7. Homecoming

"Merry, you don’t have to help me walk. I’m not made of glass."

Merry shook his head resolutely, keeping his hand firmly around Frodo’s arm, which he had draped over his shoulders. His older cousin, though he refused to admit it, was still weak from his near-fatal thornapple poisoning, and not able to wrench his arm free of Merry’s strong grip.

After trying unsuccessfully several times, Frodo sighed in exasperation and allowed himself to be assisted by Merry as they slowly made their way along the dirt road towards Hobbiton the next morning. The spring sun was covered by a thick layer of dark clouds, which, although keeping them from getting overheated, also threatened to rain on them.

‘Getting wet would almost be worse than getting too hot,’ Merry thought with concern, glancing at the still-pale faces of Frodo and Pippin beside him. He was especially worried about the youngest of their company, for Pippin had hardly spoken a word since last night, after he’d told them about Iodaith and their healing. Merry thought he could guess what was troubling his cousin, but Pippin had been unwilling to listen to any comfort or reassurance he tried to give.

"It’s almost lunchtime, isn’t it, Frodo?" asked Merry cheerfully, hoping to get his cousins’ minds off any dreary thoughts.

Frodo chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said. "We can’t have you two keeling over with hunger before we reach Bag End, now can we?"

Pippin said nothing, but Merry laughed as they sat down. "We most certainly cannot," he said, forcing Frodo to stay still while he unpacked their food. "But I don’t know if we’ve enough food to satisfy Pippin – Tooks have monstrous appetites, you know, and he missed First Breakfast this morning!" He glanced hopefully at Pippin, and was rewarded by a wan smile.

"I don’t know that Tooks have larger appetites than Brandybucks," said Frodo thoughtfully, handing Pippin a small sandwich. "You can clear out all the pantries in Brandy Hall by yourself!" He shook his head. "I shudder to think what you and Pippin must do together there."

Merry swallowed a large bite of his sandwich. "Me and Pippin?" he repeated with feigned disbelief. "Master Took here is the one who managed to eat half of all the pantries in the Great Smials by himself! He’s the one always in charge of our pantry-raiding expeditions."

Pippin spoke up for the first time since the night before. "You’re one to talk, Master Brandybuck," he said coolly. "I believe that it was you who ran off with the entire turkey from Yuletide Feast last year."

Merry and Frodo stared in surprise at Pippin for a moment, before the oldest burst out laughing. "The entire turkey?" he exclaimed. "Merry, I wouldn’t expect that, even from you!"

Merry glared halfheartedly at Frodo. "If we’re bringing up old transgressions," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "then who was the one who made off with half the mushrooms from Farmer Maggot’s crops and finished almost all of them before he was caught?"

He heard a slight laugh from Pippin and he grinned. Frodo, much to Merry’s dismay, did not seem perturbed, and his smile did not falter. "That was sheer skill," he said proudly. "Not many can escape so long without being caught – especially with such an armful."

Merry shook his head as they finished their sandwiches and replaced everything in their packs. "Then was it skill that got you caught the last time you visited Farmer Maggot?" he teased, grinning with satisfaction as he succeeded in causing Frodo to cringe at the memory.

"It was skill that got me the mushrooms he caught me with," said Frodo, standing up. "And it was skill to escape with less of a beating than he wished to give me."

They laughed, even Pippin, and continued along the road, Merry keeping a careful eye on both his cousins the entire way. They were just entering the outskirts of Hobbiton when it began to rain, and Merry noticed, as they pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, that Frodo’s face was paler than before.

"Let’s rest under that tree," he suggested, pointing to a large oak by the side of the road. "I’m hungry again."

Frodo only chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Not yet, Merry," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. "We’re almost to Bag End… another half-hour, and we’ll be there."

Merry firmly grabbed Frodo’s arm and stopped his cousin from continuing. "No, Frodo," he argued. "You’re still recovering from your illness, and I won’t have you catching a chill on top of it." He turned to the youngest hobbit, standing silent beside him. "That goes for you, too, Peregrin Took."

Frodo smiled faintly. "You sound just like Bilbo," he said, trying to hide his true exhaustion with a light jest.

Merry snorted. "Well, Uncle Bilbo had sense," he replied. "And I’d like to think that I do, too. Now both of you. Sit." He pulled them both by the arms and forced them down beneath the branches of the tree.

"Wait here until I get some blankets," he ordered, pulling Frodo’s pack from his cousin’s shoulders and proceeding to do the same to Pippin.

"Merry," Frodo protested. "We’re not staying here for more than a few minutes. We don’t need blankets."

"All right, then," Merry returned, rummaging through a pack. "Then at least put on a warmer coat. It’s getting cold out here with the rain!"

Frodo sighed, and reluctantly obeyed, then leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. He heard Merry commanding Pippin to put a warmer coat on, as well, and heard him do so.

He had been so occupied with making sure that Merry didn’t fuss over him overmuch, and hiding the slight headache and dizziness that had remained even after awakening from the events of last night, that he hadn’t noticed until now Pippin’s strange silence. As he thought about it, he realized what must be troubling his young cousin.

Just as he was about to move, he felt Merry’s hand on his forehead, and sighed. "Merry," he said in frustration, opening his eyes, "I’m fine. I don’t have a fever, and I’m not getting a chill."

Merry sighed, as well, and removed his hand. "Frodo," he argued, "you were very ill last night and I don’t want to risk you getting ill again. I know you well enough to know that you won’t tell me if something’s wrong. So I have to watch you to make sure you don’t overtax yourself."

Frodo smiled. "Very well, Master Healer," he said, only partially joking. "You know best. But I still want to reach Bag End by supper-time, and I think we should get moving."

"Yes, I think we can move on now," Merry agreed slowly. "But don’t push yourself too hard."

"I won’t," Frodo promised as he stood up. Merry walked away to sort through their packs, mumbling something that Frodo could not catch, and he turned to Pippin, still sitting against the bole of the tree.

"Pip," he said softly, crouching down beside his younger cousin and putting a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. "We’re going to move on now…is there something troubling you?"

Pippin looked up at him silently, an unreadable expression in his olive-green eyes, which, to Frodo’s alarm, began to fill with tears. "…Ye-es," he answered after a moment, hesitantly. "I—"

His words were suddenly cut off as a shout rang through the still afternoon air. "Ponto Baggins! You bring that back this instant!"

All three travelers got to their feet and watched with surprise as a young lad, perhaps a year or two into his tweens, laughed and raced toward them, holding a black umbrella under his arm. "Can’t catch me!" he shouted teasingly, unaware of his audience.

Up over the hill of the road came his pursuer, and the onlookers’ surprise, they saw that it was a girl. She was around Frodo’s age, and what must have been a lovely sky-blue dress was splattered with mud and wet with rain. In her white-gloved hands (which had still managed to stay clean, albeit wet), she held several sheets of quickly dampening paper. Her thick auburn ringlets, tied up in what was previously an elegant bun, were soaked and dripping, and her pretty face was flushed with anger.

"Ponto Baggins," she repeated through clenched teeth. "Bring that back right now! My drawings will be ruined…" She trailed off as she caught sight of the observers beneath the tree, and her cheeks grew redder.

"Good afternoon," Frodo called, rescuing her from the awkward situation as she began to stammer. He, Merry and Pippin stepped out onto the road, and bowed politely. The girl dropped a graceful curtsy – despite her rather bedraggled appearance – and quickly recovered her manners.

"Afternoon," she returned, her face still red with embarrassment. "Please forgive my display… I’m sure I must look a fright…"

Frodo smiled. "I’m sure we don’t look any better." His friendly manner caused her nervousness to vanish, and she returned his smile.

Ponto came back to see what was taking his pursuer so long, and boldly walked up to the three new-comers. "Hullo," he said with a grin. "Who’re you?" He winced at a sudden kick in the shin from the girl, who looked up apologetically.

"Please forgive his lack of manners," she said quickly. "He’s been running a bit wild today. I am Lila Baggins, and my unruly brother here is Ponto."

"This is Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took," Frodo gestured to his cousins. "And I am Frodo Baggins, at your service." He bowed again, and Lila’s bright blue eyes widened with surprise.

"Frodo Baggins?" she repeated. "Aren’t you Bilbo’s nephew?"

Now that Frodo got a better look at her, he remembered seeing Lila at Bilbo’s Farewell Party, only briefly. He nodded with a smile. "Yes," he said. "But I’ve only seen you once before – you don’t live near here, do you?"

Lila shook her head. "No," she answered. "My family and I are moving here, from Bree."

Frodo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Bree?" he exclaimed. "You’re coming quite a ways!" He suddenly remembered that they were all out in the cold rain, and Lila’s papers were becoming thoroughly sodden. Lila noticed, as well, and grabbing the umbrella from Ponto’s hands, she opened it and held it over their heads.

"What part of Hobbiton are you moving to?" Frodo inquired, naturally curious to know more about anyone from so far away.

Lila began to answer, but Ponto suddenly cleared his throat. "Lila," he interrupted. "Mama and papa are expecting us home – we don’t want to be late again."

Lila sighed. "No, of course not. Very well then, I’m afraid I’ll have to wait until our next meeting to tell you more." Frodo nodded, and smiling, shook the gloved hand she suddenly extended.

"I’m sorry," she said quickly, withdrawing her hand and blushing again. "I know it’s not ladylike to shake hands, but we do that in Bree, you know…"

Frodo laughed. "Quite all right," he assured her. "I’d be interested to learn more about Bree; I’ve never been there. I’m sure it’s very interesting."

Lila nodded and shifted the papers to her other arm. "It is," she said. "But if you’ll excuse me, I must be going. No, I don’t need to be escorted home," she added, seeing Frodo open his mouth to speak. "I’ll be fine. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Lila!" Frodo returned. "Safe trip home." Merry and Pippin, still in surprised silence, merely waved at the quickly departing figures. As they went back to the tree to gather their things, Frodo laughed.

"She was an interesting lass, wasn’t she? And all the way from Bree!"

Merry nodded, hoisting his pack onto his back. "Quite interesting – and her brother looked like fun," he chuckled mischievously. "But don’t you be thinking that just because a lass can go running around in the rain, you can, too. Keep the hood of your cloak pulled up!"

Frodo sighed, and the three continued on their way to Bag End. By the time they reached the familiar green door and opened it (having stopped to retrieve the key at the Gamgees’ home on their way), they were thoroughly soaked and exhausted.

"All right now," said Frodo, "it’s my turn to give orders. Both of you, choose one of the bedrooms and go get some dry clothes while I start some tea."

The two younger lads obeyed, but Merry called as he went down the hall, "Hurry up and get into some dry clothes, yourself, Frodo Baggins! The tea can wait!"

Frodo chuckled and built up a fire in the hearth, then filled the teakettle full of water and hung it over the flames. While the water warmed, he grabbed his pack and went down the hall to change into some dry clothes.

But as he reached his room, he found the door locked. He opened it, and to his surprise, found Merry and Pippin, just finishing pulling on their dry blouses. "What are you doing in my room?" he demanded, folding his arms.

"You told us to pick a room," Merry pointed out with a grin. "You didn’t specify which one."

Frodo couldn’t resist a smile. "Very well then," he consented. "But there’s not room enough for both of you in my bed." He took out a fresh set of clothes from his closet and pulled off his rain-soaked waistcoat and blouse.

"You can always bring in a guest bed," Pippin piped up. "You have plenty."

Frodo laughed as he stepped into a pair of dry trousers. "For one thing, Master Peregrin," he retorted, "I don’t think Doctor Meriadoc would allow me to go dragging heavy beds all through the house." Merry snorted indignantly at the thought. "And for another," Frodo continued, "as you said, there are plenty of guest beds, and guestrooms that are just as comfortable." He smiled teasingly. "But I suppose there is enough room in my bed if you must…" He added, trailing off as the high-pitched whistle from the teakettle announced that it was ready.

***

The next morning, Pippin was rather rudely awakened by being pushed off Frodo’s bed. Grumbling as he picked himself up off the floor, he eyed the pile of arms, legs, curly hair and blankets that were his older cousins. He saw with relief that Frodo’s face had returned to its usual, healthy color, and that all hints of his earlier illness had disappeared, as well.

A mischievous grin spread over his face, and Pippin felt almost guilty as he watched the peaceful face of his older cousin – all that could be seen of Merry were the wild golden curls sticking out between Frodo’s neck and shoulder, his face buried in the pillows. But he shrugged, and suddenly shouted, "Wake up, cousins! It's a beautiful morning!"

The lumps of blankets groaned and shifted, and Frodo opened one eye halfway. "What’s beautiful about it?" he grumbled, rolling over and burrowing his face into his pillow. Merry merely yawned and flopped on top of his older cousin.

Pippin surveyed the two quietly, watching as Frodo drifted back to sleep. He went silently around the room, preparing himself for the day, and then returned to the bed. He bent down close to Frodo’s ear, and brushed back the dark curls covering it. "Wake up, Frodo!" he whispered. "Wake up!"

Frodo groaned and with difficulty – as Merry still lay sprawled on top of him – he turned to face Pippin, opening his eyes halfway. "If I go make you breakfast, will you leave me alone and let me go back to sleep?"

Pippin grinned. "Maybe," he replied playfully.

Frodo sighed and after a good amount of wriggling, he managed to sit up. He promptly rolled Merry off the bed, smiling as he heard a loud, "Ow!" Merry picked himself up and glared at Frodo. "Good morning to you, too," he grumbled.

Frodo yawned and resumed his smile. "Breakfast time," he said. "Go get dressed."

While Merry and Pippin went to get clean clothes from their packs, Frodo climbed out of bed and groaned. "Ohh, I am never sleeping in the same bed with you two again!"

Pippin’s head appeared around the doorway of the closet where he and Merry changed. "You’re one to talk, Frodo," he teased. "Your elbows are sharp, and you were the one who pushed me off the bed." He laughed at his older cousin’s grimace as Frodo bent down to take a pair of breeches from his pack.

Merry’s head appeared beside Pippin’s. "Getting a bit old now, are you, Frodo? I can hear those joints creaking from over here!"

The next moment they both had to duck back inside the closet to avoid being hit in the face with a pillow.

***

After breakfast, Pippin’s earlier cheerfulness had disappeared, and he was again broodingly silent as memories assailed him. He silently withdrew to the windowseat in Frodo’s room, and stared contemplatively out the round window. Guilt for what had happened to Frodo the night before last plagued him mercilessly, and he could not escape the terrible fact that it was his fault that his gentle older cousin had nearly died.

Soft footsteps approaching startled him out of his reverie, and he turned to see the object of his thoughts coming in. "Pip?" Frodo asked hesitantly. "Do you mind if I sit here with you?" Pippin shrugged, and Frodo curled up on the opposite side of the windowseat.

There was silence for several minutes. "Where’s Merry?" asked Pippin at last.

"He saw Ponto outside and went to play with him," Frodo answered, and again there was a long silence before he spoke again. "Pippin," he said softly. "What is troubling you?"

Pippin kept his eyes fixed outside, at the now sun-dried garden, where Sam pulled weeds in the flowerbeds. "It’s my fault," he finally answered, in a whisper so soft that Frodo almost didn’t hear it.

"What’s your fault?" Although he could already guess, Frodo felt that it was better if Pippin shared all his feelings aloud.

"It’s my fault that you got sick," said Pippin after a long moment, his quiet voice thick with suppressed tears. "I was the one who made that soup and put the thornapple in it. It was my fault!" He pressed his hands to his eyes and furiously scrubbed his tears away.

"Pippin." Frodo laid a gentle hand on Pippin’s shoulder, but the distraught boy pulled away, still not meeting his gaze. "Pippin, will you listen to me?" he asked, his hands returning to his lap. His younger cousin sniffled and nodded.

"It was not your fault that I got sick," Frodo said firmly. "It was an honest mistake you made, one anyone could have made. Any one of us could have picked those seeds. It was not your fault."

Pippin hesitantly looked up to meet Frodo’s gaze, and to his surprise, found it gentle and forgiving. Unable to keep his tears back any longer, he threw himself into his cousin’s arms and sobbed, letting all the tension and guilt he’d been keeping to himself fade away.

Frodo comfortingly held Pippin and rocked him back and forth, letting the boy soak his shirt with his tears. He remembered the times when he’d done the same for Merry, and wondered briefly why he had been chosen to act as an older brother for his dear younger cousins – there were times when he didn’t feel up to the part.

When Pippin’s sobs had quieted to shuddering breaths, he sat up and quickly wiped his eyes, a bit embarrassed by his sudden outburst. "I’m sorry," he said softly.

"There’s nothing to be sorry for," Frodo replied gently. Pippin shook his head, and looked up, his soft green eyes so full of earnest beseeching that Frodo’s heart ached for him, and he wished he knew what would comfort his cousin.

As if reading Frodo’s thoughts, Pippin whispered, "I just want you to forgive me."

"But Pip –" Frodo began, but Pippin cut him off. "Please, Frodo. I need you to forgive me…not only for making you sick…but for not telling you how I felt sooner."

Frodo pulled Pippin into a gentle embrace. "Of course, Pippin," he said softly. "Of course I forgive you. Will you forgive me?"

Pippin pulled away and looked up in surprise. "Forgive you?" he repeated. "Whyever for?"

"For not noticing that you felt like this sooner, and not talking to you about it. I’m sorry."

Pippin wrapped his arms around his cousin just as lovingly and comfortingly as Frodo had before, and felt him return the gesture fiercely. They sat there, on the windowseat, for a long time, feeling as though a great gap had been closed between them.

At last, Pippin raised his head and laughed, wiping away the tears from his face. "Don’t we look like a sentimental pair of girls!" he exclaimed. "Crying like that."

Frodo laughed as Pippin stroked away the last tear sliding down his cheek. "What will Merry think of us?" he said as they got off the windowseat and walked to the kitchen.

"He would be appalled," Pippin replied promptly, reaching for an apple. "I can just see his face!"

They bantered playfully as they had a small snack, and when Merry came inside from playing with Ponto, he knew at once that all was well again. "I see you two’ve been busy," he laughed, folding his arms. "Are you going to save any of that sandwich for me, Mister Took?"

Pippin grinned as he swallowed his large mouthful of bread, lettuce, and sliced ham. "Here," he said, handing Merry the discarded crusts. Merry pretended to look annoyed, but ended up laughing instead.

"Frodo, do you have any real food?" he asked hopefully, turning to his older cousin.

Frodo laughed and swatted his hand away from where it was creeping towards his sandwich. "If you’ll be a good little hobbit and don’t touch my food, I’ll get you your own," he said, rising from the table.

"I’ll be very good," Merry promised, giving Frodo his most innocent look.

Pippin pretended to gag, and Frodo shook his head. "I’ll believe that when I see it," he muttered.

Just as he set the sandwich down in front of Merry, there was a loud knock at the door. Frodo went to open it, and on the doorstep stood a very out-of-breath and disheveled Sam Gamgee.

"Sam!" Frodo exclaimed. "What’s wrong? You like as though you’ve seen a ghost!"

"Just got—a message—from me brother," the gardener panted. "’e was—in town—deliverin’ somethin’ to the—the Burrowses," he caught his breath. "Mr. Milo said that little Mosco is very ill. They’ve sent for Dr. Bolger, but he’s gettin’ worse by the minute."

Frodo’s face paled. "Thank you, Sam," he said quickly. "I’ll go see them right away. Here, come inside." He opened the door and let the gardener in, and then raced into his room to grab his cloak. ‘It’s a good thing that the Burrowses moved to Hobbiton three years ago,’ he thought as he went back down the hall, ‘Or I’d never get there soon enough.’

He rushed into the kitchen, where Sam had just told the news to Merry and Pippin. "I’m going to see them," Frodo announced quickly. As Merry opened his mouth to speak, he held up his hand and continued. "Merry, Pippin, you stay here with Sam. I don’t know if it’s contagious yet, but I won’t take the chance."

Merry folded his arms. "No, Frodo!" he argued. "They’re our cousins, too!"

"Merry, I don’t have time to argue," said Frodo firmly. "But you two are staying here. Sam, please take care of them!"

"’Course, Mr. Frodo!" Sam promised. Frodo looked at all three of them for a moment, nodded, and with a reassuring smile, turned and darted out of Bag End and into the chill late-afternoon air.

TBC...