For Anso, who wanted some Merry h/c, naturally. She wanted pre-Quest, and Pippin having to take care of Merry without any adults around…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Merry is 29 and Pippin is 21 ( 18 and 13 ½ in Man-years);
Frodo is 43 (about 27 in Man-years)

“IT’S NOTHING REALLY…”

PART 1

“Mr. Noakes, my letter from Brandy Hall clearly stated that you would be bringing my young cousins. I do not understand why they are not with you? You should have reached Hobbiton before noon at the latest.” Frodo’s tone was mild, but his eyes were glacial. It was well past teatime.

“Well, er, Mr. Baggins--it’s like this, see, I guess that I overslept myself, and they was too impatient to wait. The innkeeper up to The Floating Log told me Mr. Merry paid him for their room and him and Master Pippin just up and left early this morning.”

“I do not understand why they would do such a thing,” said Frodo, perplexed and by no means mollified. His cousins had been coming to Bag End to spend a few days, before all of them headed to the Great Smials for the Lithedays. Saradoc had arranged for them to ride as far as Hobbiton with this carter, who was delivering goods to Michel Delving.

“Well, it’s nothing really,” said the carter looking away from that piercing stare. “It’s just that I mayhap made a bit too merry last night.” Lying wouldn’t do no good with this one, and his cousins would tell him right enough when they got here. They were just tweens, and had contented themselves with a half apiece, but he’d run into some kinfolk he’d not seen in a while, and they all wanted to stand him drinks and to talk, and what with one thing and another, he’d not awakened till after elevenses, feeling none too chipper, only to learn his charges had left without him.

“I am not pleased with you at all, Mr. Noakes. And I daresay my cousin, the Master of Buckland, who paid you good coin to escort his son and nephew will not be any too pleased with you either. Did the innkeeper say how my cousins left? Did they walk or try to find another ride?”

“They walked,” replied Noakes, more than a touch sullenly. If those tweens had just had a bit more patience, they’d’ve been here now. Serve ‘em right if they was footsore and wore out when they did get here.

“Good day, Mr. Noakes,” Frodo said coldly.

The carter whipped up his ponies, and clattered down the road, more than a bit worried. It’d be more than it was worth for him to set foot in Buckland now, for sure and that Baggins fellow had the right of it, that the Master wouldn’t be pleased. Then another and even more chilling thought occurred: the younger one was the Thain’s Heir. He sighed. He might have to go into another line of work. Or maybe he should move to Bree…

Frodo stood at the gate, more worried than he could say. Walking, at the pace Pippin probably would set meant they would probably have to camp tonight. They had camped before, but always with Frodo, never on their own. Still, they should arrive by elevenses tomorrow.

But he couldn’t shake his unease.

Finally, he went down to Number Three.

The Gaffer answered. Sam came up behind.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo shook his head, “It’s probably nothing, really but the carter who was supposed to deliver Merry and Pippin to me got drunk last night, and so my cousins left him in Frogmorton, and decided to finish the trip on foot. I can’t help but be a bit worried. I thought that I would walk out myself, see if I can’t come across them. Still, if we miss one another, they might turn up on their own before I get back. I’d like to leave the spare key with you, Sam. If they show up you can let them into Bag End. I’ll leave a note on the door, saying to come to you.”

Sam looked worried as well. “Would you like me to come, too, Mr. Frodo? The Gaffer can keep the key.”

Frodo shook his head. “As I said, it’s nothing really, but me worrying. Just keep an eye out, please Sam.”

_________________________________________

Actually, Merry and Pippin had been making pretty good time at first. They had cut cross-country, in a route they had walked with Frodo before. Merry was setting a rather brisk pace, grumbling and complaining about the carter the whole time. Pippin just shrugged. He was just as well pleased that Merry had not wanted to wait on Mr. Noakes, for it was a good deal more fun to be walking, and just the two of them.

They had provisioned themselves well before setting out, and they let their stomachs be their guide for when to stop and eat. By luncheon they found they were over a third of the way to Hobbiton, and Merry was feeling rather pleased with himself.

They found a small stream, and helped themselves to bread, cheese, apples and mushroom pasties. Afterward the sun was high, and they found a shady spot beneath the canopy of a great oak. Pippin looked longingly at the branches, but since Frodo was not there he refrained from climbing. It upset Merry far too much to see him climb unless Frodo was there.

So they sprawled on the ground in the shade and took a bit of a nap. They slept rather longer than they had meant to, and when they woke, Merry bustled them along.

“We’re going to have to make the time up, Pip. You know how Frodo is going to worry if we don’t arrive today before teatime.”

“He’s going to be worried that we didn’t arrive by lunch,” said Pippin. “But there is no way we could have. Don’t walk so fast, Merry--Merry!”

For Merry had suddenly taken a tumble in the rock strewn pasture.

Pippin rushed over to him. “What happened, Merry?”

Merry gave him a grimace that was meant to be a reassuring smile. “I stepped in a rabbit hole, of all things, Pip.” He drew his leg up, and winced.

Pippin reached over and touched his ankle. Merry winced. “It’s nothing really, Pip…I think it’s just a bit of a sprain.” He pulled himself together and stood, as if to show Pippin that he was all right. But the second he put weight on his foot, his face went pale, and broke out in a sweat. Pippin grabbed him awkwardly, and helped him to sit back down.

“Oh, Merry!” said Pippin, with tears in his eyes, “I don’t think you are going to be walking on that foot!”

TBC