The End of an Autumn Day
by Lullennye-mail: gutter2stars @ yahoo.com
Story notes: Merry and Pippin help move Frodo's belongings to Crickhollow.
Merry arrived late at Crickhollow. The sun had dropped behind the trees, but it was still warm as he leapt from the waggon. He rolled up his sleeves, unhitched the horses and tied them to the post by the corner of the house. As he loosened the ropes holding the tarp on the load, Pippin stepped out of the front door. "I wondered if you got lost," he said. "Fatty gave up waiting for you and went back to the hall."
"Did he. Well, I guess we'll just have to make do without him," said Merry, "though that might prove to be a bit of a challenge."
"Really?" Pippin walked to the back of the waggon, and when Merry threw back the tarp he let out a low whistle. "Ohhh, I had forgotten about that."
Pippin referred to the green couch that dwarfed the small tables, footstool and quilt rack packed with it. The back swept in a grand curve of silky wood and plush upholstery dappled with faint leaves in the nap of the velvet. It had resided in Bilbo's sitting room for many long years, and now it would grace the sitting room at Crickhollow -- once Merry and Pippin off-loaded it from the waggon and maneuvered it into its new location. "Maybe we should fetch Fatty to come back and help," said Pippin.
"Let's give it a try first. We might be able to do it."
Pippin gave him a doubtful look but positioned himself to take up the end that dangled off the waggon's bed. "No," said Merry. "You climb up there and push while I support it down here."
"All right then."
With much puffing and complaints from Pippin, and grunts and a scathing curse when he jammed his fingers from Merry, the two hobbits lugged, hoisted, and shoved the couch off the waggon and through the front door into the hall. Sunset shone redly, filling the corridor with light like hot embers fading slowly.
Groaning, Pippin sprawled onto the couch. "Where in the Shire did Bilbo find this monster?"
"I don't know. He's had it as long as I can remember," said Merry. He stood frowning at one end, thoughtfully tapping his fingers on the arm. "It will never fit round that corner."
Pippin cast a glance at the opening to the sitting room. "I don't even want to think about it."
"If we heave it up on end, we could walk it through the door that way."
"And who would this 'we' be, Mr. Brandybuck?" said Pippin. He stretched out along the length of the couch and put his hands behind his head. "I am done with heaving furniture for the night."
"Oh come now. We've nearly got it there."
"And nearly ruptured something doing it, too," Pippin said tartly. "Let's just leave it here and recruit a few strong backs from the hall tomorrow. Maybe get Fatty to throw his weight behind it and pop it right through that door." He made a popping noise with his tongue.
"You're impossible," said Merry. He looked at Pippin lounging with careless ease on the couch, hands behind head and eyes dark in the failing light from the open door.
"I am not," Pippin retorted. "I'm not impossible; in fact, I'm really very easy-going."
Merry said nothing, but he let a lazy smile curl his lips. "You lie there and be easy, then." Merry went to the waggon and quickly put those few small bits of furniture into the front room. He returned to the end of the couch, and Pippin had not moved; in fact, now his head was tilted back, his eyes were closed, and he smiled smugly.
"It sounds like we're done for the day," said Pippin.
"Don't strain something trying to guess from listening to me work."
"I can hear you standing there, you know."
"Indeed," said Merry. "Can you hear this?" He slipped his braces off his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt, moving quietly as he could.
Pippin frowned, concentrating, and, opening his eyes, looked up. Wonder brightened his face as his lips parted a little and a small oh came from them. "It's -- it's as if you're on fire," he said.
Merry glanced into the radiance behind him. The last of sunset fingered through the trees, the light thick and red in low, slanted bands; it striped the hall in flame and shadow, less warm but heavier than just moments before. Pippin lay in a lightless trough there on the couch. He sat up, and the glare painted his face and chest red as he struggled on his knees toward Merry. Pippin's hands were warm as he palmed up Merry's bare sides and pulled him closer until Merry's thighs were pressed against the arm of the couch and he kissed Merry's chest.
"Fatty didn't say he was going to come back, did he?" asked Merry.
"Mm," murmured Pippin. "He abandoned the cause; he's not very dedicated, you know. We won't see him here again tonight unless we invite him. And maybe not even then."
"Which cause would that be?" Merry removed Pippin's shirt as he nosed into the sweaty curls on the top of Pippin's head. "We have so many."
"I referred to the settling of his astoundingly heavy furniture and books for dear old Frodo." Pippin worked at Merry's belt. "How many causes do we have, anyhow?"
"Taking the opportunity to do naughty things on Frodo's couch, for one."
Pippin grinned, a flash of brightness in Merry's shadow. "He would choke if he found out."
"Choke us, you mean."
"For this cause, I'm willing to risk it," Pippin said firmly, and began unfastening Merry's breeches.
Merry smiled. He wound curls of Pippin's hair around his finger. Sleepy crickets sang in the grass outside. Merry's smile slowly lapsed, and he said, "Then there's our little conspiracy for the very same dear old cousin. He won't give us the slip."
"True. But you see, that's another cause Fatty's not very dedicated to -- following Frodo, I mean. Fatty will never leave the Shire, and we all know it." Pippin's head was bowed to his task, his busy fingers freeing buckle and buttons until Merry could feel them hot through his linens.
"Just as long as he doesn't come back here tonight."
"He won't," said Pippin softly.
Merry cupped Pippin's jaw in his palms and drew him up; eyes open Merry kissed him in the red light that had darkened and made the hall like a cave and the light on Pippin's face like dragon fire. Merry watched Pippin's eyes move under his lids, blurry and too close, and the heat between their mouths grew even as the light failed, and then there was little point straining to see in the dark. Merry closed his eyes.
Gracelessly Merry climbed over the arm, and Pippin fell back into the cushions. The creeping night breathed cool and damp into the door as frogs sang in the gloaming, and the horses stamped occasionally in the soft dark. Pippin's kisses were sweet, his navel was salty, and his hands in Merry's hair were tender. His cries roughened urgently, filling Merry's ears as the taste of him filled Merry's mouth. Pippin laughed breathlessly when Merry continued to caress him with his tongue.
"Stop," he said. "Stop, stop; it tickles. Let me -- let me see to you."
Merry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Be careful," he warned as he pulled the thin cloth of his underclothes away. "I don't want to have to clean this couch."
Pippin laughed again at that, his voice lower this time, and he pushed Merry down. He moved without urgency or heed to the passing of time until the stars brightened in the sky and Merry gripped the cushions with one hand while he bit on the heel of the other to stifle his noise. Pippin raised his head and whispered, "We're miles from anyone out here, you silly git." He nuzzled the crease where Merry's leg met his body and murmured, "I want to hear you. I want you to cry out."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes, I want you to," said Pippin, and he put his mouth where it was before, covering Merry's hardness with an abruptness that drew a gasp from him, and then he did more things. Merry felt embarrassed at the exclamations he wanted to make and his face heated with the cries that he allowed past his lips. But he could not sustain shame and such loving bliss at once; Pippin clutched Merry's hips and made small, fettered noises of encouragement and need even as he worked. Pleasure leapt within Merry as he chanted, Oh! Oh! Oh! Before his shudders stopped, Pippin climbed over him, and kissed him, driving renewed heat against Merry's belly until he stiffened and they mumbled each other's names into their mouths.
Merry heard a nightingale sing alone. The house was utterly dark, and all he could see was a sprinkle of stars framed by the open door. Pippin was a sleepy weight nestled close and warm; his finger idly drew the line of Merry's throat again and again.
"I wonder," said Merry, "just how long Frodo will enjoy all our work before he leaves."