Part Three

It was just as Liddia said; Lenoreth, as they learned the old woman’s name was, had set out four bowls of stew as well as platters of bread and cheese. It had been a long time since the two cousins ate a home-fired stew. Pippin ate his fill as well as his cousin. Merry pushed away from the table, stifling a belch with his fist.

“Would you care for more?” asked Liddia. Never ask a hungry hobbit if he wants seconds. Liddia got up to refill their bowls. When she returned, it did not escape Pippin that Merry’s bowl had been filled to the brim--while his own was filled…adequately.

Liddia smiled sweetly at Merry, “More water?” She took the water pitcher and refilled Merry’s glass then sat back down to her own meal, never noticing that poor Pippin still held out his own glass for more water. Under the table, Pippin surreptitiously kicked his cousin’s shin, getting Merry’s attention. Merry quietly took the lad’s glass to refill it.

After lunch, the hobbits worked diligently to restore the partially damaged ledge. They decided to hold off on tea until the last few stones were in place and mortared. Liddia had sat off to the side watching Merry work all afternoon--getting up every now and then in an errand of more water for the mortar, or fetching a damp towel so that he and Pippin could wipe their hands. As the cousins finished up, Merry excused himself for minute, asking where the privy was.

Liddia gazed dreamily towards Merry as he disappeared inside the house. Pippin waited outside before he would go in and wash his hands for tea. After the small meal, he and Merry would be on their way back to their own house situated closer to the Citadel. He sat quietly in thought, taking in the late afternoon sun.

“Tell me about him,” Liddia said, taking a seat next to Pippin. “I want to know all about him! What his family is like--how many brothers and sisters he has, what his favourite colour is…”

“Tell you about whom?” asked Pippin, squinting in the bright sun.

“About Merry!”

Pippin recognized the gleam in her grey eyes. He had seen it before--in his own sisters when they first began noticing the opposite hobbit gender years ago back in the Shire. He realized that Liddia had taken a liking to Merry. This troubled the tween; their task was only for today. “Well,” he began hesitantly, “As you know, Merry is my cousin. His full name is Meriadoc Brandybuck. He doesn’t have any siblings. He was born in Buckland,” he paused for effect, “thirty six years ago.” Pippin waited for her response. As he did so, even he was amazed that when this girl of Men was born, he himself was already eighteen years old. He looked off towards another pair of soldiers down the road, working to replace broken pieces of flagstone in the street. Then Pippin added absently, “and his favourite colour is yellow.”

“Yellow, you say?” The girl was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Is he Meriadoc son of Brandybuck? Why do you boys have two names?”

Pippin sighed; the whole age chasm seemed to escape the girl. “No, Meriadoc Brandybuck is his full name. In our little country, we all have two names. The second name is a surname that the entire family bears. Brandybuck is his family’s name. My family’s name is Took--Peregrin Took is my full name, though everyone generally calls me Pippin.” He would have sworn that while he was talking he heard her mumble something under her breath about ‘Mistress Liddia Brandybuck’ .

“Liddia,” Pippin shifted uncomfortably upon the inner ledge where they sat--a part that wasn’t recently repaired. “Merry isn’t a boy and neither am I. He’s a grown hobbit--a perian. I too will become a grown hobbit in several years.”

“What are you talking about, Pippin? I have thought about our…ages. I like him anyway--he is fun, comely, and he makes the most wonderful jests.”

Pippin bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. You haven’t seen him wake up the morning after a night in the ditches like we have! He has no wits or comeliness about him! He spoke aloud, “Liddia--”

Liddia jumped up, “Stop it, Pippin! You are doing this because you are jealous! I am sorry, but I have chosen Merry. You are a nice boy, but that is all that is between us.”

“Chosen me for what?” Merry asked, stepping outside onto the small porch. He looked at Pippin, who took his gaze away. Neither hobbit nor girl spoke.

“Nothing,” Pippin finally answered.

“Well then,” said Merry, picking up the tools and placing them into the wheelbarrow, commencing to clean up their mess. “It seems I am chosen for nothing.”

“You lads have done a fine job in repairing the ledge,” remarked Lenoreth, standing in the doorway admiring the hobbits’ handiwork. “Liddia, come inside and help your poor grandmother to prepare these hungry lads something to eat.” The girl obeyed her grandmother, leaving the hobbits out on the porch.

A few minutes later, Pippin drew close to his cousin, “Merry--You must talk to Liddia. She thinks she’s in love with you!”

“I’ve suspected something of the like since the water incident at luncheon,” answered Merry, sweeping up the sand and white dust on the porch.

After a few more minutes, Liddia briefly stepped outside, gathering up the soiled rags. A pale yellow hair bow adorned the girl’s head; gone was the grey scarf. The young girl turned this way and that to ensure Merry caught sight of the pretty frill.

Merry kindly contained his amusement. Instead, he turned to Pippin with a slight grin, “Look lively, cousin--we don’t have all day.”

Pippin grabbed the dustpan, following Merry around with it as they swept up the chalky dust. He waited for Liddia to go back inside the house before accosting his dear cousin. “Aren’t you going to say something to her?”

Merry paused in his work. “And what would you have me say to her? ‘Sorry, Liddia--I don’t fancy you because you’re a little girl?’ That would break her heart in moment and you know it.”

“That would be better than not saying anything at all,” said Pippin. “After we leave here today, we’re not coming back--unless fate draws us here.”

Merry handed the broom to his cousin, “Then I say let fate guide us.”