A Hard Day's Work Written: March 26, 2004 For Kiltie, on the occasion of her birthday. With much love. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “This is a most agreeable way to spend an afternoon,” said Pippin. Merry looked up from his pipe and arched an eyebrow. Pippin was lounging against a jut of broken parapet, one hand behind his head and the other keeping his chunk of salt pork from straying too far from his mouth. His eyes were closed, his face turned up into the sun. The breeze ruffled the curls on his sprawling feet. Merry grinned. “You should remember to send a note of thanks to our host.” Pippin chuckled around his mouthful. “Somehow I don’t think the gesture would be particularly appreciated.” There was another muffled crash of falling rocks, the strange warble of Ent-shouts drifting over on the wind. Merry’s hair blew in his face as he turned to peer over the wall. “What are they doing over there?” “Who cares?” said Pippin. “We took the tower for them, let them do with it what they wish.” Merry eyed him. “We took the tower?” Pippin’s lips were shiny with grease as they smiled. “I seem to recall dispatching several crucially important Orcs with my deadly aim.” Merry snorted smoke from his nose. “I seem to recall you kicking me in the face trying to keep your balance, and throwing the apples from your jacket after dropping half your arsenal.” Pippin made a dismissive gesture with his rasher, and then shoved the rest of it into his mouth. “I wouldn’t know, Cousin. The mind recalls little from the thick of battle.” Merry laughed. “Is that so?” The sudden echo of Orc-shrieks and the stench of burning wood flashed into his mind and his laughter faded as quickly as it had welled up. His right hand curled in reflex,its palm scraped raw and stinging. He hadn’t felt the stones he threw leaving their marks in his skin. He’d been too busy biting back the wild sounds that burned inside of his chest. “Do you think that was a battle, then? Are we part of the war now?” Pippin opened his eyes. The noonday sun split and reformed in their wide green crystal. For a moment, the clouds rolling by overhead snagged and smudged across their pale brilliance. Then Pip blinked twice, and looked over at Merry with a smile. “We did our part today, you and me, and more than anyone expected. I think we’ve seen all of this war we need ever see.” Merry smiled, grateful once again for Pippin’s unique brand of easy reassurance. He leaned back against the stones and relaxed, pulling on his pipe and wiggling his toes in the sunlight. “Well, the next thing I’d like to see is a hot bath and a soft bed.” “I don’t think we shall have either of those until Gandalf arrives, and then it will be likely be a basin by the river and a roll of blankets till we get back to the Shire.” This was sadly true, judging by their previous travel history. “Well, at least--" a huge yawn cut Merry’s words in half-- "at least a nap, then. Surely I can sneak one of those in before the next round of lunch.” “You tire too quickly, old hobbit,” said Pippin, shaking his head in dismay. “Two mugs of ale and you’re nodding like Auntie Violet over her knitting.” Merry cracked an eye. “Give me one good reason why I should stay awake.” “I might have drunk all the rest by the time you wake up.” “All thirty barrels of it? Try again, Cousin.” “You have to finish celebrating our victory with me.” Merry shook his head and closed his eyes, setting his pipe down beside his empty mug. He crossed his arms over his full belly and sighed, warm and lethargic in the sun. He was just beginning to dream of the tinkling rush of the Brandywine when a thumb poked directly into the ticklish spot below his left armpit. He spluttered up with a blurted oath to find Pippin leaning over him, laughing. “Come on, Merry, don’t go to sleep!” “Pippin, it’s been rather a tiring sort of day for me, alright? I’m not used to spending my mornings besieging the fortresses of evil wizards. It takes a bit out of you. Don’t you feel that? Don’t you need to unwind?” Pippin was balanced over Merry’s reclining form, elbows locked one on either side. He looked down into Merry’s face and grinned again, an altogether different shade of smirk. “That’s what I was hoping for.” Merry became aware of Pippin’s full weight stretched over him, heavy and purposeful, and the sleep evaporated from his brain as his eyebrows shot up. “Pippin! We’re on top of the walls of Isengard! What on earth are you thinking?” Pippin’s brow knotted in a tiny pout. “I dunno, Merry! I just… I’m not used to this either and I’m all bunched up inside from it, it’s like I’m still fighting and my head won’t stop buzzing and I just need to..." He unlocked his elbows, dropped his face close to Merry’s and slid his body into a smoother fit as he grinned. “Unwind.” Merry gasped at the sudden contact of Pippin’s pelvis with his own, moving slowly and already unmistakably proclaiming its intent. He opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp upward slide stopped the words in his throat and his hands scratched on the stone beneath him. Pippin smiled at that, smug and insistent, and that look made Merry’s legs draw up of their own accord until his feet sat flat on the floor and Pippin gained a better angle between his thighs. He felt his face growing warm and flushed, ale and pipeweed and persistent Peregrin, and he closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. “Pip -- we shouldn’t -- Gandalf is--” Pippin dropped his head, auburn curls tickling at Merry’s nose, and nipped at Merry’s throat. His lips left sticky smears down the skin. “C’mon Merry, I won’t take long—" He chuckled, the breath making Merry jerk and shudder— “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just— I need this now, alright, please? I need you now.” The breathy tension in his voice was making it difficult for Merry to recall proper behavior, but the first touch of Pippin’s fingers on the buttons of his trousers snapped him back to attention. He turned his head and shot a frantic glance behind them, as if he expected to see the golden eyes of Treebeard peeking back at him between the notches in the parapet. Boo-ra-rooom, what are you up to now Master Meriadoc? He squirmed a little away from Pip’s hand and tried to pull himself up. “Pippin, love, let’s go back to the storeroom, there’s straw there and blankets and ohhh...” Pippin’s tongue slipped neatly around his earlobe and licked away whatever the rest of the sentence had been. Merry’s elbows gave and he fell back with a little oomph!, luckily prevented from smacking his head on the wall by the fingers Pippin had threaded tightly into his hair. Before he could get his breath back, Pippin pushed forward and kissed him. Merry couldn’t stop the small sound that came out of his mouth, and his arm drew up tight around Pippin’s back as his eyes closed. Pippin’s mouth was still slippery with traces of grease, salty-sweet and breath thick with ale. His same obstinate Pippin, as straightforward as he was seductive, but with a strange hum beneath his skin that made Merry’s heart lurch into the same rhythm as Pippin’s own pounding heart. His knees spread wider and he clenched a handful of white shirt, holding on as Pippin eased him down onto his back. Pippin sat up and let out a long breath, red-faced and smiling. “Alright, Mer?” Merry nodded, lacking the breath to speak. Pippin drew his shirt over his head and laid it aside, and Merry could see that his hands were shaking. At that moment, Merry couldn’t care if every Ent in Isengard were watching, and Saruman taking notes from his tower. He just wanted Pippin back where he could feel him as soon as possible, until he was sleeping slack in Merry’s arms in the afternoon sun. Pippin stretched out over him, hands stroking the yellow curls back from Merry’s face. He was smiling, but the corners of his mouth were trembling. “Merry,” he whispered. “It’s alright, love,” said Merry, soothing hands across Pippin’s back. “It’s alright. Go on.” Pippin’s breath hitched and he pressed his face into Merry’s neck, letting out a shuddering sigh. His hands slid down Merry’s chest, rucking his shirt up and over his belly, and together they got it up and off and dropped to the side. Pippin’s movements grew more urgent and less focused, and they both shoved and flailed until two pairs of trousers joined the shirts and the stone was warm and rough beneath Merry’s back. Pippin’s skin was as hot as the sun in Merry’s eyes, his hands grabbing and desperate in Merry’s hair, his tongue fast and rough in Merry’s mouth. Merry drew his knees up again, this time to hold Pip still, to guide him down and forward until Pippin’s hands clutched into fists on either side of Merry’s head and his forehead pressed into Merry’s collarbone. Merry wound one leg around Pippin’s waist and drew him in, palms open and soothing on Pippin’s sweat-slick back. Pippin barked out a yelp and shoved forward, pushing against Merry’s stifled yell. True to his word he drove in fast and furious, fever pitch from the first thrust. His body rocked and strained against Merry, and Merry held on and arched into that tight friction until his eyes rolled closed and his head tilted back on the stone. His breath was whistling, half-smothered by Pippin’s weight on his chest and Pippin’s hair in his face. Pippin gasped against his neck, each breath etched with a high-pitched whine, choking harder and faster until Merry reached out blindly and braced one palm on the wall, holding them both together as Pippin shook and screamed and finally collapsed limp and trembling on his chest. If the stone beneath Merry’s hand tore at his skin, he didn’t feel it. When Pippin at last raised his head and blinked slowly at Merry through pale cloudy eyes, Merry smiled and smoothed the wet strands away from his forehead. “Alright, Pip? How do you feel?” Pippin drew in a long, easy breath, and smiled as he sighed. “Unwound.” Merry’s heart smiled, and his face soon matched. “Think you can wind yourself up enough to get your clothes back on?” “Certainly. Just as soon as I have a nap on your belly.” Merry chuckled softly, twirling an auburn curl between his fingers. “We should get dressed, Pippin. Gandalf could arrive at any time.” “We’ve earned a rest today, haven’t we?” “Yes, I’m sure Gandalf would agree. However I don’t think he’d count on meeting us at quite this level of restfulness. Get your trousers on, Pip, and we can have a nap.” But Pippin’s eyes were already closing. “Just for a few minutes, Merry. It’ll be time for lunch anyway. I’m hungry.” His heartbeat was slowing against Merry’s stomach, his mouth going slack and soft around his words. Merry watched his face, and laid a hand on his cooling back. “Alright, love. You rest awhile. Go to sleep.” Pippin sighed, already gone, and murmured into the skin of Merry’s belly. “Din' you wanna sleep too?” Merry put his other hand behind his head and looked up into the clear blue sky. The sun shone warm and brilliant into his blinking eyes. He smiled. “No, Pippin. I’m not tired anymore.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ home