Chapter Twenty-One: Kittens, Bullies and Tooks

"Uncle Bilbo? Uncle, where are you?"

"Uncle! Uncle Bilbo!"

Bilbo looked up from his large red book at the sound of Frodo and Merry’s voices. "I’m in the study!" he called, and heard them come running into the room.

Merry was nearly bouncing with excitement as he stopped in front of Bilbo’s desk. "Uncle Bilbo!" he said enthusiastically. "Can me and Frodo go to the market today? Please?"

Frodo caught his uncle’s questioning look and smiled. "Merry’s earned a few pennies from that walking stick he carved for Fatty Bolger, and he just can’t wait to spend them."

Merry nodded eagerly. "I’m going to buy presents for you, and Frodo and Pippin."

Bilbo laughed and ruffled Merry’s unruly curls. "I hope that they’re nothing too big," he said. "And that your pennies will cover the cost. But if they don’t –" He reached down and brought out a small pouch, jingling loudly as he laid it on the desk. He pulled out two large coppers and dropped them into Merry’s hand. "—This should help."

As Merry gasped and reverently put the money in his pocket, Bilbo looked at Frodo. "And what about you, my lad? Aren’t you going to buy anything at the marketplace?"

Frodo nodded. "I was planning on getting a surprise for someone," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he looked at Bilbo. "And I think that I have enough money to pay for it."

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head. "Well, you never know, so take an extra copper, just in case. Buy yourself something special."

"I’m all right, Uncle, really. I don’t need anything for myself."

"Please take it. If you don’t buy something for yourself, then at least save it for next time."

Frodo sighed and took the offered copper. Bilbo smiled triumphantly. "Well, then, off you go, lads. And when you get back, what do you say to a short hike in the woods by the Water?"

"Of course!" Both exclaimed simultaneously, and laughing, Bilbo shooed them out of the room.

Frodo and Merry strolled leisurely through the marketplace, which was alive with hobbits buying selling, or simply looking and passing through. It was always a busy place, especially in the late afternoons, when all had had at least three meals (which usually put them – the womenfolk especially – into a good shopping mood) and the sun was not too hot. Hobbits enjoy shopping very much, as they are very sociable, and so get to see nearly everyone else in town, but also because it gives them a good appetite for the next meal.

"Can we buy some sweets first?" Merry asked eagerly, licking his lips as he saw two hobbit lasses go skipping by, munching several delicious-looking truffles.

Frodo laughed and shook his head. "First we’ll buy our gifts," he said. "I don’t want you spending all our money on sweets!" Merry offered nothing but a few innocent blinks of his eyes and they continued on through the marketplace.

"Where shall we go first?" asked Frodo presently. "Besides the sweet seller."

Merry deliberated seriously for several moments. Then, he said, "Let’s go into the book shop."

Frodo looked down at him in surprise. "Whatever for? You’re not one to read much."

Merry smirked. "You’ll see," he said evasively, and taking Frodo by the hand, he walked briskly into the book shop.

***

"All right, Merry, where shall we go now?" Frodo asked about two hours later, shifting his bundle of things into a more comfortable position in his arms. After visiting the book shop (where Merry had secretly bought Frodo a book), they had gone to the toy shop (where Frodo had secretly bought Merry a new slingshot). Then to Miss Primrose Proudfoot, the seamstress (where Frodo picked up a new traveling cloak for Bilbo that he had ordered some weeks before), and then at last, to the sweet vendor’s cart. Merry had bought a small bag of treats: truffles, gum drops, and a stick of licorice.

Merry now grinned slyly up at his cousin. "It’s a surprise," he said quietly, leaning close to his cousin as though afraid that someone would overhear. "You’ll have to follow me." He grabbed Frodo’s hand and quickly pulled him through the marketplace and out into the countryside again. The smoking chimneys of hobbit holes dotted the rolling green hills, and Merry led Frodo quickly to a small little homestead near the Water.

"The Brownlows?" Frodo asked in surprise, looking down at his cousin curiously. Merry said nothing, merely raised his eyebrows cryptically. Still keeping a firm grip on Frodo’s hand, he went up to the round brown door and knocked loudly.

Mistress Tigerlily Brownlow answered it. She looked tired and rather out of sorts, but she gave the lads a fond smile. "Hullo, Master Frodo, Master Merry," she said as cheerfully as she could manage. "What can I do for you?"

Merry smiled brightly. "Hullo, Mistress Brownlow," he said. "I’ve come to see about those kittens that Tim told me you were giving away, if you please. I’d like to give one to my cousin, Pippin." Frodo stared down in astonishment at the young Brandybuck, who paid no heed.

"O' course! Come in, come in. The kittens are in Tim and Jack’s room. You know where that is." She opened the door wider and ushered them inside. A loud crash sounded from the kitchen, and Mistress Brownlow hurried out of the room, calling, "Excuse me for a moment!" as she disappeared.

Merry led Frodo down the narrow hall and to the last room. The grey door was shut, and Merry knocked politely on it. When he received no answer, he shrugged and opened the door. He and Frodo stepped inside, to be greeted by five mewing kittens. "Close the door, so they won’t escape," Merry cautioned his older cousin as he sat down.

Frodo did so and sat down beside Merry, stroking the little black kitten that had instantly claimed his lap for its bed. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to get Pippin a kitten?"

Merry shrugged and let a playful tabby kitten swat at his finger. "It was a secret," he said. "Me and Uncle Bilbo agreed on it a couple days ago, when I met Tim by the Mill and he told me about the kittens. Uncle Bilbo thought it was a splendid idea – and of course he wrote to Pippin’s papa asking if it was all right. Do you know what Mr. Took said?" Frodo sighed and shook his head.

"He said that Pippin’s never had a pet of his own, and that he needed one to teach him responsi…sti-vi-ty," he stumbled over the hard word and tried again. "Responsitilery?"

Frodo chuckled despite himself. "Responsibility," he corrected, painfully disentangling a kitten’s claws from his hair.

"Right," Merry nodded. "So he said that Pip could have a kitten. But since I’ve been here, I missed his birthday – and his party! - yesterday. So it’ll be a late birthday present. I’m giving it to him when he comes to visit tomorrow." He picked up a feisty little calico. "Which one d’you think he’d like best?"

Frodo blinked a few times, but did not comment on the oddity of Merry giving Pippin a present for his birthday. He looked the kittens over. "What about that one," he said, pointing to the large orange and white tabby kitten that was surveying them with cool dignity.

"I dunno," Merry said doubtfully. "He looks kind of…boring." He pried the calico kitten from his waistcoat. "What about this one? He’s more fun."

Frodo took the little kitten gently from Merry and looked at it closely. It was wildly splotched orange and black, but it had a small white diamond on above its nose. It stared back at Frodo with eyes bright yellow, unblinking and full of mischief. "Yes," Frodo said at length, handing the kitten back to Merry. "I think this is the one. It has that same impish glint in its eyes that Pippin has." He shook his head. "I shudder to think what those two will be like together."

Merry pulled the other kittens off of him and held the calico tightly to his chest, so that it wouldn’t run away. "Well, if that’s settled," he said. "Then let' go. We want to be home before supper, don’t we?"

Frodo rose and held out his hand to help Merry up as well. "Yes," he said. "But I have one question first: why didn’t you tell me that Pippin was getting a kitten?" Merry grinned mischievously. "It made it more fun," he said simply, and making sure the kittens stayed back, he opened the door.

They shut it behind them and as they walked down the hallway, they ran into Tim, a young lad of 11. "Hullo, Merry!" he said brightly. "Taking home a kitten? Which one?" Merry showed the boy the calico kitten, careful not to let it jump down. "Ooohh, little Goblin," he giggled. "The meanest one of the lot."

Merry looked down at ‘Goblin.’ "Well, he likes me," he said, in slightly offended tones. "He can’t be that bad."

Tim just shook his head and went chuckling past them down the hall. "Good luck with ’im," he called over his shoulder.

Frodo eyed Goblin suspiciously, only the kitten's head and ears visible from between Merry’s hands. "Of course," he sighed. "We have to go pick the meanest kitten of them all."

Merry shrugged. "He can’t be that bad," he repeated. "He doesn’t seem mean. Just…playful." He winced slightly as Goblin bit his finger with sharp little kitten teeth.

Frodo shook his head, and as they reached the door, Mistress Brownlow came hurrying out of the kitchen. "Picked your kitten already?"

Merry opened his hands to show her the calico and she took a step back. "Oh no, not Goblin," she said. "Are you sure there wasn’t another one you wanted? A gentler one?"

Merry smiled down at the kitten and shook his head. "No thank you, Mistress Brownlow," he said. "He’s just fine."

Mistress Brownlow sighed resignedly. "Very well, Mr. Merry," she said. "But I warn you: that kitten is trouble. Be careful with him."

Merry nodded. "I will," he promised.

Mistress Brownlow opened the door for them. "Good-bye, lads," she said. "Come again soon!"

Merry stopped suddenly and turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, digging into his trouser pocket. "Here." He held out his two coppers, the last of his money.

Mistress Brownlow’s eyes widened. "Oh, no, Master Merry," she protested. "I couldn’t! The kittens are free!"

"Please," Merry insisted. "I really want to."

Mistress Brownlow hesitated a moment more, and then reluctantly accepted the coins. "Thank you, Master Merry," she said sincerely, kissing him on the forehead. "I shan’t forget your kindness." Frodo watched this with admiration and approval for his cousin. He smiled as Merry turned and they headed down the lane. Mistress Brownlow stood in the doorway, waving gratefully.

"Good-bye," she called. "Thank you!"

Merry and Frodo waved back. "Good-bye, Mistress Brownlow," they returned, and continued down the walkway and out onto the dirt lane leading back to Bag End.

"That was very kind of you, Merry," said Frodo, putting an arm around his cousin’s shoulders as they went through Hobbiton. "To give the Brownlows your coppers."

Merry smiled. "They needed them," he said simply. They were nearly through the marketplace, but suddenly Frodo stopped. "What is it?" Merry asked curiously.

"That little girl over there by the sweet seller," said Frodo, and Merry followed his gaze to see a small little hobbit lass, probably in her sixth summer, staring wistfully up at the cart full of candy.

As she glanced behind her, Merry and Frodo recognized her as little Priscilla Goodchild, the daughter of one of the poorer widows of Hobbiton. She obviously did not have enough money to buy herself any candy, and simply stood there staring at it longingly.

Frodo glanced down at Merry and an unspoken agreement passed between them. They walked over to her. "Hullo, 'Cilla," Frodo said, kneeling down to her height. "What’s wrong?"

The little girl sniffed. "N-nothing, Mr. Frodo," she said shyly. "I’m fine."

Frodo smiled kindly at her. "I know what it is. You would like some candy. What kind would you like?"

Her round blue eyes widened. "I’d like a stick of licorice and four truffles," she said wistfully, and then remembering who she was speaking to, she blushed and looked down.

"It’s all right, Cilla," Frodo assured her, standing up. "Wait just a moment." He walked over to the sweet seller. "How much would one stick of licorice and a handful of truffles cost, sir?"

The sweet seller smiled. "That’d cost six silver pennies, Master Frodo."

Frodo reached into his trouser pocket and brought out his copper. "Here, then," he said, handing it to him. "Keep the change."

"Thank you, young sir," said the astonished sweet seller. "But I couldn’t."

Frodo wasn’t listening, however, for he had gone back to little Cilla. "Come here," he said, offering his hand. They walked closer to the cart, and Frodo lifted her up so that she could see. "Which licorice stick do you want?"

Cilla pointed to the red ones. "One of those," she said. "They’re pretty."

The sweet seller took out a small bag and handed her one the red licorice sticks. "Now pick out your truffles," Frodo said. Cilla looked at him curiously. "Just grab a handful."

Cilla eagerly dipped her small hands into the box of truffles and pulled out a large handful of them. She dumped them into the bag and the sweet seller handed it to her, giving her a fond pat on the head. Frodo set her down, and she stared at him with wide eyes. "Are they really for me?" she asked incredulously.

Frodo nodded with a smile. "Yes, just for you," he said. "Now go on and find someplace to eat them. But not too fast – you don’t want to give yourself a tummyache!" Cilla stood on tip-toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping off, already sucking on the licorice stick.

Frodo and Merry watched her go with a smile, until the younger lad touched Frodo’s arm. "Come on," he said. "We’d best get back before Uncle Bilbo worries." They left the marketplace, both feeling satisfied and blessed to have been able to bless someone else.

As they started up the Hill, they heard the sound of hoof-beats behind them, slow and plodding. They turned around, and to their utmost horror, they saw that it was Lobelia and Otho, driving a pony-trap towards them. Lotho walked behind it, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, looking sulky. "Quick, hide!" Merry squeaked, diving into the tall grass on the side of the road. Frodo hesitated a moment, and then threw himself down next to Merry, just in time.

The pony-trap slowly moved towards them, and they could hear Lobelia bickering with Otho. "…And I can’t believe that Lotho would lie to me! It must be the influence of that Ted Sandyman – and old Bilbo’s nephew." Detest was obvious in her voice.

"But surely you don’t believe a Brandybuck over your own son?" said Otho, glancing down at the object of their discussion, who still walked sullenly beside the carriage. Lobelia did her best haughty sniff. "Of course not," she said. "I don’t trust that Frodo at all, or that gardener of old Bilbo’s. And I don’t think that the bird really was that cousin’s of his – what was his name? Meriadoc, that’s right. Never trust a Brandybuck, I always say! But Lotho has told me himself that he lied about the bird being his."

Otho looked down at his son. "Why would you lie to your mother?" he asked sternly. Lotho mumbled something inaudible, and his parents unwisely did not press him to answer. Lobelia went on rambling about Brandybucks yet again, with Otho adding a word of agreement here and there.

Then, as the pony-trap passed right in front of Frodo and Merry, Lotho happened to glance down. His eyes widened as he saw them, and a grin slowly spread across his face. "Half a minute!" he called to his parents. "Don’t wait for me." They did not even stop their conversation, but continued on.

Frodo and Merry slowly stood up, and the latter tucked little Goblin into his deep trouser pocket. "Well, well," Lotho said in a feigned pleasant tone. "Frodo the Bucklander and his friend. I haven’t seen you since the trial." Neither one said anything, but Merry’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Do you know who got blamed for that?" Lotho went on, pacing in front of them. "Me! When it’s all your fault!" He directed this accusation at Frodo.

Frodo sighed. "Lotho, that was over a week ago. Can’t you forget about it?"

Lotho whirled around to face him. "Forget?" he repeated. "Forget? Of course I can’t forget! Mother hardly even speaks to me now, and now father’s home and hearing all about it…" For a moment, he seemed so miserable that Frodo actually pitied him.

Then Lotho’s sadness turned to anger. "And you! You’re the one to blame!"

Frodo took a small involuntary step back as the larger boy furiously advanced. "How am I to blame?" he asked logically. "What did I do?"

"You--" Lotho suddenly stopped and stooped to pick something up. A small calico kitten.

"Goblin!" Merry cried before he could stop himself.

Lotho smirked and held the kitten up. "So this little rodent is yours, eh?" he laughed. "Ugly little thing." Merry jumped up, trying to reach Goblin, but Lotho held it just above his reach.

"Lotho, give him back his kitten," said Frodo firmly, reaching up and putting his hand over Lotho’s which held Goblin. Not wanting to hurt the kitten, he could do nothing but try to convince the bully to let him go without harming him.

"Oh no, Bucklander," Lotho said. "I want to see your friend’s little cat." With his free hand, he reached out and firmly grabbed Frodo’s wrist, prying his hand from the kitten. He kept a painfully tight hold on the younger lad’s wrist while – ignoring Frodo and Merry’s protests – he brought little Goblin up close to his face.

"Hullo, little mouse," he sneered. "Want to play?" Goblin hissed and flattened his small ears against his skull. Lotho laughed at the tiny creature’s display of anger, but his laughter quickly turned to howls of pain as Goblin suddenly squirmed free of his grasp and launched himself onto the bully’s face. He continued to hiss as he tore at Lotho’s face with his claws, his yellow eyes flashing.

Lotho dropped Frodo’s wrist and tried to pry Goblin off his face, but only succeeded in scratching himself more. Seeing the former bully shrieking with pain, a furious kitten attached to his face, was quite comical. Merry was doubled up with laughter, and even Frodo had difficulty in keeping back a chuckle as he tried to calm Lotho and remove Goblin’s claws from his face.

It took quite a while, but finally, Frodo managed to gently but firmly detach the kitten from Lotho’s face, and he handed him back to Merry. Lotho sniffled pitifully, and without a word, quickly ran up to catch up with his parents; his face scratched and bleeding.

Frodo and Merry stood in the road, watching until Lotho disappeared down the other side, before Merry giggled. "Well, what’re we standing here for?" he said, keeping a firm grip on Goblin as he trotted towards Bag End. "We’ve got to tell Uncle Bilbo!"

Frodo followed him more slowly, rubbing his sore wrist, which had red marks from Lotho’s fingers all the way around it, over the thin white scars of his Fire Snake bite. He hoped that Lotho would leave them alone for a while; especially as Pippin was coming for a short visit tomorrow, and he did not want the little Took to get himself into trouble with Lotho.

***

The next morning, Merry was up with the sun (quite early for hobbits – and Merry especially!). As he was sleeping in Frodo’s room, he also woke his older cousin up early, much to Frodo’s annoyance. "Merry," he groaned, burying his face in the pillow, "can’t you let me sleep for a few more hours? It isn’t even seven o’clock yet."

Merry grinned mischievously and stripped the covers off Frodo, and then proceeded to straddle the older lad’s back and pull the pillow off his head. "Rise and shine, cousin!" he crowed cheerfully. "Pippin’s coming today!"

Frodo mumbled something that was muffled in the bedsheets, and turned his face to the side so that he could see Merry out of the corner of his eye. "You do realize that Pippin won’t be here until supper-time, don’t you?"

Merry’s grin faded slightly at the thought of having to wait so long, but it quickly returned as an idea came to mind. "Then we have plenty of time to get ready!" He hopped off Frodo’s bed and pulled back the curtains, allowing the sunlight to stream into the room. Frodo groaned, and retrieving his pillow, he again buried his face beneath it.

Merry watched his cousin silently for a while, and Frodo was nearly asleep again when he spoke. "Well, Frodo," he said softly, in a voice that sounded meek and innocent, "if you don’t want to wake up and help me, I suppose I’ll just have to do it all by myself." He sniffled, and saw with satisfaction that Frodo’s eyes opened halfway beneath the pillow. His cousin had a soft heart and easily felt guilty, which Merry knew quite well and often used against him.

But it didn’t always work.

Frodo had grown up with Merry constantly playing tricks on him (and vice versa), and had come to recognize a trick when he heard it – most of the time. "Yes, Merry," he said. "I’m afraid you shall have to do it alone. I’m simply too tired to get up right now."

He kept his face mostly under the pillow as he spoke to hide his grin. He heard a whispered, "Blast." And knew that he had won this match.

Merry sighed and tried again, from a different angle. "All right then, cousin Frodo," he said, folding his arms across his chest and giving Frodo a smug smile. "If you won’t help me, then I will do it all by myself. I’ll cook the food, and wash the dishes… but I should probably bring something to read for when I’m waiting for the food to cook." He went over to a small chest in the corner of the room, and opening it, he pulled out a thin, leather-bound book. He closed the chest and turned around, watching with pleasure as Frodo’s eyes flew fully open and he sat up.

"You wouldn’t!" Frodo gasped. Merry raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn’t I? I don’t see why not. You read my journal."

Frodo’s eyes widened and he jumped out of bed. "I didn't! It fell, and I just picked it up!" Merry laughed and dodged around his cousin, keeping the book just out of reach. Frodo yelped as he began to flip through the pages, and quickly gave chase.

As he ran and dodged, Merry pretended to read from the journal. He would never truly do it, although he was sorely tempted. He laughed at the fright he was giving Frodo, effectively sounding as though he was laughing at something written in the journal.

At last, Frodo caught him, and tackled him to the floor. Although both were laughing by now, as Frodo grabbed the book from Merry, the younger boy could detect a hint of genuine fear in his eyes. He was enjoying every minute of it. "I wonder what Pippin will think when I tell him what you wrote," he said mischievously.

Frodo firmly held him in place on the floor. "Don’t tell anyone, Merry," he said earnestly. He truly sounded - and looked – nearly panicked, and Merry almost began to feel remorseful.

Frodo stood up and went over to his chest, opening it and slipping the book carefully inside. He grabbed a key from a shelf above it, and locked the chest closed. When he turned around, Merry was shocked to see that his bright blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Please, don’t say a word about what you’ve read," Frodo pleaded, sitting down on the floor and burying his face in his hands.

Merry picked himself up off the floor and came over to his distraught cousin, slipping a comforting arm around his shoulders. "It’s all right, Frodo," he said softly. "I didn’t truly read anything -- and even if I had, I wouldn’t tell anyone. Please don’t cry." He didn’t catch the mischievous gleam in Frodo’s eye, hidden behind his hands, until it was too late.

Frodo suddenly grabbed Merry and pinned him to the floor. He sat on his cousin’s stomach, careful not to put his full weight on him, and began to tickle him viscously. Merry could not believe the sudden change in Frodo’s attitude, and while he laughed and screamed for mercy, he realized that he had been tricked. Frodo hadn’t been sad at all!

Now he fought back with playful fury, managing to wiggle free of Frodo’s grasp and launching himself at his cousin, knocking them both to the floor. Now it was Frodo’s turn to beg for mercy. Merry’s small nimble fingers were merciless, picking out Frodo’s most ticklish spots and tickling them unceasingly.

Their game was suddenly interrupted by Bilbo coming into the room. "What’s all the noise about?" he asked curiously, taking in his two nephews on the floor.

"Nothing, Uncle Bilbo," Merry said innocently. "We’re only playing."

Bilbo yawned. "It’s rather early to be playing, isn’t it?"

Frodo, with difficulty, managed to raise his head off the floor and look at his uncle. "Merry couldn’t sleep – he’s too excited about Pippin. And he woke me up as well."

Still sitting on Frodo’s stomach, Merry turned around with a grin. "He was just being lazy."

Bilbo shrugged at the antics of the two lads. "All right then," he said. "I’m going to go make breakfast." He left, and Merry and Frodo resumed their tickling match.

When they finally stopped, breathless but still laughing, Frodo stood up and dusted himself off. "We’d best get dressed," he advised, "Uncle Bilbo will have breakfast ready soon." Merry nodded with a reluctant sigh, and grabbed his trousers from where they were crumpled carelessly on the floor. He slipped them on under his nightshirt, and then went over to his pack to find his shirt and waistcoat for the day.

When they finally trooped down the hall into the kitchen, Bilbo was just finishing breakfast. "Hullo, lads," he said, much more awake and cheerful. "’Tis about time. Hungry?"

Merry licked his lips and sat down at the table, while Frodo went to help Bilbo. "I’m starving!" the youngest hobbit announced. "What’re we having?"

Frodo carried a plate over and set it down in front of Merry. "Scrambled eggs, sausages and hotcakes," he said. Merry did not even wait for him to finish, but eagerly dove into the food. Frodo laughed and shook his head, heading back to get a plate of his own.

After breakfast, Frodo and Merry spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in and around Hobbiton, doing nothing in particular. Sam had too much work to do in the garden to play, much to his secret disappointment. Towards teatime, large clouds began to build up from the west. Frodo and Merry were playing down by (and in) the Water, the stream the flowed on the outskirts of Hobbiton, when it began to rain.

"Oh no," Merry groaned, wading through the water and up onto the bank where Frodo was. "It can’t rain! What about the party tomorrow?" Bilbo’s 106th and Frodo’s 28th birthday were tomorrow, and Bilbo’s parties were always grand, with lots of presents for all.

Frodo chuckled and helped Merry climb up the steep bank. "Don’t worry, Merry," he reassured his younger cousin. "Uncle Bilbo has probably already set up the tents around the Party Tree. We’ll still be able to have the party." They walked back through Hobbiton, and the rain began to pour down on them. They met Sam, heading for home with his gardening tools over his shoulder. "Hullo, Sam," Frodo called over the roar of the rain. "Too wet for gardening!"

"Yes sir," Sam called back. "But shouldn’t you be goin’ inside? Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold."

Frodo laughed at the over-protectiveness of the younger boy. "Of course, Sam," he said. "We’re heading in now. But you should get inside, too. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!"

Sam grinned. "I’m fine, Mr. Frodo," he said. "Only been sick once in me whole life." The rain increased, now coming down in torrents. "But I’d best go. Good-bye, Mr. Frodo, Mr. Merry!" He waved as he passed them and was soon out of sight in the thick mists that slowly covered the Hill.

"See you at the party, tomorrow, Sam!" Frodo called back.

"Good-bye, Sam!" Merry added, "See you tomorrow!"

Frodo and Merry continued quickly up the Hill, barely able to see for the blinding rain and mists, which grew thicker by the minute. Their hands met and clasped, so that they would not get separated. They finally reached the top, but because of the mists, they could not see Bag End. They stood for a moment, not wishing to run straight into the garden gate, but also not wishing to go the wrong way and get lost in the thick fog.

But their decision was made for them when a light suddenly appeared through the mists directly in front of them. It was Bilbo, holding aloft a lantern, standing on the front step. When he saw the lads, he sighed with relief. "Thank goodness!" he said, coming down and opening the gate. "Come on, hurry inside. You’re both drenched."

Frodo and Merry followed Bilbo inside, and stood dripping in the hall while he went to fetch some towels. When they had dried off somewhat, he sent them into Frodo’s room for some dry clothes. They dressed quickly, relieved to be out of their soaking things, and when they came down the hall, they found Bilbo in the sitting room, pouring some hot tea into three cups.

"Here, sit down, lads," he said as they entered. "I’ll not risk you two catching colds."

Frodo and Merry exchanged glances and obediently sat down in the sofa. Bilbo tucked a large, thick quilt around them and handed them each their tea, before sitting down in the sofa beside them. "I hope this rain doesn’t make Pippin late," Merry commented, taking a sip of his tea.

Bilbo smiled. "Don’t worry, Merry," he said. "They’ll be here."

The rain lessened after about a half-hour of steady downpour, and by suppertime, it was nothing but soft drizzle. Merry could not sit still. He went form one window to the other, waiting impatiently for Pippin to arrive. But it wasn’t only Pippin and his family who were coming; with them Merry’s parents, old Rorimac Brandybuck, and several of his cousins were also coming. Merry had kept Goblin inside the washroom all day, and the young Brandybuck couldn’t wait to show him to Pippin.

At last, after what seemed hours to Merry, he spied two large wagons coming up the Hill, each bearing lanterns in front. "They’re here!" he shouted ecstatically. "They’re here!" He dashed outside while Frodo and Bilbo followed more slowly, laughing at his excitement.

The Tooks and Brandybucks made a sizeable party when they were all gathered inside, and it was a good thing that Bag End was so large. There were hugs and kisses (much to Merry’s dismay), not to mention lots of talk. Everyone was first shown to the guest rooms, and then into the dining room for supper.

Merry made sure that he sat in between Frodo and seven year-old Pippin. The little Took had his father’s sandy curls and his mother’s green eyes – but while Mrs. Took’s eyes were soft and gentle, Pippin’s eyes were sparkling with mischief.

The meal was a very noisy affair, and Frodo, Merry and Pippin were glad to slip away when it was finished, leaving the adults to talk. "Well, Pip," Merry said excitedly as they sat in Frodo’s room, "have you guessed what your present is yet?"

"Ith it a thlingshot?" Pippin asked. The ‘s’ in each word was lisped, as he had recently lost both his front teeth.

Merry shook his head. "Nope, not a slingshot. Guess again."

Pippin thought hard for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. "Ith it a ball?"

"No."

"A book?"

"No. Last guess."

"A…pony?"

Merry and Frodo laughed and shook their heads. "I’m afraid it’s not that big," Frodo said. "But you’re close."

Merry giggled at Pippin’s puzzled look. "Close your eyes," he instructed. "And no peeking. I’ll get your present."

Pippin obediently did as he was told, and Frodo put his hands over Pippin’s to make doubly sure he didn’t see. He nodded to Merry, who slipped out to go fetch Goblin.

"All right now, Pip," he said when he returned. "Open your eyes on the count of three. One…two…three!"

Pippin opened his eyes and gasped at the little kitten squirming in Merry’s hands. "Oh, Merry! Ith he for me?" he breathed in astonishment.

"All for you," Frodo assured him.

Merry handed Pippin the little kitten. "Here," he said. "Hold him tight – but not too tight – so he doesn’t get away." Pippin did so, and Goblin settled down in his lap, purring contentedly.

"See, he likes you," Frodo said, smiling at his youngest cousin.

"What’th hith name?" Pippin asked, staring down at the little furry creature in his lap.

"Well, he was called Goblin," Merry said. "But—"

Pippin interrupted him. "I like Goblin," he said, not taking his eyes from the kitten. "That’th what I’ll call him." Frodo and Merry raised their eyebrows, but didn’t argue.

"Let’s show him to your papa," Frodo suggested. Pippin agreed, and they left Frodo’s room and went out into the midst of the still-talking adults.

Goblin did not endear himself to the Thain right away. When Pippin’s father held him up, Goblin apparently thought that his thumb was a mouse, and bit it, rather hard. He couldn’t understand why Paladin gave an undignified yelp and handed him quickly back to Pippin. Some of the cousins around Merry’s age came over to see little Goblin, and also received playful bites and scratches, which they did not appreciate.

Eventually, Pippin, Frodo and Merry retreated back into Frodo’s room with Goblin. They played with him for about two hours, until Bilbo came in and announced that it was time for dinner. After that, there was dessert, and they did not get an opportunity to play with Goblin again that night. But as Pippin insisted on sleeping in Frodo’s room with Merry (it was a good thing that Frodo’s bed was large, for there were no more guest beds left to spare), he brought Goblin along with him.

The little kitten had been fairly well behaved, and he seemed to like Pippin more than anyone else. When all three lads crowded into Frodo’s bed, Goblin curled up on Pippin’s chest and went to sleep. Frodo dropped off to sleep first, and Merry and Pippin stayed up late, talking.

Then at last, Merry drifted off, and Pippin lay alone for awhile, until the sounds of Frodo and Merry’s soft breathing, and Goblin’s purring lulled him into a contented sleep, nestled between his two closest friends.

TBC...