Maybe We Should Stay In Minas Tirith

Maybe We Should Stay In Minas Tirith

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Pippin's jaw was a-gape.

"Pip?" Merry frowned, looking at his cousin who appeared caught in some fantastic reverie. "Pippin?" His brows creased more when his cousin didn't respond. "Hull-o?" Merry waved his hand in front of Pippin's face. No avail.

Pippin blinked once, slowly, jaw still dangling crudely as he stared ahead. A moment later he released a long, slow breath. "M-Merry?"

Merry arched a brow, "What?" he asked crossly.

Still looking forward, Pippin reached over, grasped his cousin's jaw, and turned his face. No other explanation was needed.

Merry's jaw dropped.

A sea of lovely ladies, complete with ample bosoms and delightful curves -- and they, for once, at the very best angle of observation.