Chapter 1- Merry’s First, Frodo’s Last

“No, Merry, you can’t come. That is my final word on the subject.”

Little Merry’s face dropped in disappointment as Frodo delivered his final edict. Such a sombre look on the lad’s face struck at Frodo’s heart. Such a little lad, he was. No lad that size should really be tagging along with Frodo everywhere. Frodo scrunched his face up, thinking hard. Perhaps he was ready. Just maybe he could tag along this time. After all, Frodo had been younger than Merry when he first started. Perhaps it was time to show Merry how to sneak into Farmer Maggot’s fields.

With a sigh, Frodo knelt down in front of the small, pouting lad. “Merry.”

Merry didn’t look up.

“Merry, listen to me. Will you promise me to be careful?”

Merry looked up, hope dawning in his bright blue eyes.

“You have to follow my orders, yes?”

Hope seemed to be expanding the lad’s chest, as his eyes grew wider. “Oh, yes, Frodo! I promise!”

“You know where we’re going, don’t you?”

Merry nodded. “To Farmer Maggot’s fields,” he answered promptly.

For a moment, Frodo felt a little guilty exposing such an innocent lad to the time honoured tradition of “borrowing” Farmer Maggot’s crop. He knew that Merry’s innocence would not last forever, and sooner or later he would test Farmer Maggot’s patience. If Frodo did not teach the lad the proper way to slip away from Farmer Maggot now, he'd soon get himself into more trouble than he could probably handle. The feeling of guilt soon passed when Frodo remembered his own first exploits towards Farmer Maggot. Most of his first attempts ended with Frodo face to face with those vicious dogs Farmer Maggot kept. He couldn’t let that happen to his little Merry.

“Alright, lad,” Frodo said. “Let’s go. Get your coat, but not your cloak. Never go to Farmer Maggot’s wearing your cloak.”

“Alright!” Merry bounded off eagerly to retrieve his coat.

Frodo retrieved his own coat and waited for Merry outside the front door. Soon, Merry bounded out of the smial, and swung himself on his older cousin’s arm.

Not long after, the cousins were crossing hills topped with emerald trees and coated in warm sunflowers. Merry, just happy to be out of the close smial, ran through the flowers, scattering soft petals and butterflies to the wind. Frodo was content to just watch his little cousin’s happiness spill over. As they neared Farmer Maggot’s fields, however, Frodo became more cautious and called Merry over to him.

“Now, Merry,” he began. “You must be quiet. If Farmer Maggot catches us, he’ll set his dogs loose on us. We don’t want that.” Merry couldn’t tell, but Frodo was deathly afraid of those dogs. He had faced their fangs one too many times, but he was not willing to give up the mushrooms just because of a few dogs.

Merry’s boundless energy could barely be curbed. He bounced eagerly, but as quietly as a hobbit-lad could, on the balls of his feet. “Sure, Frodo! I’ll be quiet!” he squeaked out in a whisper.

Frodo nodded in approval. Merry gripped Frodo’s hand tighter as they sneaked underneath a fence. Merry wanted to climb over it to test his courage against his fear of heights, but Frodo would not let him. “No, that would make you too high; Farmer Maggot might see you!”

“Oh. Sorry Frodo.”

Frodo squeezed Merry’s hand to show there was no harm done. Carefully, oh so carefully, they crept forward. Just a little ways in front of them were the cornfields. Frodo led the way into one of the rows, avoiding the stalks so as not to make them sway as he passed. Merry, watching closely, noticed this and kept to the very middle of the row. Frodo kept a firm hand on Merry’s, willing the lad to stay quiet. He needn’t have worried. Merry was a silent as a mouse at midnight. Merry started to worry a little. He couldn’t see where they were going, and each corn stalk looked the same as the last. Did Frodo know where he was going?

Just as Merry’s fears nearly made him speak, Frodo led them out of the field and into and open space, flecked with rows upon rows of vegetables. Merry’s little eyes widened at the sight of the garden. Lettuce, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, asparagus, celery, tomatoes, and spinach. Just about everything any hobbit would love to eat. “Oh!” Merry whispered. “Oh, Frodo, look!”

Frodo nearly laughed at the lad’s reaction. “I know, Merry-lad. Why do you think I wanted to come here?”

“Oh,” was all Merry could say.

Frodo let Merry look for a moment longer, then he knelt before his young cousin. “Now, Merry. We have to be very, very careful, alright?”

“Why, Frodo? There’s no one here!”

“You see over there?” Frodo pointed past the sumptuous garden to a smial almost uncomfortably close to the garden. “That’s Farmer Maggot’s home. If he looks out one of the windows-“ and there were many windows facing the garden “-he might spot us and set the dogs on us. We don’t want that to happen.”

“Oh.” Merry thought for a moment. “No, that wouldn’t be fun, to have dogs chasing us, would it, Frodo?”

“No, not fun at all!” Frodo smiled. He took Merry’s hand again and led him towards the garden, watching the windows carefully and being as quiet as possible. Soon they were surrounded by Farmer Maggot’s prized vegetables. “What do you think we’ll need, Merry?”

Merry’s eyes were even wider now he was in the garden. “Oh, Frodo! Do you think we could have some tomatoes?”

“Of course!” Frodo said. They started gathering, whispering to each other careful of the windows. Merry’s arms were soon full of tomatoes and lettuce with carrots and cucumbers sticking out of his pockets. Frodo’s pockets were full of radishes, tomatoes and potatoes while his arms were filled with celery stalks and asparagus.

“Frodo! Frodo, look! Mushrooms!” Merry said excitedly.

Frodo smiled. “Good, lad! Pick some! We can have some for dinner!” He came over to where Merry was stuffing his arms with the delicious looking mushrooms. “Here, let me help.” Frodo started to help Merry harvest the mushrooms, taking his attention away from the smial.

“Hey! What you doin’?” came a very irate and loud voice from one of the smial’s windows. “Outta my garden, you!”

Frodo and Merry froze for a mere second at the sound of Farmer Maggot’s voice and the ensuing barking from his dogs.

“Run!” Frodo said breathlessly. He wasn’t about to tell Merry, but this was truly the fun part, escaping Farmer Maggot’s dogs by little more than inches. He and Merry were soon running through the corn stalks. Merry panicked for a moment, realizing he couldn’t see the end of the corn, but then he realized that if he just went straight, he wouldn’t get lost. He ran straight, Frodo right behind him. “Don’t stop, Merry! Just keep running, no matter what!”

Farmer Maggot’s yells and protests were growing louder by the second. Merry kept running, just like Frodo said. Keep running, he thought. Keep running. Keep running. The fence! He could see the fence, they were almost there. Almost- He flew through the fence, tumbling on the other side, and squashing his tomatoes, he was sure. “We made it, Frodo!” he squeaked, excited and frightened and happy all at once. No wonder the older lads thought this was fun! “That was close, wasn’t it, Frodo? Frodo? Frodo!”

Frodo was nowhere near Merry and could not hear his little cousin’s panicked yells. He was far more engrossed in the belt that Farmer Maggot was wielding. “This’ll be the last time I put up with this! Hope you understand me loud an’ clear, Mr. Baggins! Turn ‘round!”

Frodo, terrified, did as he was told and faced the fierce dogs who had been guarding him from behind. Knowing what was coming, Frodo squinted his eyes shut. He let out a terrified, pained yelp as the end of the belt found his rear. After a few more slashes with the belt, Farmer Maggot made Frodo stand close to the dogs. “See, lads,” he said to the dogs, “next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!” Giving Frodo a boot on his already sore rear, he set the lad flying as fast as he could to the borders of Farmer Maggot’s lands, the dogs yelping and nipping at his heals. As Frodo ran for dear life, he did not hear Farmer Maggot chuckling as he retrieved the scattered “groceries” he had divested of Frodo. “Will those lads never learn!” Farmer Maggot laughed as he watched as his obedient dogs escorted Frodo to the edge of the good farmer’s property, never harming the lad.

Frodo kept running. He wouldn’t stop, even when he heard the baying of the dogs fall away to the wind rushing in his ears. He just kept running. At least until he heard a frightened, surprised, “Frodo!” and bowled over a small someone in his path. “Frodo, Frodo, Frodo! I thought you’d gotten eaten!” Merry said, hugging his older cousin happily.

“I did,” Frodo said quietly, still wide eyed and frightened. Merry didn’t hear him.

Excitement and expectancy lit up the small hobbit-lad’s face as he looked up at Frodo, full of trust and happiness. “Oh, Frodo! When can we go back and do that again?”

Frodo simply shook his head and knew he’d never go back into Farmer Maggot’s garden for all the gold, silver, mithril, jewels and mushrooms in the world.

Chapter 2- Pippin’s First, Maggot’s Mushrooms

“No, Peregrin, you can’t come. That is my final word on the subject.”

Pippin’s small, innocent, Tookish face fell. Small sniffles of disappointment issued from the little lad. A big, shiny tear appeared at the corner of his eye and Merry sighed in defeat and exasperation. Would this tiniest of cousins ever stop wrangling Merry’s heart?

“Alright, Pip. All right! You can come.” Pippin’s head came up and pride filled his eyes where tears had stood not moments before.

“I knew I was big enough, Merry!” he said, his childish voice squeaking with enthusiasm. “You knew really I wasn’t too small, didn’t you?”

“Oh, sure, Pip. You’re just the right size.” In reality, Merry was a little uncertain. Granted, Pippin was just the same age as Merry was on that first trip, but he was quite a bit smaller than Merry had been. He knew that Pippin would test how far he could go at some point in time, and Merry did not want Pippin to do that alone. Best to show Pippin just how to borrow vegetables from Farmer Maggot before his young curiosity got Pippin into more trouble than he could handle.

“Oh good!” Pippin’s full-blown enthusiasm was almost catching. “I was really hoping you’d show me, Merry. Didn’t Frodo show you? Was it fun? Is it really as fun as Beri says? He says he’s done it, you know. Has he? Is it scary?”

“Pippin!” Merry interrupted, trying to stay the flood of questions streaming from the youngster. “Yes, Frodo showed me my first time. Yes, it was fun. If Beri’s been to Farmer Maggot’s garden, I’ll be truly surprised and, no, it isn’t really all that scary.”

“Oh, good. Is it far, Merry? Does Farmer Maggot really chop off the fingers of the lads he catches? Are his dogs-“

“Enough, Pippin,” Merry said, cutting off the lad’s inquisition. “Now, first thing’s first- wait a moment, did you say something about Farmer Maggot cutting off fingers?”

Pippin, biting his lip to keep from talking, nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s not right at all! Farmer Maggot might threaten, but I doubt seriously he’d harm a hair on anyone’s head. Not really, anyway.” Merry wondered briefly where the rumour had started, but soon turned his attention away from the rumour’s beginning and turned to the eager hobbit-lad standing before him. “Now, Pippin. Go get your coat. Not your cloak, though! You never, ever go to Farmer Maggot’s garden with a cloak. If you have to run, it’ll just hinder you rather than help.”

“Alright, Merry!” With that, Pippin rushed down the hallway to his room and in no time, he was standing in front of Merry, proudly sporting his coat, buttoned and everything. The buttons were mostly in the wrong holes, causing the jacket to rest crookedly on the lad’s shoulders. Merry, shaking his head, knelt in front of his cousin and started to re-button the abused garment. Pippin protested loudly at first, but after a severe glare from Merry, he subsided, realizing his excursion into unknown territory was in jeopardy if he pushed too far. Silently, but grumpily, Pippin allowed his older cousin to fix the coat. Once the buttons were in the correct holes and Pippin was looking a little neater, Merry took down the lad’s favourite scarf and gently tied it around Pippin’s neck.

“Now, listen.” Merry gave Pippin a sharp stare, one that told Pippin he’d better listen or he was not going. “You’ve got to mind me, alright? If I say to do something, you do it, understand?”

“Yes, Merry.” Pippin’s voice was bordering on exasperation. That wasn’t good enough for Merry.

“Pippin?” Merry’s tone was lower and more serious. “No running away from me unless I order you to, no wandering off, and no pranks. Not today; we’re playing this prank together on Farmer Maggot.”

“I know, Merry!” Pippin was bouncing with impatience.

“You’ll have to be quiet when I tell you.”

“Mmm-hmm!” Pippin said, nodding.

“And run when I tell you.”

“Sure!”

“And not laugh when I say.”

“Of cour- what?” Pippin asked, confused.

“No laughing!” Merry warned playfully. Pippin was still a little confused. “Oi, Pip! What’s that?” Merry pointed towards the open, empty doorway and the moment the small hobbit lad was looking away, Merry went for Pippin’s most vulnerable tickle spot. There was an ear splitting shriek that turned into laughter, which rebounded through the smial. Grinning, Merry ceased and swept Pippin up on his shoulders. Making for the door, Merry said: “Pippin, I said no laughing!” That only made the young Took giggle harder.

It was a glorious day. The sun was shining brightly through a few scattered clouds that posed no threat to the adventurous lads. The hills were a bright green, flecked here and there by late sunflowers. A few birds circled around the sky, diving playfully, enjoying the last vestiges of summer. Both lads started laughing and singing to each other. All were songs they had learned from Frodo or Bilbo. Merry even knew a dwarvish song that Bilbo had taught him. Something about mountains and gold and jewels, and a dragon that stole it all.

“Merry?” Pippin asked when the dwarvish tune was finished.

“Pip?”

“Can we go adventuring sometime? I mean a real adventure. You know, like what Cousin Bilbo did.”

Merry considered this for a moment. “I don’t see why not.” He swung Pippin off his shoulders and stood him carefully on the soft grass. “Now, here is where Farmer Maggot’s fields start. We have to be very quiet so we aren’t caught, right?”

“Right!”

Merry entered the tall cornstalks carefully, followed by an anxious and very excited Pippin. Merry stayed to the centre of the row, careful not to cause the stalks to sway and betray his presence. Pippin followed his example, though he was more interested in getting to the garden fast, rather than worrying about subtlety. Slowly, ever so slowly, the emerged from the row of corn to see-

“The garden!” Pippin said in wonder, in his normal tone.

“Shh-sh!” Merry said for a panicked moment.

“Sorry, Merry,” Pippin whispered, abashed, though his wide eyes were still captivated by the very large garden below them. He never even saw the smial sitting on the far edge of the garden. Not until Merry pointed it out to him. “What’s that, Merry?”

“That’s Farmer Maggot’s home. And see all those windows? We’ve got to be very careful so he doesn’t see us from those windows, else we’ll be caught.”

“Oh. Alright, Merry.” Pippin waited while Merry took the lead and entered the garden.

Pippin’s eyes were huge at the ample food that was laid before him. Tomatoes, lettuce, radishes, cabbages, potatoes, asparagus, celery, rhubarb, spinach, and mushrooms. “Oh, Merry, Merry! Look! Mushrooms!”

Merry smiled. “Yes, exactly, Pip! We’ll have to get some of those, won’t we?”

“Oh, yes!” Pippin went straight for the mushrooms and started to gather them in his little arms. Merry bent to help him, keeping a close eye on the windows of the smial.

Everything around the farm was still and quiet. Too quiet. For a moment, Merry wondered where the cattle were; they should have been lowing in the field just on the other side of the smial, yet Merry couldn’t hear them. There was little or no movement from inside the smial; no shuffle of feat, no panting of dogs, nothing. It set Merry’s teeth on edge. Something was not right.

“Alright, Pip. I think we’ve got enough. Let’s go.”

Pippin stood up and shrieked. Quick as ever, Merry spun around-

-to face a glaring Farmer Maggot, scythe in hand and dogs held by the scruffs of their necks. Merry was frozen to the spot in amazement. He’d never been caught red handed before. Sure, he’d been caught by Farmer Maggot with the goods still in his possession, but never had he been caught in the garden itself. He was sure he’d soon be dead. In his foggy mind, Merry remembered Pippin asking about whether Farmer Maggot cut the fingers off the lads he caught and for a terrifying instant, Merry wondered if that was true.

“Are you Farmer Maggot?” Pippin asked, brazenly.

“Pippin!” Merry hissed, trying to stay his young cousin’s curiosity.

Anger turned to surprise on the old farmer’s face as he turned to face the tiny hobbit-lad to Merry’s right.

“Aye. Who wants to know?”

“Me!” Pippin said happily.

Farmer Maggot cocked an eyebrow at the youngster. “Who’s ‘me’?”

Merry let out a slight sigh of relief. Farmer Maggot didn’t seem to be ready to chop their fingers off at the moment. Merry still had time to think of something to get them out of this mess.

“Me! Pippin!” Pippin said triumphantly.

“Really?” Farmer Maggot asked. He jerked his head towards Merry. “And who’s he?”

“Oh, he’s my bestest friend ever!” Pippin eagerly declared. “That’s my cousin, Merry.”

“Now, that’s interesting!” Farmer Maggot said.

Curious as ever, Pippin walked up to the old hobbit and looked at him innocently. “Do you really cut off the fingers of the lads you catch, Farmer Maggot? Because Beri said you did, and I want to know, so do you?”

It seemed that little Pippin had gotten the better of Farmer Maggot. The farmer looked stunned at the question. “’Cut the fingers off’-?” he asked, perturbed.

“Yes, that’s what Beri said. He also said he’d been here before. Has he? He said it was fun, but Merry said he’d be surprised if Beri really did ever come here, so did he?”

“I beg your pardon?” Farmer Maggot was more than perturbed, he was flat out stunned. Merry tried to hide a smile, though his arms were just as full as Pippin’s with mushrooms. “I do not cut off fingers. Not off anyone or anything! Where did you get such a strange idea?”

“Beri said, and he’s older than me. And I wanted to know if it was true. So has Beri been up here before?”

“Beri? You mean Berilac Brandybuck?” Farmer Maggot asked, sending a whithering glare in Merry’s direction. Merry, affronted, glared back. Farmer Maggot almost chuckled at the lads instinct to protect his family name.

“Oh, yes! He’s also my cousin, you know,” Pippin offered.

“I don’t believe I’ve caught Berilac in my garden before, young lad, but I have caught you.” Never before had something this interesting happened to Farmer Maggot. He was used to chasing the lads away, that was usually entertaining for the most part, or he would be forced to punish the lads he caught. Punishing the lads he caught was never fun, but he couldn’t have the lads thinking if they gave him a pitiful face, he’d let them go. His garden would be overrun with hobbit-lads then.

“How to punish you properly, though?” Farmer Maggot said thoughtfully. No hobbit-lad had been so forward with him when caught. Most tried to escape his clutches, tried to beg their way out of punishment or simply stood there whimpering pitifully. Not this lad, though. He was audacious enough to start asking Farmer Maggot questions as though he were no more than passing by on the lane and commenting on the weather. He didn’t want to use his normal routine on the lads.

Merry started at Farmer Maggot’s question of punishment. A fear worse than all others clutched at Merry’s stomach. What would Farmer Maggot do to Pippin? Merry started inching over towards his small cousin, hoping to get him to run before Farmer Maggot delivered whatever punishment he deemed appropriate.

“I have it!” Farmer Maggot said with pride. Unfortunately, Merry was still too far away from Pippin to order him quietly to run. Smirking, Farmer Maggot came towards the lads, and pointed to the garden. “That garden is a mess, my lads! Full of weeds and in need of harvesting some of the goods! How could I have been so shameful as to let my prize garden go to such a wreck?” Merry turned towards the garden. Tiny weeds sprung up here and there, and the plants were laden with vegetables waiting to be picked. “Fix it for me.”

It most certainly was not a request, but an order. Merry, relieved, nodded his head.

“Alright! That’ll be easy!” Pippin said cheerily.

“Easy, eh?” Farmer Maggot chuckled. “Fine, then. Go ahead and start. But before you do! I’ll take care of those you’ve already picked for me.” Without a word more, Farmer Maggot relieved the two cousins of their “groceries”, and, with the dogs trailing close at his heals, he walked into the smial.

Merry let out a sigh of relief at Farmer Maggot’s departure. Many of the older lads, Frodo included, told horror stories about mean, crazy Farmer Maggot who would beat you silly for taking no more than a carrot from the farmer’s garden. This was not so bad. Merry himself had experienced the leather end of Farmer Maggot’s belt on more than one occasion and was glad he did not have to repeat the experience. He was even more glad that Pippin would not experience it, either. Merry turned to Pippin, and Pippin looked at Merry. They shrugged in unison and started to weed.

Hours went by, and still the two lads worked hard, weeding the garden and picking the ripe vegetables and bringing them in to Farmer Maggot. Little by little, the garden began to seem neat and orderly once again, ready to welcome the next set of would-be thieves. Tired, hot, and sweaty, they presented the last armful of vegetables to the grinning farmer.

“Good work, lads! Don’t think I could’ve done better meself!” He turned on his heal and marched through the door, leaving the cousins standing on the doorstep, confused and uncertain. Merry silently took Pippin’s hand and started to walk with him down the path. “Before you go, lads,” came a voice from the smial’s doorway. “Take this, as payment for weeding my garden.” Farmer Maggot set a heavy basket in Merry’s free hand. With that, Farmer Maggot shut the door to the smial and laughed. Unbeknownst to the two lads standing, stunned, outside, he watched as Merry uncovered the basket.

“Pippin! Pippin, look! He’s given us mushrooms!”

Pippin bounced up to look in the basket Merry held. “Really?” he asked, excited once again. “Ooh, he did! Merry, when can we eat them?”

“Don’t know, Pip! We’ll just have to see.”

They set off down the lane, talking and laughing. Merry was amazed. Farmer Maggot was not as terrible as the older lads said. He was actually very kind. It might be fun to visit him sometimes, when not “borrowing” from his garden, that is.

Merry, so absorbed with his thoughts, didn’t see Pippin mischievously snake his little hand towards the basket and withdraw a single mushroom. Before Merry could react, Pippin popped the mushroom into his mouth, and challenged Merry to catch him, if he could. Merry soon raced after the fleet hobbit-lad, both laughing at the fun.

Farmer Maggot stood behind his door laughing at the two youngsters. He knew they would be back. Sometimes, he was sure, those two would visit him, kindly coming in from the lane. Most of the time, though, Farmer Maggot knew those troublemakers would be stealing from his garden. He didn’t mind, though. That was half the fun, chasing the hobbit-lads from his garden.

The End