Pippin couldn't believe his luck! Tom had announced to the orchestra that he wanted some extra rehearsal time with the woodwinds, who seemed to be struggling with the second movement, so everyone else was free to go early. This was the best thing that had happened to Pippin all day -- since it was only 9:40, that meant he'd get almost a half-hour extra to snuggle with Merry tonight.
Pippin packed up his violin as quickly as he could and started to hurry off the stage. But he hadn't gotten far before a large hand reached out and grabbed his elbow.
"You're Pippin, right?" the bassoonist asked.
Pippin nodded, smiling broadly. It pleased him that most everyone in the orchestra knew his name, now that he was concert master.
But looking back at the man who'd stopped him, Pippin realized he didn't know his name. In fact, he didn't know ANYTHING about him other than the fact that he played bassoon and was what most people called a "non-traditional" student, being well over 30 years old.
"My name's Beregond," the man explained, answering Pippin's first unspoken question. "And I hate to bother you, but do you think you could do me a small favour?"
Pippin's smile faded. He wanted to get back to his dorm, to spend some quality time with his boyfriend, and he didn't want to waste his time doing a favour for someone he barely knew.
But before he could protest, Beregond continued. "My son is waiting for me down in the music lounge, and no doubt he'll have seen everyone leaving and wonder where I am. Could you just go down and explain to him that the woodwinds are staying longer and I'll be down to get him as soon as I can?"
Pippin considered it. The favour would only take a minute or so, and then he could be on his way back to the dorm.
"Sure, I'll go tell him," Pippin said cheerfully.
"Thank you so much," Beregond said before returning his attention back to the music.
Pippin hurried up the aisle of the auditorium, dreaming happy thoughts about his extra free time with Merry, and was halfway out the door of the music building before remembering his promise to Beregond. He turned around in the doorway, colliding with several of the strings players who were also excited to be let out early, and fought his way back inside.
As Pippin started down the stairs, he saw that the boy had practically taken over the music lounge down below. McGrubbs wrappers were strewn about on the floor; books and papers, which Pippin assumed were the boy's homework, lay haphazardly about; and the boy himself was stretched out on one of the couches, completely preoccupied with his Game Boy.
"You're gonna clean all this up, right?" Pippin asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
The boy jumped, startled by the sudden reprimand, and looked up from his video game, his mouth open to speak. But Pippin watched with amusement as the boy's expression changed from fear to defiance as soon as his eyes fell upon the hobbit.
"Why should I clean it?" the boy asked, setting his Game Boy down and sitting up. "It ain't MY room."
"But it's YOUR mess," Pippin said, repeating Merry's oft-spoken words as he walked over to the boy.
"So?" The boy eyed Pippin up and down suspiciously. "And why should YOU care anyways? It's not like you go here."
Pippin glared. He had enjoyed teasing the boy, but now he was getting annoyed. "I do so!" he said, holding up his violin case.
The boy laughed. "What are you, some sorta prodigy or something?" He stood up, towering over Pippin. "How old are you anyway? I'm ten years old already and am almost five feet tall."
Pippin puffed out his chest and drew himself up to his full height, which unfortunately was still several inches shy of the boy's. "I'm eighteen," he said proudly.
The boy looked confused but only for a moment. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You're one of those halflings my dad talks about! It's awesome to finally meet one," he said, eagerly holding his hand out. As Pippin took it, the boy added, "I'm Bergil, by the way; son of Beregond. He's in the orchestra."
"And I'm Pippin," the hobbit said cheerfully. "And actually it's your dad who sent me down here. He wanted you to know that he won't be done for awhile."
"Well, DUH!" Bergil said, glancing at the clock on the wall as he sat back down on the couch. "It's not ten yet, and orchestra always gets out at ten."
Pippin set his violin case down, brushed the boy's books off the ottoman, and sat down as he asked, "You've been here before?"
Bergil nodded, rolling his eyes with boredom. "Every Wednesday this semester," he sighed.
"If you don't like it," Pippin asked, "why don't you stay home?"
"My dad doesn't think I'm old enough to stay alone," Bergil said, a hint of defiance and disappointment in his voice. "You see, my mom is off in Lossarnach, taking care of my grandsire, who's sick. So right now it's just me and my dad. In a way it's cool 'cuz we get to eat fast food or pizza every night, but in a way it's a drag 'cuz of things like this," he said, gesturing broadly around the music lounge.
"But at least you've got your Game Boy," Pippin pointed out. "Getting the chance to play three straight hours of video games can't be ALL bad. And surely your dad gives you money for the vending machines, right?"
Bergil's eyes grew wide. "There are vending machines?"
Pippin was shocked that the boy hadn't immediately sought out the food situation, but then he remembered that the boy was not a hobbit. "Yeah, there are snack and drink machines right around that corner," Pippin said, pointing to the hallway leading to the professors' offices. "C'mon, I'll show you."
"I can't," Bergil said disappointedly, his smile fading. "I'm not allowed in there."
"Why not?" Pippin asked, confused.
"'Cuz my dad said so. According to him, I'm not allowed to leave the music lounge."
"Well, you're allowed to leave when you're with a music major," Pippin said, standing up and grabbing Bergil's hand. "C'mon. I think I have enough change for both of us."
"I don't know," Bergil said warily even as he stood and started following Pippin across the lounge. "My dad might get mad."
"No he won't," Pippin declared confidently. "Besides, he sent me down to look after you, and I'm sure he was thinking of candy bars when he said it."
Bergil laughed as Pippin led him around the corner.
"Whoa!" the boy said as he almost collided with the coke machine. "They really ARE right here."
Pippin nodded, handing the boy all his change. "Get whatever you want."
"Aren't YOU getting anything?"
Pippin merely shook his head -- he didn't want the boy to know that he didn't have enough change for both of them. "C'mon, hurry up and choose so I can show you around the rest of the music building."
Bergil's eyes grew wide with excitement. "Really?!" he asked in disbelief before quickly throwing his money into the machine. Grabbing his chocolate bar from the slot below, he said, "Let's go!"
Pippin began by taking him up the two flights of stairs to the choir area. The choir room was locked, of course, but Pippin showed him the choir bulletin board, proudly pointing out his name on the list of soloists.
They then raced down the two flights of stairs as fast as they could, with Pippin pointing out, "Your legs are longer than mine," upon losing. Once back in the lounge again, Pippin showed him the door to the music library (locked) and the doors to his classrooms (also locked). The two of them then roamed the practice hallways, listening for music students. As they stopped to listen to what was obviously a piano major practicing for a recital, Bergil's eyes grew wide.
"Are there pianos here?" Bergil asked excitedly.
"Well, DUH!" Pippin said. "It's a MUSIC building."
"Can we find one that I can play?"
Pippin looked up at the boy, surprised. "You play piano?"
Bergil shrugged. "A little. My mom used to make me take lessons."
"Cool," Pippin said, trying all the doors until he found an unused piano in an empty closet-sized room.
Without hesitating, Bergil hurried in and sat down on the piano bench. As Pippin closed the door behind them, the boy launched into a loud version of Chwannthond. Pippin cringed -- that was the one song that every non-musician in Middle Earth knew how to play, and if Pippin never heard it again, it would be too soon.
As the hobbit climbed up beside Bergil on the bench, the boy finished the annoying song. "So, do you know anything else?" Pippin asked hopefully as Bergil ran his fingers down the keyboard in a loud glissando.
Bergil stopped, staring intently at the keys. Then, in a jerky start-and-stop manner, Bergil played a song which Pippin recognized as an old Gondorian folk song which the university choir had sung just last year. Although the boy didn't know the notes very well, Pippin could sense how important playing the song was to him.
As Bergil finished, Pippin burst into applause. "That was brilliant!"
The boy blushed and shook his head. "Half the notes were wrong," he said in a self-deprecating tone. "I haven't played it for awhile."
"That's why you have to practice," Pippin said encouragingly. "Practice makes perfect."
Of course, Pippin had been told that again and again as a lad, and he'd always thought it was one of the stupider Shire sayings. But if he and Merry hadn't been forced apart in seventh grade, giving a depressed Pippin hours of alone time with which to practice his violin, he knew he wouldn't be concert master today. So he was living proof that the statement was true.
But Bergil wasn't convinced. "I don't have time to practice these days, especially with my mom gone."
"You've got three hours every Wednesday," Pippin pointed out.
Bergil nodded slowly as he considered this. But before he could speak, the door of the practice room flew open.
"There you are!" Beregond exclaimed, obviously relieved to find his son but angered that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Sorry," Pippin quickly said, not wanting to get the boy in trouble. "It was my fault. I was showing him around."
"Is it ten o'clock already?" Bergil asked his dad.
Shaking his head, Beregond answered, "No, it's almost a quarter past."
"A quarter past?!" Pippin couldn't believe the time had flown by so fast.
Beregond nodded. "Mr. Bombadil kept us late -- he kept having us go over and over the second movement till we got it right."
"Well, practice makes perfect," Bergil said, smiling knowingly at Pippin.
"Yes," Pippin said, hopping off the piano bench, eager to hurry home, "but I gotta go!" After all, if it was already a quarter past, Merry would be wondering where he was. And having just been reminded of his time apart from Merry, back when their parents had separated them as lads, Pippin was eager to make up for some of that lost time. Quickly heading for the door, Pippin turned and said, "It was nice to meet you, Bergil -- maybe I'll see you next week."
"Definitely," Bergil said before the hobbit scurried out the door under Beregond's arm.
As Pippin ran up the hall towards the music lounge, he heard Beregond calling after him, "Thank you, Pippin," and Bergil faintly saying something to his father about piano lessons. But Pippin wasn't really listening because his mind was already home with Merry.
***
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