Chapter Nine: Of Fish and Stolen Birds

"Well, here we are!" Milo announced the next afternoon. With a grateful sigh, Merry collapsed on the grass as he had done the day before. After walking the entire morning, he was exhausted—and dreadfully hungry. Unfortunately, there were no mushrooms nearby, so he had to make do with a few seed cakes.

For a few moments, they ate their small (by hobbit standards) meal in silence, each in their own thoughts. "I know what," Milo said suddenly, making them all jump. "Let’s go fishing. You three always enjoyed that—and I daresay fish will taste much better than these seed cakes." Everyone enthusiastically agreed. "You lads didn’t bring your fishing poles, though, did you?" Milo asked. At the dismayed shakes of their heads, he went on, "Oh well, no matter. I’ve brought mine, so we can share it."

The hobbits hastily set up their tents, put their packs inside and stacked some branches for firewood. Frodo was still slightly anxious about leaving their things behind, but he did not wish to spoil the fun for the others, so he said nothing. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he felt uneasy about leaving their things unguarded. He brushed it off and followed the others into the woods toward the creek.

***

"I got one!" Merry cried happily, struggling to reel in the fish on the end of the hook. The fish was so strong that Merry began sliding into the water. Milo wrapped his arms around the lad’s waist and together, they managed to drag the fish to shore.

"Well done, Merry!" Milo panted, unhooking the fish and examining it.

"The biggest one we’ve caught all day," Frodo agreed. Merry beamed.

Milo put the fish in their basket along with the two others they had caught. "What do you three say we head back now?" he suggested. "Three fish should be enough for supper – especially with the size of Merry’s."

Everyone agreed, and they tramped through the trees back toward camp. Merry chatted happily the whole way, boasting about the size of the fish he had once caught in the Brandywine—which, according to him, had been at least as tall as he was; twice as large as the one he had just caught. He also told Milo (for the third time) about the fish he had caught in the river on their way to Bywater, which seemed to grow larger with each telling.

Milo listened with seemingly unending patience, and Sam and Frodo lagged behind to chat quietly between themselves. The creek was only a few minutes’ walk from the campsite, and they were soon there. Everything appeared fine, and Frodo again brushed off his fears and helped Sam light the campfire as Merry eagerly helped Milo in getting the fish ready for cooking.

By the time the sun went down, the campfire was crackling and Sam was serving everyone roasted fish, seed cakes and some berries they had found. They chatted merrily as they ate for a while, and then lapsed into comfortable silence. "Milo," Merry said suddenly, "would you teach me how to carve?"

Milo smiled and ruffled Merry’s curls. "Of course I will, lad," he said. "We can start tomorrow morning, if you like. Carving isn’t too difficult to learn, but it takes a lot of patience."

"I can be patient," Merry said determinedly. "I’ll practice every day—I will!"

The others laughed. "What are you planning on carving first?" Frodo asked.

Merry grinned. "I can’t tell you – it’s a surprise; something for Daisy. I’ll show you what I’m giving Pip, though—for his birthday." He jumped up and dashed into the tent. He knelt down in front of his pack and opened the pocket where he kept the robin. Reaching his hand inside, he felt around for it. It was not there! Swallowing his growing alarm, he opened the top of his pack and dug into it. It was not there, either. He frantically searched every pocket of his pack, and then the pockets of his breeches.

Surely it was here, somewhere. He had just misplaced it. He would find it, and his worry would prove needless. But no matter how hard he searched, he could not find it, or the handkerchief it had been wrapped in.

His robin was gone.

"Frodo! Milo! Sam!" he called frantically, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill out. The others rushed into the tent and crowded around him.

"What is it, Merry?" Frodo asked in alarm, kneeling beside his cousin.

Merry looked up at him, his face white. "My robin is gone—the one Milo made for me," he said softly. "I was going to give it to Pippin since robins are his favorite birds and his birthday is coming up soon. But it’s gone!" He swallowed hard, determined not to lose control of his tears in front of his cousins.

"Are you sure you didn’t put it somewhere else?" Milo asked gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Merry shook his head. "I know I put it in my pack just last night—in the outer pocket. I’ve searched that, and the rest of my pack. It’s not there."

Sam was looking through Merry’s pack as they talked. He looked up and shook his head. "He’s right. It’s not there." Frodo helped Merry to his feet and they searched the other packs without success.

Milo looked out of the tent at the full moon, which was just beginning to rise. "I’m sorry, Merry," he said, turning to him. "But we can’t search any more tonight. It’s getting late. We can search first thing in the morning, I promise."

Merry nodded and sniffled. Truth be told, he did feel quite tired. Frodo gave him a quick hug of encouragement as they spread out their bedrolls and curled up in the blankets. Milo kissed them all softly on the forehead and bade them goodnight, before heading off into his own tent.

Merry settled down beside Frodo and sighed sadly. He was still determined not to lose control of his emotions in front of his cousin, but a solitary tear made its way down his cheek. He angrily reached up and brushed it away, hoping Frodo hadn’t noticed. If he had, his cousin gave no sign, save to nestle slightly closer to Merry.

For a few moments, there was complete silence, broken only by Sam’s soft snoring on the other side of Frodo and the crickets chirping outside. Although he was exhausted, Merry could not sleep. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. ‘What in the Shire could have happened to my robin?’ he wondered. ‘Surely no one could have stolen it—but if it wasn’t stolen, then what happened?’

These questions continued to bother him until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He rolled over to see Frodo, half-asleep, holding his arms open. Merry smiled gratefully and snuggled up close to his cousin, resting his head under Frodo’s chin. He sighed contentedly as he felt Frodo wrap his arms tightly around him, pulling him into a comfortable embrace.

Again there was silence for several minutes. Merry rested happily in his cousin’s arms, listening to the sound of Frodo’s soft breathing. Finally, Merry ventured to speak. "Frodo?" he said quietly. There was no response. "Frodo?" he tried again.

This time, "Hmmm?"

"What if we don’t find my robin?" Merry whispered, growing more frightened with each word he spoke. "What will I give to Pip? I haven’t a single penny to buy anything with, and it would take Milo months to carve another one! Pippin’s birthday is only a month away! Oh, what am I going to do if we can’t find it?"

Frodo pulled away a bit from his cousin and held him at arm’s length. "Of course we shall find your bird, Merry. Don’t lose hope yet. We barely started to search today, and I’m sure it is not far. We will find it tomorrow. Don’t worry." He smiled. "You really should be resting if you want to start looking first thing in the morning."

Merry returned his smile. "I know," he said around a yawn, really too exhausted to stay so panicked. "I am tired." He curled up close to Frodo again, resting his head on his older cousin’s chest. Frodo again wrapped his arms around him. "Good night, Merry," he said softly. "Sleep well."

"Good night," came Merry’s whispered reply, muffled by Frodo’s shirt. The two young hobbits nestled down comfortably into the blankets. Merry felt Sam’s arm curl protectively over Frodo’s side and smiled as he nestled closer into his cousin’s arms. His eyes slowly closed as he was lulled to sleep by the soft, rhythmic beating of Frodo’s heart.

TBC...