Splendor in the Grass
written for Waymeet Summer Blockbuster Challenge
rated G
Beta by Marigold

“Splendor In the Grass”

From the journal of Meriadoc Brandybuck

I never would have found it if it hadn’t been for Pippin. I am completely certain of that fact though I would hesitate to admit this to him. Sometimes things happen in very strange ways and I believe this was one such event. There is magic in the Shire even though we Hobbits often prefer to ignore it. There are also magical places.

My older cousin, Berilac and I were playing a game that I had invented. I called it ‘Follow Pippin’ and if the adults had known what I was doing I suspect that I’d not have been allowed to mind Pippin anymore. The game even frightened Berilac on some level. It was risky. I could never predict how it might turn out and that was precisely why I enjoyed it. I was twelve and when you are twelve things look altogether different than they do once you’ve been around a bit longer. I look back on this little game of mine now and shudder.

Some might find it difficult to believe but there was a time when Peregrin Took was not as talkative as he is now. In fact he didn’t bother wasting his time explaining things, he just did them. This was partly because he was unable to make most folks understand what he was saying. Language skills came to Pippin a bit slower than they do to most children. I believe that is why he talks so very much now. He is making up for lost time. Most little ones speak well enough to make themselves understood by the age of three, no later than three and a half. Pippin was nearly five before his chattering began to make sense to anyone save his parents, Pervinca and myself. I am his older cousin. I have always known what he is saying. We are just connected in that way.

My game was possible because, though Pippin was not a skilled conversationalist, he was an excellent walker. He walked early, climbed early, ran early, and moved with the ease of a six-year-old by the time he was three. I took full advantage of this fact by inventing my game. I would make sure that we were far enough away from the adults and then I would turn Pippin loose. I would even give him a slight head start and then I would follow him to see where he might lead. It was utter madness; to release an active, fearless, little lad but when I was twelve I considered it an adventure. Pippin adored the game because it was the only time that he was allowed to go where he pleased.

The adults in Pippin’s life soon learned that he was quick and fearless. He could be out of sight in no time. It was for this reason that my mother had stitched tiny bells into the hem of Pippin’s trousers. This allowed her to hear where he was if he managed to get away from her. All of the adults held fast to Pippin’s hand or carried him or kept him in his pram. It was for his safety and their sanity. I was not bothered by allowing Pippin a free rein. I was certain that I could catch him if need be. Ah, the confidence of a lad of twelve!

On this particular day Pippin had managed to exhaust all of the adults, his older sister Pervinca, and several other little children that he’d been playing with before Berilac and I came along. Seeing us as fresh replacements, my father had handed Pippin to me and said, “Here, Merry-lad. Entertain your cousin for a bit.”

Berilac had been less then thrilled by this. He didn’t want to mind the little imp and he didn’t want me to be tied up with this activity either. I, on the other hand, took the wiggling child knowing that I was about to introduce Berilac to my little game.

Fifteen minutes later, out of sight of the adults, I put Pippin down and off he went. Berilac was stunned at first but he got into the spirit of the game rather quickly. Berilac was fourteen but that is still a long way from the age of reason for Hobbit lads. The game delighted him almost as much as it pleased Pippin. We followed along at a rather risky distance as Pippin trotted ahead of us stopping here and there to pick up rocks or leaves or sticks that drew his attention. He would put some of these into his pockets, toss others aside and then move on. Once in a while something that he picked up would look good enough to eat and I would have to dash over and snatch it from Pippin. I would speak sternly to him. “Don’t put that in your mouth! If you put anything into your mouth I will take you home and give you to Pearl!”

That was my sternest threat. Pearl was vigilant. Pippin had no hope for adventure or escape when he was with his oldest sister. He might not have been able to speak his mind properly but he understood every single word that was said to him. His lower lip trembled a bit and he looked up at me and said one of the few words over which he had proper command, “No!”

“Then don’t put nasty things into your mouth!” I said. He then smiled brightly and took off like a fox being chased by a dog. Berilac and I continued to follow at our own pace.

I was born in Buckland and I had lived all of my twelve years at Brandy Hall right in the heart of Buckland and so I thought that I had knowledge of every place within its bounds but I was about to get a surprise. For some reason known only to him, Pippin stepped off of the path that we were on and moved between two large elm trees. Berilac and I quickened our pace and followed.

Just as we cleared the trees, a tiny, overgrown path became visible. Pippin was just ahead of us moving down the path as if he knew exactly where he was going. “Where are we?” Berilac asked. “I’ve not seen this before.”

“How should I know?” I responded with a casual shrug. “That, dear Cousin, is the interesting part of this game. I never know where Pippin will lead.”

The path dipped suddenly and Pippin sprawled on his face in the dirt. “Now he’s going to cry!” Berilac moaned as we hurried over.

I helped Pippin to his feet and took stock of him. His knees were scraped and his little hands were red and dusty but he looked basically unharmed. “There now, you’re all right,” I said smiling at him.

“He’s going to cry, Merry,” Berilac sighed as Pippin puckered his mouth and made a whimpering sound.

“No, he’s not,” I said. I turned to Pippin who was about to prove me wrong and spoke firmly. “You are not going to cry. If you cry then I will have to take you to Pearl.”

Pippin wiped one grubby hand over his eyes and bit his lower lip. He sniffled.

“Pippin, I mean it. There’s no reason to cry. You’re fine. It’s only a bit of dirt,” I said.

Pippin pointed to his knees and sniffled again.

“That will be fine too. It’s only a scratch,” I said.

“Merry?” Berilac frowned.

I turned to him and made a face. “If he cries it will be because you can’t hush up about it.”

“He looks like he’s going to cry and he did fall,” Berilac pointed out.

“He won’t cry,” I said standing to face Berilac. As I did this, Pippin let out a whoop of delight and we turned to see him bouncing on his toes and pointing toward a meadow.

This was a meadow that I had never seen before. Just at the end of this little path a meadow opened up and stretched out in a wide oval surrounded by trees. The meadow’s grass was up to my shoulders. It was apparent that no one had been here in a long time. This place felt ancient somehow. The tall grass waved in the breeze and wild flowers dotted the field adding splashes of color here and there. The sun filled the sky above us and the meadow sparkled with a fresh glow of summer. Pippin danced about in a circle humming something or other as Berilac and I looked at the meadow.

“Big gas!” Pippin said laughing and then proceeded to charge into the meadow.

“What did he say?” Berilac asked.

“He said, big gas but what he meant was big grass,” I explained patiently. Berilac should have known what the child meant. In my disgust with Berilac’s lack of intelligence it was I who failed to see our problem. Apparently my older cousin wasn’t the only one with a lack of intelligence.

“Where’d he go?” Berilac asked.

I whirled around and realized that I couldn’t see Pippin anywhere. I could hear him laughing but I couldn’t see him. The ‘big gas’ that came to my shoulders was high above my little cousin’s head. The second that Pippin had plunged into the meadow he had been lost from view!

I swallowed hard and listened to the sound of a tiny Hobbit singing and laughing as he ran through the meadow. “Pippin!” I shouted, my voice tense with worry.

“Fi me!” he shouted back and the laughter echoed madly. For some reason it was impossible to tell where sounds were coming from in the meadow.

“No! You come here right now!” I shouted. Pippin was inviting me to ‘find him’ in all of this vast sea of grass and I was suddenly learning that there was an overwhelming drawback to my little game. Sometimes things could get out of control. I was dealing with Pippin after all. The sound of tiny tinkling bells reached my ears as a further insult.

“Fi me, Merwy!” Pippin sang out. “Fi me, fi me, fi me!”

Berilac and I exchanged panicked looks. “Now what?” Berilac asked.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me find him!” I growled and the two of us plunged into the high grass in search of a laughing child.

For nearly two hours Berilac and I searched the meadow without success. I could hear Pippin running thanks to the tiny bells on his trousers but I couldn’t locate him. That was bad enough but when the bells stopped ringing and his squeaky little voice stopped inviting me to find him I was filled with a fear that I had never experienced. I had lost Pippin!

“I don’t hear him, Merry!” Berilac shouted.

“Neither do I,” I called back.

“What do you suppose that means?” Berilac asked.

“How should I know?” I nearly shouted. I didn’t want to think of the possibilities. Pippin could be hurt and unable to call for help, he could have left us in the meadow searching for him and be on his way back to Brandy Hall or worse yet, he could be running into the woods that surrounded the meadow! Thankfully this meadow was not near the Old Forest and so these were just ordinary trees that were standing guard about its edge but a four-year-old could still get very lost in these woods. A crushing pain filled my chest and it became hard to breathe. I cupped my hands to my mouth and began to shout, “Pippin! Pippin! Pippin, answer me right now!”

It did no good. If I had not been in such a state I would have realized that it was pointless. Pippin was not always good about answering or coming when called. If he was involved in something that he felt was more interesting or important then he would simply ignore me. The child was not well behaved!

Berilac was panicking too now and both of us were charging around the meadow yelling, making nasty threats one minute and pleading desperately the next. I bent forward and combed the grass with my hands. It was like searching for a single pea in a pot of vegetable stew!

Exhausted and frightened nearly out of my mind I gave up and sank to the ground amid the grass. I could just imagine my mother shouting at me for this when I returned home without my little cousin. I could see Pippin’s mother crying. Everyone was going to be angry with me and suddenly I was angry with myself. What had I been thinking? Why had I ever turned him loose? He was a tiny babe and I had lost him in all of this grass. I was a dreadful older cousin. I was, I was feeling something tickling my foot.

I turned and looked down and there was a small finger rubbing against my toe. Stretched out on his back, sound asleep in the soft grass, was Pippin! I was sitting right beside him! I looked in amazement at the tiny lashes that framed his closed eyes, and the perfectly formed little finger, which had curled itself about my toe and was holding on firmly. His little chest rose and fell with each, deep, relaxed breath and he sighed contentedly and stretched his toes in his sleep. His tiny bow-shaped mouth was open just a bit and his little hands twitched with a dream, though not an unpleasant one, if his completely relaxed state was any indication.

I sat there with tears of relief streaming down my cheeks knowing that I would never play ‘Follow Pippin’ again. The little rogue was entirely too important to me and I realized that I simply couldn’t risk losing him. Oh, Pippin would be angry the next time I had charge of him because I would most likely make Pearl look neglectful in my newfound zeal to be a proper child minder. Peregrin Took was going to be on a very short lead in my presence from this moment onward.

“Merry! Where are you? This isn’t the time for games!” Berilac shouted.

“I’m over here,” I called hoarsely. For some reason I had forgotten that Berilac was with us. “It’s all right now.”

“Over where?” he demanded and I realized that he couldn’t see me at the moment thanks to all of the tall grass.

I smiled and then, being careful not to disturb Pippin by moving my big toe, I stood. “I found him. He’s asleep in the grass!”

Across the field near the path that had led us to this place, Berilac sagged with relief. “I’m going back to the Hall!” he said.

“Go on,” I said. “I’ll bring him.” I then was quick to say, “Don’t tell anyone about this!”

“I wouldn’t dare!” Berilac shouted. He turned and left quickly. I could tell that my older cousin had tolerated about all of this nonsense that he could.

I squatted back down just as Pippin yawned and blinked sleepy, green eyes at me. “Merwy? Oo fi me!”

“I did find you,” I said. I couldn’t help but return the smile that he gave me as he crawled into my lap and put his arms around my neck.

“Eat,” he announced. This was another of his good words.

I stood and carried my little cousin out of the meadow.

Pippin and I have returned often to the meadow but I don’t believe that Berilac has ever been back again. Sometimes I think that only Pippin and I belong there and so only the two of us can find it. We don’t mention it to anyone else even though this is nothing that we’ve agreed upon verbally. I don’t ever recall telling Pippin not to speak of the meadow; I just know that he won’t. Neither will I, for I suspect that if I were to tell anyone about it then we would not be able to find it again. It is far too splendid a place to lose. It is but one of the many secrets that I share with Pippin.

As I record this little tale here in my journal, I am soon to be thirty. I do not know if anyone will ever read this but if they do they will find no map or instructions on how to reach the meadow with its high grass and colorful flowers. I think that only those meant to find the meadow may do so. Pippin was meant to find it and I was meant to share its beauty with him. My cousin Berilac just happened to be there but I doubt that he could return now. I think that Berilac had that one chance to see the meadow. It is just too bad that he had to spend it looking for Pippin. I would even venture to say that Berilac doesn’t remember any of this. I have never asked him about it, but I suspect that he forgot the entire thing before he reached the Hall that day.

Sometimes I go to the meadow by myself and I find that Pippin has come there ahead of me. There is magic there. It is not always good magic but it is magic all the same. Late one night Pippin and I were forced to flee from the meadow. I don’t know what else was there on that night but something was. I remember feeling a cold chill and being certain that we were in mortal danger. We could hear something moving quickly through the grass in our direction. It pursued us to the edge of the trees and then turned back, but not without leaving its mark upon me, both physically and emotionally. I was twenty-five on that occasion and Pippin was seventeen. We do not go to the meadow after dark now. I think our meadow belongs to someone or something else at night and I have no desire to encounter the evening occupant again.

I wonder sometimes if we are still in the Shire when we are in the meadow. Pippin thinks the meadow is Elvish in some way. He says that the Elves left it hidden behind the trees and that we found it by some lucky accident. Frodo once told me that there are places the Elves can go that we do not see and so Pippin’s theory makes some sense at least. He supports it by reminding me that on three occasions when he and I came to the meadow we were unable to find it. The first time I thought we had lost it forever but when we returned the next day we had no problem at all locating the grassy meadow with its sweet smelling flowers. Pippin says that during the times that we were unable to find the meadow the Elves were using it and wouldn’t allow us entrance. I don’t know if I believe that exactly. I only know that when the meadow is gone, there is no finding it. This should frighten me but surprisingly it doesn’t. If Elves do visit the meadow from time to time then under the bright sunshine it must not be an evil place. I can’t imagine creatures, such as Frodo describes Elves to be, involving themselves with anything evil.

Still, whatever it is that dwells here at night is not Elvish at all. I used to worry that we might return here in the daylight to find that the evil presence was waiting for us but I have since decided that it cannot abide here when the sun is out. And besides, Pippin has told me that it is so, and I believe him.

In the daylight, for two hobbits with a picnic lunch or some other form of entertainment, the meadow is a splendid place. The high grass waves in the breeze as the sun kisses it with warmth. The smells of fresh green plants, fragrant flowers and warm earth fill the air about us and Pippin and I enjoy a few stolen hours of magic. I do not understand how this place has come to be or why we are allowed to enter it nor do I doubt its magic. This is a place of splendor.

I am certain that there are others within the Shire though this is the only one I know. It makes me wonder why anyone would ever dream of leaving. There are adventures and secrets aplenty for Hobbits right here in our little country. We Hobbits are blessed to be allowed to share in that. Walking trips with Frodo are fine but I can see no reason to journey outside of the Shire. Perhaps one day, I will change my mind, but for the present, I am satisfied to spend the occasional day in the meadow with Pippin.

This entry recorded here by Meriadoc Brandybuck at Brandy Hall in Buckland, The Shire

The End

GW 07/16/2006