A/N: Thanks muchly to Mizz Marvel, who made this story readable. She rules the paragraph breaks!

The poem Merry speaks is by Pablo Neruda, and is used without either permission or profit.

Merry ran from the Great Smials, following paths he’d trod since he could remember. Down by the river, Pippin would be there. It had been nearly a month since they’d seen each other; not really long, Merry knew, but longer than they’d ever been apart before. And coming right after they’d held each other under a starry sky, and made love, and Merry felt he’d died and been reborn. Memory of that night sped his feet, and he reached the river quickly.

Merry slowed as a sleeping Pippin came into view, breath catching in his throat. He softly walked the last few paces, and sat beside his lover (His lover! How sweet those words still were…), watching him sleep. Sharp Took features were softened, and Pippin’s still-lithe body stretched beneath the tree. Merry almost hated to wake him, and destroy the picture, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to gently finger-comb Pippin’s wild curls, smiling when the tweener turned away, grumbling a little.

Pippin rolled over, blinking awake and looking up at him. Merry grinned, feeling lighter and happier just to be near Pippin, and see his face. Pippin blinked at him a few times, and just as Merry was beginning to worry, Pippin spoke.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck, what do you cut your hair with? A butter knife?”

Merry’s jaw dropped, and then he found himself matching Pippin’s grin. “Me? Who goes years without combing his?” And then Pippin laughed, and Merry found himself bowled backwards, arms full of warm hobbit, being wrapped in a hug and kissed thoroughly. Merry kissed back, and when they were both satisfied—for the moment—Pippin pulled back, and smiled so wide and sweet. Merry had to wonder if it would be possible to simply melt into the lad, and be a part of him forever, and pulled him in for another hug.

“Ah, my love, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered into Pippin’s shoulder, and felt strong arms tighten around him.

“I missed you too, meleth,” Pippin whispered, and moved back when he felt Merry raise his head in surprise.

“It’s Elvish—Frodo taught me. It means—it means beloved.” Pippin’s eyes dropped at the last, and he smiled, a little shyly. Merry tipped his chin back, kissing him sweetly. “It’s beautiful, little one.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as my Merry; particularly when he’s tumbled onto his back.” Pippin grinned and yelped in mock-pain when he got a little pinch for his troubles. Sighing happily, he laid his head on Merry’s chest, where he could hear heartbeats, and the two snuggled for a moment or two, soaking in love and sunshine and being where they should be.

Rubbing Pippin’s back with one hand, Merry kept the other firmly around the slim body, loath to doze off, but feeling it anyway. Pippin looked up just as he was about to stand up and suggest a dip in the river, and sharp green eyes finally noticed his cousin’s tiredness.

“Silly Merry—you walked over, didn’t you?” At his cousin’s nod, Pippin rolled off of him with a kiss to his chin. “Then rest, love—we have plenty of time yet; my parents know better than to come looking for us.” Merry smiled widely, asking, “And what have you done with my cousin who used to drag me out of bed at sunrise? And beg to play when we were both nearly asleep?”

Pippin ducked his head a bit, and with an answering grin, replied, “He’s still around. But,” and he reached out to brush his fingers through Merry’s curls, “he’s growing up, a little. Lie down awhile, the river will still be there.” Merry blinked in surprise, and lay back, letting his eyes shut as he sank into the soft grass. He started a little bit when he felt Pippin grab his foot, but relaxed again when he felt strong fingers soothing away aches, and kneading away the tension caused by the long walk. Merry drifted off, not quite to sleep, but to that heavy place in between sleep and wakening, so he could still hear his cousin humming, and feel the sun, but let his dreams weave their way in.

Merry awoke with his head pillowed on Pippin’s lap, gliding out of a dream full of kisses and sun. He opened his eyes and smiled up happily. “I love you, you know that? You’re entirely too sweet to me.” Pippin smiled, and blushed, and leaned down for a little kiss. “I love you too, my-Merry-my-own.” He twined their fingers together, gently rubbing the palm of Merry’s hand with his thumb. Merry, quite awake and rested now, kissed the knuckles of Pippin’s hand, and freed his own to stretch out, catlike. So catlike, in fact, that he rolled off of Pippin’s lap and landed with an “oof!” in the grass. Pippin laughed at that, and stood, reaching hands down to help Merry up as well.

“Bothersome lad, I shan’t call you sweet again anytime soon.” Merry grinned a little, and reached for Pippin, who just managed to evade seeking fingers. Chasing his cousin by the riverbank, Merry barely caught up with him long enough to grab him solidly around the waist. Pippin’s yelp of surprise was followed by another, louder one, when Merry hauled him over one shoulder, and headed for the river, a firm hold still on his squirming, wriggling bundle.

“Right then, into the water with you,” he decided, and proceeded to dump Pippin into the cool water. On his way to the impromptu bath, however, Pippin managed to snag Merry’s shirt, and drag him into the water too.

Recovering first, Pippin was already swimming away when Merry resurfaced, sputtering and shaking water from his hair. With a roar, Merry went after him, prepared to dunk in retribution.

The two chased each other along the river, administering dunkings and splash-fights quite often, until, fully soaked, they faced each other.

“Dear cousin, I believe we may actually be even with each other.” Pippin spat some river water and shook his curls out, as Merry did the same.

“We may very well be. A first, between the Tooks and Brandybucks, I believe.”

“It shall be written into the records of the Hall, I’m sure.”

“Oh, certainly.” Merry, face still solemn, hauled himself out of the water, and turned to help the widely-grinning Pippin out as well. “We’re quite wet, Peregrin.”

“As always, your powers of observation are excellent, Meriadoc.” Pippin smiled, knowing that whenever Merry became obvious, something very un-obvious was about to occur.

“We’ll have to do something about it.” Merry’s voice lowered, became a little rougher, and all of a sudden, here with his lad-love, the world seemed heavier, slower and more golden. He reached out, unbuttoning Pippin’s shirt gently, releasing the cuffs and running his hands over smooth chest and shoulders to release them from the wet fabric. He saw Pippin swallow, and smiled inwardly—then outwardly, when Pippin reached for his shirt. Bared to the waist, Merry leaned over for a sweet, slow kiss, during which at some point, his hands found the buttons on Pippin’s breeches.

Swallowing a moan, Merry retained just enough control to get them all of the way out of their clothes, and tumble on top of the beautiful lad in front of him.

“Meleth, meleth, meleth,” Pippin gasped, and the Elvish syllables ran like rain.

He moved, then, grinding his hips lightly into Pippin’s and then moving back, pinning his lover’s arms over his head. Kissing hard enough to almost bruise the lips meeting his, Merry tangled his tongue in his lover’s, relishing the feel and scent and taste. Breaking the kiss just before it was truly done, he moved back, and looked down into fever-bright green eyes.

“For me you are a treasure,” he whispered, low and rough and sucked a little on the pulse point of Pippin’s neck, pulling away only after he knew he’d left a small mark. “more laden with immensity than the sea and its branches.” He felt more than heard Pippin’s moan, and definitely felt when hips bucked, and Pippin’s hardness met his own. Biting his lip, trying to keep control a little longer, Merry turned his attention to Pippin’s chest, drawing a nipple between his teeth, into his mouth, and suckling gently. The soft moans Pippin was making were driving Merry near mad with his desire to bring both of them to completion, but he held off just a little bit longer.

Abandoning the nipple, Merry moved back up, whispering in a pointed ear, “and you are white and blue and spacious like the earth at vintage time.” He paused, then, to draw the tip of the ear into his mouth, and suck his way down its curve, all hot and wet and good. Pippin and he were moving rhythmically now, and Pippin was starting to struggle against Merry’s hands, needing to touch his lover. Moaning when Pippin bucked particularly hard, in just the right way, Merry quickly released his hands, and kissed his way down to a rounded belly, caressing arms and chest and waist with his hands. Pippin pulled him back up, however, and he took that opportunity to roll over, and cup a sweetly rounded rump, now above him.

Pulling Pippin ever closer, falling into a faster rhythm, Merry turned his head a little to whisper, “In that territory, from your feet to your brow, walking, walking, walking,” here he moaned, and Pippin captured his mouth in a kiss and oh where had he learned how to do that? Merry freed his mouth briefly, long enough to groan “I shall spend my life.” He kneaded Pippin’s rump then, shoving them as close together as he could, and when Merry heard a cry, he wasn’t sure if it was him or Pippin, so closely were they linked in pleasure.

The explosion at the base of his spine told him it had been Pippin, and now Merry cried out his lover’s name, as he came between them, legs wrapped around Pippin’s, arms moving up to clutch at his back.

As their breathing returned to normal, Merry relaxed his hold on Pippin. They lay there, together, whispering softly, love-things and joy-things and good-things. Merry felt his skin cool, and goosebumps begin to rise on Pippin’s arms, and knew they should probably move soon, at least enough to put now-dry clothes on.

Nudging a half-asleep Pippin to the side, he sat up, and stretched, and turned to see Pippin very much enjoying the view. Merry rather liked the way he squeaked when his nose was pinched, and he mirrored the grin Pippin gave him.

Breeches on both of them, first, but Merry stopped him when Pippin was putting on his shirt. Bruises dotted his back, in the shape and placement of Merry’s fingertips, and he kissed them softly, arms wrapped loosely around Pippin’s waist. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And you didn’t.” Pippin shrugged his shirt up and turned around to wrap his arms around Merry. “I rather liked getting them, although I’ll have to do the same to you. Just to maintain balance, of course. And he pulled Merry close, then, and they kissed a little, softly and sweetly.

“I love you,” Merry sighed as they pulled apart, and Pippin smiled, and whispered, “I love you too, dearest Merry.” and leaned in for another lingering kiss. Dressed, finally, they took hands and headed back to the Smials, ready for tea, and then a warm, wide bed just for the two of them.

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