Title:  "Birds of a Feather"
Fandom:  Lord of The Rings
Characters:  Merry, Pippin and Frodo
Rating:  G
Brief Summary:  There is something getting in the way of Pippin and Merry's efforts to reach the Yule Banquet at the Great Smials.  Can they manage to find a way around it?  I'm sorry in advance for the over-use of 'bird' references in this one.  I was in a "fowl" mood when I wrote it.

Pippin leaned his back against the wall and listened to the rumble coming from his stomach.  The smell of food drifted about the hallway and made his hunger all the more intense, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to risk going in that room.  He sighed and folded his arms over his complaining stomach. 

“Planning on spending the entire day in the hall, Pip?” Merry grinned, as he joined him.  “I, for one, plan to do my share of eating.  There is a feast fit for a Brandybuck in there.  Let’s not keep it waiting any longer, cousin.”  Merry took hold of Pippin’s arm and started for the door, but felt himself jerked firmly back.

“You best have a gander at what’s on the other side of that door before you go any further,” Pippin hissed.

Merry peered around the doorframe and then moaned softly.  “The old Lasses.”  He joined Pippin by the door just out of sight.  “Is there another way to the table?”

“No, and you can be sure that if there were, I’d not be hanging around out here,” Pippin said, grimly.  “No, the only way to the feast is through that parlor.”

Merry frowned and took another quick look into the parlor.  There they were, all six of them, just sitting there, waiting for some unsuspecting lad to come passing through the room on his way to the banquet.  “Those old birds are getting between me and my meal,” Merry grumbled.

As if agreeing, Pippin’s stomach chose that moment to growl.  “Well, I’d rather starve to death than go in there,” Pippin said, firmly.  “I will not spend another afternoon like the one that I had last year.”

Merry chuckled softly remembering last year’s Yule dinner celebration.  “Ah, yes, I remember that well.  I was just finishing off my first helping of roasted chicken and gravy at the time that you hit verse twenty or so of that lovely old song, “Home in the Tooklands”.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Pippin said.  “Those old birds kept me singing all afternoon like I was their pet canary or something.  They perched me up on a stood and kept making requests.  I was hoarse for a week after that.”

“The old lasses do love to hear you sing,” Merry said, smiling at his twenty-year-old cousin.

The old lasses, as they were known, were six of the oldest female hobbits in the Tooklands.  There were the twins, eighty-year-old Rhododendron and Philodendron Took, both of whom had remained single all of their lives.  Twins were rare among hobbits and so Rhoda and Philly were doted on as little children.  Their habit of dressing alike and spending all of their time together had lasted throughout their long lives.  Today, they were wearing matching red dresses and sitting side-by-side chattering away like magpies.

Then there was little Fern Grubb Took whose husband had been dead these past twenty years or more.  Fern had raised her only chick alone, for the most part, and now lived quietly in the Great Smials and spent most of her time with the other Old Lasses.  Fern was the youngest of the lasses at seventy-five.  She was the spring chicken of the group.

Just beside of Fern sat Onyx Took who was ninety if she was a day.  Onyx had lost her one true love just three days before her wedding.  The young Brandybuck lad that she had been about to marry had taken ill suddenly and died quickly.  Onyx was left to mourn him and mourn him she had for all of her life to anyone who would listen.

Standing just inside the door was Wisteria Bolger Took.  Wisteria was the newest member of this group, having lost her husband only three years earlier.  Wisteria was ninety-three and had been married three different times.  This was almost unheard of among hobbits who nearly always married for life.  Wisteria had out-lived her first two husbands and had lost the third.  Her Took husband had simply disappeared three years ago like some Tooks did and had left her on her own.

Last, but hardly least, was Petunia Bolger.  Petunia was the younger sister of Wisteria and a life-long single lass.  Petunia had spent most of her life taking care of the older members of her family and now when she had reached the ripe old age of eighty, had begun to amuse herself by drinking a bit too much and gambling.  Petunia would bet on anything.

“Any ideas?” Merry asked, turning to look at Pippin.

“No good ones,” Pippin said.  “I had thought of yelling fire to see if they’d all clear out, but remembered that Aunt Fern is a wee bit deaf.  I have no idea how to shoo them all out of that parlor or how to sneak past them to the food.”

“Those old hens will grab the first lad that goes into that parlor and spend the afternoon clucking over him,” Merry agreed.

“Aye, and it’s not going to be me again this year,” Pippin said.  “I refuse to be pinched and patted on the cheek and told how much I look like my father did when he was my age.  I don’t want to hear how thin I am or what nice eyes I have and I am not singing.”

“Well, I certainly am not spending the day listening to your Aunt Onyx trace my relationship to her tragically lost love,” Merry said.  “I do not want to hear how fond she is of the Brandybucks even though we are an odd group of ducks.”

“Those old birds are just nesting about that parlor like a gaggle of geese laying in wait,” Pippin fretted.  “They’ll swoop down on us the minute we step into that room and start fluttering around us and we’ll never get to eat.”

“What we need is a pigeon, Pip, my lad,” Merry said, smiling.

“What?” Pippin frowned.

“You know, some poor unsuspecting lad that we can use as a decoy,” Merry explained.

“A diversion,” Pippin grinned.

“Exactly,” Merry said.  “Now, who can we snare for this?”

Pippin sighed.  “Fredegar Bolger’s already in the banquet room so he’s out of the question.  It’s a shame too, because they really do like him.  Freddy’s quite a favorite with all of them.”

“Well, we have to be ready, Pip,” Merry said.  “At the first sign of a likely victim, you just follow my lead.  We may have to wing it, but we’ll manage something.  All we need is a bit of luck”

“I hope so, Merry,” Pippin said.  “My stomach is starting to stick to my backbone.”

“Frodo,” Merry hissed, catching sight of their older cousin who was making his way toward them.  He nudged Pippin in the ribs and smiled.

“Perfect!” Pippin crowed.  “They love Frodo. They think he’s such a nice young lad.”  Pippin then began to do a high-pitched voice as he parroted words often said about their older cousin by the lasses.  “Wonder why he’s never married?  There he is with that nice big smial that his crazy uncle left him and no wife.  Such a waste.”

“Yes, the heir to that crazy Bilbo Baggins who must have buried a fortune in the hill of his smial,” Merry snickered.  “This is our chance, Pippin.”  He then straightened and smiled at the approaching victim.  “Hullo, Frodo.”

“Well, hullo yourself, Merry,” Frodo grinned.  “What are you two doing larking about here in the hall when the smell of food is filling the air?  I should have thought that you two would be gobbling up your share of the feast by now.”

“We waited for you,” Pippin smiled, all innocence. 

“I find that very hard to believe, Peregrin Took,” Frodo laughed.  “I know your appetite and I can’t imagine you waiting on anyone.”

“Well, lets not wait any longer, cousin,” Merry said, taking Frodo’s arm.  “Lets get in there before all of the food is gone.”

“Good idea,” Frodo said.  “After you, Pippin.”

“Age before beauty,” Pippin grinned, and waved Frodo ahead.

Frodo was four steps into the parlor before he knew what had hit him.

“Why look, Fern, it’s Frodo Baggins!” Wisteria cackled.

“Well, I haven’t seen you in ages,” Fern said.  “My, but don’t you look nice!”

“I don’t suppose you’ve brought a nice lass with you today, have you?”  Rhoda twittered, giving him a wink and nudging her sister.

As the old lasses flocked around Frodo, Merry and Pippin ducked down and hurried through the parlor to the banquet room.  Frodo caught sight of them over the heads of the old lasses who had surrounded him and mouthed a silent threat.  ‘You two are dead ducks when I manage to get out of this.’

Merry looked at Frodo and grinned and waved.

“Looks like our gooses are cooked, Merry,” Pippin said, as they made their way to the table.

“He’ll have us tarred and feathered if he gets his hands on us,” Merry agreed.

“We better eat fast,” Pippin said, shoving a rather large slice of ham into his mouth.

“You are worrying about nothing, Pip,” Merry smiled.  “Our older cousin will be busier than a rooster in a hen house for most of the afternoon.  He can’t just leave without ruffling their feathers.  We have plenty of time.  Now, hand me a plate and lets get started.”

 The End

G.W.     12/31/2004