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A Took by Any Other Name  by Lindelea

Chapter 6. A Took by any Other Name

Pippin wakened to a light pressure on his hand; even so, it hurt, but the moment he opened his eyes the grasp lightened to a feather touch and Merry’s voice said, ‘Better?’

Turning his head slightly on the pillow, he saw his cousin, wearing what he’d come to think of as his “Cormallen smile”. ‘Was it that bad?’ he croaked.

Merry reached away and in another moment was holding a cup to Pippin’s lips. ‘Was what that bad?’ he said lightly.

 ‘The dream,’ Pippin said after a sip, though he did not try to cling to the fading scraps of mist that were rapidly dissipating.

 ‘You tell me,’ Merry said, his smile belying the evasion.

 ‘I don’t remember,’ Pippin said after another sip, and raising his left hand with a wince he pushed the cup away. Was that a look of relief on Merry’s face? ‘How’s your head?’

The Old Forest, in its unexpected aid against the invasion of Orcs, had tried to keep Merry and a forester from blundering into the creatures. A falling tree branch had knocked Merry from the saddle, leaving him out of his head for a time, and plagued with double vision when he had finally wakened.

 ‘Well enough,’ Merry said. ‘I’ll be riding out to meet Uncle Merimac on his return from Tookland; if he brings with him any reports of missing livestock or hobbits we’ll be working with the Tooks to scour the Shire.’

 ‘Something I’m sure my illustrious cousin can sink his teeth into,’ Pippin said lightly. ‘He’s probably been bored silly, with the Shire as quiet as it’s been the past few years. Nothing like an incursion of Orcs, or ruffians, to brighten Ferdi’s day.’

 ‘And you’re not coming with us?’ Merry said. ‘Diamond had the idea she’d have to sit upon you to keep you in the bed...’

 ‘No,’ Pippin said, leaning back upon the pillows. ‘I think I’ll keep my distance from the Tookland in general, and Ferdibrand in particular. He’d probably see it as his duty to haul me back to the Smials, to my duty there, for all my father has disowned me...’

 ‘He said he’d take you back,’ Merry said quietly.

 ‘I’m not surprised,’ Pippin said.

Merry saw that his cousin had mistaken his meaning. ‘Not Ferdi, you daft coney,’ he said. ‘Paladin! In his last letter to my mother, he asked her to persuade you to return to Tookland before the babe is born, that its name might properly be recorded in the Book.’

 ‘Perhaps I ought to change my name to “Brandybuck” and have done,’ Pippin said.

 ‘It’s not a joking matter,’ Merry began, but Pippin cut him off with a sharp gesture that made him wince again.

 ‘I’m not joking!’ Pippin said. ‘I’m never going back there, Merry, not ever! And the same for my son—he’ll never suffer the knowledge that the entire Shire is to descend upon his shoulders, willing or unwilling, just as soon as he’s old enough to know he’s not up to the job...!’

 ‘You’re up to the job,’ Merry said quietly.

 ‘Tell that to my father,’ Pippin said, lifting an arm over his eyes.

 ‘Is it the Thainship you’re running away from, then?’ Merry said. ‘Or is it the Thain?’

 ‘What do you think?’ Pippin whispered.

 ‘That you’re running away from anything still astonishes me.’ If Merry expected his cousin to be stung by the words, he was mistaken. Pippin’s mouth tightened, but that was all. ‘Pippin...’

Pippin lowered his arm to look into Merry’s eyes. ‘He wishes to make me into something I cannot be,’ he said. ‘And Diamond... and now the babe... caught in the middle.’

Merry waited. They had not spoken so openly of this before; Pippin always made a joke or changed the subject whenever the topic of Tookland was raised.

 ‘I don’t like the hobbit I become, when I’m under his critical eye, under the lash of his tongue,’ Pippin whispered. He straightened. ‘Here, I’m of use,’ he said. ‘Here, when I have an idea, I’m not told to keep my nonsense to myself.’ His voice grew more confident as he spoke. ‘Here I have the impression that I can make a difference, that I can make good...’ His eyes flashed, and he nodded, a sharp jerk of his chin that Merry had often seen in Esmeralda when she’d made up her mind. Stubborn Tooks, once their minds were made up it would be about as possible to budge them as to change the course of the Brandywine.

 ‘In any event,’ Pippin said in an everyday tone, meaning the subject was closed, perhaps for ever, ‘I still have to thank you for saving my life.’

 ‘What, you pretty well rescued yourself,’ Merry said, accepting the change of topic, for Pippin was too weak to sustain an argument at the moment and he didn’t want to set his cousin’s recovery back, ‘riding out of the Forest as coolly as if you were returning from a picnic.’ He managed to contain a shudder at his own thoughtless choice of words.

 ‘All very well,’ Pippin said. ‘Your horn sounded at precisely the right time, as I’ve already told you.’ He wiped at the corner of one eye. ‘Whenever I hear a horn in the distance, ever since the Rohirrim rode into the battle as Minas Tirith burned around us... why, a horn has ever been a sweet sound in my ears... but never sweeter than the call of your silver horn as I lay in the grip of the Orcs,’ he said. ‘They left off their sport and marched to battle and destruction—their own, I’m happy to note.’

Merry cleared his throat, at a loss for words.

 ‘How am I to reward you?’ Pippin persisted. ‘Name my firstborn after you, perhaps?’

 ‘Meridin?’ Merry said in astonishment.

 ‘Meriadin, is more what I was thinking,’ Pippin said, and Merry laughed outright.

 ‘Why not name the lad “Meriadoc” and have done!’ he said. ‘Meriadin! What ever would the Tooks say to that?’

 ‘Name my child to spite the Tooks,’ Pippin mused. ‘What an interesting idea. What’s the least-Tookish name I can conjure?’

 ‘Aradin,’ Merry ventured, still chuckling. ‘Or better yet—Stridin!’

Pippin laughed, a hand flat against his ribs. ‘Stridin,’ he said. ‘Definitely un-Tookish. "Legalin", "Gimlin", or "Borodin" ...or what about “Faradin”?’

 ‘Now that sounds nearly Tookish,’ Merry said. ‘You’d have to stretch it a bit, if you wanted it to carry the proper sting.’

 ‘I’ll give it some thought,’ Pippin said, keeping a straight face though a twinkle was in his eye. ‘All very well and good, to name a lass as such, but what’ll I do if the babe is a lad?’






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