It’s shameless fluff and PG-rated. Hope that’s okay. :) Also, the green eyes thing… idek.
The last bit about the bath is based on Book 1, in the chapter “A Conspiracy Unmasked”, where they’re at Crickhollow for one night and Merry is arranging the baths. It disturbs the hell out of me that there are three baths in one room – even if Tolkien thought nothing of it - so in my headcanon there are most definitely partitions set up. XD
-------
They’re sprawled in a patch of shade at the outskirts of the forest a mile from the Ent-house, smoking the pipe-weed. He can’t remember if Pippin’s eyes have ever looked so deep green before. They’re reflecting the forest, he tells himself, but still he can’t stop glancing at them, fixed so dreamily on the clouds of smoke. It’s nice, to have Pippin so quiet and relaxed for once. He’s always been the adventurous one, dragging Merry off to explore the furthest corners of the Shire, provoke Farmer Maggot’s great dogs by throwing apples at them, dance the Springle-Ring on the tabletop at Bilbo’s party, or (once, terrifyingly) sail a boat along the Brandywine. But this new, peaceful Pippin reminds Merry of lazy childhood picnics, when they’d go up to a little stream near Hobbiton, stuff themselves with sandwiches and ginger ale and his mum’s cream scones, and then lie there gazing at the clouds, talking and laughing and not leaving before sunset.
He wonders if it would be quite… proper to tell Pippin how nice his eyes look today. No, probably… probably not, on second thoughts. And definitely not about how he keeps imagining kissing the little mole at the corner of his cheek. Or his collarbone… No, that wouldn’t be right either – no, stop it, Merry orders himself. This is Pippin you’re thinking about. But he can’t stop, hasn’t been able to since he’d heard Pippin singing that ludicrous bath-song of Bilbo’s back at Crickhollow, and felt such a furious irrational jealousy that he hadn’t been in that bathroom (even if they were behind partitions) instead of the other two. Sometimes he’s scared of where his imagination goes when he lets himself imagine that. But after Gandalf and Moria nothing seems to matter anymore except that they’re still alive and in one piece. He’s learned to enjoy it while he can.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Fill!
Date: 2012-03-26 03:04 am (UTC)The last bit about the bath is based on Book 1, in the chapter “A Conspiracy Unmasked”, where they’re at Crickhollow for one night and Merry is arranging the baths. It disturbs the hell out of me that there are three baths in one room – even if Tolkien thought nothing of it - so in my headcanon there are most definitely partitions set up. XD
-------
They’re sprawled in a patch of shade at the outskirts of the forest a mile from the Ent-house, smoking the pipe-weed. He can’t remember if Pippin’s eyes have ever looked so deep green before. They’re reflecting the forest, he tells himself, but still he can’t stop glancing at them, fixed so dreamily on the clouds of smoke. It’s nice, to have Pippin so quiet and relaxed for once. He’s always been the adventurous one, dragging Merry off to explore the furthest corners of the Shire, provoke Farmer Maggot’s great dogs by throwing apples at them, dance the Springle-Ring on the tabletop at Bilbo’s party, or (once, terrifyingly) sail a boat along the Brandywine. But this new, peaceful Pippin reminds Merry of lazy childhood picnics, when they’d go up to a little stream near Hobbiton, stuff themselves with sandwiches and ginger ale and his mum’s cream scones, and then lie there gazing at the clouds, talking and laughing and not leaving before sunset.
He wonders if it would be quite… proper to tell Pippin how nice his eyes look today. No, probably… probably not, on second thoughts. And definitely not about how he keeps imagining kissing the little mole at the corner of his cheek. Or his collarbone… No, that wouldn’t be right either – no, stop it, Merry orders himself. This is Pippin you’re thinking about. But he can’t stop, hasn’t been able to since he’d heard Pippin singing that ludicrous bath-song of Bilbo’s back at Crickhollow, and felt such a furious irrational jealousy that he hadn’t been in that bathroom (even if they were behind partitions) instead of the other two. Sometimes he’s scared of where his imagination goes when he lets himself imagine that. But after Gandalf and Moria nothing seems to matter anymore except that they’re still alive and in one piece. He’s learned to enjoy it while he can.