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kaydeefalls
...kaydee actually writes a LotR fic! Response to LOTRImprov.
Title: A Short Detour
Author: kaydee falls
Improv: #7 -- sad, tune, work, mend
Rating: PG
Type: implied slash -- M/P, F/S, M/S
Summary: Pippin's getting married, and Merry isn't ready to face it yet.
Archive: sure, just tell me where
Author's notes: This is my first LotR fic. Constructive criticism welcomed. Help me be a better fanfic writer! And thank you, Lydia, for beta-ing me on rather short notice.
Sam was in the garden, of course, planting and weeding as though Frodo were still master of Bag End and Sam himself just the hired hand. Not that Sam had ever been just a hired hand to Frodo, Merry reflected. He tried to smile at the memory, but too much had happened since then, and it was hard to think on those more innocent times.
Merry made his careful way through the garden, coming up behind its master. Sam took no notice of him. He was intent on the new shrub he was planting, lovingly pressing it into the ground, humming a soft lay to himself as he worked.
"That's a pretty tune, Sam," Merry said quietly.
Sam didn't turn, but continued smoothing out the dirt around the new shrub. "It's an Elven song. Mr. Frodo used to sing it."
"It sounds mournful, almost. Sad, but sweet."
"Aye," Sam said, giving the earth a few final pats. "Like the tale that accompanies it." He straightened, brushing his hands off on his trousers, and turned to Merry. "'Tisn't like you to pop by all unexpected, Mr. Merry."
Merry shrugged, looking out over Sam's garden. "I was bound for Tuckborough, and I felt like taking a short detour." He smiled. "Besides, I haven't yet offered you my congratulations, Master Mayor. And I hear Rosie is near her time again. A very good year for you, Sam."
Sam nodded, but his eyes were serious. "A short detour? Hobbiton's a fair distance from Tuckborough, or was last I took to the road."
"Not far enough," Merry murmured, so softly Sam could scarcely make out the words. His face changed, regaining its accustomed humor. "Still at your gardening? I should think the Mayor of Hobbiton would be able to find other hobbits to pull his weeds."
"I like my garden," Sam replied simply. "Planting is honest work. Surrounded by beautiful growing things... a good way to think, or forget, if you follow me."
Merry didn't respond. He just stood, looking about, out of his element. He never knew how to act in a garden. Look, but don't touch -- it wasn't the sort of thing Merry could do easily, although he wasn't quite so accursed curious as his younger cousin. Whom he was not thinking about. At all.
"If I may be so bold, Mr. Merry," Sam said, "I reckon you're here because of Mr. Pippin's wedding being in two days. And, speaking plain, you don't want to arrive there any earlier than is polite."
Well, he had wanted Sam to see the heart of the matter, hadn't he? He'd not have come otherwise. But it didn't help. "Perhaps. You *are* going, are you not? I'm sure Pippin expects to see you there."
"Of course I'm going, and with you, seemingly." Sam smiled. "I hear 'tis to be a party of special magnificence."
"Nothing less for the wedding of the future Thain" -- and he couldn't quite keep the anger out of his voice.
"And you're his dearest friend," Sam said firmly. "So you'll see him off as is right and proper, and no one will think ill of you if you shed a tear or two. And you'll drink to his future happiness, even if you don't fancy the bride."
Merry kicked at the dirt in frustration. "I like Diamond, you know that. She's a good lass. It's just -- oh, you know what it's just." He sighed. "Uncle Paladin's feeling his age, and he's thinking towards the future. Pearl's and Vinca's sons aren't good enough, he wants Pip's line to produce the next heir. It's so... unnecessary!"
"And your father? He wants the same for you, I reckon."
Merry smiled bitterly. "The Master of Buckland has made it perfectly clear that he's willing to legitimize any and all of my half-brothers, should he deem it necessary." Sam looked properly shocked, but held his tongue. "I do not like to discuss my marriage prospects with my father."
Sam hesitated, then put a hand on Merry's shoulder, lightly. "Fatty's sister is a good friend to Diamond, and word in the Shire's that she's got her pretty eyes set on you. It wouldn't be a bad match, if I may speak plain."
*You always do, Sam,* Merry thought. "I will not marry Estella Bolger," he said crossly, shaking Sam off.
Sam sighed. "As you say, Mr. Merry. But Mr. Pippin will marry Diamond in two days."
The words hung heavily between them. Merry nodded, swallowing hard. He forced a smile, trying to change the subject. "Remember, back before the Quest, that night in the Green Dragon?" he asked quietly. "And the other times that we..."
Sam's eyes were warm and soft. "When Mr. Pippin was still a mite too young, and Mr. Frodo still a mite too distant. Aye, I remember."
"It was nice," Merry said tentatively. "Not the -- the physical side of things, although that was very nice too. But the talking, and the understanding. Sam," he said, his voice breaking on the name even as his face remained almost impassive, "how can you bear it?"
"Because you have to." Sam reached out to brush away the single tear that dared leak out of Merry's eye, sighing when Merry batted his hand away. "Because that's how life is, sometimes."
"Cruel, you mean." Merry had his voice under control again.
Sam smiled wryly. "But you knew that already, Mr. Merry."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so. You should know better than to listen to me. And don't call me 'Mr.' You're Master of Bag End and Mayor of Hobbiton, besides which you did more on the Quest than I ever could."
Sam snorted. "My Gaffer would say I'm putting on airs, though like as not he says that already. And I expect you'll next be telling me what to call Mr. Pippin, and Mr. Frodo."
Merry grinned, the pain in his eyes temporarily dispelled. "What you call Frodo is none of my business, and I certainly don't care to know!" His eyes darkened again. "Called. Oh, Sam, I'm sorry."
"You've naught to be sorry for. Six years go a long way towards dulling the pain, Merry. Everyone mends. You will, too. You'll always be able to see the stitches where it tore, but it does mend. And when all's said and done, he's still Pippin Took and you're still Merry Brandybuck, and there's no hobbit in the Shire can remember a time when you two weren't doing mischief together."
"It won't be the same," Merry said, but he didn't look so close to tears anymore.
Sam tsked. "Of course it won't. But he'll always be there, and that's what's important." He started heading up toward the house. "Meantimes, 'tis a fair step to Tuckborough, and I reckon you've a thing or two to discuss with Mr. Pippin before his wedding."
"I do," Merry agreed softly. He trotted up behind Sam. "And you? Maybe I've still got Pip, no matter who we're married off to, but what about you?"
"Me?" Sam said, surprised. "Why, I've got Rosie, of course. And there's always a new baby about, seemingly." His voice dropped, as though he were speaking to himself. "And when the time comes, there'll be a ship waiting for me."
Merry slung an arm around his shoulders, silently. As they reached the door to Bag End, two birds in a nearby tree began calling to each other. Merry thought about Pippin's constant chatter, and smiled to himself.
But Sam only wished they were gulls.
THE END
And now, to bed. Almost 6 hrs of sleep ahead of me! Woohoo!
Title: A Short Detour
Author: kaydee falls
Improv: #7 -- sad, tune, work, mend
Rating: PG
Type: implied slash -- M/P, F/S, M/S
Summary: Pippin's getting married, and Merry isn't ready to face it yet.
Archive: sure, just tell me where
Author's notes: This is my first LotR fic. Constructive criticism welcomed. Help me be a better fanfic writer! And thank you, Lydia, for beta-ing me on rather short notice.
Sam was in the garden, of course, planting and weeding as though Frodo were still master of Bag End and Sam himself just the hired hand. Not that Sam had ever been just a hired hand to Frodo, Merry reflected. He tried to smile at the memory, but too much had happened since then, and it was hard to think on those more innocent times.
Merry made his careful way through the garden, coming up behind its master. Sam took no notice of him. He was intent on the new shrub he was planting, lovingly pressing it into the ground, humming a soft lay to himself as he worked.
"That's a pretty tune, Sam," Merry said quietly.
Sam didn't turn, but continued smoothing out the dirt around the new shrub. "It's an Elven song. Mr. Frodo used to sing it."
"It sounds mournful, almost. Sad, but sweet."
"Aye," Sam said, giving the earth a few final pats. "Like the tale that accompanies it." He straightened, brushing his hands off on his trousers, and turned to Merry. "'Tisn't like you to pop by all unexpected, Mr. Merry."
Merry shrugged, looking out over Sam's garden. "I was bound for Tuckborough, and I felt like taking a short detour." He smiled. "Besides, I haven't yet offered you my congratulations, Master Mayor. And I hear Rosie is near her time again. A very good year for you, Sam."
Sam nodded, but his eyes were serious. "A short detour? Hobbiton's a fair distance from Tuckborough, or was last I took to the road."
"Not far enough," Merry murmured, so softly Sam could scarcely make out the words. His face changed, regaining its accustomed humor. "Still at your gardening? I should think the Mayor of Hobbiton would be able to find other hobbits to pull his weeds."
"I like my garden," Sam replied simply. "Planting is honest work. Surrounded by beautiful growing things... a good way to think, or forget, if you follow me."
Merry didn't respond. He just stood, looking about, out of his element. He never knew how to act in a garden. Look, but don't touch -- it wasn't the sort of thing Merry could do easily, although he wasn't quite so accursed curious as his younger cousin. Whom he was not thinking about. At all.
"If I may be so bold, Mr. Merry," Sam said, "I reckon you're here because of Mr. Pippin's wedding being in two days. And, speaking plain, you don't want to arrive there any earlier than is polite."
Well, he had wanted Sam to see the heart of the matter, hadn't he? He'd not have come otherwise. But it didn't help. "Perhaps. You *are* going, are you not? I'm sure Pippin expects to see you there."
"Of course I'm going, and with you, seemingly." Sam smiled. "I hear 'tis to be a party of special magnificence."
"Nothing less for the wedding of the future Thain" -- and he couldn't quite keep the anger out of his voice.
"And you're his dearest friend," Sam said firmly. "So you'll see him off as is right and proper, and no one will think ill of you if you shed a tear or two. And you'll drink to his future happiness, even if you don't fancy the bride."
Merry kicked at the dirt in frustration. "I like Diamond, you know that. She's a good lass. It's just -- oh, you know what it's just." He sighed. "Uncle Paladin's feeling his age, and he's thinking towards the future. Pearl's and Vinca's sons aren't good enough, he wants Pip's line to produce the next heir. It's so... unnecessary!"
"And your father? He wants the same for you, I reckon."
Merry smiled bitterly. "The Master of Buckland has made it perfectly clear that he's willing to legitimize any and all of my half-brothers, should he deem it necessary." Sam looked properly shocked, but held his tongue. "I do not like to discuss my marriage prospects with my father."
Sam hesitated, then put a hand on Merry's shoulder, lightly. "Fatty's sister is a good friend to Diamond, and word in the Shire's that she's got her pretty eyes set on you. It wouldn't be a bad match, if I may speak plain."
*You always do, Sam,* Merry thought. "I will not marry Estella Bolger," he said crossly, shaking Sam off.
Sam sighed. "As you say, Mr. Merry. But Mr. Pippin will marry Diamond in two days."
The words hung heavily between them. Merry nodded, swallowing hard. He forced a smile, trying to change the subject. "Remember, back before the Quest, that night in the Green Dragon?" he asked quietly. "And the other times that we..."
Sam's eyes were warm and soft. "When Mr. Pippin was still a mite too young, and Mr. Frodo still a mite too distant. Aye, I remember."
"It was nice," Merry said tentatively. "Not the -- the physical side of things, although that was very nice too. But the talking, and the understanding. Sam," he said, his voice breaking on the name even as his face remained almost impassive, "how can you bear it?"
"Because you have to." Sam reached out to brush away the single tear that dared leak out of Merry's eye, sighing when Merry batted his hand away. "Because that's how life is, sometimes."
"Cruel, you mean." Merry had his voice under control again.
Sam smiled wryly. "But you knew that already, Mr. Merry."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so. You should know better than to listen to me. And don't call me 'Mr.' You're Master of Bag End and Mayor of Hobbiton, besides which you did more on the Quest than I ever could."
Sam snorted. "My Gaffer would say I'm putting on airs, though like as not he says that already. And I expect you'll next be telling me what to call Mr. Pippin, and Mr. Frodo."
Merry grinned, the pain in his eyes temporarily dispelled. "What you call Frodo is none of my business, and I certainly don't care to know!" His eyes darkened again. "Called. Oh, Sam, I'm sorry."
"You've naught to be sorry for. Six years go a long way towards dulling the pain, Merry. Everyone mends. You will, too. You'll always be able to see the stitches where it tore, but it does mend. And when all's said and done, he's still Pippin Took and you're still Merry Brandybuck, and there's no hobbit in the Shire can remember a time when you two weren't doing mischief together."
"It won't be the same," Merry said, but he didn't look so close to tears anymore.
Sam tsked. "Of course it won't. But he'll always be there, and that's what's important." He started heading up toward the house. "Meantimes, 'tis a fair step to Tuckborough, and I reckon you've a thing or two to discuss with Mr. Pippin before his wedding."
"I do," Merry agreed softly. He trotted up behind Sam. "And you? Maybe I've still got Pip, no matter who we're married off to, but what about you?"
"Me?" Sam said, surprised. "Why, I've got Rosie, of course. And there's always a new baby about, seemingly." His voice dropped, as though he were speaking to himself. "And when the time comes, there'll be a ship waiting for me."
Merry slung an arm around his shoulders, silently. As they reached the door to Bag End, two birds in a nearby tree began calling to each other. Merry thought about Pippin's constant chatter, and smiled to himself.
But Sam only wished they were gulls.
THE END
And now, to bed. Almost 6 hrs of sleep ahead of me! Woohoo!
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Oh, lovely!
Date: 2002-09-24 12:50 am (UTC)Re: Oh, lovely!
Date: 2002-09-24 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-09-24 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-09-24 05:52 pm (UTC)