Fic: At Crickhollow (PG-13, M/P)

[danachan.livejournal.com]

Title: At Crickhollow
Author: danachan
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Merry/Pippin, mention of Frodo and Sam
Warnings: Slash, sexual content implied
Word Count: 5,745
Summary: Pippin wonders what it will really mean to follow Frodo.
Author's Notes: I wrote this for a waymeet challenge, and it fit my fanfic100 claim as well. Since I wanted to get this community off on the right foot, I thought it would be the perfect story to repost.


They're up rather late, and Pippin finds himself envying Fatty, and even Frodo and Sam. They're all very comfortable, he's sure, and in their own beds, as Merry insisted that they not bother with cleaning up, not when he and Pippin could see to it themselves; and they could finish with the last of the packing, too, and then at long last they would be able to put themselves to bed.

It did seem like something of a bother, for them to go to the trouble of hauling all of Frodo's things across half of the Shire, when they had already known that they'd not be staying at Crickhollow for more than a night. And he had thought that it would be easier, with their conspiracy out and in the open, that the tension would quite simply go away. But it isn't gone, and Pippin's just as tense as he was before; though, it does seem that he is tense for other reasons. And it's late, rather late, and Pippin's vision might be blurry because it is the end of a very long day, but he's not very certain he could sleep, not even if he tried.

Through all their planning, after they'd come to the realization that, yes, Frodo planned on leaving and if they weren't careful he'd leave them behind, Pippin hadn't concerned himself with being frightened. After all, enough of his youth had him concerned with adventures and great stories and the world beyond the Shire's bounds – and there might be dragons in a certain number of those stories, but it hadn't ever been something that the hero couldn't manage to overcome.

In all honesty, he hadn't thought much about being frightened at the thought of leaving everything that he knew behind. And their waiting and their planning all came to an end. Come morning, they'll leave the house at Crickhollow, and they'll make their way to the Old Forest, to leave the Shire in secrecy. And that, just that, is what makes it feel, finally and at long lost, real. It's here, at Crickhollow still, in the dark of night, with the majority of its household already fast asleep, that Pippin first finds himself (finally and at long last), afraid. Afraid, that this is all wrong – afraid, that they will all go out into darkness and the unknown, and not all of them will return.

But for all that Pippin is afraid (and he is), he doesn't think that all the fear in the world will stop Frodo from doing what he must, not when Frodo is as stubborn as he is, and with his decision already made. Not that all the worry in the world would stop Merry from following after, when Merry must go after Frodo just as simply as Frodo must go. From deadly peril into deadly peril – isn't that what Frodo had said? And where Merry goes, Pippin goes – and of course they understand.

It is only partial truth, what Merry had told Frodo just that night, that Merry had kept all his knowledge to himself. Merry and Pippin haven't had any secrets, not for a very long while, but there is a very big difference between keeping secrets and what Merry had been going about. It is fully true, though, that their conspiracy only came into its own during this past spring. Then things had turned serious, and they had all been serious, too, and it had come to the point where there was no going back. Sometimes, Pippin wonders if Merry regrets his knowing, and wishes that he had kept more from Pippin; and sometimes, Pippin wonders if there ever had been a 'going back'.

He's sitting on the bed now, and rubbing at his eyes. Perhaps, he thinks, if he doesn't go to sleep, then the next day won't come and they won't have to set off. The thing about leaving is that you might not come back. And he's worried, more worried than he ought to be, about the not coming back.

And there Merry is, standing with his back to Pippin as he unbuttons his shirt, while Pippin sits at the edge of the bed, desperately trying to stop his mind from wandering, trying to focus on the task at hand – that task being that they do what's right for Frodo. Candlelight, and the dark of the night, and Pippin rubs at his eyes and squints at Merry. If he'd let himself relax, he might not be so miserably exhausted. "Well, what do you think?"

"About what?"

Pippin stares at Merry's back, pressing his lips together in a long, thin frown. "Leaving, of course. It isn't often done."

"No, it isn't," Merry says, and goes to sit at Pippin's side, in his trousers only. And he smiles, and Pippin can't help but smile in return – if Merry can still smile, then perhaps he is only being foolish, letting his thoughts get the better of him, carrying him away. "Now, did it only just occur to you that we are really set to go?"

Merry laughs, and Pippin grins. "Perhaps," but then he sobers up. "Or simply, I hadn't concerned myself with the leaving, more so with the planning. But Frodo seems relieved, almost, that we'll be going along with him, and I doubt he'll try and slip away into the darkness before morning, and leave us behind – and if he did, well, he knows we'll only follow after. But our planning is all through, and now there's only action left to follow – well, what do you think?"

Merry nods. "About leaving?"

Pippin nods in turn. "Yes, about that."

Merry shrugs, then looks away. "Well, it isn't often done."

Pippin laughs (the snorting sort). "Oh, really? Now that, I didn't know."

And Merry grins, and tweaks Pippin's ear, then shrugs again and settles back. "If you've not concerned yourself with it this far, then perhaps we still have time enough to let Fatty come along. Well, you heard him yourself, he'll not be going, and he thinks we're cracked for having considered it at all. So, if Fatty won't join us, it'll have to be you."

Pippin nods, and that's where it gets difficult, more than he'd wanted. Merry wants to understand and, of course, Pippin doesn't want Frodo and Merry (and Sam, of course, he'd not leave out Sam) to have to go alone. And anyhow, he'll make a much better companion than Fatty would. Merry of all people knows that well enough; he and Pippin are lovers, after all, not just cousins and friends. Pippin knows that Fatty could go along instead, but he'd never be able to take Pippin's place. "Well, yes, and I'd rather not sit around and find out what's coming after. But, well – that's it, Merry. Those Black Riders that we saw, and knowing that there's more..."

"You're worried. Well, I'm worried too."

"That's good to know. But I don't think you fully understand, Merry, for all you'd like me to think you do."

"I might not, but I probably do. Now, come here, Pip."

Pippin does, standing, and Merry pulls him into a tight hug and lets that linger, then puts him at arm's length and gives a fond pat on his cheek. Pippin raises one eyebrow at him, and Merry shrugs. Pippin grabs hold of his shirt and gives it a tug, looking Merry in the eyes. He feels that nervousness again, and he pushes it aside. With a sigh, Pippin leans his cheek against Merry's shoulder. Merry wraps his arms around him, rubs his lower back. "You seem tense," Merry whispers, and presses a kiss into his curls. He draws back, and Pippin frowns and looks up at him, and Merry almost seems to look through him.

"I'm fussing over nothing," Pippin mutters.

Merry's quiet, and tugs Pippin back towards the bed. Merry sits, and pulls Pippin down to sit with him. Merry exhales against his ear, and pulls Pippin close, wraps his arms around, and they're left sitting like that, front to back. Merry says: "Do you know the story of Hildifons Took?"

Pippin starts, then leans back against him and closes his eyes. Well, he'd not expected that. "Of course I do, Merry. He went off on a journey, and never returned."

Merry chuckles, rather indulgently, and Pippins supposes that he would have grinned much the same, if he'd been looking Merry in the eyes. But it's almost comforting, the feel of that fond laugh warm against his back. "It's good that I know you love me, Merry, or else I'd be hurt at your laugh."

"I do love you, Pip. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't laugh." Then, as if that moment of seriousness is better fit to end, Merry goes on: "Now, listen to you, 'went off on a journey and never returned.' That just makes it sound as if you know your lessons, or at least that you know enough about what's been recorded Yellowskin. It also sounds as if you know the condensed version of his tale, but do you know anything about who he was? Did you know that he lived here at Crickhollow, at least for a while?"

Pippin blinks, and shifts in his seat, turning around and searching Merry's face. "Now, that can't be true. At least, I've never heard it before."

"Well, it's a Brandybuck story, and you're a Took."

"Now, Merry, that makes no good sense - Hildifons was a Took, and as far as I can tell, that makes it a story about a Took."

"If you would just settle down, I'll tell you his story and tell you how it's more a Brandybuck story than a Took – I'll tell you about him, and about Marnoc Brandybuck, too. And maybe then it will all make more sense."

"Marnoc Brandybuck? Who's that?"

"Marroc Brandybuck's grandson, though I suppose you'll only find mention of him on the most complete of our family trees, the ones that father keeps safe in his office – I should show you them, sometime. And anyhow, if you let me tell my story, then you'll know more than just his name."

"Oh, very well," Pippin mutters, settling back and waiting for Merry to go on.

"I'll start at the beginning. It's well known, at least, it's well known here, that Hildifons hadn't felt at home at Tookland, which is why he went looking farther afield. Hildifons did end up going as far away from the Tookland as he could manage, and he ended up at this house, and right against the edge of the Old Forest. Of course, that only lasted for a while – he wanted to go further still. And they were very close, Hildifons and Marnoc, and I suppose it was easier on them, neither being the heir to their family at large, and having a place of their own. There was a little rhyme about them, for a while - in a house at Crickhollow, there lived two hobbits – well, that's how it started, and it wasn't a very popular rhyme, and I can't for the life of me recall how the rest of it all went. Well, Marnoc did live here longer than Hildifons, so I suppose it ought to be a rhyme about one. Now, I've not got to that yet, and I'm already losing my place. In any case, they did live here, right up against the Old Forest, and one day even that wasn't enough, and Hildifons up and decided that he would not be happy until he'd gone further. I suppose Marnoc tried to talk him out of it, but they did head into the forest – Marnoc even talked his cousin Gorbadoc into lending him the key. See, for all that Hildifons wanted to go, Marnoc would not let him go on his own. He had decided, even if it wasn't what Hildifons wanted of him, that he would stick by his side, no matter where that might carry him both..."

The sound of Merry's voice had lulled him into an easy warmth, and Pippin feels his eyes drooping. He knows how Hildifons' story should end, and he knows they must be close to that end. Pippin only notices, in that easy warmth, that Merry has not spoken again – in fact, his voice had trailed off into an anxious silence, and Pippin hadn't even noticed that Merry had gone so very still. But he looks up and looks at Merry, frowns slightly and then says: "Merry, that really is no way to go about the telling of a story. What happened then?"

"They went off together, and when Marnoc did come back, he was all alone. He never did say what happened to Hildifons, but it was true enough that Hildifons never did come home. Some say that the trees didn't take kindly to their trespassing into land that wasn't their own, and Marnoc had been the lucky one of the two, that he'd made it out of the forest. I can't see him thinking he'd been lucky, not when Hildifons had been left behind – but he'd set off on his journey, and he'd never made it back home. And Marnoc had considered this house their home, and he still considered it that when Hildifons was gone. Marnoc lived out the rest of his life in these walls, never could bear to leave the house behind. Years, and then more empty years." Merry's voice quiets, and softly he sighs. "He never did marry, which might be one more reason why there's not more talk about him, or proper mention of him on the family trees. He lived here, and he forgot himself, though he never did forget Hildifons, and I suppose there were those who didn't mind forgetting him, too – "

"What a very rotten story," Pippin mutters, finally able to manage his voice. He sits up straight, trying not to show his tension, but feeling it in his bones and feeling it in his eyes. He wonders what it would have felt like, being in Marnoc's place. But the more he thinks of it, he doesn't want to know. Merry might be brave, and maybe his courage is a foolhardy thing; and Pippin isn't so sure if he'll be able to do the same. Merry might know where he needs to be, and he might be secure in the knowledge that they're doing what's best for Frodo, but Pippin's not so very sure about his own place. He knows that they're doing what's right for Frodo, but he doesn't want to think of it having to come at some great price. And, most of all, he doesn't want to end up being the one in Marnoc's place. "Not very cheery, Merry," he says at last. But he doesn't know what else to say.

"Oh, Pip, it is just a story, and I'd thought you'd known. Well, I'd not meant to upset you. We'll make it through all this and we'll stick at Frodo's side. Wherever he might go – oh, we'll look after him, Pippin, and Sam will too."

Pippin doesn't find the similarities between Hildifons and Marnoc's story and their own nearly as comforting as Merry does. Pippin looks away and carefully lets out his breath. "I am worried, though for all that I think I am lucky I'm not the one who'll be staying behind. But I am rather concerned with this all, Merry, and I know you are, too. But it seems that there's a rather noticeable difference between your concern and my own. We are at the proper start of this expedition, Merry, and I really should act my age. Perhaps I need to act more grown up than even that."

"Pippin, I think you need to put it all out of your mind."

"I will," he says, with a heavy sigh, after a careful moment spent considering that it probably is best he not worry himself to death before their journey is even underway. "I think I will, as my heart just can't bear the thought of it right now." Pippin shakes his head, then. "I think I'd like to sleep."

He doesn't want to think about it, not really. He doesn't want to worry himself with what will happen in the morning, and he doesn't want to concern himself with his reluctance, his fear. That would do him no good, and he doesn't need Merry deciding that it would be best for him to not go along at all. So he turns and touches Merry's cheek, and presses a kiss against his lips. He puts his hands on Merry's shoulders, pushes off his shirt. "It is rather late, and we'll have an early start. We both need the sleep."

"You're quite right, Pippin," Merry just grins (as if he's decided that sleep must be the furthest thing from the truth in Pippin's mind), and Pippin finds his mouth shaping in return. "But, I think, you'd rather just get me out of all my clothes."

With a laugh, Pippin feels the tension lighten, and the moment doesn't seem so long and dark. "Perhaps you're right," Pippin says. "At the least, it would be a very good use of our time."

So, when clothing is dealt with, and they make love for a first and last time – the first time at this house, and the last time before everything changes – the sort that happens out of habit of comfort and joy more than any bright-burning passion, as they have known each other and their secrets for more than just years.

But it bothers Pippin, for a long while, Merry's story – following after him, right at his feet, as they make their way the Old Forest, then finding themselves in Old Man Willow's embrace. And then, at Tom Bombadil's house, having seen darkness and lived through it makes Merry's story somewhat easier to bear. But it's there, still there, when they both fall at Weathertop, as they race through the Wilds. All for Frodo's sake, and Frodo having held himself together as best as he could, though Pippin can't believe that Frodo put on the Ring.

And then they found themselves at Rivendell, and with new hope but other concerns – what good would it do him, and what good could he be to Frodo, if it ended that he would not be allowed to follow on Frodo's quest? The very old and the very wise must not think much of hobbits, at least, they must not think very much of him. And through that, it isn't that Merry has to worry that he'll be left behind – and Pippin hadn't been the one left at Crickhollow, and he'll not be the one left behind here. So, it is rather unexpected (and probably always will be) when it's Gandalf who gives him support, most especially since Elrond had his heart set against Pippin's going. But he will go, he'll not be left behind. And he means it, when he says that he'll follow after anyhow. He really would have to be sent home tied up in a sack if they wanted to get rid of him.

It's even more amazing, after all that and their long journey, half of Middle-earth underfoot and almost the other half with them carried like bags, that they should find their way back home – even if home has changed while they had their backs turned, if things are all wrong and have to be righted.

That will be easy enough, and it is; but for all that, Merry and Pippin had still end up back at the Crickhollow house, amidst Frodo's things. And they have made it back home, and they are all four of them still here – but for Pippin's fear, he'd faced it all. He'd found himself faced with the reality of losing Merry (and he had lost Merry, though really it had been Pippin's own foolishness that gotten them separated), and Frodo (and he had lost Frodo, with Frodo going to that fire and almost all alone, and he would have been all alone if Sam had not been there, to walk for him when Frodo could not), and even Sam (and he had lost Sam, and beforehand he hadn't ever concerned himself with losing Sam, but Sam had been with Frodo when Merry and Pippin could not, and for that gift Pippin can only give his love). But they had come back, all of them. Pippin can ask for no more.

And in that way that time has, of going on even when you think that it should stop, of stopping when you don't think you can bear it anymore, the days keep going on and then it's autumn before Pippin knows it, and they've had to say good-bye and they've seen Frodo off at the grey Sea, and Pippin almost wonders if it was simply too much, if he's left his heart behind.

"Do you think he's well?" Pippin says. "Sam, I mean," he adds after a moment, even though he's almost certain that Merry knows who he means, as he doesn't think either of them can bear the mention of Frodo's name. "Well, he has Rose and Elanor and home to go back to, so I can't see how he wouldn't be well – and we have home, too. Funny about that, though." He laughs, though it's hollow-sounding to his own ears, and he crosses to the other side of the parlour, once again. "I hadn't ever thought I'd think of this place as home, and I'm glad I have it to come back to, because I don't think I could endure being at Great Smials right now, with Ma fussing over me like I was just a faunt, and making sure I keep all my buttons done up and that I don't let my cuffs drop into the soup. Just how I don't think I could stand Brandy Hall, and I don't think you could either."

They're still fresh off the road, evening singing in the air and there are tears, more unshed tears, stinging in Pippin's eyes. He can't keep himself idle, has been pacing the parlour since their return. He almost wishes they were still out on the road – no, more than that, he wishes that there hadn't been any message from Gandalf, wishes Frodo had never planned on going away and leaving them all behind, again. He doesn't feel very grown up, standing there with his fists clenched and with moisture burning in his eyes – just feels like a little cousin, the one who's been left behind. He's being very selfish. But he doesn't seem to care.

He shakes his head and holds his breath, then lets it out slowly, feeling the burn in his lungs. He's tired, tired after a long ride and a long life before that, and night hasn't yet fallen – still, perhaps he should sleep. If he did, perhaps he wouldn't feel so miserable. So miserably exhausted. "I don't think I'll ever understand."

Merry puts his arms around Pippin's shoulders, standing behind him, and presses a kiss into his curls. "Pippin..."

Pippin shuts his eyes, chokes on a bitter laugh, then shakes his head slowly, too slowly, and leans back against Merry, the welcome familiarity of his embrace. Sometimes, it feels like Merry is the only thing he knows, after all this time. "Did you ever think that this would be home?" he asks. "It doesn't feel like it should make a proper one, but it does feel like it's turning into one. For all the time we spent planning, and helping Frodo move, even when I knew he wouldn't be staying here for good, I never did think we'd end up here instead. We wanted to take care of him, and even though he's gone now he's still trying to take care of us."

Merry exhales, soft and slow, though the intake of his next breath is rather sharp. "The most unlikely places can be made into a home," Merry says. "But you're right, with all the time we thought we could fool the others into thinking this would be Frodo's home, and even after he ended up giving it over to you and me, I hadn't thought I'd find it so... welcoming."

Pippin opens his eyes. This place, it was once Frodo's, it was once a guesthouse with no proper owner, and it had been Hildifons and Marnoc's, too. It's been a long while since they sent back the rest of Frodo's things, and that was when he was moving back in to Bag End, and they went to the trouble of it all, once more, and still, Frodo didn't stay. But Frodo's still here, in the wood and in the air, in the darkness behind closed eyes. And Pippin whispers, "Do you think we are? Staying here for good?"

Merry's embrace tightens, but then it relents and he steps back, his gaze dark and grey and watching. Just as dark and grey as the Sea had been, and though they had watched it, it hadn't concerned itself with them. "Well," Merry says, at last. "I suppose that one day – we'll have to go back."

Merry's arms fall away, and Pippin steps away, turning to look back at him. There's a gulf between them, gaping. Almost wider than the emptiness of the room. Pippin smiles at him, manages that at least. "Well," he says. "Not for a very long while, I should hope."

Merry smiles in return, an old smile that Pippin knows as well as he knows himself. "Well, we are here now. We should make the best of it, I think."

Pippin nods, and wipes at his eyes. "I – you're probably right."

Merry hesitates, then steps closer, and pulls Pippin once more into his embrace. Pippin turns his head and rests it against Merry's shoulder, looks at the empty hearth – cold and empty and alone.

And Pippin shuts his eyes, and says, "I – do you remember that story you told me, Merry? It seems like it was forever ago, and in a way I do suppose it was. But do you ever think about it? After you told it to me, I thought about it for a very long while. I felt like it was following after me, after all of us, shadowing after us. And I was so frightened – "

Merry had tensed, sometime after Pippin had asked his first question. Now one hand soothes back through Pippin's hair, and there's a light touch at the tip of his ear. Pippin lifts his head, grins faintly and looks him in the eye. "Oh, Pippin," Merry says. "I never did mean to cause you such concern. I'm so very sorry, and I – "

But Pippin shakes his head, brushes a kiss across Merry's lips. "Oh, no. It did make me feel bad, but I didn't ask you about it to make you feel bad, either. I'm sure you thought about it yourself, Merry, and you had your own time to wonder if your story would come true." He lowers his gaze for a moment, clutches at Merry's arms, then looks up, and says what he feels is in his heart. "I don't think I ever told you, but I was scared, Merry – scared that I would lose you, or that I'd lose Frodo. When we made it back, I forgot that I had ever been frightened by that story; it was just a story, after all. Marnoc might have lost Hildifons, but I hadn't been so unlucky – I might have lost you both for a while, but not for good. Frodo did make it back, but that wasn't enough – he had to leave, and I do know that leaving was for his own best. But I – it hurts. I only want him happy, Merry, happy and safe, and I want him to know I always did love him, loved him more than any breath, because I never could do anything less."

"I – Pippin," Merry mutters, almost speechless. He shuts his eyes tight, then opens them wide, and a sad smile has slipped into place. He touches Pippin's cheek, presses a soft kiss against Pippin's mouth, soft that turns hard, and when he falls back, when they both break away, they are left gasping. He strokes his thumb back to Pippin's ear, and says, "There is a lot I did not wish to endure, and not just when Gandalf stole you away to Minas Tirith – though, I did wish I could ride off after you and save you, take you from that city of stone. I – " Merry frowns, then shakes his head. "And you found me, and maybe if we were meant to die, then we'd not have to die alone. That didn't seem like such a bad thing, if we had come to an end. And we were at the edge of fire, and it did seem that it was an end."

"Oh, Merry..."

Merry shrugs, then looks away. But he doesn't step away, doesn't move, and it's silence and then breath, and then Merry's words. "Then you were gone, and I was left to die alone, and Frodo and Sam were likely already dead so it didn't seem like I would have to wait very long until we were all together again. I thought about you, Pippin, and I even thought about that foolish story. And weren't we all fools."

One more breath, and Merry goes on, his gaze deep and dark and very far away. "I thought about you, and I thought about Frodo, and I wondered what it had been like for him in the end. I wondered if he had thought about us, and then – no, I was certain that he'd not. There wasn't any room left. Only It."

Pippin lets out his breath, with a shaking laugh. "You really are rather good at telling stories that make a hobbit feel his worst."

Merry's grin, his Merry's grin, is sudden and bright but then it fades just as fast and Merry goes on. "I never did ask him. I don't think I could have stood it, knowing. I only ever wanted his happiness, and I loved him before you were even born. He was something to aspire to. Maddeningly infuriating, but he was wonderful. I love him still." Merry shakes his head once more, like he can't make it all fit back into what's real, then looks from Pippin to the empty hearth, and back again. "He would take the weight of the world onto his shoulders, to keep those he loved from feeling any pain. Did the best he could. And he fussed over you, when we made it back to Minas Tirith, and he never did say anything about it when you limped or when my hand ached, but you know he blamed himself for all our pain. That he hadn't stopped it. That he'd caused it." Merry shakes his head, again, looks down and it's Merry, this time, who leans his forehead against Pippin's shoulder. "He really was too stubborn for his own good."

"Is," Pippin says. "Is."

"Is."

It does feel good, having said all that, having heard all that Merry's had to say – his insides don't feel quite as cold and empty as a dead hearth. "I just want to know that he'll be happy, and I can only hope that with all my heart – all of it that's left. Do you think he knows? Do you think he's well, wherever he is now?"

And Merry nods, and he pulls Pippin close and hugs him with all the strength that he can manage, and Pippin wraps his arms about Merry tightly and holds on tight, as if it's all that he can do. Once again, Pippin presses his face against Merry's shoulder, shuts his eyes as if hoping that he can stop all his tears, but they do fall, and he supposes he'll feel better, for letting them all out.

"I won't ever not miss him."

"I know. At least we do still have each other, Pip. We're here now, Pippin. Home."

"Home. And we do still have each other," Pippin mutters, shuts his eyes once more and presses his face into the comforting texture of tear-damp cloth that covers Merry's shoulder. "I don't think I could bear losing you, too." Then, as if he's tired of crying, as if he's spent too much time on it already, he lifts his head and presses a kiss to Merry's mouth, and Merry's lips shift and open and then Pippin can let himself fall into the kiss. He lets it all go, the aching in his chest, and he lets Merry hold him up. "I love you, I love you," he gasps, breathless. "I've had years to tell you how that silly old story of yours made me feel, but I did think it silly, and after we all made it back, I never did worry about it coming true. I didn't want to be Marnoc, didn't want you to be Hildifons – but we didn't lose ourselves. Frodo's the only one who's gone."

"Pippin – "

He hadn't quite managed it, letting it all go – so he pushes it away, and kisses Merry instead. "You and I, we're two of a kind," he whispers, against Merry's lips. "No matter what else might happen, I promise you this – you'll not ever lose me and I'll never let you go. Not again."

Well, he couldn't quite stop all the tears, as Pippin now feels them wet on his cheeks. But he laughs through them all as he kisses Merry once more and then pulls Merry to the parlour floor.

"If you are going to have your way with me, then we probably should do something about all this clothing," Merry gasps, when he can.

"Yes, we probably should," Pippin says, and he straddles Merry's legs. It isn't a first or a last, just one more time – not their first since their return, and though it has all changed, things can't very well change more than they already have. So, they both pull at what clothing they can, reach for touch and heat and skin. It is nothing more than n, as a long life full of love has made Merry as welcome a habit of Pippin's, as Pippin can hope he is of Merry's.

And there really are some constants that shouldn't have to change.

Comments

[mews1945.livejournal.com]

I love this story. I love them together, how they comfort and hold each other. It's beautiful.

[danachan.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Julia. *hugs* I love it when they can be there for each other, you know? And also, well, I like it when we get to see that they love(d) Frodo, too.

[sophinisba]

I am so embarrassed that I've never commented on this story. So I will write here what I said in chat the other night. I'm happy you chose to call the community At Crickhollow because the name always makes me think of Merry and Pippin's love for Frodo and what they did for him by forming the Conspiracy, and how moved Frodo was when they told him, at Crickhollow.

And I'm happy that you chose this as the first fic to post in the comm, because it sets a wonderful tone. It's about Merry and Pippin as adults who love each other but who also love Frodo. Pippin is a grown-up and he's brave, but he also gets frightened. And Merry is smart, but he messes up and tells Pippin a story that just makes him feel worse. They're all three-dimensional, believable characters, and I love that. I love the way you write them.

[danachan.livejournal.com]

This really is the right story to start this community off on, I know. I'm glad I wrote this story, and I know I wouldn't have if it hadn't been for you.

I'm glad you like the way I write them, because I like the way I write them, too. Like, a lot. Especially Pippin. Surprisingly enough, I'm rather fond of him, you know. (Also, it's important that we see they love Frodo, because so many people forget, and arghhh. Argh)

:D