(for SlightlyTookish)

RECYCLED

“I am sorry, Merry and Pippin,” said Bilbo. “But Master Elrond does not wish us to disturb Frodo’s rest this afternoon. We shall see him this evening, at the feast to celebrate his recovery. Really, it is for his own good.”

“I don’t see how it can be,” grumbled Merry. “Sam gets to be there.”

“Meriadoc.” Bilbo’s voice was firm, and Merry blushed. “Now, why don’t you lads come and visit with me a bit this afternoon. I don’t believe you’ve seen my little apartments yet. I really have a most cozy little place, almost as good as a smial.”

The cousins looked at one another. They’d like to argue their way into Frodo’s room, but it didn’t look like it would do them any good.

“Come on, Merry,” said Pippin. “I’m curious to see how Cousin Bilbo has been living all these years.” He gave Merry one of his wheedling looks, and Merry gave in, though with ill grace.

Near the end of the corridor, Bilbo opened a door with a flourish. It led into a sunny room, furnished with a mix of furniture--much of it was sized for hobbits: a few chairs and a settee, a low table, a desk and a cupboard, as well as a number of bookshelves. But there were also a number of chairs sized for Big Folk as well. “Over there is my little kitchen, and beyond that door--” he pointed to a small round door such as would have been found in the Shire “is my bedchamber, as well as a very convenient water-closet.”

Merry looked around, and then said “Speaking of convenient, Cousin Bilbo, I think I will make use of that water-closet.”

“Certainly, Merry. And I think I’ll make us a spot of tea, and I believe I have some biscuits handy.” As Merry disappeared beyond the round door, and Bilbo into the kitchen, Pippin was left to wander around Bilbo’s sitting room. Although all the furnishings were clearly of Elven make, he soon spotted a number of smaller, familiar items.

On the mantle over the small fireplace were some framed pictures. Pippin went over to look at them. There was a portrait of Bilbo and Frodo together, which had been painted by Frodo’s cousin, Calla Brandybuck. And there were also small portraits of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins, that once had hung in Bag End. Another was a small oval painting of a young hobbit Pippin did not recognize, though he was very clearly a Took--no mistaking that pointed nose and green eyes, though he had the darker hair that showed up less commonly than the copper chestnut hair.

There was a small drawing of Bag End, that Pippin recognized as Frodo’s work. Next to it was another drawing, done in colors, and far more childish, of the same subject. That too, was by Frodo, according to the childish signature.

He turned his attention to the bookshelves. They were not so full as the shelves Bilbo had at Bag End, and there were other odds and ends there--suddenly he started--no! it couldn’t be! “Thunder!” he said under his breath. “I can’t *believe* Bilbo brought that all the way to Rivendell!”

“What is it, Pip?” said Merry, coming up behind him.

“Look!”

Merry burst out into a bark of laughter. “Lawks, Pippin! I never would have expected to see *that* here!”

In the center of the shelf, filled with an attractive arrangement of autumn leaves, was a large white vessel. It had been colorfully painted. A large round yellow sun sported two huge eyes surmounted by improbable eyelashes and a big, rather crooked, smile. Blobs of light blue--perhaps meant to be clouds, surrounded it. Below, sticks of brown were surmounted by very round, very bright, green circles--meant to be trees, while next to them, on sticks of green, were equally large flowers in many colors, also bearing smiling faces in their center. Five grinning stick figures, all equal in size, stood between the trees and flowers. The one in the center had a squiggle of grey curls across the top of its head and on its feet. On its left side the stick figure had black curls, and on its right was a figure with red curls. The figures on each end had yellow curls, and the one on the far left held a stick with some sort of square at one end. Below each figure--with each letter painted in a different color was lettered: “SaM” “FoRdO” “bLBo” “mE” and “mERy”. There was no disguising the fact that the vessel had originally been a chamber pot.

Merry was howling now, completely overcome with mirth. “Oh, Pip! That’s priceless! I completely forgot about that!”

Pippin’s face was red, as he stared at the object in astonishment. He remembered how proud he had been, giving Bilbo this “vase”--scrounged from Bilbo’s *own* mathom, room, and then carefully painted by him. It had been his eighth birthday, the first year he had been allowed to spend it at Bag End, without his parents.

“Pippin-lad! What are you doing?” Bilbo asked.

Pippin jumped, and tried to hide the strange assortment of mathoms behind him on his bed.

“Nothing, Bilbo!” he squeaked.

Bilbo’s lips twitched. He suddenly realized the lad’s birthday was in only a couple of weeks. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your birthday would it?”

Pippin blushed bright red. “I want to pick Merry’s and Frodo’s gifts myself this year. I’m not a faunt anymore. But Father won’t give me any money unless someone goes with me to spend it.”

“So you thought you’d find a mathom instead?”

“Did I do wrong, Cousin Bilbo? I mean, at home or the Great Smials no one cares what I take out of the mathom room. I guess I should have asked.”

Bilbo smiled. “That would have been polite, and I trust you’ll remember it in future, but no I do not mind. That is, after all what a mathom room is for.” Bilbo did not mention that his own such rooms were crammed with junk, as he usually gave out new presents, unlike most hobbits.

“So have you decided what to give them, then?”

Pippin nodded. He smiled shyly, and pointed to two items rather isolated on the bed. One was a garish and gaudily decorated pottery jar in the shape of a fish. It was mostly yellow, and had a lid which was slightly chipped. Bilbo could not remember exactly which elderly female relative had stuck him with that, though he vaguely thought she was a Boffin. It was meant to be a biscuit jar.

“So, lad, who is that for?”

“That’s for Merry. The fish is for the River, and I like that it’s all yellow and sunny, like Merry. And,” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “in case you didn’t know, yellow is his favorite color. I thought he could keep his handkerchiefs in it or something.”

“Ah,” The old hobbit smiled. “So, the other is meant for Frodo, then?” He tried to keep his voice level, as he looked at the--whatever it was. It was some sort of rather loosely woven fabric--thing. It was several shades of blue, and had some rather uneven tassels. It looked to him like some young lass’s first attempt at needlework. He had no idea of where it had come from.

“Well, not exactly. I thought if I cut off this piece here, with the tassel on both ends, that it would make a splendid bookmark.”

Bilbo was impressed. “So it would! Well, you just carry on my lad. I’m sure your cousins will appreciate their gifts very much. I will see you at teatime.” He went out and shut the door behind him.

Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. Bilbo had not noticed his own gift there. Pippin was not sure if it was proper to give someone a gift from their own mathom room, but after all, after he was through painting it, and adding some decoration to it, Bilbo would not even recognize his new flower pot as a former chamber pot.

Bilbo had professed great delight in the thing, and had exclaimed over it, while Merry and Frodo had difficulty disguising their mirth.

Bilbo came in just at that moment, bearing a tea tray. “I found some savory cheese tarts, as well, lads…ah--I see you have found one of my treasures.”

Pippin turned to Bilbo. “Treasure?”

Bilbo placed the tray on the low table in front of the settee. “Yes, Peregrin.” He put his arm around Pippin’s shoulders. “I brought a few things away from the Shire with me, more precious than Rings or dragon’s gold.” He gave the thin shoulders a squeeze. “That’s one of them.”

Pippin bit his lip, and turned his eyes to Bilbo. They were glistening with tears, and Merry was no longer laughing, but looking thoughtful. “We missed you, Bilbo.” he said, simply.

“Oh my, lad. I missed all of you as well. But it had to be.”

Suddenly Pippin found himself dissolving into tears. He had tried so hard to be brave since Weathertop, but oh! it was so good to see Bilbo again, and to know that Frodo was all right, and--and--he found himself wrapped in Bilbo’s arms, and his tears were falling on Bilbo’s jacket. He could feel Merry’s familiar hand stroking his back, and he knew that Merry was sniffling as well.

After a moment or two, they were all pulling out handkerchiefs and blowing noses.

“I’m sorry to be so silly,” said Pippin.

“That’s quite all right, my lad.” He looked at Merry who, seemed to have pulled himself together as well. “Did you see the memento I have of yours, Meriadoc?”

Merry shook his head warily.

Bilbo reached up to another shelf, and took down what appeared to be a blob of dried mud with a hole in the top. It held a single flower, sticking of bravely out of the hole. “I don’t believe you ever saw this, Pippin. This is the vase *Merry* made for me, when he was about eight.”

And now it was Pippin’s turn to laugh, and Merry’s turn to blush.

And Bilbo smiled fondly on them both.