This one is rated PG-13 for a slightly scary story involving death in honor of Halloween.

Pippin is 18, Merry is 26, Sam is 28, and Frodo is 40.

                                            “The Tell Tale Took”

It wasn’t quite winter but the wind now had a bite to it that it had lacked only a week ago.  As Frodo hurriedly closed the parlor door behind Jolly Cotton a gust of wind managed to make its way inside along with the lad.  Shivering a bit, Frodo greeted his guest with a smile.  “Just hang your jacket and cap on one of the pegs near the door if you can find an empty one,” Frodo said.  “There’s tea and cakes and all sorts of treats on the table in the parlor.  Help your self, Jolly.  I’m glad that you could come.”

Cheeks red from the wind, Jolly removed his cap and smiled a bit shyly at Frodo.  “It was nice o’ you to include me, Mister Frodo,” Jolly said as he reached down and began to unfasten the buttons on his well-worn jacket.  He looked up and caught sight of Sam over by the fireplace and his smile widened.  He raised a hand and called, “Hullo, Sam!”

Sam looked away from the crowd of lads near the fire and waved back.  He would have greeted Jolly but his mouth was full of cake presently. 

Frodo made his way back toward the kitchen.  He would need several more trays of cakes if he wanted to keep his young guests well fed and merry.  He was just rounding the corner when he nearly collided with Marigold Gamgee, Sam’s younger sister.  She was carrying a tray of biscuits in one hand and a platter of cheese and ham in the other.  “Sorry, Mister Frodo,” she said, easing past him and making her way to the parlor.

Bag End was full of young folks this evening.  Frodo had to admit that everything was going rather better than he had suspected that it might when Merry had first suggested this plan.  Frodo had been concerned but Merry had forged ahead with determination aided by Pippin who was very excited to be included in it all.  His younger cousins, it seemed, had been correct.  The party was going very well indeed.  Smiling, Frodo made his way to the kitchen and found Merry dipping apples into a sweet, candied confection boiling in a kettle over the fire.  Estella Bolger was stirring the mixture to help keep it from setting up too quickly. 

“Want a candy apple, Frodo?” Merry asked.  He had one in each hand and was carrying them over to cool on a tray on the table.  The apples glistened in the light from the lanterns as Merry lined them up on the tray.  There were about twenty of them in place, each coated with a sweet tempting candy.  Long carved sticks had been placed into the apples so that they could be dipped in the hot candy, cooled and then carried about and eaten right off of the stick.  “We’ve got plenty for now but they’ll be gone in a hurry as soon as the others find out about them,” Merry warned.

“I think I’ll pass on the candy apples for the present, Merry,” Frodo said.  “I just came in to see how our party food was holding out.  We have a very large, very hungry crowd out in the parlor.”

“Well, we’re nearly finished with these apples,” Estella said.  “Where’s Pippin?”  She looked through the steam from the boiling kettle and pushed back a damp strand of hair with her free hand.  “He’s supposed to be bringing more apples from the cellar.”

As if on command, Pippin could be heard making his way up the stairs and into the kitchen.  “I’m coming!  You don’t have to be so bossy, you know,” he huffed.

Merry grinned at Estella and said in a low voice, “Yes, don’t be so bossy, Estella.”

She stuck out her tongue at him and continued to stir the candy mixture.  Pippin came into the room with a large basket of apples, puffing and blowing with the exertion of carrying the load up out of the cellar and sat the basket at Merry’s feet with a thud.  “There, just as ordered, more apples,” Pippin panted.

“They weren’t too heavy for you, were they?” Merry asked grinning at Pippin’s red face as his eighteen-year-old cousin stood with his hands on his knees and breathed hard.

“Now’s a fine time to ask,” Pippin retorted glaring up at Merry.

“Well, don’t just stand there, you two,” Estella said.  “I’m not about to do all of the work around here.  Get some sticks into those apples and start dipping them.  This isn’t my party, you know.”

“If it isn’t her party then how come she’s giving all the orders?” Pippin muttered to Merry.

“I heard that, Peregrin Took,” Estella said and Merry laughed and thrust a handful of the carved sticks into Pippin’s hands. 

“Here, Pip, make yourself useful,” Merry said.

“I have been!” Pippin frowned.  “Who do you think it was that brought those apples up here?” 

Frodo ignored the three of them and began to slice a freshly baked loaf of bread.  He watched as Merry pushed one wayward strand of hair out of Estella’s eyes for her and dipped an apple into the candy while Pippin sat cross-legged on the floor next to the basket of apples and began plunging sticks into them with a bit too much enthusiasm.  Pippin was glaring at Estella as he worked and watching Merry flirt shamelessly.

“Oh, good, candy apples!” Berilac said as he entered the kitchen.  Apparently his voice had carried because there were soon more guests in the kitchen than in the parlor.  Instead of putting the apples on the tray to cool Merry was dipping them and handing them directly to his hungry friends.  Pippin’s fingers were stepped on several times during the rush of hobbits toward the apples and he could be heard complaining if anyone cared to listen which no one did.

The party progressed from constant eating to nibbling and talking in the parlor.  Frodo sat with his pipe in a far corner of the room and watched the young folks laugh and chatter.  Sam, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable about being a guest rather than working in the kitchen, kept coming over to see if Frodo needed anything.  Merry, Berilac and Freddy kept dragging the young gardener back to the party. Sam’s sister, Marigold seemed more than willing to sit and talk with the others even if poor Sam didn’t find it proper.

Merry and Pippin had been determined to include Sam in the guest list.  “Sam needs to have fun too,” Pippin had insisted.  “Besides, he knows everyone that’s coming and they all like him.  Everyone likes Sam.”

Frodo was glad that Sam had agreed to join the party even if it had taken most of the week to convince the lad to do so.  Pippin was right.  Sam needed to have some fun too and it was after all, ‘the Haunting week”. 

Haunting week was one of Merry’s favorite holidays.  He had loved it since he’d been a small lad and barely old enough to listen to the stories and partake of the holiday treats.  Every year at this time as the harvest was coming to a close and everyone was making preparations for the winter months, the hobbits of the Shire celebrated “haunting week.”  Every smial was decorated with ghosts made out of old linens and children’s drawings of spiders and spirits and monsters.  Families prepared candies and held parties for the little children with games and stories and songs.  There were bon fires and hayrides for the teens and tweens.  But more than anything else there were spooky stories told by the fireside.

Bilbo had given a party at Bag End nearly every year when he’d been in residence.  This was the first party that Frodo had given for haunting week and he doubted that he would have given this one had it not been for Merry’s insistence.  He puffed his pipe thoughtfully.  He was glad that he had agreed to let the lads have the party.  He liked the festive feel of Bag End when it was filled with laughter and food and young folk.  He was pulled out of his thoughts as Merry began putting out some of the lanterns in the parlor while Freddy lit a few large candles that had been arranged on the table and on the mantle.  Soon there would be a story. 

Some of the guests had already departed but there were about twelve or so left counting Merry and Pippin.  Frodo smiled as Marigold seated herself at the foot of Sam’s chair and backed up against him.  Sam patted her shoulder and leaned forward protectively to reassure her.  Freddy finished lighting the candles and went over to sit on the sofa between his sister, Estella and Berilac Brandybuck.  Jolly Cotton and Falco Boffins sat near the fireplace in a couple of straight-backed kitchen chairs that had been moved into the parlor to accommodate the guests.  Rose Cotton seated herself on the arm of Sam’s chair and Frodo could see the lad blushing even in the low light.  Pervinca Took, Pippin’s older sister, who had arrived with the Bolgers, settled herself in the remaining armchair, pulling her feet up underneath her skirt and looking breathless with excitement.  Nick Cotton, and Merimas Brandybuck sat on the floor near Pervinca’s armchair.  Pippin moved about the room and finally settled for leaning against the back of the sofa just behind Fredegar as Merry moved to stand in front of the fireplace.

Frodo watched as Merry assumed a theatrical air and lowered his voice for affect.  This had been Bilbo’s favorite part of haunting week; the story telling.  Merry cleared his throat and looked at each of his guests in turn as the light from the candles cast an eerie pattern of shadows on his face and about the room.  “Welcome, my friends,” Merry intoned.  “Tonight, you shall hear a tale that is not for the faint of heart nor the very young but the sort of tale that should only be told among the brave.  Before we begin, if any among you are not accustom to frightening tales with violent passages, do not be ashamed to leave.  It is no disgrace to admit your limitations and none here will make mention of it when next we see you.”

A silence fell over the room and many of the guests looked at Pippin who was the youngest in the room.  Feeling their accusing eyes upon him, Pippin fidgeted and said, “I’m not leaving.”  He folded his arms over his chest and glared at them while some of them snickered. 

Merry cleared his throat to regain their attention.  “Some of you are spoiling the mood,” he said, frowning at his audience, all of whom turned back to face him and quieted.

“Thank you,” Merry said stiffly and Frodo choked back a laugh from his corner seat.  Merry looked so very serious that he was nearly comical.  “If none among you are leaving, then it is time to begin,” Merry continued and he leaned forward quickly and blew out the center candle on the table causing Pervinca and Marigold both to gasp and the flames on the two remaining candles to flicker slightly.   Pippin’s eyes widened and Fredegar grinned but no one said anything.

Merry allowed the silence to deepen a bit and then in a hoarse whisper he said, “If there is but one among you with a tale not fit to be told at any other time of the year, a tale too terrible to think long upon, a tale of a haunting, a murder, a mystery or some other frightening experience, then come forth and regale us.”  He looked around at them all and then said, “Who will it be?”

“I have one,” Pippin said and his pronouncement was met by groans.

“I don’t want to hear about any two-headed goats,” Berilac complained.

“It’s not about that goat!” Pippin objected.  “But that was scary.”

“There aren’t any two-headed goats,” Jolly Cotton groaned.

“Sit down, Pippin and let someone with a real scary story tell it,” Pervinca said.

“I have a scary story,” Pippin persisted.  “Merry said anyone and I’m someone.”  He glared at his older sister.

“This isn’t the children’s hour,” Berilac snorted.  His remark got a laugh out of Jolly and Merimas and so he continued.  “Be a good lad and let Merry do the honors.”

“Sit down, Pippin,” Estella said.  “I doubt that you know any scary stories anyway.”

“I do so,” Pippin said leaning over the sofa and looking her in the eye.  “I know plenty of them.”

“No he doesn’t,” Pervinca said.

“How do you know?” Pippin asked.

“Do something with him, Merry,” Falco sighed.  “He’ll ruin the story-telling.”

“I will not!” Pippin said.  “I think you’re just afraid that my story will scare you and cause you to go running from the smial.”

This caused everyone to laugh.  “You couldn’t scare a faunt, Peregrin Took!” Estella said and this brought on more laughter.

“All right, all right, hold on all of you,” Merry said in a loud voice.  “Now, this is supposed to be the portion of the evening that celebrates all tales of hauntings and you lot are ruining it.”

“It’s Pippin who’s ruining it,” Merimas said.  “He’s the one who won’t sit down and let someone older tell a tale.  We don’t want to hear any children’s stories.  We want to hear something creepy.”

“How do you know that Pippin doesn’t have a creepy story to tell?” Merry asked.

“He’s a child,” Falco said.  “He can’t know any creepy stories and no, that story about the year he saw a two-headed goat does not count.”

“I am not a child,” Pippin said angrily.  “And I really did see a two-headed goat!”

“Enough about the goat,” Fredegar sighed.

“It was scary too,” Pippin muttered.  “It had two heads.”

“I ain’t never seen a two-headed goat,” Nick said.

“Neither has Pippin,” Pervinca said.

“I have too,” Pippin declared.  “And I know lots of scary stories, but if you are all too cowardly to listen to them then that’s fine by me.  I don’t want to frighten any of you.”

“That’s a laugh,” Berilac said.  “The day you frighten me with a story is the day that I leave the Shire for good.”

Merry cleared his throat and glared at his guests.  “You are all acting like a bunch of faunts,” he said.  “Pippin may be the youngest here, but some of you are acting like little children instead of tweens.”

There was a general grumbling with everyone looking accusingly at the hobbit sitting next to them and a great many glares were sent in Pippin’s direction but no one said anything discernable.  Merry continued to glare at them all for a minute and then he said, “I think we should give Pippin a chance.”  This was met with more groaning.  “I mean it.  I say we give Pippin a change to begin his story and see what he comes up with.  If it isn’t scary or if it’s filled with two-headed farm animals, then we can interrupt him and someone else can tell a story.”

“You just mention that you've seen one two-headed goat and folks won’t let you live it down,” Pippin muttered.

Frodo kept quiet but it was becoming increasingly hard not to laugh.  He didn’t think that any of the others had noticed him hiding in his corner in the dark and he was enjoying the goings on far too much to alert them to his location just yet.

“Well?” Merry asked, looking about the room and practically daring anyone to object.

“All right,” Merimas sighed.  “But let’s get this over with so we can move on to a scary story by someone who isn’t still wet behind the ears.”

Pippin opened his mouth to defend his ears, but Merry was quicker.  “If this is to be fair then you all have to be quiet and give Pippin your attention just as you would if this were someone older telling the story.  If, after a few minutes, the story isn’t scary or entertaining, then Pippin will go back and sit down and let someone else have a try, agreed?”  Everyone murmured grudgingly and Merry looked at Pippin.  “Make it good,” he said. As Pippin passed Merry and came up front to tale his story, Merry leaned over and whispered, “No two-headed goats.”

Pippin glared at him and whispered back, “And no killer chickens either.”

Merry hid a smirk and went over and sat down next to Estella who did not look at all pleased with this choice of storytellers.  She gave Merry a small frown and then turned away from him to glare at Pippin.

Frodo watched as Pippin seated himself on the edge of the hearth and faced his hostile audience with Tookish confidence.  The room had gone quiet.  Pippin leaned forward resting his hands on his knees and looked around at the tweens.  “I’ve never told this story before but it’s a very old story so some of you may have heard whisperings about it, though I doubt any of you have heard the full tale,” Pippin began.  His voice was even and held no trace nervousness.  “I don’t know the exact year that this took place, but I do know that none here in this room were alive nor were any of your parents.  The story is one of great tragedy and sorrow and it is rarely spoken of for fear and dread that it may happen again some day.  I only tell it now as a warning.” 

Frodo smiled.  Pippin had everyone’s attention now.  Bilbo would have been proud.  Merry certainly was.  Frodo could see him smiling as he watched Pippin intently.

“It was just this very time of year, just after the harvest when a family by the name of Underhill held a party much like this one, for the birthday of their oldest daughter,” Pippin said.  “Her name was Willow and she was one of the prettiest lasses in all of the Shire.  She was celebrating her twenty-eighth year and had been allowed to invite all of her friends.  It had been a good year for the crops and her family was making this a celebration to beat all celebrations, partly because Willow was such a good lass and partly because of the bountiful harvest.  Little did they know that this would be Willow’s last birthday.”   As he said this, Pippin leaned forward and blew out a second candle leaving only one for light along with the fire in the hearth.

“Willow was the sort of lass who made friends easily and so it should have been no surprise to anyone that on the very night of her party, she invited a complete stranger to join them,” Pippin said.  “You see, they were having slightly warmer weather than we are now and so they were having the party feast outside.  They had set up tables filled with all sorts of good food.  They had chicken and ham and biscuits and cakes and pies and cheeses and apples and-“

Merry cleared his throat and gave Pippin a warning look at this point.

“Well, they had lots of food,” Pippin said quickly with a nervous look at Merry.  He then went on with his story.  “Because they were Willow’s favorite flowers, each table was decorated with roses.  Farmer Underhill, did I mention that he was a farmer?” Pippin asked.

“No,” Rose Cotton said, softly.

“Oh, well he was a farmer and that’s why I mentioned all that about the harvest,” Pippin said with a smile at Rose.  “Anyway, Farmer Underhill was known for growing some of the finest roses around.  His daughter loved the flowers, most especially the red ones and her mum often said that it was a shame that they had not named her Rose.”  At this pronouncement, Rose Cotton reached over and took hold of Sam’s hand and shivered slightly.  Sam gave her a reassuring smile and silently thanked Master Pippin for putting this part into the story.

“The party was going quite well and everyone was enjoying themselves when all of the sudden, Willow noticed that there was a young lad standing off in the trees just watching them,” Pippin said.  Pervinca, who had been trying to look bored, gave up the effort and put her arms around herself and pushed back further into the chair for more protection.  “Willow was the curious sort and as I’ve mentioned, she was also very friendly, I did mention that, didn’t I?” Pippin asked.

“You did,” Fredegar said.

“Well, good because I meant to,” Pippin said and Frodo bit his lip so as not to laugh.  “Willow became curious about the lad and decided to go over and introduce herself.  She walked right over to where he was standing and bold as brass, she looks up at him and says, ‘I’m Willow Underhill and it’s my birthday today.  My family and friends are all having a party for me.  Perhaps you’d like to join us.’”

Marigold’s eyes were wide and she pushed back further against Sam’s legs and pulled her feet underneath her.  Her eyes were fixed on Pippin and he continued.  “Well, the hobbit lad didn’t say anything at all, he just smiled at her, kind of oddly, like this,” Pippin said and he let a very small smile show and slowly looked around at all of his listeners.  After a slight pause he went on.  “She was puzzled by this and so she tried again, “What’s the matter?  Cat got your tongue?’ she asked him trying to sound like she was teasing or something.  A bit like a lass who is flirting too much,” Pippin tried to explain with a meaningful glance at Estella Bolger who glared at him.  “Then just when she was about to ask him something more, he leaned forward and opened his mouth as wide as he was able to and she screamed because he truly didn’t have any tongue at all!”

Rose and Marigold gasped and Jolly Cotton murmured something nervously to Sam.  Estella sighed and rolled her eyes and Pippin ignored her and continued.  “Willow quickly covered her mouth with both hands because she realized how rude she was being.  The lad obviously couldn’t help it that he didn’t have a tongue.”

Frodo covered his own mouth with his hand and squeezed his eyes shut.  This was utterly priceless!

“She stared at the place where his tongue should be and tried not to scream any more as one of her friends called out to her, ‘Are you all right, Willow?  Who’s that lad that you’re with?’”  Pippin stood now and leaned against the hearth.  “She managed to wave to her friend and she hoped that she looked normal and not like she’d just met a lad without any tongue.”

Merry was now biting the back of his hand to keep from laughing and Estella was groaning softly.  Pippin shot her a nasty look and went on.  “Willow’s friend was satisfied that Willow was all right and she turned back to the party to get some more cake.  Willow looked at the lad and said, ‘I’m sorry.  I hope that I haven’t offended you it’s only that you startled me.  Please come with me over to the party and meet my friends and have something to eat.  It isn’t right that you should be standing out here all alone.’  She reached over and took his hand and began to lead him over to the party, but he stopped suddenly, pulled his hand out of hers and ran off into the trees.”

“Why’d he do that?” Pervinca asked.

“You’ll see,” Pippin said.  “You have to listen to the rest of the story to know that.”

Pervinca frowned, chewed on her thumbnail and waited for Pippin to continue.

“Willow felt bad because she realized that she might have hurt the lad’s feelings by screaming the way she had. He was gone now and so Willow turned and went back to the party and tried to forget about the strange lad without any tongue,” Pippin said.

Again Frodo had to struggle to keep silent as the laughter bubbled up inside of him.

“The party was great fun and everyone had a wonderful time and Willow had managed to forget about the stranger.  When it got dark, they moved the party inside and they had even more fun,” Pippin said.  “One by one, the guests had to take their leave and they said good night to Willow and the Underhills and went back out into the dark night to go home.  When the last guest had left, Willow thanked her parents for giving her such a wonderful birthday and went to bed.”  Now Pippin blew out the last of the candles and Rose tightened her grip on Sam’s hand.  Estella allowed Merry to put his arm about her shoulders but still tried to look bored.

“The smial was soon dark and quiet and everyone was asleep,” Pippin said in a soft voice as if afraid that he might wake the fictitious Underhills.   Pippin began to pace ever so slowly back and forth in front of the fireplace.  “Just before dawn, Willow thought she heard someone scream and she sat up in her bed, shaking with fear.  Worried about her family, she lit a candle and got slowly out of her bed and crept ever so quietly out of her room in nothing but her night gown.”

The room was completely quiet now and you could have heard a pin drop as Pippin began to move around his audience with his hands clasped behind his back, talking softly as he went.  “She walked all through the smial with her wee candle but she couldn’t find a single member of her family.  She was growing more and more frightened with each room that she searched in the near darkness.  Everything was so quiet and so dark and it was so very late,” Pippin said.  “She couldn’t even find her little kitten, Snowball and she could always find the kitten but it wasn’t there either.”

Frodo had a minute to wonder exactly how the kitten had got to be part of the story.  He saw Estella Bolger look over at Merry and mouth the word, ‘Snowball?’ but Pippin didn’t seem to take any notice of Estella this time.  He continued by moving back up to the hearth.  “She was all alone in the dark smial without even her wee kitten for comfort.  Her hands were shaking and twice her candle nearly went out.  She didn’t want to because she was very afraid, but she decided to go outside to look for her parents.”

And her kitten?  Frodo’s thought, but he sat very still and listened.

“Poor Willow,” Marigold whispered.

“Aye,” Pippin agreed.  “She got up her nerve and went out of the smial in the cold dark night alone.”  He reached over onto the table, got a candle and lit it.  Pippin then began to walk about again as if he were Willow looking outside for the family.  You had to admire the lad’s theatrics.  “She looked everywhere and had nearly given up when she felt her toe bump against something and she looked down.  Then she began to scream and she couldn’t stop screaming!”  Pippin’s voice was louder now and he handed the candle to a rather surprised Freddy and stepped back.  “It was terrible!  They were everywhere!  The ground was covered with them!”

“Covered with what?” Estella asked, unable to stand it any longer.

Pippin leaned forward and looked Estella right in the eyes.  “Dead hobbits,” he whispered.

Pervinca moaned softly and Marigold squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands.  Nick Cotton winced.

“Dead hobbits?” Jolly said a bit breathless.

“Aye, all of her family and her party guests were lying about on the ground just as dead as dead can be and as she ran about screaming, she kept tripping over them,” Pippin said.  “Everyone that had come to her party and all of her family were lying there dead.  She was the only one left alive.”

A tiny voice in Frodo ‘s head whispered, ‘What about Snowball?’ but he ignored it.

“The poor lass was going quite mad with grief,” Pippin said.  “And then she saw him.”

“She saw who?” Freddy asked, still holding the candle.

“The lad that she’d seen at her party,” Pippin said.

“The one without a tongue?” Jolly asked nervously.

“Aye, that’s him,” Pippin said.  “He was coming toward her and he had a single rose in his hand.  She tried to back away but she tripped over one of her dead friends and fell. And he just kept coming closer and closer and closer and finally he was standing over her, looking down on her and she opened her mouth to scream.”  Pippin stopped and turned his back on his audience. 

“Then what happened?” Merry asked.

“Did he kill her?” Jolly asked.

“Did she get away?” Pervinca asked.

“Finish it, Pippin!” Estella said not realizing that she was squeezing Merry’s hand now.

Pippin turned back and looked at them.  “The next morning some of the Shirriffs came out to look for the party guests that had never returned to their homes and they found all of these dead hobbits just lying about and each one had a single rose lying on their cold, dead, body,” Pippin said.  “Lying next to the very tree under which she’d first met that strange lad with no tongue, was Willow and she was dead too just like the others.  They never found the lad without any tongue or even learned who he was but folks that know say he wanders the woods of the Shire at night carrying a single rose.”

The tweens looked at Pippin for a minute or two and then broke into applause.  “That was some story!” Merry said grinning.

“I won’t sleep for a month,” Marigold confessed.

“I guess you’ll be packing to leave the Shire, won’t you Berilac?” Merry asked.

Berilac grinned.  “I’m not going anywhere after dark now.” 

Everyone laughed and Pippin, very graciously accepted his praise.  He grinned broadly and flushed with pride as the older lads and lasses bragged on his story-telling talent and confessed to being a bit frightened.  Pippin was the center of attention until after the guests had left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry had just about fallen asleep when he heard someone slip into his room.  He rolled over on his back and peered out of one eye.  “What?” he asked grouchily.

“Merry,” Pippin said sounding slightly nervous.

“What?” Merry asked again.

“Would you mind if I slept in here with you tonight?” Pippin asked approaching the bed cautiously.

Merry opened both eyes now and smiled slightly.  “And why would you want to do a thing like that?”

“It’s cold in my room,” Pippin lied.

“Why don’t you build a fire? Or get some extra blankets or-“

“I’m a bit scared all right?” Pippin said irritably as he forced his way into Merry’s bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

Merry laughed.

“It isn’t funny,” Pippin complained.  “And don’t you tell anyone.”

“What?  That you actually scared yourself half to death?” Merry snickered.

“Well, it was a very scary story,” Pippin said sliding over closer to Merry who was shaking with laughter.

“But you know it didn’t happen you little idiot,” Merry said.  “You’re the one that made it up so you have to know that it isn’t true.”

“All the same, Merry,” Pippin shivered.  “What if there really is some hobbit stalking about in the woods without a tongue?”

Merry dissolved into a fit of laughter.  “I can’t believe you scared yourself!”

“If you tell Estella Bolger a word of this, I’ll never speak to you again, Merry,” Pippin threatened.

“Promise?” Merry asked still giggling.

Suddenly they both heard a noise that sounded like someone clearing their throat.  Merry sat up and Pippin peered out from underneath the blankets to see Frodo standing in the open doorway.  “Pippin?” Frodo said.

“Yes?” Pippin said.

“What happened to the kitten?” Frodo asked.

“What kitten?” Pippin asked, uncovering his head a bit more.

“Snowball,” Frodo said.  “The kitten in the story.”

Now Merry was shaking with silent laughter and was forced to hide his head under the covers as Pippin sat up and said, “Oh, the wee kitten, Snowball, was the only one to get away.”

“It didn’t get killed then?” Frodo said.

“No, it got away and found a nice hobbit family to live out the rest of its life with,” Pippin said smiling.

“That’s good,” Frodo said.  “I’m going to my room and read a book now.  If you lads need anything just come and get me.”

“We’ll wander through the smial with a single candle in the dark,” Merry said from beneath the covers.

“That’s not funny!” Pippin said, swatting at the lump underneath the blankets that was Merry.

“Good night, lads,” Frodo said and left them.

“Is he gone?” Merry whispered, coming out from under the covers.

“I think so,” Pippin said laying back down and sliding over next to Merry.  “Why?”

“He came all the way in here to find out what happened to the cat?” Merry snickered and Pippin laughed in spite of himself.  “Pip, our older cousin is just plain daft.”  As their laughter quieted Merry said, “So how long do you figure it will be before you can sleep on your own again?”

“No more than a couple years or so,” Pippin said.

“Then try to lay still and don’t squirm or you’ll have to go in and sleep with Frodo,” Merry said draping an arm over Pippin.  “I can’t believe you actually scared yourself!”

“I’m a very good storyteller, Merry,” Pippin said, defensively.  “Sometimes that can be a bit dangerous.  My stories are so believable and so well told.  You can hardly blame me for believing them too.”

Merry chuckled.  “You must be good.  You actually managed to pull Frodo away from his book so that he could come in here and check on what happened to a made-up cat.”

“I am good, aren’t I?” Pippin said proudly.  “All the same, maybe next year I’ll just tell that story about the two-headed goat.  It’s not as scary.”

                                                     The End

Written as a Hobbit_ficathon challenge story set forth by Anso to use the words

rose, candle, bed, and kitten in a story.  This was the result!

 Happy Halloween!

G.W.     10/19/2005