A/N: Written for the "Crawling Baby" challenge at wee_hobbits on LJ.

An Afternoon Snack

"He's like a cat," Merry observed. His wooden blocks forgotten for the moment, Merry watched as Pippin slithered out from beneath the sofa and crawled across the room. "He finds a way to fit anywhere."

Frodo briefly looked up from his book. "And he is as curious and mischievous as any cat I've ever seen," he added with a grin.

Pippin crawled to the far end of the room, glancing back often to see if his cousins were watching. When he was satisfied that they were he wriggled into the small space beneath the armchair by the window. He poked his head out once, smiling and chattering senselessly at Frodo and Merry, and then tucked himself neatly beneath the chair, hidden entirely from view.

Merry stood but Frodo stopped him with a laugh. "You're playing right into his hands," he said. "Pippin has been at this all afternoon, hiding and waiting for you to find him. The little imp just wants attention." Frodo shook his head. "You spoil him, Merry."

Merry did not even try to deny it. "But what if Pippin thinks we're ignoring him, Frodo? He might cry, or be angry or – or get into all sorts of trouble.

"Trust me," Frodo said. "Pippin just wants to see you crawling around after him. Leave him alone for more than a few moments and he'll quit his hiding place soon enough."

Merry frowned and hesitantly sat back on his heels. "All right," he said, reluctantly turning to his blocks once more.

Several moments passed. Pippin's chattering grew louder and more insistent, before it stopped altogether. Merry glanced frequently at the chair by the window, wondering when Pippin would emerge while Frodo continued to read, thoroughly enjoying the quiet.

At last Merry could wait no longer and he scurried across the room, ignoring the disappointed shake of Frodo's head. "Maybe Pippin fell asleep," he said. "You wouldn't want Aunt Eg to come in here and see that we're letting Pippin sleep on the floor." He knelt before the chair and peered beneath it. "Frodo!" he exclaimed, sitting up in alarm. "Frodo, come look!"

"What is it Merry?" Frodo asked, dropping his book and hurrying across the room.

"He's – he's eating something back there," Merry replied. He glanced up at Frodo, wide-eyed. "I think he's keeping food in his pockets!"

"Are you certain?" Frodo asked. Based on Pippin's extremely healthy appetite, even with his limited diet of soft foods, he doubted that the baby could manage to save food for even a few minutes, let alone a few hours. He crouched down beside Merry and had a look for himself.

In the gloom beneath the chair Pippin had wedged himself on his side against the wall. His eyes sparkled with mirth and he grinned at his cousins, obviously enjoying himself immensely. Frodo narrowed his eyes and studied the baby.

"Pippin is not eating anything, Merry," he concluded. "He was probably just chewing on his fingers because he's teething. Babies do that." He moved to stand.

"But Frodo, I saw it!" Merry cried. "He has food in his hands. White stuff. I think he hid bits of bread in his pockets."

Although he was unconvinced Frodo looked beneath the chair once more. Perhaps Merry was right; Pippin's hands were balled into fists. "Open your hands, Pippin," he said.

Pippin giggled and waved his hands around, smiling at Frodo in perfect innocence.

"Let me see what you're hiding." Frodo reached beneath the chair and took hold of the hand nearest to him. The fist was clenched so tightly that Frodo could not loosen it. "Peregrin Took," he said, trying his best to sound like a stern grown-up.

It worked. Pippin's hand opened, revealing a small bit of fluff.

"Dust!" Merry exclaimed right in Frodo's ear. He seemed to be in awe of his baby cousin. "Pippin's been eating dust!"

Frodo winced and rubbed his ear. "There's no need to shout, Merry. I'm right here." He frowned at Pippin and shook his head. "This is not for eating, Pippin!" he said, holding up the bit of dust. "Dust is not food. No."

The baby's brow furrowed as he seemed to ponder Frodo's words. At last Pippin smiled and unclenched his other fist, revealing another, larger glob of dust.

"Good lad," Frodo said, smiling. He reached out a hand. "I'll take that, Pippin."

Pippin grinned back and, more quickly than anyone could react, shoved the dust in his mouth.

Merry laughed with glee. "I told you he was eating, Frodo!" he crowed. "He'll eat anything!"

Frodo was less overjoyed. He half-crawled beneath the chair himself and grabbed Pippin, pulling the baby out. He sat his cousin on his knee and tried to pry Pippin's mouth open, determined to relieve him of the dust before he swallowed it.

"Ow!" Frodo cried, snatching his hand away. With his one tooth Pippin had managed to bite his thumb.

"He's teething," Merry supplied helpfully. "Babies do that."

Frodo shifted his glare from one cousin to the next. "Yes, I know," he replied evenly. "Open your mouth, Pippin."

Clamping his lips shut Pippin shook his head, and Frodo watched in dismay as he swallowed. The dust was gone.

Frodo shut his eyes, imagining just what Eglantine would think of this.

"What do we do with him now?" Merry asked, watching as Pippin patted Frodo's face with dusty hands. "Should we bring him to Aunt Eg?"

When Frodo finally opened his eyes he looked pained. "We'll feed him," he said simply. "If he's hungry enough to eat dust – and I don't think there is any need to worry your Aunt Eg about this, Merry, no need at all – then there's no telling what he'll try to eat next. Pippin ought to have a biscuit or a dozen." At last Frodo smiled. "And I think you and I deserve something for our trouble. A bit of pie perhaps, or some of that apple cake."

A slow grin crept across Merry's face. If Pippin was this good at wheedling snacks now, he could only imagine what things would be like when his cousin was a bit older…

Pippin gurgled happily, undoubtedly thinking the same.