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browngirlHave you ever written something and found yourself uncertain of precisely what it was? This did that to me. I started it because I wanted to write something Merry-centric for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
_kalimac_ community, and ended up with this.
Anyway.
Title: Thefts
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Merry and assorted people in his life. Also, Sam/Rose
Warnings: Experimental writing.
Disclaimer: I'm not a talented and imaginative British professor with a love of words who happens to be dead. Therefore, none of this is mine.
"You're stealing my cousin!", Merry rails at Uncle Bilbo, hands balled into fists. Until now, Bilbo has been Merry's favorite elder relative, he always brings strange, delicious sweets and dwarf-made toys, and he tells the most thrilling stories. But now, as in a story, he's changed into a villain, taking away the best person in Merry's life.
"Merry!" Frodo drops to his knees, curls his hands round Merry's arms. "Merry, I can't be stolen, I'm not a thing." His eyes are wide and earnest, his hands are warm. "I'm just going to live in Hobbiton, I'll be back to visit." Merry wants to believe him, but behind him is Bilbo, arms crossed over his chest, and the cart piled with Frodo's belongings.
"No you won't! You won't ever come back! And I, I don't CARE!" Merry wrenches out of Frodo's hold and runs back inside, sobbing and tear-blind.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," Merry says with a tilted grin, backing Sam up against the kitchen wall. Merry is a well built lad, but Sam could knock him down one-handed. Merry knows this; he also knows that Sam never would, and he sees that though Sam blushes red as a ripe apple, eyes shyly downcast, he's wearing a small true smile. "He speaks of you all the time, you know. Sam this and my gardener that and the best of the Gamgees."
Sam shakes his head, but his shoulders are easy and warm beneath Merry's hands. "I want to know about the talents of this Samwise," Merry says, giving plenty of warning, and when he leans in Sam returns the kiss more than eagerly.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," thinks Merry, not knowing to which cousin he'd say it. He sits up against the headboard of Frodo's bed, the air cool and empty around him; Frodo's arms are wrapped round Pippin, who's curled entirely round him, and they're peacefully asleep and beautiful and they don't need Merry at all.
Merry looks at their curls tumbled together on the pillow, and contemplates getting up and taking himself off to another bedroom, of lighting candles and reading. He watches them breathe, his chest tight and sore, and considers how much nearer Tuckborough is to Hobbiton than Buckland to either, and reaches to push the blanket back.
Frodo shifts, arm falling over Merry's legs. "What dreadful cold," he mumbles. "Merry, come here."
Merry breathes. He scoots beneath the blanket, draping his limbs across Frodo, hooking his foot behind Pippin's knee. Warming inside and out, Merry closes his eyes and smiles.
*
No one stole Pippin, or perhaps he stole himself. Gandalf took him away from peril into peril, and Merry was left watching them go, fists clenched, angry tears on the verge of overflowing his eyes. After all they had survived together, captivity and orcs and Fangorn, after all they'd seen and shared during their time with the Ents, to lose Pippin now, by his own curiosity, his own foolishness...
When Aragorn lays a hand meant to comfort on his shoulder, Merry snaps, "There he goes! Instead of being turned into a stone himself to stand here for ever as a warning."
*
"You've stolen my cousins," Merry whispers to the gloomy skies, knowing no one hears him. The white marble of the balcony appears dingy and blurred beneath the looming Shadow; Eowyn is sleeping, and Merry likely should be too, but all he can do is gaze Eastward, watch and wait. Pippin has marched with Aragorn and Gandalf and the army of the West; Frodo is gone to the heart of the Darkness, Sam hopefully still with him, and will Merry see any one of them again? His eyes ache to match his heart, and he scrubs them with his sleeve, and looks to the dim horizon, and struggles to hope.
*
"You've stolen my cousin, and my boon companion besides," Merry teases the new Mistress Gamgee, who blushes a fitting deep pink as she smiles. Sam blushes, too, his arm curved in joyful possessiveness round Rose's waist, and Merry grins and claps him on the shoulder. They've come through fire and darkness, from beneath the shadow of death, and now to stand together in sunshine and joy is nothing short of a wonder and a delight.
Merry tightens his hand on Sam's shoulder, drawing him into a robust embrace. "Blessings to you both," he says, and kisses Rose's hand, and behind the happy couple Frodo's eyes shine at him like stars.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," Merry would shout, but the ship sailing away would not turn though he could scream it loud enough to shatter the heavens. And it would not comfort Sam, who stands between him and Pippin grieving too deeply for tears, watching Frodo whom they all love leave them, headed for healing and peace. Merry knows Frodo will reach the light beyond the horizon, but here in the Havens the ship's glimmer is shrinking, a star sinking pale into the dark.
Pippin reaches across Sam's back for Merry's hand. Their fingers entwine, their arms hold Sam up, and the three of them watch together as the last of the light finally fades.
_kalimac_ community, and ended up with this.Anyway.
Title: Thefts
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Merry and assorted people in his life. Also, Sam/Rose
Warnings: Experimental writing.
Disclaimer: I'm not a talented and imaginative British professor with a love of words who happens to be dead. Therefore, none of this is mine.
"You're stealing my cousin!", Merry rails at Uncle Bilbo, hands balled into fists. Until now, Bilbo has been Merry's favorite elder relative, he always brings strange, delicious sweets and dwarf-made toys, and he tells the most thrilling stories. But now, as in a story, he's changed into a villain, taking away the best person in Merry's life.
"Merry!" Frodo drops to his knees, curls his hands round Merry's arms. "Merry, I can't be stolen, I'm not a thing." His eyes are wide and earnest, his hands are warm. "I'm just going to live in Hobbiton, I'll be back to visit." Merry wants to believe him, but behind him is Bilbo, arms crossed over his chest, and the cart piled with Frodo's belongings.
"No you won't! You won't ever come back! And I, I don't CARE!" Merry wrenches out of Frodo's hold and runs back inside, sobbing and tear-blind.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," Merry says with a tilted grin, backing Sam up against the kitchen wall. Merry is a well built lad, but Sam could knock him down one-handed. Merry knows this; he also knows that Sam never would, and he sees that though Sam blushes red as a ripe apple, eyes shyly downcast, he's wearing a small true smile. "He speaks of you all the time, you know. Sam this and my gardener that and the best of the Gamgees."
Sam shakes his head, but his shoulders are easy and warm beneath Merry's hands. "I want to know about the talents of this Samwise," Merry says, giving plenty of warning, and when he leans in Sam returns the kiss more than eagerly.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," thinks Merry, not knowing to which cousin he'd say it. He sits up against the headboard of Frodo's bed, the air cool and empty around him; Frodo's arms are wrapped round Pippin, who's curled entirely round him, and they're peacefully asleep and beautiful and they don't need Merry at all.
Merry looks at their curls tumbled together on the pillow, and contemplates getting up and taking himself off to another bedroom, of lighting candles and reading. He watches them breathe, his chest tight and sore, and considers how much nearer Tuckborough is to Hobbiton than Buckland to either, and reaches to push the blanket back.
Frodo shifts, arm falling over Merry's legs. "What dreadful cold," he mumbles. "Merry, come here."
Merry breathes. He scoots beneath the blanket, draping his limbs across Frodo, hooking his foot behind Pippin's knee. Warming inside and out, Merry closes his eyes and smiles.
*
No one stole Pippin, or perhaps he stole himself. Gandalf took him away from peril into peril, and Merry was left watching them go, fists clenched, angry tears on the verge of overflowing his eyes. After all they had survived together, captivity and orcs and Fangorn, after all they'd seen and shared during their time with the Ents, to lose Pippin now, by his own curiosity, his own foolishness...
When Aragorn lays a hand meant to comfort on his shoulder, Merry snaps, "There he goes! Instead of being turned into a stone himself to stand here for ever as a warning."
*
"You've stolen my cousins," Merry whispers to the gloomy skies, knowing no one hears him. The white marble of the balcony appears dingy and blurred beneath the looming Shadow; Eowyn is sleeping, and Merry likely should be too, but all he can do is gaze Eastward, watch and wait. Pippin has marched with Aragorn and Gandalf and the army of the West; Frodo is gone to the heart of the Darkness, Sam hopefully still with him, and will Merry see any one of them again? His eyes ache to match his heart, and he scrubs them with his sleeve, and looks to the dim horizon, and struggles to hope.
*
"You've stolen my cousin, and my boon companion besides," Merry teases the new Mistress Gamgee, who blushes a fitting deep pink as she smiles. Sam blushes, too, his arm curved in joyful possessiveness round Rose's waist, and Merry grins and claps him on the shoulder. They've come through fire and darkness, from beneath the shadow of death, and now to stand together in sunshine and joy is nothing short of a wonder and a delight.
Merry tightens his hand on Sam's shoulder, drawing him into a robust embrace. "Blessings to you both," he says, and kisses Rose's hand, and behind the happy couple Frodo's eyes shine at him like stars.
*
"You've stolen my cousin," Merry would shout, but the ship sailing away would not turn though he could scream it loud enough to shatter the heavens. And it would not comfort Sam, who stands between him and Pippin grieving too deeply for tears, watching Frodo whom they all love leave them, headed for healing and peace. Merry knows Frodo will reach the light beyond the horizon, but here in the Havens the ship's glimmer is shrinking, a star sinking pale into the dark.
Pippin reaches across Sam's back for Merry's hand. Their fingers entwine, their arms hold Sam up, and the three of them watch together as the last of the light finally fades.
