The water was warm, comforting, and the baby sitting in the washbasin gurgled and laughed merrily as he splashed his hands. Red-gold curls plastered themselves to skin that was as soft as a rose petal to the touch, obscuring green eyes that twinkled joyously up at the cousins bathing him.

“Careful, Merry,” Frodo whispered gently, placing a hand on his young cousin’s shoulder. “Make sure you don’t let his head go under.”

“I know, Frodo,” Merry answered, his attention on the tiny form chortling under his hands as he tenderly wiped the washcloth along chubby baby arms. “I’ve watched Aunt Egg do this lots of times.”

“Good lad,” Frodo smiled, reaching past Merry to tickle his youngest cousin under the arm that was currently being washed, eliciting a small giggle and a squirm that had water splashing up into all three of their faces.

For a moment, Pippin blinked up at his cousins in confusion, the water in his eyes making them appear slightly blurry. Then a soft hand stroked the hair from his face, and a warm, velvety cloth briefly touched his eyes, and the beloved faces were clear once more. He smiled his toothless grin up at Frodo, who could only laugh at the delight on the tiny face.

“I have never seen a baby smile so much,” Frodo murmured to himself, watching as Merry carefully dipped the cloth in the warm water and rinsed Pippin’s back and tummy.

“I think he’s been in long enough, Frodo, he’s starting to look like Great Aunt Delphinium’s hands,” Merry said, holding up one of Pippin’s tiny feet.

The elder hobbit could not suppress his chuckle, and smiled down at Merry. “All right then,” he laughed, picking up the thick towel from where it hung by the side of the basin. He handed it to Merry, who watched with a proprietary eye as Frodo gently lifted Pippin from the bathwater.

“Bbbvvv!” Pippin burbled, blowing tiny spit bubbles at his cousin. Frodo laughed down at him taking the towel Merry handed him and wrapping the precious bundle up in it.

“He loves baths,” Merry said wisely, tickling a slightly pruned foot. Pippin squealed and kicked, laughing.

“So do I, Merry –lad, so do I!” Frodo chuckled, tenderly patting down the warm, soft flesh. “Now, what say we get this young fellow dressed and see what your mother has for tea, shall we?”

It was hard to say who was more delighted just then, for all three cousins wore identical smiles.

The water was warm and comforting, and it eased some of the pain along Pippin’s aching ribs. He knew without doubt that it was Merry who wiped his skin down, gentle hands smoothing the wet cloth across bruised and hurting flesh.

As Merry did so, memories arose in his mind, of a time and place far away from the sounds of battle and the smell of blood. His mind was filled with the images of a Pippin small enough to fit snuggly in his arms, who gazed up at him with eyes filled with laughter and delight. Of a Pippin squealing in happiness as his cousins bathed his tiny body, the two of them talking about the important things that mattered the most to an 8-year-old hobbit lad as they worked.

As Merry gently stroked the damp curls from Pippin’s eyes, he could not help but think of the numerous times he had done so, as far back as when his cousin was barely old enough to crawl.

He soaked the cloth again in the basin by the cot, unaware as he did so of the eyes of his friends watching from a distance. Gently he used the warm, soapy washcloth on the arms that still trembled if held aloft too long, and wiped with utmost care around the bandage on Pippin’s forehead, all the while talking soothingly.

“Do you know that Frodo was the first one who helped me bath you?” Merry whispered into a pointed ear, laying a gentle kiss on the tip. “And that you were so happy to be in the water you could not stop laughing. You have always loved your baths, haven’t you, dearest? It won’t be long until you can take a proper one, and then we shall all be wet, no doubt, and laughing with you.”

Tenderly he moved the cloth down to scarred and still sensitive feet, using extra care not to tickle. Pippin smiled sleepily up at him as he did so, knowing what a difficult task he had.

“I remember how Frodo would take you out of the water, and we would wrap you up in a big, thick towel, and you would laugh, until anyone who was about could not but join in, and then I would tickle your foot, and everything would be all right with the world.”

As Merry went to move, he heard a soft intake of breath, and knew what Pippin was asking. He smiled, gently using one finger to tickle the spot beneath Pippin’s big toe, just for a moment.

“Merry?” Pippin whispered hoarsely, smiling.

“Yes, dearest?” Merry asked, looking up.

“Everything is all right with the world.” And Pippin laughed again, until none could doubt the truth to his words.