Title: Punishment
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo has to serve a sentence. At the hands of his elder cousin Merimac, punishment however turns into an enlightening experience.
Year: 1386

Special thanks to Slightly Tookish and Ariel for looking this story over and encouraging me.

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"Frodo!"

The voice echoed across the barn and Frodo looked up from where he was cleaning the reins. Merimac was beckoning him to the last stall in the stables. A smile threatened to light his face and Frodo swiftly suppressed it. This job was supposed to be punishment for being caught in Mr. Greenhill's blackberry bush, helping himself to the sweetest berries, and neither Saradoc nor Uncle Rory could find out he was actually enjoying the work.

"No, Toby, you've done enough for today. Bring those two out to the others and then you may head down to the river. Have a wash and enjoy yourself," Merimac addressed one of the stable-lads as Frodo approached him.

The young lad nodded his thanks and Frodo looked after him as he hurried to fetch the last two ponies and led them into the open. Toby had come to the Hall only three weeks ago. He was twenty-two and Uncle Rory (or had it been Merimac?) had agreed to take him in and pay him some coins for his work.

"There you are." Mac turned to Frodo with a grin. "This stable needs mucking," he said and handed him a shovel, nodding to a wheelbarrow at the far end of the barn. "You know what to do."

"Yes, sir," Frodo answered quickly and darted to fetch the tool from its dark and dusty corner.

Specks of dust danced in the dim light streaming through holes in the wall as Frodo manoeuvred the barrow. The smell of hay and ponies wafted through the air as well as that of leather and oats. It was hot and sultry and Frodo began to feel quite warm though it was only a few hours after dawn.

Hurrying back to the stall, Frodo realised his cousin was still standing there, his arms folded, his back leaning against the wall. Confused, Frodo frowned but as Merimac did not reveal his intent, the boy went on with his work.

He nearly had the stall cleaned when Merimac leaned over to him with a smirk. "You're quite enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes," Frodo replied happily, then, realising his mistake he quickly corrected himself. "No." He paused for a second, not pleased with his cousin's smug grin. "I mean…" Glaring at the shovel he let out a puff of air and groaned in frustration, hoping to sound convincing.

"I see," Merimac said, sounding unimpressed. Frodo realised he had not been successful in his ploy. Mac quirked an eyebrow at his charge, but his smile did not falter.

Frodo lowered his head. "Don't tell Sara. He will send me to the kitchens to do the dishes, or have me spend the day alone in my room."

"What? I should tattle and lose a willing hand?" Mac sounded offended. "Don't worry, scallywag, you will spend the next few days under my wing. I know Sara's methods, or rather I know who he learned them from."

Merimac grimaced as if in memory and shook his head. Frodo felt the knot in his chest loosen and his older cousin smiled at him. "How many times have you been caught there?"

Frodo blushed to the tip of his ears, hesitating before he mumbled, "Three times."

"And that didn't teach you?"

The blush deepened and his voice dropped to an embarrassed mumble.

Merimac's tone turned serious. "Don't take the chance again," he said. "Mr. Greenhill's blackberries are a temptation, but he's lost his patience with you. If he finds you a fourth time, the punishment will be more drastic than a few days in the stables." He shook his head. "Three times? You need to be more secretive, Frodo. Don't you know anything about stealth?"

Frodo looked up, stunned. He had heard rumours about his cousin. The tweens especially seemed to look up to Merimac as some kind of hero and master of the arts of mischief. Yet such provoking talk was the last thing he had expected from his cousin.

"Never mind." Mac must have seen his confusion and was now waving the topic aside. "Finish here and then I shall help you with that shirt of yours."

Even more confused Frodo looked down at his shirt where a huge spot of blackberry juice gave evidence to his latest misstep. He felt his cheeks flush again.

Merimac nudged his chin good-naturedly. "Let me guess. Esme said you had to wash it yourself until the stain was gone."

Frodo nodded then sighed angrily. "It won't come off. I've tried washing it several times now."

"Have you tried vinegar?"

"Vinegar?" Frodo looked doubtful.

"It helps," Mac said with a smile then shook his head. "Lad, you really have to learn who in this Hall you can trust. Ask one of the washerwomen, or better, one of the lasses. Use those eyes of yours to your advantage and you will get all the help you need."

"Mac!" Frodo's blush deepened to crimson.

Merimac chuckled. "Believe me, one day you will be thankful you have me to advise you. Now, off to work. I don't want anybody to say I don't keep you occupied. Afterwards you may as well tell me how often you've really been to Mr. Greenhill's."

Frodo watched open-mouthed as his cousin wheeled another barrow outside to the muck pile. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Mac and Saradoc worked together or apart. Either way, he was glad to have Merimac on his side. Punishment suddenly didn't seem to be such a bad thing. He grinned and heaved another shovelful into the cart. No, it wasn't bad at all.

~THE END~