A new story, finally!
Jun. 23rd, 2005 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverHello, everyone. This story has been a long time in the making, and I have to thank Marigold for her patience and her wonderful beta work again. My stories would not be what they are without her wonderful, amazing help.
So, for your enjoyment, I present:
In a Heartbeat: Chapter One
Pippin yawned. Not a quiet yawn, or a small yawn, or even a discreet yawn, but one that threatened to split his face in two and gusted out noisily. Beside him, trying to keep his face as straight as his posture, the Guard standing duty with the hobbit did his best to stifle his own yawn.
“Stop it,” Pippin hissed, too quietly for any of those in discussion to hear him. “We’ll be going back and forth all day.”
“You started it,” the Guard hissed back, a man by the name of Oren who had fought by Pippin’s side during the last battle.
The young knight’s only response was a grin he knew the other could see out of the corner of his eye. After all, he had been the first.
After several moments of silence, Pippin found himself yawning again, and barely managed to muffle his laughter at Oren’s cross look as the big man fought valiantly against the inevitable.
They had been standing guard over the King’s council for two hours, the tedium of their duty lifted slightly by their location. Aragorn, having become tired of staying cooped up inside all day during the council sessions, had moved this morning’s meeting to the King’s Garden, the members spaced out comfortably on benches in the warm sunshine.
As with his previous day’s duty, and the day before that, and the day before that, Pippin stood quiet and still, sword sheathed at his side. The two Guards would not be relieved for their luncheon for two more hours, and then only to grab a hasty meal before returning for the rest of their shift.
At the thought of food, Pippin’s stomach rumbled, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at Oren’s expression.
“If mine starts answering...” the big man growled threateningly.
Pippin was almost certain his face was bright red with the effort to keep quiet and still, something he never would have been able to do only a few months ago. As it was, even with his newfound discipline and his understanding of how serious the council sessions were, he had to blink away the tears of mirth that formed in his eyes. This was definitely more fun than he would have had if he had been off duty and gone with his cousins and Sam and Gandalf. They were off seeing some old ruin of “historical significance” with Prince Imrahil, somewhere outside the City.
When his stomach rumbled again, it was almost too much, and he hid his laughter by coughing into his hand as softly as he could, hearing an answering snicker from Oren.
We should never be placed on guard together again, Pippin thought ruefully as he tried to compose himself, still fighting his giggles. We simply have too much fun.
A good deal of it, Pippin knew, was that neither of them had slept much the previous night, Pippin kept awake after being talked into a game of chess with Frodo that lasted until well into the wee hours of the morning, when he had finally won, and Oren due to his new daughter, who was colicky.
A shuffling footstep erased all traces of mirth from both, however, and they found themselves standing straighter, cringing slightly as they watched Aragorn’s slow approach, his burgundy tunic blazing in the sun. Perhaps they had been louder than they realized?
“Gentlemen, we are going to break for a quarter hour. I suggest that you move about a bit.” This last was said with a twinkle in the King’s eyes, and Pippin knew he had heard their whispered conversations. Lucky for both of them, Aragorn was amused rather than put out.
Pippin smiled up at him, earning an answering grin, and shifted slightly, stretching his arms and sighing hugely. Beside him, Oren did the same, without the sigh, his expression stiff and stern once more when presented with the King himself. For some reason that Pippin didn’t quite understand, his fellow Guards, though they, too, loved their King, seemed to be rather intimidated by him.
Aragorn moved back to the council members, whispering something to Legolas as he passed, who grinned back at him, eyes resting for a moment on Pippin before he nodded and went inside, pulling Gimli along with him and giving the hobbit a wink as he passed.
Uh-oh, Pippin thought.
Beside him, barely loud enough for even his hobbit ears to catch, he heard Oren utter the same, and found that this time, he could not control himself. He stifled his giggles behind his hand as best he could, but was undone at the snort that escaped him.
He knew he was truly done in when Oren’s laughter joined his own, and had to pity his friends for what he knew was going to be an interesting day.
***
A few moments later the unmistakable sound of Gimli’s boots clattering down the hallway inside alerted both Guards to the missing members return. Pippin and Oren straightened themselves from where they had been stretching, resuming their posts with a seriousness others of the Shire never would have thought the young hobbit capable of.
The aroma of fresh bread and cheese wafted to Pippin’s nose, his mouth watering at the scent. His stomach rumbled once more, and this time it was Oren who snickered. A moment later Legolas and Gimli appeared, trays in their hands filled with not only the bread and cheese that smelled so tempting, but fresh fruit and ginger biscuits.
“The King thought you might be a bit hungry,” Legolas whispered as he stopped in front of the two on duty, handing each two still-warm slices of bread with melted cheese, an apple, and a biscuit. He winked as he turned back to the group of council members, and Pippin smiled up at him.
Nothing was said between the two as they ate hastily, devouring the unexpected treat as though neither had eaten in days rather than a few hours, knowing they would have to be finished by the time the session started again.
“Much better,” Pippin sighed happily when he finished.
Oren just nodded, and the two of them resumed their positions once more, finding it a bit easier to stand straight and still after their rest. Moments later, Aragorn signalled silently, and the session resumed, the soft drone of voices floating over the heads of those standing watch, eyes and ears ever vigilant for any threat to their King.
Out of the corner of his eye, watching those who watched over him, Aragorn took in Pippin’s crisp appearance and smiled.
***
His knee was bothering him again. Not the sharp piercing pain he had become accustomed to during the first days of his recovery, but a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to pound in time with his heartbeat.
They had been standing for at least five hours, straight and rigid as statues, with a half hour for lunch breaking the tedium. Only the occasional snicker passing between them ruined the image.
“That’s six,” Oren muttered suddenly, only his lips moving, distracting the hobbit from his pain.
“Are you certain?” Pippin whispered back, also barely moving his lips. “I thought it was five.”
“No, six. See? He just did it again,” Oren observed.
Pippin gave the barest murmur of assent, watching as Éomer flicked his hair over his shoulder for the seventh time.
“What about Legolas?” Pippin breathed after a few moments.
“Four,” was the short answer, and they fell silent once more, watching the session.
A sudden clattering on the stone inside the corridor had both of them standing rigid, hands going to their swords as the noise approached. Those in session looked up briefly as the noise became louder, their voices trailing off.
“Go,” Pippin hissed, not yet drawing his sword, though his muscles were tense as his blood began to pound in his ears, all pain forgotten for the moment.
Oren nodded, drawing his sword as he went to investigate the disturbance. Dimly, Pippin was aware of the members of the council rising to their feet.
“Gentlemen, I believe that another break might be in order,” Aragorn said softly, his eyes focused on the entrance to the garden.
A sudden cry of challenge, followed by the unmistakable sound of swords clashing, had everyone running, Pippin in the lead, to where Oren did battle with a man clothed in an ill fitting footman’s livery. The hobbit arrived just in time to see Oren run the man through the right shoulder, a shrill shriek echoing through the halls.
Within moments more Guards were approaching, running with their swords drawn and grim determination on their faces. However, having dropped his sword after being wounded, the intruder gave no struggle as he was hauled to his feet.
“Legolas, Gimli, go with this man and find out his intent if you will,” Aragorn ordered, face tense with anger. “Faramir, get me the Commander of the Guards. I want to know how this man came to be here and a search started to determine if he was alone.”
All three nodded, moving to their assigned tasks. Pippin, sword still drawn, scowled as the man was led away, moaning and swearing the whole time. Something did not feel right.
“I think you may put your sword away now, Master Holbytla,” Éomer murmured, though his own eyes followed the progress of the attempted assassin.
Pippin nodded, though he was slow in doing so, eyes searching the landscape and hallways, uncertain what he sought, blade still in his hand.
“I guess that the meeting has been adjourned for the day,” Éomer sighed, looking to Aragorn with a resigned grin.
“Perhaps for the moment,” Aragorn agreed.
The two Kings turned, heading back into the garden to collect the cushions they had each brought to soften the benches. Pippin, still uneasy, saw something glint out of the corner of his eye, and moved before he could think.
“Strider!” he shrieked as he threw himself in front of the blade that was aimed for his King’s heart. A piercing pain lanced through his side, though he paid it no heed as the one who had thrown the knife moved forward, a thin, black clad form that seemed to blend into the shadows.
“Pippin!” Aragorn cried, though the hobbit paid no more attention to the shout than he did the pain in his side, blocking the intruder‘s advance as he pulled a sword.
The man was clearly startled, having obviously thought this small person before him inconsequential. Quickly disabusing him of such notions, Pippin moved in a series of thrusts and parries that Boromir had drilled into him, disarming the intruder and dropping him to the ground with a well placed kick to the kneecap. His sword was at the man’s throat before the would-be assassin’s knees hit the ground.
Only then did he become aware of voices shouting and the sound of men running, of blurred movements to either side of him and a stabbing agony racing through his side. He felt his legs begin to quiver with the pain of it and fought off the weakness, his sword held unwaveringly.
“Sir Peregrin!” a familiar voice bellowed, and a moment later several well-armed men were surrounding his prisoner, swords levelled at frightened, black eyes.
Sudden dizziness washed through the hobbit and he stumbled back, almost dropping his own sword as he clutched at his side. Before he could fall, however, strong arms caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. Aragorn stared down at him, fear and worry and shock warring in his eyes, hands moving almost automatically to staunch the stain slowly wetting Pippin’s black tunic. The hobbit stared at the King’s bloody hands in dazed confusion.
“Strider...” Pippin breathed, grey clouds starting to obscure his vision.
“Hush, Pippin,” Aragorn whispered, face suddenly pale.
“Are you all right…are you...?” He had to struggle to get the words out, but Pippin needed to know.
“I am not hurt, Pippin,” Aragorn said softly, tears gathering in his eyes. “Thanks to you, Little Bird, I am not hurt. You, however…” The King’s voice trailed off, blending with the rising noises all about them.
“S’all right. I would...die...for you...Strider,” Pippin managed to gasp out.
His eyes shut despite his efforts to keep them open, and not even Aragorn’s firm voice ordering him to remain with him could stop him from slipping down into the dark that beckoned.
So, for your enjoyment, I present:
In a Heartbeat: Chapter One
Pippin yawned. Not a quiet yawn, or a small yawn, or even a discreet yawn, but one that threatened to split his face in two and gusted out noisily. Beside him, trying to keep his face as straight as his posture, the Guard standing duty with the hobbit did his best to stifle his own yawn.
“Stop it,” Pippin hissed, too quietly for any of those in discussion to hear him. “We’ll be going back and forth all day.”
“You started it,” the Guard hissed back, a man by the name of Oren who had fought by Pippin’s side during the last battle.
The young knight’s only response was a grin he knew the other could see out of the corner of his eye. After all, he had been the first.
After several moments of silence, Pippin found himself yawning again, and barely managed to muffle his laughter at Oren’s cross look as the big man fought valiantly against the inevitable.
They had been standing guard over the King’s council for two hours, the tedium of their duty lifted slightly by their location. Aragorn, having become tired of staying cooped up inside all day during the council sessions, had moved this morning’s meeting to the King’s Garden, the members spaced out comfortably on benches in the warm sunshine.
As with his previous day’s duty, and the day before that, and the day before that, Pippin stood quiet and still, sword sheathed at his side. The two Guards would not be relieved for their luncheon for two more hours, and then only to grab a hasty meal before returning for the rest of their shift.
At the thought of food, Pippin’s stomach rumbled, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at Oren’s expression.
“If mine starts answering...” the big man growled threateningly.
Pippin was almost certain his face was bright red with the effort to keep quiet and still, something he never would have been able to do only a few months ago. As it was, even with his newfound discipline and his understanding of how serious the council sessions were, he had to blink away the tears of mirth that formed in his eyes. This was definitely more fun than he would have had if he had been off duty and gone with his cousins and Sam and Gandalf. They were off seeing some old ruin of “historical significance” with Prince Imrahil, somewhere outside the City.
When his stomach rumbled again, it was almost too much, and he hid his laughter by coughing into his hand as softly as he could, hearing an answering snicker from Oren.
We should never be placed on guard together again, Pippin thought ruefully as he tried to compose himself, still fighting his giggles. We simply have too much fun.
A good deal of it, Pippin knew, was that neither of them had slept much the previous night, Pippin kept awake after being talked into a game of chess with Frodo that lasted until well into the wee hours of the morning, when he had finally won, and Oren due to his new daughter, who was colicky.
A shuffling footstep erased all traces of mirth from both, however, and they found themselves standing straighter, cringing slightly as they watched Aragorn’s slow approach, his burgundy tunic blazing in the sun. Perhaps they had been louder than they realized?
“Gentlemen, we are going to break for a quarter hour. I suggest that you move about a bit.” This last was said with a twinkle in the King’s eyes, and Pippin knew he had heard their whispered conversations. Lucky for both of them, Aragorn was amused rather than put out.
Pippin smiled up at him, earning an answering grin, and shifted slightly, stretching his arms and sighing hugely. Beside him, Oren did the same, without the sigh, his expression stiff and stern once more when presented with the King himself. For some reason that Pippin didn’t quite understand, his fellow Guards, though they, too, loved their King, seemed to be rather intimidated by him.
Aragorn moved back to the council members, whispering something to Legolas as he passed, who grinned back at him, eyes resting for a moment on Pippin before he nodded and went inside, pulling Gimli along with him and giving the hobbit a wink as he passed.
Uh-oh, Pippin thought.
Beside him, barely loud enough for even his hobbit ears to catch, he heard Oren utter the same, and found that this time, he could not control himself. He stifled his giggles behind his hand as best he could, but was undone at the snort that escaped him.
He knew he was truly done in when Oren’s laughter joined his own, and had to pity his friends for what he knew was going to be an interesting day.
***
A few moments later the unmistakable sound of Gimli’s boots clattering down the hallway inside alerted both Guards to the missing members return. Pippin and Oren straightened themselves from where they had been stretching, resuming their posts with a seriousness others of the Shire never would have thought the young hobbit capable of.
The aroma of fresh bread and cheese wafted to Pippin’s nose, his mouth watering at the scent. His stomach rumbled once more, and this time it was Oren who snickered. A moment later Legolas and Gimli appeared, trays in their hands filled with not only the bread and cheese that smelled so tempting, but fresh fruit and ginger biscuits.
“The King thought you might be a bit hungry,” Legolas whispered as he stopped in front of the two on duty, handing each two still-warm slices of bread with melted cheese, an apple, and a biscuit. He winked as he turned back to the group of council members, and Pippin smiled up at him.
Nothing was said between the two as they ate hastily, devouring the unexpected treat as though neither had eaten in days rather than a few hours, knowing they would have to be finished by the time the session started again.
“Much better,” Pippin sighed happily when he finished.
Oren just nodded, and the two of them resumed their positions once more, finding it a bit easier to stand straight and still after their rest. Moments later, Aragorn signalled silently, and the session resumed, the soft drone of voices floating over the heads of those standing watch, eyes and ears ever vigilant for any threat to their King.
Out of the corner of his eye, watching those who watched over him, Aragorn took in Pippin’s crisp appearance and smiled.
***
His knee was bothering him again. Not the sharp piercing pain he had become accustomed to during the first days of his recovery, but a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to pound in time with his heartbeat.
They had been standing for at least five hours, straight and rigid as statues, with a half hour for lunch breaking the tedium. Only the occasional snicker passing between them ruined the image.
“That’s six,” Oren muttered suddenly, only his lips moving, distracting the hobbit from his pain.
“Are you certain?” Pippin whispered back, also barely moving his lips. “I thought it was five.”
“No, six. See? He just did it again,” Oren observed.
Pippin gave the barest murmur of assent, watching as Éomer flicked his hair over his shoulder for the seventh time.
“What about Legolas?” Pippin breathed after a few moments.
“Four,” was the short answer, and they fell silent once more, watching the session.
A sudden clattering on the stone inside the corridor had both of them standing rigid, hands going to their swords as the noise approached. Those in session looked up briefly as the noise became louder, their voices trailing off.
“Go,” Pippin hissed, not yet drawing his sword, though his muscles were tense as his blood began to pound in his ears, all pain forgotten for the moment.
Oren nodded, drawing his sword as he went to investigate the disturbance. Dimly, Pippin was aware of the members of the council rising to their feet.
“Gentlemen, I believe that another break might be in order,” Aragorn said softly, his eyes focused on the entrance to the garden.
A sudden cry of challenge, followed by the unmistakable sound of swords clashing, had everyone running, Pippin in the lead, to where Oren did battle with a man clothed in an ill fitting footman’s livery. The hobbit arrived just in time to see Oren run the man through the right shoulder, a shrill shriek echoing through the halls.
Within moments more Guards were approaching, running with their swords drawn and grim determination on their faces. However, having dropped his sword after being wounded, the intruder gave no struggle as he was hauled to his feet.
“Legolas, Gimli, go with this man and find out his intent if you will,” Aragorn ordered, face tense with anger. “Faramir, get me the Commander of the Guards. I want to know how this man came to be here and a search started to determine if he was alone.”
All three nodded, moving to their assigned tasks. Pippin, sword still drawn, scowled as the man was led away, moaning and swearing the whole time. Something did not feel right.
“I think you may put your sword away now, Master Holbytla,” Éomer murmured, though his own eyes followed the progress of the attempted assassin.
Pippin nodded, though he was slow in doing so, eyes searching the landscape and hallways, uncertain what he sought, blade still in his hand.
“I guess that the meeting has been adjourned for the day,” Éomer sighed, looking to Aragorn with a resigned grin.
“Perhaps for the moment,” Aragorn agreed.
The two Kings turned, heading back into the garden to collect the cushions they had each brought to soften the benches. Pippin, still uneasy, saw something glint out of the corner of his eye, and moved before he could think.
“Strider!” he shrieked as he threw himself in front of the blade that was aimed for his King’s heart. A piercing pain lanced through his side, though he paid it no heed as the one who had thrown the knife moved forward, a thin, black clad form that seemed to blend into the shadows.
“Pippin!” Aragorn cried, though the hobbit paid no more attention to the shout than he did the pain in his side, blocking the intruder‘s advance as he pulled a sword.
The man was clearly startled, having obviously thought this small person before him inconsequential. Quickly disabusing him of such notions, Pippin moved in a series of thrusts and parries that Boromir had drilled into him, disarming the intruder and dropping him to the ground with a well placed kick to the kneecap. His sword was at the man’s throat before the would-be assassin’s knees hit the ground.
Only then did he become aware of voices shouting and the sound of men running, of blurred movements to either side of him and a stabbing agony racing through his side. He felt his legs begin to quiver with the pain of it and fought off the weakness, his sword held unwaveringly.
“Sir Peregrin!” a familiar voice bellowed, and a moment later several well-armed men were surrounding his prisoner, swords levelled at frightened, black eyes.
Sudden dizziness washed through the hobbit and he stumbled back, almost dropping his own sword as he clutched at his side. Before he could fall, however, strong arms caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. Aragorn stared down at him, fear and worry and shock warring in his eyes, hands moving almost automatically to staunch the stain slowly wetting Pippin’s black tunic. The hobbit stared at the King’s bloody hands in dazed confusion.
“Strider...” Pippin breathed, grey clouds starting to obscure his vision.
“Hush, Pippin,” Aragorn whispered, face suddenly pale.
“Are you all right…are you...?” He had to struggle to get the words out, but Pippin needed to know.
“I am not hurt, Pippin,” Aragorn said softly, tears gathering in his eyes. “Thanks to you, Little Bird, I am not hurt. You, however…” The King’s voice trailed off, blending with the rising noises all about them.
“S’all right. I would...die...for you...Strider,” Pippin managed to gasp out.
His eyes shut despite his efforts to keep them open, and not even Aragorn’s firm voice ordering him to remain with him could stop him from slipping down into the dark that beckoned.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-06-24 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 10:48 am (UTC)“S’all right. I would...die...for you...Strider,” Pippin managed to gasp out.
Oh!!! Piplover is baaaaack!! *happy dance*
*rushes to chapter 2*
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Date: 2005-06-24 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 12:02 pm (UTC)Oh, this is going to be an exciting ride!
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Date: 2005-06-24 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 12:33 pm (UTC):D
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Date: 2005-06-24 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 07:51 pm (UTC)Loves!
Love It!
Date: 2005-06-25 03:19 am (UTC)Pleas continue....