West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
In a Pagan Shire, Pippin learns what love isn't.
Author: Singe Addams
It had been such a good and funny plan at the time. Merry's plan, of course, and convincing Pippin and Frodo to join him in it was no challenge. Under cover of the warm darkness of the night they crept away from the Bolger's Planting Party to hide out in the thicket of aspens that bordered the Bolger fields. They were to catch Fatty and his sweetheart as they arrived to 'bless' the spring crops, jump out, embarrass the life out of them, and run away cackling. Good clean fun.
Fatty and Irena Underhill never showed, evidently picking a different field or one of the orchards, but the three jokers weren't disappointed. There, bare yards away, Rosie Cotton and Samwise Gamgee were in each other's arms.
Pippin shook his head as he crouched in the undergrowth. If he hadn't seen it, that one moment, he wouldn't have believed it. Merry, too, had been struck where he was hidden, his hand over his mouth, and Frodo clearly gasped with shock over the wonder of it, the sheer, unexpected surprise of Sam's transition from good 'ol sweet, hard-working, shy Sam into...into...Pippin shook his head again. It was like watching a mask burn away, that one glorious moment when Sam took Rosie's face in his hands and looked into her eyes with a depth of desire Pippin wouldn't have believed possible from the staid Hobbit.
And there he was now, not content with looking, was Sam, oh, no, he suddenly picked Rosie right up off the tilled earth and was giving her a kiss that...that...Pippin heard Frodo sigh. Sam slowly slid Rosie down the length of his body until she touched the turned earth again and buried his hands in her hair, still kissing her mouth with a concentrated intensity that forced a whimper out of Merry's throat.
The two looked so involved that Pippin disapproved. It surely wasn't healthy to want someone that much.
"All twenty of their children are going to feel that smooch 'til the end of time." Merry whispered and gave a minute salute with his wine bottle. Sam backed away, took off his cloak and spread it out on the ground. "My, my, my."
Sam reached out and Rosie leapt at him. Yes, an actual leap. He bent her back and Pippin could see the muscles and tendons in his neck shifting under the flushed sheen of his skin as he kissed her throat. Rosie's eyes opened and she stared wonderingly at the full moon for an endless moment before she gasped "Oh, Sam."
"Ohhhh, Sam." Pippin agreed. "You surprise me." Rosie stepped back and began to eagerly unbutton Sam's shirt. Pippin sat up with interest. "Did you suspect he had it in him, Frodo? You know him best."
"Frodo can't say, he's too busy crying, Pip." Merry put a mock-comforting arm around his older cousin.
Frodo picked up the hem of his cloak and dabbed at his eyes. "I'm N...N...NOT crying!" he sobbed, and Pippin snickered. Sam's shirt came off and Frodo dropped his pretense immediately and sucked in a bracing breath of air between his teeth. "I...we should go."
"We could jump out and sing them a song, eh?" Pippin whispered.
"And ruin the blessing?" Merry asked reasonably and stayed right where he was. He untied his cloak and folded it on the ground before he sat on it comfortably. Sam was slowly unlacing Rosie's bodice and the moonlight gleamed on her breasts as they were slowly revealed. Pippin didn't need any more convincing. Suddenly his own cloak was too warm for him and he stripped it off and carelessly flung it to the side. "If we leave the crops won't grow." Merry's tone was final.
"Something's growing all right." Pippin observed. Rosie's overdress slipped to the ground and Sam's hands were infinitely gentle as they caressed every part of her they could reach. His tanned skin was a marked and lovely contrast to her pale nudity and Pippin shivered with appreciation. Beautiful.
"I feel...ah, I feel bad about this." Frodo mumbled and nervously ran his hand through his hair. He moved back, deeper into the shadow of the bushes and Pippin followed companionably. "Really."
"You're not drunk enough." Merry handed him the wine bottle over his shoulder. Frodo took it and sat on the mossy ground, resigned and blushing.
"Oh, SAM!" Rosie gasped, Sam's hands were lifting her underskirt now. Frodo tilted the bottle up and Pippin watched his throat as he pulled a strong swallow from it. He lowered the wine and licked away a stray drop on the neck. "Oh, Sam! Ohsamohsamohsam!" Frodo's teeth caught at his bottom lip as he seemed to savor that as well. He saw Pippin watching and offered the bottle.
Pippin shook his head and expressed all the considerable mischief he could muster with his eyes. "No, you go ahead. Please." Frodo blinked and then he smiled. Just the smallest smile as he drank once more, slowly, his eyes on Pippin. He drank again as he untied his own cloak and let it slide off his shoulders onto the ground. The Took watched and felt his skin really begin to burn as Frodo took a third small sip and his full lips slowly released the mouth of the bottle with a gentle smack. Then he calmly reached out and offered the wine again. This time Pippin took it.
He leaned his head back and drained the bottle as leisurely as he could as Frodo watched every swallow. He took an extra hard swig and the suction trapped his tongue within the rim. Pippin gazed at Frodo with wildly lecherous eyes as his tongue made a loud 'thoonk!' sound as he freed it from the vacuum. Then he threw the bottle over his shoulder where it landed with a soft rustle in the underbrush. Now THAT was the sensuous way to drink wine! Frodo clapped both hands over his mouth to keep from laughing at his cousin's mockery. Sam and Rosie didn't notice their noise but Merry did. He shot a Sh! at them without taking his eyes off Rosie's roving hands. She was nude, Sam's breeches were slowly coming off, and Merry's breathing was picking up. Pippin admired the view for a long moment before he turned back to Frodo.
"I think I'm drunk enough for anything now." Frodo almost imperceptibly mouthed and Pippin accepted the invitation with delight, slowly crawling closer. Merry didn't notice. Pippin held a finger to his lips and Frodo nodded and grinned that wide-open smile that Pippin loved to see. It was not a time for poetry and chocolates and the two simply attacked each other gleefully. Their mouths came together, kissing, biting and tasting of wine and salt as their breeches were roughly pulled open and they reached for each other.
Frodo's hand was as cool and strong as ever and Pippin bonelessly sank to the ground beside him. "Mmmwarmmm." Frodo whispered, almost in answer to Pippin's thought. "You're always so warm." Pippin practically rolled on top of him and kissed Frodo again. Their mouths were open and hungry and their lips beautifully hot as their hands gently clenched and released and pulled and stroked...Pippin muffled his gasps in Frodo's neck. Frodo was biting his shoulder and the pain of it was wonderful though muted by Pippin's shirt and waistcoat.
"SAM! OH! SAM!" Rosie was astride Sam now and the muscles in her strong legs flexed as she slowly rose up and even more slowly bore down. Up and down and up and down and she threw her head back and moaned as Sam's broad, brown hands clutched her slender waist. He seemed to be beyond speech as he watched her face with avid eyes and groaned beneath her. Rosie and Sam were pale and glowing like stars against the dark, turned earth and Frodo and Pippin modified their own rhythm to match theirs.
"Ohhhh, Sam." Pippin whispered in appreciation and bit Frodo's throat.
Frodo arched up with a gasp. "Yes, indeed. Sammmm."
Merry spared a quick glance over his shoulder. Then he did an unbelieving double take. He rolled his eyes and quietly crawled towards them until he was looming. "I hate you both."
"Rosie!" Pippin's loud whisper greeted him joyously and releasing Frodo, who complained, gently passed the back of his hand over the bulge in Merry's breeches. "Oh, Rosie!"
"I can't take you anywhere...whulp!" Merry was seized by his waistcoat and brought within manageable distance. "Pippin, you are...I...FRODO, don't!"
"Shh!" Pippin cautioned. Rosie and Sam remained inattentive to anything outside of the blissful world they had created and Pippin turned back to important matters. Ah, Frodo AND Merry, life didn't get any better than this. The three were a true tangle now. Hands and mouths seeking and discovering and caressing and Frodo...oh...Frodo had raised his head to look into the field, his teeth catching his lip again. His face was beautiful in the moonlight and Pippin kissed and gently bit his cheek possessively as Frodo's fingers...oh...wound him and bound him and were just about to destroy him and Pippin was GLAD. Frodo kissed him back hungrily, thoroughly, and he clenched his hand almost harder than Pippin could bear. Almost. Pippin ground into the pleasure, again and again and again until Frodo threw him into a whirlpool of heat and ecstasy and he silenced his cry against Merry's arm as the world exploded.
"YES!" Rosie cried, helpless, yesyesyes, into the night. "OH! YES! PLEASE, YES!"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Rose." Merry answered, almost conversationally, and threw his head back as he shuddered and bucked into Pippin's hand. "Yes, Rosie!" and then he was still.
"I'm telling Sam." Pippin panted.
Merry flopped back onto the leaf litter and gasped for breath. "Go right ahead. I'll die happy."
Pippin smiled and looked at Frodo who was still as tense as a bow string. His face was flushed and shining with perspiration and he kept his eyes away from the lovers in the field.
"More! Oh, more, please! Harder!" Rosie begged.
Merry lifted his head in surprise. "More? Give me a couple of minutes, at least." he whispered to her, well caught in his own fantasy.
Pippin snickered at his depressed tone and rose to catch Frodo by the collar. "Sit up, Frodo, I haven't forgotten you."
"I'm grateful." Frodo quietly laughed but his eyes were still downcast as he sat comfortably with his legs crossed beneath him.
Pippin brushed his lips against Frodo's ear, "Look at Sam." he whispered and took his cousin in hand again.
"No." Frodo said, shaking his head.
Pippin bent his head down, down, and breathed on Frodo's hardness. "Look at him. Look. At. Sam." and then he filled his mouth. Frodo gasped and Pippin felt his hand settle into his hair. Pippin peeked into the field. Sam was kneeling over Rose now with his hands grasping her knees and he was thrusting in, in, in, in...and Pippin began to work his mouth and tongue in perfect time to it...in, in, in, hard and fast and good and Frodo's hand was clawing Pippin's back now.
He was looking.
Pippin could hear Sam's rhythmic gasps and Rosie's cries and he groaned encouragingly. Recovering, (as only a healthy, young Brandybuck can) Merry, too, got onto his knees and matched Sam's thrusts with his hand around himself. "Here y'go, Miss Rose, I've never been one to disappoint." he gasped.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, PLEASE! Oh, pleasepleaseplease!" Rosie begged.
"Certainly." Merry groaned and Pippin chuckled deep in his throat, causing Frodo to writhe almost uncontrollably. Pippin braced Frodo's thighs with a forearm and became relentless as he mercilessly moaned some more. Frodo thrashed his head back and forth, building himself up to a solid scream and his fingers dug into the loam.
A joyous duet rose up from the field and, hearing it, Merry let go, wincing and shaking in ecstasy.
Frodo bit into his fist but he couldn't keep back his "Oh, SAM!" as Pippin happily tore him into burning bits and pieces. Then Frodo collapsed back and gasped and gasped again for air and calm and control as well as he could with his hand still over his mouth.
Softly panting, Pippin sat up and looked around. Merry, Frodo and even Sam and the insatiable Rose were prone and lifeless and he fought back a laugh as he felt very much like a conquering hero. Merry found the strength to look up at him and grinned. "Don't you look like a Cat Amongst the Birds." Pippin smiled back, all too smugly. Frodo struggled up and wiped his brow with the heel of his hand. Then Rosie and Sam began to stir. Seeing this, Merry got up and began to set himself in order. "Let's get out of here before they see us. We've already pushed our luck a bit too far tonight."
"But d'you think the crops will grow, Merry?" Pippin whispered mischievously, helping Frodo to his feet.
"Too right they will. Into a jungle! C'mon!" Merry slinked back into the trees and disappeared from sight.
Pippin stretched. "I love thee, I love but thee!" he began to sing softly as he threw on his cloak. "With a love that shall not die. 'Til the sun grows cold and the stars are old, together, still, we'll lie!" he breathed in the clean night air and looked into the field one last time. Sam was raised on his elbow above Rosie and was blessing her with loving, gentle kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her nose, and her blissfully closed eyes. Awwww! Pippin thought and turned to share a smile with Frodo.
Frodo wasn't smiling. He had tied on his cloak and was reaching for the empty wine bottle with a helpless, hopeless pain evident in every slow movement of his body. "Don't sing about what you don't understand, Pip."
That wasn't fair. "Really, now... " Pippin drew close and placed a calming hand on the back of the older Hobbit's neck, turning him around. "You know I love you."
Frodo smiled with brittle amusement. "I love you, too, Pip." he whispered. Pippin turned his face up expectantly but Frodo hesitated to close that small distance. Why he was reluctant now, after all they had just done together, was a mystery to Pippin. Frodo glanced at the pair lying on the earth. Then he bowed his head, as if beaten, and kissed Pippin. Gently. Gently and thoroughly and Pippin's eyes shot open and then fluttered closed again in surprise.
Frodo was worshipping his mouth with his own. It felt...so lovely. So soft and tender and perfect. No one had ever kissed Peregrin Took like this before and it was sweet and sad as a lost dream and the warmth of it spread all through him as if Frodo wasn't kissing his mouth at all, but his soul.
He put his hands on Frodo's shoulders and brought him closer as something deep and unknowable in Pippin broke open. He was drowning in moonlight and stars and love and Frodo, Frodo, Frodo... he had to have more and the feeling consumed him until he flinched with pain.
Too much, he was feeling too much and it was surely dangerous, feeling this much, it felt like dying and he broke away with a gasp. He stepped back and stared at Frodo in amazement. Frodo dropped his eyes immediately and studied the ground, breathing deeply, for an eternity. "You're so warm, Pip." he finally whispered. "And I'm so sorry." he slowly reached up and stroked Pippin's hair back from his forehead. Finding his courage again, Pippin leaned into the touch, leaned into Frodo, into an emotion he had never felt before but Frodo backed away. Confused, Pippin, too, retreated and the wind blew cold between them.
"No, Pip." Frodo suddenly said, shaking his head. "Let's catch up with Merry. This poor field can only stand so much." He crept away in silence and Pippin followed. The young Took watched him carefully but Frodo didn't look back at the field once. For the first time in his young life, Pippin could understand why.
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