120. Chapter 119 - October 1444
Éowyn tilted her face into the sun and shivered despite her wool cloak. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have a picnic in October, but it had seemed like a good idea this morning. She wanted to enjoy being outside before the snow came, so she’d convinced Merry of a picnic, dragging him away from his writing and out to the field next to the Old Forest.
Merry had given a token protest, but his eyes told her he welcomed the diversion. She’d held his hand as they left, saying good-bye to a very pleased looking Ivy, who had arrived last week with the children for a another visit. They met Theo and Eomer in the stables. The boys were heading out to the Bolger’s farm for a few days, to help their uncle with winter preparations. Theo had laughed at their behavior, as she and Merry teased each other while saddling their mounts, and even Eomer had cracked a small smile.
She looked over at Merry, dozing in the late afternoon sun, and suddenly had the urge to kiss him.
“Lady Éowyn!” He tried to sound scandalized, but it didn’t work when he was grinning. She pulled back to look into his eyes. She couldn’t get enough of his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Master Meriadoc. I couldn’t help myself.” She smiled and kissed him again and he put his arms around her, pulling her down next to him.
Their kisses deepened and their hands moved under their cloaks, tugging each other closer. Then Merry stopped and started to pull away, as he always did when their kisses would get too intense. This time, though, she didn’t want to let him go. She held him close.
He looked at her with questioning eyes. “Éowyn?”
“Don’t pull away, Merry. Not anymore.”
They kissed with an intensity that she hadn’t experienced in a long time, not since she was a newlywed. And she knew--from the feeling of desire, from the ache low in her belly--that it was time to move on.
She reached for the buttons of his trousers, but Merry grabbed her hand.
“No. Wait. Not here.” He sat up, panting.
Éowyn sighed, feeling more than a little frustrated. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, Merry.”
He snorted. “That’s what Ivy and Pippin thought,” he muttered. He shook his head. “If you ever come across their ponies grazing ‘out in the middle of nowhere’, and the two of them are nowhere to be seen, do not go looking for them!” He shuddered.
Éowyn laughed and Merry scowled at her. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to swallow her laughter. She did feel sorry for Merry, coming across their daughter and Pippin in that...situation. But she had to admit it was funny, too. Even after four grandchildren, Merry was still embarrassed about where the grandchildren came from.
His scowl faded away. “We should probably get back anyway,” he said softly. His cheeks turned pink. “But... we can continue this tonight?”
Éowyn nodded. Tonight would be better. A field wasn’t really the best place to take the next step in their relationship.
They returned to Brandy Hall at the same time that Pippin arrived from Tuckborough. Pippin raised an eyebrow at them and Éowyn self-consciously touched her cheeks, wondering if she was blushing. But then he grinned and plucked a bit of dry grass from Merry’s curls. “You’ve been to the Golden Perch, then?” he asked. Merry glared at him. Pippin just laughed and headed out of the stable.
“What was that about?” Éowyn asked.
Merry coughed. “I once pulled a leaf from Ivy’s hair back when they were courting and they were supposed to have come straight home from the pub.”
“Poor Pippin,” Éowyn chuckled.
“Estella managed to save his life,” Merry said wryly. A smile twitched on his mouth. “I can’t wait for the day when Pippin has to start dealing with lads chasing after his daughters.” He chuckled. “I think I’ll quite enjoy that.”
“You’re awful,” Éowyn laughed. Merry just winked at her.
They caught up with Pippin and walked up to the hall together. Ivy met them on the front steps and threw herself on her husband, kissing him passionately.
“All right, you two,” said Merry, rolling his eyes as he walked past them. “You’d think you were newlyweds, not the parents of five children.”
“I think it’s sweet,” said Éowyn, squeezing Merry’s hand. “There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, no matter what your age.” She gave him a meaningful look and grinned when he blushed.
They waited until everyone else had gone to bed. Fortunately, Ivy and Pippin disappeared right after the children were put to bed. They hadn’t seen each other in a week, after all.
Éowyn and Merry lingered over their final glass of wine, suddenly unsure of what to do next. Would he change his mind? she thought. Would she? Then the bottoms of the glasses were reached. Merry set his down and stood, a determined look on his face, and held out his hand to her. “We’re like a couple of embarrassed tweens,” he chuckled.
Éowyn laughed, her tension fading away, and took his hand.
They walked down the quiet hallway together, hand-in-hand. As they passed Ivy’s room, they heard an exclamation from within that made Merry cringe. “I didn’t hear that...” he muttered under his breath. Éowyn stifled a chuckle.
They came to her door and looked at each other, unsure again.
She leaned over and kissed him. “Would you like to come in, Master Meriadoc?”
“I’d love to, Lady Éowyn.”
Éowyn led him in, closing the door behind them. She couldn’t believe how fast her heart was beating. You’d think she was a maiden, not an old widow woman with grandchildren.
They stood for a moment, still holding hands, and Éowyn was sure her face was as red as Merry’s. She giggled. Merry looked up at her and grinned.
“I can’t believe we’re this nervous,” he said. “We have done this before.”
Éowyn smiled and pulled him over to the bed. She sat on the edge and looked up at Merry.
“Éowyn,” he whispered, brushing his fingers along her face. He leaned forward and captured her mouth in passionate kiss.
When he pulled away, she reached out for the buttons of his shirt. She pushed each one through its hole. His warm breath on her hair and his scent--a mix of pipeweed and his own masculine scent--were lighting a fire low in her belly. She slid the shirt from his shoulders and ran her hands over his chest, through the sprinkling of hair and over his stout belly to the buttons of his trousers. She pressed her hand against him and his breath hitched. She looked in his eyes, smiled, and pulled the buttons open. The trousers slid to the floor and he stepped out of them.
He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her back and back up to her shoulders. He broke the kiss, stepped back, and cocked a smile at her. “Why do you lasses always have complicated dresses?”
She grinned and reached for the ties at the side of her overdress. “To make you wait, of course,” she said. She stood up and pulled the overdress off. Her dress quickly followed.
She sat on the bed again and reached for him. He took her hand and she lay back, pulling him onto the bed next to her. She got a nervous hitch in her chest, suddenly realizing she was naked in bed with Merry. She felt a nervous flutter in her belly. It had been a long while since she had last done this, almost two years, now, since... She closed her eyes. Thoughts of Faramir overwhelmed her, of the last time they’d been together, of the last time they’d parted. She didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
She opened her eyes. Merry was watching her, brows furrowed with concern.
“I understand if you’re not ready for this,” he said softly.
She touched his cheek and smiled. She wanted this. Her body wanted him, her heart wanted him... It was only her mind that wavered, with memories of Faramir. But she had to let go.
“No, Merry,” she said. “I’m ready.”
Merry slid closer to her and lay his hand on her stomach. Éowyn noticed the slight hesitation. It had been a while for him, too.
She turned toward him, tipping her chin up to meet his kiss. She was at least on familiar ground with the kisses. They’d done that often enough. But then he moved his hand, his palm sliding gently from her stomach, over her ribs and up to cup her breast. She moaned softly into his mouth when he dragged his thumb over her nipple. She broke their kiss to look into his eyes, his lovely blue eyes that were so gentle and warm.
“Merry,” she whispered, her fingertips grazing his cheek again.
He leaned his cheek into her hand and turned his head to kiss her palm.
Her breath quickened when he dipped his head to her breast, his hand moving to caress the other. She gasped and arched her back, pushing into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his curls and tipped her head back, sighing with pleasure. He was different from Faramir--smaller hands, smaller mouth--and for that she was glad, because she did not want to compare them, the two men she loved. She wondered if Merry felt the same, glad that she was so different from Estella.
He rolled onto her, his mouth and hands never pausing in their exploration. He was hard against her thigh. “Merry,” she moaned and pushed her hips into him, encouraging him. She didn’t want to wait any longer.
He looked up at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. He looked so different from the nervous and frightened young hobbit who had given her comfort and a reason to live all those years ago, who had given her a beautiful daughter from that night. He had changed, mature and confident now, but the comfort he gave her had not changed.
She gasped when he pushed into her and she couldn’t help but think of the night when she’d lost her maidenhood, how much she’d needed him then. She ran her fingers through his hair. She’d fallen in love with him that night, but had been too much of a coward to admit it.
He looked up at her, mouth still on her breast, his eyes playful now. She smiled back, sad thoughts pushed away by other memories of that night, of something she’d discovered in that cramped little tent so long ago. She brought her hands up to gently grasp his pointed ears, sliding her fingers from tip to lobe and back.
His thrusts faltered for a moment and he groaned, his mouth and tongue pausing as well. She grinned at him when he peeked up at her, his eyes looking a bit glazed now. Yes, that seemed to still work. She wondered if all hobbits had sensitive ears. Perhaps she’d ask Ivy.
Merry caught his breath and set back to work with a renewed energy and soon Éowyn forgot all about torturing his ears. She could only think about what he was doing to her body: wet tongue and hot breath on her skin, his hands caressing her breasts, the push and slide as he entered her again and again. She moaned as a warm feeling began to spread through her, and then he was thrusting hard and fast, his climax taking him. He grunted with each thrust of his release, a small sound in the back of his throat that was almost a whine. Then he shuddered and collapsed on her, breathing hard.
Éowyn sighed, relaxing back into her pillow, and her fingers still in his hair. Merry’s head rested on her breast, his panting breath ghosting her sweaty skin. It felt so right to by lying here with him.
When his racing heart finally slowed, he slid himself up to lie next to her on her pillow. He kissed her gently. “I love you,” he said lazily, a smile on his face.
“I love you.” She ran her fingers through his hair. He looked so content, the same as she felt. She felt like they had healed each other again. “Better than the last time?” she asked with a grin.
“What? You didn’t think a musty tent in the middle of a battle encampment was romantic?” He grinned at her, then got a worried look on his face. “We’re not going to give Ivy a little brother or sister, are we?”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t have anymore children.”
He frowned. “You can’t?”
“It’s perfectly normal, Merry. When women get older, they reach a time when they are no longer fertile.”
“I know, but...already?” He sighed. “Sorry. I forgot. Hobbits and Big Folk don’t age the same.”
She touched his face. “I know. You haven’t changed much at all and I’m already an old woman.”
“Éowyn, you are still as beautiful as the day I met you. And I have changed.” He patted his stomach. “I can barely fit into my armor anymore. Which Pippin likes to gloat about, of course, until I point out that it’s much easier to hide stoutness underneath that Gondorian coat.”
Éowyn laughed. “Dear Pippin. I don’t think Ivy could have found anyone better.”
Merry smiled. “I know. As much as I was against it in the beginning, now I couldn’t imagine anyone else for her.”
She kissed him. “And they have given us such beautiful grandchildren.” She grinned. “And apparently they may be working on more,” she teased.
“Pippin! Pippin, wake up!”
Pippin woke to find Ivy straddling him and whispering in his ear. “Again?” he mumbled sleepily.
“No! Not that! I just got up to use the privy and...” She giggled. “Dad’s not in his room!”
“All right, Ivy,” Pippin mumbled. Why was she telling him this? He closed his eyes.
“Pippin!” She shook him awake.
“He’s with Éowyn!” she said, grinning. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” He closed his eyes.
“I haven’t been this happy in a long time,” she said. Pippin nodded. He really was happy for her, but he’d be happier for her in the morning.
“I want to have another baby.”
He nodded. “All right, Ivy.”
“Pippin, are you listening to me?”
“Be happy, have a baby.” he mumbled. How could she have this much energy at--he cracked open an eye and focused on the clock on the table--two o’clock in the morning?
There was a waver in her voice that jarred him fully awake. He looked up at her. She was smiling, but her eyes were wet with tears. It finally hit him what she had said. She wanted another baby. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Since Dad and Éowyn have moved on, I think I need to as well.” She sighed. “Are you happy?”
He smiled and pulled her down into his arms. “I’m very happy, love.” He felt wonderfully happy, already looking forward to a new baby. And no more frustrating precautions to not get her pregnant. Pippin kissed her, then grinned and rolled them over so he was on top. “Shall we get started now?”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.