Rainy Afternoon

It rained long and hard on the fourth day of Pippin’s visit to Buckland, and so he and Merry retreated to the many store rooms of Brandy Hall, where the numerous pieces of cloth-covered furniture handily served as fierce goblins and hideous trolls.

As the older cousin, Merry always got to play the best parts, like Bilbo and Gandalf and Elrond and Thorin Oakenshield. Pippin did not mind, and was happy enough to play all of the other dwarves if it meant that he was included in Merry’s games, though he often struggled with their unusual names.

As the leader of their company, Merry marched them through the long tunnels and in and out of every room until finally they reached Rivendell, and an exhausted Pippin was allowed a few moments’ rest from his travels.

Rivendell was located in one of the newer store rooms, and as Pippin looked around he recognized some of Merry’s old toys and the trunks that held the family’s winter clothes. An unusual object tucked away on a shelf caught his eye, and Pippin darted across the room to have a better look at it.

“No, no, no,” Merry said impatiently. “The Misty Mountains are the other way!”

Thoroughly ignoring his cousin, Pippin stood on his toes and stretched out his arm, but could not reach. “Merry!” he called, pointing a small, chubby finger. “What is that?”

With a sigh Merry crossed the room and glared up at the shelves, though he grinned suddenly when he saw what his cousin was pointing at.

“That’s Frodo’s old butterfly net!” he cried, grabbing it eagerly. “I wonder what it’s doing here.”

“A butterfly net?” repeated Pippin, eyeing it curiously. “Can you really catch butterflies with it?”

“Of course,” Merry replied, swinging the net through the air with a swish. “It’s still in good condition,” he noted approvingly.

Pippin’s face grew troubled. “What happens to the butterflies, Merry? Do they die?” he asked, thinking of the times he had seen fish caught by nets.

“Not if you set them free,” Merry replied. “You just take a nice look at them and let them fly away. At least that’s what Frodo and I always did.” His eyes grew sad, and he frowned at the net in his hands.

Pippin crept over and snuggled into Merry’s side, hugging him gently. “Can we do that, Merry? After it stops raining?” he asked quietly.

Merry smiled. “Yes,” he said, and hugged Pippin tightly in return.