By: Dana
Summary: Stories have their way of being told.
Characters: Pippin, others
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Written for my fanfic100 claim - I signed up for Pippin. Also, this was written for calanthe11, who wanted five things that did (or could have happened) happen to Peregrin Took.
lindelea1, thank you for the beta.
Prompt: Who? (#76). Words: 1,000.
8/100.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

I.

Cousin Bilbo knows all sorts of interesting things, and he knows all the very best stories; but of them all (and Pippin spends enough time at Bag End that he thinks, of course, he's heard them all), he likes the one where Bilbo outwits Smaug the very best. It's another birthday (for Bilbo and Frodo, that is), and Pippin is full of three helpings of dessert and he's got two new very fine birthday gifts (a fishing pole and the promise of fishing to go along with it, from Frodo, and a picture book filled with knights and princesses and dragons, too, from Bilbo, who also gives the very best gifts), but the very best part of the night is when Bilbo takes his closest family into his own best parlour, and tells them all tales. They all get to choose one – Merry's is boring, but then, Merry thinks he's too big for being so little (he's only fifteen), and it takes almost forever it to be Pippin's turn: but when it is, he picks that one of course, his favourite, and laughing, Bilbo scoops him up and sits him on his knee, and then he makes magic with words.

II.

Bag End has always been Pippin's very favourite place, and he almost wants to tell Frodo what he thinks about all this foolish business (and he does think it foolish); now that Merry's gone, and off with Frodo's things, it isn't just soon enough until they'll be gone from here, too. Why, this is it, then – when Pippin goes back, he knows it's for the very last goodbye. He never has worried much about moving – it didn't count, almost, when they went to Great Smials, since they spent their springs at Whitwell, still. But this is different, and not the first time that Frodo's had to move. And Frodo, and how it had been, feeling that that he might just slip away... it's lucky, for him and Merry both, that they know Frodo better than Frodo ever had thought they did. And all this foolish business – well, Pippin would perhaps feel better about it all, if only Gandalf had showed up. Not that he could make it happen, now – he has no conjuring gift.

Oh, well. He really should finish his walk – they'll be leaving, soon, and he wouldn't want Sam and Frodo both slipping off, and leaving him behind.

III.

It hadn't been his favourite of Bilbo's stories – but Pippin still knew the story of the Eagles, and he thought he knew it well enough, given how often Bilbo had gone on and on about his travels with the dwarves and the goblins and the mountain and Pippin even remembers something about a battle, a great battle, and there had been Five Armies, and... It was all very dark now, and Pippin found it very hard to think. It wasn't his story, but he knew it anyhow, and he wondered if he would be a part of any great story, as soon as he was (now that he was) gone. He wasn't very sad – no, he wasn't sad at all – and it was all very dark, and he could almost see (only he couldn't see). Well, Bilbo had had his story, and certainly they would let Pippin have at least one small part of all this, however it might end. But he did not see how it should matter – and it was very dark, and the pain had nearly gone away.

It wasn't so bad.

So Pippin let go of that, even that, and all else seemed to fall away.

IV.

From the time that Faramir had only been seven, the story that he most liked to hear – the one he'd insist on, no matter what – was the one about the Ents. He was older, now, and having a son who was nearly a tween made Pippin feel nearer to his proper age. And Faramir would say, "All my Brandybuck cousins are taller than I am – and all the Took ones, too. Even Ferry Bolger is taller than I am, and he's nearly the same age. And cousin Periwinkle, too, and she's only twelve." This was quite important: after all, he was now fifteen, and that was ages more than twelve. With a sigh, he'd give his father a look, and then he'd say: "You're the very tallest hobbit that I know, da. However did you manage that?"

And Pippin would tell him all about the Ents, once again, and by the end Faramir was, for the time, content: "When I've had Ent-draught of my own, then I'll be as tall as you. Da, might we visit them soon? I would like to meet old Treebeard, I think."

"It has been a long while. I should like to see him, too."

V.

Spring's been left behind them. They made their journey through it, through the long and changing summer, and made it to Edoras with the scent of autumn hanging heavy in the air. It was a resolute sort of somberness that had greeted them, as they reached the end (and through it, they'd spoken of many things, Theoden, Eomer, and even Eowyn, not the slightest of them all) – and it was fitting, Pippin thought, and he'd thought as well that he would not be with Merry when he was brought to see his King. But Pippin was wrong (after all, he could still be wrong), and he stood in the chamber (it smelled of stone and old herbs, and though it was warmed, there was a permeation of an ancient-feeling chill). Eomer was a great Man, but he was fading – not like an Elf might fade, but more like a mountain, mighty against time. And he stood in the chamber, thinking that he might add wood to the fire, watching as Merry sat at Eomer's bedside, listening as they talked of great, and old, things.

Then Eomer was gone, and Merry's tears were bitter, but no more than the autumn rain.