My apologies...when I wrote this story a while back, I didn't realize just how short this chapter was....oops. You'll notice Frodo is doing some irresponsible things because he is still an irresponsible tween, having just turned thirty.

Chapter Ten

Pippin was still listening to Bilbo’s account of Mirkwood and the Elves when one of the older lads called to him from down the hallway. He looked at Bilbo.

“Go on, lad,” said Bilbo, “My tales can wait. I’m needing to wet my dry throat, anyway.”

Pippin smiled and thanked Bilbo for his tales and went after the tweenager. Pippin, still holding his mug of ale, turned up the smaller hallway that led to the back, but seemed to have lost track of his caller. Was it him, or did the hallway just sway a little bit? He caught his balance and heard a sound coming from behind the double doors. “Pssst!” He saw the doors open a crack and so went inside.

The room was foggy with candlelight, a fire in the fireplace, and smoke from five lit pipes. There were several of the older boys in the room. He recognized a few of them: Fredegar, the teen that jested earlier, and he saw Frodo, Sam, and Merry, but the other one he didn’t know. They were sitting in chairs around the hearth smoking pipes. Pippin still held his half-full mug in his hand. Fredegar came up to Pippin and looked in his mug, “What’s this?” Fredegar’s face grew amazed. “Either you’ve got some cheek, laddie, or I’m a Troll’s uncle! That’s ale in there!”

Pippin went toe-to-toe with the teen--he was beginning to hate that word--laddie. “Troll’s uncle? I should say you’re looking even more like a Troll’s backside--of course it’s ale!” This garnered a roar of laughter from the other lads.

“I’d give you a pipe to smoke, Pippin,” offered Frodo, “but the last I remember you had a few...shall we say, difficulties?” A few chuckles.

Pippin sat in the empty chair next to Sam. “Sam, would you mind if I borrowed your pipe?”

Sam looked to Frodo. “Are you up to it, lad?” Frodo asked.

Pippin looked Frodo square in the eye and said, “Hand me your pipe, Sam!”

Sam blew a few puffs, and then handed his pipe to him. All eyes were on Pippin. He took the pipe and settled back into the huge chair. Pippin gave them all a glance before putting the pipe in his mouth and inhaled a long breath. He didn’t even think about it. He exhaled and out came the smoke in a long trailing wisp. Silence. Merry’s jaw dropped. Pippin held his up his mug and took a draught, saying, “Cheers.”