A/N: Almost triple drabble, written sometime last year.

Midnight Visitors

“Frodo! Gollum’s under my bed!”
Frodo groaned and opened his eyes. He had wondered whether or not the tale of Gollum was too scary for Pippin, who was, after all, only nine. Bilbo had told him anyway, and Pippin had been fascinated. That had been during the day. Now it was the middle of the night, and Pippin sounded absolutely terrified.
“Pippin, lad, Gollum is probably long dead by now,” Frodo replied, trying to sound soothing. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Pippin was silent for a moment, contemplating this. If Frodo said that there was nothing the matter, than that was probably true. Still…
“Can I sleep with you, please, Frodo?” he asked.
Frodo sighed, but nodded. “Yes, of course, Pip. But don’t steal all of the blankets, and don’t poke me with your elbows!”
Pippin paused from his work of burrowing under Frodo’s blankets. “When have I ever poked you with my elbows, Frodo?” he asked.
Frodo rolled his eyes and put his arm around his cousin. “Only every time you share a bed with me. Now go to sleep!” he commanded, smiling.
Pippin giggled a little and did as he was told. “G’night, Frodo,” he whispered. “Thanks for protecting me.”
“Any time, Pip,” Frodo replied.
Pippin drifted off, and Frodo allowed himself to drowse again. He was almost asleep when another soft voice, that of Merry, broke into his thoughts.
“Frodo! Gollum’s under my bed!”
The End.