Dana

(WIP) Fic Post: A Conspiracy of Matches

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 19:58:27 GMT

A Conspiracy of Matches

By: Dana
Summary: One day over tea, Merry has a plan.
Characters: Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Faramir (with mention of others)
Pairings: Eventual Éomer/Lothíriel, I suppose
Rating: G (at least what's been finished)
Warnings: Silly hobbits, attempts at matchmaking, otherwise rather gen
Author's Notes: I began writing this for dreamflower02's sake, who rather thought it needed to exist. I hadn't ever really tried writing Éomer/Lothíriel before, and I didn't mind giving it a try. I haven't been able to finish the story, sadly, so either look at this as a snippet, or a WIP that most likely ever be finished. I suppose though, we're allowed to hope.
I didn't write mathoms this year, as I like to at least try - but I do have a lot of fic from when I was writing more regularly that needs to get posted, so I'm going to try and do something about that. If this actually works, I'll go back and tag these stories appropriately. For now, however --
Happy birthday to me (belatedly), a present for all of you!
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

SR 1419, late spring in Minas Tirith

'It's too bad Faramir hasn't any sisters,' Merry said, one day over tea – he thought of Éomer and Éowyn, both gone away from the city, and did not sigh. Thankfully, neither he nor Pippin had any current duties in the city, at least not til later in the day.

They were sitting outside at one of the little tables in the courtyard outside the Golden Cockerel, the sun high in the sky. They'd had their elevenses already, and complimented the chicken pie, and the good ale as well. As ever it seemed these days, the innkeeper would simply not let them pay. And it was a warm day, spring but a distant coolness, and the sun was shining so brightly in the sky. And yet, now Merry could not help but sigh, nor for his thoughts to wander. That they went to Éomer, and to Éowyn, and to Faramir, well, he was not surprised.

Now Merry sat with Frodo, Pippin, and Sam, sipping at his tea, his thoughts wandering fully. 'Why do you say that?' Frodo asked, but a moment after – for all that time had seemed to stretch – as well sipping at his tea.

'Oh, well – it won't be long and Éowyn will be married and living with Faramir. And Théoden… Well, I hate to think of Éomer, away off in Meduseld, with no close family left to him – the way I see it, he'll be terribly alone. If Faramir had a sister, well, that might solve his problems.' He smiled, nodding to himself. 'What we'd then have would be a perfect match.'

'Oh, dear, but that does sound terrible.' Frodo frowned. 'His being alone, that is, not the need of a perfect match.'

'And him having been though so much, and having lost so much as he has.' Sam turned, and gave Frodo a small glance, as though pondering loss as well – he wasn't the only one, Merry knew. 'Why, that simply ain't right.'

'How true, Sam…' Frodo was frowning still, biting at his lower lip. 'Now, you know – Pippin, do not even think what you are thinking. It is positively absurd.'

Merry blinked, and looked to Pippin – who blinked as well, then frowned, then laughed. 'Now then, what was I thinking, Frodo dear? Whatever it was, I can promise you it wasn't absurd!'

Frodo had quirked one eyebrow, now looking perfectly bemused. 'Yes, you say that now. Out with it, then.'

'I tell you, it isn't absurd,' Pippin said again, with another laugh. 'Frodo, you simply aren't as much a romantic as Merry here is.' He turned to look at Merry, as Merry exclaimed, 'Pippin!', now looking as though he'd said one absurd thing all ready, and planned on saying one or two more. It didn't help that Frodo chuckled, and from the sound of it, that Sam had snorted into his tea.

'As I was saying,' Pippin said, as Merry scowled at Sam (Sam, looking somewhat apprehensive, and blushing as well, looked into his tea as though it were the most fascinating thing about – and it didn't help, it truly didn't help, that Frodo put one hand on Sam's arm, and said, 'Oh, he rather has grown into a romantic in his old age, Sam – don't mind his scowl', and then scowled at Merry, which rather knocked Merry's own scowl off his face). Pippin then cleared his throat, and said again, 'Now, as I was saying. Faramir hasn't a sister, but I know he does have cousins. One of them is even in the city now, I believe – Lady Lothíriel, Prince Imrahil's daughter. I saw her once at the Houses of Healing.' He smiled rather wide, and his gaze seemed to drift.

Now Frodo snorted as he laughed (oh, and it was good to hear him laugh – so good, that Merry forgot his need to be annoyed, and grinned at Pippin instead). 'I hope you aren't thinking what Frodo no doubt thinks you're thinking.'

'Well, it's important, don't you think, as you plan a match – you must, ah, do a bit of studying, is all.'

'Have you been doing much studying of this Lady Lothíriel, then?' Sam asked (and Merry could only thank Sam, silently, that he hadn't asked if Pippin had been studying Éomer-King as well), and Pippin opened his mouth to reply – then shut his mouth in turn, standing as he did.

'Faramir! So very good to see you. You missed out on elevenses, but I do hope you'll have time for tea!'

'I would be honoured,' Faramir said, his smile warm and wide. Perhaps he hadn't overheard their conversation so far, and Merry could only be thankful for that, as well. Though, that only lasted for a little while – Pippin was buttering a scone, and making grand gestures as he did, when his mouth opened and out came, 'Ah, tell me about the Lady Lothíriel, Faramir. She's your cousin, isn't she?'

Faramir looked mildly amused, and Merry all but thought the world had dropped out from beneath his feet. 'She is, yes. Her father and my mother were brothers and sisters.'

Frodo looked on, more than just seemingly amused. Sam muttered something, soft and low, and even too soft for sharp hobbit ears to make out. Pippin only smiled, nodding as if greatly satisfied. 'Just as I thought. First cousins. A rather fitting tie.'

Now Faramir lifts his eyebrows, eyes sparking, a laugh hidden on the curve of his mouth. 'Tell me, Sir Peregrin, this day finds you quite interested in my young cousin Lothíriel. Might you tell me why?'

And Pippin went on, smiling yet, just as Merry again felt the world drop out beneath his feet – he gripped the edge of the table, doing his best to hold on, as Pippin's words rose as bright blithe counterpoint to his own ridiculously beating heart. 'Our own young cousin does often seem too interested in things other than what he ought,' and that was Frodo. Merry felt a bit more steady now, and turned to look at Frodo, a glimmer of sunlight falling on dark hair. 'But we hobbits do have a love for genealogy, you should know. Don't worry that Pippin is too interested otherwise, dear friend.'

Now Faramir laughed, and Pippin simply beamed to grinning. 'I simply wouldn't know what do with so tall a lass,' and then Pippin laughed, though somehow he still looked fully serious, as he ducked Frodo's playful swing.

No doubt Pippin would figure something out, but Merry couldn't say that, and so he found himself laughing out loud, instead. 'You never do know when best to quit,' he told Pippin, hopefully sounding fond. Pippin grinned, settled back into his chair, and Faramir's next laugh was warm, wide, and spreading. Somewhat like Pippin, at least this once, it seemed that Faramir wielded his own infectious cheer.

When things settled down, Faramir kindly accepted the tea that Sam offered him, inclining his head slightly. Then he sipped at it, and said it was just right, and proceeded to tell them of other relations, both near and far. 'My father...' He hesitated, just at the start. 'My father, he had two sisters, both of them older. My father's sister, Mithrellas, she married rather early, but died in childbirth, and her newly-born son as well. My Aunt Celebwen, no doubt, yet lives in Lossarnach. She went away when she was married, and never again thought to come back. Not that I could fault her for that.' He seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then went on. 'Anyhow, I must have many cousins there.'

Faramir held onto his little tea cup still, and his grey gaze grew distant – Faramir had himself lost in memory, no doubt. Merry wondered what that would be like, to know that one had family, and yet not know that family. It made him feel sad again – just as sad as he had felt for Éomer.

'Really, Merry,' Pippin said, all of a sudden, or so it seemed to Merry. 'You needn't glare so at your tea, it hasn't done anything wrong. Here, cousin, have another scone.'

Merry looked up, blinking as he did. He accepted the scone, thanking Pippin for it – knowing both Frodo and Pippin as he did, Merry knew without really needing to look, that both his cousins now found themselves somewhat concerned.

(/end snippet/chunk of WIP) really, I would like to write more of this. It would be nice to write something lighthearted, aimed at being humourous, and fun

Fic links

Tue, 06 May 2008 20:07:12 GMT

I finally managed to re-post all that fic I'd been meaning to, and so!

Trusty and Willing G, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, with much talk of Sam - I wrote this for mews1945 for the 2008 Frolijah Fic Challenge. Summary: Frodo makes plans.

Waking PG, Frodo, Aragorn, others - I wrote this for lilybaggins' birthday, but never actually posted it to LJ. Here it finally is! Summary: At Cormallen, Frodo wakes, and then wakes again.

Lost and Gained PG, Brandybucks, a Took, and a Baggins (Frodo) - I wrote this one for lily_the_hobbit's birthday, but it too never got posted to LJ. Again, here it finally is! Summary: For all loss, there will also be gain.

Fic Post: In This These Days Of Glory (1/?)

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 21:00:44 GMT

In This These Days Of Glory (1/?)

By: Dana

Summary: The story of the Tooklands while the Travellers were away.

Characters: Pervinca Took, other members of the Took family, canon and original alike

Pairings: See warnings.

Rating: PG013 (for sake of future developments)

Warnings: Various het/slash/and femslash implications, but gennish; eventually, violence, and a Tookland that is under siege

Author's Notes: I feel like warning you, this story takes a lot from other stuff in my basic universe (see Roads Go On and Years Go By), and assumes you know what's going on. Hopefully, if you don't, this will not be too distracting, and will instead lend itself to the story in positive fashion.

Anyhow, unlike 'From Autumn to Spring' and 'From Spring to Autumn', this story isn't a set of vignettes, but rather an attempt to get from one point to another, and cover as much as the in between as is possible. There will be a slow build up, because I just couldn't bring myself to jump right into the think of things - not with this one, anyhow. I needed to take my time.

Beta by dreamflower02.

Series Index: In a Sunless Year.

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Chapter 1 – (Winterfilth, SR 1418)

Of course, a week and some days later, when word came from Buckland that Frodo had vanished, that Merry and Pippin had vanished along with him – that the house at Crickhollow had been broken into, of all dreadful things – Pervinca found herself thinking that she perhaps she might have let Pippin off too lightly, that she should have pressed him for the truth.

Anyhow, it seemed that she'd been right.

Mother had not reacted well – she had thought Pippin good as dead, though she had not gone so far as to make a scene, and them with no body to mourn. Pervinca though felt only an urge for adventure, herself, to pack up and go after him, to whatever end that might lead her.

She had proof already that he had been planning something, and mother might have thought Pippin good as dead, but Pervinca only saw that his plan had come full to fruit. Perhaps it had not all been expected. She thought of what news had come of Fatty Bolger.

So, Pervinca might have pressed Pippin for the truth... but if she had, there still was another fact for her to face: her brother wasn't one for breaking easily – hindsight told her as such, for he would have kept silent on the subject. Whatever the subject might have been. He was sometimes better at keeping his mouth shut than some would ever guess. At least, she felt, when it came onto not telling her.

Oh, but still...

Pervinca thought of Pippin, that last day she'd seen him, standing in their father's study: so she had gone there, and stood staring at the portrait, much as Pippin had. Then she went to the desk, sat, and opened the old bureau – and she drew out their father's ledger, and set it before her. She thought, too, of the laughing luncheon she had shared, with Merry and Pippin – Pippin tucked close against Merry, the both of them so bright. But now, in her mind's eye, even as they laughed and joked and talked and ate, they did not seem full in focus. They seemed more like a dream, half-remembered – or an old painting, above the mantel, fading with age.

Pervinca did not know what she was looking for: but she found Pippin's note, tucked to the back of it – the day marked for the ninth. It was the seventh.

To whomever finds this (though I have my suspicions – hello, Pervinca):

If all goes as planned, when you find this, I shall already be gone. First of all, and I need you to understand, is that I would have gone with Frodo and Merry even if they had not allowed me to; and as you might guess, it took all of my considerable charms to convince Merry that I would be of aid.

We have followed Frodo into the Wild, though I know we shall one day return. I'd not want to worry you... or our parents. Or Pearl. Do take care of her, Vinca.

Pervinca, startled, almost laughed.

I don't want Mother or Father cross at Frodo or Merry (or at Sam): if this is anything, then it is not a matter of blame. Vinca, tell them both that I love them. Do not let Mother worry herself overmuch – this next was crossed out, as if in haste, but Pervinca still found it legible – ~~(you know how she gets)~~.

I won't have you packing up and setting off after me, sister. We are quite alike, aren't we? Just take care of yourself, as well.

I wish I could say more. I'm sorry I could not say good-bye. ~~If I had, I do not think I would have been able to leave.~~

With all my love,

Pippin

And she laughed then, as tears burned in her eyes: for she hadn't guessed at this, and yet it had come to it, anyhow. Oh, there it was, proof beyond proof. Pippin had this planned, all along, and Pervinca had seen the hint of it but could not guess at its full shape.

Why, Pippin had kissed her cheek once more, and Merry a rather more un-cousinly kiss on the mouth, and they had both seemed to be in such good cheer. Then they set off, back down Tuck Row, without looking back. Now, she felt them a world beyond – and they had left her behind.

She felt deeply unsettled, and wished to follow after – how cracked that was, and her not knowing the road they had taken. To Bag End, and then to Buckland: and from there, where had they gone? She could not follow after blind (but she was tempted, for perhaps she still might somehow work it out).

She went looking for father. He read the letter over twice, shaking his head, and when he looked at her, there was a sadness and an unexpected understanding in his eyes. Well, that Pippin would run off with Frodo and Merry, that was hardly unexpected. 'We'll ride for Buckland,' said father. They'd planned on it anyhow.

Pervinca nodded, though she felt rather away from herself. It didn't seem fair, that they had gone away and left her – they should have known that they could trust her. Pippin should have known that he could.

And now he was gone, and there would be no easy way for her to follow after.

At first, he didn't know what to think. That changed soon enough: if Pippin had gone off with Frodo and Merry, well, it wouldn't be the first he ever had done something of the sort, and Paladin knew that he should not worry overmuch.

Still, Paladin felt himself unsettled, which was not quite the same. If Pippin said that he meant to follow Frodo into the Wild, then Pippin very likely meant just that. Paladin didn't consider his son as one fit to exaggerations – not anymore, at any length. He'd grown out of that.

The letter had been tucked away, neatly, near the back of his book of ledgers, on the date marked off for the ninth of Winterfilth. Of course he didn't know what to think of it at first, and really, it was a rather funny place to leave a letter. Of course, he hadn't been the one to find it: rather, Pervinca had.

To whomever finds this (though I have my suspicions – hello, Pervinca):

We have followed Frodo into the Wild, though I know we shall one day return. I'd not want to worry you... or our parents. Or Pearl. Do take care of her, Vinca.

At this, Paladin's hands shook again; not worry them? News had come from Buckland, that Crickhollow had been broken into, that Fredegar Bolger was there alone and Pippin, along with Frodo and Merry, had vanished into nothing, as if they had all been swallowed into thin air. But there was more to the letter, as if some small part of some grand secret.

Not that Pippin had much more to say.

I don't want Mother or Father cross at Frodo or Merry (or at Sam): if this is anything, then it is not a matter of blame. Vinca, tell them both that I love them. Do not let Mother worry herself overmuch – this next was crossed out, but Pervinca still found it legible – ~~(you know how she gets)~~.

I won't have you packing up and setting off after me, sister. We are quite alike, aren't we? Just take care of yourself, as well.

I wish I could say more. I'm sorry I could not say good-bye. ~~If I had, I do not think I would have been able to leave.~~

With all my love,

Pippin

Paladin had thought that it would happen, one day, that Pippin would go off on an Adventure with his two best cousins: and it seemed now that that day had come, though Paladin again did not know what to do.

First off, he would tell Eglantine – no, he would let her read the letter for herself. He found himself daunted by such a task: Pippin was not dead, instead he was simply missing, and Eglantine would only be somewhat settled by this news. Not that there had been much news – the investigation was still on-going. And Paladin hadn't yet left for Buckland (though he would soon).

He looked at the letter: he wished it were so simple. Eglantine would think Frodo and Merry the perpetrators of some great crime, of stealing Pippin away. But Pippin really would have gone after them, no matter what they might have said. Eglantine, though, of course would not see it like that.

He read the letter again, of course, and then again, until the words had imprinted upon his mind and he found himself at the beginning of a greater, more difficult task: and so he went to find his wife, and to tell her of their daughter's discovery, and to let her read Pippin's words for herself.

Eglantine managed to keep herself more settled than Paladin had imagined she would. 'There must be something we can do,' she said.

'The letter's dated almost two weeks ago, Ella He's had this planned, and he knew we'd not find this letter until he was well and truly gone.'

'Frodo and Merry should have known better than to let him go along; out in to the Wilds!' Eglantine threw her hands up, and then took the letter from Paladin once more. She scanned the page, as if wishing it said more; perhaps, as if by concentrating, she might make Pippin appear before her. 'He wrote it to Pervinca,' she shook her head. 'She won't go looking for him: she won't.'

She looked up, her task proven futile, and she steeled her jaw and took a deep breath. As if it all had been proven futile, and she did not know what else to say. She looked at the letter once more, folded it, and then handed it to Paladin. He was still holding it in one hand as he gathered Eglantine into his embrace.

She might have said more but, then, Paladin might have said more as well, but for the moment there seemed no words to fit what needed to be said. Eglantine drew away, after a long moment, brushed down her skirts and took a deep breath. She looked at him, her eyes dark and almost unreadable. But then she smiled, though it seemed brittle-thin.

'They always have taken good care of him,' she said. 'I should not worry myself overmuch, should I? I rather would have known what it was they had been planning, than for them to have gone to such lengths...'

He put the letter away, then went round his desk and took both her hands; he kissed one and then the other, and at length he kissed her mouth. 'You're right, they have always taken good care of them, and no doubt they'll do just the same, now that they have gone so very far away. I of course...'

Eglantine nodded, as if she understood without him needing to say what it was he had meant to say: and after that, words seemed like foolish things, and Paladin could say no more.

There still was the task of informing the family, but Paladin knew that he should take care in sharing this news. So he sent word for his daughters, for News and then for supper, and they gathered: Pearl and Talbard, Pimpernel and Tuleric, and Pervinca alone. Reginard was there as well, though his wife had been unable to accompany him, and Eglantine too.

Pippin underestimated Pimpernel's own wild streak (or else he hadn't thought of it at all). She stood up and almost knocked her chair over, and while she did not throw her fists down to the table, she put her hands at the edge and her eyes flashed darkly. 'Well, he can't think we'll not go after him,' she said. Then, she straightened. 'If Pippin went along with Merry, Merry would not have left without leaving word for Aunt Esma and Uncle Sara. Merry thinks too much, and too well, to do something so foolish and to put himself at such risk. And if he did leave word, well, perhaps we might be able to figure out where they've all gone off to...'

'And what?' Pearl asked, regarding Pimpernel carefully: her gaze was level, and even to Paladin, almost infuriatingly calm. Beneath that gaze, Pimpernel bent and then sat again. 'Would you go tramping off after him?'

'If not Nell,' said Pervinca, 'then perhaps I'd go myself.'

'Of course you would,' Pearl said coolly, 'but what would that manage? Very little, I'm thinking – oh, not to say you haven't done so before, tramping off across the Shire. But the Wilds of the Shire are quite different than the Wilds Outside.' Pearl, always the voice of reason – when reason seemed such a distant thing, only then settled her gaze upon him, bright as leaf.

'Yes, but–' That was Pimpernel.

'We must trust to Frodo and Merry,' Pearl said. 'If they think it right that he follow them, then we must trust as well in them to bring him back home.' Then she turned again, and the harder edges of her face softened. 'Mother, what do you think?'

Eglantine had not spoken, but now she looked up and shook her head. 'I would have him home, if it were possible,' and she shook her head again. 'But I do not think it possible, not here, and not now. And I...'

Paladin took Eglantine's hand, and pressed it firmly. But he turned his head away from her, 'Reg,' he said, and Reginard sat forward in his seat.

'Yes, Uncle?'

'We'll set out for Buckland on the morrow. If Saradoc knows more than he has said, then I shall question him myself. And you, you will come with me, of course.'

Reginard nodded. 'Yes, sir, of course.'

'Then that is set,' Paladin said, and settled back in his seat. There of course was more that he would think of, deeply unsettled as he was – but for now, he had managed that business as well as it could be managed, and there was still supper to look forward to. Supper was no time for heavy thinking, so he would think further after that.

Pimpernel kissed Tully and told him she would meet them again at their apartments, but she needed to speak with Pervinca while her sister's head was still hot: and Tully grinned and said it wasn't only Pervinca whose head was hot, and so he kissed Pimpernel once more in return and told her to hurry after Pervinca, before she up and ran away.

It seemed still that they were only newly wed, she and Tully – and she thanked the stars each day that she had him in her life, knowing how very headstrong she could be, and how it almost seemed that he could keep her grounded. It seemed like some sort of miracle, rather unwanted and unlooked for and certainly unexpected, that she should find a lad so very suited to her. So very suited to her temperament, as well.

She went off after Pervinca, hitched up her skirts and ran down the long hall, shouting for Pervinca to *stop, drat you, slow down before I fall*, and Pervinca did slow down though she did not stop. Somehow, Pimpernel caught up with her, dropped her skirts, and took hold of Pervinca's wrist and then came to walk beside her.

'I'll only ride as far as Buckland,' said Pervinca. 'Da's set on going, ever since I found Pippin's letter: and he'll take Reg, and Reg is a good sound fellow – but I'd rather go myself, and find out what's really going on. You know how Da can be.'

'Yes, I do. And you'd think he'd know better, with him having three dear daughters.' Pervinca grinned at that, and Pimpernel tugged on her sister's arm, and made her stop.

'I'd like to run after him, myself. And as much as I am loathe to say it,' she grinned, 'I think that Pearl is right. We might go running after Pippin, but I think we both know it best to trust in Frodo and Merry. Have they ever led him wrong?'

Pervinca pursed her lips, just slightly, then turned her head and laughed. Pimpernel found herself laughing as well. 'Well, perhaps I made myself an ill choice of words, in saying that. Still – they wouldn't ever lead him intentionally to harm, and you know that as well as I do.'

'Nell, I know that.' She shook her head and then she sighed. 'I find myself doubting him, and I never have been one to doubt our little brother; pull pranks on him, yes, for all he was very good at getting on my nerves, I was just as good at getting on his.' Then Pervinca laughs. 'Oh, stars, but I'll miss him. It hasn't been two weeks, yet, since I saw him last, Nell – did you think he'd up and vanish, like he has? I didn't. Perhaps I thought he was up to something, but he... no, not only perhaps. I did: and I didn't press him, though I'm wishing that I had. Ah,' she sighed, 'he so often was up to something. Remember that time with the slugs.'

'And that other time with the frogs.'

'And poor Hyacinth, after she and Reg wed. I don't think she'll ever get over the incident with the goat.'

Pimpernel laughed and Pervinca did as well. Then, Pervinca sobered, which took Pimpernel by surprise just as it would have if it had been Pippin standing before her, looking grim.

'I'll go to Buckland and I'll poke my nose where it isn't wanted, and then I'll come back – I'll not go running out into the Wilds, no matter how tempted I might be. I'd likely lose my way, anyhow. Or come to some other, fouler end.'

'Oh, Vinca–'

'But the thing is, here, that I *will* come back.' Pervinca looked at her hands, then shook her head. 'And we must trust in Pippin, even more so than Frodo and Merry, that they all will come back as well.' Then she smiled wide. 'Anyhow, Samwise Gamgee most assuredly went off with the lot of them; if there's any hobbit with sense about him, then it's Sam. Sam will bring them all home.'

'And what shall we do, while they're all away?'

'Well, we'll not mope about and wait for them, if that's what you thought I meant to say. Anyhow, I don't expect them back soon.'

'But you'll know more–'

'Hopefully,' Pervinca went on, 'I'll know more, once I head to Buckland. I think I'll set out tonight, instead of waiting to follow after Da and Reg in the morning. I'll not go without telling Mother good-bye.'

'You'll need to pack,' said Pimpernel. 'Pack a bit, at any length. I'll help.'

So they went to Pervinca's room, not talking much but saying what they had to say, when it was needed.

If father would ride for Buckland, then Pervinca would ride for Hobbiton: they weren't the only ones left behind, after all, and she wanted to see if Rosie or Marigold knew anything more that she did *not*.

It was a fine day, and a fine day for riding, and Paladin, of course, had not meant to eavesdrop – but that did have a way of happening, whether or not it had been planned. He had meant to meet with Reginard in the front parlour, and from there they would make their way to the stables. But he found Reginard there with Hyacinth, his Brockhouse wife; they were there, at the mantel, holding hands.

'Reassure me all you want,' Hyacinth said, and then she gave a nervous laugh. 'I'll still worry.'

'Well, try and not worry overmuch,' Reginard said, looking at her, and he gave her hands a squeeze.

'I'll do my very best,' said Hyacinth. Then, she turned away from him and inclined her head slightly, and Paladin smiled at her as she did. 'Greetings, cousin Paladin. Reg won't tell me what it is you're both off to do, but whatever it is, no doubt it is important. Do take care of him, won't you? He's so very good at forgetting to look after himself.'

'Oh, Hyacinth,' Reginard said, and rolled his eyes heavenward. If he had been startled at Paladin's abrupt arrival, he made no show of it, and instead smiled broadly. 'Pardon her, Uncle. You know how she gets.'

'Oh, I know rather well how the both of you cat get,' said Paladin. 'Farewell, Hyacinth – do take care of yourself, and the lasses, and young Ferdy, too. We'll be back before you've even noticed we've been gone. Eglantine would want nothing else.' Then he inclined his head at Reginard. 'Now, come along, Reg.'

'Yes, sir,' Reginard said, and they went off from the parlour, taking a turn and heading to the front doors. From there, the doorhobbit opened one half of the broad doors, and they went out – fine day for going out, ain't it, sir? – fine day indeed, Tel – and then, once they made it to the base of the steps, they crossed the courtyard.

It was in fact a fine day, not overly warm, and the sky was mostly clear. They turned and went towards the stables. Paladin had had word sent ahead, and ponies had been readied for the both of them. One of the stablehobbits greeted them both, and led their ponies out. Paladin would have rather tended to Sable on his own, but he found himself thinking that though it was not fully pressing, time was still of some essence.

Reginard seemed nervous – or, better put, it seemed he thought too much. Given how it had been of late, Paladin was not surprised.

But it was not until they had set off, on their ponies, on towards Hobbiton, that Paladin spoke up. 'You're thinking too much.'

'Aren't I, though? And about everything, really,' said Reginard, shaking his head.

They rode on in quiet after that, Reginard commenting from time to time how it felt like it had been far too long since he had ridden out from Great Smials.

Pervinca had gone off, the night before – she would make it to Bywater before dark, she said, and she would settle there for the night. Paladin knew it was likely he and Reg would still make it to Buckland first, given his middle daughter's tendency to linger. Likely, she would linger at Bywater for at least a day.

He thought it best that he and Reginard ride on until they made their way to Frogmorton; he knew there would be no welcome for them at Hobbiton, no proper welcome, anyhow. Certainly, there would be no welcome for them at Bag End. Paladin still couldn't believe that Frodo would have sold Bag End, and to Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins, of all hobbits! There was something foul about that, and something more than suspicious.

But the Shire could not run on suspicions, nor could its Thain.

It had been raining when Pervinca came to Bywater, when she made herself welcome at the Cottons' farmhouse (and they did make her welcome) – Mistress Lily insisted she stay the night, given how it rained, and made such a fuss over her that Rosie, blushing, had laughed, telling her mother than it wasn't good to go fussing over Mistress Pervinca Took.

She questioned Rosie in the dark hours of the night, and Rosie had nothing to tell her, though she heard the edges of Rosie's breaking heart. Sam had gone off, and though she had always thought herself bold, Sam had gone off without asking her to follow.

That did seem to happen more than it should ought, and Rosie did not seem to know about the incident at Crickhollow, neither she nor Marigold, as far as Pervinca could tell.

The bed was big enough for the both of them, though that still made for a good, tight fit. Rosie made her welcome to it, and Pervinca accepted with warmth and needed cheer.

And she didn't linger longer than she had, but instead kissed Rosie good-bye in the bright morning, and told her she would go see to Sam herself: and she would, in a fashion, as she would figure this out, as full as she could. She would not wish to leave Rosie unsettled, for she was unsettled enough as it already was.

It rained again, once she came to Brandy Hall, and Pervinca went from thinking it sheer coincidence to believing it a wet, and rather bad, streak of luck.

She was not daunted, though, and as her aunt Esmeralda came to greet her, she told her there was no need fussing over her–'Da's coming, so you might plan to fuss over him, instead' – and her aunt laughed at her and nodded, and promised that she would.

'But why have you come?' Esmeralda asked, though Pervinca knew her aunt knew well-enough why she had come.

'I had hoped I might speak with Uncle Saradoc,' she said, and Esmeralda nodded. 'I've news, but nothing more than Da will bring.'

'Yes, I had thought so. He has spent his time looking for some sign of – well.' She gave a little sigh, and shook her head. She was pained, upset, but taking it all better than mother had. Well, perhaps she and Uncle Saradoc did know more than she had guessed. But her aunt did not offer up news.

'Did Merry not leave word?' Her aunt looked at her, briefly startled, then shook her head.

'Goodness, lass, you do have news!'

At that, Pervinca laughed. 'I do. Merry didn't leave word?'

Her aunt shook her head. 'We had thought...' She didn't say more. Perhaps she didn't want to think on what she had thought.

'Goodness, it's strange then that Pippin *did*!' and Pervinca told her aunt what she remembered from Pippin's letter, realizing then that she had committed its words to heart. Esmeralda went from pale to panicked, and then she laughed and shook her head.

'Well, that might ease Saradoc's heart – he had worried so, you know, and had thought to go further into the Old Forest, no matter the risk he might face. If not for Seredic and Merimac, and Berilac, too, I think he might have done just that.' She shook her head – better to think this, than to think her son gone and dead. 'Tell me, is that all that Paladin knows?'

'Just that,' Pervinca said. 'He had hoped that Uncle Saradoc might know more – he left the morning after I did. I say we plan supper about his arrival, as surely we will see him then.'

Pervinca had not been to Brandy Hall for such a serious reason in rather a long time – or had she ever? – and she went with Esmeralda to Saradoc's study, where he was standing, in the midst of some dark-sounding talk, with Merimac and Berilac. Esmeralda went forward, touched Saradoc's arm lightly, and then he turned to her and Esmeralda spoke, her hand still resting on his arm. 'Pervinca has come from the Tookland – Sarad, she has news.'

No doubt, Saradoc must have wondered what Pervinca might have known, but he called her over and she told him of her brother's letter, that this was planned, that this was not dark and unexpected, but rather, her brother and cousins must have thought it had gone off without a hitch (but for poor Fatty, of course).

Saradoc looked worried, for a moment, but then he shook his head. 'Fatty hasn't told us much at all,' he said. 'I had hoped he would face a change of heart; but he would not tell us, and I wondered if he even really knew. Perhaps there just isn't anything more to tell.' He turned, then, to look at Berilac, but Berilac stood without reaction, and so very unassuming. He had a good game face, thought Pervinca, for she had played many games with him, through the years. If her brother had found himself in a conspiracy to leave the Shire, if Fatty was in on it, as well, then Fatty, perhaps...

'There is: though there isn't much more of it that I can tell you, Uncle,' she said, turned from Berilac to look at him. 'But father will want to speak with you, of course – as I told Aunt Esmeralda, we should plan supper about his arrival. He left the morning after my own departure, you see, and I doubt he found much reason to tarry in his journey.'

She excused herself, to Merimac and Berilac as well, and went with Esmeralda as she led the way from the room. 'You mightn't see it as I do,' Esmeralda said, 'but his heart is lighter, now. He would not say it, before you, but it is better to know that they have simply vanished of their own doing, than to outright think them dead.'

Such a thing to think, and morbid, too, but Pervinca's mother had fancied her own morbid thoughts, before Pippin's letter had been found – no doubt, she truly did blame Frodo and Merry, now that she knew them in some fact responsible for Pippin's going away. 'Come, have tea with me – I was set to join Hilda, but I doubt that she would mind your joining us as well, and then I will let you run off so that you may visit with our Brandybucks.'

Tea did sound like a fine idea, and teacake as well, and Pervinca had not spoken with Hilda Brandybuck in some time. She remembered a day, long ago, sitting in one of the smaller rooms, while outside it rained – and Pervinca, though she might have found some other way to spend her time, and with some other lass or lad, had spent it instead with Hilda, playing through several rounds of cards. She did not look so severe as Pervinca recalled her, and in fact smiled as Esmeralda informed her that Pervinca would be sitting with them for tea.

Pervinca sat, politely, her mind wandering in thought as she sipped the honey-sweet drink, listening to her aunt and her cousin Hilda laughing about small fancies, and then speaking of more serious things. Hilda might be married to Seredic Brandybuck, and Seredic one of the Master's high advisors, but she did not know much at all of the missing hobbits, and shared the gossip she had heard about the Hall. The Tooks had fancied their own stories, and Pervinca saw the Brandybucks fancied their own.

There was the story of how the bandits had made off with them, as it had been a number of them that had come to Crickhollow, and that Fatty Bolger was lucky to have made off with his life; and there were those who couldn't remember Fatty from a hole in the wall, and had not ever seen him about now, and thought it rather suspicious that he had not vanished, as well; and there were those who knew how Frodo had planned on returning to the Buckland, and for all they were rather glad that he had finally given up on living amongst the rather odd hobbits of Hobbiton, and had at last come home – well, they knew he had sold Bag End to Lotho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and that was more than just odd.

'There's some who say it was Lotho who had a hand in their going missing,' Hilda said. 'Knowing my cousin, well, I can't say that I'm surprised.' If Lotho were Pervinca's cousin, Pervinca wouldn't want to think of him as such.

And all through it, Pervinca bit her lip and did not tell Hilda the truth of the matter, if only because Esmeralda had not offered to share that truth, either. She looked appropriately bereft, fitting a hobbit mother who had lost her son – albeit her rather grown-up son, as Merry was no runaway *faunt*.

Hilda then put her hand on Esmeralda's, and smiled gently. 'Goodness, Esma, I had not thought to stir up such unpleasant thoughts, and I especially did not wish to cause you harm – but you, as the Hall's Mistress, well, I thought it only right you know what has been said. What is still being said.'

Pervinca found herself wondering if the truth would be known. Then, she thanked Esmeralda and Hilda for their company, and excused herself from tea.

She sighed and shook her head, walking along the corridor, wishing for the road beneath her feet. She had not promised, and perhaps her way did lie out in the Wilds – but she knew herself rather well, and disputed that thought right away.

No, she had not promised, but she would not go away. Pippin would find his way home again, of that she was sure.

Paladin found himself rather glad that Pervinca had arrived before him and Reginard (though it was unexpected): he found it easier to speak with Saradoc, knowing now that they were on even ground, for he had thought Saradoc knew some secret, as where it came to the location of their sons. But Pervinca had been there already, waiting on him so as to speak with him and Saradoc – there was the matter of a letter, which she had found hidden, and spoke some of Pippin's reasoning, and where he had gone.

And *where* he had gone, though not the exact position, and it hardly said enough to put Paladin at full ease. But that letter was more than what Saradoc had known – though, on searching, another letter was found, this one from Merry. Given where it was hidden (as Pippin's had been, it was in the back of his ledger – but at a later date), Merry had not wished for it to be found for some time yet.

And so they were on even footing, now, and neither of them ahead. It was the eleventh of October, three weeks almost since Pippin had last left Great Smials.

'You missed Fatty – Esma thought it unfair to keep the lad as I had, so I sent him off home three days ago – no doubt, he's now safe and at home, and complaining with little cheer about the hospitality of Brandy Hall.' At this, Saradoc laughed. Paladin did as well.

It was likely not something to be joked about, and laughing of course would not bring their sons, and Frodo, home. At least, it was not something that could be forced. Thinking that, Paladin considered running by Budgeford on his return to Great Smials, but then thought better. Saradoc would have questioned the Bolger lad as thoroughly as was possible – Saradoc was not one for setting to something lightly, after all. So he mentioned this to Saradoc, and Saradoc's expression turned rather grave.

'If I had more to say, then I would say it: my Merry isn't the only one in on this, after all. Esmeralda has kept herself together, I must say, and for all I should be able to, I can't imagine how Eglantine must worry.'

He looked at Paladin carefully, as though he expected some sort of explosive response. But Paladin shook his head and sighed. 'You know, even if they told him not to go, Pippin isn't very good when it comes to being told what to do. I don't blame you, Saradoc, and I don't think I blame Merry, either. Perhaps Frodo would have had both of them stay behind, if it were possible – perhaps he will take that blame onto himself.'

Saradoc thought at length, then nodded. 'That does sound true to form: I wouldn't expect anything less from him, really. I suppose we ought to blame the Baggins in him – Drogo rather was one to take it all onto himself, wasn't he?' His eyes grew dark and thoughtful – if it was the Baggins in Frodo that made him far too susceptible to guilt, then it was Saradoc's own Brandybuck blood that made it a habit of his to think too hard, and too heavily.

'Now, I did just now consider something,' he said.

'And what is that?'

'Well, know now, I do not tell you this as cousin to cousin, or even friend to friend – no, as Master to Thain.'

'What is it, then?'

'Fredegar was here at Brandy Hall for over a week before we sent him home: he spoke often, and at length, with Berilac, though I did not consider that until just now. For all I did question him, and Merimac did as well, perhaps he found it easier to confide in someone nearer to his own age.'

Paladin nodded, and considered that as well. 'Ah. Yes. Well, Reginard is hardly his own age, but closer still than any Took here I can think of: if you don't mind, then perhaps Reginard could have words with Berilac, and see if some light might be shed on this truth that we are seeking.'

Berilac regarded Reginard with a rather peculiar expression and, despite himself, Reginard almost laughed: but he had gone to Berilac, and told him what Paladin and Saradoc both expected of them, for Reginard was not one for walking in half-truths. Better to be blunt with it, and get it to the end.

Still, Berilac was left at something of a loss. 'Go again?' he said, carefully, and Reginard grinned hard and then shook his head.

'Yes, I know, it does all seem rather hopeless – and almost laughable, I suppose. But Fatty never spoke so openly with the Master, so he and the Thain are hoping that he might have confided in *you* before his return to Budgeford.'

'Well.' Berilac considered his answer carefully, and Reginard regarded him with just as much care. Then Berilac lifted his grey eyes, quirked one eyebrow as if at some humourous thought, and said: 'That was rather blunt of you. Other than the obvious, what are you hoping to learn?'

Somehow, that made Reginard wonder if Berilac did in fact know the truth: and if he did, would he confide in Reginard, when Reginard would only take that news to Saradoc and Paladin – to whatever end that might lead them. It was the eleventh of October now, and if their cousins had in fact gone off into the Wilds, would it be that they could follow? If Berilac did know the truth, and yet was holding back on telling it, then perhaps that was what their cousins had wanted of Fatty, and in turn, what Fatty had asked of Berilac.

'I've been thinking,' Berilac said – and while that wasn't what Reginard wanted to know, he listened anyhow. 'However long they're gone, whatever time it takes them to return: if Merry's gone, and Pippin's gone, then what do you suppose they'll do with us?'

Reginard blinked. And then his mouth fell open. He found himself rather glad he wasn't looking at himself in a mirror – he could only imagine the look on his face. He shut his mouth, then opened again, to say, 'Well, now. You know, I hadn't really thought of that.'

'I hadn't, either,' Berilac said, hesitated, and then went on. 'Now, had you considered that Frodo was in trouble? And that it was old Bilbo who likely first brought that trouble to the Shire? And our cousins,' here, Berilac sighed. 'They'd both do anything for Frodo, you know.'

'Well, yes,' Reginard said, feeling far too nervous, and not liking the feel of it. 'Still now, what has this to do with us?'

'If they went off into the Wilds – however far they might have gone... well, I don't deny they won't come back, at some distant time, and so in saying that I rather have a feeling that it won't happen any time soon!' He sighed once more. 'The Thain can't go about without a ready heir, nor can the Master – it doesn't work like that, does it? Unless Paladin has some other son he hasn't spoken of, or you an older brother we haven't even named, well, I think I know where that puts you: and what position I'll find myself in, as well.'

Reginard blinked. And then he blinked again. Berilac laughed, then shook his head. 'It does sound rather dreadful, I know.'

'But where have they gone?' That was all that Reginard could ask.

Berilac looked thoughtful: and then he said, 'To Rivendell, if you can believe it.'

Reginard didn't think he could. He told Berilac just that, and Berilac nodded. 'See, I found it hard to believe, at the start – you know, I shouldn't be telling you this, Reg. I made a promise.'

'So did Fatty.'

Berilac grinned. He looked very much like Merry, in that one moment; but then that one moment faded, as Berilac's expression softened, as he shook his head. 'Still. It was hard enough getting Fatty to talk, you know, and I would hate to be thought of as a tattle who went off the first he could.'

Berilac sighed. 'That first day, Fatty kept falling asleep, and then I told him to sit on it a while (and to get some sleep), and that I would come back to him.'

'But Saradoc–'

'Fatty gave his word not to tell Saradoc, or Paladin, either: given that I am neither of them, I suppose he did not find it all that difficult to break his word. And anyhow, Fatty's part was one of subterfuge – he needed to give our cousins a chance to safely get away.'

Berilac grew silent: Reginard fell into his thoughts. He felt, all in short order, a number of things: anger, that this would happen, and confusion, as well, that it had. That Pippin would go off trekking into the Wilds – to Rivendell, perhaps – and Reginard knowing he could not keep this from Paladin, no matter how the now-gone conspirators might have wanted that.

But then he settled back into himself, at that moment, now knowing what he did and not quite knowing what he would do with it. 'When Fatty told me,' Berilac said, looking at him, and sighing, 'well, I found it rather absurd: I thought I'd taught Merry better, but must have forgotten myself. I never had much say in his upbringing, and he listened to Frodo three times better than he ever listened to me.'

'Now, Berilac–'

'But hearing what they planned, and where they had gone –I rather felt a sense of foreboding, at that. Not that they will not return, as I fully believe that they will: only that, if anything were to go wrong, then it would go wrong far before that.'

Reginard found himself not knowing what to say. Berilac looked at him, grinned almost grimly, and then waved him off. 'Go on, and report to Paladin: I will likely speak with Saradoc at some point, now that there's no good chance that our cousins can be easily found.'

Reginard nodded, and then took himself away. He went, his thoughts too heavy, and he wondered what he might tell Paladin, and Saradoc, too: and if he could somehow make this lighter than it was not, and if he might somehow will Pippin to appear.

Reginard focused on that for a moment, shut his eyes and stood still in the hall – and nothing happened, nothing but stars flashing in the darkness of his vision, and causing a sudden ache in his head.

He opened his eyes, and stumbled down the hall, righting himself and then absently brushing off his jacket. Well, he had tried, and a good try was better than nothing of the alternative, they said. And he had accomplished what he had set out to do, in speaking with Berilac, of seeking out secrets, and bringing them to light. But knowing where their cousins had gone, where *Pippin* had gone, and not knowing when they might choose to make their return... he did not feel much gladness in that.

prologue :: to be continued

Fic Post: In This These Days Of Glory (Prologue/?)

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 20:59:32 GMT

In This These Days Of Glory (Prologue, 0/?)

By: Dana
Summary: The story of the Tooklands while the Travellers were away.
Characters: Pervinca Took, other members of the Took family, canon and original alike
Pairings: See warnings.
Rating: PG013 (for sake of future developments)
Warnings: Various het/slash/and femslash implications, but gennish; eventually, violence, and a Tookland that is under siege
Author's Notes: Well, this one might be familiar, as I posted it sometime last year, as a teaser (during hobbit_month, I believe). Here we have Pervinca and Pippin, and an unexpected (but not completely surprising) good-bye, though it of course is not first viewed as that.
Here's hoping that, in posting this, I might actually fnish this all one day.
Beta by dreamflower02.
Series Index: In a Sunless Year.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Prologue – (Halimath, SR 1418)

Pervinca found Pippin in their father's grand study – not that she had gone looking for him, but rather she'd been hoping to find their Da (but she'd soon forget that): Pippin stood before the mantel, his arms tucked back neatly behind his back, head cocked back as he looked at the portrait that hung above it. Old and grand-looking, the one of great-great-grandfather Gerontius and great-great-grandmother Adamanta, their gazes paint-dull but their smiles were both still bright.

Pervinca guessed that Pippin was up to something – knowing Pippin, Pervinca found almost herself certain that she had to be right.

So she smiled, and said, 'Ah, there you are, Pip.'

He looked back at her, on hearing her voice, and he grinned – then turned – shifting his arms as he tucked them across his chest.

And Pervinca went on, saying, 'What are you up to?', a laugh in her smile.

Pippin laughed. 'Ah, sister,' he said, shaking his head. 'You really are far too suspicious: that can't be good for...' He muttered the rest of it, as he turned, taking hold of a book on father's desk – it seemed to be his ledger – which he then put back in its proper place, shutting the heavy drawer with a small sad sigh.

Pervinca pressed, saying, 'Can't be good for my what?'

Pippin's eyes twinkled, as he looked up, and he grinned. 'Your digestion.'

Pervinca snorted as she laughed. 'Oh, you Took-witted fool,' she said, and she went to him – he ducked away as she swung half-heartedly, laughing a little as he did.

'Luncheon?'

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. 'Shouldn't you be gone already?' She hadn't expected to find him – now that she had, she couldn't guess at what she'd thought to find. But she had expected him to already have left for Bag End. Off to adventure! Oh, hardly: but Pippin had been among those few invited to Frodo's birthday, and Pervinca had not.

'Merry's coming to Great Smials to see me off,' Pippin replied, and then it seemed he searched her gaze. 'Of course, he'll be travelling along with me – you know, I've walked the old road between Hobbiton and Tuckborough too many times to count.' He gave another small sad sigh, though his smile at least was full of cheer. 'Better to walk it in the proper company.'

Pervinca might have rolled her eyes again, but didn't. She hooked her arm about Pippin's, and set to leading them both to luncheon. 'Shall we eat in the sun-room? Or shall we pack up a basket luncheon and meet Merry on the road?'

'The latter sounds preferable,' Pippin said.

'Oh, very well.' She pulled her arm away, then ruffled his curls. 'Go on, I'll meet you – I'll see that the basket is done up. Shall we meet out at the Broken Oak?' Pippin nodded, and Pervinca nodded, though not at anything in particular. 'You know, we used to do this all the time – and sometimes, Frodo would be there, too.'

'And none of us are too old for it,' he said – well, he wouldn't think that, would he, only being twenty-eight.

'See,' she reached to pinch him, but he kept out of reach. 'Keep on saying things like that, brother, and I really shall believe that you are up to something. And that Merry is in on it, too.'

'Ah, it isn't nothing terrible, I promise, whatever it is.' And he grinned. 'You know, I was thinking...'

Pervinca arched a brow, and gave his arm a cheery, half-hearted punch. He didn't get away in time, and rubbed his arm, even as he grinned. 'Well, what is it?' She swung her arm teasingly, and Pippin laughed.

Then he skipped ahead of her, and tucked his arms behind his neck, humming a little. 'Oh, now, aren't you speaking to me anymore?' She laughed again, and went to catch up with him, but, if truth be told, she was feeling a little heart-sick. 'It isn't fair, you know,' she said, though she hadn't meant to. Not wishing her mood to spread, she laughed and shook her head. 'Well, there's much that isn't fair. But I do wish that Frodo'd not only invited the four of you lot.'

'Well, it's only for the move,' Pippin replied, once he'd stopped humming. He slowed, and waited on her, and then took up walking, once more, when they were side by side. 'You know Frodo, though. I'm sure he has a plan.'

'And that he'll make up for it, I'm sure.' To let him know she wasn't so sore as she sounded, she gave a little laugh, then reached for his hand. 'You know, you are up to something.'

Pippin looked at her, his expression bemused. 'Is that so?' If Frodo had a plan, then Pippin had one, too. Pervinca could only grin a little. Thinking that made her think.

Then she gave a nod, looking down at him. 'It is. And Merry's in on it, I'm sure, and if Frodo isn't somehow involved, well then, I must not be a Took! Now, don't look so startled,' though, in fact, he did not look startled, only still bemused, 'brothers are allowed their secrets, too. I won't press on you to tell me what it is, because you would tell me if you could.' Then she grinned. 'And if you wanted me to know.'

He grinned at her and then she gave his side a pinch. He looked, irritated, at her, though the moment did not last, and then he grinned, rubbing his side. He gave her a pinch in return, grinning all the while. Then she said, as she rubbed her arm, 'Go on, then – I'll see to our luncheon.'

'And I'll wait for you and Merry both at the Broken Oak.' He gave her a smile, and leaned up on his toes, kissing her cheek. Now, he hadn't given her such a brotherly kiss in some years now – if she hadn't already believed he'd been up to something, well, that would have been her needed proof.

chapter one

frolijah fic challenge reveal

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 15:38:02 GMT

The authors have been revealed at the Frolijah Fic Challenge. It was gentlehobbit who wrote Water for me (I'm not at all familiar with her story, and it was a very lovely story to read – once more, thank you!); and I happily wrote Trusty and Willing for mews1945 (I'll be reposting it uh relatively soon, as well as some other stories/ficlets, from earlier in the year).

Fic Post: Cat Years

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 22:20:09 GMT

Cat Years

By: Dana
Summary: Years, and cats.
Characters: Emmmy Boffin (OFC) and her many cats
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: Gen
Author's Notes: lindelea1, happy birthday! This fic pretty much is just for you, because I know how fond you are of Emmy. (I put in a dollop of something extra near the end, even.) I do hope you enjoy, and that your birthday is blessed, and very happy. ♥
A little about Emmy, for those who don't know her: The CO this mainly features is Emmy Boffin, Hobbiton's Crazy Cat Lady. I would point you to other stories where she appears, but I'm not so pleased with those stories anymore and rather they think they need some revision. Just know that Emmy is cheerfully cracked and not really a danger, and a hobbit who is very fond of her cats. That is what this ficlet is about, as well as why she named cats certain things.
Beta by dreamflower02.
This story spans a number of years, but being the sort of ficlet that it is, I really don't think that matters. If you wanted to know, I'd guess the timeline the timeline would be SR 1312 (Emmy'd have been 14) to sometime after SR 1430 (Emmy will end up outliving the Old Took - not that anyone noticed that, not until after she was gone).
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Her first cat she named Gruffo, for her slightly younger brother; and Gruffo the cat, at least, was a fat pleasant fellow and ever so good at catching unpleasant fat rats. Her own brother, Emmy always thought, could have taken a lesson or three from his namesake-cat.

Her second and third were named for her two younger sisters – Sapphire, dark grey and black, and Ruby, dark grey and gold. It only seemed fitting, to Emmy at least, that Southsmial still have its Jewels, even with her sisters having moved away.

Of course, there were a number of cats that Emmy didn't keep, and rather sent away – they were perfectly good to give as birthday presents, and always seemed to come at the proper time. She would give them out on her own birthday, as well. It only seemed right, with all of them needing good homes.

It was good enough for having named one dear cat for one dear sister, but Emmy couldn't bear it, naming one directly for her mother, having lost her when she was young, and her siblings even younger. That quite would have been too much for her and her heart to bear.

The eleventh, though, that she kept as her own, she named him for her father. Having been given no grandchildren from his eldest daughter, old Uffo Boffin was yet somehow pleased with this namesake of a cat.

And, of course, there were other cats given as birthday presents, and others at Yule, and some even so fitting as to give for weddings. Emmy, of course, kept more and more of her own, as the years went by. While they were not hobbits themselves, Southsmial was filled with her children, and that was good for her heart.

Having been fond of him in youth, and only more fond that they were neither of them the marrying kind, she named one cat for Old Bilbo Baggins, who really was not old as all at, or nearly as cracked as some would say. Not nearly so cracked as Emmy knew herself to be, that is.

There were other cats, of course, coming and going as did the years (and sometimes, there were simply more cats than one might wish to count). For each she simply knew from birth, it seemed that two others somehow came to Southsmial by some other way. And for each she found some other home for, oh, again, two others somehow came to her by some other way.

Sometime after Bilbo the First, there was Bilbo the Younger. And sometime after that, there was Bilbo the Third. Oh, and what could Emmy say? She would grin and smile, and say nothing at all. But if you knew her well enough, why, of course she simply liked having her own Bilbo about.

Somehow, by naming her cats for hobbits she knew, others (mostly children) came to believe that she could change those very hobbits into cats! And some others (also, children) also came to believe that she would bake those hobbits into pies!

(Ah, well, that never made much sense! Not to Emmy herself, anyhow. But then, she was very good at not making sense.)

Oh, of course, but she was kind, and no parent ever thought she would put a child (most especially one of theirs) at risk.

Sometime after Bilbo went Away, that second time, there was a Frodo at Southsmial, and some years after that, a Merry as well. Poor dear Pippin came to her and, much like with Bilbo, she found herself thinking that there should ever after be a Pippin in her own home. The child was a sweet enough lad and they grew to be close friends. There were few who would listen to Emmy's old stories as did young Pippin. And young Pippin, of course, just as did her cats – grew.

There were her Three Great Trolls of cats, named for characters in a story that Bilbo (the hobbit, that is) had once been known to tell. Well, he was years away now, and likely there was more to his story than Emmy herself had ever heard, and she was somehow drawn to the names, though that again made little sense. Yet like with dear Gruffo (the cat, that is), now years away himself, well, the names just simply fit.

There of course was a year where things seemed darker, and all her many cats seemed to be in constant fits. And there were foul folk about, though none of them ever gave Emmy any trouble – no doubt, if they made some mischief, then they would need a stern talking to. But she never had chance for that, for the dark year ended, and hope came again, as well as light.

Round the time her dear nephew Berrin came visiting, she found herself naming one special cat Beregond. Oh, why, the name was simply the sort of thing that would have come from one of Old Bilbo's stories, for it simply made no sense. It was a pity, though, that her nephew Berrin never was given the chance to meet that very strangely named cat.

Young Pippin came back, and told Emmy about the world beyond the Shire – and that was all very well and good, and again something that sounded as though it would have come from one of Old Bilbo's stories, though Emmy somehow knew that Pippin was speaking in truth. So she gave him tea and strawberry cake, and listened to his stories with wide opened years, and named one cat for Faramir, the Man, and another cat for Faramir, the young Took, and that, as well, only seemed well and right.

i had to post

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 03:23:12 GMT

dreamflower02 and I are watching the extended version of Return of the King right now. The Mouth of Sauron just came on screen, and as he started speaking (gross teeth in abundance), DF said: 'I bet he doesn't use crest whitening strips.'

LOL.

a spamming of fic links

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 22:11:27 GMT

Okay, have now spammed f-list with fic, but backdated it so it wouldn't be such a noticeable said. That said, here are links to all of what I posted (less spammy this way, you see!):

What Goes Up (G, Pippin, drabble) - prompted by baranduin
Respectability (PG, OT4ish gen, Merry/Estella and Pippin/Diamond) - for garnet_took
And These Moments (PG, Merry/Pippin) - for shirasade
And How It Turns (NC-17, Merry/Pippin) - for capra_maritimus

Fic Post: Warm and Bright

Sun, 06 Jan 2008 02:48:54 GMT

Warm and Bright

By: Dana
Summary: Second Yule is spent in good company.
Characters: Pervinca Took, Estella Bolger, and Rosemary Brandybuck
Pairings: Pervinca/Estella/Rosemary
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Warnings: Femslash, sexual content, hobbitpile
Author's Notes: One reason I wanted to write this was was because I am terribly fond of rubynye's Rosemary, and as well wanted to write something bright, something that could have happened at the beginning of 1419. Another reason was because I don't write nearly enough Pervinca.
Second Yule is the first of the year. (Even though this DOES happen during the Troubles, I am not going to list it in that series.)
Betaed by hyel.
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

SR 1419, 2 Yule

It had come to a new day, and to a new year as well, but Pervinca did not think, or even feel, that very much had changed. There had been some snow, enough of it to give Yule an extra amount of cheer – and given how lacking the cheer had been, Pervinca knew that that was more than enough. Last Night had come, and with it the new year, and even for the darkness of times, that was only more reason for celebration.

Still, there was dancing, and drinking, the old year turned out, the new year welcomed in. Pervinca danced with Everard out of old habit, but then sent him off to dance with his lad Tolby – still, she and Ev had shared a kiss, again out of old habit.

And here it was, Last Night, the first of the new year, and she went from the festivities, bundled up against the cold outside. Above, in frigid darkness, the stars were bright like scattered diamonds, shining overhead. Pervinca felt the breath gone from her, her fingers numbing through her gloves, her feet crunching on a glittering of snow. And she stood, looked up, and wondered what end her brother had brought himself to – did he look at this same sky? How was he? Oh, was he well? More likely, he was better off than well, and had not yet come to the end of his adventure. That he would come back, there was no doubt. But Pervinca had never been good at waiting, or in being left behind.

She heard giggles, and turned her head, brought her hands up to breathe out warm against them. Two children, bundled up against the cold, ran out beneath the starry sky, cheeks glowing from the warmth inside. Pervinca inhaled on a breath – cold air in her nose, in her throat, and distantly the smell of mint and spice.

She shut her eyes, shook out her arms, then went out walking some more, bare branches spreading overhead. Her thoughts turned eastwards, but she shrugged them off, looked up yet again.

'I'll not wish upon a star,' she said. They were all bright, but no one star brighter than any other. Pervinca sighed. Then she shivered. Then she decided on finding some warm company to see the night, and the end of the year, through, and so turned back to light, and went back inside.

And inside, she found Estella waiting to the side of the room, picking at the sleeve of her pretty dark dress. Pervinca snuck up behind her, for Estella's attention was on the middle of the room – on someone dancing, Pervinca guessed – and Pervinca slid her arms round Estella's waist, pulled back, and kissed the tip of her ear.

Estella laughed, and Pervinca felt that through her arms. 'Oh, hello, Vinca,' Estella said, and Pervinca let her loose.

'Am I so easy to guess at?' Pervinca asked, grinning lopsidedly. Estella rolled her eyes, reached for Pervinca's hand, and ragged her three steps right, to where the mistle-bough was hung on the arch of the door – she kissed Pervinca soundly, as Pervinca kissed her back, and laughed.

'Much better,' Pervinca said, smiling when they were through. Estella rolled her eyes once more, and drew Pervinca back along with her, to where she had been waiting.

'I'm waiting on my drink,' Estella said lightly. 'You Tooks. Almost as bad as some certain Brandybucks.' But there was depth there, at least hanging at the end of her words.

'Only almost as bad?' Pervinca thought she sounded offended. 'I must needs do much better, then.'

Estella's laugh was ringing sharp like a bell, and then she said again, 'I'm waiting on my drink.'

'I haven't seen you all night – well, not alone,' Pervinca said. She leaned back against the wall. Estella was warm at her side, the air warmer before them. If she shut her eyes, she could easily imagine herself, out there, dancing. She didn't need to close her eyes to slide her hand into Estella's, and Estella laughed out on a breath, made herself more comfortable beside Pervinca, both of them now leaning against the wall.

She didn't mention her drink, this time, and they stood and made idle talk, Pervinca's attention drifting more than it ought to have. Then she saw her father lead her mother out to dance, as was tradition. Her mother had seemed odd of late, but she had been out of sorts. 'I should take you off to dance,' Pervinca said, but made no show to move.

'I'll never have my drink, not if you're set on having your way,' Estella said, and Pervinca grinned sideways at her. Then Estella sighed, and her hand slid away.

'Do you think of him often?'

'Of him?' But Estella knew who Pervinca meant, though she didn't say his name. 'I suppose so. I never thought I would, but then, I hardly ever thought that he would up and leave the Shire.' She grew quiet, thoughtful, and Pervinca looked sideways at her once more – Estella bit at the corner of her mouth, then sighed out loud. 'I never thought to miss him, either.'

She said nothing more, and Pervinca at that moment had been thoughtful enough to not push. 'Did you know,' Estella said, long moments after, 'that the Sackville-Baggins had hoped to entertain us at Bag End?' She spoke so low, that Pervinca could hardly believe her ears.

She stood forward, looked at Estella, and Estella's eyes were dark, uncertain, and Pervinca, knowing at least the rumours of Lotho Sackville-Baggins' involvement in the disappearance of Frodo, and Pippin, and Merry. 'Estella–'

Estella hastened to speak, saying, 'Oh, I know that Pimple had no hand in their disappearance – Freddy at least let that on – but my brother's said no more than that. And I must say, I'm not used to that quiet. Still, Lotho thought to have us as his guests, at Yule...' She shook her head, but her eyes sparkled as she laughed. 'Oh, Vinca,' she said, and wiped her hand across her brow. 'You should have seen father's face – and mother's was even more comical. I never thought that Lobelia might think to invite us all to Yule. Believe me, I haven't ever seen him turn that shade. Oh, Rosemary, thank you.' She kissed Rosemary on the cheek, for Rosemary had brought her a mug of something hot. Rosemary smiled sideways at Pervinca, and Pervinca turned thoughtful for a moment, before saying:

'There was no invitation, not for us – leastwise, not that I know.'

'And if there had been, you would know,' said Rosemary.

'True enough – there's little here that goes on that I don't somehow find my way to knowing.' And Pervinca grinned and leaned back, and Rosemary and Estella shared from the same cup, before Rosemary smiled and pressed Estella's hand.

'I'm off to dance with your brother now. But I'll dance with you later, I promise.'

Estella chuckled softly, then laughed with more force. Rosemary pressed her hand more tightly, then sped off, vanishing into the crowd of hobbits, the ribbons in her hair bright beneath the warming lanterns.

'Will you dance,' Pervinca said, 'or will you dance?'

'That's not business of yours,' Estella laughed, and then busied herself with her drink.

The next Pervinca saw Rosemary, she was warm-cheeked and smiling bright as day. Pervinca called her name, and waved her over, and next Pervinca knew, Rosemary was warm against her, her breath hot like a sweet fresh kiss.

'Happy Yule, Pervinca,' she said, and smiled, sweet as that kiss, and when her lips touched Pervinca's, there was no excuse of mistle-bough hanging above their heads. And they smiled at one another, afterwards, Rosemary's kiss fresh on Pervinca's mouth.

'Have you danced with Freddy and Estella both?'

Rosemary nods, and her hand finds Pervinca's, fingers warm and smooth. 'I have, yes. And you, Pervinca, have you danced to your fill?'

Pervinca really can't help but smile, and she laughs. 'No, dear Rosemary, I can't say that I have.'

'We ought do something, then, to rectify that.'

'Oh, do you think so?'

'That I do.' And they smiled more and laughed, and Rosemary gave Pervinca's hand a warm press. 'Perhaps we ought find Estella, as well. Likely, she's not had her fill of dancing, either.'

The hour was late, but the night is still warm, and though many couples and others had already slipped away, there were still others who were dancing. The music, though, had grown deeper, slow, and Rosemary and Pervinca both promised that they would find the other, whomever found Estella first.

As it was, it was Rosemary who found Pervinca, and Rosemary had Estella in tow. It was a good night, the old year before, and Pervinca thought it best warm company be found, and kept. So she asked them both to come with her, and neither had needed to say yes, but they both did.

And sometime, not long after that, they found themselves n Pervinca's warm, and the cold new year, and the night sky beyond, seemed very far away.

'We'll play a game,' Rosemary said, smile warm and sweet. Estella shivered, not that Rosemary had given her any real reason, and gasped on a laugh.

'Wicked Brandybuck,' Estella said, as Rosemary grinned at Pervinca over Estella's shoulder. Rosemary's tongue was pink, candlelight in her curls, and the line of Estella's cheek – and Estella shivered once more, this time with reason, as Rosemary licked along the curve of Estella's ear. 'With a wicked tongue,' Estella gasped, again, slumping back, though her vision still seemed clear.

Pervinca grinned at them both, and would have stretched languidly to watch – but she looked Rosemary eye to eye, and she smiled, then nodded, and then nipped at Estella's ear, and Estella squeaked as she laughed. 'Only because you like it so,' Rosemary said with bold cheer.

Estella opened her mouth to answer, but shut it as quickly, Rosemary dipping her head to lick, then nibble, at Estella's neck. Pervinca found that she could then press close, Estella warm, heat along her front, and she and Rosemary both so sweet. 'You would make a perfect painting,' she said, reaching to the ribbons in Estella's hair – her dark curls only somewhat mussed, high colour warming her cheeks, warmer down the stretch of her neck, and Rosemary draped at her back, Rosemary's hand sliding down to a covered hip.

'Rosemary,' Pervinca said, leaning closer, Estella's eyes shuttering, then closing fully, her tongue flicking, pale and pink, across her lips – her mouth left parted, and Pervinca a breath away.

Pervinca's fingers caught hold of a ribbon, and she tugged gently, then more firmly, and Estella reached a hand up, caught hold of her wrist. Rosemary did something with her mouth, not something that Pervinca could tell, and Estella cried out (then gasped, now, that wasn't fair), and Rosemary lifted her head, and Pervinca her eyes, Rosemary grinning bright and wide, the colour of her kiss showing on Estella's skin.

Rosemary's hand had fallen to Estella's hip, fingers moving, pulling at her dress – Estella moved her leg, showed skin, and Rosemary's fingers trailed, lightly, apparently, and Estella shivered then gasped, and Pervinca pulled free one ribbon, and Pervinca took Estella's mouth.

Estella's eyes snapped opened, then shut with some reserve, Estella stretched her leg out wide, Rosemary's hand vanishing beneath cloth. Then Estella quaked, and kiss became moan, and Pervinca leaned back, grinning somewhat smugly – Estella opened her eyes.

'A game?' Estella managed, her voice even. 'I thought we meant to dance.'

Pervinca smiled, laughed with cheer – there needed to be cheer. 'Oh, we'll dance.'

She held the ribbon still, and caught it with her other hand. Estella did not protest as she was blindfolded, biting her lip to keep herself from moaning too loudly, Rosemary's hand moving at a quick pace, then slowing – she pressed kisses on Estella's neck, at her ear, left pale pink marks that no doubt would darken. Pervinca nipped at Estella's lower lip, caught it, sucked on it, and Estella pushed with her hips, one leg pushing against Pervinca's.

Estella's bodice was simple, but lovely – Estella hardly needed more. Pervinca savoured the moment, Estella's mouth parting and closing, moaning to sing, Rosemary and she both so lovely, light and dark and burning.

Then Pervinca bent her mouth to the laces of Estella's bodice, caught one with her teeth, and tugged – Estella gasped and jerked and Rosemary laughed against skin, and Pervinca chuckled as she loosened the first lace.

'Both so wicked,' Estella said, but in a highly complimentary fashion – she stretched out her other leg, leaning back further, and Pervinca tugged with her teeth, pulled free Estella's bodice, then made her way to skin.

'Ah–' Estella's voice fell away, then Pervinca caught one nipple with her teeth, pressing lightly – Estella shifted her leg once more, her foot against Pervinca's thigh. 'Ah, Vinca, please–' and Estella arched into that, and Pervinca sucked at her, stroked bare skin beneath her thumb – if she had looked up, at that moment, she would have seen Rosemary, watching her, eyes glinting like bright jewels.

When Estella cried out again, voice striking high, Pervinca licked at her nipple, then kissed the soft skin of her breast – she looked up, then, and Rosemary smiled at her with even more cheer. But it was Estella who said, a glimmer of sweat on her cheeks and her shoulders, 'You – both of you – you aren't being fair.'

Pervinca only grinned – hadn't Estella said that before, or something like it, even? – and she moved back, and Rosemary pushed Estella against her, and Pervinca slid her hands down Estella's bare back as Rosemary leaned away. Estella's hands rested at Pervinca's shoulders, and Pervinca nipped at Estella's ear.

Estella was all but dripping between her legs, and the sound she made at the touch of Pervinca's finger was a mewling moan, soft as melted honey, and just as sticky warm. She made another small sound, shifting, and they were all shifting some, stretching out and pressing close, arms and legs moving, laughs breathless but catching, slick and glimmering and glowing, heat flowing in the air.

Resettled, bare hand against bare thigh, Pervinca licked with the tip of her tongue, the heat there glowing, something she could take with her mouth, kiss like a friend. A laughing moan, and Rosemary said something that Pervinca heard but couldn't hear, and a hand caught her wrist and pulled her up, and Estella drew her down, tangled her legs about her waist, breasts and flesh pushed flush and damp against Pervinca's back, Estella's laugh small and teasing, her nose pushed against Pervinca's throat. She had taken off the ribbon, then.

But Pervinca let herself be held, Estella's mouth on her neck, Estella's arms about her, pulling back – and Rosemary grinned at her, grinned sweetly and then smiled, Pervinca leaned back and Estella's legs loosening about her waist – slid down, one foot against Pervinca's hip, the heel of the other pushing with haphazard grace against the hot dampness between Pervinca's legs. Pervinca startled, liquid heat gone through her, a damp laugh pushed against her shoulder, and Rosemary rising up and then leaning now. The clamp of hands, the press of fingers, and Pervinca leaned back and Estella pulled against her, and Rosemary's soft tongue, wicked, teasing, was a far more effective thing.

She might have said something, but bit her lower lip instead, Estella breathing against her, damp and hot, Rosemary moving, and Pervinca not wishing the moment to stop, not wishing the feeling to end. When she did open her mouth, her lower lip aching, sweat and glory, she made only one soft moan before Estella's hand pressed, sly, over her mouth, muffling sound, her other hand sliding, slipping, soft to Pervinca's hip.

There was a moment there where Rosemary moved up, fingers now instead of tongue, and kissed Pervinca wish such intensity that Pervinca simply forgot to moan. They were all slick now, and Pervinca opened her eyes long enough to look at Rosemary, and Rosemary at she – and they nodded, and Estella bit on Pervinca's neck, and Pervinca's exclaim made little sense, and Rosemary laughed into her mouth.

'Aren't we to dance?' Rosemary said, as if she meant to take lead, and Pervinca had had enough sense driven from her that she only nodded, as well as she could, Estella's mouth hot and pinning, sucking on her skin, Rosemary's fingers moving at pace and then slowing to heated breath – Pervinca thought her senses might simply slip from her head.

So she gave over control, if she had ever had it, let Estella and Rosemary kiss over her shoulder, a lovely vision just to her right, Estella's fingers joining Rosemary's, Pervinca gasping, clenching, one of her legs pulling back, if only so she might better feel. She was caught between skin and skin, and Rosemary kissed her cheek and Estella licked her ear, and when Pervinca came it was quite a shattering event, a different heat spreading through her, pulsing, deep.

Not that Estella or Rosemary gave up, fingers moving, kisses probing, Pervinca caught between slick glistening skin, and now for certainly all sense was gone from her mind.

When she could, she twisted her mouth round to kiss Estella, Rosemary's fingers sliding deep, a jolt through Pervinca and then she felt herself shatter all again, and her kiss broke so she might laugh, weary, against Estella's glowing lips. There was another laugh, and Rosemary nipped at Pervinca's ear, and Pervinca swung her head round slowly, leaned forward, kissed Rosemary with leisure, Rosemary's fingers not quite finished, yet.

But Pervinca decided then to give back as she was given, slid free of Estella's loose grip, pressed firm against Rosemary, pushed her down, Rosemary's fingers slipping away. Pervinca caught Rosemary's mouth, kissed her, and from behind, Estella laughed – when Estella moved, she did so only to better pin Rosemary, and Pervinca pushed her knee up, pressed against the wet heat at Rosemary's center.

She was gathering herself together, Rosemary breathing hard, trembling, and Estella laughed, again with cheer. But she said nothing, only kissed Pervinca's cheek, then her lips – and Pervinca kissed Rosemary, even as Rosemary moaned, sweet as sparking heat.

Another go, and needed cheer. If night, and the cold of new year, had seemed far away already, then it was now only made more distant, as they made themselves more close.

Fic Post: At What Cost

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 00:46:19 GMT

Please note the warnings on this one.

At What Cost

By: Dana
Summary: A choice is made, and then the results.
Characters: Edroc Tunnelly and some others
Pairings: None (well, Edroc/Callie, if you want, and Idric/Mimosa, as well)
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Warnings: Gen, angst, violence, the acts of Ruffians. Non-consensual sexual content. Um, that's kind of graphic even.
Author's Notes: I've meant to write about my Newbury Tunnellys, and I guess its best to get the dark out of the way as soon as you want. In the spring of 1419, Edroc's brother Idric marries Mimosa Oldbuck, and Edroc saves his brother and his new sister-in-law from a rather dark fate. This is that story, though somewhat condensed. I had a time figuring out what I should rate it, as well - just know it does contain some rather heavily implied sexual content, though nothing so terribly graphic as it could have been.
... I liked the way I told the story, though.
Also, you'll note I won't call this slash. I just won't.
Also, really note the warnings. This isn't a nice story.
Series Index: In a Sunless Year.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Sometime in the spring of SR 1419

'Have I died?' he asked, and his brother shook, laugh brittle in the cool spring air. Edroc went on, saying, 'Have you come to bury me, then?'

'We've come to bring you home, Edi,' Idric said, and then went on – voice gaining speed as well as pitch with each repetition of Edroc's name. 'Edi, Edi, Edroc.'

Edroc, feeling far away but all too near, wondered at the mess of tears falling wet on his brother's cheeks. He moved his arm, or thought he did – he turned his head, slightly, groaned as his vision blurred.

'Farry, come here, fetch your brothers,' Idric said, but then his voice went out – when it came again, Edroc heard it as if from a distance. He felt as if he would be sick.

He shuddered, and groaned, and that was warning enough for them his brother was holding him as he shook and shuddered, coughed and spewed, tears now running wet on his own face. He fell away from that moment, only to return. He recalled Grick, all of him, his smell and his taste, his bruise-cruel hands. Edroc laughed as he shook, laughed wild and broken, and collapsed, wasted, broken, lost.

He remembered with clarity now his brother's wedding, and the three Men who had come up from the Bridge, through the Gate. The sun had shone so brightly, and the day had been so lovely, bright, and Idric had married his Mimosa, and – and, shaking, Edroc coughed, gripped one hand tight into the cloth of his brother's shirt. He couldn't move himself, but Idric supported him, and one of – oh, Edroc couldn't see, wouldn't know. His breath hitched on a sob, and so as memory had washed over him, pain did too. If he had needed to stand on his own two legs, his knees would have buckled. He breathed out on a gasp of pain, bruised and sore inside and out, and he bent his head against his brother's shoulder. He recalled Mard and the third, the one whose name he hadn't heard, how they'd laughed over him, pushed him round as they cut and pulled off his clothes. He remembered –

Mard's breath had been hot, stank of some cheap and horrible drink, and Edroc's eyes rolled back into his head. If he could have blacked out, he might have lived with that, but Mard pressed him tight, fingers denting, leaving bruises, no doubt. Mard laughed over him, spun him round, thumped the back of his head as he laughed even louder. 'Now, Master Rat, you brought this on yourself,' and Edroc stood taller, for he hadn't anything else but dignity, and even that was fading fast.

Then Mard was in him, pinning him and ripping him in half, and Edroc shook and screamed and sobbed –

'Ed, Edi, Edroc, it's me, it's your brother, you're safe, you're well,' Idric said, voice steady but wet, and Edroc gripped at him and tried to work his mouth, but couldn't. Then he fell into a swoon, which was good and helpful but not enough. It would have aided him more if he had been senseless when it would have mattered most.

'I'm sorry,' he said, voice holding steady. 'I'm sorry, Idric.'

'You haven't any need to apologise,' Idric said, voice still wet and now shaking. 'You saved us, you did. Edi, I–'

Edroc fell into such a haze, memory and pain, that he could not hear Idric now. He gasped and found himself on his hands and knees again, coughing, Grick's seed hot in his mouth, wet on his chin. 'There's a good lad,' the third laughed. 'Come on, I want a go.'

Edroc was pulled by his hair, then pulled up sitting. When he left his mouth shut, eyes rolling and him near senseless, the Man frowned and thumped the side of his head, then thumped him again in the gut. He doubled, and the Man laughed, tugged on his hair. He had his prick out, big and hard, and he gave another tug on Edroc's hair.

'Come now, lad, give us a suck.'

He groaned and laughed at the same time when Edroc stretched his mouth wide as he could, sobbing and choking at the same time. The hold on his hair loosened then pulled tight, and Edroc's vision burned to black. But he didn't fall beyond sense. The Man groaned and pushed him, muttering, 'ah, glory, tight, ah, yes,' and Mard's voice was heard from somewhere nearby, 'ah, but I'll rather have a go at that arse. Grick, have we any more wine?'

The Man at him pushed Edroc's head done when he spillt, and Edroc had to suck it all in, choking as he swallowed, eyes burning with hot tears. He felt useless, empty, and full of blank hate and burning pain, and he was pushed back. He sat for a moment but then fell, curled in on himself. He heard Grick's laugh, and then Mard pulled at him, pulled him up, forced his mouth onto Edroc's, bristle on his chin and brandy hot on his tongue.

Edroc pulled himself up from that dream, shaking as he did, teeth rattling and his head spinning. 'Stop it,' he said, but the pain didn't end, the memory swept over him once more. He heard his brother's voice, then someone else, female, but nothing more as he went under, again, arms all but wrenched from the sockets, wrists bound, dirt in his face and Mard splitting him open wide.

He –

He remembered the wedding itself, clear and bright and vivid, but no sense, no real feeling. The moment the Men had come, laughed and said how they'd have a bit of the new bride. How Mimosa had pushed herself against Idric, pale in her terror, and Idric so pale in his resistance, but standing tall. Edroc had pushed himself before his brother and his brother's new wife, had stood tall and told the Men to leave off.

They hadn't gone. They took what they wanted, food and drink. They said he would stand for the bride, and so long as he did as they wanted, they'd not go for her too.

– he screamed and came back to himself, panting, hot and cold at the same time, numb and shaking, memory pressing down on him so hard he thought he might lose himself completely. A cool cloth on his brow, his mother's voice, no, Rue Highbank, the healer, telling it was dream only, only dream, and there was naught about that could hurt him, now.

He must have been given something, something to calm him, for memory and pain both eased off him, slid away and left his vision burning but clear. 'I want to die,' he might have said, but in looking back, he couldn't tell if he had or if he had not. He fell away from himself, and it was Idric who sat at his bedside, now, the window behind him covered, but darkness crept in.

'How long?' he asked, for he needed to know if he could manage even that. Idric moved, Edroc felt his brother's touch at his hand, fingers pressing tight but reassuring.

'You slept through the day, and almost through the night again. Mistress Rue–'

'How long?' he asked, once more, for he hadn't meant that.

'Through morning. I thought you were dead.' Edroc couldn't feel now, and Idric's voice came from far away, lacking depth, lacking deeper emotion.

'I thought I was, too. Are you sure I'm not?'

'You're alive. You're alive, and you saved us, Misa and I both, and I–'

'Don't say it, Id, don't – s'no need. Just...'

He didn't know what. He let the words go, and thought followed after. If he dreamed, he couldn't tell, for he recalled nothing on waking, the morning next.

His Callie was there, face pale, hands trembling. But she smiled, strong as stone, and her eyes were shining bright. Edroc, though, did not want her to see him like this, and turned his aching head away.

'No,' she said, touching his hand. He looked at her, out of his own senses, looked at her and her smile, her hair copper-bright. 'No, Edi, I won't have you look away. I'm here for you, now and for ever after. I want you to know that. I won't have you be alone.'

He might have smiled, but the draught was stronger than the rest of him and he slipped again into sleep. When he woke again, Callie was there still, but asleep, her curls a' tumble, head pillow against one arm – but her other hand was gripping at is, as though it truly did not mean to ever let go.