He gave me his leave to tarry until dawn where I would." He released Merry's arms, and turned back to the building. "And here I am." Merry followed him inside, and allowed Pippin to remove his dressing gown. He slowly crawled back into bed, and noticed the gleam of armor laying on the floor nearby in the moonlight. Pippin climbed into the bed as well, after checking his armor once more, and lay down. He was wearing a simple tunic and trousers in the style of Gondor-- children's clothing, no doubt--but was otherwise unadorned. "And what did you come here to do?" Merry asked softly as he became comfortable once more, pressed close to his cousin. "I wasn't sure," Pippin replied, settling in beneath the covers with the sigh of one who had come to miss such comforts sorely. Merry felt a hand on his hip, and his heart jumped into his throat. "But I'd hoped to do it with you." "Pip," Merry whispered, turning to face him and moving closer, until he could feel Pippin's breath on his face. The chirping of the crickets was louder now, and when Merry closed his eyes he felt for a moment he was back in the Shire, lying on a hammock under the trees in Buckland, face to face with Pippin. They would lay there and whisper secrets for hours, conspiring, laughing, and relaxing. Those were two very different Hobbits, though, and lying with Pippin now, Merry felt a warmth course through his body, as well as a sort of protectiveness and what could only be described as a need for his cousin that he had never felt before. He had always loved Pippin, and craved his company, but never before had he felt so desperate for it. He opened his eyes and met another moonlit gaze, and he knew that Pippin was feeling the same way. There was no need to try to explain it or put words to it. "I'll do you proud out there," Pippin whispered, his hand slowly slipping up Merry's side, "you and the Shire." "I know you will," Merry replied, reaching a trembling and weak arm out to touch Pippin in the same way. It was strange and unnervingly different to touch him like this; it was like touching him for the first time all over again, because each touch now said something, carried a weight of import that it never had in all the other times they had ever touched. Pippin started to say something else, but words failed him in a soft, desperate gasp, and Merry felt the brush of Pippin's lips to his mouth. He moaned in quiet surprise but did not pull away, instead pressing back a bit, lingering longer than the last kiss they had shared, before Gandalf had spirited Pippin away. When Pippin started to draw back, Merry did not allow it, and leaned forward to maintain the contact. Their mouths began to relax as they continued, and gasps of breath met and mingled as they hesitantly explored and tasted each other's mouths. Merry's heart was hammering now in his throat, urging him on in a way he had felt very few times in his life. He did not know how to proceed, and yet he was given very little time to hesitate and consider it by his own body, which prompted him without much thinking to slip his tongue into Pippin's mouth. Pippin groaned with approval, gently sucking on his tongue and sliding his hand fully around Merry's back. The uncertainty to his visit had evaporated, and they now desperately sought to fill the scant hours before the dawn that would herald Pippin's call to battle with each other, touching, kissing, and exploring in ways that their arduous journey had not allowed them. All fear and all pretense were gone; Merry knew how it felt to come perilously close to losing it all, and Pippin had apparently gained a great deal of insight in their time apart as well, for he did not hesitate where he might have before in his inexperience. Indeed, Merry had vague ideas about what they were doing, and the particulars of it, but he did not deign to waste time considering them. His hands found their way beneath Pippin's tunic as they continued to kiss, and Pippin's own stronger hands tugged Merry's nightgown up until it was around his middle. Rough fingers that had never been rough before caressed the soft skin of Merry's hip, and the hot heaviness that had pooled in his groin intensified, nearly taking his breath away. He wanted Pippin to touch him, with the same unhesitating urgency with which he was claiming Merry's mouth. It was not as easy for Merry, who struggled to force his weak arm to work the buttons on Pippin's trousers and open them, but the soft moan that vibrated through Merry's mouth from Pippin's when his hand slipped in and his fingertips met hot, smooth skin made him forget the lingering pain that still ailed him. Pippin grew emboldened by Merry's breach and mirrored his actions, hesitatingly brushing his fingers along Merry's shaft. Their bodies jerked almost in unison, mouths tearing apart and desperate moans breaking the pre-dawn stillness when they each finally fully touched the other, hands gripping, squeezing, and stroking with only experience from pleasuring themselves to guide them. Merry wanted more, though, even more than his sweet beloved's hand squeezing and tugging him toward a blissful release the likes of which he hadn't felt since before any of this had happened and he would indulge himself when he was alone in the bath at home. His knowledge did not run as far as his desire, however, so again he made do with what seemed right to do. Pippin gave a cry of dismay when Merry released him and pulled Pippin's hand away, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand. "Hush," Merry soothed, and leaned forward to kiss Pippin gently on his trembling lips. Merry then brought their interlaced fingers down to where their arousals were pressed together and released Pippin's so he could wrap his hand around both shafts. Pippin's eyes widened with understanding, then fluttered closed as he moaned and did the same, gasping softly as they began to slowly stroke in unison. "Oh, Merry," Pippin whispered, his voice deep and throaty as his head lolled back. Merry smiled at the soft entreaty and took the invitation to kiss and nibble at his cousin's exposed throat as their hands continued to work in tandem. Their stroking grew faster and more erratic, and the heat began to erupt into sharp explosions of ecstasy deep in Merry's belly. "Pip!" Merry cried out, glad his voice was muffled against Pippin's skin. Pippin responded with a soft wail that he managed to stifle in the pillow, and their shafts twitched against one another, seed spilling and mingling on their joined hands as they came together. The sounds of the night insects and the breeze quickly took over again, singing along with the harsh panting of the two Hobbits, who lay together unmoving. Soon, however, the sounds of the Men below began to grow louder, signaling the imminent coming of the dawn. "I can't linger," Pippin said quietly, releasing Merry's hand and leaning over to kiss him again. "I know," Merry replied, struggling to sit up and reach for the basin and cloth that were by his bedside and had been used to help break his fever. "What are you doing?" Pippin asked, crawling over Merry and swatting his arm aside lightly. He picked up the basin and cloth and settled back down on the bed. "You're the wounded one. You needn't take care of me." He soaked the cloth and wrung it out, quickly cleaning up himself, then Merry. Merry was glad he was quick and efficient about it; otherwise he would have been left in quite a state. Merry tugged his gown back down and lay back as Pippin hopped off the bed, a bit unsteadily. As he watched Pippin slowly dress, layering on his armor and transforming into a soldier of Gondor, his heart swelled even more. "My brave warrior, Pippin," Merry said quietly, unable to stifle a smile. Pippin looked up from girding his sword, eyebrows raised in surprise. "If you want to see a brave warrior, Merry, you should look in the glass," he replied, smiling himself. His cheeks were still flushed and rosy, and the weariness was temporarily gone from his eyes. "Ah, but I did not ask for any warrior," Merry said with a grin. Pippin tramped to his side and stood next to the bed, and Merry reached out to run his fingers slowly over his armor. "I asked for *my* brave warrior." Pippin chuckled, then leaned over to share one more kiss with Merry. "Then your brave warrior will be on the battlefield today, and if that wasn't motivation enough to come back to you in one piece, I don't know what would be!" "Today we live together, or we die together," Merry replied, squeezing Pippin's hand. Pippin nodded, then gave Merry's fingers a soft kiss, then placed Merry's hand gently upon his breast and turned to leave. "Until we meet again, either here or beyond," Pippin looked over his shoulder and whispered. "Until we meet again," Merry replied, voice soft and choked with emotion. "I'll watch for you in the morning light, ere you march." "If you plan to do that, then you need to rest," Pippin told him. "Sleep now, Merry. And then I'll know you're watching me when I leave." "So you will, Pip," Merry said, after he closed his eyes. He heard Pippin's armor echoing down the hallway as he departed, and the soft, muted sounds of the early morning were almost indistinguishable among bustling, anxious sounds of the soldiers outside. But just as the moon lingered and refused to give up hope, Merry slipped into a dream of warmth and Pippin, and refused to give up hope as well.