Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-uh, Cicero, Lipschitz...

Part V: Cicero

***

Merry felt cheerily confident, and he brushed his hands off, as he walked away from the door, content to know that he had just successfully shooed his wife out for a day of rest and relaxation that she had indeed deserved.

Though, Estella had been hot in protesting it. All the way, in fact, to the door itself, moments ago.

"But, Merry –"

"Estella, I insist that you do this, my love, you need a day to rest, and I’m sure your friends agree," he said pushing her out the doorway, nodding to her two companions who waited in the carriage at the end of the drive.

"What if Apple needs me?" she asked, trying to keep her husband from forcing her out.

"Apple will be fine," Merry assured of their baby daughter.

"Well, what if she needs me?" Estella asked again, the sometimes irrational protectiveness that comes along with being a mother obvious in her tone.

Merry turned her reluctant form by the shoulders to face him and leaned against the doorway. He gave her a look, undeniably amused with her motherly paranoia, and crossed his arms over his chest, ready to reassure her once more, "Now, what, may I ask, could happen to her that I could not do for her myself and you can?" he asked sensibly.

"What if she gets hungry?" Estella asked, disregarding the question, thinking over in her mind the list of all things that could go terribly wrong (some which admittedly, were incredibly farfetched and implausible, to say the least).

"You think I’m incapable of feeding her?" Merry said, feigning indignance, lifting his brows and pressing his palm to his chest. "Please, I’m not Pippin."

Estella looked over to the carriage waiting for her. Then she turned, sighing, and looked up at him, her tall strong Merry. It was not as if she didn’t trust her husband. It was far from that, in fact, she trusted Merry wholeheartedly with a devotion that outmatched any other she would ever know.

She really didn’t have much of a qualm about leaving their daughter with him (he was splendid with children, as both a caretaker and a playmate, she thought smilingly) – it was simply leaving their daughter that was her problem. And she saw the mirth dance in her Merry’s eyes and knew he realized this – she smacked his shoulder.

"Hey!" he laughed, "What was that for?"

"For being a smug little sod," she said, smiling too.

"Estella," he said, this time serious and more softly, and put his large strong hands on her slender shoulders, she looked up, "Go and have yourself a peaceful day, I know you’ll miss her," and he smirked, "And hopefully me too," Estella laughed lightly, and he continued, "But she’ll be fine, and she’ll be happy and napping and snoring away when you get back, and you’ll feel refreshed and ready to wake up to her screaming at four in the morning while I sleep like a log in repayment for letting you leave me here helpless and alone."

Estella smiled, she could see the sincerity behind his words of jest and thought, surrendering to that gaze of blue-grey as she so often did, that she had been working awful hard lately, what with tending to their daughter (for they both ardently refused to except care from nurse-maids or nannies). But Appleberry was now speaking, and Estella eagerly awaited each new word she came up with.

"Oh, fine," Estella sighed, and Merry grinned.

"That’s my lass," he said, and pulled her close to kiss her forehead. "Everything will be fine, just go and have some fun," he lifted her chin with his finger and entreated, "alright?"

"Alright," she agreed, and turned, but spun around once more saying, "If she can’t sleep give her –"

"Her stuffed duck, I know," Merry assured.

"Oh..alright," said Estella, turning again. But she turned to face him once more, "Make sure that you feed her the food I have in –"

"The pantry, I know."

"And make sure to– "

"Heat it up."

"She likes her –"

"Milk warm."

"And she,"

"Estella!" Merry exclaimed, and proceeded to push her out the door. "Go!" he said laughingly, but his grin turned wicked as he looked up to see her friends, and then grasped Estella’s hand before she could walk away.

"Merry, wha..!"

But before she could question, he had pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss, and was delighted to hear muffled exclamations coming from the direction of the carriage. Finishing the delicious task, they slowly pulled apart and he smiled to see the happiness in her eyes, "Well," he grinned, "See if that won’t give you something to talk about today," and he chuckled while she rolled her eyes at him, "See you soon, my star."

"Goodbye, Merry," Estella said, "Tell Apple I will be home soon."

"I will."

"And that I miss her already."

"I will."

"And to be a good lass for her Papa."

"I will."

"And that I love her."

"Estella..." Merry began reproachfully.

"Oh, alright," she huffed, and turned, looking back to him, "You’re still a prat," she smirked, and he stuck his tongue out at her and shut the door.

Smiling, Merry made his way down the hallway, going into his bedroom to find that the sheets were still tossed from the previous night, and set to making it neat. After tidying up a bit, (he was a stickler for being tidy), he made his way back out into the hall, and noticed that Pippin’s door was still shut, and paying a quick glance to the slit at the bottom of the entryway, found that it was still pitch black in his room too. He must not have opened the shades yet, which means... he must not be up yet, Merry glanced to the clock. Thirty and eleven. He sighed.

"Pip," he said, knocking gently, and then rather harder. "Get up, you’ll sleep the day away again."

"Eh," came the muffled response after a minute.

Rolling his eyes Merry said, "You’ll get naught for luncheon if you don’t wake up," and feeling that the mention of food would be enough to provoke the desire to waken (eventually), he went into the kitchen to start up the meal.

Merry was a good cook, for the most part, as most hobbits were, and could hold his own in the kitchen. Although, when he was younger Pippin’s sisters often would shoo him away, dissatisfied with his commentary and suggestions (Merry later consoled himself that this was purely for the reason that they were jealous, for he was a far better cook).

He got his daughter’s preserves from the pantry, laying all the things out on the counter top, and put a frying pan onto the stove, pouring some oil into it, in order to cook up some mushrooms for himself and Pippin. He heated up the stove, leaving the pan to simmer.

Going into Apple’s room to fetch her so she could keep him company while he cooked, he had brought her back into the kitchen and placed her in the highchair by the table. "Pawa!" she gurgled happily, and Merry giggled at her gibber, bending down to rub his snub nose against hers affectionately.

"Hey baby," he said warmly, and she giggled in return, pressing one of her small hands against his strong jaw. Planting a soft kiss on her golden curls, he straightened up and returned to the counter to grab the things needed to prepare her food. He brought them back to the table so she could be next to him while he was making it. He kneeled on the floor next to her highchair, which stood at the end of the table, and faced away from the window that was glowing bright with the springtime sunshine above the stove.

While chopping up her meal, he listened to her incessant incomprehensible jabber with delight.

"Pawa! Mmm hunry, yum! Ook! Cicero!"

Merry thought of how very lovely she was, golden-haired and sky-eyed, like himself, but her features favoring her beautiful mother, and figured the Lady of the Wood’s magic had a hand in his Apple’s sunbeam locks. For, Estella’s hair was raven black, like Frodo’s, and she’d often boasted during her confinement that their child would come out looking all like her, inheriting her brown eyes to boot, and to this Merry would simply smile and shrug – it would not hurt to have two of the most beautiful lasses in the world. So it was to both their surprise that their daughter had come out with elven beauty, as Sam Gamgee had put it, with her mother’s angel face and her father’s bent for trouble.

Merry chuckled at his thoughts, and listened to his daughter’s banter beside him.

"Whoolooloo...Pawa! Cicero! Cicero!"

"Cicero, cicero," Merry said, repeating her and looking up as she gazed at him with her blue eyes. "Cicero, hmm?" He tapped her nose and she closed her eyes, scrunching up her little face with a smile, and then opened one again slowly, gazing up at him. This made him laugh, and he winked at her, and continued preparing her meal.

"Pawa...wa..wa," she gurgled, reaching her small hand out to something fascinating behind him, but he didn’t notice. "Pawaa..." she said again, looking up to him, but he still didn’t notice. She sighed, and kicked her little legs, watching as he chopped and diced the fruits into the savory blend that would be her meal. She smelled the delicious aroma and cooed happily.

"Are you hungry?" Merry asked, turning to her, he could hear the crackle-crackle of the bubbling oil behind him.

"Wha!" she exclaimed, reaching out to him, and he chuckled.

"I guess so!" he smiled. "One second, baby," he got up to put away the knife, and wipe his hands on the towel on the counter, and throwing the dirty things in the sink, he returned.

"Pawa!" she exclaimed again.

"I’m comin’, I’m comin’," he assured, opening a drawer to find a spoon small enough to feed her with.

"Pawawa! Cicero...Ooooo..!"

"I know, cicero...whatever that means," Merry answered, head down, as he looked for the utensil.

"Cicero, cicero!" she said again, slapping her little hands on the highchair top, and laughed. "Pawa, cicero!"

"Apple," Merry said, "I don’t know what yer sayin’ hun," and he grabbed the spoon and turned, shutting the drawer, but gasped before he could close it, dropping the spoon and exclaiming, " Lady of Lorien...!" as he saw the frying pan he had filled with oil in the midst of high rising flames atop the stove. "How could I forget I was going to cook the mushrooms...!" he despaired, at a loss of what to do for a moment.

"Cicero!" Apple laughed happily, clapping as she watched her father now leaning behind the black smoke to try and open the kitchen window. "Cicero!"

Merry coughed, waving his hand in front of his face and then ran over to grab his daughter, who was seemingly having quite a time watching him scramble. He lifted her up and out of her seat.

Just then, a sleepy eyed Pippin sauntered in, rubbing his face and saying in a very morning-voice, "Merry, I thought we were having luncheon?"

"Change of plans, Pip," Merry said, figuring Pippin still hadn’t noticed the billowing smoke.

Merry ran over to the door, opening it while holding his laughing daughter.

"Merry," Pippin said a moment later in realization, "I think you set the house on fire."

Merry rolled his eyes and ran over, "Come on," he grumbled, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him out the kitchen door that led onto the cool stone terrace.

Apple was still clapping in his arms, and Pippin was still dazedly confused, when Merry thrust his daughter into his cousin’s arms and ran back inside to extinguish the fire with the water he had grabbed from the watering can left outside.

Pippin wanted to run in to help, but held Apple, knowing he couldn’t leave her alone.

A few minutes later, Merry emerged from the smoky kitchen, the black smog wafting out into the clean spring air. He looked rather disheveled, his face and hands smudged with soot, and he coughed, walking over to them, his hair unkempt, and his nice clothes blackened.

Pippin tried not to laugh. "Well, looks like we’ll have to go out and grab something to eat."

Merry leered, and snatched Apple from his hands, which made both Pippin and the little lass giggle.

"Oh, so you think it’s funny I nearly burned Crickhollow to ashes? I don’t know how that fire managed to start, but it nearly happened all the same," said a sooty Merry to his gurgling daughter, who looked up at him and smacked her small hands on his face, delighted to smudge the grime off and get it on her own hands. "No, no, don’t get yourself dirty," Merry admonished gently, sighing, wiping her small hands onto his already soiled shirt.

"Cicero!" she declared then, and Pippin raised a brow.

"Yah, she’s been sayin’ it all morning," Merry answered to his gesture, and she flapped her arms excitedly, tugging on her father’s tousled tarnished locks. Merry frowned and reached to take her hands from uprooting all his hair.

"Cicero!" she said happily.

"Cicero, cicero," Merry repeated. "What does that mean, anyways?"

"Cis-ell-rove.." Apple stressed in her infant tongue, looking at her father.

"What?" Pippin asked, now curious, finding that she had obviously meant something by the strange statement.

"Ciss-ull-sove," she said again, straining the words through her childish lisp.

Merry raised a brow, looking to Pippin, "Cisslesove?"

"Ciss-sle-sove!"

"Cissle..siss...sizzle...ohhh," Pippin’s face lit with understanding, and Apple sighed, exasperated, happy at least one of the grown-ups finally understood her.

"What? What is it, Pip?"

Pippin winced, looking to Merry, and said, "Sizzle-stove."

Merry almost glowered, looking back to her, but upon her continuous giggles, his annoyance dissolved and he sighed in defeat. His mother always did say husbands shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen.

"Come on, Pip, let’s go get something to eat."