Disclaimer: I don’t own them and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: I love the response that this fic is getting! I think it may end up being longer than I had originally intended it to be. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: War Official

Merry was convinced that he was dying. His mouth and throat were on fire, causing him to emit little shrieks of pain. He curled up into a little ball on the floor and tried to pass peaceably.

Except, as luck would have it, Bilbo and Frodo were really not being much help. At the lads’ first shrieks, the two older hobbits had woken with a start, and were now leaning over their young cousins, trying to get them to sit up and tell them what was wrong. Bilbo left Frodo frantically banging on Pippin’s back and took a tiny sip of the tea.

“Chili pepper,” he muttered. He shook his head and turned back to the moaning lads. “All right, you lot, a little spice won’t kill you! Up you get. Sam, lad, will you kindly fetch us some cold milk?”

“Certainly, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam replied, ducking back out of the room that he had hastily entered upon hearing the uproar. “I’ll jest get it.”

Merry and Pippin sat up slowly, wiping tears from their eyes. Pippin’s face was flushed, and Merry doubted he looked much better. His mouth was still aflame, but the pain was receding a little. Sam was back in just a moment bearing two tall glasses full of milk.

“There was an elf-lady in the hall, waiting with the glasses,” he reported, handing the beverage to the lads. “She seemed to know they’d be needed.”

Bilbo supervised the lads as they gulped down the milk. Milk, he knew from experience, was good at calming the burn of spices. Indeed, it worked on Merry and Pippin, for both were looking fairly normal again once they had finished the drink.

“Now, what is this all about, lads?” he asked kindly. “I highly doubt that an Elf would have done this to you without reason.”

Sam interrupted, blushing a little at his boldness. “I don’t think the lady in the hall did it, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I think it was someone else. She walked away muttering about an Estel and trouble.”

Frodo frowned, looking at his cousin. “Who is Estel, Bilbo?”

“A certain Dunadan,” Bilbo replied with a laugh. “What have you lads done to Aragorn?”

Merry bit his lip and sent a warning glance at Pippin. Frodo, seeing it, glowered at the two of them. “Yes, I want to know, too. I don’t see Strider as the type who would spike your tea for no reason.”

Pippin sighed miserably and gave Merry a defeated look. Merry, however, stood firm. “This is between ourselves and Strider, Frodo. You’re not nearly strong enough to know yet. Really. Trust me.”

Frodo raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to counter that remark, but Bilbo laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Frodo-lad, I’d say these two have had their comeuppance. Let it go.”

Frodo gave one last hard look at Merry, who gazed back at him defiantly, then sighed. “All right, I suppose you’re right. Now you two run along, and behave yourselves! I don’t want anymore shenanigans,” he said sternly.

Merry pulled himself up and gave his hand to Pippin. “Yes, Frodo. We’ll be good lads.”

“Yes, Frodo,” Pippin agreed meekly. “My mouth is too sore to think of being a bother.”

Frodo stared at them, rather shocked at their easy acquiescence. He had expected a bit more resistance, truth be told. His younger cousins smiled a little at him and left the room.

“Lads will be lads,” Bilbo remarked. “Now back to bed with you, Frodo.”

*****

“This is war! No one messes with a hobbit’s food!”

Pippin sat on the bed and watched Merry, slightly alarmed. He could recognize the fact that Strider had gotten them, fair and square. They were even now. It didn’t seem that Merry would recognize that, though, and that worried Pippin. It did not surprise him, but it worried him.

“What shall we do to him?” Merry asked, rounding on Pippin. “Think, Pip. You’ve got a good imagination.”

Never one to let a challenge pass, Pippin bit his lip and thought. The frog had worked spectacularly well. Maybe something along that line would work again, although if he were Strider, Pippin would have been checking between the sheets before climbing into bed from now on. It would have to be something a little different.

His thoughts flew back to his time as a little lad. They hearkened back to the golden age of his bath time, when he had splashed in the tub with various toys and made huge waves for the maids to mop up. With a huge grin, he looked up at Merry.

“I think I have an idea.”

*****

A water snake was perhaps not the easiest thing to find in Rivendell in the late fall. It cost Merry and Pippin an afternoon wading through every body of water in the valley. The fact that they had no real excuse for doing such a thing was not very helpful, either, but they were lucky enough not to see anyone besides the gardener.

At long last, Pippin found a water snake. It was small and beautifully green, and Pippin made Merry catch it. It may have been a good idea, but Pippin did not like snakes.

“I feel rather mean, doing this to poor old Strider,” he said.

Merry shook his head, making the snake comfortable in the little box they had prepared. “Have no qualms, Pippin. Remember how that wretched spice felt in your throat.”

Pippin remembered. It served to clear his head of guilt.

Moving nonchalantly, Merry and Pippin returned towards the Last Homely House. They skirted towards the bathhouse, knowing that Strider tended to bathe before dinner. It was one of the little facts they had learned that first week in Rivendell. Merry led the way up to the door, and smiled kindly at the elf who came to assist them. Both lads were soaked and muddy, and would need a good scrub to get the dirt off. No, Master Estel was not in yet, although they would doubtless see him before they left. Could he take their things? No? Well, help yourselves to tubs; there’s no one else here.

Merry sat back in the hot water and sighed with contentment. This was something that he would build at home: veritable pools of pumped-in water in special rooms, instead of tubs that had to be filled by hand. A myriad of candles lit the large rooms, and the waters were scented with special herbs.

First things first. Both hobbits scrubbed with the scented soaps until all of the mud and pond scum of the last day had been washed away. The elf at the door had sent someone to fetch fresh clothes for them, and the lads happily dressed when they were done. Only then did they look around for Strider.

They had heard him come in. He wasn’t in their room of the house, but in an adjoining one. Merry and Pippin, moving with the silence that only hobbits possess, tiptoed towards the door.

Strider had his back to them, and was busily washing his hair. Merry idly wondered if they would see a return of his greasy hair when they left Rivendell again. He hoped not.

Merry was holding the snake loosely in his hands. Grinning diabolically, he let it down onto the floor. Seeing water nearby, the snake began to move itself rapidly towards Aragorn.

The hobbits fled howling as Aragorn launched himself out of his tub, roaring like some wild beast. Like when they were confronted with an angry farmer’s dogs, they knew when to run away. Fairly flying, they pelted back to their rooms.

“Did you see his face?!” panted Pippin, giggling uncontrollably.

Merry nodded, laughing so hard he had tears running down his face. “That was the most brilliant thing we’ve ever done! It was even better than the frog!”

Pippin sobered a bit, but his grin was still in place as he said, “There’s only one thing I have against this venture, though. Merry, I never want to see a naked Man again.”

*****

In the bathhouse, Aragorn shakily tried to get his nerves back in order. What was it with those hobbits? Did they want him to retaliate? He would, of course. He would stake his honor on it. Besides, he had to show Erenath, the bathhouse warden, somehow that he was not a weakling. The Elf was still laughing at him. Now, what would be the best thing to do to them?

TBC