Tick-Tock-Click-Clock

It was night. The room was completely dark, and very silent. Silent as only the middle of very long nights can be, when no one else is awake, and the clock is tick-click-ticking its sleepy hands in a lulling manner. Though for the silence all encompassing, the clock’s voice seems terribly loud, and so does not turn out to be lulling at all, but rather vexing instead.

"Merry?" whispered a small voice into the blackness of the room.

There was no answer. Just the clock. Tick-click-tock-click.

"Merrrrrrrrrr-yyy," this time it was a long, drawn-out whisper. "Merry!"

A groan. A pause.

"Yes, Pippin?" the tone of the voice was not a happy one.

"Merry..." If Pippin noticed the irritation in Merry’s voice, it was not apparent. "...I can’t sleep."

Tick-click-tock-tick.

"So... you wake me up to tell me this?"

Pippin tarried a moment, fingering his quilt, realizing his blunder, (though he was not really sorry for it) while looking up to the ceiling.

"Brilliant." Merry sighed at Pippin’s lack-of-response. "Now if you don’t mind," he continued groggily, "I am still tired, and I am going back to sleep." Merry turned in his bed, which stood juxtapose to Pippin’s in their room in Bag End. "Good night."

Tick-tock-click-clock.

Pippin couldn’t help it. "Merry?"

"...Pippin. What?" replied his cousin, just as irritated as before, if not a bit more tired.

"How am I supposed to have a ‘good night’ if I can’t sleep at all?"

There was a very, very long pause. So long in fact, that one could have fallen back to sleep in it without much difficulty.

"Merry are you sleeping?" asked Pippin quickly, with his squeaky little voice.

There was a sound that seemed suspiciously like someone stifling curses under his breath, then, "Nope. No, I’m not Pippin. Thanks for asking."

"You’re welcome," replied Pippin earnestly. Tick-tick-click-click. "Merry, are you still awake or are you sleeping yet?"

"I’m still awake, Pippin." Merry assured his cousin, and though he really wanted to walk over to his bed and whop him a good one with his pillow, he stayed himself.

"Are you tired?"

"Well, that would make sense. It is, after all, the middle of the night," Merry replied, not able to completely conceal the hint of acid in his tone.

Merry could actually hear him inhale, as if he was preparing for the words that came tumbling out next, "I remember you snuck in last night waaaaaaaaaaaay later than this. I remember because I was awake just like now, waiting for you. And you collapsed into bed, I think it was because you were drinking. You were drinking weren’t you, Merry? Cousin Frodo says that drinking is despickit – despica – des..picerble, even when you are out with your mates. I think you must have eaten something red too, because you had lipstick all over your face, and boys don’t wear lip rouge, do they? That would be funny... well I suppose if you were a clown you could wear some, but I don’t like clowns. They are kind of scary. Do you think clowns are scary, Merry?"

There was a long pause, and then a long groan.

"Merry! Don’t fall asleep!"

"Pippin!" was Merry’s incensed reply, "I’m not going to ever sleep, ever, anytime, at all, if you keep continuing on like you are, which I am sure you will!"

Pippin was quiet for half a breath. "Oh. Alright. So anyways, where did you go last night?"

"Pippin, it's none of your business."

"Can I come with you next time?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I’ll tell Frodo you snuck in late," taunted Pippin unexpectedly.

"Pippin!" said Merry’s voice coming to a squeaking summit. "You wouldn’t," he stated, though not entirely confidently.

"No, I wouldn’t. So long as you help me to fall asleep."

Merry gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the vexation that welled up inside of him, gripping his pillow. He let it all loose with a surrendering sigh. It was obvious he was not going to get any sleep right now. "Fine. But it’s an accord then, alright?"

"Alright," agreed a delighted Pippin, and Merry rolled his eyes. Blackmailing little sod.

Tick-tick-tock-tick.

"Merry, you’re not helping," complained a wide-awake Pippin a few moments later.

"Hmm...whah? What?" said Merry slowly, sounding fishily like he was nearing to the edge of blissful unconsciousness.

"Merry!" Pippin shrieked. "Don’t fall asleep!"

Fully awake yet again, thanks to Pippin’s wonderful vocal ability, Merry retorted gruffly, "I wasn’t! I was just resting my eyes!"

"Oh...alright," said Pippin, not completely convinced.

"Have you tried to count sheep?"

"I did," said Pippin slowly. "And guess what? I got up to 4,367 once. That’s as high as I can count, you know."

Merry was both annoyed and puzzled, and also quite confounded by this (and a bit amused too, but the other three were weighing this end out at the moment). "Four-thousand, three-hundred and sixty-seven?"

"Yup," confirmed Pippin proudly.

"Why is the Shire’s name not just count up to 4,368? Then 4,369? 4,370? It is the same exact thing that you have been doing all along, it doesn’t change at all," said Merry, a tired exasperation seeping into his voice. "Plus, even though I haven’t ever heard you count higher than that," and he looked over, suddenly quite awake, "And mark my words, I don’t ever want to," then he lay back down, "I know you can count higher if you tried."

There was another long pause. Then, "Oh... I guess I could, then," said Pippin, as if the idea had never before occurred to him, "I’ll try it tomorrow," and Merry sighed. "But, Merry, guess what?"

"What, Pippin?" replied Merry a bit sharply, giving up completely any dreams of actually receiving a decent night’s slumber.

"I said to guess," insisted Pippin.

"You said to guess ‘what’ actually. And that is precisely what I did. I said, ‘What, Pippin?’, so there."

Pippin stalled for a moment, perplexed, but then worked it out. Merry was always thinking, even when he was tired.

"Oh, well, I was going to say that, I think there is something on your bed."

"What?" Merry frowned, looking over to Pippin, but could not see much in the darkness. He then turned and looked to the foot of the bed, and started up in surprise when he saw two glowing green eyes staring at him. "Hoi, now!" he exclaimed, sitting up against the headboard, the blankets shuffling as he moved.

The creature then jumped onto Pippin’s bed, pawing its way to the hobbit beneath the covers and then settling down by his head, purring gently. "Aww, Merry," said Pippin happily. "There’s no need to be frightened," he giggled. "It’s only Tenderblossom," and he patted the small cat.

Merry almost growled. He disliked cats. A lot. Especially ones that jumped onto the bed and then began to hog said bed until said cat (being about ten times less than his size) would then continue capturing bed-territory until Merry was the one sleeping at the end, and the cat stretched lazily (and Merry figured, quite self-satisfied) all over the pillow – which was most, to nearly all, cats he had ever known.

It was another one of the Gamgees’ numerous animals. It must have snuck its way into the house with Sam the past afternoon, as sometimes the animals would. Merry stared, and if his eyes could have gleamed they would have been a deep red, like the tongues of a fire. "I was not afraid," he said tartly. "I was merely startled," he affirmed, his pride in check.

Tick-tock-meow!-click.

"Pippin, why do you like that animal?"

"Aww, come on, Merry, he's so cute! I have always loved him. I am an animal person," Pippin finished smugly, as if that self-declared fact had risen him onto the highest pedestal, and left Merry sweeping the floors and washing pots in a tavern’s back room.

"Pippin it’s a *girl* cat."

"That’s what I said. ‘She’s so cute’."

"No, you said ‘he’."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Pippin!" said Merry, suddenly exasperated. "Why are we talking about this?"

"I don’t know, you brought it up."

Merry gritted his teeth. Deep, calming breaths. In, out, in, out.

Tick-tock-click-purr.

"Merry?"

"What. What. Is it. Pippin."

"I figured out that pepper and jam don’t go good together today."

There was no response from Merry, so Pippin merely continued.

"You want to know how? I’ll tell you. I gave it to Frodo, and well... he didn’t like it."

Normally Merry would have laughed, and then guffawed while clutching his sides when Pippin described the expression on Frodo’s face when at first he tasted it, and then tried to act like it wasn't utterly vomit-inducing, and failed miserably. But now, he was just too tired, and too annoyed, "Tremendous," he answered, though his voice was terribly unenthusiastic.

"You want to know what else Merry?"

Tick-tock-click-tick.

"Merry?"

Tick-tick-purr-click.

"Merry I think you fancy Estella Bolger," Pippin waited for a response and heard the sound of all Merry’s muscles tensing against the sheets in his bed. "I think you do because she is the only one that I never see you talk to, and she doesn’t giggle like a goose whenever you tell some stupid joke. She rolls her eyes instead, and I think you like that. Do you Merry? And I’m sorry for calling your jokes stupid, Merry. But sometimes they really are, and I don’t understand why all those other lasses think they are so funny. Maybe I don’t think they are funny because I don’t like clowns. Do you think Estella doesn’t like clowns either?"

Merry did not answer.

"You know Merry, Estella told me she thinks you are dashing but wily."

Merry’s interested was suddenly peaked. "She said I was dashing?" Merry smirked contentedly, "Dashing, hmm?" he said admiringly to himself.

"And wily," Pippin interjected.

Sigh. "Yes. And wily."

"Isn’t wily a bad thing, Merry?" Again no answer. "Merry?"

"I guess so, Pippin,"said his cousin admittedly, not happy with that part of the comment.

"That’s what I thought," said Pippin with no intention of being cruel at all.

Merry sighed, not only had Pippin managed to keep him awake, insult his pride by concluding he was afraid of Sam’s tiny, scrawny, tail-less kitten, and blackmail him into staying up and keeping him company... but he had also managed to insult him in the name of a person that was not even here. All without even knowing it.

Merry stared at the ceiling. Oh, Earendil in the Sky. Why not bring something else up? Estella, clowns and jam...with pepper! They might as well cover the entire rest of Middle-earth while they were at it.

"You wouldn’t understand any of that stuff, Pippin," said Merry, referring to the matter with Freddy Bolger’s sister. When Pippin did not answer after a moment he became a bit concerned. He sighed. Pippin hated being told that he ‘wouldn’t understand’ something. It made him feel young and silly (which he was, most of the time) but he did not like it when it was put like that. Another sigh escaped Merry’s mouth, "I’m sorry, Pip. I didn’t mean it like that."

Pippin still did not answer.

"Pippin?" Merry asked once more and when he was met with no response he sighed, irritated, "Fine," he grumbled to himself, pulling the covers up and around him. "Be stubborn."

Tick-click-tock-click.

Sometime later Tenderblossom jumped off Pippin’s bed and onto Merry’s, then much to Merry’s annoyance, landed on his head, before scampering out of the room.

Tick-tock-click-clock.

Merry frowned, turned this way and that, unable to find a comfortable position any direction he moved.

Tick-click-tick-click.

Finally deciding it was a bit stuffy in the room, he kicked the covers down and turned to Pippin once more, sighing, "Pippin. Don’t be such a prat, you know I didn’t mean it that way when I said you wouldn’t understand."

Pippin still did not answer and Merry frowned, but then it disappeared, and hurt, he said, "Pip!" imploring his little cousin to answer him. He heard nothing for a moment, but then, if he kept silent enough, he would hear the quiet and deep breathing of a hobbit fallen fast asleep.

Merry groaned and flung himself back onto the bed. "Glad I helped you to sleep, Pippin!"

He sighed, all his energy too drained to express any of the annoyance he felt, and listened to the suddenly seemingly loud tick-click-tock of the clock in the hallway. "Now if only I could sleep," he despaired. 

He looked over once more to his slumbering cousin, and the acid in his gaze melted away, as he looked through the dark of the room, which his eyes had become accustomed to, and saw Pippin sleeping happily and peacefully.

"If only you were a little less endearing, you little brat," said Merry fondly, and he flopped back onto his pillow, wide-awake, and listened to the clock.