Chapter Fourteen: Here Be Dragons

Pippin sat in a corner of the study, running his fingers over a tin. Frodo’s and Merry’s quills scratched at their parchments, and even Bilbo seemed to be writing something with his own quill, when he wasn’t poking about the many stacks of paper.

It was too cool for Pippin to spend every day in the garden now, the big hobbits said. Sometimes he still went out and rolled a round green squash or two over to Sam, followed by rolling himself down the hill, but some days he had to stay inside. The bulky jackets they put on him made it harder to roll through the garden, anyway.

He was getting quite good at rolling himself around inside the smial, though, and he didn’t even need a hill to do it. He could hold things a lot better now, too.

One of the things he could hold was his tin. It had pictures of colorful sweets on it, even though there weren’t any inside anymore. When Mama first sent it, it had been filled with sweets, and biscuits, and buried near the bottom there was even a little bag of the special candies Da kept in his desk. Bilbo had taken most of those, though, when Pippin shared his box with everyone.

Now, he kept different things in the tin: for instance, the splendid presents Bilbo and Frodo had given him for their birthday.

Pippin had been rather surprised when Cousin Bilbo had announced that his birthday would make him exactly 100 years older than his young cousin. Bilbo didn’t seem that old, and Pippin watched him warily for a couple of days, taking occasional sniffs, to see if he suddenly started to smell funny or act peculiar like Thain Rumby or Mistress Lalia did. Bilbo never smelt of anything but pipeweed or ink, though, and as for acting peculiar..well, it was hard to tell what peculiar was, here in Hobbiton, as things were so different from the Great Smials.

And Bilbo’s birthday present was ever so much better than some of those Pippin received at home. Some of the hobbits there seemed intent on giving him clothes, or utterly useless mathoms that he didn’t want but had to thank them for anyway, like the head his cousin Everard had broken off his sister’s doll and wanted to get out of his own possession.

Bilbo, on the other foot, had given him a wonderful toy he said was made by real dwarves. It was a small, carved version of the carts the dwarves used in their mines, Bilbo said. There were six little carts in the set, and you could string them together by hooks on their fronts and backs, or take them apart if you wanted to play with them separately. One of the carts even had a lever mechanism that you could press so the back end would tip over and spill its load, and the front cart had a lantern-shaped protrusion that was painted yellow and could be made to bob up and down.

The entire string of carts wouldn’t fit in his box, but Pippin liked to keep at least one in there whenever he wasn’t playing with his toy, because it was where he kept special things.

Another thing he kept in there was the letters from his mama. They were written on the parchment that she and Pearl made sometimes, with bits of dried flowers crushed up into the paper as it dried to form pretty designs.

Pippin wasn’t too sure what all his mama’s letters said, himself, but he liked to hold them and look at them. And lots of times, if he held one out and looked up at his older cousin, Frodo would settle Pippin into his lap and read the letter to him.

“Dear Pippin,” the letters would begin.

“I hope you are having fun with your cousins. Pervinca had a very nice party. She hopes you are enjoying her present. I miss you very much.
“Love, Mama”

“Dear Pippin,
“Your father and Regi have gone to Whitwell to help with the harvest. They will stay there for a while, so I am missing both my lads. Your sisters have started their lessons again. I miss you very much.
“Love, Mama”

“Dear Pippin,
“Your father came back from Whitwell yesterday. He is going to tally the harvests now (that means to do sums, darling), and he says that Regi will be a great help. The kitchens made apple spice cake today. I know you like it, so I am sending a piece with this post. I hope it is not too dry when it gets there. I miss you very much.
“Love, Mama”

Pippin liked holding his mama’s letters, but he didn’t like how some of them talked about Regi. He had many conversations about this with Frodo’s birthday presents, two hand puppets that he also kept in his special box.

One puppet was a black cat, with yarn whiskers that stuck out to either side of its embroidered nose, and two pointy ears on top of its head. The other puppet had been made from an old weskit of Frodo’s -- Sam’s mama had done the sewing, Pippin thought -- and was covered all over in blue and green swirls. Two blue strips of fabric had been wrapped up into tight twists and sewed on top of its head to make horns, and when he put his hand inside the puppet and made the mouth flap open, you could see that a jagged red tongue of fire had been stitched into the dragon’s mouth.

* * *Do you want to play with me, Pippin-Cat?

No, Regi-Dragon, you’re mean! I don’t want to play with you.

No, I’m not.

Yes, you are.

Why do you think I’m mean?

You put me under the bed and didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t get any food until teatime.

Oh, you’re just a baby, Pippin-Cat. I don’t want to play with you anyway. I’ll bet you were just afraid. ‘Fraidy-Cat! ‘Fraidy-Cat!* * *

Pippin had to admit this was a good insult, so he had the dragon puppet say it to the cat a few more times.

* * *...’fraidy-cat!

I am not! I’m a...a Bullroarer Cat! I’m very big and strong and I have lots of friends who are dwarves and a wizard who can make you go away!

Really?* * *

The dragon puppet cowered up by Pippin’s shoulder while he closed his fist to make the mouth scrunch up. The cat moved about happily on his other hand.

* * *Yes! You can’t be mean to me anymore!* * *

Pippin started to march the dragon puppet away from him, but turned it around to face the cat again.

* * *If you don’t want to play with me, Pippin-Cat, I’ll go play with your da.

My da is a big hobbit -- Cat. He doesn’t have time to play.

He’ll play with me. I’m a dragon.* * *

Pippin spread his hand apart to open the dragon puppet’s mouth and display the flames.

* * *And if your da doesn’t want to play, I’ll be mean to him, too.

You can’t put my da under the bed! He’s a very big hobbit.

Well...well, maybe I’ll lock him in the barn. And then I’ll eat the key!* * *

The dragon puppet’s mouth opened threateningly once more, but the cat puppet opened its mouth and grabbed one of the dragon’s horns, drawing it off Pippin’s hand and casting it onto the floor. The dragon puppet lay limp in front of him while Pippin stroked the cat puppet’s head.

Frodo paused in his writing to watch Pippin play. The puppets danced about, their mouths opening and closing frequently, but the lad himself remained almost silent.


Pippin had been excited all day, raising his arms repeatedly for his cousins to lift him up to look out the window. Aunt Essie would be coming to Bag End tomorrow for an early celebration of Merry’s birthday, and due to arrive today was...

“Mmm! Mmm!” Pippin squealed as Merry carried him back into the front room. Eglantine and Pimpernel were greeting Bilbo, their things piled on the floor beside them. Their driver had already taken off to avail himself of the Green Dragon’s hospitality during their stay.

“Pippin!” Eg cried out, and mother and son reached out their arms toward each other. Eg spared a quick glance at her nephew -- rosy-cheeked as ever, like the apples that were in harvest -- while lifting Pippin out of his embrace and into her own. She clutched her own lad to her tightly and brushed his curls back to place a kiss on his forehead before running her eyes hungrily over him.

Pippin hugged his mother around the neck and kissed the underside of her chin.

“Well, I’m glad I brought some of your other clothes, darling,” Eg laughed. “It looks like you’ve outgrown these at last.”

Bilbo, Frodo and Merry exchanged guilty looks. None of them had noticed previously how far up his wrists and calves Pippin’s sleeves and trousers were ending.

With Bilbo leading and other hobbits following with the luggage, Eglantine carried Pippin to the room where she and Pimpernel were to stay.

The lad squirmed as she changed his clothes, but she would not -- could not -- bring herself to tell him to hold still.

He had indeed grown, regaining some of the weight he had lost earlier in the year, in addition to becoming taller. He wriggled about, twisting his torso as she dressed him, reaching up to cup his mother’s chin, and even, when Pimpernel’s back was turned as she unpacked clothes to hang in the wardrobe, making a grab for his sister’s braid. She turned around in time that he missed, and Eg’s lad gave a small giggle at his sister.

She heard more such noises from him over the course of the visit -- giggles, sighs, small squeaks -- as well as both pleading and demanding repetitions of “Mmm! Mmm!” as he wanted to show her something or called for her to pick him up.

He insisted on her carrying him out to the gardens. Eg was suitably impressed when he showed her how he could roll down the hill, but mystified when he followed this by repeatedly pointing to an unremarkable patch of ground. The Bagginses’ gardener lad finally shyly explained that Master Pippin had helped him plant tulip bulbs there.

Essie arrived the following day, and the visit continued pleasantly enough. Merry’s presents were perhaps not so fine as those he would give out at Brandy Hall, or as splendid as Bilbo’s, but they were a nice thought all the same. He gave Pippin a board with several types of bugs mounted on it and neatly labeled, with spaces for more to be added to the collection. “We can catch them when I come to Great Smials next summer, Pip,” Merry told him. “I’ll bet you’ll know lots of plants to look under, with all the time you’ve spent in the garden here.”

When the day came for the visiting hobbits to depart, however, the pleasantness came to an end. Pippin became tearful the minute Regi appeared from the Green Dragon with the cart, and clung desperately to Merry’s neck.

“Mmm! Mmm!” he sobbed as the relatives crowded around.

“Pippin, dear, Merry has to go home,” Aunt Essie said, rubbing his back and nodding to her son, attempting to get him to hand her nephew over to Eglantine. “He’s been away for a long time already.”

“You know I’ll miss you, Pip, but we’ll see each other before too long,” Merry assured as he tried to pry small fingers loose. “Are you coming to Brandy Hall for Yule this year?” he asked Aunt Eg.

Eglantine hesitated before answering, but Pimpernel spoke up in her place.

“I don’t think we are, Merry. Da says we should stay at the Smials this year as Cousin Rumby’s likely to be bad off again this winter.”

“Yes,” Regi nodded from behind her. “Cousin Paddin’s likely to have a lot to do, still. I’ll try to help him out, of course.”

“Yes,” Eg answered absently, as she finally succeeded in lifting her son out of Merry’s arms and into her own, “you are a great deal of help to him, Regi.”

Pippin, now in his mother’s embrace, began sobbing even harder.

“Don’t you want to go home, darling?” Eglantine asked, distressed. “I know your father’s missed you.”

Pippin started to nod, but then jumped when Regi placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s a good lad, Cousin Eg,” Regi said quietly. “Knows his da is busy, he does, and doesn’t have to worry about his lad while he’s with his cousins.”

“Well...,” Eg began hesitantly as Pippin craned around in her arms so that he was facing away from Regi and could hold his arms out to Frodo.

The younger Baggins took his little cousin in hand as Eg whispered a brief conference with Bilbo. After all, her little lad was doing so well here; he seemed to be getting so much better....

At long last, the visiting hobbits were loaded in their carts and set to head back to Buckland and the Great Smials. Regi clucked the ponies and jiggled the reins.

In front of Bag End, Pippin whimpered softly, “Mmm! Mmm!” from his spot in Frodo’s arms as he sadly returned the goodbye waves of Merry, Essie, Pimpernel and Eg.