"Hmm…" Rory perused the document carefully, "I see his writing is definitely coming on, spelling still a bit wobbly though, eh Merry?"

Merry, suddenly finding himself on his feet again and free; ran and stood behind his grandfather. "Did it with a big quill Grandpapa!" Merry announced proudly, "only did fowr blots – and only one on me!"

"Let me see," Rory ignored his still fuming son and examined Merry's proffered hand. "You've got a lot of scratches on there Meriadoc… oh I see, and there's the ink. Well never mind. Now about today…" Rory held up his hand to silence Saradoc. "What have you been getting up to? Because I think Daddy might be a little upset and doesn't understand."

"Well…" Merry took a big breath, " Unkla Bilbo, he told me all of the Rules for birfday and today is my birfday so I wanted to do all of it…"

Merry paused for another breath as Rory and Saradoc turned to Bilbo, until now a silent witness, "Yes, I did give Merry a few details of byrding* Rules. But no more than a brief outline, such as I thought he would need."

This established, Merry continued "and I didunt want to be late to give all the things to everybodys so I hurried and got all the things quickly and gived them out."

"But Merry," Saradoc said, a little more gently this time. "I told you earlier, those things aren't yours to give."

"I know what you sayed!" Merry crossed his arms in obvious exasperation, "so I went and asked Grandpapa again, 'cause you sayed…" Merry turned to Rory, "you sayed when I wuz little you tolded me when I wuz big all of this would be mine…"

"I did!" Rory agreed. "When you're big."

"Well," Merry sighed having finally managed to explain his motives to these rather confusing grown-ups, "I'm big now – I'm three! Everyone says I'm big now! Cook sayed it, Mummy sayed it, you sayed it Grandpapa – so it must be true! So I can gived the things all to everyone if they's mine!"

It took quite a lot of gentle explaining on the part of Old Rory and Bilbo, together with several threats of a spanking from Saradoc, before Merry understood that, while he would eventually inherit all of Brandy Hall, that particular day was still quite a long way off.

Saradoc also promised, much to Esmeralda's dismay and in spite of Rory's protests, that one more piece of damage, embarrassment or wanton vandalism today, would result in a sound spanking, birthday or not, and his summary exclusion from his own party! He then strode away, with a grim face, to reclaim any overly extravagant gifts and apologise for his son's misplaced philanthropy.

Eventually Merry set off, hand in hand with Rory; firstly to apologise to Grandmama Gilda for her roses and secondly to gather some lady-smocks and bluebells from the lower pasture to give to his parents.

"You see Merry," Bilbo carried the explanation on, "the best present a faunt can give to his parents is a posy of new flowers from the meadow – that, or something you make yourself. Such as a picture you've drawn, or a little pastry you've baked."

"With help, of course," Rory added hastily. He was very proud of his grandson's determination to handle things on his own, but was beginning to realise that it had its drawbacks.

"Going to pick all the flowers there is!" Merry declared happily. "Is going to be biggest posy ever, bigger than the old Willow tree! Big 'nuff to give to all the peoples at my party!"

"No! No! Merry," Rory laughed at this stirring ambition. "Just enough for Mummy and Daddy and some for Grandmama Gilda. There are plenty of little presents all wrapped up to give to the party guests."

"What about Fro?" Merry insisted, "He got to have somethings extra nice!"

"Is that why you wrote him that enormous cheque?" Bilbo chuckled. He knew very well that Frodo would have thought it a fine joke, which was why he had given it straight back to Saradoc.

"Yes, he gets sad, 'cause of no Mummy and Daddy and he's werry, werry kind to me – all the time and he gaved me his hoop, all for my werry own!"

"Well," suggested Bilbo, "you could paint him a nice picture."

"Unkla Bilbo! Unkla Bilbo!" Merry's insistent voice and door rapping woke the elderly hobbit from his post-prandial nap. "Come and see what I done!"

Bilbo sighed and dragged himself up from the comfortable armchair and opened the door. The cause of the morning's mayhem was standing there with a large grin on his face together with large sploges of blue, green and yellow paint, which also covered his hands, arms, hair and clothes. "Merry, now what have you been up to?"

"Did a painting for my Fro – come and see?" Merry did not wait for Bilbo's acceptance but trotted off along the corridor to his new bedroom.

"Well," Bilbo chortled to himself, as he followed his enthusiastic little cousin, "even if he's made a mess of himself, it's nothing a good bath won't cure – and at least he's getting the right idea now."

"Oh My Good Groats!" As Bilbo entered Merry's newly decorated bedroom he had to grab hold of the tallboy to steady himself.

"Is it good?" Merry enquired hopefully, "You think Fro will like it? Did some bits wrong and started again, but it's all finished now."

"Merry! I… I… I'm lost for words!" Bilbo's mouth was hanging open. After the mornings' mayhem and consequent lectures and threats of punishment, the old hobbit was dumfounded. And the worst of it was, he suspected he may have even been the cause.

Merry's pristine new bedroom was no longer pristine. The floor, furniture and walls were covered in large splats of paint. On the far wall, which that morning had been sparkling white, was a strange (well several strange but most of them crossed out) drawing of a stick hobbit. In one hand he held what had to be a hoop and in the other a stick to drive it with. His hair was distinctively long and curly and unmistakable were the two enormous blue blobs that represented the subject's eyes. Beneath the portrait, lovingly inscribed in spidery black paint, was the legend:-

"Only trubble is…" Merry continued, oblivious of Bilbo's distress, "Don't know how to give it to Fro, 'cause it stucked on the wall now and can't taked it to he."

"Merry, Merry," Bilbo knelt down and beckoned the little one to come to him, "listen my child… this is not good."

"Don't you like it?" Merry's eyes started to fill up and a fat tear left a white trail through the paintwork on his face. "Tried my everso best!"

"Good lads don't paint on the walls – you must know that." Bilbo put a finger on the trembling lips. "Where did you get all this paint anyway?"

"In that corner," Merry pointed to a dustsheet that now lay strewn across the floor. Obviously the decorators had been pushed for time and left their equipment behind after finishing the job. "I fourt it was for me to paint with and you sayed…"

"Yes… I know, I know." Bilbo was beginning to realize that this particular faunt not only took everything very literally but was extremely enterprising and resourceful, to say nothing of determined. "But Merry, this is just damage… you know, the kind your Daddy said you weren't to do any more!"

"But Granpapa s-sayed it was my r-room and could do wh-what I wanted in h-here!" Merry stuttered through his tears. "I fourt it would be all right!"

"No Merry," Bilbo stroked the curly head gently, "you have to understand, when someone gives you something, you have to look after it, take care of it. Do you think your Grandpapa will be pleased when he sees what you've done?

"N-no." Merry was at last starting to see the mess through a slightly more adult eye. "Do you fink Daddy will spank me? And not let me in my party?"

"Well now," Bilbo produced a large handkerchief, "I think it was just a misunderstanding. Now dry those eyes, don't you know it's bad luck to cry on your birthday. Let's see what we can do about this. Do you know who the hobbits were who did the decorating?"

"No." Merry sniffed then blew. "It were a sur-sprise from Grandpapa."

"Do you think Frodo will know?"

Merry nodded, "Yes, Fro knows everything!"

"We'll go and find Frodo then," Bilbo announced. "Then he can find the hobbits and get them to paint the room again and nobody need ever know. It'll be our little secret, yours, mine and Frodo's."

"But… but…" Merry rubbed at his swollen eyes, "Unkla Bilbo, what 'bout Fro's picture? It will be all gone and he won't have it… and I did so want him to have something nice."

"Ah now then!" Bilbo straightened up, "I may even have the answer to that. Did you unwrap the present I gave you last night?"

Merry nodded, "did."

"Did you know what it was?"

Merry shook his head in dismay, "some bits of wood but Fro said he'd show me how to make it work later."

"Did he indeed!" Bilbo chuckled. "Well I'll show you now! Go and fetch it."

Merry dug around in his pile of presents and produced the strange sticks that were hinged together at various angles.

"That's it!" Bilbo held it up to the painting, "Just about right. Now fetch me some paper – you do have paper?"

"Yes Unkla,"

Bilbo sighed. Merry indeed had just about everything a young hobbit could possibly wish for and then a lot more besides, which was really a large part of the problem. But perhaps what he really needed was a little care and attention.

"What is it Unkla Bilbo?"

"What this?" Bilbo chuckled, "Oh this is real dwarven magic! Just watch." And skilfully Bilbo set the apparatus up and guided it along the outline of Merry's wall art, transferring the image onto the paper. "But it's called a pantograph!"

Bilbo was as good as his word. Frodo quickly found the hobbits who had done the decorating, large amounts of coin changed hands, the quantity ensuring speed and secrecy and, after a flurry of paint and turpentine and a good airing, Merry's room was soon as good as new.

Merry, the apple of both his Grandfather's and his Father's eye now, presided at his very first birthday feast, handing out the little gifts as the party guests took their places.

Finally the guest Merry was waiting for most arrived at the dining room door. "Fro! I got a werry spechul present for you!" Merry abandoned his position by the neatly stacked pile of wrapped gifts, which were being organised by two attentive maiden aunts, to rummage around in his satchel. He finally produced a slightly grubby, but large piece of paper and handed it solemnly to his older cousin.

"Oh Merry dear," Frodo beamed. It was indeed a special compliment to receive a hand-made gift from the treasured faunt that everyone made such a fuss of. "It's beautiful! Is that me?"

"Yes!" Merry said proudly. "I did it my own self! Only…" and he lowered his voice, drawing Frodo's head down so that he could whisper in his ear, "…it's magnick too! It's got Unkla Bilbo magnick in it!"

Frodo grinned from ear to ear. "That's the best kind!"

*"A person celebrating his/her birthday was called a ribadyan."

"With regard to presents: on his birthday the 'byrding' both gave and received presents." from "The Letters of J R R Tolkien" Letter 214 to A. C. Nunn.