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This story was written for Marigold´s Challenge 39. The starter was to write a story based on a quote from a book that was not written by Tolkien. My quote was: “A long time ago, there lived an old poet, a thoroughly kind old poet. As he was sitting one evening in his room, a dreadful storm arose without, and the rain streamed down from heaven; but the old poet sat warm and comfortable in his chimney-comer, where the fire blazed and the roasting apple hissed.” From “The Naughty Boy” by Hans Christian Anderson Pip & Plum Betaread by: Llinos and Marigold
A comfortable warmth fills the room. Shadows dancing on the wall, thrown by hungry, flickering flames, that change their victims into grey ash and glowing fire, mercilessly following their nature and still without evil will. The odour of fresh fir needles, that found their tomb also in the greedy red mouths, lie in the air. I am stretching myself cosily on the soft fur in front of the fireplace. With half-closed eyes I am dosing, my old bones sighing contentedly and my tired paws are resting, having earned their rest after all the many, many years full of adventures that are lying behind me in the fields and woods of my home. Day after day I greet the light with the voice given to me and night after night I greet the dark and my songs mix with the great chorus of the world. I am grateful for every moment that is allowed to me. The rest of the house lies cold and dark outside the room that I claim for myself. My Master sleeps wrapped up in a blanket next to me. His legs pulled near to his body, his head resting on his hands. But his sleep is not peaceful. As dark clouds outside swallow the starlight, so black shadows cover his face. The wind drags with all its power at the leaves of the trees in front of the smial. Memories torture his mind and shake his body. I cannot understand them, they are too big for me, but I can feel the fear that he carries inside. The rain beats pitilessly against the window and washes the dirt of the day away. Tears flow down his cheeks and I hope that they are relieving and that they do take away some of the filth of the passed year with them. A loud thunderclap! A loud scream! The harsh lightening illuminates the night. His eyes catch the light of the flash and he sits up breathing heavily. He leans trembling against a nearby armchair. The wind howls. Sobbing drowns out the pleasant cracking and rustling of the fire. I stand up and press myself against his legs. He feels my soft fur and a hand strokes over my head. I purr and climb up into his lap. Gentle paws massaging his tense body. He smiles at me and his tears disappear. The rain is quieter. I feel how he becomes calmer and how my warmth drives away the cold that has wrapped around his heart. The storm eases. Together we are sitting by the fire and following our own thoughts. His head falls sideway and he dives again in the world of dreams. But this time no evil hands stretch out for him and disturb him. I keep watch. No storm shall reach him again, here with me, at the warm fireside, in the protection of the smial. He has always taken care of me, since he found me as a small bundle of fur, alone and abandoned under the tall plum trees. And I take care of him. You are safe my Master. Sleep well.
The End
Pip & Plum
Eine wohlige Wärme erfüllt den Raum. Schatten tanzen an der Wand, geworfen von hungrig, züngelnden Flammen, die ihre Opfer in graue Asche und glühende Glut verwandeln, gnadenlos ihrer Natur folgend und doch ohne bösen Willen. Der Duft von frischen Zedernnadeln, die ihr Grab ebenfalls in den gierigen, roten Mündern gefunden haben, liegt in der Luft. Ich räkel mich behaglich auf dem weichen Lammfell vor dem Kamin. Mit halbgeschlossenen Augen döse ich vor mich hin, meine alten Knochen seufzen zufrieden und meine müden Pfoten haben sich eine Rast verdient von den vielen, vielen Jahren voller Abenteuer, die hinter mir liegen in den Feldern und Wäldern meiner Heimat. Tag für Tag begrüße ich mit der mir gegebenen Stimme das Licht und Nacht für Nacht begrüße ich das Dunkel und meine Lieder vermischen sich mit dem großen Chor der Welt. Dankbar bin ich für jeden Moment der mir gegönnt ist. Der Rest des Hauses lieg kalt und dunkel außerhalb des Raumes, den ich für mich beanspruche. Mein Herr liegt in eine Decke gewickelt neben mir. Seine Beine an den Körper gezogen, seinen Kopf auf seinen Händen ruhend. Doch sein Schlaf ist nicht friedlich. So wie dunkle Wolken draußen das Sternenlicht verschlucken, treiben schwarze Schatten über sein Gesicht. An den Blättern der Bäume vor dem Smial zerrt der Wind mit ganzer Macht. Erinnerungen quälen seinen Geist und schütteln seinen Körper. Ich kann sie nicht verstehen, zu groß sind sie für mich, doch ich spüre die Angst, die er in sich trägt. Der Regen schlägt unbarmherzig gegen die Fenster und wäscht den Schmutz des Tages davon. Tränen fließen seine Wangen herunter und ich hoffe, das auch sie erleichtern und den Dreck des vergangenen Jahres mit sich nehmen. Ein lauter Donnerschlag! Ein lauter Schrei! Ein greller Blitz erhellt die Nacht. Seine Augen fangen das Licht des Blitzes ein und er setzt sich schwer atment auf. Er lehnt sich zitternd gegen einen nahestehenden Sessel. Der Wind heult. Schluchzen übertönt das angenehme Knacken und Rascheln des Feuers. Ich stehe auf und drücke mich an seine Beine. Er fühlt mein weiches Fell und eine Hand streicht über meinen Kopf. Ich schnurre und klettere in seinen Schoß. Sanfte Tatzen massieren seinen angespannten Körper. Er lächelt mich an und seine Tränen versiegen. Der Regen wird leiser. Ich spüre wie er ruhiger wird und wie meine Wärme die Kälte vertreibt, die sich um sein Herz gelegt hat. Der Sturm lässt nach. Gemeinsam sitzen wir beim Feuer und hängen unseren Gedanken nach. Sein Kopf fällt zur Seite und er taucht wieder ein in die Welt der Träume. Doch dieses mal sollen sich keine bösen Hände nach ihm ausstrecken und ihn stören. Ich halte Wache. Kein Sturm soll ihn mehr erreichen, hier mit mir, am warmen Kamin, im Schutz des Hauses. Er hat sich um mich gekümmert, seit er mich damals als kleines Fellbündel alleine und verlassen unter den großen Pflaumenbäumen gefunden hat. Und ich kümmere mich um ihn. Du bist in Sicherheit mein Herr. Schlafe gut.
Ende
Summer’s Day Dream Betaread: Cuthalion and Llinos
He looks silently over the wide landscape. Silver pearls between green and shadow, singing their song. A gentle hand, gliding over smooth stone. An eternal caress. An eternal music. So lovely, like warm breath on sensitive skin. A light summer breeze makes his ruddy brown curls dance. Like scraps of a far away time the wind blows memories into his heart. His eyes begin to see the Once upon a Time, his ears begin to hear it, his nostrils fill with it, and his skin feels the warming sunbeams of then. Laughing. Joyous shouting. Untroubled. Bare feet on fresh grass. Little hands in refreshing water. The smell of wild camomile floating in the air. A composition of happiness. He didn’t notice that he has been wandering. Sighing, he sits down at the edge of the little brook and leans over to watch the silvery mirror. A smile plays around his lips when he looks into the sparkling, green eyes gazing back at him. The face of a child. He reaches out, but he is unable to keep it, to touch, to hold. Tiny waves shatter the image until nothing remains but the eyes of Now. They have seen so much pain, so much fear and malice. His soul hurts. He feels the sand ... soft... golden... centuries old. How many things has it seen? Many feet must have walked over it. It has run through open hands, toes have dug into it… generations of life within the current of time. The sand runs through his hands, like in the past. And still, it is not the same. These hands have killed. Still the sand runs until there is only a tiny grain left. Is this all that remains of his childhood? So far away, and yet it seems to be only yesterday. He hears happy laughter, and his gaze turns to the opposite bank of the slowly flowing waters. His eyes seem to stare into space unseeing, and still colourful images fill his mind. There they run and play. A blond, curly head, followed by a small lad. He lifts him up, whirls him around through the air. – Laughter, as clear as the burbling of the brook. Dancing sun upon their faces, softly stroking the perfect, youthful skin like a whispering of silk… light and shadow in joyous game. Bright blue eyes full of loving warmth, full of joy and life are watching the lads. A hearty laughing mingles with their own. He blinks a tear away. The colours fade. The pictures pass away, vanishing into thin air…like the morning-dew, burned away by the first rays of the sun. The sound of laughter, the echoes of the past soften more and more until they fall silent. He buries his face in both hands. Tears wash the last grain of sand away. He feels an arm slip around his shoulders. Looking up, his eyes meet eyes so changed that he is not sure any longer if he knows them at all. He looks deeper. Behind the shadow the past is alive. The love, the warmth, the care - it is still there. A timeless smile, bound never to leave.
The End
Sommertagstraum
Schweigend schaut er über das weite Land. Silberne Perlen zwischen Grün und Schatten singen ihr Lied. Sanfte Hand gleitet über glatten Stein. Eine ewige Liebkosung, eine ewige Musik, so lieblich wie warmer Atem auf empfindsamer Haut. Ein leichte Sommerbrise lässt seine rotbraunen Locken tanzen. Wie Fetzen einer vergangenen Zeit weht der Wind Erinnerungen in sein Herz. Seine Augen beginnen das Damals zu sehen, seine Ohren es zu hören, seine Nase es zu wittern, und seine Haut spürt die wärmenden Sonnenstrahlen von einst. Lachen. Fröhliches Schreien. Unbekümmert. Nackte Füße auf frischem Gras. Kleine Hände im erfrischenden Wasser. Der Duft von wilder Kamille schwebt in der Luft. Eine Komposition des Glücks. Er hat gar nicht gemerkt, dass er gewandert ist. Seufzend setzt er sich an den Rand des kleinen Baches und beugt sich über den silbernen Spiegel. Ein Lächeln umspielt seine Lippen, als er in die funkelnden, grünen Augen schaut, die zu ihm aufblicken. Das Gesicht eines Kindes. Er greift danach, doch es lässt sich nicht festhalten. Feine Wellen verzehren das Bild, zurück bleiben die Augen des Jetzt. Schmerz haben sie gesehen und so viel Furcht und Boshaftigkeit. Seine Seele tut weh. Er fühlt den Sand... weich... golden... Jahrtausende alt. Was hat er wohl alles gesehen? Viele Füße müssen über ihn gegangen sein. Zehen haben sich darin vergraben, er ist durch Hände gerieselt. Generationen von Leben im Strom der Zeit. Der Sand rinnt durch seine Hände, genau wie damals. Und doch sind es nicht dieselben. Diese Hände haben getötet. Der Sand rieselt, bis nur ein Körnchen übrig bleibt. Ist das der Rest seiner Kindheit? So lange scheint sie zurückzuliegen, und doch ist es erst wie gestern. Er hört glückliches Lachen und schaut zum anderen Ufer des langsam dahinfließenden Gewässers. Sein Blick scheint ins Nichts zu gehen, und doch füllen bunte Bilder seinen Geist. Da laufen und spielen sie. Ein blonder Lockenkopf, gefolgt von einem kleinen Jungen. Er hebt ihn hoch, wirbelt ihn durch die Luft. – Lachen, so klar wie das Plätschern des Baches. Das Licht der Sonne tanzt auf ihren Gesichtern, umschmeichelt die perfekte kindliche Haut wie mit weicher Seide, Licht und Schatten im wohligen Spiel. Blaue Augen voller Wärme, voller Freude und Lebenslust blicken auf die Jungen. Ein herzhaftes Lachen mischt sich mit dem ihren. Er blinzelt eine Träne weg. Die Farben verblassen. Die Bilder vergehen, lösen sich auf, dem Morgentau gleich, der den ersten Sonnenstrahlen begegnet. Das Lachen hallt nach…leiser und leiser wird das Echo der Vergangenheit, bis es verstummt. Er vergräbt sein Gesicht in die Hände. Tränen waschen das Sandkorn davon. Er spürt einen Arm, der sich um ihn legt. Er blickt auf. Seine Augen treffen auf Augen, die so verändert sind, dass er nicht sicher ist, ob er sie kennt. Er blickt tiefer. Hinter dem Schatten lebt das Einst. Die Liebe, die Wärme, die Fürsorge - sie ist geblieben, ein zeitloses Lächeln, das niemals vergeht.
ENDE
Good Bye Darling Beta: Pearl Took
Merry whistled as he walked up the path to Bag End. He was in Hobbinton with his parents and because they were busy with a lot of boring shopping he had decided to pay his older cousin a visit. While he walked there, happily enjoying the warm sunbeams on his skin, he suddenly noticed a sad voice talking in a steady monologe. He looked around and spotted Sam, who was standing in Bag End's vegetable garden, looking at something that he was holding in both hands while talking to it. “You poor little thing. I am so sorry! Oh why, oh why. You should have been growing strong, you should have been happily drinking water, feeling the sun and the wind. I have failed you, oh dear little darling. . .” He went on and on and Merry felt his heart became heavier. Maybe poor Sam had lost a pet? Merry jumped over the fence that formed the border between the path and the garden and walked up to Sam, wanting to offer him a comforting shoulder. He laid a hand on the other hobbit's back. Sam turned around, startled. “Mister Merry? What are you doing here?” “Hullo Sam, I am visiting Frodo, but then I heard you and . . . I am really sorry Sam, that you lost your darling. Can I do anything for you?” Sam sighed heavily and shook his head. “Nothing can be done Mister Merry.” Merry tried to look into Sam's now closed hands. “What was its name?” he asked. “Oh," Sam said, "I had no name for it. But I had hoped so much that it would grow into a tall plant with plenty tomatoes to share.” Merry looked bewildered at Sam. “Tomatoes?” Sam noded and opend his hands. A small plant was lying inside, dry and dead. Sam looked at it sadly and sighed again deeply. Merry stared at Sam for some moment before mumbling to himself. “And people say folks in Buckland are odd!”
The End AN: Pearl and I talked about Ghosts and because that became so scary something was needed to get the mind of it. So we gave each other a little challenge. Two characters ( Sam and Merry for me), three words ( I got water, fence and tomatoes) and 10 minutes time. Just a bit fun! *L*
Auf Wiedersehen, Liebling Merry spazierte pfeifend den kleinen Pfad nach Bag End entlang. Er war mit seinen Eltern in Hobbingen. Da diese jedoch damit beschäftigt waren viele uninteressante Einkäufe zu tätigen, hatte Merry sich entschlossen seinen älteren Cousin zu besuchen. Während er glücklich dahinschlenderte und die warmen Sonnenstrahlen auf seiner Haut genoss, vernahm er plötzlich eine Stimme, die einen traurigen Monolog hielt. Er schaute sich um und entdeckte Sam, der im Gemüsegarten von Bag End stand und während er redete, auf etwas in seinen Händen schaute. “Du armes kleines Ding. Es tut mir so leid! Oh warum nur, warum. Du hättest groß werden sollen, du hättest Wasser trinken sollen, dich hätte die Sonne wärmen sollen und der Wind hätte dich streicheln sollen. Ich habe versagt, oh mein kleiner Liebling....“ Sam redete und redete und Merry fühlte wie sein Herz immer schwerer wurde. Vielleicht hatte Sam ein geliebtes Haustier verloren? Merry sprang mit einem Satz über den Zaun, der den Pfad von Garten trennte und ging zu Sam, in der Hoffnung, ihm ein wenig Trost spenden zu können. Er legte eine Hand auf die Schulter des anderen Hobbits. Sam drehte sich erschrocken herum. “Herr Merry? Was tut ihr denn hier?” “Hallo Sam, ich komme um Frodo zu besuchen, aber dann hörte ich dich sprechen...es tut mir so leid Sam, dass du deinen Liebling verloren hast. Kann ich irgendetwas für sich tun?“ Sam seufzte tief und schüttelte seinen Kopf. „Es kann nichts mehr getan werden, Herr Merry.“ Merry versuchte einen Blick in Sam´s Hände zu werfen, doch diese waren nun geschlossen. „Wie hieß es denn?“ fragte er. “Oh, “ erwiderte Sam,” Ich habe ihr keinen Namen gegeben. Aber ich hatte so sehr gehofft, sie würde zu einer großen, starken Pflanze werden und uns viele Tomaten bringen.“ Merry schaute Sam verwirrt an. „Tomaten?“ Sam nickte und öffnete seine Hände. Eine kleine Pflanze lag auf seinen Handflächen, trocken und tot. Sam schaute sie traurig an und wieder verließ ein Seufzer seine Lippen. Merry starrte Sam einige Momente ungläubig an und murmelte schließlich leise zu sich selber. „Und die Leute sagen wir Bockländer seien seltsam!“
- Ende -
A Dangerous Mission
Beta: Pearl
The aroma of cinnamon fills the smial. It creeps up my nose and, if my nose had ears, it would have heard a sweet voice whisper: “Find me, take me, taste me.” Well my nose has no ears, but I do what it tells me to anyway. Or at least I try too. The first order, “Find me,” is no trouble at all and the last one, “Taste me,” would also be an easy thing to do, if only there wouldn´t be the middle one, “Take me!” Between fulfilling that desire of my nose and his companion that has joined him shortly after, called tummy, stands ONE thing. One might be a small number, but sometimes it can be more than an army of hundreds. About what are we speaking of here you wonder? A big dragon with mighty fiery breath? Or a fierce two headed dog with sharp teeth? No, let me assure you, it is far worse! A cruel creature it is. It has no sympathy for the needs of a hungry tweenager. It guards its territory with wakeful eyes. And not just with the two on the front, no! It also has eyes in the back of its head. Its weapons are terrible and not to be overcome, but desperate as I am, near starving to death, only bones and skin, I nevertheless gather all my courage together and walk right into its domain. It does not turn around to me, but I know, that it knows I am there. The eyes in the back of its head are fixed on me. Still I try to be brave and sneak forward, step by step, till I finally reach the table and on it, my goal. Two dozen warm, golden little cakes spread with cinnamon. My mouth starts to water and my tummy grumbles. I stretch out a hand…and then it happens. It turns around. A frying pan in its hand, it stares at me and opens its mouth. I know my last hour is near. My hands tremble and I regret to die without tasting one of those delicious looking cakes. I fall to the ground. My body twitches a last time, then the strength leaves my starving body and I lie still. I hear a sigh and I open one eye just a wee bit to see it standing over me, rolling its eyes. “Alright, Master Pippin” it says. “You can take one of the cakes. But the rest are for tea. Mister Frodo and Mister Merry would be quite put out, if they don’t get any.” I feel the strength returning to me and jump to my feet. I grab one of the cakes before it can change its mind and run out of the kitchen. “Thanks Sam.” I shout, before disappearing around a corner.
- The End -
AN: This is another fast written story with elements given by Pearl. Elements: Pippin and Sam/ Eyes in the back of his head. Pearl betaread it, but I just now changed some small bits on it, because after I translated it to German, it just seemed to fit better and I hope it is still correct English now. If its not, then its my fault and please tell me.
Eine gefährliche Mission Der würzige Geruch von Zimt breitet sich im Smial aus. Er kriecht meine Nase empor und wenn meine Nase Ohren hätte, hätte sie eine liebliche Stimme flüstern gehört: „Finde mich, nimm mich, schmeck mich.“ Nun gut, meine Nase hat keine Ohren, aber trotzdem tu ich natürlich genau das, was sie mir sagt. Zumindestens versuche ich’s. Der erste Befehl „Finde mich“ ist nicht sehr schwer umzusetzen und auch „Schmecke mich“ stellt eigentlich keine große Schwierigkeit dar, wenn denn da nicht noch die Mitte wäre, „Nimm mich!“ Zwischen der Erfüllung dieses Wunsches meiner Nase und ihres Kameraden, der sich ziemlich schnell zu ihr gesellt hat und den Namen Bauch trägt, steht EINE Sache. Eins mag eine kleine Zahl sein, aber manchmal ist eins mehr, wie eine Armee aus Hunderten. Über was spreche ich hier, fragt ihr euch? Über einen großen Drachen, der einen gewaltigen Feuerstrahl ausstoßen kann? Über einen wilden, zweiköpfigen Hund mit messerscharfen Zähnen? Nein, glaubt mir, es ist viel schlimmer! Eine grausame Kreatur ist es. Sie empfindet kein Mitleid für arme, hungrige Tweenager. Sie bewacht ihr Territorium mit wachsamen Augen. Und nicht nur, mit denen, die sie vorne hat, nein! Sie hat sogar Augen am Hinterkopf. Die Waffen der Kreatur sind schrecklich und nicht zu bezwingen, aber in meiner Verzweiflung, dem Hungerstod so nahe, nur noch Haut und Knochen, wage ich es, nehme meinen ganzen Mut zusammen und betrete das Revier meiner größten Angst. Die Kreatur dreht sich nicht um, und doch weiß ich, das sie weiß, das ich da bin. Die Augen an der Hinterseite ihres Kopfes sind auf mich fixiert. Trotzdem versuche ich mutig zu sein und schleiche mich voran, Schritt für Schritt, bis ich endlich den Tisch erreiche auf dem es liegt, mein Ziel. Zwei Dutzend warme, goldgelb gebackene, kleine, mit Zimt bestreute, Kuchen. Mir läuft das Wasser im Mund zusammen und mein Bauch brummelt. Ich strecke eine Hand nach den Leckerein aus...und dann passiert es. Die Kreatur dreht sich um. Sie hat eine Bratpfanne in der Hand, starrt mich an und öffnet den Mund. Ich weiß, das meine letzte Stunde geschlagen hat. Meine Hände zittern und ich bereue zu sterben, ohne wenigstens einen der kleinen Küchlein probiert zu haben. Ich falle zu Boden. Mein Körper zuckt ein letztes Mal, bevor jegliche Kraft aus mir rinnt, dann liege ich still. Ich höre ein Seufzen und öffne ein Auge einen winzig kleinen Spalt. Die Kreatur steht über mich gebeugt und rollt mit den Augen. “Na gut, Herr Pippin” sagt sie. „ Du kannst dir einen Kuchen nehmen. Aber der Rest ist für später. Herr Frodo und Herr Merry wären gar nicht begeistert, wenn sie nichts mehr abbekommen würden.“ Ich spüre, wie die Kraft zurück in meinen Körper fließt und springe auf die Füße. Ich schnappe mir einen Kuchen, bevor die Kreatur es sich anders überlegen kann und renne aus der Küche. „Danke Sam,“ rufe ich, bevor ich um die Ecke verschwinde.
- Ende -
The flute
Betaread by Pearl Took
Soft, as though borne on the wings of doves, the melody floated through the cold night air. Over grass and tree, over sea and mountain, up to the glittering stars high above in the dark sky. The sleeping birds in the trees stuck their heads out of their feathers in wonder and a small, red fox in the wood stopped in his nightly wanderings and pricked up his ears. Longing and sadness sounded in the high and deep tones of the song and lay heavily, like dark veil, over the hearts of the listeners. An old mouse came crawling out of his hole and looked with big questioning eyes at the creature that stood, not far away, in the shadow of a big oak tree playing a small, silver flute. Cautiously the mouse came nearer. He paused and looked around, noticing that he was not the only one listening. Other animals, big and small, were sitting near or next to the flute player, listening to the music. The mouse stopped in front of two woolly hair covered feet and looked up. “Why are you so sad?” it squeaked, but its question stayed unanswered. ********** At another place, far away, two pairs of eyes gazed over the seemingly endless ocean. “Do you hear it Gandalf?” Gandalf nodded. “Yes, Frodo. I hear the sadness, the longing, and the pain in his playing.” “Was it a mistake? To leave them I mean.” Gandalf softly put a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “No. You had to leave and they understand your decision. But healing needs its time.” “I just wish I could help them heal, like the Elves are helping me to heal.” Frodo murmured silently.
*********** The old mouse and the other animals that had gathered around Pippin scurried away when a second woolly footed creature approached. Merry, clad only in his nightshirt and bathrobe, cautiously stepped up to Pippin and put one hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Pip?” he asked. “What is it?” Pippin let the flute sink, following it with his eyes until he was looking at the ground, but said nothing. Merry noticed that Pippin was trembling because of cold. He took off his bathrobe and put it over Pippin’s slim shoulders. “Come on Pip, let us go inside,” he said, but Pippin didn´t move. Instead he looked up to the clear sky, sprinkled with stars. “Merry?” he asked. “What do you think Frodo is doing right now?” Merry gave Pippin a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t know…. Maybe, at this exact moment, he is looking at the same stars above and thinking about you, just like you are thinking about him.” “Do you think he is happy, there where he is?” “Yes Pip. I think he is. I believe, he is finding healing there.” They stood awhile in silence as each of the cousins followed their own thoughts. “Merry?” Pippin suddenly asked again. Merry looked expectantly at his friend. “Am I selfish?” “Where did you get an idea like that?” “Because I wish so much that Frodo would still be here in the Shire, with us . . .” Merry hugged Pippin with one arm about his shoulders. “No Pip, you are not selfish. You just miss Frodo. We all do.” Pippin’s eyes wandered again to the stars. But Merry’s gaze went earthward. He caught a touch of starlight glinting off of the silver flute in Pippin’s hand. He could still hear its melody in his head. It seemed to still hold him in its melancholy spell. “Where did you get that flute, Pip?” “Gandalf gave it to me shortly before the siege began in Minas Tirith.” “Really? I have never seen you with it before, nor have I heard you playing it before tonight . . . yet . . . the music you played somehow seems to be so familiar to me, as if I have heard it many times before.” Pippin smiled at Merry. “Maybe that is because you really did hear it many times already. This is a very special flute.” *********** Pippin looked at the silver flute in his hands as he gently caressed the cool, glittering surface. “A special flute, Gandalf? It is beautiful, but why is it special?” Gandalf knelt down in front of the Hobbit and put both his hands on the lad’s shoulders. Guilt started to float through him as he looked into the eyes of his young friend. He saw heaviness and sadness in them. These were eyes that had seen fighting and terror. These were now the eyes of a soldier. He remembered the past, when a happy little Hobbit lad had jumped laughing into his arms, his head full of mischief and his trouser pockets full of dainty morsels that he should not have. In his memory the youngsters’ eyes were filled with dancing sunlight. Gandalf sighed and Pippin looked at him questioningly. “Gandalf?” “It’s nothing, my lad. It is alright. I was just thinking about something.” “This flute,” Gandalf came back to the original topic, “is something very special, because it plays what you feel in your heart. Also, anyone whose heart is bound with yours can hear the music over any distance, no matter if there are mountains or ravines, or yes, even oceans between your hearts . . . the music of this flute will find its way. Pippin stared at the flute in wonder. “Does that mean that . . .” Gandalf nodded. “Yes. Through the music you play on this flute you will always be with Merry or Frodo or Sam, or with anyone else who is dear to you and you to them.” ********** Tears were standing in Merry’s eyes. “Now I remember.” He whispered, awe touching his voice. “Yes. I have heard it in my dreams, and it was with me when I was riding into war.” He faltered. “You were with me.” Pippin smiled at his cousin. “Yes . . . . and-and . . . maybe . . .” “Maybe Frodo can hear it too, there, where he is now?” Merry asked. Pippin nodded, but then blushed as he looked to the ground. “That’s foolish of me, isn’t it? Gandalf said that distance would not matter, but Frodo is not even in Middle Earth any longer. How could he . . .” Suddenly Pippin stopped and listened. His eyes grew huge as he faintly heard a happy melody, like a memory of happy days, floating to his ears on the breath of the wind. “Merry, can it be? Is that . . .” Merry laughed. “Frodo!” he cried. “Yes Pippin, it is Frodo.” Pippins heart gave a happy jump. He put the flute to his lips and started to play a lively little tune. On the other side of the ocean, and beyond, Frodo laughed happily as he looked gratefully up at Gandalf. “Thank you, my friend,” He said before putting the flute again to his lips, once more joining Pippin in their song. Gandalf smiled and far away in Bag End, a smile was brightening the peacefully sleeping face of Sam as a softly hummed melody floated off his lips.
The End AN: On the Yahoo group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LOTR_Community_GFIC/ under Files/ Goldens Stories you can find an "amateur audio book" of this story, that includes the melody Pippin is playing for Frodo and other music. Borrowed from an ST episode and a scottish Cd, that I found fitting for my needs. ;)
Die Flöte
Sanft, wie auf den Schwingen von Tauben getragen, schwebte die Melodie in die Nacht hinaus. Über Grass und Baum, über See und Berg bis hinauf zu den funkelnden Sternen am Himmelszelt. Die schlafenden Vögel in den Bäumen steckten verwundert ihre Köpfe aus dem Gefieder und auch der kleine, rote Fuchs im Wald hielt in seiner nächtlichen Wanderung inne und spitzte die Ohren. Sehnsucht und Schwere klang in den hohen und tiefen Tönen mit und legte sich wie ein Schleier über die Herzen der Zuhörenden. Eine alte Maus kroch aus ihrem Loch und blickte mit großen, fragenden Augen, die Gestalt an, die nicht weit entfernt im Schatten eines Baumes stand und auf einer kleinen, silbernen Flöte spielte. Vorsichtig krabbelte die Maus näher heran und bemerkte, das sie nicht die einzige war, die zuhörte. Auch andere Tiere, groß und klein, saßen über und um den Flötenspieler herum und lauschten der Musik. Die Maus blieb vor zwei, mit lockigem Haar bedeckten, Füßen stehen und schaute auf. „Warum bist du so traurig?“ quiekte sie, doch ihre Frage blieb unbeantwortet. *********** An einem anderen Ort, weit entfernt, blickten zwei Paar Augen auf den unendlichen Ozean hinaus. „Hörst du es, Gandalf?“ Gandalf nickte. „Ja, Frodo. Ich höre die Trauer, die Sehnsucht und den Schmerz in seinem Spiel.“ „War es ein Fehler? Sie zu verlassen meine ich.“ Gandalf legte Frodo sacht eine Hand auf die Schulter. „Nein. Du musstest gehen und sie verstehen deine Entscheidung. Doch Heilung braucht Zeit.“ „Ich wünschte nur, ich könnte ihnen dabei helfen, so wie die Elben mir helfen.“ murmelte Frodo leise. ********** Die alte Maus und die anderen Tiere, die sich um Pippin herum versammelt hatten, huschten schnell davon, als eine weitere Gestalt sich nährte. Merry, nur in seinem Nachthemd und Bademantel bekleidet, trat vorsichtig an Pippin heran und legte ihm eine Hand auf die Schulter. „Pip?“ fragte er. „Was ist es?“ Der Angesprochene ließ die Flöte sinken und blickte zu Boden, sagte jedoch nichts. Merry bemerkte das sein Cousin vor Kälte zitterte. Er zog seinen Bademantel aus und legte ihn um Pippins dünne Schultern. „Komm Pip, lass uns ins Haus gehen.“ sagte er, doch Pippin rührte sich nicht und schaute stattdessen hoch in den klaren Sternenhimmel. „Merry?“ fragte er. „Was denkst du macht Frodo gerade?“ Merry gab Pippin einen Kuss auf die Stirn. „Ich weiß nicht.... Vielleicht denkt er in genau diesem Moment an dich, so wie du an ihn, und schaut zu denselben Sternen auf.“ „Glaubst du er ist glücklich dort in der Ferne?“ „Ja, Pip, ich glaube das er das ist. Ich glaube, dass er dort Heilung findet.“ Eine zeitlang herrschte Schweigen zwischen den Cousins und jeder hing seinen eigenen Gedanken nach. „Merry?“ fragte Pippin plötzlich wieder. Merry schaute seinen Freund abwartend an. „Bin ich egoistisch?“ „Wie kommst du darauf?“ „Weil ich mir so sehr wünsche, das Frodo noch hier bei uns im Auenland wäre.....“ Merry drückte Pippin an sich. „Nein, Pip, du bist nicht egoistisch. Du vermisst Frodo einfach. Wir alle vermissen ihn.“ Pippins Augen wanderten wieder zu den Sternen hinauf und Merrys Blick fiel auf die silberne, im Sternenlicht glitzerne Flöte, die Pippin in der Hand hielt. Er konnte die Melodie immer noch in seinem Kopf hören. Sie schien ihn in einem schwermütigen Zauber gefangen zu halten. „Wo hast du diese Flöte her Pip?“ „Gandalf hat sie mir geschenkt. In Minas Tirith, kurz vor der Belagerung.“ „Tatsächlich? Ich habe sie noch nie zuvor bei dir gesehen oder dich vor heute Nacht auf ihr spielen gehört...und doch...diese Musik, sie erscheint mir so vertraut, als ob ich sie schon sehr oft gehört hätte...“ Pippin lächelte Merry an. „Vielleicht, weil du sie wirklich schon oft gehört hast. Dieses hier ist eine besondere Flöte.“ *********** Pippin blickte die silberne Flöte in seinen Händen an und strich über die glatte, kalte Oberfläche. „Eine besondere Flöte, Gandalf? Sie ist wunderschön, aber wieso ist sie besonders?“ Gandalf kniete sich vor dem Hobbit nieder und legte ihm seine Hände auf die Schultern. Schuld breitete sich ihn ihm aus, als er in die Augen seines jungen Hobbit Freundes blickte. Schwere und Traurigkeit sah er in ihnen. Dies waren Augen, die Kampf und Terror gesehen hatte. Die Augen eines Soldaten. Er erinnerte sich an früher, als ein kleiner, glücklicher Hobbitjunge lachend in seine Arme gerannt kam, den Kopf voller Flausen, die Hosentaschen voller Leckereien, in dessen Besitz er nicht hatte sein sollen. In seiner Erinnerung waren die Augen des Jungen gefüllt mit tanzenden Sonneschein. Gandalf seufzte und Pippin schaute ihn fragend an. „Gandalf?“ „ Nichts, mein Junge. Schon gut. Ich dachte nur an etwas.“ „Diese Flöte“, griff Gandalf das eigentlich Thema wieder auf, „ist etwas besonderes, weil sie nur das spielt, was du in deinem Herzen fühlst. Und jedes Herz, welches mit dem deinem verbunden ist, kann die Musik über jegliche Entfernung hinweg, wahrnehmen. Egal ob Berge oder Schluchten, ja sogar Ozeane zwischen den Herzen liegen.... diese Musik findet ihren Weg.“ Pippin starrte in Wunder auf die kleine Flöte. „Soll das heißen, das....“ Gandalf nickte. „Ja. Durch die Musik dieser Flöte bist du immer mit Merry verbunden und auch mit Frodo oder Sam. Mit einem jeden, der dir teuer ist.“ ********** Tränen standen Merry in den Augen. „Jetzt erinnere ich mich.“ Flüsterte er, mit ehrfürchtiger Stimme. „Ich habe sie in meinen Träumen gehört und sie war bei mir als ich in den Krieg ritt.“ Er stockte. „Du warst bei mir.“ Pippin lächelte seinen Cousin an. „Ja...und..und... vielleicht...“ „Vielleicht hört Frodo sie jetzt auch, dort wo er ist?“ fragte Merry. Pippin nickte, schaute dann jedoch zu Boden und errötete. „Das ist dumm von mir nicht wahr? Gandalf sagte zwar das die Entfernung keine Rolle spielen würde, doch Frodo ist nicht einmal mehr in Mittelerde und...“ Plötzlich hielt Pippin inne und lauschte mit großen Augen der fröhlichen Melodie, die wie eine Erinnerung aus glücklichen Tagen auf dem Atem des Windes an seine Ohren getragen wurde. „Merry, kann es sein? Ist das....“ Merry lachte auf. „Frodo!“ rief er. „Ja Pippin, das ist Frodo.“ Pippins Herz machte einen Sprung vor Glück. Er setzte seine Flöte an die Lippen und begann eine lebhaftes kleines Lied zu spielen. Auf der anderen Seite des Ozeans begann Frodo glücklich zu lachen und blickte dankbar zu Gandalf auf. „Danke, mein Freund.“ sagte er, bevor auch er seine Flöte wieder an die Lippen setzte und in Pippins Lied einstimmte. Gandalf lächelte und weit entfernt in Beutelsend erhellte ein Lächeln das Gesicht des friedlich schlafenden Sams und ein leises Summen verließ seine Lippen.
Ende
AN: I lost a bet against Pearl. ;) So here is what she won. The elements she wanted includet were: Flowers, Pippin, puffy clouds, having a wish come true.
A wish comes true
A new day, wearing a dress of silver dew droplets, climbed down from the skies. Gently she brushed her fingertips over the red, yellow, blue, white and violet buds of the sleeping flowers. “Wake up, my darlings. The sun invites you to celebrate this newborn day with her.” The day rose up and the last puffy clouds in the sky gave way as the sun beams entered the world. The day spread out its warming arms and a concert of lovely bells seemed to accompany the gesture. “Today is unique, as was Yesterday and as Tomorrow will be. Let us celebrate together the beauty of this world. Flowers, grass, trees, birds - all living things - celebrate your life together. You are all invited!” the day cried joyously to the world. Pippin stood speechless, gazing at the beautiful event before his eyes. His heart filled with warmth. During the war, there had been moments when he had lost the faith that he would ever again be allowed to see the magic of the beginning day. And now he was standing here in Ithilien. The war was won and his injuries were nearly healed. “A wonder!” the Hobbit whispered with awe. Tears of joy were running over his still pale face as, laughing, he walked out on the colourful meadow to embrace the new day.
-The End-
Ein Wunsch wird wahr Ein neuer Tag, geschmückt mit einem Kleid aus silbernen Tautropfen stieg vom Himmel herab. Vorsichtig strich er über die zarten roten, gelben, blauen, weißen und violetten Köpfchen der schlummernden Blumen. „Wacht auf, meine Lieben. Die Sonne lädt auch ein, den heutigen Tag mit ihr zu feiern.“ Der Tag richtete sich auf und die letzen Wölkchen am Himmel wichen vor ihm und machten den Sonnenstrahlen platz. Der Tag breitete seine wärmenden Arme aus. Ein Konzert aus lieblichen Glöckchen schien diese Geste zu begleiten. „Das Heute ist einzigartig, so wie es das Gestern war und das Morgen sein wird. Feiern wir alle zusammen die Schönheit dieser Welt. Blumen, Gräser, Bäume, Vögel und all ihr Anderen, feiert eurer Leben miteinander. Ihr seit alle eingeladen!“ rief der Tag in die Welt hinaus. Pippin stand sprachlos da und betrachtete das wunderbare Schauspiel vor seinen Augen. Sein Herz füllte sich mit Wärme. Während des Krieges hatte es viele Momente gegeben, da hatte er nicht daran geglaubt jemals wieder die Magie des erwachenden Tages sehen zu dürfen. Und nun stand er hier in Ithilien. Der Krieg war gewonnen und seine Verletzungen waren beinahe verheilt. „Ein Wunder!“ flüsterte der Hobbit voller Ehrfurcht. Tränen der Freude liefen ihm über das noch blasse Gesicht und lachend ging er hinaus auf die Wiese, um den neuen Tag zu umarmen. -Ende-
AN: Dear Pearl, I know you wanted a story with Pippin riding a pony in autumn. Somehow a story wouldn´t come, so I made a poem out of it. It might be a wee bit "denglish", but I hope you like it. Happy very belated birthday!
An Autumn Ride ( as seen by Peregrin) for Pearl Took ***
I´m riding on my faithful pony Through a world of falling leaves, I lift my head and stare in wonder At the everlasting trees. ***
Tall and proud they stand around me Like the greatest kings of old, Breathing in still warming sunbeams Wearing crowns of red and gold. ***
I listen and hear them whisper Of the joys that they have seen, I shut my eyes and sing with them Remem´bring summers that have been. ***
A wind comes up, my mare trots faster Through the rainbow on the ground That dances laughing all around us Filling woods with happy sound. ***
A leaf sails past me, clad in yellow Waving a last Good Bye at me, Then it turns to meet his fellows Trav´ling with them far and free. ***
My heart follows and I wonder What adventures will they meet In the world behind my homeland On the path of Elven feet? ***
The sun turns red and all around me Trees shine in a magic light, Bursting flames of peaceful fading Greeting the incoming night. ***
The air gets cold and first stars sparkle In skies of blue and black and grey, I´m riding home, smiling contently, Grateful for this autumn day. ***
The End
AN:I still have some stories, that are not posted on SOA yet. Actually I wanted to post them also in English and German. But the German equivalents are not totally done, because after I made changes in the English stories I did not do them in the German ones. Some stories are a year old, mostly stories from challenges, so now I decidet to post them only in English and maybe adding the German ones later, should I ever find the time to bring them up to date so to say. ;) So thats the reason why you will find no German equivalent to the next stories. Just telling you, so you ( especially Andrea *g*) don´t wonder. This story, when I remember right, was one of the smallish personal Challenges Pearl and I did for challenging each other. It was fun to write it, because we played the Game ourselfes and those were sentences that came out of it. Also thank you to Pearl for betareading it afterwards! Elements I had to include were: Frodo, Pippin, Merry, A rainy day, a warm cosy fire, a game, hot buttered scones A Lesson with Cousin Frodo It was a rainy day outside. Rain drops fell heavily from grey, deep hanging clouds onto the already muddy ground, and it did not seem as if they would stop falling anytime soon. “When will it finally stop raining?” Pippin asked disgruntled. “It’s been raining forever!” “I don´t know Pip, but since it is still raining, we may as well get back to your lessons. You still have some writing to do,” said Frodo, massaging his temples. His head had started to hurt some time ago. This had been the tenth time today, that Pippin had tried to get a “small rest from his hard labour.” The problem was, that every demanded rest was barely more than 5 minutes apart. “Why do I have to do lessons and Merry doesn’t?” Pippin asked sullenly, looking over at Merry who was lying, sprawled out on a blanket before the warm cosy fire in the fire place, with his nose stuck in a book. “Without even looking up, Merry only mumbled. “I am doing something educational, Pip. Besides, I had to do the same lessons at your age. So don’t complain, just get it done.” Pippin stuck his tongue out at Merry and turned back to Frodo. “Frooooooooodooooo,” he whined, “can´t we do the writing tomorrow. My hand hurts!” Frodo yawed. “Pip you tried that excuse already.” Pippin glared at Frodo, then his expression softened. “I am really hungry.” “You are always hungry.” “But Froooodoooo….. my stomage hurts. Owww. “ Pippin said holding his stomach. “I have cramps. I really cannot sit down and practice writing.” “Pippin.” Frodo said sternly. “Owwww!” Pip was holding his head now. “And my head…hurts…owww… I feel so dizzy…so weak…I think I shall faint any moment now.” “Peregrin!” There was a definite note of warning in Frodo’s voice. Pippin stumbled through the room, one hand on his head, the other on his stomach. Merry was rolling his eyes at his cousins antics, but he had to hide a chuckle as well because Pippin was a really good actor. Suddenly Pippin’s body went limp and he fell down on the floor. Frodo sighed. “Peregrin, get up!” Pippin weakly held up an arm. “C-can´t. N-no strength. Need marmalade . . . a-and S-Sam´s hot . . . buttered . . . scones and tea.” Frodo’s face was showing signs of defeat. Again he reached to massage his temples. Slowly shaking his head, he looked at his little cousins body on the ground and then at Merry, who just shrugged his shoulders. “How will this lad ever learn his letters,” Frodo thought, “and all the other important things a gentlehobbit needs to know when he has such a poor attitude towards learning?” While still staring at the small hobbit on the floor before him, an idea started to form in his mind and his eyes started to twinkle. “All right!” Frodo said aloud. “We will have tea now.” “We will?” Merry and Pippin both asked astonished. Merry put his book down and Pippin sat up. Some time later they sat around a little table and enjoyed their tea and scones, cakes and cookies, and other nice dainties. When the edge had been taken off their hunger, Frodo asked, in a tone that was a little too innocent, “How about playing a game while we fill up the corners?” Merry knew this tone in Frodo’s voice and looked up questioningly, but when Frodo winked at him, he knew whatever Frodo had in mind was directed at Pippin. Pippin, however, was oblivious to that fact and nodded excitedly at the prospect of playing a game with his older cousins. “Oh yes Frodo!” the child exclaimed. “A Game! What a splendid idea! What game are we playing, Frodo?” “Well,” Frodo said, “the game is called ‘Uncle Otto sits laughing in his bath tub’.” That sounded like a fun game to Pippins ears. “All right,” he said eagerly, “How does one play?” Frodo stood up. Getting some paper, quills and ink bottles from the desk, he set them on the table, then started to explain. “Each of us writes a bit of a sentence, but the others do not get to see what has been written. The first one puts down who the sentence is about, like ‘Uncle Otto’ in the name of the game. The next player puts what they think that person is doing, is he sitting or drinking or gardening for example. Then the next player writes how he is doing what he is doing, is he laughing or crying while he is sitting or gardening; whatever comes to your mind. Then, since there are three of us, the one who wrote first writes where the person is. Like in the bathtub or on a pony or out in the fields. Then comes the really fun part, the last player reads the made up sentence out loud.” “Sounds fun!” Merry said, his eyes now twinkling like his older cousin’s. “Doesn’t it, Pip?” Pippin nodded. Yes! I start!” Frodo handed Pippin some paper. “You write your part here, and then fold it, so I cannot see and then I will write the next part and give it to Merry. Pippin thought for a moment, grinned and started to write. After the first paper had made its way around and back to Pippin, he opened it and began to read. “Frodo sniffs self . . . selfishly . . . ewww,” Pippin said giggling. “What? What’s written there, Pip?” Merry asked curiously. “BOOT!” Pippin spat out. “Frodo sniffs selfishly in a boot!” Frodo scrunched up his nose and all of them laughed. So the afternoon continued. “Cousin Ilbiric bites irritably in the basket.” “Cousin Bilbo dreams faintly in a lasses dress.” “Merry steps crazily on a cow-pat.” These and other sentences were the result of Frodo’s smart little game. The cousins had a lot fun on this rainy afternoon and not once did Pippin complain. Frodo chuckled. Who ever would believe that Pippin actually had fun writing and reading. Sometimes, wonders do happen.
The End
Fluff-bunny: Pippin is a new uncle doting over his new niece or nephew.
For Barb and betaread by Barb Thanks!
When Pippin hisitated she said in her best teasing tone. “Come on! You aren´t afraid of a little babe, are you?” Sleep, baby, sleep! Sleep, baby, sleep!
Pippin glanced back over his shoulder and saw Merry sitting there in dejection. “Poor Merry!” Pippin thought. “ He can´t have any nieces, since he´s an only child! Maybe I should let him help with the baby, too!” He grinned. “I´m sure he´d like to change nappies!”
************** The next morning: “Ui, Pippin, hold up her head a little higher, will you? She getting water in her nose!” “Oh, alright Merry!” “Now look at these small feet!” Merry said smiling, taking one foot in his hand. “Aren´t they cute?” “And have you seen Merry, she already has some curls on there too! She will have the most beautiful feet ever, all hairy and nice!” “Of course she will. She is my little cousin, once removed.” Merry declared proudly and bent down to give little Emmi a gentle kiss on her forehead.
The End
AN: * First three translated verses of an old german cradle song. Sorry for the poor formation. Somehow this sides hates me today and just refuses to do what I want. *pouts*
The Challenge from Celeritas was to write a story without Pippin in it. Pearl providet me with the elements: Legolas and Gimli. a leaf, rain, pebbles, spider web Thanks also for the beta. :) I put this story to the Pippin stories, as I don´t think it needs an own section... I like writing Pippin/ Hobbits just better. *g*
Bitterness dissolves I am old. I was here, before all the rest. I was one of the first. I was very small in that days long passed. Now I am tall. I feel like I might touch the clouds itself with my leaves at times and as if I soon might shake hands with the sun. You see, I have been here in Fangorn Forest for truly a long time, but never in all my many decades have I seen such a strange, but happy, sight. An elf and a dwarf, together on one horse were passing by me yesterday. I heard them long before I actually saw them, for the horse kicked with his hoofs pebbles from the ground and stepped on many dry sticks, that broke under its weight and the elf and the dwarf were singing from battle and from victory, in between laughing gaily. “Gimli, my friend,” the elf spoke, isn´t it wonderful! Look around you. These trees are the ancient kings of their kind. They are beautiful, are they not?” The dwarf huffed, but then smiled. “Aye, friend Legolas, they are indeed impressive. I can see now, why you like living in the woods. And in some ways it even reminds me of home.” “It does?” asked the elf curious. “In what ways?” “See that spider web over there?” the dwarf responded. “The raindrops caught in it sparkle like silver does, deep in the mountains, when the light of my lamp shines upon its surface.” The elf smiled. “That sounds like a nice place to visit. And visit we will it, like I promised to do.” With a nod the dwarf confirmed and then he started singing again in his deep rumbling voice, fast joined by the soft, clear voice of the elf. I smile. It was nice to hear such a chorus of friendship, especially between two so different. Maybe the world is not a bad place after all, also not for a tree.
The End
WARNING! ANGSTY AU STORY/ CHARACTER DEATH
The biggest fear Beta by Dreamflower :)
It was a day like every day. Birds were singing their songs, the wind rushed high in the green crowns of the trees and the river rolled along under the friendly gaze of the sun, as he had always done. Merry took a deep breath and filled his lungs with fresh air. He smelled breakfast cooking and he heard Pippin laughing about something; probably about the squirrels that were living on the tree next door, he thought. Every morning since they had been living at Crickhollow the squirrels had shown up, chasing each other about on the trunk of their tree and every morning Pippin had found them highly amusing. Merry smiled. That his cousin could find so much joy in the simple things of life, after all that had happened, warmed his heart, like the sun in the sky warmed the skin on his face. The cousins ate their breakfast as they did every day, teasing one another as was their custom and then, while Merry started cleaning up, Pippin went out to the ponies, going on a morning ride with his grey steed. Merry saw Pippin waving to him with a smile on his face and waved back. “Sticky buns for second breakfast?” he called to him. “As always” Pippin shouted back, laughing as he vanished from view. Half an hour later the pony came racing back…. but her back was riderless. It was a day like every day. Birds were singing their songs, the wind rushed high in the green crowns of the trees and the river rolled along under the friendly gaze of the sun, as he had always done. Merry took a deep breath and stared out the kitchen window. The squirrels were chasing each other, as they always did, but the Hobbit could feel no joy. It was a day like every day, but not for him. It was a day without Pippin's laugher. A day without his Pippin in his world.
The End |
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