MERRY’S DECISION

Disclaimer: The hobbits, nor the story surrounding my wild imagination belong to me; they belong to and are attributed to JRR Tolkien.

 Chapter One

“Thank you, Dahlia.” Merry smiled at the matronly woman who assisted his Aunt Eglantine with the household chores and general ‘keeping in order’ of the children--Took or Brandybuck. She placed his breakfast plate in front of him and returned his smile. She was a tough old bird, as Merry would refer to her at times, but with a heart of gold all the same.

“Ye’re not at Brandy Hall, Master Merry,” she said.

The expression on his face must have alerted her to his mood, yet he spoke of it to no one. He felt miserable and depressed...but he knew Pippin would soon cure those feelings. Yes, he would forget Brandy Hall and put it behind him...for a while. He watched Dahlia wipe her hands on her apron and then turn back to her preparations for baking bread.

Merry relished his visits to Whitwell; he sometimes felt that this was his real home and his real family, and then for the rest of the year he went away to live with a group of hobbits at Brandy Hall. But for his sweet mother, his own home was merely shelter to keep out of the rain.

He sat at the table eating second breakfast and waiting for his cousin Pippin to join him. He and Pippin were to take one of the pigs to the butcher today for Paladin, and then meet him in the fields to help out with the beginnings of harvest. The task seemed easy enough for Merry.

Suddenly, Pippin ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop at the table. “Good morning, Pip!” Merry greeted his young cousin, wondering why he was in such a hurry. Pippin didn’t even bother to sit. He gulped down his mug of milk Dahlia set out for him, grabbed a small loaf of bread, two apples and ran out of the door. He paused only long enough to tell Merry as he ran, “Meet you at the pen!” He called over his shoulder, and then he was off.

Merry didn’t have long to wonder why Pippin was in such haste. He heard commotion and yelling coming from the back of the smial. It was drawing closer to the kitchen until he saw Pimpernel emerge from the hallway crying and screaming at an absent Pippin. “Come back here, you brat!! Come back here and let me flay you for supper tonight!!”

Merry was shocked at Pim’s temper. He’d never seen her so worked up before. Then as he drained his mug of milk he saw it, and snorted a laugh. Pim looked straight at him and quelled any notion to laugh--out loud. Pim sported a new moustache painted under her nose; painted on with one of her own cosmetics, of course, but it was there for the whole world to see. Oh, Pippin, you are going to get it when you get home!, Merry thought as he wiped his mouth. Dahlia hurried over to Pim to help her wash off the paint. He felt his eyes tearing up from holding in his laughter. “I...I need to fetch the pig...for the musta--I, mean, market!” His tried so hard not to laugh. Dahlia and Pim glared at him. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He tripped over his chair trying to make it to the door without getting whacked on the head with a towel, running out holding his sides as he laughed.

Merry ran in the direction of the back pasture. He spotted Pippin sitting and eating his fill of the bread and washing it down with handfuls of water from a nearby rain barrel. He ran towards his cousin. When he stopped, he knelt over with hands on his knees out of breath, “What are you trying to do, Pip? Get yourself killed at the hands of your sisters?”

“You should’ve seen what she did to me yesterday before you arrived,” said Pippin with his mouth full of bread. He swallowed before continuing, “Everyone thought it was so funny for her to put ribbons in my hair while I slept!”

“Did your father find out?” Surely Paladin would’ve stopped the madness right then.

“Of course not,” answered Pippin. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I told papa!” Pippin sneered for better effect, “Pippin’s a little baby--he runs to his papa every time. I can handle my sisters!”

Merry shook his head at his irrepressible cousin, “Your sisters are all older and bigger than you, Pip, and liable to get the better end.”

“Not anymore,” he replied, biting into one of his breakfast apples.

“What are you talking about?” Merry asked as they started walking back in the direction of the pigpen. He knew his young cousin had a secret plan up his sleeve. For an eight-year-old, Pippin didn’t let anything slip past him, and because of this, Merry thought they made a great team.

“I’m fighting fire with fire,” Pippin announced. “For every trick they think they win over me, I will be waiting with a trick of my own! Yesterday’s ribbons declared war!” Pippin thrust a fist in the air for emphasis.

Merry laughed at Pippin’s declaration, “Just be careful the fire doesn’t end up on the seat of your trousers as usual!”