A/N: This story takes place in 1415 S.R., the year Paladin Took becomes The Took and Thain of the Shire. Saradoc Brandybuck has been The Master of Buckland for seven years. Pippin is 25 years old and Merry is approaching his 33^rd birthday.

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The hedges and flowers rushed by in a blur as Merry and Pippin ran. They could barely hear Mrs. Bracegirdle's howls of protest as her hobbit-hole shrank into the distance behind them. It really wasn't their fault that Mrs. Bracegirdle made the best apple pies in the Shire. How could anyone expect them to resist? They knew where to get the best of everything the Shire offered. There were vegetables and mushrooms from Farmer Maggot's abundant fields, jams and jellies from Mrs. Proudfoot, rolls, muffins and cakes from Mrs. Goodbody, fresh apples from Farmer Cotton's orchard, and, of course, pies from Mrs. Bracegirdle.

"Can we stop running yet, Merry?" Pippin panted, glancing behind them and seeing no one in pursuit.

"The bridge, Pippin, we agreed," Merry gasped in some air, "we agreed, we hide under the bridge. Don't go changing the plans now, Pip."

The little bridge over the creek came into view and the two fugitive hobbits headed straight for it. They crouched down ducking under the single archway that made up the short bridge. They were both a bit winded as they sat down to survey their booty.

"A most glorious pie, Pippin, glorious!"

"And the smell Merry, could anything else smell that good?"

They both leaned over the pie breathing in huge exaggerated sniffs of pie fragrance.

"Do you have the forks, Merry?"

"I thought you’d have them."

"No, I told you I didn't."

"No, you said you did, Pippin."

"No, you said, 'You've not got the forks do you?' And I said, 'Yes.' "

"Which meant, yes you had the forks."

"No, it meant, yes, you're right I've not got the forks." Pippin was starting to look confused. "I thought that meant you had them, Merry."

They looked at each other, looked at the pie, then they just dug into it with their hands. A very few moments later two contented, sticky hobbit lads laid back on the bank of the creek under the little bridge.

"That was just too good," Merry sighed while he started licking the remainders of pie filling along with crust crumbs off his fingers.

" 'Twas that, my dear cousin," replied Pippin as he performed the same task on his own hands. "The best pie we've had since, well, since we borrowed one from her last week!" He looked over at Merry and smiled. "We're a great team, you and I, we always will be." Pippin had looked back at his hands or he would have seen Merry flinch at that last comment. "Don't you agree, Merry? We're a great team, right?"

"Yes," Merry said quietly. He had an odd look on his face, like something pained him. He sat back up, so that Pippin couldn't see his face. "Always will be." He kept his tone level so that Pippin wouldn't hear the sadness in his voice. His younger cousin prattled on, not noticing that Merry had become quiet and withdrawn.

Merry stood up but only half way so as not to bang his head on the underside of the bridge. "Let's go, Pippin."

"So soon?" Pippin stood, just as cautiously, then started to follow Merry out from under the bridge.

"Yes. I said we need to go," Merry answered gruffly.

"Alright, alright! I meant no harm, Merry. No need to snap my head off." Pippin sounded hurt.

Merry looked at his younger cousin, feeling badly for his sharp remark. "I'm sorry Pip. I'm . . ." Merry paused as though he couldn't think of what he wanted to say. "I'm . . . well . . . I'm getting a headache. I need to take a nap or something."

"If you say so." Pippin sounded disappointed that they were heading back so soon.

"Yes, I said so!" Merry snapped again. He took a quick breath, let it out slowly, then more gently he added, "I think it best that we go."

"Alright," said Pippin while eyeing his cousin suspiciously. What was bothering Merry, he wondered? "I'll get Mrs. Bracegirdle's pie plate back to her window sill later then. In a few weeks we have to get some apples from Farmer Cotton's orchard."

Merry brightened up. "Oh yes! Good thinking Pip. We'll keep an eye on them!"

Gradually their conversation returned to normal, although when they got back to Great Smials, Merry did go off alone to his room. Pippin stared after him as he went away along the tunnel. Was it his imagination or was Merry getting rather grumpy? Pippin shrugged it off before going in the opposite direction toward the kitchen. He didn't want to miss afternoon tea.

Pippin woke slowly to the sound of his name being whispered in his ear.

"Pippin, c'mon!" The words were getting clearer "Pip!"

This time his name was accompanied by a shove to his shoulder. Pippin opened his eyes, waiting for the face in front of his to come into focus. It was Merry's face, so close he could feel Merry's breath.

"It's about time! C'mon, we've plans for today, remember?"

Thought's circled in Pippin's head. Apples. Farmer Cotton's apples. They had been keeping an eye on those apples for almost two weeks.

"Apples?" He said the word slowly, sounding odd with his sleep heavy voice.

Merry grinned broadly as he patted his cousin none too gently on the head. "Right, those jewels among apples. Cotton's Sweet Crisps! The delight of the Shire." His eyes closed in a moment of reverence, then opened again, bright and eager. "I walked by his orchard yesterday on my way back from Bag End and they should be perfect today. Remember I told you? Apples today, Pip!"

Pippin closed his eyes then opened them again slowly. It seemed to be taking more effort than it should to wake up, especially with the prospect of those glorious apples before him. He didn’t feel ill really, his head just seemed to want to stay in the fogginess of sleep and, though he blinked several times, his eyes didn't want to clear.

"I don't know, Merry." Pippin’s words were still slow and drowsy. "I . . . I'm awfully tired."

"No, you don't!" There was a sharp edge in Merry's voice. "I've been counting on this. You know I'm too heavy to get the best ones, they're always out at the ends of the branches. You're the one light enough to get them. You are not backing out on me now, Pippin Took!"

Pippin's eyes opened wide. He knew that tone. Merry was still being grumpy. He had been getting worse actually, and that pitch to his voice meant that there would be an argument if Pippin dared to disagree. They had weathered many arguments over the years as best friends often do, but lately . . . well lately Pippin much preferred to avoid them. Merry's temper seemed to be getting quicker and hotter. Pippin was quite concerned but didn't know how to find out what was wrong. Whenever he tried to ask about it, Merry either changed the subject by joking, making Pippin laugh or more often now, he would say something sharp then just go quiet.

"You're right. I'm getting up. I'm coming." Pippin threw off his covers and went to the wardrobe. He coughed a bit as he pulled out a shirt, trousers, braces, and his scarf from off the hook on the inside of the wardrobe door, then started getting dressed. The cousins stopped off at the kitchen grabbing a dozen rolls each, before heading off for Farmer Cotton's apple orchard, each with a large carry-bag over one shoulder.

It wasn't very far from Great Smials to the orchard. The sky was aglow with the shadowless light of predawn. Even the birds had been up no longer than the two hobbits. They walked along at an easy pace, arms swinging slightly. Pippin thought he knew why he was feeling tired. He had helped with the harvest for two days while Merry had visited Frodo at Bag End. Pippin's father, Paladin II, had just that year become The Took and Thain of the Shire. Although they had moved into Great Smials, Pippin’s family still farmed their land in Whitwell. Even in the Shire's wealthiest families usually everyone helped with planting and harvest. "You appreciate more what you work for," claimed the old adage that was held in high respect by all the hobbits of the Shire. Pippin and Merry walked everywhere, as did most hobbits, as well as the running and climbing they did on their escapades, so they were in good shape. But doing harvest work was out of the ordinary. Long hours with few breaks, with those coming not when you wanted them but when someone else decided it was time. It was no wonder that his chest ached when he took a deep breath, he'd done a lot of lifting in those two days. Pippin stretched his left side out to ease a kink that was developing there.

They hadn't talked much as they walked to the orchard. The thought came to Pippin that they had been talking less to each other for about as long a time as Merry had been getting grumpier. Merry's answers to questions were short. He no longer bothered to chatter on about the every day, little things they used to spend hours talking about. Pippin wished he could find out what was wrong for something obviously was. Merry seemed upset with him and Pippin had no idea what he had done.

"Looks to be a nice day." Pippin ventured to say.

"Huh? Oh, yes I suppose so."

"Not too cold yet."

"No, nice still"

Then a long quiet again. Birds chirped. The dirt of the path crunched under their feet. They walked along in silence. They were close friends so silence usually did not trouble them, though more often they were as chatty as starlings. This silence was different. Pippin felt squirmy, like he just had to get Merry to talk. He tried to find a pleasant subject to talk about.

"How are things going for your party? Have you heard from your Mum?" He asked. Merry didn't answer. "It's only a week away now. You’re leaving for The Hall tomorrow, aren’t you?"

"Yes," Merry said tersely.

Pippin didn't notice the growing tenseness in Merry's shoulders. He didn't see Merry's jaw muscles flexing as he clenched his teeth. Pippin kept talking, he didn't know what else to do. "Bet there'll be tons of food! I know we're bringing some of my Mum's cakes with us. Not everyday that you come of age Merry," Pippin said cheerily as he envisioned tables that strained to hold the load of a true hobbit feast.

"Fat lot you would know about it!" Merry's words were hard and totally unexpected. Pippin jerked to a stop. Merry turned toward Pippin, his face suddenly flushed, his eyes open wide, the irises dark. "You know nothing about it!" Merry should have been shouting the words so much force was in them, but they were oddly, coldly quiet. "You don't know anything about anything. I do all your thinking for you. Always have, most likely always will. That's why we're a 'great team'. But it won't last forever. You know nothing about it! You do stupid foolish things that always go wrong. What will you do if I'm not there to help? I don't think you've ever had an original idea in your whole life. Well have you, Peregrin Took?"

Pippin hadn't moved. For several long moments he stood there staring, his mouth slightly open. He blinked. Then he stood a bit straighter. Pippin had never felt so hurt and angry at the same instant. Merry had called him such things as foolish before but this was different. There was a difference in Merry's voice and the look in his eyes. He sounded as though he really meant it all this time. Pippin was horribly shaken. He had done nothing he could recall to deserve this treatment. He'd done his best to humor Merry, putting up with all his grumpiness. He had given in on nearly every disagreement. Into his mind came the image of himself tackling Merry then sitting on him while punching his face. No, he couldn't do that! Hobbits rarely come to blows with each other, never when good friends. Pippin turned and walked away hoping to make the image fade. He needed to get away but Merry followed him. He grabbed Pippin's arm, spinning him around.

"And it's not just you!" Merry continued in that horrible quiet voice. "It's the whole lot of you Tooks! Thain of the Shire! It's like Master of the Hall it shouldn't make a person change. Doesn't seem to change you Tooks! You all just stay the same. You're strange. You wander off, you act oddly. The whole lot of you foolish Tooks! You . . ."

The sentence stopped with the sound of breath rushing out of Merry's lungs as he went down on his knees in the dirt of the path. Pippin stood over him. His right hand was still balled up in a fist, his green eyes afire. He said nothing. He stood over Merry a few seconds more as Merry wrapped his arms around his stomach while gasping in air. Then Pippin turned and walked heavily away.