Chapter 1. The Morning After

'Time to waken.' Merry's voice was flat, not cheerful as his usual mien.

Pippin groaned and tried to pull the pillow over his head, but was hampered by the fact that his older cousin had a firm grip on said pillow. 'Go away,' the besieged hobbit moaned, keeping an arm protectively over his eyes. 'What're you doing, rousting me out of the bed before the dawning?'

'It is half-past elevenses,' Merry said crisply. 'And you have a great deal of preparing to do. Much too much, to be sleeping the day away.'

'Preparing for what?' Pippin said from under the shelter of his arm, but then he bolted suddenly upright, though it made his head spin. 'Is today the day?' he demanded. 'Are my parents to be arriving, then... och, if my da finds me still abed halfway through the day there'll be the Wood Elves to pay...'

'Your parents are due at the Hall on the morrow,' Merry said.

Pippin sank back onto the bed with a thump, seeing as how Merry had jerked the pillow completely away and tossed it across the room. 'O I thought it just might be tomorrow already,' he said. 'Just my luck...'

'Luck of the Tooks,' Merry said, and as Pippin tried to pull the coverlet over his head to shut out the light, he deftly stripped the bedcoverings from the bed, tossing them to the floor as well.

'What is this?' Pippin said, pulling his legs up and hugging himself into a shivering ball. 'It's cold!'

'The better to waken your wits,' Merry said, grim once more, tossing a clean shirt at his cousin. 'You're going to need all you can muster this day.'

'Why?' Pippin asked plaintively. He uncurled and pulled the shirt on, fumbling with the buttons. 'My head...' he groaned.

'Your own fault,' Merry said. 'You would break out the Gaffer's homebrew, that Sam gifted us for our smial-warming. If you'd only waited until I got back from the Hall with the fresh supply of brandy...'

'I was merely doing my duty as host,' Pippin said. 'We have the reputation for excellent parties, you know, and I mean to keep it up. After all, look at the sparkling company we have gathered...'

'But I think you were the only one to drink the stuff,' Merry said, tossing Pippin his breeches and turning to pour water from the ewer into the washbowl. 'Freddy's glass was nearly full, and the few who had empty glasses when I arrived had not even tried the homebrew, but told you they'd wait for the brandy.'

'It's perfectly good drink,' Pippin said, rising slowly to wobble over to the dressing table. Merry steadied him as he splashed the water over face and neck and took up the drying-cloth. 'It sort of... grows on you.' He chuckled at his gardener's joke, and winced.

'That's why you had several glasses, I suppose,' Merry said. 'Got better the more you drank.'

'Precisely,' Pippin said, straightening. 'Marvellous drink.'

'It does a wonderful job of taking the tarnish off silver,' Merry said, 'but I wouldn't call it "drink".'

Pippin paid no mind to this, simply ran his hand over his head to complete his toilet and turned towards the door. 'Well,' he said. 'With my parents due on the morrow I suppose there are a great many preparations in order.'

'Well yes,' Merry said, 'but it's today's preparations that worry me.'

'Today's preparations?' Pippin said, puzzled.

'We're having guests to tea,' Merry informed him.

'Who's coming?' Pippin said, perking up. He was still muzzy from the drink, but how he revelled in revelry, so to speak. Merry bore the brunt of the preparations, and Pippin carried the weight of keeping the guests amused, and they shared the clearing up afterwards.

'You tell me,' Merry said, picking up the coverlet and laying it on the bed now that the danger of Pippin's going back to sleep had been averted.

Pippin stared at him and laughed. 'A fine jest!' he said, slapping his knee.

'Fine indeed,' Merry said. 'I have no idea whom to expect, really.'

'Come now, Merry, stuff and nonsense!' Pippin said. 'We're having guests to tea, and you don't know who they are?'

'After we bade our friends and relations farewell, in the wee hours of the night, you informed me...' Merry began, but seemed to have difficulty proceeding. As Pippin stared at him expectantly, he loosened his collar with a nervous finger.

'I informed you...' Pippin said to prompt him.

'You informed me that the prettiest lasses you'd ever seen had been at the party, and you'd told someone to return for tea with her family, wearing ribbons in her hair, if she was interested in a marriage proposal...'

There was a long moment of silence as Pippin stared at Merry. 'You're not serious,' he said at last.

'I am perfectly serious,' Merry said. 'Perfectly and completely.'

'Who is it that I'm about to propose marriage to?' Pippin said with a silly grin on his face.

'I have no idea,' Merry said. 'You were about to tell me when you were overcome by Gaffer Gamgee's homebrew and nearly pitched into the hearth. Good thing I caught you.'

'Good thing,' Pippin murmured, but his grin was fading. 'You are serious, aren't you?'

'Absolutely,' Merry said. 'You wanted the lass to meet your parents on their arrival, and with your coming-of-age later in the year, you'd have just enough time to plan the wedding to take place on the Great Day.'

'I don't believe this,' Pippin said, adding most plaintively, 'Surely this is one of your jests? Or Freddy's?' He clutched at Merry's lapels and stared intently into his cousin's face. 'Berilac put you up to this, didn't he, just because I winked at his sister...'

'It's no jest,' Merry said, 'and because you let the drink overcome you I had to do all the clearing away myself after dragging you to your bed.'

'I didn't let the drink overcome me,' Pippin protested. 'I don't even remember...'

'And that's the trouble,' Merry said. 'Well, there's a bit of baking that needs to be done, as well as sweeping and dusting, perhaps a modicum of polishing...'

'I don't feel so very well,' Pippin said, putting his hand to his head and sitting down once more on the bed.

'Pity,' Merry said with no compassion in his tone. He hauled his younger cousin to his feet and pushed Pippin out of the bedroom. 'Lots of work to be done before teatime...'

'Work...' Pippin echoed.

'It'll do wonders for your head, all the fresh air whilst you're beating the carpets,' Merry said. 'I'll help you hang them on the line...'

And before Pippin knew quite how it happened, he was standing in the yard, carpet-beater in his hand, and Merry was turning back to the little house to bake a few tarts for the special occasion.

'I don't believe this,' Pippin said, giving the nearest carpet a satisfying whack. At least his headache was abating. He thought of Sam, bragging gently as he'd presented the jug of his dad's homebrew. Goes down smooth, and doesn't stay to haunt you next morning... 'I'd beg to differ,' he muttered.

'What was that, cousin?' Merry said too brightly, turning back.

'Naught,' Pippin said shortly, giving the carpet another whack that sent the dust flying.

'Ah,' Merry said wisely. 'O and by the way...'

'Yes?' Pippin said.

Merry smiled. 'Congratulations on your impending nuptials,' he said with disgusting cheerfulness, and then he ducked through Crickhollow's door before Pippin could throw the carpet-beater at him.