When the Dwarf Came A-Visiting ~Míriel 

            Chapter 4 ~Thunder in the Night 

            “Frodo, I don’t think that we have enough bed linens.” 

            Frodo looked up from the other side of the beds that we had put together.  “Are you sure?” 

            “Of course I’m sure, Frodo.  All of the bed-linens that were on our beds are on Bombur’s now, and all of the extra Cousin Bilbo washed today, and they’re hanging up outside.” 

            “Then go and fetch them.”  Frodo went back to tucking the sheets around the mattress. 

            I sighed.  When dealing with older cousins, sometimes you have to explain the simplest little things.  “Frodo, they’re wet.” 

            That got his attention.  “Oh.  Well, why do we need them anyhow?  We’re going to be sleeping on the floor.” 

            Another thing about older cousins is that they just do not think.  “Frodo, the floor is hard.  Bed linens make it softer.” 

            “Blankets, then.” 

            On the other hand, they also think of easy solutions that you wished you had thought of.   

            Frodo straightened and looked with satisfaction at the beds.  There were three lined up next to each other.  Bombur was to sleep horizontally on them, as he was much too tall to sleep the normal way.  “Bombur, I believe that your bed is ready.”

            “Thank you, Master Frodo.”  Bombur slowly sat down on the beds, which groaned under his weight.  I was very surprised that they held as he proceeded to stretch himself out onto the beds. 

            Merry was watching anxiously.  “Does it meet your approval, Bombur?” he asked hopefully.  After all, the beds had been his idea. 

            “Very much, Master Meriadoc.  Now, if you Hobbits would be so kind, I would very much like to sleep now.” 

            We all took the hint and squeezed around the beds into the hall.  Bilbo bid us goodnight there and went into his room.  Frodo and Merry set up sleeping mats for us on the floor in our different bedrooms.  They saw me to my room before leaving.  

            “Goodnight, Pip,” Merry said as he and Frodo left. 

            I changed into my nightshirt, snuggled under the blankets, closed my eyes, and tried to fall asleep.  I had decided on this visit that I was now much too old to share a bed with Merry, and had spent these last few days in a room and bed of my own.  I was a bit lonely at times, but I did have the comfort of knowing that Merry was in the very next room.  I listened for a moment; I could hear Frodo and Merry whispering in the next room, then footsteps I knew to be Frodo’s going down the hall.  Merry was humming a little tune as he got ready for bed, and at that moment, more than any other so far, I wished that I hadn’t decided that I was so grown up.  

            The whole Hobbit hole was soon completely dark and silent.  I wriggled uncomfortably on the floor, laying on my back, then turning over to my side, then my stomach, then my other side, and finally on my back again.  I sighed into the dark.  How on earth could I sleep on this hard floor, me, who usually slept on those nice feather mattresses?  

            I debated going and snuggling up to Merry, who made a good pillow if nothing else, but banished the thought from my mind.  I was nine years old; I didn’t need to sleep with my older cousin.  I vowed right then never to disturb Merry’s sleep again. 

            That vow lasted all of one minute, for as soon as I shut my eyes, there was a terrific thundering noise.  I sat straight up.  What was that?  It couldn’t be a thunderstorm, as there had been no rain clouds; nor could it be something falling over; it had to be a monster, or one Bilbo’s dragons, or...something.  I looked fearfully again at the menacing shadows on the wall.  The thundering noise continued, and I knew that I could not stay in here one minute more.  I jumped up and bolted down the hall into Merry’s room. 

            He was sound asleep on the floor, chest slowly moving up and down under the blankets in the deep breathing of sleep.  I paused for a moment at the door and watched him sleep peacefully.  I hated to disturb him, but the thundering continued and I knew that it was my duty to wake him.

            “Merry,” I shook him awake.  He gave a little moan and rolled over. 

            “Merry,” I shook him again. 

            “Pip?” he murmured, eyes closed.  “Go back to bed.” 

            “Merry, there’s something out there, listen!” 

            “There’s nothing, now go to sleep,” he said, rolling over away from me.  

            I walked around to his other side and knelt down.  “Merry, listen,” I pleaded. 

            “Nothing.  Now sleep,” he murmured. 

            I listened.  He was right; there was no sound, no thundering noise, simply the sound of the crickets outside.  Merry had fallen back asleep, but not before he had moved over so there was room beside him.  I eagerly lay down next to him and rested my head on his chest.  Nothing felt as safe as the shelter of Merry’s arms.  The noise probably had been just a dream, I reasoned, too sleepy to think it over any further.  I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sweet unconsciousness of sleep. 

            “...still sleeping...” 

            “...Merry...very loud...” 

            “...woke me...”  

I cracked open my eyes with effort.  Merry and Frodo were sitting on the floor next to me.  I realized the grasps of conversation that I had heard had not been a dream, simply Frodo and Merry talking...and waking me up.  I sat up indignantly.  I needed my sleep, and they had no right to disturb it.   

Merry spoke before I had a chance.  “Hullo, Pip.  Sleep well?” 

I glared with as much anger as I could muster, while also taking on a pathetic look for having been so rudely awakened.   “No, I did not,” I said crossly to Merry.  “I got woken up much too early,” I gazed mournfully at Frodo as I said this.  He, unlike Merry, had little knowledge of my master skills of manipulation.  Frodo always fell right into my traps. 

Frodo sighed and turned to Merry.  “I told you we were talking much too loud,” he said in exasperation.  “We should have been quieter or better yet, gone into my room.” 

            Merry rolled his eyes.  “Frodo, Pip will survive missing several hours of sleep.  Better that then a whole night’s worth.”

            “What are you talking about?” I asked; a little confused. 

            “Remember that noise you were telling me about?” 

            “Yes.” 

            “Well, it woke both Frodo and I.” 

            “I told you, Merry!” I cried in satisfaction, and was instantly shushed. 

            “You’ll wake Bilbo!” Frodo hissed. 

            “He’s slept through this entire racket; I doubt that Pip could wake him up.” Merry said.  “He’s half deaf anyway.” 

            “He is not!” Frodo said angrily. 

            “Frodo, he is asleep.  That alone means he must be hard of hearing, what with the noise and all.”  Merry pointed out. 

            Frodo looked murderous.  I remembered his earlier threats against the future Master of Buckland and feared the worst.  “Frodo,” I said, pouring my entire soul into sounding as sweet and innocent as possible.  Merry’s life probably depended on it.  If Frodo was sensitive about anything, it was Cousin Bilbo.  Even though Merry was right about Bilbo’s loss of hearing, (he continued to give me blueberry instead of apple tarts for tea, even though I get all itchy after eating blackberries, and have told him so many times.  His only possible motive could be that apple is his favorite, and he is very greedy with his tarts, but you would never be able to tell that to Frodo) you never, ever, insulted Bilbo while in Frodo’s hearing. 

            “Frodo,” I said again, widening my eyes and gazing at him innocently, “What’s that noise?” 

            Merry forgotten for the moment, Frodo reached over and tousled my curls.  My scheme had worked; Frodo was now completely under my control.  “That my dear Pip,” Frodo said, “Is the sound of a very heavy Dwarf snoring.” 

            “Oh.” I said.  “And what are we going to do to make it stop?” 

            Frodo ran his fingers through his hair, leaving several curls rebelliously standing straight up in the air.  “I would say to ignore it and try to sleep,” he said; “But it is only one o’clock in the morning, and none of us are able to sleep.  Therefore we must stop the snoring.” 

            “How?” Merry and I said in unison. 

            “That,” Frodo paused; “is a very good question.” 

~~~