A Genuine Shirebound Plot Bunny:

The day after Bilbo leaves the Shire, Merry stays at Bag End helping Frodo distribute Bilbo's gifts and handle the crowds. That night, as Merry prepares for bed, he discovers in his room the wrapped gift that Bilbo left for him.

***

 ‘You’ll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn’t you go too? You don’t belong here; you’re no Baggins—you—you’re a Brandybuck!’

Lobelia was still shouting as Frodo shut the door, rather more firmly than I’d seen him do in fonder farewells. The heavy round door shut with a satisfying click which was all the more delightful for the door’s muffling qualities. I couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief.

Frodo’s hand was in his pocket, but he hadn’t disappeared.

I must admit, I was half-disappointed. I should have liked to see old Lobelia’s face. But then, knowing what I know now, ‘twas all for the best.

I heaved a sigh, as I said, and Frodo straightened immediately, from long practice the protective older cousin, though I’m only a dozen or so years younger. Will he still be protecting me when we’re old gaffers together?

Turning towards me, he forced a smile. ‘Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like.’

 ‘It was a compliment,’ I shot back, ‘and so, of course, not true.’ I was rewarded by seeing a more genuine smile spread across his face.

We went round the hole then, and evicted a number of young hobbits all bent on discovering Bilbo’s treasure. I told them he’d taken all his treasure with him, but they looked at me with a sceptical air. I must practice, I suppose, if I’m to tell a convincing falsehood...

I had put the kettle on and Frodo had gone to the larger pantry to seek out some sustenance or other—odd, not to be asking Bilbo what he’d like for tea this day—I set out the cups and saucers, the little plates and spoons. Honestly, I was thinking that now that Frodo was the richest hobbit in the Shire and safely of age, he really ought to settle down with a fair young thing and not leave domestic arrangements to younger cousins... in any event, I heard some sort of commotion break out, rather like one of the Hall cats tussling with an overlarge rat, quite interesting to watch.

Following the sound, I came upon Frodo and Sancho Proudfoot in the larger pantry. Frodo was getting rather the worst of it at the moment. I leaned against the doorjamb to watch. ‘Need any help, cousin?’ I said in my most accommodating tone.

Sancho was large and strong for his age; he was twice the size of Pippin though he'd been born a month later than our baby cousin. Frodo, on the other hand, was slimmer than a proper hobbit, but he made up for it in wiriness and determination.

 ‘I'm... fine,’ Frodo gasped, getting the upper hand over Sancho and sending the shovel clattering to the floor. ‘Now... then...’

Sancho twisted in his grip, throwing him on the floor, panting excitedly about some echo or other. ‘It’s mine!’ he kept saying. ‘I found it! Not you!’

 ‘Merry, if you wouldn’t mind,’ Frodo said as he removed Sancho’s foot from his chest by the simple method of a pull and a twist, tumbling the younger hobbit to the floor.

 ‘You’re doing so well, Fro,’ I returned, nonchalantly. Behind me the kettle began to whistle. ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘I’ll see to that!’

 ‘Very helpful,’ Frodo grunted behind my back.

Tea must be made just so, and I gave it my full attention, scarcely noticing when the sounds of struggle diminished. Frodo seemed to be marching Sancho down the hall, from the sound of it, and the younger hobbit was protesting bitterly and demanding his shovel. As the noise receded at a steady pace, I figured that Frodo would not need any further assistance on my part.

I heard the front door slam rather louder than it had behind Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and emerged from the kitchen to see Frodo collapsed on a chair in the hall. Looking up at me, he pushed aside some stray curls that had fallen over his forehead in the tussle and sighed.

 ‘Tea’s on,’ I informed him cheerily. ‘Would you like to have it here, or in the parlour with whomever’s about to arrive next?’

 ‘It’s time to close the shop, Merry,’ he said. ‘Lock the door, and don’t open it to any one today, not even if they bring a battering-ram.’

 ‘Ah,’ I said brightly. ‘I sense that a retreat to the study is in order.’

 ‘Good lad, you’ll go far,’ Frodo said, rising wearily, waiting only long enough to watch me shoot the bolt. Most doors in the Shire didn’t have locks in those days, but then, it was generally acknowledged that Bilbo was eccentric, if not completely mad.

 ‘I’ll bring you tea in the study, and then I’m off for a breath of fresh air,’ I said.

He nodded with a wordless wave behind him, not even turning to face me, revealing how exhausted he was from events... I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t slept at all the previous night, what with Bilbo’s disappearance and Gandalf staying over, though the old wizard had disappeared shortly after breakfast and not been heard from since.

I served him his belated cup of tea and slipped out the back door. I trotted down the long sloping path, jumped over the low place in the hedge at the bottom, and took to the meadows for a wonderful ramble in the golden autumnal sunshine.