Eight Maids A Milking #8

Title:  "Milk Money"
Fandom:  Lort of The Rings
Characters:  Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Fredegar
Rating:  G
Brief Summary:  Merry and Pippin have a cash flow problem, but Merry has a plan to resolve it  and Frodo and Fredegar are about to have a rather interesting time at the Spring Fair in Hobbiton.

“I don’t know about this Merry,” Fredegar said.  “We might get caught and then what will we do?”

“Relax, Freddy,” Merry grinned.  “You worry too much.  We won’t be caught.  You look great.”

“Yes, well, I suppose it isn’t too bad,” Freddy admitted, surveying himself in the mirror.  “I just don’t want to get caught like this, Merry.  Are you quite sure that Pippin won’t slip and say something?  That little hobbit-child of which you are so fond, does have a way of putting his foot in his mouth, you know.”

Merry waved a hand dismissively.  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about Pippin.  He’s all right when it comes to this sort of thing.  He won’t give you away.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Freddy frowned, turning and looking back at his reflection over his shoulder.  “I’d never manage to explain this to my father.”

“You won’t have to, Freddy,” Merry said, patting him on the shoulder.  "No one is going to have to explain anything."

_____________________Sometime later..... 

“There you two are,” Frodo said, coming up behind Merry and Pippin.  “I have looked all over for you.  What are you doing over here?”

“Watching Pervinca lose,” Pippin smiled.

Merry elbowed his little cousin and then looked over at Frodo.  “We were just trying to lend some support for Pip’s sister is all.  The competition is quite fierce this year,” Merry said.

“Yes, some might say that it was hardly fair at all,” Pippin smiled, rocking on the balls of his feet, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Merry cleared his throat nervously and said quickly, “What are you doing over here, cousin?”

“Oh, well, I was looking for the two of you,” Frodo said.  “I wanted to see if either of you had entered any of the events this year.  I know that both of you could use the spending money at this point and so I thought perhaps you might try to win an event of some sort.” 

Merry sighed.  “Well, I think it will be a good lesson for Pip and me to do without for a while.  I guess we really should have expected to get punished for that last bit of mischief.” 

Frodo frowned.  “You are up to something yet again.  I know that look, Meriadoc Brandybuck.”

“See, and Freddy thought that I would be the one to give it away,” Pippin said.  “You are the problem.”

Merry’s eyes went wide and Frodo turned to look at fourteen-year-old Pippin.  “So, Freddy thought you would give what away?”

Pippin paled and backed up a step and Merry quickly jumped in.  “Freddy was worried that Pippin might get into trouble today, but I assured him that I was looking out for Pippin.  You know how Freddy worries about things,” Merry said, trying to hide his nervousness from Frodo’s knowing eyes.

Frodo glanced about.  “Where is Freddy?”

“How should we know?” Merry asked, putting a hand on Pippin’s shoulder and clamping down firmly in the hopes of keeping the younger hobbit quiet.   “Why don’t you check over by the food tables?”

Just then Frodo was distracted by the sound of Tom Cotton’s voice announcing the start of the milking contest’s third round.  Thinking that it would be wise not to lose sight of either of his cousins at this point, Frodo took hold of the back of Pippin’s braces and then placed a hand on Merry’s shoulder.  He moved the three of them closer to the fence for a better view.

“Now, as you all know this year’s competition has been very close indeed,” Tom was saying.  “It has come down to this final round and I think all of the young lasses involved to this point deserve a round of applause.”  Tom waited while those gathered around the fenced in area clapped and cheered before he continued. 

Frodo eyed Merry and Pippin suspiciously and then looked back toward Tom who was waving his hands about to silence the enthusiastic on-lookers.

“The young lasses involved in this contest have done some fine milking today,” Tom continued.  “But we do need to pick a winner and I think that this round will tell the tale.  Each of these lovely lasses will have one more opportunity to impress you fine folks with their milkin’ skills.”  He turned to face a row lasses standing near a row of cows.  Beside of each cow was a milking stool and a lass stood behind each stool holding a pail in her hands and waiting for the signal to begin.

Frodo watched as Tom walked closer to the lasses and spoke to them.  “Now you all know what to do.  There are only eight of you left at this point and in a few short minutes there will only be one winner, but I do want to let each of you know how well you’ve all done.”  Applause erupted again and several of the on-lookers shouted words of encouragement to sisters and daughters.  Pippin leaned on the fence and yelled out, “You can do it, Sapphire!”

“Pippin, shouldn’t you be encouraging Pervinca?” Frodo said, sternly.  “That is Pervinca over there by the third cow, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but if Pervinca wins we won’t get anything at all,” Pippin objected.  “She wouldn’t share her prize money with us if her life depended on it.  Besides, Papa has told her she’s not to give me any money.”

Merry reached over and rapped Pippin on the head and then quickly looked over at Frodo.  “He’s a bit angry at Pervinca, Frodo.  Since Pip and I got our money cut off for painting that rather rude poem on Farmer Maggot’s barn, Pervinca has been teasing him about not having any coin.”

“Yes, that’s all,” Pippin said, nodding a bit too much.  “Besides, she never wins.  She only does it for the attention.  She’s not a very fast milker.  I’m much better.”

“Yes, but you can’t enter because the competition is for lasses only,” Frodo said.

Pippin smirked.  “Oh, well, sometimes things can surprise you.”

Merry rapped Pippin a bit harder on the head this time and hissed, “This is why no one trusts you to keep your mouth shut.”

Pippin frowned and fell silent, leaving Frodo to wonder what his two younger cousins had done this time.  The two of them had barely been allowed to come to the spring fair this year after their fathers had been summoned not three weeks earlier to fetch them when farmer Maggot had caught the two of them painting on his barn.  The two had been made to repaint the side of the barn that they had vandalized and both had lost all of their spending money for the next month.  One more bit of mischief at this point would most likely get them grounded for the entire summer.

“So now, on your mark,” Tom Cotton was saying as Frodo looked toward the milkers.  “Get set, and Go!”

The cheering started again as the eight lasses quickly sat on their stools and shoved the pails underneath the cows and began milking.  The first lass in the group was last year’s winner, the second one was of the Bracegirdle lasses but Frodo wasn’t sure which one, the third was Pervinca Took, one of Pippin’s older sisters, the fourth was little Poppy Brockhouse, the youngest of the contestants, the fifth was a rather large lass that Frodo didn’t recognize, the sixth was, wait a minute, just who was that fifth lass?  Frodo frowned and tried to catch a glimpse of the lass’s face but couldn’t see for the bonnet that she wore.  “Who is the fifth lass?”

“What fifth lass?” Merry asked, stupidly.

“The only fifth lass in the row, Merry,” Frodo hissed firmly.  “Now, just who is under that bonnet?”

“How should I know?” Merry asked, weakly.

“Pippin?” Frodo asked, leaning over and turning Pippin’s head to face him by putting a hand on the lad’s head.

“Well, even if I did know, which I don’t, well, then I wouldn’t be able to tell you that,” Pippin rattled.

With the crowd cheering wildly, Frodo bent forward and pulled both cousins in so that they, but no one else, could hear him.  “Who is number five?”

“Frodo, I think maybe you’d be a whole lot happier if you weren’t here in a few minutes,” Merry suggested by way of an answer and Pippin nodded in agreement with his older cousin.  “You really don’t care who wins this thing, do you?” Merry asked trying to sound casual.

“I do now,” Frodo said, looking back toward the competition.

“Time!” Tom Cotton yelled and all of the lasses sat back on their stools while two lads came around and measured the amount of milk in each of the pails.  The crowd waited anxiously for the results and Tom and the other two judges conferred.

Pippin and Merry had gone very quiet and Frodo desperately wished that his two younger cousins had been unable to attend this fair.  He had a feeling that both of them were about to be in very big trouble. 

“Well, it’s official, folks,” Tom said, grinning.  “Our winner is first-time entrant, Sapphire Rockheaver who is visiting relations here in Hobbiton.  Congratulation to Miss Rockheaver!”

As the rather large lass in the bonnet made her way over to collect her prize, there was polite applause from the crowd, all of whom were a bit annoyed that a visitor had taken the prize from the local lasses.  Beside of Frodo, Pippin whistled and clapped wildly while Merry closed both eyes and seemed to be holding his breath.

“Rockheaver?”  Frodo frowned.  “Where in all of the Shire are the Rockheavers from?”

“Michel Delving,” Pippin informed him.  “Isn’t that right, Merry?”

“Congratulations on your cousin’s big win, Frodo,” the Mayor of Hobbiton said, patting Frodo on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” Frodo frowned at the Mayor.

“He’s over-come with joy for her,” Merry said, smiling at the Mayor.  “She’s shy and Frodo didn’t think she’d have a chance is all.”

“Why, a big hardy lass like that?” the mayor grinned.  “That lass could probably carry a cow half way across town.  Milking one was probably no effort at all for her.”

Merry frowned.  “I hope you don’t mean to insult Frodo’s cousin’s size, sir.  She’s very sensitive.”

“Why of course not, lad,” the Mayor said, quickly.  “I must go up and award her the prize now.”  With that he hurried past them and off to join Tom Cotton who was standing there congratulating Miss Rockheaver.

“My cousin?” Frodo demanded of Merry.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Merry muttered.  “I mean, after all, you have traveled to Michel Delving before and so it made some sense that you’d have family there.  Also in order to enter the contest, he, I mean she had to be staying in town and you do live in town.”

“I have family by the name of Rockheaver?” Frodo asked, looking dumb-founded.

“That was my idea,” Pippin grinned, proudly.  “I made up the name myself, you know.  No one’s ever heard of it before and so they aren’t likely to think they’re related to her or ask questions.”

Frodo groaned.  “Who is that under that bonnet?”

No answer.

Frodo asked again, “Who is that?  If I am to be her cousin then I should at least know who she is.”

Merry mumbled something but Frodo wasn’t able to hear what because a disturbance had broken out near the winner’s area of the milking competition.  Frodo and Merry and Pippin all looked on as Pervinca Took and two of the other lasses began to yell at Miss Rockheaver.

Within seconds, Miss Rockheaver’s bonnet was in Pervinca’s hands and the Mayor was staring open-mouthed, prize money in hand, at the former Miss Rockheaver.  Several members of the crowd turned to look in Frodo’s direction and frowned as if they thought he might know something about this.  Pippin made an unsuccessful attempt to escape but Frodo caught him by the ear.  He glared at Merry and pointed with his other hand in the direction of the Mayor and the bonnet-less, Miss Rockheaver, better known as Fredegar Bolger.

Merry lowered his head and the three of them started toward Freddy.  Merry suspected that his foolproof plan to get a bit of money to hold him until his punishment was over had just backfired.  Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all.  He sincerely hoped that his father grounded him so that Fredegar couldn’t get his hands on him.  From the look on Freddy’s face, he was almost as angry as Frodo was about now.   Maybe there was a way to blame this entire thing on Pippin.  Probably not, but maybe.

 The End

G.W.     01/02/2005