*~* Denotes flashbacks

11. Tranquillity

Frodo quietly slipped out of the back door of Bag End. He settled himself in the comfortable chair on the patio, and lit his pipe. He had not inherited Bilbo’s talent for smoke-rings, and he didn’t particularly enjoy them either. He preferred to smoke his pipe in the same, almost austere way his father had used to do.

Drogo would often go out onto the front step of their small cozy home in Crickhollow for a bit of time by himself, taking his beautiful pipe carved of maple, with a mouthpiece of pearl (a gift from Bilbo). Sometimes, Frodo would slip out with his father, and simply sit down on the ground at his father’s feet, arms folded on Drogo’s knee, his chin resting on them.

The two would sit there silently, neither one feeling the inclination or need to speak. Father and son understood each other well, and both found solace in their times alone together on the front step.

Frodo sighed, turning his face to the cool evening breeze and letting it blow through his hair. The sun was sinking in the west, a huge fiery ball with streaks of flame lighting the sky around it; while in the east, a soft indigo color was already showing off the countless white stars, glimmering in its steadily deepening dusky curtain.

Frodo suddenly caught a distant, fleeting scent of cherries on the breeze, and he raised his eyes to the softly glittering stars above as a wave of memories washed over him. It had been a week since the last patient had recovered from the outbreak of croup, but the memory of those last days was as vivid in his mind as though it had happened yesterday.

*~*

Two days had passed since Merry, Daisy and Lila’s arrival at the Burrowses, and Mosco was finally beginning to recover. He was steadily eating solid foods once more, and able to go outside for brief walks in the fresh air, much to his enjoyment.

Daisy, also, was improving, although she was still bedridden – which had put her in a rather sour mood that day. Merry and Frodo sat by the mattress, trying to entertain her while Mosco took a walk outside with Milo and Dr. Bolger. Lila was getting some much-needed rest in the guestroom.

"Have you heard the story of how my Uncle Bilbo, the wizard, Gandalf and the dwarves were saved from wargs by eagles?" asked Frodo, after several ineffective attempts at distracting her. Daisy shook her head listlessly, staring out of the window. Frodo shot a glance at Merry, who, although he tried to hide it, was grieved at her languid, uninterested attitude.

Frodo gave Merry’s shoulder a reassuring pat and sat down on Daisy’s bed, crossing his legs as though he was about to tell a story around a campfire. Merry sat down beside him, hoping that this endeavor would be successful.

As Frodo began the story about Bilbo’s near-escape from the wargs, Daisy hardly listened, at first. She sat with her knees drawn up, chin resting on them and her arms wrapped loosely around her ankles, staring out of the window. But gradually, she was involuntarily drawn into the tale, and began to listen.

"‘Up the trees, quick!’ cried Gandalf; and they ran to the trees at the edge of the glade, hunting for those that had branches fairly low, or were slender enough to swarm up. They found them quick as ever they could, you can guess; and up they went as high as ever they could trust the branches."

"What about Bilbo?" Daisy interrupted, green eyes wide. She had quite forgotten that she was cross, and eagerly leaned forward to hear more.

Frodo smiled at her and his eyes sparkled, but he did not mention her change of attitude. He glanced at Merry, who was lying on his stomach, elbows propped on one of Frodo’s legs, chin cupped in his hands, listening as eagerly as if it was his first time hearing it.

"Bilbo could not get into any tree," Frodo continued, "and was scuttling about from trunk to trunk, like a rabbit that has lost its hole and has a dog after it." Daisy giggled, picturing the dignified old gentlehobbit she had met several times "scuttling." She stretched out on her stomach, as Merry had, and cupped her chin in one hand.

"‘You’ve left the burglar behind again!’ said Nori to Dori looking down."— Merry laughed; Frodo had learned from Bilbo how to imitate Nori’s voice quite well — "‘I can’t be always carrying burglars on my back,’ said Dori, ‘down tunnels and up trees! What do you think I am? A porter?’" All three of them laughed, and Daisy entirely forgot her sore throat and tight chest, and not being able to go outdoors. She had not heard many stories of Bilbo Baggins’ adventure, although Merry had told her several during their visits; and she wished that she’d been able to know the old gentlehobbit better before he had gone away.

Just as Frodo took a breath to continue, the front door was heard open, and hurrying feet and worried voices came swiftly down the hall. In burst Ferdirand Broadbelt, carrying a sneezing, whimpering Dickon in his arms. Right behind him came Dr. Bolger, and in his arms, pale and violently coughing, was Pippin.

*~*

Frodo sighed softly as he remembered how frightened Merry had looked. They’d glanced quickly at each other, each white-faced and wide-eyed, as Dr. Bolger had laid Pippin down in Mosco’s bed, and Dickon in Daisy’s. He’d never seen Merry so frantic before; his younger cousin had hardly been able to speak through those next three anxious days, and devoted himself unceasingly to tending to each and every need of both Daisy, and Pippin.

*~*

"Merry."

Merry jumped at the sudden hand on his shoulder and turned to see Frodo standing behind the chair he sat in by Pippin’s bedside. "Merry," his cousin continued, "Dr. Bolger says that Daisy and Dickon are going to return home today. They're already outside in the wagon."

"Oh." Merry sighed and slid out of the chair, stretching his stiff arms. He’d sat there for over two hours, just watching Pippin sleep and making sure that he was properly comfortable.

Merry rubbed his eyes and blinked the sleep from his head. Frodo noticed his weary appearance, and put both his hands on his younger cousin’s shoulders. "Merry," he said gently but firmly, "after you say farewell to Daisy and Dickon, I want you to go straight to bed. You can sleep in the guestroom, just down the hall, so that you shall be the first to hear if Pippin wakes up."

"Frodo, I’m not tired," Merry protested halfheartedly; "and Pippin might—"

Frodo shook his head and let out a half-groan, half-sigh of frustration. "Merry," he said exasperatedly, "you shan’t do Pippin any good by falling asleep where you sit. And I shan’t hear any argument from you about going to bed."

Merry eyed his cousin intently for a moment, as though trying to ascertain whether or not he was serious. Deciding that Frodo was indeed quite serious, he sighed and nodded. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "But don’t let me sleep too long. Please?"

Frodo smiled. "I promise I won’t give you more than an hour," he said with a nod. "Now come, let’s say farewell to Daisy and Dickon." Merry nodded sorrowfully, and with one last glance back at the pale and sleeping Pippin, he allowed Frodo to take him by the hand and bring him outside.

~*~

A noise from behind startled Frodo, and he turned to see Pippin quietly shut the door behind him and walk over. "Is this a private party, or may I join?" he asked with a grin. Frodo returned the smile and gestured to the chair beside him.

"I thought you and Merry were asleep," said Frodo as Pippin settled into the chair.

Pippin smiled again. "Merry is," he said; "but I can’t sleep, even though I am dead tired."

"You two played hard today." Frodo nodded, looking out at the purplish-red that still painted the sky where the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. Pippin looked curiously at him.

"What were you doing out here?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

Frodo blinked and turned to him with a smile. "Just thinking," he said, leaning back in his chair and shifting the pipe to the other side of his mouth. "I was remembering those last few days at the Broadbelts."

Pippin frowned slightly. "Come now, Frodo," he said, "no need to dwell on gloomy things. We’re all fine now; I’m fine, Mosco’s fine, Daisy’s fine, Dickon’s fine, Merry’s fine, and you’re fine. Did I leave anyone out?"

Frodo chuckled and reached over to ruffle Pippin’s sandy curls. "No," he said; "but I hope your parents are convinced tomorrow that you’re ‘fine.’"

Pippin made a face and sighed. "I wish I didn’t have to go home," he muttered, looking down. "I get homesick for Bag End when Merry’s not at home with me." Had he not been so earnestly melancholy, Frodo would have laughed at his statement; but instead, he echoed his cousin’s sigh.

"I know, Pip," he said. "I wish you didn’t have to go home, too. But just think: now that I’ve taught you and Merry that new trick to play on your sisters, you’ll be so busy terrorizing all of Tookland that you shan’t have time to be ‘homesick.’" Seeing that Pippin was not fully convinced, Frodo added, "And besides, Merry will be going home the day after tomorrow, too, and I’m sure he’ll visit you soon. Sooner than he visits me, I daresay." He pretended to pout, and Pippin laughed.

"Well perhaps if you weren’t so boring, cousin, Merry and I would visit more often!" he teased, grinning mischievously at his older cousin.

Frodo sniffed, changing his expression from mournful to one of wounded pride. "Cheeky rogue," he said, straight-faced. "A Baggins, boring? Hmph. Hold your tongue, imp, and show respect for your elders!"

Pippin laughed. "Beg pardon, Mister Elder, sir," he said in mock reverence. "How old does one have to be to be considered an ‘elder?’"

"That needn’t concern you for a long while, Master Took," Frodo replied loftily. "You’re too young to understand such complex and mature matters."

"Does it hurt?" Pippin asked thoughtfully, widening his eyes to further add to his innocent look.

Frodo raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Does what hurt?"

"Being old. I mean, it looks like it hurts when you hobble around like that…" Pippin trailed off as Frodo sprang at him and they went rolling in the grass in a most un-adult way.

"You know, Frodo," Pippin panted as Frodo held him down in the grass, "I just thought up three good reasons why I never want to get old." Frodo allowed him to sit up and dust himself off.

"And these are?"

"Number one, I couldn’t play pranks on my older sisters anymore," Pippin listed on his fingers; "and number two, I couldn’t raid the pantries with Merry anymore; and number three, I would miss out on the adventure you’re going to have someday."

Frodo paused in the process of plucking grass from his hair. "Who said I was going on an adventure?" he asked, wondering how his young cousin had been able to read the thoughts that occupied him often, although he had never told anyone but Bilbo his secret hope for an adventure.

Pippin shrugged. "I don’t know," he said, "but I’m sure you will, and I plan to be there with you!" He ended his sentence almost fiercely, and his green eyes seemed to be daring Frodo to disagree.

Frodo smiled and placing his hands on both of Pippin’s shoulders, he touched his forehead to his cousin’s. "You, my dear Peregrin, are a Took through and through!" he whispered laughingly. He sat back on his heels. "And as everyone knows, if a Took says that someone is going to have an adventure, then they certainly shall." He smiled again, but Pippin could detect a flicker of sincerity in his bright blue eyes.

"But surely there must be some reason you think I shall have an adventure, Pippin," he continued, raising his eyebrows. "I know you too well to be fooled by an ‘I don’t know.’"

Pippin hesitated a moment, staring at the grass and absently plucking little blades. "Well," he said slowly, as though thinking it out. "There’s Gandalf, of course — he’s always the one who starts hobbit-adventures, and he is a good friend of yours." He paused, and Frodo nodded for him to continue.

"And then there’s the R—" He caught himself just in time to avoid saying ‘Ring’, and quickly tried to recover, "The fact that you know Elvish — it’s not much use here in the Shire, but on an adventure, I’m sure it would be." He stopped.

"Anything else?" Frodo asked curiously. Pippin shook his head.

"Well, those are interesting ideas indeed, Pip," Frodo murmured thoughtfully, more to himself than Pippin. He was silent for a moment before turning to find Pippin looking curiously at him, head cocked, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Frodo smiled and stood up, giving Pippin his hand to help him to his feet. "We’d best be going inside now," he said briskly, pulling a blade of grass from Pippin’s hair. "I think there’s still a bit of strawberry tart in the kitchen, if you’d like any."

Pippin yawned and shook his head. "No thank you, Frodo," he said sleepily, as they entered Bag End and shut the door behind them; "I think I’ll just go to bed now."

Frodo smiled and placed a quick kiss on the top of Pippin’s head. "All right then," he said, "off to bed with you. I’ll be there soon. See you in the morning!"

Pippin mumbled a reply and slowly trudged down the hall into the guestroom that he and Merry shared (they had decided to sleep their last night together in a guestroom so that they could stay up late, talking and enjoying each other’s company, without disturbing Frodo). He heard Frodo go into the study, and knew that his older cousin would most likely be studying maps or reading, as he often did late at night.

Shutting the door behind him, Pippin lit the candle on the nightstand and walked over to the bed. "Merry," he whispered, shaking his soundly sleeping cousin. "Merry, wake up!"

Merry groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "There had better be a good reason for your waking me up," he grumbled; "I was having the most lovely dream…"

"Not now, Merry!" Pippin hissed urgently. "It’s about Frodo."

Merry’s eyes fully opened, and he sat up. "What about Frodo?" he asked quickly. "He hasn’t said anything about leaving already, has he?"

Pippin shook his head, curls bouncing. "No, no," he said, then paused. "Well, no, not really. But we were talking about adventures, and he was serious, Merry; I could tell." Merry leaned forward eagerly as Pippin gave a detailed account of the conversation he’d had with Frodo earlier, and when he had finished, Merry sat back and sighed.

"Well, that still doesn’t tell us much, Pip," he said. "I don’t think we’ll really have to watch and worry about him for a few more years yet. He’s not ready to leave — I think. I hope."

Pippin sat on the bed beside him, placing the candle back on the nightstand. "I hope you’re right, Merry." The two cousins became silent, each in their own thoughts. The ‘conspiracy’ they’d formed was still in its first stage, but already, the two young hobbits were quite serious about it. Ever since Bilbo’s Farewell Party, they’d been carefully watching Frodo, half-afraid he’d one day vanish like Bilbo had. Although Merry was still fairly confident that their older cousin would not leave yet — at least not without saying good-bye — they kept a diligent eye out.

Eventually, they lay down in the bed and began to talk about other things, but their minds still lingered on their first subject. They stayed up late, talking, and saw the light from the hallway go out. They heard soft footsteps approaching, and both closed their eyes and lay still as Frodo entered the room.

Frodo walked quietly over to the bed, a candle in his hand. He tucked the coverlet snugly around Merry and Pippin, brushed the tousled curls from their eyes, and kissed their foreheads each in turn. "Sleep well," he whispered, lingering a moment longer. Then, he blew out their candle on the nightstand, and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Merry and Pippin lay still for a long while after Frodo had left, and heard all of Bag End become still and silent. "I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow," Pippin whispered at last. "I don’t want to let Frodo out of my sight for long."

"I’m sure he’ll be fine, Pip," Merry chuckled softly. "I’ll be here another day, and then there’s Sam to watch him while we’re gone." He smiled. "Wouldn’t Frodo be cross if he knew how much we always worry about him and look after him — a grown hobbit!"

Pippin chuckled as well. "He would be horrified," he agreed; "but I think he would secretly appreciate it, too."

Merry patted Pippin’s hand. "You are unusually observant tonight, Master Took."

Pippin snorted indignantly. "Unusually?" he repeated. "For your information, Master Brandybuck, I am always observant. How do you think I’m so good at raiding pantries?"

"Sheer luck," Merry responded coolly. Pippin sniffed haughtily, but did not reply. They fell silent again for a long while.

"You know, we didn’t really say good-night to Frodo," Pippin remarked at last.

Merry shifted next to him. "You’re right," he agreed. They both simultaneously threw back the covers and hopped out of bed.

Without even lighting a candle, they opened the door and headed silently down the hall. Opening the door of Frodo’s room, they tiptoed in as noiselessly as only hobbits can, and approached the bed.

Frodo was sound asleep, curled on his side under the blankets. Merry and Pippin quietly stood by the bedside, watching him for a few moments. Then, Merry reached up and pulled the slightly disheveled coverlets up, tucking them under Frodo’s chin. Their older cousin was so deeply asleep that he didn’t stir at all.

Merry stepped back, and Pippin looked up at him. "Merry," he whispered around a yawn. "Frodo’s bed looks awfully comfortable."

"But we have our own bed, Pip," Merry whispered back with a smile, stifling his own yawn.

Pippin blinked drowsily at him. "But the guestroom seems dreadfully far away now, Merry, and we’re not going to be doing any more talking, are we?"

"No, I don’t think so."

"Then I don’t think Frodo would object to us sleeping here," Pippin concluded, yawning again. Merry smiled, and they both walked around the other side of the bed and climbed up. As they settled in, Frodo stirred and turned over, facing them, still deeply asleep.

Merry sat up and leaning over Pippin, kissed Frodo on the forehead. "Sleep well, cousin," he whispered as he curled up snugly with Pippin. The youngest hobbit woke up a little more at Merry’s movement, and sat up. He turned and planted a kiss on Frodo’s cheek, and then settled back down contentedly in the warm blankets.

Both were beginning to drift to sleep when Pippin’s stomach suddenly growled, sounding loud in the peaceful stillness of the room. "Merry," he whispered. "I’m hungry."

****I know, this is probably much different—to say the least—than how most of you expected me to continue after the last chapter, but I simply could not take up any more story-time with that unanticipated "outbreak". I’m very sorry if I disappointed you, but I hope to make it up in future chapters. :)