Lord of the Rings: The Two Strangest Hobbits
Title: The Two Strangest Hobbits
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Sam (implied)
Genre: Fluff? Humor? Whatevs.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,812
Author’s Note:
For Monj,
I hope you enjoy the hobbity cuteness!
I don’t usually like to point out the cousins thing with these two because it doesn’t really bother me but I still prefer to ignore it, but it worked here, so whatever. Hope it doesn’t squick anyone too much-cousins get married a lot in the Shire so I have no qualms.
Summary: Frodo and Sam ask for Merry and Pippin’s help.
Fanfiction Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4871888/1/The_Two_Strangest_Hobbits
It had all started innocently. No, that’s not true. It’s never innocent with Merry and Pippin. But, well, innocent-er? The point being made is that it was not supposed to end in a half-naked tickle fight periodically interrupted by snogging. But then, when things are going in a perfectly good direction there’s no need to change the course because it was unplanned, right? Right.
This tale is getting ahead of itself. The real place to start is when Pippin woke up too early and refused to go back to bed. All the trouble in the Shire, it sometimes seemed, stemmed from Pippin being awake and stubbornly insisting he do something (something almost never being something a sane, well-bred hobbit would do).
“Merry! Merry! Wake up, Merry!”
“No, it’s ok, I’ll catch up with you,” Merry said groggily turning over and falling back asleep. Pippin prodded at him but there was no response except “mmm, lettuce”, “mmm, Pippin”, and finally something that sounded like “ngyfdtrd”. That was when Pippin gave up on Merry.
He hopped out of bed with too much energy and began to bounce around trying to think of something to do. Something fun. That he didn’t need Merry for. That was easier said than done. Merry had all the good ideas; Pippin was usually just along for the ride.
“Aha!” Pippin said dramatically, the idea hitting him like a log between the eyes. Just because Merry wouldn’t be with him didn’t mean he couldn’t take Merry’s wonderful ideas along. And so he set off to do his mischief. The rest, as they say, is history. As was Farmer Maggot’s potato crop after Pippin was finished with it, but that’s another story for another day.
“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!”
“Stop bouncing on me!”
Pippin complied.
“Get off me?” Merry added trying his luck.
“I’m thinking about it. Are you going to wake up finally?”
Merry groaned. “Noooo.”
Pippin’s bouncing redoubled.
“Alright, alright! I’m up! I’m-are you cooking something?”
“Cooked! It’s finished. It’s noon you fat, lazy hobbit,” Pippin teased getting off Merry and sitting calmly at the edge of the bed.
“I’m not fa-do I smell potatoes?”
Pippin grinned. He disappeared over the bed and then reappeared holding up a plate of eggs and hashed potatoes. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”
“You are breakfast in bed,” Merry said mischievously reaching for Pippin and attempting to smack him with a good morning kiss.
Pippin dodged his advances. “No, no, no! I slaved away on this, and you will be enjoying it immediately. If you hadn’t decided to sleep through the morning, you could have been done with breakfast by now and moving onto…other things. But instead, you saw fit to drink half the ale in The Green Dragon last night and-“
“You’re one to talk! You drank the other half!”
“Yes, but I can handle my ale, unlike someone else,” he smiled devilishly. Pippin’s uncanny ability to drink and drink and drink and so on indefinitely and still not feel anything in the morning made him the second most envied Hobbit in the shire. Frodo’s rumored-to-be-inexhaustible treasure hardly managed to hold its number one spot.
“Where did you even get potatoes, Pip? I don’t have any potatoes.”
“On the contrary, Merry dear, you have far too many potatoes. I could never imagine what one little hobbit could possibly want hoarding so many potatoes. Or where they could possibly have come from as I’ve certainly never known anyone who could afford to buy so many potatoes at once!” Pippin made an excellent wide-eyed innocent face that had gotten him out of a lot of serious trouble over the years. Merry rolled his eyes at Pippin’s act, wanting to kiss him even more than he wanted to savor the aforementioned potatoes.
Merry had eaten quickly, praising Pippin for his domesticity throughout. When he finished, Pippin snatched the plate and stood up, turning to take the dish to be washed.
“Oh no you don’t!” Merry had roared throwing an arm around Pippin’s middle and dragging him back to bed. The plate was dropped to the floor, thankfully from too short a distance to break. Pippin had struggled against him, but his heart wasn’t in it. Before long he was pinned to the bed being mercilessly tickled by his…whatever Merry was.
“Kiss me!”
Merry obeyed. Pippin used the opportunity to snake his hands around and attack Merry in his most vulnerable places. The other hobbit fell to his side laughing like a maniac.
“Not fair! HAHAHAH-you-AHAHAHA-CHEATED!” he gasped.
This was the general trend of things long enough for one hobbit to successfully have gotten the other’s shirt off and the other to be making progress in catching up.
“Just two more buttons to go!” Merry thought, refusing to be beaten. He buried his face in Pippin’s neck, throwing the other one off in a most unsportsmanlike manner.
It was at this pivotal moment in this Tickling War (to which many, many good and noble buttons were lost on both sides) that there was a sturdy knock on the door. Both hobbits froze. Their gazes concentrated on the open bedroom door and the turning latch on the front door. Pippin rolled off Merry so quickly he landed on the floor. He stood up buttoning what was left of his shirt as quickly as possible.
“I’ll greet them; you get yourself straightened out,” he whispered conspiratorially. Merry only nodded and began fumbling around in his drawers for a shirt that wasn’t as good as ripped in half.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam said unsteadily from outside Merry’s door.
“We have an emergency on our hands-who else will be able to help us?”
Sam shook his head. There was no other way. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
He knocked. They waited but there was no response.
“Oh, well, we can’t say we didn’t try,” Sam said turning.
“Not so fast,” Frodo said. “I’m allowed to just walk into my own cousin’s home!” He began to turn the latch. The door was pulled open before he could push.
“Well hello there, Mr. Frodo Baggins, and Mr. Samwise Gamgee. What happy occasion brings you both here?” Pippin was slightly hysterical and sounded a little annoyed.
“We wanted to talk to Merry but it’s actually best you’re here, too! Can we come in?”
Pippin shot a look over his shoulder. “Can you come in?” he repeated loudly and not at all in their direction. There was a moment’s pause. “Yes, of course you can come in, not exactly in my power to stop you, it not being my home or anything.”
He stepped out of the doorway making room for Frodo and Sam. Sam noticed that his shirt seemed to have met with some difficulties and shook his head wondering what trouble they could have already been up to it being only noon.
“Where’s Merry?” Frodo asked.
“Right here,” Merry said casually as if he’d been leaning against the wall by the hallway the entire time he had been at the door. Frodo gave a tiny jump; he could have sworn there had been no one there a moment ago.
“Right, well, Sam and I need to talk business. Can we all sit down in the dining room, maybe?”
“Oh yes!” Pippin said excitedly. “I’ll make breakfast. Have you two eaten?”
“Only once and that was nearly two hours ago!”
“Great, how would you like some potatoes?”
“I’d love some,” Merry chirped, an incomprehensible smile spreading on his face that Pippin somehow seemed to comprehend.
“Yes, I know you want potatoes, you fiend.”
Thirty minutes later, the four hobbits were sitting at the end of the table enjoying their potatoes and afternoon tea.
“So let me get this straight,” Merry began, liking the business proposition brought before him too much to believe it. “You want Pippin and I to…conjure up enough carrots to make fifty large cakes for your party. By Friday. And you are willing to let us have all the left over ale from the party in payment?”
Frodo nodded curtly. He had said the payment would be handsome, but that much ale for something that frankly already sounded like a great deal of fun on its own was too much to handle.
“If you think you can handle it,” Sam said skeptically. “That is an obscenely large amount of carrots.”
Merry and Pippin looked at each other and then looked back at Sam sadly.
“Samwise, I am hurt that you would doubt your friends like that.”
“I feel the same way, Merry, what cause have we ever given him to question our ability to help our dear cousin Frodo when he comes to us for aid?”
“I don’t like the idea of some poor farmer losing so much of his income!” Sam protested.
“One farmer? Tut, Sam, you are clearly not wise in the ways of the world. One farmer would notice that many carrots missing, it’s true. But several farmers on the other hand-“
“Now Pippin, no need to go and give away the tricks of our trade-we have to make our living somehow!”
“Right you are, Merry.”
“So who will we hit first? Farmer Maggot?”
“Oh, no, no, I have a feeling he’s going to be on his guard today.”
“How do you mean?”
“Potatoes,” Pippin elucidated.
“Ahh, I see.”
“Are you alright?” Sam suddenly asked.
“What do you mean?” Merry responded.
“Well, you both have swollen lips, you’re not sick are you?”
Pippin made a sound that was something like a squeak.
“Allergies.” Merry responded without a hitch.
“Both of you?”
“Oh yes, it runs in the family. Can’t eat strawberries. They always make us blow up like this; strawberries will be the death of us.”
“It’s true,” Frodo lied. He was more related to both of them than they were to each other and he’d never had an allergy in his life. “I haven’t touched them in years.”
“Well, Merry and I can’t resist,” Pippin said guiltily.
“Strawberries,” Merry amended. “We can’t resist strawberries.”
Pippin nodded enthusiastically. “Or potatoes.”
“Yes, potatoes. Speaking of potatoes, Pippin and I have a very large rescue mission to plan and only two days to execute it, so if you two don’t mind excusing us, we’ll be getting to work straightaway.” Merry had that incomprehensible smile on his face again and Pippin had that same look of understanding as well. They ushered Frodo and Sam out hurriedly and shut the door behind them. Their giggling could be heard perfectly from outside.
Sam shook his head and gave Frodo a completely bewildered look.
“Those have to be the two strangest hobbits in the Shire,” he mused.
“Or the luckiest,” Frodo replied with a hint of jealousy, laying a friendly hand on Sam’s oblivious shoulder.
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Sam (implied)
Genre: Fluff? Humor? Whatevs.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,812
Author’s Note:
For Monj,
I hope you enjoy the hobbity cuteness!
I don’t usually like to point out the cousins thing with these two because it doesn’t really bother me but I still prefer to ignore it, but it worked here, so whatever. Hope it doesn’t squick anyone too much-cousins get married a lot in the Shire so I have no qualms.
Summary: Frodo and Sam ask for Merry and Pippin’s help.
Fanfiction Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4871888/1/The_Two_Strangest_Hobbits
It had all started innocently. No, that’s not true. It’s never innocent with Merry and Pippin. But, well, innocent-er? The point being made is that it was not supposed to end in a half-naked tickle fight periodically interrupted by snogging. But then, when things are going in a perfectly good direction there’s no need to change the course because it was unplanned, right? Right.
This tale is getting ahead of itself. The real place to start is when Pippin woke up too early and refused to go back to bed. All the trouble in the Shire, it sometimes seemed, stemmed from Pippin being awake and stubbornly insisting he do something (something almost never being something a sane, well-bred hobbit would do).
“Merry! Merry! Wake up, Merry!”
“No, it’s ok, I’ll catch up with you,” Merry said groggily turning over and falling back asleep. Pippin prodded at him but there was no response except “mmm, lettuce”, “mmm, Pippin”, and finally something that sounded like “ngyfdtrd”. That was when Pippin gave up on Merry.
He hopped out of bed with too much energy and began to bounce around trying to think of something to do. Something fun. That he didn’t need Merry for. That was easier said than done. Merry had all the good ideas; Pippin was usually just along for the ride.
“Aha!” Pippin said dramatically, the idea hitting him like a log between the eyes. Just because Merry wouldn’t be with him didn’t mean he couldn’t take Merry’s wonderful ideas along. And so he set off to do his mischief. The rest, as they say, is history. As was Farmer Maggot’s potato crop after Pippin was finished with it, but that’s another story for another day.
“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!”
“Stop bouncing on me!”
Pippin complied.
“Get off me?” Merry added trying his luck.
“I’m thinking about it. Are you going to wake up finally?”
Merry groaned. “Noooo.”
Pippin’s bouncing redoubled.
“Alright, alright! I’m up! I’m-are you cooking something?”
“Cooked! It’s finished. It’s noon you fat, lazy hobbit,” Pippin teased getting off Merry and sitting calmly at the edge of the bed.
“I’m not fa-do I smell potatoes?”
Pippin grinned. He disappeared over the bed and then reappeared holding up a plate of eggs and hashed potatoes. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”
“You are breakfast in bed,” Merry said mischievously reaching for Pippin and attempting to smack him with a good morning kiss.
Pippin dodged his advances. “No, no, no! I slaved away on this, and you will be enjoying it immediately. If you hadn’t decided to sleep through the morning, you could have been done with breakfast by now and moving onto…other things. But instead, you saw fit to drink half the ale in The Green Dragon last night and-“
“You’re one to talk! You drank the other half!”
“Yes, but I can handle my ale, unlike someone else,” he smiled devilishly. Pippin’s uncanny ability to drink and drink and drink and so on indefinitely and still not feel anything in the morning made him the second most envied Hobbit in the shire. Frodo’s rumored-to-be-inexhaustible treasure hardly managed to hold its number one spot.
“Where did you even get potatoes, Pip? I don’t have any potatoes.”
“On the contrary, Merry dear, you have far too many potatoes. I could never imagine what one little hobbit could possibly want hoarding so many potatoes. Or where they could possibly have come from as I’ve certainly never known anyone who could afford to buy so many potatoes at once!” Pippin made an excellent wide-eyed innocent face that had gotten him out of a lot of serious trouble over the years. Merry rolled his eyes at Pippin’s act, wanting to kiss him even more than he wanted to savor the aforementioned potatoes.
Merry had eaten quickly, praising Pippin for his domesticity throughout. When he finished, Pippin snatched the plate and stood up, turning to take the dish to be washed.
“Oh no you don’t!” Merry had roared throwing an arm around Pippin’s middle and dragging him back to bed. The plate was dropped to the floor, thankfully from too short a distance to break. Pippin had struggled against him, but his heart wasn’t in it. Before long he was pinned to the bed being mercilessly tickled by his…whatever Merry was.
“Kiss me!”
Merry obeyed. Pippin used the opportunity to snake his hands around and attack Merry in his most vulnerable places. The other hobbit fell to his side laughing like a maniac.
“Not fair! HAHAHAH-you-AHAHAHA-CHEATED!” he gasped.
This was the general trend of things long enough for one hobbit to successfully have gotten the other’s shirt off and the other to be making progress in catching up.
“Just two more buttons to go!” Merry thought, refusing to be beaten. He buried his face in Pippin’s neck, throwing the other one off in a most unsportsmanlike manner.
It was at this pivotal moment in this Tickling War (to which many, many good and noble buttons were lost on both sides) that there was a sturdy knock on the door. Both hobbits froze. Their gazes concentrated on the open bedroom door and the turning latch on the front door. Pippin rolled off Merry so quickly he landed on the floor. He stood up buttoning what was left of his shirt as quickly as possible.
“I’ll greet them; you get yourself straightened out,” he whispered conspiratorially. Merry only nodded and began fumbling around in his drawers for a shirt that wasn’t as good as ripped in half.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam said unsteadily from outside Merry’s door.
“We have an emergency on our hands-who else will be able to help us?”
Sam shook his head. There was no other way. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
He knocked. They waited but there was no response.
“Oh, well, we can’t say we didn’t try,” Sam said turning.
“Not so fast,” Frodo said. “I’m allowed to just walk into my own cousin’s home!” He began to turn the latch. The door was pulled open before he could push.
“Well hello there, Mr. Frodo Baggins, and Mr. Samwise Gamgee. What happy occasion brings you both here?” Pippin was slightly hysterical and sounded a little annoyed.
“We wanted to talk to Merry but it’s actually best you’re here, too! Can we come in?”
Pippin shot a look over his shoulder. “Can you come in?” he repeated loudly and not at all in their direction. There was a moment’s pause. “Yes, of course you can come in, not exactly in my power to stop you, it not being my home or anything.”
He stepped out of the doorway making room for Frodo and Sam. Sam noticed that his shirt seemed to have met with some difficulties and shook his head wondering what trouble they could have already been up to it being only noon.
“Where’s Merry?” Frodo asked.
“Right here,” Merry said casually as if he’d been leaning against the wall by the hallway the entire time he had been at the door. Frodo gave a tiny jump; he could have sworn there had been no one there a moment ago.
“Right, well, Sam and I need to talk business. Can we all sit down in the dining room, maybe?”
“Oh yes!” Pippin said excitedly. “I’ll make breakfast. Have you two eaten?”
“Only once and that was nearly two hours ago!”
“Great, how would you like some potatoes?”
“I’d love some,” Merry chirped, an incomprehensible smile spreading on his face that Pippin somehow seemed to comprehend.
“Yes, I know you want potatoes, you fiend.”
Thirty minutes later, the four hobbits were sitting at the end of the table enjoying their potatoes and afternoon tea.
“So let me get this straight,” Merry began, liking the business proposition brought before him too much to believe it. “You want Pippin and I to…conjure up enough carrots to make fifty large cakes for your party. By Friday. And you are willing to let us have all the left over ale from the party in payment?”
Frodo nodded curtly. He had said the payment would be handsome, but that much ale for something that frankly already sounded like a great deal of fun on its own was too much to handle.
“If you think you can handle it,” Sam said skeptically. “That is an obscenely large amount of carrots.”
Merry and Pippin looked at each other and then looked back at Sam sadly.
“Samwise, I am hurt that you would doubt your friends like that.”
“I feel the same way, Merry, what cause have we ever given him to question our ability to help our dear cousin Frodo when he comes to us for aid?”
“I don’t like the idea of some poor farmer losing so much of his income!” Sam protested.
“One farmer? Tut, Sam, you are clearly not wise in the ways of the world. One farmer would notice that many carrots missing, it’s true. But several farmers on the other hand-“
“Now Pippin, no need to go and give away the tricks of our trade-we have to make our living somehow!”
“Right you are, Merry.”
“So who will we hit first? Farmer Maggot?”
“Oh, no, no, I have a feeling he’s going to be on his guard today.”
“How do you mean?”
“Potatoes,” Pippin elucidated.
“Ahh, I see.”
“Are you alright?” Sam suddenly asked.
“What do you mean?” Merry responded.
“Well, you both have swollen lips, you’re not sick are you?”
Pippin made a sound that was something like a squeak.
“Allergies.” Merry responded without a hitch.
“Both of you?”
“Oh yes, it runs in the family. Can’t eat strawberries. They always make us blow up like this; strawberries will be the death of us.”
“It’s true,” Frodo lied. He was more related to both of them than they were to each other and he’d never had an allergy in his life. “I haven’t touched them in years.”
“Well, Merry and I can’t resist,” Pippin said guiltily.
“Strawberries,” Merry amended. “We can’t resist strawberries.”
Pippin nodded enthusiastically. “Or potatoes.”
“Yes, potatoes. Speaking of potatoes, Pippin and I have a very large rescue mission to plan and only two days to execute it, so if you two don’t mind excusing us, we’ll be getting to work straightaway.” Merry had that incomprehensible smile on his face again and Pippin had that same look of understanding as well. They ushered Frodo and Sam out hurriedly and shut the door behind them. Their giggling could be heard perfectly from outside.
Sam shook his head and gave Frodo a completely bewildered look.
“Those have to be the two strangest hobbits in the Shire,” he mused.
“Or the luckiest,” Frodo replied with a hint of jealousy, laying a friendly hand on Sam’s oblivious shoulder.