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Thief of Hearts:

How Pippin Stole Merry’s Heart

Peregrin Took couldn’t remember when he had not known his dearest friend and cousin; Merry had always been there, had always been a part of his life. He could not even imagine his life without Merry. Merry was just there, as constant as the sky above. But Merry, why Merry remembered it all: how it all began, Pippin and himself, and often told the story of how it came to be.

Merry had been eight years old when the letter came. How happy his mum had been when she opened it! “Saradoc, Merry! Oh, the baby has come! Listen to this: ‘Wonderful news from the Great Smials: we are proud to announce the arrival of our son… a son! … Peregrin Took I.

“ ‘The baby arrived early, but is now quite healthy after a few days during which we were a little worried. We did not send the news as swiftly as we would have liked, because we wanted to be assured of his survival first. He is small, but he is now very strong. He is quite alert, and notices every little thing. He has a good appetite, and is in every way a very happy little fellow. He is thriving and already gaining weight, and we are anxious to see the day of his Presentation and Naming. We are very much looking forward to the moment we see his Auntie Esmeralda and Nunky Saradoc hold him.

“ ‘Give Merry our love, and tell him we very much want our dear nephew to be there when his new cousin is Presented and has his name set in the family books.’

“Oh, my dear brother must be so very happy, he has wanted a little lad of his own for so long!”

How Merry’s mother and father carried on! This was all well and good, Merry supposed, but… “Mum?” he had said, tugging at Esmeralda’s skirt.

“Yes, darling?” Esmeralda had to tear her eyes from the letter to answer her son. Why was his mother behaving this way? It wasn’t as if it was her baby.

“Does this mean I’m not Aunt Eglantine and Uncle Paladin’s favorite lad anymore?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Esmeralda said, cupping Merry’s chin in her hand. “Their hearts are very, very big, you know. Why, there is so much room in their hearts, it would take dozens and dozens of lads before they ran out of room. You will always be special to them, darling. Never doubt it.”

“When will they have his Naming Day party?” A party sounded fine but Merry wasn’t sure about any of the rest of it.

“It will be a some months just yet,” said Saradoc, lifting Merry and giving him a joyous toss in the air. “He must be six months old, for that is the custom amongst his clan. I’m sure you will enjoy the day. You know your aunt and uncle will have tables and tables of every kind of good thing to eat, and they will be very, very proud to have you meet your little cousin.”

And how much fun shall that be? thought Merry. Cousin Daisy’s baby was no fun. All she ever did was eat and soil her nappies. And cry—a lot! “Well, I imagine he is too little to be very much fun just yet.”

“But he will not always be too little. I’m sure that as he gets older, he will take quite a shine to you, since you are such a big lad. I’m sure the two of you shall be good friends, when that time comes.”

“Perhaps,” said Merry as his da put him back on his feet. Then his mum gave him a fresh apple tart, and Merry, kissing her cheek, skipped out of the back door to play in the garden, where he did not have to hear anyone talk about how wonderful a baby was.

But soon the time to celebrate the Presentation and Naming came, whether or not Merry liked it. As their carriage rolled to a stop near the bright red front door of the Great Smials, Merry frowned, having decided in advance that he would not——no, definitely not—— enjoy the day very much. Aunt Eglantine and Uncle Paladin greeted him as they usually did, and indeed seemed very happy to see him, but soon it was as if Merry had simply disappeared. Why, everyone was busy hugging each other or thumping one another on the back, like his da and uncle were doing, and nobody paid attention to Merry at all. Not even Bilbo. Not even his cousins, Pearl, Pervinca and Pimpernel. Not even Frodo!

How could they take on so over a little baby when there was such a fine lad like himself around? Could they not see that a big eight-year-old lad must be more fun than a baby? Friends and relatives had come from near and far just to see a helpless little baby, and Merry simply did not understand why they made so much of the little thing. He hoped no one expected him to carry on so, because he wouldn’t. He wished fervently that he had not been made to come along.

Well, if he were going to be overlooked, why, he would just go and find somewhere quiet in which to play. Besides, this was all so very boring, and it would be some time before everyone was ready to eat. Anyway, the baby was nowhere to be seen, so there wasn’t even that to amuse him.

Wriggling his way through a sea of Tooks, Banks, Boffins, Hardbottles, Brandybucks, Thornbushes and Burrowses, Merry crept into the long and meandering hall and slipped away as quietly and quickly as a mouse. He turned left, then right, then right again, making his way to the room set aside as a nursery, knowing there would be toys aplenty in it, and that he would have them all to himself. There it was, just past the sewing room where his aunt and Cousin Pearl spent so much time, the door open just a crack.

Quietly, he crept into the room. The old nurse, Lily Smallburrow, dozed in a rocker near the door, and Merry slipped by her carefully, so as to be able to collect a few playthings to take out into the hall or garden. He had an idea of which toys he wanted, and where they would be found, for he knew this room very well. It was a pleasant place. The window was open, and the sun poured through it like warm honey.

Spying a little box full of wooden animals and farmers which Merry had enjoyed playing with many times, he bent to pick up a few of the little figures. That was when he heard it; the tiniest little soft cooing sound, like that of a mourning dove. Perhaps it was a bird, flown into the nursery accidentally. Where was it? There, there it was again! Where had the sound come from? Once more he heard it, such a soft, pleasing little sound. He followed it. There! Just by the window.

He crept toward the sound on tiptoes, so that if it were indeed some kind of bird, he wouldn’t frighten it and make it fly away. Why, there was something new there. Was it a new toy-box? He peeked into it, to see if there might be new toys as well. But no, it was no toy. Lying in the little bright blue cradle, for cradle it was, lay the object of all this commotion. Merry knelt beside the cradle. There inside it lay someone remarkable, though Merry did not then know it. This would be his life-long friend, more brother than cousin.

“So… you are the new baby,” Merry whispered, knowing full well that if he woke the nurse he would be chastised and chased out of the nursery for disturbing the baby. “Well, you do not look like much, to me.” He was regarded by two very large and deep green eyes, fringed with long, thick lashes. The tiny ears looked like the little seashells in one of Merry’s picture books. Little Peregrin looked up at Merry and made a small, soft, happy sound.

Merry looked at the tiny feet. He reached in and gently took one in his own small hand. Someday, the soles would be tough as leather. But now, Merry thought they felt much like the tender, newly unfurled petals of spring flowers. The little feet would someday be covered with a thatch of woolly hair, but for now, it felt like the fur of a new kitten.

The baby smiled up at him.

"Well, hullo, there!" Merry said, softly. The little one laughed. Merry knew he shouldn’t pick the baby up without one of his elders around, but he could not resist—there was a curious tugging in his chest which compelled him to reach in the cradle; he simply must hold this little thing!

Well, if he was very careful and sat down on the floor right away, perhaps that would be all right. As he lifted the tiny thing, the baby reached out little fingers to explore Merry’s face. Merry indulged him. He didn't even mind when the baby poked a tiny, dimpled finger up his nose. It made Merry laugh. Merry eased himself down; wriggling his bottom to settle himself comfortably, he cradled the baby carefully in his arms.

The baby smelled just like apples to Merry. And since that’s what he smelled like, Merry decided then and there to call him "Pippin", meaning "little apple". It was only later that Merry found that "pippin" also means "a thing that is precious."

Merry heard the soft rustle of fabric and shot a quick glance toward the door—there stood his aunt, uncle, mum, da and cousin Frodo. Obviously they had noticed the absence of young Master Brandybuck and gone in search of him. Having found Merry holding his tiny prize, they were amused that Merry, who had been reluctant to even see the baby, now seemed enchanted with the little fellow.

“Isn’t Merry a dear lad?” Lily Smallburrow said with a soft smile. “Quiet as a mouse, he was, and very careful with the wee one. Such a dear lad, and so loving with little Peregrin!”

Merry felt very proud of himself upon hearing this. Why had he not thought of this part of meeting his new kin? Now all the grown-ups had reasons to love him more than ever! Be that as it may, Merry’s found he simply must pay attention to the baby. He could visit with his other relatives later. Right now, he wanted to have his Pippin all to himself.

“I see you have found your little cousin,” Saradoc smiled, and then smiled wider still when his son seemed so captivated by his find that the lad didn’t give anyone else a second glance. Saradoc slipped an arm around Esmeralda’s waist, pleased that Merry had at last come around to accepting the arrival of little Peregrin.

"Would you like to have one like that of your own someday?" Esmeralda said.

Merry paused and thought for a bit before replying, cocking his head and grinning ear to ear, with eyes for the baby only, then shook his head.

"No, I rather don’t think I want one like him. No, I am sure I do not, I don’t want one like this one; I fancy I want this one."

And so it had begun.