Lord of the Rings: A Speedy Recovery
Title: A Speedy Recovery
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Sam, appearances from others.
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,548
Author’s Note: This was my contribution this year to lotr_sesa. It was written for dashoftook who wanted a story set during the chapter The Ring Goes South (Fellowship of the Ring) focusing on Merry, Pippin, and Frodo's cousinly love in which the trio (and maybe Sam) help nurse Pippin. Bonus points if he got sick doing something stupid.
Original Link: http://community.livejournal.com/lotr_sesa/32999.html
Chatter, drunken song, and laughter filled Elrond’s dining hall on the charming autumn evening when our story begins. Travelers from around Middle Earth had finally reached, often after long and dangerous journeys, their destination. The tasks they had before them, the news they brought--all the dark truths that brought them together were temporarily forgotten as old friends reunited and new friends celebrated the fact that for at least a few nights, they were safe, warm, and most importantly, fed. There was only one table that was hushed and solemn and, ironically, it was a table of typically lighthearted hobbits.
”We have to figure out what we’re going to do about him.” Frodo said seriously.
The other hobbits nodded confidentially. They threw glances around the dining hall to see if anyone was watching them, unaware that this was making them all look rather guilty.
“We can’t keep him locked up much longer,” Merry offered, “people are going to get suspicious.”
“Well, we can’t very well bring him out. Not in the state he’s in. That’ll be the end of it,” Sam refuted.
All three pulled their ale towards them, took deep draughts, and silently waited for one of the other two to have a stroke of genius. This went on for rather longer than the hobbits would have been proud to admit but they were no closer to solving their problem by the end of dinner than they had been at the beginning.
If the reader is wondering what the subject of this gloomy discourse was, it will probably be surprising that the cause of all this grief was a minor cold.
“We’ll just have to wait it out. There’s no other option unless you want to walk up to Lord Elrond and ask him to heal Pippin,” Frodo finally concluded.
At this point, all three of them let out a familiar sigh. Each sigh was different, but all three had been developed from years and years of practice, and all three meant the same thing. It wasn’t the general sigh of fatigue everyone has experienced at some point. It was the Pippin sigh.
They made their way back to their room, each hauling as much of the feast as they could carry without it being detected, hurried through the door, and closed it just as quickly. Instantly their ears were filled with the hacking coughs Pippin had been tortured by for their entire stay in Rivendell thus far.
“Feeling any better?” Merry asked warmly as he went immediately to the water jug by the bed and began filling a cup for the invalid.
“Much!” Pippin lied dutifully.
The other two hobbits began to unload his stolen dinner as Merry flitted from one end of the room to another trying to find anything and everything that would help comfort his ailing cousin. While all three hobbits had been doing their part to get Pippin back on his feet, Merry had been the most energetic, motivated not just by the necessity of Pippin’s recovery that pushed the other two but also in great part by some sense of guilt. This was a pretty standard set up between the cousins-Merry was often guilty of getting Pippin into trouble, but he was always the one to get him out.
“It’s no use,” Sam grumbled. “If anything he’s getting worse. As soon as someone gets a glimpse of his condition and Elrond finds out he’s sick he’ll never change his mind about not letting Pippin come with us. Especially once he finds out how he got sick.”
Frodo and Sam threw an annoyed glance at the sick hobbit; Merry’s flitting became more frantic, and Pippin sneezed as though to illustrate their point.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault I’m sick! I’d get better if I could,” he wheezed.
“Nobody told you to jump into that creek, Pippin,” Frodo accused in a firm but warm manner.
“And even if someone had, it’s best not to take every suggestion people give you so seriously,” his other cousin offered, gently forcing Pippin to accept more soup in an attempt to keep Pippin from calling him out.
To Merry’s relief and the other hobbit’s vexation, there was a knock at the door.
“Answer it!” Merry hissed.
“Don’t answer it!” Sam urged.
“Achooooooooooooou!” Pippin added.
“It’s only going to look worse if we keep them waiting,” Frodo said flatly as he prepared to find out who it was. He opened the door just enough for only himself to be visible and tried to look “hobbitty”.
“Hello there, Strider, how are you doing this lovely evening?” he chirped merrily.
Sam and Merry exchanged worried glances.
“Good evening, Frodo, I’m doing very well. I was passing and I thought I’d ask you hobbits what you were up to tonight?”
Frodo’s face fell.
“What we were up to?” he stuttered stupidly sending an urgent look towards the other side of the room. “We were just going to…you know…we were planning to spend the evening-“
“We were going to spend the evening practicing our hobbit songs,” Merry said jumping next to Frodo in a way that perfectly portrayed a carefree hobbit looking forward to a night of fun. “We could use a strong baritone like yours!”
The appreciative glance Frodo had thrown him when he first came to his rescue turned into an “Are you crazy?” stare, but the offer had the exact reaction Merry had intended.
Strider backed up a few steps. He liked the hobbits and their songs but after spending nearly a month travelling with them, he felt as though he might actually go mad if he heard another song about drinking. Deciding that even facing Arwen in the mood he had left her and attempting to make up from their argument would be better, he politely excused himself and made a restrained effort to walk away without making a run for it.
“You’re a genius,” Frodo said once the coast was clear. Merry bowed playfully until poor Pippin began to release all the coughing he had restrained for the short interruption.
“I’m going to bed,” Sam said grumpily, more than a little annoyed that instead of wandering the halls of Rivendell and learning about the elves he had spent his entire stay thus far taking care of first Frodo and now Pippin.
“You should go to bed, too, Merry. I know you were in here almost all last night, you’re going to drop if you don’t go to bed.”
“No, Frodo, really, I’m fine.” The dark circles under his eyes suggested that he really was not fine.
“I’ll stay up with him and make sure he’s alright, Merry. Go to bed.”
Merry gave his cousin’s hand a concerned squeeze and asked if he would be ok. Pippin rolled his eyes, protested that he wasn’t a baby, and told Merry to go to bed. Nodding and standing to go, Merry scanned the room one last time for anything that could help Pippin that had been overlooked and staggered-half from the ale at the feast and half from honest exhaustion out of the door.
The next morning, Merry and Sam raced into Pippin’s room nervously and were met, to their delight by Pippin who looked almost completely recovered and who would certainly be able to pass for healthy to anyone who wasn’t aware of how he had spent the last four days. When asked what was responsible for his miraculous recovery, Pippin smiled and nodded towards the bed.
There, giving the appearance in the large bed of drowning in fabric, was Frodo.
“He was quite the nurse last night, I only convinced him I was well enough for him to take a nap about an hour ago.”
“Well, thank goodness!” Merry exclaimed, “Lord Elrond is making his decision about whether we can go or not tomorrow night, you should be perfectly fine by then. He wants to see us now so…just try not to say anything…foolish.”
Pippin smiled cheerfully, “Is that your way of telling me I shouldn’t talk?”
All three laughed and they made their way to the elf lord’s imposing chambers stopping often to admire the scenery, make silly jokes, or play at hobbit mischief.
After some conversation with the hobbits, Elrond was convinced that if it made any sense to send two hobbits, it made no sense to separate any of them. He gave his permission to the two younger ones and expressed his displeasure that the ring bearer had not come with his friends. All three went back to their rooms to pack and they spent the remaining days in Rivendell trying to imagine the exciting journey they had before them.
Finally the morning came when the fellowship was to set out. The nine companions stood before Lord Elrond and before the countless other dignified guests receiving his blessings and being warned what was ahead of them. Three hobbits-all at once-let out alarming sneezes. The attention of everyone turned immediately to them…they responded by adopting the same dignified expressions worn by the other members of the group. That night, it was Pippin and the other five companions who were struggling to make three very sick hobbits comfortable on the first night of their journey to Mordor.
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Sam, appearances from others.
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,548
Author’s Note: This was my contribution this year to lotr_sesa. It was written for dashoftook who wanted a story set during the chapter The Ring Goes South (Fellowship of the Ring) focusing on Merry, Pippin, and Frodo's cousinly love in which the trio (and maybe Sam) help nurse Pippin. Bonus points if he got sick doing something stupid.
Original Link: http://community.livejournal.com/lotr_sesa/32999.html
Chatter, drunken song, and laughter filled Elrond’s dining hall on the charming autumn evening when our story begins. Travelers from around Middle Earth had finally reached, often after long and dangerous journeys, their destination. The tasks they had before them, the news they brought--all the dark truths that brought them together were temporarily forgotten as old friends reunited and new friends celebrated the fact that for at least a few nights, they were safe, warm, and most importantly, fed. There was only one table that was hushed and solemn and, ironically, it was a table of typically lighthearted hobbits.
”We have to figure out what we’re going to do about him.” Frodo said seriously.
The other hobbits nodded confidentially. They threw glances around the dining hall to see if anyone was watching them, unaware that this was making them all look rather guilty.
“We can’t keep him locked up much longer,” Merry offered, “people are going to get suspicious.”
“Well, we can’t very well bring him out. Not in the state he’s in. That’ll be the end of it,” Sam refuted.
All three pulled their ale towards them, took deep draughts, and silently waited for one of the other two to have a stroke of genius. This went on for rather longer than the hobbits would have been proud to admit but they were no closer to solving their problem by the end of dinner than they had been at the beginning.
If the reader is wondering what the subject of this gloomy discourse was, it will probably be surprising that the cause of all this grief was a minor cold.
“We’ll just have to wait it out. There’s no other option unless you want to walk up to Lord Elrond and ask him to heal Pippin,” Frodo finally concluded.
At this point, all three of them let out a familiar sigh. Each sigh was different, but all three had been developed from years and years of practice, and all three meant the same thing. It wasn’t the general sigh of fatigue everyone has experienced at some point. It was the Pippin sigh.
They made their way back to their room, each hauling as much of the feast as they could carry without it being detected, hurried through the door, and closed it just as quickly. Instantly their ears were filled with the hacking coughs Pippin had been tortured by for their entire stay in Rivendell thus far.
“Feeling any better?” Merry asked warmly as he went immediately to the water jug by the bed and began filling a cup for the invalid.
“Much!” Pippin lied dutifully.
The other two hobbits began to unload his stolen dinner as Merry flitted from one end of the room to another trying to find anything and everything that would help comfort his ailing cousin. While all three hobbits had been doing their part to get Pippin back on his feet, Merry had been the most energetic, motivated not just by the necessity of Pippin’s recovery that pushed the other two but also in great part by some sense of guilt. This was a pretty standard set up between the cousins-Merry was often guilty of getting Pippin into trouble, but he was always the one to get him out.
“It’s no use,” Sam grumbled. “If anything he’s getting worse. As soon as someone gets a glimpse of his condition and Elrond finds out he’s sick he’ll never change his mind about not letting Pippin come with us. Especially once he finds out how he got sick.”
Frodo and Sam threw an annoyed glance at the sick hobbit; Merry’s flitting became more frantic, and Pippin sneezed as though to illustrate their point.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault I’m sick! I’d get better if I could,” he wheezed.
“Nobody told you to jump into that creek, Pippin,” Frodo accused in a firm but warm manner.
“And even if someone had, it’s best not to take every suggestion people give you so seriously,” his other cousin offered, gently forcing Pippin to accept more soup in an attempt to keep Pippin from calling him out.
To Merry’s relief and the other hobbit’s vexation, there was a knock at the door.
“Answer it!” Merry hissed.
“Don’t answer it!” Sam urged.
“Achooooooooooooou!” Pippin added.
“It’s only going to look worse if we keep them waiting,” Frodo said flatly as he prepared to find out who it was. He opened the door just enough for only himself to be visible and tried to look “hobbitty”.
“Hello there, Strider, how are you doing this lovely evening?” he chirped merrily.
Sam and Merry exchanged worried glances.
“Good evening, Frodo, I’m doing very well. I was passing and I thought I’d ask you hobbits what you were up to tonight?”
Frodo’s face fell.
“What we were up to?” he stuttered stupidly sending an urgent look towards the other side of the room. “We were just going to…you know…we were planning to spend the evening-“
“We were going to spend the evening practicing our hobbit songs,” Merry said jumping next to Frodo in a way that perfectly portrayed a carefree hobbit looking forward to a night of fun. “We could use a strong baritone like yours!”
The appreciative glance Frodo had thrown him when he first came to his rescue turned into an “Are you crazy?” stare, but the offer had the exact reaction Merry had intended.
Strider backed up a few steps. He liked the hobbits and their songs but after spending nearly a month travelling with them, he felt as though he might actually go mad if he heard another song about drinking. Deciding that even facing Arwen in the mood he had left her and attempting to make up from their argument would be better, he politely excused himself and made a restrained effort to walk away without making a run for it.
“You’re a genius,” Frodo said once the coast was clear. Merry bowed playfully until poor Pippin began to release all the coughing he had restrained for the short interruption.
“I’m going to bed,” Sam said grumpily, more than a little annoyed that instead of wandering the halls of Rivendell and learning about the elves he had spent his entire stay thus far taking care of first Frodo and now Pippin.
“You should go to bed, too, Merry. I know you were in here almost all last night, you’re going to drop if you don’t go to bed.”
“No, Frodo, really, I’m fine.” The dark circles under his eyes suggested that he really was not fine.
“I’ll stay up with him and make sure he’s alright, Merry. Go to bed.”
Merry gave his cousin’s hand a concerned squeeze and asked if he would be ok. Pippin rolled his eyes, protested that he wasn’t a baby, and told Merry to go to bed. Nodding and standing to go, Merry scanned the room one last time for anything that could help Pippin that had been overlooked and staggered-half from the ale at the feast and half from honest exhaustion out of the door.
The next morning, Merry and Sam raced into Pippin’s room nervously and were met, to their delight by Pippin who looked almost completely recovered and who would certainly be able to pass for healthy to anyone who wasn’t aware of how he had spent the last four days. When asked what was responsible for his miraculous recovery, Pippin smiled and nodded towards the bed.
There, giving the appearance in the large bed of drowning in fabric, was Frodo.
“He was quite the nurse last night, I only convinced him I was well enough for him to take a nap about an hour ago.”
“Well, thank goodness!” Merry exclaimed, “Lord Elrond is making his decision about whether we can go or not tomorrow night, you should be perfectly fine by then. He wants to see us now so…just try not to say anything…foolish.”
Pippin smiled cheerfully, “Is that your way of telling me I shouldn’t talk?”
All three laughed and they made their way to the elf lord’s imposing chambers stopping often to admire the scenery, make silly jokes, or play at hobbit mischief.
After some conversation with the hobbits, Elrond was convinced that if it made any sense to send two hobbits, it made no sense to separate any of them. He gave his permission to the two younger ones and expressed his displeasure that the ring bearer had not come with his friends. All three went back to their rooms to pack and they spent the remaining days in Rivendell trying to imagine the exciting journey they had before them.
Finally the morning came when the fellowship was to set out. The nine companions stood before Lord Elrond and before the countless other dignified guests receiving his blessings and being warned what was ahead of them. Three hobbits-all at once-let out alarming sneezes. The attention of everyone turned immediately to them…they responded by adopting the same dignified expressions worn by the other members of the group. That night, it was Pippin and the other five companions who were struggling to make three very sick hobbits comfortable on the first night of their journey to Mordor.