“Now, lads, you must remember to keep him warm,” the plump, rosy-cheeked hobbit told the two cousins before her, even as she diligently wrapped a scarf about her small son’s neck, ignoring his rolled eyes and exaggerated grimaces.  “And don’t keep him up too late, as he is still very young and needs his sleep.  And remember to give him his tonic, I don’t want him coming down with the sniffles so soon after – well, I just don’t,” she finished firmly, eyes moving from her son to stare at his eldest cousin seriously.

            Frodo nodded in agreement, winking at the youngster next to him when his Aunt turned her back for a moment to grab Pippin’s cloak.  Pippin smiled up at him, bouncing in his impatience to be off.

            “Now, Merry,” Eglantine said when she turned back, eyes sharp as they turned to her nephew.  “You know his proper bedtime, and even though I expect he will stay up a bit past it, I want you to do your best in putting him down at a proper time.  Don’t let him sit too near the fire, you know the smoke aggravates his throat, but be certain he stays warm.”

            “Yes, Aunt Eggie,” Merry replied obediently, tugging his pack more firmly in place. 

            “We’ll make sure he’s all right, Aunt,” Frodo assured her, smiling his most charming smile as he helped Pippin to adjust his own travelling pack.  “We’ll have him back in two days, safe and sound.”

            “I know, Frodo,” Eglantine murmured, absently licking her palm and smoothing down some of her son’s errant curls, ignoring his plaintive protests.  “But I’m his mother, and it’s my duty to worry.”

            Finally pleased with Pippin’s appearance, she stepped away from the three soon to be travellers and smiled at the sight of them. 

            “All right, you three, I suppose I can let you go now.  Just be careful, and take care of each other,” she cautioned, placing a kiss on each of their brows before opening the front door for them, watching as they filed out.

            “Bye, Mummy!” Pippin said as he passed, holding Merry’s hand firmly as they headed down the path toward the road.  “See you soon!”

            “Bye-bye, Love!” she called back, waving.  She stood for a moment more in the warmth of the summer evening, watching with a smile until the three of them disappeared.

            Only after they were out of sight did her smile fade and she turned to re-enter the suddenly all too quiet smial.

            “All right, Pip-lad?” Frodo asked cheerfully as they crested another small hill, the Great Smials out of sight in the hills behind them. 

            “Oh, yes, Frodo!” Pip exclaimed a bit breathlessly, grinning so wide his cousins could almost count his teeth. 

            Merry grinned down at the 10-year old still holding his hand, giving it a little squeeze as they started down the hill towards the little stream that could be heard bubbling amongst the trees.  Though they had travelled for close to an hour, the long dusk of summer had only just begun to fall.  

            “Now, Pippin,” Frodo said as they walked slowly down the slope, “you must tell us if you become too tired, or if you start to not feel well, all right?”

            “All right, Frodo, but I’m fine, truly!” Pippin assured them both, hopping a little to prove his point.  “It’s been ever so long since I was sick, and I feel fine, now, really!”

            Merry met his older cousin’s eyes for a moment, neither one of them saying what both were thinking: it had only been three months since Pippin had recovered from the Winter Sickness, and less time than that since he had been allowed away from his mother’s worried gaze. 

            “I’m glad, Pippin,” Merry answered, squeezing the little hand once more.  “After all, we want you to enjoy your first overnight outing.”

            “Oh, I am, Merry, I am!” Pippin said happily, releasing his cousin long enough to skip ahead of Frodo, then waiting patiently for them to catch up, immediately taking Merry’s hand once more. 

            Frodo laughed at his antics, reaching out to take Pippin’s other hand, and the three of them walked thus for quite a distance.  Little did their young cousin realize that, had he known the way, in less than a quarter hour he could have found himself back at the Great Smials.  As it was, they continued to walk in a wandering, circuitous route that seemed to take them further and further abroad than they truly were. 

            It was only when Pippin started to yawn, with the moon full overhead and the stars shooting across the black velvet of the sky that they decided to stop.

            “Why don’t you see if you can gather us some wood, Pippin, while Merry and I set up the camp?” Frodo asked, knowing full well that there was plenty of dry wood to be found within sight of their stopping point.  “And stay away from the stream, it may seem shallow, but the current can be faster than you realize.”

            “All right!” Pippin agreed heartily, skipping away to gather the wood. 

            “And stay within sight of us!” Merry called after him, watching anxiously as the little bundle of energy darted about the outskirts of the clearing they had chosen. 

            “He’ll be fine, Merry,” Frodo reassured gently, starting to dig through their packs in search of food for a late night snack.  “Let him burn some of that energy off before he goes to sleep.”

            “I know.  It’s just – well – I’m still rather amazed that Aunt Egg let us take him out,” he confessed, starting to lay out their sleep mats and blankets, placing Pippin’s closest to where the fire would soon be, and making sure that they would be sleeping upwind from any smoke. 

            “The healers want Pippin to get as much fresh air as possible, to help his lungs heal,” Frodo whispered, watching as the hobbit in question came bounding up to them, arms filled with several long, thin branches that were perfect for fire making. 

            “Very good, Pippin!” Frodo praised, eyeing the bundle.  “Can you find us a few more armloads like this?”

            “Of course!” Pippin chirped, laying the firewood at Frodo’s feet.  They watched as he skipped off again.

            “So the healers suggested this?” Merry asked, also in a lowered voice as he moved to help Frodo prepare their food.

            “Yes.  When they told Aunt Eglantine that fresh air and exercise would do wonders for his health, she wrote to me and asked if I would be willing to take Pippin out on this little excursion.  It must have been very hard for her to write that letter,” Frodo added thoughtfully.

            “Mum received a letter, too, asking if I would be able to come with you, and of course she could not say no,” Merry said, grinning.  “After all, I am his favorite cousin,” he added cheekily.

            “Funny, that’s what he said about me,” Frodo mused, eyes twinkling. 

            “He did not,” Merry sputtered.

            “Yes he did,” Frodo taunted, smiling widely.  “Of course, it was right after I told him we were going to sleep out of doors, so that might have had something to do with it.”

            Merry probably would have said more, but Pippin returned just then with another armload of wood, panting slightly as he set it down on top of the previous pile.

            “Here, Pip, why don’t I help you with that next load, and by the time we get back Frodo will have a nice, toasty fire going for us?” Merry suggested. 

            “All right,” Pippin agreed, grinning.

            Frodo watched the two of them set about their task with a fond smile before turning to his own chore, and, true to Merry’s promise, had the fire going by the time they returned. 

            By then, both older hobbits could see that the excitement of the day was starting to take its toll, and it was much later than Pippin was usually allowed to stay up.

            “All right, Pippin, a little snack, a quick tale, and then tonic and time for bed,” Frodo declared.

            “Aww, but Frodo –“ Pippin protested bravely even as he fought off a yawn.

            “No arguments,” Frodo said firmly, staking three pieces of bread on separate pieces of wood for them to toast.  “Now, which tale would you like to hear?” he asked, handing them their sticks.

            “The one about the trolls!” Pippin immediately said, scooting closer to the fire.

            “All right,” Frodo agreed, laughing, and started the story.

            Several pieces of toast and jam later, Pippin was nodding off, his chin touching his chest only to jerk quickly upward again. 

            “All right, Pip-dearest, time for your tonic and then bed,” Frodo announced, digging around his pack before producing a small, dark bottle.

            “Do I have to?” Pippin whined, eyeing the bottle with loathing. 

            “Yes,” Merry and Frodo replied together.

            His sigh seemed to come from the bottom of his toes as he took the required spoonful, grimacing and making a terrible, cat-with-a-hairball sound. 

            “Is it really that bad?” Merry asked sympathetically, even as he tried to stifle his laughter at the strange noise.

            “Smell it!” Pippin gasped, motioning with his hand.

            Merry shrugged, taking the bottle from Frodo and taking a large whiff of the contents.  Several moments later he was finally able to stop coughing and glare at Frodo, who was practically rolling on the ground with laughter.

            “You smell it!” he ordered, handing the bottle back to his older cousin, eyeing Pippin with far more sympathy.  “It must be absolutely ghastly!”

            Frodo acquiesced, there being little choice with both his cousins glaring at him.  Unlike Merry, however, he sniffed the bottle tentatively, though his reaction was much the same as Merry’s.

            “See!” Pippin crowed, smiling widely at their watering eyes.  “And I have to drink it!”

            “And that you are able to do so is truly astounding,” Frodo gasped, quickly sealing the dreadful bottle back up and burying it deeply in his pack.  “Goodness, Pip, how do you manage to keep it down?”

            “Because I know that I would have to take it again if I threw it up,” Pippin answered with the wisdom of a 10 year old who had seen more than his share of medicines and tonics.  

            “Ick,” Merry answered, shuddering.  “Well, I say a quick drink of water, and then to bed, for all of us.”

            “Agreed,” Frodo answered, and after they had all drunk enough to wash away the taste and smell of the concoction they settled down to sleep.

            For a few moments Frodo watched his little cousin snuggle under his blankets, asleep almost before he was entirely positioned, and smiled to himself.  Though it had been a long day for them all, it was some time still before he himself drifted off to sleep, watching the heavens and counting the shooting stars that passed over them before fading into the nothingness of night.

            “Pippin, don’t move!”

            The urgency in Frodo’s voice was enough to freeze the young hobbit where he stood, turning large, startled eyes to his oldest cousin. 

            “Oh, Pippin, whatever you do, please, please, do not move!” Merry whispered, the both of them staring at something behind and to Pippin’s left.

            “What is it?” he hissed, trying to speak without moving his lips.  Something in the manner in which both of his cousins were standing told him that whatever lurked behind him was terrible indeed. 

            Had trolls come to the Shire?  Or a Dragon, perhaps?  What if it were something that had never been seen before?

            “Frodo!” he hissed, gritting his teeth as a sudden itch formed on his right ankle

“Don’t MOVE!” Frodo gritted out, himself standing perfectly still.  “Pippin, whatever you do, do not move a muscle!”

            Both of their eyes widened suddenly, and Pippin could tell they were fighting the urge to rush towards him.  Something brushed up against his calf, startling a squeak out of him before he could suppress it, and when he looked down he realized the cause for all the fear. 

            A badger, larger than any he had ever seen, was looking up at him warningly, teeth bared and sniffing his leg.  He bit his lip to keep from crying out, as still as he had ever been in his life.

            “Frodo,” he whimpered, turning pleading eyes to his cousin.

            “Just.  Stay.  Put,” Frodo whispered. 

            After the longest moment of his life, the badger finally decided that this creature was not interesting enough to bother with, and turned around, heading back into the woods.  When it was a good ten meters away, the three of them, without word of consultation, burst into a full out sprint in the opposite direction, running as fast as their legs would carry them.

            “And then – then –“ Pippin gasped, fighting for breath as he continued to laugh.  “Your face, Merry!”

            Merry, too, was laughing, clutching his sides as the three of them set about making camp for the second night, each grinning at other and giggling at odd moments as the fear from before faded. 

            “Frodo, that is the last shortcut we take this journey!” Merry said firmly between giggles.

            “Agreed,” said Frodo, shaking so hard with laughter that he fumbled with lighting the fire. 

            “Oi, if all adventuring is like this, I can’t wait to go on one again!” Pippin crowed. 

            Finally the fire was lit, and the three of them contented themselves with preparing their supper, dining on fresh mushrooms they had discovered earlier and ripe blackberries and apples.  Frodo once more placed thick slices of bread on sticks, and they toasted these over the fire and then slathered them with jam. 

            “Are you ready for the return trip tomorrow, Pip?” Merry asked fondly, watching his little cousin blink lazily at the fire.

            “I suppose,” Pippin sighed, frowning into the flames.  “Though I wish we could stay out longer.”

            “Next time, Dearest,” Frodo soothed, absently running a hand through thick, golden curls. 

            “Promise?” Pippin whispered, laying his head sleepily into Frodo’s lap.

            “Promise,” Frodo agreed, wrapping an arm around the small form.  “Now try to get some sleep, we have a long trip back tomorrow.”

            “So we are going the long way again?” Pippin murmured sleepily.

            Frodo and Merry exchanged a startled look.

            “What do you mean, Pippin?” Merry asked gently.

            “I know that you could not take me very far from the Smials, but I am glad that we took the long way instead of coming straight here,” Pippin mumbled, eyes closed as sleep began to overtake him.  “It made it…ever so…much…fun.”

            Frodo placed a tender kiss to that innocent brow, and when he looked up his eyes were strangely damp.

            Merry met his gaze, his own eyes suspiciously wet, and smiled a bit tremulously. 

            “I suppose we should have known he would catch on,” he finally whispered.

            “Yes, our Pippin is very smart, isn’t he?” Frodo asked, gently moving said young hobbit over to his sleeping mat and covering him with a blanket.   “Perhaps, when he is a bit older, we shall take him farther away, and then it shall truly be an adventure.”

            “I don’t know, Frodo,” Merry sighed, lying down as he turned twinkling eyes to his cousin.  “That badger was quite enough adventure for me.”

            The last sound he heard as he drifted off to slumber was Frodo’s delighted laughter.

            Rough orcish hands threw him to the ground, driving the air from his lungs as he found himself staring blurrily up into the heavens.  Beside him he could hear Merry’s ragged breathing and knew his cousin was just as frightened.

            “Merry,” he whispered, afraid to draw the orcs’ attention.

            “Yes, Pip?” Merry whispered back, voice hoarse and scared.

            “I do not think I like the long way any more.”

            There was a moment of silence as his cousin tried to decipher what he meant, and then a small, strangled sound that was supposedly a chuckle. 

            “No, Pip, neither do I,” he finally agreed. 

            There was another moment of silence, in which harsh orc voices assaulted their ears and grated on their nerves. 

            “Merry?” Pippin asked again, striving for something that would drive away those horrible sounds, if only for a few moments.

            “Yes, Pippin?” Merry answered, sounding weary.

            “Help me count the shooting stars.”

So the two of them lay there, trying to be as invisible as possible, willing the orcs to ignore them for a few seconds more as they watched the heavens and tried to count the number of stars that fled across the sky. 

 And Pippin could only think that this, as with so many things, had been easier when he was younger, and adventuring was walking hand and hand with his cousins, and the greatest dangers to be faced were unfriendly badgers. 

“Merry?” he whispered once more, knowing his cousin was fighting to stay awake.

“Yes, Pip?” “You don’t suppose they have any badgers they’re hiding, do you?  We might run a bit faster if they did.”

Another long pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of his cousin’s muffled laughter.

“You know, Pip, I think we might,” he finally managed to get out.

Nothing more was said between the two of them as they tried to gather their strength, but Pippin managed to wriggle his body around so their hands were touching, their fingers entwined, and once more, as he had ever since he could remember, he felt that strong grip squeeze his fingers gently.

And knew that everything was going to be all right, so long as they never let go.