Chapter Four

Merry dozed upon one end of the old log while Frodo napped on the other. Even Pippin was breathing softly as he lay slumped against the tree trunk he claimed earlier. Thin tendrils of smoke floated up into the sky as Merry puffed away in heedless thought. Then Merry realized the sun was well past its apex. “Pippin!” He bolted up, “We were supposed to have met Uncle Paladin in the fields by now!”

Pippin jumped to his feet. They both reeked with smoke and as Pippin stood up, he felt the queasiness come back. Merry took the pipe from Frodo and tapped it on the log to empty the contents. “Sorry, Frodo.” And then ran like the wind.

“Well, don’t let me stop the two of you.” Frodo shouted as he waved them off, “It was good to see you again, Merry! And nice to meet you, too, Pippin--again!”

Both he and Pippin were running at full speed as he saw the fields in the distance. They should have arrived hours ago. Merry’s only task was to take the pig to town, and then meet uncle Paladin here--only a few miles away. He knew he was in trouble.

They flew past the wooded gate and raced to the wagon that held the empty baskets. Each boy grabbed one and headed for the furthest corner of the field so as not to be noticed. Little did they know, Paladin saw everything from his wagon platform.

Merry plopped himself down on the ground, sweating and out of breath for a while. Pippin wasn’t too far away, also winded, knelt down and began picking tomatoes off the vines. Merry looked at Pippin, and Pippin looked back at him. Hopefully, Paladin didn’t see them run in...late--very late. The two boys worked quickly and quietly. Usually they laughed and sang silly childish songs while harvesting. Others could easily guess that they were trying to hide.

The two cousins worked the rest of the afternoon on until one of the field hands called for a water rest. Merry and Pippin stayed put and sat down in front of a thick row of tomato vines. All the better to stay out of Paladin’s view.

“Do you think we’re in trouble?” Pippin asked, peering over the tops of the vines.

“Of course not! Your backside ought to know that better than anyone.”

Pippin couldn’t argue that reasoning; he knew how unruly he could be for his father. Silence.

“What were you going to tell Frodo?” Ventured Pippin.

Merry wiped sweat from his forehead, “What?”

“What were you going to tell Frodo,” Pippin repeated.

Merry was making great effort to avoid the issue. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy, Merry. What were you going to tell Frodo that suddenly you can’t say to me?”

The water bearer came into their clearing holding a large bowl of water. They each took a drink and sat back down.

“Well?” Pippin wasn‘t going to be thwarted.

“It’s private, Pippin,” Merry retorted, “and if you remember, it wasn’t for your ears anyway.”

“We’ve never kept secrets before--why now?”

“Because it’s none of your business!” Merry was beginning to get annoyed.

Neither spoke for a moment. Pippin’s curiosity was restless in his mind. He finally asked, “Did you kiss her?” He smirked, trying to push the right lever.

Merry snapped, “Since you must simply know all my business--yes, I kissed her! There! Are you happy?”

Pippin gasped, “You really kissed her?”

Someone called from a distance that the water rest was over.

Merry ignored Pippin and got up to get his basket.

“Wait! What was it like--and who’s her?”

“Never you mind,” Merry barked his reply.

Pippin now felt guilty over badgering his cousin, “I’m sorry, Merry.”

“You should have thought about that before!” Merry was very angry. Inwardly he did want to talk about it, but wasn’t sure to whom. Pippin was too young to understand and his own father had never been interested in him, let alone a talk about lasses--and the former is what enraged Merry the most. For years his father’s cold heart played on his mind. Frodo had Bilbo, and Pippin had Paladin, but whom did he have? Who would he be able to talk to when he was older and his feelings went beyond a simple kiss? The anger built up in Merry until he exploded and took it out on the nearest person...Pippin. He stopped picking tomatoes and addressed his cousin who was in the next path picking tomatoes of his own.

“Did it matter, Pippin?” Merry began ranting, “I mean, now that you know--did it really matter?” Pippin stopped and looked at his older cousin. “What was it worth it to you? I’m not a little boy anymore, Pip! There are certain things that I don’t wish to tell you--is that so bad?!” Merry picked up his basket, still livid. “Is our friendship based upon what you know of me?”

Pippin studied the teenage hobbit. Friendship? Did Merry consider him an actual friend? If Merry regarded him as a friend, then why was he suddenly attacking him? If I stepped on your toes then just tell me--don’t yell at me! However, if friendship was indeed the case, then Pippin stood his ground and answered, “Yes, Merry, it is!”

Merry shot a look at Pippin and crouched down to pick more tomatoes. “Why?” He demanded. “The details of my life are none of your concern!”

Pippin stooped to put the tomatoes piled in his arms into his basket, “Don’t be absurd, Merry! I’m not talking about the details. I like to know what you’re into because....” Pippin stopped, feeling his thoughts out.

“Because why?” Merry insisted, and stood up waiting for an answer, “Is my personal life the talk of Whitwell?”

Pippin stood up, growing angry himself, “You are behaving like a complete ass today, aren’t you? Do I need to tell you why?”

“Yes--and don’t call me an ass!” Merry shouted back.

“I want to know what you're doing because I care about you, Merry.” Pippin shouted back. “You’re the only cousin I care about and the only brother I will ever have--and in case you haven’t noticed my whole family cares about you!” Then he added just to make Merry’s day, “And I’ll call you an ass if I want to!”

“Well don’t!”, Merry yelled.

Pippin couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Don’t what? Don’t care about you, or don’t tell you you’re behaving like an ass?”

“Just pick up your tomatoes and keep walking,” Merry growled at his cousin, snatching his own basket from the ground and stomped off. Why was Pippin being such...a child! Here he was--a teen--having an argument with an eight-year-old, and the eight-year-old was winning.

Actually, Merry wasn’t being too unreasonable. Merry knew his uncle Paladin and aunt Eglantine loved him as if he were their own son. He had been part of their family during his visits ever since he could remember. But why was it this way? Why wouldn’t his own father love him? Young Merry was hurt and confused. He carried all these feelings bottled up ever since he was a child. His anger had been mounting for years and finally came to a head when he and Saradoc had a severe argument before he ran away to Bag End earlier in the summer. Grateful as Merry was to his uncle, he wanted his own father to love him.

Pippin took up his nearly full basket and began to march towards the wagon. He was furious with Merry. What in Middle Earth had he done or said that upset Merry so much? And why was he yelling at him? If Merry considers us friends, why is it so hard for him to open up? Pippin seethed at Merry’s hurtful words. Don’t care about him? That’s like telling a cricket to be silent. Now it was Pippin’s turn to blow up. He slammed his basket down, picked up a nice soft tomato and threw it at Merry. Right on target! “If you hate me so much, why are you here?” He shouted. Pippin thought Merry would keep walking, but instead, Merry turned around. He, too, dropped his basket and picked up a tomato of his own and hurled it at Pippin. Pippin tried to dodge the red mass, but wasn’t quick enough. He had red tomato all over his back. Pippin picked up another tomato and wound up for his delivery---

“Drop it. Now!”  Both boys froze at the voice.  It was Paladin.