Already Gone
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/merry/pippin

Pippin knows that no matter how much he and Merry give, Frodo takes and takes some more. And it's understandable, and he much prefers Frodo's kiss to the darkness that's in the depths of Frodo's eyes; it's then, when Frodo's eyes are most haunted, that Frodo needs them most, and takes it all.

But Pippin can't help but feel that they're fighting a losing battle; and sometimes afterward, tangled together in the overlarge bed, bitter tears flood Pippin's eyes. And it doesn't matter that Pippin can feel Frodo against him, because the Frodo that he knew before, is already gone.

To Adventure
rated g, 100 words
fatty bolger, 100

Fatty Bolger waves to the quartet as they ride off into the damp darkness, waves until there's no sign left of them, when even the clop of their ponies hooves had vanished into the early morning dim. He yawns and yawns again, tugs on his reins, turns his pony back towards home. There was still time, he supposes, to call them back. Perhaps he might just be heard; perhaps he might just go on this adventure of theirs, too.

But what a silly notion.

If he rides hard, he'll make it to Brandy Hall well before second breakfast is served.

Sometimes
rated g, 100 words
grima/éowyn
Written as a mathom on my birthday, August 2004.

Sometimes she sleeps and he stands at her bed, just watching.

Never closer than that, close enough to picture pale fingers tangling in the yellow of her hair; and her hair, he knows without knowing, is strong and sweet, a crown of gold, and she a queen carved of ice and stone.

She is no child of the light, but kin to the darkness, instead. For where there is black in his heart, it calls to her; and he wonders, but never knows, if she is all that he imagines.

Sometimes she sleeps and she dreams of him, just watching.

Come Back
rated g, 100 words
sam/merry/pippin

They arrive on time, right after noon; and Merry and Pippin are like knights out a tale, shining in the light of the sun. Rose Gamgee looks up from where she stands at the foot o They are gallant, bright and good. She sees the shadows, though, that darkens their gaze. Rose might be joy, but they are memory, a link back to something she won't ever need to know.

That doesn't mean that she doesn't understand.

(Her Sam is always back come dawn.)

Fit
rated pg13, 100 words
light sexual content implied, rosie/sam/frodo

Frodo wakes between two warm bodies - Rosie with an arm slid curved back around his neck, breath warm against his shoulder, breasts pressed against the smooth flat plain of his chest - and Sam, behind, breath softer, moist, face pressed into the mass of Frodo's curls, palm flat against the point of Frodo's hip. And he is quite sure that there must be some reason for his waking - and yet, he cannot tell. Frodo half-closes his eyes, Sam and Rosie's arms tangled over his body, slides his hand down the curve of Rosie's hip.

They make him fit.

Go Alone
rated g, 100 words
faramir, boromir

His mother is gone; she'll never return. It explains his father's grim silence, his sudden storms. It explains his brother's quiet tears.

They say that it had been the Sea; the sorrow that had broke his mother's heart, the song that in the end had called her home. "She should not have had to go alone," Faramir says. "I would have gone at her side."

Now, Boromir's tears fall openly like rain, and holds his brother close. "I would not bear to lose you too."

Faramir closes his eyes, his brother's lips upon his brow.

Somewhere distant, the gulls cry.

Long Gone
rated g, 100 words
éowyn, éomer, théoden, théodwyn

It says something of their times, for a child so young to comprehend her father's fate; Eomund is dead, slain by orcs, yet Éowyn understands.

Éomer does, too, and he must; she is only seven years old.

"You will have a home here, sister. Always." The king kisses his sister's brow.

To Théodwyn, this matters little; she looks to her children, knows that they will be looked after; even when their mother is long gone.

Her children, who are watching their mother die of her grief; but they understand this, too, and that there is nothing that they can do.

Some Other
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

He wakes with a strangled cry, throwing covers and pillows this way and that, sitting up straight in their bed. Dark, dark, everything is all too dark, and cold. It had gone too far, and it has cost too much; there is no place for ones so small to stand amongst the great.

But now, sure arms wrap around him, pulling him close. "Hush now, Pippin," a whisper. "Go back to sleep."

Pippin struggles with what is and what isn't, slumping into grateful arms. "Merry," a sigh.

And Diamond kisses Pippin, as he calls her by some other lover's name.

Worth
rated g, 100 words
pippin, denethor

I will not cry.

Pippin could feel the sting of tears burning his eyes, constricting his throat. He would not cry, not here, in this place, in front of this man. Not for the worry that Denethor would not notice; instead, that he would, laugh and jeer.

And it isn't that he doesn't think he could deal with it, just that he'd rather not face that inevitability. At least he was certain that he could not face himself, afterwards.

I will not cry, he told himself again. And he didn't, not then, because this man was not worth his tears.

After
rated g, 100 words
character death
pippin, merry

He went out walking on the field of battle, now that it was done. Too much death, so much loss; Pippin, Guard of the Citadel he might be, did not understand.

He found Merry, covered by some other body, which he rolled away, lying still on the ground. "Merry," he said, kneeling down in the grass. "Merry, it's me. It's Pippin."

And there was no answer, just dried blood on still lips, and Pippin gathered his breath, a great aching void, as he drew Merry close. Then he cried, dark and numb, Merry lying cold and still in his arms.

So Easy
rated g, 100 words
character death
gollum, sam, frodo

We crouch down low. The stupid fat hobbit sleeps, and master is at his rest. It would be so easy. We reach out to the fat hobbit's pack, low to the ground. But what are we doing! Why need we be so tricksy, when it is so easy? We creep to the fat hobbit, grinning. He sleeps on, and we put our hands on his shoulder.

We push.

Later, there are tears in master's tired eyes. "He should not have slept so close to the edge." We grip master's hand. Master grips ours.

Ours, and soon the precious is, too.

Stranger
rated g, 100 words
pippin

She said that he would find his courage, but he finds that rather hard to believe. He doesn't feel very courageous, now, standing here in this city of stone and high towers, this city at the edge of shadow and night.

What he wants is Merry, to know that Frodo is safe with his Sam, to know that it will be possible for them all to go back.

Now some other hobbit watches him from the mirror's depths, a uniform of silver and black, a hobbit that must be a stranger because Pippin no longer knows the face looking back.

All Grown
rated g, 100 words
merry, pippin
A Lynn-challenge. "Poignant."
Mirrors Cartography.

Pippin has a way of belittling himself that Merry is sure will end up driving him insane. Ever since he was younger, and smaller, the shortest in their group. He's put up with well-meaning jokes from Fatty and Folco, himself and Frodo, and Pippin has pulled a joke or two of his own, too, at his own expense.

Merry hates it - that Pippin could joke about these things.

But maybe it just isn't that anymore - because that Pippin isn't the Pippin who stood before death, who laughed at it when he was ready to die.

Pippin isn't so short anymore.

Cartography
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin
A Lynn-challenge. "Gratuitous."
Mirrors All Grown.

Pippin has a way of getting under Merry's skin, and flooding his senses, so everything feels and breathes and sees is Pippin, and maybe he used to care, or even would have complained. And he does care. It's just that this is their first time alone in an age.

They've both changed so much, on the inside, and the out, and Merry wants to sketch a map of this change, under the shape of his mouth. He starts with Pippin's mouth, to feel it under his own, to see how different Pippin tastes, in this tall white city of stone.

Appreciation
rated pg13, 100 words
merry/pippin
A Hyel-challenge. "Domesticate."

Merry thinks if he's to get any use out of Pippin, then he'll need to domesticate him proper. Not to say that Pippin's advances aren't nice - because they really are really quite nice. Merry doubts the furniture appreciates it all as much as he does.

"Pippin - "

"Quiet, Merry," and Pippin makes a thoughtful noise as the chair creaks when it rocks back on its hind legs - this chair, that Merry is sitting in, and Pippin is sitting on Merry, straddling his thighs.

Pippin grips the chair tight.

"We're going to fall."

"Quiet, Merry," and Pippin gives him a kiss.

Legend
rated g, 100 words
éowyn

She was eleven that time, when she had first heard the tale; of holbytla, magic folk, strange, fancy and free, more strange than elves, even, creatures of legend, and only that.

"I would love to meet a holbytla warrior," she had said. Would the little folk ride, she had wondered, and what would they eat; were they jolly, or were they fierce, and would they laugh at their work as if it was play. Thought, but never asked. They would wait for some other day.

Éowyn is older now, and wiser, with her own holbytla warrior to answer them all.

Meeting the Sea
rated g, 100 words
éowyn

She has lived a life on windswept plains, could ride almost before she could walk. A daughter of kings, a daughter of the Mark, there had never been reason for her to go beyond what borders that land has been given. And hidden there, power, untamed and free. There is no nothing that calls to her quite like the song that is buried deep in the wild of her own blood's land.

Dol Amroth is what introduces Éowyn to the sea; and for the first time in her life, her belief in her homeland falters hearing surf and gull's cry.

Indebted
rated g, 100 words
frodo/pippin
An Aralinde-challenge. "Chair."

"Stop that, Pippin," Frodo says, squirming. Pippin laughs, a bony elbow prodding Frodo hard in the side. "Oof," a grunt, then, as Pippin rearranges himself, makes himself comfortable, until his legs are crossed over Frodo's, and Frodo is forced to hold his book out to the side. Surely this chair can't be big enough for the two of them, now.

"There."

"You can be such a pain," Frodo says, but his tone is fond. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?"

"I haven't quite figured that out. But I'm certain that you owe me a lot."

That Far After
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
Mirrors That Far Ahead, below.

Merry woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room, and there was some other weight against the edge of his bed. "What do you want, Pippin?" he said after a long moment. Shifting, the sighing creak of the mattress, and Pippin laughed.

"How did you know it was me?"

"As far as I know, Frodo isn't fond of crawling into my bed in the middle of the night."

"It's far after the middle of the night," Pippin chuckled. "And for all you know, I could have been Fatty."

"I'm rather glad you're not."

Pippin settled down close. "Me too."

That Far Ahead
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
Mirrors That Far After, above.

Pippin woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room, and he was lying on a wide bed, empty but soft. This city, its buildings, even its beds, weren't the right size; how it all made him feel so small.

"You're awake."

"So are you."

"I was thinking."

"Oh?"

"What do you want to do first, Pip - when we go home."

Pippin was quiet a long time, wishing Merry was right there, at his side, in his arms, and not a wide full room away; maybe then he wouldn't feel so small. "I haven't been thinking that far ahead."

Better Left Unsaid
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin

There are those nights where Merry stays awake, certain that he'll be there to see the dawn. Those nights, when Pippin is an echo of who he once was, and Merry is made to retrace their lives together; their story written, intangible, on Pippin's skin.

"What do you remember most?" Pippin might ask, honey-gold light in his hair, breath warm, skin against skin, and Merry's hand pauses in its wanderings, "I'm not quite sure."

Merry tucks his head against the crook of neck-and-shoulder; they both know there are some things that are better left unsaid.

Second Thoughts
rated g, 100 words
merry, pippin
An Aralinde-challenge. "Hesitant."

Pippin shakes his head. Such a dreary day, wet and cold. What he wants right now is a warm bed, and a hot fire, and a good strong cup of tea. What he has is hard cold ground underneath, a bleak and cheerless sky spreading grey overhead.

"What about you?"

"Brandybucks aren't known for having second thoughts."

Pippin laughs. "Good, then, that we're related."

"I miss - "

"I know."

"Can I be honest with you, Pip?"

"Aren't you always?"

Merry's gaze darts between. "It's just - "

And Pippin whispers, grinning, perceptive: "I know."

Playing Fair
rated pg13, 100 words
faramir/pippin
A Lullenny-challenge. "An entire drabble written without the letter e."

"Why -" harsh panting "- my lord, would you want to know what I know?"

"I am curious, that is all."

"But I - "

But Pippin finds it hard to suck in air, right now, not as Faramir's hands, skillful and quick, mold against his skin, pushing down hard and soft. What Faramir can coax from him, now, and passion follows sanity down, a fast approaching goal.

No call for anything but. And Pippin is gasping, writhing, hard.

"What I know, my lord, is that for a captain of Gondor, you hardly play fair."

No Looking Back
rated g, 100 words
frodo, merry

You want to think that all of your plotting and planning has been terribly clever but that clearly isn't so. You find yourself at a loss for words. Terribly clever? Not you. These fellows here, your cousins and your gardener, too. If a one here should be called clever, it is them: how could you think that you could pull the wool over their eyes?

Maybe because it isn't like you've never done it before.

"Frodo? We've still a bit of work to do before we can sleep."

You nod - tomorrow will be here before you know.

No looking back.

Exchange
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/merry

Frodo's voice is soft-steady-soothing at Merry's ear, an indistinct murmur that's hard to make out; especially when Frodo's hands are pressed bare against skin, when there can't possibly be anything else but ohyesdothatagainplease.

"Please," and Merry's entire world hinges on that one word, when Frodo laughs and a whisper caresses his ear, when Frodo's hands are movingtouchingsliding and then are still, oh so incredibly still.

"And what shall I get in return?" Frodo asks, and Merry shakes, pressed back against hard wood, unable to move.

"I'm sure," Merry replies, surprised that he can, "that we can work out an exchange."

Not Going Alone
rated g, 100 words
merry/éowyn

The cold air bites at his cheeks, keeping him awake. He should sleep now, and he knows it, while he still can. But how could he? he wonders, when the world is racing like a blur all around - passing so fast, as he rides to what is most likely certain death.

He clutches at Éowyn's hand and wonders if he'll cry.

"Merry? Are you still awake?"

"It's just that I was just thinking..."

He is riding to what is most likely certain death; at least he isn't going alone.

Window Gone Dark
rated g, 100 words
frodo/pippin

Frodo's eyes are like a window into his soul, a something that Pippin has always believed, because his cousin has always been so open, and so honest, and Pippin can read Frodo like a book (even better than Merry can), the pages of a book written in Frodo's eyes.

But it's different, now, after it all. If there was a book written there, then now it's gone, and the window has gone dark. Pippin fights to hold onto Frodo, now, when he can feel Frodo pulling away, knowing that it's a fight that he can win.

Or so he believes.

In Common
rated g, 100 words
merry/sam

It isn't that you have anything much in common (maybe your fascination with weeds, as Pippin might put it, but that's hardly enough), and it isn't that you hang about in the same circle of friends, because you don't.

He's just your cousin's employee; you get along well enough, you're about the same age, and he laughs at all your jokes. And you wonder if they're even funny, because Pippin wouldn't think them funny, but Sam is hardly Pippin, and you've had enough of that.

You see things in Sam that make you wonder if everyone else has gone blind.

Measure and Weight
rated pg, 100 words
denethor/pippin

He is young, and he is foolish, but there is something about him that makes you go against your better judgment, letting him pledge himself into your service. But what could he do? you wonder, even as he kneels before you, as he stutters and stumbles, even as you stand and he lifts his gaze, tentative, and his mouth brushes cool against your ring of office.

When your thumb brushes the curve of his lip, touches the warmth of his cheek, he doesn't think to flinch, and you grin down at him as you rethink your judgment of his worth.

Insight
rated g, 100 words
frodo, pippin

Pippin is known for acting before thinking, more impetuous than Frodo remembers having been in his youth. (Merry would have other things to say.)

Right now, Pippin is doing just that, scrambling upwards easy as you please. Frodo can't help but grin, settled back against the tree; legs hooked under the branch, a book in one hand, an apple in the other.

Pippin lifts himself up to sit on the branch.

"You must think us blind," Pippin says.

"I never said that."

"Sometimes you don't have to."

Frodo hands Pippin that apple, and wonders when his little cousin turned wise.

Made To Pass
rated g, 100 words
frodo/merry

Frodo finds Merry sitting at his desk (Frodo's desk, that is), head pillowed on the open pages of some weathered book. Hair and parchment blend on a background of sunlight and shadow filtered, and for a long moment Frodo wonders if he should wake Merry at all.

But moments like that are made to pass.

Merry wakes with a shriek (and as a Brandybuck, would be indignant if that cry had been titled a shriek), and Frodo laughs as he races from the room.

Frodo will pay. Merry's ear is still stinging, and the back of his neck is wet.

Hope
rated g, 100 words
unnamed citizen of Minas Tirith
Written because of this challenge in Mary's journal.

Clip-clop, clip-clop, the horse's hooves beat hard against the cobblestone road.

There is a lad amongst those who watch, a child no more than fourteen. He would ride to war and he would ride to death, though they say he is too young; he would ride and he would fall and he would be at his brother's side.

Flowers are crushed under the hard clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse's hooves. (And there are those here who yet cling to hope.)

He is only a lad (and his mother is clutching his hand tight) but he knows that hope is dead.

Belief
rated g, 100 words
unnamed citizen of Minas Tirith
Written because of this challenge in Kielle's journal.

The air is thick and still - silence that swallows all but the steady sound of the horse's hooves as they strike stone. They are riding to their doom, after all, and one rider sits in his saddle, numbed before the world that looms.

Flowers are crushed under hoof and steel. He will ride at his Captain's side; in hopes that no fresh blood will stain this cobblestone; that their city will not fall. But hope is fragile in these ending days.

Still, he does not doubt that this ride will be their last. (This belief cannot only be his own.)

Amazed
rated g, 100 words
frodo

Frodo stands alone at the bow. It washes back over him, a grey sheet of rain, and Frodo lifts his face to the sky. Wonderment, there, a strange fancy, that he can even feel, as rain soaks through to his skin and tears fall, amazed, from his eyes.

There is light shining across the water and Frodo gazes upon it, the rain already drying on his skin. But the tears continue to fall and he smiles, laughs, as the light shines brightly; white shores, the gold-and-silver dawning of this far-green land.

The light isn't so bright that he cannot see.

It's Only Rain
rated g, 100 words
frodo/sam

"I think we ought to - " "Quiet now, Sam," Frodo laughs, a quick grin on his lips and his eyes are shining, that queer shade of blue that Sam blames on Frodo's Brandybuck blood. "There isn't anything wrong."

"But its raining, sir, and we ought to get in before we're soaked to the skin."

They already are, though, though Sam would rather not admit it, and their clothing is soggy and heavy and they are standing in the steady rain outside Bag End's front door.

"It's only rain," Frodo says, looking to the sky. (Sam loves that shade of blue.)

What Was Lacking
rated g, 100 words
frodo, galadriel
For Nanni.

The taste of bitter ash follows him into this place of light. Here, in an almost-dream, where Frodo knows he shouldn't be, but her voice like a balm on a wound soothes his aches and hurts and bleeds. A smile; one that shines beyond despair, gives strength like a fall of pure water, filling a font that was near to going dry.

Her hand may be little more than a risk of hope, but there is no where else for him to turn. She has given him at least the will to carry on. (It wasn't just strength that lacked.)

The Plan
rated pg, 100 words
diamond/estella
For Elly.

"I don't think I'm used to such A laugh - and Diamond clamps her hand over her mouth, because it would be rotten luck if they were to be found. Estella flickers her gaze down (because she's busy straddling Diamond's thighs) and Diamond's eyes are bright with mirth and love and expectation, too, and her smile is flickering in soft candlelight.

"Do you need help, dear Stel?"

Estella gives the ties of Diamond's bodice a firm tug. "They're stuck."

Diamond grins. "I've a plan, then," and Estella gasps as, a moment later, she finds herself flat on her back.

Will Soon Understand
rated g, 100 words
merry, théoden
For Elly.

His sword has been offered and service has been taken and Merry wonders if it will be possible to make this Man proud. He is but one small hobbit, after all, and he doubts that even this love that he feels (and it is near-boundless, it seems) will be enough if (or maybe when) he were to face death. He is no great warrior, after all, but he hopes himself brave.

"As a father you shall be to me," Merry says.

"For a little while," comes Théoden's reply.

(Merry will soon understand the full weight of his Lord Théoden's words.)

Feeling
rated g, 100 words
pippin
For Janette.

It's the sort of something that comes with time and change - your best weskit that you've gone and out grown; or maybe a door you know you must have opened at sometime over the years, but for the life of you can't seem remember what is on the other side.

But there are constants. Pippin knows the taste of wood and sunlight, remembers light and water and the ageless rumble of old Treebeard's voice. These things, at least, are a comfort still; understanding, too. The changing of the world seems inconsequential by the reckoning of trees.

(And he can feel.)

The Right Thing To Say
rated g, 100 words
galadriel, frodo, crack!drabble
For Fileg.

The Company will go from Lothlorien well-rested and well-equipped, and perhaps the shadow that had followed at their footsteps would lighten now at this secondary beginning of their quest. Now, here in this place, the bearer of the One stands before her, and Galadriel's smile is wide.

And yet - bugging eyes and twitching lips - he does not know what to say; even though his hand wraps firm around Galadriel's phial, Earendil's light glowing dim.

Maybe "Have soem prezents!" wasn't the right thing to say. (If it is to be one of those ages, at least they were nearing its end.)

A Strange Something
rated g, 100 words
unnamed citizen of minas tirith and pippin
For Shirebound.

His father had been a soldier in his youth. Seven years now since saying good bye, he feels for the time ever, that he is glad his father is gone. Better than to watch his heart break, to see the city (his city, his father would have joked) in such a state; broken, bloody, burning.

And it is strange, but something stirs in his chest at the sight of the young Guardian of the Citadel (a lone Halfling from lands afar) as he triumphs against all odds.

A strange something that might be hope.

Grief
rated g, 100 words
For Heather.

Grief is hard and cold like stone and Pippin can feel it, pressure wedged in his throat. Cold fingers and cold tears and the wind blows and he knows that it is stinging his cheeks but can't feel even that. He feels numb.

But Merry's hands are quick and warm, rubbing his shoulder, and if there is one thing that Pippin can hear, it is Merry; Merry, who is crying, too.

He wants to sit, wants to pull Merry into his arms, wants to let Merry know he isn't alone. (And he hates knowing he can't make the hurt stop.)

Don't
rated g, 100 words
merry, théoden
For Karine.

The only thing Merry is sure of, right now, is the bitter taste of regret and knowing that he should not be left behind. This shouldn't be, he wants to shout, call Théoden back, but he cannot seem to find his voice. There goes Théoden, off to war and death, and Merry is left behind.

This shouldn't be, he wants to shout, at least, he wants to say, and the voice in his head is his own as a child.

But he is no child at play and this, better or worse or life or death, is his own choice.

Not Funny
rated g, 100 words
frodo, pippin
For Bree.

After three attempts at logging in, the flashy logo for Middle-earthlink (a revolving Silmaril, that always causes him to stop and stare for at least five minutes), pops up and fingers dance across the keyboard and a hand darts, dragging the mouse. Click, click, email sent, type up another, and he logs into his chat.

His eyes scan the list, and it's bagendsmaster (who happens to be away) that catches his attention. Double click and the window pops up.

themagnificentpip: I SEE YOU.

Away message: I am currently unavailable.

bagendsmaster has returned from away.

bagendsmaster: That's not funny anymore, Pip.

Momentary
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Shirasade.

So much can happen in a moment. Because there's something Pippin knows he should be saying but it's been ripped from him, and whatever he's meant to say is gone along with his breath.

The both of you shouldn't be here (hurtssomuchtoomuch to think of Frodo and Sam), and the wrong of it all is thick at the back of his throat and countless times that he should have said I love you like he meant it because he didn't know what was coming next are weighing down on his back.

Pippin reaches out but Merry has already turned away.

Counting The Days
rated g, 100 words
merry, frodo, sam, pippin

"We've no need for such grand ceremonies back in Buckland," Merry says, the sight of old Strider and his coronation, and Pippin nods, but if he's quiet (or Frodo is, or even Sam), Merry only smiles and nods. "I should do something about that, perhaps. Not to say that when we do throw a party," and they always have reason to throw a party, "it's nothing no, nothing like that."

He might not say it (and he doesn't need to say it) but they're counting the days (and the summer has gone on too long) until they'll be heading home.

The Sound Of
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

"Sing me a song."

Pippin's expression is amused. "What would you have me sing?"

"I don't know," Merry replies, Pippin's head in his lap. Merry strokes his fingers through Pippin's curls. Pippin's hands, one of them wrapped in white linen, rests against his chest. His face is peaceful, and he is almost fully healed. Merry's heart had broke, seeing Pippin broken.

"But I like the sound of your voice."

"Then I could keep talking."

"I'd rather you sing."

It isn't that Merry thought he'd never hear him again. It isn't.

"If that's what you want," Pippin laughs, breathes, and sings.

Stitching
rated g, 100 words
aragorn/arwen/boromir

She'd never had to ask - she'd always just known. It was love that bound her to Aragorn, and Aragorn to her, and she could not deny that it was love that tied him to Boromir, too, a skein of twisted knots: a would be Steward, a would be King and the Elven lady who would be their Queen.

But it was torn - the pattern was beginning to fray - and while she had never been given the gift of foresight, it was with a heavy heart she bid her love and his lover farewell.

All her careful stitching is coming undone.

Idle
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

The sky is clear and blue behind and through copper-tinted curls and an idle smile plays on Pippin's lips as he presses a finger to the pointed corner of Merry's smile. "Kiss me."

"Is that what you want?" Merry asks. Pippin is long and warm, stretched out along the length of his body. Pippin's foot is pressed against Merry's, shifting slightly. When he presses further, Merry gasps.

"It is," Pippin says.

The sky is stretching like the sea, the clouds the land that bind it, and Merry tangles his hand in Pippin's hair as Pippin bends his mouth to Merry's.

Through The Divide
rated pg, 100 words
frodo

The world right beneath the water's surface is murky brown, laced with yellow light. The water is cold and your feet don't touch the bottom. Looking up, you see your face distorted in the mirror-like bottom of the water's surface. You kick your feet and struggle against your body's natural instinct: to rise, to breathe.

You hold it in.

Is this what they felt? Ringing in their ears, a stinging in their lungs. The world is bright yellow and blue but through the divide of water meeting air it all turns dead and brown.

You break the surface and breathe.

Clear
rated g, 200 words
frodo

Can he remember a sky like this back home? Too blue and too clear, and if he closes his eyes, he can't tell if it's sun or if it's starlight that gives the heavens its light. The water laps softly at the shore, and the whisper of waves pulls Frodo forward until his feet are soaked by sea-foam, where the sand is wet and yielding but hard and gritty underneath.

The sea stretches out, sparkling, and Frodo kneels, leans forwards, presses his hands into water that seems to breathe. Gulls wheel overhead in the salty tasting sky; their loud and lonesome cries echo across the beach.

Are they waiting, he wonders, and he thinks of those he left behind. The Shire is theirs now, a world away; but a world he could no longer bear. Here, Frodo can feel it all, this world that is new, and white sand slips through his fingers and he clutches at it, like something that is near intangible as it rushes backwards with the retreat of the crystal-colored water.

He has seen the light in the West, but wasn't burned - instead, it washed him clean of his grief.

At last, he feels at peace.

Pushing
rated r, 100 words
merry/pippin

Pippin has a way of pushing until Merry doesn't think that he can take it anymore. Like now, and it isn't just the feel of Pippin's hands, lightly skimming over sweaty skin, it's the presence of Pippin's leg pressed hard against Merry's thigh, pinning his erection, and pinning Merry back against the wall.

Like right now - Merry is about to break.

Pippin is almost purring. "Is this what you want?"

It is - and Pippin knows that it is - and Merry will curse Pippin for this slow burning frustration, even knowing that Pippin will make it well-worth his wait.

Dream Talking
rated g, 200 words
pippin, boromir/merry implied

He isn't awake but he isn't sleeping. He's somewhere else, instead, somewhere in between, where the waking world is a soft echo in his ear and he can't see but for the rippling of the world.

Merry's voice and someone else's; a someone Pippin can place as Boromir and he guesses that this must be a dream.

"... you would love it, I think. I remember my first time there on a visit to cousins in the south. Sea salt on my lips, and the scent of it filled my lungs. My father, he resented it, of course, and my brother didn't understand. But I think I left a part of myself behind, there, that day, with the white sand and the blue sky and the salt spray of the sea stinging my face."

"I would love it, I think," and that is Merry, and then they both laugh.

"You would, yes," and Boromir's voice drops low. "I would take you there, if I could."

"I would love that, too."

Pippin settles back down, now sure that he dreams, and an expanse of white sand spreads out and he follows two sets of footprints that seem to have no end.

Burning
rated g, 100 words
pippin, mention of merry

The city had been burning, and there had been a tree wreathed in nightmarish flames. He could feel it still, that burning, like something on his skin, and under it, too, buried down deep, and he wanted to rub and rub and rub at it until that awful feeling had gone away.

It wasn't even a city he knew, but that didn't matter. He wasn't sure what mattered, still, and the fact that Merry was sitting, with such a frown, at his side, was almost more bothersome than the lingering after-effects of blazing fire and agonizing pain.

(But not quite.)

The Cold
rated g, 100 words
pippin, merry, boromir

"What I'd like right now is a nice hot bath."

Merry softly laughs, his breath showing in a puff of white that contrasts against the dark night, rubbing Pippin's hands to ward off the cold. "You never were a sensible hobbit, Pip, taking to the water like you were a fish."

"A fish that likes bubbles," Pippin says with a grin.

Merry gives Boromir a look. "You'll have to excuse my cousin, Boromir. He seems to have gone and lost his mind."

"Who says that it was only recently lost?"

Merry laughs, and Boromir grins, and beyond, the snow falls.

Lost Count
rated g, 100 words
pippin
For Voontah.

Pippin had lost count of the days since he could think of his life as the sort that a sensible hobbit would have - not that he'd ever thought himself sensible, in even the broadest definition of the word. And he was sick with wanting of his own insensible life.

And Merry did Merry think it too? Pippin can't tell, not when Merry's eyes are shadowed; or is Pippin hates not knowing himself; he hates wondering if they are all riding to their doom.

There Were Times
rated g, 100 words
merry
For Molly.

There were times where this entire debacle, a fiasco that had started with them leaving the Shire, deciding that Frodo would not go alone, had made him really feel and understand how small he was, in this world of big people and big and terrible things.

Parth Galen. Being carried half of Middle-earth, courtesy of Saruman's orcs. And being carried through the rest of the half by Treebeard in Fangorn, and then carried again by Éowyn's deceit.

Carried again, he sits on some other person's horse, and gazes upon the Black Gates, like luggage that has been taken to war.

Holding Close
rated g, 100 words
boromir, merry, pippin
For Abby.

Boromir often wonders what the place of Merry and Pippin, the company's smallest, is yet meant to be. He can trust them for a story of their home, their smiles and their laugh, and he feels it his duty that they can defend themselves. They had led such a simple, peaceful life.

And Gondor's sacrifices had kept them safe.

On Caradhras, he argues against this folly, that this cold will be the death of the hobbits. And he has nearly touched the ring, almost held it in his hand, but it is these two, right now, who he holds close.

No One Else
rated g, 100 words
pippin
For Antigone.

An autumn night - if he didn't know it himself, then he'd be able to feel it in his bones. The Green Dragon is as it ever is - and Pippin is glad of it, because it's bad enough that Sam, Frodo, and Merry understand this pain, (and he is thankful, he really is), but no one else need ever have to know.

Pippin envies them that, their innocence, their smiles, but he'd not go back, even if he could, because he'd rather have what he has. There is song and there is drink, and they sit amidst many, four hobbits alone.

Dancing
rated g, 100 words
sam/rosie, frodo
For Jai.

Dancing. Her mum has always said that she was dancing before she began to walk, even if that is improbable and insensible and makes Rosie laugh. Not that there is a problem with being improbable and insensible - if it makes the world live, and if it makes your feet sing, and if you end up breathless and giddy, then you are definitely doing it right.

She lets herself caught up and lost in it, the music and the motion. And when she ends up wrapped in Sam's arms, she almost kisses him, for all and even Mr Frodo to see.

Can't Help It
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Shirasade.

Merry can't help looking at Pippin, even if the thing about looking is that you can only look for so long until that looking begins to materialize into a more tangible want. Pippin has soft skin, Merry knows well, and after an afternoon of chasing and playing games, there is a thin sheen of sweat glistening where Pippin's shirt has slipped, where his collar has fallen.

Merry wants to taste it – wants to feel Pippin when his teeth graze against that flesh, pressing down against bone and the throbbing of Pippin's pulse.

He wants it just like he needs air.

Mostly For You
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Ellie.

They hug each other tightly like it's been forever - has it even been a week - and Merry is wrapped up so tight in Pippin that he thinks that they'll never be able to pull themselves free.

He doesn't think he minds.

Pippin smells like fresh, sweet hay and the scent of apples is in his hair. Pippin laughs and clutches at Merry as Merry noses his curl. "Fool Brandybuck," Pippin mutters, and Merry follows the distinctive taste of the sun right back to Pippin's laughing mouth.

"Only for you," and they kiss. "Well, mostly for you," and then they laugh.

Glow
rated g, 100 words
frodo, merry, pippin
For Miut.

Pippin never did doubt that he would see Frodo again, well, almost at least, and seeing him like this, awake, his eyes wide, old cuts healing on his cheeks, Pippin understands finally just how close they - he - came to losing Frodo forever.

That causes something to well in his heart, something that squeezes him tight, and he feels his joy rising, too, choking him as it spills into an elated laugh. They go and join him on the bed, hugging him, just touching him, and Pippin is amazed that Frodo can touch him, too.

(And Frodo just seems to glow.)

Sharing
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Dandy.

"You're late," Pippin says, frowning, as Merry sits down in the tall grass, close enough that Pippin can feel Merry's leg pressed against his own, and Merry grins. "You always are."

"Forgive me, cousin," Merry says, laughing, "but what did you bring?"

"I shouldn't share," Pippin says, but he does, and they eat slices of warm blueberry pie (we can say I filched it, Pippin says, if you think that would sweeten the taste), in the warming summer air.

"I can't think straight when you're around," Pippin says, after, kissing the blueberries from Merry's mouth, as if that will help.

Memory and Dream
rated g, 200 words
merry, pippin
A double drabble. For Hyel.

He thinks too much, and he says too little - but then, he always has - and sometimes you wonder if something might be wrong. Because you don't know, can't tell, and there are things that Merry knows that he hasn't thought to share.

You hope that your life together isn't meant to be one of half-truths - because you're sure that there is a long life ahead, and you don't look forward to living it only half- alive.

(This new Merry seems to shine, and you wonder if you can make him fit with the old Merry who lurks in memory and time.)

Sometimes you feel that Pippin can look right through you - because you feel translucent, lost, like you're caught in a dream. Or maybe you are the dream, and Pippin is the one who dreams you into being. You wouldn't be surprised - because that half explains the things that you feel - and nothing feels the same, now, not anymore.

Too much has changed. Not enough has stayed the same. But everything is as it should be, and though you should, you do not regret what When Pippin looks through you, your gaze pierces back through.

Changed
rated g, 100 words
estella/merry
For Danielle.

Merry has changed.

He can't hide it, visible in the brown scar on his brow, and his height, and the fine, foreign togs that he so boldly wears. But there is something more, deeper than skin, and Estella wonders if it was deeper than blood and bone, too.

He's hardly the lad who'd thought frogs were a proper way to earn a young lass' respect, or the tween who'd tease her mercilessly and snatch ribbons from her hair.

He's more hobbit than any hobbit ought to, magnificent, tall and knightly, but she misses the Merry that time has left behind.

Better Things
rated r, 100 words
frodo/pippin
For Ruby.

"I just can't - oh, Pippin, don't do that when I'm trying to talk - you know, oh, confound it all, I can't remember what I was trying to say!"

Pippin chuckles, and Frodo scowls, pushing up off the bed with such a look of righteous indignation that Pippin laughs louder out loud. "Cousin Frodo, why, I'd have thought that you knew that there are better things to do in bed than talk and think."

When Pippin proves that (more than just once) (palming smooth, hard heat) (kissing until he almost can't breathe), Frodo forgets that he had been bothered at all.

And The Moment
rated r, 100 words
boromir/arwen-centric aragorn/arwen/boromir

The air is humming, and Boromir moans as Arwen settles (hot, sated skin, and a warm, seeking mouth) against him, kissing the soft corner of his broad mouth. Her next kiss deepens, and she lightly, back-and-forth, caresses his side. "All better now, my lord?" she asks.

He grins at the gentle teasing in her voice, pushing one hand into the silk of dark hair that falls from her head, gripping gently, angling his head as he gives a soft tug, bringing their mouths back together.

"Yes - yes," he says, against the shape of her kiss. "My lady, all is well."

Compare and Contrast
rated r, 100 words
aragorn/boromir-centric aragorn/arwen/boromir

Aragorn's lips are rough, where Arwen's would be smooth, and his is not a light elven touch. There was a time (Boromir groans into Aragorn's mouth, kissing back, grinding their hips together, hearing Aragorn's groan in return) when he would not have had understood Arwen, as he thinks he does, and Arwen (Aragorn's hand presses against his hip), oh, Arwen, is a fine lady (Boromir growls, gripping Aragorn, thrusting, and Aragorn shudders and flashes like light), and Boromir is better to know her (faster, and though Boromir wishes it, Aragorn would never beg), and to love (oh, yes, that's it).

Despite the Dark
rated pg, 100 words
grima/éowyn

Somehow, despite the dark, and the heavy scent of blood, she manages to sing.

It is nothing but a silly children's rhyme, and as she sings, she soothes his fevered brow, wipes clean his bloodied cheeks. His eyes, wide and too clear, say more than what she desires to believe: that he is dying, that he is already dead.

She does not weep now, nor will she, not until he is gone and her brother, too; and she is abandoned, alone, and bereft of any hope but that of the cloying lies of a snake.

(She almost wants to believe.)

There was a point (when Pippin had Merry half-undressed and pinned to the mattress by the simple fact that he was straddling Merry's thighs, and Merry thought it highly unfair that Pippin still had his trousers on, down to just that, his shirt and his braces), where Merry was quite sure that they were both going to end up falling off the bed, but the part of his mind that was still emitting coherent thought, that hadn't yet fled at the touch of Pippin's warm, sure hand, quite sincerely told him that he definitely did know Pippin better than that.

At Waking
rated g, 100 words
pippin

Pippin woke, uncertain of how long he had slept, only knowing that he had in fact slept. Feeling perfectly at peace, the worries and the aches and the pains of the last (day, week, month, or had it been forever? He couldn't rightly tell) melting in the easy, sleepy comfort that he found settled over his body, as he opened his eyes fully, breathed in, and listened to the sound of Entish voices as they rose and fell like music, or maybe even distant waves.

It hardly seemed to matter that he didn't personally know the sound of the sea.

Meaning - Pippin
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
A double drabble. The other half of Meaning - Merry.

Sometimes, Merry stares at Pippin; not just a little, but a lot, where Pippin can feel the weight of Merry's gaze against his skin, tracing the shape of his profile with nothing but his eyes. Pippin almost doesn't turn and look back at Merry, because he's immodest enough to admit that he likes knowing that he's the full center of Merry's attention. He likes it enough, and wonders why it can't be this way all the time; Pippin definitely thinks it should.

When he does look at Merry, he meets Merry's bright gaze with the sharp curve of a curious grin. "What are you looking at so intently?" he asks.

"Just you," Merry replies, and his eyes spark like stars in the midday sky.

"Just me?" Pippin wonders aloud. "But why?"

"Why?" Merry asks, almost as if he'll say nothing more than that, that he doesn't know why; but then he leans in close and there is suddenly nothing else in the whole entire Shire but Merry: now-shadowed eyes and the smooth shape of his smile.

Pippin might not be able to put words to it, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't find himself knowing exactly what Merry means.

Meaning - Merry
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
A double drabble. The other half of Meaning - Pippin.

Sometimes, Merry stares at Pippin, knowing that he does; sometimes, even, Merry is sure that Pippin knows he stares, but hardly ever seems to complain; like now, where to a casual observer, Pippin might only be lounging backwards amidst tall meadow grass and wildflowers, chewing thoughtfully upon a long blade of grass, a carefree smile playing on his lips as he looks out to the river.

Merry, however, is no casual observer - the day is warm, and Pippin's shirt is half unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up, his feet stretched out almost to the river. Merry watches, and Pippin levels up on one elbow, turning his gaze towards Merry. "What are you looking at so intently?" he asks, pushing upwards until he is properly sitting.

"Just you," Merry replies, feeling that he grins.

Pippin's smile hardens into a more identifiable shape. "Just me?" he asks. "But why?"

"Why?" Merry asks, instead of answering, and Pippin tilts his head one way, then the other, waiting for Merry to answer - an answer, Merry knows, He leans in close, instead, hearing Pippin gasp, smelling grass and summer on his skin. One day, Merry thinks, he might finally understand.

Moving With Intent
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Anna, who needed a pick-me-up.

Clever fingers are moving with steady, unhurried patience, up along the curve of Frodo's spine. A gasp, and then a hitch in his breath, and Frodo bends his brow until it touches skin, resting now against the shape of Pippin's naked shoulder.

"You - oh, Pippin - you are making it quite impossible to think," Frodo pants, warm breath against his ear, one warmer hand pressed to the small of his back, another curving with no hurry around aching, needy flesh.

"Yes, well, cousin, that would be the point," Pippin whispers, both hands moving with intent, mouth touching Frodo as Frodo moans.

Merry Is
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
Written for the bdotp drabblefest, day 2.

Merry is absent summer days, the Brandywine river sluggish and ale-bright in lazy yellow light; cool spring mornings, waking after nights spent sleeping, curled close, in the same small bed; winter nights, out counting stars in the aching clarity of a black, empty sky; autumn evenings, watching fireflies, after a drink and a smoke, reclining in the worn comfort of an old swing. Merry is, simply, all that, not now, not this: worn grey and cold and perhaps even dying. He would not die, would he, Pippin wonders in fear.

'Do not be afraid,' Aragorn says, and Pippin is not.

Something More
rated r, 200 words
merry/pippin, light sexual content
Written for the bdotp drabblefest, day 5.

Merry tastes warm familiarity in Pippin's kiss, and he knows the inside of Pippin's mouth just as well or maybe even better than he knows his own. "We'll be caught," Pippin whispers, mischief in his voice, almost indistinct like the taste of apples-and-Pippin that Merry can taste on his lips. There must be something more.

Merry pops the top button of Pippin's weskit, threading his fingers in Pippin's collar. Pippin groans, Merry's mouth touching against his skin. "Won't be anything new then, I imagine," Merry murmurs, licking autumn-tasting sweat from the crook of Pippin's neck.

"You really are intent on us giving old Maggot a show," Pippin whispers, Merry's mouth tracing along his pulse point, fastening itself upon smooth skin. Merry gives a hard pull on Pippin's jacket and long shirt, grinning, baring Pippin's shoulder beneath.

"At least he'll have seen everything then."

Pippin laughs, moaning. Merry's hand nudges the hard bulge in Pippin's trousers. Around their feet, scattered produce has rolled from its sack. "Oh," Pippin pleads, bucking beneath Merry's hand. The wall of the old barn hardly seems enough to support both them and the world.

This taste is better, Merry thinks, leaving his mark on Pippin's skin.

Well Worth the Cost
rated g, 100 words
boromir/éomer implied
For azewewish, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

The dreams weren't so bad these days. Not, Boromir found himself thinking, that they had ever been anything that he could call bad. There is shado This time he spends in Edoras - wild days spent riding across the green of the Mark, long nights spent in warm, sated skin - as stolen moments, ones that he will one day find that he need repay. Éomer, he knows, fully understands.

It is well worth it, Boromir decides, no matter what the cost.

Like Fleeting Dreams
rated g, 100 words
boromir/éomer implied
For azewewish, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

"You, my friend, are hopeless."

"Hopeless?" Boromir's laugh is hard, but smooth, much like the liquor that burns down Éomer's throat. Companionship, Éomer then thinks, is much easier found, here, in drink, in the cold hours of the long night. Before the dawn, though, Éomer knows that relief will be found in a shared bed.

"Indeed," Éomer says, looking beyond their place upon Meduseld's open porch. In the western sky, white stars are burning softly like fleeting dreams. "You go chasing after something that might not be."

"Indeed," Boromir replies, and his tone echoes Éomer's of but a moment past.

Relief
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
For Heather, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

The feel of Pippin's foot moving along the inside of his calf was... distracting, to say the least. It was, as well, rather embarrassing, and Merry found himself remembering a half dozen times, at least, where Pippin had found it perfectly acceptable to be perfectly indecent, when it came to what was going on beneath the table.

Meals at Bag End, more than he could count, and there had been that last Yule, before they'd gone off on Frodo's quest, and there was at least two meals in Rivendell, and Merry remembers at least once in Lothlorien, as well, though there had been no proper table to be found. He could hardly tell Pippin to stop, not feeling warmth creeping up his spine and the reddening of his ears, knowing that it wasn't just that he couldn't tell Pippin, he didn't want to tell him, either.

And here, sitting at a fine banquet as the King himself is toasted, knowing how close he had come to losing Pippin forever - he'll never forget that fear, thinking Pippin might die - Merry finds himself thinking that, yes, this is quite nice, and right, - Pippin's furtive actions, glad Pippin is feeling more like himself.

No Better Reason
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
For Molly, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

The early morning dawned cold and gray outside, and Merry peered one eye open in distaste. "What a dismal day. I really can't think of a better reason to keep ourselves abed, Pip," he said, scowl melting into a smile as Pippin pressed the point of his nose against Merry's cheek.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin replied, smiling. Merry pondered this, drawing Pippin nearer as he hooked his arm around Pippin's waist.

"Well, perhaps breakfast, but then we ought to climb right back into bed."

"And second brealfast, Merry?" Pippin asked, grinning, then kissing the corner of Merry's mouth. Merry made a thoughtful noise, a so "I suppose you'll be wanting elevenses, too, and luncheon," Merry said, kissing a soft spot behind the shape of Pippin's ear. Pippin slowly, so slowly, wriggled atop him, groaning as he did.

"Yes," Pippin replied, panting, and Merry clutched with one hand at Pippin's hip, "I do think I'll be wanting all that, too."

It would be, despite the protest of Pippin's stomach, be a long time before they would draw themselves willingly away from their warm bed.

Memory
rated g, 100 words
pippin
For Binz, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

When they ask him what he remembers, he doesn't say 'sound.' Well, perhaps 'doesn't say' isn't right, but 'wouldn't say', instead; not when there is touch, and taste, both far more important: searing pain and the bitter taste of blood, blood that wasn't only his own. That, he can share, and he does, as simply as he remembers having climbed trees. Only now, he can't go climbing, not when he can't even walk; his right leg is useless and broken.

Sound is serenity, instead, the almost-emptiness of final thoughts, saying goodbye, lingering hope, and he keeps that all for himself.

Beside The Great River: Irritation and Envy
rated g, 100 words
frodo/sam implied
For Trianne, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

Sam had rearranged the contents of his pack three times already that night. It was, Frodo found himself thinking, quite an irritating habit, though he hadn't the heart to tell Sam. Goodness, but Sam deserved something familiar, something that would remind him of his home, and Frodo knew that he should only think of that.

It wasn't all as simple as it seemed, imagined irritations or not. The night was cold, and clear, the Great River shining in the light of star and moon, and, try as he might, Frodo could hardly recall the sight of Bag End's front door.

A Marvel
rated g, 100 words
frodo/boromir
For Claudia, in response to her posting of the first line drabble meme.

Random meandering through the woods had led them into this clearing filled with elanor. "What a marvel," Frodo whispered, thinking such silence should not be so carelessly disturbed, in this place where even the air seems alive, glowing, autumn-bright and gold. "I am quite sure that such a lovely sight has never been seen."

Boromir's laugh was a warm, steady rumble, and Frodo found that he blushed from his toes to the very tips of his ears. "You must not often look at yourself, then, Frodo," Boromir said, grinning, closing the distance in between with only three long, steady steps.

Such Cold
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the bdotp drabblefest, day 6.

He'd never felt such cold. Yes, Caradhras had been bitter chill, but it was hardly the same. Had Frodo felt the same, Merry found himself thinking, that is, when he could clearly think. He had seen a lady stand fearless in the face of death, And his arm was cold, too cold. "Are you going to bury me?" he remembered having said, and wondered if Pippin was still near.

When eyes next opened, lungs breathed in sweet-smelling air, words tumbled carelessly from his mouth: "I am hungry. What is the time?"

"Past supper-time, now," said Pippin, and his smile was radiant, bright; "though, I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me."

He remembers - only vaguely now that he has wakened - cold and fear; it is a clearer memory, instead, and one that he much prefers, the warmth of Pippin's hands as they had held onto his own.

Coming Home
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the bdotp drabblefest, day 7.

They were kissing almost before Pippin was in through door, and by the time that it closed, Merry had stumbled back, mouth fully occupied, as much as his arms were fully full. Home, back home, Pippin was home; a week that Merry had spent in solitude at Crickhollow, a week spent chasing after indistinct ghosts and half-remembered memories of days before.

Now, Pippin is faintly luminous, but real, no flitting shadow, solid, warm, and here. "I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed you, Pippin."

"Yes, well, I have that effect on a hobbit's proper sensibilities."

"You do," Merry replies, almost lifting Pippin off his feet as he twirls him back into the house proper, and Pippin laughs against Merry's mouth as they backwards walk towards their own room. Then, low, and Merry breathes Pippin's laugh right in, tasting summer and something that is distinctively Pippin and Pippin alone, "Our bed has missed you, too."

"Well, Merry, perhaps we should all get better reacquainted," Pippin says, grinning, his mouth almost touching Merry's. "I have rather missed you both, myself."

A kiss, then, soft, slow, perfectly right, chasing out lingering shadow and leaving them standing in a patch of growing light.

A Wonderful Dream
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the bdotp drabblefest, day 10.

Pippin is sleeping when Merry finds him, curled on his side witch his face half-buried in cushion, fingers curling lazily over the worn, dusty pages of an old book. Merry, quite carefully, sits down on the sofa's edge, extricating the book slowly from under Pippin's hand, thumb tracing along the curve of Pippin's cheek, as he does.

The book safely in his own hands, Pippin's eyes then open, and he tilts his head, blinks up at Merry, sleepily, as though he is busy placing where he is.

"Good morning, Merry," he slurs, then closing his eyes. "I was busy having the most wonderful dream."

"Were you now, Pip?"

Pippin nods, and Merry's heart feels too small for his chest, as Pippin smiles and sighs: "Oh, yes. We were having breakfast, and you kissed me, our first kiss all over, though we were rather less drunk for this as we'd been then."

Pippin's eyes are open again, now, and he smiles up at Merry. "I still don't see what you see with all your reading, though the books do give nice dreams."

Merry laughs and grinning, clutching the book to his chest, bending until his mouth touches Pippin's, and they kiss.

At The Shore
rated pg, 200 words
frodo/sam

Spring is in the air - spring is always in the air - a sun that always seems to shine and stars that never seem to hide.

They are at the shore now, sea-salt thick in the air, the crying of white gulls ringing clearly in a sky that is painfully blue. Frodo is, oh, Frodo is, pale and lovely but living and bright and when he smiles, oh, Sam feels his heart swell. And how can he not, when Frodo looks him in the eyes, and Sam sees a lifetime of understanding; after all, he never did doubt that he'd be seeing his Frodo again.

No worries, no regret, a life lived full and whole and a love that never died. "Come join me in the water," Frodo says, shrugging off his coat, letting it fall to the wet sand, smiling back at Sam -

– hot skin, deep kisses, cool sea-water at their feet, wetting their legs -

– the water is warmer than Sam had thought, but cool, still, lapping at the curls atop his feet. He reaches once again for Frodo's hand, touching one thumb and only three fingers, but there is no worry that his Frodo is anything but fully whole.

By the Stars
rated r, 100 words
frodo/pippin
Written for the hobbit_smut Holiday "100 Percent HOT!" drabble challenge.

Bold, the light pad of fingertips against his inner thigh, and Frodo feels the world lurch. A kiss, in the form of a grin (wicked, long, sharp) presses against his cheek, as fingers (long, clever, deliberate) curl around that part of his being that most aches for that touch. Frodo is frantic, perhaps, desperate, but Pippin is not, instead, unhurried, working Frodo over slowly, making him beg and plead and moan.

He would speak more, if he could, Pippin, please, oh, by the stars, more, give me more, but what are words, when breath is uncertain, and thought is unknown?

Missing Home
rated g, 100 words
pippin
A challenge of a sort, between myself and Nanni - homesick hobbits.
I did Pippin. She did Sam.

Pippin's days are long, starting before day is even day, ending well after the fall of night; more often than not, he is too tired to know that he is tired, and definitely too tired even to think, and he will drop off quickly into a deep, and sound, sleep. He worries Merry. Not that he would tell Merry, but he even worries himself. Still, and this he not only wouldn't, but can't, tell Merry, at least when he is too tired to think, he doesn't think of missing home.

(His dreams are sunlight on water and cold white stone.)

Almost All
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Puddle

"When did you get so tall?"

"Well, Merry," Pippin dryly states. "Just about the same time as you."

"Not that, Pip. I mean." Words flail helplessly. "All right, perhaps I don't know."

Pippin peers at Merry. Merry peers back. A snort, and then a giggle, and Pippin adjusts his fine dark tunic, the white of Gondor shining so proudly upon its chest. Merry, thoroughly at a loss, manages not to pick at his own fine tunic of white and green.

Merry attempts to look insulted, even if he's really not. "Well, that'll teach me."

"Teach you what?" Pippin queries.

Merry grumbles amicably at the back of his throat. "Not to go not–talking to you."

Another snort, and Pippin laughs out loud. Something unnamable squeezes Merry's heart hard in his chest. He smiles, because he can't help it, and strokes the back of Pippin's hand, softly, with his knuckles. Pippin's hand turns, and Pippin smiles, winding his fingers with Merry's, giving a tug as he holds their threaded hands close.

That something squeezes Merry's heart, again, almost to bursting.

"It's good to see your smile, Pippin. It's good to hear your laugh."

That's almost what he'd like most to say.

Back Home to Green
rated g, 100 words
sam
A Christmas-drabble for rabidsamfan

Life is all made of circles, lad. Spring to summer, to autumn, to winter, and then back to spring. Aye, that's what my old Gaffer has always said - spring might turn to winter, son, but it'll soon turn back - and that's what I must say to you, too. The green might be gone, sir, but it'll come again - even if life don't seem proper, here, where there's naught but ash to choke us, and despair runs thicker than water.

You just hold on, Master, and see - your Sam promises, we'll find our way back home to green.

Hindsight
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/merry/pippin spoken of
A Christmas-drabble for frodobaggins252

Pippin had come bearing a gift - a crock of his mum's best taffy, still warm from the fire - and Frodo eyes him, half weary dread, and half burning want, that sets color up high in his cheeks.

"I don't think I trust you with that, Pippin. And yet –"

Pippin blushes, truly flustered. "Frodo Baggins, that was a mistake - a welcome one, yes, but a mistake, none–the–less."

"Pippin –"

"What would Merry say - " Pippin sputters, then, with a rather deranged laugh, he adds: "What would we do, Frodo, with no Sam here to get us all unstuck?"

Hard
rated pg, 100 words
legolas/gimli
A Christmas-drabble for eruesso

Two kittens are curled before the fire, sleeping, basking in the heat - one, a fuzzy orange tabby, the other, just as fuzzy, but black as pitch. "I never did think you one for small pets," Legolas says, laughing. "Perhaps you have spent too much time in the Shire, friend Gimli; the hobbits have made you go soft."

Gimli pulls on his beard, grinning, and throws a log onto the fire, scattering sparks, and splitting burning wood. The kittens wake, and scatter, and he laughs, eyeing Legolas with a grin.

"I'll show you, elf, that I'm still quite good and hard."

Just As It Is
rated g, 100 words
tom bombadil
A Christmas-drabble for Kielle

The sun is shining in the west, and all around him, the trees are green. Rising, falling, the hills spread out beneath his feet, never stilling; ever–flowing, they are made of real song, flattening into plains, rising into high mountains. He pauses, and voiced song stills as he smiles and then looks towards the east. This March day smells of life, of renewal and of reawakening.

Tom knows.

The tune he now hums is a pleasant one: the world will go on, much as it almost always has, and that, as he smiles more broadly, is a very good thing.

With Pippin There
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Voontah

Moria has been long, and dark, and rather cold, and Merry wonders if it will ever have an end: it must, his logical mind thinks, because with anything, or even everything, there is always an end. His feet are tired, though, from treading over bitter hard stone; his legs and back, from stumbling in the dark; his eyes, from chasing after shadows and from searching for light.

"I'm hungry," Pippin says, mostly soft, so his voice won't carry so far.

With Pippin there beside him, Merry realizes, and decides, the dark really isn't so bad. Merry softly laughs, "Me too."

Of Names
rated g, 100 words
éomer, merry
A Christmas-drabble for Dani

Éomer strokes the horse's muzzle, and gives it a fond pat. Intelligent black eyes, set in a long face, regard him intently, as well as other eyes, from a slight creature that has stepped out of supposed legend, eyes that are sea–foam grey.

"In my language," Éomer says, "his name means 'Strong as a Gale'."

The halfling's laughter is bright and merry, just as his name would suggest. Meriadoc says: "Back home, we'd have likely called him 'Spot', or perhaps 'Smudge'."

There is strength in joy, is there not, to fight against despair?

(Éomer is the one who laughs, now.)

A Passing Thing
rated pg, 100 words
aragorn/boromir/arwen
A Christmas-drabble for Elly

Random passion is a passing thing, but Boromir guesses, at least, that there is something lasting, and worthwhile, within the heart of Aragorn, though he does not seem to concern himself much with the thoughts and worries of his fellow Men. His lady is like a skein of fine thread, silken and strong, binding Aragorn close - have they waited, Boromir wonders, to taste the richness of their heated flesh? If he were Aragorn, if he were Arwen, he would have not.

He at least, knows: Aragorn's tastes of wood smoke and faint spice; Arwen's tastes of autumn, and the Sea.

All That Is Wanted
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Elly

Pippin has only ever wanted to help. Earnest, that one, and true to his heart; if he is good at getting just what he wants, Frodo can hardly find fault. Perhaps, instead, it is not that Pippin gets all that he wants; perhaps, instead, it is all that Frodo wants. And that is Pippin, isn't it – ever eager, a helping hand, unexpected wisdom, and the gift of his laugh.

Frodo does not know what he will find in Pippin's kiss, but he suspects that, as Pippin thinks to give it to him, that it will be just what he wants.

A Moment, At Waking
rated g, 100 words
frodo/faramir
A Christmas-drabble for Claudia

Frodo wakes to find Faramir bending over him. For a second old fears seize him and he sits up and shrinks away. His breath catches, and Frodo feels a creeping sensation, not unlike the scurry of many small feet, sweep over his skin. Slowly, Frodo breathes.

"There is nothing to fear," Faramir says. Frodo clutches at his cloak; the air about is tense, still, and Faramir is a white–grey blur of shadow in the dark.

It would do no good to wake Sam. And Frodo would like to believe.

"Is it morning already?" Frodo asks, then, at length, and yawns.

Flow
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin/estella/diamond
A Christmas-drabble for Ellie

A mouth, sweet and cool, that tastes of river-water and rain - Diamond always does say just what needs to be said; hands that can't possibly be the hands of a hobbit, with fingers too long and too thin - Merry never has ever seemed a proper hobbit, though perhaps more so now than ever before; eyes that spark and shine like fading stars - but then, you always have thought that of Estella's eyes; a mouth that doesn't often sing anything more than drinking songs, and is suited to grander things - these days, though, Pippin laughs far more often than he sings.

Waking Early
rated g/pg, 200 words
merry/pippin/estella/diamond
A Christmas-drabble for Milja

Merry wakes first - he often does. He has a headache, which he rarely does, and there is a head against his shoulder and a body stretched out almost fully across his chest; that, at least, isn't anything new. "Pippin," he grunts, and the body stirs - the head, Merry decides, that is tucked at his shoulder must not be the head that is attached to that body, because it does not move.

"Be quiet, Merry," a lazy voice drifts - Estella's, he places, after a thoughtful moment, made more long and thoughtful if only because he is still so not awake.

"But Stella - "

"Merry," and this voice isn't Estella's, nor does it belong to Pippin - Merry's mind lazes in a thick fog. "We're trying to sleep."

"But where's Pippin?" he asks Diamond, once his sleeping mind has placed both the voice and the name.

"Right here," Pippin's voice comes, drifting as well, right out of cold and darkness, sounding quite bemused, "tending to the fire."

Merry pauses, and thinks again, squirming against warm, bare flesh. "Hurry and get back into bed, then," he says, still rather amazed that there is one that can fit them, all four: "We're trying to sleep."

No Simple Understanding
rated g, 200 words
frodo/sam, merry/pippin implied
A Christmas-drabble for Anna Burrows

It was not riding back from the Havens, but a full year after, that Pippin finally understood: that Sam, already, had understood, else he'd not have let Frodo go alone onto that grey ship. And that, knowing what Pippin knew, was something that he could not understand.

"If you love a hobbit, how could you let him go? Sam could have gone with him, Merry - or, why, Frodo could have stayed put at Bag End, and lived with Rosie and Sam. It isn't fair, Merry - and anyhow, I miss him. It isn't right that he's gone."

"Not all choices are easy ones, Pip."

"I know that, Merry. But - "

Merry's mouth leaks grey smoke, and the west wind blows, and the scent of burning leaf is what puts tears in Pippin's eyes. "I just wish he would have tried, Merry, and don't you go and say that he already did - I won't hear it from Sam, and I definitely won't hear it from the likes of you."

"I suppose that means there's nothing more I can say."

Pippin handles his own pipe, and blinks the tears from his eyes. "But he loved him," he whispers.

Merry whispers back, "I know."

Shall Have
rated g/pg, 200 words
sam/pippin, frodo/sam
A Christmas-drabble for Angelica Headstrong

The air is very still, as if the day is holding its breath, and the hot Mid-summer sun beats at Sam's back, a trickle of sweat down his neck. The light of that sun has put copper-gold fire into Pippin's curls; why, you'd think his touch would burn. Sam's lungs burn, at least, with want for air. It seems that he has been holding his breath, too. You'd think a Took could want for naught, but here Pippin is, mussed as if from a roll in the dirt, smudges on his cheek and even his fine shirt and one longer smudge across his brow. What would Mister Merry think, seeing them, with Pippin's arms wrapped about Sam and Sam making no good fight to free himself from Pippin's hold; or, dread it all, what would Mister Frodo have to say?

"You love my cousin very much, Sam," Pippin says, and he does not mince his words; he might have a way about him, but when there is simple honesty to be said, it does not trouble him to say it. "I shall have to love you very much, too."

"Master Pippin," Sam gasps, beneath the surprising touch of Pippin's mouth.

Time
rated pg, 100 words
pippin, death, lord of the rings/sandman
A Christmas-drabble for Nanni

He might be old, and his eyes might be tired, but he sees the girl clearly, hair black like clotted night, skin pale like new spring. He does not know her, should he? When she smiles, he knows her better than if he had been given her name.

"Don't you think it's time to go?"

"Perhaps," he says. "My wife is long buried. My cousins are all gone."

"Let us go, then," she says, and touches his hand.

"Has he waited for me?" He wonders. "Has he waited long?"

Light fades, and still she smiles, turning white towers grey.

Reasons To Know Pippin
rated pg13, 200 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Beizy

There's no good reason for Pippin to go filching pies, but that never had stopped him before, and neither has it stopped him now. This is Pippin, after all, and it isn't as if he won't get away with getting his way. Perhaps this is the reason - well, certainly, there's more than just one, but Merry doesn't think that it's best to give Pippin more credit than is his due - that Merry is as happy to spend as much time with Pippin as he does. Even now, when he sits, brushing crumbs of flaky crust off his weskit, as he licks cinnamon-sticky-sweet apple from his lips.

"Your hands are a mess," Merry says, and Pippin, with half a grin, hands first one hand, and then the other, over. Merry grins right back at him, as Pippin says: "Perhaps you should clean them for me, then."

Merry takes hold of Pippin's wrists, and turns that first hand over - the left - followed by the right. Pippin isn't one for sitting still, but he sits, placid, as Merry bends his head and licks at the soft, lightly-freckled skin, that

There are other benefits, Merry knows, to knowing Pippin.

Hands
rated g, 200 words
pippin, thoughts on sam, merry, and frodo
A Christmas-drabble for Serai

Sam's hand, Pippin thinks, are warm like earth, good and strong, the hands of a hobbit you know you can rely on. He would go further, and say that that is what Frodo has always said, but Pippin is not sure - that is not something that he can recall. Merry's hands are strong, too, and his fingers are over-long, ink-splattered, at times, and though they have their calluses, though they have held a sword, they are still a would-be scholar-hobbit's hands, and are mostly smooth. Pippin thinks, at least, that Merry is only interested in musty old tomes because Frodo was interested in them before - he never has asked, though, has simply assumed. Frodo's hands, of course, are nothing like Sam's, and though they are somewhat like Merry's, they are not even somewhat the same. They are simply Frodo's hands, all long and not much like the hands of a hobbit, and even if there are those who might think them incomplete - they are proof that he has gone and come back and he has given all he has.

(And all he knows of their hands, sometimes, Pippin is not sure that he fully knows his own.)

Stories Told
rated g, 100 words
pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Lindelea

They have told him their stories; that is, they have told him all that they can. It is a very odd thing, Pippin thinks, to be at this end of the telling of tales, when he is more used to being the one being told. Why, he knows Bilbo's own story, and there are those parts that he can recite by heart. But, and though Bilbo knows so much, Bilbo still does not know all; and Bilbo, wise as he is, well, he doesn't understand.

Simpler days have faded into past. Those days, for good or ill, will never again be.

Pebbles
rated g, 200 words
pippin, merry
A Christmas-drabble for Erin

"How many now, Pip?" plunk, and grey stone sinks into ale-coloured water, air that smells of autumn leaves. "Seven," Pippin says, with a matter-of-fact tilt of his head. In his right hand, he hefts a pebble - long and flat and tapered at the ends, coloured grey. At his feet, other small stones are scattered. "I've been working on eight."

Merry grins, squatting down, cocking his head up at Pippin. "Well, then, show me what you've got."

A grin back, and Pippin watches the water - licks his lips, judges time - and, with a flick of his wrist, the stone goes sailing, cutting through air and then slicing through water, skipping once and then again, ending at eight.

Pippin, triumphant, rocks back on his heels.

Merry laughs. "Well, now you've got eight."

"Well, had there been doubt?" Pippin replies, asking, and Merry once again laughs, hefting himself back to his feet.

"Not at all, Pip. Now, breakfast is on, and we're already late."

(Like a pebble cast by a careless hand into the waters of an endless world, Pippin stands, quiet, at the side of Denethor's chair, listening intently as Faramir speaks, only more so when there is mention of his kin.)

Summer Sweet
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Jen

Merry groans, "Oh, Pip."

Pippin, who has an even temper, and can be considered quite sweet, grins his most terrible grin at his cousin, licking apple-butter jam clean from where it had fallen into the pointed crook of forefinger and thumb. That is Pippin's answer, Merry decides - Pippin, who can so well make actions suit better than words.

"You're awful, you know," Merry grumbles, though he's not at all annoyed. "Perfectly awful."

"Well," Pippin says, then licking his lips. "I suppose I am."

Merry sets his jaw. "I'll just have to do something about that, then."

(Knowing Merry, he does.)

Winter to Spring
rated g, 200 words
sam
A Christmas-drabble for Hyel

Within the hole at Number Three, the air smells of spice cake, cinnamon-sugar-heat, and the happy chatter of family is a warm buzz at the back of Sam's ears. A candle sits upon the window, glowing bright gold against cold winter black; Sam sits, as well, watching the light play off of the rounded pane of glass. Beyond, snow falls.

Only a month prior, and the chrysanthemums had all in bloom, bright colours against the grey autumn sky. Now, the plot of earth that had been the Gamgee's own garden is covered in snow, and Sam - because he is at that age, too young to know better - wonders if winter will ever end.

Sure, presents are fine things, and he likes them good enough - why, Mister Bilbo had gifted him a proper book, though a small one, filled with elf-stories, all written out in Mister Bilbo's neat script - sure, Sam's not full learned in his letters, but if there's a reason to learn them proper, then this would be that.

It is too early, the air is too dark, the snow is thick and cold. "Spring'll come again, son," his Da has said, and all Sam can do is believe.

Kiss
rated g/pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Kel

Merry collapses, breathless from laughter, back onto his bed. His sides are aching, and tears sting his eyes. "Did you see the look on Berilac's face, Pip? Wham! - the goat bucked, and the table upended itself, and the punch spilled right there at his feet. I definitely don't think he was expecting that, drunk or no."

Pippin, laughing beside him, wipes tears from his eyes. "What was he thinking, anyway? Bring a goat into the Hall?"

"I couldn't say," Merry chuckles, and Pippin's cheeks are stained red from the exertion. "Though, I really wasn't quite ready to leave the party. There were things I was wanting to do."

Pippin, stretched back out on Merry's bed, pauses, as Merry chuckles. "Oh, really? Well, I have an idea or two, I think."

Merry pauses, looking sideways at Pippin. "Pippin, what - "

Pippin pushes his hand into his pocket, and brings it back out, angling his arm over his chest and displaying what is lying, flat against and somewhat crumpled on Pippin's palm.

Merry stares at it for a long moment, then gazing at Pippin, as they both grin. "You brought the mistletoe along," he, then otherwise at a loss for words, states.

Winter Snow
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
A Christmas-drabble for Laerwen

The snow this year is deep, at least for having fallen in Buckland and for having fallen so late in the season, cold but not wet, which has made walking through it a difficulty: last year, it had already been snowing by October, but nothing nearly so heavy as this.

All bundled in heavy winter clothing, and wearing their best gloves, Merry and Pippin trek slowly across a field of pristine white, leaving heavy tracks behind them, footsteps that fade back to the Hall so far behind; they dangle long scarves, and skates. At the river, they stop: a sheen of ice glistens, for at least as far out as Merry can see.

"Are you very sure you want to do this, Pip?" he asks.

"Of course I am, Merry," Pippin says, then touching Merry's hand, and giving him a kiss.

The day before, a whole gaggle of tweens had been gathered here, skating on the hard ice, and playing games in the snow. It is much better, though, this new day, when it only the two of them, instead. Merry grins.

"Get your skates on, then."

Pippin grins back. "I'll race you, Merry."

"I suppose I'll have to win."

Voices
rated pg, 200 words
pippin, delirium, lord of the rings/sandman

Having lived so long with Bilbo, Frodo has heard all the jokes - old Mad Baggins, living up on the hill. Only, now, he's not with Bilbo, and he's not at Bag End - this place, with scraping bare rock and dead grey ash and dreams and fading hope and the voices -

How can he hear the voice of a girl? He is here, all alone, in this dead black land, with only his Sam.

He must be going mad - at least, he must be going more mad than he'd already gone before.

"don't be silly," she says, child-voice-sweet, and the words echo in his ears, and in his head, and Frodo clutches at the Ring. He feels it press, deep and cutting, into the hardening flesh of his palm. Her laughter chimes like struck bell, though it is somehow butterfly-wing soft.

"it's hard to stay together, i know. it hurts. do you really think you have to stay together, anymore? perhaps it would be better if you just - let - go. even if this world were to end, there are others - my sister will show you them, eventually."

It would be - so easy –

No - he can't –

"Stop."

His voice, like flesh, cracks.

And Stars
rated nc17, 200 words
boromir/merry/pippin

Boromir remembers these two, having seen them at the Council. Not that they had sat their at their kinsman's side - Frodo, was it? - while the fate of the Ring had been discussed. No, they had made their presence known once that foolish ranger had, yes, and, oh, by Elbereth's Crown, Boromir can hardly breathe.

"You certainly are rather friendly," he gasps, shaking, clever quick fingers work, fingers slender, and smooth, hardly the hands of one who has known misfortune, or war. Those thoughts spill from him, though, a shower of rainbow sparks shining bright against a field of white, the darkness behind his closed eyes.

"Do that again, Merry," Pippin says, where he sits, in the curve of Boromir's arm. Boromir clutches him tighter, groaning - just now, Merry's mouth is working on him, hot and wet and slow, and Pippin presses closer, and Boromir gives his bottom a squeeze.

"I - " Boromir moans. Merry's tongue gives a smart flick, and his cunning hands have yet to still. "Oh, stars, please."

Pippin chuckles, and presses his mouth back to Boromir's, sucking on the very breath that he breathes. What a silly thought he'd had, Boromir thinks; of course he can breathe.

In The Face Of Clear Water
rated g, 100 words
goldberry, estella

She is very young, and she doesn't think that she's very pretty - she is too freckled, and her curls are thickly tangled, and too dark, and even her eyes betray her, themselves a queer shade of green. Even the plainest flower is still a flower - though that doesn't much help, as she'd hardly likes to think herself as plain.

She often spends time at the river: in the face of clear water, amidst bright water lilies, she can, at least, see an echo of true beauty - eyes that shine back bright blue and black locks that have faded to gold.

Sometimes, So Sure
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

Sometimes, Merry isn't so sure why he loves Pippin as much as he does - yes, he'd like to think that he hasn't loved Pippin, at least liked, since the very first time he saw him, but if he really made himself think that, then he'd end up living a lie.

Sometimes, Pippin isn't so sure why he loves Merry as much as he does - Merry can be quite bull-headed, and far more obnoxious than Pippin thinks should be tolerated - Merry is still his Merry, though, and Pippin'd rather live life with an obnoxious Merry, than with no Merry at all.

Harmony
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/pippin

There is a time that Frodo would have thought this play: the sticky-warm sensation of sated flesh and the curve of a lithe body, well-known as his own, pressed close to his skin. These days, though, it stops, and it leaves him empty, cooling too quickly, leaving him with little more than he had had to begin. Not that Pippin doesn't try, and he certainly is the very best at distraction; they could talk about it, each with their own dark memories and their own dark scars, but Frodo would rather not, and luckily enough, Pippin would rather not, too.

To Turn Time
rated g, 100 words
frodo/faramir

Frodo did not realize it until, a year back home with Minas Tirith behind him, that Faramir had loved him, and yes, he had loved Faramir, too. He had not regretted leaving, not until now; knowing that he could have stayed, and maybe that he should have stayed, too. Now, Frodo is left thinking, as time slips through his fingers: if all could be turned back, he would turn it himself, and all those decisions decided, he would unmake, and all those steps he has taken, he would retrace.

He dreams, and white towers quickly fade beneath a grey sea.

Only To Forget
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/éomer

They meet in the gardens, and Éomer is gladdened, if only because he does not wish to talk, or reminisce: they have come together, instead, seeking comfort and the most base of needs - release. He is hard - demanding - unlike any other that Éomer has known, and Éomer has known many, shieldbrothers, where the blood of companions is almost closer than kin. It seems - buried somewhere in the heat of blood and flesh, found somewhere in the demanding press of hurried hands, lost somewhere in the insistent depth of a greedy kiss - as though he seeks only to forget.

Éomer understands.

Working Well
rated r, 100 words
frodo/sam, or frodo/sam/merry/pippin, as you want to read

"Merry, you are - ow, Sam, don't - Pip - Pippin, oh, stop it, that tickles –" Breathless with laughter, Frodo's voice trails off. "Ow - " and that bursts from his mouth, and Frodo laughs harder, so that it shakes the bed. "Sam, stop it, that hurt!"

"Sorry about that, Mister Frodo," Sam's voice drifts upwards. "I'll not do it again."

"This doesn't seem to be working, Merry," Pippin whispers, sounding rather alarmed.

"Sam, it's not that I'd rather you not - oh, yes, Sam, please do that again."

Sharp laughter turns to softer moans.

"No, Pippin, it seems to be working just right."

Autumn
rated r, 200 words
frodo/boromir

Frodo tastes autumn in the depths of Boromir's mouth, the same scent that so thickly hangs amidst the golden trees, moaning against Boromir's lips as rough hands, a warrior's hands, sneak up under the loose hem of his shirt. "I do so like it when you touch me," Frodo gasps. Boromir, kneeling, grinning, presses his mouth to Frodo's throat, sucking and then biting. Frodo, sitting astride one long, thick leg, atop the stride of Boromir's knee, then bucks.

"We are in agreement, then," Boromir whispers, rumbles, his beard scratching almost roughly against the smooth expanse of Frodo's skin. Frodo twists, moaning, as Boromir licks up along the curve of his neck, one hand twisting and teasing at a nipple, the other so carefully squeezing Frodo's rear.

"I am rather fond of touching you, too."

"Then, I beg of you," Frodo gasps, sinking into sensation, feeling the press of long, insistent feelings, and his own growing arousal, "please, do not stop."

Boromir does not, tasting Frodo's flesh, touching Frodo's skin, until Frodo is lying back amidst autumn-colored leaves, and Boromir is above him, in him, thrusting with such agonizing, dizzying slowness, that Frodo surely knows Boromir is both undoing and end.

As Was Meant
rated pg13/r, 200 words
sam/merry/pippin
Written for the hobbit_smut "Celebrating the HEAT!" double drabble challenge.

Like Frodo would have wanted, Sam made certain that Bilbo's birthday was celebrated, and Frodo's, too, whether he'd have wanted that, or not. This year, Sam thinks, should be no different than those before. He should have known, it seems - they'd seemed so desperate, when they'd come. Rosie had, as after afters she'd made certain that they knew that she'd be out from the smial - visiting a good friend down in Hobbiton, she'd said.

Perhaps it was meant, then, to happen as it is. There is a certain thrill, though - toasting missed loved ones, kisses that taste of bittersweet memory, and harsh red wine; and hands, too, that seem intent on moving him to moaning - as if moving him to song.

Merry hardly seems as subtle as is his wont, though, bold instead as Pippin would be, to demand forthwith. Merry's hands are on him, now, and Pippin's mouth is working, slow - an endless-seeming lick, up the curve of his throat. Sam groans - goodness, the parlour floor is hardly what he'd consider a comfortable place to lie - but with Merry, settled between his legs, good hot hardness pressed into the fire that is burning at Sam's groin, Sam hardly minds.

All He Doesn't Know
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

Pippin's expression is raw: the hurt there is almost more than Merry can bear.

"And you… You're coming with me… Merry?"

Merry doesn't like it. He doesn't like hearing hurt in his cousin's voice, knowing that Pippin did something so foolish that it put him in such danger, knowing that, when he had had a chance to stop it, that he had sat there, instead, dumb and blind and unmoving. He doesn't like remembering seeing Pippin in such pain, as if breaking his own heart.

"Merry - please - "

Pippin, Merry knows, acts without thinking. He does, then, gripping at Merry's coat, pressing his mouth to Merry's: it is desperation, fear and dread, a hard press of soft lips. And Pippin's gaze, searching his, as he draws back, so green and clear and wide.

Guileless.

Merry wants to reach out, wants to pull him close, wants to kiss him until they both are left breathless, and tell him that it all will be all right. But he doesn't know if that is true, and he cannot bear the thought of lying to Pippin, now, after all they have endured.

Merry pulls away and, voice gruff with emotion, shouts back, "Come on!"

Bedroom Habits of Hobbits
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

"Merry," Pippin says, and his tone is even, "if you don't keep yourself a-bed, I'll sit on you myself."

"Maybe," Merry replies, tossing from one side to the other, then giving up and flopping back upon his back, "that's what I'm aiming for, Pip." He grumbles, and rubs at his eyes. "I'd sleep, you know, if only I could get comfortable enough to sleep."

"So you say," Pippin replies. "I hardly think the sort of sitting on you're wanting is conducive to healing, Merry, and I do so want you to heal."

"Well," Merry says, "I suppose we could ask Strider, though I'm certain he isn't so interested in our bedroom habits - ow! Pippin, whyever did you pinch me?"

"Because you're a cheeky beast, that's why," Pippin says, then smiles, leaning down close so he can lightly, so lightly, kiss Merry upon the lips. Merry sighs, exhaling slowly, and wraps one arm about Pippin's shoulder, holding him in place.

"Mmm," Pippin sighs, leaning back. "Perhaps I was wrong."

Merry nods, an awkward jerking of head and shoulders. "Perhaps you were wrong."

"Though, given the amount of time we've spent on the trail with Strider about, it's likely he already knows."

Pippin Is
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

Mirrors Merry Is.

Pippin is a constant. True, he and Merry had not always been the best of friends - there is a blur of years in Merry's memories, when he remembers Pippin as nothing more than an irritant tag-along, and that was at best. But Pippin had been there, as he almost always had - it seems no great surprise that Merry grew to love him, as he has.

His heart cannot bear the thought of losing Pippin, when he could yet lose Frodo, and Sam, and alone, he would not -

'He would not have you be afraid,' Aragorn says, and Merry is not.

The Night After The Day Of
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

The night has run long and the hour is late; Pippin flops back, tired, against the bed, as Merry closes the inn-room door. "Hush now," Pippin yawns, and sets one arm back against the bed - brightly colored bouquet grasped in a tight grip - the other arm crossing lying flat, stretched at his side.

"Quiet now," he says. "We'd not want to wake Frodo."

Merry must be grinning, and he sets himself on the edge of the bed, legs at the side of Pippin's, leaning down until Pippin can feel the faint stirring of his breath, warm and sweet. Pippin opens one eye, and then the other, and Merry's hand curls about his right wrist - the one wrapped about the bouquet, as it would be.

Pippin smiles. Merry leans close enough, and sets his lips to Pippin's.

"Mmm," Pippin sighs, threading his fingers back through Merry's curls, tight. "You are lovely, did you know?"

"I might have, yes," Merry replies, with a knowing grin, and then they kiss again.

Perfect, Pippin thinks, and as he wraps his other arm about Merry's shoulder (now somehow free of Merry's light grip), the bouquet bounces quite merrily against the crown of his bright curls.

Promise Me
rated pg13, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

"Promise me there will be no song."

Pippin, hands at the fastenings of his trousers, looks back over his shoulder, expression melting to amused, as his hands pause in their work. It isn't as if Pippin can't sing - he can - but his bathing songs aren't always so kind upon the ear.

Then, he nods, and tugs at the buttons, near smirking. "Very well, Merry, I promise you: I won't sing."

Merry grins back at him, and shrugs his shirt off - he'd already freed the buttons from their buttonholes, and it falls to pool at his feet. The tub is big enough for two, filled with steaming, scented water, and Merry watches Pippin - pale and bright, candlelight catching in his hair - step on in, then sliding, water up to his chin.

Merry follows him in, sitting opposite, but then Pippin is grinning, again, propelling himself forward. His hands come to rest at Merry's shoulders, at the rim of the tub, and then Pippin is smiling, sweetly so.

"Pippin - "

"There are much better things I ought to do, eh?" he asks, leaning until they almost touch, hands moving down Merry's wet sides, sliding through the water.

Inevitable, Merry thinks, and groans.

Unapart
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.

"You aren't sleeping," Merry says, though he is facing Pippin's back. Pippin rolls back slowly, and then settles on his side, and he's looking at Merry, then, his eyes opened wide.

"Yes, well, I'd noticed that," Pippin says and, then, with an awkward nod of his head: "Neither are you."

Merry closes his eyes, and Pippin scoots closer beneath the covers. To think, that they had been separated, that they had been forced apart. Merry knows their captivity, that wretched captivity, had only been bearable because they had not been apart. "And here I'd thought this a wonderful dream."

"Hrm," Pippin sighs, quite a thoughtful noise. His hand - his touch is cool - presses light against Merry's temple. "Are you feeling well, Merry? Need I call a healer in, and - "

"Well enough, Pip," Merry says, and opens his eyes. Pippin needn't scoot closer, because Merry is the one moving, then, wrapping his arm about Pippin and settling his head near Pippin's shoulder. "Well enough with you."

"That's not a proper answer," Pippin whispers, then wrapping himself about Merry, arms and legs all holding on tight, as though he doesn't mind.

"Not again," Merry whispers. "I will not leave you again."

Thought
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.
Follows Unapart.

They have been very quiet, and for a long time, and Pippin near reluctantly eases his hold from about Merry, and Merry groans, then sighs. Pippin pushes at the curls that topple at his brow, a light touch. Merry has eased back, and could perhaps even sleep.

A whisper: "Are you sleeping yet, Merry?"

A reply: "How could I, with this talking?"

"Well, I hardly think I can, Merry, now that I could."

"Hrm."

Merry opens his eyes, to find Pippin so close - fitting near as skin in Merry's arms. "I've been thinking too much, Merry, and I don't like how it feels."

Merry can't help but smile. "Then don't."

"These thoughts are too persistent. It isn't so easy."

"Oh?"

"Oh, indeed."

"That's no proper answer, Pippin." Merry kisses him, first his cheek, and then his lips.

"We aren't very proper, though, are we?"

Merry has said - he will not leave again - and Pippin presses himself, desperate as though he thinks right then they will be parted. But the day is not yet dawned, and they do not know all this day might bring.

It is kiss and touch that Pippin vows, giving his all to Merry. And love.

Together
rated pg13, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for the second bdotp drabblefest.
Follows Thought.

Pippin's touch is tremulous, as though thought some passing thing, a dream, perhaps, that will slip through grasping fingers. That he will lose, and be left in darkness, all alone. Merry reaches for him, with hands and mouth, and that brings them to their kiss, where Merry feels as though Pippin is falling, into him, as Pippin is then pulling at his clothes, hands seeking the feel of flesh.

Hands that feel foreign, and Merry wonders, when did I last feel them, when did they last touch - and then he groans, as they find what they are seeking for, and Merry remembers, a lifetime recollection of love, all in the bold touch. All in one hand.

"Pippin - " he gasps, and then Merry pushes at his clothes. The feel of bare skin is a thrill, one he wraps himself about. It isn't just that Pippin fits, but their bodies must certainly now be an extension, one of the other.

Heat, now, such blessed heat. (Oh, and he remembers cold.)

When they still, breathing hard, Merry feels he might now sleep. His arms wrap about Pippin, who is close, so close.

Whatever else they might face - together. It will be together.

An Understanding
rated g, 100 words
arwen/éowyn
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

The hair is dark, as it should be, midnight-deep, long and smooth as silk. It is not his hair, instead the hair of one he loves. And he would love her, if not for this beauty, grace of stars given flesh, a living form. Oh, but she is lovely. Éowyn looks upon her, and it breaks her heart - to know that one such as she has given all she is, and the one she loves does not only love her.

I will love her, Éowyn thinks, and share her pain.

This is her Queen. (If it only were her King.)

Like Dancing
rated g, 100 words
estella/diamond
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

Though the hour is late, the party lanterns still cast their glow, warm gold light on festive ribbons, green and white and richest blue. "Dance with me," she whispers, and you take her by her hand. Color touches her cheeks, and her smile is wide and bright, and pale rose sweet.

You love to dance.

The music is quick, the tempo steady - the springle ring, round and round, and you dance around with her then and, as the music slows, something deep and steady, flowing like age, you catch her tight, and close.

"Kiss me," she whispers, and you oblige.

Three and Three
rated pg, 100 words
rosie/estella/diamond (sam/merry/pippin spoken of)
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

Estella catches Rose about the stomach, and presses a kiss to the back of her neck. Diamond slides her arm about Rose's shoulder, and kisses her cheek. The kitchen smells of good baked things, and Rose laughs, then smiles.

"What all have you been baking, Rose-love?"

"Spiced apple crumble. Are our husbands still abed?"

"Aye, they are," Estella answers.

"Laze-abouts, the lot of them," Diamond agrees.

Rose smiles and, then turning so she fits nicely between them both, slides one arm about Diamond's waist, and slides the other about Estella's neck.

And Rose laughs, "Whatever would they do without us?"

Alone With Thought
rated g, 100 words
arwen/elanor
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

The walls of the city are high and, if she wanted, she could look out over all of Minas Tirith. If she did, she'd see that the river would be shining, and that the fields of the Pelennor would be glowing, almost bright as gold. But she doesn't - it all makes her feel so small.

"Elanor? What are you doing here, all alone?"

"Just thinking, your majesty," Elanor says, quickly, standing and bobbing awkwardly. When the Queen turns her gaze to the West, Elanor threads her fingers about Arwen's, so that she might hold her hand.

Arwen would understand.

In Reflection and Dream
rated g, 100 words
estella/goldberry
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

She knows her in the reflection of water, and in her dreams. A fine lady, no lady of the race of Men, nor a hobbit, or even an elf - something more, perhaps even something fae, with water-bright eyes and a laughing-sweet mouth. Estella ever has loved the river, and the rain, and she often dreams of far off lands, beyond the grey-clear sea. Her skin is lily-scented, smooth, and as cool as falling rain.

She has heard the stories, and she knows this lady is real, but Estella knows her only in the reflection of water, and in her dreams.

Caught
rated pg, 100 words
alyssum (ofc)/rosemary (ofc)
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.
Rosemary is Ruby's. Alyssum is mine.

"You're caught," Alyssum whispers, grinning, tangling her fingers in Rosemary's skirt, then giving it a tug. She'd been looking for Estella, but Rosemary is near as good, and Rosemary grins back at her, tilting her chin so that the light catches in her eyes, making them flash.

"I suppose," Rosemary replies, with a small smile, "you'll be wanting your kiss."

"Aye, I do suppose you're right," Alyssum smiles back, tilting her mouth so it fits against Rosemary's, a mouth that tastes of berries, and summer sun.

They never do make their way back to their cousins and their chasing game.

Blame
rated pg, 100 words
may/pimpernel
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

May can't help but blame this on having been too full of herself and, as her old da would say, forgetting what her proper position is, when there's gentlehobbits about. Nel's no gentlehobbit, though, and May has been so bold as to wonder if she was a lady at all - not only now, her mouth tangled with Nel's, and Nel's hand sliding up her thigh, warm, soft and slow, pushing her skirt up as it does.

Then Nel settles back, grinning. May can only grin back, tangling her fingers in Nel's hair, then pressing her mouth back until they kiss.

Apples and Dust
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
The differences between then and now.
Written for the bdotp kissathon Valentines challenge.

The first time Merry kissed Pippin - kissed him, really, more than just a between cousins kiss - Merry remembers Pippin's mouth having been sticky, and tasting of apple crumble, as he'd just finished off a very large piece. It had been something, to catch Pippin unaware, as he always seemed to keep ahead of Merry, by one step or three. Pippin had tensed, yes, but had relaxed, pleasantly so, and if kissing Pippin had been something wonderful, then being kissed by Pippin was even more so grand.

But it was more than that. He hadn't just kissed Pippin because he wanted to catch him by surprise, he'd kissed him because he'd wanted to, and with Pippin, the first would never ever be enough. With the first done came the second, and then a third, always something different, never quite the same.

And wouldn't that be grand, if they could turn back to those days gone before, when summer seemed endless, burnished gold and gleaming green: not this spring born of dying winter, where there is still a bitter chill upon the air.

But his arm is sore and his heart is numb. And he cannot feel Pippin's lips upon his own.

Berries
rated pg, 100 words
estella/rosemary (ofc)
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.
Rosemary is Ruby's. Alyssum is mine.

"You smell of berries," Estella says, and smiles. Rosemary grins, and tucks herself close at Estella's side, sliding her arm about Estella's waist and twisting her fingers in the bright colored ribbon that is looped at Estella's side.

"Was out eating then, when we were playing out our game."

"Mmm," Estella says back, then kisses Rosemary once more. Rosemary smiles against that kiss, then tilting her head and pressing her cheek against Estella's. "And you know, you taste of them, too."

"Yes, Alyssum did say the same," Rosemary says, rather matter-of-factly, pressing herself closer.

Estella laughs, and kisses her again.

After the Washing
rated g, 100 words
marigold/rosie
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

Through with her washing, Marigold tucks the basket against her hip, then setting up the hill, at a brisk pace. The sun is bright shining, and the hill is all green, and she smiles she crowns that swell, then seeing that Rosie is in sight.

"A fair way from home, you are, Rosie. What brings you so far?"

Rosie smiles, and catches Marigold by the wrist, placing a kiss on her cheek. Marigold turns, and their mouths meet, and Rosie's left hand curls over Marigold's, fingers tangling where they meet at the basket's edge.

Some kisses say more than words.

Shadow-song
rated g, 100 words
melilot/celandine
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

As they run out through the shadow of tall grass, evening leaks through the tight spaces of branches knit close. Celandine watches with wide eyes, then settling back against the great oak, fire flies drifting like earth-bound stars.

She sits. And waits. The first laughter comes, bleeding out into a night that is moonless, dark. A shiver. Apprehension. A touch at her shoulder, and Celandine nearly shrieks.

A hand at her mouth, and Melilot settles near.

"You gave me a fit," Celandine whispers, when she was able.

Melilot plucks grass from her hair, and gives her answer in a kiss.

In Snow
rated g, 100 words
pervinca/melilot
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

The snow is falling, a soft drift of white against the bright blinding blue of the winter's sky. Pervinca takes Melilot's hand, walking out until they reach the river's edge, where a thin sheen of ice spreads out, glistening through where it hasn't yet been covered with snow.

Melilot gives Pervinca's hand a tight squeeze. Looking back over Melilot's shoulder, Pervinca sees where her brother is busy being pushed down into the snow, where Merry stands mostly triumphant.

Pervinca takes that inspiration, and Melilot is surprised, giving a soft yelp. Then, settling down, Pervinca is able to claim her kiss.

Only Once
rated g, 100 words
esmeralda/eglantine
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

It only happened once, and Eglantine blames it on the wine, too much wine, and the summer night, as well: to go with Esmeralda Took (no, Brandybuck) out behind the old woodshed, and to have had - oh.

Tooks, Eglantine knows (and this from personal experience, as she's been married quite happily now for many years) always do seem to get just what they're wanting. She went and married one, after all - and Esmeralda might now be a Brandybuck by name, often acting the responsible sort, but she is still a Took by blood.

Oh. If it could only happen again.

Then To Now
rated g, 100 words
bell/lily
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

They don't meet as often, now, as they once did - not, that is, to say that they do not ever meet at all. There are reasons, of course, for their families to go visiting - the Cottons and the Gamgees have, after all, always been quite close. Bell long has had a love for the Water, though Hamfast stubbornly refuses that it is any proper good, other than what it does for growing things, whether they be hobbit, or shoots from the ground.

But Lily, she doesn't forget; not Bell's touch, warm and worn, or her kiss, lingering, soft and sweet.

Flustered
rated g, 100 words
rosie/pervinca
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

She had been flustered at the lad's approach (Tookish, by the looks of him), and Rosie had thought him the insistent sort. "I'm sorry," she says, attempting to cut by him, but he grins and puts an arm about her shoulder. The proximity of his mouth to her cheek sets her skin a'flame.

"Goodness - "

And then, he laughs. "Fooled you, it seems."

Rosie blinks, then blinks again. "Vinca? However did you - "

Pervinca flashes a wide, matter-of-fact grin, then kisses her cheek. "I managed. Though," and she eyes her own button-up shirt, noticeably flat. "It is a tight fit."

Taking All The Blame
rated g, 100 words
rosie/marigold/pervinca
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

Rosie blames it on not knowing when it's best to say no, though she always had thought herself the sensible sort. Marigold, grinning quite shyly, blames it on Pervinca being too good at getting what she wants. Pervinca, when she has something to say on the matter, isn't as full of herself as one might think - perhaps she is good at getting what she wants (something she has made a sport of, when it comes to competing with her younger brother), but it's just as nice knowing when there's no place for things like saying no.

They are all right.

Silver, Dark, and Stars
rated g, 100 words
arwen/luthien
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

She thinks of it as dream. Mirror-face, smooth touch, hair like shadow, eyes like stars. It is like knowing herself - the map of her body, in some other form. The rise and swell of breathing curves. In dream, the body is warm, and the hands are deft, light-touching, and sly. A quicksilver thrill.

In this mouth, her hope, her dreams. But in this touch, her doom granted, her fate is sealed. It is all that she has wanted. And this, this lady knows.

She will give all for her love. But this lady, she has given more.

Burning like stars.

Accidents and Not
rated g, 100 words
pearl/daisy
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

The first was an accident. Pearl had been out of sorts, having drank too much, and having danced too little. Daisy hadn't known what to do when the lady had started crying, but it had seemed an awful mess. She'd minded young children well enough, though, and offered her shoulder, a safe place to cry.

When Pearl had kissed her, Daisy felt that proper sensibility had fled out through the open window, or so the saying said.

Pearl had smiled, then, held her chin high. "What a mess I've made."

An accident, perhaps. The second, oh, was something much more.

Fair and What's Not
rated g, 100 words
lily/elanor
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.
Lily being an OC that has been itching for her story; and all mine.

Lily had thought she had a chance, when Elanor had wanted to kiss her, but she thinks she was only lucky; Elanor is a curious sort, and of course she'd want to know, and of course she'd not think anything more of it than just that: something done to sate one's curiosity, and definitely not anything else or more.

And it isn't fair, that she knows that, that she knows even more: that Elanor could have anyone, being so pretty and being so smart, so why would someone like Elanor want someone so very plain and as insensible as her.

Water
rated g, 100 words
arwen/goldberry
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

It might not be anything more than dream; something that might pass like wind or falling rain. Perhaps it is her own sorrow, that it holds her back; perhaps it is simply time, now, and this sadness is too deep. Her memories of joy seem a distant thing. He is gone, now, and what joy can there now be?

(The pain is too much forget forget let is wash away and think of tangles of gold locks, instead, and eyes clear and pale as sea.)

She sees the world in water, and the water washes back to dreams.

Memories
rated g, 100 words
éowyn/lothíriel
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

You felt it the first time you kissed the man that would be your husband: something like the wild roaring of the water, the sea at tempest, untamed and in its natural element, perhaps, but something that you could understand. And he took your hand, and you thought, that you could and would love this man.

And then you met his sister, and you knew her, and she had been wild once, like her brother yet is, but she is calm now, like the ebbing water as the tide falls to its lowest point.

And memory is faded salt kisses.

Such Simple Knowledge
rated g, 100 words
alyssum (ofc)/estella
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.
Alyssum is mine.

She had been quite caught in the grip of things; too much sound, laughing and singing and talking, too, and she had been drinking more than she should have let herself, but even that was all right. No, she thought, when she found herself caught in safe, familiar arms, and nearly felt herself crying through her laughter: she was far more than just all right.

"You are lovely," she said, and Estella had led her off away from the dancing, finding a place to sit, and a drink of water to cool her down.

"And I love - "

"I know."

Fair Fight
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin/estella/diamond
*loves on Vensre for beta-type help*

It is the heaviest snow that's fallen in years. Buckland snow, good and wet and easy to shape, the sort that crunches beneath your feet as you walk, the sort that makes Merry think back: Caradhras might be bitter cold, but Merry has fonder memories of cold and snow and ice, back from when he'd only been a tween.

And things haven't changed as much as he'd thought: Pippin always got the first off, then, and this day is no different.

He makes a sound of surprise, but then ducks down, pressing the snow tight between gloved hands. Pippin's second comes, whizzing by Merry's head to impact in the snow behind.

"Your aim is off, Pip," he calls out cheerfully, letting fly his first.

Pippin doesn't move quite as fast as he'd wanted, and Merry's snowball strikes him in the chest. Then Pippin is laughing, his third winging free.

Sometime during their playful fight, Merry strips off his gloves, and by the time that Diamond and Estella join them ("We saw who first attacked," Estella laughs, and Diamond's smile says, three against one), his hands are wet and red and stinging from the cold.

If war could be so carefree.

A Sort of Fancy
rated g, 100 words
éowyn/elanor
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

It's a sort of fancy that the lass has, and she wagers it doesn't mean much more than just that: but the child (she's not a child, Éowyn, though she might look it) has a wild sort of spirit that's waiting for the moment where it will be able to blossom forth, where it will let her do all she thinks it is possible for her to do.

It isn't that she sees herself in Elanor, but sometimes Éowyn still wishes that all she had wanted had not been so cruelly taken away.

Someone to tell her stories to again.

The Sort of Thing
rated g, 100 words
arwen/rosie
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

It's the sort of thing, she thinks, that shouldn't be. Where the Lady Arwen is tall and dark and fair, she seems rather small and squat and well, not anything like the Queen.

Arwen, though, has a delightful way of making her forget about such nonsensical worries, when her husband is off tending to other matters of state: though Rosie does wonder just what matters of state Elessar - the King, that is - might be getting up to, with her husband and that Took and Brandybuck, too.

And the kisses, Rosie knows, are sweet. She'd not have them any other way.

Change and Changing
rated g, 100 words
alyssum (ofc)/estella/rosemary (ofc)
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

Rosemary is Ruby's. Alyssum is mine.

Rosemary is a sweet sort, though she's headstrong even for a headstrong Brandybuck, and once she sets her mind to something, there is little that might dissuade her from that path. (Their first kiss had been bold, and done with purpose, though Alyssum forgets what purpose it had been.)

Estella has an even temper, and she'll tell it as it is, though she's gentle enough about those with which she feels at ease, often given to teasing, and even flirting, too. (Their first kiss had been accidental, or so Alyssum believes.)

Too bad that things change. And keep on changing.

All This Memory
rated g, 100 words
luthien/galadriel
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

She remembers walking through shadow of trees, and knows well the touch of her hand: a kiss shared when the world had been younger, and she had been much younger, too. Naïve, at least, when she had let herself be kissed. Yet bold enough to return that kiss, in its proper turn.

That things had turned and changed and time had fallen. It had been mindless fancy, or so she lets herself believe, for there is pain enough in her life, and regret more than she can weigh.

Luthien is long gone from this world.

(Yes. Mindless fancy of youth.)

In Water
rated g, 100 words
galadriel/melian
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

In water she sees her, still, dancing like shadow in starlight: none could quite dance like the Lady Melian, and though Galadriel wishes she could cast out thought of that life, she still remembers her time at the Court, and she remembers seeing the Lady, Elu's Queen, as radiant as the light of any star.

In water she remembers, the shape of shadow dancing across the still surface of her mirror. In her own thoughts, she can forget all that she has known, and all that she has had, but the water betrays her, and those memories, curse them, return.

As Ageless As
rated g, 100 words
éowyn/galadriel
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

She thinks she knows enough of the Elves of the Golden Wood, and the folk of Gondor, too, and she knows enough of her own people, their ways, and what's right and what's not but when she's awake, late at night, and she's trapped and caught and the walls are closing in, then Éowyn doesn't mind thinking fanciful things of fair folk and distant place, that she'll never meet, where she'll never go.

And this night as she sleeps, she tangles her hands in hair paler than her own, and quicksilver starlight, and kisses a mouth as ageless as dream.

And Only That
rated g, 100 words
théodwyn/finduilas
Written for my "twenty-eight days of femmeslash" challenge.

It has more years than she remembers since her last visit to Minas Tirith, when her brother had thought it best if she were to stay at Edoras but ThEodwyn had insisted that she go; as she has insisted, now, though she does not quite know if her heart can bear this pain. She knew Finduilas of Dol Amroth first at a distance, and remembers having stood at her wedding though she had hardly been anything more than a child at the time.

But she will be married soon, herself, and, pain or no, her heart deserves this one goodbye.

March 25 SR 1428
rated g, 100 words
elanor
Happy Gondorian New Year.

Elanor's birthday is a very special day. Partially because it's her birthday, and her parents love her so, and love and presents and birthday cheer don't seem to lack, even with little siblings under foot. Still, Dad seems somehow - sad, and Elanor knows this is why her birthday is especially special - Mum has told her stories, and Dad has read from his book, and Elanor knows about Frodo Baggins and all he did for the Shire, and for Middle-earth, and - and this Dad won't let her forget - for her.

(But the story's ended wrong, she thinks, with Frodo gone away.)

In Different Skies
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Nanni wrote me this: Sleep With a Waking Heart.
And Merry had something that he wanted to say - er, think.

Merry wishes he could sleep. Pippin seems to have little trouble with that, drifting in and out from seemingly peaceful dreams. The rest would do him good, Merry knows, and if he were sleeping, he would not have the room in his head to think.

And Pippin, when he wakes, is looking at him with night-lit eyes, and the star-bright light is softening the sharp lines of his face.

(They should be home. Pippin, at least, should be home.)

This is no place for them, for Pippin, nor for Merry, here in this place where they are heading into war.

With Intent Of
rated pg13, 200 words
aragorn/boromir
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

He does it with the intent to catch Aragorn off guard. There is nothing more that he wants, (right now, at least, as if it were any other time, there would be so much more, and his head might be ringing with thought of pure gold), right now, when Aragorn's mouth is not smooth as he had imagined, and the taste of pipe-weed is bitter sharp sweet upon his tongue.

A kiss. A simple kiss.

He had done it with the intent of catching Aragorn off guard, but he feels as if he is the one who is most surprised by it, as Aragorn so effortlessly wraps himself about Boromir's tongue, causing him to groan. A shudder, of wanting, and Boromir puts his arms about Aragorn's shoulders, wanting to feel the warmth of his body against his own.

So much more than a simple kiss.

Now Aragorn's mouth moves from Boromir's, and Boromir's lips are wet with lingering heat. A groan, delirious, and Boromir realizes that that voice is his own. Aragorn, at least, is not finished with him, moving so that he might press his lips to Boromir's neck, seeking for the pulse that beats hot beneath his skin.

Seeking
rated pg, 200 words
aragorn/théoden
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

If he had been younger, he might have laughed, carefree as a lad, and said, now, really, that hadn't much of a kiss. Certainly, it had been nothing more than a bare press of mouth against mouth, when he had gasped against the texture of wind-worn lips. He does not remember having been kissed with any great passion since his dear Elfhild, and she has been gone so very long.

"Aragorn," he whispers.

Aragorn presses his brow to Théoden's, and Théoden can feel the ache of exhaustion in his bones, as well as the wanting, that is in his own. "Théoden King."

Théoden blinks, and hears the echo of a horn's cry, as if coming to him from a great distance. The touch of Aragorn's hand against his cheek is as feather-soft as dream. "Come now," he says, and marvels at how he cannot speak in anything greater than a whisper.

It seems that Aragorn is seeking. Searching, yes, for something, though he does not know just what it is. He has come so far, but he is not yet come to his end.

That first kiss, while as chaste as it had been, had not been lacking in strength.

Distinction
rated pg13, 200 words
aragorn/boromir/arwen
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Where his mouth is rough as bitter wind, hers is as sweet as new bitten fruit. A laugh, yes, and then a shuddering groan, and Boromir licks Arwen's tongue. He feels the tremble of her body: within the depth of his mouth and beneath the firm press of his hand. Her kiss has ever been bold - she is a daughter of the ages, strong and yet knowing how to bend. In her eyes might be the light of stars, but her body is still flesh, and bone, and blood.

For as different as they are, they are yet the same.

Where her mouth is mellow and cool, his is hot and bitter as a draught of aged ale. He often smiles as they kiss, as though he is hiding some secret. And he is, Boromir thinks, as he feels the press of that mouth. That he might learn it himself. It is strange, as his first kiss had almost seemed - shy - and what would this Man, this Man who would be king among Men, see in him to fear? Perhaps he is not so Elvish as he seems.

And yet perhaps he is somehow far greater than Boromir has dreamed.

Seeing Is
rated pg, 200 words
boromir/merry/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Boromir has not been so flustered since he was still a lad, but he is blushing now, unable to stop, and wearing the most unfortunate of grins. He laughs, mostly because he cannot help himself, and feels Merry's mouth against his, the smooth texture of his lips with the sweet taste of apples - of Pippin, too, even sweeter - upon his tongue. It is Merry's tongue that Boromir is most interested in, however, even with Merry sitting so that his legs are straddling Boromir's lap, and with his hands pressed at Boromir's shoulders, gripping tight. No, it's his tongue, and his mouth, and the fact that they are kissing, and the fact that Merry's tongue is now slowly moving along the length of Boromir's.

Then, brow knit mostly in thought, Merry draws back, and wets his lips.

Pippin, where he sits to the side, looks mostly amused, and laughs.

"See now, Merry, I told you so," he says. "It's the largest I've ever known."

At that, Merry finally laughs, and loosens his grip at Boromir's shoulders. "Yes, yes, you're quite right. But you know I had to check on it myself."

"Well, move yourself, if you will. It's my turn again."

This Time
rated pg, 200 words
estella/diamond
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

The force of Diamond's kiss knocks the breath from Estel "Stella - " Diamond whispers. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Estella, breathless, replies. "Are you?"

"No," Diamond says, and then they are kissing, again. This one is not so forceful, nor so sudden, and Estella relaxes beneath the thrum of Diamond's warm mouth.

She nearly groans, and blinks laughing tears from her eyes. Breath fills her lungs. Estella is the one who draws back, then, tangling her fingers slowly in Diamond's soft curls. Diamond smiles at her, her gaze is dark. Overhead, the midsummer's moon shines.

"You went from the party. I almost thought it was because Pippin kept stepping on your toes, and you know, Stella, love, he thinks the same."

Estella laughs until she giggles, anchoring herself in Diamond's warmth and breath. "No, no," she says, gasping. The sound of song is such a distant thing, where Diamond is so near.

"But I shan't mind this time for us two."

Storm-bright
rated g, 200 words
éomer/lothíriel and faramir/éowyn
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

The first meeting is a cool one - whileÉowyn and Faramir have been wed since the starting of this very new age, Lothíriel has met the King who will be her husband only once - he seems a just man, with a steady temper and noble eyes. Something, though she cannot name it, knots fierce inside her, and it takes all her will to even breathe.

But her cousin is lucky, loved, and happily wed -Éowyn, Lothíriel thinks, is as her brother, noble in her own way, with her hair like gold and her eyes grey as the storm-bright sky, yet strong as forged steel. And yet Lothíriel cannot bring herself to look her future husband -Éomer - in the eyes.

The green of Rohan is so very different from the lighter colours of her home. She misses Dol Amroth with a near physical aching - it will never be enough, it will never be the same. Grass and water are not the same. But his kiss is something else - light as feather, deep and moving - and yet with something more. She should not have kissed him, yet she has. The plains and rocky crags, she sees, are as wild as the sea.

Ice To Fire
rated r, 200 words
faramir/éowyn/aragorn
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

They come visiting from Ithilien, and find that the Queen is gone from the court. Their King greets them and, when the night has drawn long and all celebration has come to an end, it is then he invites them to his quarters - to the bed he shares with his own lady wife - kissing firstÉowyn, and then Faramir, with a mouth that tastes of rich, sweet wine.

This time is not the first. Faramir,Éowyn knows, knows well his King's touch, andÉowyn has fancied herself a place in his bed. The silk sheets smell of sweet perfume - of Arwen, too, of leaf and grass and the sweet air of summer - and Aragorn's mouth is hungry, kissing Faramir for a long moment that seems to consume all breath.

owyn watches. The night is cool and she shivers, and Aragorn's hand - overlarge, his fingers long and strong, clutches at her hand. Then he draws his mouth to hers.

She feels herself devoured by that mouth, and he pushes her into the embrace of the bed, his hands rough though somehow gentle - a touch that is joined again by her own husband's, and she is set adrift in such burning bliss.

Not Only
rated pg, 200 words
faramir/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

gh the city and then once again to the Citadel, then taking to the walls.

"I wanted to give you a proper goodbye," Pippin said, with a light-heart, and Faramir seemed gladdened. They had walked, hand in hand, and the breeze now gently played with Faramir's dark curls, moving as it in gentle waves.

"And what, pray-tell, do you think a proper goodbye?"

"Well, the sort that would have you on your knees, my lord."

A laugh, and though Pippin said he had only spoke in jest, Faramir knelt and put his hands upon Pippin's shoulders. "You have grown," Faramir said.

Their kiss was that of lovers, not only friends.

Soon Enough
rated pg13, 200 words
frodo/merry/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

It had happened, hard, and fast, though the kisses and the touches that had come after had been sated, at bliss. Merry could not remember seeing Frodo so - fierce and fair and dark and bright as night - and, in a very long time. And time did appear as if it was some changed thing. Merry would not forget Frodo - nor Pippin, his second first love, who had given Merry the impression of some creature made of light. Well, almost, as it was Frodo who seemed to glow.

Now, Merry sits and watches them sleep: Frodo's dark curls black as ink against the pale of Pippin's scarred chest; Frodo, his right hand at Pippin's stomach, beautiful and incomplete, though the rise and fall of Pippin's breath was beautiful, too, given that Merry had once thought he would breathe no more.

But they are sleeping, at peace, and the night air is thick about them. Soon enough, Frodo will go from Crickhollow, and this shared bed will no longer be theirs. Still, this visit has felt, truly, as if Frodo had finally, after all these years, come home.

Soon enough, yes, and Frodo will be gone. But Merry would rather Frodo stay.

Before the Winter
rated pg, 200 words
frodo/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

It seemed a lifetime since Pippin's last proper visit to Bag End, and that was sure enough the truth. There was, of course, more company about than there had been that last - three months now Sam and Rosie have lived along with Frodo, and Pippin was firm in his belief that Frodo is better for having them near. A lifetime, yes, since Pippin had last had a proper visit, and most certainly one where Merry had not come along with.

The bold greens of summer were turning to the faded red-golds of autumn. And Frodo, so it seemed, was mostly well.

Still, for all that Frodo and Pippin know and have known, the kiss came as somewhat astonishing - that Frodo could reduce Pippin so that he felt as it he were a knock-kneed tween who was being given his very first kiss was something to be marveled.

He was taller now than he'd been at their last, and Frodo wrapped his arms about him as if clinging to - something, and whatever it was, Pippin could not tell. Certainly, he'd been taller long enough that he had already noticed - but, somehow, this was different. Desperate, almost.

Pippin had missed Frodo's kiss.

Smudged and Stained
rated pg, 200 words
frodo/rosie
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

His hands, clever as they were and smudged with ink, caught hold of her and pulled her near. His mouth on hers surprised her - his tongue, warm and smooth and quick. His right hand bunched in the cloth at the small of her back. The ink, she thought, would stain.

Sam, she thought, but could not think, was in the garden. She could hear him, from where they stood in the kitchen, humming as he worked. The windows were all opened. The summer sun had been bright as gold.

Then, as sudden as it had come, as he had descended upon her as some creature from dream, her mouth was free and air returned to her lungs. She drank her fill of it, greedy, though she was left with another thirst.

He drew back, and his eyes were dark - the slightest smile upon his lips - but then his eyes softened, as did the expression that he wore. "You have always been so kind," he whispered, and he let her go. "Forgive me, Mistress Rose."

He seemed so very sad.

She could have spoke - she almost did - but she stood there, flustered, as her Sam's humming drifted in on a breeze.

How It All Changes
rated pg, 200 words
merry/estella/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

When Estella woke, Merry was already gone from the bed. Pippin was a hot presence against her back, arm draped over her side and the point of his nose against the nape of her neck. She remembered the night before, very clearly - wine, and more wine, and then there had been kissing, which had melted in a slow heated haze of unhurried touching, steady and so very sweet.

It was hard not to know that Merry loved Pippin as he did, and Estella could not help but be fond of Merry in return. Estella had known Merry almost always, and she had fallen for him - well, early on, perhaps before their tween years, and she supposes Pippin has loved him as long, though he was never so obvious about his affections. She knows well enough that there were years where the two were turned into a trio, and they had Frodo to thank for that. (Oh, but Frodo was gone, Frodo and his eyes like summer-blue sky above the grey-blue sea.)

She woke Pippin with a kiss, and he yawned, tired, against her searching mouth. When Merry joined them, not long after, Estella had kisses to share with him, too.

Shape
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

It is the first night in more than two weeks that there has not been some sort of celebration going on at the house at Crickhollow. That is, a proper public celebration, with friends and good drinks, and dancing and song. This night, if anything, was just as merry as any other, as they had their good drink, and Merry thought the company was the best that could be had. But it was different, somehow - when they had stood in the gathering gloom and watched fireflies drifting in the darkness, or when Pippin had slid his arms about Merry like he hadn't in what felt a lifetime, and when Pippin had kissed him, soundly and steady, and Merry could not help but groan against the weight of his lips.

But this was his own dear Pippin, here, far taller than any other hobbit, though Merry only grudgingly admitted that Pippin was any taller than he. They had been cousins forever, and friends half less than that.

His tongue was a flicker, quicksilver, and stirred heat throughout. Slow and steady, yes, and Merry found that he had forgotten the texture of Pippin's mouth, smooth, and the shape of it, as well.

On The Visit Home
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin/estella/diamond
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Diamond had insisted on the visit, and Estella had insisted that they not go alone. So it had been, and the four had set out north, intent on Long Cleeve. They had all been welcomed, Beryl and Faragrand of the North-tooks making certain that their daughter and her husband and their own dear guests were made at home. But that could only last so long, and then Diamond was wanting for more familiar grounds. Two days ride south, and they would be safe again at the house at Crickhollow, perhaps with a stay over at Budgeford and Brandy Hall, along the way.

Now, a good portion of the hobbits that dwelt in North Tunnels stood out on the courtyard that opened out onto the north of Long Cleeve. Diamond has kissed her mother, and her father, and had bid her brothers all goodbye, and of course they would visit again, and as soon as they could.

But she had linked her arm about Estella's waist, and she had kissed Merry, then Pippin, and Diamond had laughed, far more wicked than Pippin could ever recall her having been.

"Well, it's good we've given them something new to talk about," she said.

On Memory
rated g, 200 words
pippin/diamond
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

This isn't the Pippin she remembers. Of course, Diamond knows she never did know Pippin well enough, before, to have a proper basis of comparison. Still, there have been long stretches of silence where Pippin is so very grave. But then, the Pippin she first remembers having met had laughed quick and had joked even quicker, and she had been tight friends with Merry Brandybuck, and Diamond supposes that that could have some influence on how Pippin might act. Well, given that, there's more than enough reason that, now and after the long awful mess of Sharkey and his men and that Pippin had gone off and away after his cousin Frodo, perhaps Pippin's silence was something she could blame on Merry's influence, as well.

Well, there's no need to talk about it, as well enough is well enough. But, it seems to Diamond, Pippin should seem happier than he does, now that she has agreed, yes, that she will marry him, and it will be a wonder of a wedding, it will, just you wait and see.

She kisses him, and it is long, slow, and sweet. He's all grown up, but she still feels like an awkward tween.

The First
rated g, 200 words
rosie/estella/diamond
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Given all the time they had spent on the preserves, it seemed proper that they be the first to enjoy the spoils - as was proper, Estella had said. Rose had smiled, glad for their visit, glad for the time that their husbands were spending with her Sam. "Well, I'm glad you were here for the work. And you're right, Estella, it's only proper that we be the first to taste."

But Diamond had insisted they all go out, going no further than the cool grass atop Bag End, and Estella had spread out a fine old quilt that was perfect for sitting, and they made a small feast from their picnic, having brought along more food than three hobbits might need, but more than enough to sit and spend time in the sun.

Estella's mouth tasted of berries, and Rose laughed as Diamond's hand crept along her spine, and she had sought a deeper taste of Estella's mouth, pressing against her and feeling the laughing rumble of her moan. "Better to taste it from you," Rose said, then, and Diamond laughed, sliding her arm slow about Rose.

"Rose has the right of it, Stel."

Estella had no breath to disagree.

Cheer
rated g, 200 words
rosie/sam/frodo
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Rose says, Too much time of his is spent locked up, indoors. What he needs is fresh air, and sun, and she gazes at Sam, steady, with a look upon her face that dares Sam to disagree.

Sam is certain that isn't what she meant, getting Frodo outside. Winter is upon them, and Hobbiton has been blessed with a light snow, and the morning had greeted them beneath a thin coat of luminescent white. Rose had begged Frodo join her for a walk, and Sam, too, and they had all bundled up in warm clothing, Elanor as well, and Rose had taken Frodo by the arm and Sam had followed after with Elanor held close.

Frodo's been too grave, and too caught in his own thoughts, and while that was something of the Frodo Sam had always known, there was something different, here.

Sam is not surprised when Rose catches Frodo's face between her gentle hands, and guides his mouth to hers, watching as he has before. When Frodo laughs, and Rose bids Sam join them both, Elanor laughs, as well, as Sam bustles down, quick to join them and these kisses in the snow.

They've all needed this cheer.

These Ways
rated pg, 200 words
sam/merry/pippin
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

There is only so far they can ride out until Sam becomes certain that Merry must be intent on riding out from the Shire proper, but Merry laughs at Sam and smiles when he suggest such a thing, and yes, Sam, he also says, this place is as good a place as any other. That is where they stop, tethering their ponies beyond the rise of a low hill, the summer sky bleeding to indistinguishable grey above their heads, promising the threat of storm. Merry does not seem to mind, nor does Pippin, and Sam thinks, well, he has needed them enough, in the years since Frodo went away, and he can tell that there is something - something about them, and the way they do not speak, and Sam knows without needing to be told what is wanted, no, what is needed.

Sam will give, and all that he can.

There is difference in mouth and form as they kiss: the way Pippin lets Sam kiss him as he will, slow and steady, and the way, as well, that Merry kisses Sam, not wanting to be lead, and his mouth is hot and hard and bitter, and tastes of tears.

Fire and Earth
rated pg, 200 words
sam/rosie
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

It is not their first kiss - no, of course not - and the first had been slow, and uncertain, and Sam had thought that he would burst into flame, given the proper right of the moment, but wouldn't that be something for his Rosie, so he did no such thing, and had wrapped his hand about hers, instead, and had felt the tangle of her still-damp fingers tangling in his stark dry hair. It was - had been - raining out. And she had come all this way, and to visit him, it seems, if only because he had been in Bywater the week before and he had mentioned his Gaffer's intent on visiting relations in the north.

But now is not then, and she sets her mouth to his, breath lighter than any kiss, as the kiss itself is firm as earth and rooted deep. Sam groans, feels the rumble of her laugh as she groans in return, and her fingers are locked in his hair and his hand is pressed at the small of her back.

"It is very good to see you, Sam," she says, grin soft set upon her mouth.

And he laughs, not blushing, and kisses her again.

After a Kiss (and before another)
rated g, 200 words
sammie/del/peony
pretty good year
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

Well. Isn't that something, he thinks, as he finds it oddly compelling, watching them as they argue - no, now they're wrestling, What was it that Peony had done - oh yes, she'd kissed him, and for Del to see. Del, of course, hadn't been happy, though Sammie had - he'd quite liked the kiss.

Well. They were still struggling and, like it as he did, it would probably be best if they were to stop -

Peony grunts when Del kicks, who looks set to bite, so Sammie can't see what good it is for Peony doing what she does. But Del stops, dead in her tracks (not that she makes any, flat on her back), and her eyes widen at the press of Peony's kiss.

This, Sammie thinks, is even better, and when the lasses notice that he's still there, and watching, Del with her eyes narrowed, Peony almost set to laugh, he grins nervously and decides it best to run.

The Cold Between Right and Wrong
rated pg, 200 words
théodred/éomer/éowyn
Written for my "30 days, 30 kisses" challenge.

They had gone out riding, far from the city, and Éowyn still feels wind in her hair. A knotted tangle, as well, and Éowyn winces when fingers catch on it. She must have made a face, and Théodred laughs, and Éomer laughs, too, a long low rumbling which Éowyn can feel against both her front and back. "You should have worn your hair up," Théodred says, grinning, andÉowyn shifts where she is pressed between them both. She knows that she had made a sight, riding out from Edoras, hair unbound. She says that, andÉomer laughs, again, and softly kisses the crown of her head.

"You'll be a fair sight brighter if your hair is not in knots and tangles," Éomer says, and Théodred kisses her, distracting her whenÉomer's long fingers work at unknotting the mess.

She has a kiss for Éomer, too, when he is done, though her hair is still a mess. She has never liked having it touched but, for certain people, she has been known to relent.

The sky stretches wide, and they are far out from the city, and right and wrong, knotted in their cloaks and one long embrace.

The wind howls.

Father and Son
rated g, 150 words
pippin and faramir took
I did a drabble/ficlet request. This was for Molly.

That Faramir's actions reminded Pippin so clearly of his own childhood, well, it isn't surprising. He remembers having been running before he could walk (almost), and much to his father's delight, he had been riding from a very young age, as well. Still, swimming had been something else, and if it hadn't been for Merry's persuasion (that is, he threw him in, and Pippin didn't forgive him that injustice for the full length of the summer), he would not have found that he could swim at all.

Faramir is not at all like him as he had been when it comes to the water. He loves it, more fish than hobbit, it seems, and sometimes Pippin is, at times, surprised to find that his son has not grown gills.

Of course, Pippin has grown out of his dislike for the water, and when Faramir asks, Pippin joins with a grin.

The Current Situation
rated nc17, 200 words
faramir/pippin
I did a drabble/ficlet request. This was for Molly.

Pippin liked knowing that he could make Faramir smile, and laugh, no matter the situation. That the current situation involved what it did, well, that was hardly Pippin's fault. He felt his own laugh bubble up in his chest, and though he did his very best to contain it (it could hardly be seemly, an "You are incorrigible," Faramir gasped. Pippin's breath hitched, and Faramir gave a twitch, groaning so low and sweet that Pippin could almost not hear. And Faramir gasped, again, and said: - "I should - teach you - some sort of lesson - "

"Yes?" Pippin returned.

He did not mean to giggle. Of course, nor did he mean to grin, settled as he was between Faramir's legs, and with his right hand wrapped so tight as it was about Faramir's cock. And yet, as Faramir groaned, and seemingly forgot what it was that he was saying, or going to say, Pippin forgot, as well, what it was that had been so funny (and it had been incredibly funny, hadn't it?), and instead bent himself to this new task, instead.

Stars and Stones
rated g, 100 words
pippin, mention of merry and frodo
Lindelea, thank you for the much appreciated once-over.
For Nanni. With love.

When they first come to the city, Minas Tirith is stark against the almost pale of coming dawn - and, Pippin cannot recall the stars having shone since before he had - well, since before. And he is tired, though he'd been able to sleep some while on their ride, and he misses Merry, and Frodo, too - though Frodo is farther away than he can even dream - and he wonders how his cousins will fare without him near. Likely better than they would with him at hand, he decides, for all the good that he has done.

(Again, it comes to stones.)

Of Their Own
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. Mandy wanted: - Merry/Pippin. mpreg.
She didn't exactly get what she wanted.

Dinner has been had, and afters, and they all gather in the sitting room, the fire burning brightly where it sits upon the hearth. "Tell us a story, Da," Elanor says, and Sam smiles, a rather old, tender smile, as he ruffles his eldest child's curls.

"Aye, lass, I will. Come close, Frodo-lad, and bring Rose-lass along with."

They all sit very close, and Elanor takes Rose-lass from Frodo-lad, and sets her littlest sister in her lap, where Rose-lass seems quite content with pulling and playing with her sisters bright curls. Their mum is sitting in the rocker nearest to the fire, Merry-lad fast asleep in his bassinet, and Pippin-lad nursing noisily at his mother's breast: their namesakes had, of course, been quite taken with the chosen names.

Sam starts speaking: Elanor and Frodo-lad both lean in close, intent on his words.

"Almost makes one wish they had a little one of their own," Pippin says, a half-wistful whisper, not wanting to interrupt. Merry, sitting at his side, gives him a rather bemused look, leaning so he supports himself full upon Pippin's shoulder.

"We could try, I suppose," Merry whispers back, "though I daresay we haven't all the proper parts."

Break
rated pg, 100 words
éomer/éowyn
I did a drabble request. Jai wanted: - Éowyn/Éomer. Breathless. Post-quest, romance or UST.
And I gave her angst.

It should not hurt like this, she thinks, this childhood fancy that she has grown beyond, leaving her far too old for such thoughts, married now, and loved. Still, she can't help but feel such want as she looks upon him, where he stands as bright and shining as the sun, as noble as a king of old. She is breathless with desire, though she masks it well - and she kisses his cheek, and wishes him joy in his marriage and beyond.

When he turns, though, and Éomer's mouth brushes against her own, Éowyn knows that she will break.

In Thought (Lost)
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. Shirasade wanted: - Dom/Billy or Merry/Pippin. Apostrophe. Apples.
As they say, wheeee, angst. I chose Merry/Pippin.

Lost in thought, Merry hadn't noticed that the time had grown so late. The fire on the hearth has burned down to embers, and he is sitting before it, with a bottle half-emptied of its wine and a basket half-full of rose-red apples there to keep him company. He reaches for one, and the skin is smooth against his palm - he bites into it, chews and swallows, and looks to the bed, where Pippin must still be curled amidst the covers.

No, he thinks, and grabs hold of the bottle, drowning the taste of bitter apple. Pippin is long gone.

Taller
rated g, 200 words
pippin/bergil
I did a drabble request. avariel_wings wanted: - Pippin/Bergil (non-chan).
Oh, I don't know. Some time, long after the quest and all that.

"You've grown taller," Pippin says. Bergil laughs, says in return: "As have you."

That brings a smile to the halfling's face, and he stretches out his legs, as if judging what growth had taken place. Then he nods, and beckons Bergil near. "These legs do seem longer than I remember, so you must be right. Have a seat with me, lad. Do you smoke?"

Bergil sits at Pippin's side. "No, though Father does at times."

Pippin nods. "Do you mind, then?"

"No, not at all."

"Good." Pippin nods again, and draws his pipe out from his pack - long and fine, it is, and lovely. Bergil watches as he packs the leaf, and sees that it is lit. "You don't visit as often as you should," a telling blush, and a grin. "Is your Shire all that lovely, Master Took?"

Pippin, at least, does not seem to see. He looks to green rolling hills, the flash of the river as it creeps down through the land. "Not as lovely as this land seems, here at spring."

"You must tease. I have heard tell of your Shire - "

A breath of sweet-smelling smoke. "I'd show you, if I could."

"Yes, I know."

It Isn't Yet
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. Kaydee wanted: - Merry/Pippin. Houses of Healing.

"You're going then, aren't you?" Perhaps Merry had not meant to speak in such a tone, but it is accusation that greets Pippin as he enters Merry's healing room. Merry's back is to him, where he lies upon the bed, curled in on him self. Poor old Merry, Pippin thinks, my poor dear love.

Merry's voice drifts through candlelight and dark. "You've come to say goodbye."

Pippin moves to the bedside, setting his candle at the edge of the table, and setting himself at the edge of the bed. "You're acting the fool, Merry. I thought to join you, and here I hope you don't mind." Pippin's hand lightly, very lightly, presses at Merry's shoulder.

"Do you?"

Merry grumbles then, and exhales. "You needn't answer. I know what you'd say."

"Yes, I suppose you would. As I know what you would say, as well."

The darkness wavers, as candlelight shifts. Pippin curls against Merry, close enough that he can smell the lingering scent of athelas about him, and something that reminds him of home.

"Did you ever think it would end like this?" Merry asks.

Pippin slowly says, reluctant as though his voice might break. "It isn't yet the end."

The Importance of Firsts
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. makeyourmusic wanted: - Merry/Pippin. Firsts. Kissing.

Pippin knows firsts are important - you can do something again and again, and it'll always get better, but he knows that it's the first that you'll always most remember. Not just the act of it, whatever it was that was first, but the smaller things, too - the texture of breath in the dark spaces between, a tremor pressed faint against his lips. Oh, and the feeling, too, pressure so perfectly right its better thought a caress, and is never quite the same.

There is something marvelous about Merry, and kissing his, as each next kiss is always, incredibly, something new.

Like Chased After Dreams
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. voontah wanted: - Merry/Pippin. Bumblebees.

The sky is perfectly clear, giving no recollection of the storms that had come a week prior, pounding against the Buckland with a terror that seems now easy enough to forget. The taste of berries are sweet and pleasantly tart, and Pippin licks his lips, closing his eyes against the sky.

"I could stay here forever - I am quite comfortable, you know," he says, drowsy, listening to the trickle of moving water and the buzzing hum of bumblebees in flight and the catch of Merry's breath as in inhales, exhales. Merry's stomach, Pippin thinks, is a better pillow than anything he might find back at home - and Merry's fingers are combing so lightly through his curls.

Merry doesn't answer. He needn't, and Pippin does not mind.

He will move, very soon, and he'll compliment Merry on their luncheon, and then they will kiss, and find thanks again, through body, and in touch. Summer has a lazy tenacity that makes it seem to last forever - that this day might never end. But the day is ever fading - the sun falls, and dark rises in the east.

(That this day might be reality, and something solid, more than a chased after dream.)

A Way of Turning
rated g, 200 words
frodo/sam implied, sam/rose
I did a drabble request. Trilliah wanted: - Frodo/Sam. Hurt. Angsting.
And I did give her angst. (ack)

"Sam," he says, "is it autumn again, already?"

"So is the way, sir," Sam replies. "The years, they have a way of turning."

Frodo smiles, and beckons Sam closer. "Please?"

When Sam is near, his voice is warmer, and he is warmer, too. He fits so close against Frodo as they sit together in the window seat, and Frodo seeks to wrap himself fully about Sam. His heartbeat is steady, and his breath is low. Too soon, Frodo knows, and Sam will be gone.

No. Skipping heartbeat. Holding tighter.

"How is Rosie faring?" he whispers.

"Well enough, sir," Sam replies. "The little one'll be coming in the spring."

Frodo nods, slowly, but he pulls back. "You are very good to me, Sam."

"Only as I should. Only as you deserve."

Only as -

But the seat is empty, now, but for Frodo, and Sam is long gone. The cry of a baby, like distant song, and Frodo smiles, despite him. In spite of it all, perhaps. Soon, very soon, and Sam will be bringing her to meet him, and he'll not help but love the child, who is one half his Sam.

It hurts, if only because he no longer fits.

All Tired Out
rated pg, 100 words
rosie/sam/frodo
I did a drabble request. plaidpjs wanted: - Rosie/Sam/Frodo. Group Therapy.
Uh, post-sex is like therapy, right? I know it's not.

"Elanor is sleeping," Rose whispers, grinning. Sam catches her about the waist, and pulls her close. She settles herself upon his lap, and wraps one arm about his shoulder. Kissing his cheek, she then says, "and Frodo is, too."

"All tired out, he is," Sam says, and he can't help but blush.

Laughing, low and sweet, Rose presses her forehead against Sam's, and touches his cheek. "Yes, well, love, you are quite formidable in bed."

Blushing even harder, Sam laughs, but that laugh is swallowed in her kiss. Things seem as perfect as they ought, as perfect as can be.

Treasure
rated g, 100 words
merry and pippin
I did a drabble request. Lekili wanted: - Merry, Pippin. Strawberry. Post-quest.

It isn't that he forgot the taste, though they were gone long enough that that is certainly a possibility, it's just that Merry is certain that his Aunt Eglantine's strawberry preserves (the very best in all the Farthing, and no one would dare disagree) haven't ever tasted so good as they do today. Slightly cool, rich and sweet and sticky, too, like summer has burst upon his tongue.

Never has he seen Pippin eat with such care, holding the buttered, strawberry-spread bread as though it was the greatest treasure in all the world.

Funny, though, all the ways things change.

Five
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/sam
I did a drabble request. Serai wanted: - Frodo/Sam. Elegant. Five dark cherries.

The first is almost bitter. The second, almost too sweet. Frodo bites slowly, elegantly so, piercing dark-coloured skin. Sam watches him, Frodo taking the fruit into his mouth. A shudder, and then Frodo is laughing. "Sour, that one."

The fourth, then, and the fifth is left, after, with Sam watching him, still. "Are you very sure you'll have no taste?" - Frodo asks, lifting the last of the dark cherries that had been gathered. Sam shakes his head, and Frodo grins, slowly, drawing the fruit into his mouth.

But Sam wants for taste, then, as dark juice drips down Frodo's chin.

There Is Yet Time
rated g, 100 words
merry/théoden
I did a drabble request. Caroline wanted: - Merry/ThEoden. Balderdash. Sugar.

"Balderdash," - Merry says, and the King laughs.

"Why say you that, Master Meriadoc?"

"I'm not quite sure, sire. It felt as if it was the right thing to say."

Funny, really, how good it feels seeing the old man smile. Well, old, perhaps, but he's spry yet, it seems, and for all the peace Merry has given him, Merry would give him more, if only it could be. He looks away, and he smiles, and the taste of spring air is sweet as sugar, not bitter as it had been.

There is yet time. He might still know him better.

Ends
rated r, 200 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. Jane wanted: - Merry/Pippin. Fidlesticks. Smut.

"Fiddlesticks," Pippin groans, the tone forced - "The button has snagged. Merry - "

Merry, quite naked and quite aroused and quite patiently having been waiting for Pippin to finish with undressing, cannot help but laugh out loud at the irritation in his cousin's voice. "Fiddlesticks?" he asks, leveling himself up on one shoulder. Pippin scowls at him, but then he's grinning, that one grin that makes Merry think that no, not just thinking, that makes Merry know that Pippin is now plotting some (possibly, and even hopefully, devious) plan.

It's not even moments later, really, that Pippin has Merry flat on his back, working his hands over his body (all but that place that Merry most wants touch, blast the Took, but then, that is merely how he works), and causing Merry to gasp and squirm and groan atop the covers, hands fisting in the sheets.

"Fiddlesticks," Merry laughs, gasping, when Pippin does take him in hand, jerking his body at the touch. And Pippin laughs, too, despite himself, as he sets Merry to groaning, and squirming, again.

(In the end, Pippin does manage to shed his clothing. And there are other things, too, that are seen to in the end.)

Right Here
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
I did a drabble request. Aralinde wanted: - Merry/Pippin. Grass.

Merry stretches out in the grass, and tugs at Pippin's ankle. "Stay with me, cousin," he says, and Pippin grumbles agreeably enough, turning from his seat and dropping to the tall grass. He seems content, then, to pull and pluck at it. The river is close enough. Merry can hear its song.

"I am exhausted," Pippin says. "I think I could nap."

"Exhausted? And why? Has eating put such strain on you, Pip?"

Teasing, perhaps, and Pippin pokes back, prodding Merry in the side with the sharp, almost bony point of his elbow. Groaning, Merry twists back, curling on his side. "I am wounded, now. I have been felled."

Laughing, though trying his very best to keep a straight face even if he does seem destined to fail, Pippin lightly thwacks Merry upon the nose with a long blade of grass. "You are awful. And awfully over-dramatic."

"Yes, well," Merry sighs, stretching, "perhaps I was meant to live a life in the theatre. Travelling about, and all that."

Pippin shakes his head, and then crawls closer. The noise that he makes is a disagreeable one. "No," he says, covering Merry's body with his own. "I'd rather have you right here."

While He Could Have Been Asleep
rated g, 100 words
pippin

Pippin was finding it hard to sleep. Mostly because it didn't seem natural to sleep when the sun was in the sky, but also because it hardly felt right that there was empty air at his back. Merry didn't seem to have any of the problems that he did, nor did Frodo and Sam. Or any of their Company, really, and Pippin lifted his head and gazed out across the camp, and saw that no one else appeared to be awake (other than Legolas, and Legolas was gazing to the east, but he was an elf, and elves didn't count).

Name
rated g, 200 words
éowyn, théoden
For Ellie, for my birthday.

Her cheeks are smudged. Her tangled hair is long. She seems like no lady, but she has her mother's eyes - his sister's eyes, and for a moment he is a lad himself and it is his own sister who is looking back at him through pale grey. But he is not - her uncle, instead, and his sister is long gone - and when this child looks at him, right hand wound tight about her brother's left, her eyes are sad and her chin is held high.

But he smiles, then, and sets down on one knee. "My lady, might I have your name?"

Now she smiles, and she laughs, if only because he has said such an idle, foolish thing. She does not cling so as she had to Éomer's hand, though she does not yet leave his side. Even the lad smiles, though he seems tired, too, and sad. "You know me, uncle," Éowyn says.

"Éowyn, yes." - ThEoden makes a show of nodding, and thinking this over. "That was your name."

His sister is now gone, and he offers all that he can - his heart, and his open arms, and Éowyn is the one who first falls into his embrace.

Water and Stone
rated g, 100 words
legolas/gimli
For Nanni and Hyel, for my birthday.

The river is as long as day, and Gimli does not trust this elf - because what good is such arrogance, and it has been long since their people have been friends - but for the fact that they are out upon open water, and that Gimli doubts even more.

But Legolas has a hand at the boat, and his knowledge is sure. And he says, he has boated before, and always upon the river - and Gimli sees, though they ride upon water, and it shiftless and as deceitful as it is, it is as steady and as reliable as solid stone.

To Be Solved
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
For Mandy, for my birthday.

Pippin was starting to think that something was wrong. It wasn't that Merry had gone and said that there were problems, but Pippin wasn't near as foolish as he liked to act - and he did often act like a fool. And though Merry hadn't said there was something wrong, Pippin knew he knew Merry better than that - and Merry, more often than not, would not say that something was wrong, even when something was wrong. And they think I'm the fool.

And while Pippin might have figured out that something was wrong (and Merry would have denied it, vehemently, as was his Brandybuck wont), Pippin still didn't know what that something was.

This was a mystery, and his interest was grounded in it - and it was a mystery that he wanted to solve. It would be against his nature not to ask, after all - it wasn't just for the fact that he was a Took, though that blood and temperament did factor in.

But talking didn't work. Just talking never would work. So Pippin did the only thing he could do, really, by taking matters fully into his own hands. And that left him with his hands on Merry, too.

Roaming
rated pg, 100 words
frodo/aragorn
For Claudia.

He'd not known what to say when he had first met the Man, flustering though he had held his head high, saying that he was not lost, only that he'd lost his way. And the Man had laughed, and Frodo had wondered at him, tall and dark and grand, and at the taste of his mouth. A taste that was pipeweed and woodsmoke and something more, and stubble on his chin had pricked hard against Frodo's cheeks.

For all he'd been given, there was Took in him, and he wanted for more.

Stars for my Witness
rated g, 100 words
merry, the fellowship
For Ruby Nye.

Merry wonders what good he'll be out here in the wild, when he doesn't seem as brave as he'd always thought himself to be. And that wouldn't matter, if he hadn't forever -ago taken it as his job to look after Frodo (and Pippin, too, though Pippin less than Frodo), make sure he's well-protected. What good is one hobbit, when there are great warriors all about, and an even greater wizard? Especially when Merry doesn't think his protection will amount to much at all.

So he watches the stars, and wonders, and hopes he'll be brave enough, when the time comes.

No Use Crying Over Spilt Ink
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Mariposa.

Candlelight dances, flickers, and Merry sits bent over at his desk, well after the time that a sensible hobbits would be abed. Merry is hardly sensible, though - what sensible hobbit would sleep with a bare sword within reach? His quill works furiously, bleeding out onto parchment.

"Merry?"

Merry jerks, aware of Pippin but only then, and turns reluctantly from his work. "Pippin."

"Aren't you ready for bed?"

Merry shakes his head, and shadows circle Pippin's eyes. "Not quite yet. Almost through here, Pip."

And they are not sensible, the two of them, and Pippin stands, and watches as Merry writes.

Timestretched
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For Kendra.

He exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled again. Pippin sat very close, and the gloom of Lothlorien hung about his shoulders, near as thick and dark as the night of Moria had been. Merry thought perhaps he should say something, but what something could he say? Better just to sit, and to give what comfort silence could give. It was better than words that, while heartfelt, wouldn't have known what they really wanted to say.

But he put his arm about Pippin's shoulder, pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Touch and presence would be comfort more than silence and unspoken words.

Took Me By Surprise
rated pg, 200 words
frodo/pippin
For aprilkat.

It wasn't the touch. It wasn't even the kiss. It was that Pippin thought himself bold enough that he could do both and then push Frodo back into his sitting chair, and then climbing up to join Frodo, sitting astride his lap. "I have waited far too long for this, Frodo," he said, and set his mouth to Frodo's with little inclination that he would accept "no", if Frodo had even had thought enough to speak.

But his mouth was full of Pippin and he couldn't think very straight at all, not even if he'd wanted to, and he couldn't mind that, even, not when his cousin was so warm and the kiss was so deep. The only presence in his mind was to wrap his arms about Pippin, which Frodo did.

It wouldn't be the first time that Pippin had surprised him so (Pippin on occasion was still driven to give Merry shocks, a consequence of being so closely coupled with a Took, and there was no other hobbit as closely connected to Pippin, as Merry), and if Frodo knew Pippin half as well as he thought or even knew he did, then it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Looking After
rated g, 150 words
frodo, elanor
For Hyel. (For her birthday.)

Her hair is yellow-gold and her eyes are blue as sky, and she's small and rosie-cheeked with her fingers and her toes all soft-padded and perfectly formed. He marvels at her, as lovely as a flower, and can't help himself, not when her bright eyes are quick, so sharp and her laugh rings, like a bell. It certainly must be like any other baby's, bright and joyous as the new day. But he's not had a very small child around for some time (not that he ever had one of his own), and she's different than the others because she's not a small cousin, who needs looking after.

And she does need looking after, just like her Mum needs looking after, and her Dad does, too. But Sam and Rose would say that it was Frodo who needed all the looking -after in the world.

Frodo would look after them all.

The Way of Water
rated g, 100 words
pippin (tom bombadil, goldberry, mention of frodo and merry)
For Nanni.

It wasn't just their first visit since their return, but their first since Frodo had sailed into the West - Frodo really should have thought to say good-bye, he'd told Merry, but then, Frodo had a talent with slipping away. Pippin wasn't as surprised as he might have been, hearing that Tom and his lady already knew that Frodo had gone - not when all the waters of the world were connected as they were, and in ways that Pippin didn't think he even could begin to comprehend, the rivers and the lakes and the falling rain, all to the singing sea.

Between Rest and Sleep
rated g, 100 words
legolas/gimli, pippin
For Nanni.

Legolas had told Gimli to seek what rest he could, and he'd laughed at that, tired though he was. I will sleep when you sleep, elf, and Legolas' worn smile seemed fair indeed. Legolas had offered compromise, and Gimli had welcomed the company. At least Pippin slept now, an uneasy and unnatural sleep, but at least he could sleep. Gimli knew he'd not forget finding him, and thinking him dead - and that was pain that Gimli would not release.

Perhaps he'd wonder til his end at the sturdiness of hobbits - or at the particular sturdiness of this one stubborn Took.

Better Fare
rated g, 100 words
faramir took, pippin-lad gamgee
For Nanni.

Faramir was old enough now to ride on his own, and to ride from Tuckborough to Hobbiton if the mood struck. It did, one April day where there was more winter in the air than spring, the sky clear from one edge to the other. So Faramir rode, knowing he'd be welcomed at the Gamgee home - though Pippin-lad might question him, and wonder what would bring him from such a terribly interesting place as Great Smials, to his own boring home.

Well, as Faramir'd said once before, your mum's a fair better cook than mine is. But don't you tell.

Nearer To Home
rated g, 100 words
pippin, galadriel
For Nanni.

He wondered if he'd ever seen her smile. Well, he couldn't say they'd spent as much time in Lothlorien as they could have, or in her presence, in particular. Still, for her age and power, for all she knew and would still know, she was like a child wanting to go home. That was something that Pippin could understand - after all, at the time, he'd wanted little more than that himself, being so far away from home. And she'd known that, too.

Now, standing where the grey sea shines, she's just as fair as memory, but nowhere near as sad.

Light After Dark
rated g, 100 words
merry (éowyn, faramir, pippin)
For Nanni.

Éowyn looked like one who had not slept in a lifetime, one who had spent too much time on her feet, and thought her face and eyes were tired, her mouth did not seem so worn. She bid Merry sit, and he did, and he wondered as they sat in quiet, giving little thought to speak, if she was still so terribly sad. She had spoken with Faramir, and at length. And Pippin had only had good things to say about the Man.

No, it was like the light that came after any other long dark. Unpredictable, but to be.

Uncles and Children
rated g, 100 words
pippin, elanor, rosie, sam, merry
For Ruby.

Elanor has come along, and she is a dainty thing with a head of bright-gold curls - and then spring turned to summer, and the days have all grown long. Pippin has taken to acting the part of dear uncle, and Rosie finds herself flattered by it all (if a bit exasperated at times), that the near-grown lad dotes on her so. And he is just a lad to her - and Sam just laughs and shakes his head - though Merry's quick enough when it comes to reminding him, too, even if Rosie has no problems where it comes to being bold.

Courage
rated g, 150 words
pippin (mention of merry and frodo)
For my fanfic100 claim.
#86. Choices. 2/100.

Courage, Da told me once before, is the sort of thing that you can't really know until you have to - that when you have to act brave, you'll be able, and if that is the sort of nerve that you've helped gather up by having to fetch wayward younger cousins down from where they'd been stuck in tall trees, I won't be so immodest and say that you can't blame that on me. But you always did come after me, no matter what - and you might not be so keen on hearing it from me, but you really are the bravest hobbit that I know. All right, the second most - you'd never let me live it down, putting dear old cousin Frodo in second place.

Sleep-talk
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin
For my fanfic100 claim.
#37. Sound. 6/100.

"You gave me such a fright," Pippin drowses, his voice unsteady, low. "I looked for you, and looked, and looked and - and I thought, when I had found you, that you were dead. Did you know that, Merry? I thought I'd come too late."

For all that he sounds as though he wakes, it is clear that Pippin slumbers, still, words falling numbly from his lips. Merry curls himself about him, holding him nearer. Pippin softly groans, his eyes closed now that Merry can look him in the face.

"Never been so glad, Merry," Pippin mumbles, "to be so wrong."

Grey Sky And Grey Stone
rated g, 200 words
pippin, gandalf
For my fanfic100 claim.
#40. Sight. 7/100.

He stands now on the ground, and his own two feet, with the high wall of the Mindolluin reaching to the sky, higher even than the white tower. The beacons are lit and this, this, Pippin knows. Hope, that blazes so brightly in the form of burning flame; by his hand, alone, it seems, hope has been offered back to this land. What a thrilling thought - that he, alone, had done - if Merry could see him, if Merry had not been a world away from him, still.

Pippin looks from grey sky to grey stone. The height of rock is dizzying. Had he climbed all that? It hadn't felt so, at least not as he had climbed - he hadn't thought much of what was above him, or even below, concerned more with where next he should place his hands, steady his feet. It was daunting now - it hadn't seemed daunting, before. He never had been one easily daunted - reckless, they called him. He remembers climbing almost before he had walked - well, certainly that wasn't as truthful as it could be, but still.

Gandalf speaks.

Pippin rouses from his wonder - this war is not yet ended - and follows as he leaves.

A Long Grey Road
rated g, 200 words
pippin, merry, sam
For my fanfic100 claim.
#47. Heart. 9/100.

When Sam turns to Bywater, Merry and Pippin ride onwards to Buckland, singing as they go - and Pippin thinks of Frodo, and tries to understand. Truth be told, it hurts him more than he can stand, but the ride back's been long enough without the considerations of a broken heart. The thing of it is, he doesn't know what to do, if there's even anything that he can do - he's not Merry, and he's not Sam, either - Sam, who had worn his own broken heart out open on his sleeve, riding with the Sea, and Frodo, at their backs.

It's Merry, who's never been any good at hiding his feelings where Frodo's been concerned though he has made a good show, who has tears in his eyes as they pass Frogmorton. It had been an easy enough thing to do, to weep at the fear that Frodo had finally given them both the slip, gone where even Sam couldn't follow. So, it feels better when he lets his own out, when he feels them falling wet upon his cheeks - and they sing again, as they ride, and Pippin thinks of Frodo, though he's now certain that he'll never understand.

After The Fire
rated pg/pg-13, 100 words
pippin, denethor, gandalf
For my fanfic100 claim.
#11. Red. 11/100.

He'll dream of it for years after: Denethor, tall and wild-eyed, his face as hard as stone and lit with an evil red fire - no, Denethor, fully fallen in his madness, the palantir upon his breast and his body wreathed in growing flame. He cries out once before his death, from the sickness that had claimed him and dragged him down into Shadow - fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance - and Pippin's eyes fill with tears, marveling at the great Man who has fallen. Yet as Pippin follows Gandalf from Rath Dinen, he has wiped his tears away.

One Day of Light
rated g, 100 words
pippin, merry
For my fanfic100 claim.
#12. Orange. 12/100.

The sun is rising, pale orange-gold, and it colours the grey sky, bringing light and life. "Pippin, wake yourself," Merry says, and Pippin does, though he'd already been mostly awake, waiting. He sits, and they sit together in the bed, knowing they could speak about the day to come, but neither having any words: Pippin, knowing that he would go with Aragorn, and march with the army of the west, and leave Merry behind, which pained his heart. But it would be an hour still, in the growing light, until Merry would know his own fate, to be left behind.

Sunlight Beyond the Barrow-Downs
rated pg-13/r, 100 words
merry/pippin
For my fanfic100 claim.
#13. Yellow. 13/100.

Run naked on the grass, Tom had told them, and they had, wild abandon beneath yellow sunlight. But now, upon a bed of grass, they find repose - but Pippin cannot stay idle, not for long, and he finds golden warmth at his fingertips, a bold touch at Merry's thigh. A grin given, one that is returned - well, almost, and though his smile is tight, small, at least there is warmth and light in his eyes. Pippin's fingers map out yellow light on bare skin, where darkness is remembered - as darkness slips away, away, whispers and promises, beneath the shining sun.

Green As Memory
rated g, 100 words
pippin, merry
For my fanfic100 claim.
#14. Green. 14/100.

The water's clear and cold, and the forest's dark and green. For the first time in a long while, Pippin felt cheer in his heart, and was gladdened it and by the fact that it was Merry sitting at his side. They sit at the water, with trees standing tall about them, tall as age and completely queer. And, for all that, it (and the air) remind him of home; and as Pippin recalls to mind (and Merry) the story of a certain room at the very back of Great Smials, the green might be dark, but not terribly so.

In Fair Ithilien
rated g, 100 words
pippin, merry (mention of frodo and sam)
For my fanfic100 claim.
#15. Blue. 15/100.
For SlightlyTookish.

"I think I broke more bones than I even knew were in me. Goodness, but I'm one great bruise all over, all black and blue."

"Yes, and you'll not get better, Pip, if you won't lie still and rest."

"Merry, your heart is too big, and you worry it too much. You needn't, not over me, and Sam and Frodo will both wake, and soon enough." He closes his eyes and yawns, suddenly quite tired, and knows; instead of darkness it's blue skies that stretch behind his shut eyes. "Trust your own dear Pippin, please."

And with that, Pippin sleeps.

Finding Courage
rated g, 100 words
pippin (fellowship)
For my fanfic100 claim.
#16. Purple. 16/100.

Gandalf's staff casts a pale glow, shadows leaping like flame, grey and black and muted purple; at the precipice, Pippin thinks of the evening sky, the first stars glittering behind the dark. There are no stars here, and beyond the faded light all is inky black. The gap is wide, and far below Pippin hears a rush of water. His heart drops, and he thinks he might, too. Really, it is too late for him to go back, so he must go on. In that resolve, and thinking of cold bright stars, he finds the courage to make the leap.

Riddles And Rhymes
rated g, 100 words
pippin, gandalf (frodo, merry, and sam)
For my fanfic100 claim.
#17. Brown. 17/100.

It always seems that Gandalf knows more than he says, for all his truth is hidden, even when he's free with his words. Pippin's recollection of the Brandywine is honey-brown water, bright ale-gold in sunlight and glimmering like a pale ribbon beneath the cold light of stars and moon. A gate at the Brandywine Bridge - why, the thought of it is preposterous, and un-Shirelike, too. Pippin knows he shouldn't question the intent of his betters, most certainly one of the wise. Even Master Bombadil spoke with more clarity than Gandalf and his riddles, and old Tom always spoke in rhyme.

Singing To Light
rated g, 100 words
pippin
For my fanfic100 claim.
#18. Black. 18/100.

Black blood, and he'd forgot himself as he swam in it, drowned in it, forgot his death and remembered the pain of life, and then he drowned again; yet now, thought grasps at pale light, drowning in black night but reaching for the a day. Thought, and it remembers who it is, who it was before darkness and crushing pain; and Pippin grasps at that surface, and there is new light, the joyous song of distant stars, and if Pippin could he would lift his own voice in turn. And there is pain, yes, as well as light and life.

Their Own Place
rated g, 100 words
merry, pippin, gandalf (frodo)
For my fanfic100 claim.
#19. White. 19/100.

The one time that Gandalf didn't mince his words, and look at what they risked; losing Frodo, to a white ship and the grey Sea and the white promise that hangs cold about his neck; and Gandalf, with a bright red light upon his hand, bid them follow him in all haste to the Grey Havens, before Frodo could slip away. "We can't always make him stay, for all we'd like," Pippin says. "But we will follow him, as far as we might manage." So they ride after Gandalf, and ride to Frodo, and put the Shire at their backs.

Light
rated g, 100 words
merry, pippin, sam, frodo
For my fanfic100 claim.
#20. Colourless. 20/100.

First Frodo kisses Merry, then Pippin and then Sam; and Pippin looks at Frodo, as Frodo draws away, as if hoping to and needing to remember this moment for the rest of his life; but Frodo seems as pale as light, faded like half-forgotten dream, standing there upon the quay with the ship at his back. And as he goes, there is no colour, only light. When darkness follows, they all three watch the empty Sea. Silent, for a time, and none of them quite ready to take the long road home.

No colour, but Pippin won't forget Frodo's light.

Another New Day
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin

Merry stands outside, the light of a new day, without his cloak or even a proper jacket, not much minding the chill – given that it's Spring, Pippin finds himself concerned. He joins Merry, with a yawn and a, 'Sun's newly risen from her bed, and you from ours', and Merry laughs as though he's been thinking too much, him and his Brandybuck sense, and he slides his arm about Pippin's shoulder, leaning close.

'So it is, and so I am.' He takes a breath. 'Breakfast time, I suppose.'

'Not as such. But I'd not mind getting you back to bed.'

The Last Of The Brambleberry Jam
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin

Back to bed, though not before a pre-breakfast snack – toast, the last of the brambleberry jam, and hot, fresh tea. And sitting at the kitchen table: first, each in their own chair, before Merry invites Pippin to share his own (though, perhaps Merry'd been in need of the company, and Pippin was only happy to oblige). Toast in one hand, the other pressing flat against Merry's belly, they share a laugh, and then a kiss.

(There's a look in Pippin's eyes, Merry thinks, that makes it look as though he's only contemplating the sort of mess he wants to make.)

Beginnings and Ends
rated pg-13, 100 words
merry/pippin

Pippin hasn't ever thought himself a for ever sort of hobbit: each end is a beginning, each beginning some other beginning's end. With Merry, he's almost always been there – even those times that they managed to separate from each other, they made their way back (even if it seemed that they'd only reunited for another end): and Merry, who's been cousin, friend, lover – perhaps that last, more than anything else, right now, the swell of heat and the tremble of the bed – Merry's still here, and Pippin knows that this moment can't possibly last forever. But Merry, at least, will.

Moving House
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

They moved house on Trewsday, Merry counting down the hours to their homecoming; a number of well-meaning Brandybuck cousins had offered to help with the lifting and the moving and, given that Berilac was amongst them, Merry had been unable to turn them away. So, day came and night fell, with the stars all gleaming in the sky; hours more than Merry had planned on, though he could hardly turn time.

'We've hardly had our proper homecoming,' Pippin said.

Merry made it up to him, in the kitchen, and then the parlour, and then the bedroom, in the unmade bed.

To Be Well Known
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

It wouldn't be long and then they'd be known across the Shire for their rather outrageous parties – they were liked well enough already, what with their stories and that they'd come back at all, and the part they'd played in raising the Shire (Pippin seemed to enjoy the attention somewhat more than Merry did, though). The first of said parties, three days after, was not at all outrageous, with only a few of their close friends present: Berilac, Freddy and Folco, though Sam and Frodo had been unable to attend, if only on account of distance.

Will
rated pg, 125 words
galadriel/melian
Originally posted for in the drabbletag at .

A mouth as sweet as starlight (if starlight could be sweet), and hands as old as time (and her feeling as if the world was yet new-born). Galadriel thinks about it too much, does little to take what she wants. But she thinks that Melian would be pliant as song, as dance, as for ever, and touching her would be something like touching eternity, and making love to her would be like making love to a star.

So she wants, and thinks of that wants, looking but not touching, aching but not tasting. It beats her down, what she wants but never takes. Worn away by many things, and this only one of them. Strong and willful still where desire should have left her weak.

Touching Light
rated pg-13, 200 words
arwen/éowyn
Written for a femslash fest earlier on this year.

The light slants in through the lattice of the high window, leaves patterns on flawless skin, down her bare arm and up the long, smooth, curve of her throat – and she is lovely, star-soft and winter-cold, though her mouth, where it touches skin, is hot, no, blisters like the summer sun. Hot as the fire at the forge's heart and, oh, oh, Éowyn can't breathe. Can't. Shudders, trembles, and calls out into the cold, still night.

'Please. Please.'

Her breath hitches, desperate and rough, and the cold air stings, batters against her lungs. But Arwen is smooth, smooth and strong and pale, poised like a queen. Long fingers, touching Éowyn where she turns to fire. The brush of silk-smooth hair, a veil of shadow in the moonlit night.

More, more. Oh. The pleasure of it burns, pulses through her, consumes her like eternal flame and reduces her to ash. Oh, but she will burn again. Oh, still she burns.

'My lady. My queen.' Éowyn clutches at the covers, twists her fingers into knots, knows no limit to the pleasure of Arwen's touch, and how it has reduced her, breathless, begging, burning, in the cold and empty darkness of the night.

Less Than Sound
rated pg, 200 words
marigold/pervinca
Originally posted for in the drabbletag at .

Marigold snorts and laughs then rubs the tears from her eyes. 'Well, if that weren't the most sound of ideas. If I were less kind, ad we've no fear of that, as you know,' a hasty addition, as habits to die hard. 'I might say it quite dumb.' Pervinca, hay stuck in her curls and freckles down her nose, looks at Marigold, eyes shining.

'Maybe not,' Pervinca says, hand on the cloth that covers Marigold's thigh. Marigold's breath catches, and Pervinca grins at her, moving close and pushing at the cloth, palming across good warm flesh. Marigold thinks, in a distant fashion, how she'll never get back to her cleaning, not now. 'But maybe. It did seem to work out best in the end.'

'Oh, but we've not made the end,' Marigold says, busies her mouth with Pervinca's for a long moment, then draws back, the hot taste of raspberry tart on her tongue. 'Still, only a Took would race through Hobbiton without a stitch of clothing covering her back or front.'

They laugh and comment on other Tookish habits, a number of them less than sensible. When the end comes, Pervinca's not the only one who's left wearing skin.

Rolling Green and Laughing Sound
rated pg, 100 words
estella/diamond
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

The land stretches out, rolling green, and they are a hard ride away from Long Cleeve – with the Rushy Water laughing as it flows, with the sky obscured through the dark tangle of the willow thicket, with their ponies making soft noises as they graze just a moment and a half away. 'Don't you ever freckle?' Estella asks, pushes her mouth against Diamond's clavicle, trails her fingers along Diamond's thigh. Diamond twitches, and then she grins, but when she opens her mouth to say, would you count them if you could?, Estella's fingers busy themselves further, robbing her of sound.

To Blame
rated g, 100 words
estella/diamond (merry/pippin/estella/diamond)
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

You could blame it on her Took blood, but she always has been tall for her age, and too thin, as if she never did finish growing into her skin; when she was younger, it seemed as if her parents had four sons, not three lads and one lass; as a tween, it seemed that she was only shy and sweet and had left her tomboyish ways behind. Still, she could be bold and reckless if needed, but only if and as needed (which wasn't just good for her as Estella's kissing friend, but also for her as Pippin's wife).

Time Has A Way
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

Time has a way of stretching on, and Merry is alone at the Crickhollow house a week before Pippin's return. It isn't that he minds, being alone – but then, alone doesn't sound so terrible when it's only the other side of the Shire. And alone doesn't seem so desperate when it's not the other side of the world. It's funny, almost, how it's that week where Merry realises just how faded it all seems, cheer and light, when Pippin's not around. He must have had too much to think of, that other time, to not have thought of it then.

Thorough
rated pg, 100 words
merry/pippin

Once Pippin arrived home, Merry greeted him in such a way that left Pippin thinking he must have been gone for months, and not one too-long week. And in the process of that greeting, Merry made love to him so thoroughly that Pippin quite simply forgot up and down.

Thoroughly, yes, and more so, and after all that Merry collapsed against Pippin, the both of them breathing very hard. Well, that was pleasant, and it wasn't at if Pippin worried that Merry would crush the life from him. So...

Pippin would just have to get back at Merry, come morning.

At Breakfast
rated g, 100 words
merry/pippin

'I love you,' Merry said, at breakfast. Pippin leaned over, grinning, kissed Merry with jam-sticky lips, and Merry murmured against his mouth and threaded his hand in Pippin's hair, and didn't let him draw away, at least for that short while. Then, over first breakfast, they spoke of their new home and of all the years before them: the life that they would have, beyond the long and short of the here and now.

And Pippin was sure of that: as sure as he was that the sun would rise each day.

(He'd get back at Merry some other time.)

Joyously Coming To An End
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
For my fanfic100 claim.
#33. Too Much. 29/100.

The air is thick and dark and Pippin feels it crushing down on him, black blood in his nose and mouth and in his lungs as well; he is dying, though all the pain has gone from him, any feeling at all. No panic, no regret, nor any great sorrow. Waking from darkness to another, Pippin forgets where he is – but then he sits, shaking, crying out in the night; then arms wrap about him, and hold him tightly, and Pippin realises that he is alive, as feeling rushes through him. Sobbing his relief, he crushes his mouth against Merry's.

Then Merry soothes him, and Pippin knows that it was just a dream, just another dream, and he feels small and foolish and cold as well, as ever; he is shivering, and Merry gathers him close, dropping kisses as his mouth wanders. Pippin holds onto him, clings, shaking and breathless. He'll not talk about it, not now, not in the darkness; but he lost his hope, there at the end, for all he thought he had joyously come to that end. There are things he hasn't ever told Merry, but things he thinks he might need to tell him, still.

The Shadowed-Black Of Night
rated g, 200 words
merry/pippin
For my fanfic100 claim.
#38. Touch. 30/100.

Pippin's cry wakes Merry, throws him from the thick black of dream into the cooler shadowed-black of night; moonlight shines in through the window, and Pippin is sitting, shaking, breathing out loudly as though he has come to his last. Merry pushes himself up, sits, and draws Pippin into his arms. Pippin's shaking still, his skin clammy-cool and, in the shadowed light, pale as bleached linen; his eyes are wild, fire burning in their depths. But then his eyes find Merry's, and he sobs as if in joy or some relief, and crushes his mouth against Merry's, kisses him, bruise-hard.

'Pippin, Pippin,' Merry gasps, after that, once he's drawn his mouth away – though, then he kisses Pippin once more. Pippin, clinging to him with all his strength, shaking as though he isn't quite sure he has rid himself of that shadow, cheeks and mouth both wet with salty tears. Pippin, shaking and breathless, and then still as stone, and breathing softly; Merry's arms are folded about him, still, and he's let his mouth wander. But then his mouth finds its way back to Pippin's, and Merry finds that Pippin is smiling at him, for all he's not said a word.

Give And Take
rated pg, 200 words
faramir/pippin, denethor/pippin
#44. Shapes. 44/100.

I. The world was ending, or at least it would soon end, and Faramir would ride from Minas Tirith, to death and doom. Perhaps Pippin should go as well, and offer what he might, and his own small sword – but he did not think that that was much at all, and he would die so very far away from those he loved, best of all. Pippin still did what he could, and he went to Faramir and offered him what comfort he might give. And Faramir, with noble eyes and gentle hands, did not so much take, as give in return.

II.

Hope seemed a fragile thing, or at least Pippin, in that moment, in that night, found hope in short supply. Somehow, he would live through all this, though he did not see how he would live through to Frodo, or to Merry, or to the green of the Shire. So, helpless and without hope, Pippin did all he felt he could: he went to Denethor, and wondered at his darkness, a great Man, fallen. Pippin offered all he had left, and Denethor took what he could, claimed. Pippin was consumed by it, by it and the black of Denethor's eyes.

What Needs No Force
rated g, 200 words
pippin, fatty (merry, folco)
#71. Broken. 45/100.

It's the first that Fatty's come to see them since their return; not that they haven't seen him, as they've visited him often at Budgeford. No, but it's the first that he's come to the Crickhollow house since the last; as he looks upon it, shadow flashes in his eyes. Pippin takes him by the arm, grinning down at him, and Fatty steadies in his resolve and grins back at him. But Pippin notices the quickening of his breath, and takes him no further than the front steps. Then he sits, and Fatty too, and Pippin takes out his pipe.

Folco and Merry must think he's gone and cracked, but Pippin won't force Fatty into anything that Fatty doesn't want to face; if Fatty can't face going in, Pippin won't make him. It's not something he can put to words, and Fatty likely wouldn't want him to. But Pippin understands. Pippin looks at Folco and Merry, and they must understand, too, for all they move to join them, Folco at Fatty's side, and Merry on the path before the steps. Pippin knows, you can set a bone but you can't force a break better; you have to let it heal.

Dreams And Tea
rated pg, 200 words
merry/pippin
#96. Writer's Choice. 46/100.

The night is bright, the party had been cheery – but hours after that, once their guests have all since made their way home, as the pale rose-grey of day lights the eastern sky, Pippin wakens with a scream. An old dream, but one he's had before – his skin burns as he weeps, and Merry gathers him into his arms. Oh, they're old company, ill-thought relations that have only darkness in mind. And Pippin weeps until he can no more, and then he laughs and tells Merry how very sorry he is: but Merry tells him, there's no need for that.

Sometime after that, not hours this time though it feels just as long, they sit together in the kitchen, a cheery little fire burning brightly on the hearth. Pale sunlight, rose-tinted gold, spreads across the floor, almost at their feet. And there they are, sitting together, and on the floor, when they could be sitting somewhere more comfortable, at the least. But Pippin seems content enough, where he is, holding his little teacup carefully, as if it might break: and Merry's arm is about Pippin's shoulder, and that seems very cautious, too, and Merry's more concerned that Pippin might break.

Bramble The Lap-cat
rated g, 100 words
bramble and strawberry, diamond, merry, pippin
#85. She. 47/100.

Bramble takes to Diamond right away: she's fast asleep on Diamond's lap before the hour turns, purring all the while, with Diamond stroking one of her hands through Bramble's sun-pale fur. Treacherous beast, thinks Pippin – of Bramble, and fondly, of course.

'Why, she's the sweetest cat I've ever met,' she says. 'That Strawberry, though, he should take a lesson from his sister here, I think – he's done nothing more than spit at me, today.'

Merry and Pippin are baffled by this, of course, but Bramble goes back to being Bramble, and Strawberry to being Strawberry, once Diamond's visit is through.

The First Time Out
rated g, 100 words
frodo and pippin
#84. He. 48/100.

Pippin insists on the picnic: partially because Merry is too busy to keep him properly entertained, but even more than that (really), he thinks that it will be very good for Frodo, staying cooped up inside. The winter had been long and very cold, but they have been very lucky with the spring, so far. Frodo, no, the both of them – they needed to get out. So, he invited Frodo, and packed the basket himself – and made certain that an extra blanket was brought along, as well – and they settled down at the river, the surface of it deceptively calm.

Illusion of an End
rated pg, 100 words
omc (hally bolger)
This was written as counterpoint to The Lining of the World, which was written for me; this, in return, was done for rubynye.

Haligar Bolger sits with bloody hands, head bent against the sunny day. He's found, and there of course is amazement, that he wasn't already dead. Hally can't say, 'I hoped death might find me', for who would understand?

Hally feels black inside, and cold, and his hands won't ever wash clean: did his own blood stain him, or had it been the fallen Ruffian's? Is it killing that has broken him, at last, or that he has not killed the right Man?

And life mocks him, by having him. In the brightness of the day, he chokes on a sob.

Excess
rated pg, 100 words
pervinca/estella
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

SR 1413

That summer, Pervinca does her very best to talk Estella into running away from the Shire: at the very least, they should run away to the south of the Southfarthing, settle down and open a shop, perhaps, and sell preserves and other sweets. 'And if we found ourselves with a surplus of berries,' says Pervinca, pulling on the ribbon in Estella's dark curls, with Estella's head is settled in her lap, 'well, we could find a use for the excess, I'm sure.'

Estella laughs, the ribbon now loose in her hair, and she kisses her way back to Pervinca's mouth.

Running Late
rated pg, 100 words
merry/berilac
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

SR 1413

'Not slacking off,' Berilac says, urgently, breath hitching. 'Can't be slacking off, we haven't any work to do.'

Merry snorts and laughs, crushes his mouth against Berilac's, runs one hand down to Berilac's hip. 'Right, right,' Merry gasps. 'Not slacking off – no, but we are running, ah, late.'

Berilac's breath bursts out of him, laughing, and him saying, 'well, Freddy and Folco will just need to wait – and that Pippin of yours, too.' Late summer tumbles weren't always the most comfortable of things.

And all around, the summer wheat glows golden, with the both of them hidden in plain view.

Seeing The Worth
rated g, 100 words
rose, babies

Elanor'd been a spring baby, and her birth had been very easy (the midwife had said so, pride in her voice, and Rose had believed her, at that) – but Frodo-lad's, in the spring of 1423, wasn't easy at all.

Once Daisy has cleaned him, bundled him in fresh linens, and settled him into Rose's arms, Rose knows more than she ever had, before. She looks into her Frodo-lad's baby-bright eyes, nothing at all like the Frodo's who sailed away, and sees just how very worth it, it has all been, the long hours of her labour, and all the pain.

A Sensible Response
rated g, 100 words
sam/rosie
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

SR 1416

She teased him when he said he'd not step into the boat – nothing sensible in that, he'd said, hobbits in boats.

'Oh, but water's nothing to be frightened of, Sam,' she said, and then she kissed him on the cheek – and she hid her smile, of course she did, at the bright pink on his cheeks. 'Well, we'll not go boating then,' she said, and Sam muttered something beneath his breath, and blushed harder than he had. Rose grinned, as she took Sam's hand, and threaded her fingers with his.

'Now, walking's sensible,' said Sam. 'Walking, that I can do.'

Choice
rated pg, 100 words
aragorn(/)frodo

Once, Aragorn told Frodo that he would not be able to keep him safe, if he went away from the City: but if he wanted to, Aragorn would let him leave. Frodo did want that – that is, he wanted to be safe, and he couldn't leave the... the City, that was it, he couldn't leave the City: his cousins were gone, and Sam as well. Frodo had nowhere else to go.

But Aragorn would have let him, if Frodo had wanted – Frodo believed that, had made himself believe.

(Sometimes, the gold that hangs about Aragorn's neck seems deceptively within reach.)

The Luckiest
rated g, 100 words
ilberic/minto

Minto grinned as Ilberic tended to the fire, and Ilberic grinned in turn: when the fire crackled into life once more, Ilberic made his way back to the sofa, Minto opened his embrace to him, and Ilberic sank into it, gratefully. 'Oh, but I'm a lucky hobbit,' he said, warm all around. 'The luckiest, I think.'

'Aren't you, though?' Minto said, and when Ilberic tilted his head, just slightly, he saw how Minto's eyes were bright, as though the kindling of stars. And Minto moved his mouth, bridged the length of all age in that breath – and he kissed Ilberic, and that kiss spoke promises more than Ilberic had ever guessed at, and he found himself a luckier hobbit than ever he had been before.

On Walking
rated g, 200 words
wee!pippin, frodo, merry
#28. Children. 61/100.
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

SR 1393

'He skipped walking,' Merry says, looking as if he's experienced a rather exhausting afternoon. Frodo opens his mouth to protest – he remembers well Pippin's first stumbling steps, after all, and the ones that came after, more enthusiastic by far – and Pippin's three now, a faunt, which means that he should be walking just fine!

A moment after, Frodo thinks he understands what Merry must mean. A chestnut-haired blur comes running full force, by all account slamming full force into Merry's legs. Merry, though, doesn't buckle, but catches Pippin up, with some small measure of confidence that Frodo isn't surprised at all to see. Pippin – three years old and counting – kicks and squirms and opens his mouth to shriek. But then he sees Frodo, and he stills himself for a moment, and smiles wide instead.

Merry sighs, and jostles Pippin up higher on his hip, as Pippin gives another, more enthusiastic, squirm. 'Not missed, skipped – skipped it, went straight to running.' Then Merry grunts. 'Ah, Pip, you needn't kick so hard.' Without another word, Merry passes Pippin over to Frodo – dirty face and dirty hands and all – and Pippin presents his dirty cheek, and duly Frodo laughs and gives his kiss.

On Talking
rated g, 200 words
wee!pippin, merry, other family members
#57. Lunch. 62/100.
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

SR 1395

Merry's heard the talk, though likely it was talk he wasn't meant to overhear: but they're all worried that Pippin won't talk, that he's too old and something must be wrong with him. Merry, though, won't think that about Pippin – he can't. He will show them all, that Pippin can talk – though, Merry doesn't know how.

The adults are all very loud – how can a hobbit hope to think? And mother keeps telling him to eat his dinner, so he pokes at his food a few times more. 'Merry,' a voice says, small but sharp. 'Merry, could you please pass the jam?'

'Ah, here you go, Pip,' he says, without much thought, reaching for the small crock, and passing it to his right.

'Thank you, Merry – you know, it's very good jam.'

So, Merry is the last to notice – the fact that Pippin has spoken, and now that he's started, he sees no point to stop, chattering on about nothing and everything as he shoves his hand into the jam.

Pearl says, 'I hope his table manners are as easy to find!', to which Merry laughs as Pippin frowns, and laughs harder as Pippin flings a gob of sticky jam.

Like Father Like Son
rated g, 100 words
pippin and faramir took
Song taken from Tolkien's Bath Song (found in its entirety on this site, and chapter five of book one of Fellowship of the Ring, A Conspiracy Unmasked.
#51. Water. 63/100.

'Sing hey!' Faramir exclaims, launching into song. 'For the bath at close of day, that washes the weary mud away! A loon he is that will not sing: O! Water Hot is a noble thing!'

He splashes with both hands, resembling more closely a small fountain than a smaller lad, and Pippin laughs, splashing back. He has enjoyed singing, and enthusiastic baths, all of his life, so it does him some good to see, and hear, that his young son does actually take after him. Both grin, and together they sing on, 'O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain...

Overdue
rated g-ish, 200 words
bill ferny and lotho sackville-baggins
Posted for my month long Birthdaypalooza, August 2007. First alluded to in From Spring to Autumn, a conversation that Ferny had with Lotho (and missed chances).

Wedmath, SR 1419

The Chief, as he called himself, was a rat like all the others, but he liked to think himself better than the rest: he carried himself with such an air that he might have thought himself a King, or wanted after that power, and more. 'It isn't nice to ask without giving,' he told the Chief Rat, grinning as he did, picking at his nails with the blade of his knife, 'If you need to know more, then you'll pay to hear the news.'

The Chief Rat frowned, looked somewhat pale as if he had some other trouble on his mind, then shook his head and struck out his hand. 'Oh, well enough. But tell me, what did you see.'

They shook, and so Ferny told him (not everything, for he hadn't yet been paid), of the hobbits who had gone through Bree, and the interest that had been paid them. 'So, he isn't dead,' the Chief Rat said. 'Ah, and those cousins of his, too.' Then he said something, about too little and too late.

The Chief Rat held good on his deal, and paid Ferny as he'd said: though Ferny, wanting too much, would have wanted for more.

Five Years Later
rated g, 200 words
Posted for my month long Birthdaypalooza, August 2007. For rubynye. Five years after Clean, Dardo and Holly have made a new life.
dardo and holly (omc and ofc) (dardo/holly)

SR 1424

It's been five years (they've been married four months): the wife tells the husband, I wish to go walking up the Hill, and the husband nods, taking her hand. Her left settles on her stomach, the rise just now showing. Then they smile at each other, the day is bright and fair, and not any darkness could touch this, thinks the wife.

They walk to Bag End, and she looks on it, at the gardens. Oh, the gardens. The memory is faded grey, and haunts her now only as a dream might: always as if at waking, half-forgotten, and only the ghosts of old pain.

Her husband has memories of his own – she knows she isn't the only to have suffered. They've shared their stories, and perhaps they are better matched, for having done that. It seems clear they'll last, she thinks.

She knows her place now, as wife, and soon, as mother: she isn't the hobbit she once was, not in attitude or innocence. So, Holly presses Dardo's hand, tightly, and Dardo kisses her, saying that he loves her (and she says, and means it, 'I love you, too'). Then they continue on their walk, leaving certain memories behind.

There And Back
rated g, 250 words
pippin and beregond
#8. Weeks. 70/100.

He never would have thought himself fit for such a journey, and it pains him greatly that Merry was the one that they had to leave behind. For all that Beregond is a very good fellow, and he most certainly is, he isn't Merry, Pippin's very best friend. But there is something wrong – it isn't even that he's the only one who's left a loved one behind, as he's only one amongst many, brothers and cousins and fathers and sons – and as they go, Pippin finds himself thinking that maybe it really is better that Merry was left behind. After all, it's very hard to Pippin to believe in anything but their doom, and how it waits for them at the ending of this road.

He'd not have thought the halfling fit for such a journey, as it pains him greatly, the state of his ribs. But he is awake, and in a fair enough mood, despite the jostling of the wain – Beregond's shoulder is stiff and sore, and if it wasn't for Pippin's smile, he might not have found himself in a likewise temper. It's not been long since they had thought Peregrin well enough to walk about, but halflings seem more resilient than he'd ever thought. He remembers Meriadoc's state, in the shadow of the Pelennor – and Frodo and Sam, as well, have gone through fire and shadow, through long toil and great pain. And Beregond finds himself thinking, if only he was made of such sturdy stuff.

Yet Unpaid
rated pg (gen, implications), 111 words
an unnamed ruffian
From 'Overlooked', but written from a Ruffian's pov.
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.

Vic recalls another lad-rat, scared from his wits by nothing more than threat against his pretty young sister. All colour had gone from his cheeks, his green-gold eyes wide and round – and Vic had been kind enough, that time, for one rat truly was as good as any other.

Now Vic looks at another halfling, and sees shocked realisation spark in green-bright eyes. A glisten of tears, for this lad now contemplates things near unthinkable. His voice shakes, even as he offers himself instead of the other. He mustn't even know he weeps.

This time is different, and this one shall suffer, and suffer in knowing, long before he ever pays.