Title ; A Whitwell Yule

Author; Shireling

Rating; G

Summary: Merry and Pippin cannot resist the festive treats

“Yuletide just won’t be the same without Frodo and Bilbo!” Merry whined for the tenth time in half an hour, his feet beating an angry tattoo against the leg of the kitchen table.

“I know you are disappointed, Merry,  but I am quite sure that cousin Bilbo has not delayed his arrival solely to inconvenience you,” Saradoc was beginning to lose patience with his only son. “We are all disappointed that Frodo and Bilbo are not here yet but we must all make the best of the situation.”

“But I have been looking forward to this for ages. . .and I never got to see them at harvest.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Well, you can hardly blame me for catching chickenpox!. . .Pippin should have kept his spots to himself,” Merry groused.

“You were the one who insisted on sneaking in and visiting him and thanks to your actions we had a full blown epidemic on our hands.”

“We have an epidemic every year!”

“And this year it was down to your disobedience,” The irate father reminded his son.

“A fact you pointed out only too clearly!” Merry grumbled, remembering the spanking that episode had earned him.

“At least I waited until your spots had healed and you had stopped scratching.”

“Thank you for that kindness, Dadda. Waiting for five days for a hiding is not my idea of fun.”

“Nor was it fun for your Mother or the rest of the Mamma’s who spent nearly a month nursing  and soothing a succession of spotty children!” Saradoc pointed out.

“They like nursing. . .it makes them feel important!”

“One more word out of you, Meriadoc and I will re-warm your deserving backside here and now,” Saradoc promised, his expression sufficiently grim that Merry knew not to push his luck any further.

After enduring a few more minutes of aggrieved kicking by his sulky offspring, Saradoc’s temper finally snapped. “Go and make yourself useful, Merry. There are sure to be decorations to hang or entertainments to arrange: if your Mamma or Aunt Tina can’t find you gainful employment I’m sure I can find you logs that need splitting”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll go and find Mamma.”

“And Merry?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Consider yourself on final warning.”

“Again!” Merry muttered just a tad too loudly. He skipped out of the room quickly as his father made a grab for him, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“That will be one on account!” his father called after him with a grin, really in too much of a good humour to bother chasing down his errant son.

“What’s he been up to now?” Paladin asked having passed his sheepish nephew in the passageway.

“Just letting me know how peeved he is over Frodo and Bilbo’s delay.”

“Oh, yes. Pippin was bleating about that earlier. I explained, again, that they would be here at the earliest opportunity but these youngsters have no patience.”

“They seemed really keen when we suggested a quiet, family only celebration this year.”

“Well, I can understand them wanting to keep it to close family. It isn’t easy for youngsters to constantly share our attentions with our wider communities?” Paladin commented.

“Aye, the responsibilities of being in charge never let up, do they? We will just have to ensure that they enjoy this week even if Bilbo and Frodo can’t get here to join us.”

It hadn’t been an easy decision for the Master or the Thain to forego the normal yuletide celebrations at the Hall or the Great Smials. But both communities had had a difficult few months with epidemics and crop failures brought on by bad weather. It had actually been Esmerelda and Eglantine who had suggested a complete change of scenery and Pippin and Merry had come up with the idea of both families removing to the Took’s farm at Whitwell to spend the Holidays together.

The Tooks had arrived first and had embarked on a frenzy of cleaning, decorating and cooking to ready the Farmhouse for the festivities. Eglantine  had had much of the cooking and baking done in the vast kitchens of Great Smials and two days after the family arrived a large cart had pulled up the muddy lane, laden down with baskets of festive food. In pride of place on the seat beside the driver was a large wicker hamper containing the Yule cake, the traditional centrepiece of the Yule Feast, laden with fruit and aromatic spices and heavily laced with best Buckland Brandy. It took both Saradoc and Paladin to carry the precious basket into the safety of the pantry.

Pippin was in the midst of the preparations, happily climbing stepladders and fixing boughs of holly and greenery under his sisters’ directions; for once not minding their bossiness. Pippin loved everything associated with the Yule festival and the only clouds in his world were Frodo’s absence and Merry’s continued sulking. Merry had taken one look at the frenzied preparations and had retreated swiftly to find a quiet corner in which to sulk in aggrieved isolation. Pippin had attempted to follow him but Merry’s threat to do him bodily harm, whilst not taken seriously, was enough for Eglantine to keep her son occupied.

“Mamma, why is Merry so cross with me. I hav’na done anything.”

“He’s not mad at you, Pip,” she assured him, handing him more coloured paper chains to hang beneath the chandelier. “He’s mad at himself and at Frodo and at Amos Sweetgrass for falling and breaking his leg and leaving his family in such dire straits. . .Bilbo really had no option but to organise help for the family.”

“So why can’t Merry just make the best of things. . .we had such a lot planned.”

“He’ll find his good humour before long, Pip. Just give him time.”

Supper that evening was a buffet of cold meats, pickles, fresh bread, cheeses and fresh vegetables. Merry re-appeared just as the meal was announced and by the time he had eaten his fill his good humour was indeed back in evidence. He teased his girl cousins, tying Pearl’s and Pervinca’s braids together through the back rail of their chairs and convulsing with laughter when they tried to rise and their chairs lifted with them. In the ensuing melee Merry ended up under a pile of Tooks being tickled unmercifully.

When order was finally restored Merry and Pippin retreated to a curtained window alcove where they could sit and whisper together away from prying female eyes. They couldn‘t however escape the attentions of Pippin’s hound puppy. The pup, the runt of a litter of sheepdogs of immaculate pedigree was Pippin’s constant companion. Pedigree not withstanding, as a sheep dog the hound was a complete disaster, he was completely untrainable and only Pippin’s impassioned pleading had saved him from being disposed of. It was Pearl who pointed out that Pippin and the hound were perfectly suited to each other, both being flighty and irresponsible and without an ounce of common sense between them. It was also Pearl who renamed the pup ‘Dizzy’. Normally Dizzy was banished outside, being too much of a liability within the confines of the Smial, but the weather was so bitter that Pippin had allowed him in and was endeavouring to keep him quiet by feeding him sugared plums and titbits of meat filched from the sideboard.

“Did you see the cake, Merry?” Pip asked in an excited whisper.

“No. Where is it? Your Mamma usually puts it on display in advance of the Yule feast.”

“It’s in the pantry. Dadda and uncle Sara carried it in from the cart. . .It’s a real masterpiece, Merry.

“Let me guess. . . fluffy white icing, a garland of sugar paste flowers and a wide red and green ribbon. . .!”

“You did see it!”

“No, Pip. That’s how it always looks. . .it’s tradition. Did they send mince pies too?”

“Yes, but Mamma said we weren’t to touch them till the Yule feast,” Pippin pouted.

“Only two more days, Pip.”

“Maybe Frodo will be here by then,” Pippin said hopefully.

Merry’s mood soured instantly. “You just had to remind me, didn’t you . . .”

“But, Merry. . .”

“No, Pippin.”

“But we can still have fun.”

Merry expression hardened as he allowed his earlier aggravation to return. He pushed the pup away irritably when it nuzzled his hand looking for more treats.

“Hey! Don’t take it out on Dizzy. It’s not his fault Frodo’s not here.”

“Huh,” Merry huffed.

“What we need is something to take your mind off it.”

“Like what?”

“Mince Pies!”

“Aren’t you full?”

“Not so full as I wouldn’t manage to fit in a mince pie or three,” Pippin grinned. His enthusiasm was infectious and Merry fondled the pup’s ears to make up for his earlier roughness. The dog yipped in his excitement, drawing the notice of the adults to his presence. The curtain was pulled back flooding their darkened sanctuary with candlelight; Eglantine stood outlined against the brightness of the room beyond.

“How many times have I told you not to let that dog inside?”

“But, Mamma!” Pippin pleaded.

“No buts, Pippin.”

“But-but its cold outside.”

“That’s why his bed is in the barn. I will not have that liability causing chaos. Take him outside now or next time the tinkers pass through I’ll give him away!” she threatened. They all knew it was an empty threat; she was almost as fond of the daft animal as Pippin was but she was not blind to his faults and she wouldn’t risk the mayhem that always followed closely in the puppy’s wake.

“Yes, Mamma. Coming Merry?” Pippin flashed his cousin a wink and then, with suitably chastened expressions, they said their goodnights.

“Perfect. Now we have to pass through the kitchen,” Pippin smirked

“Right past the pantry,” Merry confirmed.

“Exactly! Come on, Merry, there are some delicious mince pies with our names on just waiting to be tested.”

“Don’t you mean tasted?”

“No, we have a duty to test them to make sure they are up to scratch for the Yule feast. . .after all it wouldn’t do to have inferior pies at such an important occasion,” Pippin assured him, tapping the side of his nose.

“How very noble of us,” Merry agreed. “You take Dizzy out and I will go and reccy   the kitchen.”

The Yule cake had been set in pride of place on the pine dresser and it was truly magnificent, the snowy icing glittered in the lamplight. Without conscious thought Pippins hand reached out to touch the glistening confection.

“Ohhhh, Merry!”

“NO, Pip. Your Mamma would skin us alive if we so much as breathe on it.” Merry warned, pulling Pippin away.

“I suppose your right. . .but it’s so beautiful.”

“Mince pies, Pippin, that’s what we’re after.”

“I suppose so,” Pippin groused.

“Any idea where they are?”

Pippin pointed, “Up there, look, in that tin beside the fruit bowl.” The fruit in the bowl was waxed and gilded as a decoration for the Yule table and not intended for consumption. “Much too high for us to reach,” Pippin commented sadly.

“That’s what they’d like us to think. Pass me that stool and help me to move the table closer to the dresser.” It took a few minutes of struggling to move the heavy pine table close enough to the dresser. “Now, if I put the stool on the table and climb up, I . .can . . .just reach  the tin!” Merry handed the heavy tin down to Pippin and waited aloft while he took four sugar-dusted pastries form the tin.

Merry breathed a sigh of relief as he placed the tin back up onto the shelf. His relief, however, was short lived; the weight of the tin caused him to wobble on his precarious perch and in trying to catch his balance he nudged the fruit bowl. A large, shiny red apple toppled from the bowl and rolled slowly away from him along the shelf, its path getting closer and closer to the edge with every revolution. It appeared to move in slow motion until it toppled over the edge of the shelf and fell with sickening precision to settle right in the centre of the cake. It landed with a dull squelch, sinking to nestle in the icing, destroying several paste flowers.

“Merry!” Pippin hissed when the first shock finally passed and allowed him to speak. “We are so dead, Merry!” he wailed.

“Quick, help me down,” Merry ordered. He scrambled down and replaced the stool in its original position. Next he had Pippin help him to move the table. “We need to leave the room as we found it! No one must know we were here. No, don’t touch the apple; we need this to look like an accident, like the apple just toppled from the bowl on its own. . .”

“They are never going to believe that, Merry.”

“They will if there is no evidence of us being here. Now let’s get up to bed quick, before they come in to tuck us up and find we’re not where they expect us to be.”

“Are you sure, Merry?”

“Am I ever wrong, Pip?” Merry asked, checking the exit was clear before pulling his younger cousin up the servant’s stairs to the family chambers.

“Yes!” Pippin muttered under his breath.

They retreated to their adjacent rooms to get washed and ready for bed. Pippin was just thumping his pillow into submission when he had a sudden thought, one that sent a quick chill down his spine and a tingle through his bottom. He debated with himself over whether to go and tell Merry, but given his cousin’s recent volatile mood he decided to let the matter rest and deal with it in the morning. A short while later when their Mamma’s came to kiss them goodnight the lads were fast asleep, their angelic faces bathed in frosty moonlight.

*****

“Merry!” Pippin tried to get his cousin’s attention as they made their way down to first breakfast.

“Come on, Pip. The girls will have finished all the bacon if you don’t get a move on.”

“But, Merry. . .there’s someth. . .”

“Come. On. Pippin.” They burst through the door and came to an abrupt halt to find the dining hall empty. There was no breakfast to be seen and the table that was normally brimming with steaming dishes and platters of food was almost bare. . .except for the defaced Yule cake and four sorry looking pastries. “We know nothing!” Merry whispered urgently to Pippin.

“Do come in lads and make yourselves at home. We’ve been waiting for you.” They looked over to see both sets of parents standing with their backs to the sideboard, their faces solemn. Paladin silently pointed to a spot on the rug just in front of the adults.

“Saradoc, would you like the honours?” the Thain asked quietly. The Master took one step forward and stood over the two pale-faced and silent youngsters.

“Meriadoc, do you know anything about this?” he said, pointing to the cake.

Pippin could see Merry has his fingers crossed behind his back and he fervently hoped that his cousin was not going to lie to his father. Merry didn’t speak but he did shake his head before setting his eyes back to the rug at his feet.

“Merry. I asked you a question and I want an answer, NOW!”

“No, Sir, I didn’t damage the cake.”

“Pippin, did you damage the cake?”

“No, Sir,” Pippin answered after a moment’s  hesitation. It wasn’t a lie, he told himself, though his tummy was tied in a tight knot.

“And the pies?”

Merry schooled his face into a mask of innocent bewilderment. Pippin, however, was not yet so skilled at masking his feelings. He started fidgeting, his eyes darting from Merry to the adults and down to the floor.

“It was an accident!” he wailed, unable to bear the suspense a moment longer.

“Pippin!”

“Silence, Merry,” his father ordered. “Go on Pippin, we are all curious to hear ‘what’ was an accident.”

Pippin shot Merry a sorrowful tear-filled glance but his angry cousin refused to meet his look, his expression closed and grim.

Eglantine took pity on her miserable son, she knelt down and gave him a hug and it was her loving touch that was his undoing. He collapsed into her arms sobbing out his apologies. They all gave him a few minutes to calm and then Paladin took a seat on a dining chair and pulled his tearful son to stand in front of him, between his knees, his hands a comforting anchor on his shoulders.

“Now, Peregrin, tell us what happened? No, don’t look at Merry. I want you to concentrate on me and tell me exactly how this occurred.”

“I wanted to show Merry the cake,” he sniffed, “and we decided we ought to test the pies to make sure that they were good enough for the feast. . .”

“But I deliberately set the tin on a high shelf out of harm’s way!” Eglantine interjected.

“Yes, just how did you reach the tin, Son?”

“I didn’t. We moved the table and Merry climbed up onto a stool.”

“Did he indeed. How very ingenious of him,” Saradoc commented, with a quelling glance at his pouting and stony-faced Heir. Merry remained unresponsive though Esme suspected that he was grinding his teeth together.

“So Merry reached the tin. Then what?”

“Merry wobbled when he tried to put the tin back . . .he knocked the bowl and. . .and the apple rolled along the shelf ever so, ever so slowly. . .and. . .and. . .and then it fell off.. .”

“You both told us you didn’t damage the cake! You both lied to us!” Saradoc’s voice was as hard as flint.

“No, Sir. We didn’t. . .it wasn’t us. . it was the apple,” Pippin hurried to explain.

“Oh, that’s alright then! So by the same token when you are spanked it won’t be us blistering your backsides, it will be the paddle!” Paladin said.

“No, Dadda. . .please. . .it was an accident. . . and. . .and it’s the treasure hunt today . . .please don’t paddle us,” Pippin pleaded.

“Not for you it isn’t.”

“But, Dadda. . .please!”

“Oh, hush up, Pippin,” Merry hissed, “You’re just making things worse.”

“But. . .but, Merry!”

“Merry’s right, Peregrin, actions have consequences,” Saradoc explained. “And the consequence of your actions is that while the other youngsters are enjoying the hunt, Merry will be chopping firewood and you will be stacking it neatly in the woodshed.”

“But that’s not fair!”

Saradoc completely ignored his son’s outraged bellow and turned his attention to the two mothers. “Ladies, if you will excuse us we have matters to attend to.” Eglantine gave her son a hug and Esme squeezed Merry’s shoulder as she passed. They left, closing the door, leaving the two irate fathers and two apprehensive youngsters to conclude their business.

“Pal, I suggest a swap, if that is alright with you. I am too angry to deal with Meriadoc at the moment. I suspect each of us will demonstrate more restraint if we are not dealing with our own troublesome offspring.” Paladin nodded his agreement.

“Come, Pippin, you first.”

It wasn’t the first time the Master had taken his nephew over his knee, but it was the first time he had spanked him with a paddle. He paused, the paddle resting on Pippin’ vulnerable backside.

“Why are you  to be disciplined, Pippin?”

“Because of the cake and the pies. . .and. . .and because I am a very bad Hobbit!” he sobbed, before a single spank was landed.

“No. You are not a bad little Hobbit, Pippin. What you did was naughty and you know you should not have even been in the pantry. If you had kept your sticky little paws to yourselves the cake would not have been damaged, would it?”

“No, Sir. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Very well, let’s get this done with,” Saradoc said. Merry winced as the spanking continued but through his anxiety he could tell that his father was tempering the strength of his spanks, not that Pippin was in any position to appreciate the leniency.

Saradoc brought the spanking to an end. He lifted Pippin and carried him over to the armchair by the fire, hugging and soothing the little Hobbit.

Merry took his place over Paladin’s knee in stony faced silence. “Why are you here, Meriadoc?” Paladin’s question went unanswered. “Very well!” He wasted no more time on his truculent nephew.

“You seem to think you are being hard done to, Merry? Well, let me tell you that not only do I hold you responsible for your own actions but I also expect you to keep a check on Pippin’s worst excesses; you are older and should be wiser. So let me impress upon you just how I feel about you encouraging him into mischief!” Paladin was every bit as expert  as his father and despite his best, most stubborn intentions, after only half a dozen swats Merry was howling nearly as loudly as Pippin had done.

“Have I made my point, Merry?” Paladin asked.

“Yes-yes, Sir,” he sobbed. “Pippin is quite safe from my disruptive influence. . .I will have nothing more to do with him!”

“Noooo, Merry. . .I’m sorry,” Pippin wailed at his cousin’s pronouncement.

Merry also howled as Paladin landed half a dozen more spanks on his already roasted bottom. Saradoc set Pippin down and lifted Merry to his feet, grasping his son by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “I know you don’t mean that, Meriadoc, but it was a cruel and mean thing to say. I suggest you take a long hard look at your behaviour and attitude and just remember who your friends are. How would you have felt if Frodo had said that to you when you were plaguing him to distraction? Now, I suggest you make peace with Pippin . . . if your attitude doesn’t improve you will be spending the rest of the festivities confined to your room where we do not have to witness it.” Saradoc told him, thoroughly ashamed of his son’s behaviour.

“Yes, Dadda.”

“Now both of you go and get some breakfast and I will meet you by the woodshed and show what needs doing.”

*******

Pippin tried numerous times to break the solid wall of silence between them but beyond the minimum required to perform their penance safely Merry refused to acknowledge his little cousin’s overtures.

Merry was steeped in anger and though his anger was mostly directed at himself, Pippin was an easy target for his ire. Finally, throwing down the axe he rounded on Pippin.

“You just couldn’t keep quiet, could you? You just had to blurt it all out  . . if you had just kept quiet they would have had no evidence it was us!”

“I wasn’t going to lie to Dadda!”

“You wouldn’t have had to! How many times have I told you ‘keep quiet and make them prove it’” Merry said, forcefully.

“They did know, Merry.”

“How?”

Pippin dipped his hand into the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a squashed and crumpled mess of red sugar paste and held it out on the flat of his hand. The flower had been crushed when Pippin lay over his uncle’s lap, “. . . and we forgot to take the pies with us. . .they were on the dresser.”

Merry knocked the sugary evidence to the floor. “No, Pippin. You forgot the pies and you just couldn’t keep your sticky little fingers off the cake . . .I told you not to touch. Well, that’s it! I’m done with you. . .You are just too much. You can stay in the nursery with the other babies. I’ll find friends who won’t drop me into trouble at every turn.” Merry picked up the axe and attacked a new log with such violence that it split at the first blow.

“I’m really, really, really sorry. . . honest I am.”

“Go away, Peregrin.”

“I can’t. Dadda will be back any minute.”

“Then get on with what he set you to do and Leave. Me. Alone!” Seeing the grim set of his cousin’s face Pippin went back to his chore, tears coursing down his face and dripping off his chin. Every so often he sniffed and wiped his coat sleeve across his face.

They were both so engrossed in their own misery that they missed the flurry of activity that heralded the arrival of Bilbo and Frodo.

“Trouble?” Frodo asked Paladin as they stood together at the kitchen window observing the two miscreants at work.

“Aye, Merry’s been angling for a spanking for days. Last night they were pilfering pies from the pantry and managed to do serious damage to the Yule cake,” Paladin explained.

“Ah, so I presume that in addition to this chore they are also harbouring sore little bottoms?”

“Yes, but for some reason Merry has taken this particular fall from grace with a massive dose of ill humour, much of which is directed at Pippin.”

“That’s not like Merry,” Frodo commented. “He usually accepts the consequences when his pranks fall apart. . .after all, he’s had enough practice.”

“Well, there is obviously a worm wriggling under his skin this time and it is driving a wedge between them. Usually they are as thick as thieves but see, Merry won’t even look at Pip let alone speak to him. . .I’ll box his ears if he keeps up with this attitude.”

“I’ll speak to him later and see if I can get to the root of what is bothering him,” Frodo promised.

When Paladin released the two lads from their penance Merry shot off so fast he didn’t get to hear about Frodo’s arrival. He tried to chase off his ill humour by running as fast as he could across the meadow until he simply ran out of breath; confused and bewildered by his rampaging emotions. He caught his breath and kept on running, returning to the smial in time for supper.

His partially restored good mood dissolved the moment he stood in the doorway of the parlour and observed Pippin curled up in Frodo’s lap, chattering like a little bird, his busy finger restlessly twirling the gold buttons on Frodo’s festive waistcoat as he poured out his woes. Merry backed out of the room and retreated to his room, excusing himself from supper.

Later in the evening when Frodo carried a platter of treats up to Merry’s room he was met by a locked door and no response to his calls. He gave up and left the tray on the threshold. Merry forced himself not to respond to Frodo’s overtures, allowing his frustration and his sense of aggravation to override his desire to see his cousin.

The tradition on Yuleday itself was for all guests to rise late and skip first breakfast, giving those who worked in the kitchens a chance to participate in the spirit of the festivities. Merry’s plan was to wake Frodo early with a cup of cinnamon tea and to persuade his older cousin to accompany him on a walk through the frost encrusted dawn, before they would need to return for the celebration breakfast that heralded the day’s festivities.

He crept down to the kitchen and brewed the tea and set it on a tray with a plate of sugar-coated ginger snaps.

“Did you bring tea for me, Merry?” Pippin asked from his nest beneath Frodo’s quilt. Frodo himself had been pushed right up against the wall by Pippin’s wriggling and sharp pointed elbows. Merry could have hurled down that tray in his frustration.

“Morning, Merry. Happy Yule to you,” Frodo greeted him blearily.

“Happy Yule, Frodo.”

“Happy Yule, Merry.” Pippin’s greeting was met with the merest hint of a grunt and his little face fell at this evidence of his cousin’s continued antipathy.

“Scoot, Pippin. Don’t be such a pest, let Frodo drink his tea in peace.”

“Frodo doesn’t mind me being here, do you, Frodo?”

“No Pip,” Frodo affirmed gently, giving him a hug. “Come on, Merry, I was hoping you would sneak in early like you normally do,” Frodo coaxed.

“I’m not a baby. . .not like some people I could mention.”

“Please, Merry! I said I was sorry. I’m really, really really sorry. . .please don’t be cross with me,” Pippin begged.

“Why should I be cross with you, Peregrin? Could it be because you don’t listen? Could it be because you couldn’t keep your sticky paws to yourself? Or could it be because you just couldn’t keep QUIET!” Merry hissed.

“Merry, that’s enough!” Frodo admonished, “It’s not like you have never got into mischief or gotten others into trouble.”

“Oh, go on, Frodo, take his side. . .everyone else does. I-I wish we had stayed in Buckland for Yule like every other year. . .and then you and Bilbo would have been there and the Tooks would have stayed in Tuckborough. . .”

Frodo didn’t answer this display of angry petulance directly. Instead he hugged Pippin and whispered to him. When Pippin pulled away from his embrace he planted a quick kiss on his cousin’s cheek and slipped down from the bed.

He turned to Merry from the doorway. “I’ve said I’m sorry, Merry. But right now you are being really mean and grumpy. You were just as ‘sponsible for us getting spanked as I was. I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore. I’ll see you soon, Frodo.” Pippin left, shutting the door with a quiet dignity.

“Is that what you wanted, Merry?” Frodo asked. Merry finally met his cousin’s gaze to see a look of sorrow and compassion.

“He’s such a pest!”

“Yes, but he’s our pest and he really doesn’t deserve to be treated so unkindly, does he? Come here and tell me what the real problem is here, MerryMine,” Frodo murmured , holding up the edge of his quilt and inviting Merry to snuggle under its warmth. Merry declined the invitation but he did slink over and settle on the bed

Frodo sipped his tea and watched his cousin. Merry was sitting cross legged on the bed with his back against the wall, his whole demeanour tense and miserable. He didn’t speak but several times it seemed as if words wanted to burst out and yet each time he swallowed them down.

“Merry, do you even know why you are so angry?” Frodo asked finally, moving to sit beside his cousin and putting an arm across his shoulder. Merry shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

“Talk to me, Merry. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re fighting,” he urged. His words were met with miserable silence.

After a while of absorbing Frodo’s calming presence he finally whispered from behind his hands, “Will you come for a walk with me?”

“Will you promise to talk to me?” Frodo countered. Merry swallowed hard and nodded his response. “Very well, give me a few minutes to get washed and dressed. I will meet you in the kitchen. And wrap up warmly, Merry; if the frost swirls on the window are any indication it must be very cold out.”

********

Pippin’s search for Frodo was proving to be frustrating; he tried his room, the bathing chamber, Bilbo’s room, even the parlour that housed a small library. His own parents and sisters, irritated at being disturbed so early had no help to offer him. Admitting defeat he trudged down to the kitchen to see if Merry had left any biscuits out when he made Frodo’s tea. He didn’t find any biscuits but he did find a note in Frodo’s flowing script leaving word of their early morning walk. Angry at being left out of the excursion, Pippin screwed up the letter and threw the rumpled ball into the log basket. He grabbed his cloak and scarf and stamped out into the yard. It took only a quick glance out over the meadow to show which way they had gone; two sets of footprints clearly visible in the frost encrusted grass heading up and away from the yard. Pippin was about to follow when he heard Dizzy’s excited yips from the barn.

“Would you like a walk, Diz?” he asked the scatty animal as he fielded his exuberant pet. “You want my company, don’t you, boy? Let’s go and see what or who we can find,” he whispered, threading a long length of stout string through the pup’s collar. They followed the trail of footsteps up through the meadow and into the spinney beyond.

*****

It sounded so petty when he finally voiced his thoughts aloud but Frodo didn’t chide or make judgement on his recent behaviour, nor did he allow him to make excuses. Merry finally owned that he had taken his frustrations and disappointment out on Pippin, who didn’t deserve to be treated so unkindly.

“I was just so. . .so. . .so angry inside!”

“Because I was delayed?”

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’d been looking forward to Yule for months and months and months. I wanted it to be special and it. . .it was all went wrong.”

“But it wasn’t Pippins fault, was it?”

“I KNOW!”

“Are you still angry with me?” Frodo asked quietly, causing Merry to look at him sharply. Merry stopped walking and sat down heavily on an icy log. “I saw you last evening in the parlour,” Frodo explained, “I saw you when I was talking to Pippin.”

“He was in my place!” Even Merry was shocked by the childish complaint.

“Merry, there was room for both of you.”

“I’m too big to sit on your lap. . .I’m not a baby!” Merry exclaimed, contradicting his earlier outburst in his agitation.

“Merry, how many of us snuggle around Bilbo on the settle when he is telling stories? He finds himself buried under a blanket of hobbits, big and small without complaint. Do you think I can’t cope with my two favourite hobbit lads. . .even stubborn, hot-headed Brandybucks?”

“But. . .”

“No buts, Merry. Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you aren’t still my special little cousin, as is Pippin.”

“But I’m nearly as big as you.”

“And I am taller than Bilbo; size and age doesn’t make any difference, Merry.”

“I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Frodo laughed, “but that doesn’t matter as long as you make things right with Pippin. You upset him, Merry; he doesn’t understand why you are so angry with him.”

“I was really mean to him. He said sorry so many times and I wouldn’t accept his apologies.

“Did he have anything to apologise for?”

“No. He was right, it was just as much my fault as his. . .more mine because I should have known better.”

“Come on then, let’s get back so you can make your peace with Pip and then we can all enjoy the festivities, starting with breakfast; I’m starving!” Frodo took off at a run and seconds later they were chasing each other as they made their way home.

*******

Pippin lost the trail at the edge of the spinney. Dizzy was delighted by the sight and scents of their early morning tramp. Frustrated at having to repeatedly untangle the pup’s lead from branches and around tree trunks, Pippin let him loose to explore.

Pippin had been walking for some time without catching any sight of his cousins. On the far side of the trees he had found more footprints; he debated whether to keep going or to give up and retrace his steps. He was cold and hungry and in the end it was the incessant rumbling in his tummy that precipitated his decision to turn back. He called to Dizzy and when he finally reappeared he reattached the lead.

“Come on, boy, let’s go home.” Dizzy yipped at the uncharacteristically dejected tone in his master’s voice. Pippin picked up the pup and cuddled his wriggling warmth against his chest, pulling his cloak to cover the pup. “We didn’t want to catch them anyway; stupid hobbits!”

Pippin leapt over the small frozen stream that ran through the middle of the spinney. It was an easy jump, one he had made many times without incident. This time, however, he was not so lucky; as he landed on the far bank his foot slipped on an icy stone. With the pup in his arms he had no chance to break his fall, he fell awkwardly, twisting his ankle and wrenching his knee. He landed heavily, knocking the breath from his lungs and giving him no capacity to scream.

He lay on the ground, gasping and weeping with shock. Dizzy wiggled free and licked his master’s hands and face, whimpering at his master’s distress. Pippin made several attempts to get to his feet but his ankle was bruised and swollen and wouldn’t bear his weight. Next he tried to crawl but the pain in his knee was too great. He yelled and yelled, calling for Merry and his Dadda but no one heard him; the sound of his cries deadened by the surrounding woodland. Slowly he hitched his way over to the nearest tree and pulled his cloak tightly around himself. When Dizzy came to nuzzle close he lifted the pup into his lap. He wrapped his scarf around and around the pup’s neck, tucking the ends into his collar.

“Dizzy, go and find Merry. . .go on. . .find Merry.” Pippin set him on the ground and pushed him away. “Go. . .go on, Dizzy. . .fetch Merry. . .please. . .breakfast time, Dizzy. . .go home. . .” Finally the pup ambled away in the general direction of the farm. “Go on, Dizzy. . .go home,” Pippin wept.

********

Merry and Frodo returned, pink faced and out of breath, just as Esme and Eglantine were ready to serve up the Yule breakfast.

“Just in time, Lads. I hope your walk gave you good appetites?”

Merry snagged a piece of sausage and hissed as it burned his tongue. “Sowwy, Mamma,” he whispered as he gave her a hug. She looked at him, delighted to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Son.” She hugged him, flashing a beautiful smile at Frodo for bringing about this transformation in his spirits.

“Where’s Pip?” Eglantine asked, expecting to see her son in his cousins’ wake.

“We haven’t seen him. . .he didn’t go with us,” Frodo said, suddenly wary.

“I thought he went out with you.”

“Perhaps he’s in the barn with Dizzy?”

“I’ve already looked there. Dizzy’s gone too,” Eglantine explained.

“Maybe he has taken Dizzy for a walk. Don’t worry, we’ll go and call him,” Frodo offered.

“Perhaps he’s just hiding: sulking ‘cause I was so mean to him,” Merry whispered as they went back out into the cold.

“Pippin doesn’t sulk, Merry.”

“No, you are right, he doesn’t,” Merry acknowledged.

When a search of the immediate vicinity failed to throw up any sign of the missing hobbit Saradoc and Paladin organised a more thorough search. Merry and Frodo called and called, going to all of Pippin’s known hideaways.

The situation was just becoming seriously alarming when Bilbo caught sight of the puppy slinking into the barn looking cold and dejected. He retrieved the pup, noticing at once the distinctive hand-knitted scarf wrapped around his collar. “So, little messenger, what do you have to tell us?” he asked the pup. Dizzy looked at him and struggled to get down to his food bowl. He wolfed down his breakfast and than sat wagging his tail as Merry, Frodo, Paladin and Saradoc arrived in answer to Bilbo’s call.

“It looks like Pippin sent this one on an errand,” Bilbo explained, unwinding the scarf from Dizzy’s neck.

“Aye, he wouldn’t have parted from that scarf without good reason.” Paladin confirmed.

With the dog once again on a lead, Saradoc, Paladin and Bilbo set out to retrieve the little hobbit, weighed down with blankets, bandages and a hot water bottle. Frodo had to restrain a very distraught Merry from running after them.

“But it’s my fault. . .he must be hurt. Frodo; he’s out there alone in the cold!”

“They’ll find him, Merry,” Frodo comforted, leading him through into the kitchen and pouring him a hot mug of sweetened tea. “He was obviously alert enough to send Dizzy for help.”

“But that could have been hours ago. . .anything could have happened since then.”

“Merry, you must calm down. They will find him and bring him home. And if I know Pip, before we know it he will be bragging about his adventure.” Despite himself, Merry smiled slightly at Frodo’s knowing assessment of their youngest cousin.

“Whatever possessed him to go out alone!”

“I think we both know that”

“Aye, it’s my fault.”

“No. Pippin chose to go off on his own. . .his decision, Merry, as I am sure uncle Pal will be discussing with him as soon as he is able.”

*****

As Frodo had predicted, following a bath to warm him up and bandages to his knee and ankle, Pippin sat in state in an armchair in front of the fire being waited upon by his doting mother and sisters. Dizzy, as the hero of the hour, was now curled up beside his master’s chair, happily clearing up all the crumbs that Pippin ‘accidentally’ let fall. Merry was also dancing attendance on his little cousin who was obviously enjoying being the centre of attention.

From across the room Frodo watched; his attention on Merry rather than on Pippin. Every so often he would catch a haunted expression flash across Merry’s countenance when he thought himself to be unobserved.

“Is all well now?” Saradoc asked Frodo, handing him a cup of warm spiced punch

“All is well with Pippin; he is back in his dear cousin’s good opinion,” Frodo offered.

“But?” Saradoc asked, sensing that Frodo was holding something back.

“But there is some unfinished business for Merry, I fear.” Saradoc turned his attention to his son and observed him in silence for a while, coming to the same conclusion that Frodo had come to.

“May I have the honours, Uncle?” Frodo asked. “It was our delay that prompted this whole catalogue of upsets.”

“Frodo, you are not to blame for Merry’s behaviour,” Saradoc assured him.

“No, but I think I need to be the one who helps him to put this to rest.”

“I think you know how I would handle this. Merry has always been remarkably stubborn at holding on to guilt when he feels his behaviour has fallen short of expectation.”

“Another stubborn Brandybuck! I don’t know where he gets it from?” Frodo teased his uncle.

“And you are not too big to go over my knee, young Baggins,” Saradoc threatened playfully.

 They watched as Merry placed another slice of Yule cake on Pippin’s plate. “I think I had better go and retrieve Merry before he smothers Pippin with kindness. . .if he eats one more mouthful I swear he will explode!”

“Wait here. I will send Merry to you.” Saradoc’s instruction was met with a puzzled glance from Frodo. “If he knows you have my sanction he will more readily accept your attention,” he explained.

“Come, Merry,” Frodo urged, extending an arm to encircle his cousin’s shoulder.

“What about Pippin? I can’t leave him!”

“Merry, Pippin has a whole roomful of family attending to his every whim. He is fine,” Frodo assured him.

“But. . .”

“No buts, Merry,” Frodo said, leading Merry into his own chamber. Frodo’s room was larger than Merry’s and there was a cheerful fire burning in the grate.

“Frodo, why are we here?” Merry asked, watching as Frodo took one of his own flannel nightshirts from the dresser.

“I am going to go and fetch us a tray, Merry. While I am gone I want you to get ready for bed. And I don’t want any arguments,” Frodo said sternly, forestalling any further questions from his cousin. He turned a speechless Merry towards the adjacent washroom and gave him a gentle push. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Am I in trouble, Frodo,” Merry asked quietly when Frodo returned. He was sitting on an easy chair by the fire, Frodo’s robe wrapped around his shoulder. Frodo set the tray on his lap and took the seat opposite.

“Eat, Merry. You have hardly eaten anything all day.” Frodo settled back and watched the play of firelight while Merry made a good attempt at emptying the platter. Finally Merry laid the tray aside and found himself subject to his cousin’s close scrutiny.

“You didn’t answer my question, Frodo. Am I in trouble?” Frodo didn’t answer but held Merry captive with his compassionate and understanding scrutiny. Merry was transfixed, unable to evade the silent but potent demand. The silence lengthened and Merry squirmed.

“What do you want from me, Frodo?”

“What do you need from me, Merry?” Frodo countered.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Really!” Frodo got out of his chair slowly; Merry followed suit, instantly alert to the unspoken undercurrents, not sure he felt comfortable with this new aspect to his cousin’s manner. Frodo sat down on the edge of the mattress and patted the space next to him. “I think there is something very specific that you need, beside a good night’s sleep. . .you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I’ve had things on my mind,” he muttered, keeping his distance from his cousin.

“Pippin seemed to recover his spirits very quickly, once he was home safe and sound, didn’t he?” Frodo commented. “You and he seem to have buried your differences! Such a cheerful little soul, our Pippin. . .so very forgiving!”

“We’ve made our peace,” Merry assured him.

“So now there is only one person left for you to make peace with.”

No. . .who. . .I don’t understand,” Merry stuttered.

Frodo now moved to pull Merry down beside him, his arm anchoring him in place. “You need to make peace with yourself, Merry. I won’t let you stew over this for another moment. . .it is time to put aside all your grief and guilt over everything that has happened here this week.”

.

“I’m sorry, Frodo. . .I’m really sorry. I’ve said sorry to Pippin and he’s forgiven me. .”

“Now, I know you have apologised to Pippin and I am pleased you have made your peace with him. Now we need to deal with the matter of you hanging on to your guilt. I won’t stand for it, Merry,” Frodo explained.

Merry started to sob and it took a long time before his distress eased.

“All gone now, Merry?” Frodo asked quietly as Merry sniffled.

“Yes, Frodo. All gone now.”

“Do I have your word,” Frodo asked gently finally pulling the exhausted hobbit up into his arms.

“Promise.” Merry lay in his arms, his breath still hitching and his lids red and swollen with tears, though Frodo was pleased to note that finally his eyes were clear and unclouded by guilt.

“How do you feel now, Merry?” Frodo asked.

“Tired, so very, very tired!”

Frodo reached over and turned down the covers and very gently rolled Merry from his arms into the bed. After a moment or two of shuffling to get situated comfortably Merry sighed heavily and sank into deep peaceful sleep.

Confident that Merry was settled for the night Frodo turned down the lamp. At the door he was met by Paladin with a sleeping Pippin in his arms. “I was taking this one to bed; he finally admitted defeat and turned down any more food!” Pal laughingly explained. “Oh, it looks like you have lost your bed for the night!” he commented, catching a glimpse of Merry from the doorway.

“Seeing as I have already lost my bed, why don’t you put Pip in with Merry and I will bunk in Merry’s room for the night,” he offered. “After the trials and alarms of the day they will be happier together.” Paladin nodded his agreement; quickly and smoothly ridding Pippin of his robe, he set him under the covers. Instinctively the two sleeping hobbits shifted until they were snuggled together and the two onlookers exchanged a wry smile.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Paladin asked.

“Yes, it means that tomorrow these two will be as thick as thieves and none of us will be safe!” Frodo said with a delighted grin

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want it any other way, would we?”

“No we wouldn’t. By the way, did Pippin leave me any cake?”

The End

Shireling Dec 2006