An Autumn Afternoon

“Try it Merry, it’s fun!” Pippin exclaimed. He ran back a few paces and then launched into motion, running as fast as he could and hurtling himself into the pile of leaves, sending orange and red and gold flying through the air.

“Pippin, we’re supposed to be raking these, not using them as cushions,” Merry said, a little impatiently because, after all, he was Much Too Old for This Sort of Thing.

Breathless, Pippin trotted to Merry’s side. There were leaves in his hair and Merry was tempted to pick them out until Pippin (rather rudely) snatched the rake from his hands.

“Merry, just try it once,” he pleaded, tugging on his cousin’s arm. “We can race each other.”

Merry rolled his eyes, and Pippin grinned mischievously, knowing from years of experience that his cousin would not need much more convincing.

“Never mind, Merry,” he said, shrugging as he changed his tone to one of indifference. “It’s all right if you’re afraid that I’ll beat you…”

“What?” Merry squawked. “You will never, ever outrace me, Peregrin Took.”

Pippin smiled cheerfully, “I might.” He turned on his heel, then, and ran toward another pile of leaves.

“Pippin!” Merry called, and then, hesitating no longer, followed his cousin.

The sound of laughter and shouting made Frodo lift his head. He set down his quill and glanced out the window, a smile slowly stretching across his face as he watched his cousins push each other into the leaves.

This is what he had set out to save.