Chapter 3: Slightly Tookish
On their way to the inn Pippin and Merry had come upon Gimli walking back from a long afternoon spent studying the stonework of various buildings in the City. It had not taken much for the hobbits to convince their friend to join them, and now Pippin and Gimli sat together at a table, each nursing a mug of ale.
From the far end of the room a sudden shout rose above the din, and Pippin craned his neck to see what had happened.
'He'll never let me forget it,' he said with a mournful sigh as he watched a group of men, many of them his fellow guardsmen, surround Merry to offer their congratulations. He had just bested them in a game of darts.
'Your cousin has a sharp eye,' Gimli noted, taking a long drink of ale before setting his mug down with a thump. 'Though I recall your vision being just as keen. What happened tonight, lad?' he asked, eyeing Pippin critically.
Pippin winced. His turn at darts had been nothing short of disastrous, and though he had managed to laugh off his early exit from the game, Merry had suspected something, of course. Though Pippin had managed to avoid having to answer any questions in front of the men, he had felt his cousin's watchful eyes upon him as he headed back to the table.
'It's nothing, Gimli,' Pippin said, forcing a smile. 'I'm just a bit tired tonight.' He drained the last of his ale and tried to ignore Gimli's concerned gaze as Merry approached the table, clutching an enormous bottle in both hands.
'Is that your prize?' Pippin asked. He reached for the bottle to have a closer look but Merry set it aside, keeping it well out of Pippin's reach.
'It is, but we are not opening it tonight,' Merry replied. 'You've had quite enough already for one evening, Peregrin Took.'
'What? Merry!' Pippin protested. 'I'm not drunk!'
Merry raised his eyebrows. 'Then how do you explain your miserable performance at darts? I may have been boasting today, but I never expected you do so poorly. What happened?' he demanded.
'Bad luck?' Pippin suggested with a winsome smile.
'It's more that that,' Merry said. 'And I think it's more than just a bit of sleepiness, as well.' He leaned closer and lowered his voice. 'I'm worried about you, Pippin. Are you in pain? Should I fetch Aragorn?'
'No,' Pippin replied quickly. 'You're worrying too much again, Merry. I promise you, it is nothing serious. None of us have been sleeping well lately, Merry – including you. I know you understand it when I say that my lack of sleep is just catching up to me.'
'Pippin,' Merry began. By the set of his jaw it was obvious that he was about to launch into another lecture, and Pippin resolved to do all that he could to prevent it.
'Merry, I won't have you worry about something so silly,' he said firmly. 'All I want is to relax and have a few more drinks before going to sleep. I'll feel so much better for it in the morning.'
Merry studied Pippin for a long moment, and inwardly Pippin smiled, sensing that his cousin was relenting.
'All right,' Merry said at last. 'We'll have one more drink this evening and then we're heading back and you're going straight to bed. Tomorrow we are both free from our duties and I intend on making sure that you get plenty of rest. And,' he said, peering at his cousin so Pippin was certain to listen closely, 'if this continues I'm bringing you to Aragorn. Even if you say that it is nothing more serious than a bit of sleep will cure, I would feel more at ease if he had a look at you. So don't think that I'm letting you off easy, Pippin.'
'Do you ever?' Pippin asked with a grin. He reached for the bottle and studied it closely. 'Brandy!' he exclaimed, casting a glance at his cousin as he skillfully changed the subject. 'I say we open this and compare it to that Buckland brandy you are so fond of.'
'I'm not the only one who's fond of it,' Merry reminded him with a knowing grin before turning to Gimli. 'Never mind what my cousin says. I am certain that no brandy from Minas Tirith could ever beat one from home.'
Gimli harrumphed, eagerly eyeing the brandy. 'I am willing to give this one a try,' he said and both hobbits laughed as Merry set to work uncorking the bottle.
As he waited for his drink, Pippin's hand drifted to his pocket and withdrew the pouch of sleeping powder that he had tucked there earlier. Beneath the table, he untied the pouch and reached inside, his fingers brushing against the fine grains of the powder.
Briefly, Pippin puzzled over Targon's words: A spoonful in a small amount of strong spirits. But for one of your folk, perhaps not a spoonful, but merely a pinch. He did not want to overdo it, but it seemed to him that a mere pinch of the powder would only make him drowsy, and not be enough to send him to sleep. Then again, he did not want to grow too sleepy too fast, and be unable to make his way back home. What would Merry think of him then? Finally Pippin came to a decision and scooped out a small handful of the powder, clutching it tightly in his fist.
'Here, Pip,' Merry said, sliding a mug to his cousin and jarring him from his thoughts. Pippin smiled in thanks and, when Merry and Gimli's heads were turned, he dropped the sleeping powder into his drink. It dissolved instantly into the brandy.
After a brief toast to Merry's keen eyesight, Pippin took a long sip of his drink.
The brandy was strong but not unpleasantly so, and it mostly masked the bitter taste of the sleeping powder. Smiling a little to himself, Pippin tipped his head back and drained the rest of his mug.
A conversation had struck up between Merry and Gimli, and Pippin was content enough to listen to their voices as the room dulled around the edges. Perhaps he would sleep tonight, just a bit...