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(Originally written for the LJ Wee Hobbits community.)
“Pippin. What are you doing?”
The faunt gave a guilty start at the sound of Frodo’s voice, and jumped down from his precarious perch on the second shelf of the bookcase. He stared at Frodo out of wide eyes and bit his lower lip.
“Nothing.” He stuck his index finger in his mouth.
Frodo arched an eyebrow. Pippin was supposed to be in his parents’ guest room taking a nap. The rest of the family was in the parlour talking to Bilbo, and Frodo had gone to check on his little cousin, only to find him in Bilbo’s study instead.
“Nothing?” Frodo asked.
The little one gave a sniff, and held up the finger. “Just looking. But I hurt me.”
Frodo was instantly all concern. In a few strides, he was at Pippin’s side.
“Let me see! Oh, it’s only a nasty splinter.” He took Pippin up, and crossed to sit in Bilbo’s comfortable old armchair with the child in his lap. He took Pippin’s chubby little finger, and squeezed it lightly, and then quickly nipped the splinter between his fingers and drew it out. Then he held up the finger to his lips and gave it a kiss. “There, now is it all better?”
Pippin gave a nod. “Thank you, Frodo.” He snuggled more closely into his older cousin’s comforting arms. “I was looking for stories.”
Frodo smiled. Suddenly, he had the feeling that this one was always going to be looking for stories. “Well, perhaps you’ve found one after all, Pip. Why don’t I tell you one?”
Pippin grinned. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, let’s see. Ah, I know! Once there were two little hobbits named Tip and Tulip. They were brother and sister, and they lived in a cozy little smial with their mama and their papa and their auntie…
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