Prince of the Halflings

Pippin felt Merry’s arm pushing him, and he rolled back into a seated position on the bed as he heard the door being opened.

It was Aragorn, and he walked into the room and stood next to the bed. He was smiling, and he said “I thought you’d like to know that Faramir is awake and able to have visitors.”

Pippin smiled, then he looked down at Merry, stroking his hair as he said “Do you want to come with me?”

“Mmm,” Merry said, nodding, as he carefully eased himself up to a sitting position in bed. “I’m alright,” he said to Pippin, as he could see the concern in his face.

Aragorn told him to take it easy, as he helped him out of the bed. He walked over to Pippin, who was already on his feet, and he crouched down and took his hands.

“And you, too, Pippin,” he said. “You walked a long way yesterday.”

Pippin nodded, and then he averted his eyes and flushed slightly as he remembered what Aragorn must have heard and seen last night, and as he looked away he saw that there were some clothes for them on the chairs by the bed.

The two hobbits dressed, and Pippin led the way as they went to find Faramir. The door to the room was open, as were the windows, letting in the warm breeze.

Faramir was sitting up in bed, with a pillow behind his back as he leant against the headboard. He was wearing a white nightshirt, and his skin looked white against the auburn hair that hung to his shoulders. He looked very pale, but this was the first time that Pippin had seen him since the fire, and he rushed into Faramir’s outstretched arms, overjoyed to be seeing him again.

“Pippin!” he cried, as he embraced him and kissed his hair.

“And this must be another of your kin,” Faramir said, as he released Pippin. He held his arms out to Merry, and Merry took his hands as Faramir looked him up and down. “You are so alike, yet so different,” he said, still looking at Merry. Merry thought he saw a look of recognition cross Faramir’s face, as he turned and looked at Pippin.

“This is Merry,” Pippin said.

“Merry,” Faramir said, smiling as he embraced him. Merry thought he felt delicate, weak even, but he felt that this was not always so.

Pippin sat on the edge of Faramir’s bed and Merry stood beside him. It was Faramir who spoke first.

“My father, has he spoken of me?” he asked, the faintest hint of hope in his voice.

Merry was shocked to see Pippin burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around him protectively. “Pippin?” he asked, stroking his hair.

“I understand,” Faramir said, staring ahead of him at the wall. His heart sunk and he felt his chest tighten, but he felt numb and he realised he couldn’t cry for the father who never loved him.

“I wasn’t meant to tell you,” Pippin sobbed, remembering Aragorn’s words from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Was it in battle?” Faramir asked, not recognising his own voice, turning back to look at the hobbits. Merry held Pippin tightly as he sobbed into his chest. “I can’t tell you,” he cried.

“I see,” said Faramir. So, he had died, and not honourably by the sounds of it, and yet he still felt he couldn’t cry for him. He felt terrible for making Pippin feel like this, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Merry, confused now and slightly angry, held Pippin’s face to his chest and tried to soothe him. “I’m sorry,” he said to Faramir, “I think we should go.”

Faramir just nodded. He felt terrible for upsetting Pippin, and even worse about his father, but even worse that he couldn’t bring himself to cry for him. A sudden realisation hit him that he was now the steward of Gondor, but what good a steward am I, he thought, when I’m too weak to even get out of bed. He wished Boromir was here, he would have known what to do. He realised he had never felt more alone. He watched Merry and Pippin walk into the gardens, and he just knew. There was something about the way they walked together, they seemed so connected somehow. Pippin had talked of him at the House of Gondor, and he had just known they were lovers. Looking at them traipsing together across the gardens, he wondered how they could have borne to be apart.

Merry and Pippin came to a secluded spot, beneath a ring of trees at the very far end of the gardens.

They both sat down on the soft grass. The light coming through between the leaves created a dappled effect on the grass below, and on Pippin’s sad but beautiful face as he settled himself down on the grass.

“What is it?” Merry asked. “You can tell me,” he said. Why do I feel so awkward around him, he thought. It feels like I don’t even know him any more.

Pippin told him about Denethor, about his slow descent into madness, and he told him that was the worst thing, even worse than what they had been through with the orcs.

Merry was shocked and taken aback by this - he couldn’t imagine anything being worse than the orcs.

“And even though everyone thought he was just a grumpy old man,” Pippin said, crying again, “I was lonely, and I,” he spluttered, trying to get the words out, “I liked him.”

Merry touched his hand and wiped the tears away from his eyes with his own sleeve. The pain and the guilt at leaving Pippin was still raw, and it hurt to be reminded of it, to see him hurting, to hear him say he was lonely.

Pippin told him about the funeral pyre, about how Denethor was going to burn Faramir, and how he had pulled Faramir off the pyre.

Merry couldn’t help it, he knew Pippin was upset, but he remembered Faramir hugging and kissing Pippin in the Houses of Healing, remembered their faces lighting up at the sight of each other, and all he could hear was the word ‘Faramir’ this, and ‘Faramir’ that, over and over again.

It came out before he could stop himself. “You haven’t been looking at this Faramir while I’ve been away, have you?” He tried to say it jokingly, but he saw a look of anger, and then hurt, cross Pippin’s face before he turned away.

He put his hand on Pippin’s, hating himself for being so insensitive, for hurting Pippin again, but Pippin snatched it away. I’m losing him, Merry thought.

There was silence. Merry could almost feel Pippin thinking.

“We cuddled and smoked some pipe weed together,” Pippin said eventually. “Nothing happened.”

Merry’s heart sunk, but he was desperately trying to lighten the atmosphere, trying not to let Pippin slip away completely. “Been smoking all my pipe weed, have you?” he asked jokingly, teasing him like he always used to do, but then he saw that look of anger cross Pippin’s face again.

“I couldn’t bring myself to smoke the last bit,” he said, defiantly. “I kept it because it reminded me of you.” He spat out the last word as he realised he was angry, damn angry, with Merry for leaving him.

Merry reached out and touched the side of Pippin’s face, and this time he didn’t turn away, but put his hand on Merry’s there. “I promise you nothing happened,” he said, quietly, as Merry could see in his clear blue eyes that he was telling the truth.

Merry kissed him gently on the cheek, but Pippin turned away, thinking, even though I wanted it to. He remembered how he had cuddled up close to Faramir that night, the last night before he went off into battle. He remembered how Faramir had wrapped his arm around him while they passed the pipe between them, how he had loved the feel of his big, warm body, his breath rising and falling against Pippin and lulling him into sleepiness as his head began to swim from the effects of the pipe weed. He couldn’t look at Merry as he remembered how he had let his hand trail across Faramir’s thigh as he had reached for the pipe, how he had looked up at his beautiful but sombre face, willing him to touch him, to kiss him.

Merry touched Pippin’s hand again, causing him to start, and he lifted it up and kissed Merry’s fingers. A tear fell onto Merry’s hand and he wiped it away, feeling the smooth, hard, little knuckles that were somehow so familiar. He remembered how all he had talked about with Faramir was Merry, how much he wanted him back, how he didn’t know if it was ever going to happen. Pippin remembered how it had got late, and Faramir had pulled the covers around him, and bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek, before blowing out the lamp. Pippin wondered if Faramir had known it was not really himself that Pippin wanted, as his large hand smoothed the hair out of his eyes and as he spoke softly into his ear, “He will return.” Pippin realised sadly that that was the last time he saw him, before…

“That was a very brave thing you did for Faramir,” Merry said, interrupting his thoughts. Pippin smiled weakly.

I’m losing him, Merry thought again, all because of my stupid jealousy. He lay back on the ground, exhausted all of a sudden. Why do I feel so awkward around him?, he thought again.

Pippin lay down and propped himself up on one elbow. “Are you weary?” he asked, leaning over Merry, his face all frightened and concerned.

Merry smiled up at him. He could feel the weariness enter his very bones, and his arm felt numb and heavy, but he didn’t want to worry Pippin. He smiled up at him and stroked his cheek, and his hair, with his good hand. “I’m fine,” he said. He remembered looking up at Pippin like this after the battle of Pelennor, his sweet face coming slowly into focus above him. I love, you, Pip, he thought. He was still stroking Pippin’s cheek, thinking of what to say.

“You saved my life, Pippin,” he said, fighting to overcome the weariness that was upon him. “I’ll never forget that.”

Pippin tried to smile, but it had sounded so final. He realised he was crying again, and he hated being like this in front of Merry, especially now, with him still not well.

“What is it?” Merry asked, taking Pippin’s hand in his good hand. He hated seeing him hurting, knowing that he had caused it. Pippin didn’t speak, and the silence between them was frightening.

Merry pulled Pippin down towards him, and held him against his chest, stroking his soft curly hair, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Speak, Pippin,” Merry said, kissing his cheek. “It might make you feel better.”

Pippin doubted anything would make him feel better right now. He felt Merry’s warm body underneath him, comforting, familiar. He remembered his screams echoing around the houses of healing, thinking they were going to take Merry away from him for the final time.

“I never want to be apart from you again,” Pippin said, still crying.

Merry was glad he was already lying down, for he would surely have fallen down on hearing this, so unexpected, but so welcome. The pain and guilt at leaving Pippin was still raw, and he never wanted to experience that again, or to have to watch his love being taken further and further away from him.

He kissed Pippin deeply on the lips, and moaned as he felt that hot little tongue enter his mouth. He could feel Pippin growing hard, and felt the warmth spread across his body as he became aroused by Pippin’s kiss, and the feel of his hot little body lying on top of him, his little hips rocking slightly with the kiss.

“I love you, Merry,” Pippin said as he broke the kiss and started to kiss Merry’s neck.

Merry arched his neck towards Pippin’s hot mouth as he felt the pleasure spread across his body.

“And I love you, Peregrin,” Merry said, cheekily, as he whipped Pippin’s breeches off in one smooth movement. Pippin felt oddly exposed, and the feel of the soft breeze in the warm outside air on his buttocks was making him feel even more aroused. He ripped his own shirt off, and Merry pulled him in towards him for a naked cuddle. Pippin felt oddly aroused from the feel of Merry’s clothes on his naked skin, and he started to unbutton Merry’s shirt. He carefully lifted the sleeve off of Merry’s right arm, that was still a little stiff and sore. He leant down as he took the shirt off the delicate arm, and as he was leaning closer into Merry he used this moment to say to him, “I’m sorry, Merry.”

Merry lifted his head and kissed Pippin. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, as the shirt finally came off his hand and landed on the grass. Pippin leant down and pulled off Merry’s breeches and dropped them next to the shirt. He turned back to Merry, who pulled him in close and embraced him. Pippin loved the feel of Merry’s warm naked body beneath him, his skin so soft and smooth, and he longed to be inside him. He slid down to kiss Merry’s hard little nipples, and Merry gasped, realising it had been so long since he had felt like this. He moaned as he felt Pippin’s hands work their way across his belly, and gasped again as his hand reached his cock. He reached between them to touch Pippin and Pippin gave a cry that was practically a shout from his growing need. Merry felt the familiar length, the smooth skin covering his rock hard member, and he heard Pippin give a moan that was nearly a whimper, as he traced his thumb over the top, and found it soaking wet.

He took his hand off Pippin’s cock and reached for his breeches. He could still feel Pippin’s hand stroking up and down the length of his cock and he moaned as he tried to distract himself as he searched in the pocket.

“Pippin,” he gasped, smiling, thinking he would lose control if Pippin carried on.

He handed Merry to tub of cream, and he opened it, but then he looked at Merry, concern showing in his face. “Isn’t this for your wounds?” he asked.

Merry smiled at Pippin’s concern. “I’m sure the elves will find some more,” he said.

Merry drew his knees up, and he watched Pippin slide his hand between his legs. He sighed as he felt Pippin’s creamy fingers slip inside.

Pippin smiled as he watched Merry arch his back and push onto his fingers, watching him as his breathing became heavier. “Do you remember the last time?” Pippin asked softly, still smiling down at Merry.

“Yes, it was on the heather,” Merry said, distracted, as Pippin pushed his fingers in further, “and…..Treebeard…….and……”, his voice trailed off as he reached for Pippin’s hand and guided him deeper, and he moaned as Pippin touched that spot deep inside. He closed his eyes as he let Pippin carry on, gently massaging that spot deep inside, then he took the back of Pippin’s hand in his, indicating he was ready.

Merry reached one arm around Pippin and guided him with the other as Pippin slid between his bent legs. Merry gave a cry as he felt Pippin enter him. It had been a long time, and he was tighter, but it only served to increase his feelings of arousal, and he wanted the moment to last forever as Pippin slowly slid into him.

Pippin felt Merry’s tight warmth gripping him, and he realised how long it had been, how much he had longed for this. Pippin wrapped his arms around the top of Merry’s shoulders, as he enjoyed every sensation; the feel of Merry’s soft, smooth, hot, skin, the feel of his solid little body beneath him, and that tight heat, driving him to distraction as he thrust deeper and deeper inside him, never wanting to stop.

Merry wrapped his legs around Pippin’s back, tipping his own hips as he did so, so that Pippin could penetrate him deeper and deeper. He pushed against Pippin so that soon he was crying out every time Pippin slammed deeper and deeper into him.

Merry could feel Pippin’s smooth, flat belly rubbing against his cock, and it was driving him to distraction. He unwrapped his legs from Pippin’s back. “Pippin……hold…..” he gasped, unable to get the words out, as he took Pippin’s hand and placed it on his cock. Merry felt Pippin’s little hand, so familiar, gripping his cock and stroking it up and down, and he released with a shout, soaking Pippin’s belly with hot liquid as he throbbed, and Pippin, feeling the hot dampness on his belly, and Merry’s muscles clamp tight around him, gave a couple of final hard, deep thrust and he, too, gave a shout as he released inside him.

Pippin lay down on his back next to Merry, the sun drying the wetness on his belly, until they heard the bell for supper. Pippin lay on top of Merry, both still naked, for one final kiss, and then they both dressed. Merry was weary, and he leant against Pippin, who wrapped his arm tightly around his waist as they slowly made the long walk back across the gardens.

Faramir’s supper was brought to his bed, as he was still too weak to stand. His bed faced out onto the gardens, and he saw Pippin walking back with his arm wrapped tightly around Merry, stopping occasionally to kiss him on the cheek or the lips, and he smiled, and was glad.