1. By Root and Twig
by A. Vulgarweed
['We usually lie down to sleep," said Merry. "We shall be all right where we are."
"Lie down to sleep!" said Treebeard. "Why of course you do. Hm, hoom; I was forgetting: singing that song put me in mind of old times: almost thought I was talking to young Entings, I did. Well, you can lie on the bed. I am going to stand in the rain. Good night."
Merry and Pippin climbed onto the bed and curled up in the soft grass and fern. It was fresh, and sweet-scented, and warm. The lights died down, and the glow of the trees faded; but outside under the arch they could see old Treebeard standing, motionless, with his arms raised above his head. The bright stars poured out of the sky, and lit the falling water as it spilled onto his fingers and head, and dripped, dripped, in hundreds of silver drops onto his feet. Listening to the tinkling of the drops, the hobbits fell asleep.
--J.R.R.Tolkien, The Two Towers]
For a time the dreaming Merry fought off shadowy Orc-shapes in dark corners of his mind, flailing helplessly as they surrounded him and pressed in, tugging at his shirt, leering, messing with their arcane fastenings of their own eldritch breeches....A particularly insistent paw prodded into his ribs for a few minutes, and then slid down his hip, poking strangely as if testing the tenderness of the flesh. In his dream, he tried to claw it away. In reality, he swatted at Pippin's hand as if it were a mosquito.
"Wake up, lazyhead!" came his cousin's whisper.
"What on earth is it?" Merry hissed, though in truth he was glad to be awakened from a dream that threatened to turn most unpleasant, or at the very least embarrassing.
The movement and placement of Pippin's hand suggested his thoughts clearly enough. Merry sighed, and rolled over to face him.
"Don't you ever need to sleep, you Tookish whore?"
"Meanie," Pippin pouted. "You'd think after being saved from certain terrible death a fellow would want to reacquaint himself with the finer points of life straightaway. And that Entdraught certainly brings the sap to rising," he leered, pushing something like a growing sapling into Merry's left thigh.
Indeed it did. Really, there was no reason Pippin's wheedling should have the effect upon him that it did, but Merry, as usual, found it difficult to deny the younger hobbit much of anything. "Well, maybe so," he whispered. "But only if you promise you won't be pretending I'm a stout Orc-lad." Yet even as he buried a hand in his cousin's hair and pulled his body close against him, he couldn't help but think that something still wasn't right.
"Not an Orc, no, you taste so much better, m'sweet Brandycock....what's the matter this time?" Pippin whined as Merry pulled away to think. Merry jerked his head out of the cozy alcove to Treebeard, standing immobile in the rain.
"We can't, in someone else's house," he firmly. "It would be rude to our host. And think of it--how many centuries has it been since the Entwives disappeared? Poor Treebeard. After all he's done for us."
Merry was a bit surprised when Pippin didn't object in any way. In fact, in the dim light, he imagined he could see Pippin's brow creasing, almost as if his face were being crossed by something rather like....a thought. Uh oh. When Pip started to think, that was usually when serious trouble started.
"I say," said Pippin carefully, and redundantly. "I say it probably has been a good long time for the poor creature, hasn't it?" And something in his tone made Merry realize in an instant exactly what that ill-fated thought was growing into; he could *hear* Pip's grinning in the dark.
"Oh no. No," said Merry.
"Oh yes. You said it yourself -- he has done so much for us. And I'm sure he is lonely indeed!"
"No. I will not let you humiliate us that in way. And he said we reminded him of little Entings, remember? Besides--" his voice lowered even further, "Do they even...do it....the way we do? Mightn't they use....oh, bugger, I don't know...pollen?"
Pippin stifled a giggle so ineffectively that Merry felt compelled to stuff a handful of ferns into his mouth, which Pippin promptly chewed and swallowed with an expression of lascivious contentment. "I wish Sam were here," he murfled. "He's a gardener, he'd know what to do."
"And what exactly do you imagine Samwise does all day in Master Frodo's garden, you filthy-minded little trollop?"
"I love it when you talk like that," murmured Pippin, trying to burrow under Merry's body in the moss. "Come on, Merry, don't be a spoilsport. Young Entings indeed! I am so weary of these overgrown giant creatures thinking of us as children; let us show him how we really like to play, then!"
"Well, let's not be hasty. How do you know it wouldn't take all week?"
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," murmured Pippin into Merry's neck, "If only our luck could hold that long."
Some considerable time full of kisses and the sweet feel of hands under fabric later, Merry muttered with his tongue full of the flavour of boyish lips, " 'ey Pip, we must speak to our host now."
Merry imagined out in the rain, their host-lord must be singing, in his dream-sleep, old as mountains, with a sound like a whisper of leaves. Was it alright to waken one from an Ent-rest? To what depth did his dreams dig?
"Now?" Pippin moaned, forgetting that the whole idea that Merry could not now let go of had originally been his; no, with his one-track mind he thought only of restoring his cousin's hand to the sweet places it had been
exploring. But Merry was right, of course -- it was a true idea, and a good one.
"Oi, Treebeard," Pippin bellowed, rolling halfway off the bed.
There were many long pause-beats of rain and darkness, during which Merry hid his face in the moss. "Yes?" answered the deep voice, husky with sleep.
"Put it back in your britches, you strumpet!" Merry muttered helplessly as Pippin went bounding puppylike out into the rain. Resigned, but a little excited, Merry pulled himself up from the moss and went to follow.
Pippin had stepped rather daringly close to Treebeard and as Merry watched feeling an intense rush of arousal intimately interconnected with embarrassment, the young horny fool of a Took reached up a small hand to lose his fingers in gnarled grooves of bark. "Mr. Treebeard, sir, you've been so good to us. And we truly thought we were dead back there, or worse. And we hobbits are - well, not all hobbits, but a lot of us, certainly Merry and myself, especially when we've had a thorough scare, we like to settle down for the good things in life, if you take my meaning - we like good food, and drink, and, well, and -" Pippin was unable to tell if his handstrokes were having any effect at all.
"Oh, spill it, man!" blurted Merry.
"Well, it's like this, sir," said Pippin, pressing into a niche near the base of Treebeard's trunk. "Merry and I, we were about to get down to some - "
"- Intimacy - " spluttered Merry, venturing a little closer.
"And realized that we were forgetting our manners, as it's rude to go about -"
"M-making love - "
Pippin gave Merry a dirty look, having always hated that expression. " - In someone else's house....you understand - without inviting them."
Treebeard shed a few leaves in what was probably the closest he ever got to being flabbergasted. "And is that the....custom...among your people?"
"Well - " said Merry, unsure how to explain it best.
"Yes!" said Pippin, elbowing him in the ribs.
"I see. Well, I shall have to make an amendment in the song, then....Hm, hoom, that is most noteworthy. Most admirable, in fact, what a generous folk you are."
"Oh, the pleasure's ours, sir," said Pippin, who was beginning very much to enjoy the roughness of Treebeard's bark against his blood-heated, rain-cooled skin. "As well as yours...we hope..."
Merry rolled his eyes. Pippin occasionally picked truly terrible times to lapse into his nervous-virgin act. It was time for a truly bold hobbit to step in. "So what my foolish darling is trying to say," he said, stepping into an appealing-looking crotch between the massive toe-like roots and ticking gently with his softly-furred toes, "is that we want you." He tugged a little on the mossy-haired beard, clutching his fingers in the rough bark with his other hand and tossing a leg around as far as it would go, which wasn't very. "We know it will be....well, we don't know how it will be, because we have never encountered a magnificent creature like you before. But also," he let himself grin a little wickedly, looking up into those unfathomable eyes, "we think you might have never encountered creatures quite like us before."
"Indeed, indeed," boomed the great Ent, and Merry was most gratified to see the huge eyes starting to go pleasantly hazy. "I must warn you....it isn't yet the peak of our proper flowering season, you know."
"That's alright, I hope?"
"Oh yes, yes," he said a little sadly. "Perhaps easier for you, to be sure." Treebeard paused for a moment. "When the season peaks, we are at our most....tree-ish. Not sleepy, oh no. But, shall we say, least like you, least...."
"Ah, and what's this then?" purred dreamy Merry, wrapping a small hand around a curly green bud emerging from the heroic bole. Treebeard made a grumbling sound that Merry took to mean a yes.
Pippin, meanwhile, had climbed up to what resembled the Ent's shoulder and was nuzzling under the twiggy beard, stroking bark and whispering something. When Merry's ministrations below made the new budded branch grow and shiver, Pippin started to cheer something encouraging, and brought himself up short in a squick.
One of Treebeard's smaller branches had reached over and wrapped around him. As Pippin clenched a hand in the twigs so as not to fall he felt a smooth and snaky branch carefully stroking his neck, his back, slowly, slowly, around his arse and down between his thighs. "Oh...yes, yes,"
"I am not hurting you, little thing?" asked Treebeard.
"Gods of my ancestors, no....oh! OH!" Pippin cried as the branch tightened in a sensitive spot, gripping and probing at once with many sentient twigs.
Down below him Merry heard Pippin's expressions of delight with a physical ringing in his skin as the bud-prick-branch entity grew in his hands, smooth-barked and soft-green, emitting a slightly honeyed sap that felt sweet on Merry's skin. It was as though his cousin-lover danced in pleasure on the other end of the Ent, the same energy moving through all three of them, and Merry liked it much, very much. Pippin was a sort of genius of love, in his way, bold and sweet and fearless. With a slight groan of a hunger of his own Merry touched his lips to the spring-soft greenness at the tip of the branch-root and was rewarded by a mighty arboreal shudder, a shivering rustle of leaves and sway of branches, as though his little hobbit-tongue had unleashed a mighty wind. Inspired by this result he dug into the bud-folds teasingly, tasting something a bit like the Entdraught but heavier and tangier, filling him with a heady sense of his own power as if he drew it up from the earth. He dug his furry toes harder into Treebeard's feet and drew as much of the crumpled leaf-seed into his mouth as he could, opening his throat wide. The branches above his head began to lash and toss, and Pippin's rhythmic cries and gasps told him the Ent was sharing his pleasure well.
When Merry paused for breath, he saw the giant eyes half-closed; he felt the ground shimmy beneath him as Treebeard's mighty roots dug into the earth for support; he saw Pippin slowly lowered to the ground before him and ensnared in a dozen little sapling; green-tipped twigs covering him and slipping under his ragged clothing, entwining between the cheeks of his round hobbit-bum and curling around his thighs, and gently pushing his face forward towards Merry.
"Lover...Brandy..." Pippin gasped, a sheen of pleasure-sweat brightening his hungry face. "Let...me..." With his trembling hands Pippin opened Merry's trousers and drew his swollen prick between his pink lips. Merry gasped and, as if to diffuse, to refocus, to balance out the waves, resumed his thorough fondling and tasting of Treebeard's mighty bud-root, which was taking on a wrinkling and a rippling in the bark near its base. Daisy-chained thusly, each hobbit sucked and licked his sweet-tasting meal as the ground heaved and rolled and all the trees about seemed to press in to watch.
The rain soaked them and the breeze stroked them and even the thunder was in harmony with the mighty moans of Treebeard; all of Fangorn Forest rejected the pain of Isengard for the pleasure of primal things great and small. It was Pippin who convulsed in climax first, lost in the rhythmic pokings and strokings of curling twigs; removing his mouth from Merry's cock just long enough to gasp in strangled delight as he shot a delicate load upon the ground, where tiny white flowers soon twinkled amid Treebeard's feet.
Hardly pausing, the joy passed to Merry, who cried out and filled Pippin's mouth without stopping his own work.
There was a wholesome roll of thunder, and the mountains shook. It was Treebeard who led the quake with a mighty hoom from deep within his trunk, all the way down to the inside of the ground. From the swollen giant bud, over Merry and Pippin, rained a shower of fine pollen as green as the spring of the world and as thick as a Northern snowfall. They rolled in it, laughing and glorious, gathering it up in their hair, their clothes, their sticky skin, and Merry struggled to swallow as much of it as he could, though it floated and powdered delicately out of the sides of his mouth. It smelled of the beginning of summer to a child, of newborn things, of dappled sunlight on the cool earth, of nourishing rain and a sense of enternity. For a moment even the moon himself broke through the black clouds from the East and he smiled.
Merry and Pippin were completely enchanted. Treebeard resumed his dignity with gratitude.
"Thank you, little ones. Fortunate indeed for you 'twas not the season, else that would have taken a good deal more of your time."
"That...would be alright," said Merry shakily. "I think."
"And now I shall sleep better," said Treebeard, "as I think you will too. Tomorrow is the Entmoot, and though we shall not speak of all the reasons why our life is worth defending, I shall be thinking of them, hm, yes indeed. Who knew there were such creatures in the world, hmmmm...." He seemed to be half-speaking, part snoring, and Merry and Pippin dragged themselves off to the moss bed on happy but unsteady legs.
It was in the morning, amid the riot of green and growing scents, that Pippin thought he noticed that Merry was slightly taller.
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.