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bobcatmoranThis will probably take some explanation, because I don't think battle pillows are a "thing" outside of a fairly small segment of the Les Mis fandom on Tumblr. Basically, ![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
pilferingapples somehow managed to get a black eye from a pillow. needsmoreresearch came up with the idea of battle pillows from this — basically, a somewhat vicious, animate breed of pillows. It sort of spiraled from there. Collective canon(?) holds that Bahorel raises some and they have a taste for hats, particuarly Jehan's. There's at least one fake scientific paper. There's a tag on Tumblr. And heaven help me, I wrote fic for it. My inspiration came from this thing.
Also posted at AO3.
The meeting was nearly over when Bahorel came over to the table where Combeferre and Jehan were picking over a draft for a pamphlet on women’s rights. Prouvaire was, by this point, quite ignoring the paper in front of him and was raising his voice in agitation. “—and if her husband is ill or injured so that he cannot work or if she is widowed, she may be the only support for her family, and it is therefore completely unreasonable to expect her to do so on a wage any less than a man who performs the same—”
"Sorry to interrupt you, Prouvaire, but I was about to leave, and I need to speak with Combeferre before I go."
"Oh," Jehan said, seemingly abashed. "My apologies. Please, by all means."
Combeferre raised an eyebrow in a questioning look.
"I was only wondering, Combeferre, if you could drop by my lodgings. I believe they are on your way home?"
"Yes, certainly, but whatever for?"
"Well, it’s my battle pillows. They’ve been acting very peculiar lately, and I was hoping you could lend some of your expertise on the subject."
"I should hardly claim to be an expert," Combeferre said. "Their biology still remains largely opaque to science, and—"
"Nevertheless," interrupted Bahorel, "your scientific eye may be able to decipher their behavior where I cannot."
"Well, never let it be said that I would turn down an opportunity to observe your unusual pets. If you don’t mind, I will walk with you. I think Prouvaire and I finished our revisions quite some time ago."
He cast a look at Jehan, who responded, “It is ready to go to the printer, I suppose, once a clean copy is made, but the wage inequities—”
"Fully deserve a pamphlet of their own, which I daresay you probably have half-written in your head already, and, with Enjolras’ blessing, will become a fully-written reality in the very near future.
Jehan opened his mouth as if to make further comment, then receded. “Only a third written at best,” he said, his tone softer. “But,” he said, turning to Bahorel, “may I tag along? If your battle pillows are feeling poorly, perhaps I can help comfort them.”
"Come if you like," Bahorel said. "But I wouldn’t say they’re feeling poorly, just that their behavior of late is like nothing I have ever seen."
---
Combeferre looked at the odd assemblage of pillows that had greeted them. Rather than the usual flock of individual pillows, they seemed to have attached themselves together into one giant, fluffy mat.
"You see what I mean?" Bahorel said. "They were perfectly normal this morning, and when I came home this evening to change my coat, they had done this."
Jehan watched as the mat of pillows flumphed itself across the floor towards them. “Do you suppose it’s some sort of … pillow orgy?” he asked, transfixed.
"Mating usually requires more case-to-case contact," Combeferre said, watching the pillows curiously. Despite what seemed to be a clumsy form, they appeared to be making rapid progress across the floor. "Bahorel, have they ever done this before?"
"Never that I’ve seen. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"
"No, not even the slightest reference." Combeferre felt a slight tug at the back of his coat. He turned around to find the pillows had somehow piled themselves one on top of the other, and one was now pulling at his coat.
"Hey, no, no, no," Bahorel exclaimed, seeing this. He manhandled the stack of pillows away, and they unfolded themselves back into a mat. "Sorry, Combeferre, they’re usually better about remembering the ‘no eating people’s clothes’ rule. We’ve been working on that, haven’t we?" He directed this last to the offending pillow, which slumped down, corners drooping in contrition.
Combeferre edged around the pillow mat to the side that seemed less likely to try and devour his coat. He bent over, peering closely at the pillows. “Look at this! It is as if they are sewn together somehow. Not all of them as securely as some, there are those who can move fairly freely, but how on earth did they manage it? And where did the thread come from?”
"Perhaps they generate their own, like spiders?" Jehan suggested.
"But those are questions of how they are connected, not why,” Bahorel pointed out.
"If I can figure out the ‘how,’ then perhaps a ‘why’ will become more clear," Combeferre said primly.
Meanwhile, the mat of pillows seemed to have turned its attention towards Jehan. It was flumphing across the floor in his direction.
"Your science seems to me to be a roundabout way of solving the matter," Bahorel said.
"But with this approach, one may gain a deeper understanding of the way the world works, and besides, I wish to fully document this unique behavior that —"
Combeferre was cut off by a startled yelp from Jehan as the entire pillow mat reared up until it was as tall as a grown man, then fell forward on the unfortunate poet.
"Prouvaire!" Combeferre exclaimed, rushing to his aid, as Bahorel swore colorfully. Together, they were able to separate the pillows from Jehan. Fortunately, he appeared unharmed, save for his mussed hair, a small bite taken out of the sleeve of his doublet, and, "Oh, my hat," Jehan said disconsolately. Indeed, his hat was gone, devoured, apparently, by the pillows. "That’s the third one I’ve lost to them," he said sadly.
"Well, there you have it, then," Combeferre said. "Apparently your battle pillows joined forces in order to devour Prouvaire’s hat, a delicacy which is usually out of reach, on account of his height."
"That is a ridiculous explanation," Bahorel said.
"Yet the evidence clearly points in that direction," Combeferre said. "And," he added, "you have to admit, the whole situation is a bit ridiculous."
Also posted at AO3.
The meeting was nearly over when Bahorel came over to the table where Combeferre and Jehan were picking over a draft for a pamphlet on women’s rights. Prouvaire was, by this point, quite ignoring the paper in front of him and was raising his voice in agitation. “—and if her husband is ill or injured so that he cannot work or if she is widowed, she may be the only support for her family, and it is therefore completely unreasonable to expect her to do so on a wage any less than a man who performs the same—”
"Sorry to interrupt you, Prouvaire, but I was about to leave, and I need to speak with Combeferre before I go."
"Oh," Jehan said, seemingly abashed. "My apologies. Please, by all means."
Combeferre raised an eyebrow in a questioning look.
"I was only wondering, Combeferre, if you could drop by my lodgings. I believe they are on your way home?"
"Yes, certainly, but whatever for?"
"Well, it’s my battle pillows. They’ve been acting very peculiar lately, and I was hoping you could lend some of your expertise on the subject."
"I should hardly claim to be an expert," Combeferre said. "Their biology still remains largely opaque to science, and—"
"Nevertheless," interrupted Bahorel, "your scientific eye may be able to decipher their behavior where I cannot."
"Well, never let it be said that I would turn down an opportunity to observe your unusual pets. If you don’t mind, I will walk with you. I think Prouvaire and I finished our revisions quite some time ago."
He cast a look at Jehan, who responded, “It is ready to go to the printer, I suppose, once a clean copy is made, but the wage inequities—”
"Fully deserve a pamphlet of their own, which I daresay you probably have half-written in your head already, and, with Enjolras’ blessing, will become a fully-written reality in the very near future.
Jehan opened his mouth as if to make further comment, then receded. “Only a third written at best,” he said, his tone softer. “But,” he said, turning to Bahorel, “may I tag along? If your battle pillows are feeling poorly, perhaps I can help comfort them.”
"Come if you like," Bahorel said. "But I wouldn’t say they’re feeling poorly, just that their behavior of late is like nothing I have ever seen."
---
Combeferre looked at the odd assemblage of pillows that had greeted them. Rather than the usual flock of individual pillows, they seemed to have attached themselves together into one giant, fluffy mat.
"You see what I mean?" Bahorel said. "They were perfectly normal this morning, and when I came home this evening to change my coat, they had done this."
Jehan watched as the mat of pillows flumphed itself across the floor towards them. “Do you suppose it’s some sort of … pillow orgy?” he asked, transfixed.
"Mating usually requires more case-to-case contact," Combeferre said, watching the pillows curiously. Despite what seemed to be a clumsy form, they appeared to be making rapid progress across the floor. "Bahorel, have they ever done this before?"
"Never that I’ve seen. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"
"No, not even the slightest reference." Combeferre felt a slight tug at the back of his coat. He turned around to find the pillows had somehow piled themselves one on top of the other, and one was now pulling at his coat.
"Hey, no, no, no," Bahorel exclaimed, seeing this. He manhandled the stack of pillows away, and they unfolded themselves back into a mat. "Sorry, Combeferre, they’re usually better about remembering the ‘no eating people’s clothes’ rule. We’ve been working on that, haven’t we?" He directed this last to the offending pillow, which slumped down, corners drooping in contrition.
Combeferre edged around the pillow mat to the side that seemed less likely to try and devour his coat. He bent over, peering closely at the pillows. “Look at this! It is as if they are sewn together somehow. Not all of them as securely as some, there are those who can move fairly freely, but how on earth did they manage it? And where did the thread come from?”
"Perhaps they generate their own, like spiders?" Jehan suggested.
"But those are questions of how they are connected, not why,” Bahorel pointed out.
"If I can figure out the ‘how,’ then perhaps a ‘why’ will become more clear," Combeferre said primly.
Meanwhile, the mat of pillows seemed to have turned its attention towards Jehan. It was flumphing across the floor in his direction.
"Your science seems to me to be a roundabout way of solving the matter," Bahorel said.
"But with this approach, one may gain a deeper understanding of the way the world works, and besides, I wish to fully document this unique behavior that —"
Combeferre was cut off by a startled yelp from Jehan as the entire pillow mat reared up until it was as tall as a grown man, then fell forward on the unfortunate poet.
"Prouvaire!" Combeferre exclaimed, rushing to his aid, as Bahorel swore colorfully. Together, they were able to separate the pillows from Jehan. Fortunately, he appeared unharmed, save for his mussed hair, a small bite taken out of the sleeve of his doublet, and, "Oh, my hat," Jehan said disconsolately. Indeed, his hat was gone, devoured, apparently, by the pillows. "That’s the third one I’ve lost to them," he said sadly.
"Well, there you have it, then," Combeferre said. "Apparently your battle pillows joined forces in order to devour Prouvaire’s hat, a delicacy which is usually out of reach, on account of his height."
"That is a ridiculous explanation," Bahorel said.
"Yet the evidence clearly points in that direction," Combeferre said. "And," he added, "you have to admit, the whole situation is a bit ridiculous."
