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Scribblings  by Baylor

For Pippin’s Wolf, who put the idea in my head.

"Really, Merry, it doesn't look that bad," Pippin said in a reassuring voice. "I don't think anyone will even notice."

"Not even notice?" Merry answered, his voice rising to a scratchy peak. "How could they not notice?"

"Hush, Merry, and hold still," Frodo said, not quite able to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You should be glad that the worst damage here is going to be to your vanity."

Sam, carefully rubbing salve onto the now-furless top of Merry's left foot, muttered something that sounded suspicously like, "Not that his vanity couldn't use some trimming."

"What's that, Sam?" Merry said sharply. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were pleased by all this."

"Mr. Merry, you know I'd never want to see you hurt," Sam said stoutly, and then dug his fingers firmly into Merry's foot. Merry gave a little squeak and his leg, held aloft in Frodo's hands, twitched. "There now, hold still," Sam added. "It's for your own good."

"Pippin," Merry said, gritting his teeth, "no more roasting nuts for you. Ever."

"I'm sorry, Mer," Pippin said mournfully. "It was hot. It just flew out of my hands -- I couldn't help it!"

"It was hot because it was on fire, dearest," Frodo said. "Which you might have noticed if you had not been blinded by your greed."

"I was hungry," Pippin said woefully, and blinked back tears of remorse.

"It's all right, Pip," Merry soothed. "My foot fur will grow back. And it would seem my vanity could use some trimming."

"If you think so, Mr. Merry," Sam said, not bothering to hide his grin.

"Frodo, why don't you have proper servants?" Merry asked.

"Because they wouldn't allow the likes of you in the smial, Merry-lad," Frodo said without hesitation, and Merry could not help but laugh with him.





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