Pippin Ficlet

[piplover]

Whispers

Sometimes late at night, with the wind blowing sleepily through the window, I can hear the voices of the past. Whispers of friends and memories that fade with the light, leaving me to wonder what was dream and what...wasn’t.

Merry is sleeping soundly tonight, his snores comforting as any lullaby my mother had sung. It reminds me of long nights with no beds, and cold mornings chilling my nose. I used to hate how Boromir would shake my shoulder, his cheerful, "Time to get up, Little One," too loud in the sleepy dawn. I used to burry my head under the cloak and try to hide for a few more minutes, grumbling that he had no right to be so bloody cheerful.

Now I get up on my own in the mornings. And if the wind makes my eyes water as I watch the sunrise, well, I'm on my own for that, as well.

Merry has been spending a lot of time with Estella. We used to watch the sunrise together, but lately he's been coming in later and later, or staying over with Fatty. I can't begrudge him this. I won't. But that doesn't mean I don't sleep very well without him beside me.
I think Frodo understands. He doesn't sleep very well, either, and sometimes we'll sit by the fire as the stars fade, waiting for the rest of the world to wake, smoking our pipes and not saying anything.

When Sam wanders in, grinning from ear to ear and rosy cheeked, I turn my eyes and gaze out the window.

Merry mentioned that Diamond Took has been asking Estella about me. He gets a wicket grin on his face whenever he mentions her, and yesterday he poked me with his toe as we were eating bread with jam.

"Should I tell Estella to tell her you want to talk to her?" he asked, grinning that same grin that Sam had, waggling his eyebrows.

I shrugged, stuffing the rest of the bread into my mouth before giving a nod. I knew it would make him happy, and Merry being happy always made the little knot in my throat go away for a bit.

We're staying over at Bag End tonight, since Sam and Rosie are going to be celebrating their one year anniversary tomorrow. Frodo wanted to make a special day of it for them, and Merry and I agreed. Sam deserves all the happiness he can get. Still, I can't quite seem to get comfortable on the too small bed that used to be just right. There are no windows in this room, and I can't hear the whispers of the trees.

Not wanting to disturb Merry I climb out from under the covers, hearing an echo of Boromir's voice in the dying crackle of the fire.

"Better bundle up, Pippin. The morning looks to be cold, and you don't want to catch sick."

I take his advice and wrap a blanket around my shoulders.

"Don't forget your head," Gimli's voice reminds me gruffly. "Little thing like you, all your heat goes out your head without a proper beard to keep it in."

I tug the blanket over my head as well, wandering out to the kitchen to uncover the coals and start a small fire. I set the kettle on to boil, making sure it doesn't whistle and wake everyone. Frodo always has the best tea, and I pour myself a big mug of it and make my way out to the garden.

At first I don't see him, as he is wearing his cloak from the Quest and sitting quietly off to the side. Then I feel his eyes on me and turn, meeting his gaze with my own.

"The stars are starting to fade," Frodo whispers softly, pulling his cloak aside a little in invitation.

I join him, wrapping my blanket around his shoulders and snuggle into his side.

The wind must have picked up about then, because as the first pink of dawn touched the sky, both of us had tears on our cheeks.