Breakfast

Inside the sunlit kitchen two curly heads bent over a pan. Standing on a chair, Pippin clutched Bilbo's shoulder for balance with one hand as the other held a half-eaten triangle of toast, and he watched open-mouthed as his cousin masterfully turned a glob of batter into a recognizable shape.

"I see his hat!" Pippin squealed in delight, watching as Bilbo dragged a spoon through the bubbling mixture, forming the wide brim and pointed top. Smiling, Bilbo added a thin line of batter, attaching it to the small, sizzling hand. It was nearly finished.

"Now let’s turn him," Bilbo murmured. Carefully, he scooped up the tiny figure and quickly flipped it over, browning the other side.

"There we are," Bilbo said proudly a moment later, sliding their intricately made, piping-hot breakfast onto a dish. Pippin grinned and threw his arms around his cousin's neck, and at this sudden movement he caught a glimpse of something through the window.

Pippin’s eyes lit up even more than they already did, and he grinned a jam-smudged smile as the tall figure ducked through the doorway. "Gandalf!" he cried.

Bilbo met the wizard's half-hearted glare with a grin. "Won't you join us for breakfast?"