auntiemeesh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
auntiemeesh) wrote2006-01-16 07:10 pm
auntiemeesh) wrote2006-01-16 07:10 pm
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Pippin Fic: The Luster of Snow
I had all kinds of good intentions about waiting until I had more of this written and betaed before posting any of it, but I just don't seem able to *have* fic and not post it.
Back in December,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slightlytookish made me a lovely Gandalf the Red icon, and I promised her Pippin fic in exchange. Well, I have a hard time writing little ficlets, so this isn't going to be a drabble. It has quickly grown into a multi-chapter story. One of those stories that I've been meaning to write for a very long time now. This is the long promised (and much reworked) Broken Leg Fic from hell. I've made mention in several stories (A Leap in the Dark, A New Kind of Courage, and Hazardous Going to name a few) about Pippin having broken his leg a year or so before the quest started and I've been planning to write that story for *ever* now. I started it back in August and the lovely pipspebble betaed the first chapter for me, and betaed it and betaed it and betaed it, but we just couldn't get it right, so I put it on the back burner until last week. Then I realized that this little fic I'd been toying around with for Slightly Tookish would be the perfect jumping off place. It's not quite in chronological agreement with 'Courage' and the other stories, as to when Pippin broke his leg. I decided that it would work better to have it several years rather than just one year before the Quest, so I'll be making a few alterations to the other stories at some point to make everything agree.
Right, do you think I've given a long enough introduction/explanation now? So, without further ado, Pippin!fic for Slightly Tookish and Broken leg fic for Pipspebble and anyone else who actually remembers me talking about it last summer.
The Luster of Snow
betaed bypipspebble
Chapter One
January, 1415 S.R.
The snow had taken on a pearly luster in the pale light of early afternoon. An event as rare as half a foot of snow falling in the Shire had been met with excited squeals from young lads and lasses who’d never seen so much snow in their short lives. Even older hobbits, well aware of the difficulties this sort of snowfall would cause, could not hold back an admission of the beauty it presented.
At Great Smials, all the younglings had been released from lessons and duties for the afternoon, so that they could romp and play to their heart’s content. Pippin, who also wished to head out for a good romp, was still inside. Thain Ferumbras was ill, dying really. He’d been ill for nearly two years now, and the end was very near. Pippin’s father, Paladin, had gradually taken on more and more of the Thain’s duties, until by now he was doing nearly everything but signing the papers. Pippin, too, had found his duties increasing. As his father’s only son, he would someday become Thain himself. In the meantime he had assumed a position that was half assistant, half apprentice to his father. Not yet twenty-five, he found it sometimes (well, almost always, to be honest) rather trying to be kept indoors, cooped up with books and duties all day.
Today was one of those days. Paladin was meeting with Thain Ferumbras’ healers and Pippin was in his study, sorting through old records, trying to find documentation to back up a decision his father had recently made, which was being questioned by certain unmentionable elders who were determined to make the transition of power as difficult as possible.
It was hard to concentrate, though, with all the noise coming in through the windows. Sighing, Pippin stood to close the shutters but paused, his attention caught by the sight of the children running and playing in the snow.
“Pippin?”
The sound of his father’s voice brought Pippin out of his reverie. Judging by the change in the light outside, a good half hour had passed while he stood mesmerized by the window. Feeling his cheeks warm, he returned to his desk. “I’m sorry, Da. I’ll get right back to work.” Sitting down with a bump, he bowed his head over the scattered papers, determined not to get distracted again.
There was a long moment of silence and Pippin was beginning to think his father had left the room, when Paladin gave a soft cough right behind his shoulder.
“Go on, son. You’ve worked at this long enough for one day.” There was a weariness in his father’s voice that made Pippin want to cringe, although he held still.
“I’m not done, yet, Da,” he protested, against his own desire for freedom as much as his father’s offer. “Here, look at this,” he pulled over a thick ledger covered in cracked leather. Opening it to a marked page near the back, he pointed. “In 1242, Fortinbras the First encountered a similar difficulty when some of the oldest tunnels in the Smials began to show signs of instability.”
He would have continued but Paladin cut him off. Shaking his head, the older hobbit smiled as he clapped his son on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job, Pippin, but it’s time to take a break. You need some fresh air; you’re looking a bit peaked and your mother would never forgive me if you fell ill from too much studying.”
Pippin continued to argue, reaching for another heavy tome, until his father clapped hands on either side of his shoulders. “Go on, off with you, now. The books will still be here when you get back.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Pippin hesitated a final moment, then bolted for the door, throwing a thank you over his shoulder. Without pausing for thought, he ran along the corridor between his family’s private suite and the kitchens, skidding to a slightly breathless stop just in time to prevent himself from sending a middle-aged laundress crashing to the floor with a basket of clean linens.
“Here now, young master,” the matron scolded as she attempted to regain her composure, “you oughtn’t be runnin’ through the halls like some wild thing. Not at your age!”
“I’m sorry, Amaryllis,” Pippin gasped, taking the basket from her hands. “Here, let me help you with this.”
“Impertinence!” Amaryllis snapped, retrieving the basket from Pippin’s hands. “You just go on about your business, Master Pippin, and leave the laundry to me.” Despite her harsh tone, she was unable to hold back a smile. Pippin could charm the skin off a snake, and he knew it.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered with a grin, and took off once again, at a pace that was only slightly slower. Around the corner and through the kitchen he went, stopping briefly to grab a loaf and some dried fruit before picking up speed again as he veered through the back hallway, until he came to an intersection. Turning right, he headed back into the Smials, tracing a labyrinthine path to his room.
Once safely there, he grabbed a small, worn knapsack from the back of his wardrobe and set it on his bed. Into this bag he threw a small pouch of coins, a water bottle, and the food he’d liberated from the kitchen. Pulling the top closed, he rummaged through his clothes press until he found a pair of thick woolen stockings, way down at the bottom. Turning to the wardrobe next, he found the old pair of boots he’d last worn three years ago. He looked at them with a jaundiced eye, but it was too cold to go walking through the snow without some sort of foot-covering; sighing, he pulled the stockings on and stamped his feet into the boots, grimacing in distaste at the binding sensation. Lastly, he shrugged into his warmest coat and pulled his cloak on over it. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he left his room and headed for the private door his family generally used for their comings and goings.
Once outside, he inhaled deeply of the cold, crisp air and shrugged aside all of the concerns he’d been carrying around for the past several months. They would be waiting for him upon his return, he knew, but for the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. For this one afternoon, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted right now was to go for a long ramble in the woods east of Tuckborough. It was a lengthy walk and the sun had passed the zenith some time since, but he’d been cooped inside far too long, fettered with familial responsibilities and sadness. He’d come to know Cousin Ferumbras well in the past few years and it hurt him to see the older hobbit lingering in such pain. Now that Pippin was outside, however, he was going to make the most of it.
Whistling cheerfully, he set out down the hill to the road leading into Tuckborough. Although he found the boots cumbersome and annoying, they did not slow him down significantly and he made good time, reaching the thriving town just as hunger began to hit.
“Well, look who it is, Master Peregrin Took himself!”
“Hullo, Gordie,” Pippin said, clasping his friend’s hand. “I’m surprised to see you out on such a cold day.”
“You’re a fine one to speak,” Gordie retorted, conspicuously eyeing Pippin’s boots. His own feet were bare and looking rather cold.
“I’ve the whole afternoon free,” Pippin said, unable to contain the burbling excitement in his voice. “I’m off to the woods, if you’d like to join me.”
“You’re daft,” the other hobbit laughed. “I’m freezing. Hobbits weren’t made for the snow. I’m just running to the market for me mam and then it’s straight home.” Gordie suddenly grinned. “You should come home with me. Mam’ll have a nice pot o’ stew ready for supper and she never minds havin’ an extra mouth to feed.”
“Thanks, Gordie,” Pippin answered, “but I want to be outside today. I’ve been cooped up in that dark, stuffy little study for weeks now and I just want to feel the wind and snow on my face.”
“Well, be seein’ you, then.” With a wave, Gordie trudged off, pulling his snow-covered cloak tight about him. Pippin smiled at his friend’s back for a moment before moving along, himself. He’d thought briefly about stopping in at the Sheaf and Shears for a bite and a sip, but thought he’d better wait until after his walk. It would be dark all too soon and he didn’t want to waste a single precious moment. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a handful of dried fruit and munched on that as he walked along.
He soon left the town behind and was deep under the trees, lost in a reverie. There was a certain stillness to the late afternoon; a hush that was full of the soft sounds of wind ruffling through the pine boughs, the susurrus of snow hitting snow, the creak of limbs bending under the weight of that snow. It felt to Pippin as though the entire world had paused with him for a moment. Walking idly through the woods, his worries and fears quieted and all that was left was a gentle peace.
tbc
Chapter two
Back in December,
slightlytookish made me a lovely Gandalf the Red icon, and I promised her Pippin fic in exchange. Well, I have a hard time writing little ficlets, so this isn't going to be a drabble. It has quickly grown into a multi-chapter story. One of those stories that I've been meaning to write for a very long time now. This is the long promised (and much reworked) Broken Leg Fic from hell. I've made mention in several stories (A Leap in the Dark, A New Kind of Courage, and Hazardous Going to name a few) about Pippin having broken his leg a year or so before the quest started and I've been planning to write that story for *ever* now. I started it back in August and the lovely pipspebble betaed the first chapter for me, and betaed it and betaed it and betaed it, but we just couldn't get it right, so I put it on the back burner until last week. Then I realized that this little fic I'd been toying around with for Slightly Tookish would be the perfect jumping off place. It's not quite in chronological agreement with 'Courage' and the other stories, as to when Pippin broke his leg. I decided that it would work better to have it several years rather than just one year before the Quest, so I'll be making a few alterations to the other stories at some point to make everything agree.Right, do you think I've given a long enough introduction/explanation now? So, without further ado, Pippin!fic for Slightly Tookish and Broken leg fic for Pipspebble and anyone else who actually remembers me talking about it last summer.
The Luster of Snow
betaed by
pipspebbleChapter One
January, 1415 S.R.
The snow had taken on a pearly luster in the pale light of early afternoon. An event as rare as half a foot of snow falling in the Shire had been met with excited squeals from young lads and lasses who’d never seen so much snow in their short lives. Even older hobbits, well aware of the difficulties this sort of snowfall would cause, could not hold back an admission of the beauty it presented.
At Great Smials, all the younglings had been released from lessons and duties for the afternoon, so that they could romp and play to their heart’s content. Pippin, who also wished to head out for a good romp, was still inside. Thain Ferumbras was ill, dying really. He’d been ill for nearly two years now, and the end was very near. Pippin’s father, Paladin, had gradually taken on more and more of the Thain’s duties, until by now he was doing nearly everything but signing the papers. Pippin, too, had found his duties increasing. As his father’s only son, he would someday become Thain himself. In the meantime he had assumed a position that was half assistant, half apprentice to his father. Not yet twenty-five, he found it sometimes (well, almost always, to be honest) rather trying to be kept indoors, cooped up with books and duties all day.
Today was one of those days. Paladin was meeting with Thain Ferumbras’ healers and Pippin was in his study, sorting through old records, trying to find documentation to back up a decision his father had recently made, which was being questioned by certain unmentionable elders who were determined to make the transition of power as difficult as possible.
It was hard to concentrate, though, with all the noise coming in through the windows. Sighing, Pippin stood to close the shutters but paused, his attention caught by the sight of the children running and playing in the snow.
“Pippin?”
The sound of his father’s voice brought Pippin out of his reverie. Judging by the change in the light outside, a good half hour had passed while he stood mesmerized by the window. Feeling his cheeks warm, he returned to his desk. “I’m sorry, Da. I’ll get right back to work.” Sitting down with a bump, he bowed his head over the scattered papers, determined not to get distracted again.
There was a long moment of silence and Pippin was beginning to think his father had left the room, when Paladin gave a soft cough right behind his shoulder.
“Go on, son. You’ve worked at this long enough for one day.” There was a weariness in his father’s voice that made Pippin want to cringe, although he held still.
“I’m not done, yet, Da,” he protested, against his own desire for freedom as much as his father’s offer. “Here, look at this,” he pulled over a thick ledger covered in cracked leather. Opening it to a marked page near the back, he pointed. “In 1242, Fortinbras the First encountered a similar difficulty when some of the oldest tunnels in the Smials began to show signs of instability.”
He would have continued but Paladin cut him off. Shaking his head, the older hobbit smiled as he clapped his son on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job, Pippin, but it’s time to take a break. You need some fresh air; you’re looking a bit peaked and your mother would never forgive me if you fell ill from too much studying.”
Pippin continued to argue, reaching for another heavy tome, until his father clapped hands on either side of his shoulders. “Go on, off with you, now. The books will still be here when you get back.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Pippin hesitated a final moment, then bolted for the door, throwing a thank you over his shoulder. Without pausing for thought, he ran along the corridor between his family’s private suite and the kitchens, skidding to a slightly breathless stop just in time to prevent himself from sending a middle-aged laundress crashing to the floor with a basket of clean linens.
“Here now, young master,” the matron scolded as she attempted to regain her composure, “you oughtn’t be runnin’ through the halls like some wild thing. Not at your age!”
“I’m sorry, Amaryllis,” Pippin gasped, taking the basket from her hands. “Here, let me help you with this.”
“Impertinence!” Amaryllis snapped, retrieving the basket from Pippin’s hands. “You just go on about your business, Master Pippin, and leave the laundry to me.” Despite her harsh tone, she was unable to hold back a smile. Pippin could charm the skin off a snake, and he knew it.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered with a grin, and took off once again, at a pace that was only slightly slower. Around the corner and through the kitchen he went, stopping briefly to grab a loaf and some dried fruit before picking up speed again as he veered through the back hallway, until he came to an intersection. Turning right, he headed back into the Smials, tracing a labyrinthine path to his room.
Once safely there, he grabbed a small, worn knapsack from the back of his wardrobe and set it on his bed. Into this bag he threw a small pouch of coins, a water bottle, and the food he’d liberated from the kitchen. Pulling the top closed, he rummaged through his clothes press until he found a pair of thick woolen stockings, way down at the bottom. Turning to the wardrobe next, he found the old pair of boots he’d last worn three years ago. He looked at them with a jaundiced eye, but it was too cold to go walking through the snow without some sort of foot-covering; sighing, he pulled the stockings on and stamped his feet into the boots, grimacing in distaste at the binding sensation. Lastly, he shrugged into his warmest coat and pulled his cloak on over it. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he left his room and headed for the private door his family generally used for their comings and goings.
Once outside, he inhaled deeply of the cold, crisp air and shrugged aside all of the concerns he’d been carrying around for the past several months. They would be waiting for him upon his return, he knew, but for the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. For this one afternoon, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted right now was to go for a long ramble in the woods east of Tuckborough. It was a lengthy walk and the sun had passed the zenith some time since, but he’d been cooped inside far too long, fettered with familial responsibilities and sadness. He’d come to know Cousin Ferumbras well in the past few years and it hurt him to see the older hobbit lingering in such pain. Now that Pippin was outside, however, he was going to make the most of it.
Whistling cheerfully, he set out down the hill to the road leading into Tuckborough. Although he found the boots cumbersome and annoying, they did not slow him down significantly and he made good time, reaching the thriving town just as hunger began to hit.
“Well, look who it is, Master Peregrin Took himself!”
“Hullo, Gordie,” Pippin said, clasping his friend’s hand. “I’m surprised to see you out on such a cold day.”
“You’re a fine one to speak,” Gordie retorted, conspicuously eyeing Pippin’s boots. His own feet were bare and looking rather cold.
“I’ve the whole afternoon free,” Pippin said, unable to contain the burbling excitement in his voice. “I’m off to the woods, if you’d like to join me.”
“You’re daft,” the other hobbit laughed. “I’m freezing. Hobbits weren’t made for the snow. I’m just running to the market for me mam and then it’s straight home.” Gordie suddenly grinned. “You should come home with me. Mam’ll have a nice pot o’ stew ready for supper and she never minds havin’ an extra mouth to feed.”
“Thanks, Gordie,” Pippin answered, “but I want to be outside today. I’ve been cooped up in that dark, stuffy little study for weeks now and I just want to feel the wind and snow on my face.”
“Well, be seein’ you, then.” With a wave, Gordie trudged off, pulling his snow-covered cloak tight about him. Pippin smiled at his friend’s back for a moment before moving along, himself. He’d thought briefly about stopping in at the Sheaf and Shears for a bite and a sip, but thought he’d better wait until after his walk. It would be dark all too soon and he didn’t want to waste a single precious moment. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a handful of dried fruit and munched on that as he walked along.
He soon left the town behind and was deep under the trees, lost in a reverie. There was a certain stillness to the late afternoon; a hush that was full of the soft sounds of wind ruffling through the pine boughs, the susurrus of snow hitting snow, the creak of limbs bending under the weight of that snow. It felt to Pippin as though the entire world had paused with him for a moment. Walking idly through the woods, his worries and fears quieted and all that was left was a gentle peace.
tbc
Chapter two