Chapter 2. In which larger sisters are likened to orcs, or perhaps trolls

Merry was bored silly. Every summer they came from Buckland to visit Whittacres Farm, and every winter his Uncle Dinny and Auntie Aggie and cousins Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca came to Buckland for Yule. He much preferred the latter: At least in Brandy Hall he could escape the attentions of his giggly cousins. Well, Pearl wasn't all that giggly. She was something of a sensible lass, who had learnt how to bake gingerbread and apple tart, and when she did such things she usually asked Merry and Frodo to sample her baking "to make sure it all turned out right".

Merry frowned and then for some reason he found it necessary to blink fiercely, and in the end he fisted his eyes. Frodo had always come to the farm with them for past visits. Always. But now he was Uncle Bilbo's lad, living at Bag End. The Brandybucks had stopped over on their way to the farm, and they'd stop again on their way back to Buckland, but it wasn't the same thing at all!

His cousin Ferdibrand had not been much comfort. The little lad was only five after all, due to turn six in another month, but not much more than a faunt. Why, he still sucked the two first fingers of his left hand! It was quite as babyish as sucking one's thumb, something that Merry, at the grand age of seven, had left far behind him. The worst thing was that Ferdi had an older sister, and every time the lads got properly dirty she'd swoop upon her little brother and carry him off. Their mother was a prim and proper Bolger and did not seem to understand that farms are dirty places, and proper diversion necessitates soiling.

'Such large words from such a little hobbit!' came a laugh behind him, and Merry realised he'd been grumbling aloud. He whirled and coloured. 'H'lo, Uncle Ferdinand,' he said. Not truly his uncle, but Ferdinand was as close as a brother to Uncle Paladin. "Dinny and Dinny" the two of them were called, when they were together. Very silly, in Merry's opinion.

'I am in complete agreement!' Ferdinand continued, swinging Merry to his shoulder.

Without his meaning it to, Merry's face broke out in a grin of delight, to see the world from this high vantage.

'Proper diversion necessitates a goodly amount of soiling,' Ferdinand continued. 'I have yet to convince my wife of that fact, however. She seems to think that young Ferdi is more doll than laddie. 'Tis a good thing he doesn't mind splashing in the bath!'

Merry pulled a long face at this, and the grown hobbit laughed again, and dug in his pocket, coming out with a sticky sweet. 'Here,' he said. 'I'd only give it to one of the ponies, after all, and it's not good for their teeth.'

Merry took the treat and popped it into his mouth, crunching down on pepperminty delight. 'Thanks, Uncle Dinny,' he said with a grin.

Ferdinand swung him down again and stood him on his feet. 'Don't mention it,' he said with a grin of his own. 'If it comes to the ponies' ears, they won't be talking to me for a week!'

Whistling, he walked off toward the field, halter and rope over his shoulder, ready to begin another training session.

Merry debated whether to watch, or to go into the smial in search of sustenance, for it was that difficult time too long after elevenses and not soon enough before luncheon, when the kitchen was full of bustling and young hobbits were likely to be scolded and sent away again, empty-handed, so as not to spoil their appetites when mealtime was so near.

The rumbling of his tummy decided him. Things went much as he'd anticipated, however, and he found himself thrust out of the kitchen into the hallway. Hearing giggles, he froze, but realised quickly that the sound came from one of the bedrooms. In point of fact, it came from the bedroom his girl-cousins shared. There seemed to be a great deal of chatter and merriment coming from the room. Indeed, they seemed to be having a better time than Merry at the moment!

He wondered what they'd found to do, his Whittacres cousins and Ferdi's sister, to fill up the long stretch between meals. Usually Merry could fill the time by following his father like a young shadow, but Saradoc and Paladin had gone up to Waymoot Market, and had expected to stay the night before returning. Merry had never spent a night away from his mother, yet. He had begged to go along, but his father had only laughed and tousled his curls. 'Someone's got to look after the ladies, my lad,' Saradoc had said. 'What would they do, without you and young Ferdi to watch over them?'

It was a heavy responsibility to bear. Finger-sucking Ferdi wasn't much help, truth be told. Merry doubted he could count on the younger lad in an emergency.

Creeping down the hallway on soft hobbit feet, he peeped cautiously in at the doorway, and froze in horror and consternation.

It was as bad as any expected horror of the past, like the knowing that it would be liver for Uncle Merimac's birthday feast, every year, without fail.

No, this was worse.

It was worse, partly because Frodo was not here to bear it with him. (Frodo could make the awfullest faces whilst consuming his portion of liver, without the grownups noticing, and making Merry forget his own distress into the bargain, even though he had to eat the horrid stuff in order to have a slice of the birthday cake for afters.)

It was worse, partly because it was clear to Merry that he could not stand by and simply watch such torture inflicted on an innocent and helpless young hobbit; he could not in all conscience simply walk away. No, if there were a rescue to be made, it appeared that he must be the rescuer.

There was not a moment to waste.

Ferdi stood miserably on a small stool, fingers firmly in his mouth, his eyes enormous, a look of long-suffering on his face. Merry had seen such a look on one of the Hall's kittens when his visiting Took cousins had taken it into their heads to dress the poor creature in baby's gown and cap and wheel it about in a pram.

The poor lad was well-decorated. A Maypole might have more ribbons, and a grandmother more lace... and the giggling lasses were draping ever more elaborate windings around him, pinning them in place, and enthusing about the "gown" they were creating.

Little Ferdi saw Merry hesitating in the doorway, and a flush of shame rose in his cheeks even as the tears rose in his eyes. A fat tear rolled down his cheek as he tried hobbitfully to blink away his distress.

Pimpernel, to her credit, seeing the trickling tear, said, 'O now, Ferdi-love, is it so bad as all that...? Pearl, perhaps we oughtn't...'

The little lad gave her a grateful look, but Pearl, her mouth full of pins, muttered, 'Don't move, Ferdi! We're nearly finished, and then we'll call Mum and the Aunties to admire our handiwork...' And Rosemary, Ferdi's older sister, who in Merry's opinion ought to have been protecting her younger brother instead of taking part in humiliating him, told Ferdi to keep still.

Merry stopped to hear no more. 'You have the right of it, Nell!' he said as he rushed into the room and seized Ferdi's hands. 'Jump down!' he ordered.

Ferdi jumped, yelping as the sudden movement forced several pins into tender flesh. But bravely he followed his saviour from the room at a run as Merry turned and fled.

***

'Very brave indeed!' Pippin laughed, jabbing at Ferdi with the stem of his pipe.

Ferdi gazed speculatively into his mug of icy springwater, but if he had thoughts of dousing his cousin's enthusiasm, he kept them to himself. 'Saved from a fate worse than...' he murmured, and shook his head. 'Really, Merry, if you hadn't...'

'And that was the adventure?' Pippin said. 'Fairly tame, that. Why, my sisters put me through much worse in my time...'

'Not at all!' Merry said, getting into the spirit of the thing. 'Why, that was only the beginning of it all. There's more, much more. Ferdi, you cannot stop there! You have got to tell the rest of it.'

'Do I?' Ferdi said, still staring into his mug, his expression unreadable.

'You don't have to tell it if you don't want to,' Jack said, putting forth a sympathetic hand.

'I'm surprised he's told it at all,' Bergil said with a yawn. 'Our Lossarnach cousins tried to do the same to my little brother, a year or two before the siege, and he wouldn't leave my side for months after! As a matter of fact, he could hardly be pried away when they sent the little ones off in the wains before the siege. He said the Orcs that besieged Minas Tirith were hardly worse.'

'Hardly,' Pippin said cheerily. 'Sisters and cousins can be particularly heartless.'

Ferdi raised his gaze to meet Merry's, and the two of them laughed at the same time.

'I got them back, however,' Ferdi said, 'little as I was, and I have them to thank for the adventure that followed.'

'Lasses? Adventure?' Pippin said. 'My sisters?' His eyes narrowed. 'Pimpernel, perhaps... but Vinca was even younger than yourself, Ferdi, and Pearl much too sensible.'

'Not "adventure" in the way you mean,' Merry said, and for some reason he gave a snort. '...and Pearl was not always sensible. Frodo told me how the two of them caught two of the ponies grazing in the far field; he boosted her onto one of them and hauled himself onto the other and the two of them had races and jumping contests...'

'My Pearl?' Pippin said again in astonishment.

Ferdi laughed, but all he said was, 'It's not Pearl's adventure I was thinking of...'

'Pearl had an adventure?' Pippin said.

Merry rolled his eyes up to gaze at the treetops, black against the moon, and began to whistle softly.

'Not my news to tell,' Ferdi said smugly. 'However, she was partly responsible for the adventure that Merry and I...'

'And surely that is "your news to tell",' Jack said with a grin. 'Hobbits having adventures? I can scarcely credit my ears.' He winked.

Bergil barely repressed a snort, and Pippin dissolved in laughter.

'Tell on,' said Merry. 'Or shall I?'

'My mouth is dry,' Ferdi said, though he did not drink from the mug he held.

'That can be remedied,' Merry said, rising. 'I happen to have a bottle of a very fine quality, that I packed for medicinal purposes, just in case some mishap should befall us between New Annuminas and the Brandywine Bridge, and I'm sure that a dry mouth will be nicely remedied thereby.'

'Very fine quality?' Pippin said, pricking up his ears. 'As fine as the Hall's finest?'

'Not quite,' Merry said, his chin high, 'but the finest the royal cellarer could supply, besides the Hall's finest. It would be silly of me to carry my own brandy back to Buckland, after all.'

'About as silly as walking to Michel Delving with a five-year-old in tow,' Ferdi said, 'and you not yet having seen eight years yourself.'

'What?' Pippin said, nearly fumbling his pipe in his surprise. 'Michel Delving?' But Ferdi only shook his head and began to rub at his throat with a solicitous hand.

'Half a moment!' Merry said, and was as good as his word, returning with a stoppered bottle. Ferdi obligingly poured out his mug into the bucket that stood ready near the fire, in case of stray sparks, and after a few sips, he nodded.

'Passable,' he said. 'Now, where was I?'