For Anso, who wanted some Merry h/c, naturally. She wanted pre-Quest, and Pippin having to take care of Merry without any adults around…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Merry is 29 and Pippin is 21 ( 18 and 13 ½ in Man-years);
Frodo is 43 (about 27 in Man-years)

“IT’S NOTHING REALLY…”

PART 1

“Mr. Noakes, my letter from Brandy Hall clearly stated that you would be bringing my young cousins. I do not understand why they are not with you? You should have reached Hobbiton before noon at the latest.” Frodo’s tone was mild, but his eyes were glacial. It was well past teatime.

“Well, er, Mr. Baggins--it’s like this, see, I guess that I overslept myself, and they was too impatient to wait. The innkeeper up to The Floating Log told me Mr. Merry paid him for their room and him and Master Pippin just up and left early this morning.”

“I do not understand why they would do such a thing,” said Frodo, perplexed and by no means mollified. His cousins had been coming to Bag End to spend a few days, before all of them headed to the Great Smials for the Lithedays. Saradoc had arranged for them to ride as far as Hobbiton with this carter, who was delivering goods to Michel Delving.

“Well, it’s nothing really,” said the carter looking away from that piercing stare. “It’s just that I mayhap made a bit too merry last night.” Lying wouldn’t do no good with this one, and his cousins would tell him right enough when they got here. They were just tweens, and had contented themselves with a half apiece, but he’d run into some kinfolk he’d not seen in a while, and they all wanted to stand him drinks and to talk, and what with one thing and another, he’d not awakened till after elevenses, feeling none too chipper, only to learn his charges had left without him.

“I am not pleased with you at all, Mr. Noakes. And I daresay my cousin, the Master of Buckland, who paid you good coin to escort his son and nephew will not be any too pleased with you either. Did the innkeeper say how my cousins left? Did they walk or try to find another ride?”

“They walked,” replied Noakes, more than a touch sullenly. If those tweens had just had a bit more patience, they’d’ve been here now. Serve ‘em right if they was footsore and wore out when they did get here.

“Good day, Mr. Noakes,” Frodo said coldly.

The carter whipped up his ponies, and clattered down the road, more than a bit worried. It’d be more than it was worth for him to set foot in Buckland now, for sure and that Baggins fellow had the right of it, that the Master wouldn’t be pleased. Then another and even more chilling thought occurred: the younger one was the Thain’s Heir. He sighed. He might have to go into another line of work. Or maybe he should move to Bree…

Frodo stood at the gate, more worried than he could say. Walking, at the pace Pippin probably would set meant they would probably have to camp tonight. They had camped before, but always with Frodo, never on their own. Still, they should arrive by elevenses tomorrow.

But he couldn’t shake his unease.

Finally, he went down to Number Three.

The Gaffer answered. Sam came up behind.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo shook his head, “It’s probably nothing, really but the carter who was supposed to deliver Merry and Pippin to me got drunk last night, and so my cousins left him in Frogmorton, and decided to finish the trip on foot. I can’t help but be a bit worried. I thought that I would walk out myself, see if I can’t come across them. Still, if we miss one another, they might turn up on their own before I get back. I’d like to leave the spare key with you, Sam. If they show up you can let them into Bag End. I’ll leave a note on the door, saying to come to you.”

Sam looked worried as well. “Would you like me to come, too, Mr. Frodo? The Gaffer can keep the key.”

Frodo shook his head. “As I said, it’s nothing really, but me worrying. Just keep an eye out, please Sam.”

_________________________________________

Actually, Merry and Pippin had been making pretty good time at first. They had cut cross-country, in a route they had walked with Frodo before. Merry was setting a rather brisk pace, grumbling and complaining about the carter the whole time. Pippin just shrugged. He was just as well pleased that Merry had not wanted to wait on Mr. Noakes, for it was a good deal more fun to be walking, and just the two of them.

They had provisioned themselves well before setting out, and they let their stomachs be their guide for when to stop and eat. By luncheon they found they were over a third of the way to Hobbiton, and Merry was feeling rather pleased with himself.

They found a small stream, and helped themselves to bread, cheese, apples and mushroom pasties. Afterward the sun was high, and they found a shady spot beneath the canopy of a great oak. Pippin looked longingly at the branches, but since Frodo was not there he refrained from climbing. It upset Merry far too much to see him climb unless Frodo was there.

So they sprawled on the ground in the shade and took a bit of a nap. They slept rather longer than they had meant to, and when they woke, Merry bustled them along.

“We’re going to have to make the time up, Pip. You know how Frodo is going to worry if we don’t arrive today before teatime.”

“He’s going to be worried that we didn’t arrive by lunch,” said Pippin. “But there is no way we could have. Don’t walk so fast, Merry--Merry!”

For Merry had suddenly taken a tumble in the rock strewn pasture.

Pippin rushed over to him. “What happened, Merry?”

Merry gave him a grimace that was meant to be a reassuring smile. “I stepped in a rabbit hole, of all things, Pip.” He drew his leg up, and winced.

Pippin reached over and touched his ankle. Merry winced. “It’s nothing really, Pip…I think it’s just a bit of a sprain.” He pulled himself together and stood, as if to show Pippin that he was all right. But the second he put weight on his foot, his face went pale, and broke out in a sweat. Pippin grabbed him awkwardly, and helped him to sit back down.

“Oh, Merry!” said Pippin, with tears in his eyes, “I don’t think you are going to be walking on that foot!”

TBC

 “No, Pip, I don’t much think I will.” Merry tried to keep his tone light, but Pippin could hear the pain in it anyway.

Pippin stood up and glanced around the meadow in which they stood. They weren’t far from a large oak tree--one under which he and Merry had picnicked with Frodo once or twice when making the journey with him.

“I know that you need to keep off that foot, but it’s not too good for you to have to be laying out here while the Sun’s so high,” he said emphatically. That was something with which he had personal experience. “Can you lean on me and make it over there to the shade?”

Merry was going to protest leaning his weight on his smaller and slighter cousin, but a moment’s thought, and he realized he’d never make it by himself. And Pippin was right, they did not need to be out in the open in the height of summer unless they were moving along. And he knew better than to suggest Pippin seek the shade himself while he remained in the sun.

Together they hobbled the thirty feet or so to the tree. In spite of the fact that he was trying to put as little weight on his foot as possible, Merry’s face was pale and sweaty by the time they were under the welcoming shade. Pippin once more aided Merry to the ground. Then he took off his own pack, and Merry’s.

“Lie back, Merry,” he said. “One thing I know for sure is that you need to put your foot up.” He took Merry’s leg and laid it on top of his pack. “That’s what the healer made Sparrow do when he sprained his ankle trying to catch the pig when we lived at Whitwell.” Sparrow had been the Took’s farm hand before they had moved into the Great Smials. “She put cold compresses on it, too.”

He began to fumble in his own pack, and pulled out one of his spare shirts. Then he took his waterskin, and poured some water on it.

“What are you doing, Pip? That’s one of your good shirts.”

“So?” He folded it up carefully and draped it over Merry’s ankle, which had already begun to swell alarmingly.

Merry was leaning up on both elbows, watching his younger cousin in fascination, and trying to ignore his pain.

“Lie back down, Merry,” Pippin ordered. “Mistress Poppy told Sparrow he had to keep his foot higher than his heart.”

Merry chuckled. Pippin in a bossy mood was unusual. “All right, Pip. You do seem to know what you’re doing.” Merry was impressed, for everything his younger cousin was doing so far was right--Merry’s own father had seen to it that he knew how to deal with minor injuries, but as far as he knew, Pippin was simply going by something he’d observed several years ago. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen the year Sparrow had sprained his ankle, and it was clear that he had watched and remembered everything.

Merry laid back, and folded his hands behind his head. The cool wet cloth felt good upon his swollen ankle, he had to admit. But it still throbbed with pain. Pippin came and lay down next to him. He propped his head on his left arm, and with his right hand, he began to smooth the curls away from Merry’s brow. “My poor Merry! Does it hurt dreadfully?”

“Somewhat dreadfully. I am sorry, Pippin.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t mean to step in a rabbit hole, I’m sure!”

“No, I can’t say as I did. But I shouldn’t have been hurrying like that, and I shouldn’t have been rushing so. And it was my idea to go on and walk, instead of waiting for the carter to wake up.”

“I don’t think I’d have cared to ride with him anymore, anyway, Merry. He would have been awful cross, with a sore head, and there’s no telling how much longer we’d have had to wait for him to wake. I’m quite sure he would have been very unpleasant company.”

Merry pursed his lips. “I have to admit, those were my reasons. But this would not have happened, anyway, if I had not insisted on leaving. And I had hoped we’d be at Bag End in time for supper, if not for tea. We don’t have much food left do we?”

Pippin shook his head. “I don’t have any. What’s in your pack?”

“A couple of apples.”

“Oh.”
________________________________________________

Frodo paused for a moment and took a drink from his waterskin, and pulled an apple from his pocket. He’d no idea how far his cousins would have come, as the carter had not known what time they had left. But he was fairly certain of the route. The three of them had made a couple of walking trips between Buckland and Hobbiton before, and he was quite sure that would be the way Merry would have taken.

He munched his apple as he walked, and wondered if the two had much food with them. As growing tweens, they’d be ravenous. He’d packed some food along, knowing they’d probably be hungry when they met.

He could not get over how irresponsible the carter had been. Knowing Merry’s impatience, he could just imagine how things had gone this morning when Noakes had failed to wake. The journey on foot was a pleasant enough ramble, and he was sure that Merry would have been confident enough for them to attempt it. But the two of them had never made the trip without an adult along before. Merry was only four years from coming of age, but Pippin was only twenty-one, and far too young to make such a trek alone.

As much as he enjoyed his cousins’ visits, sometimes being responsible for them was wearing. He’d thought it would be pleasant to have a few days visit with them before they were all expected at the Great Smials for Lithe. He had to admit to himself that he’d missed them this spring. Their visits had been shorter than were usual. At twenty-nine, Merry was getting close to his majority, and Uncle Sara was beginning to give him more responsibilities. And Pippin was easily bored without Merry’s presence.

He’d been thinking of not going to Buckland this autumn; he didn’t always, but Merry’s disappointment when he stayed away was always acute.

He sighed. Well, he’d just hope he came across them soon. He just could not shake the feeling something wasn’t right.
__________________________________________________

Pippin wet the shirt one last time from his waterskin. They had been drinking from Merry’s. His belly rumbled. He was very hungry. Merry’s own stomach began to growl as well.

“Now see what you started,” said Merry wryly. But Pippin heard the discomfort in his voice.

Pippin shook Merry’s waterskin; it was nearly empty. “Merry, I’m going to have to go back to the stream and fill these. I think I shall pick up some firewood as well. Do you have your striker?” Pippin had lost his again.

“Of course,” said Merry, “my tinderbox is in my pack.”

Pippin gently moved Merry’s foot, and cringed himself as Merry winced and bit back a gasp of pain. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“ ‘s all right, Pip,” Merry gasped. “You do what you have to.”

Pippin nodded, biting his lower lip, and rummaged in Merry’s pack until the tinderbox came to hand. Then he carefully arranged his cousin’s foot again. In the early evening light, he could see how pale Merry was, and there was a little line of pain in the middle of his brow. “I wish I had some willow-bark tea or something for you Merry,” he said, laying his hand on his older cousin’s brow. Did it seem a bit warm? He hated to leave him, but they really needed a fire and even more, they needed water. There was a little stream about a quarter of a mile south of the tree where they now rested.

Pippin walked about the tree, and gathered enough fallen limbs and twigs to make a start, and quietly and efficiently laid a fire. Merry watched him without saying anything, glad that was something he had taught Pippin to do. When it was crackling away, he took the waterskins.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Mer?” he asked anxiously.

“I’ll be fine, Pip. Sooner you go, the sooner you’ll get back.”

As Pippin walked away, Merry let out a deep breath he did not realize he’d been holding, and gave in to tears of pain that he’d been holding off for fear of frightening Pippin. His ankle was throbbing with a deep pain, and he began to wonder if it were not sprained, but broken. And he had the beginnings of a headache from hunger.

It would be dark by the time Pippin got back. He hoped Pip would be all right.

Frodo must be worried sick by now.

 PART 3

Pippin gazed down on Merry’s pain-filled face, in the light of the dying embers of the fire. He’d fed the last of the bits of wood he had into it some time before.

Both of them were too exhausted to talk, yet too hungry to fall asleep. They’d long since gone past the stage of giggling hysterically at the sounds of their bellies rumbling simultaneously, and were now merely trying to endure the rest of the night.

Pippin simply sat and smoothed the curls on Merry’s brow. It not only comforted Merry, but it seemed to help calm himself as well. Pippin looked up at the Moon. He was not giving off much light tonight, only a little sliver of a new Moon he was.

What would they do in the morning? Frodo was going to be frantic when they did not show up with the carter. Pippin just bet Frodo would be angry with old Noakes for what had happened. This morning, leaving the old sot sleeping had seemed like a good idea, but now, even a long ride with a surly and hungover hobbit seemed less unpleasant than what they were having to endure now.

He wondered if Merry had a headache too? He blinked away tears. In the morning, he was going to have to leave Merry for a while and fetch help. There was nothing else for it. He thought he remembered a farm not too far north of where they were now. Perhaps they’d be able to help.

Suddenly, his head shot up. He could have sworn he heard his name and Merry’s--was he losing his mind? There it was again--

“Pippin! Merry!”

It was Frodo’s voice, it was!

“Merry? Did you hear it?” Merry was trying to sit up.

“I think I did, Pip!” He peered out into the darkness. “Frodo! Frodo!”

Suddenly they could see Frodo’s form silhouetted in the darkness. “Merry! Pippin! I’m glad I found you!” He had been hopeful when he had seen the glow of a dying campfire. Very few hobbits he knew camped like that.

Pippin stood up, but pushed Merry back. “You stay where you are, Meriadoc Brandybuck!”

As Frodo neared, Pippin hurled himself at him. “Oh, Frodo! I’m so glad you found us!”

Frodo returned Pippin’s embrace, but his eyes were on Merry. “What’s wrong, Merry?”

“I’ve sprained my ankle, I think, like a silly ass.”

Frodo moved Pippin to one side, and knelt down by Merry, looking at the foot, all propped up on his pack. He moved the damp shirt away, and spared a proud smile at Pippin. He looked at the swollen and discolored ankle, and touched it gingerly. Merry gasped.

“It may be more than sprained. We’ll need a healer to look at it.” Just then Merry’s stomach growled loudly, followed by Pippin’s.

“When did you lads eat last?”

“Well, we had a couple of apples around teatime, but that’s it,” replied Pippin.

Frodo shook his head, and suppressed a smile. While the situation was not at all funny, he was amused that at least in regards to the food, he had anticipated things. “Open my pack, Pip. The bottle is cold tea, which you may share. There are a few other things in there as well.”

With shining eyes, Pippin pulled out some packages wrapped in brown paper--there were butter and pickle sandwiches, cheese, some meat pasties, carrots, and some gingersnaps.

“Oh thank you, Frodo!” Pippin exclaimed.

“It’s nothing really, Pip. I just threw together a few things from the larder. I thought you lads might be hungry when I found you.”

For a few moments, the tweens fell to on the food, Frodo taking one of the gingersnaps to munch on and keep them company. Finally, as the edge began to fade from their hunger, Merry asked “Whatever possessed you to come in search of us, Frodo? I mean, I know that you would have been a bit worried when we didn’t turn up, but still--” It was a long trek to where they were, a few miles southwest of the Three Farthing Stone.

“When Mr. Noakes showed up so late this afternoon without you, I was not pleased, especially when he told me why the two of you had decided to walk.”

Merry glanced sheepishly at Frodo. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Pip and I had no idea when he’d wake up, and really Frodo, he was very deep in his cups last night. We didn’t think riding with him would be a pleasant experience.”

Frodo shook his head. “I should say not. I tore a strip off him, and sent him on his way with a few things to think about. When your father learns how he failed in his trust he is *not* going to be pleased, oh no!”

“You’re not angry at us, then” Merry asked anxiously.

“Not really. I can quite understand why you’d set off without him.”

“That’s a relief.”

Pippin was still eating the last of the food, and paused in licking his fingers clean. “So why did you come looking? Didn’t you know we’d stop and camp if it got too late?”

Frodo reached over and tousled his curls. “I just thought it would be a good idea for some reason, and rightly so it looks. What did you do to your foot, Merry?”

Merry looked sheepish. “I stepped in a rabbit hole,” he shrugged. He looked up at Frodo. “Pip’s taken very good care of me.”

“I can see that he has. I’m very proud of you Pippin. Now, let’s get some rest for what remains of the night, and in the morning, we’ll decided what to do. Pippin, hand me my blanket.”

After a few moments, Frodo found himself in the middle of his two cousins, with one tucked up under each arm. Pippin had fallen asleep immediately, and Merry was drifting off finally himself. Frodo dropped a little kiss on Pippin’s curls, and looked fondly at Merry. “Good night, sprout,” he whispered, using the special baby-name for his cousin that he never dared say aloud any longer to this nearly grown tween.

He shifted a bit himself, and then finally fell asleep as well.

TBC

 Frodo shifted his cousins, and then winced at the pins and needles running up and down his arms. Merry and Pippin were a lot bigger than they used to be when he would sleep with them tucked against his sides. It was just about dawn; he could see the grey light beginning to dim the stars in the east.

He sat up carefully, and thought for a moment. Then he turned to Pippin, and shook him gently. “Hsst. Pippin.”

Pippin’s eyes shot open. “Fro? Is Merry all right?”

Frodo nodded. “As all right as he can be, Pip. But we have to have help. I am going to go to a farm that’s about a mile or so north of here, near the road. I shall see if they can spare a waggon or cart that we can take Merry home in. I shall also try to get us some breakfast, for you lads ate all the food I brought last night. Are you able to watch over Merry again for a while, as you did yesterday, until I come back?”

His eyes wide Pippin nodded solemnly. “I’m so glad you came, Frodo,” he said softly. “I was afraid that I was going to have to leave him alone to get help.” Tears sprang to the green eyes, as he thought of it. It would have been so hard to leave his Merry all alone and hurt, to go fetch help.

Frodo gave him a proud smile. “I know that you would have done that if you had to, dearest, but now you don’t. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully he will sleep until I return.” Frodo turned a concerned look on Merry. Even in sleep, there was a little line of pain on his brow, and his skin felt a bit clammy.

“I’ll take good care of him, Frodo.”

“Good lad.” Frodo struggled to his feet, trying not to disturb his sleeping cousin.

Frodo walked off in the direction of the farm, and Pippin stood up as well, and stretched. After a moment, he sat down again, tailor fashion, by Merry, and began to sooth his brow with a gentle hand, as he hummed a soft tune.

The sun was nearly up, when Merry stirred with a small moan. Then his eyes flew open.

“Where’s Frodo?” He felt a bit panicked, and wondered if he had just dreamed his older cousin’s fortuitous arrival in the night.

“It’s all right, Merry,” said Pippin. “He’s walking to a nearby farm to get some help and some breakfast for us.”

Merry nodded. Of course. That’s exactly what he would do.

“Would you mind awfully if I go get us some more water, Merry? I didn’t like to go sooner, lest you wake up and miss the both of us.”

Merry nodded. “That’ll be fine, Pip. Take your time.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.
_________________________________________

Farmer Longhole had just left his cottage, and was going to go check on the state of his turnip field, when he spotted someone walking across his pasture. Who could it be this time of morn? he wondered.

“Farmer Longhole?” cried the visitor.

Why, it was Mr. Baggins, of Hobbiton! Time was, he’d been a regular visitor as he passed through, on his way to visit kin in Buckland. Used to, when he was just a tween, old Mr. Bilbo Baggins had always been with him, but in later years, it were just him, though he weren’t so frequent now as he once was.

“Mr. Frodo Baggins!” the farmer cried. “What brings you across my fields?”

“My cousins and I are camped about a mile south of here. Unfortunately, my cousin Merry has sprained--or perhaps even broken--his ankle. My younger cousin Pippin is watching over him, but I had hoped to borrow a waggon or cart in which to fetch him home. Also, I was thinking perhaps I could buy a bit of breakfast to take them. You know how tweens’ appetites are, and the delay caused by my cousin’s injury means I’ve nothing to feed them.”

“Bless me! Mr. Frodo. That’s not to be thought of. *Buy* breakfast indeed! The missus would have my hide if I thought of such a thing. You come right in and she’ll put you up a basket to take those poor lads! Aster!” he called. “Aster! We’ve got ourselves a guest!” He turned to Frodo. “You go along and get some food, while I hitch old Dobbin up to the waggon!”

In a twinkling, the stout farmwife had clucked her dismay at Frodo’s tale, and put him up a large basket, with scones and buns and jam and ham and boiled eggs and berries. There was a crockery jar of cold buttermilk--which Frodo knew would please Merry, and another of hot tea. She had also pressed upon him some blankets and pillows, “so as to make the poor hurt lad as comfy as possible, Mr. Frodo.”

The farmer insisted on driving the waggon. “Old Dobbin can be an ornery pony if he don’t know you,” he said.

"Thank you, so much," said Frodo.

"It's nothing, really..." said the old farmer.

They took an old track across the meadow, and then cut across the fields toward the place where Frodo had left his cousins.
_________________________________________________

Pippin’s stomach was growling mightily. He tried to ignore the hollow feeling, and instead worried about Merry, who had told him he “wasn’t all that hungry anyway,” and seemed to be rather listless.

He drank some more water. At least it was *something* in his empty belly.

He heard the rumble of the waggon before he saw it. “Frodo!” he exclaimed. “Merry! Look, Frodo’s back!”

“That’s nice,” Merry murmured, not even raising his head.

This alarmed Pippin more than anything yet, and he was ever so glad to see Frodo jump from the waggon and fly to Merry’s side.

“Hullo, Frodo,” said Merry sadly. “I hurt.”

“I know, spr--cousin,” He rose up and fetched the basket from the waggon, as the old farmer came near. Frodo took out the jar of hot tea, and a cup from the basket. Mrs. Longhole had given him a twist of paper with a bit of willow-bark powder in it. He sprinkled it in the cup and added a bit of the tea to it. Helping Merry to sit up, he held the tea to his lips. Merry made a grimace at the bitter taste, but drank it down. Frodo turned to Pippin, who had begun to examine the contents of the capacious basket.

“Pip,” he handed Pippin the cup he’d used for Merry. “Pour him some buttermilk from the other jar.”

Pippin obliged, and as Frodo held the cup back up to Merry’s lips, he had the satisfaction of seeing a brief look of pleasure replace the pain etched on Merry’s face.

“Buttermilk!” he smiled, as he downed it all. He drank a second cup as well, before he began to feel the effects of the willow-bark, and laid back down.

Frodo and Pippin ate from the basket, and Farmer Longhole politely took a scone and some jam to keep them company. Then Pippin took the pillows and blankets Mrs. Longhole had sent and made a nest for Merry in the back of the waggon.

Frodo and the Farmer between them carried Merry to the waggon, and Merry bit his lip as his ankle and leg were moved. Then Frodo and Pippin clambered in the back, as the farmer turned the waggon around.

Frodo held Merry’s head in his lap. “You rest, cousin. We’ll be back at Bag End in time for elevenses, I’m sure.”

Pippin took Merry’s hand, and began to sing to him.

And Frodo rode along thinking of some very choice names to call the carter, Noakes.

TBC

 PART 5

It was indeed, coming on for elevenses as they approached the Hill in Hobbiton. Frodo was sitting up in the front with Farmer Longhole, and though he was keeping up his end of the old farmer’s meandering conversation, his mind was on Merry. Pippin was sitting by Merry, holding his hand and singing to him. As they headed up the Hill, Frodo turned.

“Pippin, I want you to hop out here. Go over to Number Three and let Sam know we are back, and then head back down and fetch Mistress Salvia.”

Pippin nodded, and giving Merry a quick kiss on top of his head, he jumped out as the waggon pulled up briefly.

Sam, of course, would be taking elevenses at home, since Frodo had been gone. Pippin knocked at the door of Number Three, Bagshot Row, and it was opened by Marigold.

“Master Pippin!” said Sam’s sister in surprise. “Mr. Frodo went out looking for you!”

“Yes, and he found us and brought us back. Please Marigold, may I speak with Sam?”

But Sam had heard from the kitchen and was already there. “Is aught amiss, Master Pippin?” For he knew the lad pretty well, and could read the distress on his face.

“Yes, Sam. Merry hurt his ankle--it’s sprained or maybe even broken. Frodo wanted me to tell you we were back, and then I’m to fetch the healer.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll go up at once and see if he needs my help. You go on along then--” he stopped, noticing an embarrassed perplexity on Pippin’s open face. “What’s wrong?”

“Er, Sam--I’ve never been. Where *is* Mistress Salvia’s house?”

Sam suppressed a smile. “Down to the bottom of the Hill, turn left on the lane, second cottage on the right.” Of course, Master Pippin had never had to fetch the healer before--that had usually been Mr. Frodo’s or young Mr. Merry’s job if she was needed up at Bag End.

Pippin gave a grin. “Thanks!” and was off like an arrow.

Sam watched him for an instant, and then set off himself, up the Hill at a ground-eating lope.
______________________________________________

Pippin skidded to a halt in front of the gate that led up to a pleasant little cottage. Mistress Salvia herself was in the garden, harvesting herbs from one of the beds that grew along the path leading up to her round door, which was painted a cheery red. She straightened up at the sight of the young hobbit who was coming breathlessly up the path.

“Why, it’s Peregrin Took! Is something wrong?” For Pippin had been a patient of hers once or twice, after falling ill at Bag End.

“Yes, Mistress Salvia. My cousin Merry hurt his ankle, and Frodo said to fetch you.”

“Just a moment, then, and I’ll get my satchel. You can tell me what happened as we walk up to Bag End.”

It only took her an instant to step in her door. She took off her apron and took her jacket and her medical satchel from their hooks by the front door. Then she turned and walked along with Pippin at her side. She could tell he was fairly humming with tension.

“Now, what happened?”

“Well, you see it all started when Uncle Sara--that’s Merry’s father--paid this carter to bring the two of us here to Hobbiton---”
_______________________________________________

Moving quickly, Sam arrived at Bag End’s gate at very nearly the same time the farmer’s waggon did.

“Ah, Sam!” Frodo exclaimed. “Excellent!”

“Do you need some help, Mr. Frodo?”

“I suspect that I shall, in order to get Merry inside and settled in before the healer gets here.”

Merry sat up, and with Frodo on one side, and Sam on the other, he put an arm around each of their necks, and they linked arms to make a
“chair” to carry him in.

Farmer Longhole followed, carrying the packs of Frodo, Merry and Pippin.

Soon they were inside Bag End, and in the little guest room that Merry always used when he visited. Fortunately, Frodo had made the room up two days before, when he was expecting his cousins’ arrival.

Frodo and Sam placed Merry in a nearby chair, and Sam turned the bed down, while Frodo rummaged in Merry’s pack for a nightshirt.

Farmer Longhole, who had stood at the door to Merry’s room looking a bit uncomfortable--for who was he, to be inside Mr. Baggins’ fine hole?--spoke up. “Well, Mr. Baggins, I do need to get back home! It’ll be half the day agone when I get there as is.”

“Oh, will you not stay, and take some tea?” asked Frodo. It was the least he could do for all the farmer’s help.

“Nay, I thank you. Master Merry, I hope you get to feeling better soon!” and with a polite bob of his head he left.

“Seems a nice enough sort,” said Sam.

“Oh, indeed! He’s the salt of the earth! I would have offered him something for all his help, but I fear me he would have been mortally offended.” Frodo spoke as he helped Merry into the nightshirt.

“Aye, you have the right of that,” Sam replied. “I’ll go to the kitchen and put the kettle on.”

“Thank you, Sam. Now, Merry, let’s settle you in the bed. I want to put a pillow under your leg and get you nice and comfortable before Mistress Salvia gets here.”

“Oh, Frodo!” Merry’s grey eyes filled. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so much trouble for you.”

Frodo smiled at him. “Oh, you’re no end of trouble, you silly goose, and worth every moment of it! It’s nothing really…”
________________________________________________

“…and then I made him lie down and stick his foot up on his pack to keep it up and I wet my shirt to put on it and keep it cool, because I thought that was right with a sprained ankle but then when Frodo came he thought that maybe it might not be sprained but maybe it was broken and so now I am wondering if I should have done something different if it was broken because I knew about sprains but I don’t know anything about broken ankles at all and--”

Mistress Salvia suppressed a chuckle at this earnest and breathless recital, and interrupted the flow of words. “No, young Peregrin, you did the right thing, whether it was broken or only sprained. The only other thing you might have done was to splint it, and that is not something you should attempt if you do not know how. You did precisely right.”

He beamed at her. “Oh good! Because I was so worried that I might not get it right, you know, and I wanted to take good care of my Merry.”

She smiled at him. “Well, I think that you took very good care of him indeed,” she said, “and here we are at Bag End!”

The lad darted ahead, and opened the door with a yell--”Frodo! The healer is here!”

“We’re in Merry’s room!” came a faint yell back.

The stout little healer followed Pippin through the passageway to the room where her patient lay.

“Ah, young Meriadoc! Looks like something a bit more serious than skinned elbows today,” she said briskly.

“Yes, Mistress Salvia,” he said.

She looked at the swollen and discolored ankle. It could either be a serious sprain, or it could be broken. She began to carefully examine and probe it, as her patient winced and bit his lip. “I know this is painful, Mr. Brandybuck, but I have to know.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. Both Pippin and Frodo, watching, looked as though they were wincing in pain as well. Tears stood in both their eyes.

Finally, she took her amber pendulum on its leather thong from around her neck and suspended it over the injury, carefully watching the patterns it made as it swung there.

She nodded. “Ah,” she said.

“What is it?” asked Frodo. “Is it broken?”

“I am as sure as I can be,” she said, “without having some way to see beneath the skin and muscle. It is not broken clear through, but rather there seems to be a crack in the bone, probably no greater than the width of a hair. I shall splint it, and he will need to keep it elevated for a day or two longer. Then a week or so on crutches. I have a powder he can take in tea or juice that will help to ease the pain, and I shall leave that with you, along with directions. You will need to get plenty of rest.”

Merry nodded. He hurt dreadfully right now, and he was afraid he’d cry if he spoke.

Just then Sam entered with a tray, a teapot, and enough cups for everyone.

“Perfect,” said the healer. “He can have his first dose of pain-killer now.”

She took a little pouch from her satchel, and put the contents in a cup and poured the tea over, and Merry sat up to drink his medicine.

After Mistress Salvia had left, Frodo and Pippin tucked Merry up firmly, and Frodo sat on the chair by the bed, and Pippin went over to lie on his other side. Sam went to see the healer out, and then into the garden to begin his afternoon’s work. Merry soon drifted off from the effect of the medicine, and soon both his exhausted cousins were gently snoring as well.
________________________________________

Later that evening after a light supper taken from a tray in Merry’s room, and shared by all three, Frodo said, “Well, I need to write your parents, Merry, and let them know we shall not make it to the Great Smials for the Lithedays. Would you like to write them as well? I’ll bring you a tray, with parchment and ink, if you do.”

Merry nodded, and soon he was sitting up, balancing the tray across his knees, as he wrote his own letter:

“Dear Mum and Da,

I know Frodo is writing you as well. I don’t want you to worry. It’s nothing really, but…”

The End