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Measure for Measure; or, Pippin the Irredeemable
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
944
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
944
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part III
Rosie sighed, regret already flowing in to fill the space left by pleasure. Pippin lifted her face up and kissed her lightly with lips that still smelled of her own moisture. She hung onto him, but only for a while. The moment was slipping, and now it was time for consequences.
Pippin buried his face in her hair. "It's all right, Rosie," he said, laughing just a little. "Really."
Rosie didn't dignify that with an answer. Tall as he was, Pippin was just a boy, and consequences, it seemed, were things for women to worry about. "You get on, now," she said, instead, pushing away from him at last and rearranging her dress. "I have a thing or two to do."
"But, Rosie—if you're worried about..."
"Not another word from you, rogue," she said firmly and ushered him out of the pantry. "I'll have the hole to myself and my family now, if you please. Mr Frodo's not returning till nightfall, anyway, and the Dragon's full of hobbits who still haven't heard enough tales of the Battle."
She literally shoved him out the back door and closed and latched it on his nose. Even to Pippin, that should be hint enough, she hoped. She glanced at herself in the small mirror that hung by the door and rearranged her curls. Then she put the kettle on, again, as it was nearing tea-time.
Eventually she found Sam in the garden. He'd been growing hedges to replace the picket fence, and crouched there now with an uprooted bush by his side, digging it a new place among its kin. He'd heard the door, she was almost sure of it.
She went to him, crouched herself, and slung both arms around him. She loved him so much it hurt; the love was why she hurt, now.
She felt his hand closing on one of her own, the black earth crumbling between their skins. "There now, lass," he said.
Pippin buried his face in her hair. "It's all right, Rosie," he said, laughing just a little. "Really."
Rosie didn't dignify that with an answer. Tall as he was, Pippin was just a boy, and consequences, it seemed, were things for women to worry about. "You get on, now," she said, instead, pushing away from him at last and rearranging her dress. "I have a thing or two to do."
"But, Rosie—if you're worried about..."
"Not another word from you, rogue," she said firmly and ushered him out of the pantry. "I'll have the hole to myself and my family now, if you please. Mr Frodo's not returning till nightfall, anyway, and the Dragon's full of hobbits who still haven't heard enough tales of the Battle."
She literally shoved him out the back door and closed and latched it on his nose. Even to Pippin, that should be hint enough, she hoped. She glanced at herself in the small mirror that hung by the door and rearranged her curls. Then she put the kettle on, again, as it was nearing tea-time.
Eventually she found Sam in the garden. He'd been growing hedges to replace the picket fence, and crouched there now with an uprooted bush by his side, digging it a new place among its kin. He'd heard the door, she was almost sure of it.
She went to him, crouched herself, and slung both arms around him. She loved him so much it hurt; the love was why she hurt, now.
She felt his hand closing on one of her own, the black earth crumbling between their skins. "There now, lass," he said.