The conclussion
Jun. 8th, 2006 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverHere is the conclussion to In a Heartbeat. Once more my profound thanks to Marigold for the wonderful beta job. If you enjoyed this, a big part goes to her. Enjoy!
Pippin slept restlessly for the better part of the morning, his dreams uneasy and his side aching, sweat beading his upper lip. He was as oblivious to Frodo’s gentle urgings to Merry to take some rest as he was to Aragorn’s frequent checks, the strong hands on his neck and forehead blending into the background of his sleep.
When he did wake, sometime shortly before the noon bell was rung, he found himself staring for long moments up at the elaborately painted ceiling, the thoughts in his mind settling into place as sand after a wave. The blankets that covered him were almost too warm in the sunshine that poured in from the unseen window, and he carefully pushed them down, revealing his bare chest.
The necklace, resting against his collarbone, was cool against his skin, and he found himself reaching up absently to wrap his fingers around the delicate wings. Inexplicably, he felt tears start to form in his eyes, and fought them down.
“Pippin?” The voice was gentle, soft as a petal’s touch, and it flowed over him like a soothing balm.
The young hobbit turned his gaze to stare at Frodo, looking down at him worriedly even as he moved from the chair that Merry had previously occupied. He bent over his cousin, laying a tender hand to Pippin’s brow, frowning at the tears that remained unshed in brilliant green eyes.
“Frodo,” Pippin whispered, finding his voice with difficulty around the lump in his throat.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” Frodo asked softly, worry colouring his tone.
“What happened with the assassins?” Pippin asked, his gaze searching the other’s face, sorrow filling his words. “Why did they come?”
The elder hobbit sighed, closing his eyes against the intensity of that stare before moving the chair a bit closer and sitting back down, then taking Pippin’s hand in his own.
“Pippin,” he began, very softly. “They were sent here to kill Strider. They would have, too, if not for you, and everything that we – we went through, that we accomplished, would have ended.” Frodo’s voice was thick, filled with strain. “The – men – they are to be put to…put to death tomorrow at sunset.”
“Nooo,” Pippin whimpered, closing his eyes. Guilt filled him, an overwhelming wave that threatened to drown him in its wake as tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Pippin, hush sweetheart,” Frodo soothed, though his own voice was unsteady. “If Strider allowed these men to live, every assassin left standing would be after him. He – he has to do this, much as I wish it were otherwise.”
“He shouldn’t have to make that decision!” Pippin whispered around the lump that was threatening to choke him. “Too many – too many have been lost already!”
“I know, Pippin, I know,” Frodo agreed, stroking his young cousin’s cheek tenderly, wiping away some of the tears with his bereaved hand as he did so. “But Strider is King, now. He will have to make those decisions, much as we may wish it were otherwise. Believe me, dearest, that it was not an easy decision to make. None of us want this, but –“ Frodo’s voice caught in his throat for a moment before he continued. “Sometimes, we do have to decide between life and death. And those men chose death when they accepted, willingly, to try and kill our friend for something as meaningless as a little gold.”
Pippin nodded mutely, trying to control his tears. He knew what Frodo said was right, but his heart was torn in two between sorrow that more lives were to be lost, and a deep fury that the men had brought this upon themselves.
How dare they? Pippin thought with a sudden, fierce anger that vanished his tears and added a deep flush to his cheeks. How dare they try and take our friend away from us? How DARE they try and kill my King! They made their choice, and now they leave us none! Stupid, stupid, stupid men!
“Pippin?” Frodo asked uncertainly, surprised by the sudden colour rushing to his cousin’s face.
“Why are people so – so stupid!” Pippin demanded, the steel in his eyes contrasting with the tear marks on his cheeks. “Did they really think they could get away with it? Do they think we’re incompetent?” Pippin sat up, startling Frodo so much he jerked back, taken by surprise at the sudden movement.
Pippin ignored the pain that his actions caused, and spent a moment glaring about him, as though suddenly offended by his surroundings.
“Here I am, taking up Strider’s bed, and why?” he demanded, glaring at his astonished cousin, who was suddenly at a loss as to how to deal with this new side of Pippin. “Because Men are stupid, that’s why!” Pippin answered when no words were forthcoming.
The young knight clutched his side as he leaned closer to Frodo, who pushed himself back against the cushions of the chair in surprise.
“Did they really think they could just walk in here and do what they wanted? That we guards wouldn’t stop them? Well, they were wrong, weren’t they? And now they’re going to pay for it! And poor Strider has to deal with me in his bed, while I know Merry is making himself sick with worry! And for what?” Pippin was nearly growling now with suppressed rage, Frodo staring at him with wide, amazed eyes.
“Ummm,” Frodo finally murmured, his eyes leaving Pippin’s face long enough to gaze at the door longingly.
“Because they’re stupid!” Pippin nearly yelled.
The door opened with a speed that had Frodo sighing in relief as he jumped off the chair and almost ran to Aragorn’s side. The King took in the scene in confused worry, a frown creasing his brow.
“What is going on?” he finally asked, making his way slowly to Pippin’s side, who seemed to have lost some of his anger and was gingerly holding his side. “Pippin? What happened?”
“Its my fault, Strider,” Frodo whispered, coming to stand beside the King and his cousin. “I told him what had been decided about the – about the assassins.”
Aragorn’s scowl deepened, and the gaze he turned on Frodo was disapproving.
“I asked, Strider,” Pippin said in a soft voice that was a far cry from his earlier tone. “I – I needed to know.”
Aragorn sighed deeply, sitting heavily in the chair that Frodo had just vacated and placing his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked back up, his eyes were sorrowful, resigned almost.
“It has to be done, Pippin,” he started, voice suddenly sounding weary.
“I know, Strider,” Pippin cut him off, his free hand absently seeking the necklace about his neck as he bowed his head. “They made their choice, and now they must suffer the consequences. I only wish that you didn’t have to be the one to pass judgement on them. You are so good, and kind.”
A hand, strong and calloused, gently touched his bare shoulder, and Pippin looked up once more, to see his King’s compassionate gaze centred on him.
“That is the responsibility of a King, Sir Peregrin,” Aragorn said softly, squeezing the shoulder lightly. “And I accept it as freely as I do my other duties. My only regret is that the stupidity of these men is causing you so much pain.”
Pippin searched Aragorn’s face, his gaze steady, and finally nodded. As though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he slumped back, laying down with a soft thump and closing his eyes. For a moment Aragorn feared that he had passed out, and quickly touched gentle fingers to Pippin’s neck.
“I- I’m all right,” Pippin whispered, opening his eyes again and turning slightly dazed eyes to his friend. “I’m just tired.”
“Then you should rest,” Aragorn prompted, pulling the blankets ups closer around the hobbit’s shoulders.
“When can I go to my room?” Pippin mumbled, his breath already calming.
“In a little while,” Aragorn promised, resting one hand atop the soft, golden curls. “I want you to rest right now, though, and when you wake up we will discuss moving you.”
“Hmmm,” Pippin agreed, shifting slightly.
For a while, Aragorn sat quietly, Frodo leaning against the arm of the chair, neither one of them speaking. Then Frodo sighed, and the King found himself resting his hand on the older hobbit’s shoulder.
“One day, Frodo,” the King whispered, very softly, his gaze resting on the slumbering form in his bed. “There will not be a need to make such decisions.”
Frodo turned steady eyes to his friend, seeing once more the man he had come to love filled with worry for those he cared for, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
“One day,” he finally agreed, and placed his hand upon the King’s, squeezing gently.
***
“Are you ready?”
At Pippin’s determined look, Aragorn carefully lifted the hobbit into his arms, shifting slightly so the tweenager could rest his head upon the black-clad shoulder.
“All right?” he asked, feeling muscles tense beneath his sensitive fingers and hearing the strained intake of breath.
“All right,” Pippin agreed, albeit faintly.
The pulse at the hobbit’s neck beat rapidly, but the King had known there would be some discomfort involved in the move. He only hoped that the potion he had given Pippin was doing its work and suppressing the worst of the pain. Pulling the blanket that was securely wrapped around the bundle in his arms firmly around Pippin’s shoulders, the King turned and, walking slowly so as not to jar Pippin any more than was necessary, headed out of the bed chamber.
A great cheer assaulted them as they exited the King’s room, and Pippin raised his head. Lined against the walls up and down the corridors, it seemed that every guard and soldier not on duty in the citadel had appeared to watch Pippin’s journey.
“Oh, my,” he heard himself whisper, feeling Aragorn’s shoulders shake with laughter at his reaction.
Waiting for them, smiling at the welcome that awaited their kin and friend, Frodo, Merry and Sam, along with Legolas, Gimli, Faramir and Arwen, stood just outside the door, waiting to escort the duo.
As they walked, Pippin’s eyes widened as the line of guardsmen and knights continued, joined by townsfolk whom also cheered and applauded until they had reached the entrance to the house he shared with Gandalf and the other hobbits.
Even though Aragorn had walked slowly, and Pippin had been dosed before the trip began, the hobbit was trembling slightly with pain as he was laid upon his bed, the smell of fresh sheets and flowers filling his nose.
“Easy, Pippin,” Merry soothed, going to his cousin’s side and taking his hand, watching with a worried eye as Aragorn rechecked the bandages.
There was no blood, and the wound looked to be healing, prompting relieved sighs from all who watched.
“All right?” Aragorn asked again, softly, tousling Pippin’s hair as the other smiled up at him.
“Yes,” Pippin assured him, trying to manoeuvre so he was sitting up, Merry and Frodo quickly propping him up with pillows. “But Aragorn,” he added, a slight wistfulness in his tone. “I am hungry. Can I eat something now?”
Laughter filled the room, a sound that had been all too rare the past few days, and Aragorn could only nod his assent, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. Everything was going to be all right.
END
Pippin slept restlessly for the better part of the morning, his dreams uneasy and his side aching, sweat beading his upper lip. He was as oblivious to Frodo’s gentle urgings to Merry to take some rest as he was to Aragorn’s frequent checks, the strong hands on his neck and forehead blending into the background of his sleep.
When he did wake, sometime shortly before the noon bell was rung, he found himself staring for long moments up at the elaborately painted ceiling, the thoughts in his mind settling into place as sand after a wave. The blankets that covered him were almost too warm in the sunshine that poured in from the unseen window, and he carefully pushed them down, revealing his bare chest.
The necklace, resting against his collarbone, was cool against his skin, and he found himself reaching up absently to wrap his fingers around the delicate wings. Inexplicably, he felt tears start to form in his eyes, and fought them down.
“Pippin?” The voice was gentle, soft as a petal’s touch, and it flowed over him like a soothing balm.
The young hobbit turned his gaze to stare at Frodo, looking down at him worriedly even as he moved from the chair that Merry had previously occupied. He bent over his cousin, laying a tender hand to Pippin’s brow, frowning at the tears that remained unshed in brilliant green eyes.
“Frodo,” Pippin whispered, finding his voice with difficulty around the lump in his throat.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” Frodo asked softly, worry colouring his tone.
“What happened with the assassins?” Pippin asked, his gaze searching the other’s face, sorrow filling his words. “Why did they come?”
The elder hobbit sighed, closing his eyes against the intensity of that stare before moving the chair a bit closer and sitting back down, then taking Pippin’s hand in his own.
“Pippin,” he began, very softly. “They were sent here to kill Strider. They would have, too, if not for you, and everything that we – we went through, that we accomplished, would have ended.” Frodo’s voice was thick, filled with strain. “The – men – they are to be put to…put to death tomorrow at sunset.”
“Nooo,” Pippin whimpered, closing his eyes. Guilt filled him, an overwhelming wave that threatened to drown him in its wake as tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Pippin, hush sweetheart,” Frodo soothed, though his own voice was unsteady. “If Strider allowed these men to live, every assassin left standing would be after him. He – he has to do this, much as I wish it were otherwise.”
“He shouldn’t have to make that decision!” Pippin whispered around the lump that was threatening to choke him. “Too many – too many have been lost already!”
“I know, Pippin, I know,” Frodo agreed, stroking his young cousin’s cheek tenderly, wiping away some of the tears with his bereaved hand as he did so. “But Strider is King, now. He will have to make those decisions, much as we may wish it were otherwise. Believe me, dearest, that it was not an easy decision to make. None of us want this, but –“ Frodo’s voice caught in his throat for a moment before he continued. “Sometimes, we do have to decide between life and death. And those men chose death when they accepted, willingly, to try and kill our friend for something as meaningless as a little gold.”
Pippin nodded mutely, trying to control his tears. He knew what Frodo said was right, but his heart was torn in two between sorrow that more lives were to be lost, and a deep fury that the men had brought this upon themselves.
How dare they? Pippin thought with a sudden, fierce anger that vanished his tears and added a deep flush to his cheeks. How dare they try and take our friend away from us? How DARE they try and kill my King! They made their choice, and now they leave us none! Stupid, stupid, stupid men!
“Pippin?” Frodo asked uncertainly, surprised by the sudden colour rushing to his cousin’s face.
“Why are people so – so stupid!” Pippin demanded, the steel in his eyes contrasting with the tear marks on his cheeks. “Did they really think they could get away with it? Do they think we’re incompetent?” Pippin sat up, startling Frodo so much he jerked back, taken by surprise at the sudden movement.
Pippin ignored the pain that his actions caused, and spent a moment glaring about him, as though suddenly offended by his surroundings.
“Here I am, taking up Strider’s bed, and why?” he demanded, glaring at his astonished cousin, who was suddenly at a loss as to how to deal with this new side of Pippin. “Because Men are stupid, that’s why!” Pippin answered when no words were forthcoming.
The young knight clutched his side as he leaned closer to Frodo, who pushed himself back against the cushions of the chair in surprise.
“Did they really think they could just walk in here and do what they wanted? That we guards wouldn’t stop them? Well, they were wrong, weren’t they? And now they’re going to pay for it! And poor Strider has to deal with me in his bed, while I know Merry is making himself sick with worry! And for what?” Pippin was nearly growling now with suppressed rage, Frodo staring at him with wide, amazed eyes.
“Ummm,” Frodo finally murmured, his eyes leaving Pippin’s face long enough to gaze at the door longingly.
“Because they’re stupid!” Pippin nearly yelled.
The door opened with a speed that had Frodo sighing in relief as he jumped off the chair and almost ran to Aragorn’s side. The King took in the scene in confused worry, a frown creasing his brow.
“What is going on?” he finally asked, making his way slowly to Pippin’s side, who seemed to have lost some of his anger and was gingerly holding his side. “Pippin? What happened?”
“Its my fault, Strider,” Frodo whispered, coming to stand beside the King and his cousin. “I told him what had been decided about the – about the assassins.”
Aragorn’s scowl deepened, and the gaze he turned on Frodo was disapproving.
“I asked, Strider,” Pippin said in a soft voice that was a far cry from his earlier tone. “I – I needed to know.”
Aragorn sighed deeply, sitting heavily in the chair that Frodo had just vacated and placing his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked back up, his eyes were sorrowful, resigned almost.
“It has to be done, Pippin,” he started, voice suddenly sounding weary.
“I know, Strider,” Pippin cut him off, his free hand absently seeking the necklace about his neck as he bowed his head. “They made their choice, and now they must suffer the consequences. I only wish that you didn’t have to be the one to pass judgement on them. You are so good, and kind.”
A hand, strong and calloused, gently touched his bare shoulder, and Pippin looked up once more, to see his King’s compassionate gaze centred on him.
“That is the responsibility of a King, Sir Peregrin,” Aragorn said softly, squeezing the shoulder lightly. “And I accept it as freely as I do my other duties. My only regret is that the stupidity of these men is causing you so much pain.”
Pippin searched Aragorn’s face, his gaze steady, and finally nodded. As though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he slumped back, laying down with a soft thump and closing his eyes. For a moment Aragorn feared that he had passed out, and quickly touched gentle fingers to Pippin’s neck.
“I- I’m all right,” Pippin whispered, opening his eyes again and turning slightly dazed eyes to his friend. “I’m just tired.”
“Then you should rest,” Aragorn prompted, pulling the blankets ups closer around the hobbit’s shoulders.
“When can I go to my room?” Pippin mumbled, his breath already calming.
“In a little while,” Aragorn promised, resting one hand atop the soft, golden curls. “I want you to rest right now, though, and when you wake up we will discuss moving you.”
“Hmmm,” Pippin agreed, shifting slightly.
For a while, Aragorn sat quietly, Frodo leaning against the arm of the chair, neither one of them speaking. Then Frodo sighed, and the King found himself resting his hand on the older hobbit’s shoulder.
“One day, Frodo,” the King whispered, very softly, his gaze resting on the slumbering form in his bed. “There will not be a need to make such decisions.”
Frodo turned steady eyes to his friend, seeing once more the man he had come to love filled with worry for those he cared for, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
“One day,” he finally agreed, and placed his hand upon the King’s, squeezing gently.
***
“Are you ready?”
At Pippin’s determined look, Aragorn carefully lifted the hobbit into his arms, shifting slightly so the tweenager could rest his head upon the black-clad shoulder.
“All right?” he asked, feeling muscles tense beneath his sensitive fingers and hearing the strained intake of breath.
“All right,” Pippin agreed, albeit faintly.
The pulse at the hobbit’s neck beat rapidly, but the King had known there would be some discomfort involved in the move. He only hoped that the potion he had given Pippin was doing its work and suppressing the worst of the pain. Pulling the blanket that was securely wrapped around the bundle in his arms firmly around Pippin’s shoulders, the King turned and, walking slowly so as not to jar Pippin any more than was necessary, headed out of the bed chamber.
A great cheer assaulted them as they exited the King’s room, and Pippin raised his head. Lined against the walls up and down the corridors, it seemed that every guard and soldier not on duty in the citadel had appeared to watch Pippin’s journey.
“Oh, my,” he heard himself whisper, feeling Aragorn’s shoulders shake with laughter at his reaction.
Waiting for them, smiling at the welcome that awaited their kin and friend, Frodo, Merry and Sam, along with Legolas, Gimli, Faramir and Arwen, stood just outside the door, waiting to escort the duo.
As they walked, Pippin’s eyes widened as the line of guardsmen and knights continued, joined by townsfolk whom also cheered and applauded until they had reached the entrance to the house he shared with Gandalf and the other hobbits.
Even though Aragorn had walked slowly, and Pippin had been dosed before the trip began, the hobbit was trembling slightly with pain as he was laid upon his bed, the smell of fresh sheets and flowers filling his nose.
“Easy, Pippin,” Merry soothed, going to his cousin’s side and taking his hand, watching with a worried eye as Aragorn rechecked the bandages.
There was no blood, and the wound looked to be healing, prompting relieved sighs from all who watched.
“All right?” Aragorn asked again, softly, tousling Pippin’s hair as the other smiled up at him.
“Yes,” Pippin assured him, trying to manoeuvre so he was sitting up, Merry and Frodo quickly propping him up with pillows. “But Aragorn,” he added, a slight wistfulness in his tone. “I am hungry. Can I eat something now?”
Laughter filled the room, a sound that had been all too rare the past few days, and Aragorn could only nod his assent, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. Everything was going to be all right.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 10:50 am (UTC)Thank you for such a lovely story.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 12:08 pm (UTC)*cheers with the guards*
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:55 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 04:32 pm (UTC)I just wanted to say firstly that I really enjoyed the interactions between Pippin and Aragorn in this - gentle, loving, and Pippin learns some important lessons, it seems.
I have some minor medical quibbles (but I'm a surgeon whose husband won't let her watch 'ER' with him anymore because I scream at the TV), but it's otherwise a very nice story and I enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 07:30 pm (UTC)But not enough for me to start screaming at the monitor like I do at the TV during ER. :D
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Date: 2006-06-10 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-10 03:11 am (UTC)Thanks for sharing.
GT.
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Date: 2006-06-13 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-11 12:57 am (UTC)Thank you for sharing.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-11 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 09:03 pm (UTC)Do you post these stories on any fanfiction sites (i.e. stories of arda or fanfiction ect.)? I would love to read more and this format is rather difficult for my computer. Email me at graceandglory18@gmail.com please.
I absolutely love your stories.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-05 05:42 am (UTC)I do have my stories posted over at Stories of Arda, under Pipfan. My stories can be found here:
http://www.storiesofarda.com/searchresults.asp
I'm glad you enjoyed!