Pippin fic
Feb. 13th, 2006 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntiemeeshHere it is, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dreamflower02. Sorry you had to wait so long for this little bunny bunny.
This takes place directly after the last chapter of 'Pippin the Troll Slayer,' and fits into ‘A New Kind of Courage’ at about chapters five through eight, and is a response to Dreamflower’s request for Pippin’s sudden memory of Treebeard and the assault on Isengard.
Pippin the Troll Slayer
A New Kind of Courage
Dream a Little Dream
Pippin’s happiness at finally seeing Merry faltered as he began to look more closely at his cousin. Merry was pale with bruised, haunted eyes, and looked far too thin. And when Pippin asked him why he looked that way, his cousin went off on a rant that made no sense whatsoever to Pippin. But before he could interject a word, Merry suddenly paled even further, taking on a slightly greenish cast, scrambled off Pippin’s cot, and doubled over the chamber pot, vomiting violently.
Injuries and all, Pippin would have gone to him had Gimli not held him down. “Merry!” he cried, struggling against the dwarf, but although Gimli’s hold on him was gentle, it was also unyielding. Lacking the strength to continue the struggle, Pippin forced his body to relax, relieved at the very least to see Strider tending his ill cousin.
“What – what’s wrong with him?” he asked, his voice sounding small and lost, even to his own ears.
“Do not fret,” the Ranger answered, even as he placed a damp cloth on Merry’s neck. “He is tired and overwrought. I am afraid it has not been easy for him, being separated from you and the rest of us these past weeks.”
Merry seemed to be done with being ill, for the time being at least, and Strider broke off his explanation to help the weakly shaking hobbit cross the tent to his cot. Not entirely reassured, but unwilling to voice his concerns further in front of the dwarf, whom he still did not trust entirely, Pippin took refuge in light-hearted chatter.
“He does talk an awful lot of nonsense, our Merry,” he said, aiming his comments to the dwarf while Strider settled the hobbit in question. He shifted restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position. “All that going on about climbing under mountains and talking trees. Trees that can talk!” he grumbled, giving up the attempt to find easement.
“I assure you, it is not just talk, my young friend,” Gimli answered, adjusting Pippin’s pillows and helping him settle. “You most certainly did spend several days amongst the ents, leading us a merry chase, I might add.”
Still dubious, Pippin wanted to hear more, but his eyes had grown heavy and his thoughts dim. “You’ll have to tell me about that, one of these days,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. If Gimli replied he never heard it, falling heavily into slumber.
He only slept an hour or so before being gently awakened to find himself face to face with Legolas, the elf looking at him in concern.
“I have brought you some food, Pippin,” Legolas said, speaking in a clear but hushed voice. “I know you are very tired, but it would be well for you to eat something before you sleep for the night.”
Pippin blinked groggily, but complied, allowing Legolas to help him into a slightly more upright position, propped up on pillows. A tray was placed across his lap, and he stared down at a bowl of stew and a soft heel of bread. “Thank you,” he murmured, still not entirely at ease with the elf, but finding him easier company than the dwarf, who had disappeared while he slept.
Before eating, however, Pippin turned his head to look at Merry. He was reassured by his cousin’s steady breathing and relaxed features, although Merry still looked ill to his eyes.
“What did Merry mean, earlier,” Pippin asked as he began cautiously sipping the hot stew, “when he said we all left him alone in Minas Tirith to go off towards certain death?”
“He was – injured in battle,” Legolas replied, “and unable to accompany us when we came on this mission.”
Pippin noticed the elf’s hesitation when claiming that Merry was injured, but could not put any meaning to the hesitation. What he felt most strongly was concern for his cousin, upon learning of injury, but Merry seemed whole, if not entirely hale, so Pippin decided to shelve that for a later conversation. His head was aching abominably, he realized, and his appetite had fled. Weakly pushing at the tray, he closed his eyes, wanting only to return to sleep. He was barely aware of the tray being lifted off the bed and his pillows being rearranged in order for him to lie at a more comfortable angle for sleep.
This time when Pippin slept, he also dreamed. At first the dreams were vague, half understood images that made little sense but filled him with fear and regret, bringing him awake with a cry on his lips. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” he shouted, images of Gandalf being pulled down into a chasm by a fiery…thing. Within minutes, Legolas was back at his side, soothing and reassuring him until sleep took over once again.
He had the same dream over, only this time, even as he dreamed it, he recognized the dank darkness of Moria and understood that this was memory more than dream. It still filled him with sorrow and regret, but this time, knowing Gandalf somehow survived that fall, it was not distressing enough to jolt him out of sleep.
Soon after, the scene changed, and Pippin found himself crawling in a panic, trying to escape notice and capture on a dark night filled with fire, horses and arrows, Merry at his side. A very distant part of him recognized that this, too, was a memory, something already done and over, but he was too caught up in the moment to set aside the fear. He and Merry crawled and then staggeringly ran away from the chaos of screams and shouts, the scent of horses and blood and filth, taking sanctuary under the sheltering overhang of tree limbs. The dream smudged then, time blurring, until he and Merry were walking along the bank of a stream and then up a steep hill, heading towards light and fresh air. Beside him, Merry made a comment about the changing wind to which Pippin replied that it was a pity the sun was almost certainly going to disappear again, returning the forest to a dull, dingy place. “What a pity!” he said. “I almost felt I liked the place.”
“Almost felt you liked the forest!” an unfamiliar voice boomed, and that was when Pippin woke once again. It was early morning, and Strider was entering the tent, bearing a tray.
“Ah, I see you are already awake. Good.” The ranger smiled at him and set the tray down. “I will just have a look at your injuries and then leave you to your breakfast.”
Pippin turned to look at Merry, only to find his cousin still fast asleep. Before he could call his name, Strider stopped him with a gentle touch to the arm. “Merry is rather tired still, Pippin. It would be better if you let him sleep until he wakes on his own.”
“Oh,” Pippin answered, disappointed. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighed, missing Merry’s company, although his cousin was sleeping only a few feet from him. Obediently, he turned his attention back to Strider, answering his few questions as honestly as he could. His head ached and he still felt dizzy when he moved incautiously, but the aches in his body were receding. “Can I get out of bed, today, Strider?” he asked plaintively, beyond tired of forced idleness.
“Not today, my friend,” Strider replied kindly. “I know you are feeling much better, but your body still needs rest in order to heal. In fact,” he said with the start of a smile at one corner of his mouth, “I suspect you’ll find that once you finish eating you will be ready for sleep again. No, for today, you will lie quietly on your cot and rest. If you feel up to it, you may sit up for short periods of time, as long as someone helps you up and down. We’ll see how you do with that before planning to move any mountains.” He picked up a gently steaming mug of something. “Now, drink up, and then eat your breakfast.”
Wanting to argue, but knowing the futility of such a gesture, Pippin did as he was told. After eating a small breakfast, he was surprised to find that Strider had been right. He felt sweaty and tired, and was only too happy when the ranger helped him readjust his pillows for sleep.
His sleep was light, with the same dream/memory images flitting through it but not intruding heavily on Pippin’s awareness. He woke an hour or so later, feeling hungry again, and was pleased to find a plate of sliced fruit and cheese sitting by his cot. Despite his hunger, however, he was only able to nibble on a few slices of apple before sleep reclaimed him.
The next time he awoke, Strider was sitting on the edge of Merry’s cot and the two of them were having a quiet but intense conversation. Merry looked very pale and distressed, speaking in bursts and fits, with long pauses at odd intervals. As Pippin listened, he realized that Merry was describing nightmares to Strider.
“Oh, Merry!” he exclaimed in dismay after his cousin described a particularly gruesome dream involving Frodo and Sam. He fought back tears as the dream touched on his own fears for the safety of their elder cousin and his faithful companion.
“Don’t worry, Pip. They’re only dreams,” Merry soothed, but Pippin was looking at Strider, who looked anything but reassuring. There followed a vague and confusing conversation dealing with the injury Merry had received in Minas Tirith, which no one had yet explained to Pippin in any sort of satisfactory detail. This conversation was interrupted, not too regrettably in Pippin’s estimate, by the arrival of a young Man carrying a loaded tray, which he announced awkwardly was for the perian.
Strider left the tent shortly thereafter, leaving a few words of caution for Merry and reminding Pippin in no uncertain terms that he was to stay in bed. The two hobbits spoke lightly while Merry helped Pippin into a somewhat upright position, Pippin trying to hide the dizziness he felt when Merry shifted him. They ate, then, Pippin pleased with the fact that he was able to finish a decent sized meal for once, although he still didn’t eat as much as Merry.
Much as he hated to admit it, he thought to himself a few minutes later, Strider was probably right about his need to stay in bed. He was once again feeling exhausted and dizzy, just from the short amount of time he’d been awake. Gratefully allowing Merry to help him get settled, he closed his eyes and drifted off.
Once more, he found himself dreaming, this time making his way through Fangorn forest with Treebeard and Merry. Within the dream, Pippin felt as though he were an observer, sitting somewhere just outside of the action, watching as his dream self learned about entwives, drank ent draught, and spent days with Quickbeam, waiting for the entmoot to come to a decision. He was pulled back into himself then, losing his awareness of the dream as dream/memory.
They were in Isengard, watching in awed silence as the ents tore down the walls and pulled up the ground in a biting, heaving fury. Pippin felt the fear as the waters rose, he and Merry frantically searching for high ground so as not to be washed away. He felt the joy when Gandalf came galloping through the ruined gates, and the even greater joy some time later when Gandalf returned with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, as well as a multitude ofothers that Pippin did not recognize. Time lurched and he was standing outside of Orthanc, at the base of a flight of stairs, watching Gandalf and Saruman verbally spar with one another. And then he was running, quick feet carrying him to an orb that had been thrown from the tower. Time lurched once again and Pippin was stealing that same orb from Gandalf while the wizard slept, and then there was pain - terrible, mind-shattering pain and fear.
“Pippin? Pippin!”
Merry’s voice was thick with a fear of his own and Pippin tried to wake up and answer the raw need he felt wafting off his cousin. He blinked a few times before closing his eyes again, mumbling a protest against the bright sunlight shafting into the tent. It was only when Merry tried to pull away, to close the tent flap, that Pippin realized he was clutching his cousin’s hand as if for dear life.
The fear was gradually ebbing away, leaving a horribly bad headache in its place. Still holding onto Merry’s hand, he began to relax, just a little, just enough to realize; he’d remembered. Not everything, of that he was certain. But a good bit. Talking trees, indeed. He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so fragile, as if his head might break if he moved the wrong way. The memories weren’t all good; truthfully, most of them were terrifying and deeply upsetting, but they were his memories, and the fact that he’d gotten them back allowed him to believe, for the first time, that he might get the rest back as well. Taking strength from that knowledge, he gathered himself together and opened his eyes to look up at his Merry.
the end
dreamflower02. Sorry you had to wait so long for this little bunny bunny.This takes place directly after the last chapter of 'Pippin the Troll Slayer,' and fits into ‘A New Kind of Courage’ at about chapters five through eight, and is a response to Dreamflower’s request for Pippin’s sudden memory of Treebeard and the assault on Isengard.
Pippin the Troll Slayer
A New Kind of Courage
Dream a Little Dream
Pippin’s happiness at finally seeing Merry faltered as he began to look more closely at his cousin. Merry was pale with bruised, haunted eyes, and looked far too thin. And when Pippin asked him why he looked that way, his cousin went off on a rant that made no sense whatsoever to Pippin. But before he could interject a word, Merry suddenly paled even further, taking on a slightly greenish cast, scrambled off Pippin’s cot, and doubled over the chamber pot, vomiting violently.
Injuries and all, Pippin would have gone to him had Gimli not held him down. “Merry!” he cried, struggling against the dwarf, but although Gimli’s hold on him was gentle, it was also unyielding. Lacking the strength to continue the struggle, Pippin forced his body to relax, relieved at the very least to see Strider tending his ill cousin.
“What – what’s wrong with him?” he asked, his voice sounding small and lost, even to his own ears.
“Do not fret,” the Ranger answered, even as he placed a damp cloth on Merry’s neck. “He is tired and overwrought. I am afraid it has not been easy for him, being separated from you and the rest of us these past weeks.”
Merry seemed to be done with being ill, for the time being at least, and Strider broke off his explanation to help the weakly shaking hobbit cross the tent to his cot. Not entirely reassured, but unwilling to voice his concerns further in front of the dwarf, whom he still did not trust entirely, Pippin took refuge in light-hearted chatter.
“He does talk an awful lot of nonsense, our Merry,” he said, aiming his comments to the dwarf while Strider settled the hobbit in question. He shifted restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position. “All that going on about climbing under mountains and talking trees. Trees that can talk!” he grumbled, giving up the attempt to find easement.
“I assure you, it is not just talk, my young friend,” Gimli answered, adjusting Pippin’s pillows and helping him settle. “You most certainly did spend several days amongst the ents, leading us a merry chase, I might add.”
Still dubious, Pippin wanted to hear more, but his eyes had grown heavy and his thoughts dim. “You’ll have to tell me about that, one of these days,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. If Gimli replied he never heard it, falling heavily into slumber.
He only slept an hour or so before being gently awakened to find himself face to face with Legolas, the elf looking at him in concern.
“I have brought you some food, Pippin,” Legolas said, speaking in a clear but hushed voice. “I know you are very tired, but it would be well for you to eat something before you sleep for the night.”
Pippin blinked groggily, but complied, allowing Legolas to help him into a slightly more upright position, propped up on pillows. A tray was placed across his lap, and he stared down at a bowl of stew and a soft heel of bread. “Thank you,” he murmured, still not entirely at ease with the elf, but finding him easier company than the dwarf, who had disappeared while he slept.
Before eating, however, Pippin turned his head to look at Merry. He was reassured by his cousin’s steady breathing and relaxed features, although Merry still looked ill to his eyes.
“What did Merry mean, earlier,” Pippin asked as he began cautiously sipping the hot stew, “when he said we all left him alone in Minas Tirith to go off towards certain death?”
“He was – injured in battle,” Legolas replied, “and unable to accompany us when we came on this mission.”
Pippin noticed the elf’s hesitation when claiming that Merry was injured, but could not put any meaning to the hesitation. What he felt most strongly was concern for his cousin, upon learning of injury, but Merry seemed whole, if not entirely hale, so Pippin decided to shelve that for a later conversation. His head was aching abominably, he realized, and his appetite had fled. Weakly pushing at the tray, he closed his eyes, wanting only to return to sleep. He was barely aware of the tray being lifted off the bed and his pillows being rearranged in order for him to lie at a more comfortable angle for sleep.
This time when Pippin slept, he also dreamed. At first the dreams were vague, half understood images that made little sense but filled him with fear and regret, bringing him awake with a cry on his lips. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” he shouted, images of Gandalf being pulled down into a chasm by a fiery…thing. Within minutes, Legolas was back at his side, soothing and reassuring him until sleep took over once again.
He had the same dream over, only this time, even as he dreamed it, he recognized the dank darkness of Moria and understood that this was memory more than dream. It still filled him with sorrow and regret, but this time, knowing Gandalf somehow survived that fall, it was not distressing enough to jolt him out of sleep.
Soon after, the scene changed, and Pippin found himself crawling in a panic, trying to escape notice and capture on a dark night filled with fire, horses and arrows, Merry at his side. A very distant part of him recognized that this, too, was a memory, something already done and over, but he was too caught up in the moment to set aside the fear. He and Merry crawled and then staggeringly ran away from the chaos of screams and shouts, the scent of horses and blood and filth, taking sanctuary under the sheltering overhang of tree limbs. The dream smudged then, time blurring, until he and Merry were walking along the bank of a stream and then up a steep hill, heading towards light and fresh air. Beside him, Merry made a comment about the changing wind to which Pippin replied that it was a pity the sun was almost certainly going to disappear again, returning the forest to a dull, dingy place. “What a pity!” he said. “I almost felt I liked the place.”
“Almost felt you liked the forest!” an unfamiliar voice boomed, and that was when Pippin woke once again. It was early morning, and Strider was entering the tent, bearing a tray.
“Ah, I see you are already awake. Good.” The ranger smiled at him and set the tray down. “I will just have a look at your injuries and then leave you to your breakfast.”
Pippin turned to look at Merry, only to find his cousin still fast asleep. Before he could call his name, Strider stopped him with a gentle touch to the arm. “Merry is rather tired still, Pippin. It would be better if you let him sleep until he wakes on his own.”
“Oh,” Pippin answered, disappointed. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighed, missing Merry’s company, although his cousin was sleeping only a few feet from him. Obediently, he turned his attention back to Strider, answering his few questions as honestly as he could. His head ached and he still felt dizzy when he moved incautiously, but the aches in his body were receding. “Can I get out of bed, today, Strider?” he asked plaintively, beyond tired of forced idleness.
“Not today, my friend,” Strider replied kindly. “I know you are feeling much better, but your body still needs rest in order to heal. In fact,” he said with the start of a smile at one corner of his mouth, “I suspect you’ll find that once you finish eating you will be ready for sleep again. No, for today, you will lie quietly on your cot and rest. If you feel up to it, you may sit up for short periods of time, as long as someone helps you up and down. We’ll see how you do with that before planning to move any mountains.” He picked up a gently steaming mug of something. “Now, drink up, and then eat your breakfast.”
Wanting to argue, but knowing the futility of such a gesture, Pippin did as he was told. After eating a small breakfast, he was surprised to find that Strider had been right. He felt sweaty and tired, and was only too happy when the ranger helped him readjust his pillows for sleep.
His sleep was light, with the same dream/memory images flitting through it but not intruding heavily on Pippin’s awareness. He woke an hour or so later, feeling hungry again, and was pleased to find a plate of sliced fruit and cheese sitting by his cot. Despite his hunger, however, he was only able to nibble on a few slices of apple before sleep reclaimed him.
The next time he awoke, Strider was sitting on the edge of Merry’s cot and the two of them were having a quiet but intense conversation. Merry looked very pale and distressed, speaking in bursts and fits, with long pauses at odd intervals. As Pippin listened, he realized that Merry was describing nightmares to Strider.
“Oh, Merry!” he exclaimed in dismay after his cousin described a particularly gruesome dream involving Frodo and Sam. He fought back tears as the dream touched on his own fears for the safety of their elder cousin and his faithful companion.
“Don’t worry, Pip. They’re only dreams,” Merry soothed, but Pippin was looking at Strider, who looked anything but reassuring. There followed a vague and confusing conversation dealing with the injury Merry had received in Minas Tirith, which no one had yet explained to Pippin in any sort of satisfactory detail. This conversation was interrupted, not too regrettably in Pippin’s estimate, by the arrival of a young Man carrying a loaded tray, which he announced awkwardly was for the perian.
Strider left the tent shortly thereafter, leaving a few words of caution for Merry and reminding Pippin in no uncertain terms that he was to stay in bed. The two hobbits spoke lightly while Merry helped Pippin into a somewhat upright position, Pippin trying to hide the dizziness he felt when Merry shifted him. They ate, then, Pippin pleased with the fact that he was able to finish a decent sized meal for once, although he still didn’t eat as much as Merry.
Much as he hated to admit it, he thought to himself a few minutes later, Strider was probably right about his need to stay in bed. He was once again feeling exhausted and dizzy, just from the short amount of time he’d been awake. Gratefully allowing Merry to help him get settled, he closed his eyes and drifted off.
Once more, he found himself dreaming, this time making his way through Fangorn forest with Treebeard and Merry. Within the dream, Pippin felt as though he were an observer, sitting somewhere just outside of the action, watching as his dream self learned about entwives, drank ent draught, and spent days with Quickbeam, waiting for the entmoot to come to a decision. He was pulled back into himself then, losing his awareness of the dream as dream/memory.
They were in Isengard, watching in awed silence as the ents tore down the walls and pulled up the ground in a biting, heaving fury. Pippin felt the fear as the waters rose, he and Merry frantically searching for high ground so as not to be washed away. He felt the joy when Gandalf came galloping through the ruined gates, and the even greater joy some time later when Gandalf returned with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, as well as a multitude ofothers that Pippin did not recognize. Time lurched and he was standing outside of Orthanc, at the base of a flight of stairs, watching Gandalf and Saruman verbally spar with one another. And then he was running, quick feet carrying him to an orb that had been thrown from the tower. Time lurched once again and Pippin was stealing that same orb from Gandalf while the wizard slept, and then there was pain - terrible, mind-shattering pain and fear.
“Pippin? Pippin!”
Merry’s voice was thick with a fear of his own and Pippin tried to wake up and answer the raw need he felt wafting off his cousin. He blinked a few times before closing his eyes again, mumbling a protest against the bright sunlight shafting into the tent. It was only when Merry tried to pull away, to close the tent flap, that Pippin realized he was clutching his cousin’s hand as if for dear life.
The fear was gradually ebbing away, leaving a horribly bad headache in its place. Still holding onto Merry’s hand, he began to relax, just a little, just enough to realize; he’d remembered. Not everything, of that he was certain. But a good bit. Talking trees, indeed. He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so fragile, as if his head might break if he moved the wrong way. The memories weren’t all good; truthfully, most of them were terrifying and deeply upsetting, but they were his memories, and the fact that he’d gotten them back allowed him to believe, for the first time, that he might get the rest back as well. Taking strength from that knowledge, he gathered himself together and opened his eyes to look up at his Merry.
the end
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 02:53 am (UTC)Thank you! This was a delightful surprise to find when sleepless in the wee hours!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 04:18 am (UTC):D
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Date: 2006-02-14 04:55 am (UTC):D
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 07:14 am (UTC)Followed Dreamflower's link from the PippinHealers list.
Wonderful job!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-16 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 02:41 pm (UTC)Pippinfan
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Date: 2006-02-14 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 08:54 pm (UTC):D And i love your description and your angst and your writing in Pippin's point of view of one of my favorite chapters from "Courage". ;)
And more "Courage" verse? me so love!!!! =) :thumbsup:
::needs to reread when have time to drink in the details more:: ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-21 04:50 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked the little addition to the 'Courage' verse. It's always fun to go back and revisit these places from time to time.