This was written in Dec. of 2006 for the Waymeet 'get cracking' fiction challenge.

“When In Buckland…”

“How did you manage this?” Merry sighed looking at the large patch of smoldering ground. He knelt down on one knee and ran a finger across a portion of the blackened earth. “When I left to go up to the Hall this morning we had grass in this area. I will grant you that the grass was short, brown, and frost-coated, but it was grass and it was here when I left.” When there was no answer, Merry looked up squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight and posed the question again, “How did you manage this, Peregrin?”

Standing on the other side of the dark ring of earth, Pippin grimaced and then looked skyward, holding his hands out as if trying to catch something. “Why doesn’t it ever snow when you want it to?” he said. “It’s winter after all and snow is not unheard of at this time of the year. I believe I can recall a few times when I was much younger when we had snow before Yule.” He dropped his hands to his sides and paced the edge of the burnt patch of ground. “It isn’t as if I wanted it to do anything unnatural. I just needed a bit of snow for ground cover. Something to replace the grass for a bit and give it time to grow back.”

“I can see why you might want to hide this scorched patch of garden but you still haven’t explained what happened here,” Merry reminded his younger cousin. “I am looking at the evidence of a disaster but I have no idea what happened. Stand still and explain this before my imagination runs away with me and I invent my own dreadful explanation.”

Pippin stopped and turned to face Merry. “If it had snowed then I wouldn’t have anything at all to explain,” Pippin pointed out, his breath coming out in puffs of white in the cold air.

“So you were hoping for enough snow to cover this six foot patch of earth, your jacket,” Merry pointed to the ruined garment, which lay in the middle of the black ring. “And your left hand.” He looked at Pippin and watched as his younger cousin quickly hid the afore-mentioned hand behind his back.

“Burned it on the cook stove,” Pippin said hurried. His delivery was obviously rehearsed. “I was cooking while you were away and I injured my hand.”

“What were you cooking? The grass perhaps? Your jacket?” Merry looked back at the ground again. “You must have been using an uncommonly large pot.”

“I didn’t burn my hand on the cook stove,” Pippin said in an annoyed tone. “But if it had only been kind enough to snow then I should have been able to say that I had. If it weren’t for this small, burned patch here then you would have been all too ready to believe that my cooking was responsible.”

“And the jacket?” Merry prodded.

“Well, I would have hidden that before you came, wouldn’t I?” Pippin said. “I’d have tucked it away somewhere out of sight. You wouldn’t have asked me where my jacket was because you’d have been busy enough asking me about my hand. You wouldn’t have had time to question me further. Then later, when my jacket didn’t turn up, I’d have had time to plan what to say when you asked me about that.” Pippin looked up at the sky again. “If it had snowed then we wouldn’t be discussing any of this!”

“But it didn’t snow,” Merry said. He stood up and walked over to Pippin. “Let me see your hand.”

“It’s fine. It isn’t very bad. I’ve done worse to it over the years,” Pippin shrugged. He had the hand behind his back. He looked into Merry’s grey eyes and said, “I wrapped it.”

“I noticed that,” Merry said, reaching out and taking hold of Pippin arm and pulling the hand from behind his back. “That is how I know that you’ve injured it. The winding strip is what gave it away.”

Pippin scowled. “I had to put something on it. It isn’t bad but it does sting a bit.”

Merry whistled softly after unwrapping Pippin’s hand. “You’ve blistered the palm.” He studied the injury. “You didn’t break the skin but you’ve made a fine mess of it all the same. Did you put anything on this other than what you wrapped it in?”

“I dowsed it in cold water for a while to take away some of the sting,” Pippin said.

“No poultice?”

Pippin shook his head and winced as Merry lightly touched one of the red fingers.

“Come inside and let me put something on this,” Merry instructed. He released Pippin’s hand, took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the little house. “The grass will grow back on its own this spring but that hand needs tending.”

Pippin sat at the kitchen table with his hand in a bowl of cold water while Merry mixed together some plants and powers to make a poultice for the injury. Pippin had been very quiet since they had left the garden. Merry had managed to keep quiet also although he was finding it difficult not to question Pippin about what had happened. Merry put a kettle on for tea and put out a tin of biscuits that he’d brought back from the Hall. Pippin was ignoring the biscuits and staring into the cold water at his hand.

“Mum made these,” Merry said lightly. “I believe they’re your favorites.” Merry knew perfectly well that they were Pippin’s favorites. “She made both of us a tin of biscuits for the holiday. The ones that she sent to you are the ones with the raspberry jam in the center. Mine are those maple-flavored ones with the walnuts but I would be willing to share if you fancy one of mine instead.”

“I’m not very hungry just now,” Pippin said.

Merry sat two cups of tea on the table and then he placed the bowl, which contained the poultice in the center of the table and put a tea towel next to it. He took a sip of his tea and then reached over and removed Pippin’s injured hand from the bowl of cold water. I’m going to place your hand on the towel with the injured side up so that I will be able to apply the poultice to it,” Merry said.

Pippin nodded and set his jaw as if preparing for the pain. He gripped the edge of the table with his good hand and waited.

“I shall do my best not to hurt you too much,” Merry said gently. Merry began to coat Pippin’s hand with the poultice. Pippin sat still throughout the entire process but didn’t make a sound. Merry noticed that the knuckles of his cousin’s uninjured hand were white from gripping the table and that Pippin’s eyes were watering. Merry worked quickly. He completed his task and then gently wrapped Pippin’s hand in fresh winding cloth.

Pippin released the table and then put the injured hand in his lap averting his eyes from Merry’s.

“There is a bit of willow bark in your tea,” Merry said. “It will ease the pain slightly. I put extra honey in it to keep it from being so bitter.” When Pippin didn’t reply and didn’t drink any of the tea Merry decided that the time had come for explanations. Pippin needed to talk about it even if he was hesitant to do so. Merry cleared his throat to begin but before he could do so, Pippin broke his silence.

“I’ve ruined Yule, Merry,” Pippin said. “I didn’t mean to, but I have all the same.”

“Pippin, your hand is not that badly injured,” Merry said. “We are still almost a week away from Yule. I am quite certain that your injury will not spoil the holiday for you or for anyone else.”

Pippin shook his head. “It isn’t my hand that troubles me.”

“What then?”

“I’ve ruined one of your very favorite Brandybuck traditions,” Pippin said looking at Merry now. “I’ve spoiled the one thing that you most look forward to over the Yule holidays.”

“Because of whatever happened here today I will not be getting any of the Yule feast?” Merry frowned.

“No, not that Yule tradition,” Pippin said.

“Then I am not receiving any gifts this year,” Merry said flatly.

“No, it isn’t that,” Pippin said shifting in his chair.

“I shall not be enjoying any rum punch by the fireside?”

“No, that shouldn’t be any different,” Pippin said looking exasperated.

“I won’t be seeing any of my family or friends this year?” Merry’s eyes were twinkling now.

“Of course you will!” Pippin said. “They might not allow me into Brandy Hall for the celebrations but you will most certainly be allowed.”

“So, I’m to be without your company then?” Merry frowned.

“When your father finds out what I’ve done then I suspect that will be one of the results,” Pippin sighed. “He trusted me and I’ve spoiled things. He won’t be at all pleased, Merry.”

“With what did he trust you, Pippin?” Merry asked.

“One of your favorite traditions of course,” Pippin said. “I don’t know why he allowed me to be the one to see to them because we don’t have them at all in the Tooklands. It isn’t something that we do there. No Took would consider putting a lit candle into a parchment sack.” Pippin pulled his teacup over closer to his side of the table and stared into it.

“The Yule lights?” Merry asked, looking at his own teacup in an effort to hide his growing amusement. Bucklanders enjoyed decorating for Yule by setting out little decorative sacks with designs cut into the sides and candles glowing from within them. The light from the candles would shine out through the decorative pattern cut into the sacks and illuminate the way to and from folk’s smials. They were a way of welcoming Yule guests and were generally set on either side of the path to one’s door. Merry had always enjoyed them.

Pippin nodded.

“All of them?” Merry asked.

“It was dreadful, Merry,” Pippin said looking completely distraught. “The wee bags just burst into flames! One of them caught on fire almost the second that I lit the candle and so I kicked it to try and stamp out the flames but I knocked it into one of the others and that one fell into another one and before I could stop any of it they were falling down and burning up!”

Merry’s shoulders were shaking and he had his hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter threatening to escape.

“Then the grass caught fire and everything just started burning,” Pippin said in a rush. “I pulled off my jacket because it was the only thing about and began to try and beat out the flames but then my jacket caught fire too and then I singed my hand on it. I dropped it to the ground and it landed on some more of the wee sacks and those went up too! I thought all of Buckland might burn to the ground before it went out. Two old hobbits happened by while I was battling the blaze and one of them shouted at me!”

Merry’s eyes were watering now. He could feel himself shaking and he lowered his chin to his chest.

“The old gaffer called me a twit!” Pippin said in an outraged tone. “He looked over at his friend and shouted, “This is what comes of letting Tooks across that water. Their sort will drive us from our holes and into the forest.”

Merry could stand it no longer. He leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. The indignant look on Pippin’s face only made it worse. His side hurt from laughing.

“That old gaffer insulted me, Meriadoc!” Pippin objected trying to speak above Merry’s laughter. “He called me a twit! The two of them didn’t offer to help or anything. They just stood there and watched while I roasted my jacket and burned my hand and destroyed our grass!” Pippin lowered his voice and looked at the tabletop. “I’ve ruined Yule.”

Still fighting the urge to laugh, Merry reached across the table and patted Pippin’s uninjured hand. “No you haven’t, Pip. I’m feeling much jollier than I did a few minutes ago and the holiday is all about enjoying one's self,” Merry chuckled.

Pippin looked up at him. “It isn’t funny, Meriadoc! I really could have burned our house to the ground with those blasted Yule Lights. I can’t understand why Bucklanders insist on putting something that is on fire into something that will burn. You lot talk about Tooks being impractical and then you go about lighting candles and sticking them into wee sacks out on your lawn!”

Merry snickered.

“It isn’t funny,” Pippin repeated.

“Think about it, Pip,” Merry laughed. “Pretend that you are one of those two old gaffers and you walk by and see someone trying to put out a fire with their own jacket because they’ve set the Yule decoration a blaze.”

Pippin blushed. “They could have offered to help me.”

“Maybe they were afraid that you’d set them on fire as well if they got too close,” Merry grinned. “I don’t know about the Tooks, but we Brandybucks try not to get too close to anyone who is burning up his own jacket.”

Pippin groaned. “I suppose that I might have looked a wee bit funny.”

“I wasn’t even here and I’m having a fine laugh out of it,” Merry said.

“But I’ve ruined Yule, Merry,” Pippin said his eyes clouding over again. “You’ve always loved those ridiculous candle-sacks.”

“I am known to be quite found of ridiculous things at times,” Merry said winking at Pippin.

“It isn’t funny,” Pippin objected. “Your father gave me those wee sacks and told me that I could use them to decorate our little house at Yule this year. He said that it would be a surprise for you because you love those Yule Lights.”

“And did he also tell you that I once managed to set a row of bushes on fire with those Yule Lights?” Merry asked leaning on his elbows on the table.

Pippin’s mouth fell open. “He didn’t mention that.”

“The first year that he allowed me to light them, I placed two of them a bit too close to the bushes that run along the path toward the tool shed and-“

“What tool shed?” Pippin frowned.

“Exactly!”

“You lit the tool shed on fire?” Pippin looked stunned.

“No, I lit the bushes on fire,” Merry corrected and took a sip of his tea. “The bushes burned until there was a fine blaze going and then they caught the shed on fire. That was about the time that I returned with a bucket of water. I arrived with my one bucket of water just in time to watch the tool shed burn.”

Pippin’s jaw dropped. “You burned down a shed?”

“I did,” Merry said.

“So, when I set fire to our grass and my own jacket and blistered my hand?”

“You still fell short of burning down a building,” Merry grinned. “You have to get up pretty early in the morning if you want to best me at this sort of thing. I do believe that my Yule Light disaster is far more impressive than yours.”

Pippin laughed. “So this is why your father gave the Yule Lights to me?”

“That would be my guess,” Merry grinned. “You see, for some reason he doesn’t trust me to light them properly. I think I should have put more stones in the bottom of them to weigh them down better. That might have helped. Of course it might also have helped if I hadn’t lined them up along the bushes.”

“Stones?” Pippin frowned.

“You did put the stones into the bottom of the sacks to weigh them down, didn’t you?” Merry asked.

“He gave me the sacks and the wee candles but he didn’t give me any stones!” Pippin objected. “I didn’t know that there were supposed to be stones.”

Merry was laughing again. “What did you think held them in place?”

“That was part of what I couldn’t understand,” Pippin groaned. “I couldn’t get them to hold still. The wind kept taking them and knocking them over. I’d just get them set up and put the candle in them and off they’d go!” He watched as Merry dissolved into a fit of laughter. “He didn’t say a word about stones! If I had known about the stones then I might not have had so much trouble with them.”

Merry howled. “Everyone knows about the stones.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that we don’t have these wee fire-starters in the Tooklands? I didn’t know about the stones, Merry,” Pippin objected.

Snickering, Merry managed to say, “You do now.”

“Well, at least I didn’t burn down a building!” Pippin fidgeted slightly and then took a drink of his tea. He reached over with his good hand and removed a biscuit out of the tin. He was obviously hungry again. As Merry’s fit of laughter died down, Pippin asked, “What do I tell Uncle Doc?”

“Tell him the truth, Pip,” Merry said getting a biscuit too. “Tell him that Tooks don’t have the stones to decorate properly.”

Pippin scowled. “That is not at all funny!”

The End

GW 12/24/2006

I do realize that most people put sand in the bags to hold them up but I just thought that the Hobbits might not have had all that much sand sitting around. Besides, I thought ‘stones’ were funnier.

GW