Title: "The Hobbit of My Affections"

Author: Christina

Author's Email: csteresa@yahoo.com

Pairings: Merry/Pippin

Rating: R

Summary: A post-RotK romantic adventure in which Pippin leaves the Shire rather than declare his love for Merry. Naturally, Merry goes after him.


Disclaimer: All these wonderful characters and their universe belong to 
J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just having fun in the Professor's extraordinary 
playground.

~*~

Chapter One: If You Can't Trust Your Ex-Tavern Maid...

May 1, 1420 S.R.

It was the day of Sam and Rosie's wedding and the Party Field was 
teeming with dancing, drinking, and cheering Hobbits dressed in their 
most colorful silks and ribbons. The pavilions were festooned with 
streamers and May flowers, covering tables laden with the finest fare the 
Shire had to offer. And the Elven mallorn that was the new Party Tree was 
shining with fresh golden blossoms. It was the happiest day Hobbiton had 
seen in a long while, and Peregrin Took was happier than most.

At least he had been, up until about two minutes ago....

Pippin's father, Thain Paladin II, stared at his only son and heir in such a 
way that told Pippin he needed to be doing something very particular at 
that moment, but his father expected him to guess what that something 
was. "Go on, then."

Pippin looked befuddled, signaling that he needed a bit more information 
than that.

"Dance with her," his father said, as if that was supposed to explain 
everything.

Unfortunately, it did. Pippin groaned. "This is supposed to be a day of 
celebration. Why should I ruin it by dancing with Diamond?" Diamond of 
Long Cleeve was a rather pretty Hobbit lass, but she possessed only 
enough wit to know a quality jewel when she saw one.

"Because your mother and I wish it," his father replied impatiently. "And 
despite all of your strange adventures, her parents are quite keen on the 
match."

Pippin snapped his head around in alarm. "Match? You haven't--but I'm 
only thirty!" Even though Pippin had achieved world-wide renown and 
towered over every other Hobbit except Merry, he still wasn't 'of age' and 
couldn't entirely avoid parental interference. 

"True, but it's not too early for an engagement." Tookish engagements 
were notoriously protracted. The longest engagement in the history of the 
Shire had been between The Old Took and Adamanta Chubb which lasted 
twenty-eight years. His father patted Pippin on the back and pointed to a 
group of Hobbits standing under the neighboring pavilion. "Young 
Meriadoc is thinking about settling down with Estella Bolger. Saradoc 
tells me that the delicate negotiations between the Brandybucks and the 
Bolgers are heating up this very day."

Pippin felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Merry was getting 
married? Even his father seemed a little concerned at his son's suddenly 
dazed expression, but felt a lively dance was the only thing for it. He 
nudged Pippin in the direction of Diamond, who chose that moment to 
turn around and wave at him madly. Pippin took a few steps forward, but 
then recovered his senses. He turned to the left and headed towards the 
other side of the field.

He watched the dozens of pairs of dancers spinning around on the green, 
but had no desire to join them. He glanced over to a group of Hobbit lasses 
surrounding his cousin Merry and a reluctant Frodo. It would have been 
the most natural thing in the world for him to join them, telling his own 
stories of his time in the service of Gondor (the lasses never got sick of 
hearing them), but Pippin felt isolated and awkward.

Everyone but him seemed so ready to move on with their lives. Sam was 
married and now Merry's parents were in 'negotiations'. He glanced over at 
his cousin Frodo, who had excused himself and was now quietly chatting 
with the groom and Pippin's sister, Pervinca. Pippin wished he could be 
like Frodo, living a bachelor's life and not answering to anyone's demands. 
He quickly reminded himself how Frodo had suffered because of the 
demands of others, but at least now he could rest in some semblance of 
peace. Pippin started when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Now then," said a sweet and friendly voice, "I'll not have such a long face 
at my wedding, if you please."

Pippin couldn't help but smile at the sight of the prettiest Hobbit bride he'd 
ever seen. "Sorry, Rosie."

"Now you'll have to dance with me as punishment." She tried to look 
severe, but failed.

Pippin laughed softly and put his arm around her waist, as Rosie placed 
her hand in his. "Hardly punishment. You just saved me from having to 
dance with Diamond."

Rosie rolled her eyes, but they still twinkled with joy as Pippin spun her 
around the green to the tune of a lively jig.

"I know what your trouble is." Rosie sniffed Pippin's breath and frowned. 
"You smell sober."

"I am," he replied sadly. "Mostly."

"Well, I'm insulted," Rosie said with a playful smile. "I had fully expected 
you and Merry to be well into your cups by now."

"Merry's a bit too busy with Estella Bolger to drink with me." Pippin said 
it with venom, then immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, this is your day." 

Rosie gave him a consoling pat on the cheek.

Partly to change the subject and partly to understand the inner workings of 
the Hobbit heart, Pippin asked, "How did you know--that Sam was the one 
for you?"

She giggled blissfully. "Oh, that was easy. One day, almost four years ago, 
I looked around the Green Dragon and asked myself who I loved the best. 
It was Samwise Gamgee, of course."

"You loved him all that time and he never knew?"

She grinned wryly. "For a while there I thought I'd be the one to ask him 
to marry me."

Just then, the tune and their dance ended. Pippin looked down at his feet. 
"You and Sam are very lucky to have finally found each other."

Rosie looked up at him questioningly, then a light of understanding filled 
her eyes. "You're pining, aren't you? That's why you're sulking so." She 
gently turned him around to face the crowd. "Tell me, Pippin, who do you 
love the best?"

Pippin glanced at Rosie then back at the throng of happy Hobbits. Why 
not tell Rosie? After all, if a Hobbit lad couldn't trust his ex-tavern maid, 
who could he trust? After a long pause, he said, "Over there."

Rosie followed his gaze to a threesome consisting of Estella Bolger, 
Diamond of Long Cleeve and Merry. The lasses were obviously enthralled 
with one of Merry's stories. "Not Estella, surely?"

"No," he said quickly. 

"I'm certain it isn't Diamond, but I know for an absolute fact that she 
adores you."

Pippin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, she adores the money you'll eventually inherit." Rosie turned to 
him in confusion. "But that only leaves--" Her eyes grew wide and she put 
her hand over her mouth. She pulled it away just long enough to whisper, 
"Merry?"

Pippin nodded miserably. 

"Does he know?" she hissed.

"Of course not!" He turned away from her, ashamed.

Rosie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Pip. Remember 
that time when you and Merry drank your weight in ale; Merry was passed 
out in back and you got sick all over yourself. Do you remember what I 
said when I cleaned you up?"

Pippin cringed at the ignoble reminder of his humbler days, but grinned in 
spite of himself. "You said, 'I can't afford to be judgmental, I wouldn't 
have any customers.'"

Rosie stood on her tip-toes and hugged him tightly. "No worries, Pippin, 
your secret is safe with me."

~*~

Many hours later, Sam and Rosie managed to sneak away to Bag End 
without too much fanfare, but many of the guests still remained. There 
was just enough food left for a midnight feast and the hardier Hobbits 
wouldn't think of letting it all go to waste. 

Estella Bolger and most of the prettier lasses were not among the 
lingerers, so Merry found himself quite alone. Strangely, Pippin was 
nowhere in sight. Merry made an intensive search of the field and finally 
found his young cousin sitting against a rock, staring out into the darkness. 
What was stranger still was that he had no drink in his hand or pipe in his 
mouth. Merry nudged him with his foot. 

Pippin whipped his head around and shot his cousin a look of annoyance. 
Merry ignored it. "Where have you been all day?"

"Right here."

Merry snickered. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me."

Pippin's expression darkened further. "You were busy courting Estella. I 
didn't want to interrupt."

"Since when has my being with a lass ever stopped you from 
interrupting?" Merry's laugh died in his throat when Pippin just continued 
to pout. "Why are you acting like this?" Pippin's behavior was completely 
unlike his usually carefree and cheerful self.

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to adjust to all these changes, that's all."

"What changes?" Merry asked, beginning to get a little annoyed himself.

"Marriage. Not so much Sam's, but I hear you're getting ready to marry 
Estella Bolger."

Merry laughed. "Who told you that?"

"My father." Pippin allowed himself a slight smirk as he performed his 
best imitation of The Thain: 'delicate negotiations between the 
Brandybucks and the Bolgers are heating up enough for a right strong cup 
of tea.'"

Merry rolled his eyes and sat next to Pippin. "There's nothing settled yet, 
and won't be for quite some time; but you've always known I fancied 
Estella." Merry paused. "It doesn't change anything between us, if that's 
what you're worried about."

Pippin turned and forced a smile that Merry decided to accept as genuine. 
With a conspiratorial grin, Merry leaned over and whispered in Pippin's 
ear. "I nicked a great firecracker earlier. I thought we might stick it inside 
a cabbage and light it. We haven't blown up any vegetables for ages." 

At first Pippin gave Merry a disapproving look. They were gentlehobbits 
and warriors, after all. Perhaps they should be above such childish pranks. 
But they both still had a mischievous, boyish streak that each hoped the 
other would never lose. Pippin laughed and sprang to his feet. "What are 
we waiting for?"

Merry smiled broadly. Everything was back to normal.

~*~

"That was the finest cabbage explosion I've ever been party to." Merry 
was slurring his speech and weaving to and fro as he and Pippin finally 
made their way to Bag End. 

Pippin took his cousin's arm and did his best to keep Merry from falling 
over. "I know, I was there." Pippin's ardor for Merry was dampened 
slightly--but only slightly--by the fact that Merry insisted on belching in 
his ear.

"So you were!" Merry stopped and eyed Pippin, apparently trying to figure 
out which one of the three he was seeing was the real one. "And you still 
got a bit a' cabbage stuck in your hair." Merry closed one eye and reached 
towards his cousin with a dangerously wavering hand. He managed to 
snatch the singed leaf of cabbage along with a few strands of Pippin's 
curls.

Pippin cried out and rubbed he scalp, but he couldn't help laughing. For a 
few brief moments it did feel like things were back to normal, but then he 
remembered what he had told Rosie. There was no going back now. He 
had revealed his love for Merry and now the feelings he had tried to 
suppress all these years were sitting on the surface of his mind, like knives 
resting on his skin. 

He turned the brass doorknob on the round green door and helped Merry 
inside. Merry stumbled down the hall, occasionally bumping into the 
rounded walls until he found their bedroom. 

Merry tried to pull off his leather doublet, but he had neglected to undo the 
ties down the side, so he just got himself tangled up in it instead. He 
turned to Pippin with a comically panicked expression. "Help me, Pip, my 
clothes are trying to strangle me." Pippin obliged. As he removed Merry's 
doublet and mail shirt, he tried his best not to become too aware of his 
nearness. It was all he could do not to reach under Merry's linen shirt and 
hold him close while he stroked his bare skin.

Even when Merry was at his least attractive (like now), Pippin adored 
every inch of him, from his breath that was strong enough to kill a troll, to 
his singed eyebrows. Before tonight, Pippin had thought that once a heart 
was broken in two, the damage was done, but every time Merry brushed 
up against him, the wound cut still deeper.

Merry eyed Pippin suspiciously. "I jus' noticed that you're not nearly as 
drunk as you ought to be."

Pippin grinned. "I wanted to keep my wits about me tonight."

"And what do you need with wits at this time of night?"

"It's morning," Pippin corrected him. "Time for you to go to sleep."

Merry looked as if he was about to protest, but then turned and half fell, 
half crawled into bed. Pippin pulled the blankets over him. 

Merry buried his face in the pillow, but Pippin was still able to hear him 
say, "Love you, Pip," before he started snoring.

Pippin backed away from the bed and slumped into a chair behind him. 
His heart contracted agonizingly, the pain now spreading to his whole 
body. His throat burned until he allowed himself to release the wracking 
sobs that had been building up inside him.

~*~

Merry awoke with the warm, late morning sun beating down on his head. 
He had often wished that Bag End didn't have quite so many windows, 
and today was no different; particularly since his skull was pounding. He 
was alone, but Merry assumed that Pippin had risen earlier and decided 
not to disturb him. Or had Pippin slept at all? He seemed to remember a 
strange dream in which Pippin had been crying inconsolably because 
Merry's head had turned into a cabbage.

He stumbled into the study, not entirely sure if he was sober yet. "Good 
morning, Frodo," he croaked.

Frodo was working on the Red Book, but paused and turned. Instead of a 
polite, 'Good morning, Merry,' Frodo laughed heartily. "I would ask you if 
you've seen yourself in the mirror yet, but it's obvious you haven't, 
otherwise you would have stayed under the covers."

Merry chuckled at Frodo's remarks in a way that made it clear that he 
didn't find them the least bit amusing. He patted his hair and realized that a 
great deal of it was sticking up straight in the air. "I need a cup of tea," 
Merry said on his way to the kitchen.

"And a bath," Frodo called after him, still laughing. "As soon as possible!"

Merry put the kettle on to boil and stuffed a buttered piece of bread in his 
mouth as he came back into the study. "Where's Pippin?"

Frodo's smile faded. "He left. I assume he went back to Buckland."

"Left?" Merry said, stunned. "Without saying goodbye?" He looked out 
the window hoping to see Pippin strolling up the path, but he only saw 
Sam and Rosie sitting in the garden holding hands. "But we were 
supposed to stay here for another week."

"It is quite mysterious," Frodo replied. "Whatever his reasons he was very 
close about them. He was up even before I was. He cooked us all 
breakfast, then wrote several letters, but I don't think he posted any of 
them. And then he left."

Merry shook his head in consternation. "He was acting very odd 
yesterday, but we had no quarrel that I know of."

"Pippin did seem rather preoccupied." Frodo smiled reassuringly. "Don't 
worry Merry, I'm certain he'll confide in you eventually." 

But Pippin did not. The next day, just before afternoon tea, Merry, Frodo, 
and Sam all received letters from Pippin. The red seal on Merry's had been 
broken and clumsily resealed with yellow wax. It read:

Dearest Merry,

I have decided to join our friends in the South and hope to be of some little 
use to them for the remainder of my days. I cannot reveal my reasons for 
leaving you and the Shire, for they would bring grief and disgrace on 
Family and Friends.

Remember me kindly. 

Good-bye Forever. 

I am and always will be,

Your Pippin

Merry laughed as if that would render Pippin's letter a particularly good 
prank, but when he saw Sam lower his head sadly and tears well in Frodo's 
eyes he knew it was no joke. Merry swallowed and found a great lump in 
his throat that threatened to choke him. 

Pippin was gone.

~*~*~

Endnote: I paraphrased my favorite line from Ed Wood in this chapter: 
"He can't afford to be judgmental, he wouldn't have any friends."


Chapter Two: Fancy Meeting You Here

After Pippin left Bag End, he rode as fast as he could back to 
Tuckborough and the Took's ancestral home, The Great Smials. Along the 
way, he made his plans to leave the Shire for Gondor the very next 
morning. It was rash, he knew, but he had nowhere else to go. The Shire 
meant being near Merry; and he'd rather be turned into an Orc than stand 
around and watch Estella take Merry from him. 

Declaring his feelings was out of the question. Pippin had almost blurted 
out his secret on three separate occasions last night. Once before the 
cabbage exploded and two times after. It would be pointless to do so--
Merry had always liked lasses and had never even glanced at Pippin in the 
same way he gazed at Estella. The truth would destroy everything good 
between them. At least if he left now, Merry might forgive him and 
cherish the friendship they had shared in the past.

Pippin finally reached his childhood home in the late afternoon and 
stabled his pony. It would have been simpler to go to Crickhollow to pack 
for his journey, but it would have made leaving even more painful; he and 
Merry had shared the little house for the past six months.

The Great Smials was a veritable warren of Hobbit holes, housing more 
than a hundred Tooks. Usually Pippin would welcome the crowd; the 
throng of relatives used to render him almost invisible, allowing him to go 
about his business unmolested. But since he had returned from the outside 
world a hero, aunts who had before called him a 'good-for-nothing rascal,' 
baked him fine cakes which they plied him with until even Pippin was sick 
at the sight of them (the cakes as well as the aunts). Uncles and cousins 
who had thought even less of him, considered it a great honor whenever 
Pippin caught their eye and mumbled a kind word.

His sister Pervinca--a pretty, dark-haired Hobbit lass--bounded into the 
great hall, looking more than a little put out. "What are you doing here?"

Pippin smiled. Vinca (as her closest friends and family called her) held an 
affectionate disrespect for her younger brother that had not altered with his 
heroic return to the Shire. For that alone she would always be his favorite 
Took relation. "None of your business. Now get me some tea."

She put her hands on her hips. "Ask nicely or you can get it yourself."

He sighed, suddenly overcome with weariness. "Please, Vinca."

She gave her brother a look of concern, then took his pack from him. 
"Wash up first and you can have it in the kitchen."

Pippin grinned appreciatively. Since it was so close to supper, the Hobbit 
women would be too busy cooking to pay him any mind as he sipped his 
tea in the corner. The parlor, on the other hand, would be teeming with 
Hobbit men who would no doubt plague him with questions and calls for 
stories. He trudged to his room to clean up and change into a plain, but 
finely-made blue velvet doublet and matching breeches. 

There was so much to do if he planned to leave first thing in the morning. 
And though Pippin could avoid his father and uncles by taking tea in the 
kitchen, they would insist on his presence in the parlor after dinner. He 
decided he needed an accomplice if he hoped to be ready in time. 
Somewhat energized with anticipation, Pippin met his sister in the kitchen 
corner. She had made a new pot of tea and put two of Pippin's favorite 
frosted white cakes on a plate. "Thanks, Vinca," he said a little too 
enthusiastically. "Why don't you join me?"

Vinca eyed him suspiciously, but poured herself a cup and sat down across 
from him. "May I have one of the cakes too?" 

Pippin nodded reluctantly. "Anything for my darling sister."

She narrowed her sparkling green eyes. "What do you want, Pippin?"

He didn't even try to deny he had an ulterior motive. "I need your help." 
He leaned forward and whispered. "I'm on a mission--for the King."

Pervinca gasped. Pippin put his fingers to his lips to quiet her. "What sort 
of mission?" she asked, wide-eyed.

Pippin immediately felt guilty for lying to her, but there was nothing for it. 
"I have a message for the King, from Frodo. It is imperative that I deliver 
it to him in Gondor as soon as possible."

"Gondor!" she breathed. "What does the message say?"

"I can't tell you, silly Hobbit! I will say that if this message should fall into 
the wrong hands...." He trailed off hoping Vinca's imagination would fill 
in the rest.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"There's a good lass!" he said, patting her on the arm. "I need provisions--
bread, cheese, salted pork, food that will keep for many days. Also a full 
water bottle and an empty one to carry."

Vinca's face filled with pride. "Don't worry, little brother, I won't fail you-
-or the King."

Pippin groaned inwardly and gave the other cake to his sister as well. He 
had suddenly lost his appetite.

~*~

After a long supper and endless requests for stories and songs, Pippin 
locked himself in his room and started to pack. He heard a light knock on 
the door and started. "Who is it?"

"Vinca, of course," she said irritably. "Let me in!"

Pippin opened the door and Vinca dragged a large sack full of food inside.

Despite his increasing nervousness, Pippin laughed. "I'm taking a message 
to Gondor, not feeding the entire population of Minas Tirith!"

Pippin's joke not only went unappreciated, Vinca pinched him hard on the 
arm to show her displeasure. "I went to a lot of trouble to get this for you."

He rubbed the area and could already feel a bruise forming. "Sorry, Vinca, 
but there's no way I can take it all." He started to snicker. "It would crush 
my poor pony's back."

"Well, hurry up and take what you need so I can put the rest back before 
it's missed."

Pippin sorted out the food he needed, then helped his sister carry the sack 
back to the kitchen. "There's one more favor I need to ask of you," he said, 
leading her back to his room. He gave her three letters; a fourth, addressed 
to his parents, he kept to deliver himself. "I need you to post these in the 
morning."

Vinca nodded, but as she read the addresses she looked up in confusion. 
"One of them is addressed to Merry. Isn't he going with you?"

"No, not this time." Pippin then led her out the door. "Promise you'll do 
this for me?"

"I promise."

Vinca took the letters back to her own room so she could examine them 
further. The other two letters were addressed to Frodo and Samwise 
Gamgee. Her Took inquisitiveness tempted her to open them, but they 
were sealed. She studied the circle of red wax impressed with a letter 'B', 
no doubt for 'Baggins'. Pippin must have written them at Bag End. But if 
that was the case, why didn't he just deliver them himself while he was 
there? And why would Frodo need a letter if he was the one who was 
sending him to Gondor in the first place? After a moment's hesitation, she 
broke the seal on Merry's letter and read it quickly.

I cannot reveal my reasons for leaving you and the Shire, for they would 
bring grief and disgrace on Family and Friends.

She wiped tears of anger and sorrow out of her eyes. What reason could 
Pippin have for leaving that was so terrible he couldn't even tell Merry? 
Vinca resealed the letter with her candle and place all three on a chair.

Pippin could leave Tuckborough if he liked, but she would make certain 
he didn't leave quietly.

~*~

Pippin hardly slept and was up before four in the morning. He quickly 
dressed and had breakfast in his room, set aside from the sack Vinca had 
brought him. He had packed most everything the night before, so he was 
ready to leave within the hour. He went to the stable to saddle his pony 
and load his provisions on the loyal beast's back. Pippin returned to get his 
pack, but when he opened his bedroom door, Vinca was standing in front 
of it with their parents standing behind her. "Pervinca Took, how could 
you?"

"How could you lie to me, Pippin?" He could hear the betrayal she felt in 
her voice and see it in her tear-filled eyes.

"You wouldn't understand." As gently as he could, he pushed past them, 
grabbed his pack and hurried out of the great hall, toward the stables

"Come back here now, Peregrin Took!" His father ordered. "Or I'll write 
you out of my will!"

Pippin stopped and pulled the fourth letter from his pocket. He handed it 
to The Thain. "You can't write me out of your will because I am no longer 
your heir."

At the sound of the words, 'will' and 'heir', dozens of sleepy Hobbits 
emerged from the Great Smials and gathered in the garden to watch. 
 
Pippin patted his pony's head as if to apologize for the long journey they 
faced. Taking the reins, he mounted her, but he was stopped from any 
further progress by his father, who grasped the bridle. "Didn't you hear 
me, boy? Get off this blasted pony!"

It would have been so easy to do as his father demanded. Just forget his 
whole ridiculous plan and remain in the Shire, living the comfortable life 
that was expected of him. Easy perhaps, but impossible. Pippin drew his 
sword slowly, taking strength from the sound of steel being released from 
its sheath. "Stand aside, Father. My life is my own now."

Paladin Took recoiled in horror at his only son's treachery. A collective 
gasp rose from the crowd of Tooks, followed by the sounds of hooves 
galloping east.

~*~

Long after their letters from Pippin arrived, Merry continued to pace 
angrily while Sam and Frodo tried to calm him down. Rosie stayed out of 
it, sitting quietly in the corner. When she noted the concern on Sam's face 
at Frodo's obvious weariness, Rosie pulled Merry into the garden for some 
"fresh air." She stood quietly for several minutes, allowing Merry's rant to 
subside.

"I think I know why Pippin left," she said softly. "It was something he told 
me at the wedding."

Merry's face filled with impatience mixed with hope. "Well?"

Rosie winced. "It's a secret. You know I don't tell tales."

"Then why bring me out here in the first place?" Merry replied, stamping 
his feet.

"That is a fair question." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "What 
do you suppose Pippin would tell me that he wouldn't tell you?" 

Merry sighed irritably. "I haven't got time for riddles, Rosie!"

"I'm afraid I can do no better than riddles," she said firmly. "I promised 
Pippin I wouldn't tell."

Merry took a deep breath to calm himself and put gentle hands on her 
shoulders. "Some secrets have to be shared. It's not safe outside the Shire; 
certainly not for a Hobbit traveling alone."

Rosie's eyes widened in alarm. "But surely after all his adventures and the 
Battle of Bywater Pippin will be able to take care of himself?"

Merry shook his head, looking doubly worried.

"I'm sorry, Merry," Rosie said with obvious frustration. "It just isn't my 
place to say. But you must go after him!"

"Oh, I'll go after him, all right, and I'll drag him back here by the scruff of 
his neck!" After a few hasty good-byes, Merry packed his things, saddled 
his pony, and galloped off to Buckland. 

Rosie sat by the small fire sipping her tea as Sam fussed over Frodo, while 
the latter protested mightily. Frodo had never looked entirely well since 
his return from the outer lands. For that and other reasons Sam's devotion 
to Frodo would never end. And though Rosie knew that Sam loved her, his 
large heart would always accommodate the members of the Fellowship, 
especially his former master. They all shared bonds that Rosie could only 
marvel at, but could never bring herself to be jealous of. She sincerely 
hoped that Merry did manage to bring Pippin back to the Shire and things 
could once more be right between them, in whatever way was best. 

When Sam had settled Frodo in Bag End's comfiest chair, with a glass of 
wine and a plate of cheese and fruit within easy reach, he took his new 
wife's hand and took her to their room.

As he closed the door, Sam regarded Rosie suspiciously. "Call me foolish 
if you like, but I have a feeling that you're keeping something from me."

Rosie looked up at him with innocent loving eyes, but Sam would have 
none of it.

"Whatever's going on between Merry and Pippin, it seems as if you're in 
the middle of it."

"I'm so sorry, Sam, but I can't tell you," she said. "I couldn't even tell 
Merry. It's a secret."

Sam shook his head and tut-tutted. "Not one week married and already 
you're keeping things close. It's not right, I tell you. A very poor start to a 
marriage, if you ask me."

Rosie weakened. She was dying to tell someone, and telling Sam--her 
darling husband--was almost like telling herself. She crooked her finger 
and Sam leaned to the side so she could whisper Pippin's secret in his ear.

Sam's head snapped up in surprise. He mulled it over for a few moments, 
then nodded his head. "That explains a lot."

~*~

Unlike the last time he left the Shire for the outside world, Pippin used the 
Great East Road from the start and made considerably better time than 
before. He was headed for Bree so he could properly prepare for the long 
journey to Gondor. Though the road seemed quiet enough--he passed only 
a dozen carts traveling to and from the Shire--he camped well off the road. 
Even then he hardly rested. Unpleasant dreams were interrupted by eerie 
sounds in the trees and bushes. Pippin chastised himself again and again 
for the way he had treated Vinca and his father. He also missed Merry 
dreadfully. The pain he had been feeling the other night was excruciating 
now that he knew he'd never see him again.

Pippin was almost glad when finally, on the evening of his third day in 
self-imposed exile, he reached The Prancing Pony.

The proprietor, Barliman Butterbur recognized Pippin immediately, but 
couldn't recall the young Hobbit's name. Pippin supplied it gratefully and 
was soon settled into a cozy Hobbit hole. After a nap and a bath, Pippin 
changed into the King's livery, then made his way to the common room.

Thanks to the Ent-draught he and Merry had drank while in the Fangorn 
Forest, Pippin stood four feet four inches. That was very tall indeed for a 
hobbit, but still a child's height to a Man. Every eye turned when he 
entered the room, for it was also unusual to see a Hobbit who was a 
servant of the King.

Pippin ordered a pint of The Pony's finest and sat down at an empty table. 
He glanced at the Men and fellow Hobbits around him, smiling uneasily. 
No one smiled back. Two Men who were obscured by shadow, emerged 
into the half-light. They looked foul and dangerous as they stared greedily 
at Pippin in his finery.

Pippin turned his attention to his cup, wishing he could disappear into it. 
Suddenly, he didn't feel at all like the brave Hobbit who had killed the 
Troll-King at the Black Gates. But that time you were not alone. It's much 
easier to be brave with your friends by your side. Under his breath, he 
said, "I suppose I should have dressed a little less conspicuously."

"A bright orange bonnet topped with pink daisies would have drawn less 
attention, Peregrin Took!"

Pippin looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and a wave of relief 
washed over him. "Gandalf!" Pippin cried happily. He glanced over to 
where the two Men were and saw them making a hasty exit. Dear old 
Gandalf!

The old wizard, who was dressed in an inconspicuous gray cloak, sat next 
to the Hobbit. He filled his pipe and lit it, shaking his head as he looked 
Pippin up and down.

Pippin felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I thought it would help 
matters if I looked official. I am the King's Messenger, after all."

"And I am the White Wizard," he said in a low voice, "but I do not find it 
wise to advertise that fact unless I feel that doing so would be to my 
distinct advantage."

The Hobbit sighed. "Go on, then. Say it, I know you're dying to: 'fool of a 
Took!'"

"I would, but now there would be no point to it."

"Just as well," Pippin told him. "I'm in no mood for recriminations." He 
almost added, 'Aren't you going to ask me why?' but stopped himself in 
time. He didn't want Gandalf to know why he had left the Shire. Telling 
Rosie had only made things worse, and Pippin couldn't bear the wizard's 
reaction to his secret, whether it be good or bad.

"So, Pippin, what brings you so far from home--" He paused and looked 
Pippin deep in his eyes. "Without even your cousin Merry to accompany 
you?"

He looked away and took a sip of ale. Then he took another. He had to tell 
Gandalf something, but it couldn't be a lie, just not the whole truth. "After 
all I've been through.... I know I wasn't the most useful member of the 
Fellowship--" Pippin paused, hoping Gandalf would contradict him. When 
the wizard just continued to puff on his pipe, Pippin carried on. "I just feel 
like I've earned the right to decide things for myself, not have my life 
decided for me. I'm off to Gondor to do just that." 

"Gondor? That's a long way for a little Hobbit, all by his lonesome." 
Gandalf emphasized the word lonesome.

"I can manage," Pippin replied unconvincingly. He took a deep breath, 
taking in the aroma of Gandalf's pipe. Southlinch, if his nose was not 
mistaken (and it never was when it came to pipe-weed). Pippin had some 
Old Toby in his pocket along with his pipe, but he doubted it would be 
proper to light up while he was still in uniform.

The wizard hummed and puffed for a moment or two, then shrugged his 
shoulders. "It's your life, as you say, but it seems to me you haven't 
thought this through."

"Oh, I'm thinking and planning even as we speak." I'm thinking that this 
was all a horrible mistake and I'm planning to crawl home and beg 
everyone's forgiveness. No, I can't do that! He couldn't face Merry or his 
family again. Pippin set his jaw and took a determined swig of ale. 

Gandalf shook his head. "The Pony is all right if all you require is a fine 
pint of ale and a soft bed to sleep in, but it is no place for deciding the 
course of one's life."

Pippin suddenly decided that King Elessar wouldn't mind him smoking 
and rummaged in his pocket for his pipe. "What do you suggest?"

"Since you asked, I'm headed for Rivendell in the morning if you'd like to 
join me. A finer place for sorting things out cannot be found in Middle-
earth."

Rivendell! It would be like heaven compared to the past few days, but 
Pippin tried not to appear too excited. "But I thought all the Elves had 
gone."

The wizard smiled a little sadly. "Not all. Not yet."

"I suppose I wouldn't mind keeping you company," Pippin said casually.

Gandalf harrumphed. "Just try to hold your tongue while you're doing it."

The next morning, Gandalf and Pippin settled their respective bills, then 
the wizard sent Pippin along to the stables. When the hobbit was out of 
sight, Gandalf gave Butterbur a slip of folded parchment. "When Master 
Meriadoc Brandybuck arrives, please give him this. He should be along 
shortly."

~*~*~

Chapter Three: Merry, Warrior Hobbit

A/N: The herbal remedy mentioned in this chapter is not recommended to 
be used for any illness or injury. In other words, don't try this at home.

Merry,

I managed to cut your fool cousin off at the pass, as they say. I convinced 
him to accompany me to Rivendell to rethink his harebrained scheme to 
run away to Gondor. Follow and your questions will be answered.

Gandalf

Merry let out a tense breath and put his hand on his heart.

Barliman Butterbur looked down at the Hobbit encouragingly. "Good 
news?"

"The best sort of good news, thank you." Merry stuffed the note in his 
pocket and rubbed his hands together happily. Now that he knew Pippin 
was safe he could finally relax and get his first good night's sleep in days. 
But first a pint and a smoke.

Merry gave his pack to Nob, Butterbur's Hobbit servant, and entered The 
Pony's common room. Though he and Pippin enjoyed riding through the 
Shire dressed as fine warrior Hobbits, Merry decided it was better to take a 
page from Strider's book when traveling outside friendlier borders. He was 
dressed as a simple gentlehobbit in a dark green waistcoat, brown jacket 
and breeches topped with his Elven cloak. He wore his mail shirt over his 
linen, of course, and made sure his sword, dagger, and Horn of Rohan 
were hidden under his cloak.

He was halfway through his first pint when he felt unfriendly eyes on him. 
Merry glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw two ragged Men 
approaching. He wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized the larger of 
the two ruffians from the Battle of Bywater. 

"Imagine that, Deken," said the smaller man. "Two fancy, large Hobbits 
passin' through Bree in as many days."

"Tis a wonder, Rima. I guess them's growin' 'em big in the Shire." The 
larger Man's mocking laughter echoed through the room as the two Men 
moved to either side of Merry. The Hobbit did not look up and took 
another sip of ale.

"Look Rima, this one's got hisself a pretty horn." The Man called Deken 
snatched the Horn of Rohan off Merry's belt and turned it over in his filthy 
hands. Quick as a flash, Merry grabbed Rima's shirt front, drew his dagger 
and stuck it in into the Man's gut just far enough to break the skin. 

"Put it down and move away," Merry rumbled dangerously, "or I'll 
disembowel your friend."

Deken hesitated. Rima roared in pain as Merry pushed the blade in a hair 
further. "Do as he says, blast you!"

Deken threw the horn down and stepped back.

Merry shoved Rima away from him and jumped up out of his chair. He 
drew his sword and brandished it menacingly. "Leave here now, and don't 
come back!" The attention of all in the common room was on the strange 
tableau of the two fell Men cowering before a Hobbit. If Merry had not 
commanded immediate respect by his bearing and skill, there would have 
been more than a few snickers at the sight. 

Rima held his gut in as if he feared his insides would fall out from the 
shallow wound. "Let's get out of here, Deken."

With a last evil look at Merry, the two men ran out of the inn. 
 
Merry sheathed his sword, just then noticing the wary stares of the other 
patrons. He took a last long pull of ale and went in search of Butterbur to 
change his room from a comfortable, but insecure Hobbit hole to 
something a little farther off the ground. So much for relaxation.

~*~

Less than a day's ride from Weathertop, Merry got the distinct impression 
that he was being followed and had been for some time. He was certain it 
was Deken and Rima from The Pony. The Hobbit suspected it was more 
because of the humiliation the two Men had suffered, rather than any 
riches they hoped to steal that caused them to come after him.

They had horses, stolen no doubt, and even though his pony Stybba was 
bred by the horse masters of Rohan, he could still be outrun. Merry didn't 
want to make a mad dash for it unless he had no other choice.

Eventually, Merry was forced to stop to relieve the pressure in his bladder 
and take a quick meal. It was the opportunity the two villains had been 
waiting for. Merry barely mounted Stybba and drew his short sword 
before they burst out of the trees.

They had long knives, but they had no training in battle or fighting on 
horseback, judging by their wild slashes.

Rima aimed for Merry's head, but the Hobbit ducked before he could 
strike. Merry plunged his sword beneath the Man's ribcage and through his 
entire body. Rima fell to the ground, dead. Merry just managed to parry an 
attack by Deken. 

"You killed my best mate!" The Man screamed, barring his rotten teeth. 
"You're next, you ugly little rat!"

"You're calling me ugly?" Merry backed Stybba up then charged forward, 
stabbing Deken in the shoulder. Deken used the opportunity to slash 
Merry's left thigh. With a resounding battle cry, Merry pushed the Man off 
his horse with his uninjured leg. Now free from his abductor, the horse ran 
towards Bree.

Merry galloped east, the sound of Stybba's hooves pounding the earth and 
drowning out Deken's vile curses. The Hobbit continued riding for an hour 
to put as much distance between him and the Man as possible. Finally, he 
stopped by a stream to tend to the wound on his leg. It wasn't deep, but it 
was long and jagged. He cleaned it with clear cool water that stung and 
soothed at the same time. He then ripped the hem off of his extra linen 
shirt and bound the wound. After that Merry traveled off the road the rest 
of the way to Rivendell. 

Three days after the skirmish, Merry awoke at dawn, drenched in sweat. 
His left leg was stiff and his thigh wound felt like it was on fire. He 
gingerly removed his makeshift bandage and his nostrils were assailed by 
the unmistakable odor of infection. The cut was red and angry, with pus 
beginning to ooze out of it. "I'm going to kill Pippin when I see him."

He started a small fire and boiled some water. By then the sun had risen. 
Merry stumbled to his feet and limped in search of some herbs he had seen 
his mother use to treat wounds. He managed to find boneset on the stream 
bank and ripped up a handful of the long itchy plants, careful to include its 
medicinal roots. Ruddes proved much harder to find, but he finally spotted 
a bunch of its golden orange flowers. He cut up the plants and ground 
them as finely as he could. He wrapped the crushed herbs in a piece of his 
shirt, dipped it into the boiling water, and applied it to the wound. If any 
Hobbit wife had been there to hear the word Merry cried out, she would 
have surely washed his mouth out with soap. When it cooled, Merry 
covered the poultice with a clean bandage and secured it tightly. He saved 
some of the leaves, roots, and flowers for later and made the rest into a tea. 

Merry grimly considered his options while he ate a late breakfast. There 
was no one around for many miles and he certainly could not wait here for 
his wound to heal--or not. He had to ride for Rivendell as swiftly as 
possible; but even then it was three day's ride. Somehow, he managed to 
climb into his pony's saddle and gallop away. Ever jolt magnified the 
agony in his thigh until his whole leg settled into a burning numbness. 

By the next morning, the wound was festering badly and Merry knew the 
infection had seeped into his blood. Burning with fever, his mind was 
becoming increasingly foggy and confused. Fortunately, Stybba seemed to 
know which way to go. If it wasn't for the loyal hill-pony, a gift from King 
Théoden, Merry would have been hopelessly lost.

A day and a half from Rivendell, Merry was so weak with fever and pain 
that he fell off his pony into a field of heather. All Stybba could do was 
nuzzle the Hobbit and whinny. Merry felt his pony's nose nudging his 
side. He reached to pat the beast's muzzle, but his hand fell on the Horn of 
Rohan instead. He lifted his head with a sudden burst of energy and put 
the horn to his lips. Even though the sound reverberated throughout his 
entire body, Merry wasn't certain he'd made any sound at all. 

Completely spent, Merry lay in the heather, dying of thirst, but too weak 
to retrieve his water bottle. His lips were dry and cracked, he didn't have 
enough spit to swallow, but he did manage to shed a few tears. "Pippin, 
why did you leave me?"

"No one has left you, Merry."

Merry looked up and for a shining second he saw his young cousin 
smiling down on him. "Pippin?"

"I will look after you now." Pippin leaned down to pick him up. The 
illusion dissolved and was replaced by the reality of a tall, dark-haired Elf 
taking the Hobbit in his arms. Merry smiled gratefully and closed his eyes, 
finally allowing himself to sink into painless oblivion.

~*~

Pippin had been in Rivendell for only two days and he was already bored 
to tears. Most of the Elves had left for the Grey Havens and there was only 
so much smoking even he could do with Bilbo and Gandalf. He began to 
take long, lonely walks along the terrace path as far as the stone bridge. He 
supposed it was about time for him to continue on to Gondor, but the 
thought of that treacherous journey was worse even than the boredom.

He was skipping stones in the River Bruinen and thinking that perhaps he 
should return to the Shire after all, when a rider approached at breakneck 
speed. Pippin quickly jumped out of the way to let the rider through. It 
was one of the twin sons of Lord Elrond and he was holding a largish 
bundle before him. At the sight of a furry hobbit foot peeking out from 
under a familiar Elvish cloak, Pippin realized the bundle was Merry.

 "MERRY!"

The Elf rushed passed him and Pippin ran to catch up. Lord Elrond met 
Elrohir at the entrance to the hall and the two Elves spoke quickly in their 
own tongue. Elrond directed his son to take Merry to a sick room, where 
Elrohir laid Merry gently on the bed. Pippin tried to jump up as well, but 
the bed was too high for that, so he just stood by Merry's head. The older 
Hobbit was delirious and it took a few moments for him to focus on his 
cousin. "Pippin?"

Pippin stroked his damp curls and started to snuffle. "I'm so sorry, Merry."

Sudden anger flashed in Merry's eyes. He took a handful of Pippin's shirt 
in his fist. "Why did you leave me, Pippin?"

Pippin shook his head and burst into tears when he glanced at Merry's leg 
and finally saw the terrible wound on his thigh that was making him so ill.

Tears sprang to Merry's blue eyes as well. "I don't understand. You told 
Rosie why you left, but you won't tell me?"

"I never thought you'd come after me," Pippin said between choking sobs.

Merry's grip on Pippin's shirt tightened. "That's your problem, Pippin. You 
never think!"

Elrond gently but firmly separated the two Hobbits and ushered Pippin out 
the door. "Now is not the time for arguments, Master Meriadoc. We must 
heal your hurts first."

Pippin stumbled to his room and cried through luncheon and afternoon tea. 
This was worse than dropping the stone into the well in the Mines of 
Moria; worse still than looking in the palantír and having his mind 
attacked by the Enemy. He had almost killed his beloved Merry by his 
reckless actions. 

When he had no more tears left, Pippin washed his face and then went to 
sit with Bilbo and Gandalf. He looked out over the balcony, but did not 
allow himself to enjoy the exquisite view. "How could one Hobbit cause 
so much damage in so short a time?" It was a rhetorical question, but he 
half expected a response. He wasn't disappointed.

"Because, Pippin," said Bilbo, "the choices you make not only affect you, 
but everyone who loves you."

"And keeping secrets that should not be kept takes its own toll," added the 
wizard.

Pippin turned on Gandalf uneasily. "I don't know what you're talking 
about."

"Stuff and nonsense!" Gandalf snorted. "Your mysterious reason for 
leaving the Shire is apparent to anyone paying the slightest bit of 
attention."

Bilbo nodded apologetically. "I'm afraid so, my boy."
 
Gandalf inhaled some pipe smoke and then blew a smoke-ring in the shape 
of a heart. Not to be outdone, Bilbo blew his own ring in the form of an 
arrow piercing Gandalf's smoke-heart. "So Peregrin Took, are you going 
to tell your cousin why he was forced to leave the comfort of his Hobbit-
hole to come chasing after you?"

Pippin just stared at Bilbo and Gandalf in horror. How could they know?

"Well," said Bilbo as he continued to puff away, "when are you going to 
tell Merry that you're in love with him?"

The old Hobbit's blunt statement was like a slap across Pippin's face. "W-
who told you?"

"You did," said Gandalf, "by your irrational behavior of late. Or should I 
say, more irrational than usual. Besides, I had suspected as much for a 
while."

"You're not shocked." It was a statement of surprise, not a question.

Gandalf laughed gently. "I have seen much through the ages and I have 
found that when it comes to love, gender matters little."

"Neither of you thinks badly of me then?"

Bilbo tut-tutted and patted him on the arm. "Of course not. There is too 
little love in this world to rebuff it when it blossoms."

"Do you know if Merry loves me?" Pippin asked hopefully.

The wizard shrugged. "You know he loves you dearly, but I have no idea 
if he cares for you in the same way you care for him. You'll just have to 
ask him and find out."

Pippin shook his head vigorously. "I couldn't. What if he doesn't feel the 
same way and he hates me for the way I feel? I think it will be better for 
me to just leave for Gondor as I had planned."

"I doubt he could ever hate you," Bilbo said, "but he will resent you if you 
don't tell him why you're leaving. Don't you think you owe him at least 
that?"

~*~
 
The next morning, Pippin opened the door to Merry's room and poked his 
head in. "How are you feeling?"

Merry glared at him crossly, but his anger melted into a tired sigh. "Come 
in, Pippin." His young cousin crept gingerly toward him until Merry 
gestured impatiently for him to sit in the chair beside his bed. "No worries, 
Pip. I'll be fine. Master Elrond says there's no permanent damage."

"Oh, I am glad," Pippin replied with relief. "Elrohir told us you were 
attacked by two Men."

"Bree-Men. They gave me a bit of trouble at The Pony, then they followed 
me. I killed one of them and wounded the other."

Pippin's face fell. "Good for you."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I saw them at The Pony right before Gandalf came to my rescue." 
The guilt in Pippin's voice was palpable. 

Merry nodded. "They did mention seeing another large, 'fancy' hobbit."

"Oh, Merry," Pippin cried. "I wish Gandalf had come for you instead and 
I'd been left to face those Men."

Merry took Pippin's hand. "Don't say that. I don't really blame you. You 
didn't intend for it to happen."

Pippin pulled his hand away as if he was undeserving of Merry's comfort. 
"I never intend anything to happen, but it always does!"

Merry ruffled his curls affectionately. "You are a bit of a calamity waiting 
to happen, but that's part of your charm."

Pippin wiped his eyes and grinned sheepishly.

"I'll forgive you if you tell me why you caused all this fuss." Merry took 
his hand again and held it firmly.

Pippin swallowed hard and nodded. "Quite right. You deserve to know."

"Well?"

"Well, I, ah...you see, I didn't intend for it to happen, but, you know...."

"Just say it for pity's sake!"

"I'm in love!" Pippin blurted out.

Merry rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Is that all? Who is she then?"

Pippin looked away. "Someone beyond my reach."

"Is it an Elf-maid or a Woman?" Merry asked.

"No," Pippin replied coyly, "it's a Hobbit."

Merry scratched his chin and thought hard about who it could be. There 
was really no Hobbit lass that was beyond Pippin's reach. He would be 
The Thain one day and inherit a fortune. Perhaps it was someone who was 
unavailable. Perhaps it was a Hobbit-wife! "It's Rosie Gamgee isn't it? 
How could you do that to poor Sam? Oh Pippin, I'm so disappointed in 
you!"

It was Pippin's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Merry. It's not 
Rosie."

The only other lass that came to mind made Merry's blood boil. "Not 
Estella? Because she's my girl, and besides she's too old for you."

"It isn't Estella or any other lass, you great fool!" Pippin exploded. "It's 
you!"

Merry released Pippin's hand, feeling as if his head was suddenly being 
stuffed with lamb's wool. Whatever was actually happening inside his 
skull prevented him from processing what Pippin had just said "What?"

"I'm in love with you, Merry."

Merry laughed nervously. "You're joking, right?"

Pippin's face went ashen, then he forced a mad giggle. "Of course, I am!" 
His lower lip started to quiver and tears welled up in his eyes. "Good one, 
eh?"

Merry's mind continued to reel. It all made sense now, at least in a Pippin-
logic sort of way. "I don't know what to say." All amusement was gone 
from Merry's face. He shook his head, feeling his own heart break at the 
sight of his cousin's devastated expression. "I'm so sorry, Pippin...."

Pippin sprang up, almost knocking the chair over, and ran out of the room.

~*~*~

Chapter Four: Kiss Interrupted

A/N: I think I was channeling Quentin Tarantino while I was writing the 
end of this chapter, so be warned.

Three days after Pippin's startling declaration, Merry was well enough to 
leave his sick room and sit with Gandalf and Bilbo, but he took no interest 
in their conversation. Pippin had not come to see him since he had told 
Merry he was in love with him, but Merry had been informed by every Elf 
in Rivendell that Pippin had asked about his progress so incessantly, even 
the patient First Born were exasperated with him.

Merry looked out over the balcony and watched Pippin sitting outside on 
the terrace overlooking the River Bruinen. Pippin just stared out into the 
water, occasionally banging his head against the wooden railing.

In the past, whenever Pippin was low, Merry had always been able to coax 
a smile out of him and raise his spirits. Now he was the cause of Pippin's 
pain, though he couldn't remember having done anything to lead him on. 
Why did he have to say that? Merry tried to be angry with him, but how 
could he blame Pippin for how he felt? Falling in love wasn't something 
Hobbits, Elves, or Men had much control over. Merry marveled a little at 
his understanding attitude. If any other hobbit lad had said such a thing, 
Merry would have likely pummeled him until the lad in question knew 
better than to say it ever again.

But this was Pippin. He was dearer to Merry than anyone else in the 
world. Sure, he was very fond of Estella Bolger; she was a first-rate lass, 
after all, but no one could replace Pippin. They had been through so much 
together. Bonds like that went deeper than love or friendship. Soul bonds, 
he had heard Aragorn call them. He had every sort of affection for his 
young cousin, except the sorts of feelings Pippin apparently had for him.

Merry left the balcony and sat down, putting up his still-sore leg on a soft 
cushion. He opened a book of Elvish history, then immediately put it 
down again. He couldn't even feign interest. Gandalf gave Merry a 
sympathetic look, but didn't impart any words of wisdom. He had to work 
this out for himself. 

~*~

Pippin couldn't remember eating that day, but he hardly noticed the 
growling in his stomach. He was hanging his feet through the bottom of 
the terrace railing, hoping some fell creature would rise from the depths of 
the river and drag him under, when he heard the sound of irregular 
footsteps approaching. He turned to see Merry carrying a basket in his 
hand and limping. "Merry, you shouldn't be up walking so soon." Pippin 
rose and hurried to Merry, taking the basket and settling Merry on a 
bench.

"Lord Elrond said I should," Merry replied with authority.

"Well, I'm certain he wouldn't approve of you carrying a heavy basket full 
of--" Pippin took a deep breath in through his nose. "Is that mushroom 
pie?"

"Your favorite," Merry said, smiling encouragingly.

"I am feeling a bit peckish." Pippin hesitated, then quickly laid out the 
contents of the basket on the fine linen cloth he spread over the bench. 

"Of course you are. Bilbo tells me you've hardly eaten in days." Besides 
the mushroom pie, there was fruit, cheese, Elven bread, and wine. Merry 
filled a goblet and offered it to Pippin. "This will help whet up your 
appetite, if anything will."

Pippin accepted the goblet and drained it. He savored the warmth that 
immediately filled him, dulling the pain in his heart.

Merry put a restraining hand on Pippin's. "Not so fast on an empty 
stomach."

Pippin nodded as he felt his head swimming from the wine and reached 
for a piece of bread.

"Well," Merry began brightly as he fixed two plates, "I thought we might 
stay here for another few days, and then head back home."

Pippin filled his goblet again, but sipped it this time. "I'm not going back 
to the Shire, not after--what I said."

Merry tried to laugh it off, waving his hand as if that were enough to make 
it go away. "It's forgotten. We'll go back home and everything will be just 
as it was."

Pippin shook his head. He finally brought himself to look at Merry 
directly and knew that his beloved cousin didn't believe that was possible 
either. "I can't un-say what I said. I don't think I want to now that I've said 
it. It's a relief, really, after all this time."

Merry drained his own goblet and traced his finger around the rim. "How 
long--?"

"Ten years, give or take." 

"Ten years?!" Merry sounded flabbergasted and perhaps even a little 
flattered that someone--anyone--could pine for him for so long.

"Do you see why I can't go back? I can't bear the thought of you marrying 
someone, having a family--" Now that he heard the words, Pippin was 
ashamed. "Dreadfully selfish of me, isn't it? I should want you to be happy 
above all else."

Merry put his hand on Pippin's shoulder, causing the younger Hobbit to 
stiffen. Merry withdrew sadly. "I want you to be happy too. Do you really 
think you would find happiness in Gondor?"

"No," he replied quietly. Not without you, Merry.

"Then it's settled. We'll leave for the Shire as soon as Elrond says I can 
travel." Merry put a plate overflowing with food in front of Pippin. "Now, 
you've got to eat so you'll have plenty of strength for the journey."

"But I've spoilt everything," Pippin protested. "I had a tremendous row 
with my father--"

"Don't worry about it now. We'll manage that when we get back." Merry 
handed Pippin a heaping spoonful of mushroom pie. "Right now you've 
got to eat."

Pippin took the spoon and began to eat mechanically, but now even 
Merry's mushroom pie tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Merry took leave of his cousin, hoping he would eat more if Merry wasn't 
there to watch him. On his way back up to the Hall, he encountered Lord 
Elrond. "How is your kinsman?"

Merry glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. "I'm afraid he's 
heartbroken." He looked up at the usually stern elf and saw welcome 
compassion in his eyes. "The worst thing is that I'm the cause of it." 

Elrond inclined his head in understanding. "He will heal in time."

Merry forced a small smile, oddly glad that everyone here seemed to know 
what the trouble was between him and Pippin. It was nice not having to 
explain one's problem over and over again, particularly when it was so 
painful. "I wish there was something for it."

"I'm afraid even the Elves do not possess a charm to heal a broken heart."

Suddenly a solution, albeit a drastic one, occurred to Merry. "But you do 
have other kinds of charms? Like...love charms, for instance?"

The Elf Lord nodded gravely. "I could cast a charm so powerful that you 
would be instantly besotted with young Peregrin for the rest of your days." 
Elrond put an elegant hand on Merry's shoulder. "I doubt your cousin 
would want to win your heart that way, if he truly loves you."

"He does, I'm sure of it." That acknowledgement caused Merry's heart to 
contract, as if in sympathy to the pain Pippin must be feeling. "I love him 
too. I feel as if it's my duty to make him happy."

"You cannot fall in love with someone out of a sense of duty."

Merry turned and gazed at Pippin still sitting by the river. "I know. I just 
wish there was something for it."

~*~

Four days later, Merry and Pippin gave their thanks and said their 
goodbyes to Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Bilbo. Merry promised to visit 
again soon, anxious to take Elrond up on his offer to let Merry use 
Rivendell's extensive library anytime he wished (he had several book 
projects he wanted to do research for).

Pippin was polite, but distant; doing his best to avoid gazing directly at 
anybody and taking an inordinate amount of time checking the tack on his 
pony. Merry sighed. Gandalf patted him on the shoulder and bent down to 
whisper in his ear.

"Sometimes, Meriadoc, when one has struggled with a problem, but no 
clear answers are forthcoming, it's helpful to try and look at the problem 
from another angle." Merry followed Gandalf's gaze to Pippin. "Try to see 
things in a different light."

Merry knew Gandalf was getting at something, but he wasn't quite sure 
what that was. He nodded politely, hoping that the wizard's point would 
dawn on him during their trip west.

The road was quite wide enough for two ponies to ride side by side, but 
Pippin did his best to either remain in front or in back of Merry for five 
whole days.

The atmosphere at camp wasn't much cheerier. They ate their meals in 
unbearable silence and Pippin would plead fatigue if Merry tried to engage 
him in a song or story. On the morning of the sixth day while they ate 
another quiet breakfast, Merry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths 
to prevent himself from screaming out of frustration. What can I do to fix 
this? Gandalf's vague words came back to him unbidden. Look at the 
problem from another angle. Try to see things in a different light.

Merry looked at his cousin, who was turned away from him--another of 
Pippin's new habits. Merry studied his profile and discovered something 
rather surprising: Pippin was fair. As fair as any Elf Merry had ever seen; 
fairer still when he was smiling. He missed Pippin's smile most of all.

Pippin turned and fixed his large green eyes on his cousin. "What is it, 
Merry?"

Merry lowered his gaze, his heart thumping hard in his chest. "W-we 
should move on. We need to reach Weathertop by nightfall."

Pippin nodded curtly and shouldered his pack. 

They arrived at Weathertop after dark and set up camp at the western foot 
of the great hill. Once again they supped in silence. It was much colder 
than it had been in Rivendell, but Pippin insisted on sleeping a Man's 
length away from Merry. It would have been the most natural thing in the 
world for the two Hobbits to huddle together for warmth and comfort, but 
Pippin seemed afraid to even go near him. A horrible thought suddenly 
occurred to Merry. Perhaps Pippin hated him. Well, that just won't do at 
all! Merry rose and bundled his blankets around him; within seconds the 
harsh wind chilled him to the bone. 

Merry scurried across the camp and laid down close beside Pippin, pulling 
his blankets over them both. Pippin awoke and turned on Merry. "What 
are you doing?"

"I'm freezing and so are you. I could see you shivering under your covers." 
Pippin tried to pull away, but Merry swung his feet over Pippin's legs so 
he couldn't move. 

"Get off, Merry!"

"You can hate me if you like, but I'm not going to freeze to death for not 
feeling the way you want me to." Merry removed his feet, hoping that 
Pippin wouldn't bolt to the other side of the campsite. Pippin looked as if 
he was about to cry again. Merry resisted the temptation to ruffle his hair. 

"I don't hate you," Pippin told him. "I could never--"

"Then why are you acting like this?" Merry asked more gently.

"Don't you understand?" Pippin said with anguish in his voice. "Now that I 
know there's no hope...your touch is like torture to me."

"Oh." Merry began to pull away.

Pippin stopped him. "It's all right," he mumbled, then pulled the covers 
over his head. 

Pippin's body did help to keep the cold at bay, but Merry's proximity kept 
Pippin awake for most of the night. Exhaustion finally took the younger 
Hobbit just before dawn.

~*~

"Good Morning, Pippin! Time for second breakfast." Merry smiled down 
at him as Pippin rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sun was well up in 
the sky. It seemed he did indeed miss first breakfast. 

Pippin threw the blankets aside and yawned. "Sorry I slept so late."

"I know you didn't sleep very well, so you can have first and second 
breakfast at the same time if you like." Merry grinned cheerfully, hoping 
his mood would rub off on Pippin. He sliced up half a potato and threw it 
in the frying pan, tucking his eating knife in the sheath sticking out of the 
waistband of his breeches. He handed Pippin a plate filled with cheese, 
Elven bread, and strips of dried pork. 

Pippin's melancholy seemed to lighten at Merry's efforts and he accepted 
the food gratefully. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult lately."

Merry was about to say, 'It's forgotten,' but gave his cousin an 
understanding smile instead. Pippin had been right when he said that 
things would never be quite the same between them, but that didn't mean 
Merry wouldn't do all he could to make things right. But first he needed a 
little information.

He waited until Pippin was quite full and content before he asked his 
question. "So," Merry began casually, "What exactly do lads do--
together?"

Pippin sighed heavily and scrambled to his feet. He started clearing off the 
pans and wooden dishes and shoved them none too gently in his pack. 
"You said before that you wanted to forget what I said. Let's please forget 
it and never speak of it again."

"I didn't mean to upset you," Merry said. "It's just that I hate to see you 
this way."

Pippin turned on him angrily. "I can bear the fact that you don't feel the 
same way about me, but I cannot bear your pity."

Merry went to him and took him by the shoulders. Pippin did not pull 
away, but wouldn't look at Merry either. "It's not pity. I love you, you silly 
fool! Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I'm even asking the 
question?"

"And you would go against your nature to make me happy?" Pippin asked 
it in such a way that said he already knew the answer.

Merry threw up his hands. "I don't know! I just don't want to lose you."

Pippin shook his head, abashed. "You haven't lost me, Merry."

"Haven't I? You're so distant, pushing me away at every turn." Merry sat 
cross-legged by the small fire and motioned Pippin to do the same. "So tell 
me. What do lads do with each other?" Pippin tried to escape from Merry 
again, but Merry grabbed his arm and sat him back down. "Maybe it's 
something I wouldn't mind doing for you. It isn't pity, Pippin. I just want 
you to be happy to be with me again."

Pippin sighed in defeat then gazed at him sheepishly. "To be honest, I 
have no experience in the matter, though I did hear a few things from 
some Gondorian soldiers. I have to warn you, it is a rather rude story."

"I'll be sure to cover my ears at the bad words," Merry said with a grin. 
"Go on."

Pippin blushed furiously. "I was in the mess hall with Beregond. One of 
the soldiers, a big, smelly brute of a Man said, 'I hear them Orcs 
sometimes does take prisoners. Remember Alaric?' The other soldiers 
nodded gravely and several took long draughts of ale as if to steady 
themselves. Of course, my ears pricked up when they spoke of Orc 
prisoners, having been one myself. 'What happened to Alaric?' I asked.

"Beregond shook his head, no doubt trying to protect me from hearing the 
story, but the gesture went unheeded. The Brute said, 'The demons beat 
him nearly to death and then they took him like a lass. Ripped his insides 
they did. He couldn't--" Pippin paused and leaned towards Merry to 
whisper. "shit-- for a month.' 'I don't understand', I said."

"Of course you did, Pip," Merry said, horrified at the story. "You never 
did know when to leave well enough alone." How could Pippin want him 
to do that? Or maybe it was Pippin who wanted to do it to him.

"Just let me finish. Another soldier, by the name of Bran, explained, 'He 
took him up his back passage, if you take my meaning, but he didn't 
grease him up before he did it.' 'What's the grease for?' I asked. Bran 
replied with a terrible leer, 'So's his cock (another whisper) goes in nice 
and easy.'

"'That's enough in front of the little one.' Beregond said with no little 
authority. I replied with as much dignity as the situation allowed, 'I am not 
a child.' 'No, he ain't,' said the Brute. 'He wouldn't be in the service of the 
Steward, nowise.' I smiled at that, but then the Brute turned his drunken 
stare on me. 'Tell us, Halfling. Are all your kind so fair as you?'"

"You are fair, Pippin," Merry interrupted. "Uncommonly so. It's no 
wonder they called you Ernil i Pheriannath, Prince of the Halflings." 

Pippin burst out laughing. Such a name might have been fitting a thousand 
years ago when The Thain ruled the Shire, but now it just sounded silly, 
particularly coming from Merry. "You're shoveling it on a bit thick, aren't 
you?"

"Sorry."

"As I was saying, I felt my ire rising faster than my fear.'My name is 
Peregrin son of Paladin.' The Brute laughed heartily. 'Well, then Peregrin 
son of Paladin, how'd you like to see the business end of a proper man-
cock?' 'Only long enough to cut it off.'" Pippin smiled with shy pride. "The 
soldiers, even the Brute, laughed heartily and left me alone after that."

"Well, Pip," Merry said awkwardly. "I'm proud of you for standing up for 
yourself like that, but what the Orc did to poor Alaric--how could you 
want to do that with me? It sounds beyond dreadful."

Merry could tell by his expression that Pippin suddenly realized how 
inappropriate his anecdote was. "I know it sounds odd, but later on that 
day I found myself thinking of what could have happened to us when we 
were held prisoner by the Orcs, and it was truly horrible, but then I 
thought about you and me in a soft bed, all gentle and sweet, with lots of 
grease and just for a moment I imagined it could be wonderful." Pippin 
lowered his head. "Stupid me, I should have left the other part out, now 
you'll never--not that you would anyway."

Merry tried to imagine them together as he had imagined being with a lass 
a hundred times. It wasn't unpleasant exactly, just strange; a little too 
strange for him to comprehend right now. "I wonder if lads do other things 
that lads and lasses do, like...kissing."

Pippin's breath caught in his throat. "Don't, Merry. For pity's sake, let's 
drop the subject." Pippin started collecting his things and shoved them into 
his pack, but Merry wouldn't give him peace. 

"You're not giving me a chance," Merry said as he turned Pippin to face 
him. "Just one little kiss. It's not just for you--I need to know as well."

Merry inched closer, his hands clutching Pippin's arms. Pippin stiffened 
visibly and shut his eyes and lips tightly, unwilling to take any pleasure 
from the experience. "Relax, Pippin. Give me a chance." When Pippin 
refused, Merry lightly tickled him just below the ribs. It was enough to 
cause Pippin to open his eyes and giggle. 

Merry took the opportunity to press his lips to Pippin's. Merry paid close 
attention to the feelings passing through his mind and body, but Pippin 
withdrew before he could make much sense of it. It certainly didn't feel 
disagreeable, but he remembered kissing his ancient Aunt Euphemia more 
passionately than this.

"Nothing, right?" Pippin said as a sort of challenge.

"How can I tell?" countered Merry. "You're not even making an effort." 

"You want me to make an effort?" Pippin asked, his breath quickening. 
"All right then." Quite suddenly, Pippin slipped his hand on the back of 
Merry's head and covered Merry's mouth with his own. Merry gasped in 
surprised, allowing Pippin to snake his tongue into his mouth with 
surprising expertise. Merry responded with a moan and entwined his 
tongue with his young cousin's, as they embraced each other tightly. 

With every thrust of Pippin's tongue, Merry felt powerful, pleasure-pains 
shooting from his groin, through his stomach and into his heart, making 
him lightheaded. Pippin withdrew, their lips just a hair apart. An aching 
longing threatened to overwhelm Merry, but then he felt Pippin's soft lips 
and teasing tongue trail along his jaw, and up to the sensitive skin just 
behind his ear. "Please, Merry." 

Pippin's plaintive whisper journeyed straight to the depths of Merry's soul. 
The soul-bond they had always shared felt comfortable and safe, but this 
new intrusion was unnerving and filled him with dread. Merry realized 
that, if he chose to wield it, Pippin had the power of life and death, bliss 
and despair over him. Pippin could destroy him utterly or ask him to do 
anything he wished and Merry would be powerless to refuse. 

The sound of a hundred Brandybuck voices reverberating through the 
walls of Brandy Hall warned him that if he gave into Pippin he would lose 
himself. Merry pushed Pippin away almost cruelly. But Pippin was still 
there, inside of his soul even though they were no longer touching. It 
terrified him. "That's enough, Pippin!"

Instantly, the connection was ended and the polite distance in Pippin's 
eyes returned. But more than that, Merry felt an aching void in his heart. 
He realized that when he had ordered Pippin away from him, he had lost 
something more precious than all the Rings in Middle-earth--the part of 
Pippin's soul that belonged to Merry alone; that always had since the day 
his young cousin was born.

"Don't stop now, Halflings. It was jus' gettin' interesting."

Both Hobbits spun around. It was the Man, Deken. He was holding his left 
arm close to his body because of the wound Merry had dealt him, but he 
looked as dangerous as ever wielding a large serrated knife. 

And their short swords still lay on the ground next to their packs. Merry 
made a move to dive for his weapon, but Deken put his boot on the hilt. 
"Not this time, rat. And I don't suggest you run either, or one of you will 
feel this in your back." He grinned evilly. "Something tells me neither of 
you wants to lose the other."

Pippin lowered his head in shame as if it was his fault that their attachment 
to each other was betrayed. 

"I'm going to gut you like a piglet," Deken said to Merry, licking his filthy 
lips. "But first I think I'll have some fun with your little whore." 

Merry was incensed almost beyond words that anyone, even the likes of 
Deken, would dare call Pippin such a thing, but still his stomach trembled 
possessively. He instinctively pushed Pippin behind him. "You'll not lay a 
hand on him!" 

Merry felt Pippin slowly pull the eating knife out of its sheath in his 
waistband, all the while whimpering convincingly. 

"Oi, Merry! Whatever shall we do?" Pippin wailed, dashing out from 
behind his cousin. "Don't hurt him, sir. I'll do anything you want!"

"Pippin, no!" Merry's panic was not at all feigned. He knew Pippin had a 
plan, but that was hardly a comfort to him. And for one insane moment, 
Merry thought now that he had rejected him so completely, Pippin was 
prepared to give himself to Deken!

Deken laughed. "How could I refuse such a delicious offer? Come here, 
little one," he coaxed Pippin in a sing-song voice. "I always liked Halfling 
sluts, most being waist high and all, but I never had a bundle as fine as 
you."

Merry assumed that Pippin had palmed the knife and hidden it in his 
sleeve. Pippin stepped forward slowly and halted in front of Deken. He 
looked up at the Man in that haunting way he had; wide green eyes all 
innocence and charm, almost challenging the recipient of his gaze to 
protect him. Merry strangely hoped it was lost on Deken. 

"If I please you," Pippin breathed, "will you let him go unharmed?"

Deken lowered his blade and stopped unlacing his breeches so he could 
stroke Pippin's smooth face. "Of course, my little beauty." 

Pippin's eyelids fluttered and he pressed his cheek into the Man's touch. 
"Liar." Pippin had said it so quietly that Deken didn't realize the Hobbit 
had spoken until he felt the blade shoved viciously up into his privates. 
"That's for what you did to Merry!"

Deken fell to his knees, clutching his crotch. His mouth flew opened in a 
scream that came out as a strangled gurgle. The Man finally found his 
voice and let out a shriek that could have been heard in Rohan.  

Merry ran for his sword and plunged it into Deken's chest, silencing him 
forever. 

Pippin stood staring at the dead man, shaking violently. "It wasn't nearly 
as satisfying as I had hoped." He began to gag. "Excuse me, Merry. I have 
to throw up second breakfast." Pippin retched behind a tree for a quarter of 
an hour while Merry held his head, crooning softly in his ear, but the 
comfort Merry offered wasn't enough to regain that which he had lost. As 
soon as Pippin recovered, they quickly gathered their belongings. 

Pippin pointed uneasily over his shoulder at the dead man. "I suppose we 
should get your knife."

Merry glanced at Deken, his lifeless eyes wide, still holding his bloody 
crotch and shuddered "That's all right, I'll get another one."

~*~*~

Chapter Five: Lost and Found

A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta!

Merry and Pippin rode along briskly until well past noon, both Hobbits 
trying to wipe the image of the dead Man from their minds. They finally 
stopped to rest and take a quick meal; Pippin ate only a few bites as he 
was still feeling queasy.

"Merry," Pippin began. "About what happened earlier--"

"You did wonderfully, Pippin, I'm proud of you." Merry was sincere in his 
praise, but almost asked Pippin why he had allowed Deken to touch him. 
Unfamiliar jealousy filled the void in Merry's heart. "I'm glad you don't 
have the stomach for killing, but he deserved it for calling you what he 
did." And for touching you.

"That's not what I meant." Pippin paused and looked away shyly. "About 
the kiss..."

"Let's just forget it, all right," Merry said sharply, rising to his feet. "It was 
a stupid idea anyway."

"Your idea," Pippin reminded him. "Tell me Merry, did you push me away 
because you were enjoying it more than you thought you would?"

Merry opened his mouth to voice a vehement denial, but stopped himself. 
"It doesn't mean anything. I know you've kissed lasses and enjoyed it, but 
it never went any further than that. Kissing feels good. Most of the time, it 
hardly matters who's kissing who." Merry didn't believe his explanation 
any more than Pippin did. He felt hollow and lost inside and couldn't 
understand what possessed him to make matters even worse.

Pippin picked up a small stone and threw it into the trees in obvious 
frustration. "Then why use it as some sort of test to see how you feel about 
being with me?"

"You've got to get over this, Pippin," Merry said, purposely avoiding the 
question. "It really will destroy our friendship if you don't."

Pippin blinked away a few desolate tears and stood unsteadily. "If that's 
what you want, Merry," he said numbly, "it's forgotten--once and for all." 

Merry could almost see Pippin drifting away from him even though they 
were standing just a few feet from each other. He heard himself screaming 
inside his head: 'Take him in your arms, you idiot! Tell him how much 
you love him and how much you need him! I need you, Pippin!' All Merry 
managed to say out loud was, "Good." He gave his cousin a masculine 
slap on the back that caused Pippin to stumble forward a few steps. Merry 
mounted his pony and gestured with a nod of his head for Pippin to do the 
same.

Pippin rode next to Merry and did a remarkable job of pretending that his 
heart had not just been torn to pieces by the Hobbit who supposedly loved 
him best. Pippin even made up a song before they arrived in Bree:

Farmer Hobbit was shearin' his sheep
The warm sun a'warmin' and he fell asleep
He kept on shearin' and he cut too deep
Now Hobbit's got no fur on his feet....

"That's horrible," Merry laughed.

"Does that mean you don't want to hear the other twelve verses?" Pippin's 
broad grin didn't carry to his eyes and he spared Merry the rest of the 
song. 

Merry felt tears stinging his own eyes. He wiped his nose vigorously on 
his sleeve to cover it up.

They arrived in Bree and took a room on the upper floor because, 
according to Merry, "The beds are enormous. You can really stretch your 
legs out." Pippin smiled agreeably, but seemed indifferent to everything 
including their accommodations.

The Big Folk paid them little mind and the Bree-hobbits gazed at them 
with more than a little awe, some whispering about Merry's skirmish with 
the now-dead ruffians.

Merry and Pippin sat in the common-room, enjoying several pipes of Old 
Toby and a pint each of The Pony's best. They talked about the weather, 
the ale, the pipe-weed, the possibility of purchasing larger beds for 
Crickhollow, and the upcoming harvest. Their talk was cheerful, but 
superficial, lacking the cozy familiarity they normally felt in each other's 
presence.

When the strain of acting like everything was back to normal got too much 
for Pippin, he rose from his chair. "We should turn in if we're going to get 
an early start tomorrow morning."

Merry forced a smile. "I'll follow you up in a tick." As soon as Pippin was 
out of sight, Merry lowered his head and banged it on the table. 

"Something wrong, Master Brandybuck?" 

Merry looked up into the kind, ruddy face of Butterbur. "Just everything, 
that's all."

Butterbur nodded sympathetically. "I guess you'll be needing another pint 
then?"

"Please." Merry felt a few tears roll down his cheek and he wiped them 
away roughly. Barliman patted him on the shoulder on his way to the bar 
and brought back a brimming tankard a moment later.

So many things had changed for the worse since the last time Merry had 
sat here. When he left the Shire to find Pippin and bring him home, he 
could not have predicted the absolute destruction of everything good 
between them. Merry tried to convince himself that it was Pippin's 
feelings for him that were to blame, but secretly Merry knew it was his 
own deceit that had so completely eroded their friendship.

Merry finally admitted to himself that he had enjoyed Pippin's kiss more 
than he could remember enjoying anything, but terror gripped him again. 
To acknowledge such a shocking thing and to take Pippin for his own 
would likely change the course of his life. And poor Estella! Merry had 
practically proposed to her, but how could he marry her in good 
conscience now that he knew his heart belonged to Pippin?

Merry was beset with grief for the sudden passing of his old life and the 
ache of longing for the one he truly loved. He pushed away the untouched 
pint and ran up the stairs to their room, lest he start bawling in front of the 
Breelanders. He lit a candle and undressed to his linen shirt and breeches. 
Merry watched the rise and fall of Pippin's chest as he slept, wondering 
where his precious part of Pippin's soul was hiding. A little choked sob 
escaped his throat.

That tiny noise somehow rose above the sounds of clinking tankards, 
raucous laughter, and bawdy tunes to wake Pippin. "Merry? What's the 
matter?"

At the worry in Pippin's eyes, the first real emotion he had seen in them 
for days, Merry broke down in tears. "I miss you."

All of their arguments instantly forgotten, Pippin threw the covers aside 
and reached for him. Merry practically jumped onto the large bed and fell 
into Pippin's warm embrace. Merry rested his head on Pippin's shoulder, 
while Pippin stroked his yellow curls tenderly. "I'm right here, Merry."

"No, you're not," Merry cried. "Not in here." He poked his chest.

Pippin gazed at Merry in alarm. "What do you mean?" 

Merry rubbed the tears out of his eyes and sat across from Pippin, grasping 
his young cousin's hands. "When you were born and Aunt Eglantine let me 
hold you, I remember looking into your eyes. They were a sort of dark 
blue, like the night sky, not green like they are now. My mother told me 
that all babies have midnight blue eyes as a reminder that they're a gift 
from Elbereth Herself; stars that She let fall so that they could live on 
Middle-earth."

"You haven't told me that story for ages," Pippin said, poignant tears 
welling in his eyes. "I thought you'd forgotten." 

Merry touched his cheek. "I could never forget that as long as I live. What 
I didn't tell you was at that moment while I was looking in your eyes, I felt 
this essence enter me. It was a little part of your soul, like a birthday gift 
from you to me. I didn't tell you about it because I didn't think I had to."

Pippin smiled. "No, but I would have liked to have heard the story 
anyway. But I still don't understand what happened."

"I can't feel you anymore." Merry began to weep anew. "It happened when 
I pushed you away. I became so aware of you inside of me it frightened 
me and then you were gone. Am I--?"

"Of course." Pippin placed Merry's hand on his heart. "You're always 
there. I'd never let you go no matter what came between us."

"I lied to you." Merry spread his hand over Pippin's chest as if to will his 
part of Pippin's soul back inside of him. "It was the finest kiss I've ever 
been party to." Merry paused waiting for Pippin's spirit to fill his soul 
again, then he looked in Pippin's eyes, panic-stricken. "Nothing's 
happening."

Pippin stroked Merry's face gently and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his 
lips. A small, sweet breath left Pippin's mouth and glided into Merry's as if 
Pippin was breathing life into his cousin. Merry closed his eyes and 
inhaled deeply and felt the glorious, familiar presence fill the empty space 
in his heart. Pippin had used the power Merry had so feared to make him 
whole and happy again. How could he have ever thought Pippin could do 
otherwise?

"Better?" Pippin asked.

Merry responded with a kiss as passionate as their first, his tongue teasing 
Pippin's willing mouth open. Pippin groaned with delight as their tongues 
intertwined. Merry tugged gently at Pippin's silken curls as Pippin ran his 
hands down Merry's back and the curve of his hips. Merry sat further back 
on the bed and pulled Pippin into his lap. Pippin withdrew slightly, 
panting. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want me to stop?" Merry asked in a husky whisper.

"Not really, no," he replied and kissed Merry again. Pippin cried out in 
pleasant surprise when Merry reached underneath his nightshirt and pulled 
it over his head. Merry ran his hands over his bare flesh, his fingers 
circling around Pippin's nipples, then he flicked each with his tongue in 
turn. Pippin buried his fingers in his cousin's hair, instinctively grinding 
his pelvis against Merry's. With a gasp, Merry threw his head back and 
Pippin leaned in for another sultry kiss. 

"Does this mean you're in love with me?" Pippin asked triumphantly, 
already knowing the answer.

Merry wrestled Pippin unto his back and smiled adoringly at his young 
cousin. "More than that; it means that I belong to you and you belong to 
me. That's the way it's always been, but you just figured it out before I 
did."

Pippin giggled gleefully. "And you're supposed to be the clever one." He 
unbuttoned Merry's shirt, then tossed it aside. Even though Pippin had 
seen Merry's bare chest before, he gazed at him awestruck, fingers lightly 
exploring his skin. "All mine," he said with tears in his eyes, as if he could 
hardly believe such a wonderful thing was possible. 

Merry kissed away the tears now streaming down Pippin's cheeks, then 
began exploring every inch of Pippin's torso with his lips and tongue. 
Then Merry hovered above Pippin with a torturous grin as if deciding 
what to do next.

Pippin put his hands on Merry's hips and drew him back on top of him. 
"Don't tease me, Merry." 

Merry's grey eyes clouded over, suddenly serious. "I don't think I'm ready 
to do that thing you mentioned a few days ago," he said breathlessly, 
thrilled at the feeling of Pippin growing hard against his straining groin, 
"but there are other things we could do in the meantime--if you want to." 

"Anything and everything," Pippin moaned, arching his back and pressing 
his pelvis hard into Merry's. 

Merry started to rock Pippin back and forth, the gentle pace soon 
quickened when Merry felt Pippin's full arousal. Pippin gasped out his 
name and threw his arms around Merry's neck. Merry took Pippin's legs 
and wrapped them around his waist. They locked eyes, Pippin melting at 
the self-satisfied expression on Merry's face as he brought him to a 
shattering orgasm. 

"MERRY!"  Pippin cried out louder than he should have, but it was 
drowned out by the clamor in the common room directly below them. 
Pippin kissed Merry's neck, then reached down to cup his cousin's rump 
through his breeches. "Say my name," Pippin hissed, mirroring the 
rapturous look on Merry's face. 

"Pippin," he groaned, increasing the pace of the rhythmic swaying "Oh, 
Pippin! PIPPIN!" Merry arched his back as he climaxed explosively. 
Merry lay panting with Pippin still beneath him. Pippin giggled, quite 
please with himself indeed. 

Merry yawned. "I need a nap--and a bath."

Pippin still had his legs wrapped around Merry's waist and was loath to let 
him go. "But you said you'd show me everything."

"I suppose I did." Merry removed his damp breeches and cleaned them 
both up quickly. Then he told Pippin to lie down on his back. Merry 
started kissing Pippin's lips and neck then made his way downward, to his 
chest and stomach. "This is something Estel--I mean, a certain Hobbit lass 
did for me once." He looked up at Pippin, who seemed a little dubious. 
"Trust me, you'll like it."

Pippin liked it so well he almost fainted when Merry finally reached his 
destination. When Pippin recovered, he reciprocated eagerly. They spent 
most of the night pleasuring each other until they finally fell asleep in each 
other's arms, exhausted.
 
Early the next morning, Merry awoke with his hand in a puddle of sticky 
fluid. He grimaced and wiped his hand on a corner of the sheet that wasn't 
already covered with semen. "Pippin!"

Pippin started awake. "What!"

Merry tried to look severe, but broke out in a lopsided smile. "Look at the 
mess you made last night."

"The mess I made?" Pippin replied indignantly. "I seem to remember you 
having something to do with it."

"Not me. Everyone knows you're the messy one." They laughed and 
wrestled, finding more puddles to roll into, and laughed even harder. 
Merry finally pinned Pippin down and licked the tip of Pippin's nose. 
Pippin pulled Merry down for a deep, good-morning kiss, but his cousin 
pulled away and jumped out of bed.

"Merry!" Pippin cried in aggravation. "Why did you stop?"

Merry gave Pippin a quick kiss as consolation. He then grabbed a towel 
and put it around his waist. "If we start up again we won't get out of here 
before afternoon tea and I want us to reach Crickhollow by the day after 
tomorrow." 

After a welcome bath, they sat in their private parlor and had what they 
had hoped would be a leisurely breakfast, but Nob, the normally friendly 
Bree-hobbit servant, shot them evil stares all through the meal. He gave 
them surly grunts in response to their requests and threw the dishes down 
on the table so hard that there was more food on the floor than on the 
cracked plates. 

Finally, Pippin took his arm and said in his easiest manner, "Something's 
eating at you this morning, Nob. Why don't you take a seat and tell us 
about it so we can enjoy our breakfast."

Nob pulled away and glared at him with undisguised revulsion. "You want 
to know what's eatin' at me? It's unnatural what you was doing last night."

Pippin turned to Merry with panic in his eyes. Merry felt his face flush 
with embarrassment mixed with anger. "What business is it of yours?"

"As it's my job to clean up after you, I'd say it's very much my business. 
And you both fine, gentlehobbits and all." Nob spat on the wooden floor. 
"Going against nature, that is. You'll both come to a bad end because of it, 
mark my words."

"How dare you--!" Merry sprang from his chair and reached for Nob, but 
the Bree-hobbit stumbled backward.

"Who cares what he thinks, Merry?" Pippin said with forced calm as he 
put a restraining hand on Merry's shoulder. "Let's go home."

"That's right," Nob said, "take your evil ways back to the Shire and leave 
decent Bree-folk alone."

Before Pippin could stop him, Merry caught Nob and lifted the Bree-
hobbit by his shirt front far enough off the ground so Merry could look 
him straight in his dull eyes. "Say one word to anyone and I'll kill you. I 
have spies everywhere, I'll know." Merry dropped the trembling Hobbit to 
the floor. Nob half-crawled, half-ran back downstairs.

Pippin gazed at Merry with renewed desire in his eyes. "I didn't know you 
had spies."

"I don't, but that thick-headed rascal doesn't know that." No longer 
hungry, they left their breakfast and retrieved their packs.

"I wonder if our friends will react like that when we tell them." Pippin 
sighed, suddenly afraid. "If we tell them." 

Merry kissed him and stroked his cheek. "We'll tell Frodo and Sam at least 
and hope for the best."

The last leg of their journey took a full day longer than originally planned, 
but Merry and Pippin were anxious to savor their last hours together with 
no fear of discovery before they were subjected to the prying eyes and ears 
of the Shire. 

Merry left Pippin at Crickhollow to get them settled while Merry 
continued on to Brandy Hall. Merry sent one of his young cousins with a 
message to Frodo, letting him know they were safe. He then gathered a 
few provisions and something special for Pippin.

When Merry arrived home--their home, he thought happily--Pippin had 
drawn a hot bath for them both. Fortunately, Pippin had also prepared a 
cold supper for them as well, as neither of them had the energy to cook 
after the relaxing soak. They slept wrapped in each other's arms until late 
evening.

Merry awoke to find Pippin gazing up at him. Merry pulled back a few of 
Pippin's stray curls from his face and kissed him on the forehead. "I have a 
surprise for you."

Pippin raised his head expectantly. "Well, don't leave us in suspense!"

Merry reached under his pillow and pulled out a pretty blue jar. Merry 
swallowed nervously. "It's the oil my mother puts on her feet. I suspect it'll 
do as well as grease and smell better besides."

Pippin sat up as his breathing started to come in short gasps. "You're going 
to take me now?"

Merry winced. "I wish you wouldn't put it quite that way, but yes--if 
you're ready."

Pippin tore off his breeches and shirt, and threw them across the room. He 
then climbed on top of Merry and showered him with kisses.

Merry laughed. "I guess you're ready."

Since the description Pippin had related was so vague, their first 
lovemaking effort consisted largely of trial and error. Merry was grieved 
that he hurt Pippin so much at first, but the pain eventually melted into 
pleasure for them both. 

"I'd marry you if I could, Pippin," Merry whispered as they lay together 
afterward.

"Don't talk about things we can't have," Pippin murmured into Merry's 
chest. "I don't want to think of anything but you and Crickhollow."

Merry stroked Pippin's hair to comfort him, but Merry knew that someday 
the world outside would intrude on their little paradise. For now he was 
content to inhale the sweet aroma of Pippin's hair and skin and enjoy the 
feel of his arms around him. 

During the next week, Merry and Pippin planned a small Homecoming 
Party in between consummating their love in every room of their little 
cottage (not to mention several times in the garden). By mid-afternoon on 
the day of the party, Sam and Rosie Gamgee drove up in a little carriage 
with Frodo; Merry helped Rosie from the carriage and led the three of 
them inside.

Pervinca Took galloped into the garden on a pony a moment later, wearing 
boy's breeches underneath her skirts. 

"No wonder you don't have a husband," Pippin said with a grin as he 
helped Vinca out of the saddle.

Vinca socked him in the arm, then burst into tears and hugged her brother 
tightly.

Pippin patted her on the head affectionately. "I missed you too, Vinca." 

"I wouldn't go near Tuckborough for another year or two, Pippin," she 
sniffed, "but Papa's sure to forgive you eventually." 

Pippin gave her a wry smile. "That's encouraging."

Vinca put her hands on her hips and regarded her brother with feigned 
exasperation. "So, when are you going to tell me why you caused all this 
trouble?" 

Pippin looked into his sister's eyes hoping he had made the right decision 
by inviting her. "Come inside and we'll tell you everything."

The six Hobbits sat in Crickhollow's cozy parlor and chatted about things 
that mattered not at all, then they sat down to afternoon tea in the garden. 
Merry and Pippin were the perfect hosts, providing their friends with a 
delicious meal, as well as the best ale and wine in Buckland. 

After they all had their fill, they returned to the parlor, but the meaningless 
chatter did not follow. They sat in relative silence as the tension emanating 
from Merry and Pippin became palpable. Frodo, Sam, and Rosie were far 
too polite to say anything, but Vinca had no such reservations. "Are you 
going to tell us this big secret or let us sit here until we burst?"

The others started to snicker; even Merry and Pippin cracked a smile. 

"Yes, please tell us," said Frodo lightly, "or you'll be sweeping up pieces 
of Hobbit from now until Yule."

Merry and Pippin stood and looked nervously at each of their friends in 
turn. Pippin took a deep breath and wondered if this would be the last time 
he would see such open smiles on their faces. "I'm sorry for leaving like I 
did and worrying all of you so. The reason I left the Shire was because I 
couldn't--" Pippin faltered and looked to Merry for courage.

"Go on, Pip," Merry said. "It'll be all right."

"I left because I couldn't tell Merry that I was--am...in love with him." 
Pippin stopped to gauge his friends' reactions. Vinca looked rather 
stunned, but Frodo and Sam just smiled encouragingly. Rosie looked as if 
she was about to squeal with delight. Pippin became bolder and took 
Merry's hand. "But then Merry came after me and now we're--"

"Sweethearts," Merry supplied.

Rosie could no longer contain her glee. She sprang off the sofa and 
hugged Pippin so enthusiastically she almost knocked them both over. 
"Oh, I do so love happy endings!" 

"Begging your pardon, Pippin," said Sam, "but when Rosie told me why 
you left...."

Pippin shot Rosie an annoyed glanced. She just shrugged sheepishly.

Sam continued, "What I mean to say is that it don't come as any great 
surprise to those who know and love you well."

"Quite right, Sam." Frodo put a hand on each of his cousins' arms. "And 
we're very happy for you both." Pippin was about to give Rosie another 
withering look when Frodo smiled. "I figured it out on my own after we 
received your letters, Pippin. I'm glad you found each other, as it were, but 
you must be careful."

"We know," said Merry darkly.

"We'll be careful, Frodo," said Pippin.

"I sincerely hope you are." Frodo seemed reluctant to bring the subject up 
on what was turning out to be a most happy occasion, but he must have 
felt it his duty. "You both know as well as I do that there are those who do 
not love you as we do and would take no little pleasure in your disgrace." 
Pippin and Merry nodded knowingly. As heirs to two of the most 
important families in the Shire, they both naturally had a few jealous 
rivals. 

Frodo paused and said with a foreboding tone, "And there are still others 
who would fear your love and would see you both driven from the Shire 
altogether."

Merry and Pippin regarded each other anxiously, but their gloomy 
thoughts were interrupted by a slightly confused Pervinca: 

"When you say 'sweethearts', do you mean that the two of you hide in the 
bushes to kiss each other and things like that?"

Merry tried not to chuckle, but failed. 

"Well," said Pippin, his cheeks turning a bright red, "we don't usually hide 
in the bushes, but yes, that's what we mean."

Vinca wrinkled her nose in disgust. Before Pippin could regret inviting 
her, she said with sardonic grin, "Why would Merry want to kiss you?"

Merry burst out laughing and Vinca looked quite pleased with her little 
joke. 

"Then you don't mind?" Pippin asked. "You'll keep it secret?"

"First of all," Vinca replied, "I hate funerals. Papa would kill you both if 
he found out. Secondly, I have never cared what either of you do as long 
as you wait until I leave to do it."

Pippin glanced at Merry guiltily. Merry started to whistle softly and 
looked up at the ceiling.

Vinca scowled. "Honestly!"

"Oh," said Sam innocently, "that's what you were doing when the two of 
you went to the cellar to fetch more wine, then came back all mussed and 
empty-handed." Rosie grasped Sam's arm and exploded into a fit of 
giggles. Sam went as red as a beet and started snickering himself.

"Thank you, Samwise Gamgee, for the picture that just formed in my 
head." Vinca's distaste softened into giggles. "Now I need more wine to 
wash it out and I'd rather marry Ted Sandyman than go down into that 
cellar!"

Merry was blushing furiously, but happily joined in the absurd 
conversation. "Frodo, I wouldn't sit in that chair either." 

Frodo jumped out of his chair and almost rolled over with laughter. "I 
suspect the two of you have defiled all of Crickhollow by now!"

Pippin went to his sister and covered her ears. "Every last inch of it."

Hobbits didn't normally talk about such intimate matters, particularly in 
mixed company, but they were hardly normal Hobbits and it certainly 
wasn't a normal Hobbity situation. The merriment helped ease the 
awkwardness of all of them having to adjust to Merry and Pippin's new 
relationship.

Merry went to the cellar--alone this time--and everyone had as much ale 
and wine as they could drink. After supper, Vinca (well into her cups) 
quietly admitted to Frodo that Merry and Pippin made a fine couple 
indeed.

The End