All he had to do now was fold back the silken bedcovers, climb in and close his eyes. He would wake refreshed as he had done all the times he had woken here. It occurred to him, in one of those fleeting thoughts that drop unwelcome ideas into weary minds, how many different beds he would sleep in before he returned to his home and then half laughed at his fanciful thinking. Already presuming there would be beds. Already presuming he might return.

He was restless. The trouble with thinking was it did not stop. His head was full of ‘what if?’ ‘how long?’ ‘when will?’ and even though he knew there were no answers, he could not keep from thinking. He needed to walk like he used to; meandering from place to place searching for answers which had always came to him in times past but seldom did so now. Yet politeness prevented him from traipsing down halls and corridors, passing endless numbers of helpful elven folk who would no doubt wish him well and offer to show him the way back to his room. They would think he was lost and perhaps they would be right. He had stated before them all he did not know the way and maybe he never would.

The evening was pleasant, full of whisperings from a thousand falling leaves. Pathways tempted him but not too far because there were warriors guarding them, watchful and wary for the Evil that would have them all and he knew he would be advised to turn back and get some rest. He did not wish to explain to them, so contented himself with dressing quickly and heading for the pathway that led to a summer temple, half shelter, half ruin that he had explored before with Sam. Sitting inside it, talking to Sam, he had convinced himself that it was almost over. He had done his part. They had still managed to find him, to summon him to Elrond’s Council but Frodo hoped there would be no interruptions this time. Here he could be at peace if only for a little while.

Clambering round the fallen stones was harder in the dark than he imagined and stumbling he misjudged his step, stubbing toes and flailing for balance. His cry of annoyance at his clumsiness was met with silence and then a quavering voice

“Who’s there?”

“Pippin? Is that you?” Frodo hurried into the shelter of the half domed building and there sitting on a stone seat was indeed Pippin, hunched and pressed back against the stonework. His cloak was wrapped so tightly round him it reminded Frodo of a cocoon. A cloud scudded across the moon and all went dark. Finding a space to sit next to his cousin wasn’t easy when that cousin insisted on flinging himself into Frodo’s body, almost dislodging him from the seat. It reminded Frodo of games Merry and Pippin played when they were younger.

“Pip! What’s wrong with you? Careful, you’ll have me tumbling on this floor in no time.”

“You said we were going home!” Longing and bewilderment. The clouds moved on and the moonlight showed the tears and disappointment on Pippin’s face. “You said…you can’t deny it.”

“I know. I thought it was time. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Frodo meant every word and regarded his young cousin with concern.

This was not the same Pippin who made them laugh with his careless disregard of what lay ahead of them. The hobbit who made braver, stronger men and wiser, ancient dwarves look to their own courage and find it wanting.

“What happened, Pip? What made you feel like this? You were the bravest of us all in front of the Council. You laughed and joked. I said to Sam I could not hold a candle to your courage.”

Pippin sighed and thankfully stopped trying to deposit Frodo on the floor. In a quiet voice he explained he had been eavesdropping.

“Not the sort of eavesdropping that is sly and behind-the-door. I was dozing in a chair and Gandalf, Merry and Sam were talking. I listened and I wish I hadn’t because now I’m not as brave as I was and I think I’ll always be afraid from here on. It was better not to know the others had the same fears. It’s like stumbling in the dark, knowing there is no one to catch you.”

“Pippin! How can you say that? Do you think any of us would abandon the other no matter what happened? Four of us set off from the Shire and four of us will go home, laughing and singing and boasting how we saved Middle Earth from the Wrath of Sauron. They’ll name roads after us and every pretty hobbit lass will want to fling her arms about us and hope to get us married within the year.”

“I hope not,” Pippin said fervently. “Lasses are very strange.”

Frodo couldn’t help the snort of laughter. Maybe it was fanciful talk but part of him hoped that it could be like that. He relaxed against the wall and Pippin sat close beside him, animated now. Frodo marvelled how the youngest hobbit seemed to have so much faith in his words of reassurance. So much belief in the Ringbearer.

“That helps. To hear you say such things. Before I return to the Shire though, I want to learn a few skills.” Pippin chatted on, “Something I can be proud of.”

Frodo was puzzled. “What skills? What is it you wish to learn?”

“I’d like to learn to handle a weapon. No, Frodo, stop laughing, not that kind of weapon.” Pippin dug his elbow into Frodo’s side but from the barely concealed warmth in his voice Frodo knew Pippin was on the verge of laughing too.

“I think back to what we faced at Weathertop. I wasn’t much use to you, dear cousin, was I? A yell, a charge and there I was making the acquaintance of a large rock. Not one of my best efforts. Not against those…things.”

Frodo shuddered. It was too close to be remembering what had brought him here. Pippin turned anxiously, suddenly connecting the shudder and the conversation. “Oh Frodo, I didn’t mean…why couldn’t I keep my mouth closed?”

“It doesn’t matter, Pippin. I’m not offended. I don’t wish to remember or talk about it. Not yet. Listen; there will be no reason for you to know how to fight like a warrior for we have friends with us who have more knowledge than anything we could learn. All you have to do is stay close, listen well and follow instructions from those who know better than we do. Gandalf will make sure we get through.”

“Stay close, listen well and follow instructions? Oh dear.” Pippin looked so crestfallen for a moment, Frodo hugged him impulsively until Pippin grinned and added brightly, “I can always blame Merry. He can charm his way out of most things if he wants.”

“So can you, my sweet Pip, when you’ve a mind to.” Pippin accepted the compliment with an amused glance and Frodo knew he’d been angling for it all along. Pippin became thoughtful.

“Well then, if I’ve no need to learn some fighting skills and I’m as charming as you say, there are still other skills I need to improve.”

Frodo kept his arms round Pippin. This was certainly important enough for Pippin to confide in him. He had to give his words the utmost attention because it could mean a difference in how Pippin coped with what lay before them.

Pippin lowered his voice.

“I’m in need of certain lessons. I’ve tried asking Merry and all he suggests is using an apple. It doesn’t feel right. An apple feels cold and I keep wanting to bite a chunk out of it. That can’t become a habit, let me tell you.”

Frodo was confused. He had no idea what Pippin was talking about even when Pippin smiled up at him and Frodo could see the light from the moon reflected in his eyes. Pippin looked different somehow.

“Will you help me Frodo?”

Frodo found himself nodding.

“Good! Now I’ll know how to kiss. A skill well worth the learning! First lesson is…?”

“Wait! What? There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss…” Frodo tried to recall times he’d seen Pippin kiss family and friends. He’d seen Merry kiss Pippin during celebrations both sober and worse for wear. He himself had received many a kiss in greeting. As far as he could recall Pippin had no problem with his lips.

“You won’t help me? Oh, Frodo…” Pippin’s face was a picture of dismay. Frodo couldn’t bear that look. He pulled Pippin from the seat and brought him to stand in front of him. Holding Pippin's hands he leaned forward to show how seriously he was attending to the problem.

“I’ll help in any way I can.” He was rewarded by a joyful smile.

“Then you can tell me about my lips.” Pippin brought Frodo’s fingers to his lips and moved them along gently. “Are they smooth enough? Soft enough? Warm? Merry said they had to be warm.”

Frodo was astonished. What sort of questions were these? “Smooth and soft. Er…yes…warm, of course your lips are warm…”

Pippin was delighted, but dropping Frodo’s hand into Frodo’s lap, he giggled. “Oh, what foolishness. I forgot to make a comparison. Sam said that he always knew what the best plants looked like and he measured others by those. I need to see how mine measure against yours.”

With that, he led his finger across Frodo’s lips from corner to corner. “Smooth and soft too. And warm. These are good lips, Frodo. Meant for kissing.”

Frodo closed his mouth. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Of course, Merry said that practice was always better than just thinking about it. So thinking about lips is never as good as using lips for actual kissing. Don’t you agree, Frodo?”

Frodo nodded. He was finding it hard to keep up with Pippin. His thoughts were whirling around and nothing was making sense. Wasn’t he supposed to teach Pippin something?

“So I was discussing…”

“Dis…discussing?”

“Yes, with Merry. About the different kinds of kisses. He said it was all very well knowing what they were but each had a different way of going about it and you couldn’t mix up the way you did it because that didn’t work at all?.”

“Merry said that?”

“Oh yes, he was very definite about that.”

Frodo tried to remember what different kisses there could be. He shook his head. “I’m not so sure I’m the one to be asking about this…”

Pippin leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. “There!”

“Well, yes, that’s one kind.”

“And now another!” Pippin announced, cradling the back of Frodo’s head, and kissing so gently at first he seemed hardly there and then deepening the kiss until Frodo went dizzy.

When Pippin let him go, Frodo was sure he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Er…oh…um.” Words seemed hard to come by.

“There’s more you know!” Frodo’s eyes went very wide and before he could even think of an ‘Is there?’ never mind say it, Pippin had opened Frodo’s shirt and found a nipple.

With the shock came apprehension for it was too close, too easily hurt...but there was no need for worry because Pippin was gentle and kind yet insistent. Soon the nipple was hard and the friction wonderful. Frodo felt himself falling into some kind of stupor where Pippin, if he asked, could do anything he wished. In fact, even if he didn’t ask.

“Nnngh…”

“I knew you would like that.” Pippin sounded so happy. Frodo shared his happiness but no words would come. Only noises ands sounds. He very much hoped Pippin would understand because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to explain.

Pippin slipped his hand inside Frodo’s breeches as his other hand deftly unfastened them.

“I’m reliably informed this kiss is the best of all.”

He pushed Frodo’s thighs apart and slid to his knees. Easing Frodo’s shaft from the material brought a groan from Frodo that seemed to come from his toes. Pippin smiled and lowered his head.

“OH!” The sound echoed in the stillness. Pippins mouth was gentle and loving, lips and tongue alternately kissing and tasting and finally enveloping in a movement that took Frodo unawares. His fingers gripped the edge of the stone seat and his head arched back. Pippin’s mouth made his stomach clench in spasms as he tried to hold back for surely, surely his cousin did not meant to…could not bring himself to…? And then it did not matter for Pippin jerked suddenly, muffled cries of ecstasy causing vibrations to ripple through him and Frodo was lost. He bucked once, twice and then his world exploded into a name he never would have thought to utter.

“PIPPIN!”

They held each other close, nuzzling and gently kissing until the tremors of their loving had subsided. Frodo was glad to see Pippin had managed some care for himself. A one sided act was no pleasure at all.

“Oh, I don’t need lessons there. I’ve been good at that for a while. But…” and here Pippin lowered his eyes shyly. “It was better for the sharing of it with you.”

Such loving honesty made Frodo’s heart glow.

Each dressed the other, tying fastenings, pushing buttons through loops, pulling their beloved Shire clothes round their bodies without a word.

Pippin shivered. The night was becoming chill. “Frodo, I think I’d like to go inside now. A nice warm bed sounds very appealing.”

Frodo agreed. The coldness of the stone was creeping into his body and it reminded him of Weathertop and the blade. He didn’t want anything to spoil the memory of this night because that would mean that Pippin’s loving comfort would have been for naught.

The two of them walked back, talking softly about this and that. Inconsequential things that mattered only to them and proved above all else that they knew each other very well in some ways but there was room to discover more. Frodo admitted he had thought he was supposed to comfort Pippin. Pippin’s good natured laughter was followed by a squeeze of the arm and a promise that there would be other times and other places when surely there would be a chance for Frodo to comfort Pippin in any way he chose. Frodo’s ears went slightly pink around the tips at that whilst Pippin chuckled even more.

It was only when they entered through the impressively elegant building that Pippin became more subdued. Frodo kissed him on the forehead and wished him goodnight before his better nature gave in to the heart tugging expression before him and he ended up inviting Pippin to his bed for the night. If that happened, he might never get any sleep.

“Will the journey be long, Frodo?”

Frodo halted at the doorway to his room. “Long enough.”

“Good. That means I’ll be able to ask Merry for more advice.”

“What?”

“He said I’d have to wait for more advice seeing as how he hadn’t had all his lessons yet.”

“Pippin!!” Frodo couldn’t believe his ears. “What have you and Merry been talking about?”

“Good night, Frodo, sleep well.” Pippin practically skipped down the hallway, skilfully ignoring the question. He turned as if he had recalled something and winked.

“Remember, Frodo, four friends together.”

Frodo undressed quickly and clambered into bed, dazed at the night’s events but feeling content and comforted nevertheless. Pippin was right. Their bond of love and friendship would see them through. He could face the journey and look the world in the eye as long as they were together.

He was just about to fall asleep, when Pippin’s words echoed in his mind.

Four friends together.

“Oh my, four? Together?” whispered Frodo as a sudden picture of hobbit legs and arms and mouths and kisses came unbidden into his head. “You rascal, Pip, how can I possibly think of anything else now…?”

The End