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Sep. 12th, 2004 08:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanA week ago ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ansothehobbit mentioned the way that we tend to put the same hobbits into the same kinds of situations, and could we do it differently and that notion got picked up as a challenge by auntiemeesh at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hobbit_ficathon so I thought about it and here’s what I came up with.
Lost in Rivendell
“Ducklingdaft… fluffwitted… ninnyhammered… noodle,” the intensity of Sam’s self-reprecations were hampered by an unrestrained sob and Pippin felt a pang of guilt for listening so long unnoticed. He dug out his pocket handkerchief. It was mostly clean, except for the residue of the stickybuns he had carried off from breakfast and he didn’t expect Sam would mind those. “Here, Sam,” he said, and then had to try not to smile when Sam jumped nearly a foot and turned a tear-streaked face to him. “Here,” he said again, offering the handkerchief as apology. Sam took it and blew his nose noisily, pulling himself together. Pippin patted his shoulder awkwardly and tried to put on his most reassuring manner. “I was just talking to Cousin Bilbo and he says that Frodo’s going to be just fine. You’ll see. Lord Elrond knows more about healing than anyone.”
“Don’t you doubt it, Master Pippin,” Sam agreed thickly, emerging from the folds of linen with what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. He looked at the handkerchief and folded it to a clean corner before wiping his face. “I’ll have this washed with the rest, if you’d like.”
“Is that what you’ve got?” Pippin asked, nudging the bundle by Sam’s feet with his toes. “Laundry?”
“Yes, and I’m meant to fetch back clean sheets,” Sam said. “But I’ve got to find the laundry room first. Near the kitchens, they told me, and I thought sure I’d find my way there all right, but I haven’t.” He looked around the long corridor with a wrinkle between his eyes. “You ain’t lost too, are you, Master Pippin? I don’t think this hallway leads nowhere.”
Pippin laughed. “It’s mostly bedrooms down this way. Guest quarters for Dwarves, when they come to visit. The laundry’s back along the other way.”
Sam picked up his bundle and followed Pippin, bewilderment in his eyes. “Then what are you doing here?” he asked.
Pippin went red to the tips of his ears. “Playing hide-and-go-seek with Merry,” he mumbled.
Sam stopped where he was, staring at the young Took. “Hide and go seek?” he repeated, his voice harsh with disbelief. “With Mr. Frodo a-lying up there in that great ocean of a bed and all them Elves and Wizards still wondering whether or not they can make him well again?”
Pippin bit his lip. It had seemed like such a good idea, but it was hard to explain with Sam looking so angry. “It’s not like that,” he stammered. “It’s just…” he bit his lip, and stared down at his toes. “It’s just that Merry won’t cry.” He hoped that was enough of an explanation, but when he dared to glance up, Sam was still frowning. “Not in front of me, anyway. He thinks he ought to be all certain that it will turn out all right all the time so that I won’t worry. And I keep being cheerful so he feels like he’s making me feel better, but sometimes I just can’t…” His voice broke, and the tears which he had planned to shed in private suddenly spilled over. But that was all right, because Sam stopped frowning, and gathered him up and they both wound up sitting on the bundle of laundry and having a good cry.
After a while Sam remembered the laundry, and unbundled enough of one corner of a sheet for them to wipe their faces and make themselves presentable. “I’ve still got to get this lot washed,” he said, as much for his own benefit as Pippin’s.
“Just follow the strawberries,” Pippin told him, still feeling unsettled enough to want to stay in the untenanted corridor.
“The strawberries?”
“Yes, in the carvings, see?” Pippin pointed to the nearest doorway, and with his prompting Sam was able to find a carven strawberry about hobbit-shoulder height. “The strawberries lead to the kitchens, and the snowdrops lead to the lower gardens, the roses go to the upper gardens, the irises lead to the great Hall, and the pipeweed leads to Bilbo’s rooms.”
“Does it?” Sam said, his gardener’s eye going from one plant to another entangled in the endless patterns of the décor. “And how did you figure out all that?”
“I asked Bilbo,” Pippin said, with a ghost of his usual cheekiness. “He kept getting lost when he first came. Oh, and the trefoil leads you to Elrond’s library, and you know the way to find Frodo’s room from there.”
“I do,” Sam said. “And I’d best get back.” He shouldered the bundle and nodded once to Pippin before he started off. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Pippin said. “And Sam…”
Sam paused at the corner, “Yes?”
“Don’t tell Merry, not yet anyway.” Pippin made himself grin. “I’ve got to have some advantage after all.”
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
ansothehobbit mentioned the way that we tend to put the same hobbits into the same kinds of situations, and could we do it differently and that notion got picked up as a challenge by auntiemeesh at hobbit_ficathon so I thought about it and here’s what I came up with.Lost in Rivendell
“Ducklingdaft… fluffwitted… ninnyhammered… noodle,” the intensity of Sam’s self-reprecations were hampered by an unrestrained sob and Pippin felt a pang of guilt for listening so long unnoticed. He dug out his pocket handkerchief. It was mostly clean, except for the residue of the stickybuns he had carried off from breakfast and he didn’t expect Sam would mind those. “Here, Sam,” he said, and then had to try not to smile when Sam jumped nearly a foot and turned a tear-streaked face to him. “Here,” he said again, offering the handkerchief as apology. Sam took it and blew his nose noisily, pulling himself together. Pippin patted his shoulder awkwardly and tried to put on his most reassuring manner. “I was just talking to Cousin Bilbo and he says that Frodo’s going to be just fine. You’ll see. Lord Elrond knows more about healing than anyone.”
“Don’t you doubt it, Master Pippin,” Sam agreed thickly, emerging from the folds of linen with what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. He looked at the handkerchief and folded it to a clean corner before wiping his face. “I’ll have this washed with the rest, if you’d like.”
“Is that what you’ve got?” Pippin asked, nudging the bundle by Sam’s feet with his toes. “Laundry?”
“Yes, and I’m meant to fetch back clean sheets,” Sam said. “But I’ve got to find the laundry room first. Near the kitchens, they told me, and I thought sure I’d find my way there all right, but I haven’t.” He looked around the long corridor with a wrinkle between his eyes. “You ain’t lost too, are you, Master Pippin? I don’t think this hallway leads nowhere.”
Pippin laughed. “It’s mostly bedrooms down this way. Guest quarters for Dwarves, when they come to visit. The laundry’s back along the other way.”
Sam picked up his bundle and followed Pippin, bewilderment in his eyes. “Then what are you doing here?” he asked.
Pippin went red to the tips of his ears. “Playing hide-and-go-seek with Merry,” he mumbled.
Sam stopped where he was, staring at the young Took. “Hide and go seek?” he repeated, his voice harsh with disbelief. “With Mr. Frodo a-lying up there in that great ocean of a bed and all them Elves and Wizards still wondering whether or not they can make him well again?”
Pippin bit his lip. It had seemed like such a good idea, but it was hard to explain with Sam looking so angry. “It’s not like that,” he stammered. “It’s just…” he bit his lip, and stared down at his toes. “It’s just that Merry won’t cry.” He hoped that was enough of an explanation, but when he dared to glance up, Sam was still frowning. “Not in front of me, anyway. He thinks he ought to be all certain that it will turn out all right all the time so that I won’t worry. And I keep being cheerful so he feels like he’s making me feel better, but sometimes I just can’t…” His voice broke, and the tears which he had planned to shed in private suddenly spilled over. But that was all right, because Sam stopped frowning, and gathered him up and they both wound up sitting on the bundle of laundry and having a good cry.
After a while Sam remembered the laundry, and unbundled enough of one corner of a sheet for them to wipe their faces and make themselves presentable. “I’ve still got to get this lot washed,” he said, as much for his own benefit as Pippin’s.
“Just follow the strawberries,” Pippin told him, still feeling unsettled enough to want to stay in the untenanted corridor.
“The strawberries?”
“Yes, in the carvings, see?” Pippin pointed to the nearest doorway, and with his prompting Sam was able to find a carven strawberry about hobbit-shoulder height. “The strawberries lead to the kitchens, and the snowdrops lead to the lower gardens, the roses go to the upper gardens, the irises lead to the great Hall, and the pipeweed leads to Bilbo’s rooms.”
“Does it?” Sam said, his gardener’s eye going from one plant to another entangled in the endless patterns of the décor. “And how did you figure out all that?”
“I asked Bilbo,” Pippin said, with a ghost of his usual cheekiness. “He kept getting lost when he first came. Oh, and the trefoil leads you to Elrond’s library, and you know the way to find Frodo’s room from there.”
“I do,” Sam said. “And I’d best get back.” He shouldered the bundle and nodded once to Pippin before he started off. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Pippin said. “And Sam…”
Sam paused at the corner, “Yes?”
“Don’t tell Merry, not yet anyway.” Pippin made himself grin. “I’ve got to have some advantage after all.”
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-13 12:49 am (UTC)Well done. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-13 03:01 pm (UTC)Thanks!