Conspiracy
Nov. 4th, 2004 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanFluff warning flags are flying!
Summer, 1403
Merry is 22, Pippin is 14, Sam is 24 and Frodo is 36. That’s equivalent to 14, 8.9 15.3 and 22.9 approximately.
Pippin sighed and slumped down lower in his chair, wishing that the grownups would finish talking about boring stuff and his sisters would stop talking about lads and most of all that there was someone closer to his age visiting Bag End this time. Even Merry wasn’t being very much fun now that he was old enough to be allowed a little wine. He was just keeping cousin Frodo too busy to be any fun by asking him about the different bottles from the winecellar and trying to wheedle tastes. But wine was boring too. Pippin had sneaked a sip of it at home and it tasted like grapes that had gone bad.
He tried picking up a piece of turnip that had slipped off the table with his toes, and that was interesting until the turnip got squishy. Then his toes were messy, and he knew he’d get in trouble if he wiped them on his best trousers, because even if no one noticed now, they’d notice when they finally decided that luncheon was over, even if that wasn’t till tea time. Of course, there was Pervinca’s dress, nice and close and then everyone would think she had been the one who was messy for a change and…
“Pippin!”
***
Well, being in disgrace was all right since he’d been sent outside “to play,” but there wasn’t anyone his age to play with outside either. “Cousin Bilbo wouldn’t have been boring,” Pippin told the nearest flower. He still remembered all the excitement the last time he’d been to Bag End. Especially the fireworks. “Whoosh! Bang!” He tried pretending he was a firework for a little, but it wasn’t as good as the real thing and at last he wandered down to the garden gate and swung on it back and forth while he sang a song about farting that Merry had taught him two Yules ago before he decided to be all grown up and boring. He was just getting to the funny part when…
“Pippin!”
***
Not allowed to sing. Not allowed to go outside. Just sit and read, they said, but the books he tried were all full of words he didn’t know and they were boring. He picked his nose for a little while, and then he tried to see if he could pick his nose with his toes but while he was trying to reach his foot up to his face he heard a ripping noise and felt a sudden coolness from behind. Gingerly, he felt for the damage and winced when he realized that at least three inches of seam had given way at the back of his trousers. Now he was really in trouble. Of all the mornings to have not been able to find clean underwear! He couldn’t even sneak down the hall like this!
Unless, maybe, he could mend the seam before anyone found out. He wasn’t sure if he could; his sisters complained about sewing all the time. But they complained about everything. They even thought that climbing trees was hard and that was easy, so sewing was probably really really easy. He just needed a needle and some thread. Carefully, he started searching through the drawers of Cousin Frodo’s desk. He found a penknife that he had to play with until he accidentally dug a hole into the top of the desk, and some neat rocks, and a whole assortment of tie-pins that Frodo never used so they had to have been Bilbo’s, but no thread. Or needle.
He was just starting to climb the bookshelf to see what was in the boxes stored along the top when the door to the study opened and one of the servants came in with a tray. A lass. Hastily, Pippin dropped to the floor and turned to face her, both hands desperately attempting to hide what she’d already seen.
“Oh!” She wasn’t really very old – maybe twenty or so – and she was blushing almost as hard as he was. “I’m sorry, young sir.”
“It was… I… uhm…” Pippin stammered. “Uhm..” What was her name? He’d heard it at breakfast, although he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but the toast and eggs at the time. “Did you want something, Miss…?”
“Mari,” she filled in, giving him a little curtsey. “I was sent to bring you some tea,” she said, putting the tray onto one of the coffee tables.
“Oh. Thank you.” Pippin said, wishing she’d leave.
She nodded and started to go, and then paused at the doorway. “Would you like to have my brother come in and help you with…” she made a gesture at her own backside, blushing all the harder.
She had a brother. Pippin sighed with relief. “Yes, please,” he said. “And don’t tell Cousin Frodo.”
That at least got a smile. “I won’t,” she said, and went away.
****
The brother turned up while Pippin was eating his third sandwich, a tall sturdy hobbit with brown hair and eyes who was old enough to be one of Pimpernel’s boyfriends. He looked familiar somehow, and Pippin wrinkled his nose trying to remember. “Don’t I know you?”
“I’m Sam, Sam Gamgee,” the lad said, in a voice that was deep like a grownup’s. “I used to take you down to see Tawny in the stable when you were small.” He crouched by Pippin’s chair and produced a pair of underpants and a clean pair of trousers from the bag he carried slung over one shoulder. “Will these fit, do you think?”
Pippin blinked, and took the clothing in one hand, still looking at Sam. “You’re too big to be Sam Gamgee,” he protested. He remembered Sam as a lad his own size, not this great gawky tween.
Sam grinned. “Well, I’ve growed a bit since I saw you last. But you have too, Master Peregrin. I shouldn’t have knowed you either if we’d met on the road. Go on, try those clothes.”
“Whose are they?” Pippin asked, shucking off the damaged trousers and putting on the Sam’s offerings. They weren’t new, and they weren’t quite small enough, but with a belt pulled on they’d probably stay up.
“Just some things Mister Frodo’s collected to give to a family as had a fire in Overhill. But I can wash them again tonight and they’ll be good as new when I take them along. And in the meantime Mari’ll mend your trousers, and there’ll be no one the wiser.” Sam took the torn trousers and put them in his bag.
“Maybe,” Pippin said, remembering a complication. “As long as no one comes in here.” The new trousers were comfortable, but they weren’t the same color, and his sisters were bound to notice.
“Well, I’ve asked Mister Frodo if it wouldn’t be nice for you to come a-berrying with me, seeing as how it’ll be hours yet till the sun goes down and he’s said yes, and so has your Dad,” Sam said, standing and offering Pippin a hand up. “You can’t wear your good britches when you’re a-berrying, now can you?”
Pippin took the hand and popped to his feet. “I like you Sam Gamgee,” he declared, feeling the day get much more interesting all of a sudden. “You’re sneaky!”
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
Summer, 1403
Merry is 22, Pippin is 14, Sam is 24 and Frodo is 36. That’s equivalent to 14, 8.9 15.3 and 22.9 approximately.
Pippin sighed and slumped down lower in his chair, wishing that the grownups would finish talking about boring stuff and his sisters would stop talking about lads and most of all that there was someone closer to his age visiting Bag End this time. Even Merry wasn’t being very much fun now that he was old enough to be allowed a little wine. He was just keeping cousin Frodo too busy to be any fun by asking him about the different bottles from the winecellar and trying to wheedle tastes. But wine was boring too. Pippin had sneaked a sip of it at home and it tasted like grapes that had gone bad.
He tried picking up a piece of turnip that had slipped off the table with his toes, and that was interesting until the turnip got squishy. Then his toes were messy, and he knew he’d get in trouble if he wiped them on his best trousers, because even if no one noticed now, they’d notice when they finally decided that luncheon was over, even if that wasn’t till tea time. Of course, there was Pervinca’s dress, nice and close and then everyone would think she had been the one who was messy for a change and…
“Pippin!”
***
Well, being in disgrace was all right since he’d been sent outside “to play,” but there wasn’t anyone his age to play with outside either. “Cousin Bilbo wouldn’t have been boring,” Pippin told the nearest flower. He still remembered all the excitement the last time he’d been to Bag End. Especially the fireworks. “Whoosh! Bang!” He tried pretending he was a firework for a little, but it wasn’t as good as the real thing and at last he wandered down to the garden gate and swung on it back and forth while he sang a song about farting that Merry had taught him two Yules ago before he decided to be all grown up and boring. He was just getting to the funny part when…
“Pippin!”
***
Not allowed to sing. Not allowed to go outside. Just sit and read, they said, but the books he tried were all full of words he didn’t know and they were boring. He picked his nose for a little while, and then he tried to see if he could pick his nose with his toes but while he was trying to reach his foot up to his face he heard a ripping noise and felt a sudden coolness from behind. Gingerly, he felt for the damage and winced when he realized that at least three inches of seam had given way at the back of his trousers. Now he was really in trouble. Of all the mornings to have not been able to find clean underwear! He couldn’t even sneak down the hall like this!
Unless, maybe, he could mend the seam before anyone found out. He wasn’t sure if he could; his sisters complained about sewing all the time. But they complained about everything. They even thought that climbing trees was hard and that was easy, so sewing was probably really really easy. He just needed a needle and some thread. Carefully, he started searching through the drawers of Cousin Frodo’s desk. He found a penknife that he had to play with until he accidentally dug a hole into the top of the desk, and some neat rocks, and a whole assortment of tie-pins that Frodo never used so they had to have been Bilbo’s, but no thread. Or needle.
He was just starting to climb the bookshelf to see what was in the boxes stored along the top when the door to the study opened and one of the servants came in with a tray. A lass. Hastily, Pippin dropped to the floor and turned to face her, both hands desperately attempting to hide what she’d already seen.
“Oh!” She wasn’t really very old – maybe twenty or so – and she was blushing almost as hard as he was. “I’m sorry, young sir.”
“It was… I… uhm…” Pippin stammered. “Uhm..” What was her name? He’d heard it at breakfast, although he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but the toast and eggs at the time. “Did you want something, Miss…?”
“Mari,” she filled in, giving him a little curtsey. “I was sent to bring you some tea,” she said, putting the tray onto one of the coffee tables.
“Oh. Thank you.” Pippin said, wishing she’d leave.
She nodded and started to go, and then paused at the doorway. “Would you like to have my brother come in and help you with…” she made a gesture at her own backside, blushing all the harder.
She had a brother. Pippin sighed with relief. “Yes, please,” he said. “And don’t tell Cousin Frodo.”
That at least got a smile. “I won’t,” she said, and went away.
****
The brother turned up while Pippin was eating his third sandwich, a tall sturdy hobbit with brown hair and eyes who was old enough to be one of Pimpernel’s boyfriends. He looked familiar somehow, and Pippin wrinkled his nose trying to remember. “Don’t I know you?”
“I’m Sam, Sam Gamgee,” the lad said, in a voice that was deep like a grownup’s. “I used to take you down to see Tawny in the stable when you were small.” He crouched by Pippin’s chair and produced a pair of underpants and a clean pair of trousers from the bag he carried slung over one shoulder. “Will these fit, do you think?”
Pippin blinked, and took the clothing in one hand, still looking at Sam. “You’re too big to be Sam Gamgee,” he protested. He remembered Sam as a lad his own size, not this great gawky tween.
Sam grinned. “Well, I’ve growed a bit since I saw you last. But you have too, Master Peregrin. I shouldn’t have knowed you either if we’d met on the road. Go on, try those clothes.”
“Whose are they?” Pippin asked, shucking off the damaged trousers and putting on the Sam’s offerings. They weren’t new, and they weren’t quite small enough, but with a belt pulled on they’d probably stay up.
“Just some things Mister Frodo’s collected to give to a family as had a fire in Overhill. But I can wash them again tonight and they’ll be good as new when I take them along. And in the meantime Mari’ll mend your trousers, and there’ll be no one the wiser.” Sam took the torn trousers and put them in his bag.
“Maybe,” Pippin said, remembering a complication. “As long as no one comes in here.” The new trousers were comfortable, but they weren’t the same color, and his sisters were bound to notice.
“Well, I’ve asked Mister Frodo if it wouldn’t be nice for you to come a-berrying with me, seeing as how it’ll be hours yet till the sun goes down and he’s said yes, and so has your Dad,” Sam said, standing and offering Pippin a hand up. “You can’t wear your good britches when you’re a-berrying, now can you?”
Pippin took the hand and popped to his feet. “I like you Sam Gamgee,” he declared, feeling the day get much more interesting all of a sudden. “You’re sneaky!”
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
