A Perfect Present

A/N: This a prequel to a ficlet I wrote a few months ago called "Better Than Tonic," which can be found in my Postcards From the Shire collection.

Thank you to Pipwise for the beta! Written for a hobbit_ficathon challenge.

***

Beneath a bench in the Brandy Hall rose garden was Pippin, lying on his stomach with his chin resting upon his folded arms. He had never felt lonelier than he did right now.

Saradoc stood just inside the gate and watched his young nephew with pity. Pippin had spent the morning crying and even from across the garden Saradoc could see that the child’s eyes and nose were red from his tears. Shaking his head, he walked over and sat on the bench.

For a long while no one spoke, and the only sounds to be heard were the birds chirping in the nearby trees and Pippin’s frequent sniffles. Finally Saradoc leaned over and addressed the top of his nephew’s curly head, which was all he could see of Pippin.

“I’m sorry Pippin, but it’s really for the best,” he said.

“I just want to see Merry,” came Pippin’s muffled voice. “I promise not to get sick.”

Saradoc smiled. “No one can promise that. Merry may only have a cold and cough, but the last time you had a cold it turned into a chest infection and you were in bed for months. And that was just this past winter, so I know you remember it well.”

Pippin grumbled discontentedly.

“Merry would rather not see you for a couple of days than have you falling so ill again,” Saradoc continued. “So why don’t you go and do something fun, and when Merry is feeling better you can tell him about all the adventures you had.”

“I don’t want to have any adventures without Merry,” Pippin said plaintively. “They won’t be any fun.”

“Why don’t you find Berilac?” Saradoc suggested, knowing that, next to Merry, Berilac was the cousin at Brandy Hall whom Pippin was most fond of. “You can bring your ball and play a game.”

“I don’t want to,” Pippin replied miserably. “Anyway, Berilac went fishing with some of the other lads.”

“Well that sounds fun!” Saradoc exclaimed, trying to drum up some enthusiasm in the lad. “You always enjoy fishing.”

“Only if Merry’s there,” Pippin mumbled. “Otherwise it’s boring.”

Saradoc sighed. Pippin was not making this easy, and seemed determined to turn down every suggestion. A sudden thought came to his mind and he grinned, leaning over the bench once more.

“Why don’t you take a walk down to Farmer Burrows’ and visit the kittens?” he proposed.

Pippin thought this over for a long moment. Ever since the kittens had been born a week into his annual summer visit to Brandy Hall, he and Merry had gone to visit them almost every day. In the beginning all they could do was watch as the kittens slept and ate, but as the weeks passed Farmer Burrows, who was a very nice old hobbit, had allowed them to hold and play with the kittens for small amounts of time, and always with the barn cat looking on with a shrewd motherly gaze. Pippin had not seen the kittens in three days, before Merry had caught his cold, and he wondered how they were doing.

Saradoc smiled; he could sense that his nephew was wavering.

“It won’t be much fun without Merry there,” Pippin said at last, slowly crawling from his shelter. “But I’ll go, just to see how the kittens are doing.”

Saradoc helped Pippin to his feet and brushed the dirt and grass from his nephew’s elbows and knees. He smiled encouragingly and gave Pippin a little push toward the garden gate. “Go on. Don’t be ashamed to enjoy yourself without Merry. Maybe you can find your cousin a nice, bright flower on your way back. I’m sure he would enjoy a little cheer-up present from you.”

Pippin wrinkled his nose. “Flowers are for lasses,” he said with great distaste. “I’ll find Merry something better than that.”

“All right,” Saradoc said with a laugh. He stood, watching as Pippin made his way through the gate and into the outer garden, heading toward the main path that led to the Burrows’ farm.

***

His head down and his hands in his pockets, Pippin was a picture of dejection as he walked down the road. He just could not stop thinking about poor Merry, forced to stay indoors on a beautiful summer day, and with no company other than his books. Pippin knew he should be there to make Merry happy, but each time he had tried to sneak into his cousin’s bedroom his Aunt Esmie or Uncle Saradoc had shooed him away, finally banishing him from the Hall unless it was time to eat or sleep.

The gate to the Burrows’ farm came into view and Pippin ducked inside, closing the latch behind him. He headed for the barn and went straight to the very last stall, which had been set aside for the kittens.

Immediately Pippin saw that something was wrong. Instead of eight kittens he only counted four. Among the missing ones was his favorite, a small grey one that had taken a liking to him from the start. Pippin was relieved to see Merry’s favorite there, a white one with orange patches on its fur, but he could not help but worry about the others, especially since the barn cat was nowhere in sight.

Pippin ran from the barn in search of Farmer Burrows. He soon spotted the old farmer in the fields, with just the top of his hat peeking over the tall grass, and raced over to him.

“Farmer Burrows!” Pippin shouted as he ran up. The farmer glanced up from his digging, his lined face crinkling into a grin at the sight of the young hobbit.

“Master Pippin,” he said, tipping his hat in greeting. His smile fell when he saw the child’s red, puffy eyes and panicked expression. “Something wrong at the Hall, lad?” he asked, leaning on his spade.

“No, well yes, that is, Merry is sick,” Pippin said, panting for breath.

“Oh dear,” Farmer Burrows said, frowning in concern. “Is it serious?”

“He has a cold and no one will let me see him,” Pippin explained. “But that’s not why I was looking for you. I went to see the kittens, and four of them are gone, and so is the cat. Did something happen to them?”

“Ah,” the farmer said, pushing his hat off his forehead and mopping his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. “You haven’t come for a visit in a few days, Master Pippin, no doubt because your cousin is sick. The time has come for the kittens to be separated from their mum, and we’ve been finding new homes for them. Don’t worry,” he said, noticing Pippin’s stricken expression. “They all went to good families, and will make good barn cats someday, just like their mum.”

“But won’t she miss them?” Pippin asked. He could not imagine a child being taken from his or her mother.

“I suppose she will,” Farmer Burrows admitted. “But we can’t afford to keep them all here, and old Tabby has had a litter more years than not. My wife and I took the kittens to the market and got a bit of money for them. We sold half the litter yesterday, and will no doubt go back later this week and see if we can’t sell the rest.”

An idea was taking hold in Pippin’s mind. “Can anyone buy a kitten?” he asked.

“Certainly,” the farmer said. “So long as my wife and I think they’re good hobbits and will treat their pets kindly. We love animals, you see, and hate to see people treat them cruelly.”

Nodding, Pippin reached into his pocket for the small leather wallet his da had given him just before he left for Buckland. Pippin had felt very grown up to have a wallet of his own, and his da had even given him some coins to spend at the market. Wondering fleetingly how much a kitten cost, Pippin fished out a handful of coins and held them out to Farmer Burrows.

“I would like to buy a kitten, please,” Pippin said, trying to sound as grown-up and proper as possible.

The farmer nearly dropped his spade. His eyes widened as he glanced down at the coins in Pippin’s hand; there was more money there than what they had earned by selling four kittens yesterday. Nonetheless, Farmer Burrows shook his head.

“No, Master Pippin, if you want a kitten you may have one, as a gift from me,” he said. “I should have known that you would’ve wanted one, what with all the visits you and Mr. Merry paid. I am sorry that you don’t have the pick of the litter anymore, but go on back to the barn and choose the one you’d like.”

Now it was Pippin who shook his head. He remembered what the farmer had said about not being able to afford the kittens, and he had overheard his Uncle Saradoc say just last week that Farmer Burrows had had to plant less crops now that his children were grown and married. No one had said it outright, but Pippin knew that the Burrows family was poor.

“I don’t want a kitten for myself, but for Merry. I think it will cheer him up while he’s sick and since it is a gift, I should pay for it,” Pippin insisted. He held out the coins once more. “Is this enough money for a kitten?”

Farmer Burrows wavered. He was caught in a tight place; he did not wish to take money from Pippin, well-known for being the beloved nephew and cherished cousin of the Master’s son and grandson, and yet he did not want to insult this young gentlehobbit. At last he smiled.

“You’re a generous lad, Master Pippin,” he said. “But there are too many coins there to pay for just one kitten.” He reached out and selected the smallest coin; it was less than he had charged at the market but still a respectable price should Pippin tell anyone what he had spent. “There now, everything is squared away. Let’s go on back to the barn and choose you a kitten.”

Pippin grinned and dropped the remaining coins back into his wallet, and side by side he walked with the old farmer to the barn.

***

His aunt and uncle had relaxed their rules just a bit, allowing Pippin to stand in the doorway to Merry’s bedroom, though they had told him in no uncertain terms that not one toe was to go further than that.

Pippin looked into his cousin’s room. Merry was fast asleep and snoring loudly, since he was forced to breathe through his mouth. His nose was painfully red from constantly sneezing and wiping it with a handkerchief, and his bed was piled with blankets despite the warmth of the summer day. A candle burned steadily at the bedside table, undisturbed by any breeze as the windows were closed tightly to keep the room snug and warm.

Under Saradoc and Esmeralda’s watchful, but amused, eyes, Pippin turned to the small bundle in his arms.

“Remember what I said,” he whispered in the kitten’s ear. “I need you to keep Merry company. I don’t want him to be sad and lonely without anyone to play with while he is sick. But once he is better, all three of us will have fun together.”

The kitten purred loudly in understanding.

“Go on, then,” Pippin said, placing the kitten on the floor. For a moment the kitten stood still, glancing around and sniffing curiously until she picked up Merry’s scent. She followed it to the bed, climbing it easily and walking along until she had reached her new owner’s chest, which she settled across comfortably.

Unaccustomed to the weight on his chest, Merry woke, blinking in the bright, late afternoon sunlight. He gazed in surprise at the kitten staring back at him, before turning to the door.

From the hallway, Pippin smiled and waved.