Title: A Merry Life: Flying
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, (Saradoc)

Timeline: Buckland SR 1389 so Merry is seven years old

"Come on, you can do it," your da said, as he lifted you onto the pony, adjusting the cinch and stirrups to make you secure and comfortable. The pony, Dancer, was used to having little hobbits on his back, and stood very still while you got used to sitting way up there all by yourself. You had of course ridden a pony before, but then you had been safely seated before your da or Frodo. Slowly your da led the pony into the paddock just beside the stables, and walked you around in circles on the inside of the fence. It was quite some distance down, and you wondered what might happen if you fell off. The pony was tall enough to leave you seated just above your da´s head, and it made you dizzy to think about falling so very far down to the ground.

A few days later, after you were secure enough to ride in the paddock alone, your da saddled his own pony too, and the both of you rode through the gate together and over the grassy slopes of Buckland. You felt like you were flying as Dancer quickened his pace into a trot. Your da laughed then, as you waved to him, both of you grinning wide and proud. This was fun, and your earlier thoughts about falling off were soon forgotten. You wished that Frodo could see you now, but you knew he´d be proud of you, and as soon you had put the pony away under your da`s careful tutelage, you ran to find Frodo and tell him about your wonderful achievement.

*****

You were glad now, that you had been taught how to master a pony, as you rode together with the Rohirrim, astride Stybba. Stybba, who seemed to know his rider´s distress and worries, was gentle and easily ridden despite his high spirits as he ran alongside the horses. When you put him to bed for the night, he nibbled your hair and bumped your chest, accepting your ministrations and putting his nose in your pockets, searching for treats, just like the ponies at home.

Title: A Merry Life: Letters
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry

Timeline: Brandy Hall, SR 1389, so Merry is seven years old

You had looked forward with anticipation and glee to the day you would start learning your letters and numbers, and you had followed Berilac´s progress with close eyes. When you´d turn seven, you would attend the formal tutoring sessions just like all of the Brandybuck children, but for a long time before that, you had diligently tried to write your name and draw little numbers under your mum´s or Frodo´s watchful eye. When the great day finally arrived, you entered Brandy Hall´s schoolroom with your head held high and your slate and chalk under your arm.

After a few days you discovered that just writing your name and the alphabet over and over wasn´t all that fun, so you soon became bored. Knocking your chalk against the edge of your slate, you found that it broke easily, and in pure boredom you started tossing little pieces of chalk around the room to get the other lads´ attention. Wouldn`t any of them soon be finished so you could go outside and play? You got your attention, but in addition to the lads, you also got the tutor’s, and when you didn´t stop throwing chalk when asked to, you were for the first time in your life hauled by your ear to the Master´s study and prompted to explain your actions to your da and grandda.

*****

Assisting Èomer with writing missives to Aragorn, and Rohan, and seemingly every dignitary there was, you felt like a child wielding the large billowy quill that you wrote with. Gandalf had firmly told the new King of Rohan that he could do far worse than make use of your head. And you had blushed when he said that there was a bright brain beneath those bright curls, and that Èomer would lose a good counsellor if he didn`t pay heed to your opinions. Èomer had appointed you to be his personal scribe while still in Minas Tirith, and asked you for advice often. Privately you thought that maybe there was another King behind this too, and as you rubbed your right hand and wrist, trying to take away the throbbing ache, you could almost hear Strider as he encouraged you to use your hand as much as possible.

Title: A Merry Life: Mapping
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, Bilbo

Timeline: Bag End, SR 1392, so Merry is 10

The rain was pouring down in earnest outside Bag End, but inside the study you were cosy and warm, sitting in Bilbo´s lap to reach the top of his desk.

"See here, Meriadoc," Bilbo´s voice rumbled behind you as he pointed to a line on a map on the table in front of you. "This blue line here is the Brandywine...."

"Why is it blue?" You interrupted, “Because everyone knows that the Brandywine isn’t blue, it is brown”.

"I know that, Merry, but you see, on maps all rivers are marked as blue to tell they are water. Just like the Water down in Hobbiton and Bywater. That is blue."

"Not always. Sometimes it´s grey, or even brown," you persisted. Rivers or streams or ponds and such were only blue in sunshine. Surely Bilbo knew this? "What´s this green line here?" You asked, pointing at a bowed line just above Tuckborough.

"It´s a hill. It´s bent to show that the area is hilly. It´s the Green Hill Country."

That made sense, a green line for a green hill. But..."They are not always green, the hills. In winter they are brown or even white if there´s snow. Will there be snow this year, Bilbo?"

"Oh, Merry," Bilbo said behind you, laughing a little, and you leaned your head back to hear the rumble of the laughter in his chest. Bilbo picked you up, turned you around and sat you face to face with him. "Everything is brown or white in winter. The maps only have different colours to separate different sorts of things from each other. If everything is painted in black or green, then it´s more difficult to see what is a road and what is a river. The colours are all different so that a person doesn’t get lost when taking the map with them on a hike or a camping trip."

"Yes, Cousin Bilbo," you said. You thought for a while, then added, "Can we go camping Cousin Bilbo? You and me and Frodo?”

“Yes, I suppose we could.”

“We`ll even take a map so we won`t get lost?” You suggested hopefully, eager to see a map put to actual use.

“Yes Merry-lad. We`ll do that.”

*****

"Do you remember how I pestered you with all my questions about maps when I was little?" You asked Bilbo one day when you were looking over the maps in Rivendell. "It must have been quite a trial for you."

"You were quite clever already then Merry-lad, and I had no doubt that you would know where to go if given a map and a bit of instruction."

“Thanks to you I received both,” you said and gave your wise and elderly cousin a hug before you both began pouring over the maps again.

Title: A Merry Life: Broken
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, Pippin, Paladin and Eglantine, (Frodo, Berilac, Saradoc)

Timeline: Buckland, SR 1394 so Merry is 12 and Pippin almost 4

Pippin had somehow clambered up into a tree, determined to pick the plums he saw hanging there. "Merry!" Pippin had been sobbing and yelling for a good ten minutes now, and you hadn´t been there to keep an eye on him as you were summoned to see your grandda in the study to explain a whole tray of missing tarts from yesterday. You had told Berilac to watch out for Pip, but he had been more interested in jumping in the hay in the barn and Pippin had wandered away. Thus you found yourself reluctantly, but determinedly climbing the tree Pippin sat in. Frodo had tried to teach you to climb trees, but you always got dizzy and sick while being that high up, so you never really got the hang of it. It was certainly nothing that you would ever do if you had any choice in the matter.

However, nothing mattered as you climbed up to reach the shrieking toddler. Calming words and reassurances were not enough. Your presence was demanded immediately, and so you climbed higher than you´d ever thought you´d dare. "Shh Pippin. I´m coming. It will be all right. Ssh...."

Finally you reached your frightened little cousin, and gently hugged him, brushing tears away before you put his arms around your neck and started the descent. Not more than halfway down, Pippin started wriggling, and squirming as there was now an audience at the base of the plum tree. Grown hobbits and lads and lasses all watching your every move, but you didn´t dare look down. "Mama!" Pippin shouted. "I climbed a tree!"

"Yes you did, darling. Now, hold still so Merry can get you down." Your aunt had been calm and reassuring, and a few moments later you were low enough to the ground to let grown hobbit hands take Pippin from your grasp. But in the same moment, you lost your own hold of the trunk and slipped, falling. Hands reached out to you, but none got hold and suddenly you were lying on the ground, a searing pain shooting through your left arm, and now it was you who cried out. More hands touched you, and faintly you heard grown hobbits talking above your head, voices asking if you were hurt and if anything was broken. Your arm hurt so much that you couldn´t even cry but you shook like a leaf trying to control the pain. Gently you were lifted right-side up and turning your face, you saw Uncle Paladin. "Shhh… Merry-lad. Let`s take you inside, and have a look at that wrist, shall we?"

Firmly seated in your da´s lap you tried not to scream when the bone was set, but it hurt too much, and your senses gave way and you slumped in your da´s arms when it was over. When you regained consciousness you were lying in your bed and a little form was perched beside you, patting your good arm. You heard soft crying.

"Pip?" You said, and the crying changed.

"`m sorry Merry, I broke you." Pippin said, snuggling in beside you.

"You didn´t break me, Pippin. I broke myself. But I´m all fixed now." You lifted your splinted, bandaged arm off the cushion it was resting on and looked at it with interest. "It´s not your fault Pip."

Instead of an answer, your small cousin burrowed more deeply into your side, and you had to shift your body to prevent your arm from being hurt worse. You lifted your free hand and gently stroked Pippin‘s hair while whispering reassurances into his ear.

“I`ll be all right. But next time you want to pick plums, come ask me first, all right?”

*****

As you woke up, you couldn´t feel your arm, and thought for a moment that it was broken all over again, but then you became aware of the sweet smell of athelas lingering in the air, and as your eyes focused, your gaze met Pippin´s. "I´m hungry. What is the time?"

Title: A Merry Life: Pippin
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, Pippin

Timeline: Whitwell, SR 1402, so Merry is 20 and Pippin 12 years old

"Pip?" Your voice felt raw and your throat sore after being awake all night and watching over your young cousin. It hadn´t been the Winter Sickness this time, but a glorious snowball fight that had left all of you wet and with runny noses, but Pippin had become worse during the night, and you blamed yourself for not managing to keep him dry, but you hadn´t the heart not to allow him to play along with the rest of you. Why shouldn´t Pippin have at least some of the fun you and the others had, just because he was of frailer build and got sick more often than you and the others? It was not good for the lad to always be cosseted and treated like fragile crystal, sometimes he had to be allowed to be a lad, and seeing to it was your job, as much as was looking out for him and caring for him when he was ill.

You knew that you yourself were exceedingly healthy and in all of your twenty years of life, you could only remember being ill twice, the time when the Brandywine had flooded and you had ridden to Standelf and back in the cold rain, * and the time you had been visiting in Whitwell and come down with the common pox**.

Why Pippin? You loved your little cousin more than life itself, and sometimes your heart was so full of love for him that you couldn’t understand how you had any room left for the others you also loved, but of course you did. Why did he have to be so sick, so very often? It wasn´t fair. Pippin did all he could to prevent becoming ill, but lads are lads, and snow is a rare treat in the Shire, at least in amounts large enough to make a decent snowball fight.

Pippin coughed again, and once more you wrung out the cloth you had ready in a basin on the nightstand. Tears gathered in your eyes, as you again remembered the times you´d almost lost him. His first two or three years had been so difficult, and many times you had wondered if he´d survive at all. Auntie Tina had been ill to start with too, but had improved just as her lad had. As he had grown older, Pippin had done all he could to keep up with lads his own age, and often failed. It broke your heart to see that he couldn´t run as fast or jump as far or continue as long as the rest of the lads, and you set your mind to finding new and exciting things for Pippin to do that would push him yet not tax him, and that would amuse him quietly while he was recovering from his illnesses. A winter rarely passed without Pippin being cooped up in bed for at least a fortnight here and there, and you could never predict if his sniffling and coughing would end in a bout of the Winter Sickness or not.

*****

You contemplated this as you counted the bruises on Pippin´s body and watched them fade hour by hour as you devotedly sat by his bed, watching and hoping and waiting for a miracle while praying to the Valar that he would be well this time too.

* "Heir to Buckland"

** “Fields of Gold”

A/N – The “Winter Sickness” was invented by Baylor and Marigold, and first used in Baylor’s story, “Handkerchiefs and Mushroom Soup”.

Title: A Merry Life: Burrow
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, Pippin, Frodo

Timeline: Bag End, SR 1403 so Merry is 21, Pippin is 13 and Frodo is 35

"Merry! Come on! Merry!" Pippin was close to wailing your name, and you felt small hands groping around the large feather bed for you. Silently you burrowed deeper in under the blankets. You loved to sleep, to feel the softness and warmth of the pillows and blankets and bed around you. Since you had grown out of that overly energetic part of childhood, you felt the bed was a place of freedom, where you could think and dream. Your energy still came by the bucketful, and once you were awake and up, it was no less abundant than before, it just didn´t start quite as early in the morning as it once did. When Pippin was very little and slept beside you, you would silently climb into the bed and enfold him in your arms, burrowing the two of you down in the bed together. As Pippin grew he didn`t let you do that anymore, and started kicking and flailing in his sleep, to come free of your loving but restricting arms. Once, his kicks were so strong that you awoke abruptly, hitting your head against the floorboards. You hadn´t let Pip sleep with you for a while after that.

"Merry!" Pippin was angry now. "Get up!" Of all your numerous relations and friends, Pippin, and maybe Sam Gamgee were the only two people you knew that voluntarily rose before dawn.

The bedroom door opened again, and you heard sounds muffled by the blanket over your head and you knew that it was Frodo coming closer. Pippin had gone for reinforcements. Blankets were yanked off, and a moment later a little body was plastered to yours tickling mercilessly. "Merry! Merry get up." And you finally did.

But when the chance came, and you could snuggle down in a soft feather bed beneath blankets and pillows or a bedroll on a soft and grassy spot, you burrowed down and disappeared, supremely content.

******

"Where´s Merry?" Gimli´s deep and grumbling voice rumbled, obviously counting hobbits in the dusk.

"Oh, he`s here," Pippin piped, yanking the blanket off you, and nudging you with his foot. "Get up Merry. Time to move on.”

Title: A Merry Life: Ale
Author: Anso the Hobbit
Beta: Marigold

Characters: Merry, Frodo (Fredegar)

Timeline: Bag End, SR 1404, so Merry is 22, Frodo is 36 and Fredegar 24

"Merry?"

Dimly you heard Frodo´s voice as he opened the door to your room. Feet shuffled closer and a hand was put on your brow, stroking your hair in the process. "Merry? Are you not feeling well? Wake up now, it´s past second breakfast." A hand shook your shoulder and you came awake reluctantly.

You didn´t think it was possible to feel so very, very sick and have such a terrible headache after drinking a little ale. Or wait, had it been just a little? The cask you and Fredegar had got your hands on wasn’t actually that little... When your foggy mind cleared up a little and you had emptied all the contents of your stomach - twice, Frodo placed a wet cloth over your forehead and firmly told you that it was quite possible to feel like this after indulging and that it was your punishment for obviously drinking too much. You just had to learn not to drink that much in the future and where had you come by the ale anyway?

"Ale?" You croaked, feigning innocence.

"Meriadoc," Frodo said, sternly. "You reek of ale, and if you don`t tell me how you came by it, you`re on your way home this very minute."

"Frodo..." You weren´t prepared for this, and your stomach made a dreadful lurch and before you knew it you were once again heaving into the basin Frodo held in front of you.

"You can just be glad that Bilbo or your father is not here, Merry, or they would have given you a lecture you´d never forget. But fortunately for you I found Fredegar in the same state as you are in, and he was too miserable not to give up the details about your misdeed." Frodo said, brushing your hair away and muttering something about not learning a lesson as he set the basin on the nightstand.

*****

Gimli had enthusiastically introduced you to dwarwen ale, and you had sampled it with zeal. Once you almost fell into the large barrel while getting yet another mug for yourself and your companions. Gimli laughed at you then, and took hold of your ankles and braces as you nearly tipped headfirst into the barrel with mugs in hand.

“Now, I know you hobbits are fond of ale, but no one benefits from you drowning yourself in it Meriadoc,” he had harrumped and hauled you up