Special thanks to Ariel for beta!

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Change and Constancy

It was a fine spring afternoon in Minas Tirith when Frodo Baggins of the Shire, former Ring-bearer and hero of all Middle-earth stared crossly at his reflection. He had regained some of his weight and though still too skinny for a hobbit, he looked quite agreeable again. The marks of war no longer blemished his skin, his cheeks had some colour, and his hair was once again thick.

But there lay his problem, as Pippin, who watched his cousin secretly from the doorway, noted. Frodo kept mumbling to himself while combing single strands of hair through his fingers. Every once in a while he would peer into the mirror, his nose almost touching its smooth surface. At other times he would bring a strand of hair close to his eyes almost squinting in the attempt to examine it.

Pippin bit his lip to keep from snickering. It seemed his cousin finally noticed what everybody else had seen long ago. His cousin's ebony head was streaked with fine threads of silver. Age was finally taking its toll on the hobbit who had looked like a lad just barely out of his tweens for far too long.

Pippin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, amused by his cousin's muttering. It was only when he heard him talk about pulling them out that Pippin spoke up.

"Don't," he said reaching out a hand as if that would stop his cousin. Frodo gave a jump. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. It is said that one grey hair that's pulled out causes seven new ones to grow."

"Seven new ones?!" Frodo cried out in disbelief drawing his hands back in shock. For a very long moment he gazed flabbergasted at his younger cousin before, as if he had only realised his presence just then, he straightened his back and cleared his throat. In a tone that concealed his distress rather well, he said: "Did the long journey cause you to forget your manners, Peregrin Took? I remember a time when even you respected an older cousin's privacy."

"Old," Pippin chuckled advancing his cousin. "Yes, that's exactly what I've been thinking. You're indeed growing old and, if you ask me, it's about time too."

"I'm not," Frodo declared matter-of-factly. "I'm simply…"

"… growing grey hair?" Pippin concluded grinning broadly. His mail shone in the sunlight streaming in through the small window as he reached for Frodo's curly hair. "That's only the first step. It won't take long now and your joints begin to crack, then your back will start aching, and…"

"Peregrin Took!" Frodo scolded as he grabbed his cousin's wrist evading his touch. "I'm not becoming an old gaffer. And even if I were, I would still win a contest of strength between us."

Pippin raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Really?" he said in amused surprise, wriggling free from his cousin's grasp. "You do know that you speak to a troll slayer, don't you?"

"Should that impress me?"

"Well…" Pippin hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when his cousin headed for the door, he quickly hurried after him. "It should at least frighten you a bit."

Frodo chuckled. "Well then, youngling, I shall try to muster some respect to meet your fierceness."

Warm sunlight met their faces and to Pippin his cousin seemed quite pleased with himself. Frodo closed his eyes and drew a deep breath relishing this fine spring day. A fresh breeze disturbed their curls and yet again Pippin had to smile. The grey shimmer sparkling in Frodo's hair could not be denied. Pippin found that he quite liked this first sign of age on his cousin, a fine match to the thin lines that appeared on his face now when he was laughing. They made him look wiser than his years, just like Frodo's eyes had always done.

However, it would not stop him from teasing the older one. Good-naturedly Pippin clapped his hand on Frodos back and smirked. "Don't worry, cousin, I will love you even with white hair and a cane."

"Peregrin!" Frodo growled under his breath and yet Pippin could see the laughter playing at the corner of his lips. Some things would never change.

~THE END~