“...but his closest friends were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin) and Merry Brandybuck (his real name was Meriadoc, but that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping all over the Shire with them, but more often he wandered by himself, and to the amazement of sensible folk he was sometimes seen far from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight. Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done.” - JRRT, FOTR.

This is a story that I experimented with in that I put the climax at the beginning ( at least, I think I did!)--but yes, there's action throughout the rest of the story as well.  So far, my eyes are the only ones editing these stories, so if a word gets dropped, or something could be expressed better, please let me know. Thanks!

Second Edition, May 15, 2005.  Not much tweakage; just some grammar corrections or adding a bit of dialogue to enhance a situation.  I did change the title of chapter 10.  The previous one sounded too drastic.  Again, my eyes are the only ones editing this story, so if something is amiss, don't hesitate to PM me.  Thank you for visiting.

Disclaimer: Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, and Men of Middle Earth, all belong to JRR Tolkien. They are not mine; I only borrow them once in a while.

Characters: Early summer, S.R. 1404. Pippin-14, Merry-21, Frodo-35.

We Will Follow You

Chapter One: Midnight Marauder

The crescent moon shone bright this summer evening in the Shire, and the stars glittered like tiny diamonds scattered across a sable canvass. The tall Elms, Oaks, and Chestnuts swayed in the summer breeze that brought the only comfort this muggy night in the Shire. It was Forelithe, and slightly warmer than usual. It was the warm temperature that lured many folks outside on this fair evening to enjoy the company of their neighbours and relations alike.

Paladin Took was rather enjoying this particularly splendid evening outdoors while sitting next to his wife Eglantine on a bench. It was a private veranda located just outside his apartments of his ancestral home of Great Smials. Paladin vigorously polished an apple on his shirt before sinking his teeth into it as he put his other arm around his bride of Thirty-four years, relaxing as she nestled up to him. Life is good!, he thought as he munched the sweet dainty of his orchards. My lovely wife is at my side, we have three lovely daughters, a healthy, albeit precocious, son....and a very close nephew that still comes around once in a while just to let his old uncle know he still considers himself to be part of the family.

Last year’s harvest was abundant and plentiful to the point that the larders were overflowing into the cellars--and the cellars had plenty of food stores to boot. And this year’s crops were already beginning to yield what promised to be yet another bountiful year. Yes, he thought, life is good, and I am truly blessed!

The tranquil moment was shattered by a commotion coming from far down the hillside. It was too long of a way down the hill to make out who or what the commotion was all about. In the moonlight, the couple could barely make out the figure of a young lass running up in their direction.

“Mr. Paladin! Mr. Paladin! The Shirrifs got him!” It was Estella, one of Paladin’s young and somewhat distant cousins who was visiting in another part of Smials. “The Shirrifs got him!” She ran until her heart threatened to pound outside of her chest. She stopped only when she nearly fell winded into Eglantine’s lap.

“Who’s got whom, lass?” Asked Paladin. He heard the pandemonium coming closer up the hill with every moment that passed, keeping his keen eyes focused on the ruckus at his hand.

Estella took her breath in huge gulps, “It’s Pippin! The Shirrifs got Pippin!”

Paladin threw his wife a sharp look and stood up as if to better see whatever was to come his way.

Presently, the image came to his view of an indignant young hobbit lad walking alongside two older male hobbits, both wearing a feather in their cap. There was no more guessing; Paladin knew the gait of the stride and soon enough saw the glare in his son’s face as two shirrifs escorted their charge up to him and none too gently forced the lad onto his knees. “On yer knees, knave!” Said the Shirrif. “And while yer there don’t forget to beg for pardon!”

“Here’s yer midnight marauder, Mr. Paladin!” Said the First Shirrif. “Wasn’t a stray beast as ye thought.”

“We caught him runnin’ off with a sack of yer very own taters!” added the second, tossing the sack containing the evidence next to the thief. Obviously, neither Shirrif recognized the truant they had recently arrested. “I’d swear on my mother’s grave that I saw others with him, Mr. Paladin, but the lit’l knave insists that’ee was alone.”

“Mr. Paladin?” The voice of the First Shirrif broke the elder hobbit’s attention.

Paladin was unable to tear his eyes away from the teenager still kneeling at his feet with his face downcast. He noticed his hair was unkempt, and his clothes tattered and filthy. Paladin was barely able to find his tongue to thank the Shirrifs for their trouble. He cleared his throat and looked at the Shirrif, “Yes, thank you, Hal. Would you or Toby care for a cup of tea?”

The First Shirrif kindly begged out of Paladin’s offer. “Well, Mr. Took, I have to tell ye, my Ivy has tea and sweet cakes waitin’ for me back home!” Then nodding to the second, “And Toby here already had a mind to join us. Beggin’ yer pardon, Mr. Paladin.”

“How is Ivy doing these days?” Paladin pulled the first Shirrif closer so as to speak privately.

Hal eyed the arm that wrapped around his shoulder. This part of the shirrif business Hal was used to; the rich families taking him aside to pay him off for not wagging his tongue. “She’s fine, Mr. Paladin.”

Paladin quietly murmured so that only Hal could hear, “I, um...will take care of the little knave, if you understand me. Would you agree to this?”

Hal was suspicious; not one “token” or gesture from this hobbit that indicated such nonsense of buying him off. He didn‘t know if he should be happy or be insulted. “Aye, Mr. Paladin. I could...”

Paladin handed the Shirrif the sack of potatoes, “I will take care of this lad as if he were my own son!”

“All right, sir.” He eyed the elder hobbit. “I suppose ye know yer own business best.”

Soon, the two Shirrifs were marching down the hill with a small but generous payment for their duties.

Paladin waited until they were out of hearing range and put his attention back to the ‘thief’ at his feet. “Stand up.” Paladin watched as the lad slowly stood up, eyes unwilling to look his father in the face.

Paladin plucked a few twigs and leaves from his son’s unruly curls, “Just look at you. What have you to say for yourself?”

No answer. Pippin remained standing with his eyes downward.

Paladin peered down into the valley, half-expecting his nephew and cousin to come striding up any minute. “And where are your cousins? I don’t suppose they were anywhere to be seen, were they?”

Once again, no answer.

“Very well, Peregrin. Until your tongue can find your answer and give me an explanation of what has happened here, you will be confined to your room. No messages, no letters, and certainly none of your friends will be allowed to visit. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paladin continued to watch as his grimy son turned to go inside, “And take a bath, for heaven’s sake, before you start fermenting!”

Pippin felt the smouldering glare of his mother upon his face as he walked into the Smial. It made him want to run, knowing that he probably fulfilled her worse nightmare in watching the Shirrifs bring him home. Most inhabitants of Great Smials already described Paladin and Eglantine’s children as ‘wilful and cheeky’; now his mother would have to listen to the chatter about her brood all over again from all the neighbours.

Inside their quarters, Pippin avoided his mother’s burning gaze, continuing on towards his room. All three of his sisters stood in the hallway and stared at him as he walked by. Just as he passed them, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He paused, turning his head back, and saw Pimpernel looking at him with mournful eyes. She whispered, “Pip! I didn’t know it was you. What were you doing in the fields?”

“Pimpernel! Leave your brother be. Go on to your room, Pippin.” He heard his mother tell him.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, but stole a glance towards Pervinca, who quietly returned his gaze with a slight nod.

Pippin dolefully turned around and made his way to his room. As he entered, he noted his room had been cleaned up; the scattered clothes had been picked up and taken to the laundry room, books that lay open on his desk were closed and neatly piled together, and the bed was made. Probably by the servants, he thought to himself. He remembered in his haste the other day he had left his room quite dishevelled. Merry had arrived from Bag End and was waiting on him to drive them both back to Bywater. He recalled that he barely finished eating breakfast, taking a bath, throwing his clothes on, and shoving a few things into his pack before taking off with his cousin. The only person he trusted to leave delayed word with was his sister Pervinca. “Delayed” meaning that Pervinca would keep his whereabouts to herself unless their mother or father became worried. And before that happened, he and his friends would already be close to their destination.

Pippin stretched his aching muscles as he lay upon his bed, mulling over events from the past few days in his mind. He tried to pinpoint exactly when things went awry.....

Here is where the story actually begins…

Chapter Two: The Beginning

The ride to Bywater was a slightly dreary one. The overcast sky delivered a light drizzle that morning, making the air seem heavy and musty smelling. Pippin tried to stay awake, but the rhythm of the ponies’ clip-clop almost lulled him back to sleep. He felt his eyes rolling underneath his eyelids for the hundredth time when he felt Merry jab him in the ribs. “Ow!” Pippin rubbed his side, “What was that for?”

Merry grinned, “If I can’t sleep then neither can you.”

Pippin couldn’t deny that his boredom was getting the better of him. He gave Merry a stern look, “I wasn’t sleeping....yet.”

“Well, you won’t get to nap now because we are nearly there.” Merry turned left from the East Road and headed north. They rode a couple miles when Merry passed the village livery where he would normally have stopped, but proceeded on to the Ivy Bush where Sam was waiting with Merry and Frodo’s packs. As they pulled up Pippin hopped out of the cart and helped Sam to swing the packs into the back.

Pippin asked, “Did you change your mind and decide to come along, Sam?”

“No, Mr. Pippin, my Gaffer’s needin’ help these days,” Sam answered. “Lots of rain lately and now lots of clippin’, if you get my meanin’.”

Frodo emerged from the Ivy Bush holding a rucksack, letting the tavern door swing shut behind him. He walked up to Sam and handed him a key. With all seriousness he admonished his Gardner, “No wild parties while I’m away!”

Sam’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide as if he’d just been accused of stealing something. “I--I,” he stammered. “No, Mr. Frodo! I would never--” Then he heard the laughter of the two other hobbits and saw Frodo’s wry grin, realizing his master was joking with him.

Sam blushed, “Well, I’ll try not to have too many!”

“Sam!” Frodo laughed and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “You are a wonderful companion. I wish you were able to accompany us on this little trip.”

Sam looked down and kicked the dirt under his feet, “You’ll come back to tell me all the wonderful tales, will you not?”

“Every single one--I promise,” replied Frodo.

Merry took Frodo’s hand and helped pull the elder cousin up inside the cart. “Goodbye!” They all shouted and waved to Sam as the cart turned round and made towards The East Road again.

As they left the village they could hear the townsfolk mutter things like, “There goes that Frodo Baggins again! He’s as cracked as that Bilbo was!”, or they’d simply shake their heads and say, “A Baggins, a Brandybuck, and a Took! Nothing good can come of that lot!”

Frodo and Merry shared grins as they heard the various remarks made about their unnatural behaviour. In the back, sprawled out among the packs lay a dozing Pippin; he’d given up on trying to keep his eyelids from closing.

Off they were to Woodhall.

Chapter Three: The Dusty Frog Tavern

Good-natured laughter filled the dining hall of the Dusty Frog Tavern. The hobbits opted to forego elevenses in order to make good time on the road. They munched on the apples and seed cakes they packed for the trip, however, as they approached Frogmorton the growling in their stomachs began to remind them of their earlier sacrifice. The three travelling hobbits stopped for lunch to satisfy their shameless appetites and thirst.

Pippin relaxed on the bench and filled his pipe with Longbottom Leaf as he surveyed all the activity going on around him. He watched as his cousins poured over Shire maps Frodo had brought with him so they could learn the land south of The East Road. None of that interested Pippin--not as much as the pretty tavern maids. Pippin hadn’t yet worked up enough nerve to make conversation with any, especially since they were all older and in their tweens, but he had all sorts of imaginary conversations going on in his head. Each one ended up with the lass surrendering her heart to the young lad, and then serving him the largest platter of food he’d ever seen. He liked the other gender well enough, and since turning fourteen this past spring Pippin no longer saw lasses as intruders of his plans and schemes, however, his desires were still ruled by his stomach.

Pippin found that his older cousin, Merry, was much more suave in the area of lasses. When their serving maid brought their lunch, Pippin closely observed as Merry sweet-talked her into an extra helping of mushrooms. Merry’s soft, flattering speech had apparently worked it’s magic, because soon afterward a very large bowl laden with steaming mushrooms was laid before the tween. Pippin admired his older cousin’s skill; he made up his mind to try the same thing at supper when they stopped over in Stock for the night.

Pippin’s attention wandered back to his cousins at the table. “...Right here”, Frodo said as he tapped his finger in an unseen spot on the map. Merry furrowed his brow in concentration. “That will be a long march, Frodo. That portion of the land is treacherous and uneven for a pony; I can’t see us getting there and back in less than two days time.”

“Well, at any rate, I have to think of how I’m to get a very heavy sack over there”, Frodo sipped his ale and pointed to the wooded area south of the Stockbrook. “I should hate to think of us carrying it all that way.”

The comment of carrying anything for any long distance caught Pippin’s attention. “I think we should use the pony as Frodo said.”, said Pippin.

Merry looked up from the map and glared at Pippin. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest we do that without the pony throwing a shoe? The land between Woodhall and Woody End is rough.”

Pippin felt the stares of both his cousins bore into his head. “I’ll think of something!”

Frodo drank the last of his ale and slid the empty mug to the middle of the table. “Perhaps all three of us could think on it for a while as we ride on towards Stock. Although I would rather find a way that isn’t dangerous....and not carry it.”

Merry took Frodo’s hint. He drained the last of his mug, rolled up the map and bound it with a leather thong. “On to Stock, then!”

“Let me drive!” Pippin shouted from the back of the wagon.

Merry continued to gaze forward, holding the reins steady, “Pippin, the last time I let you drive, I feared for my life!”

Pippin’s pride was injured. “I’m better at it now. My father lets me drive to and from the fields with Pim all the time.”

“And the pony lived?”

“Yes, and Pim, too!” Said Pippin sardonically. “It’s not fair that you do all the driving, Merry!”

Merry felt a nudge from his smirking cousin sitting next to him, “Let the boy drive, Merry. I seem to remember another eager driver not too long ago.”

“But at least I didn’t whine about it.” Said Merry, drawing in the reins. Then he caught Frodo’s arched eyebrows. “I didn’t!”

Merry brought the cart to a stop and handed the reins over to Frodo to hold until he and Pippin changed seats. Watching Pippin climb over from the back, Merry added, “And don’t kill us!”

To everyone’s relief (including his own), Pippin got off to a smooth start.  The bridle jingled in a soothing rhythm as he drove the cart and steered the pony quite well for the first hour. The jingling music entranced Frodo, lulling him in a half-dream state while fidgeting with a golden trinket in his trouser pocket. He awoke with a shock as he felt the wagon thud hard onto the road and a fair amount of wind rushing against his face. “What’s going on?” He shouted at Pippin.

“He’s killing us!” Merry clutched the back of the wagon seat. “Stop her, Pippin!”

“I’m trying!” Pippin yelled back, straining with the reins. The small cart jumped about as it ran over bumps and ruts in the dirt road, jerking its passengers in every direction. Frodo took the reins out of Pippin’s hands and tried to bring the pony to a stop, but his efforts were in vain. A deep rut in the road cracked and broke one of the wheels making the cart lean precariously to one side and tossing a frightened Merry into the road.

“Merry!” Pippin yelled. Frodo grabbed a fistful of Pippin’s shirt with one hand and yanked him back to keep him from jumping out, while still pulling on the reins with the other.

“Stay in the cart!” Frodo shouted. With one of the wheels gone, the pony slowed down; the heavy weight of the cart dragging behind the pony enabled Frodo to bring her to a halt. Both hobbits then jumped out and ran back to check on Merry. They could see him further back in the road on his hands and knees.

“Are you all right?” Frodo asked, running to his side. “How do you feel?”

“I’m all right.” Merry made no attempt to move. “I’m only dazed.”

Frodo helped him up and took him to the side of the road, sat him down and then settled himself down next to Merry. Frodo’s hands were shaking. “What happened, Pippin?”

“I…I don’t know.” Pippin was near tears. “She kept pulling forward and so I pulled back. Then she really took off and wouldn’t stop. That’s when you woke up, Frodo.” He knelt next to Merry, “I dreadfully sorry--to both of you.”

For as much as he loved to tease his young cousin, Merry would never hold a grudge against him. “I know you are. I’ll be fine.” He said he felt fine, but his countenance told otherwise.

Frodo wasn’t going to let Pippin off the hook so easily. “No more driving for you, Pippin. Not until Merry and I give you lessons in pony training!” Then he gathered himself to get up. “Now you can help by coming with me to unhitch the cart and put our packs on the pony. Merry, you stay put for the moment.”

It took close to an hour before the pony was laden with the travelers’ packs and ready to go on without the wagon. Frodo walked a little ways off the road and beyond the trees that lined it. Standing upon a low hill overlooking The Yale, he saw at once the land roll away into a lovely countryside and then further out overgrown with thickets, then a thick line of trees in the distant haze blocked the rest of his view. Frodo knew that further, on the other side of those trees, lay the Stock Road…and the Woody End. He turned round and went back towards the East Road where his friends waited.

Pippin, having rearranged his items inside his pack, was sitting next to Merry on the road and tying it back up as Frodo approached them. “I have a proposal to make.” Said Frodo. Merry and Pippin looked up at him. “I am in need of haste. Instead of walking all the way back to Whitfurrows, let us go directly over The Yale and cross the Stock Road to the south.” He watched Merry sigh.

Pippin’s jaw dropped. “I know I’ve fouled things up, dear Frodo, but that will take at least a day’s march on foot!”

“I know that, dear Pippin,” Frodo replied, using the same address Pippin used with him. “but as I said, I am in need of haste. I would not propose this if I weren’t.”

Merry was a little calmer. “I understand your haste, Frodo, but we’ve brought very little provisions--and we ate most of it already. We planned on taking our time and staying at the Inns along the road.”

Frodo sat down next to his favourite cousin and sidled up to him, grinning. “Do you remember what we used to do when we were young lads at Brandy Hall?”

Merry looked at Frodo and knew what he was referring to. “But that was when we were mere boys, Frodo. If we were to be caught now, we’d be in a lot of trouble.”

Pippin gazed at his cousins, “You know, I have a feeling that I’ve been left out of these plots.”

Frodo looked over Merry to Pippin, “You have, for the most part, but it is because we barely had time to make any plans, let alone go into a lengthy dissertation of my personal doings.”

This time, Pippin wasn’t letting Frodo off the hook so easily. “You had plenty of time back at The Dusty Frog! I thought you could trust me, cousin.”

“I do, Pip!” Frodo protested, “But...”

“But what?” Pippin looked Frodo straight in his eyes.

Frodo returned his gaze. “Pippin, there are some things I cannot share with everyone.”

Pippin’s disappointment shone in his countenance. “But you could share them with Merry?”

“It’s not that simple...” Frodo looked away.

“Neither am I!” Now angry, Pippin stood up with his pack and walked away towards the line of trees off the road and through the bushes.

Before Merry realized what his young friend was doing, Pippin was already headed down into the little valley. “Pip! Wait!” Merry ran after him. Then he stopped just shy of the bushes; he felt torn. Do I stay with Frodo, or do I run after Pippin?

Frodo called after him from the tree-lined ridge, “Go after him, Merry!”

Then Merry turned to his cousin, “Why? When I catch up to him, what will I tell him? I can’t tell him why cousin Frodo wants to make it to the Woody End before midnight tomorrow. And the reason I can’t is because you haven’t told all to me, either.” Merry replied crossly. “Tell me Frodo--what do I tell him? I know he’s angry because you had the chance to say something in Frogmorton, but chose not to.” Merry looked at him, “Are we your friends, or not? I can tell you that I’ve entrusted him with deeper secrets than your own today, and not once has he failed me in that trust.”

Frodo sighed. “I cannot tell you, Merry--or Pippin, because I’ve been charged to not say anything.”

“Are you in trouble?” Merry asked, growing concerned for his beloved friend.

Frodo shook his head, “No, dear cousin, I am not. But if you don’t run after Pippin now, you will never catch up to him, and then we will both be in it deep with Paladin!”

“Stay here!” Merry yelled over his shoulder, now running after Pippin. “We’ll return shortly!”

Merry was gone from his sight when Frodo replied softly, “But I can’t wait.”

Chapter Four - Of All Things

“Pippin!” Merry yelled out into the vast countryside of The Yale. He’d been searching for his wayward cousin for more than ten minutes. “Pippin!” In the distance, Merry could see Pippin marching at a brisk pace over hills, around trees and bushes. Out of breath, he hunched over with his hands on his knees to rest. After a bit more of a run, he stopped, cupping his hands to his mouth he shouted again, “Pippin! If you don’t stop and answer me, I’ll tell your father!”

Far up ahead in the pathway, the small figure abruptly stopped and turned round. “What do you want?” When Merry failed to answer at once, the teen shouted, “Fine! Then leave me alone!”

“No!” Merry yelled in return, gasping for breath, “Stay…where you are…I’m… coming towards you!”

Pippin began to jog in order to stay ahead of his pursuer, though slightly winded himself.

When Merry finally got near to Pippin he snapped, “Stop!”

Pippin slowed down to a moderate pace, yet he continued to ignore his cousin and kept walking. At last, Merry caught up to him. He took hold of Pippin’s arm and pulled him round, “I said stop!”

“Give me one good reason.” Pippin stood rooted, breathing hard with arms crossed over his chest waiting for an answer.

Merry pulled out his pocket handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. “I know you’re angry, Pip,” he said, “but truth be told, I didn’t know all of Frodo’s plans, either.”

“But you knew enough. More than I ever did.” Pippin sat his pack on the ground and was now pacing back and forth in front of his cousin.

“The only thing I knew that you didn’t was that Frodo wanted to be at the Woody End by midnight tomorrow--and I still don’t know why. He still wouldn’t tell me even after you left.”

“But why does he keep secrets like that? Doesn’t he trust me? Doesn’t he trust us? I daresay he is closest to you, Merry--why would he keep a secret from you?” Pippin gazed at the countryside around them; his anger was wearing off a little. “Is he in any sort of trouble?”

Merry shook his head, “I asked him that same question and he told me no. But...he may not be telling everything, as he’s done so far.” Then a thought came to him, “He may not be in any trouble, but I wonder if trouble will find him at Woody End? I left him alone up by the road.” Another thought occurred to the young tween.

The young hobbits fixed their eyes on each other. Pippin picked up his pack and said, “Let’s go!” Both began running back in the direction of the road where Merry had left Frodo.

Some minutes later the two cousins broke through the trees and thickets that lined the East Road. Merry looked up and down only to find the East Road empty in both directions, except for the broken cart lying on it’s side over yonder. “There,” Merry pointed farther up the road, “There’s the cart way up there, and that’s where I left him.” They continued to jog until they came near the cart. “Frodo!” They called again, “Frodo!”

Merry looked around, “Where has he gone? I told him we would both return.”

“Seems to me he had a mind to leave and left just like I did,” said Pippin. He nodded towards Merry’s pack lying on the ground. He then surveyed the surrounding area, “He even took the pony!”

“Of all the...,” Merry said, kicking the dirt in the road. “I need a rest; I can’t go on just yet.” He looked up into the sky wondering how much daylight they had left. “What do you have in your pack, Pip? I’m afraid I didn’t bring much except what I could purchase at the market in Bywater.” Merry sat down on the side of the road and opened his pack, taking out several pieces of fruit and a small loaf of bread.

Pippin untied his pack and rummaged around, “I have only a few apples and a handful of biscuits that I pinched from the kitchens before we left the Smials. This might hold us for a little while, unless you want to Whitfurrows for more food.”

“No,” Merry shook his head, gazing far westward up the road towards the Brandywine Bridge. “That will take too long. He’ll gain too much of a lead. Frodo can’t get very far leading a pony.”

Pippin shot Merry a look, “What if he’s riding it?”

“He couldn’t,” Merry replied. “For one, he didn’t have a saddle, and two--”

Pippin interrupted, shaking his head, “But we’ve all ridden bare-back enough times, Merry.”

Pippin had a point. Merry imagined himself climbing onto the teetering cart and then climbing onto a pony. How could Frodo abandon us out here with only our feet and a few morsels of food? Then he sighed, saying, “Then perhaps we ought to run as much as we can. He’s probably more than halfway there already.”

Heading for Woodhall, Merry and Pippin ran and walked in stints as the brambles allowed for a couple hours straight across the Yale. They were heading the same way Frodo should have been travelling in. The sun descended closer towards the horizon as the two lads trudged with heavy footsteps, walking across the lower road that ran between Stock and Tuckborough. Onwards they pressed towards the Woody End.

After two more hours Pippin was famished, and their provisions were depleted. It takes more than a few morsels of bread, fruit, and biscuits to keep the appetite of a growing hobbit teen at bay. “Merry,” Pippin scowled, “we need to stop and rest--and hopefully find some food quick!” His growling stomach was making him slightly irritable.

Merry was still in a foul mood over their cousin leaving them in dire circumstance. “Wait,” he said sarcastically, “Let me just run over to Buckland and get my Mum to make us a pot of potato stew!”

“I’m serious, Merry,” said Pippin rubbing his stomach. “I’m so hungry.”

Merry stood up, scanning the distant meadows and fields between the Stock Road and the Marish. He knew there were some crop fields not far away, remembering Frodo’s earlier words, ‘Do you remember what we used to do....?’ He looked at Pippin, “I think I have an idea.”

It was a large field that sat near the road where they were crossing. The farmhouse could be seen further in the distance. “Let us wait until it’s dark,” Merry said, leading Pippin into the shade of an elm tree.

Sometime later, the sun had descended beyond the Old Forest and twilight was passing when Merry decided to start out. They marched alongside the fields until Merry stopped and quietly dropped his pack at the foot of the fence; the less to carry. He put his fingers to his lips, signalling for silence. He motioned for Pippin to stay put where he was. Without a sound, Merry eased himself between the wooden slats in the fence.

Once he was on the inside, Merry skulked down, crawling to the edge of the cornfield. The corn stalks were tall; a natural abet for him in his forage for food. He cautiously looked around before stuffing a few ears of corn into his shirt. He continued to creep across the fields in the night, snatching stray vegetables that were in his path. There! He spotted the potato patch. Before stepping out into the wide open field he looked around for anyone watching. Merry didn’t know why--he just had that feeling. Then he heard someone behind him. Merry froze in place, slowly turning his head to see exactly who it was. The sound was that of his foolish cousin trailing some yards behind, shadowing his every move. Merry cringed.

Until now, Merry knew his cousin had never done this sort of thing before. Pippin had never really lifted from gardens or fields--even in a contest against other lads. Pippin’s father owned and farmed the lands round Whitwell, so Pippin never wanted in the matter of food. And another fact was that it had been a long time since Merry himself had done anything like this--and greatly feared he may be out of practice. When Merry was a small child he would tag along with Frodo on his little excursions to Farmer Maggot’s field, which usually ended with them getting caught and poor Frodo taking the brunt of it.

Ignoring Pippin--as long as he was quiet, Merry crawled into the potato patch upon his stomach. He reached out and plucked a few nice round ones, also scooping them into his shirt. He noticed his hands were trembling. Then he heard it--barking! Dogs! Merry became as still as stone. He didn’t particularly care for dogs ever since he was a young boy; a fear that developed while on the aforementioned excursions. Merry’s limbs became as jelly, then quickly recovered his wits. Forgetting about the shadow behind him, Merry jumped up and ran, nearly losing his plunder.

Pippin also heard the ferocious barking then saw his cousin leap up. He did the same, whispering loudly, “Don’t leave me here!” What in the Shire was he whispering for? The dogs certainly weren’t!

Merry ran for his life as he heard the barking get closer. As he ran, he could hear Pippin running directly behind him. Merry slowed down then ran to one side, gently guiding his young cousin ahead of him.

At length, Merry turned his head around to see the dogs chasing him. He could see not only one, but two dark shapes with very long white fangs gaining on him fast. His blood ran cold. In the dim moonlight, Merry could see the silhouette of yet another wooden fence coming up in Pippin’s path, but didn’t guess it would keep the dogs behind it. He saw Pippin clear the railing in one jump. So did he, and almost stumbled as he landed on the other side. As he guessed, the dogs ran right through the fence and kept pursuing them, barking and snarling quite loudly.

Merry stole another glance behind him then tripped on a tree root, falling with a nasty thud just short of a large tree trunk. The dogs were nearly upon him. He quickly gathered up the spilled contents of his shirt then started to get up and run again, but something jerked his leg back. One dog had a piece of his breeches in its muzzle and wouldn’t let go, while the other one was snarling and baring his teeth near Merry’s face. Terrified, Merry let go of his spoils, turning onto his backside to scoot himself backwards until he met up with the tree trunk, all the while his breeches were was being torn to pieces by snarling fangs. Merry was so petrified he couldn’t even find his tongue to yell for help.

Up ahead, Pippin stopped and looked back when he heard Merry fall. He saw his friend lying on the ground unsuccessfully fending off the dogs. “Merry!” Pippin’s heart threatened to thump out of his chest. Pippin ran back to aid his vulnerable cousin but stopped in his tracks when hindered by a third growling shadow baring its teeth at him.

Merry was frightened and spent, but wasn’t about to give up yet. He fruitlessly kicked at the dog tearing at his trousers using his free foot. The dog yanked harder, pulling Merry out from the safety of the tree trunk. The second dog lunged at their prey from the other direction. Merry could only use his arms to shield himself from the terror to come.

Chapter Five - Goose Bumps

The lunging dog didn’t go for Merry, instead he soared overhead. And Pippin watched as the third dog jump at him then reflexively threw his arms up to protect himself. He fell over backwards with the dog’s momentum and even waited for a muzzle to begin tearing into his flesh, but it never came. Pippin did feel the dog land on him, nearly crushed underneath its weight. However, Pippin next heard the dogs cry out and whimper, running off back towards the cornfields.

Pippin still trembled when he peeked around his shielding arms. He was almost too afraid to move. “Merry?” Pippin could hear his cousin out of breath and gasping for air. Seeing no one about, he sat up, “Merry? Are you all right?”

Merry, too, sat up, holding his leg, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Pippin slowly pushed himself up with no other thought than to go to his cousin’s aide. However, when he stood up, out of the corner of his eye Pippin saw a dull light emanating from behind him. Slowly he turned around then froze in place. Pippin couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like the sight that stood before him this night. Like the Big Folk he looked. The tall person sat upon a horse with a carefree expression on his fair face. He wore a silver coloured tunic with green trousers tucked inside soft leather boots. Draped over his well-formed shoulders was a yellow mantle that matched the long golden tresses that were plaited and swept to the back of his head.

Pippin swallowed hard--who was this? What did he want?

The tall being gazed down at the small figure and said. “Greetings, Peregrin Took!” He looked past Pippin to Merry, “And Meriadoc Brandybuck! Nothing else will trouble you, my friends. Be at peace.”

“Hullo.” Pippin glanced round for a second to see if Merry understood anything about this--Man? Undaunted though, Pippin quickly recovered. “Sir, who are you, and how do you know our names?”

But Pippin never received an answer to his question. The Elf suddenly turned his steed about and departed into the darkness without another word.

Pippin quickly closed the distance between him and Merry, “Did you see what I just saw?”

Merry still stared in the direction where the Elf was standing. “I don’t know...,” he trailed off.

Pippin nudged him, “You had better say yes!”

“Did you get a good look at him?” Merry fixed his gaze into the darkness.

“He stood directly in front of me, silly! Of course I got a good look at him.” Then Pippin asked, “Do you think he was a Man…or an Elf?”

“I’ve seen Big Folk selling their goods near the Hay Gate,” Answered Merry, “and none of them looked like this fellow.” Merry stood up and at once Pippin saw the shreds of fabric around his cousin’s knee.

Pippin crouched down, “Let me have a look at your leg.” He quickly scanned Merry’s leg for an open wound. “That was too close, cousin! I see only a scratch on your leg where your trousers were ripped.”

Merry, now quite unsettled, looked around at the trees. Dogs and Elves? “Let’s get out of here,” he said re-gathering his scattered plunder, “this place is giving me goose bumps!”

The hobbits dared not go back the same way they came, and so it took them a while before they came back round to the fence where they left their packs. They divided their spoils before they moved on, and there was plenty enough for both--even Pippin managed to scoop up a few potatoes and carrots along the way. After they feasted, they walked for several more hours until they were farther south of the East Farthing road.

Pippin began to lag. “I must have a rest, Merry,” he said. He sat down right where he stood. Nearby in the moonlight stood a fir tree with a pile of soft needles underneath it’s widespread branches. “I don’t even have a blanket to lay on,” he said mournfully.

Merry sat down next to his cousin. “I did manage to pack my cloak, though what pressed me, I cannot say. We can share it.” Together they lay under the branches of the fir tree and tried to get comfortable. Merry couldn’t get comfortable with all the needles poking through his cloak. Eventually, he heard Pippin’s deep breathing, and thought he was asleep. He decided to get up for one last look around. When he did so, he noticed bits of light flickering through the nearby tree branches. He whispered, “Woodhall!”

“It didn’t look too far away,” mumbled Pippin. “Can’t we seek it out in the morning?”

Knowing how weary his cousin was, Merry sighed, “I suppose it won’t hurt us to sleep outside for one night, though I can easily imagine myself in a soft feather bed inside of a bedroom.” The moon was high in the sky when the young hobbits fell into a deep in slumber, worn out from their long and arduous day.

When Pippin opened his eyes, fragments of morning sunlight were dancing upon his face through the boughs of the fir tree. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He noticed Merry had already awoke. “Merry?” His only answers were birds calling to each other from around the trees and a soft summer breeze wafting through the leaves of tall trees. He drank in a deep breath of the fresh air as it brushed past his cheeks. Pippin stood up and looked about the area. No Merry to be seen. “Merry!” Pippin called louder this time.

“Up here!” Came Merry’s far away sounding voice. Pippin looked up, squinting and shading his eyes to better search the trees. “Behind you!” Pippin spun about and then crossed his arms seeking for the hobbit that belonged to the voice. Then he saw his dear friend waving from an old rickety tree.

Pippin shook his head, “What are you doing up there? I thought you were a Brandybuck!”

“I’m half Took! C’mon and see why I‘m up here.”

It didn’t take long for Pippin to climb up; it was indeed an old, rickety apple tree. Not much fruit on it, but there was enough to feed two hungry hobbits. Pippin tested a sturdy low branch and then scooted out to pluck one of the sweet fruits. He took a bite and then thought about their activities for the day. “Are we still going after Frodo, Merry?”

Merry nodded, chewing a mouthful. Then after swallowing, he said further, “Though I don’t think we’ll be running much of it like yesterday. He’s probably got there by now. I’m only curious as to why he had to be there so soon…and what he was doing there.” Then he proceeded to clean off the rest of his apple.

“How are we going to do that?” asked Pippin.

“Keep a close eye on him,” answered Merry.

Pippin paused before taking another bite, “You mean, we’re going spy on Frodo when we find him?”

Merry flung his apple core away, “I prefer to think of it as....protecting our cousin.” He then began to relieve a couple fragile branches of their burdens, gently tossing the apples to the ground.

Pippin finished his round of apple breakfast and began to climb back down to level ground and gather them up. He surveyed the meagre supply then remarked, “I only hope our chase isn’t like this tree; rather fruitless!”

Merry and Pippin walked at an easier pace towards Woody End with a brief stop at Woodhall to see about more food. Both lads had kin who lived there and were able to stock up on their provisions. The lads inquired about a pony, but none were available for purchase. Merry had little money with him after spending it on food in Bywater, and Pippin carried even less. So if anyone did have a beast of burden to sell, combining their wealth together they couldn’t have afforded it.

On they marched with only one break until the sun was at her zenith. They stopped for a light lunch and a nap in the shade of the woodland trees. Now that they weren’t so much in a hurry and exhausted as they were the day before, Pippin felt he could now ask his cousin a few questions that have been on his mind.

“Merry?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would an Elf be in the Shire?”

Merry lay with his hands behind his head, gazing up at the leaves in the tree. He answered, “I’ve been wondering about that myself, Pip. This was the first time I’ve actually seen one, too.”

“And he knew our names! My father has told me many tales of the Old Took--and our Uncle Isengar--visiting Elves with Gandalf. Do you suppose that’s what Frodo’s doing?”

“I don’t know, Pippin,” was all Merry would say, though he did muse on Pippin’s proposal; Bilbo also had visited with Elves. He and Pippin believed Bilbo when he told such in his stories. But what was the connection? Why would Frodo take up with Elves? Then to complicate matters even further, Merry remembered Bilbo’s magic ring. Old Gandalf knew magic...and so did Elves…magic ring. The tweenager fell asleep trying to tie it all together. This wee conundrum would keep Merry puzzled for the next fourteen years.

Chapter Six - We Will Follow You

Frodo pulled back on the pony’s reins as he approached his two young cousins lying underneath the boughs of the trees, obviously fast asleep. His travelling companion steadied his own mount, bringing the horse to a halt.

“I did not realize hobbits could travel so swiftly!” remarked the Elf. Strapped to the back of the elf’s low saddle was the same heavy pack that Frodo was desperate to get to the Woody End.

“Hobbits travel with haste when we have a mind to,” Frodo answered. “Thank you, Rhiannen. I can go on from here.”

“As you wish. Do have any word for me to take back to Imladris?”

Frodo thought on this many times. What would he tell Bilbo if ever he were given the chance? At first he thought to send word of how much he missed the old hobbit. But no, that would only put Bilbo on edge and make him think he left behind a tween instead of an adult hobbit, Master of his own home. Finally he shook his head at the Elf, “No, thank you, Rhiannen. You are kind.”

“Fare you well, then, Frodo Baggins. We shall meet again.” Rhiannen turned his horse round and whispered something in its ear. The horse snorted, eager to run.

Frodo watched horse and rider disappear into the woods. He slid down from his pony, walking over to Merry. “Merry!” Frodo softly called to his friend, “Merry!”

Merry felt something prodding his shoulder, rousing him from a sweet slumber. He opened his eyes, trying to focus on the face that hovered over him. “Frodo?”

“It’s me, dear cousin.”

“But...how did you get here?” Merry was now fully awake, leaning on one elbow and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He whispered, “I thought you would be at Woody End.”

“I was,” Frodo answered, “but I’ve finished my business there and so now I’ve found you.”

Merry shook his head, “Found me? You couldn’t have found us--and so quickly.” Merry sat up, “Something...or someone had to have led you here in the middle of these woods.”

Frodo ignored his cousin’s guess, rummaging around in his pack for nothing in particular.

“Well?” Merry continued in a low voice so as not to awaken Pippin. They both completely forgot that Pippin could feign sleep very well.

Frodo continued to search through his bag, “Well, what?”

Merry sighed in exasperation, “Who are they?”

“Merry, I do believe you’re not yourself right now. You’ve just awoken from a long afternoon nap.”

Merry jerked the bag out of Frodo’s grasp, “I am not mad, and don’t insinuate that I am! First, you run off and leave us behind on the East Road--all for the sake of getting your sack to the Woody End. Pippin and I were nearly mauled by watchdogs last night because we were hungry and had nothing to eat. It just so happens that immediately after the attack, we see an Elf appear out of thin air. Now after a whole day of travel--for us--you also appear...out of nowhere it seems. What kind of game are you playing with us?”

Frodo snatched his bag back from Merry, “Games? I am not playing any sort of games.”

“Then tell me the truth. What is going on?”

Frodo sat with his back against the side of the road, “I told you before, Merry, I have been charged to not tell.”

It seemed to Merry as if he’d been down this road with his cousin before. “What if you were in deep trouble?” He asked, “What then?”

“But I wasn’t in any trouble, and I remember telling you so,” answered Frodo.

“That’s the problem, Cousin. You wouldn’t tell us even if you were. The only way for us to know that you weren’t in any trouble was to follow you, and you must know that we will follow you into a dragon’s lair if need be!”

Frodo paused and became quiet. “Yes,” he said in his response, fingering the leather string on his pack. “Yes, I know you both would and…sometimes that’s why I don’t tell you lads everything.”

Merry was calming down. He discerned Frodo was genuinely apologetic for separating himself from the group, in spite of other possibilities that Merry felt he could‘ve taken. “Frodo, you’re our cousin and we love you. We care about what happens to you. Will you not let us have a small part in doing that?”

Frodo was taken aback. He blinked in uncertainty as he felt the cool touch of the golden trinket in his pocket. Then Frodo felt Merry reach over to embraced him. Letting go of the bauble, he wrapped both arms about Merry; the uncertainty disappeared. Frodo buried his face in the warmth of his cousin’s hug, “I will.” Frodo loosed his hold on Merry, “It astounds me to know that I have the dearest of friends right here.”

“And dear Frodo, please don’t leave us stranded in the middle of the road next time.” Pippin was now sitting up, rubbing the faerie sand from his eyes.

“I thought you were asleep!” Frodo laughed. “I should have known better.”

“I was asleep,” said Pippin, standing up to brush the road dust off of his breeches, “but I awoke oh…about the same time Merry first woke. But don’t think you’ll ever be able to give us the slip again like you did yesterday, Frodo. We’ll be on the look out from now on.”

Frodo smiled at his two cousins. He indeed felt lucky to have two wonderful cousins as the best of friends. He asked, “Have you two eaten?”

“Yes, we have had lunch,” said Pippin, “but we could do with another. That might help put things to right.”

The hobbits feasted not only on provisions from Woodhall, but unbeknownst to Merry and Pippin, the scrumptious bread they were eating was made by the Elves.

Chapter Seven - What Can They Possibly Do To Me?

It was a long, long walk from the dense woodlands of Woody End to the western boundary of the South Farthing. The group walked far into the night, and then woke up very early so that they would be in Tuckborough before midnight. Frodo held the reins of his pony and led her along as he and Merry walked together.

Pippin walked ahead of his cousins. He had found a sturdy stick in the road a ways back and was busy trimming away the dead twigs and leaves. He let his hands slide up and down the semi-smooth bark, pealing off the loose layers. Then he held it out lengthwise before him, surveying his handiwork with a critical eye. He fancied that in the end, his stick would resemble that of old Bilbo’s favourite walking stick. The one he used on his adventures far away beyond the borders of the Shire.

Behind him, Pippin could hear Merry and Frodo quietly discussing something. They spoke in lower tones, but made no attempt to whisper. Pippin continued to fuss over his walking stick, but made it a point to catch snippets of whatever it was that they were chatting about.

“I haven’t seen any orchards at all since we left the woods behind,” said Merry.

Frodo shaded his eyes as he looked further into the distance, “Neither have I, but I’m not too worried yet.”

“I am,” Merry answered, nodding towards their teenage cousin. “Have you seen our cousin eat lately?” Frodo couldn’t help but laugh.

Pippin called over his shoulder to his lagging cousins, “It’s nice that you’re discussing my eating habits as if I weren’t here!”

“Merry wasn’t speaking any secrets,” Frodo said. “My own larder is still a bit bare from your last visit.” Now it was Merry’s turn to laugh.

Pippin turned around as he walked to join in their banter, “I’m a growing hobbit teen, I’ll have you know! I’m supposed to eat a lot. Unlike Merry--who has yet to stop eating.”

Frodo walked casually with his hands in his pockets, “Why don’t you put the stick down, little laddie, and come join our wee party?” Frodo knew Pippin hated being called ‘little laddie’.

“Yes, dear cousin,” Merry goaded Pippin, “instead of eavesdropping, why don’t you walk with us? I promise to stop eating long enough for you to get in a word or two.”

“I wasn‘t eavesdropping,” Pippin said. Then he asked, “Is that a proper invitation?”

Merry looked at Frodo, then ran up behind Pippin, grabbed the stick and bolted. “Now it is!”

“Hey!” Pippin yelled, “That’s mine!” He took off after his cousin.

All of a sudden, Pippin dramatically stopped in the middle of the road, put his hand to his stomach and made a face. “Merry!” He shouted, dropping to his knees.

Merry thought something was seriously wrong with the lad and ran back to investigate. Frodo was smirking; he knew Pippin was playing a game with Merry.

When Pippin knew that Merry was at his side, he jumped up and said, “Thank you!” He grabbed his walking stick out of Merry’s hands and tried to run off, but Merry wrestled Pippin to the ground and sat on him, tickling him mercilessly.

Pippin laughed and squirmed, “Frodo! Help!”

Frodo walked up, still leading the pony. He reached down and took the walking stick from Pippin’s hand. “That’s a very nice walking stick! Thank you, Pip.”

Pippin wasn’t entirely defenseless; he used his scrawny elbow to prod Merry off of him.

“Ow!” Merry rolled off his cousin onto the ground, rubbing his ribs.

Frodo stopped the pony, surveying the area. It looked as likely a place as any to sit and have a meal, however inadequate it would be. “Why don’t we rest here and have a little picnic?” He untied his pack from the pony and looked inside. He glanced up at his friends with a grim expression on his face, “I don’t think we have enough between us to have a proper snack.” Those words made the teen spin around on his heels. Frodo continued on, “We have just enough for a well-deserved nibble between the three of us, but I don’t know what we’re to do for tonight’s teatime, let alone supper.”

Pippin figured they would be approaching his old neighbourhood of Whitwell in a few hours. Whitwell is a small village where his family owned and farmed a huge parcel of land.

Pippin gave a sidelong look at Merry. Merry shook his head, “Oh, no! Not that again!”

“What else are we to do, Merry?” Pippin argued. “Do you want to starve?”

“No,” Merry sighed, “but I don’t wish to meet up with any dogs again.”

Pippin looked baffled, “On my father’s farm?”

Then Merry understood his cousin. Pippin meant for them to ransack his own father’s fields. “But Pippin,” said Merry, “doesn’t your father hire someone to watch the crops at night?”

“Yes, but they all know who I am,” Pippin answered with confidence. He thought he would show his cousins just how resourceful he could be in his father’s own fields. He knew the land well and where the watchers...slept. He said to Merry, “and let me do the deed this time! You do seem to attract trouble for some unknown reason.”

Merry shook his head, “I’m not going to let you go out there all alone!”

“You have to, Merry,” Pippin reasoned. “I know which crops are where, and I know where the gates are watched. Besides,” he added, “Someone has to stay back and watch Frodo.”

Frodo became indignant, “I do not need minding like a little hobbit child.”

Merry took one look at Frodo's pudgy belly and snickered, “Surely you don’t think you can leap a fence in a single bound, do you?”

Frodo was reluctant to admit he was a tad out of shape for raiding crop fields, so he made a pretence of objection. “I can slide through a fence as well as you, Merry.”

Still grinning, Merry replied, “We weren’t sliding through the fences other night, were we Pippin?”

“No, we weren’t, Merry,” Pippin kindly offered. Then he asked very sweetly, “Do you like dogs, Frodo?” Pippin was joking; Frodo had no way of knowing Paladin didn’t keep dogs on his farm.

“No, not greatly.” Frodo still had vivid memories of Grip and Fang in his head. “I suppose I would be of more use watching our packs and the pony.” Inwardly, he was relieved to have the task of staying behind to watch the helpful beast.

“Good! I can already see my plan laid out in my head,” said Pippin. “All I need now is a sack.”

“What will happen if you‘re caught?” Merry asked.

Pippin smirked and shrugged his shoulders, “I’m the landowner’s son--what can they possibly do to me?”

Chapter Eight - Famous Raider

It was nearing twilight when the three hobbits approached Paladin’s apple orchard. It lay on the western edge of his farmland. Nearby, the hobbits waited under a cluster of walnut trees for the cover of complete darkness. After nightfall, Pippin instructed his friends to wait among these trees.

Merry never intended to stay behind while his young cousin went ransacking his father’s crops armed only with a sack. If he mentioned it to Pippin, it would only cause more arguing. Merry let his young cousin think he was in control.

Frodo watched with trepidation as Pippin disappeared into the pitch dark, “I don’t like this, Merry. Pippin isn’t as accomplished as we are.”

Merry raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but nodded, “I’m going to follow him. You’ll be all right?”

Frodo called softly, “Be careful!”

Merry smiled furtively, “Always, cousin.”

As he drew near the familiar stone hedge, Pippin took a running jump and dragged himself over the top. He landed soft on the other side, keeping a wary eye on the north gate. That is where the night watcher usually guarded, being that it was closest to the road…and wandering vagrants. Paladin never kept dogs, but as Merry said, he did employ a couple of field workers to mind the fields at night from the local truants. Pippin never imagined that he would be one of the truants his father wanted to keep out.

Pippin was now in the vineyard. Crouching between the rows of white grapes, Pippin peered over the edge to better see where the other night watchman would be. The second watchman wasn’t sitting in his usual spot on the market wagon that was always situated about fifty feet back from north gate. No one was stirring about; that was odd. Wait until I tell father!, he thought to himself, The watchers are slacking!

Pippin casually plucked a grape off of the vine and tasted it. Not ripe enough. He made a face at the sour sensation in his mouth, but swallowed it nonetheless. Further he crawled on his hands and knees, looking about just in case the watcher was indeed doing his duty. Pippin again peeked around the vines to find no one walking around the area. He got up to his feet, still hunched, he scrambled over a dozen or so rows to find yet another delicacy; carrots. Poor Pippin was so hungry by now that he pulled up on a handful of green stems and cleaned off as much earth as he could before sinking his teeth into a carrot. Not forgetting his cousins, he held the carrot in his mouth as he pulled up on a few more and threw them into the sack. On to the next pillage. The teen was on his way to the tomato vines at the west end of the field when he stepped on something round and firm. The potato patch! He sat down on his haunches and took up a bunch of these.

~ ~ ~

Merry hated slinking around in his uncle’s fields. He followed his young cousin from a short distance; just far enough away so that he wouldn’t suspect anything. He, too, took a running jump and hauled himself over the stone hedge. For his part, Merry kept pace with his cousin and watched Pippin from his spot near one end of the row of grapes. Merry crawled on all fours just as Pippin was doing at the upper end. He, too, tasted a wickedly sour grape, and promptly spit it out. He followed further as Pippin hurried over to the carrots and then to the potatoes. Merry couldn’t help himself as he stuffed a couple carrots into his shirt. He anticipated that Pippin would next make his way over to the tomato vines. There is where he would wait for Pippin to arrive and thought to surprise him. However…Pippin never came.

~ ~ ~

Silently Pippin counted, eight, nine, ten....eleven…twelve! A full dozen! Surely that will be enough. Holding onto his half eaten carrot with his teeth, Pippin stood up to move on towards the tomatoes.

“How does it taste?” Bellowed a voice behind him.

Pippin froze. That didn’t sound like Merry--or Frodo. He slowly turned around to face two tall and ominous Shirrifs...for hobbits, that is. He vaguely knew the elder First-Shirrif, but the younger, Second-Shirrif Pippin didn’t recognize at all. No sweet-talking him! Why were Shirrifs here? “What are you doing here?”

“Catchin’ vermints like ye,” said the Second-Shirrif. “What’re ye doin’ in Mr. Paladin Took’s crops, eh?”

“I am his son--Pippin Took.”

Both Shirrifs had a hearty laugh. “That’s what they all claim!”

“My father will be very angry when he learns you have hindered my efforts.” Pippin’s statement garnered even more laughter from the big hobbits.

Could it be that these two truly did not recognize him? Pippin backed up slowly, hoping to escape graciously. “I--I was only....only...,” Pippin didn’t know what else to do but run. He broke out into a sprint as fast as he could, backtracking towards the grapevines hoping to make it to the gate before they caught him.

The First-Shirrif was older and slow, but the younger Second-Shirrif was on Pippin like a cat. And unfortunately, Pippin was not known to be a fast runner; that would require healthy lungs to accomplish. Pippin went down like a sack of...potatoes, and squirmed under the weight of the younger Shirrif until he broke free. He quickly got up and flew in the direction of the market wagon to hide underneath. Clouds of dust rose up into the darkness as he slid beneath it. The Second Shirrif wasn’t hindered in the least; he slid under the same wagon with greater speed, sending a larger dust cloud about the area.

Rolling out the other side, Pippin gathered himself and ran full speed towards the stone hedge he initially crawled over. Again, the younger Shirrif was quicker. He grabbed the small teenager by his shirt, jerking him backward to the ground just shy of hedge.

“Get off me!” Pippin gasped.

“Who are ye?”

“No one!” yelled Pippin, coughing amid the dry, dusty earth. “Get off me--you…you’re crushing me!”

“I won’t get off ‘til ye tell me who ye are!”

Out of breath, Pippin squirmed some more. “No one, I said!” He already tried telling the truth, so he lied.

The elder Shirrif came up, roughly grabbed Pippin up by the back of his shirt collar and yanked him up. Pippin nearly choked, then started swinging at the air with his fists. The First Shirrif held onto the shirt collar in his fist, keeping the lad at bay, “Now there’ll be no more o’that, ye lit’l thief! Who are ye? Speak!!”

Pippin fell silent and still. He was not about to get his cousins into trouble. The Mayor and the Shirrifs were not very kind to adult--or even near adult hobbits who went about the Shire raiding farms. Children and Teens were usually forgiven with restitution rendered to the landowner, and then escorted directly to their parents for further discipline.

The First Shirrif demanded, “Where’s yer helper?”

Pippin said nothing.

Then the First-Shirrif added, “Not in the mood for talkin’, eh? Mister Took’s strap ought to make ye sing like a robin in spring!” Both Shirrifs laughed, trying to frighten the boy into talking, but Pippin remained silent. Seeing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the lad, the First-Shirrif let go of Pippin’s collar shoving him back to the ground with force.

The Second-Shirrif grabbed the sack out of Pippin’s hands, “What do we ’ave ’ere? Carrots? And a sack full of taters!” He hauled Pippin up again by his upper arm, “Get in the cart!” They tied (not too tight) Pippin’s wrists to the seat behind them and set off in the direction of Great Smials.

The Second-Shirrif turned to face Pippin, “Seems there’s a Famous Raider going from the South Farthin’, and now through to Tuckborough here lootin’ all the crops and orchards. Mister Took don’t take nice at all to Raiders!” Then he turned back around in his seat to face forward. “Thanks to ye, yer family will be payin’ the Thain’s heir for ye spoils ‘til their dyin’ days!”

Pippin knew his father wasn’t anything like what these Shirrifs were playing him out to be. “My fa--!” Pippin started to defend his father then stopped himself. It seemed they didn’t know who they had just picked up, and he would at least stay silent now for the sake of his father.

The younger Shirrif turned round and asked, “Yer what?”

Pippin said nothing.

“I thought as much,” he replied. “Now keep silent, knave, since that’s what ye’re good at.”

Chapter Nine - Anticipation

Pippin had not shown up at the tomato vines as Merry anticipated. He decided to ease his growing apprehension and go back to the carrot patch to have a look. He had a very bad feeling about this. Sure enough, as he came up to where he last saw Pippin, he noticed the field was empty. He couldn’t have gone back already! Yet Merry was secretly hoping that was exactly what happened. It was too quiet and he didn’t like the sound of it. Then he heard the slap of pony reins and the sound of bridle jingling. A cart not much bigger than the one Frodo started out with on their journey rolled by. In the back was the figure of a small hobbit. Merry focused on the figure. No! Merry got to his feet and ran after the cart.

Pippin caught sight of his cousin running in the shadows. He looked up at the Shirrifs; neither seemed to be paying him any mind. He looked back out towards Merry and shook his head vigorously. The Second-Shirrif caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and turned round, “What are ye shakin’ yer head for?” The Shirrif peered into the darkness, but Merry caught his movement and leapt to the side of the road in the cover of the thickets. Merry's heart sank, realizing that his action cost him any ability to rescue Pippin. When the cart was too far to see in the darkness, Merry stood in road deciding what to do next. He indeed saw Pippin shaking his head--but did it mean to not follow him? Merry decided to take the signal exactly how he guessed Pippin intended it: “Don’t follow!”

Merry was already spent from his sprint alongside the cart yet he ran as fast as his burning lungs would allow back to where his older cousin waited. “Frodo!” He gasped, “Frodo! They got him!”

The knot in Frodo’s stomach tightened at seeing his cousin running up without Pippin following behind. “What happened?”

Merry went into where he followed Pippin inside his uncle’s crop fields and what he saw. “It’s all my fault, Frodo! I should have stayed with him!” He sat miserably on the ground with his head in his hands.

“No Merry, this is really my fault,” Frodo said, sitting down next to him. “I’m the adult hobbit who should be minding my younger cousins.” He slowly shook his head. “I‘ve never been very good at it, have I? I should have put my foot down with Pippin and said no more trespassing.”

Merry was very anxious, “What are we going to do now? I’ll be lucky if Uncle Paladin still calls me his nephew.”

Frodo looked up at the moon rising above the horizon; evening was getting on. “They must be taking him to Paladin,” Frodo said, “Let’s follow him to the Smials.”

The two hobbits gathered up all the packs and tied them together, then tied them across the pony’s back. Onward they trudged towards Tuckborough.

As they walked towards Great Smials, Merry’s mind was preparing for the meeting with his uncle. None of his speeches or alibis ended nicely. What was his uncle thinking? How did it feel to have your son brought home by the Shirrifs? Still, a couple miles away from Tuckborough, Merry was lost in his own thoughts and then was brought back to the present when he felt Frodo tug on his shirt. He asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Shhh--I hear something coming this way from around the corner,” Frodo replied, taking the pony into the shadows of the trees.

Sure enough, soon the sound of hooves came up from out of the darkness. Merry was peering into the void as a cloaked figure rode up from around the bend in the road. Rubbing his tired eyes, he imagined heard Frodo identify the rider.

“Pervinca Took!” Frodo cried, “What in the Shire, Lass, are you doing riding alone in the dark--and at this hour?”

Pervinca was sort of an unofficial member of Merry and Pippin’s band of friends. While she didn’t go tramping about the Shire, she did aid in their cover-ups, packed their provisions, or stitched up the rips and tears in their clothing so as not to risk being caught by their parents. When Pippin arrived home escorted by the Shirrifs, and no cousins in sight, Pervinca understood something went wrong with their plans. Pippin was never in this sort of trouble before, and she was concerned over her cousins as well. She saw Pippin glance in her direction as he passed by on his way to his room. Pervinca knew then that her cousins weren’t far behind...just not in sight as of yet. She nearly passed them by in the darkness; she carried no lantern with her. Pervinca stopped her pony and turned round, “I was looking for you!”

Frodo and Merry looked at each other. Merry asked, “Are you aware of Pippin?”

She looked from one cousin to the other. “Yes, I am,” she answered. “The Shirrifs brought him home half an hour ago. Father is incensed right now--don’t even think to talk to him tonight.”

“How is Pippin?” Merry ventured.

“He’s confined to his room. No visitors, messages, or letters because he won’t talk.”

“That’s what we’re riding to the Smials for--to talk,” offered Merry.

“As I said, Merry, not tonight. Here,” she handed Merry a sizable sack, “I’m guessing you’re both probably hungry. I’ll leave the trap door unlocked--the one next to the cellars. Merry knows the way.”

Merry took the sack she offered, “Thank you.”

Pervinca dropped her gaze. “I--I’ve got to get back,” she said, patting her pony’s neck. “Mother thinks I’m out in the stables grooming Sprinkles, here.”

“Wait!” Merry called after her, “Pervinca, if you get the chance to talk to Pippin, tell him we haven’t abandoned him. Please?”

With a sad smile, the teen nodded, “I will.” Pervinca turned her pony round, galloping back towards Great Smials.

* * * * * *

Merry and Frodo found the trap door unlocked just as Pervinca said. It was one of the many little doors that were used round the Smials as access doors for the storage rooms. It creaked loudly as Merry unlatched it and swung it open inside. Depending on which tunnel a trap door was accessing, it might open sideways to the wall of the tunnel, or as this one did, swing upwards near the ceiling. Merry led the way in, jumping down inside the tunnel. Once Frodo was safe inside, Merry took the burning candle out of the wall sconce and led the way down the passage.

Frodo looked about the dark, dusty old tunnel and whispered, “I’m glad you know your way around here.”

“When you live here on and off you get to know all the hidden crannies,” Merry said, smiling. He turned right at the corner and counted three doors, and on the fourth he stopped, putting his hand to the handle. “I have my own room in the my uncle’s tunnel, but I think I will wait until tomorrow when we meet with him first.” Merry opened the door, leading the way inside the room. It was filled with unwanted furniture: couches, chairs, tables, and desks. Merry headed for the couch in the centre. “This one’s mine!” He said as he hopped onto it.

“Why is that one your couch?” asked Frodo.

Merry squirmed about, trying to get comfortable, “Because I’m claiming it.”

“What happened to Brandybuck hospitality?”

“This isn’t Buckland, my friend. When in the Tooklands, one behaves like a Took!”

“You’d better be careful--my friend!” Frodo grinned in the dark, “You never know if this room is guarded by the spirit of the Old Took!”

Merry’s eyes snapped open; he raised his head and gazed about in the darkness.

“Sweet dreams!” Frodo smiled as he took one of the other dusty couches and fell asleep at once.

Merry lay awake tossing and turning for some time, but it wasn’t over spirits or the like. Merry was too old for such nonsense...or so he thought. He tossed and turned more times than he liked to count. All he could think about was his dear friend locked up in his room.

Before Merry realized it, morning had arrived. As there were no windows in a storage room, the only real way Merry knew it was morning was that he’d heard the hustle and bustle in the cellars next door. It was a normal occurrence at this time of the morning for the servants to enter the cellars and fetch breakfast items for the cooks.

Frodo awoke when he heard a knock at the door. Merry got up to answer it. He heard faint talking and whispers, then the door closing. “Who was that?” Frodo asked.

“She brought us breakfast,” Merry answered, laying a tray on a nearby table.

“Who?”

“Pervinca, silly.”

Frodo got up and padded over to the table. He indeed felt very hungry; he breathed in the aroma of flat-cakes and bacon. “She is a sweet lass, isn’t she?”

Merry was busy wiping off the table with an old rag that he found elsewhere in the room. He then sat down and prepared his own tea, letting Frodo satiate his appetite. After a few bites, Frodo set down his fork, “I’m too worried to eat.”

Merry sat watching the steam rising from his tea. “Me, too.”

“Do you think Paladin will be in his office by now?”

“No,” Merry answered. “Give him another hour or so. Though, I daresay he’d probably see us directly if he knew we were here.”

“No, no,” Frodo smiled nervously, “I wouldn’t want to disturb his time with his family.”

The more Merry thought about it, the more he wanted to be done with it. “I, for one, would like to get this waiting over with. Come with me!”

Chapter Ten - Facing the Music

“Merry!” Frodo called out as the pair walked briskly down the storage tunnel towards the main hallway. As Frodo caught up to his cousin he said, “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, Merry. He’s probably will not be in his office for a while yet--just as you said!”

Merry imagined his uncle just finishing up his breakfast and wiping his mouth with his linen. He saw in his mind’s eye his uncle giving Aunt Tina a kiss goodbye and then making his way to the main hallway towards his office--and smiling all the way, no doubt! “He knows,” Merry finally spoke.

“What do you mean?”

Merry repeated, “He knows.”

“Who knows?”

“He knows--Uncle Paladin! He knows we’re here.”

Frodo grabbed Merry by the arm and stopped him. “But that is nonsense. I thought you said something last night about--that he would see us directly ‘if he knew we were here’?”

“I know my uncle better than I know my own father,” answered Merry. “I should have realized it last night. He knows.”

Now Frodo was truly puzzled, “How?”

“I’ve had all night to think about it,” Merry said. “He knows in his heart that I would never abandon Pippin, so why would I start now?” Merry went on, his heart filled with guilt, “The sad part is, if Uncle Paladin thought for just one moment that I was in trouble out in the middle of the Shire, he would’ve sent a search party out by now. The only noise I’ve heard so far was the servants going in and out of the cellars.”

As they rounded the last corner, Frodo shook his head in despair, “Unfortunately, dear cousin, that does make any sense.”

“He waiting for us in his study, Frodo. I would venture to say that Auntie knows we’re here, too, but she’s quieter about knowing my plans than my uncle is, and I can usually sweet-talk Auntie into not punishing me so hard.”

Frodo was beginning to get a bit uneasy now. Was Paladin really that harsh? Though he was an adult, Frodo wouldn’t put it past Paladin to deal out some sort of sentence to him as well. He fingered with the golden trifle in his pocket as if he were making a most difficult decision. He asked, “What do you think the chances are of us meeting up with cousin Tina first?”

They had reached the door to the main tunnel when Frodo stopped Merry and asked, “What do you think Paladin will do? To you, I mean. Will he send you home, or send you to your room without lunch or supper?”

Merry leaned against the wall and sighed, “He has had every right to send me home in the past and hasn‘t done it yet. But I can already tell you he’s probably disappointed in me more than anything, and that is what’s really bothering me. Even though I spend more time at home now and with my own dad, it is still very important to me to know what Uncle Paladin thinks of me. And he knows that.” Merry let out a long breath, “So I know I can count on getting the same punishment as Pippin.”

Frodo slowly shook his head, “But he really shouldn’t be punishing you.”

“Why not? I’m still part of the family,” Merry said.

Frodo thought about the parallel he and his cousin’s lives had taken. Paladin had taken Merry into his heart and home just as sure as Bilbo had adopted him. Frodo had never really heard stories of Paladin being harsh in disciplining his children; on the contrary. Then again, he never had to worry before because he was never on the receiving end. He would trust Merry in this. He let go of the trinket in his pocket.

Having made their way to the main hallway, the hobbits quietly crept up to Paladin’s office door. It was open, as it always was unless he was in a meeting with his cousin, Thain Ferumbras III, or Addie. Merry peeked around the doorjamb to see if his uncle was at his desk.

Paladin was busy writing out something on his desk. He never once looked up. “Come in, Merry. Is Frodo with you?”

Merry came fully into the office, motioning behind him, “Um,...yes, sir.” Merry could still see Frodo in the hallway giving him the evil eye, but then followed him inside the office.

“Come in, lads, and sit down. I will be with you momentarily,” Paladin said, dipping his pen into the ink jar and then dabbed it onto the blotter. He signed his name in red ink on a document in front of him. “This,” he said as he blew the ink dry, “is a letter to my friend Will, the Mayor of Michel Delving. I let him know that we caught the scoundrel who was trespassing the crop fields from the East Farthing and making his way west.” His eyes raised up to meet theirs, “I had to tell him that it was my very own son.”

Merry and Frodo squirmed in their chairs. “But it--” Merry started, but shut his mouth when he saw the burning glare of his uncle.

“I am doing the speaking right now, Meriadoc.”

“Yes, sir,” Merry responded. Paladin rarely called Merry by his given name.

Merry and Frodo watched quietly as Paladin folded the parchment then put it inside an envelope. He then dripped a bit of melted wax onto the flap, sealing it by pressing it down with his own signet device. Again, using the ink jar, Paladin wrote the Mayor’s name and address on the front of the envelope. Paladin let out a sigh, “Done.” He then lay the envelope aside, folding his hands in front of him. “Now, to deal with you lads.”

“Deal with us?” Frodo stood up, “Lads? I--” He felt his cousin yank on his arm, dragging him back down into his seat. “Merry!”

“Don’t make it any worse,” Merry whispered to his cousin. Then Merry looked over to his uncle sitting in his high-back leather chair. He said, “I--I know you’re looking for an explanation….”

Paladin only arched his eyebrows. “What I should like to know, Merry, is how my fifteen-year-old son ended up in the East Farthing--without my leave,” he said, looking at Frodo. “I was told by his sister that the three of you were going on some sort of...walking party?”

Here is where Frodo interjected. “It was only for a couple days, cousin. As Pippin was already going to be in my care while visiting me, I thought there was no harm in his accompanying us.”

“No harm?” Paladin held his voice in check, “Pippin was supposed to be visiting you at Bag End, Frodo--not on some walking party fifty miles away. Anything more than a mere visit, you should have gotten mine or his mother’s permission first.”

Frodo swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“And Merry,” Paladin glowered at his nephew. “You know better as well.”

“Yes, sir,” was all Merry could say. He could see his uncle was deeply hurt. “I’m...it’s,” Merry’s eyes were downcast at his feet. He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“You have two choices here, Meriadoc, and I hope you choose wisely.” Merry looked up hopefully. Paladin continued, “You can either take the same punishment as your younger cousins, or you can gather your things and go back to Buckland.”

Merry didn’t have to think long on it at all; he loved this family and would take his punishment as well. Before he agreed with the terms of his sentence, he had to know about the other cousin. “Pervinca is being punished as well?”

Paladin leaned back in his chair, “Yes. It’s quite hard for one to groom a pony when the one who should be grooming the beast isn’t anywhere to be found--and neither is the pony!” He eyed Merry, “Did she come out to warn you of my temper last night?”

Merry sighed and looked uneasily at Frodo, “She did, Uncle.”

“All three of you will be confined to your rooms for two weeks, except for dinner, baths and such,” Paladin announced. “and I will allow a certain amount of letters and messages as your behaviour improves.”

Then he looked at his young cousin. “Frodo, I know you’re still finding your feet as your own Master, and I know you must long for Bilbo terribly. But your newly found independence doesn’t excuse you taking a young boy out tramping in the farthest reaches of the Shire--not without my permission.”

“Very well, cousin--but I meant no harm.”

Paladin softened a bit, “I know you didn’t, Frodo, but that is not the point. Pippin is my responsibility.” He held up the sealed envelope as proof. Someday soon when you have children of your own you will understand what I’m saying. Should--and I repeat, should I allow him to go on future walking parties, I will know about it in advance.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry, Paladin.”

“Very well, Cousin.” The slightest hint of a friendly smile appeared on Paladin’s face to ease Frodo a bit, “but I’m not finished yet.”

Paladin turned to Merry and became firm once more, “You may leave now to go to your room, son, but before you do, please do us all a favour and take a bath. Pippin was a sight when he was brought home yesterday, and you don’t look any better.” Frodo couldn’t help but smirk. “Lastly, you may want to write a letter to your mother and father telling them where you’ll be for the next two weeks--and why.”

As Merry got up from his chair he heard Frodo’s verdict, “and for you, Cousin Frodo,” Paladin continued, “I am afraid the rest of the summer will be lonely for you. As part of his punishment, Pippin will not be allowed to visit Bag End for the next two months because I will be keeping him very busy. If you wish to visit Pippin, you may do so after his two weeks are over, but you must know that he will already have a full schedule. After Merry is finished with his punishment, I cannot hold him back from wherever he wishes to go. But if I know my sister as I think I do, Merry will be kept busy as well.”

Merry sighed wearily, “When my Mum and Dad find out why I’m here, I’m certain I won’t be visiting anywhere for a while. Goodbye, Frodo.” Frodo got up to give his cousin a farewell hug, and as he did so, he slipped something into Merry’s pocket.

Chapter Eleven - Pervinca’s Treasure

Two Weeks and One Day Later...

Pim sat on the back of the wagon counting and weighing baskets of corn, tomatoes, carrots and anything else her father grew in his fields. She beckoned for the next worker to step up to the scale. “Come along now, Pippin! I don’t have all day!” She hid her smirk behind the tablet she was writing on.

“It seems to me that I do.” Pippin’s remark garnered laughs from his sister and cousin standing behind him.

“Actually, two of you have until the rest of summer,” Pim smiled triumphantly, earning scowls from her cousin and siblings. She added with mock concern for her cousin, “I’m sorry, Merry, your fun ends today. After today, from what I understand, Uncle Sara and Aunt Essie have more plans for you.”

Merry looked disdainfully at his cousin sitting upon the wagon, wiping sweat from his forehead. He mumbled something about this being the longest two weeks of his life.

Pimpernel glared at her brother, “It appears as though you’ve tried to bring the entire vine to market. Take all the stems off the tomatoes, Pippin.”

Pippin looked at his sister, “You’re joking, right?” He saw she wasn’t smiling. He shook his head in disbelief that his father would actually entrust the administration of his farm to this oppressor.

She scowled at him in return, “No, I am not joking.”

Pippin’s partners-in-crime were indignant. “Pippin!” they grumbled. Now Merry and Pervinca would have to wait until their errant counterpart cleaned off his tomatoes completely. They plopped down to the ground to wait. Both were hot, grimy, and sweaty...as was Pippin. The teenager sank to his knees, plucking the stems off of the tomatoes.

Pim waited for Pippin work several tomatoes and then said, “All right, Pip, I am half-joking!” Pippin halted for her next words. Pim waved her hand indicating for him to move to the side. “Take your basket over there and pick off what you can, then when I am finished with Merry and Pervinca, I will take your basket. But really, Pippin, you must leave as much of the vine on the plant as possible--so we can have more tomatoes for you to pick towards the end of summer!”

Now it was Pippin’s turn to be derisive. He sighed heavily as he pulled his basket off to the side, dramatically throwing the vines to the ground as he picked them off the produce.

Merry was next to step up and weigh his basket of corn. He watched as his older slowly shook her head, scribbling something on her tablet.

Merry wiped more sweat from his brow, “I suppose I should have shucked the corn before bringing it up here?”

Pim peered over her tablet at her cousin. “Don’t mock me, Merry. Allow me a little fun, will you? It’s not often I’m actually given permission to boss my brother and sister around.”

Pervinca interjected, “Not having permission has never stopped you before.”

Pim narrowed her eyes at her younger sibling, “For that, little sister...,” But Pim couldn’t keep from laughing at the expression on their faces, “you may all sit in the shade for a little while. You’ve all done well--even Pippin--though he nearly made us paupers by digging up the entire tomato plants.”

All three youths stared at their taskmaster. “I’m not joking this time--honest.” She laughed again, “You may all take a rest for a while--try that oak tree over there. The water cart shall be here any minute.” She was still smiling when she fell back to her writing.

Merry and Pervinca helped Pippin with the remaining stems then ambled slowly towards the tall oak tree, following other field workers that went ahead of them.

“Twenty five years old and she thinks she’s a gift sent by the Valar to count tomatoes,” Merry said sarcastically.

Pippin sat down and let himself drop backward in the comforting shade. “I’ve learned my lesson, how bout you?” He looked at Merry.

Pervinca spoke up before Merry could answer, “You two will never learn your lesson.”

Merry grinned, “How do you know?” He groaned as he also dropped back onto the cool, shaded ground.

“What’s that?” Pervinca saw a small object fall from Merry’s pocket.

Merry crinkled his brow, “What’s what?”

“That!” She pointed towards the object on the ground next to his pocket. “It’s beautiful.”

Merry looked to where she was pointing, and then saw it. He picked it up to show it to his friends. “I don’t know,” he said, holding it aloft. “I’m still trying to figure it out for myself.” It was a crystal, multi-sided shaped ball that fit in the palm of Merry’s hand.

“What’s inside it?” asked Pippin, noticing a peculiar light the little ball illuminated from within.

Merry held it out toward the sunlight where it almost became invisible, and then in the darker parts of the shade where it seemed to have a light all it’s own.

Pervinca gaped at it. “It’s magic--and it’s so pretty! Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t,” said Merry. “I think Frodo slipped it into my pocket when we said goodbye.”

“Where do you think he found it?” Pervinca’s curiosity was piqued; she loved “pretty rocks” such as these. If any more were to be found, she wanted to know what her prospects were to find one for herself.

Merry shrugged, “I don’t think Frodo found it, either.” He gave Pippin a side-glance. “I, um...I think it was given to him.”

“Given to him? By whom?”

“Pervinca!” Pippin chided his sister, “You’re being nosy again. It’s none of our business.”

“I’m being nosy? I’ll wager as soon as my back is turned, you’ll ask Merry the same question.” Pervinca sighed; she felt as though she would never see another pretty rock like this one. “I’m sorry, Merry. I only wanted to know.”

Merry thought about it as he weighed the little ball in his hand. It was indeed a pretty thing, but where would he be able to keep such a lovely gift so safe? He was afraid that between Brandy Hall, Bag End, and Great Smials the beautiful stone would be lost.

“Here.” Merry took Pervinca’s hand, upturned it, then dropped the little crystalline ball into her palm.

Her eyes went wide. She looked up at Merry, “Y-you’re giving this to me?”

“Merry!” Pippin’s own jaw dropped.

“Yes,” he said. “My birthday is next month and I’ve decided to give you an early gift.”

Pervinca, mouth gaping open, then clutched the little ball and embraced her cousin, “Thank you! Thank you, Merry!” She opened her palm to survey the wonderful, clear object. So lovely it looked! “I shall treasure it forever,” she said, kissing his cheek.

Merry knew Pervinca meant it when she said a gift would be treasured. He knew then that it would be kept safe forever.

In later months and years, Merry and Pippin would often talk to Frodo about his strange trip...and his strange gift. But Frodo would only smile and say nothing. Perhaps Frodo did visit Elves, but it wouldn’t be until the autumn of S.R. 1418 that they would know for sure.

~~~ THE END ~~~