Measure for Measure; or, Pippin the Irredeemable
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-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
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10
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942
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Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
942
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.
Measure for Measure; or, Pippin the Irredeemable
Part I
Rosie liked Pippin, but then everybody did. There was a time when, at first glance, the lad might not arrest a girl's gaze, but he'd taken her around the waist once, and drawn her into the dance, and she'd found out why May had been giving him second half-pints out of her own purse without even needing to be asked.
It was something about the eyes, she'd admit, if pressed. The way he would pay attention to you, a smile at the corner of his mouth, words coming quick and clever through the defenses, until you were laughing and drowning and giving Mr. Pippin whatever Mr. Pippin might desire.
It's no good for a lad, growing up getting everything he wants, her mother had said, but Rosie knew Mistress Cotton would still allow him the apples he stole from her tree whenever passing by Bywater.
And that was before the great disappearing act; before the Ruffians, and the Battle; before the four adventurers had ridden back, all so different from before, and Mr. Pippin taller than any hobbit she'd ever seen, except for Mr. Merry. Now, wherever the two of them went, everybody would be looking. And Mr. Pippin still had those eyes, and every lass and matron, and not a small number of lads, would do just about anything for Mr. Pippin.
No, indeed, said some maternal part of Rosie, that can't be good for a lad.
Rosie liked Pippin, but then everybody did. There was a time when, at first glance, the lad might not arrest a girl's gaze, but he'd taken her around the waist once, and drawn her into the dance, and she'd found out why May had been giving him second half-pints out of her own purse without even needing to be asked.
It was something about the eyes, she'd admit, if pressed. The way he would pay attention to you, a smile at the corner of his mouth, words coming quick and clever through the defenses, until you were laughing and drowning and giving Mr. Pippin whatever Mr. Pippin might desire.
It's no good for a lad, growing up getting everything he wants, her mother had said, but Rosie knew Mistress Cotton would still allow him the apples he stole from her tree whenever passing by Bywater.
And that was before the great disappearing act; before the Ruffians, and the Battle; before the four adventurers had ridden back, all so different from before, and Mr. Pippin taller than any hobbit she'd ever seen, except for Mr. Merry. Now, wherever the two of them went, everybody would be looking. And Mr. Pippin still had those eyes, and every lass and matron, and not a small number of lads, would do just about anything for Mr. Pippin.
No, indeed, said some maternal part of Rosie, that can't be good for a lad.