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Monday, January 10th, 2005
12:23 am - (Frodo/Sam, for Thuri, for she is irresistable.)

Getting certain feelings out into the open was like taking a gulp of fresh spring air after a rain----it cleared the head and settled the soul, but the rush of it all livened the blood and awoke the body. And though Samwise Gamgee felt much better about the fact that he was no longer going to be sacked for his confession, he still found it utterly impossible to concentrate on anything. He still worked his hours in the garden, but every moment he could spend with his master, he did, and the more he talked, the more he realised he didn't much like talking, especially with someone who happened to be so much more learned than he was, and seemed so much more capable of holding a conversation when talking was the last thing he could think about.

Still, ever the servant, Samwise went about his duties----only this time, when he made supper, he sat down to eat with his master instead of disappearing elsewhere. But the routine settled back into its normal pattern when Frodo had gone off to his study and Sam had tended to the dishes in the kitchen. All seemed well and good, and it was silent save for the ticking of the old clocks and the dull clanking of sturdy flatware.

Then, the sounds of dishes faded, and the silence grew thicker. Sam had an uncanny knack of walking silently through halls to light the candles, and tending to the fire without being noticed----it was a gift that servants had. Where gentlehobbits learned to gather attention by seeming to be quiet and polite, servants were actually taught the art of quiet for quiet's sake.

And for the past hour, Samwise had been loitering in the doorway into the study, resting against the round frame and smiling to himself. He was perfectly content to watch Frodo's back while he wrote, catalogued, read----whatever he did, Sam wasn't entirely sure. But he didn't need to know what he did in order to find it beautiful.

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Saturday, November 20th, 2004
7:11 am - Frodo and Sam (For Thuri! This is what we call reviving the group! Har.)

( OOC: I write this as I am supposed to be getting ready to get on a plane to go home for Thanksgiving. Was going to wait until I got back, but I was reading through our old things and thought, hey, we wrote some really good stuff, actually. XD ... And Frodo made me want toast and jam from an old post ... I probably won't get any. Anyway, yes, this is following the old storyline from March. From what I could deduce ... I think Sam's thirty-six and Frodo's forty-eight? *took that from a reference to Pippin's age, so... hobbit!math* )

Samwise Gamgee had thought, for a long time, about what Merry had told him in the Green Dragon. It was a comforting thought, to be sure----to know that Frodo wasn't being sour simply for the sake of being sour, and that his little smiles possibly meant something more than that, and that he was only moody because----well, quite frankly, Sam didn't know why his master was moody, but he hoped it would have some solidly good outcome.

Still, it wasn't his purpose to say anything, and doing so would have been overstepping his bounds by a longshot. There were certain things that one could and could not say to one's master when one wasn't much other than a servant, and a proposition of affection between lads was one of those things that fell into the category of Could Not.

Therefore it was that Sam, however anxious he might have been, went about his business as usual in the couple of days following Merry's talk in the Green Dragon. He arrived early each morning, tended to the gardens, managed a bit of housework while Frodo was busy with gentler pursuits like reading and writing letters. The only change was that when he spent a bit too long looking at his master, he didn't feel as guilty. Not quite.

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Thursday, July 8th, 2004
11:54 pm - M/P, in my modern AU-verse, help me jumpstart my muse!

"Oh for pity's sake," Pippin groaned, flopping on the bed. "You are not fat, Merry, and that shirt does not make you look fat. You've got a bit of meat on your bones, is all, and it looks good on you."

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Tuesday, May 11th, 2004
1:14 am

Unestablished Mer/Pip first time tig open for anyone. Set pre-quest. Pippin is no older than 24. :) Shall lead to hobbit lovin'. > : D

Peregrin Took had been a lad reared among the buttery sunshine and spicy green grass, so it was no wonder really that the lad favored summers so. From the fist thaw of spring, he'd positively buzz with barely contained excitement, his lips already curled in what the family had come to recognize as the Tookish mischievous smile.

The highlight of his favorite season was visiting Brandy Hall, where he could join his favorite cousin, and together the two could become embroiled in exploits that would set tongues lagging from the cooler seasons on up until summer yet again, when the two lads would find some new trouble to conjure.

Yet, for all his excitement over the wellspring of trouble making possibilities, Pippin's favorite pastime was simply being with Merry. And when with Merry, the lad's favorite pastime was stirring up reason for the two to play, only to dissolve into a childish round of wrestling among the tall grass near the Brandywine.

Which, Merry decided, was why the two now found themselves tangled, out of breath, and panting, Pippin astride Merry, lips quirked in the infamous smile.

"Surrender, Meriadoc, and your punishment shall be merciful."

current mood: anxious

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Wednesday, February 4th, 2004
8:26 pm - Merry/Pippin, my Modern AU (For Thuri, the injury-induced angst queen. Although I don't foresee

...a lot of angst, beyond Pippin being bratty :) )

Because the little fart wouldn't leave me alone:

Pippin rocked gently on the hammock, and ignored the gorgeous mountain landscape around him in favor of scowling at his right ankle, still swollen it its Ace bandage. Of *course* the second day they get to this gorgeous, gorgeous mountaintop mansion--courtesy Merry's parents--he stepped wrong on a pile of rocks, and went tumbling down to the bottom of a hill with a sprained ankle. That he was now glaring at, because it meant that while Frodo and Sam were off hiking in some gorgeous mountain glade, he sat in the hammock and read. Even Merry, who had stayed behind in solidarity, had momentarily deserted him to go take a shower.

Not that it mattered, as his scowl didn't change an iota, even when he felt the push, and the hammock began to swing a little harder.

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Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004
12:47 pm - Merry/Pippin (Quest, between Weathertop and Rivendell)

Strider led the party on through the night, tramping through the wilderness. The three hobbits followed the ranger in silence, none speaking of their encounter with the wraiths at Weathertop or the luminous elf maiden who swept Frodo away and raced towards Rivendell on a magnificent white steed.

More than anything, Merry wished someone would say something, anything. Anything to drive away the fear. Anything to make him believe that Frodo was still alive. He opened his mouth to speak, and found he had no words.

Once Strider was convinced that the danger of the wraiths had passed, the group set up camp in a grassy clearing. Weary from the day's events, Merry settled into his bedroll, hoping to find some rest.

But sleep didn't come. Every time Merry closed his eyes, it happened again. He heard the shrill cry of the wraiths. He gripped Frodo's cold hand and felt his sweating brow, watched in horror as Frodo writhed in pain and the Morgul blade dissolved in Strider's hand. He saw the eyes of Sam and Pippin, wide with fear and helplessness.

Merry sat up and glanced around the camp. Sam slept restlessly, curled up tightly within his cloak. Strider was nowhere to be found. Pippin's bedroll was empty.

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Monday, February 2nd, 2004
1:15 pm - Merry/Pippin, Gondor after the War

Pippin smiled up at the ceiling, stretching tentatively, his smile growing as he did not encounter pain. Oh, his arm ached a bit of course, but that was only to be expected, and Strider had said it was healing quickly. But no muscles protested, no joints ached, and Pippin decided that that meant it was to be a very good day.

He looked over at Merry, smiling at his still-sleeping lover. The cold stone of this Gondorian home seemed more familiar, more homelike with Merry here, and Pippin turned over carefully, snuggling a bit into Merry’s side. They would explore the city that day, he decided, certain that something amazing would happen on a day that began so well. He felt Merry’s arms come around him, and a sleepy kiss was placed on the top of Pippin’s head.

"Morning love," he greeted Merry, still cuddled into his side.

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8:20 am - Shire Date 1413, Tuckborough (for Thuri)

Kneeling on the floor at the foot of his bed, Pippin was half inside the trunk that sat there, rummaging and humming to himself. He pulled things out one at a time, and then laid them in various piles, the sorting of which were obvious only to himself.

Pippin could usually avoid the annual spring cleaning his mum insisted the whole household participate in, years of practice having made him both quick and clever. But according to Pippin's mum, his own room was his responsibility, and Eglantine Took was not a hobbit to be denied when she wanted something done.

And so Pippin sat and sorted, his eyes straying to the window in his bedroom now and again, the cheery sunlight streaming in from between the open shutters distracting him from his appointed task. Pippin caught himself daydreaming of tree climbing and eating apples straight from the branch, and he shook his head, laughing at his tendency to think with his belly.

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Sunday, February 1st, 2004
11:05 pm - Estella/Diamond (Long Cleeve, during the occupation of the Shire For KD)

Diamond shook her head, watching Estella through the spokes of the spinning wheel, as she prepared the fiber in her hands. Her love was pacing the small room, muttering under her breath. She looked up, when Estella stopped in front of the cold hearth.

"Ella, darling, nothing you say now can change it. Much as we'd like differently, you cannot go home and check on your mother until the Chief's men allow it." She joined the new fiber to the leading thread, and started the wheel spinning, her foot on the treadle.

"I know you are restless and feel helpless," she said, as her hands moved surely, guiding the lamb's fleece as it twisted into yarn. "And I wish there was something we could do. But worrying yourself into a frenzy won't do any good now."

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12:20 pm - Shire Date 1407, Buckland

[Hi, I'm new here! This is pre-quest, and canon (making Pippin 17 and Merry 25), and can be slash or not... I'm open to either.]

Merry stretched his legs out across the old woven blanket that he was currently sitting on, and he leaned back against the rough bark of the tree behind him. It was a bright and warm spring day, high clouds in the sky and the buzzing of dragonflies the only things moving as far as the eye could see.

Well, and Pippin of course, but Pippin was always on the move, and Merry thought to himself that such a constant wasn't worth making note of. But Merry watched his young cousin just the same, letting his eyes drift to half-mast as he did so. Pippin was currently stalking something or other through the thick grass of the field they had chosen for their afternoon meal, but Merry was too lazy to sit up and see what it was. Pippin's freckled face was a mask of concentration as he crept along, and even though Merry was sleepy and full from lunch, he couldn't help but to watch and wonder what had caught Pippin's attention.

"Hoy, Pip. What are you hunting there? A wild beast you must capture before it attacks some poor unsuspecting hobbit?" Merry laughed at his own joke, then yawned, stretching the both of his arms over his head and scooting down a little further against the tree.

current mood: shy

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Saturday, January 31st, 2004
6:46 am - March 17 (Merry/Pippin for KD)

Pippin put away the last of the clean dishes, singing softly to himself He took one last look around the kitchen, satisfied that it was as clean as Merry would have left it, and grabbed the two mugs of tea that had steeped as he cleaned.

He made his way back to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway and smiling. Merry sat in bed, brow furrowed, as he poured over an herbal that Eowyn had sent him. He was chewing at his bottom lip, and Pippin wanted to pluck the book away, and kiss the line between his eyebrows, the reddened lips. And why not?

But instead, he merely came over and set the tea down, squeezing Merry's left shoulder and dropping a kiss on his curls. "How are you doing this afternoon, love?" he asked, squinting over Merry's shoulder at the shakily written text in the book.

current mood: hopeful

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Tuesday, January 27th, 2004
10:30 pm - Merry -- Eowyn. Edoras, the week before the company sets forth for the Shire. For Kel

Eowyn brushed her hair back from her face, as she walked down the road from the gates of Edoras. Theoden's funeral the day before had brought her some measure of peace, but she wished now to say farewell to her dear uncle on her own, away from the crowds who had watched as his tomb was closed behind him.

But as she approached the mound, eighth on its side, she saw she would not be alone. For there, sitting on a small stool he'd no doubt brought with him, and smoking a long pipe, was Meriadoc Brandybuck.

She smiled to see him, much resembling the holbytla she had first met, instead of the wan and pale figure he had been just mere months ago. But then, she herself had healed much in that time.

"Greetings to you, Master Merry," she said, setting down the blanket she had brought for herself. "Might I join you? For I think our purpose is the same."

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Monday, January 26th, 2004
11:50 pm - Frodo and Pippin, Bag End (for Thuri)

Frodo had cancelled his plans with Sam because Pippin said it was important.

He strongly doubted it, since Pippin was at that age when many unimportant things were suddenly very important. Still, there was always the chance that it may have been, since Pippin had sent Merry off as well, and Frodo wasn't about to overtly doubt his little cousin. So Sam had gone off alone after cleaning the kitchen when supper was done, and Frodo went to his study to read and drink a cup of hot tea and milk. He assumed Pippin would find him whenever Merry left.

current mood: curious

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7:37 am - Merry and Sam, Green Dragon, (Several months later, for KD)

Merry settled himself back in his chair, taking a long pull from his mug, and surveying the crowd before him. He hadn't been down to the Dragon on his own in several months, not since the disastrous night when he'd drunk so much, and made a fool of himself. Over nothing, as it had turned out.

A soft smile crossed his face, as he thought of Pippin. Who'd had wonderful excuses, open arms, and quite a bit of love for him, when he'd finally arrived at Bag End. And both he and Merry had decided to stay, for as long as they could, speaking long into the night of their worry for Frodo, his loneliness and isolation. And of course, they could be as open with each other as they liked, in the halls of Frodo's hobbit hole, in a way they never could in either Buckland or Tuckborourgh.

Tonight, Pippin had sent Merry off alone, saying he had something to discuss with Frodo, and Merry should go and have fun. Frodo had been surprised, but as Merry had agreed readily enough, hadn't said much.

So now Merry was sitting here, still at the edge of the crowd, but nursing a single ale and quite content.

current mood: content

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Sunday, January 25th, 2004
11:42 pm - March 15th (Merry/Pippin, for Thuri)

[ OOC: Sorry this took so long! I got caught up in losing terribly at cards. xD ]

Merry had made sure to never let Pippin see him on March fifteenth, until today. He had fallen asleep peacefully enough, curled up beside Pippin in the bed they often shared. He hadn't wanted to fall asleep, dreading the morning ahead, but Pippin's soft words and caresses had caused him to drift off.

He was not asleep, however, when Pippin woke up. He was sitting up, his blankets pooled in his lap, his head bowed. His left hand was clutching his injured arm, which was shaking violently. All of the muscles in his right hand had seized - he could not curl or flex them from the position they were in - bent and claw-like. Every breath he took echoed loudly in the otherwise peaceful silence of the room. His nightshirt was damp with sweat, and all of the color had drained from his face.

If he had been able to move, or speak, he would have called for Pippin's help.

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Saturday, January 24th, 2004
12:14 am - Frodo and Merry, Bag End. (For Thuri, the morning after Merry-Sam.)

Merry came back drunk.

Sam had delivered him safely, but not said a word. He'd been too occupied with the baby bird that had died in his hands earlier in the day, and Frodo assumed that he had stayed at the makeshift grave site for some while before he returned to Bagshot Row. He would thank him tomorrow, but for that moment he simply took Merry in and closed the door.

"I trust you had an interesting evening," Frodo had said, smiling. But Merry hadn't been in the mood that Frodo had been expecting.

It was unlikely that Merry remembered much other than that, for the next thing he knew he was tucked under the warm blankets in the guest bed, and the mid-morning sun was streaming in with too much cheeriness through the window. Sam could be heard working in the garden, and every so often Frodo could be heard in the hallway.

At last, the older hobbit peeked into the room. He was carrying a cup of tea in both hands. "Awake, are you?"

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Thursday, January 22nd, 2004
9:10 am - Merry/Frodo: pre-quest, Buckland (::shy::)

Heir to Buckland.

Almost every day was filled with some lecture or lesson or another involving what to do, and what not to do, when Master. These sorts of discussions had gone on since he turned twenty, and would continue through his coming-of-age until who knew how long after that. Almost every day Meriadoc Brandybuck found some new way to stop listening, some new place to escape to, or some new book to indulge in, if only for the sake of tuning his father out.

Today was one of those days. At least, that was Merry's rationale for lying by the banks of the Brandywine for the last three hours, his frock coat tossed to one side, his plaid weskit unbuttoned, his head resting back against the grass and the fingers of his right hand deftly twirling an unlit briar pipe. A sketchbook lay open and scribbled on to his side, the charcoal stick tucked between the pages, and a fishing rod and small tackle box were laying opposite him, so far unused.

He had almost dozed off when he heard a twig snap behind him. His eyes snapped open and he bolted to sit up. (Nervous energy was pent up when one spent some while being lazy.) He turned, and his pale curls fell into his eyes, quickly brushed away with one hand. "..Frodo?"

current mood: nervous

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Wednesday, January 21st, 2004
11:10 pm - Merry/Pippin Post Quest. Probably will be angsty

Pippin stood in the study doorway, watching as Merry set down his quill yet again. He massaged his right hand with his left, grimacing a bit as he did so.

Pippin frowned, at the line that appeared between Merry's eyes. His hand did bother him, on occasion, but he'd said nothing of it earlier in the day. 'Not that he would, of course,' Pippin thought in fond exasperation.

"Love?" He came up behind Merry, resting his hands on Merry's shoulders. He smiled, and massaged the tense muscles lightly, when Merry leaned his head back against Pippin's chest. "How are you this evening, Merry-mine?"

current mood: worried

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Tuesday, January 20th, 2004
10:39 pm - First post! Pre-Quest. Any takers? Sam and Merry

Merry settled himself back in his chair, taking a long pull from his mug, and surveying the crowd before him. It wasn't often that he frequented the Green Dragon, but when he was in Hobbiton, he tried to stop by. The ale was very good indeed, and he was known for his tale telling, and his ability to hold his drink, not for being the Master of Buckland's only son and heir. The chance to relax was well worth it.

He'd gotten to know Sam all the better for it, too. And Merry could tell Frodo's quiet gardener had something on his mind tonight. Merry watched him down his third ale, still in an unusual silence. Quiet and diffident Sam might be up at Bag End, but he usually held his own quite well in this crowd. But not tonight.

Merry shifted a bit, considering, then caught the barmaid's eyes, and signaled for another. He took it, and plopped down beside Sam, handing it over. "So, Sam-my-lad," he started, completely ignoring, as usual, that Sam was both older and bigger than he was, "why the long face tonight?"

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