A wee bit of fluff. Because Jana is a slavedriver ;-)
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On A Winter’s Day

The snow was drifting peacefully down upon the rowdy children. Some were building a huge snowhobbit while others were having a snowball war. It was all such bliss. A really decent snowfall only happened about once or twice a winter in the whole of the Shire, at least outside of the North Farthing, and even there it was only the parts furthest north that had regular snowfalls.

That this particular snowfall should happen to fall on Buckland and should happen to fall just after Yule was nothing short of a marvel. Just as the adults were beginning to tire of looking after energetic young ones, the blessed white fluff arrived to give a reason to send them all outside to play. Although it must be said that many of the adults were outside as well, even several of the older ones, after all, it was fun and it built up a wondrous appetite.

Merry, at the ripe old age of thirty one, still became a bit giddy at the idea of snow that was deep enough to romp in. He was old enough, however, to be willing to leave off being in the snowball war to help the littler lads and lasses with their giant snowhobbit. It was thanks to Merry’s help, and that of a few other of the older lads as well as two adults, that the snow hobbit ended up standing perilously close to four and a half feet tall. Several large swaths of green grass, already becoming re-dusted with snow, showed where they had rolled the huge snowballs for the giant’s three sections. The head was lifted into place by two of the Hall’s stonemasons; Marin Stoner set it in place whilst standing on his brother Nolo Stoner’s back.

Now, Merry stood looking away from the snowhobbit; away from the snowball war. He and his older cousin Frodo were looking toward what, in the warmer months, was one of Brandyhall’s beautiful gardens but now was several beds of dead looking sticks with benches positioned here and there amongst them. On one of the benches, all alone, sat their younger cousin Pippin. He looked to be sad as well as alone for he was hunched over and his head was down. The older cousins gave each other a nod then quietly walked toward the lad.

They knew, even though many believed otherwise, that Pippin could sit still for long periods of time if he was downhearted or something was holding his interest. On occasion, he did it just to prove he could. It was easy to tell that he had been sitting on the bench for a lengthy time; his head and back were white with snow and there was at least a half-inch layer upon the bench around his bum. As they neared him, they could hear him talking to himself.

“There! Another whole one. ‘Tis one of the fancier ones. Drat! You were too close again, Pippin.”

“Too close for what?” Frodo asked, making the youngster jump with surprise and sending a cascade of snow down off of his head and back.

He gasped sharply. “Don’t do that!” He took a deep breath, holding his hand to his chest and looking very much like an old auntie about to swoon.

“Sorry Pip and too close for what?” Frodo smiled at the lad and ruffled his hair, sending more snow flying. “You nearly blended in with the scenery, Peregrin you’re so covered with snow. You ought to have a hat.”

“I do,” he said sheepishly, pulling the snow encrusted garment off the bench beside himself and shaking it free of the white fluff. “I was too close and melted it. Melted the snowflake with my breath that is.”

“Nothing to be saying ‘drat’ about on a day like today,” Merry chuckled. “There are plenty more of them floating around. I hardly think your melting one will make a great deal of difference, Pippin.”

“Yes, yes. But I was trying to look at that one. They land on my scarf and I look at them. I was using my mittens, but my hands are too warm and they melted too quickly.” He looked at his mittened hands to see they too were crusty with snow. “Well, they were too warm before.” Pippin shrugged his shoulders.

“You must be getting cold!” Frodo exclaimed. “No,” he added looking more closely at the hair he had ruffled moments ago. “You are frozen. We need to get you inside.”

“No! No, I can’t go in yet. I . . . I need to look at some more of them. I’m not even shivering, Frodo.”

Actually, he was.

“And my teeth aren’t even chattering.”

He was holding them clenched tight.

Merry was shaking his head. “No. Sorry Pip, but you are at least trembling, your nose and cheeks are bright red, and your jaws are clenched so tightly that I’ll be surprised if you will be able to fully open your mouth for a week.”

“But . . . but, they’re beautiful! Have you ever really looked at them Merry? Frodo? There are different types and sizes. Some very plain ones and some very, very fancy ones that look like those circular doilies that hobbitesses put on tables and such.”

“Really?” Merry asked, moving forward to look more closely at the white specks on his cousin’s scarf.

“You’ve never looked, Merry?” Frodo’s surprise showed in his voice. Merry usually wanted to know everything.

If his cheeks hadn’t been so cold, Merry would have been blushing. “No. Whenever it fell I was always too busy playing in the snow to really look at it.”

“It really is beautiful, Merry,” Pippin enthused. “When it is sunny after it has snowed, the sun shines on it and some of the flakes are like wee tiny round mirrors. You have noticed that, haven’t you, Merry? It looks like someone scattered diamonds on the snow. And today I was making more of a s-study than I h-have before of the different kinds of f-flakes.”

Frodo narrowed his eyes and scowled at Pippin. “You got me distracted you imp. Into the Hall with you this instant! You’re teeth are chattering.” He pulled the lad up by his arm. “We’ll all go in. I’m more than ready for some tea and biscuits. How about you lads?”

“Yes!” Merry and Pippin said together.

“It’s a s-shame you c-came over so late, M-Merry,” Pippin chattered away through his chattering teeth as they trudged through the snow toward one of the side doors into Brandy Hall. “I c-could have s-shown you so m-much! T-there are at least f-four different t-types of f-flakes that I n-noticed. And Merry?”

“Yes Pip?”

“Of the t-two hundred an-and twelve I l-looked at, I would s-swear n-none of them were e-exactly alike.”

“Two hundred and twelve?” Merry and Frodo gasped.

That was a lot to consider as they walked in silence through the dying light of a snow dusted winter’s evening toward the warmth and sustenance of the Hall.