This one takes place at the house in Crickhollow after the quest.                                        

                                 "It's No Mystery, Really"

“Did you drink all of your medicine?” Merry asked, not looking up from his book.

“Do you have to ask that every single time?” Pippin growled, sitting down on the sofa and glaring over at his older cousin.

“I do,” Merry said, and turned the page in his book.

Pippin sighed and looked offended.

“Well?” Merry asked.

“Well what?” Pippin asked, sounding annoyed.

“Did you drink all of it?” Merry asked in a slightly sterner tone.

“Yes,” Pippin snapped, and slumped back against the sofa.

“That’s good,” said Merry as he turned another page in the book.  “Now cover up with that blanket or go to bed were it is warm.  You don’t want to get a chill.”

“How do you know what I want at this very minute?” Pippin demanded, a bit hoarsely.  “How do you know that I don’t want to get chilled to the very bone right now?  I may want to just swing the door wide open and stand in front of the winter breeze until my ears freeze off and my feet turn to ice.”  He coughed for a few seconds after delivering this speech, but Merry said nothing.

Pippin stood, rumpled shirt hanging out over an old pair of trousers, hair in tangles, eyes a bit too bright, and began to wander about the room picking up objects at random and then returning them to their place.  Merry watched this out of the corner of his eye and muttered softly to himself.  Pippin coughed again and then wrapped his arms about himself as if freezing to death.  Merry rolled his eyes and muttered again.

“What did you say?” Pippin demanded.

“Nothing,” Merry said.

“You did too,” Pippin said, irritated.  “You said something.  What was it?”

“Nothing important,” Merry said, yawning.

“If it wasn’t important, then why did you bother saying it?” Pippin demanded.

“You say unimportant things nearly every time you open your mouth and I don’t question why you are doing it,” Merry said.  “Do me the same courtesy, will you?”

Pippin glared at him, coughed again, and moved over closer to the fireplace to stand, his arms still wrapped about his chest.  “I wasn’t aware that we were being courteous,” Pippin said, stiffly.  “I do beg your pardon.”

“No matter,” Merry said, turning to the next page of his book.  “I forgive you.”

Pippin was seething now.  He stamped a foot and turned his back on Merry who was grinning ever so slightly.  Pippin coughed again and followed this with a sneeze.  He pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and blew his already sore nose.  Merry rolled his eyes and made a great deal of noise turning another page in his book.  Pippin shivered and then turned to face Merry.  “You gave me this cold to begin with, you know,” Pippin said accusingly, looking miserable.

‘I know that,” Merry said.  “But that was certainly not done on purpose, I can assure you.  You are far too ill-tempered when you are sick for me to have deliberately given you my cold.”

“I would not be ill-tempered if you would quit fussing,” Pippin said, glaring at him.  Merry turned another page and did not look up.  Finding Merry’s refusal to pay attention to his complaints unacceptable, Pippin tried another tactic. “What are you reading?”

Merry looked up and met his cousin’s eyes for the first time in the conversation and closed the book.  “A mystery,” Merry said.  “But it isn’t terribly mysterious or very entertaining.”

Pippin shifted his feet a bit and moved as close to the fire as he could without setting himself a blaze.  “It isn’t?”

“No, I’ve read something like it a time or two before,” Merry said, with a sigh.  “I can almost guess how it will end.”

“That’s depressing,” Pippin said and coughed a bit. 

“Yes, it is in some ways,” Merry smiled.

“What’s it about?” Pippin asked, as Merry stood and removed a wool blanket from the sofa.

“It’s about a long-suffering, patient hobbit who is forced to deal with an unreasonable, younger relative,” Merry said, wrapping the blanket about Pippin’s shoulders.

“Sounds annoying rather than mysterious,” Pippin said, with a sniff.

“It is annoying for the most part,” Merry agreed.  “The poor fellow is doing the best that he can, but he is met with adversity at every turn.  No matter what he suggests, his relative is annoyed by it.”  Merry put an arm around Pippin’s shoulders and began to steer him toward his bedroom.  “In fact, I wonder why the dear hobbit even tries.  He is extremely under-appreciated and all of his sage advice is ignored.  He must be very frustrated, but yet he continues to push on.”

Pippin yawned.  “Why does he continue?” he asked, as they walked into his bedroom.

“I don’t exactly know for sure,” Merry said.  “That is the mysterious part of the entire thing.”  Merry stood and watched as Pippin crawled into his bed.

“He should just leave it go,” Pippin said.  “His younger relation obviously doesn’t plan to take his advice so he would be better off to quit trying.”

Merry tucked the blankets around Pippin and sat on the side of the bed.  “Well, I think he doesn’t give up because he is concerned about his relative,” Merry explained.  “He worries about him and he is only trying to help, but the poor muddle-headed, stubborn, insufferable, idiot simply won’t listen to reason.”

“Maybe the *idiot* is simply in a very foul humor and in no mood for advice no matter how well-intentioned it may be,” Pippin said.

“Perhaps,” Merry said, pushing Pippin’s hair back from his forehead a bit.  “But I tend to believe that the stubborn twit is simply being his usual self and that the poor, wise, older hobbit should realize that he is wasting his breath and his very good advice.  After all, the younger hobbit hardly ever listens to anything the older one says anymore.”

“Maybe the younger hobbit listens just like always, but is very tired of hearing the same old advice,” Pippin said, turning over on his side and facing away from Merry.  “Maybe, now that the younger hobbit is nearly of age, it is time for the older hobbit to let him make his own decisions and to quit giving him so much advice no matter how well-intentioned that advice may be.”  Pippin coughed again and Merry patted his back.

“Maybe,” Merry said, seeming to think this idea over.

There was a slight pause and then Pippin said, “The older hobbit isn’t going to quit yammering on is he?”

“No,” Merry said.  “And the younger hobbit isn’t going to quit being so bone-headed and listen to reason anytime soon, is he?”

“No,” Pippin said, softly. 

“See,” Merry smiled, pulling the blanket up around Pippin’s shoulders.  “I told you that I knew how it ended.”

“And so you do,” Pippin said.  “But I’m not surprised by that.”

“You aren’t?” Merry said, standing to leave the room.

“No,” Pippin said, a bit grumpily.  “You generally know everything about everything and most especially everything about younger cousins.” He sounded very cranky and terribly annoyed.

Merry chuckled.  “I’ve had a bit of practice,” he said, gently as Pippin snuggled down into his blankets and closed his eyes.

As Merry left the room, he heard Pippin mutter, “You practice entirely too much, Merry.”

 Grinning, Merry returned to his chair by the fireplace knowing that he’d won that round at least.  “Sleep well, you stubborn twit,” Merry whispered, affectionately.

G.W.      06/05/2005