Author notes:
Special thanks to Ariel for betaing.

~*~*~

The Way Things Are

"It's so soft."

Pippin brought the tiny ball of fur to his face and nuzzled into it.

"Pippin, be careful. You're squashing it."

"I'm not," Pippin pouted, grumbling as Frodo took the trembling animal from him. Disappointed, Pippin glanced at the tiny, motionless bunny and repeated his proclamation that he did not hurt it.

"I know, Pip, but you must be careful," Frodo said softly. "Here, hold out your hand." He gently placed the bunny in Pippin's waiting arms and showed the youngling how to best hold it. His cousin's obvious joy did not diminish Frodo's pity for the tiny animal, which crouched on Pippin's chest, its eyes wide open, its ears pressed down, and its nose moving rapidly.

"It's so soft!" Pippin squealed again almost bouncing with excitement.

Frodo smiled in agreement. He reached into the hutch and got hold of a rather lively bunny. Its struggles immediately caught the mother's attention. With a grunt, she leapt towards Frodo's hand, but the tween was swifter. Grinning, he pressed the young animal to his chest and combed his fingers through the downy fur.

"Enjoying yourselves, lads?"

Frodo turned to see the farmer coming towards them with long strides. "Very much, Mr. Cotton. Thank you for your invitation."

"They are so soft!" Pippin exclaimed again, grinning up to the farmer. "Can I have one?"

"Pippin," Frodo scolded, annoyed at the child's bold interruption, but the farmer laughed heartily and ruffled the young hobbit's curls.

"If your father allows it you can take one with you," he promised, "but you need be quick 'cause as soon as they're full grown we…"

"… will set them loose again," Frodo broke in quickly, knowing where this conversation was headed. His young cousin might have grown up on his father's farm and known the fate of lambs and other farm animals, but Pippin was very fond of the bunnies.

Farmer Cotton looked at him in confusion for a moment, but then thankfully he seemed to understand. "Yes," he confirmed haltingly, "we're setting them loose. Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Bilbo wants you to come home. My Lily met him at the market earlier this afternoon and he told her there would be an early dinner."

Thanking the farmer once more, Frodo placed his bunny back into the hutch and turned to the reluctant Pippin.

"But I don't want to go, Frodo," he moaned pressing his poor, little charge closer. "Tell Bilbo I don't need any dinner."

Just then, Pippin yelped and the bunny, which had finally awoken from its stupor, wriggled free. Frodo barely managed to catch him.

"Careful, Master Peregrin. Don't hurt it," the farmer advised in a concerned voice as Frodo put the animal back to its mother.

"I didn't," Pippin protested looking sullenly at a few red scratches on his arm.

~*~*~

"Do you think this one might work better?" Pippin asked, turning towards Frodo with his eyes as huge as saucers, pouting and trembling lips, and such a woebegone expression that Frodo wondered where he could possibly have learned it.

"If that one does not work, none will," he laughed, ushering his young cousin up Bag End's garden path and shaking his head. All the way home Pippin had tried various pleading looks on him to find out which would convince his father of his dire need to have a baby rabbit. Some were ridiculous, some might actually work, if he hadn't already used them on Paladin before.

"What do you think we'll have for dinner?" Pippin asked. He sniffed noisily trying to distinguish the various smells welcoming them upon the opening of the front door. "It smells tasty. I hope there'll be lots of it."

"I thought you didn't need any dinner tonight," Frodo teased.

"That was before you forced me to run up the Hill."

"Who had to run?" Bilbo's head appeared in the kitchen door. The old hobbit wore a huge smile as Pippin ran to greet him. "Hullo, lad! Did you have a nice afternoon with your cousin?"

Pippin nodded but instead of recounting the events he repeated his question. Supper had become a matter of high importance.

Bilbo laughed at that and hurried to the stove where a huge pot was boiling. Lifting its lid Bilbo waved a delicious smell into their direction causing both their stomachs to grumble loudly. The old hobbit beamed contently and said: "It's rabbit stew and I've also cooked some potatoes."

Frodo winced. He sensed the storm cloud that would soon be brewing and looked from a confused Bilbo to an utterly horrified Pippin. The poor lad's mouth had fallen open. His chubby face had lost all colour and the huge green eyes were wide with terror. He turned from Bilbo to Frodo and the hurt the latter perceived in his eyes almost made him flinch. With a dart the young Took dashed out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Pippin," Frodo called after him but the lad was already out of sight. "Very well done, Bilbo. Excellent, really!" he grumbled, turning to the older hobbit.

Bilbo stood perplexed. "What did I do?"

"Never mind," Frodo huffed and slumped into a chair, propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in his hands. This evening was going to be difficult.

"What is it, lad?" Bilbo asked worriedly. "What did I do that frightened your cousin off?"

"You made stew," Frodo blustered, "rabbit stew. Remember why we had been at the Cotton's?"

"The young-- oh" Bilbo hesitated as realization struck him. "But Pippin grows up on a farm. Surely he must know…"

"There's a difference between a farm animal and a small, soft bunny," Frodo grumbled. "Besides, I told him the Cotton's would set them loose." Frodo's head sank ever deeper into his palms as he voiced his displeasure in a long-drawn moan.

"So this was your blunder," Bilbo observed matter-of-factly. Frodo answered with a low growl. He might have made a mistake but it wouldn't have turned into so much trouble if Bilbo had not announced their dinner so proudly. "What are you still doing here? I think you have some explaining to do."

"But I…"

"Off you go. Face the music on your own."

Bilbo pulled him to his feet and escorted him out of the kitchen. Frodo knew there was no use in protesting. Grumbling, he shuffled down the hallway and pondered the exchange ahead of him. Where to begin? What to say? With a sigh he stepped into Bag End's garden, which was in full bloom. The evening sun greeted him as did the dusky asters and colourful petunias. The smells of various herbs from the kitchen garden met his nose but Frodo hardly heeded them.

He knew exactly where to find Pippin. After all, he had been the one who had told the young Took about his favourite hiding place. He made his way swiftly up the Hill to an old willow tree that grew there. Its huge branches reached into the dark blue sky as if trying to catch the clouds. Dark leaves rustled in an almost unnoticeable wind.

Sure enough Pippin sat in its shadow, his arms hugging his knees, his back leaning against the broad trunk. Frodo hesitated, still not sure how he should broach the matter, but before he could even speak, Pippin met him with a cold stare. "You lied to me!"

Frodo winced. "I didn't mean to."

"But you did!" Pippin shouted. The young lad was inconsolable and when Frodo sat down beside him a sob escaped his lips. "They're going to kill them, aren't they?"

The tone in the young voice was exactly the one Frodo had wanted to avoid. "I'm afraid they are, Pip-sweet," he said sympathetically. He placed a hand gently on the young hobbit's shoulder. Pippin glared at him, but Frodo did not flinch. Instead, he pulled his cousin closer. The child was miserable and he was the reason for it.

"Why?" Pippin fretted and Frodo wasn't sure whether he meant the lie or the bunnies.

Holding the lad tight, he placed a kiss on the auburn curls. "That's the way things are, Pippin. You might see a pet in a bunny, but in truth they are no different from the sheep and ponies on your father's farm. Those that are not kept for breeding are killed for food."

Pippin hiccupped and tensed a little, and there was a long silence before Frodo went on, still carefully choosing his words. "Their meat is sold. With the coins from the sale, you can buy other needful things and the meat you keep, well…" Frodo tickled the young one's belly. "You need to eat, don't you?"
The corner of Pippin's mouth twitched up, but his face was serious. "I don't eat bunnies. They are cute and cuddly. I don't want them to be killed."

"I know, Pip," Frodo sighed. "But you see the reason behind it, don't you?" His cousin did not answer, but snuggled closer. "Of course, if you keep a bunny as a pet, it's different, but the few farmer Cotton has are for breeding only. Yet, while they are in his care, Mr. Cotton does everything to keep them happy."

"Really?" Pippin asked with sad hopefulness, his eyes searching Frodo's.

Frodo smiled. "You saw them today, didn't you? They seemed quite content to me."

Pippin thought for a moment, his fingers playing with Frodo's braces. "You mean you think it would be all right if I had dinner?" he asked doubtfully.

"Certainly," Frodo assured him with a grin and ruffled his cousin's curls.

"Stop it, Frodo!" he protested, trying to keep the treacherous fingers, which began to tickle him again, at bay. "Let's go to Cousin Bilbo now. I'm hungry."

Frodo laughed even louder, but let go of the child. He felt a great deal of relief to see that Pippin had faced the inescapable truth so bravely. And that he had been competent enough to guide him to it. Frodo got to his feet, pulling Pippin with him. He had saved the evening and dinner would be his reward. None too soon either, for his stomach was already grumbling noisily.

~THE END~