Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Trust a Brandybuck and a Took!  by Grey Wonderer

A little birthday fiction for Danachan . Merry and Pippin in Minas Tirith.

"Facing The Storm"

Pippin sat up in the bed, sleep still clinging to his eyelids and pulled the covers to his chest. There it was again; a loud menacing rumble. It was dark, it was late and outside a battle raged. Pippin shivered as the room filled with bright flashes of light and then almost instantly became dark again. It was so dark that Pippin could not see his shaking hands in front of his face.

Another loud ear-assaulting bang was enough to send Pippin beneath the covers. He pulled the blankets over his head and sat shivering in the dark. When would the battle end? He frowned as a small part of his reasonable mind returned to him and he realized that the battle had ended. It had ended weeks ago in fact. He was in Minas Tirith now and in spite of the way things sounded at present, peace had come again to Middle earth. Frodo had succeeded in his quest and they had all survived.

Slowly Pippin lowered the blankets and peered out into his room. It was a storm. It was a fierce one to be sure but it was only a storm. As if attempting to assert it’s power over him the storm produced another loud blast of thunder and without realizing that he was doing it Pippin crawled from his bed and with his feet still tangled in his blankets he fell to the floor with a soft thud. Pippin struggled to free his feet and legs from the twisted mass of bed linen that he had dragged off of the bed with him as lightening filled the room.

By the time the thunder sounded again Pippin was on his feet rubbing his hip where he was certain a large bruise must be about to blossom. The beds in Minas Tirith were uncommonly high off of the floor and all of the floors were made of stone. Pippin winced at his luck. Just when most of him had finally turned a proper color again he could now expect a blackish purplish mark to form on his hip. Most of his bruises from his unfortunate adventure in troll-slaying had faded but now he was to have a new one from a fall out of bed. Brilliant, Pippin!

Another loud crack of thunder convinced Pippin that he needed to seek distraction. The storm was making him entirely too jumpy. He felt as if he were under attack. Flashes of memory filtered through his mind and brought back terrible images of Minas Tirith wreathed in smoke with everything burning and everyone shouting and running and fighting. As lightening filled the too-large room again, Pippin spotted his trousers on the floor where he had discarded them and he snatched them up and hurried from his room into the common sitting room that the hobbits shared. The big folk of Gondor, in an effort to make the hobbits comfortable, had given them far too much space in which to roam about. Pippin would have been happier if they had all been crowded into one little room but the people of Minas Tirith sought to show the hobbits their respect and gratitude. They wanted to give their honored heroes all the comforts that they might expect in a foreign land.

The parlor into which Pippin had fled was too large also but the homes of men had to be large. One didn’t call them ‘The Big Folk’ for no reason after all. They were all uncommonly large. Pippin looked about the huge room and spotted the glowing embers in the fireplace. Pulling his trousers on as he went Pippin made his way over to the small fire and stood next to it. It was strange that he was drawn to the fire when fire was the very thing that had filled his unpleasant thoughts earlier. Still, this was a hearth fire and it held memories of family and friends and warmth from cold winds. It was neither a battle fire nor a funeral pyre like the one that Lord Denethor chose to build.

Pippin shivered again and the thunder cracked yet again sending Pippin running from the room and into Merry’s room. Without giving it a thought, completely by habit, Pippin charged into Merry room and was standing beside of his cousin’s bed before he managed to stop himself. He’d been inches away from climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over his head. He stood like a statue next to Merry’s bed now, the great feather mattress pressed against his chest and his hands fisted at his side. He was holding his breath and he stood staring at Merry’s back watching the rise and fall of his older cousin’s even, peaceful breathing.

“Something you wanted?” Merry asked quietly not bothering to turn and face Pippin.

Pippin didn’t answer. He just stood there trying not to make a sound. Maybe Merry hadn’t actually seen him. Maybe Merry didn’t really know it was him. Maybe Merry was talking in his sleep.

“Just come in to watch me sleep?” Merry asked when Pippin didn’t respond.

A loud crack of thunder sounded at that moment and Pippin’s breath became ragged and he reached up and clutched the bed sheets with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. Merry turned over slowly and when the lightening swept through the room he saw Pippin’s pale face. “Pippin, get into the bed,” Merry said gently.

“I’m fine,” Pippin said stubbornly though nothing could have been further from the truth. He was frightened half out of his wits and embarrassed beyond words, which, for a Took, was very embarrassed indeed.

“Pippin, please get into the bed,” Merry said gently. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Another loud bang of thunder sounded at that moment and as if propelled by a catapult, Pippin leaped into the bed and flung himself beneath the covers. Merry wouldn’t have thought Pippin capable of moving that fast since he knew that Pippin was still healing from his battle injuries but Pippin had sailed into the bed as if he’d had wings. Merry felt Pippin’s shaking form inch close to him and he put his arm around his cousin and said, “It’s only a storm, Pip. It’ll be gone before you know it.”

Pippin shook slightly and mumbled, “Some brave Knight of Gondor I’ve turn out to be.” Then in a very tiny voice just above a hoarse whisper Pippin said, “Did I wake you?”

“No, I heard the storm,” Merry lied, smiling slightly in the darkness. The sound of Pippin’s feet racing across the stone floor had been what had actually disturbed his sleep but he thought it best not to say so.

“Well, at least I haven’t gone and spoiled a good night’s rest for you,” Pippin said in a nervous whisper.

“No,” Merry agreed patting Pippin’s shoulder and feeling his younger cousin tense as another round of thunder and lightening ensued. “It’s quite a storm.”

“I’m an idiot,” Pippin said between gritted teeth.

“What’s your point?” Merry asked jokingly in the hopes of lifting Pippin’s mood.

“I can’t be afraid of storms. I’m too old for that at least,” Pippin sighed sounding very frustrated. He reached up with one hand and tugged at his short curls.

Merry chuckled softly. “You are never too old to be frightened. Everyone is frightened of something. I’m afraid that if you keep pulling your hair that way it will all fall out. You can’t stretch it and make it longer you know.”

“It feels unnatural this short,” Pippin said. “My ears show and the back of my neck gets cold.”

“It will grow,” Merry said firmly. “They didn’t have any choice but to cut it. It was rather full of dried, smelly troll’s blood from what I’ve heard. I’m told troll’s blood isn’t at all easy to wash out of hair. It’s sticky and foul smelling. Frankly I suspect that if it had been anyone else save you, they’d have cut it all off. Be very thankful that you don’t look like a peeled onion about now, Peregrin.”

“I’m thankful,” Pippin sighed though he didn’t sound as if he were. “I know full well that they were far too busy putting me back together to worry over-long about my curls but it still feels unnatural.” Another blast of thunder made Pippin go quiet and Merry could feel him shaking.

“Well, you know there is an old wives’ tale that says your hair grows while you sleep,” Merry said. “Perhaps if you would sleep more and run about the room less your hair would grow faster.”

“I did wake you!” Pippin said embarrassed. “Oh, Merry, I’m sorry. I never meant to come in here. I don’t know why I did. I got up and went into the parlor. All I meant to do was to distract myself from the storm until it was over but the thunder was so loud and I was in here before I knew where I was going.”

“It’s all right,” Merry said gently. “I’m quite used to you turning up during storms. I will admit that over the past few years you haven’t turned up nearly as often but I haven’t forgotten.”

“No, I suspect you haven’t,” Pippin sighed, his voice filled with regret. “I suspect that you wonder if I shall ever out-grow this madding fear of storms so that you can sleep in peace. I suspect that you wonder when I plan to act my age. I worry about that last one myself sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that,” Merry said. “I’ve worried that you’ve been forced to act much older than you truly are during all of this. The war has taken what was left of your childhood and I fear that there is no way for any of us to bring that back. We are all much older than we look now.” Merry’s voice was calm but there was a sadness to it that ran deep.

“I don’t feel old just now,” Pippin said. “I feel foolish and small for coming in here and waking you and for wishing that you could make the storm go away.”

Merry grinned. “When you were very little you would come flying into my room and throw yourself into my bed and cover your ears with your hands. You’d say, ‘Make it stop, Merry. Make the storm be gone.’ And I’d feel brave and important.”

“You would?” Pippin asked ignoring the fading sound of thunder that came at the end of Merry’s words.

“I would,” Merry laughed. “I’d fancy myself as grand enough and powerful enough to do what no hobbit could ever do; drive away storms. On those nights I always felt like I could slay dragons and climb mountains.”

“Why?” Pippin asked pulling the blankets away from his face and looking up at Merry.

“Because you believed that I could,” Merry said. “You trusted me to watch over you. You were little and frightened and I was your protector of choice. You didn’t go in search of your father or mine. You weren’t looking for Frodo or any of your sisters. I was the one that you relied upon to do this impossible deed.”

Lightening played about the edges of the room and Pippin’s green eyes flashed with the light as he looked over at Merry who was now sitting up propped against a pillow on the bed. Pippin lay there on his back and said, “Some of those others might do for lesser things but you were the only one who could stop the storms.”

Merry chuckled. “If I have an ego problem then you are largely to blame. No one else considers me to be that important or that powerful.”

“They don’t know you like I do,” Pippin said as the rain pelted down outside. “Listen.”

“What?”

“It’s stopped,” Pippin said smiling with a trace of childish wonder in his eyes.

The rain was pounding hard against the stone streets outside but there was no sound of thunder. Merry listened closely and Pippin said, “You did it again. You stopped the storm.”

“You’re barking mad,” Merry said gently. “And you know full well that the storm simply passed while we were talking, don’t you?”

“Merry, don’t spoil this,” Pippin warned firmly. “This quest that we’ve been on and the dangers that we’ve faced have taken more than a few of my childhood notions but I’m keeping the one in which you protect me from storms for a bit longer. I think I’m going to need it. Storms sound like too many other terrible things now. You will have to keep on holding them at bay for a while longer.”

“Very well,” Merry said. “I will continue to force storms back into the clouds but don’t be surprised if I become rather self-important because of it all.”

Pippin turned over and fluffed his pillow and lay down. “What do you mean, become? You’ve always been self-important.” He yawned and settled in for the night.

“And your hair-cut looks funny,” Merry said also getting comfortable.

“At least my hair will grow back,” Pippin replied with another yawn. “But when it does and I am handsome again you will still be self-important.”

Merry draped an arm over Pippin and sighed, “I suppose that when you are powerful enough to stop thunder storms like I am, you have to expect others to be jealous from time to time.”

The End

GW 08/05/2007

Happy Birthday, Danachan!





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List