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A little double drabble written for Piplover:
The King looked down at the young unconscious guardsman, and then at the small figure standing beside him, wearing a woeful expression.
"I'm sorry, sire," Pippin said ruefully. "He gave me no choice."
There were several voices from the rest of the onlookers, all raised in support of Pippin's statement.
Aragorn shook his head. "What happened?"
"We were sparring, but he grew angry when I started getting the better of him." Pippin looked up with an expression of hurt. "He was really trying to injure me…or well…he was serious."
"He might have killed Sir Peregrin!" said one of the other guardsmen, and there were murmurs of assent.
"How did you best him, then, Pippin?" the King asked.
"When I realised he was truly angry, I ducked beneath his legs and tripped him from behind. Then I used the hilt of my sword to knock him out. I had to hit him pretty hard since he had a helm on. I hope he isn't injured too badly."
There was a pitiful moan from the prone figure. "I do not think that he is, Pippin. However, he may be wishing you had killed him by the time I get through with him."
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