Title: The Apprentice
Rating: G
Summary: While the Brandybucks are waiting for their dinner Merimac entertains wee Frodo.
Year: 1370

Special thanks to Dreamflower.

Primula smacked the back of her nephew’s head as she walked past the fireplace. “Stop teasing my baby, Merimac.”

“I’m not teasing him,” Merimac grinned back and once again took her boy's hood and pulled it over the lad’s eyes until nothing but the boy’s mouth, nose and flushed cheeks were visible. “He likes uff…”

Primula smiled as Merimac clutched at his stomach where Frodo had kicked him. “He doubtlessly does.”

Merimac gave her a look but said nothing as she walked back to the kitchen. A couple of days ago she had invited her brother and his family for dinner, knowing that neither Rorimac nor Menegilda would take a break from the annual and far too busy Yule preparations. Unfortunately, the Brandybucks had reached her little family’s humble home over an hour early than she had expected them. Drogo now kept Rorimac and Saradoc entertained, but Menegilda had insisted on giving her a hand in the kitchen. Frodo she had left in Merimac’s care although Primula now wondered whether that had been a wise idea. Her young nephew delighted in teasing her little boy and constantly pulled the hood of Frodo’s woolly jumper over the faunt’s eyes, completely ignoring the lad’s protest and making it impossible for the little one to see.

Menegilda was in the middle of pouring some of the meats own juice over the chickens as Primula entered the kitchen, greeted by the welcoming smell of chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables. “How are they doing?” she asked, meaning the chickens, the only dish on which they still waited.

“Almost done,” her sister-in-law informed her. “A few more minutes should do the trick.”

“You really should go and rest a bit,” Primula said. “You’re doing enough as it is.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Menegilda put the chicken back in the oven and wiped her hands on a cloth. “I enjoy helping you.”

Primula smiled thankfully and, loaded with seven plates, knives, forks, and spoons, made her way back to the parlour.

Drogo, Rorimac, and Saradoc sat in one corner of the room, deeply engaged in conversation, each with a glass of brandy in one hand. An unused glass stood on the small table beside them. It had been poured for Merimac on the family’s arrival but Frodo had claimed possession of his cousin the moment he had entered the room.

“That’s it, scallywag,” said cousin now proclaimed happily. “Just a little more.”

Primula frowned. It could not be a good sign to hear Merimac that excited, but the tween had her back to her, preventing her from seeing what was going on between him and her wee boy.

“No,” Merimac laughed. “Don’t just stick it out. You need to go upwards too. See here.”

“No work,” Frodo said unhappily and Primula seriously wondered what he was up to since he sounded as if he had forced the words out though closed lips.

Once the last plate was in its place she sneaked back to the fireplace. Logs cracked and crackled and golden light illuminated Merimac’s face. His eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement and as Primula drew closer she could see the same light reflected in her son’s eyes. The boy’s face was a mask of concentration, chubby cheeks flushed to the tip of his ears and eyes almost crossing in his efforts. His tongue stuck out and moved in a way that suggested it was evading the control the boy tried to exhibit. Merimac, on the other hand, had full control over his own tongue which currently touched the tip of his nose.

“Merimac!” Primula scolded and once again slapped the back of her nephew’s head. Merimac flinched and yelped as he bit his tongue. “Don’t teach the boy such nonsense!”

Frodo giggled as Merimac clutched at his mouth with both hands and gave her another of those ‘that really wasn’t necessary’ looks. Primula shook her head and bustled off to the kitchen. From the corner of her eye she saw that Saradoc’s attention had shifted to the scene at the fireside while she heard Merimac telling Frodo off for laughing at other people’s misery. Frodo spluttered his defence in a cascade of words too big for his small mouth and eventually decided to punish his cousin with sullen silence.

“Your son does what he is best in,” she told Menegilda as she re-entered the kitchen.

“Mischief,” Menegilda said and it was no question.

Primula nodded. “It seems he has found himself a willing pupil too. I’m not sure if I approve.”

“I’m afraid you won’t have a choice,” Menegilda replied with a smile as she handed her a bowl of steaming carrots and peas with a slice of butter on top. “What Merimac sets his mind to, he gets. If only he’d set it to other things apart from trouble.”

The tune of a well-known and rather suggestive drinking song met her ears as she went back into the parlour. Primula stopped short. Unsurprisingly, it was Merimac who had intoned the song but to Primula’s horror she also heard the high, soft voice of her son cheerfully hum along. Obviously, Frodo had forgotten to sulk.

“Merimac!” Primula shouted and took the long road to the table. Merimac had no chance to duck. She had made the distance in time to slap the tween again. “This clearly is no song for a child’s ears.”

“’Tis dood!” Frodo defended his cousin and this time it was her own boy giving her that look. Primula stared with her mouth open, searching for the right words. Not finding them she gave Merimac a warning glance. The victorious grin on Merimac’s face disappeared immediately, but Primula could all but see it shine again the moment she departed for the dinner table.

That Merimac! Primula sighed as she placed the vegetables on the table and turned around to give Merimac another smack on the head.

“Oww!” Merimac rubbed his head and frowned at her. “Whatever was that for?”

“For good measure,” she said and winked at the disbelieving look on Merimac’s face and the grin on Frodo’s. She then waved at Drogo and gestured for him to invite their guests to have a seat. Her husband nodded understanding and she disappeared into the kitchen. “How is the chicken?”

“Done,” Menegilda announced and produced a tray with two crusty chickens from the oven. Immediately the smell of roasted chicken grew even stronger and Primula breathed in a nose full which made her stomach grumble.

“It’s high time we get you fed,” Menegilda laughed and together they set to work and piled the rest of the food onto plates and into bowls.

In the parlour Drogo and Rorimac had already taken a seat by the table, both commenting on the tantalising smells wafting from the kitchen. Only Saradoc still sat by the fireside where he had joined Frodo and Merimac.

“You’re such a prat, Mac!” was all Primula heard of the conversation the brothers had exchanged and this time it was Menegilda who did the slapping of heads.

“Mind your language, boy!”

“Pat!” Frodo repeated happily and grinned from one ear to the other.

Merimac stifled a laugh. He showed obvious delight in not being the one getting reprehended. He got to his feet and lifted Frodo into his arms. “Really, Saradoc,” he said and clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. “You’re a bad influence on my apprentice.”

For the second time this evening Primula’s jaw just dropped and she looked helplessly at Menegilda. Her sister-in-law merely shrugged and smiled. “His mind is set, my dear. All you can do now is hope for the best.”

“You do know that I will bring him to the Hall if he gets too exhausting, don’t you?” Primula joked.

“Bring it on,” Menegilda replied. “I’ve got used to it,” and in response to Frodo’s uncontrolled giggling. “Merimac, stop making faces at the baby!”

~THE END~