“Demand and You Shall Receive”

I hear him running, small feet against the polished wood floors and the sound of tiny bells tinkling as he draws closer. As he rounds the corner into the room, his eyes bright and his little hands reaching for me to lift him up into my arms, I notice that he is being followed. Merry comes in behind the child, frowns in my direction, and his grey eyes cloud over as I reach for the tiny jingling faunt standing before me. As I lift the child into my arms, I am rewarded with giggles and squeals of delight and assaulted by a disapproving glare.

“Hello, there my little jingle bells, how are you today?” I ask the wriggling child in my arms.

“You’re spoiling him,” Merry says and folds his arms over his chest.

The tiny Took kicks his feet and giggles at me placing his fingers in my hair and pulling as if to remind me to pay attention to him and not to my disapproving Brandybuck cousin. “I only just got here, Merry,” I say gently and point to my pack that sits at my feet. “I haven’t had time to spoil him.”

“You will,” Merry says sulkily. “Everyone does.”

“Mine!” the tiny child pronounces as if to illustrate Merry’s accusation. He reaches for the pocket of my waistcoat and fishes his nimble fingers into it as if searching for something. He doesn’t talk very much just yet but his constant state of activity makes up for that. You have to watch this tiny bundle of energy every minute.

“Here, now,” I say, trying to sound stern and failing. “What are you looking for?”

“He’s a thief,” Merry explains moving a bit closer to me.

“Merry!” I object. I suspect that Merry is slightly jealous of the attention that this little one receives but I am surprised that he seems so openly critical of this sweet little child.

“Mine!” the tiny Took says gleefully and removes my coin purse from my pocket and holds it up to his face, eyes almost crossing as he examines it.

“I told you so,” Merry says smugly in the way that only an eleven year old can. Merry grins at me in triumph as the tiny child in my arms chews on my coin purse. “You won’t get that back without a fight.”

“I most certainly will, “ I say. “It’s my coin purse and I am the adult here.” I sit down in the nearest kitchen chair and place the little one on my knee. He is still examining my coin purse with interest and seems unaware of our change in position.

“You aren’t an adult yet, Frodo,” Merry reminds me. “Besides, even the adults can’t handle that one!”

“He’ll lose interest in it,” I say. “Faunts are easily distracted.”

The baby on my knee shakes my coin purse in his hands and giggles as it jingles in nearly the same manner that the tiny bells sewed into his trousers do. “Mine!” he shouts and then he grins over at Merry as if daring him to contradict his statement.

Merry rolls his eyes and sighs. “I don’t care. Keep it,” he says.

“He will not keep it,” I say. “It isn’t his. Besides, what does a tiny faunt need with a coin purse?” I smile at the little imp who is ignoring me completely and studying the coin purse with his bright, green eyes.

“He’s trying to get it open,” Merry volunteers. He moves closer to me and grins in a rather wicked way. “He’ll do it too. He’s little but he’s clever.”

“It’s knotted,” I say as I watch the little one shake my coin purse again and then frown at it. “Ope!” he shouts and waves the brown suede purse at Merry with a demanding glare.

“You open it, Pip Squeak,” Merry challenges. “It’s yours so you open it.”

“It is not his,” I repeat wondering if there might be something wrong with Merry’s hearing.

The child frowns at the purse again, tugs at the drawstrings and then glares at me. “Mine!” he says.

Merry snickers at me. “You’ll see,” he says. “The Pip Squeak always gets his way.”

“Why do you call him that?” I ask in amusement.

“Because he squeaks when he talks. Because he’s little. Because he runs through the smial yelling pip, pip, pip ‘cause that’s what he thinks his name is,” Merry offers. “He can’t say Peregrin and so he just says Pip. Ask him his name. He’ll tell you. He can’t talk very well but he chatters his own nonsense constantly.”

I smile at the child who is struggling with the drawstring of my coin purse and muttering to himself. I say, in that sappy voice that folks use when speaking to tiny children, “What’s your name jingle bells?”

He continues to stare at the coin purse but he says, “Pip-pip-pip-in squee.”

Merry snickers.

“You almost have him calling himself Pip Squeak,” I say trying to look disapprovingly at Merry. It is very hard to do this while Merry is looking so proud of himself.

“It’s better than jingle bells,” Merry says.

Suddenly, the Pip Squeak squeals, then giggles and waves his tiny hands in the air. The sound of my coins hitting the floor assaults my ears and I realize that the little imp has managed to unknot the drawstring and is scattering my money from one end of the kitchen to the other. “Peregrin, no!” I shout and try to grab the hand that holds my now empty coin purse.

Merry is giggling wildly. “I told you so! Didn’t I tell you, Frodo! I told you he’d untie it! You should see your face now!”

“Start picking it up, will you?” I say as I finally mange to pry my coin purse out of Peregrin’s determined little fingers.

“I didn’t do it!” Merry objects as Peregrin begins to scream at full volume.

I wince and gently sit the screaming child down on the floor. I now have the coin purse at least and I watch as one silver penny rolls along on its end toward the far wall of the kitchen. I spot several other coins in various locations on the floor. Merry is making no move to help me and Peregrin is still screaming. He kicks his tiny heels against the floor making the bells sewn into his trousers tinkle and waves his arms about while continuing to scream. I try to ignore him as I crawl around on the floor looking for my coins. “If you aren’t going to help me, Merry then at least see if you can quiet Peregrin down a bit,” I suggest trying to make myself heard over the screaming child.

“He’ll stop if you don’t pay any attention to him,” Merry says. “He’s just mad because you took his coin purse away.”

“It is not his,” I say as I gather several of my coins up from the floor and crawl toward another one. I am down on my hands and knees crawling about like a faunt while the child responsible continues to raise a noise that will likely summon the entire Smial of Brandybucks to his rescue.

“Mine,” a tiny voice whispers as the screaming stops. “Mer, get mine!” the Pip Squeak demands.

“You get it,” Merry replies. “Why do all of my cousins think I am their servant today? Merry, get my coins. Merry, get my coin purse. Merry, make him quit screaming,” Merry says in a singsong voice. He paces about the room with a long-suffering look on his face but still does not offer to pick up a single coin. I am on my own here.

“All right, Merry,” I sigh. “Point taken.” I am under the kitchen table now collecting more of my coins and I can here the sound of the tiny bells again. This alerts me to the fact that little Peregrin is on the move. “What’s he doing?” I ask.

“Looks like he’s going to help you get your coins,” Merry says sounding bored. “He should anyway because he’s the one that threw them all over the place, not me.”

“I know that,” I say as I get to my feet and look around for the rest of my money. I dust the knees of my new trousers off as best I can and put my change into my pocket. “I was just asking for your help, Merry. I know that you-“ I stop and a knot of fear forms in the pit of my stomach as I see Peregrin sitting in the floor and putting a small copper penny into his bird-like mouth. “Peregrin! No!” I shout but I am already too late.

Merry’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “He ate it! Frodo, he ate that penny!” Merry declares. Merry doesn’t look worried, just fascinated and even a bit impressed.

I rush over and pick the child up and turn him upside down. I have every intention of getting that coin out before Peregrin chokes on it.

“Shake him and maybe it will come back up,” Merry encourages still looking entirely too gleeful about all of this.

I gently, well, I hope it is gently, shake the little child while holding him by his ankles and the sound of those tiny bells in his trousers makes it seem as if a sleigh is coming through the kitchen. Peregrin makes gagging sounds but no coin falls out of his mouth. He is coughing now but it is the sort of cough that tiny children use to draw attention to themselves. Peregrin already has my complete attention. In fact, I can think of nothing else except him.

“Shake him harder!” Merry suggests. “The coin must be in really deep by now.” I am starting to get rather annoyed with Merry’s encouragement and the tiny bells are driving me crazy.

“Frodo Baggins, what are you doing with that child?” a voice that I would know anywhere calls out as I continue to shake the baby by his ankles. Merry’s mum is now in the room. I turn, still holding Peregrin by his ankles and look at her. She is standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

“His trying to-“ Merry begins but I quickly cut him off.

“I was only playing with him,” I say hurriedly. “I think he likes it.”

“Dow! Dow! Pip, pip dow!” the little scoundrel says and I quickly set him on his tiny feet with a guilty look at Merry’s mother. The minute his feet hit the floor, Peregrin runs over to Esmeralda and reaches up for her just as he did me earlier. “Help!” he says loudly, his eyes round with what some might mistake for terror. “Help, Pip!”

She lifts him into her arms and glares at me in much the same way the Merry did earlier. “Honestly, Frodo,” she says. “You know better than to hold a child upside down. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” I say hoping that Merry won’t try to explain further.

“We were listening to the little bells,” Merry offers. He looks over at me and whispers conspiratorially so that only I can hear. “Berilac and I shake him like that all the time. Pip Squeak doesn’t mind. Don’t let him fool you, he likes it.”

“Those bells are on this child’s trousers so that I can keep track of him, not so the two of you can use him like a rattle,” Esmeralda scolds us as Peregrin rubs his cheek against her shoulder and sticks his tongue out at Merry and I. She doesn’t notice this and continues to stroke the tiny troublemaker’s curls in a soothing fashion. He smiles and I could swear that he is laughing at me. I have to remind myself that he is only a faunt.

“Told you,” Merry whispers to me.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I quickly whisper to Merry, very relieved that the coin doesn’t seem to have harmed the small trickster. Then looking at Esmeralda I say, “I was just trying to keeping him amused. I guess I went a bit too far.”

“That is not how one amuses a child,” Esmeralda warns. “I’m surprised at you. You can’t be that rough with a wee one. He’s too small for that type of play.”

“I told you,” Merry says to me loud enough so that his mother can hear. He smiles at me because he knows that I can’t argue the point. I cannot afford to have Merry’s mum ask too many questions or she will find out about the coin that is now filling a small space inside of little Peregrin’s stomach. I am very lucky that the child’s language skills are limited for I have no doubts at all that he would gladly give his Aunt a full account of my transgressions.

“Now, I am going to take Peregrin with me and I want the two of you to behave for a while,” Esmeralda says.

“He started it,” Merry says, looking at Peregrin. “I know you don’t believe that, but he did.”

“Merry,” she sighs. “Peregrin is too little to know what he’s doing. You can’t blame this on him.”

“Come on, Merry,” I say as he stands next to me and rolls his eyes for what seems like the millionth time today. “Let’s you and I go out for a walk before lunch.” I start to return my coin purse to my waistcoat pocket and suddenly I hear a tiny whimper.

“Mine,” Peregrin says reaching toward me with both hands. I watch as Esmeralda struggles to keep the tiny child from pulling out of her grasp.

“What does he want?” Esmeralda asks me. She is frowning as if she thinks I might have committed further acts of violence against the innocent faunt.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he says before I can answer. His little hands reaching toward me as he kicks his feet in an effort to escape Esmeralda’s hold. This one is going to be a great deal of trouble once he gains some size. None of us will be safe after that.

“You can’t go with Frodo and Merry, dear one,” Esmeralda says gently misunderstanding the child’s words as a wish to accompany us rather than a desire to get his tiny fingers on my property.

“Gots mine,” Peregrin says stubbornly with his tiny bottom lip pushed out in a pout.

Merry snickers and gives me a wicked grin as Peregrin begins to cry. It starts out as a tiny sob and then builds quickly into tears and a quivering lower lip. All the while he is reaching out his hands and whimpering, “Mine, peas, mine, peas.”

“Peas?” I ask looking at Merry.

“He means, please,” Merry explains. “He gets about just fine but you just have to get used to the way he talks. I know what he’s saying most of the time but no one else understands him.”

Esmeralda looks at me intently as if she actually thinks that I have taken something from the little Took and Merry watches me with that nasty smile of his. Peregrin gives me his full-on injured look and sniffles. “O, peas,” he says. “Mine, gif it me.”

“Oh, please, mine give it to me,” Merry translates with feeling and then looks over at me waiting to see if I will stand firm or if I will allow this little charmer to take my coin purse.

Resigned, I empty the few remaining coins from my recently purchased purse into my waistcoat pocket and walk over toward Esmeralda. “You win this time, Jingle Bells,” I say as I hand my rather expensive suede coin purse to the little manipulator.

He clutches it to his cheek and rubs the suede against his face and smiles, tears drying on his chubby cheeks. “Tank yoo,” he says in a squeaky little voice. He then gives me a warning look and says, “Mine.” just to let me know that I won’t be getting it back and then proceeds put the drawstring into his mouth and suck on it. I grimace as I watch him slobber on the expensive, hand-tooled material.

Merry is all smiles as we leave the kitchen. “Told you he’d get it. He’s a thief, Frodo,” he says and I am starting to believe that.

Behind me I hear Esmeralda talking to the little one. “My poor darling. What was your cousin Frodo thinking? You could have been hurt. Lads just don’t know how to look after little ones, do they? You come with me and I’ll get you a biscuit. Would you like that?”

Now Merry and I are both rolling our eyes.

***********

“Merry, I've just had an idea for something that you can get Pippin for Yule this year,” Estella whispers as she watches my younger cousin pay for our supper. We have just finished eating and since Pip lost the coin toss, this meal is on him. I haven’t any idea why Estella has suddenly decided to begin making a list of Yule gifts in the late summer season. My confusion must be showing in my eyes because she nudges my shoulder and gives a nod in Pippin’s direction. “Just look at his coin purse.”

I can’t help but smile. Pippin is removing the price of our supper from the well-worn suede purse while chatting pleasantly with the proprietor of the River Bend Pub. Diamond is sitting across from us oblivious to our conversation; eyes glued to her husband and a smile all her own decorating her lips. Estella is looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea, dearest,” I say softly.

“But, Merry, the one he has is all worn out,” she says a bit louder though not loud enough to cause Diamond to quit admiring Pippin. Diamond is extremely round with child at the moment and I find that lasses in that state are often quite sappy. That would explain the fact that she is looking at Pip as if he is hanging stars in the sky instead of paying for our dinner.

“If I give him a new one, he won’t carry it,” I say. In my mind I can see Pippin as a faunt chewing on the strings of that suede purse or clutching it in one tiny jam-smeared hand as he runs through the parlor. I can see him at six opening the purse and pouring out his latest collection of river stones for me to inspect. I can see him at ten on his knees in the dirt carefully removing his marbles from the same purse for a game with some of the other lads. I can recall stopping him from shoving a live toad into it when he was twelve. I can’t exactly recall when the coin purse actually became a coin purse again but at some point Pippin began to use it properly and finally stopped chewing on it. “He’s had that one a very long time, love,” I say. “It has sentimental value to him.”

“So, it was a present from someone special then?” she asks curiously.

“No, it belonged to someone special and Pippin stole it,” I grin knowing that I shall have to explain this to both lasses as Diamond is now looking directly at me also.

“Are we ready to go, then?” Pippin asks coming up to the table and offering his hand to Diamond.

“Not until Merry explains who you stole your coin purse from, darlin’,” Diamond says. "I've always wondered why you don't replace that old thing."

Pippin flushes slightly and I allow myself a grin.

“Sit down, Pip and rest your feet while I embarrass you terribly for a few minutes,” I say and my younger cousin reluctantly complies. It isn't as if he doesn't have this coming to him, you know.

The End

GW 2/23-26/2006

*****

I am slightly indebted to Bill Cosby for an old comedy routine of his that I love in which he allows the smallest child in his family to keep things that don't belong to her just to keep her from screaming. At one point in the routine, Bill Cosby says to an older child who is crying because the younger one has something that belongs to her, "Don't cry. She has some of my stuff too!" This always made me laugh. Besides, I can imagine Pippin doing this and, for the most part, getting by with it._GW