Fingering
Title: Fingering
Author: Andraste
Author's Email: vanessa at brandyhall.net
Rating: G
Type: gen
Archive: please ask first
Author's Notes: spoilers for the end of ROTK
Nimble and quick, Pippin's fingers are eager to wander,
to explore, to discover. From childhood they were adept
at delving into the pockets of unwary cousins or fond uncles,
who soon learn to keep treats there to stave off further
explorations from an eager hobbitchild. They can filch cherries
from the tops of cakes, nuts from jars and strawberries
from bowls right under the noses of stern cooks and aunties.
They can untie lasses' ribbons and knot their braids together
so lightly that they never feel the tug.
Pippin's fingers can also work stubborn clasps on his sisters'
necklaces, untangle his mother's knitting wool, and undo
stubborn knots which keep a bundle tied to a pony's back
when others are too tired and blinded by dust and sweat
to work at them.
Pippin's fingers now wind around one of Frodo's buttons
as they did when he was a tiny lad carried in an older cousin's
arms, as if by the agility of that small gesture he can
keep Frodo there.
***
Long and clever, Merry's fingers can sketch plants and
birds so accurately that they can be identified easily by
his teachers, can form letters firmly and so swiftly that
the ink is often spent from his pen before he notices. Merry's
fingers can skip stones across the water for longer than
anyone else in Brandy Hall, can tie the best lures for fishing,
can gauge the value of a sheep's fleece merely from rubbing
it. They can cut a pie precisely into the required number
of pieces, so that everyone agrees it's fair. They can tie
knots better than anyone, save the river-folk, and can slow
their movements enough that a cousin can follow their complicated
path and learn for himself.
Merry's fingers can also rub soothingly at travel-weary
hobbit feet, can smooth the knots from shoulders which ache
from carrying packs all day, can massage looseness and warmth
into stiff necks and sore backs.
Merry's fingers now run over Frodo's form, caressing his
back, rubbing his arms, stroking his hair as if to rub away
the pains of knife and sting and burden and make it easier
for Frodo to stay.
***
Broad and strong, Sam's fingers dig deep into the earth,
uprooting stubborn weeds and pulling up carrots and potatoes
which he will prepare and cook just right, his fingers knowing
instinctively just how much seasoning to add. They know
the exact level to which the roses need to be pruned so
that they'll burst into beauty next season, and they know
where to position each plant to make Bag End's garden erupt
in a riot of colour and scent. They are ruthless in their
trimming and cutting, but gentle when potting seedlings
or clearing weeds from around tiny shoots.
Sam's fingers can nurture, but can also defend; unafraid
of squelching through mulch or manure or worms, they can
chop away dead wood when needed, lance a pony's painful
abcesses, and grasp a weapon to defend all that he holds
dear.
Sam's fingers now hold Frodo close against him as tenderly
as a young plant he's keeping from the frost, but firmly,
with a strength born of shared moments that no-one else
can ever know; and yet he knows that he cannot keep Frodo
here, and he weeps with the grief of it.
***
Frodo's nine fingers, still ink-stained, are careful and
loving as they brush Pippin's hair from his face, cup Merry's
cheek and cradle Sam's face. And the last they see of him,
as the ship melted into shadow on the waters, is one whole
hand held aloft, in farewell, in love, in benediction.
