LoTR story!
Oct. 30th, 2010 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverIt's been a long time, but here is a little story that's been sitting on my hardrive for forever. It's not exactly as I had planned it, but I hope you all enjoy!
Title: No Big Problem
Author: Piplover
Rating: G
Fandom: LoTR
Characters: Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Sam
Word count: 3815
Warning: Some body issues
Summary: Pippin may be small, but it doesn't really bother him. Or does it?
The image looking back at Pippin from the mirror scowled darkly, nimble fingers tugging and pulling on his tunic with an irritated air. His frown darkened as he turned slightly to the side, eyeing his stomach critically.
At twenty-six, he still retained the slim form of a teenager, and no amount of food that he ate seemed to fill out his form to proper hobbit roundness. Even here at Bag End, where Frodo made the most wonderful mushroom omelets, and there was always food in the cupboard, Pippin had been unable to add a single pound, and thought that he may perhaps be losing weight.
His scowl deepened, and he growled at his reflection.
“What are you doing?”
Merry, leaning against the doorframe, was watching his cousin curiously, arms crossed over his proper belly as he tried to puzzle out his Pippin’s odd behavior.
“Nothing,” Pippin grumbled, giving his waistcoat one more vicious tug and turning from his image, walking past Merry with a subdued look on his face.
“Pippin!” Merry firmly grabbed his cousin’s arm before the tweenager could walk past him, and was met by a stony silence and Pippin’s turned face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Pippin murmured again, though he did not try to get away from Merry’s grasp, but chose to stare darkly at his feet.
“For nothing, you seem to be having a very bad day. Talk to me, Pip,” Merry urged, lowering his voice, his hand moving to rest easily on the thin shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”
For a long moment only silence met Merry’s plea, and then Pippin, head still lowered, whispered something too softly for his cousin to hear.
“What?” Merry asked, moving closer.
“I said,” Pippin huffed, finally looking up, “that I am tired of being a stick figure!” Pippin’s eyes glowered in frustration as he gestured to his flat stomach. “I want to look like a hobbit, not a twig!”
Merry’s mouth dropped open at this astonishing outburst, uncertain what to say.
“Pip…” he began, then stopped, suddenly at a loss for words.
“See!” Pippin exclaimed, stomping his foot angrily. “You have a proper form, and Frodo, and Sam, and Fatty, and here I am, eating twice as much as you do, and I am losing weight!”
He had not meant to add that last, but the words had slipped out before he could stop himself, and he winced at Merry’s sudden scowl.
“When did you start losing weight? How much have you lost?” Merry demanded, the hand still resting on Pippin’s shoulder squeezing slightly.
“I don’t know,” Pippin snapped, shrugging. “My clothes started to feel loose a few weeks ago.”
Merry eyed his cousin critically, his gaze automatically going to Pippin’s flat tummy and then his scrawny arms.
“Have you been feeling all right?” he finally asked, worry coloring his tone.
Pippin sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yessss,” he hissed. “I’ve felt fine! Not even the sniffles! Just forget it, Merry,” he added, trying to wriggle out of his cousin’s grasp.
“I will not,” Merry snapped, and his grip tightened. “When did all this start, Pippin? You never used to worry about how you looked, and why all the sudden is it upsetting you?”
“I’m –“ Pippin growled, twisting his arm in a vain attempt to free it, “ – not-“ he twisted some more, grimacing as Merry held on the tighter, “-upset!”
“Really?” Merry asked incredulously, finally resorting to his other hand to clamp onto Pippin’s free hand. “Then why are you doing a credible impression of a worm on a hook and not even looking me in the face?”
Pippin stopped his struggling at that, and continued to stare meekly down at the hardwood floor of the hallway. He could feel the tips of his ears blushing, and wished with all his heart that Merry would drop the subject.
“Please, Merry,” he sighed, feeling his shoulders slump. “It’s not important.”
“What isn’t?”
Both hobbits looked up to see Frodo walking toward them, a mug of tea held in his hand, a quizzical expression on his face as he stopped a few feet from them.
“What’s happened?” he asked, taking in both Merry and Pippin’s faces, reading the distress in their eyes, and the fact that Merry had still not relinquished his hold on the tweenager.
“Nothing, Frodo,” Pippin answered quickly, breaking Merry’s grip with an unexpected twist of his hands. He turned and walked away quickly, in the direction of the back door, and the two older hobbits stared after him for a long moment before Frodo turned questioning eyes to Merry.
“I think we have a problem, Frodo,” Merry finally murmured, his brow creasing.
***
Pippin sat forlornly under the large tree atop Bag End, watching the clouds slowly drift in from the south, knowing they held a promise of rain, yet not able to bring himself to care.
Oh, he knew that teens seldom filled out to proper hobbit shape, yet he was a tween now, and had been for six years! He should have at least a bit of roundness to his middle, and he didn’t even want to think about the shape of his arms. Why, when Merry had been his age, he had had a proper tummy and all, attracting quite the many lasses.
Pippin ducked his head in embarrassment, thinking of the two lasses who had kissed him, and how they had giggled at his thin shoulders and chest, teasing him that he seemed a bit young to be playing such games. Things had not gone much further after that, and he had been almost too ashamed to come out of his room for several days after.
Pervinca, sensing that something was troubling her little brother, had broached the subject only once, and the two of them had found solace in that neither of them seemed capable of attaining the figure they wanted. Pippin had told her that she was still beautiful, if in a bony sort of way, and she had laughed and said the same to him.
After that, they two of them had started to spend more time together, leaving their two older siblings shaking their heads in wonderment at the sudden closeness that had sprung between them. It had been their secret, a shared insecurity that both were reluctant to tell others for fear of being laughed at. Or worse, told that everything would be all right, and all it would take were a few proper feedings.
Pippin had not even told Merry of his and Pervinca’s failed attempt to eat eight meals a day, stuffing themselves so full of cakes and anything else they could purloin that they had almost made themselves sick. And neither one of them had gained a pound.
Now, sitting atop Bag End, idly fingering the few stones that he had moved away from his seat, he felt a heaviness settle about his shoulders and sighed.
He doubted even Merry could help with this problem.
***
Samwise Gamgee, kneeling in the garden off of the kitchen, looked up in startlement as the door opened with more force than necessary and a figure ran out of the Smial, Sam barely making out Pippin’s golden-red curls as the lad scrambled up the side of the hill and made his way to the great tree.
For a moment he considered going to the hobbit’s side, to see what had put him into such a state, then thought better of it. If he had had a row with Merry or Frodo, that was family business, and had best be left to the others to tend to. Still, his eyes riveted on the small form sitting hunched over above him, he could not help but wonder what could dampen such a bright, cheerful spirit.
***
A flash of lightning, followed by a clash of thunder so loud it startled Pippin out of his thoughts, brought the tweenager’s head up, to stare in dazed silence as another bolt of silver flashed from the skies.
Reluctant to leave his place of solitude, yet knowing the trouble he would be in should he remain outside, Pippin slowly stood and made his way back to the front of the Smial, opening the front door just as the first of the large raindrops began to fall.
“Pippin?”
He sighed, hanging his head in resignation as he made his way to Frodo’s study, knowing that both of his cousins would more than likely have words for him.
He was rather startled to see Sam sitting on one of the large chairs, a cup of tea in his hand and a small frown on his brow as he looked up. He smiled shyly at Pippin, who returned it automatically, nodding his head. Beside Sam, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, Merry looked up at his cousin, and Pippin averted his gaze, unable to meet those grey eyes yet.
Frodo, standing in front of the fireplace and poking at a small fire, looked up as well, and his expression was carefully blank as he eyed the tweenager.
“Would you like some tea, Pippin? Sam made some wonderful scones, and there are ginger biscuits in the kitchen,” he finally asked, moving to take one of the empty seats that faced Merry and Sam’s. “Oh, and there is some raspberry jam in the cupboard, as well as some bread from elevenses.”
“All right,” Pippin murmured, turning in relief to retrieve the items and his own cup of tea, bringing it all in on a tray that he balanced easily, setting it down on the tea table Frodo had moved sometime in his absence between the chairs.
There was companionable talk as the four of them ate and sipped their tea, the steady sound of rain and thunder a soothing lullaby within the cozy comforts of the Smial. Pippin found himself nodding off, managing to wake himself just in time to rescue his teacup before it fell from his limp fingers.
“I think a nap would be lovely right about now,” Frodo murmured softly, moving to take the cup from his blushing cousin with a smile. “What do you say, Pip-lad? Curl up with some blankets around the fire and listen to the rain with an old hobbit?”
Pippin could not help the grin that came to his lips as he replied, almost automatically, “That would be lovely, Frodo, and you’re not old.”
Merry snorted sleepily from his chair, a wry smile on his lips. Sam, ducking his head to hide his expression, grinned into his tea.
“I think a nap is a wonderful idea,” Merry yawned, stretching languidly.
“And I should head back, to tend to me Gaffer’s firewood,” Sam added, taking Merry’s cup and adding it to the tray now bearing empty plates and three other cups. “If you need aught, Mr. Frodo, you let me know,” he added, taking the tray with him to the kitchen, where the sound of water splashing told the others he had decided to do the washing before leaving.
Frodo smiled around a yawn that rivaled Merry’s, and Pippin found his eyes drooping once more, emitting a sleepy sigh as he listened to the sounds of his cousins moving about. What seemed only a moment later a gentle hand was shaking his shoulder, a beloved voice prompting him to lay down on the floor near the fire, so that he would not get a crick in his neck.
Stumbling sleepily, the hand now guiding him to the floor, he sank down gratefully, not even aware when a warm blanket was draped over him, and two familiar presences settled down beside him.
***
He awoke to soft voices murmuring beside him, their tone familiar and beloved, if a bit worried sounding. He pricked his ears to listen better even as he gave a sleepy sigh and shifted, as though he were still sleeping and having a pleasant dream. For a moment the voices became quiet, then, after reassuring themselves that their cousin still slept, continued.
“I don’t think he meant to tell me, Frodo,” Merry’s voice whispered next to Pippin’s ear. “But he seemed so upset over something…I don’t know what we can do.” There was a kind of sad desperation in Merry’s voice as he spoke, and Pippin found himself regretting his behavior of earlier. “He’s always been slight for his age, but with all his sickness and everything…well, I guess I never really thought of it.”
“Pervinca is the same way,” Frodo added softly, and Pippin, for one moment, felt slightly angry at his cousins for discussing his sister. It was not her fault that she was bony! Then his anger evaporated as Frodo continued, his voice low and soothing. “I think it may just have to do with how sick Eglantine was when she bore them. Pervinca may not have Pippin’s attraction to sickness, but she was always a bit smaller than her sisters.”
“But why?” Merry asked, sounding truly confused. “I’ve seen them both eat, and so have you! They put Fatty to shame, and yet you could fit them both in his trousers!”
“I don’t know,” Frodo admitted, and a feather light touch caressed his face. “But if it is truly troubling him, and if he is losing weight, there may be a more serious problem. Goodness knows I do my best to keep him fed, and I know that Eglantine and Paladin encourage them both to eat at every opportunity. And the both of you are as bottomless barrels!”
Merry laughed softly at this last, and something brushed against his shoulder.
“He can nearly out-drink me now, and there is no competition when it comes to food.” The laughter faded, replaced by a weary sigh. “I just don’t know what to do to help him. It can’t be easy for him, not with the other lads teasing him. I know he doesn’t say anything, but I can see that it bothers him.”
“It would bother any hobbit after a while,” Frodo said softly. “I wonder if this has something to do with Pippin and Pervinca’s sudden closeness. Pearl told me before you came that the two of them have become nearly inseparable when you’re not there. “
A snort of disbelieving laughter from Merry, followed by his incredulous voice asking, “Pippin and Pervinca? The same Pip and Vinca that I found on the floor last Yule screaming and pulling at each other’s hair?”
Frodo laughed softly, recalling the scene and shaking his head, the sound of his hair swishing around his shoulders telling Pippin of the movement.
“They may have been at each other’s throats most of their lives, but Pearl told me in the past few months something has changed them. She doesn’t know what, and Pimmie is equally mystified.” Frodo’s next words were said in a hesitant voice, as though suddenly unsure of how much he should tell. “Pearl said it started shortly after some of the lasses and Pip disappeared one night. She doesn’t know what happened between them, though I’m sure you can guess, and the next day he seemed depressed and withdrawn.” A slight pause, followed by a soft, “Did he tell you anything?”
“No,” Merry sighed, and a hand came to settle on his shoulder. “He told me of the lasses, of course, and had a few – erm – questions.” Pippin could hear the discomfort in his cousin’s voice and would have laughed if he hadn’t been trying so hard not to blush. “I haven’t had a chance to see him since then, and he said nothing on the ride over. I thought that perhaps he had been too shy to do anything.”
“Whatever the case, Pearl is worried about the both of them. Vinca is nearly of age, and has yet to have a proper suitor. And Pippin –“
“Is doing just fine,” Merry cut him off, suddenly defensive. “He’s just shy, that’s all.”
“Merry,” Frodo said reproachfully. “You and I both know that this lad is anything but shy.”
“Maybe about other things, but girls? I think he’s still trying figure things out, and despite what everyone thinks, he doesn’t always just jump before looks.” Merry’s voice was fond and a bit defensive, causing warmth to settle in Pippin’s chest. “He’ll be all right, Frodo. He just needs a bit of time, that’s all.”
His tone made it clear that the matter was closed, and Pippin allowed himself to mull over his cousins’ words as he drifted once more into a deep slumber.
***
Days passed, and the conversation was quickly forgotten. Merry tried to bring the subject up once, but Pippin had told him very firmly that he did not wish to discuss the matter, and would he kindly pass the salt, thank you very much.
The weather became warmer as spring turned to summer, and Pippin found himself spending lazy afternoons laying under the great tree, enjoying the warmth and smell of fresh grass.
Two weeks after that first confrontation, Frodo attempted to broach the subject during lunch, only to have Pippin scowl at him darkly and leave the table, his bowl of soup and plate of bread and cheese only half done.
He did not wander far, for he was not truly trying to get away from his relations. He just didn’t wish to bring the subject up again when there was nothing anyone could really do about the matter. He was, perhaps, paying less attention than he should have been, however, and gave a startled yelp as he bumped into Samwise, knelt on the ground as he pulled budding weeds before they could choke the plants.
“Sorry, Sam!” he hastily apologized, helping to right the stout hobbit and place the discarded weeds back in the basket which had overturned.
“Here now, Master Pippin, what’s going on?” Sam asked gently, brushing his hands on his trousers as he regarded the younger lad. “You’ve fair worn a frown line right between your eyes.”
Pippin sighed, plopping down unceremoniously onto the ground, his hands dangling between his bent knees as he regarded the fresh dirt to his right.
“I’m just - I don’t- ,” he began, his head drooping a bit as he struggled to push his self pity away. Sam was such a good, sensible hobbit, he would no doubt have the same advise as everyone else.
“I’m tired of being so small,” he finally mumbled, not daring to look the other in the face at this admission. “I want a proper tummy, Sam! I’m so very tired of looking like a teenager!”
He huffed in frustration, picking absently at one of the weeds closest to him, bruising the leaves but not pulling it completely.
For several minutes Sam said nothing to the outburst, just steadily pulled the thin vines from the bed, methodically placing them in the basket until the section was done. Then he brushed his hands and sat back on his heels, regarding the other’s miserable expression.
“Come with me, Master Pippin,” he said finally, standing and offering his hand for Pippin to take.
Scrambling to his feet, doing his best to hide his confusion, Pippin followed, his curiosity growing as Sam led him further and further from the Smial, until nearly a quarter of an hour had passed and they were on the edge of the small wood.
A giant oak towered over them, marking the beginning of the trees. Its trunk was thick and knotty, the leaves a brilliant green, and it seemed to whisper quietly to itself as a gentle breeze rocked its upper branches.
Sam steered Pippin through a thicket of small, straggly bushes, until they came out the other side and a small sapling stood proudly in a little clearing. He seemed to be waiting for Pippin to say something, but when the younger hobbit continued to stare at him in confusion, he moved until he could wrap his hand around the thin trunk, his fingers touching.
“You almost wouldn’t believe that such a large tree can come from such a little thing, would you?” he asked softly, smiling fondly at the skinny sapling. “But this here oak will grow up tall and strong one day, just like the other one. Plenty of water, plenty of sunshine, and soon you won’t be able to wrap both arms around it, it will be so big.”
Something in Pippin’s stomach settled. It had been there for so long he hadn’t even been aware it was there until it suddenly wasn’t, and he found himself smiling at Sam, moving to stand beside him.
“Some trees just start small like. But their roots are mighty powerful, and I bet if we tried to move this here little thing, the two of us couldn’t budge it,” Sam continued. “I reckon that some hobbits are the same way. I wouldn’t worry about your shape, Master Pippin. You’ll get there one day, you’ll see.”
Pippin wasn’t certain how to answer the quiet confidence in Sam’s voice, so just nodded and stroked the rough bark of the tree once before turning, heading back to the Smial and the cousins he knew were waiting for him.
His stomach rumbled, reminding he hadn’t finished his lunch, and for the first time in a long time he looked forward to the meal, not because he thought he had to eat, but because he was hungry and wanted to.
If Merry and Frodo noticed a difference in their cousin after that day they did not comment. There was, however, always an extra helping whenever one of them visited.
***
“Pippin, please, just a bit more.”
Frodo’s voice was gentle and coaxing as he held the spoon out to his friend, hoping to encourage him to eat just one more bite. Pippin resolutely turned his face away, crossing his arms.
“I’m find,” he said firmly, grinning as he caught Merry’s eye across the table. “I’m not hungry any more.”
“But-”
“He’s all right, Frodo,” Merry assured, his smile widening as he took in his cousin’s slight frame. “He’s already eaten more than you and me combined!”
“Yep!” Pippin agreed, stretching his arms wide as he yawned. “Sometimes, Frodo, a hobbit just needs a bit of time to grow into himself, that’s all. I‘m going to take a nap!”
The bed was warm and comfortable, the smell of summer flowers wafting in through the open window. Already halfway asleep, Pippin smiled as he pictured the giant oak towering over him, its roots so massive they pushed every obstacle from their path.
Some day, he thought fuzzily, slipping into a deep sleep where only the rustle of leaves could be heard. Some day, he, too, would be able to push the obstacles away.
And then it wouldn’t matter at all how small he was.
Title: No Big Problem
Author: Piplover
Rating: G
Fandom: LoTR
Characters: Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Sam
Word count: 3815
Warning: Some body issues
Summary: Pippin may be small, but it doesn't really bother him. Or does it?
The image looking back at Pippin from the mirror scowled darkly, nimble fingers tugging and pulling on his tunic with an irritated air. His frown darkened as he turned slightly to the side, eyeing his stomach critically.
At twenty-six, he still retained the slim form of a teenager, and no amount of food that he ate seemed to fill out his form to proper hobbit roundness. Even here at Bag End, where Frodo made the most wonderful mushroom omelets, and there was always food in the cupboard, Pippin had been unable to add a single pound, and thought that he may perhaps be losing weight.
His scowl deepened, and he growled at his reflection.
“What are you doing?”
Merry, leaning against the doorframe, was watching his cousin curiously, arms crossed over his proper belly as he tried to puzzle out his Pippin’s odd behavior.
“Nothing,” Pippin grumbled, giving his waistcoat one more vicious tug and turning from his image, walking past Merry with a subdued look on his face.
“Pippin!” Merry firmly grabbed his cousin’s arm before the tweenager could walk past him, and was met by a stony silence and Pippin’s turned face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Pippin murmured again, though he did not try to get away from Merry’s grasp, but chose to stare darkly at his feet.
“For nothing, you seem to be having a very bad day. Talk to me, Pip,” Merry urged, lowering his voice, his hand moving to rest easily on the thin shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”
For a long moment only silence met Merry’s plea, and then Pippin, head still lowered, whispered something too softly for his cousin to hear.
“What?” Merry asked, moving closer.
“I said,” Pippin huffed, finally looking up, “that I am tired of being a stick figure!” Pippin’s eyes glowered in frustration as he gestured to his flat stomach. “I want to look like a hobbit, not a twig!”
Merry’s mouth dropped open at this astonishing outburst, uncertain what to say.
“Pip…” he began, then stopped, suddenly at a loss for words.
“See!” Pippin exclaimed, stomping his foot angrily. “You have a proper form, and Frodo, and Sam, and Fatty, and here I am, eating twice as much as you do, and I am losing weight!”
He had not meant to add that last, but the words had slipped out before he could stop himself, and he winced at Merry’s sudden scowl.
“When did you start losing weight? How much have you lost?” Merry demanded, the hand still resting on Pippin’s shoulder squeezing slightly.
“I don’t know,” Pippin snapped, shrugging. “My clothes started to feel loose a few weeks ago.”
Merry eyed his cousin critically, his gaze automatically going to Pippin’s flat tummy and then his scrawny arms.
“Have you been feeling all right?” he finally asked, worry coloring his tone.
Pippin sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yessss,” he hissed. “I’ve felt fine! Not even the sniffles! Just forget it, Merry,” he added, trying to wriggle out of his cousin’s grasp.
“I will not,” Merry snapped, and his grip tightened. “When did all this start, Pippin? You never used to worry about how you looked, and why all the sudden is it upsetting you?”
“I’m –“ Pippin growled, twisting his arm in a vain attempt to free it, “ – not-“ he twisted some more, grimacing as Merry held on the tighter, “-upset!”
“Really?” Merry asked incredulously, finally resorting to his other hand to clamp onto Pippin’s free hand. “Then why are you doing a credible impression of a worm on a hook and not even looking me in the face?”
Pippin stopped his struggling at that, and continued to stare meekly down at the hardwood floor of the hallway. He could feel the tips of his ears blushing, and wished with all his heart that Merry would drop the subject.
“Please, Merry,” he sighed, feeling his shoulders slump. “It’s not important.”
“What isn’t?”
Both hobbits looked up to see Frodo walking toward them, a mug of tea held in his hand, a quizzical expression on his face as he stopped a few feet from them.
“What’s happened?” he asked, taking in both Merry and Pippin’s faces, reading the distress in their eyes, and the fact that Merry had still not relinquished his hold on the tweenager.
“Nothing, Frodo,” Pippin answered quickly, breaking Merry’s grip with an unexpected twist of his hands. He turned and walked away quickly, in the direction of the back door, and the two older hobbits stared after him for a long moment before Frodo turned questioning eyes to Merry.
“I think we have a problem, Frodo,” Merry finally murmured, his brow creasing.
***
Pippin sat forlornly under the large tree atop Bag End, watching the clouds slowly drift in from the south, knowing they held a promise of rain, yet not able to bring himself to care.
Oh, he knew that teens seldom filled out to proper hobbit shape, yet he was a tween now, and had been for six years! He should have at least a bit of roundness to his middle, and he didn’t even want to think about the shape of his arms. Why, when Merry had been his age, he had had a proper tummy and all, attracting quite the many lasses.
Pippin ducked his head in embarrassment, thinking of the two lasses who had kissed him, and how they had giggled at his thin shoulders and chest, teasing him that he seemed a bit young to be playing such games. Things had not gone much further after that, and he had been almost too ashamed to come out of his room for several days after.
Pervinca, sensing that something was troubling her little brother, had broached the subject only once, and the two of them had found solace in that neither of them seemed capable of attaining the figure they wanted. Pippin had told her that she was still beautiful, if in a bony sort of way, and she had laughed and said the same to him.
After that, they two of them had started to spend more time together, leaving their two older siblings shaking their heads in wonderment at the sudden closeness that had sprung between them. It had been their secret, a shared insecurity that both were reluctant to tell others for fear of being laughed at. Or worse, told that everything would be all right, and all it would take were a few proper feedings.
Pippin had not even told Merry of his and Pervinca’s failed attempt to eat eight meals a day, stuffing themselves so full of cakes and anything else they could purloin that they had almost made themselves sick. And neither one of them had gained a pound.
Now, sitting atop Bag End, idly fingering the few stones that he had moved away from his seat, he felt a heaviness settle about his shoulders and sighed.
He doubted even Merry could help with this problem.
***
Samwise Gamgee, kneeling in the garden off of the kitchen, looked up in startlement as the door opened with more force than necessary and a figure ran out of the Smial, Sam barely making out Pippin’s golden-red curls as the lad scrambled up the side of the hill and made his way to the great tree.
For a moment he considered going to the hobbit’s side, to see what had put him into such a state, then thought better of it. If he had had a row with Merry or Frodo, that was family business, and had best be left to the others to tend to. Still, his eyes riveted on the small form sitting hunched over above him, he could not help but wonder what could dampen such a bright, cheerful spirit.
***
A flash of lightning, followed by a clash of thunder so loud it startled Pippin out of his thoughts, brought the tweenager’s head up, to stare in dazed silence as another bolt of silver flashed from the skies.
Reluctant to leave his place of solitude, yet knowing the trouble he would be in should he remain outside, Pippin slowly stood and made his way back to the front of the Smial, opening the front door just as the first of the large raindrops began to fall.
“Pippin?”
He sighed, hanging his head in resignation as he made his way to Frodo’s study, knowing that both of his cousins would more than likely have words for him.
He was rather startled to see Sam sitting on one of the large chairs, a cup of tea in his hand and a small frown on his brow as he looked up. He smiled shyly at Pippin, who returned it automatically, nodding his head. Beside Sam, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, Merry looked up at his cousin, and Pippin averted his gaze, unable to meet those grey eyes yet.
Frodo, standing in front of the fireplace and poking at a small fire, looked up as well, and his expression was carefully blank as he eyed the tweenager.
“Would you like some tea, Pippin? Sam made some wonderful scones, and there are ginger biscuits in the kitchen,” he finally asked, moving to take one of the empty seats that faced Merry and Sam’s. “Oh, and there is some raspberry jam in the cupboard, as well as some bread from elevenses.”
“All right,” Pippin murmured, turning in relief to retrieve the items and his own cup of tea, bringing it all in on a tray that he balanced easily, setting it down on the tea table Frodo had moved sometime in his absence between the chairs.
There was companionable talk as the four of them ate and sipped their tea, the steady sound of rain and thunder a soothing lullaby within the cozy comforts of the Smial. Pippin found himself nodding off, managing to wake himself just in time to rescue his teacup before it fell from his limp fingers.
“I think a nap would be lovely right about now,” Frodo murmured softly, moving to take the cup from his blushing cousin with a smile. “What do you say, Pip-lad? Curl up with some blankets around the fire and listen to the rain with an old hobbit?”
Pippin could not help the grin that came to his lips as he replied, almost automatically, “That would be lovely, Frodo, and you’re not old.”
Merry snorted sleepily from his chair, a wry smile on his lips. Sam, ducking his head to hide his expression, grinned into his tea.
“I think a nap is a wonderful idea,” Merry yawned, stretching languidly.
“And I should head back, to tend to me Gaffer’s firewood,” Sam added, taking Merry’s cup and adding it to the tray now bearing empty plates and three other cups. “If you need aught, Mr. Frodo, you let me know,” he added, taking the tray with him to the kitchen, where the sound of water splashing told the others he had decided to do the washing before leaving.
Frodo smiled around a yawn that rivaled Merry’s, and Pippin found his eyes drooping once more, emitting a sleepy sigh as he listened to the sounds of his cousins moving about. What seemed only a moment later a gentle hand was shaking his shoulder, a beloved voice prompting him to lay down on the floor near the fire, so that he would not get a crick in his neck.
Stumbling sleepily, the hand now guiding him to the floor, he sank down gratefully, not even aware when a warm blanket was draped over him, and two familiar presences settled down beside him.
***
He awoke to soft voices murmuring beside him, their tone familiar and beloved, if a bit worried sounding. He pricked his ears to listen better even as he gave a sleepy sigh and shifted, as though he were still sleeping and having a pleasant dream. For a moment the voices became quiet, then, after reassuring themselves that their cousin still slept, continued.
“I don’t think he meant to tell me, Frodo,” Merry’s voice whispered next to Pippin’s ear. “But he seemed so upset over something…I don’t know what we can do.” There was a kind of sad desperation in Merry’s voice as he spoke, and Pippin found himself regretting his behavior of earlier. “He’s always been slight for his age, but with all his sickness and everything…well, I guess I never really thought of it.”
“Pervinca is the same way,” Frodo added softly, and Pippin, for one moment, felt slightly angry at his cousins for discussing his sister. It was not her fault that she was bony! Then his anger evaporated as Frodo continued, his voice low and soothing. “I think it may just have to do with how sick Eglantine was when she bore them. Pervinca may not have Pippin’s attraction to sickness, but she was always a bit smaller than her sisters.”
“But why?” Merry asked, sounding truly confused. “I’ve seen them both eat, and so have you! They put Fatty to shame, and yet you could fit them both in his trousers!”
“I don’t know,” Frodo admitted, and a feather light touch caressed his face. “But if it is truly troubling him, and if he is losing weight, there may be a more serious problem. Goodness knows I do my best to keep him fed, and I know that Eglantine and Paladin encourage them both to eat at every opportunity. And the both of you are as bottomless barrels!”
Merry laughed softly at this last, and something brushed against his shoulder.
“He can nearly out-drink me now, and there is no competition when it comes to food.” The laughter faded, replaced by a weary sigh. “I just don’t know what to do to help him. It can’t be easy for him, not with the other lads teasing him. I know he doesn’t say anything, but I can see that it bothers him.”
“It would bother any hobbit after a while,” Frodo said softly. “I wonder if this has something to do with Pippin and Pervinca’s sudden closeness. Pearl told me before you came that the two of them have become nearly inseparable when you’re not there. “
A snort of disbelieving laughter from Merry, followed by his incredulous voice asking, “Pippin and Pervinca? The same Pip and Vinca that I found on the floor last Yule screaming and pulling at each other’s hair?”
Frodo laughed softly, recalling the scene and shaking his head, the sound of his hair swishing around his shoulders telling Pippin of the movement.
“They may have been at each other’s throats most of their lives, but Pearl told me in the past few months something has changed them. She doesn’t know what, and Pimmie is equally mystified.” Frodo’s next words were said in a hesitant voice, as though suddenly unsure of how much he should tell. “Pearl said it started shortly after some of the lasses and Pip disappeared one night. She doesn’t know what happened between them, though I’m sure you can guess, and the next day he seemed depressed and withdrawn.” A slight pause, followed by a soft, “Did he tell you anything?”
“No,” Merry sighed, and a hand came to settle on his shoulder. “He told me of the lasses, of course, and had a few – erm – questions.” Pippin could hear the discomfort in his cousin’s voice and would have laughed if he hadn’t been trying so hard not to blush. “I haven’t had a chance to see him since then, and he said nothing on the ride over. I thought that perhaps he had been too shy to do anything.”
“Whatever the case, Pearl is worried about the both of them. Vinca is nearly of age, and has yet to have a proper suitor. And Pippin –“
“Is doing just fine,” Merry cut him off, suddenly defensive. “He’s just shy, that’s all.”
“Merry,” Frodo said reproachfully. “You and I both know that this lad is anything but shy.”
“Maybe about other things, but girls? I think he’s still trying figure things out, and despite what everyone thinks, he doesn’t always just jump before looks.” Merry’s voice was fond and a bit defensive, causing warmth to settle in Pippin’s chest. “He’ll be all right, Frodo. He just needs a bit of time, that’s all.”
His tone made it clear that the matter was closed, and Pippin allowed himself to mull over his cousins’ words as he drifted once more into a deep slumber.
***
Days passed, and the conversation was quickly forgotten. Merry tried to bring the subject up once, but Pippin had told him very firmly that he did not wish to discuss the matter, and would he kindly pass the salt, thank you very much.
The weather became warmer as spring turned to summer, and Pippin found himself spending lazy afternoons laying under the great tree, enjoying the warmth and smell of fresh grass.
Two weeks after that first confrontation, Frodo attempted to broach the subject during lunch, only to have Pippin scowl at him darkly and leave the table, his bowl of soup and plate of bread and cheese only half done.
He did not wander far, for he was not truly trying to get away from his relations. He just didn’t wish to bring the subject up again when there was nothing anyone could really do about the matter. He was, perhaps, paying less attention than he should have been, however, and gave a startled yelp as he bumped into Samwise, knelt on the ground as he pulled budding weeds before they could choke the plants.
“Sorry, Sam!” he hastily apologized, helping to right the stout hobbit and place the discarded weeds back in the basket which had overturned.
“Here now, Master Pippin, what’s going on?” Sam asked gently, brushing his hands on his trousers as he regarded the younger lad. “You’ve fair worn a frown line right between your eyes.”
Pippin sighed, plopping down unceremoniously onto the ground, his hands dangling between his bent knees as he regarded the fresh dirt to his right.
“I’m just - I don’t- ,” he began, his head drooping a bit as he struggled to push his self pity away. Sam was such a good, sensible hobbit, he would no doubt have the same advise as everyone else.
“I’m tired of being so small,” he finally mumbled, not daring to look the other in the face at this admission. “I want a proper tummy, Sam! I’m so very tired of looking like a teenager!”
He huffed in frustration, picking absently at one of the weeds closest to him, bruising the leaves but not pulling it completely.
For several minutes Sam said nothing to the outburst, just steadily pulled the thin vines from the bed, methodically placing them in the basket until the section was done. Then he brushed his hands and sat back on his heels, regarding the other’s miserable expression.
“Come with me, Master Pippin,” he said finally, standing and offering his hand for Pippin to take.
Scrambling to his feet, doing his best to hide his confusion, Pippin followed, his curiosity growing as Sam led him further and further from the Smial, until nearly a quarter of an hour had passed and they were on the edge of the small wood.
A giant oak towered over them, marking the beginning of the trees. Its trunk was thick and knotty, the leaves a brilliant green, and it seemed to whisper quietly to itself as a gentle breeze rocked its upper branches.
Sam steered Pippin through a thicket of small, straggly bushes, until they came out the other side and a small sapling stood proudly in a little clearing. He seemed to be waiting for Pippin to say something, but when the younger hobbit continued to stare at him in confusion, he moved until he could wrap his hand around the thin trunk, his fingers touching.
“You almost wouldn’t believe that such a large tree can come from such a little thing, would you?” he asked softly, smiling fondly at the skinny sapling. “But this here oak will grow up tall and strong one day, just like the other one. Plenty of water, plenty of sunshine, and soon you won’t be able to wrap both arms around it, it will be so big.”
Something in Pippin’s stomach settled. It had been there for so long he hadn’t even been aware it was there until it suddenly wasn’t, and he found himself smiling at Sam, moving to stand beside him.
“Some trees just start small like. But their roots are mighty powerful, and I bet if we tried to move this here little thing, the two of us couldn’t budge it,” Sam continued. “I reckon that some hobbits are the same way. I wouldn’t worry about your shape, Master Pippin. You’ll get there one day, you’ll see.”
Pippin wasn’t certain how to answer the quiet confidence in Sam’s voice, so just nodded and stroked the rough bark of the tree once before turning, heading back to the Smial and the cousins he knew were waiting for him.
His stomach rumbled, reminding he hadn’t finished his lunch, and for the first time in a long time he looked forward to the meal, not because he thought he had to eat, but because he was hungry and wanted to.
If Merry and Frodo noticed a difference in their cousin after that day they did not comment. There was, however, always an extra helping whenever one of them visited.
***
“Pippin, please, just a bit more.”
Frodo’s voice was gentle and coaxing as he held the spoon out to his friend, hoping to encourage him to eat just one more bite. Pippin resolutely turned his face away, crossing his arms.
“I’m find,” he said firmly, grinning as he caught Merry’s eye across the table. “I’m not hungry any more.”
“But-”
“He’s all right, Frodo,” Merry assured, his smile widening as he took in his cousin’s slight frame. “He’s already eaten more than you and me combined!”
“Yep!” Pippin agreed, stretching his arms wide as he yawned. “Sometimes, Frodo, a hobbit just needs a bit of time to grow into himself, that’s all. I‘m going to take a nap!”
The bed was warm and comfortable, the smell of summer flowers wafting in through the open window. Already halfway asleep, Pippin smiled as he pictured the giant oak towering over him, its roots so massive they pushed every obstacle from their path.
Some day, he thought fuzzily, slipping into a deep sleep where only the rustle of leaves could be heard. Some day, he, too, would be able to push the obstacles away.
And then it wouldn’t matter at all how small he was.
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Date: 2010-10-31 12:34 am (UTC)It's just sort of funny, 'cause my daughter got frustrated shopping today and I decided to call her a tween. She's not an adult size exactly but she's not a kid size, either. Hard age, that, for her or Pippin.
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Date: 2010-11-01 05:25 pm (UTC)I think growing up is hard, no matter if you're human or hobbit. So many changes, and everyone wanted to be accepted. Lucky for Pippin he has his cousins and Sam!
And lucky for your daughter she has you!
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Date: 2010-10-31 01:48 am (UTC)“Some trees just start small like. But their roots are mighty powerful, and I bet if we tried to move this here little thing, the two of us couldn’t budge it,” Sam continued. “I reckon that some hobbits are the same way. I wouldn’t worry about your shape, Master Pippin. You’ll get there one day, you’ll see.”
Dear Sam! This is a lovely tale. It's wonderful when our beloved hobbits learn important lessons, and feel better about themselves.
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Date: 2010-11-01 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 03:33 pm (UTC)Just lovely, the concern and care of the cousins, and Sam's quiet wisdom. It so wonderful to have hobbits from you again dear! I always miss your hobbits!
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Date: 2010-11-01 05:28 pm (UTC)