Snowfall and a War of Sorts

Frodo Baggins was awoken by a distinctively childish squeal of: “It’s snowing! Snow has fallen!”

This confused him for a moment, for there were no children living at Bag End. He was the youngest Hobbit living there, but at twenty-seven, he could hardly be called a child (but, on that same note, it would be another five years before he could be called an adult). However, when the voice spoke again, this time closer – “Merry, Merry! Come see! Come see the snow!” – he understood fully.

Bilbo Baggins had invited his two young cousins, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck to spend Yule with he and Frodo at Bag End. Much to the young Hobbits’ delight, they had been allowed. Gandalf the Wizard had also come to stay, which excited them even more.

It was largely a favour, on Bilbo’s part, to Merry and Pippin’s families. Merry’s family usually spent Yule with Pippin’s at the Great Smials, since Merry’s mother was the younger and beloved sister of Pippin’s father. Bilbo knew that either one of the young Hobbits was a nuisance on their own, but when teamed together, they were a catastrophe just waiting to happen.

Pippin’s elder sisters were more than often the victims of Merry and Pippin’s mischief and pranks (though the youngest, Pervinca, was the most Tookish of the three, and often joined with her brother and cousin). Bilbo had thought it would be a pleasant gesture to allow both families to have a peaceful Yule. However, it was a decision he was beginning to regret.

Young Pippin’s gleeful squeals had also woken him – from a rather pleasant sleep at that. Climbing out of bed, he grumbled to himself: “Just the sort of morning I would have liked to sleep in too.”

But despite his annoyance, Bilbo could not deny that he adored both the lads. That had been his other reason for inviting them to stay. They were both Tooks at heart and loved hearing about Bilbo’s adventures. In fact, whenever either of them asked, “Uncle Bilbo, tell us about the Dragon,” – Pippin in his adorable squeak, or Merry in his slowly maturing voice – Bilbo was more than happy to oblige.

Bilbo put on some slippers and pulled on a gown. Just as he was searching for his pipe, two faces appeared at his doorway.

“It’s snowing, Uncle Bilbo!” Pippin cried.

“So I heard,” Bilbo replied in a stern, but not grumpy tone. From the way the two lads were behaving, one would have thought they had never seen snow before. A ridiculous assumption, since it snowed at least a little every Winter in the Shire.

“Can we go out and play?” Merry pleaded.

“We’ll see Merry-lad. But first, I need a bit of breakfast.”

Merry and Pippin quickly forgot the excitement of the snow as their hungry stomachs growled. Taking one in each hand, Bilbo lead his young cousins to the kitchen, where Frodo was already preparing tea for the looming form of Gandalf.

“Good morning,” Frodo greeted. “Would you like some tea, Bilbo?”

“Yes, thank you, Frodo my boy,” answered Bilbo. “And I’d say Merry and Peregrin would too.”

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said Gandalf. “Why Peregrin, do you remember you wished it would snow just yesterday?”

Pippin nodded eagerly.

“So this is your doing?” Bilbo snorted, sipping his tea.

Gandalf smiled, and his eyes twinkled beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I cannot control the weather, dear Bilbo. I merely foretell.”

Breakfast was soon over and the thought of fun in the snow had quickly returned to Pippin and Merry’s (and to a small extent, Frodo’s) minds. They begged again to be allowed outside to play.

“Now, now,” said Bilbo. “You can’t go outside like that, Peregrin. Your mother would have my head on a platter if you were to catch a chill. Yours too, Meriadoc. Come now, we’ll get you dressed first.”

Pippin whined bitterly, but followed Bilbo to his room. As a very young lad, he was not yet fully accomplished at dressing himself and required some assistance. Merry was able to dress himself and was ready far sooner than his young cousin.

“Hurry up, Peregrin!” he called. “Or we shan’t wait for you!”

“Merry!” Pippin’s childish whine returned.

Frodo chuckled and opened the round front door. Outside, Samwise Gamgee was sweeping away the snow that had gathered in front of the door.

“Good morning, Sam,” Frodo said in surprise, for he had not expected to see Sam.

“Hullo, Mr. Frodo,” Sam replied.

“There wasn’t any need for you to sweep the doorstep, but I am sure Bilbo will be pleased to hear that you have.”

“Oh, I hope so, Mr. Frodo. There’s not much a gardener can do in weather like this, but I do what I can.” He glanced around and lowered his voice, as one who is about to reveal a great secret. “Besides, this cold ain’t doing no good for my Gaffer’s joints, if you understand me rightly. A horrible fuss he was making this morning. I left Marigold to deal with his moaning.”

Frodo laughed. “Well, I’ll be sure not to tell Bilbo of this other reason…”

Frodo was cut off and nearly knocked over as Peregrin Took ran out of the Hobbit-hole. Merry was not far behind.

“Hullo Sam!” he greeted, as he ran past.

“Full of energy, those two,” Sam whistled. “Do they ever tire out?”

“Not very often,” Frodo answered truthfully. “You should’ve seen Merry when he was Pip’s age.”

The two cousins had already begun playing in the snow. Pippin started to build a figure – a “Snow Wizard” he declared it would be. Merry seemed content to just run around, occasionally picking up handfuls of the white powder and letting it fall back to the earth.

That was how Frodo came upon his idea. With a mischievous grin – which Sam decided, could only have come from hid Tookish heritage – Frodo gathered up a handful of snow, formed it into a ball and let it fly. Half a moment later, Merry Brandybuck let out a cry as his face was splattered by white powder.

He looked at Frodo and Sam, both of whom were doubled over in laughter. A grin spread across his lips, so like Frodo’s that anyone who did not know otherwise, would have sworn they were brothers. He formed his own snow projectile and tossed it at the laughing pair. It made its target, hitting Sam in the ear.

And so a snow war started, with Sam and Frodo throwing snowballs at Merry, and he tossing them back. Pippin was completely oblivious to the whole thing; until a stray snowball, from Frodo’s hand, hit him square in the face.

He froze, mouth open. Frodo cringed; he hadn’t meant to hit Pippin, especially not in the face. Now the young Took would start screaming, and he would have to explain to Bilbo what had happened.

“Pip, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…” Frodo’s apology was cut short as snow filled his mouth. It seemed Pippin had had a handful of snow destined for his wizard and had hurled it straight at Frodo.

“Nice work, Pippin!” Merry cheered. “You can be on my team.”

The snow war continued, with Merry now teamed with Pippin, who had exceptionally good aim for a lad of only six. Merry and Pippin had an advantage – Pippin’s partially completed snow wizard made a fantastic shelter. They hid behind it and only peeped out from the sides. They did, however, receive several brilliantly aimed hits to the face.

Inside, Bilbo had been cleaning off the wax from his candleholders, while talking quietly to Gandalf. They could both hear the squeals of laughter from outside and decided to investigate.

“Honestly, those lads are a handful,” Bilbo sighed. “Frodo’s usually so well behaved, but the minute Merry and Peregrin show up…”

“Let them enjoy themselves while they can,” Gandalf chuckled. The wizard ducked to fit through the doorway, but while he was straightening up, a snowball hit his on the side of his face. Snowflakes mingled in his grey beard.

Silence once again took over the Hobbits. Bilbo had to stifle a laugh beneath his hand. Gandalf looked up to see a mortified Peregrin quickly dart behind his cousin.

“Merry!” Pippin squeaked. “Gandalf’s going to turn me into a frog. Or a goose, with bright red feathers!”

“He won’t while you’re hidden behind me,” Merry snorted with a scowl. “It’ll hit me first! And besides, geese don’t have red feathers.”

But Gandalf did not fume with anger as the young Hobbits expected him too. His eyes gleamed in a way that only Bilbo understood. “My, Peregrin, you Tooks do have fantastic aim.” He paused for a moment to wipe away a little of the snow. “But I’ll warn you…” And as he said it, Pippin cowered, but Gandalf just smiled, “…Wizards have far better.”

Pippin and Merry were immediately bombarded with several snowballs, all from Gandalf’s direction. At that same moment, Bilbo dumped a handful of snow on top of Frodo’s head. Gandalf chuckled as poor Frodo shook his head violently to remove as much of the snow from his curls as he could.

“You’ll pay for that, Bilbo!” Frodo cried, mounting a quick vengeance attack against his older cousin.

“I doubt it, Frodo, my lad!” Bilbo returned, with a joyful laugh. “You couldn’t hit the side of Bag End!”

Now with three teams participating, the war carried on. In fact, it lasted most of the morning and continued on well into the afternoon, though of course, there was a reasonable break for lunch. As the sun began to drift behind the trees, for it set far earlier during the Winter, Bilbo called for a cease-fire. Pippin threw one more snowball after this, hitting Gandalf again. Bilbo frowned at the lad, but laughed at the same time.

Bilbo invited Sam to Bag End for dinner, but Sam politely declined. He thought that he should probably return home to see how his Gaffer was doing. As Sam wandered away to Number Three, Bagshot Row, he let off a string of rather violent sneezes. It was not until now that Bilbo noticed he felt a little sniffily himself. A quick glance at the three Hobbit lads still remaining confirmed his fear. Pippin was shivering and his eyes looked a little red. Merry wiped his nose with his sleave, and Frodo let off his own round of sneezes. They had been having far too much fun and had stayed out in the cold for too long. Only Gandalf seemed unaffected, but that was hardly surprising. Bilbo wondered if the wizard ever became sick.

“Right lads, inside we go,” he sighed. “We’ve been out here for too long.” And even as he spoke, he felt sneezes coming on.

Gandalf took one of Merry’s hands and Frodo, the other. Bilbo picked up Pippin in his arms as the lad came near. Once inside the cosy hole, he asked Frodo to start a fire while he took Pippin to have a bath.

As they warmed themselves in front of the flames, Merry and Frodo heard a rather loud splash. Obviously Pippin had felt Bilbo also needed a wash. They grinned at each other. Both Bilbo and Pippin emerged from the bathroom a little while later. Bilbo had changed his clothes, but his hair was still somewhat wet, confirming the lads’ suspicion.

“Here, drink this,” Gandalf commanded, handing each of the Hobbits a mug of tea. While Merry and Frodo had prepared the fire, he had busied himself in the kitchen preparing the tea. It had a pleasant aroma to it; spicy, a scent like cinnamon. Bilbo took a swig. He supposed Gandalf had added something to help with their oncoming sickness. Gandalf had also been kind enough to put together a small dinner for each of them. They ate in front of the fire, Pippin seated on Bilbo’s lap.

“Tell us a story, Uncle Bilbo,” Pippin asked, though his voice sounded weary and he yawned as he spoke.

“Well, Peregrin…” Bilbo did not know how to tell the child that he was hardly feeling up to storytelling, but Gandalf rescued him.

“Why don’t we give Bilbo a rest for tonight?” the old wizard said softly. “I’ll tell you the story about how I saved your bumbling uncle and a group of dwarves from three hungry trolls.”

Pippin’s eyes grew wide and he smiled. Gandalf was going to tell them a story! Merry shuffled closer to the wizard, though not too far from the warmth of the fire. Frodo just smiled to himself. He thought it would be interesting to hear how Gandalf told the story Bilbo had told so much.

Despite how tired they obviously were, Merry and Pippin stayed awake for the whole story, listening intently to ever word the wizard spoke. When Gandalf finally finished with, “…but that story will have to wait for another night”, Merry smiled wearily and said, “That was a great story Gandalf.”

“And all I shall tell you for tonight,” Gandalf replied. “Off to bed with you, Master Meriadoc. Sleep this chill off. You too, Frodo.”

Both lads nodded and said their goodnights. They discovered that Pippin had fallen to sleep in Bilbo’s arms the minute the story had ended. Merry offered to take Pippin to his bed, but Bilbo declined. He would take the lad himself.

“And then you should get some sleep too,” Gandalf suggested. “It’s not only Hobbit-lads that can catch a chill.”

“Yes, Gandalf,” Bilbo chuckled, imitating the voice that Frodo would use when he told the lad to do something. Bilbo carried young Pippin to his bedroom and tucked the small child in.

As he was about to leave, he heard a small voice. “Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo turned back saw Pippin looking at him with half-closed eyes and a small smile. “Yes, Peregrin?”

“Mama’s going to have your head on a platter.”

And Bilbo chuckled. “That she is, my lad, that she is.” He closed the door and let Pippin drift into a peaceful sleep.

The End