~The Moon's House~

Frodo was sitting up in bed watching the rain pouring outside his window. The storm had been going on for almost ten minutes and the lightning and thunder had woken Frodo from an already restless sleep.

Behind him he heard his door creek open and he turned to see two young hobbits at his door. Merry was carrying their younger cousin Pippin in his arms, and the child was clinging to him as if the world was ending.

They crawled quietly onto Frodo’s bed beside him and Frodo pulled his blanket up around them.

“Did the storm scare you, Pippin?” he asked, prying the child away from Merry to look into his wide, green eyes.

The child nodded. “Is the sky angry, Frodo?” Pippin asked, trembling.

Frodo drew the lad close comfortingly, and Merry smiled, already anticipating Frodo’s answer. He, also, had been reassured during a thunderstorm, this way.

“No, dearest. The sky isn’t angry. The moon is only chopping down trees to build a house for himself so the rain won’t get him wet,” Frodo said. “Do you want him to get wet?”

Pippin shook his curly head. “He might catch a cold. But why does he wait until it’s raining? Why doesn’t he do it when it’s nice out?” Frodo could already see the fear disappearing from Pippin’s eyes.

Frodo smiled. “The moon is very forgetful, and he only works on his house when the rain reminds him of it,” Frodo said, watching Pippin’s eyelids droop.

Merry grinned at Frodo as the lad began to snore. “He believed it,” he said.

Frodo nodded. “So did you, once. Now, let’s all go to bed. The moon isn’t chopping down any more trees tonight,” he said as the rain stopped.

Merry smiled, then closed his eyes to sleep.

~The End~