For Shirebound
Jul. 13th, 2005 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverThis is for Shirebound. Just becuase.
A soft touch upon his arm brought Aragorn awake quickly, reflexes honed by years of strugle and terror moving his body before he was even completely awake. He blinked for a moment at the small figure sitting beside him, the shadows cast by the fire hiding the expression on the youngest hobbit's face.
"Is something wrong, Pippin?" Aragorn asked softly, looking about the room as he tried to get his barings back. They were in Gondor, he recalled, still slighlty dazed with sleep. In his common room, where Pippin had fallen asleep well before the others had claimed drowsiness. None had had the heart to move him,and Aragorn had not even realized he had succumbed to slumber while reading until Pippin had touched him.
Pippin shook his head, climbing slowly onto the divan to sit beside his King, laying his head in Aragorn's lap as he yawned. "I didn't want you to get a crick in your neck."
Placing a hand to Pippin's head, Aragorn smiled down at the mop of brown curls.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I suppose we should both retire for the night, hmmmm?"
Pippin nodded, though he gave no indication of relinquishing his spot, and it was only with a mighty effort that Aragorn refrained from chuckling. Slowly he moved his legs so that he could reposition his lanky form, drawing Pippin up to his chest as he assumed a more comfortable position.
"Good night, Little Bird," he whispered, allowing his eyes to close as the comfort of sleep stole up on him once more.
"Night, Strider," Pippin whispered.
Soon, only the sound of their soft breathing and the slightly crackling of the fire filled the room.
A soft touch upon his arm brought Aragorn awake quickly, reflexes honed by years of strugle and terror moving his body before he was even completely awake. He blinked for a moment at the small figure sitting beside him, the shadows cast by the fire hiding the expression on the youngest hobbit's face.
"Is something wrong, Pippin?" Aragorn asked softly, looking about the room as he tried to get his barings back. They were in Gondor, he recalled, still slighlty dazed with sleep. In his common room, where Pippin had fallen asleep well before the others had claimed drowsiness. None had had the heart to move him,and Aragorn had not even realized he had succumbed to slumber while reading until Pippin had touched him.
Pippin shook his head, climbing slowly onto the divan to sit beside his King, laying his head in Aragorn's lap as he yawned. "I didn't want you to get a crick in your neck."
Placing a hand to Pippin's head, Aragorn smiled down at the mop of brown curls.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I suppose we should both retire for the night, hmmmm?"
Pippin nodded, though he gave no indication of relinquishing his spot, and it was only with a mighty effort that Aragorn refrained from chuckling. Slowly he moved his legs so that he could reposition his lanky form, drawing Pippin up to his chest as he assumed a more comfortable position.
"Good night, Little Bird," he whispered, allowing his eyes to close as the comfort of sleep stole up on him once more.
"Night, Strider," Pippin whispered.
Soon, only the sound of their soft breathing and the slightly crackling of the fire filled the room.
