Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-08-13 12:31 pm
sophinisba) wrote2006-08-13 12:31 pm
Entry tags:
Odd and Even Numbers: Two
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danachan's not-quite-yet-birthday, more unhappy hobbits. But you know what's coming, yeah?
Title: Odd and Even Numbers: Two
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Pairings etc.: Pippin and Merry, talk of Frodo
Words: ~1930
Rating: light PG-13
Then, as it happened, over two years passed before he saw either of them again.
Except that it wasn't just as it happened. It took effort and planning on Pippin's part. It took an understanding between him and his mother, so that visits were made less frequently, and when the families did come together Pippin arranged to spend the time with other friends or relatives instead. Pippin built up his tolerance for the company of hobbits his own age, especially those strange cousins up at Long Cleeve, who never patted him on the head or said he was immature but who (for all their fame as descendents of the Bullroarer) weren't nearly as daring or as interesting as Frodo and Merry.
It took tears, at times, but after the first few months it got easier. The letters came less frequently and were shorter and more… polite, which made it easier for Pippin to write his own formal replies, even though it still felt a bit like play-acting, pretending he didn't love them and miss them so much it hurt.
Then in the middle of August, two years to the day after that last parting, a letter came from Bag End that could not have been written out of politeness. Frodo's hand was strong and clear and confident as ever. He'd not spilled ink or crossed out any words, but he had changed his mind, contradicted himself several times in the course of five dense pages. Apologized, said he didn't think he had anything to apologize for, then begged Pippin to tell him what he'd done wrong.
And Pippin, rather than try to answer all those questions, addressed only the simplest and most practical, which was at the same time the most difficult.
Well, and there were too many directions it could go from there, so he cut it off with a your loving cousin and folded it up, then wrote an even shorter little something to Merry.
After which he spent several weeks hoping, and at times even believing, that everything would be all right.
When Merry saw Pippin he stared a little and searched for something to say, then came up with, "You're taller." Pippin knew this wasn't actually true, but he was more or less happy with it anyway. Still, it wouldn't do to say so.
"And you're uglier," Pippin lied.
Merry laughed then and hugged him, squeezed the breath out of him, and when he'd been released again Pippin said, "All right, you're just as handsome as ever, and you're also stronger."
Merry had arrived just in time for supper, which, since it was Great Smials, meant a crowd. Nel flirted shamelessly with Merry while Myrtle and Minto Burrows (who were also visiting) competed for Pippin's attention. Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances, and Pippin almost wished that Mother had given them a room to share tonight so that they might exchange some gossip as well. No matter, there'd be plenty of time for that. And when they did retire for the night Pippin was glad to have the time to himself and time to think. And what he thought was that he'd been right to hold on to his hope. Perhaps it really would be like old times, or perhaps it would be a little better.
It was a surprise, then, once they'd set out again the next morning, to find that Merry went quiet and serious again, and his presence rather reminded Pippin of his letters -- distant, polite, and a little bit cold. He didn't rebuke Pippin or even mention the great rift, and Pippin mostly felt relieved about that, and yet… Well, it seemed a little strange, as if Merry were pretending that nothing had happened at all, that there was nothing out of the ordinary about them being together again, or about their having been apart for so long.
They set off just after sunrise to avoid the worst heat of the day, and they cut across country and made good time. The trail through the woods was a bit overgrown, and Pippin remembered how they used to say they were the only three to use this route. In truth plenty of hobbits traveled from Tuckborough to Hobbiton and back, but they'd always liked to think, and say, that they were three of a kind.
"How is Frodo, really?" said Pippin, because he hadn't been satisfied with the pleasantries that had been exchanged in his parents' and sisters' presence.
"Well, you'd know if you visited, wouldn't you?"
Pippin frowned. "Perhaps so, but I haven't, so I'm asking you instead."
Merry walked a few more steps before speaking. "Frodo's well. He thinks too much."
"That's saying something, coming from you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Both of you always think too much," Pippin said with a shrug. "It's part of your character."
"Meaning we need you to balance things out?"
"Well, come to mention it. I used to hate being the third wheel, but three balance better than two, wouldn't you say?"
There, he'd gone and said it out loud. And rather than stop short or berate him, Merry laughed and squeezed his shoulder, and Pippin kept his stride and his wits and did not stumble or break down.
The sun was higher and brighter by the time they made it out of the woods, and their conversation had warmed a bit as well, though there was still a good deal of tension in the air. When they came out into the light Merry looked Pippin up and down. "You're not any taller," he said.
"No, of course not." Pippin kept on walking. "I was full grown the last time you saw me. You just never noticed is all."
"That's not fair, Pippin."
Pippin smiled, the kind of quick smile he would make sometimes to keep from snapping at someone. He wasn't sure if Merry saw it or not. "Fairness has nothing to do with it."
"No, I suppose not."
Pippin meant that Merry had never been fair, and Merry meant, probably, that he shouldn't have to be fair, that love never was, which was a position Pippin didn't accept. But he decided to leave it alone for now. They were talking, and, "I'm taller than you remember me, anyway. I'll take that as a good sign."
"It's… I do think you understood from the first, didn't you? Not taller."
"Yes, I understood. Just as tall as you and Frodo, and older than you remembered. I said I'd take it as a good sign." He smiled again and it felt real this time, and he let Merry see.
"I am glad you decided to come, Pippin."
"So am I."
Some time later they spread out a blanket on the grass and sat down to eat some bread and cheese they'd brought along. They'd also brought peaches for dessert, but once they bit into them the juice started dripping down both their chins, and rather than get it on the blanket they stood up and leaned forward to let it drip on the grass. They were both laughing and the sun was quite hot, and Pippin felt sure now that things were going to work out. And when he'd dropped his peach stone on the grass he took a few short steps and pressed close to his dear cousin and kissed his sweet, wet lips.
It lasted a few seconds before Merry pulled away. And Pippin had been expecting that, though he thought, well, he could have been a little less violent about it.
"Pippin, you're…"
"I'm sorry," Pippin said, though he wasn't really, and he resolved not to say so again.
"I don't… I don't want that from you." Merry took another step away and folded his arms across his chest.
"That's not true," Pippin said quietly. "You know it and I know it."
"What is it we both know, Pip?"
"That you got hard when I tried to kiss you. I felt it."
"Pippin."
"And that means you're interested, even if you're not willing to say so."
"It means no such thing. It's a physical..."
Pippin clenched his fists then and whimpered a little so that he wouldn't scream. "No, Merry. Don't talk to me about physical reactions. I've had about all I can stand of calm and mature and bloody removed. I've waited, don't you see? You never thought I was old enough but you see I am now, and I'm here, and I want you to be here with me and I want you to be honest. I think I deserve that."
"It isn't that you're not old enough. I see we were wrong about that before, though if it upset you so you could have just said, rather than cut us off for…." Merry stopped himself and relaxed a little, took a step toward him. "Pippin, you know I care for you."
"If you did you'd not try to deny that -- "
"You know I care for you and I hope you know how lovely you are. I see the way other lads and lasses look at you. You'll make one of them so happy, Pippin."
"I'm not interested in anyone else."
"What, of all the hobbits in the Shire you only want me?" Pippin didn't see what was so unreasonable about the idea. "I would, dear. I'd show you how at least, but I'm taken. You know that."
"Of all the hobbits in the Shire I love you and Frodo best. Why shouldn't I get to be with the two of you?"
"Because that's not how it works, is it? You can have as many friends as you want, and you can love them, just as you love both your parents and all your sisters."
Pippin grimaced a little at that, because he hadn't felt much love for or from his sisters lately, but he didn't interrupt.
"You only fall in love with one person though," Merry continued. "And I fell for Frodo ages ago."
"Just because it happened one way for you doesn't mean that's the only way it can happen," said Pippin. "I fell for both of you before I even knew what that meant -- "
"But you think you know everything, now, is that it?"
"Oh, come off it, Merry!" Pippin shouted. "You've lived longer than me but that doesn't mean you know everything either. Fine then, enlighten me. Explain to me what makes two the magic number. And don't say it takes two to make a baby because I don't think you and Frodo will be accomplishing that."
"Well it's not as if it's just me. I didn't pick a number out of the air or do it to spite you. It's always two. It's always been that way."
Suddenly feeling much calmer, Pippin folded up the blanket and stowed it in his pack. "That's not how you and Frodo taught me to think," he said simply.
"What?"
Pippin looked at him. "Your explanation isn't good enough for me," he said, and started along the path again.
It was another two miles to Bag End, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
three | series tag | fic index
danachan's not-quite-yet-birthday, more unhappy hobbits. But you know what's coming, yeah?Title: Odd and Even Numbers: Two
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Pairings etc.: Pippin and Merry, talk of Frodo
Words: ~1930
Rating: light PG-13
Then, as it happened, over two years passed before he saw either of them again.
Except that it wasn't just as it happened. It took effort and planning on Pippin's part. It took an understanding between him and his mother, so that visits were made less frequently, and when the families did come together Pippin arranged to spend the time with other friends or relatives instead. Pippin built up his tolerance for the company of hobbits his own age, especially those strange cousins up at Long Cleeve, who never patted him on the head or said he was immature but who (for all their fame as descendents of the Bullroarer) weren't nearly as daring or as interesting as Frodo and Merry.
It took tears, at times, but after the first few months it got easier. The letters came less frequently and were shorter and more… polite, which made it easier for Pippin to write his own formal replies, even though it still felt a bit like play-acting, pretending he didn't love them and miss them so much it hurt.
Then in the middle of August, two years to the day after that last parting, a letter came from Bag End that could not have been written out of politeness. Frodo's hand was strong and clear and confident as ever. He'd not spilled ink or crossed out any words, but he had changed his mind, contradicted himself several times in the course of five dense pages. Apologized, said he didn't think he had anything to apologize for, then begged Pippin to tell him what he'd done wrong.
And Pippin, rather than try to answer all those questions, addressed only the simplest and most practical, which was at the same time the most difficult.
- My dear Frodo,
Of course I will come and celebrate your birthday with you. I am terribly sorry to have missed it these last years. Merry and I shall meet at Great Smials on the twelfth, if it pleases him, and we'll walk to Bag End from there. Thank you for inviting me again, Frodo. I know you might have given up on me and I'm glad you didn't.
Well, and there were too many directions it could go from there, so he cut it off with a your loving cousin and folded it up, then wrote an even shorter little something to Merry.
After which he spent several weeks hoping, and at times even believing, that everything would be all right.
When Merry saw Pippin he stared a little and searched for something to say, then came up with, "You're taller." Pippin knew this wasn't actually true, but he was more or less happy with it anyway. Still, it wouldn't do to say so.
"And you're uglier," Pippin lied.
Merry laughed then and hugged him, squeezed the breath out of him, and when he'd been released again Pippin said, "All right, you're just as handsome as ever, and you're also stronger."
Merry had arrived just in time for supper, which, since it was Great Smials, meant a crowd. Nel flirted shamelessly with Merry while Myrtle and Minto Burrows (who were also visiting) competed for Pippin's attention. Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances, and Pippin almost wished that Mother had given them a room to share tonight so that they might exchange some gossip as well. No matter, there'd be plenty of time for that. And when they did retire for the night Pippin was glad to have the time to himself and time to think. And what he thought was that he'd been right to hold on to his hope. Perhaps it really would be like old times, or perhaps it would be a little better.
It was a surprise, then, once they'd set out again the next morning, to find that Merry went quiet and serious again, and his presence rather reminded Pippin of his letters -- distant, polite, and a little bit cold. He didn't rebuke Pippin or even mention the great rift, and Pippin mostly felt relieved about that, and yet… Well, it seemed a little strange, as if Merry were pretending that nothing had happened at all, that there was nothing out of the ordinary about them being together again, or about their having been apart for so long.
They set off just after sunrise to avoid the worst heat of the day, and they cut across country and made good time. The trail through the woods was a bit overgrown, and Pippin remembered how they used to say they were the only three to use this route. In truth plenty of hobbits traveled from Tuckborough to Hobbiton and back, but they'd always liked to think, and say, that they were three of a kind.
"How is Frodo, really?" said Pippin, because he hadn't been satisfied with the pleasantries that had been exchanged in his parents' and sisters' presence.
"Well, you'd know if you visited, wouldn't you?"
Pippin frowned. "Perhaps so, but I haven't, so I'm asking you instead."
Merry walked a few more steps before speaking. "Frodo's well. He thinks too much."
"That's saying something, coming from you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Both of you always think too much," Pippin said with a shrug. "It's part of your character."
"Meaning we need you to balance things out?"
"Well, come to mention it. I used to hate being the third wheel, but three balance better than two, wouldn't you say?"
There, he'd gone and said it out loud. And rather than stop short or berate him, Merry laughed and squeezed his shoulder, and Pippin kept his stride and his wits and did not stumble or break down.
The sun was higher and brighter by the time they made it out of the woods, and their conversation had warmed a bit as well, though there was still a good deal of tension in the air. When they came out into the light Merry looked Pippin up and down. "You're not any taller," he said.
"No, of course not." Pippin kept on walking. "I was full grown the last time you saw me. You just never noticed is all."
"That's not fair, Pippin."
Pippin smiled, the kind of quick smile he would make sometimes to keep from snapping at someone. He wasn't sure if Merry saw it or not. "Fairness has nothing to do with it."
"No, I suppose not."
Pippin meant that Merry had never been fair, and Merry meant, probably, that he shouldn't have to be fair, that love never was, which was a position Pippin didn't accept. But he decided to leave it alone for now. They were talking, and, "I'm taller than you remember me, anyway. I'll take that as a good sign."
"It's… I do think you understood from the first, didn't you? Not taller."
"Yes, I understood. Just as tall as you and Frodo, and older than you remembered. I said I'd take it as a good sign." He smiled again and it felt real this time, and he let Merry see.
"I am glad you decided to come, Pippin."
"So am I."
Some time later they spread out a blanket on the grass and sat down to eat some bread and cheese they'd brought along. They'd also brought peaches for dessert, but once they bit into them the juice started dripping down both their chins, and rather than get it on the blanket they stood up and leaned forward to let it drip on the grass. They were both laughing and the sun was quite hot, and Pippin felt sure now that things were going to work out. And when he'd dropped his peach stone on the grass he took a few short steps and pressed close to his dear cousin and kissed his sweet, wet lips.
It lasted a few seconds before Merry pulled away. And Pippin had been expecting that, though he thought, well, he could have been a little less violent about it.
"Pippin, you're…"
"I'm sorry," Pippin said, though he wasn't really, and he resolved not to say so again.
"I don't… I don't want that from you." Merry took another step away and folded his arms across his chest.
"That's not true," Pippin said quietly. "You know it and I know it."
"What is it we both know, Pip?"
"That you got hard when I tried to kiss you. I felt it."
"Pippin."
"And that means you're interested, even if you're not willing to say so."
"It means no such thing. It's a physical..."
Pippin clenched his fists then and whimpered a little so that he wouldn't scream. "No, Merry. Don't talk to me about physical reactions. I've had about all I can stand of calm and mature and bloody removed. I've waited, don't you see? You never thought I was old enough but you see I am now, and I'm here, and I want you to be here with me and I want you to be honest. I think I deserve that."
"It isn't that you're not old enough. I see we were wrong about that before, though if it upset you so you could have just said, rather than cut us off for…." Merry stopped himself and relaxed a little, took a step toward him. "Pippin, you know I care for you."
"If you did you'd not try to deny that -- "
"You know I care for you and I hope you know how lovely you are. I see the way other lads and lasses look at you. You'll make one of them so happy, Pippin."
"I'm not interested in anyone else."
"What, of all the hobbits in the Shire you only want me?" Pippin didn't see what was so unreasonable about the idea. "I would, dear. I'd show you how at least, but I'm taken. You know that."
"Of all the hobbits in the Shire I love you and Frodo best. Why shouldn't I get to be with the two of you?"
"Because that's not how it works, is it? You can have as many friends as you want, and you can love them, just as you love both your parents and all your sisters."
Pippin grimaced a little at that, because he hadn't felt much love for or from his sisters lately, but he didn't interrupt.
"You only fall in love with one person though," Merry continued. "And I fell for Frodo ages ago."
"Just because it happened one way for you doesn't mean that's the only way it can happen," said Pippin. "I fell for both of you before I even knew what that meant -- "
"But you think you know everything, now, is that it?"
"Oh, come off it, Merry!" Pippin shouted. "You've lived longer than me but that doesn't mean you know everything either. Fine then, enlighten me. Explain to me what makes two the magic number. And don't say it takes two to make a baby because I don't think you and Frodo will be accomplishing that."
"Well it's not as if it's just me. I didn't pick a number out of the air or do it to spite you. It's always two. It's always been that way."
Suddenly feeling much calmer, Pippin folded up the blanket and stowed it in his pack. "That's not how you and Frodo taught me to think," he said simply.
"What?"
Pippin looked at him. "Your explanation isn't good enough for me," he said, and started along the path again.
It was another two miles to Bag End, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
three | series tag | fic index