Frodo shifted his cousins, and then winced at the pins and needles running up and down his arms. Merry and Pippin were a lot bigger than they used to be when he would sleep with them tucked against his sides. It was just about dawn; he could see the grey light beginning to dim the stars in the east.

He sat up carefully, and thought for a moment. Then he turned to Pippin, and shook him gently. “Hsst. Pippin.”

Pippin’s eyes shot open. “Fro? Is Merry all right?”

Frodo nodded. “As all right as he can be, Pip. But we have to have help. I am going to go to a farm that’s about a mile or so north of here, near the road. I shall see if they can spare a waggon or cart that we can take Merry home in. I shall also try to get us some breakfast, for you lads ate all the food I brought last night. Are you able to watch over Merry again for a while, as you did yesterday, until I come back?”

His eyes wide Pippin nodded solemnly. “I’m so glad you came, Frodo,” he said softly. “I was afraid that I was going to have to leave him alone to get help.” Tears sprang to the green eyes, as he thought of it. It would have been so hard to leave his Merry all alone and hurt, to go fetch help.

Frodo gave him a proud smile. “I know that you would have done that if you had to, dearest, but now you don’t. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully he will sleep until I return.” Frodo turned a concerned look on Merry. Even in sleep, there was a little line of pain on his brow, and his skin felt a bit clammy.

“I’ll take good care of him, Frodo.”

“Good lad.” Frodo struggled to his feet, trying not to disturb his sleeping cousin.

Frodo walked off in the direction of the farm, and Pippin stood up as well, and stretched. After a moment, he sat down again, tailor fashion, by Merry, and began to sooth his brow with a gentle hand, as he hummed a soft tune.

The sun was nearly up, when Merry stirred with a small moan. Then his eyes flew open.

“Where’s Frodo?” He felt a bit panicked, and wondered if he had just dreamed his older cousin’s fortuitous arrival in the night.

“It’s all right, Merry,” said Pippin. “He’s walking to a nearby farm to get some help and some breakfast for us.”

Merry nodded. Of course. That’s exactly what he would do.

“Would you mind awfully if I go get us some more water, Merry? I didn’t like to go sooner, lest you wake up and miss the both of us.”

Merry nodded. “That’ll be fine, Pip. Take your time.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.
_________________________________________

Farmer Longhole had just left his cottage, and was going to go check on the state of his turnip field, when he spotted someone walking across his pasture. Who could it be this time of morn? he wondered.

“Farmer Longhole?” cried the visitor.

Why, it was Mr. Baggins, of Hobbiton! Time was, he’d been a regular visitor as he passed through, on his way to visit kin in Buckland. Used to, when he was just a tween, old Mr. Bilbo Baggins had always been with him, but in later years, it were just him, though he weren’t so frequent now as he once was.

“Mr. Frodo Baggins!” the farmer cried. “What brings you across my fields?”

“My cousins and I are camped about a mile south of here. Unfortunately, my cousin Merry has sprained--or perhaps even broken--his ankle. My younger cousin Pippin is watching over him, but I had hoped to borrow a waggon or cart in which to fetch him home. Also, I was thinking perhaps I could buy a bit of breakfast to take them. You know how tweens’ appetites are, and the delay caused by my cousin’s injury means I’ve nothing to feed them.”

“Bless me! Mr. Frodo. That’s not to be thought of. *Buy* breakfast indeed! The missus would have my hide if I thought of such a thing. You come right in and she’ll put you up a basket to take those poor lads! Aster!” he called. “Aster! We’ve got ourselves a guest!” He turned to Frodo. “You go along and get some food, while I hitch old Dobbin up to the waggon!”

In a twinkling, the stout farmwife had clucked her dismay at Frodo’s tale, and put him up a large basket, with scones and buns and jam and ham and boiled eggs and berries. There was a crockery jar of cold buttermilk--which Frodo knew would please Merry, and another of hot tea. She had also pressed upon him some blankets and pillows, “so as to make the poor hurt lad as comfy as possible, Mr. Frodo.”

The farmer insisted on driving the waggon. “Old Dobbin can be an ornery pony if he don’t know you,” he said.

"Thank you, so much," said Frodo.

"It's nothing, really..." said the old farmer.

They took an old track across the meadow, and then cut across the fields toward the place where Frodo had left his cousins.
_________________________________________________

Pippin’s stomach was growling mightily. He tried to ignore the hollow feeling, and instead worried about Merry, who had told him he “wasn’t all that hungry anyway,” and seemed to be rather listless.

He drank some more water. At least it was *something* in his empty belly.

He heard the rumble of the waggon before he saw it. “Frodo!” he exclaimed. “Merry! Look, Frodo’s back!”

“That’s nice,” Merry murmured, not even raising his head.

This alarmed Pippin more than anything yet, and he was ever so glad to see Frodo jump from the waggon and fly to Merry’s side.

“Hullo, Frodo,” said Merry sadly. “I hurt.”

“I know, spr--cousin,” He rose up and fetched the basket from the waggon, as the old farmer came near. Frodo took out the jar of hot tea, and a cup from the basket. Mrs. Longhole had given him a twist of paper with a bit of willow-bark powder in it. He sprinkled it in the cup and added a bit of the tea to it. Helping Merry to sit up, he held the tea to his lips. Merry made a grimace at the bitter taste, but drank it down. Frodo turned to Pippin, who had begun to examine the contents of the capacious basket.

“Pip,” he handed Pippin the cup he’d used for Merry. “Pour him some buttermilk from the other jar.”

Pippin obliged, and as Frodo held the cup back up to Merry’s lips, he had the satisfaction of seeing a brief look of pleasure replace the pain etched on Merry’s face.

“Buttermilk!” he smiled, as he downed it all. He drank a second cup as well, before he began to feel the effects of the willow-bark, and laid back down.

Frodo and Pippin ate from the basket, and Farmer Longhole politely took a scone and some jam to keep them company. Then Pippin took the pillows and blankets Mrs. Longhole had sent and made a nest for Merry in the back of the waggon.

Frodo and the Farmer between them carried Merry to the waggon, and Merry bit his lip as his ankle and leg were moved. Then Frodo and Pippin clambered in the back, as the farmer turned the waggon around.

Frodo held Merry’s head in his lap. “You rest, cousin. We’ll be back at Bag End in time for elevenses, I’m sure.”

Pippin took Merry’s hand, and began to sing to him.

And Frodo rode along thinking of some very choice names to call the carter, Noakes.

TBC