Love

I can tell that Merry loves Estella because he goes all glassy-eyed and smiley at the merest mention of her name. It’s not the tightly controlled smirk he usually wears. That smile hides his feelings behind perpetual amusement. This one is gentler, softer and spreads over his face like the morning sunshine. Sam says it’s about time Merry settled down. Sam’s usually right about such things. I try to be happy for him, but my heart feels like the world is twisted and if I’m not quick, Merry will be lost to me.

Sam says sometimes love feels like that.

Night

It came in the night.

Run away.  No matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the thought.  Could not shake the feeling of the earth pounding under his feet.  Every gasped breath would slake his thirst, ease his chest. 

He wondered if he could stretch out his arms and be caught on the wind if he ran fast enough.  Maybe he could fly.  The Shire was too small for such wild thoughts and his eyes turned ever to the road to Gondor.  Perhaps if he set down that path it would continue forever.  Maybe he would find eternity.

Grief

Is this grief?  Is it the little fluttering in his stomach whenever his mind turns to Moria?  Or is it the dull ache that sits heavily in his chest?  He shivers under the warm elven blankets and weeps to be whole again.  Wishes to be home again.  He feels his cousin’s hand rub soothingly over his back, but it does nothing to dispel the cold that catches his breath in his throat.  His tears seem to freeze on his cheeks and he cannot even move to wipe them away.

“Everything will be right,” Merry whispers into his ear.

Will it?

Questions and Answers

When Frodo was young, he thought that his parents’ voices lived on the wind.  He would climb the tallest tree in the orchard and sit for hours, straining his ears.

Bilbo once told Frodo that ancestors lived in memories.  Frodo took two of Bilbo’s journals and three weeks, filling page after page with his cramped, hurried script.

Long after he had stopped searching, the elves of Rivendell told him tales of the West and Lord Elrond took him aside, showing him a chest full of letters that all began with “My Dearest Celebrian.”

Frodo smiled and listened to the wind.

Merry and Pippin

When Pippin was an infant, he spent his nights crying. Merry and his parents arrived from Buckland to find two sleep deprived, desperate adults and one squalling boy. As four bemused parents stood by, Merry picked up the baby, sang him a lullaby and rocked him to sleep.

In the fields of Cormallen, Pippin woke up screaming from his nightmares and refused to go back to sleep. For two days the healers fed him medicines that never made his eyes close, until Merry could obey the summons of the king. Merry arrived, cradled his boy despite the healers' outcry, sang him a lullaby and rocked him to sleep.

During the long days in Gondor, when Merry could no longer move without pain, Pippin sat beside his cousin by the fire and watched as Merry struggled to keep his eyes open and spoke in an ever diminishing voice. When the sun sank low and the fire grew bright, Pippin helped Merry back to bed and covered them both with a blanket. Then Pippin held Merry in his arms, sang him a lullaby and rocked him to sleep.

One Thing That Never Happened to Bilbo Baggins

Bilbo was weeding his garden when the first dwarf came toiling up the hill to Bag End.  He didn’t think much of it until the second and third dwarves passed and that so shocked Bilbo that he rocked back on his heels and the trowel fell right through his fingers.  Odo Proudfoot might lack in hobbit sense, but surely he knew better than to bring dwarves around for tea! 

When Gandalf came striding along, rounding out the twelve dwarves, Bilbo abandoned his gardening completely and scurried inside.  This smelled of adventure and Bilbo would have nothing to do with it.

Written for Marigolds challenge #5 which can be found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/talechallenge05/

Title is taken from a poem by Robert Frost.

Into My Own

Pervinca had been waiting all night for her little brother to appear and when he finally did, she nearly missed him.  Pippin strode by with long, sure steps, tall and gruff and sad in a way that worried Pervinca.  She tumbled out of her hiding place and ran after him.

“Pippin, wait!” she called.  Pippin shook his head without slowing.

“Not now, Vinca,” he said.  Pervinca ignored him and reached out to snag his arm.  She was a Took after all, and as stubborn as they come.

“Wait Pippin,” she repeated, “I want to talk to you.”  Pippin turned and looked down at his sister.  She nearly gasped at the spasm of fear that crossed over his eyes.  Why should he be afraid to speak with her? 

“I can’t talk to you,” Pippin said.

“Why not?” she demanded, ire rising in her voice.  Pippin growled and whirled around, stalking away again.

“Because you wouldn’t understand!” he yelled back at her over his shoulder.

“And I never will understand unless you explain it to me!” Pervinca yelled right back.  Pippin paused, turned and came back to her.  Gently, he held her face in both his hands and looked straight into her eyes.  Pervinca’s eyes widened as she realized her brother was about to be totally and completely open and honest with her.

“It doesn’t belong here,” he said gently.  With a soft kiss to her forehead, Pippin disappeared into his room, leaving his sister staring after him, alone in the middle of the dark hallway.

Smeagol and Deagol

The two cousins roll at their grandmother’s feet, dirty from a day’s adventuring and full of tales. 

“We went to the caves today,” Smeagol tells her eagerly.  She tries to hide her worried frown. 

“Why did you do that?” she asks, indulging her grandchild.  Smeagol smiles his winning smile at her.

“Because I wanted to,” he says simply. 

“We went to the caves today,” Deagol says to her, more calmly that Smeagol, “And on the way back I picked you some daisies.”  He holds up a fistful of rather battered flowers.  Smeagol rolls his eyes and digs at the ground.

 “Do you know Smeagol has never gone fishing?” Deagol says to her, “One day, I will take him fishing.”