1. Scouring for Mushrooms

Pippin: 16, Merry: 24 (or 10 and 15 in Man years)
1406 SR 

“Be quiet!”

“I am!”

“I thought I heard something.”

“That was my stomach.”

They wait for a moment’s breath, straining their ears for the slightest hint of the slightest footfall. They hear nothing.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

They slowly inch forward. Merry reaches out to separate the branches of the bush they are hiding in and looks out cautiously. A long, soft trail runs away from them on either side, and directly ahead is a low fence to keep the hogs out. Beside him, Pippin’s stomach grumbles again, loud enough to give his cousin a start.

“Pippin!”

“I can’t help it.”

“We just ate.”

“Only an apple.”

They check the path one more time. Merry gives a low, sharp whistle and waits again. When no dogs come running, he declares the time has come.

“Get the bag ready.”

Pippin holds it up, an exasperated expression on his impatient face. He has been ready as soon as he woke up this morning and is only waiting for his friend to stop goofing around. Merry nods and they crawl out of their hiding place. Keeping low to the ground, they quickly run for the fence, pull it open and slip inside. The earth here is even softer than the trail outside, the scent of it sweet in the early morning dew. But sweeter still is the prize it grew for its victors: a cluster of the fattest mushrooms any hobbit could hope to set their eyes upon.

They set to work quickly, freeing handfuls of mushrooms from their earthly prison in mere seconds. When their bag is full, they slip back out of the gate, back across the path and into the bushes. The raid takes less than half a minute. Now comes the most dangerous part: to not celebrate until they are far clear of Maggot’s fields. For there are many early morning laborers about on the roads, going to work and preparing for the day ahead, and any one of them could call them out for their crime should they suspect anything. Thankfully, Merry has a solution to this as well.

“Frodo showed me this path once,” Merry says, and veers to the left just before reaching the road. Up ahead, Pippin can see the faintest sliver of a path through the barley. Merry leads them confidently, with Pippin following close behind, holding on to his cousin’s coat tails so as not to be separated from him. “Be careful right here,” Merry says after they had walked a good 100 yards. “It slopes down quite sharply. If you’re not careful, you could slip and break something.”

Pippin nods, understanding more than his cousin knew. So, this is where Merry had slipped and broken his arm all those years ago, before Pippin was even born. He had always told Pippin that one day he would show him the location. Pippin peeks over the cliff and spies out the way down. The slope is steep, but there are many rocks and patches that can serve as steps if the feet traveling them are small enough. Still, the dirt is loose and muddy. Merry hesitates.

“I’ll be careful,” Pippin promises, with a reassuring touch to Merry’s shoulder. “I’m not nearly so clumsy as you are.”

“Clumsy? I am not,” Merry retorts, and with that he steps over the cliff wall and cautiously leads the way down to the road below. They go slowly, making sure their footholds are secure with each step, and they manage to reach the bottom without any mishaps.
 
The road is silent and empty but for them. They have escaped undetected. Pippin pulls out the bag, unable to deny his stomach any longer. They grab a handful each and munch happily on their loot.

The mushrooms are absolutely delightful, and Merry imagines how wonderful they would taste cooked up in a nice omelet, or in gravy over mashed potatoes, or on a sizzling sirloin steak with the head cook’s special sauce. He grabs another handful and pops three of the morsels into his mouth, regretting only slightly that he couldn’t hand these over to the cooks.

Pippin, on the other hand, is having no regrets at all, except maybe a vague thought that they should have brought two bags instead of one. And bigger bags. Yes, they would have to bring much bigger bags next time.

They trot at a happy pace, speaking very little and eating until they have their fill, which just happens to be when they run out of mushrooms. By that time, they are approaching the main road once again, now a good mile south of Maggot’s fields. They receive only curious glances from the workers in the fields and on the road but nothing more than that, and Merry says a silent thanks that Pippin isn’t trying to act too innocent and give them away.

By the time they return to Brandy Hall, first breakfast is being served in the dining hall. As the first wafts of the meal float out to greet them, Pippin’s stomach grumbles, loud enough to raise the heads of those closest to them.

“Are you ever full?” Merry asks, chuckling softly.

“Not as of yet,” Pippin exclaims and makes a beeline for the serving table, with Merry following close behind.
 

End of this ficlet.
 
 

 
GF 4/27/04