[identity profile] pipsfolly.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] spaceport_weini

Sneaking out of the hotel room, once free from the cosset of Beregond's arms, was easier than Pippin had thought it would be, and also very much amusing. If he wasn't brimming with respect and love for the former white city guard, he would certainly be looking forward to teasing him -- this usually incredibly alert man who slept through the bouncing of the mattress, the clinking of empty wine glasses, and numerous flushes of a toilet that Pippin finds both strange and fascinating. He can't be sure if Beregond ever awoke to the slam of the door; his haste to make his way down the hall, to return to a particular shop on his own made sure of that. And he expects Beregond to be slumbering still when he returns. With a surprise. One that Pippin hasn't quite planned out yet, but is clearly pictured in his mind. A picture to match the one in a glossy colourised book that he had leafed through much earlier.

Approaching the hotel room door, Pippin peeks into one of his bags, examining the contents which includes odd-looking bracelets of various shapes and sizes. He hopes that he'll remember which ones go where. And he hopes that Beregond will continue his deep, deep sleep for a while longer -- at least until Pippin has made use of the one thing he didn't need to put on a 'tab'.

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Fun and Trouble in One Quaint Spot

March 2004

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