This one was written for a Merry Point of view challenge on the hobbit_ficathon site, but it goes along with the rest of the these stories.

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                                                "Skirmish"

"Well, it wasn’t suppose to fall like that," he says and I groan, knowing that he meant well. He shakes his head and a light sprinkling of flour clouds the air between us.

Coughing, I say, "You could have waited for me to help you."

He bites his lower lip and looks down at his feet and I know that I have hit a nerve. He sighs as if the weight of the entire Shire has descended upon his thin shoulders and mumbles. "I thought I could do it myself."

"I guess it was heavier than you thought it would be," I say as I survey the floor around us trying not to look directly at him. "Sometimes it’s hard to judge the weight of something without lifting it and by then it’s too late."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him nodding his head and he says a bit louder than before, "It was very high up as well and the chair didn’t help very much. Why would someone want to keep their flour up so high to begin with?" He is drawing a line in the flour on the floor with his toe as he says this to me.

"I suppose that when you have a great many things to store that something has to go on the top shelves," I reason. "It just makes sense that sooner or later you would run out of room on the lower shelves."

"Well, if these were my shelves I’d keep the heavy things on the lower ones and store the small things up there," he points to the shelf where the flour, which coats the floor around us, used to be. "Just makes more sense that way, don’t you think?"

He is looking at me now and waiting for me to agree with him. I venture a look over at him and fight to control the laughter that is threatening to escape. He is covered in flour from the crown of his curly head to his furry toes. His serious expression only makes it harder to fight the laughter. I shrug my shoulders and quickly look at the floor again.

"I only meant to get the ingredients and put them on the table so that when you finally arrived, we could begin," he says, trying to lay a bit of the blame for this on me by bringing up my tardiness. "I did think that you’d completely forgotten or weren’t coming or something and I decided that I had better start without you."

I whirl around and face him letting my anger bubble up and escape without thinking about the effect this will have. "So this is now my fault? I am a bit late and so I am responsible for your actions? I am the reason that this pantry is white with flour?" I glare at him and continue. "I don’t think so! Not this time, cousin! You are not putting this on me. You just decided to try and do something that you shouldn’t have and now instead of being sorry about it, you stand there looking like a snow hobbit and try to make me out to be the guilty party!"

He swallows and straightens to his full height, squinting at me with those bright green eyes that are currently surround by white and yells in his too high voice, "You’re never here when you say you’ll be anymore! You go off with the older lads to have a pint and leave me here waiting for you! You don’t care about your promises any more! You said you’d be here to help at two so we’d have a couple of hours before tea, but did you get here? No!" He folds his arms over his chest sending more flour into the air and making me cough which allows him to continue without interruption. "Now, we will never get the cake made and we won’t have anything for Frodo’s birthday! You can tell him why when he asks!"

I move toward him thinking to intimidate him with my height. I am now towering over him, well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I am taller than he is. Using this advantage, I move in and let him have it where I know it will hurt the most. "You are acting like a child, Peregrin. Where I go and when I decide to return is my own business. I am twenty-five now, you know."

His eyes are wide now and I can see him flush beneath the flour on his face. My words have had the desired effect. He fists his hands at his sides and says, "I know how old you are! I’m younger than you are, but I’m not stupid. I am also not the sort who breaks my promises and neglects to show up when I say I will."

Now, that was just completely uncalled for and I have no choice but to retaliate and so I do. "You’re just angry because you weren’t strong enough or tall enough to get that flour down by yourself. Admit it! You’ve made a complete mess of things because you are such a child!"

"I am not a child! I’m not and you know I’m not! You take that back right now or I’ll show you who’s not strong enough!" He is inches from me and has his pointed little nose in the air and is bobbing up and down in an effort to get in my face. "I ought to teach you some manners!"

I feel my eyes go wide with shock at this pronouncement and I lean into his face and growl in a low, and hopefully, menacing tone, "You want to watch what you’re doing, Pip Squeak or you’ll likely find yourself flat on your arse in this flour."

Unlike a sensible sort of hobbit who can see what he’s up against, he returns my look and says, "Try it!"

He could have said almost anything but that. That was a challenge if ever there was one and it leaves me with no choice in the matter. I pull back my fist and I punch him right in the stomach without any hesitation. He doubles over and sinks to his knees, clutching his mid-section. Then I feel his sharp teeth in my ankle. I hop out of his reach and yell, "You bit me! You bit me!"

He looks up at me and actually manages to grin. I rub my ankle and watch him get to his feet and dive on top of me sending us both crashing to the floor. He quickly grabs a hand-full of my hair and begins to pull with all of his strength. I reach up with my right hand and began to pull on his ear while hissing, "You fight like a lass."

"I’m winning so what does that say about you?" he yells and continues to attempt to scalp me, using both hands now. My eyes are watering from the pain and I pull his ear harder and roll him over on his stomach on the floor. His hands are still in my hair as I shove his face into the flour and plant my knee in his back. "Get off me, you big oaf!" he yells, losing his grip on my hair. I smile now because I have him pinned to the floor and I am free.

I relax slightly and sit down on his back letting my full weight settle on him. He claws at the floor trying to get free without success. The flour makes me sneeze. "Get up, Merry! Get up and fight fair!" he demands as he realizes his situation. "Get up you great, huge, coward!"

"What have I to fear?" I ask, punctuating my words by poking him in the ribs, gently. I don’t really want to hurt him, but I do have to remind him who is in charge. After all, I am the one that taught him to fight. I didn’t teach him that hair pulling nonsense, though. That must be the work of his older sisters.

"You’ll be sorry when I get up from here," he threatens as if he actually thinks that this is a possibility. I can’t help but be impressed with his cheek. He’s trapped but he continues to struggle.

"I’m waiting," I say and poke him in the ribs again. "Just when will I be sorry?’

He squirms and grunts, smacking his hands on the floor in frustration and then he gets very lucky. He reaches around and grabs a fist full of the hair on the top of my foot and yanks it hard. I howl in pain and roll off of him, clutching my foot. "You evil little Took!"

He pulls himself up to his feet and fairly slides out of the pantry on the flour as I continue to yell at him. I am now using words that my dear mum would have my hide for saying and which I won’t recount here. He is going to be very sorry now. I am just getting to my feet when I notice that the little devil is closing the door! I charge at it and am too late. Trapped in Frodo’s pantry by a skinny seventeen-year-old who can’t even remove a sack of flour from a shelf!

It is my turn to yell. I slam my shoulder into the door which he had bolted shut. "Open this door now, Peregrin Took!" I hear him snicker at me and I am all the angrier. "I am not joking! You open this door now!"

"Why don’t you make me, Merry?" he asks. "You are older and taller and stronger so this should be easy for you. Go ahead. I’ll wait right here."

I hit the door and begin to feel like a complete idiot. I am actually losing this fight! I never lose! This sort of thing happens to other hobbits, but not to me. I have always been big for my age. Half the Shire is afraid of me! "I am warning you, Peregrin, you don’t want to do this." I say this but I know that he does want to do this. He wants to do it very much. He is enjoying it.

"Why don’t I want to do this, Merry? What are you going to do? Should I be worried?" he asks. "Let’s consider this for a bit. I’m out here in the kitchen and you’re locked in the pantry. It seems to me as if I’m perfectly safe just at present. Am I missing something?"

I could kill him if I could get my hands on him. Never mind that this is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in some time, put that aside and I am still angry enough to break every bone in his skinny little body. "You’re going to be missing most of your teeth once I get to you!"

"That’s an ugly threat, cousin," he says. "I don’t think I want to listen to any more of this. I’m going out for a bit while you calm down."

I am livid and I am also at his mercy. He is threatening to leave me in here and go off to who knows where! "Pippin! Open this door now!"

He is laughing. "You must think I’m an idiot! Open the door? You’ll kill me!" He continues to laugh and then suddenly I hear another voice outside in the kitchen.

"Pippin? What happened to you? You’re covered with flour!"

It’s our older cousin Frodo. This should be interesting. In fact, I plan to see to it that it is very interesting. "Frodo! Help! Thank the stars that you’ve come!" I say from the pantry.

"Merry? Is that you in there?’ Frodo asks. "Pippin, what is going on here?"

"He was trying to kill me," I hear Pippin say and I realize that he is trying for the same results that I am, but I have the upper hand on this one.

"I was trying to kill you? I’m the one who’s locked in the pantry!" I say.

"I had to lock him in to keep him from killing me, Frodo,’ Pippin says.

"He came up behind me and pushed me in here and shut the door," I lie.

"I did not! He made that up!" Pippin is livid now. "He’s lying to you, Frodo! I did not! He, he, he, he poured your flour on me and threatened to knock out all of my teeth!"

That was very quick of him and I am impressed. He is improving. But I am the master when it comes to this sort of thing and so I moan loudly as if in pain and smack my hand against the floor to make it sound as if I’ve fallen. "Ow, my head," I moan.

"Merry?" Pippin calls out, sounding worried. Even when he is angry with me, he can’t seem to hold onto it. "Do something, Frodo."

I hear the sound of the door being opened and I wait off to the side where they won’t see me. Frodo comes in first with Pippin close at his heels. "Merry? Where are you?" Frodo asks.

I cleverly step out from behind the door and glare at Pippin, pushing the door shut as I move. "I poured flour on you and threatened to knock out your teeth?" I hiss at him.

He backs up as I advance on him and says, "You did threaten to knock out my teeth." He backs into Frodo who is looking at me with a strange expression on his face that I can’t quite read. I pause in my efforts to kill my little cousin and stare at my older one.

"What?" I ask and Pippin looks confused. He thinks I am talking to him still.

"You just closed the door, didn’t you, Merry?" Frodo says, too calmly. I think about this but don’t seem to grasp the significance of it all just yet.

Pippin frowns and risks looking away from me and at Frodo. "Is something wrong?" he asks, turning his head to the side.

"Well, Peregrin," Frodo sighs, seating himself on the floor of the pantry in the flour which strikes me and Pippin as rather odd. "I think I heard the latch catch as the door closed. You did have it latched earlier when you were trying to prevent Merry from killing you, didn’t you?"

Pippin and I are looking at the door now and Pippin nods and says, "Yes, I did."

"Well, when Merry swung the door closed just now, I think the latch fell back into place," Frodo says.

Pippin turns to look at Frodo and says, "You mean that we’re locked in the pantry?"

"That’s exactly what he means," I say. Pippin rushes over and tries to push the door open just to make sure. He throws a shoulder against it and then turns to look at Frodo and I.

"What do we do now?" he asks.

"Well, we could practice writing our names in this flour," Frodo says, sarcastically. "Or I could kill you both. I doubt that anyone would hold me accountable under the circumstances. I shall simply say that I panicked, lost my sense of reason, and had done the deed before I realized what had happened." He is smiling at Pippin who still isn’t sure if he’s being teased or threatened.

"I vote for writing our names," I say, sitting down also.

"You’re both mad, aren’t you?" Pippin asks, leaning against the door and frowning at us. Frodo and I both catch sight of his confused face covered in flour and burst out laughing.

"Aren’t you even going to try to get out of here?" Pippin demands as we continue to laugh. "We’re locked in, you know. All of us are in here together and so who is going to let us out? Aren’t you at all worried? We could starve to death in here!"

Frodo and I are trying to stop laughing and I manage to snort, ‘We are locked in the pantry, Pippin, you little arse. The food is in here with us."

He grins, embarrassed but relieved. ‘Well, then I suppose it’s alright, isn’t it?" He comes over and sits next to me and says, "Merry? I’m a wee bit sorry that I locked you in here before."

"Are you?" I ask, surprised.

"No," he smiles. "I suppose I’m not."

"I didn’t think you were," I say.

"Can we still be friends anyway?" he asks, giving me a crooked smile.

I return his smile and say, "Yes, but I may have to get even in the future."

He smiles wider and says, "I was expecting that." He then leans over against my shoulder and I put my arm around him. Beside of us, Frodo is actually lighting his pipe and completely ignoring us.

"Happy birthday, Frodo," Pippin says in one of his sudden changes of subject. "We were going to bake you a cake, but it will have to wait now."

"We wanted to do something special for you," I say. It was what our original plan had been until we lost our tempers.

Frodo takes a puff on his pipe and says, dryly, "I am touched, but you shouldn’t have. I mean that, lads. You really shouldn’t have." Then Pippin and I laugh. I suppose that Sam will find us in here at some point and let us out but until then, it’s just the three of us and that’s fine.

"So, what sort of presents did you get us this year?" Pippin dares to asks Frodo. I love the lad’s nerve. I could never stay angry at him. I suspect that this little hobbit actually is my best friend, but I don’t plan to tell him that.  I doubt that I have to because he probably knows.

The End