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Celeritas' Birthday Bash 2012  by Celeritas

“Official business,” Frodo had called it, but everyone had known that Thain Ferumbras was dying, even if only the closest family was allowed to be with him in his final moments.  At any rate—especially after Lalia’s passing—his reputation was strong enough for him not to count as a “vulture,” and everyone knew how much Pippin and he had corresponded over the past few years.  It was funny how he had rather become the go-to for tweens, first Merry and now—

Ah.  There was Pippin.  He wasn’t smiling.

“Has he passed, then?” said Frodo.

Pippin nodded.  “The burial’s tomorrow, and Father’s reading the will in a week’s time.  You’re invited to that, of course.”

“Of course,” said Frodo.  “How are you holding up?”

“I think I need to be sadder, but—well, it’s not as if we were close!  I mean—I still remember being scared of him, for heavens’ sake!”

“And—the succession?”

Pippin shrugged.  “I’m sure it’ll all hit me later, but I knew it would happen.  So did Father.  I’ll have to deal with it one way or another—eventually.  There wasn’t too much Father had to do, and it’s not as if he’s planning on going anywhere soon…”

“It’s all right to feel sad, Pippin.”

“I know,” said Pippin.  “I’m sure I will—later.  Just, not now.  There’s too much going on, and I can’t feel much of anything.”

Frodo nodded.  “I understand.  You’ll feel it later, though.”

“I know I will.  But I don’t like that part.”

“Well,” said Frodo, clapping Pippin on the back, “you’ve been through a lot the past couple of days.  Why don’t I get you a half at the Toad and we’ll see if we can get through it together?”

“I’d like that,” said Pippin.

“Here, this is for you,” Frodo said.  “Picked it up in the market while I was waiting for news.  Not much, I know, but I thought it’d be a good memory of simpler times.”

Pippin looked at the object in his hand.  It was a cheap slide whistle, like the one Merry had given him when he was twenty and had vowed to master the flute for a week (he hadn’t been able to get one note out of it).  He smiled in spite of himself, and played a long note, high to low to high.  “For Ferumbras?”

“For Ferumbras.  Now come on, let’s go get you that drink.”





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