2: The Inquisitiveness of Tooks

Pippin chewed on his lip nervously. His father encouraged his inquisitive nature, saying that it helped to gather knowledge for his future Thainship, but he wasn’t really sure if some of his questions would be considered important. They were important to him, and he didn’t know if he would ever get another opportunity for answers such as this one.

Steeling up his courage, five-year-old Peregrin Took opened the door of Bag End, ventured over to the bench in the garden where the grey wizard sat, asked, “Are you ticklish, mister Gandalf?” and hiccupped.

Gandalf considered this gravely for a moment (though not without a twinkle in his eye) before answering. “ I do not think I am, young Peregrin. No one has ever dared to tickle me,” he added, looking ferocious.

“Oh, how sad! You mean you’ve never been in a tickle fight?” Pippin asked, looking truly distressed. “But then,” he said in an afterthought, “You- hic!- never got tickled by older cousins and then got the hiccups. That’s what happens to me when- hic!- Merry tickles me. Do you ever get hiccups, Gandalf?”

“No, I don’t believe I ever have. I know something that may clear them up, however. If you sprinkle some sugar on your tongue and then drink some water, that might work.”

“Oh! I haven’t tried that one! Thank you Gand- hic!- alf!” Pippin exclaimed before racing away towards the kitchens. Within ten minutes he was back outside, carrying several varieties of tarts and pastries.

“I thought that if the sugar didn’t work, I might as well bring a few sweet things. Just in case,” Pippin said around a mouthful of apple tart.

“And are all of those for you?” asked Gandalf.

“No,” Pippin said. “I saved this one from Frodo. It’s too good to be in a hobbit’s stomach- I think it would be much happier to be in a wizard’s belly, don’t you?” He handed Gandalf a delicious-looking chocolaty pastry.

“I will try not to dash this pastry’s hopes for happiness, then,” Gandalf said, accepting it.

Pippin grinned and fell back to asking questions- he still had quite a few bouncing around in his brain.

“Do body parts leave the body?”

Gandalf looked rather surprised by this question. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Pippin said as he swallowed a particularly large bite, “people don’t always tell my why things are happening, so I try to think of the answers myself. When Pearl shut her finger in a door (I remember because she was shouting about how the weight of the door had chopped her finger off) her fingernail fell off. I thought that the fingernail must have been angry to have been shut in a door like that, so it left. I think that if anything were to leave me, it would be my lips because I always chew on them when I’m nervous or thinking, and I let them get chapped in the winter. If I were a lip, I wouldn’t like that. So do body parts leave the body?”

Gandalf looked rather amused. “No, I’m afraid they don’t.”

“Oh,” Pippin said, cramming his mouth full with more food to distract himself from his disappointment. “I always wanted to know what I looked like without lips. Gandalf,” Pippin chattered, “I think if it could, your head would leave you. You’ve hit it twenty-seven times so far, and you’ve only been here for four days.”

“How do you know this?”

“I like to watch people. And dad taught me to count when I was four, and he told me to practice, so when I watch people, I count how many times they do something. Did you know that Frodo had stumbled twice since elevenses?” A loud crash and a curse sounded from the open window. “Three times now. And he’s said that word five times since last week. He’s very clumsy.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.”

“Most people don’t. I think that if you’re not noticed, you notice more. I can be very quiet when I want to.”

“I can believe that,” Gandalf said, smiling.

“Really? I told that to Bilbo, and he laughed. I don’t know why. I never said anything funny or clever. My parents are always telling me that I’m funny or clever, but Merry’s the funny one and Frodo’s clever. What did your parents say about you when you were my age?”

Gandalf, for once, was at a loss. Finally, he thought of an answer that might amuse the young Took. “I can’t remember- I’m so old!”

Pippin was delighted at this. “How old are you, Gandalf? Are you as old as Frodo? I heard him say to Bilbo once that he couldn’t remember his parents very well. Are you that old?”

Gandalf, feeling rather somber at Pippin’s casual mention of Frodo’s parents, said, “No. I’m far older than Frodo.”

“Are you as old as my parents? I don’t think that I’ll ever be that old!”

“I’m much older than that.”

“Are you as old as- Bilbo?” Pippin asked in reverent tones. Someone that old was very old indeed!

“I’m older than even Bilbo.”

Pippin threw his sticky hands in the air. “Then how old are you? No one is older than Bilbo!”

“If I told you how old I was, you would never believe me.”

“I would! I would! Merry says I believe everything. He said I was gullible. I think that means he thinks I talk a lot.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The last part of gullible sounds like babble. Gully-babble. How old are you?”

Gandalf leaned over and whispered a number. Pippin’s eyes widened. “Wow! Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

Pippin looked Gandalf in the eye seriously. “No fibbing?”

Gandalf returned his look solemnly. “No fibbing.”

“Wow,” Pippin said in awe. “I never knew that numbers could go that high!” He glanced at the untouched pastry in Gandalf’s hand. “Are you going to eat that?”

“I thought you said that it would rather be in a wizard than a hobbit?” Gandalf asked, hiding a smile beneath his beard before handing the chocolaty treat over.

“I’m a wizard!” Pippin grinned. “I can make this disappear! Close your eyes!”

Gandalf obliged. Less than five seconds later, Pippin said, “Open your eyes!” True to his word, the entire pastry had vanished.

“See? It’s gone! You don’t know where it is, do you?”

“No,” Gandalf said, his twinkling eyes resting on the brown stain around Pippin’s lips that Pippin’s tongue was working so industriously to clean away. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“See?” said Pippin, beaming. “I’m a wizard! Well, thank you for talking to me, Gandalf,” Pippin said before getting up and slipping through the green door of Bag End.

“Hobbits,” Gandalf said, amused, before drawing out his pipe with his weathered hands for a smoke.