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Counterpoint, Interfolio
Resonance: Richness or significance, especially in evoking an association or strong emotion; when several strings are tuned to harmonically related pitches, all strings vibrate when only one of the strings is struck; the intensification and enriching of a musical tone by supplementary vibration.
* * *
"Where the deuce is your tunic?" Merry grumbles, digs through the jumble of loose clothing strewn over the bed. "It was right here five seconds ago."
Pippin chuckles, rolls his eyes. "You mean the one I'm wearing?
Merry snaps his gaze up, blinks with a frown. "How—"
"Glory, Merry, I think you're more anxious than I am."
Now it's Merry's turn to roll his eyes. "Not bloody likely," he mutters.
Not anxious in the same way Pippin is, to be sure, but Merry's watchful gaze had not strayed far from Pippin all evening, and he'd been outside the suite's door again just after sunrise, rousting a grumbling Pippin with breakfast, good strong tea and chipper banter Pippin had to stop himself several times from throttling out of him. Some people are just obnoxiously cheerful in the morning.
Anyway, he'd found it somewhat comforting and even welcome, which surprises him a little. It was, he has to admit, just a little bit nice to know that, at any time at all—last evening at the party, or even in the watches of the night—all he had to do was let his gaze take on a little meaning and Merry would be there, handing him what he needed, even if Pippin didn't always know himself what it was. The feast had been over for hours and the guests well into their cups at the party before Pippin realised that what he seemed to need most was laughter, and Merry… well, Merry made sure he got more than his share. And oh, Pippin loves him for it.
He won't allow himself to think now how much he'll miss it later.
A knock at the door makes Pippin look up from adjusting the lacing up the side of his Silver and Sable. He points a frown at Merry.
Merry grins a bit wickedly. "Bet that's your dad, wondering if you need some advice for tonight."
A sour grimace from Pippin as Merry starts out of the bedroom and towards the suite's door. Pippin follows along, more slowly. "Big talk from someone who spent all night last night dodging Cowslip."
"Not dodging," Merry protests. "Running and hiding." "And nearly crying like a baby when Rosie finally took pity and rescued you," Pippin agrees then snorts. "How many dances did she demand for that?"
"Three, so I took her 'round for six."
Now Pippin looks up from the lacing, slants him an evil grin. "Sam asked me if you'd even know what to do with a lass anymore if one caught you."
Merry's jaw drops as he opens the door, but Pippin's not sure if it's indignation at his last crack or awe of the apparition on the other side of it.
Diamond stands in the hallway, peering up at Merry with a fond smile. Pippin's mouth goes dry and his stomach drops down to his toes. Because she's… she's just…
"Bloody… damn," Merry breathes.
"Why, thank you, love," Diamond says, somehow smugly cheeky and sweetly demure all at once.
She'd chosen blue as her colour, and Pippin thinks now how utterly fitting that is: tranquillity, understanding, patience—everything the colour signifies is personified in the vision standing outside the suite's door. Yards and yards of cobalt satin sweep up from the floor and tuck sweetly at the waist with a band of black silk trimmed in silver; the flare of her bodice is softened by her natural roundness, the square neckline again trimmed in sable and silver silk; on a thin strip of black velvet about her throat, she wears the namesake jewel Pippin had given her father at the handfasting as his betrothal promise; her dark curls are swept up, framing her face in silky ringlets trimmed with delicate sprays of the star-shaped elanor, dyed to match her dress.
There are, Pippin thinks, no suitable words.
His jaw must have come unhinged, because he can't seem to make it move, and the only sound he seems able to emit is a thin hiss from his constricted throat. He's not sure if he's once again terrified or merely gobsmacked.
Merry peers over at Pippin, assesses the situation—bless him—and slants a doubtful gaze to Diamond. "Um," he says, "are you supposed to be here?"
Diamond grins, leans up to slip a kiss to Merry's cheek; Merry must be used to it by now, because he dips down automatically to accommodate. Pippin's never noticed before how tiny Diamond looks beside Merry, and he wonders now if his own size has ever given her pause. He feels all at once like a great hoary troll, drooling over Fair Damsel. He's suddenly self-conscious, and perhaps a little bit… yes, all right, it is terror. Again. Damn it.
"I'm going to be officially living here in less than an hour," Diamond tells Merry, reaches up and pinches his cheek.
Pippin has to blink several times when Merry actually blushes. "Well, yes," Merry says, "but isn't it bad luck or something to see each other right before—?"
"Merry Brandybuck," Diamond scolds, only half-serious, "are you really going to stand there and pretend that you, of all people, believe in luck?"
Merry opens his mouth. Closes it. He turns and shoots a helpless glance to Pippin.
Pippin wants to laugh at that look, he really does, maybe tease Merry just to see if he can make him blush again, but he can't even swallow, so speaking is right out. He only looks back at Merry, gives a small shrug and the slightest of nods. Merry's eyes narrow a little—asking; Pippin must have achieved at least some small semblance of a smile, because Merry's eyebrows lift a bit and he nods back.
"Right then," Merry says, stands back to let Diamond in then angles out behind her. "I'll just, um…" He clears his throat, says, "Right. Hallway," and closes the door. "You look lovely!" he calls from the other side of it.
Pippin and Diamond stare at each other for a quick second then she smirks, calls back, "Thank you, love!" and grins at Pippin. And then she snorts.
It breaks… something, Pippin's not sure what, but suddenly he can breathe again.
Diamond twinkles at him for a moment, just looking at him, assessing him with that happy little spark of a smile that dimples her soft pink cheeks and regularly makes his knees weak. She lifts her chin, drops him a mischievous wink and then a stately little curtsy.
"Good morning," she says, her soft voice nearly bubbling with delight, as though she's giving him the punchline to a joke only the two of them know. "Husband," she adds, a bit slyly, like it's her own private word and she's savouring the taste of it.
Pippin gulps a little. "Not yet," is all he can say, and he curses himself immediately, because damn it, five seconds ago he couldn't even draw breath to speak and when he does, that's what comes out?
But Diamond only smirks a little, shifts him a careless shrug. "I was trying it out," she says.
"And how…?" Pippin gulps again, in shock, he thinks, as he finds an answering smile winding onto his mouth. She's contagious, that's what it is. Addictive and contagious, and oh, he is so done for. He shakes his head, clears his throat. "And how did it feel?" he finally manages.
She pauses, points a thoughtful smile out the glass doors, pondering. Then she slides the smile to Pippin, widens it to a grin. "It felt right," she tells him.
Pippin's smile is still there, but now there are tears hammering behind the bridge of his nose and he squeezes his eyes tight.
Damn it, he'd been… well, not fine exactly, but all right, at least, letting Merry jolly him through the night and then deliberately blanking his mind this morning. But now, seeing her standing there— stunning and smiling and eager and loving him—all of the chaos of yesterday slams right back into his chest, sends him spitless, as Merry had said, and now he can't even gulp anymore, because his throat is so tight he can't swallow.
"I…" He clenches his teeth, shrugs helplessly. "Di, I'm—"
"Shall I tell you why it feels right?" Diamond interjects, her voice and her smile both turning gentle, but never losing that layer of happy expectation beneath it all.
Pippin gives up on speaking, only nods a bit stupidly and reaches behind him, props himself against the side of the couch to keep his feet. Diamond moves towards him, stops mere inches in front of him and peers up. Her hand finds his, fingers warm and small, but so very strong. She squeezes his hand.
"Because you, my heart, have more terror in your eyes than I've ever seen in anyone's." She pauses and her smile turns shaky; she still clings to Pippin's hand but with the other she reaches up, strokes his cheek. "And yet you're here."
They hadn't spoken of it yesterday, just carried on like it never even happened, and Pippin had felt a little guilty about it then, but he'd been grateful, too. Now it's there, just there, right in front of them—between them—and too plain to pretend away.
Pippin shakes his head, sighs heavily. "I didn't mean to… to run yesterday, I'm so sorry, it hadn't anything to do with—"
"Hush, love," Diamond soothes, her hand gliding down his cheek to rest on his shoulder. "It was almost touching, once I thought about it." Pippin frowns, because he couldn't possibly have heard that right, but Diamond snorts a bit, her smile losing the twitch of emotion and curling wide into a grin. "If I had any doubts before yesterday," she tells him with a sly little tilt of her glance, "watching the back of you as you hightailed it from the ballroom put them well to rest."
She actually laughs when Pippin only blinks at her then she leans into his chest, gives him a squeeze. Pippin's arms go about her—instinct, he's fairly certain, because his brain is still on holiday and doesn't look to be making an entrance any time soon—and whether he deserves this or not, he's taking it, by damn.
"I have no idea what that means," he says into her hair, careful not to disturb the pins and the flowers as he drops a soft kiss to the crown of her head, "but I'm sorry and I love you, more than anything. Please tell me you know that."
He holds his breath, waits, heart thudding more heavily than even two seconds ago. You know and so does she, Merry had told him, like it was written in stone somewhere, and Pippin grits his teeth, thinks, Pleasepleaseplease, make it true, make this one thing all right, please—
"I do," Diamond whispers, her warm breath bleeding right through his tunic and into his heart. "You wouldn't've run, else."
And Pippin can breathe again, knees almost going weak, and he closes his eyes tight, almost laughs a little and firms his grip. Because, yes, right, exactly.
"We'll hurt each other, you know," Diamond says into his chest, as though affirming thoughts Pippin didn't even know were chasing themselves 'round and 'round in his head. "Even though we'll try not to, we will, but as long as you love me, I think I can stand anything. Only…" She pulls back, looks up at him steadily, her smile not entirely gone, but her mien serious nonetheless. "Next time perhaps you can run to me, you think? Or at least take me with you?"
And damn it, damn it, damn it, fuck, there it is, there's everything that had sent him babbling yesterday and all in one question. The tears that he's been staunching for days now suddenly rise like a tidal wave, spill over his lashes, and he can't stop them, can't stop the bit of a sob that comes with them.
"What would you say," he breathes, shaky and small, "if I asked you to follow me to…" He can barely make his mouth form the word. "…to Mordor or… or someplace else just as terrible?"
For the first time since she walked through the door, Diamond's smile falters and dims. "Oh, love," she answers, slides her hand to his nape, drags him down and kisses him, soft and sweet. "How can I answer a question you'll never ask?" she whispers, right up against his mouth, and Pippin breathes it in, tries not to choke on it.
Diamond pulls back a little, and Pippin reflexively tightens his grip, and only now does he feel the light tremors that run through her; he wonders if they're new or if they've been there all along and she just hides them better than he does. And he wonders, too, if it makes him somehow smaller that he feels almost better for their presence.
As if in answer to his thoughts once again, "I'm terrified, too, you know," Diamond tells him, looks down with a faint blush. "They don't tell you about the scary bits in the soppy stories, do they?" Her hand slips down to his chest, one slender little finger tracing leaf and branch and star of his tunic, and now he recognises it for the nervous gesture it is. Glory, how could he have thought before that she wasn't scared? He pulls her in again, hugs her tighter, and she lets him, curls in and sighs a little. "You've a page from Frodo's book locked deep into you, and I suppose I've a page from Merry's somewhere in me," she tells him, low and only slightly shaky, squeezes tight one more time. She pulls back again, peers up at him, that lovely smile back again, and soft. "But we're neither of us them, and their story isn't ours. Perhaps we can take those pages and make our own Story, hm?"
Pippin frowns. Something like that… it can't be coincidence. "Have you been talking to Merry?" he wants to know.
"About yesterday?" Diamond shrugs. "Why should I? He couldn't tell me anything you hadn't already said with your eyes." Now her own eyes mist over a bit and her smile cracks a little. "Your lovely, wonderful eyes, with your heart ever inside them."
Pippin's not sure if it makes sense or if he just wants it to. Either way, he has no choice—he takes hold of her arms, pulls her in, kisses her. It's sweet and deep, almost more beautiful than he can bear. She is addictive, and that should be frightening, too, but it isn't—somehow no fierce, driving, bone-deep need has ever felt so deeply right. He thinks the tears might still be coming, slow and thick, but they don't seem to have the same significance as before, so he doesn't try to hold them back anymore. Anyway, Diamond's crying, too, so it must be all right.
He doesn't want to let her go, doesn't want to ever feel anything but what he's feeling right this minute, even the fear, but his nose has clogged up and he can't breathe. Reluctantly, he pulls back, holds Diamond at arm's-length for a long time and just stares. She looks back, gives him that smile that plays havoc with his knees, dips down into her bodice and comes up with a handkerchief. She dabs at his eyes and he reciprocates as best he can with the cuff of his sleeve.
"Wife," he breathes, grins a bit manically at the feel of it on his tongue then ruins it all with a messy sniffle.
Diamond grins back, though it's still a little watery, asks, "How did it feel?" with a playful lift of her eyebrow.
Pippin smirks a bit. "It felt very right," he tells her. Because it really did. And then he laughs a little, repeats it, "Wife," because he can.
She twinkles. "Not yet," she tells him. "Not at all, if I don't get my arse out of here and down to the ballroom."
Pippin pats that arse—that round lovely arse—feels the layers of crinoline and linen and silk slide beneath his palm; somehow it goes right to his groin, and a searing flood of want flushes through him. "Um…" he ventures, eyebrows lifting hopefully, "maybe we could—"
"Maybe we could," Diamond cuts in with a knowing smirk, "but we're not going to. Getting into this dress was hard enough the first time—even with your mum and my mum and all your sisters helping—and they'll already be looking for me. I'm supposed to be in the loo, you know, they'll think I've escaped. And anyway, you know your cousin is still right outside that door, and I don't fancy the idea of him overhearing… well." Pippin has to laugh a little when she blushes, soft and pretty. "Stuff it, Peregrin Took," she growls through a sweetly-discomfited grin.
"I was trying to!" Pippin complains.
He lets go of her, though reluctantly, but he has to admit that he does rather fancy the idea of counting the layers at his leisure later tonight, as he peels them slowly from her, one by one. He leans down, snatches one more kiss, then tucks her under his arm and leads her slowly to the door. He loves the feel of her against him, how—small as she is—all her curves fit right up against his, like puzzle-pieces. He can't help giving her a squeeze, and it suddenly occurs to him how she never complains when he does that, no matter how tightly he holds her—even when he knows he knocks the breath from her.
"Stars, I love you so," he says, kisses her hair again before he finally releases her.
"If I didn't know that," Diamond tells him, pauses, stares at him for a long time before she finally shrugs, says, "Well," and that's all.
She doesn't really need to finish; Pippin knows.
He'd left the key in the lock, still bleary and seeing double when Merry'd pounded on the door with breakfast, and now he reaches out, slides it from its home, turns it over in his fingers. He holds it out to Diamond.
"You should hold onto it," he tells her. "I'd hate to be hunting about for it later—you know, when it really counts." Meaning after all of their duties at the reception are done and the want that's suddenly taking the place of the chaos overcomes him and he has to restrain himself from ravishing her in the hallway, and the last thing he'll be wanting to do is hunting through his pockets for the key. He blinks, clears his throat. "Anyway, I'm afraid I might lose it."
Diamond doesn't argue with him, doesn't even hesitate; she merely plucks up the key, wraps her handkerchief around it and stuffs it down her bodice. Pippin's eyes can't help but follow and that heat moves through him again; he won't mind hunting there for it.
"I won't," is all Diamond replies, then she snags one last kiss, throws the door open and steps through.
"Hullo, Merry," she says, tosses a knowing wink back at Pippin; Pippin only shakes his head a little and snorts. "I think we've only another half-hour to go. See that he's on time, would you, there's a love."
"'s my job, innit?" Merry answers, reaches down and rescues a few blossoms Pippin had nearly dislodged from tumbling from her ebony curls.
She doesn't answer Merry, only yanks him down so she can lay a kiss to his cheek then pats where she's just kissed and whisks herself away.
Merry watches her go with a fond smile, shakes his head a little before he turns to peer at Pippin. The smile doesn't so much dissolve as morph into a physical question-mark, and his eyebrows draw in slightly.
"Set you straight, did she?" he wants to know.
Pippin grins through an embarrassing bit of a flush. "Didn't know I was crooked," he mutters.
"Well, you're the only one, then," Merry returns. "Come on," he says as he shoos Pippin back through the door. "We've a bit of work to do yet."
Pippin lets himself be shooed, follows slowly and only watches Merry as he makes his way to the bedroom, dives back down into the mess on the bed, probably looking for the brassards with the coat of arms on them, since that's the only thing Pippin thinks he's missing now.
I suppose, my friend, he thinks, a bit sadly, and his eyes mist once again but it doesn't hurt so much anymore, that your work here is nearly done.
I shall miss it terribly.
"Well, c'mon," Merry tells him, impatient but cheerful, too, "we haven't much time, you know. A-ha!" He finds the brassards, tosses them at Pippin's head with a wide grin.
Pippin manages not to flinch as he plucks them out of the air, lifts a reproving eyebrow at his cousin then slips the brassards over his sleeves. Merry sidles around the bed, closes in on Pippin and bats his hands away, starts tugging and straightening, his grin lighting up his eyes, and Pippin thinks how he'll miss that, as well. Merry's contagious, too, that grin wanting to leak to Pippin's face, twitching at the corners of his mouth. Instead, he only shakes his head, sighs a little.
No, not much time at all.
He turns his mind deliberately back to Diamond and that smile that does him in every time. Thinks how good it will be to wake up to it tomorrow morning. And the one after that, and the one after that…
Wonders if Frodo misses Merry's smile as much as Pippin will, as much as he'd miss Diamond's if he couldn't have it anymore, and he thinks yes, of course he does. But he won't be missing it for much longer, will he?
It doesn't make him want to cry anymore—it makes him want to grin. It makes him want to laugh.
Because then again, maybe there's all the time in the world.
Merry gives one final pat to Pippin's arm then a firm one to his back. "I believe that's done it," he says. "Ready?"
Pippin gives in to the grin, lets it blossom warm, and he takes a deep breath, nods. "I think I am, yes." He shakes his head, laughs a little. "Isn't that just… amazing?"
Merry grips his shoulder, hard. "I'd say it's just right," he answers then he loops his arm about Pippin's shoulders, gives him a nudge. "Well, come on, then, don't just stand here looking dashing—lead on."
And Pippin does.
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END
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