Title: Night Falls
Author: Sacha (sacha@drizzle.com)
Pairing: Merry/Pippin
Rating: R
Summary: A dark and stormy night brings a confrontation that Merry has
been avoiding, as well as a choice.
Disclaimer: These characters absolutely don’t belong to me but to
Tolkien, but I can be blamed for the story.
Warning: Angst – lots of it – NOT fluffy.
Authors Note:  Feedback very welcome.  Just a sad
story I had in my head this morning.  This is my first attempt at Hobbit
fanfic and slash.  I hope you like it.

-----

The fire was dying on the hearth, casting a dim glow across the room. 
Outside the storm continued, battering Brandy Hall until her windows shook
and cold drafts seeped in through every chimney and every crack.  In the
kitchen the fire was cracking and the servants were starting to skin the
boar from the hunt, getting ready to prepare a hearty stew for a late
supper and store the rest to help feed the household through the winter.

Merry shut the door to his bedroom, lit a candle, pulled off his muddied
coat and began to unbutton the weskit underneath, soaked from the storm
that still raged outside.  They were lucky they had anything to bring back
from the hunt with the weather.  The dim heat from the embers dying on the
hearth could not reach through the chill that gripped his skin and he
moved closer, crouching in front of the fireplace, blowing softly in hopes
to start a small blaze before the coals became cold.  He made a quick
mental note to ask the servant to put a fresh stock of firewood in his
room later that evening so he could build a roaring fire in the morning. 
Merry stood up, turned back toward the bed and stretched a little,
bringing his hand up to finish unbuttoning his weskit.  His body ached
from chasing after boars all afternoon and begged for the relief of a fine
feather bed.  That was when he saw the figure sitting in the chair that
faced the fireplace and froze.

"Pippin."

His voice sounded strangled in the stillness, forced up through his
through that suddenly felt swollen and thick.  Merry felt as if he
couldn't breath.  His cousin sat in the plush arm chair he kept by the
hearth, his face unreadable in the shadows all but the green glitter of
his eyes that bore through Merry.

"How?"

Merry couldn't pull his gaze away from his face, his hands frozen at the
buttons of his weskit.

"I thought it best that no one know I was here, cousin, so I snuck in
during the hunt.  No one save the handsome stable boy knows I'm here, and
I trust his discretion."

Pippin's voice was cold and formal with a touch of sarcasm.  Merry felt
his mouth go dry and wished his mind would work fast enough to come up
with a witty reply; that he could find a way to bring back the easy banter
had once fallen between them.

"You… you should stay for supper," Merry managed to stammer, turning his
head away from Pippin.  "We managed to bag one boar today despite the muck
and I'm sure there will be more than enough for another mouth."

"I'm not here for supper Merry."

Merry turned back to Pippin and stared.  They both knew why he was there,
but Merry couldn't, wouldn't, bring it up.

"It's been six months Meriadoc Brandybuck.  Not a word, not a letter.  And
after...."

Pippin's voice trailed off but Merry knew what he was thinking.  The chill
of the room dissipated with the heat that ran up Merry's face.  Had it
only been six months?  It felt more like six years, every day filled with
a more exquisite ache than the one before.  Every dream was more vivid
than the last, and the memory of that night stuck sharply in his breast,
sometimes hurting with every breath.

It had been a night like this one, but instead of stomping through the
woods, Merry and Pippin had been curled up together on Pippin's bed, a
fire roaring at the hearth, reading stories to each other until the night
set forth her darkest hours and their eyelids drooped heavily.  They were
both in their tunics and breeches, weskits carelessly discarded on the
hearth rug.  It had been more than a year since Pippin had curled up with
him like this, leaning his head upon Merry's shoulder so his hair tickled
the base of his throat and Merry could feel his every breath.  It reminded
him so much of when Pippin had been small and sweet, and Merry had been
his entire world.  Merry hadn't the heart to push the lad off his lap and
return to his own bed so he'd allowed himself the luxury of holding
Pippin, pretending that things were as they always had been.  Soon the
book dropped to the bed and Pippin crawled under the blankets, drawing
Merry with him until they both sunk into a sweet and dreamless slumber.

The fire had burned out when Merry awoke leaving the room in a chilled
deep velvety blackness.  Pippin had moved until he was pressed tight
against him, one hand in Merry's hair and his face buried in his chest. 
Merry took a carefully breath, trying not to disturb the sleeping lad when
he felt Pippin stir against him, stretching fully.  Merry felt a deep
tightening of desire in his stomach as he quickened against Pippin's hip
and he bit his lip hard, hoping the pain would distract him from Pippins
sleepy movements.  Then he felt Pippin's hand on his face and his body
pressing more intently against Merry.  That was when he realized that Pip
was no where near asleep.  The touch on his face burned and Merry closed
his eyes, holding back a tear as he turned his face to bury his lips in
the palm, pressing a kiss into it.  Everything he'd been holding back for
a year and a half went into that gesture, despite that Merry knew he
should know better.  A deep shiver ran through him as Pippin shifted
upwards and gently placed his lips on Merry's.  His mouth was sweet, like
honeyed mead stolen from the cellar on a summer afternoon, and Merry
opened his lips to it, tongue pushing against Pippin's until he felt a
shudder run through his cousin's slender frame and a groan pushed up from
deep within him.  Merry knew he was on the edge of not being able to turn
back when Pippin pulled his mouth away from Merry's and buried his face in
the crook of his shoulder wrapping his arms tightly around his chest until
Merry was sure he would not be able to take another breath.

"Merry-mine," Pippin whispered, his voice muffled, then something else that
Merry didn't understand.  They stayed like that, wrapped around each
other, until Merry felt Pippin's breathing slow to a steady pace and he
knew the lad was fast asleep.  Sleep wouldn't come to Merry and he lay
there, staring into the darkness, thoughts tumbling one over another, fear
growing in his chest until tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and
his chest jerked to hold back a sob.  He'd wanted this for so long and it
tasted the kind sweetness that only comes from things forbidden.  Pippin
was too young to know what he was doing and when he understood, where
would that leave Merry?  Finally, as the blackness in the room turned to
the cold grey of morning, Merry carefully untangled himself from Pippin's
arms and slipped from the bed.  He silently knocked on the door of his
servant and instructed him that they would be leaving for Brandy Hall as
soon as the task was done.  Merry couldn't take the pain anymore ñ it was
time to let Pippin go.

"I thought you would return, cousin-mine, for surely you couldn't stay
away.  Not after the way you returned my kiss,"  Pippin's voice jerked
Merry back to the present.  "But one month became two and then four and
now."

"Pip," Merry gasped, breathless with memories.  "Please."

"And the news that has come from Brandy Hall, don't think I haven't heard. 
You with a new lad every month, carrying on, and all I could think was!"

"Pip!"

"Why not me?" Pippin's voice was hoarse, brimming over with anger and
pain.  Merry wanted to go to him, gather his slender frame in his arms,
stroke his hair and whisper that it was going to be okay, that he was
sorry, to take it all back, that he would never let him go.  Instead he
stood, frozen, as the room grew darker, threatening to swallow him whole.

"You don't understand," Merry ground out through a clenched jaw.  He could
no longer stand to look into Pippin's angry eyes and turned back to stare
down at the blackened hearth.

"Perhaps I understand more than you know."

"No!"

He'd known for at least two years.  His beloved cousin Peregrine Took with
his moppish curls and bratling ways, was so much more, and the knowledge
ate at him like a disease, making every breath difficult, every waking
moment a strange pain.  Merry was eight years older and almost of age, he
was the future Master of Buckland, he was expected to take a wife and sire
children, yet the only thing that filled his mind was Pippin: his touch,
the way he smelled, his smile on a summer day after they'd stolen apples
from the orchard, his mouth like velvet, pressed against Merry's, and how
me might feel pushing against him as desire gripped them both.

"Try me Merry,"  Pippin said angrily.  "Maybe I'm not as young as you
think I am, maybe I'm not a baby any more and can handle what you have to
say."

"No."

Merry shook his head, fighting back the tears in his eyes.  He would not
allow this to happen.  He had already decided his own pain was something
he would have to learn to live with.  He wouldn't draw Pippin in as well.

"Merry."

Merry felt a hand on his shoulder, a light touch burning through fabric,
and he flinched.  The hand withdrew quickly with the jerk of his muscles.

"Tell me Merry-mine."  Pippin's voice was softer, some of his sweetness
seeping back into it.  "I know you like I know myself and things haven't
been right with you for a long time.  There is a light that has gone out
in you."

"Pippin,"  Merry whispered.  "Please let it go.  I am okay, know that and
leave here, now, tonight."

There was a long silence and when Pippin spoke again his voice dripped
with malice.

"Oh, you are a selfish bastard.  Do you think you are the only one
suffering here?  Six months, Merry, without a word from you and after that
night."

"I'm sorry, Pippin," Merry interrupted, carefully picking words that would
hurt the most, "that you have lost your playmate."

"Is that what you think?  That I simply miss my accomplice in raiding Da's
cellars."  Pippin laughed bitterly, fury building in his voice.  "Hoy, I
would strike you Meriadoc Brandybuck if you were anyone else."

Merry took a deep breath.  The conversation was going the wrong way and it
was time to bring it back to the truth.  His stomach tightened as the
words came out of his mouth, a tortured whisper falling into the
unwelcoming silence.

"Pippin, you don't understand, it's not that, it's that I'm in love with you."

His words hung in a silence that seemed longer than anything Merry had
every sat through.  His heart clenched tightly as he waited for Pippin to
turn and leave the room.

"I love you too, Merry."

Pippin's voice was quiet, sincere and Merry let out the breath he hadn't
know he was holding in so deeply.

"No Pip." He turned away from the hearth and back to his cousin who was
staring at him with a look of incredulity.  His face was so sweet that
Merry's heart skipped a beat.  "I know you love me and I love you.  What I
Feel, it's, it's…."

"Merry."

"I want to fuck you, Pippin."  Merry almost winced at the blunt words
coming from his mouth at the same time the confession let some of the
tensions in his breast go.  "I want to rut like animals, and I can't stop
thinking about how you would feel under me, in my arms, and you're so
young and it's not, it's not right."

Pippin's face hardened and Merry felt his heart drop.  He stood still,
waiting for the young Took to turn and storm out of the room, but he just
stood staring back, his face hard.

"So fuck me Merry."

Merry's eyes widened at Pippin's words.

"Use me like you use the stable boy, Merry.  Throw me away.  It would
better than this, this silence, because it's breaking my heart."

"Pip," Merry started but Pippin held up his hand to silence him.

"Let me speak Merry because if I don't, I may never get this out.  I love
you Merry.  I don't mean like a cousin, or like my best friend, although
you are both.  I love you like if I can't have you next to me for the rest
of my life, my life won't be worth much.  You are the spring rain and I am
the newly planted crop that awaits your arrival ñ I cannot breath when you
aren't around and this last six months has been."

Pippin paused and sagged a little, then took a deep breath.

"I am not so young, Merry.  I know what I want, and although I will not
come of age for ten years, it doesn't prevent me from aching for your
touch because I have loved you since the moment I took a breath of
Shire-air, and that's something I cannot ignore."

With Pippin's every word Merry felt his heart break.  His eyes drank in
Pippin's drawn face, mouth pinched tight, jaw staining, his eyes dark with
fear, and he felt such a surge of love and knew more that nothing could
ever dislodge this lad from his heart.

"So if you need to use me like a servant, I'm begging you to do it, but
please, please don't leave me like this, hanging, wanting.  I would rather
be that stable boy who gets to enjoy your touch, and have you for one
night than never have you at all and die for all the wanting."

Merry felt his hands start to shake as he curled his fingers into fists
trying to gain control.  He had made such a mess of things and all he
could do was chastise himself over and over in his head.  He realized now
that leaving Pippin that morning was the worst thing he could have done,
that he was selfish to think he could make things better by running away.

He could no longer stand to stare at the love and hurt in Pippin's eyes
and turned away again, back to the now cold hearth.  His sweet Pip had
grown cold and angry, willing to settle for being used rather than
treasured as he should, and it was all Merry's fault.  He should have been
brave and stayed, woken up in Pippin's arms, kissed his sweet face until
his eyes opened to the morning.

"Tell me you want me to stay Merry."  Pippin said quietly.  "Tell me and
I'll never leave you.  Tell me nothing and I'll never return."

Pippin moved forward and Merry could feel him standing a mere inches form
his back.  Merry swallowed hard.  All he had to do was say the word and he
would have what he'd dreamed of for so long.  He felt tears welling in his
eyes.  One word, but the word stuck in his throat, blocked by his own
guilt, by his mistakes and pain, and he remained silent.  He couldn't make
it all right with one word, change the last six months into something
better.

It seemed like an eternity that Pippin stood there, pleading through the
silence, waiting for Merry.  Merry's shoulders started to tremble and he
fought to hold back the sob that welled up.  Finally he heard Pippin move
away from him, slowly and softly, and then the door shut with a click. 
For the longest time Merry stood in front of the fireplace, his whole body
colder than the wind that whipped against the windows, rattling the house,
then with slow, shaky movements he moved to the bed, falling on it, not
caring that he'd never removed his weskit and the dirt from the hunt
crumbled onto the fresh sheets.  His shoulders started to shake as he
buried his face into the covers and let out a cry that shook his entire
body and muffled itself into the blankets.  One name tore through him as
the sobs came one after another, and he moaned it over and over as if
saying it could burn it from his mind and heart.

Pippin.

**the end**