Briefly references “Babysitting Pippin”,  “Moon Over Tookland” and “Much Ado About Nothing”. Willow is an OFC of mine and is the Hobbiton healer, who Merry briefly courted.
 
 

A Grand Tradition

Pippin has just turned 26, Pervinca and Estella are 29, Ferdibrand is 32, Merry is 33, and Everard and Fatty are 35 (or about 16, 19, 20, 21 and 22 in Man years).

Rethe 1416 SR, Tuckborough

In a brightly-lit sitting room near the front of Great Smials, six young cousins were meeting in secret on a very important task: they were going to prank Pippin Took.

“He’s already on his guard though,” Merry warned. “Unfortunately, Sam went and blabbed to him about the turned-twenty-five prank when I was the age and Frodo took me to the Dragon, so Pippin already knows about the tradition.”

“Yes, that does rather complicate things,” Pervinca agreed. “Not that he could have failed to notice the result. You were wearing a frock after all.” She remained serious, as ever focusing on the task at hand, but the others snickered. Estella at least had the courtesy to hide her laugh behind her hands. Merry did his best not to blush and lifted his chin proudly.

“Frodo really should have arranged it so Pippin wasn’t there,” Pervinca continued. She spared a vexed thought for Frodo’s sloppiness, amazed that he could have been so lax in his preparations as to overlook such a crucial point. Pippin should never have found out about the tradition until after he had gone through it himself. She supposed old age was at last having its toll on Frodo, if only on his mind.

“This whole business is wrong from one end to the other,” Ferdibrand said. “Not only does Pip already know about the tradition, but he’s the wrong age. Whoever heard of doing a turned-twenty-five prank when the recipient is twenty-six?”

“We’re the ones responsible for that,” Everard pointed out, looking askance at Pervinca, “even if we were coaxed into it.”

“The only one who coaxed you into anything was yourself. Apparently, the lesson of this particular tradition failed to put its mark on your sensibilities,” Pervinca retorted. “Of course, it might have helped if you had any sense to begin with.”

“If I may say so,” Fatty jumped in, hoping to avoid an argument between the lifelong foes, “it’s just as much my fault what happened that night, for stealing that bottle of bourbon and then letting Pippin from drink it.”

The night in question was the night of the Harvest Moon Dance four years prior, when Ferdibrand, Everard and Pippin drank more spirits than were good for them and ended up mooning the Aunts, Paladin’s two eldest sisters and the sternest matriarchs of the Took clan since Lalia the Great. All the lads had received severe punishment for that act of vulgarity, and Pippin had not been allowed to enjoy the privilege of drinking again until he turned twenty-six, rather than the customary twenty-five, and tomorrow would be Pippin’s birthday.

“His age is neither here nor there,” Estella reasoned. “Tomorrow, Pippin will be allowed to drink at last, and that’s all that matters. Our problem is that he’s already suspicious. That’s going to make it difficult to catch him off his guard.”

“And after the trouble he got into the last time he was intoxicated, I doubt he’ll be eager to get that drunk again,” Ferdibrand pointed out. “He’s already learned his lesson if you ask me, so there’s little point in doing this.”

“But it’s tradition,” the others protested.

And so it was. Whenever a hobbit lad or lass turned twenty-five – or in Pippin’s case twenty-six – it was the duty of the tween’s older friends and cousins to teach him or her the perils of drowning in their tankards. It was a tradition dating back to Bucca of the Marish. In those ancient days, the tween would be taken out for a night on the town and be allowed to drink to excess. The following morning, the tween would be put to strenuous chores while trying to cope with the hangover. Most tweens learned quickly that drinking too excessively would lead only to trouble, and after the lesson was learned, the parents would trust to the tween’s friends and cousins to make sure any further nights at the inn did not get out of hand.

The tradition was practiced throughout the Shire, but over the years, each region began to practice it in their own way. In Buckland, the intoxicated tween was set to mucking out the stables with a garden trowel, while in Budgeford the unfortunate lad or lass woke up in the middle of the marketplace wearing nothing but their smallclothes. In Hobbiton, the lads were dressed in a frock, and the next morning no one would make any mention of the lad’s attire until he noticed it – a prank Merry knew all too well – while the lasses were given the most toilsome chores to complete, which often included caring for their younger siblings and cousins. In Tookland, the tween was taken to a field to sleep out the night and upon waking would have to find his or her way back home – not an easy task while hung over, no matter how well the tween knew the land. One or two cousins would watch the tween from a distance to ensure he or she came to no harm and arrived home safely.

“Tradition or no, if he doesn’t wish to get soused, we can’t force it on him,” Ferdibrand said.

“Well, no, we can’t at that,” Merry agreed, and suddenly his face lit up like a Yule log. “But he doesn’t have to be drunk…”

“Just unaware of his surroundings,” Everard continued, ceasing upon Merry’s line of thought.

Pervinca grinned widely and nodded with a wink. “Which he will be, once he’s asleep. That lad could sleep through Gandalf’s fireworks.”

The three schemers shared laughs of mischief, a plan forming in their minds that, while not identical, shared similar themes. Ferdibrand, Estella and Fatty could only look at each other and shrug and wait for the pranksters to reveal their plans.

When at long last the schemers settled, Merry sat forward in his chair and rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. “All right, friends, here’s what I have in mind…”  

Ferdibrand had been right about Pippin’s reluctance to drink. The following day during his party, Pippin sipped on the same tankard of ale all night. He followed the same protocol on the next three nights when Merry and Frodo took him to The Wooly Ram Inn in Tuckborough. No matter how much the others drank, Pippin was perfectly content to sip on his mug and watch the antics of those around him. Whether his precaution was due to learning his lesson already or fear of waking up in a field wearing nothing but a frock was difficult to guess. Not that it really mattered. They had planned their prank accordingly and were only waiting for the final preparations to be made before setting their trap.

On the fourth day after his birthday, Frodo had to retire to Bag End, so that night Merry and Fatty joined Pippin at the Ram. There they ran into Everard and Ferdibrand and joined them at table. The two older Tooks already had a few mugs of beers under their belts, and Merry and Fatty wasted no time in catching up.

The night wore on with much laughter and mirth, but they all noticed that while Merry and Fatty were well into their third mugs, Pippin was still nursing his first. At a signal from Merry, their friends went in search of more ale so Merry could attempt to put Pippin at his ease. While their plan didn’t require him to be completely intoxicated, it wouldn’t hurt if they could manage to get him at least a little tipsy for extra insurance.

Merry turned to his younger cousin and found him frowning at a rather rotund older fellow who was trying to balance his chair on its hind legs.

“Don’t hobbits realize how ridiculous they look when they’re drunk, Merry?” Pippin asked. “His friends don’t even have the sense to circle his chair in case he should fall.”

“Maybe he won’t fall,” Merry ventured but he was soon proven wrong when the fellow finally tipped his chair too far and the legs slid out beneath him. He fell to the ground with a loud thud, breaking the chair in the process. His friends, rather than getting up to help, only pointed and laughed. On the floor, the older fellow laughed also and raised his mug for more ale.

“Well, at least he thinks it’s funny,” Merry said. “He’s not hurt then.”

“Not until morning at any rate,” Pippin corrected.

“Perhaps,” Merry replied. “I can’t say for certain where he’s concerned, but I can say that if you’re noticing how drunk the other patrons are it means you’re not nearly drunk enough yourself. Finish that tankard and I’ll order us another round.”

“I’ll just sip at this one a bit longer if you don’t mind,” Pippin said, frowning to see how low his ale was getting. He was going to have to slow down and the night was just begun. Meanwhile, Merry was well on his way to finishing his third ale, while Fatty, Everard and Ferdibrand were fetching yet more of the hearty brew.

Pippin sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Merry asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Pippin said lightly and went back to watching the other patrons.

He spotted his friends near the bar speaking with Reginard, Everard’s brother, and his wife Opal. Even dainty Opal looked like she was enjoying herself more than Pippin, no doubt taking advantage of a night away from the children after a long convalescence. Fatty and Ferdibrand slowly inched away from the others and found a couple of lasses to chat with while they waited for their mugs to be filled.

Pippin pushed his tankard back and forth and sighed again.

“All right Pippin, we’ve only been here a couple of hours and already you look like you’re wanting to leave,” Merry stated, watching his friend sharply. “Now what’s gnawing at you, and I don’t want any of this ‘nothing’ nonsense.”

“I can’t tell you,” Pippin said.

“Why ever not?” Merry asked, alarmed.

“You know why,” Pippin answered evasively.

“If that’s so, I don’t recall the reason at the moment,” Merry replied. “Do your dotard cousin a favor and refresh his memory.”

Pippin sighed again, this time sounding thoroughly put upon. He scooted closer to Merry and lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. “You’re all plotting against me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Now what would make you think that?” Merry asked, feigning innocence.

Pippin fixed his cousin with a knowing glare. “I’m not an idiot Merry,” he said. “You’re waiting till I get soused, then you’re going to put me in a frock and parade me through town.”

“Now that’s a thought,” Merry said, considering the idea. Then he noticed Pippin’s glare and laughed. “Do you really think I’d let anyone do such a thing to you, Pip? I still have nightmares about my own time in a frock. Why, I just had one the other night. I was standing in the middle of the Bucklebury marketplace wearing that silly little frock, and everyone was laughing at me. For some reason, Estella and Willow were also there, and they were laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. Then Gordibrand and Corbin came out of the crowd and pulled the frock up over my head, and of course I had no smallclothes on. I tried to get away but my feet wouldn’t move.” Merry shuddered, trying to shake the dream off himself.

Pippin patted Merry’s arm sympathetically, knowing how it still hurt him to speak of Willow after losing her affections this past summer. He hadn’t even gone to Hobbiton for Frodo’s birthday, knowing Willow was to be married to Corbin during the Harvest Feast betrothals. As for Estella, she has been courting Gordibrand Burrows these many years, making it impossible for Merry to speak his heart freely.

Pippin did feel sorry for his cousin, but instead of speaking words of sympathy, he instead asked, “Then what are you planning to do?”

“I’m not planning to do anything except show you a good time, then take you home and tuck you into your bed, where you will sleep away the rest of the night in peace and contentment,” Merry assured.

“You promise?” Pippin asked.

“May the hair on my feet fall off if I’m lying,” Merry swore.

Such an oath was as good as seven signatures in red ink, and the cousins shook on it for extra insurance. Then Pippin drained his mug and raised it high in the air for more. It was the signal Fatty and Ferdibrand were waiting for. They bid adieu to the lasses they were speaking with and brushed past Everard on their way out the door. Everard tipped a wink at his brother and followed his friends.

“What was that about?” Opal asked.

“I’ll be just a moment,” Reginard said, patting his wife’s hand. He made his way over to Merry and Pippin, who looked up at him questioningly. “My brother wasn’t feeling well, so Ferdi and Fatty took him home,” he informed them.

“He looked well just a moment ago,” Merry said.

“Yes, but we’ve all been sick and it comes on rather suddenly,” Reginard said, and indeed he and his wife and children had all had the flu over the last month, along with half the Great Smials and Tuckborough. “Looks like it’s his turn, poor lad. He just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t fret. Fatty and Ferdi will be back as soon as they deposit him at home.”

“Very well, we’ll keep their chairs for them,” Merry said.

The serving lass arrived then and Reginard took his leave.

“Poor Everard. I hope he’s not off his feet for too long,” Pippin said, not thinking to doubt Reginard for a moment. He had never been the mischievous sort, even when he was a tween, and he was now halfway through his responsible forties.

“With this flu, he’s likely to be on his feet quite a bit, running back and forth to the privy,” Merry pointed out then raised his mug in toast. “To Everard, may his feet not fail him and the privy be empty.”

“To Everard,” Pippin echoed and clanked his mug against Merry’s. They drank deep and long, and Pippin smacked his lips when they finished. Now this was more like it.  

“I still can’t believe Reginard agreed to lie for you,” Fatty said as he puffed behind the others, struggling to keep up with his swift-footed cousins. They were racing over the hills as quickly as they could manage. The cold wind nipping at their faces encouraged them to keep the pace up and they began to warm as the Smials came into view in the distance, its many tiny windows glowing with firelight from within, an enticing target indeed.

“He owes Pippin,” Everard said, checking his gait so he didn’t pull too far ahead. Speed was of the essence, but his long stride was of no advantage to him now. “Pippin did pee on his leg after that whole Harvest Moon fiasco, and he did start that whole ‘neck romancer’ business.”

“No one still bothers your brother over that, do they?” Fatty huffed.

“No, but that doesn’t mean Reginard doesn’t remember,” Everard said. “You should have seen what he did for my turned-twenty-five prank. He stripped me down to my smallclothes, like they do in Budgeford – for Opal, or so he claimed – then he carted me out all the way to the links and placed me right in the middle of the ninth hole. I woke up with featheries soaring over my head. Then one of the featheries hit me and I had to lie there while the marshal decided if I was a hazard or not. And did I mention it was raining? I had the yips for six months after that.”

The others laughed. “I would have liked to see that,” Ferdibrand commented.

“I thought of repeating the prank for you,” Everard stated. “But what can I say? I’m fond of you.”

“Yes, I could tell when I woke up at the Free Fair lying in the pen with the race pigs,” Ferdibrand said. “I said to myself, this is Everard’s doings, bless his heart.”

They grew silent then, breathing too hard to continue speaking, and put all their effort on reaching the Smials. At long last, they reached the stables and paused for breath. Ferdibrand opened the stable door and slipped inside while Fatty leaned against the wall and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Everard looked towards the Smials and searched out the windows belonging to the kitchen.

“I’ll tell the lasses you’re on your way,” he said and sprinted over the last slope, no longer keeping his speed in check. He reached the kitchen door in within a minute and knocked twice.  

“How does Merry seem to you?” Estella asked in as nonchalant a tone as she could manage.

She and Pervinca were in the kitchen, waiting for the lads to return from the inn so they could ready their prank. As they waiting, they made themselves cheese-toast sandwiches and warmed some of the leftover stew from dinner. There wasn’t much of the stew left and they had decided to share the rest of it with the lads if they behaved themselves. Pervinca had just come back from the cellar with a couple of tankards, saying there was no reason the lads should be the only ones having all the fun, when Estella let the question slip.

Now Pervinca raised an eyebrow at her friend as she set the mugs on the counter. “Merry?” she asked.

Estella shrugged, still trying for casual. “He just looked so sad at Yule, like his best pony had come in last at the races,” she said. “He seems better now though, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Pervinca said. “I hadn’t given him much thought, truthfully. I wouldn’t worry about him though. He has a way of bouncing back from things – a little too swiftly sometimes if you ask me. You could just ask him yourself, you know? The timing’s perfect.”

Estella considered it and shook her head. “I wanted to ask the other day, but then he and Fatty and the others disappeared so fast after the meeting I didn’t even have time to blink. But he does seem well enough, doesn’t he?”

“Experiencing heartache hasn’t hampered his ability to think up mischief, at any rate,” Pervinca said and pushed a tankard towards her friend. “Drink, love. It’ll help you feel better.”

They sipped at their ale and nibbled at their meal, each lost in thoughts of her own. They had only lit a couple of the lamps in the massive kitchen and a small hearth fire for warming the stew, so the room was bathed in soft firelight and edged in grey shadows. Outside all was dark, and not a sound could be heard in the tunnels; most hobbits were either in their apartments or at the inns by this hour.

“Everard’s changed too,” Estella said after a time.

“Hm?” Pervinca hummed, coming out her thoughts. She had been going over the next steps of the plan, looking for any weaknesses or unseen opportunities for further mischief. After all, it wasn’t every day she was given free reign to terrorize her brother – in a loving and caring way, of course – and she didn’t want to overlook anything.

“Everard. He’s matured quite a bit, don’t you think?” Estella asked.

Pervinca snorted. “He’s matured all right,” she agreed wryly. “Like a sour grape in the sun.”

“He hasn’t bothered you since that last prank, has he?” Estella asked, feeling a stab of protectiveness for her friend. She still remembered getting Pervinca’s letter recounting the last prank Everard and his friends had tried to pull on her friend and how angry she had been over the whole thing, even though it came to nil. Still, she promised that if she came across Cedric, she would give him a piece of her mind usually only reserved for the moles that dug up her flower garden.

“No, he’s kept his word and left me alone. What’s more, his plan worked,” Pervinca said, sounding rather put off at owing him a favor, though she knew she should be grateful. “No one else has bothered me since then either. It’s almost been pleasant.”

“Only almost?” Estella asked, but they were interrupted then by a rapping at the door. “That must be the lads,” she said and went to open the door, only to find the object of their conversation standing on the other side.

Everard stepped into the kitchen, his cheeks and nose red from the cold and a fine sweat moistening his forehead from the long run. He grinned at them both and winked: the plan was on track. He made for the fire and rubbed his hands together over the flames, turning his back to the lasses, who looked at each other and shrugged. They would have to continue their discussion later.

“Well?” Pervinca asked once Everard was warmed and had caught his breath.

“Merry managed it,” he informed them, turning around and spotting their small feast. He eyed the remaining stew hungrily. “I don’t know what he said, but he managed it. Fatty and Ferdi have to get back though, so we need to work quick.”

“I still don’t know about this,” Estella said warily. “I know Pippin’s a sound sleeper, but…”

“This will work,” Pervinca assured. “So long as you lads don’t jostle him and keep your feet, you’ll be…” She stopped mid-sentence and looked at Everard more closely. Then she put down her sandwich, stood up and came to sniff at his breath. “You’ve been drinking?”

“So have you,” Everard returned.

“One tankard, a half-pint at that, and we’ve barely had more than a couple of sips,” Pervinca said, placing her hands on her hips. “Meanwhile, you look like you can barely stand.”

“I just ran two miles, Per,” Everard said, but Pervinca wasn’t convinced. Everard sighed and confessed, “Ferdi and I did drink some before the others arrived, and Fatty and Merry have had a mug each, but only because the serving lass had to pour out some for Pip also. Since then, she’s only been giving us water and we had already told her before the others arrived to only fill Merry’s mug halfway each time she tops off Pippin. We’ll be plenty sober, don’t you fret your pretty little head.”

“You had better be. If you mess this up,” Pervinca warned.

“Now, have you ever known me to mess up a prank,” Everard teased with a lopsided grin, earning a small smile from Pervinca in return.

“No,” she admitted grudgingly, just as another knock sounded upon the door.

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?” Everard said as Estella went to let the others in.

Fatty and Ferdibrand now entered the kitchen, carrying between them a thin, flat board with grip holes at either end and on both sides. Slung over their shoulders were long coils of thin rope. Everard abandoned all thought of stew for the moment and joined his friends to inspect the rope and run a hand over the board. He nodded approvingly.

“This should work,” he stated. He would have to send a gift of thanks to the craftshobbit for his quick work in making such a fine stretcher.

They filed into the tunnel and made their way quickly up the empty passageways to the Thain’s apartment. Pervinca let the others inside and they cheerfully greeted Paladin and Eglantine as they sat in the parlor. “Good evening Uncle Pally, Aunt Tina,” the others chorused.

“What’s all this?” Paladin asked, eyeing the board, rope and rather unlikely alliance with much skepticism.

“Just a treat we’re cooking up for Pigeon,” Pervinca answered sweetly.

Eglantine looked up from her embroidery and frowned. “It’s rather cold out tonight,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Mum, he’ll be tucked safe and snug in his bed,” Pervinca said and Fatty knocked on the board as though to verify this statement.

“Just make sure he doesn’t freeze overly much. We don’t want him catching this cold that’s going around,” Paladin instructed and went back to his correspondence. “The same goes for the rest of you as well.”

“We will, Da,” Pervinca promised.

The cousins filed down the hall and into Pippin’s room. The lads quickly hoisted the mattress off the bed and onto the floor. As the lasses stripped the mattress of its sheets, the lads lay the rope criss-cross on the frame and put the board on top of the rope. They slipped the ends of the rope through the grip holes and left the rope to hang over the frame. The lasses stepped aside so the lads could lift the mattress back onto the bed.

“I’ve got it from here,” Everard said. “You lads get back to the inn. Walk the last hundred yards so you don’t arrive winded.”

“We’ll see you in a few hours,” Fatty said and he and Ferdibrand quickly took their leave.

Everard then busied himself with tying the rope over the mattress and through the opposite grip holes, securing the board to the mattress. When he was finished, Pervinca and Estella quickly redressed the bed, making certain that all looked the same as before. Then Everard sat on the mattress, bouncing a few times for good measure. He grinned at the result and they all stepped back to admire their handiwork with smug satisfaction.

“You can’t even tell the board is there,” Everard said, pleased with the prank so far. “Do you have everything else prepared?”

“We do,” Estella answered. “What do we do now?”

“Go back to the kitchen and wait,” Pervinca said and Everard made as though to follow them, thoughts of the stew returning to his head. “You can keep watch,” Pervinca told him, putting out a hand to stay him.

“For three hours?” he asked.

“They might be back sooner than we think,” Pervinca pointed out. “We don’t want to be caught off guard. We’ll bring you out some tea.”

“We don’t need a watch. Fatty and Ferdi will come get us as soon as Merry brings Pippin here,” Everard countered. “It will take some time to get him settled anyway.”

Pervinca and Estella looked at each, silently communicating with their eyes. Then Pervinca sighed. “Very well. You can join us.” And they returned to the kitchen together.  

When Fatty and Ferdibrand arrived at the inn, they found a much more jovial Pippin enjoying his third mug of the Ram’s most hardy brew. Merry, meanwhile, was lazily sloshing his half-tankard as he watched his dearest friend with growing amusement.

Pippin turned out to be a very entertaining drinker and was proving that his antics with Everard and Ferdibrand four years before had not been mere chance. Now that Pippin was relaxed and allowing himself to be get tipsy, he was even looser with his observations than usual, first reassuring the rotund older fellow that anyone could have broken that chair and it did not at all reflect on the fellow’s exceedingly wide girth. He was in the process of complementing the serving lass, who he decided was a rose among thorns, on her rather appealing low-cut bodice when the others returned.

“The trim is frilly, but not overly so,” Pippin said with an air of authority, earned after twenty-six years of living with three older sisters. “It’s like a flower border,” he continued, eyeing not the trim but the two brown mounds that rose up out of it, “to a very fragrant, lush… well-tilled garden.”

“Why, thank ‘ee, Master Pippin,” the serving lass said, curtseying low to give Pippin a better view. She stood again and leaned close, dropping her voice to whisper in his ear. “You’re most kind to take such an interest in me plot. It’s been some time since me garden has been… properly ploughed. Perhaps ‘ee would like to see to that, eh?”

“Er…” Pippin said, heat rising in his face, and in other places besides.

“I think it’s time I cut you both off,” Merry said with a warning in his voice. He had wanted Pippin distracted, not bothered and bewildered. 

“Aye, Mr. Merry,” the serving lass said, backing away, much to Pippin’s disappointment. She spotted the others standing beside the table, trying their best not to roar with laughter, and tipped them a wink. “I’ll make the next round tea then?”

“Yes, thank you,” Merry said. Not only would tea keep Pippin from getting any more drunk, it would keep the others sober.

“Now, Merry, why spoil the fun?” Ferdibrand said, sitting down. Fatty took the seat next to Pippin. “I would have rather liked to see Pippin toiling in her garden.”

“I could just imagine the trouble that would cause,” Merry intoned gravely. “He won’t be allowed outside again until he’s forty. Forget about drinking. How’s Everard?”

“Not well, poor chap,” Fatty said with a shake of his head. “He nearly took sick twice on our way home. We left him with the healer and called for his parents.”

“I bet Rose could help him,” Pippin said, for so he had named the lovely and voluptuous serving lass.

“I’m sure she could, but not in any way he’s needing it right now,” Ferdibrand said. “Once he’s feeling better, we’ll bring him back and he can drink to his heart’s content.”

The serving lass brought them their tea, sparing a wink and smile for Pippin as she set out the teacups. He grinned back eagerly and she made sure to brush against his arm as she set down his cup. “Cheers,” she said to them all and they lifted their cups in her honor.

“To your health,” they replied and drank heartily.

Two hours later they left the inn in considerable good spirits. Merry had allowed Pippin one more tankard of ale before leaving the Ram’s warm and cozy confines for the chilling cold outside, saying it would keep Pippin warm on the walk home.

Pippin waved good-bye to his serving lass as they left. “I’ll come plough your garden some other night!” he called across the common room, to many whoops and catcalls.

“I look forward to it, Master Pippin,” the serving lass called back, to yet more whistles and cheers.

“Come on, you Old Took,” Merry said, pulling Pippin out of the inn with the help of Fatty and Ferdibrand. “Leave Rose to serve the other patrons. She’ll still be here tomorrow night.”

Pippin followed reluctantly, the cold wind outside only strengthening his resolve to return to the warmth of the inn and his buxom lass. It took some persuasion and persistence, but they eventually got Pippin on the road to home, and by the time they reached the Great Smials, they were all chilled to their toes and eager to get inside. They gained the main entrance at a run and parted ways once inside, each to their own quarters.

Merry led Pippin to his apartment, which was now dark; Paladin and Eglantine had long ago gone to their rest. Merry saw Pippin to his room, feeling his way through the darkened parlor and cursing himself for not thinking to light a candle or lamp first. They managed to reach Pippin’s room without causing too much noise and once there, Pippin unceremoniously plopped onto his bed. He sighed contentedly and grinned up at Merry through the moonlight pouring in from the window.

“Can we go back to the Ram tomorrow, Merry?” Pippin asked. “I want to take a rose to my Rose.”

Merry couldn’t help but smile. “Do you now?”

“Isn’t she a lovely lass?” Pippin went on. “She’s a perfect lass. A perfectly lovely lass.”

“If you think so highly of her, you might want to learn her real name,” Merry advised.

“Her name. Her perfectly lovely name,” Pippin mumbled, his words beginning to slow as sleep quickly caught up with him. “What’s in a name? My Rose by any other name would be as sweet. Sweet… and perfect… and… … lovely.”

“That may be so, but in my experience, lasses like to be called by their actual names,” Merry said. “Now put your feet up and let’s get you tucked in. I have an oath to fulfill, lest I lose my foot hair.”

Pippin complied, slipping under the sheets with much effort. Once Merry had him tucked in, he turned on his side to better hug his pillow. Instantly, his eyes grew heavy and closed despite his efforts to keep them open.

Merry waited until Pippin’s breathing deepened into sleep, then he tiptoed out of the room to meet the others in the kitchen.  

Fatty and Ferdibrand waited until they could no longer hear Merry and Pippin shuffling down the tunnel, then followed them at a distance until they reached the passage leading to the kitchen. They had no choice but to feel their way in near-darkness, not being able to light any lamps or candles, but Ferdibrand knew the tunnels well and was able to lead Fatty without fault.

They entered the kitchen to find the hearth fire burnt out, leaving only smoldering ashes. One of the lamps also was burning low, its flame nearly extinguished. Only one lamp still burned strong, casting just enough light to make out the three snoozing forms on the floor. Fatty lit a fresh lamp while Ferdibrand shook Everard and Pervinca awake. Everard stretched his long limbs and rubbed his eyes. Pervinca sat up with a yawn.

“What took so long?” she asked groggily.

“Well, we didn’t want to leave before it was time,” Fatty pointed out. He set the lamp on the counter and bent down to gently rouse his sister. “Do you have everything ready?”

“We do,” Everard answered, pulling himself up to lean against the counter until he fully waked. “So what did we miss? Was Merry successful?”

“I would say he was,” Ferdibrand said with a chuckle and began to tell the others of Pippin’s antics and his newfound friendship with the serving lass. Only Everard was amused.

“This coquette better not be putting designs on my brother,” Pervinca said, crossing her arms.

“Dilly’s harmless,” Everard said. “For all her talk and teasing, she’s as proper as they come. She does need a gardener though. She has no time for it herself, and her old dad is getting on in his years, so she keeps trying to get us lads over to her house to weed her flowerbeds.”

Pervinca didn’t look convinced but she had no time to argue further, as Merry arrived just at that moment. He grinned at his conspirators but held up his hands before they could move to join him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, a note of caution in his voice that put the others on their guard. “It is awfully cold outside.”

“We can’t put this off for another day, Merry,” Everard warned. “Pippin will figure out what we did to his bed.”

“No, I know,” Merry said. “That’s not it. I just think that putting him out in the middle of a field to freeze half the night may not be the best idea. We need to change locations and put him somewhere so he’ll at least stay warm, or he’ll wake up from the chill before anyone is up to see him.”

The others nodded in agreement. That was a concern, for no matter how soundly Pippin could sleep, the body would only get so cold before it stirs the sleeper into finding better cover. They bent their heads together and tried to think of a suitable place to put Pippin until morning.

“The stables?” Fatty suggested.

“Too close,” Everard said.

“What about the stables at the inn,” Ferdibrand offered.

“Where Dilly can get her hands all over him?” Pervinca asked icily.

“What about Florist Largo’s?” Estella said. “We were going out to Tookbank anyway, and his glass house should be warm enough, warmer than a barn or stable anyhow.”

The others only needed to consider this for a moment before agreeing. Merry made as though to pat her on the back with approval but thought better of it, settling on pounding on the counter with finality. “That’s what we’ll do then,” he said, and motioned for the others to follow him.

Once back in the Thain’s apartment, the lasses went ahead of the lads and retrieved a small parcel from Pervinca’s room. They entered Pippin’s room and Pervinca quickly lit the lamp near Pippin’s bed as they would need the light to work. She opened her parcel and handed some of the items to Estella, keeping back some for herself. They worked diligently, being careful not to stir Pippin in the slightest or wake him with their laughing, which they struggled to keep quiet. When they finished, they called the lads inside.

The lads came into the room and nearly fell over each other with laughter when they saw what the lasses had done to Pippin. It was only through a great effort that they too were able to keep their laughter quiet, but it was several minutes before they could manage to stand and catch their breath. Pervinca scowled at them and waved with her hand for them to behave. They pulled themselves together as best they could, for a stumble would end this prank before it began.

The lasses stepped into the hall and Pervinca tossed her parcel into her room. Meanwhile, the lads carefully and gently slid Pippin’s mattress off the frame, each lad taking a grip hole in hand to secure their side of the stretcher. Once they were ready and had the bed balanced, they inched out of the room and into the hall. Pervinca slipped inside and took up the lamp, then she and Estella followed the lads through the parlor and into the study, where a door led out to the Thain’s garden.

In the three hours that they waited for Merry, Pippin, Ferdibrand and Fatty to return from the inn, Everard had not sat completely idle. After eating all that was left of the stew, he had braved the cold again to retrieve a pony and trap from the stables and brought it around the Smials to the Thain’s garden. Now the lads easily lifted Pippin and his bed onto the trap. They climbed into the trap with him to keep a sturdy hold on him, while the lasses climbed into the coach and Pervinca took the reigns. She snapped them once and they were off.

The journey to Tookbank was long and took up the better part of the night. Thankfully, Estella had thought to procure blankets for everyone and they were snuggled up tight to keep warm during the journey. Merry was certain to throw an extra blanket over Pippin as well and to cover his face from the chilling air, and Pippin didn’t stir once through the ride. It helped also that Pervinca knew the hills well and knew the smoothest paths to take, keeping any sudden jostles or dips to a minimum.

At long last, they reached Florist Largo’s lands and pulled in front of the glass house. By this time, there were only a couple more hours until dawn and the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of the coming sun. The moon had already set.

Everard jumped down from the trap and opened the door to the glass house. He returned to the trap to take the foot-end of the stretcher and ease it off the trap as the others stepped down and took their positions. They deposited Pippin on the hardened earth inside the glass house, as far from the door as they could get. Merry tucked the blankets around Pippin one last time and they silently retreated, closing the door tight behind them.

Their mission now complete, they climbed back onto the trap and Pervinca drove them to a hill a half-mile or so away so they could watch from a distance. Estella brought out a picnic basket, which Everard had also stored in the trap, and they sat together under a tree to an early first breakfast and watched the sun as it climbed over the Green Hill Country, painting the sky with a new day.  

Pippin woke slowly and snuggled deeper into his sheets, fighting back a yawn, refusing to open his eyes just yet. He would sleep in a few more minutes, then get up to see what Merry was doing and discover why his room suddenly smelled like a compost heap. Actually, why did his room smell like a compost heap? He distinctly remembered cleaning it when Merry arrived last week. He had even scrubbed the carpet until it looked almost new and smelled of soap and rose petals. Rose. Rose… He smiled, the name recalling the lovely serving lass from the night before. He wondered what she was doing and if she was still abed herself after a long night working at the inn. If he could convince Merry to take him to The Wooly Ram again tonight, he would be able to learn the serving lass’s name.

Suddenly, someone cleared his throat, someone who was standing very close to him, interrupting his thoughts.

Pippin snuggled further into his sheets, ignoring the pointed warning. Merry was probably upset that Pippin had somehow managed to mess up his room again and wanted to lecture him on proper smial-keeping.

Someone cleared his throat again, and this time Pippin realized he didn’t know who the someone was. That wasn’t Merry, for if it were, he would simply push Pippin on the shoulder and tell him in a rather irritated voice to get up already. It wasn’t his father, who would simply holler from the kitchen to come out and eat. So then, who was it?

Pippin peeled open his eyes and looked up at the oddest sight to ever greet him upon waking. Florist Largo was standing over him with his hands on his hips, wearing an expression that Pippin couldn’t even begin to read. Behind the florist were potted flora and fauna climbing up to a high glass ceiling and stretching down a long aisle to the opened door in the distance.

Pippin blinked up at the florist in confusion. What was going on? This was his bed and his sheets well enough, and he could tell without looking that he still wore his clothes from the night before – or did he? Things quickly began to fall into place and Pippin threw off his sheets in horror of what he might find. He breathed a sigh of relief to find himself in his own clothes, then he laughed. Merry had promised that he would see Pippin to his bed and keep him there all night. Merry had never promised to keep his bed in his room however.

“Good old Merry,” Pippin said and stood up, stretching and yawning. “But he lost this one,” he told the florist, who continued to look at him as though he were some stranger out of foreign lands. “I’m not the least bit hung over and by bringing me here, I know exactly where I am and how to get home. The old chap just didn’t have the heart to really set me up, it seems.”

Florist Largo only nodded. He seemed incapable of speech, or of removing his eyes from Pippin’s countenance. He watched in silence as Pippin turned and headed for the door.

“Don’t worry about the bed,” Pippin called behind him. “I’ll send for it later. Just see to it that it isn’t damaged, will you?”

Pippin strolled into the morning light and breathed in the fine, crisp air. He let out a great sigh and headed down the path from the glass house to the lane, which would take him to the road. He passed a couple of the florist’s older sons as he went and waved at them cheerfully, but they only stopped in their tracks and stared back, as though too stunned by what they saw to respond. Pippin didn’t doubt that seeing the Thain’s son and heir coming out of their father’s glass house first thing in the morning would give the lads pause. He didn’t begrudge them their lack of response and simply continued on his way, thinking of how he would go about informing Merry that his prank hadn’t worked.

Pippin stepped onto the road and headed for home. He had quite a few miles ahead of him, and he knew he wouldn’t reach the Smials before first breakfast. Maybe if he spotted some merchant along the way, he could get a ride and thus shorten his trip. He grinned to himself and imagined Merry’s distraught reaction when his dear friend realized how drastically he had failed in his attempt to dupe his younger cousin.

Along the way, Pippin passed a few more farmhands and gardeners on their way to their work. Each time, the workers began to say good-morning or wave in return to his greeting, but they always stopped suddenly and gave Pippin the oddest expressions. He passed through a row of low houses built along a hillside, the occupants of which were already up and toiling in their little gardens. One young child gaped openly at him and started to point until his mother lowered his hand and chided him for being rude. Another child burst into tears and hid her face in her gammer’s skirts.

Now Pippin was beginning to worry. Why was everyone responding to him in such a way? He looked down at his clothes again but nothing about them seemed out of sorts. He reached up and combed his hands through his hair, which also seemed to be fine enough, despite a few tangles. So what could be the matter?

He decided to ask the next person he saw. Unfortunately, that person ended up being the serving lass from the inn, on her way home after clearing out the last of the lingering patrons and cleaning up the common room. She stopped dead in her tracks on the road and watched as Pippin approached, a small smile on her lips, which she was clearly struggling to keep from growing into a grin.

“Good morn’ to ‘ee, Master Pippin,” she greeted, the first to untangle her tongue enough to speak to him.

“Good morning, Ros… er, um…” Pippin stumbled.

“Dilly,” she offered. “Tis short for Daffodil.”

“Good morning, Dilly,” Pippin said and licked his lips. He shuffled his feet, uncertain how to continue. At least she was talking to him, but he was afraid of the answer he might receive once he asked his question. “Er, Dilly, I don’t know exactly how to say this, but um, is there something the matter with me?”

“Oh, aye,” Daffodil affirmed. “You’ve paint all o’er the side of your face. Looks like a pigeon pluckin’ worms from the ground. I’ve never seen aught like it afore in all me life.”

Now it was Pippin’s turn to gape. Had she just said what he thought she said? “I have… pigeons?”

“Aye,” Daffodil replied. She reached into her pocket and extracted a small mirror, which she used at the inn to ensure passed-out patrons were still breathing. She handed it to Pippin and let him see for himself what Pervinca and Estella had done to his face.

He held up the mirror and squawked in disbelief. They had painted the entire right side of his face, blue skies and clouds on his forehead, a grey-spotted pigeon on his cheek, walking on the dirt looking for the worms that made up his jaw line.

“Vinca!” he cried in disbelief.

She was the only one who ever called him Pigeon and she knew how much he resented it. He had never thought Merry and Pervinca would ever join forces against him, but apparently he had been wrong. And Everard, Fatty and Ferdibrand had a hand to play in this as well, as Merry couldn’t carry him and his bed all the way to Florist Largo’s on his own. They had all plotted against him and their plan, far from being a failure, had succeeded in ways far beyond what they could have hoped for, as Pippin now stood in front of the one hobbitess in all the Shire whom he would never have wanted to see him in this state.

Daffodil gently took the mirror back and didn’t allow Pippin to turn away from her in his disgrace. “Now don’t ‘ee go a frettin’, Master Pippin. Me house tisn’t far from here. A bit of soap and a good scrub will get the most of it off, though the skin’ll likely be stained for the next few days. Come along with me, and we’ll get ‘ee set right. Then Dad can take ‘ee home.”

As much as Pippin hated this plan, he had no choice but to accept it. As horrible as it would be to have Daffodil scrub his face clean like a nurse would a bairn, it would be even worse still to continue home in his current condition.

“Very well,” he mumbled and followed after Daffodil until they reached her house, the first in the row of houses he had just passed.

Daffodil took Pippin straight to the kitchen, where her father was busily cooking first breakfast. He raised his eyebrows high but nodded and greeted his unexpected guest all the same. Pippin grinned in return, greeting him good morning and complementing him on his quaint little house.

Daffodil dipped a bowl into the water basin and added some soap. At her father’s suggestion, she went into the back foyer and retrieved a small can of turpentine. She added a splash of this to the soapy water then grabbed a scrub brush from the shelf near the basin. She had Pippin sit on a chair and she kneeled in front of him and set to work. She was as gentle as she could be, but some of the paint was dried too well and would only come off when she scrubbed harder, turning Pippin’s fair skin an angry shade of pink. Pippin gripped the sides of the stool and did his best not to yelp or cry out, not wanting to humiliate himself anymore than he already was. Finally Daffodil finished her work and stood back to look at him critically.

“Well, you’ll be a sight and no mistake, but ‘tis better than it was,” she said and handed him the mirror again.

Pippin took a deep breath and looked. Aside from one pale splotch where the pigeon had been and the redness from the scrubbing, he was pleased to see no more artwork on his face. He handed the mirror back and grinned winningly.

“I suppose I owe you now,” he said. “I can see to your garden, since I’m here.”

“Breakfast is nearly ready. I’ll get ‘ee a plate and after ‘ee eat, Dad’ll take ‘ee home,” Daffodil said. “’Ee can come back some other time for the garden.”

“Thank you, Dilly, and Mr. …er… Mr. Dilly,” Pippin said.

“’Tis our pleasure, Master Pippin,” said Daffodil’s father. “And me name’s Cortman Roundbody.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roundbody,” Pippin said more properly.

A couple of hours later, Old Cortman pulled his pony-trap to a stop in front of the stables at Great Smials, where Merry and his co-conspirators were eagerly awaiting Pippin’s return. They had enjoyed Pippin’s attempted walk homeward and had nearly dissolved into fits of laughter – all except for Pervinca – when Daffodil happened along, a circumstance they hadn’t even thought to plan but which happily occurred nonetheless. When it was clear that she was going to rescue Pippin from his humiliated state – and Pervinca had been reassured she wouldn’t accost him in the process – they had returned to their pony-trap, retrieved Pippin’s bed and raced ahead of him to meet him at the Smials. Now they grinned up at him, barely containing their mirth.

Pippin just shook his head. “Luckily for all of you, I’m the forgiving sort,” he said. Then he turned and walked away as the others erupted into laughter.

That night, as Merry slept soundly on his mattress on the floor, Pippin slipped out of bed and painted a daffodil on the tip of Merry’s nose. He then tiptoed across the hall and repeated the process with Pervinca and Estella. He also visited Ferdibrand, Everard and Fatty that night, finishing his revenge within an hour. He returned to his room, smiling smugly to himself, and slipped past Merry to his bed. He pulled the covers over him, rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

“And now I forgive you,” he mumbled into his pillow and fell fast asleep.
 
 

The End
 
 

GF 2/4/08