When we got to talking about birthday mathoms, Dinossiel asked me for a long list of fics or finishes to existing WIPs, but this one rose to the top and so here it is, my birthday mathom.

The idea comes from A Healer's Tale, where Healer Woodruff is musing on what might have been. Since this is an AU with respect to JRRT's story, it can just as easily be an AU with respect to the stories I've written, and no harm done. It is sort of nice to contemplate Frodo living happily ever after.

But I'll let Healer Woodruff take over now...

...I think back, to the Frodo I once knew.

A wild youth, a Baggins being raised in the wilds of Buckland, and quite wild in his own right, by reputation. There were scandalised whispers the first time he visited Whittacres after his adoption by old Bilbo Baggins, and Miss Pearl rode out with him on picnics. Though the two were only tweens, no, not even that! Frodo was barely into his tween years, and Pearl was still a teen, yet how the talk did fly! Grandmother Banks put a stop to it as soon as it came to her ears, that was for certain, and a good thing, too, before Pearl's reputation was forever ruined.

I do believe that is why they sent Pearl to serve Mistress Lalia, in truth. The local lads of Whitwell still looked at her with a certain speculation, and it was not likely that she'd win a fine husband with the little dowry her father could afford. Likely her parents hoped she'd catch the eye of one of the Great Smials Tooks, and far enough from home that besmirching rumour was not to hurt the lass.

I did have a fond wish that she might marry Mr. Frodo Baggins, heir of the richest hobbit in the Shire, and then richest in his own right when peculiar Mr. Bilbo took himself off, and so she could have laughed in the face of the gossips of Whitwell. They were so lovely together, him so tall and fair, and herself, round and rosy, and the two of them always laughing gaily together, as if they shared a delightful secret as they walked through the marketplace, surrounded by cousins to keep them proper, though the damage had already been done years earlier.

But of course it could never be. She returned to the farm in disgrace, in the middle of family troubles--Paladin had offended Mistress Lalia, and the Mistress punished him for it, and while Pearl was attending her, Lalia's chair bumped over the threshold of the Great Door and tipped her down the stairs to her death, and it was whispered...

I take myself firmly in hand. Such is the Talk amongst the Tooks. Years ago it was, and years ago Pearl was safely married off to Isumbold, a fine and upright hobbit, well thought of for nearly giving his life to save Thain Ferumbras, and a hero of the Troubles as well, fighting to keep the ruffians out of Tookland though he barely had a leg to stand on.

I think sometimes that young Mr. Frodo took himself off, in the end, for reason of a broken heart, though of course the gossips would whisper and hint at darker reasons. He and Miss Pearl did look so fine, walking together...

Epilogue 2: What Happened After

Merry looked up from the work of his pen as Pippin danced lightly into the room, brandishing a double fistful of paper. 'Mail here already?' he said. 'My, my, my, seems as if Mayor Will is making up for lost time...'

'Indeed!' Pippin said breezily. 'The quantity of mail seems to be increasing as word of the fine parties at Crickhollow spreads throughout the lands...'

'O?' said Merry, his eye going back to the branch-and-leaves sticking up from the water-filled cream jug. He compared his emerging illustration with the original, nodded to himself, and set pen to paper once more, bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrated. He released his lip once more to ask, 'Were we planning another party? So soon?'

'Dinner invitation,' Pippin said, tossing the first opened missive on the desk, careful to avoid Merry's workspace, but close enough that Merry could take up the paper if he wished. 'Dinner invitation,' he repeated, laying another upon the first, and tearing open a third, said almost immediately, 'Dinner invitation.'

'Ah,' Merry said, not quite paying attention. 'I suppose it will have to be soon, another splendid party, I mean, what with all these obligations hanging over our heads.'

'We could always plead exhaustion or something and stay at home,' Pippin said, tilting his head to one side as if seriously considering the matter.

'Never!' Merry said. 'What with you, a growing tween, it's difficult enough to keep food in the pantry!' (Never mind the depredations of party guests... that was another matter entirely, and considering the lively and splendid parties Crickhollow knew, a much more pleasant one.) He lifted his pen from the paper, to give himself more freedom to shake his head with vigour. 'No,' he said, most decidedly. 'No, we must be sure you get enough to eat, to grow on,' he lowered his chin to glower at Pippin from under his eyebrows, 'lest you wither away altogether!'

Pippin shrugged (for he showed no sign of withering, at least, not at the moment) and opened a fourth envelope. 'Dinner invitation,' he said almost absently, tossing this on top of the growing pile.

Two or three more dinner invitations followed, and then Merry became aware of a sudden and growing silence. With a sigh, he laid his pen aside and looked up, to see Pippin's eyes riveted to a closely written page, though it was tilted so that Merry could not see the handwriting and guess at the writer. 'Yes, Pip?' he said with exaggerated patience. 'Dinner invitation? From the Bracegirdles, I expect? And you hate to break the news to me?'

'Wedding,' Pippin said, and fell silent once again.

'Ah,' Merry said, and waited.

Pippin said nothing, simply perused the page as if it contained the answer to the mysteries of life.

'Ah?' Merry said once more. And when Pippin did not respond, he said it again, drawing the word out encouragingly. 'A-a-a-ah?'

'Are you sickening with something, Merry?' Pippin said, though his eye did not leave the page. He read it again and shook his head as if he could not quite believe his eyes. 'Perhaps I ought to decline all these dinner invitations after all, at least for your part.'

Merry cleared his throat, and Pippin nodded wisely. 'Pity,' the younger cousin said. 'Cousin Miranda is certainly famous for her apple tart, and...'

Merry harrumphed, but Pippin only shook his head and muttered about tonics and medicinal herbs.

'Pip!' Merry said sharply.

Pippin blinked most earnestly, finally looking up from the page. 'Merry?' he said. 'You were wanting something?'

'Who,' Merry said, with space between the words to show how patient he was endeavouring to be, 'is – getting – married?'

'Wouldn't it be “whom”?' Pippin asked, as if he really wondered about the matter. 'Y'know, that's one of those words that really trips me up sometimes, “who” or “whom” or “whomever”... It can be most excruciating...'

'PIPPIN!' Merry shouted, in spite of himself.

Pippin smiled a mild, small, inquiring smile, raising an eyebrow. 'Merry,' he said, at his most patient and benevolent. 'If you have something to say, then say it! I'm all ears!' And he took one hand from the letters he held (though tilting the open page away so that Merry still could not see the handwriting) to cup it behind his ear.

'Wedding,' Merry said. 'Wedding – what?'

Pippin blinked again and tilted his head to the other side. 'Now that's what I always say,' he responded, most conversationally. 'What, indeed?'

'Pippin,' Merry said through his teeth. 'You were the one to bring up the word “wedding”. Is it, perhaps, that you've chosen this... um... inauspicious method of telling me that you're getting married?'

Pippin mystified him by throwing his head back and laughing uproariously, and Merry sighed again and sat back, reconciling himself to the fact that he'd have to wait until Pippin regained himself, before he'd find out anything more.

At last the laughter subsided to chuckles, and Pippin wiped at his eyes while waving the letters incoherently at Merry's face (still, somehow, managing to conceal the handwriting on the open page).

'Now, Merry,' he said at last. He cleared his throat, pressed the hand holding the letters to his heart, and struck a dramatic pose.

Merry nodded, not trusting himself to speak, especially when he might set Pippin off again on who-knew-what-sort-of-nonsense and never find out just what wedding was happening when and where to who... or to whom... or whoever.

'You've always said you were as close to Frodo as a brother,' Pippin said.

Merry was confused, but he tried to keep a smile on his face and an expression of polite interest. 'Yes, Pip?' he said. They were off the topic of the wedding, but perhaps if he let Pippin run out the line, so to speak, he could reel him in again. Eventually.

'Well,' Pippin said. He pulled the letters away from his chest to glance over the open page, nodded, and clapped the papers to his heart once more. 'Well, it seems I'm going to be closer, as I always said I would be, someday, only you never believed me.'

'Don't tell me, let's guess,' Merry said. 'You're going to marry Frodo.'

As a joke, it came off incredibly well. Pippin laughed so hard he nearly fell over, bending in half, crumpling the letters he held in one hand and clutching the other to his stomach. He howled with laughter, as a matter of fact, and laughed and guffawed and snorted and otherwise made disgustingly cheerful noises until he was gasping for breath.

Merry waited. 'It wasn't that funny,' he said at last, rather lamely, but then, what else was there to say?

'You're right,' Pippin gasped, and Merry goggled at him. What in the world...?

'...Frodo's getting married,' Pippin added, at last.

Not to you, I hope, Merry wanted to say, but didn't for fear of setting Pippin off again. The joke had gone far enough, and really, he did want to know the name of the blushing bride. (Who or whom rang in the back of his mind, but he pushed it firmly down again.)

'Frodo's getting married,' Pippin said, 'and I for one say, finally! and I'm glad he's at last getting round to doing what he ought to have done just years ago, and...'

Merry waited, nodded, refrained somehow from tapping one foot. Though he was sorely tempted.

'Well,' Pippin said, growing suddenly diffident. 'I suppose I ought to let you read it for yourself, after all. The letter's written to you, and...'

'Give me that!' Merry said, leaping from the chair and snatching the letters from Pippin's hand, tearing the paper a bit in the process.

He dropped the rest of the papers on the floor, smoothing the important page upon the desk (though he retained enough presence of mind – barely – to avoid the partly completed drawing, recumbent pen, and inkwell).

He read, and looked up at Pippin's beatific face. Pippin had his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, his thumbs were in his braces, and he was rocking back and forth on his heels. 'I'm going to have a brother,' he announced softly, with great glee. 'What a lovely...'

'Not just any brother,' Merry said, an answering smile blooming. He'd always thought that Pearl was the perfect match for Frodo, and yet his all-too-upright cousin had shown himself as remarkably slow as Samwise in matters of the heart, perhaps even slower.

Samwise had, after all, had reason to delay his courting, what with travelling all over the Shire with his replanting program. Frodo, after resigning the Mayorship, had done a considerable amount of wandering, “gathering information for the maps, you know,” but had shown signs of settling down after the birth of his namesake, Frodo-lad Gamgee. Between Frodo-lad and Elanor, he was content to stay at home at Bag End.

Merry had no doubt that he'd make a good father.

'I only hope,' he began, and stopped.

'Hope what?' Pippin said at last, his curiosity stirred.

'I only hope that Frodo knows what he's getting himself into,' he said.

'Getting himself into?' Pippin said, puffing himself up a bit as he began to perceive some insult or other towards his beloved elder sister Pearl. 'Getting himself into?' he repeated.

'Marrying into such a family,' Merry said, smug, and then he grabbed Pippin's head, pulled it down despite Pippin's best struggles, and gave the unruly curls a good, hard rubbing with his knuckles. 'Acquiring such a brother!'

And well satisfied, he released his younger cousin, and stepped back as Pippin spluttered. He stretched, and said, 'Well. Where are we going to dine tonight?'